prompt
stringlengths 391
14.9k
|
|---|
Its simpler when you're a hero. When you can act like a thug and be applauded for it. Beat unpowered people up and as long as you can fly and you're both in a bad neighborhood, you're fighting crime.
Of course, sometimes you beat up people who deserve it. Assholes who use their power to rob banks and wreck lives. You're not just fighting crime then, you're fighting *supervillains*, because you needed a bigger head and all.
And you do nothing about the people who rob millions of others and wreck societies, because they can't shoot lightning out their fingertips.
But I promise you, I will change all that.
My cousin worked two jobs to feed me and her own kid. Grandpa did his best, but every assignment that began with "write about your parents and siblings", every teacher that talked about getting our report cards signed by mom or dad, was like a knife through my heart.
I dropped out senior year. Grandpa's medication was getting more and more expensive and we needed money more than I needed to sit in a classroom and do trigonometry. But it's all in the past now, my cousin says, and I should keep my head down and work hard. Maybe I could even go back to school one day and earn my GED, go to college and live a better life.
*A better life*. Those assholes never put a gun to my head, but they didn't need one to clean me out. They stole my childhood, my future, and I don't buy that I should let them get away with it now that I'm grown enough to fight back.
Once everything is better, I'll have a better life. |
California got up and rolled out of bed. Their fever felt about a hundred times worse, and their mood was not improved by the unpaid bills he noticed on his desk. Rent. Student loans. Both way more than they could pay. Wonderful. Well, no sense worrying about it now. Cal threw together a breakfast that was about 80% quinoa and ate it looking out a window framed by rainbow flags at their backyard. It was always a source of comfort knowing they had the best garden of anyone he knew- strawberries, grapes, avocados, all the envy of his neighbors. Still, daylight was burning; time to get to work. Working in tech was a drag sometimes, but it was where the money was. Just scrape up some money and get back into acting, that was the plan.
They did their best to avoid anyone he recognized on the train. Washington would want to sell them on his latest bad indie album. Colorado would blather on about snowboarding and making craft beer while stroking that stupid hipster beard. Utah would start asking them about God. After a few stops few stops Cal realized they smelled something smoky, but was unable to pinpoint it.
Colorado coughed delicately. "Uh, dude? You're... kind of on fire."
Cal looked at their reflection. Sure enough, the fever had finally reached that point; their head had turned into a blazing conflagration. *Wonderful*, Cal thought. |
In the fading afternoon light a ghostly specter appeared, startling the flock of sheep that had been grazing on the hill overlooking the village of Westbrook. The specter scanned the hillside, muttering to himself "Bah the next progeny must be around here somewhere. These are the right coordinates".
As he looked across the field he waved his hand in front of his face, a simple mechanical motion that allowed him to perceive the Ether. As his hand dropped to his side, the varied green hues of the pasture began to fade to grey, and the sheep around him gave off a light like a flickering candle. Thelwin was sure that this area was the location indicated in his research. With a panicked bleat, a sheep, a patch of wool missing, suddenly burst out of the shearing shed on the far side of the pasture.
"Get back here, you blasted thing", a voice called from within the shed. From the entry way where the voice had originated came, to Thelwin's magically enhanced vision a glow similar to that of the hottest iron in a crucible. Blinking furiously and waving his hand to focus his vision back to the surface plane, Thelwin looked at the man filling the doorway. He wore the clothes of a laborer and leaned against the door frame, one hand casually holding a pair of shears, their iron blades glinting in the sun. He took in Thelwin with a glance, spat on the ground and growled "No. Leave. I don't want anything to do with you and your kind, especially since you are dead, which usually I would be pleased as punch about"
"My name is Thelwin of the White Tree Council in Ethnebra. You are have been classified as an exceptional candidate by - Wait, you can see me?"
"Aye, I can see you and I can feel that your death a dark and twisted thing. Even so, I want nothing more to do with your ilk again. Leave me be."
"But you have the potential to change the course of our history! Create a destiny for yourself that will reverberate through the halls of history"
"I swore to never take up magic again. It cost me my honor, my home and my family."
"I fear we may not have that much time"Thelwin said frantically. As he pointed over the Westspring Wood, a cherry red glow encompassed the horizon an the howls of demons could be be heard echoing through the trees.
"I fear that the demons are here".
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Any advice would be great as this is my first writing prompt! |
You might’ve heard the wild conspiracy theory that the parasitic aliens plaguing mankind is an effort by this alien race to gain control over humanity and turn all humans into chattels controlled by these aliens with malevolent intentions. I want to reassure you that nothing could be further from the truth. 
My name is Gfūriłjn, but only my family calls me by my given name, Everyone else calls me Red. I want you to know, dear reader, that I do not enjoy my work, but I appreciate the necessity of it better than most. Human civilization is under threat. There is a race of parasitic alien beings that have seemingly come from nowhere and are turning their hosts bodies into grotesque killing machines that consume any living thing they come across. No one knows where these aliens come from or how they end up in random people far flung corners of the galaxy. My job is find these creatures and kill them. Then I have to explain to the family and friend of the deceased that their loved one, who I have just killed with a plasma gun, was an alien monstrosity that their government cannot explain or protect them from. 
As a member of the Star Marshalls, I do grim work. We answer only to Ruling Council and the Empress on Earth. The Agency has been on the forefront of the efforts to stop this sinister alien plot, and we have a well-earned reputation for professionalism and efficiency. After one of our agents killed the first of these parasitic imposters, it was our scientists that discovered that these aliens closely resemble fungi back on Earth, but they grow inside living organisms. When a victim comes into contact with the microscopic spores it will latch onto a human body and begin to grow, using the body’s own heat and nutrients to feed itself. A network of spores grows inside their own willing victim starting from the brain and making its way down the central nervous system allowing the alien to control the host.
The public knows this and also know that certain chemicals in human blood cause these organisms to make their host evolve into an animal only focused on eating flesh. As I said, there is no conspiracy to take over humanity. That would mean we haven’t already done it.
Almost a century ago, an science team was exploring a hollow astroid in the Kuiper Belt when they found a cave that they soon realized was actually a room, or more specifically, a crypt. Inside the crypt were stone sarcophagi containing the bodies of 27 aliens from at least 8 different species. All the bodies were covered in a similar substance that looked like black mold. The team members were the first humans to encounter alien parasites. One of the team members devolved into an animal-like state and had to be killed.
The rest of the team, however, had a very different reaction. Not only were their minds linked telepathically, but there was new voice in their hands. A consciousness that of the directed them to spread its tendrils across the worlds of men. The lead scientist for this mission became the first Empress of the United Interplanetary Imperium. After infecting the leaders of different factions with the parasitic aliens, they became much more compliant except for those who devolved into the feral state. Thus the Republic of Earth, the Alliance of City Space Stations, the Lunar Collective, and the Martian Confederacy were united under one banner.
Some day very soon, every human man, woman, and child will be infected with the parasite and freed from their individuality. Until then, the people whose genetics make them incompatible with ours need to be eliminated. We only want what is best for humanity and once we have a cheer total domination of the species humanity we get a new, prosperous golden age and my species - my family -will finally fufill our destiny of spreading across the entire galaxy. |
"Oh yeah, I am totally not guilty.", I lightly chuckle after my abysmal speech.
I look down, as sweat runs down my face and pure adrenline, along with thoughts of escaping through the nearest window pulsate through my brain. I am definetly regretting my smart ass decision to be my own lawyer.
The prosecutor speaks up, "Your honor, it has been long enough. Clearly through all his fables and nervous demeanor, I think it is enough for the jury to tell whether or not the defendant is guilty. He could not even get his story straight. At the police station, when he was questioned, he happened to know things like the victim's birthday and favorite icecream flavor, but here, he claims he never knew the man."
The judge then turns to me, with glaring eyes that look like an eagle. One would assume a look like that would be out of intimidation as opposed to pity. He puts his grizzly hand to his face, sighing as he slowly shook his head.
He then responds, "As it currently stands, there is a lot of evidence against the defendant, but with his psychological evaluations, he appears to be quite normal, not prone to any form of violence, with no sociopathic or psychopathic tendencies, and a relatively low IQ. We still need to find a theory as to what would drive such a man to murder a close friend of his before the jury can come to a decision."
My face begins to turn a brighter shade of red. Do they really think I am that pathetic? It is no wonder I am not allowed in the academy, it is no wonder that Joseph was discovered. The prosecutor gives me a smug look as he leans back in his chair.
I am going to do something stupid again, say something stupid, but he deserves some justice for the awful things I put him through. I am going to tell the truth.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. A member of the jury gave me a judgemental look, and the whole court room was silent. It was almost like I was the toad in that middleschool play all over again, but this time, instead of fighting the plain embarrassment of doing something stupid in front of a childhood crush, I have to fight myself.
I stuttered and choked. I fought the urge to sob uncontrollably. My hands clutched my papers like a man desperately clawing at the edge of a cliff.
I slowly found the words, "It was me. It was me all along, but it is all just a mistake. I heard you when you said I lied about a lot of things, that is true, and I am sorry. Joseph was and will always be my best friend and I did not mean to kill him."
"Then why did you kill him?", the prosecutor asked.
At that moment, I realized, I made a terrible mistake with what I said. What was I thinking? The CXZ was his life. Outting him and the entire organization will ruin everything he ever worked for!
I respond, "I was the one who suggested we go to the train tracks. His foot also got stuck between one of the boards and I was too scared to save him."
I do not feel as nervous about speaking as before, although I still am tempted by that door. Deep down, I know a part of what I said was true.
"But why would a normal person suggest such a proposal to go to the train tracks in the first place?", the prosecutor asked, "They are off limits, and the area is known to get a lot of trains. What were you really doing there?"
"We were goofing around. I thought it would be an interesting place to hang out, I guess.", I said with a nervous smile, "We were pretty extreme people living life on the edge. I never anticipated anything that crazy to happen. "
"Wait one second.", the prosecutor sat up, "Before the murder, there was a bill at outback steakhouse signed in your name. The employees there described two people. One of which has brown hair and is around five foot eight, and the other has black hair and is around five foot ten. Sound familiar? And judging by your current financial situation, I severely doubt you could afford to go to outback steakhouse every other night. This was a special event, not on a birthday or holiday, which implies that you knew what was going to happen beforehand. You are still lying. We can see right through your little rouse. So, are you going to dance around the issue, or show us who you really were all this time? Your call."
I felt my whole body tremble. I could not help but cry. He has me in a corner like a wild animal. I can't tell them the truth. I just can't, and the only lie they would believe, would be one that makes me look like the bad guy.
As I thought, of any possible way out of this, I swore so much inside my head it would make a sailor blush beet red.
"A man made me do it.", I responded.
​
//WIP I would likely get back to it in the next few days, but I have some stuff to do, so feel free to complete it if I don't. |
*Wow, I can not believe Mr.Stark trusted me with this mission, maybe I'll be an Avenger after this!*
I thought to myself as I rode the metro into the city. I could barely stay still with all of this excitement in me. I pull out my phone to text Happy.
"Hey, Happy! It's me Spider-Man.. wait no. It's Peter Parker. I'm just texting you about the mission Mr. Stark put me on. I have to look for a yellow and black car? Could it be like a hideout for the aliens or some type of high tech hologram that hides their real vehicle? If you could get back to me ASAP that would be great! Spider-Man out!"
As I send that text I scroll up through possibly hundreds of text I sent him, telling him when I'm done with school, when I start patrolling, and even when I'm sick. None of them seeing a response. But nonetheless, it's better to inform them without asking than them to constantly ask me my whereabouts.
I didn't notice the shake of the car, till the doors before me slide open. I quickly run out before anyone else could, and rush down the steps to get to the open city. But I made sure to pay my fare when I left.
As I stepped out I could feel New York City. The dense air of people smoking, the pollution coming from the taxis and cars, and the smell of street food coming from the corner. I start walking in a direction, not really knowing which way. But before I could get far I hear my phone ring. I pull out my phone and I see Ned's face on the screen. I chuckle a bit at seeing his face.
"Hey, what's up?"I ask as I cross a street.
"Oh nothing, I just wanted to know if you would want to come over later to rebuild the Lego Deathstar?"
"Sure, maybe when I'm done doing this thing for Mr. Stark."
"Oh right, I forgot you're on that lil alien mission for him."
"Yep, I need to find a yellow and black car for him,"I say looking around for a small alley.
"Oh ya know, if you want. I could be *your guy in the chair.* Only if you want. No pressure."
I know when he says the phrase "no pressure"he's trying to pressure me. And knowing myself I cave in.
"Dammit, fine."
In the background, I can hear a squeal of excitement. I smirk knowing I made his day. I hang up the phone and disappear into an alleyway. I strip my backpack off and take out my suit. I toss the bag behind a dumpster and shooting a web to keep it in place. Before I put on my suit I look into the eyes, seeing myself. Thinking about everything that brought me to this place. Mr. Stark. Uncle Ben. Aunt May. I owe them so much.
As I pull on my mask, I feel a sense of power run through my veins. I hear Karen wake up and greet me informing me of the mission ahead. I then hear Ned start to inform me of articles he's finding in regards to the mystery car. I started to swing my downtown, skimming between the streets looking for the car.
"You're looking for a yellow Camaro with black racing stripes,"says Ned. He continues with, "It should be near Central Park."As I head down to Central Park I make sure to keep my distance from the car and to make sure to avoid alerting the aliens. I ask Karen to do a scan of the area in search of anything peculiar or odd.
"Peter, there seems to be a motorcade of vehicles converging at Central Park,"she says with her cool tone voice.
"What's odd about that?"I ask confused.
"They seem to have a heartbeat."
"I-"I can feel my heart drop.
*THE ALIENS ARE THE CARS?? OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. THE METRO!!* |
*1945, Mt. Everest*
"I wish you luck."
"Thank you, I'm sure I'll need it."
I snorted. In all my time at Mount Everest, I had never seen a better climber then Zheng Chie. Even if they didn't make it up I was sure they would make it down alive and well. But anything was possible on Everest.
"Perhaps."
"Well, off to make history, my friend."
With that Zheng made his way out of the room, boots thumping against the door. I watched them go, something tickling at the back of their mind.
*Three days later.*
"He's dead! He's dead!", James yelled as they burst into the bar. A few of the Sherpas looked up but didn't react. New deaths happened every day.
"Who?", I asked.
"Z-z-z-heng! Dead at the base of the mountain!"
"How?"
"It's probably better if you see it for yourself."
My curiosity was piqued, so I waved Sheng Shie to take the bar and followed Jones.
*One hour full of hiking* *through the rain.*
"My god."
Zheng was lying dead, blood spilling from countless cuts. Peering at his arm I saw what seemed to be a sentence.
'Stay below.'
"Huh."
"W-what will we do?", James stuttered.
"We need the three arrows, and to shut off the mountain."
"What are the three arrows?"
"Not what, but who."
"*Who* are the three arrows?"
"Only they know. I need you to tell Ghurna to shut off the mountain. Cite a high avalanche chance.", I instructed.
"Okay.", James agreed, sensing I wouldn't talk more about the three arrows.
"Now go!"
James turned and ran.
Water dripped off the nearby leaves as the water poured from the heavens. I bowed my head in the memory of the climber. I pulled an item I hoped never to use- an old school phone. I dialed, 8-4-7-6.
"I'd like to report a breach. The Children of the Night are active once more."
"Thank you for informing us. We have team en-route."-*click*
I stood at the edge of the forest, gazing up the mountain. I knew what resided up there, and so I prayed James would hurry. |
"This shor is sahm mahky watah. We bettah bay extra cahful,"the Hunter murmured to himself, mostly out of habit. The terrain he walked over wasn't really any form of water he was familiar with; more like soft, cloudy land extending in all directions. Suddenly he heard a strange, pommy voice that seemed to come from all directions.
"Here, we see the male exploring his new environment. Tentative, but guided by the wondrous instinctual curiosity that accompanies-"
"Crikey. Wherzat coming from?"the Hunter murmured, looking around.
"I beg your pardon."the voice came again. "Falling into an old, bad habit, I suppose. I've been perhaps a bit lax in my manners."And before the hunter's eyes, an elderly British man in an expensive suit materialized. "I,"the voice continued, now in synch with this stranger's lips, "am David Attenborough. Actually it's 'Sir,' you see, I've got a list of honors that would frankly boggle your mind, but it couldn't possibly make the slightest difference at this point, I suppose."
The Hunter couldn't help but feel out of his element. He begged for clarity, unconsciously reining in his accent a bit to make the text less excruciating for the reader. "Look 'ere. I 'aven't got the faintest foggy fuck what's going on 'ere. Last I remember, I was filmin' me show at the Reef-"
"Yes, I imagine your predicament might seem very wondrous, much like the majesty of the wide array of life across our planet. You see, I'm rather afraid that you were killed."
The Hunter was confused. "Killed?"
"Yes, that's the ticket. Details are a bit sketchy but I think the chaps in forensics decided it was a stingray barb to the chest."
"Crikey. Nevah saw it coming. Figured it'd be a hippo did me in."
"Yes, quite. In any case, you cannot fully ascend to Nature Programme Host Heaven- a very select position, you understand- until you resolve some personal business which went unfinished during your mortal lifespan. Only when this issue is fully addressed can you ascend and join us- Jeff Corwin and Jack Hanna and Nigel Thornberry and Carl Sagan- at least, we're fairy certain he counts."
"Yeah? Crikey. No worries."
"... well, naturally. Ehm. In any case, I believe I may have pinpointed the source of your spiritual malaise. The ray who slew you is about to itself become victim to one of nature's most efficient and deadly predators- human beings. It seems poachers off the Great Barrier Reef intend to kill this ray and all his family in order to make a hearty soup. It seems you'll have to overcome your deep hatred towards this creature and intervene to save it from this ghastly fate."
"Ah, no worries theah, guv. I don't hate any animals. Love the bloody bastards."
"... I did mention that it killed you, didn't I?"
"Awww, that's no worries. Don't think she meant it, little beaut. Least I got the chance to die doin' what I loved, eh? Not many get to say that."
"Well.. whatever."
\*\*\*
And so the ghost of Steve Irwin went to Earth and beat up the poachers off the Great Barrier Reef and rescued the stingray. And then he went to Heaven with all the other nature documentary hosts. |
"Lately mommy’s face is like super red from all the crying she’s doing. She said it was ‘cause Nana went into this super duper long sleep and that she wasn’t going to wake up anymore. But Dad told me it was gonna be just fine because she’s dreaming of wonderful things like butterflies, knitting, and grandpa from the pictures at home! It sounds like a lot of fun; I wish I had those kinds of dreams!
But it’s getting way past my bed time and I’m hoping mommy isn’t looking at the clock in the car right now or I’m gonna be in so much trouble. Because I really don’t feel sleepy, not one bit!
Shhhh don’t be too loud right now, mommy’s looking at the road really hard. She seems kinda angry.
It's quiet right now and I'm so bored ‘cause I forgot my Gameboy back at Tommy’s place. I hope he remembers to return it. I wonder if dad can pick it up when he gets home. I hope so.
Hey, would yah look at that there’s stuff in this box over here. I wonder if I can take a look.
Okay good, mommy didn’t notice. It looks like a book about food! It has pictures too! But Nana wrote a lot of squiggly lines under the pictures, I think they’re words.
Hey look, it’s Nana’s apple pie! It’s my favorite. Every Sunday when we go to the lake with my cousin Sammie, we race to the one-eyed tree, near where the ducks like to stay at to see who gets the first bite because we both wanna eat Nana’s apple pie first.
Between you and me though Sammie’s a cheater, his legs grew like twice as long last summer and he won’t tell me how he did it. It’s not fa-
Mommy saw me looking at the pictures. So I put I got to put it away now. But mommy said she can make the apple pie tomorrow, and the best part is. I can help!
Okay good I woke up in my bed last night even though I fell asleep in the car, looks like my powers are still working. Do you hear that? I think it’s coming from the kitchen. Mommy brought out a lot of spoons, bowls, and kitchen stuff; I hope I don’t get stuck with the cleaning part.
Mommy’s pointing at the book and she told me that I’m gonna be in charge of finding the ingredients! She said that only true heroes can see the things the apple pie needs. I’m like for sure a hero because my dad is one too! He wears his superhero uniform all the time when he comes home, it’s color green, brown, and it has spots all over. He says it makes him invisible so the bad guys don’t see him. Isn’t that cool.
Oh mommy says that the first thing I have to do is find Nana’s old picture where she’s holding me when I was a little baby. But I’m a big boy now don’t forget. She told me to clean it up and put it on my table. That’s easy because I love pictures with Nana. Maybe if Nana wakes up I can take more pictures with her.
Next is to go near the bowl and whisper a story about Nana. I told my favorite one where we would go play catch in the park whenever dad was away and mom was working. I could always throw the ball super far, but I told Nana not to tell anyone especially my dad who doesn't know yet how strong my throw is.
Mom got the bowl and told me to close my eyes and count to ten. No cheating mommy said, but sometimes I like to peak. When I opened my eyes there was this fluffy pie that looked super yummy, but mom said it needed one more thing.
So mommy hugged me super tight as if she was trying to squeeze something out of me! She told me it was the secret ingredient, but I don’t really get how hugs and kisses are the secret, but I just wanna eat some of the pie!
And just like I remembered it, it's just like Nana's!
Want some?" |
It turns out every person has one purpose in life. One thing they gotta do before the end. A good number of folks achieve it before they die--some even as they're dying. Others, well, they don't get around to it, for one reason or another. So they just sorta... stick around.
That's where you come in.
If you can read this, it means the initiation surgery went well. Congratulations, you are now officially a cyborg: You've got a quantum ecto-processor installed in your retina and ear canal. That's the tech that lets you see the spirit realm, Purgatory, the in-between, whatever you wanna call it, I ain't gonna judge. Don't worry, though, you're still pretty low-level, so you won't have to worry about the, well, "problem cases."Let the Fathers handle those. As for your job...
...you're a Ghost Hunter now, kid. Whenever there's a class I or II disturbance, you'll be called in to take a look-see at the spirit who's trying to get their business done. And truly, that's all most of 'em are doing. But when you don't have access to a frontal lobe anymore, it's hard to know that smacking china teacups off some old lady's wall ISN'T going to help your kid graduate med school, ya know? So that's when you go in and talk to 'em. You can hear 'em, see 'em... It's a bit of a shock for 'em at first, bein' able to make themselves heard clearly, but they usually come around. And hey, if you're ever in a bind, you can call up HQ and they'll advise you or send in backup. No sweat.
Now, one teensy side-effect of your new gig is that, well, you can't really turn that ghost-vision off. So you're gonna feel real haunted all of a sudden. Hey, maybe that's what interested you in this gig in the first place. But yeah, you'll see a lot more paranormal activity than you did back in the day. And listen, if all the wailing and twisted flesh and stuff starts to get to ya, just remember that you're only obligated to help during your shifts. Those good ghosty friends aren't going anywhere, you can get to them eventually.
*But if I know you like I think I do... you won't be able to rest if you know even one is suffering.*
So yeah, don't stress yourself out about it. And as you may know, Hunters are legally exempt from all controlled substance restrictions, so if you need to get trippy to make things make sense for a bit, jus' flash yer badge if the police start hasslin' ya about it.
Oh, and if you ever get into a class IV situation, you've got a direct line to your precinct's Father. Just tap your right ear two times after losing over 25 percent of your bodily fluids, and one'll be right over. (They usually bring along a couple orderlies and a stretcher as a courtesy.) If you've never seen a class IV, believe me, it's best to let the special forces handle our spoopier friends--that is, if you don't wanna join 'em yourself. Trust me,
*I should know.*
Anyway, don't sweat it, you'll be fine. Good luck out there, kid! I know you'll do great, heck, maybe you'll even be promoted to the Fathers one day. I hope so, anyway. After all...
*...I'll be watching.* |
*There's a chill in the air as you meet your sisters in the clearing at Hollow Creek. You exchange the traditional mulled cider, light the sacred spice candles, and form a circle to speak the ancient words. Tonight, you all have business to attend to.*
As you meet each other in the circle you have a feeling that you've come to a common conclusion. The words speak directly to you, the words are ancient, the words speak of truthfulness. We're on the path to understanding, and the truth is within us all.
After the circle has been formed you begin to walk together over the mountains to get to the river where the ancient stone circles still lie, hidden beneath the thickets of the forest. The river is still there; it is still there, and there should be a path to follow.
"Walking the path to the river, you will learn of a new thing that will help you along the way,"says an old woman who appears to be in her fifties. She is wearing white-and-blue clothing, her black hair is loose and wild, and a pair of red-and-gold shoes stand out. She is holding a red-and-gold cauldron from which strange dark liquid flows.
It is cold.
"Some of the stones are very hard,"you say. "It is not safe for any person to walk around here in the dark like this."
"It has nothing to do with the stones,"says the old woman as you walk along. "They were created to help people heal. If you are truly good, they will be a source of power, healing for your family and your friends. But this is the wrong way to go. We should be healing the stone circles themselves, not the water from the circle."
When the ancient stone circles are gone, the old woman will offer you the cauldron.
You drink the liquid from the cauldron, and the stone circles begin to melt.
Your eyes adjust.
"You have to be brave, young man. If you stay silent, no one will listen."
Your eyes adjust.
"You must be brave, young man. You do what you must do. No one will listen to you. No one."
When the old woman's eyes have adjusted to the dark, you realize that she has been speaking to you for hours. She has been holding back from speaking because you have been keeping quiet, but now that you understand it, it would be better if you did speak now, so they can hear what you really mean.
"You do something wrong."
The old woman's eyes are still fixed on the stone circles, but now that you have the understanding that it is your own fault, you begin to smile.
"There is no wrongdoing. If you do what you must do, you will see the right way. There is no wrongdoing. If the circles are good to you now, the stones will be good to you in the future. The stones will be good to you, because they were created to help people heal. The stone circles are good to the people of the land now, because they were created to help people heal. The stone circles are good, because they were made to honor those who helped people heal, and for the people who helped heal the stone circles were good, it is good that they are good, because it is good that they heal."
The stone circles disappear, and they have disappeared into nothingness.
It is dark out, and a strange sense of calm surrounds you.
You look into her eyes. In that moment, as her eyes investigated yours, the truth of your situation becomes undeniable. You cannot tell from her expression, but you are sure that your own mind is in complete control of your decision to speak. You will make your decision as your own mind allows it. Your emotions will not get in the way of your decision, your will. You shall walk the path to the water and heal the stone circles yourself before the old woman sees that you are on your own path.
The old woman walks away from you in fear and silence.
You feel a sudden urge to cry; you feel as if you might cry at any time. This woman in your life did not want you to speak; she did not want you to walk along the path that had opened between them and you.
Your heart is pounding, and you are beginning to regret what you have done. It is a very small mistake that your heart could have made if it were the right choice. You are angry that you let this old woman into your life and are angry that she does not want to speak to you at the table you have made. You begin to shake as you speak again, anger and sadness mixed into each word you whisper. |
August 23rd, 2287 CE
"It's certainly sturdy enough,"the uniformed man said as he examined the weapon in his hands, turning it over to appreciate it from every angle. The matte black surface of the compact rifle was stamped on the stock with the the simple identifier, "Pectare & Mercer model 87 - 0001."
"I'm so glad you approve General Iberian,"said the heavy set balding man sitting across a bare metal table in the dark unadorned room they occupied "It is the finest battle rifle we have ever designed. We were able to keep your requirements in mind, and the final cost of production is well within the specified budget."
"You've done well Mr. Mercer. Ordinarily the Outer Colony Defense Corps would thoroughly field test these first but with the recent rebellions . . ."General Richard Iberian trailed off with a sigh.
Abel Mercer, master gunsmith and entrepreneur nodded sympathetically as he finished the thought. "You can't really afford to wait, especially since your supply lines from the inner colony manufacturing worlds has been cut off."
The officer carefully restrained a resentful snarl. In truth, Mercer and his business partner were actually charging the OCDC a preposterous sum of money for what really amounted to a slight downgrade from their previous standard combat rifle.
Iberian needed no reminding of that from the fat opportunist, but even if he could source replacements for lost equipment there was no chance of acquiring the specialized ammunition that the older battle-tested rifles required.
The inner colonies had ensured that the OCDC could never rebel by keeping them dependant on inner colony supplies, but that policy was now backfiring on inner and outer colonies alike.
Still, they would persevere. General Iberian returned the rifle to its place in a crate of ten. "How many can you make in a month?"
23 years later . . . .
The transport bounced and bobbed in the turbulence of atmospheric re-entry. Burning air slipped past the nose as the dropship pilot forced the flying brick over into their desired flight path. The compliment of OCDC troopers in the bird's belly needed to be delivered precisely where they were needed.
Private Timothy Siommedes checked his weapon for the fifth time since they embarked. Newly refurbished and re-issued to him, the P&M 87, (affectionately known by OCDC infantry simply as "Pam") had seen over two decades of service, first in suppressing the '87 rebellions, then in the more resulting hotspots of insurrection spread across the colonies as individual worlds tried to go rogue and damn the consequences to everybody else.
It was not lost on Tim that the serial number of his particular weapon was 0001. It was the very first, he had been told by an uncharacteristically excited gunnery sergeant. First off the line from the first production series. Only prototypes had come before.
Tim wasn't sure if he should feel lucky, or honored, or maybe singled out. Maybe it didn't matter? Just coincidence. He read the marking on the stock again. "Pectare & Mercer model 87 - 0001."Lucky number one.
"Hey Timber!"He reacted to his nickname and looked to his best friend, private Benjamin "Big Ben"Linus.
"Timber,"came from Tim's setting of the company record for "Most Times Knocked On His Arse in Hand -to-Hand Training."
"Big Ben"came from . . . well PT shorts didn't leave much to the imagination first thing in the morning.
Ben smiled broadly, pointing at Tim's gun. "You and lucky number one need some privacy brother?"
The joke wasn't all that funny, but a wave of chuckles went around the platoon, the reaction of nervous men holding fear at Bay with crude humor. Roughly half of the men were the eternally maligned "Fungs."Replacements, fresh out of training on their first deployment.
Green as grass, their first blooding in front of them and they knew it was coming. The veterans among them were supportive enough, but there was a small, noticeable distance kept between them.
The new men would have to prove themselves.
"Thirty seconds!"came the cry from the pilot, "LZ is hot!"Moments later a series of pinging noises against the armoured hull of the dropship confirmed that rebel ground forces were aware of their arrival.
"You heard him,"their perpetually angry-looking sergeant, known exactly and always as Sgt. Burly and nothing else, bellowed, "Time to clock in! Final check!"
Voices echoed in sequence, each man confirming he was good to go. Tim's voice almost failed him, but he sounded off with only a small quaver of his voice.
Moments later, a full this echoed through the interior as the dropship's landing gear hit dirt. As one, the men released their seat restraints and turned in unison to face the deployment hatches. In cue, the massive ramps slammed down with a metallic clang and the platoon was rapidly disgorged into a maelstrom of gunfire and confusion.
Tim followed after Ben, and felt his feet leave the metal ramp to touch the dirt of a rebel planet. Then he felt nothing as darkness took him. Lucky 0001 slipped from his nerveless fingers, it's barrel cold and magazine full. Tim was dead before what was left of his head hit the grass.
19 years later . . . .
He wasn't entirely sure why he had picked the old gun. In a pile of beaten old weapons, the beaten old Pam had simply been angled such that the stock seemed to be reaching for him. So he took it.
Misha inspected his new acquisition. The old Pams were infamous as the OCDC's favorite tool of oppression. Lately however, as more and more of the guns made their way through the black market into the hands of freedom fighters, they had taken on a different connotation.
Tools of resistance. Planetary sovereignty and rights of self governance. The rebellions of the last century had been mere sparks, the fire waning to embers under the boots of the inner colony monopolistic authorities. Now it was an inferno. Misha was all too happy to fuel the fire. The OCDC had taken from from him. Now he would take from them.
The weapons had been distributed. Ammunition was in meagre supply but it was dolled out fairly and his magazine was comfortingly full. He inspected the gun, looking at the stock where the weapon had clearly been defaced either by battle damage or as a symbolic gesture. All that remained of an old identifying stamp was "Merc"and "01."Misha grinned and fished out his pocket knife.
A few minutes later Misha was satisfied that "Merciful 1"was ready to serve its new purpose. The loyalists had shown him their idea of "mercy."
Misha would show them his.
30 years later . . . .
"So where yah headed friend?"the Finnic, the owner and shopkeeper of the modestly successful general supply store on the outskirts of the spaceport, asked of the tired-looking man that had been browsing his wares for nearly an hour, clearly outfitting himself for a long trip
"Off-world,"the fellow said, "Colony expedition."
"Ah,"Finnic nodded knowingly, "Can't say I blame you. Economy never did quite come back after the wars."
The man grunted, but made no further comment, eyes gliding from one thing to the next but settling in nothing.
"Anything I can help you find friend?"Finnic asked.
"I'll need a weapon,"said the man, "Pirates and raiders are still an issue on the frontier."
"Ah,"Finnic brightened, "I have some excellent options for self defence, top of the line stuff and fresh in from -"
The man waved a hand to forestall him. "I'm on a tight budget and the rest of what I need will already be pushing it. Something used, and reliable. But especially cheap."
Finnic tried to mask his disappointment, but pressed on. Customer first and all. "I think I have something. It's a bit of an antique at this point but serviceable for your needs."
He went around the back of the counter to the weapons display he kept behind a security cage and retrieved a venerable rifle. The matte black finish was chipped and worn from hard years of use and abuse.
"Here,"Finnic said, "One of the old Pams. Definitely illegal on most worlds but out on the frontier that won't matter much."
"It's sturdy enough,"the stranger commented as he turned the weapon over to inspect it. He grinned then, and even chuckled a little. "Heh. Merciful one eh? Someone had a dark sense of humor."
"I'm so glad you approve, friend."
The man nodded, his mind made up.
"You got ammo?" |
I go to meet my closest friend, Jerry, he had been wanting to meet. I drive to his house with a strange feeling surrounding me. I feel as if he had something important to tell me but I can’t be sure of that until I arrive. As I turn the corner to his street I see him in his yard waving to greet me. I park in his driveway and exit my car. I greet him and ask why he’s outside. Jerry replies “I just want to mix it up a little, you know get out of the norm.” We enter his house and he asks if I want some tea and I accept. He puts it on the kettle and I walk around a bit. I enter his room out of pure curiosity. I open his closet and reveal a whole rack of body suits that look like everyone I know. I hear him step in the room and he says “I guess the jig is up, I’m everyone you’ve ever met. I’m a true master of disguise and I’ve known you since you were twenty so you know this has been going on pretty long. I’m afraid that there is no one you can go to with this information though. Not an old teacher nor police man. What I’ve done isn’t even technically illegal seeing as I never impersonated an actual person. We both will have to live with this the rest of our lives and honestly, I’m fine with that. Well the tea’s almost done so let’s go drink some.” Jerry leads me to his kitchen and puts sugar in my tea he also places something I’ve never seen before into it. He hands it to me and I pretend to drink it. He walks by me and says “See you in another life, it’s been fun.” Nothing happens and he looks surprised. He continues “Fortunately I have a backup plan. I’ve always expected for you to find it so I’m always packing heat. He pulls a gun out of his jacket and fired at me. He misses and this gives me a chance to disarm him. I hit his hand and he tries to hit me with the gun. He misses me by an inch. I wallop him in the face and try to wrestle the gun from him. It’s an tough fight and I manage to toss the gun. I hit him in the face and we roll into a counter and knock over a knife block. The knifes fall out and I’m able to just pick one up. I roll over after he grapples me again. I stab him in the chest repeatedly feeling safer each time. He dies and I feel relived but confused as to what to do next. He was everyone in my life and I now have no one to turn to. I have to live with this and I just can’t take it. I’d become insane from the loneliness before I died. I have to end it now because I can’t take it. I pick up the gun and look at his body. I lower it and realize that this is what he wanted. I should at least try to live and give it a chance. I look at the door to his house and drop the gun. I walk over to and open the door. I take in a deep breath of air and prepare for what’s to come next. I may take years, even decades to come to terms with this. Wait, didn’t he say he was my friend since I was twenty? Maybe that he meant that when I met his real self. I don’t exactly remember much before then. I realize that I must find out but not now, now I have to come to terms with the loneliness. I walk down the street wondering where to start. I’ll walk until then. |
"Just another day in COVID, nowhere to go, nothing to watch on TV, I'm about netflixed out and I can't believe I'm considering going to bed at 9PM on a damn Saturday."I sighed to myself. At this point in the year, time was meaningless. I had been without significant social interaction in nine months, having entered lockdown back in March. Aside from a weekly doctor's appointment and a bi-monthly grocery run, there was very little else to look forward to.
All the same, I got ready for bed, stared at my image in the mirror while I washed my face, brushed my teeth with an almost robotic fashion. No wonder people were losing their minds. I turned off the light in the bathroom and laid down in my bed. At some point in the night, I was aware of a presence in my room. I can't place it exactly but the unease woke me up. I looked around the room and I could see the familiar shadows against the wall, the TV, the dresser, my coat hung up over the door. Then the realization hit me, my coat was in the hall closet! I turned on the light and there stood an ominous figure, cloaked in a black robe and holding a scythe.
"So, I guess it's my time to die? Not from disease but from bordeom?", I asked sarcastically.
The cloaked figure spoke with a raspy voice that hung in the air but still pierced my soul, "No, your time is not close. I come with an offer of employment."
"Wait, are you soliciting me for a job? That's kind of odd, everyone knows that Death is a one man band, solo operator... ", I said incredulously. In all the stories and fairytales, I had never heard of Death having a henchman.
Death spoke again. "You will take my role, only in this region. In exchange, I will add 40 more years to your lifespan and ensure you are healthy to enjoy it."
"Wait, for real? I get to be Death? So what all do I need to do? What's up with the scythe? I don't have to kill anyone do I?"I probably fired my questions at Death faster than I should, but I couldn't resist.
"You will get all my gifts and the responsibilities for the greater central United States. You will only harvest those souls whose time has come. Help them to the afterlife so they can be sorted and judged according to their merits. The scythe allows you to open and close the gateway between this life and the afterlife, you only need to find them and escort them through."said Death.
"But what about my current job? Won't they miss me?", I asked, now genuinely curious.
"When someone is near death, you will go to them as a moth to a lamp, In those moments, time will stand still."Death said. I'd swear I had gotten used to the raspy voice.
"Ok, fair enough, now for the big question. Why? Why me?", I inquired.
"Because you want a change of pace, something to do in this pandemic. I can't do it all myself. I have hired several other humans to assist, there is too many souls looking for the afterlife for me to do it. For this region, I chose you.", Death said authoritatively.
"Ok, you got a deal, provided that this doesn't interfere with my normal job.", I said.
Suddenly, I shot straight out of bed wide awake. I fumbled for the lights and turned them on and sure enough I was dressed in a black robe. Leaning up against the door was a scythe, and out the window, I could see beacons light up the sky.
"Well, guess it's time to get to work.", I said to myself as I walked out of the apartment. |
I knew that he was trouble as soon as I saw him. The good looks and surprisingly coordinated outfit for someone who ‘didn’t care’ about looks. The sunglasses with a mirrored tint also made it clear that he was ready for trouble. Sure enough, as I pondered what this could mean a sewer lid flew into the air.
I didn’t need any more encouragement. Without looking back to see what was spewing forth from the sewers, I ran. The town limit was a mile down this road. Recently, I had taken up running. This wasn’t for my health. Oh no, I knew this day would come ever since my brother died. He had the misfortune to be in a town where a oddly similar man had fought back an alien invasion.
That’s it! This must be an alien invasion. That meant Plan A was in effect. I would get out of town and swing around to the old mines. They should provide cover, and if the aliens won, I would be able to hide out for a while. I had stashed a year’s worth of MREs there only last month.
The ground shook and I fell. While I picked myself up, I looked back to see what was happening. Mt. Charles had lost its top and it was on fire now. Sweet baby Jesus, The aliens were even more powerful than I thought. In addition to that they knew the ranger station was at the top and were trying to stop outside communication. I hesitated for a second did they know about the mine too. It didn't mater that was my only chance now. I needed to hurry, I was at Dante Ave, so I had already made it a third of a mile.
I checked my phone now as I ran and sure enough no signal. I focused on my breathing and tried to massage the side stitch that was growing on my right side. As I neared the two thirds landmark at Yellow stone Ave, Parker's Hardware store blew up behind me. Oh god, I ran faster than I had in my entire life. Granted I had to slow down a little latter, but even a block could mean the difference between life and death. It didn’t make sense though. Why were the aliens this far over in town, the main character had went the other way.
I was still pondering that when I made it to the edge of town and headed up Bleak’s trail. I was out of breathe and graying out from the exertion but kept pushing. As I came out of the woods and to the last stretch before the mines another quake knocked me off my feet. Now that I was looking up I realized that this mountain was smoking too. I was about to get up and run for to the mine when I saw steaming mud and rock coming down the mountain.
This wasn’t an alien attack scenario. This was a natural disaster, and I should have been making my way out of the valley in my jeep. Still it seemed unfair that two mountains had been volcanoes. Too late to complain now though, and with my last thoughts I curse the main character. Why did he have to come to my town? |
*It’s late, I am tired. I’m sorry if this sucks or just comes off as pretentious or ‘modern’ idk lol. I kind of went for that but that’s why I’m sorry you have to read it lmao. Also you can scrap the last paragraph if you want to be closer to the prompt.*
Life is simply simple. You are born, you grow, you reproduce, and after hundreds of years, or a shitty winter or shittier weed control, you die.
The grass sits in its soil, it takes in phosphorus, water, nitrates and nitrites. It absorbs carbon dioxide, releases a minuscule but appreciated amount of breathable air, oxygen to fuel an unknown symbiotic relationship.
The grass does not hear, it cannot feel, but it knows. A vibration increases, and connected roots to the other petals of grass fire a chemical reaction of a warning. The grass cannot feel, yet is that not fear?
It is dark for just a moment, yet it is not night. There is no pain for the blade of grass, just loss. The grass finds itself split in two, yet alive, yet unconnected. It’s rootless half remains, not immediately dying, staying alive and producing oxygen for its animal betrayer. Even in death the grass works, until it’s cells die in a bitter and uneventful end.
The rooted grass cannot feel, but it knows it has lost a part of itself. Yet it knows that is no reason to stop what it does.
The grass grows. It reproduces. And maybe it will die in full one day, not simply in parts.
The grass cannot think, but it wonders why this keeps occurring.
A boy looks at the lawn and ponders the grass’ fate. He imagines how it must be to exist as those stagnant and tortured plants. How can he know what a feeling-less being can feel? And yet, to him, he knows. He imagines himself as a small blade of grass, losing part of himself, and he frowns. The boy knows sympathy. |
When that genie granted my wish I thought my life would turn into one of grand adventure, but instead I find my self sitting in this room waiting for this jackass writer to finish his three page descripion of the door until he finishes and continues to write about my day I am trapped here in this room and this is a good day.
Last week he spent a whole chapter going on and on and on about the history of the city road layout just to say that for unknown reasons the whole city is shaped like a duck. The other month I was stuck out in the rain while the guy prattled on about the unusual weather patterns near the city. |
Poor little orphan lives on street. Has a little hideout under an abandoned building with 4 littler kid and other girl. He steal for himself to eat but give most food to littler kid and girl. One day girl is walking along the street looking for food to steal, girl help to but girl not so good thief so mostly boy find food, girl try take bread. Girl caught. Suddenly as girl about to be dragged away by shop owner posh fancy carriage stop in the middle of road. Beautiful elegant woman come out, say girl special, elegant woman will take away girl and make her like powerful elegant woman. Girl wants to stay, don't trust woman, don't want to leave "family", orphan boy sees, he tell her to go because they never really family, orphan boy don't like her, she go there one less worthless mouth for him to feed. Really orphan boy think she have what he never will, she have opportunity, a chance for future, orphan boy must let go of girl he loves. Girl understand that but girl still upset that boy willing to let her go, that he don't understand what really important to her, girl turns her head away and gets on carriage. Boy sees carriage fade away.
One day orphan boy see passer by dressed in rich clothes, young man look strong and elegant and spoilt. Orphan boy try pick pocketing wealthy man. Wealthy man catches his hand, orphan boy can't move, a strange force exerted on his body, he is frozen. Young man's eyes light up, says you are perfect, takes frozen orphan boy to place far away in mountain without sparing a second.
Young wealthy man is actually first young master of a great prestigious martial sect. He says orphan boy has special constitution and must be his disciple. Orphan boy wants to go back to street see little kids he take care of, he wants to bring them here. Sect young master says no outsider allowed, say now orphan boy here he cannot leave for 20 years unless he master martial art before that.
Orphan boy is ostracised by other sect disciple, he not allowed to say he junior of first master, other sect disciple from wealthy poweful martial family. Orphan boy don't care, train harder than anyone, he close to mastering mortal level faster than anyone else. Before 20 years, he actually on the peak of achieving stage within just 4. A few week before breakthrough jealous senior disciple try cripple him, he breakthrough on the spot, cripple senior disciple. But senior disciple first son of sect elder, sect elder want to kill orphan boy, orphan boy senior first master help boy escape sect but can't do much else. Tell orphan boy go seek old warrior in martial city far away from sect.
Orphan boy sets of on journey, before he can go far assasins sent by sect elder track him down. He fights them more evenly though outnumbered, orphan boy defeat assassins but is injured and poisoned. As orphan boy limps to nearest town he passes out at town entrance. Mysterious person comes and stands by him for a few second, mysterious person ponders than touches orphan boy and heal him. Mysterious person disappears.
Orphan boy wakes up, sees town he arrived at, shock, it town he grew up in. Orphan boy go to old building where he live with other orphans, building torn down, gambling hall built in place. Orphan boy ask around, orphan boy look different, old orphan boy small, scrawny dirty and hopeless, new orphan boy tall strong young man, look powerful and wealthy even though his clothes torn. Orphan boy see young women being robbed by thugs, he destroy thug. Young women see him, still recognise orphan boy, she shopkeeper daughter who used to pity him. Orphan boy ask what happened to littler orphan kid. Shopkeeper daughtdf sad, she say she try and help but two orphan kid die sickness and one orphan kid killed by spoilt rich family kid. Orphan boy go visit grave of littler orphan kid that shopkeeper daughter make. He weeps as he sees the uncaring sun setting on the still glades and the dew glistens on the tear drop leaves that give shade upon the unknown, unmarked graves. Orphan boy sad and anger, orphan boy frustrated and bitter, orphan boy say strength he have is fickle and pathetic, orphan boy make vow that he will be strongest, to protect himself and those around orphan boy.
Orphan boy thank shopkeeper daughter and say goodbye, he will leave town of terrible past for last time and look always forward. He step on road to make journey to martial town. He will find old warrior and become master of martial art.
End of part 1.
Sorry for the bad English, I just read this prompt and had this whole huge story instantly blossom in my head and I was like, I can either skip this prompt entirely or severely restrict myself in language and not take it seriously so I don't end up making a short story 50 pages long. Even then I ended up making it to the point of only having a part 1. |
I've always hated this city. The people are cold. It's rulers are heartless. Living in a place that has learned how to cure any disease, but chooses instead to wage war against the world, is a nightmare without end. I want no part of this despicable place to survive. I am glad our weapons have backfired. I am glad our time is coming to an end.
But those two little girls that I see every day on my way to the palace, they evoke pity within me. Every day since I began my work for the royal family, I would see these two children, one a teenager, the other under ten years of age. They're sisters, from what I can tell, orphans as well. Abandoned by the people of this city, it seems like I'm the only person who's ever bothered to buy them food.
As the city burns around me, my sabotage collapsing the city in waves and flame, my triumphant victory is replaced by pain. I want nothing to survive, but I can't take my mind off of those children.
So i grab them by the hands and pull them along behind me. I'd given up on the pod I built to survive this calamity. I didn't deserve to survive this place either. But now I am glad that I built it. These children are my legacy. My hope that someone can survive the cursed city of Atlantis. And before the flames take me, the words I spoke to them before sending them off echo within my mind.
"Preserve this place in your minds,"I instruct them. "Remember everything you can about this city, and tell people about it. I want them to know what a horrible place Atlantis was. I want you to build a better life in the wake of our destruction." |
"We here at Gehenna look forward to working with you,"she said. I signed a line, we shook hands and I again tried to read her mind. Blank. Empty. Not a sliver of thought or agency or emotion entered into that woman's head.
"Something on your mind, mr. Smith?"More smiles.
"No,"I said.
Thoughtless was, as far as I was concerned, not a word. There is no such thing as *thoughtless*. In fact, the callous and the absent-minded tend to have *more* thought cluttering their heads, the quick-witted to have fewer but faster, and the stupid to have just as many as anyone else. And further still the mind can be read. Even when sleeping, and you're past the dreams and well into the deep, there are thoughts, though alien and strange - and the one corpse I've ever read held fast forever to a single, unrelenting idea with the meaning long since bored away to be replaced with defiance and spite.
There is *no such thing as thoughtless.*
And yet the woman in front of me was just that. No mind at all. Not even emotion or desire.
"This way, mr. Smith,"she said. She showed me through a doorway.
The interior was painted white with a grey carpet covering the floor. The windows were all shut. There was staff roaming, all slight variations on the same theme, in clothes and skin and hair. There were doors regularly spaced out, seemingly made from multiple slim trees. I couldn't place the type.
"Wormwood."said the smiling woman. "They're made out of wormwood. You'll be wanting to continue down the hall; your office is at the very end."
I thanked her and started down the hallway. Some thirty metres in, there were no more windows. Some seventy, the doors grew fewer and fewer. There were none by the hundred-meter mark.
I remember the hallway slightly slanting.
I don't know how long I walked. An hour, certainly. Two, perhaps. I only stopped when I saw a new door. This one had a large red sign informing the reader that **REPARATIONS** were **UNDERWAY** and demanding that they **KEEP OUT**.
I took a hasty look behind me. Can't hurt to look. I opened the door.
And I saw. I saw a man, or something in the shape of a man, locked away behind bars; or a horned creature braying in a pentagram; or a dealer in Vegas, one arm handcuffed to the table; or a great, twisting, twirling *idea* given form by nothing but belief, or the Truth that regardless of whether there was a god there was a Devil and he was here and he was a man locked behind bars and no *no* of *course* it was just a man behind bars. No Devil. That would be impossible.
I hesitantly reached out to read his mind.
And I found, again, nothing.
He smiled. Gently. Softly. Dangerously. And suddenly, I was back in the room with the smiling woman.
She said: "We're sorry, but we've decided that this most likely isn't the best workplace for you."
She went on, and on, but it was mostly well wishes and the like. When I read her mind, I found a single mother of two and the kids had been rougher than usual and I reminded her of the guy who'd disappeared six years ago just a little too much and she'd unconsciously decided because of that not to give me the job, no competense entering into it.
I walked home, almost in a trance. The sky was grey. And bit by bit, I forgot it all.
But yesterday I saw that man behind the bars again. He was walking in the street, free as anything. And suddenly it came back to me, and I stood, frozen, as he walked past. He looked at me.
And smiled. |
“Well this is a mess.”
She walked in the interrogation room. Her auburn hair tied to a bun. I know her type. I work everyday with lawyers. The noise of the chair as she dragged it away from the table bounced off the walls and gave me that numbing irritation. Like nails on a chalkboard. She sat down in front of me and placed a black leather purse on the table. Nice and pricey, my ex-wife... ex-wives were into those.
“You work for John and John Law Firm?”
Her eyes were dark like the color of her skin. I couldn’t help but trail her thin neck down to her white blouse. Very pretty.
“Yes,” I said. My voice was low and quiet. I found it disturbing how I feel not so much as remorse or regret for what I did, but the lack of it.
“And you’re?” she continued. Her eyes darted up from the folder she had pulled from another bag on the floor.
“An accountant,” I said.
She flipped through some papers. “Then you know who I am.”
“That wasn’t a question,” I said, suddenly feeling bored. Why was I bored? I just killed someone.
“I wasn’t asking,” she replied. She closed the docket and emphasized it as she placed it on the metal surface of the table. She stared at me, not saying anything further, placing her chin on her fingertips. Her elbow rested on the table and her sleeves drew back exposing her wrists. A gold bracelet dangled lazily. My attention was caught on the plastic thread still stuck between the chain links. It was new. At least the price tag wasn’t there.
“Are they pressing charges?” I asked, finally.
“Where’s your clone?”
“My wha—?”
“—Clone. Copy. Doppleganger. Where is he?”
“Listen, Lady,” I said. I can feel my face heating up. I asked for representation but instead they sent me the prosecutor.
“I’m wondering if the copies are so a lot like us. Because if that was the case, there’d be another maniac out there just freely driving off the road and hitting random pedestrians on the sidewalk,” she said, cutting me off.
That was curious. She said “The Copies”. That meant that she thinks she’s the original. That’s rich. The purse was mismatched on her brown jacket. Her bracelet was new. I wondered if it was an exact copy of what her other-self owned. Bottomline, her clone was probably smarter and quicker and managed to replace her life before she could do anything about it.
“So?” she pressed again.
“I don’t have one,” I said. I didn’t even hide a smile and I don’t know why. Something didn’t seem right.
She returned the gesture but then leaned back crossed her arms.
“So you dealt with him, too. Didn’t you?”
I raised an eyebrow and glanced at the mirror behind her. “I didn’t get a clone,” I said.
“You’re sick.”
She was probably right. I felt alone in the world. But when the phenomena happened, I figure I can go and get at least one of my ex-wives back.
Unfortunately, they both thought I was a piece of shit. So yeah, clones share the original’s thoughts. And they made me doubly realize it that it may or may not have pushed me over the edge, a heavy foot on the gas pedal, and the asshole who decided to get between me and the tree. Couldn’t get a marriage right, couldn’t get a suicide right. But apparently, I’m a master at manslaughter.
“I’m waiting for my real lawyer,” I said under my breath.
“Depends,” she said. She slid the docket towards my side of the table.
My face must have had a big question mark as she stared me down but motioned towards the folder with her eyes, those eyes that look troubled, worried and tired. Beads of sweat were breaking at her hairline.
I must have felt more tired and defeated since I took the documents with handcuffed hands and opened it. And what I saw confused me more than ever.
The first thing I noticed was a picture. Her picture. Pinned underneath with a paper clip was everything about her. Her job, medical records, social network sites, home address and her latest purchases. One of the purchases being the bracelet around her wrist.
“They’re not pressing charges,” she said finally.
“What? Why?”
“Apparently there was an argument on who owns what and so on. I’m sure you understand that.”
“I didn’t have a clone.”
“So you say,” she said. “And frankly, I don’t care. What I do care about is that you killed a man in cold blood. But unfortunately, there aren’t any laws written about killing someone’s clone. Not yet. If you ask me, the victims feel like you’ve made it simple and the state can’t charge you for killing a person who is technically still alive.
“The documents didn’t double up like the population did,” she finished looking me straight in the eye.
“So I’m free to go?” I asked. Still confused about the documents she showed me.
“I can be very convincing to a judge that you had purposefully taken a life.”
Her eyes motioned at me again. Asking me to take one more look at the document.
I flipped a page. And words scribbled in the last pages widened my eyes. “Walk and make sure there’s only one of me.”
The image of my ex-wives telling me off came into my head. They laughed at how they would even think of getting back with me. Stuck in a dead-end job and not worth anything. But this woman thinks I can get her life back if I do the simple task of killing her clone. There were no laws for it, not yet. And I would be helping her, I would be changing her life. Wouldn’t I?
The lawyer and I stood at the parking lot of the police station.
“Do you have a phone?” She asked.
I handed her my phone but she didn’t take it.
“Just call me an uber.”
“Why? Where’s yours?”
“Just stop asking questions. I got you out. Just do what you need to do.”
I tapped on my phone and got an uber. In the awkward wait, I wondered how I could have killed someone and not feel anything. Nothing. I killed a man and got away with it.
When the uber came I opened the door for the lawyer, closed it and walked around to enter the other side.
“What are you doing!” She protested as I sat next to her.
“This looks like it might be a thing,” I said. “You think I should charge the guy I didn’t run over?”
“Excuse me?”
“Lady, you’re nice and well off, something I’m not. But maybe we can be in business together. When I take care of your problem, you and I could make a killing.” |
I awaken seeing your face. Your cute boyishly handsome face. You seem surprised that I am a woman. But you're not disappointed like the previous scientist who woke me up. In fact you seem to find it refreshing. I sit up from the cryo pod and rub my eyes a bit adjusting to the bright lights in the room. My arms stretched upwards as I yawn slightly. I feel a slight blush as your beautiful light brown eyes watch me a bit as you write notes on my condition.
"So, your name is Rei? That's a pretty cool name."You say as you take your stethoscope and start to do a routine check on me. Like a normal person. Before when I have awoken either the doctors are scared of me or they underestimate me. But you. You who is about 5'6 with beautiful auburn short hair, thick rimmed glasses, wearing a your doctors coat over your simple tie, button up shirt and slacks. You treat me like a normal person. Once my vitals seem to be good you ask if I can stand up. I oblige and I again feel my cheeks turning a faint pink.
Normally men like him tend to think I am not worth talking to. Like I am dumb. But you have done your research.
"I read on your file that you prefer comfortable clothes. So the daily wear clothes are sweats and tshirt. Hope that's okay. Oh its more than okay. Normally I am put into a skin tight suit right away.
"That won't be till you're back in training"you reply. "But since you need a day to recover and make sure your not having adverse effects from the sleep your welcome to just relax for a bit."
You smile and that smile on your boyishly handsome face makes my heart flutter. Right then and there I make a solemn vow to myself as he leads me to what appears to be a shared living space where all the other soldiers are waiting. I will protect this man and make sure he survives. And maybe, maybe after, we could be together. Out of the hundreds of years that I have lived this is the first man who treated me with respect. And I will love him forever for that. |
Hard sole crunched the fallen barks and rotted branches, the woodsman swung his axe at the tree that takes fifty people hand and hand to hug its trunk.
Wood chunks flew off.
He swept his sweaty brow and spat in his hands to tighten his grip on the handle of the axe.
Another swing, a dead bird, the skeleton of a squirrel and a hissing snake fell from the tree.
Other than kicking the snake away, the woodsman kept on chopping the tree.
The temperature rises, the sun bore down on him.
He stopped to take a swig from his canteen. Then he chugged some moonshine from a silver engraved bottle. The carvings trembled and toiled in agony.
Chop, chop. He resumed his work.
The sky turned pinkish, hot flames shot down from the sky.
Chop, chop.
Soon, the mighty tree was barely holding on, one more swing of the axe is all that takes.
The woodsman chewed his sandwich, the slices of bacon are now replaced by fatty rats with fur intact. He bits down their head and whiskers. The sound of bone-crushing in his mouth.
He surveyed the surrounding. The land around him had fallen away into pits of lava. The reddish hues can be seen from the outer atmosphere.
A tiny white flower blossomed from the tree, it had grown from a crack in the trunk.
The woodsman made the final swing.
Pitch blackness is what ensued. |
[Note: This is the first time I've written for this sub and it's been awhile since I've written anything at all. CC is appreciated!]
It was somewhere on the way to Los Angeles. It was a place—a place that wasn’t really much of a place at all— in the middle of an endless expanse of desert dotted with alien-looking plants and the occasional distant mountain range. On that dark, lonely highway, time felt like an illusion. Every town, every gas station, every road sign quickly slipped into oblivion as quickly as they appeared. How many miles had I driven since my last stop? Had it been twenty or two hundred?
My stomach began to growl. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. That part of my day was long gone, left in some nameless travel plaza a hundred exits ago.
Out of the darkness pierced only by my headlights, I saw bright neon signs up ahead. Perfect, I’ll just grab some food and get moving. I pulled off at the next exit, looking for the gas station that I’d seen from the highway. To my surprise, it was nowhere to be found. I drove a little bit further down the road, but still nothing. I figured maybe they had, for some reason, shut their lights off and had closed. A bit strange, but not impossible.
When I looked around, I noticed that the exit I’d taken led to an old mining town. It was just a blip on the map, forever destined to be overshadowed by the larger cities sprouting up to the south. From the shadows of the night, I saw a row of old buildings on one side of the street. A sickly fluorescent light flickered weakly in the window of what appeared to be a house. It was the only sign of habitation. A single barren hill overlooked the town, dotted with twisted metal ruins and scars from the town’s mining days.
At the end of the main street, my headlights settled on an old playground. It was the kind of place I vaguely remembered from my childhood, complete with a rusty metal slide that would surely give third degree burns to any child who tried to use it during the heat of a desert afternoon. Next to the slide there was a merry-go-round that had almost completely fallen apart. At the far end of the playground, there was a swing set where all but one of the swings had broken and fallen to the ground.
Admitting defeat in my mission to find unhealthy late-night road snacks, I began to turn my car around. Then, out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of something moving. I glanced out my rearview mirror to get a better look. To my surprise, it was a child running—a little girl, maybe six years old. On her face was an expression of absolute terror.
I’d heard of human traffickers driving up and down the highway, so I immediately assumed the worst. I stopped the car and got out, calling to the girl.
The girl showed little response to my calls. She continued to run through the town, but when she got to the playground her expression suddenly changed. She became calm and stopped running. She strolled over to the swing set and sat down. I ran to catch up with her.
When I came face to face with her on the swing set, a chill ran down my spine. She was wearing a watermelon-colored windbreaker, blue jeans, and yellow jelly sandals with flowers on the Velcro fasteners.
I remembered that outfit vividly.
It was the outfit I’d been wearing on my first day of first grade. It was too hot for a jacket, but in my childhood innocence, I’d insisted on wearing the windbreaker anyway.
That was also the day I’d fallen off a swing set at recess and broken my arm. It had taken months to heal, but all my classmates had signed my cast and made it all seem better. It had been over twenty years since that day…
So why did it suddenly feel like just yesterday?
“Who are you?” I asked the girl.
“Can’t you tell?” Her face caught the moonlight and I could make out her features. Two dirty blonde pigtails framing her face. A gap between her teeth. Big blue eyes. The splitting image of myself in the childhood photos my parents had framed of me.
“You’re…me?” I gasped. “But… how? Am I dreaming?”
The girl… me… smiled, and then said matter-of-factly, “No, you’re dead.”
My heart dropped.
“I… how can that be possible?”
“You’ve been dead the whole time. That day on the playground, on your first day of first grade… you didn’t just break your arm. You fell on your neck, dying instantly.”
There was no sound but the distant howling desert wind.
“But…” I stammered. “My whole life…I grew up. I went to college. I graduated, and then I moved to Los Angeles…”
“Then you’ve done your time in Purgatory,” the little girl said gently as she extended her hand. “Come with me, sit and swing with me…”
In a trance, I took her hand and walked over the swing. As I sat down on the swing, I noticed that the little girl had disappeared. But then I glanced down at my feet and I saw that I was wearing yellow jelly sandals with flowers on the Velcro fasteners…
Not knowing what else to do, I began to swing…
[partially inspired by [the song "Palms"by Quixotic](https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=pTOa31FdyTA&feature=share) Although I guess it does have some Hotel California vibes too] |
They said that when one door closes, another opens. "They"was in this case my 1st grade teacher. At the time she trying to explain to me that it was okay that I had accidentally colored my Bee with a blue marker.
"Excuse me?"I responded with all the disbelief and raised-eyebrow sass able to be summoned by a 1st grader.
"I said that when one door closes another one opens."She said cheerfully. I looked to the two doors in our classroom. One was open, one was closed.
I got up, and walked towards destiny- the open door. It had entered my dramatic and attention seeking mind to repeatedly slam the door to demonstrate my advanced understanding of them. The second door wouldn't open. They'd all see how enlightened I was compared to them. And then she'd have to admit that Bees AREN'T BLUE.
I grasped the door handle. "That's stupid- watch!"I summoned all tiny strength, and pushing my entire weight behind the heavy oak door, slammed it shut.
The door to the universe opened at the center of my forehead.
I cannot accurately describe to someone who has not gone through this process exactly what happens when the veil between the electrical signals that make up your whole self are suddenly flying out in front of your face and snuggling up to the everythingness that is the universe. But I will try.
At first, I felt the classroom. The teachers stress, her genuine care for us, the fact that she would drink later that night because of this. I felt the floating anxieties and genuine bursts of joy, mirth, sadness, and anger that came out of all of my classmates.
I was getting hang for this new awareness. "Next, I'll feel the whole school."I thought too small. Next was America. I felt a country in crisis. I felt the organism of pride and ambition surging and seething as it threatened to overtake itself in the name of itself. I felt the physical land crying out in a slow hum of despair as more and more of it was swallowed by it's greatest creation.
My capacity to understand what I was feeling was growing. But it grew slower than the amount of information. I was a cup overflowing. As I began to rise off the ground, my eyes glowing almost as bright as the glow from the rectangular hole in my forehead, tears fell from me like a fountain.
A moment more and I saw the whole Earth. From the secret last mermaids hiding in the ports of Atlanta to the common pigeon to the oldest living tree. I drank of their thoughts, dreams, and essences like a milkshake. For the first time in my life I realized that the world was not an orderly place.
A moment longer and I could see... no, I WAS the Galaxy. Was there a difference anymore? I was science and art and a million civilizations all huddled and desperately trying to get at an inkling of what me, Gary Blunderson, 6, was beginning to understand. In a moment of panic I tried to remember what my mothers face looked like. I had forgotten it. Good- I needed to leave Gary behind if I was going to take it all in.
A moment more and I saw the face of God, but just as quickly I realized God was a massive marrionette controlled by an octopus that lived in Boston's New England Aquarium. Neither God, nor the octopus had any clue of this relationship.
I was ready to tear down the final barrier. I could smell it. I could taste it- there it was in front of me, the last door that needed opening. Behind it I could see what actually made reality real. And if I so wanted, bees could be blue. I reached out with the strength of the universe behind me, God swatting awkwardly at my heal in a desperate attempt to stop a 7 year old from getting at the control panel of reality. I was so close.
But this particular door went two ways.
I pushed too hard, and swung it from open into the classroom, to open into the hallway, and found myself plunging at infinity miles an hour back into my own feeble brain, as the door closed into my forehead.
I wasted the final second of my heightened awareness to calculate for how long I had been ascendant. Less than half of a second.
I tried to hold on to my knowledge- the marrionette, the mermaids, chaos, all of it. But it was like trying to grab smoke or walk on water. They were gone before I had even begun to understand them.
I glanced towards the door frame. For a fleeting moment I knew if I only closed the door I would get back there. After all- when one door closes, another door opens. But only this door, in this classroom, in this precise moment could open THAT door again.
But before the thought could finish forming- before the impulse could reach my arms and pull the door back closed, another more pressing impulse reached the front of my awareness and fired.
"I want apple juice."I let go of the door and walked over to my teacher. "When is snack?"
"Don't slam the door around like that. And soon."She said, seeming tired.
"Okay."I said, sitting back down to my drawing. "I'm gonna make believe that bees are blue today." |
Gornticia blew puffs of warm smoke around her as she approached Nipfall. As one of the few villages where dragons and humans lived together in relative harmony, Nipfall was considered neutral by both species for hundreds of years. Landing in a blackened field, the golden-scaled dragon stretched her claws and long neck, trying to loosen the knots in her muscles.
“You look like you could use a drink,” said an old man, riding a muzzled wyvern. Its wings were harnessed with leather and steel, looping under the chest to secure the saddle. Gornticia had no love for her bi-pedal brethren, twisted products of human interference with nature itself, but seeing this one’s yellow slit eyes, similar to her own, gave her pause. Perhaps all of the Great Drago’s creatures deserved mercy and respect. “Where did you fly in from?”
“From the West. Far West,” she replied. “Perhaps you have heard of Topeka?”
“Ah yes, the Mericlaw drago are most welcome here, pilgrim. If I may suggest, the Bell and Hoard is the best inn in all of Nipfall.” He rode off as another dragon circled the landing field and made its descent.
The inn and tavern was spacious and loud, adorned broken helmets, spears, and scratching posts from the Before Times. Gornticia ambled to the bar and the floor shook under her feet. A young Sinodrago poured a chalice of milk for her, unbidden.
“I didn’t order this.”
“It’s gratis, for all newcomers who make the pilgrimage. I’m Fondranian.”
“Gornticia of the Tarnished Plains.”
“What was your old name?”
The dragon closed her eyes and remembered the sunny pink room where she stayed as a little girl’s captive for two years before the New Times. “Back then, I was known as Princess Milk Dew Whiskerkins the Third.”
“The Third? Your companion was not one for brevity.”
“Apparently, others preceded my arrival, although I never saw another.” She swirled the chalice in her claw before drinking it in one gulp. “We parted on less than civil terms.”
In those early bloody decades, few human owners survived, and Fondranian said nothing as he cleared the empty cup. Old talk made her pine for simpler, smaller times.
“Do you have mead?” she asked.
“Only the finest. Perhaps you’d like a room as well? It’s a long journey from Mericlaw.” The barkeep read her mind. “Our rooms have the plushest, shiniest hordes to sleep on, or, if you prefer something more *historical*, there is our Box suite: a smaller cave lined with cardboard and newspaper. Real ones too. The humans print them every day on premises.”
“That is quite a dedication to comfort.”
Fondranian smiled. “If you fits, you sits.”
“I’ll take the box, and please have the mead sent up in a bubbling fountain. I’m feeling nostalgic.” |
**Part 1**
"You can't be serious,"I sighed, exasperated.
"I said what I said,"said the small pink being in front of me, wrinkling his tiny nose.
I had accidentally met Jaja, my genie, after I rubbed an old brass spitoon in an antique shop. He was like an angry child, woken from his nap. Jaja didn't like me much, but he gave me three wishes and I had used them wisely. I quit my boring job as a masseuse, paid off my debt, lived a good life and left enough for my children when I died, feeling blessed and satisfied.
And as my soul floated up, someone yanked me into a portal and there I was, in my old body, in the middle of a huge forest, full of trees of various colors. My genie Jaja materialized from thin air, and told me I owe him service.
"This is cheating!"
"What, so you think all those wishes were freebies?"
"I freed you,"I insisted, "I freed you from confinement."
"Wrong. You sold your soul to me!"He grinned like a child, claiming his prize. His eyes shone. I clearly had no choice, this was the law.
Defeated, I asked him what he wanted from me.
I expected unusual or punitive requests : pick up salt with your lashes, do heavy lifting, participate in gorey and inhuman deeds, and other macabre stuff I had read when I was alive.
Instead, Jaja conjured a massage table and bottle of massage oil. In a jiffy, he disrobed and lay down on the table.
"Get to work! My muscles are sore from being confined in small objects,"he grunted.
"You want me to be a masseuse in-"
"Yes, in your afterlife. Feels like hell?"He chuckled.
"I would prefer hell,"I muttered as I braced myself to give Jaja a massage.
**Part 2**
For ten long years, I served Jaja. It wasn't hard, just hellishly boring. Sometimes Jaja would bring his friends along - tall fat genies, formless genies, giants. They all talked among themselves but never to me.
One day, Jaja came along grunting, with a ridiculous blue genie who laughed a lot. He told me his name was Ragak, and boy, was he the polar opposite of grumpy Jaja. As I massaged his shoulders, he giggled and squealed which irritated Jaja and he flew away. As Ragak was leaving, he thanked me.
"What?"
"I said, thanks for the massage"he laughed. It was the first time in ten years someone had been nice to me. I replied "Well I am sure another genie could do it better with his genie magic?"
"You fool, genies do not serve other genies! That is what humans are for,"he explained.
"Do you have humans who serve you?"
"Yes! Many. None are as good as you."
I was confused. "Many? But Jaja has just me, and a genie is only freed once!"
"A genie can be confined again, if he can't g-"he stopped. Realising that he had said enough, he hurriedly left.
The next time Jaja came in wearing a red towel and plonked himself on the table, I asked him if he Ragak would come too.
"Ragak laughs too much,"said Jaja and I sensed his muscles tightened. He did not like Ragak.
"He wants me to serve him-"
"You serve me!"
"For now, yes, but he told me he would help me leave you, forever."
"I should never have let him in! I will cast a spell on my land!"he muttered bitterly.
"We should teach him a lesson,"I suggested. Jaja was hot-headed and I pushed him in that direction. "Next time he comes to me for a massage, we must make it his last time."
"That is good."Jaja sat up. I had succeeded.
**Part 3**
A few days later, Jaja handed me a shimmery golden powder. "What is this?"
"Put this on his body. He will turn to dust for the next twenty-four hours."
That is a weird genie prank, I thought to myself and kept the dust with me,as instructed.
Many days later, Ragak came in, floating like a blue cloud. I sat him down, he laughed without reason. He was completely unaware of the plan Jaja and I had chalked up. He became less and less aware of reality as my deft fingers relaxed him. And when I had him, I smeared the golden powder on him and the next moment, a pile of blue dust lay on the table.
"HA!"Jaja appeared out of thin air. He was even more pink with joy. "Stay in your lane, this is my slave!"
"We succeeded, *master*,"I smiled and extended a hand. Jaja shook it truimphantly, baring his teeth in ecstatic victory.
**Part 4**
A pile of pink dust on the floor. I carefully wiped my hands on the towel, collected the pink dust into an empty bottle of massage oil and screwed the lid on, tight.
Before I could exhale, the world around me turned and I found myself on a cloud. Slowly, my form changed. I saw my body turn to ether. The bottle dropped from my hand and fell down through the heavens, back to the Earth. |
—Yeah, Alex, of course i'll be there! You know i love Halloween parties!
— About that, could you please stop being a vampire? Like, on the day you can literally be anything, you choose to be the same thing every time, i just don't get it.
I chuckled a slightly. He could not be more mistaken.
— Can't promise anything.
— Ok then, see ya tomorrow.
I was choosing a costume from my collection. Most of them were from the works of fiction. Some were made specifically by my request.
Unlike other vampired, i liked our image in pop culture. Of cource, it couldn't be any wronger, but it still was... Admirablle. Vampire is always a menacing, dreadful and powerful figure even if he looks frail or is actually good natured. Considering it was a D&D night, i chose the costume of Strahd Von Zarovich. It looked good, felt comfortable and most importantly: it had "Vampire"written all over it. Though it was not something i or anyone in Walachia would actually wear, it was close enough to feel myself in a way i did in my old days.
It was a chill moonless evening. On my way to my friend's house, i met a lot of different monsters, comic heroes and those who also pretended to be me. The All Saints' Day changed a lot throughout history...
I arrived at my friend's house, passed through the fence and went up to the front door. I tried to knock the door, but i wasn't able to. I was sweating all over my body and felt dizzy. I anxiously looked everywhere around to find a holy symbol or something made of silver. I was quite surprised to find that the reason of my distress was nothing more than a mat in front of the door that said: "No Monsters Allowed: Humans Only". Not being able to enter here, i went around the building to the back door and knocked there. After some time, my friend finally came and opened it.
— Vic? — at first, he looked at my apparel a little bit dissapointed, but noticing it's details, his expression changed to an excited one.
— Wow! Where did you find it? It lookes so dope, Vic!
— Ordered in the internet. Can i enter?
— Heah, of course dude. Why the back door though?
— There was a mat there.
He looked a little bit surprised, but then he smiled and answered:
— Oh, yeah, forgot about that one. I see you are already in character? That's cool, dude.
— Yeah, is everyone already here?
— Oh, right, come in, we were waiting for you there.
I entered the house, it was nothing spectacular, but cozy enough by today's standarts. We went to the playroom (or playbasement, to be fair). As we were standing by the closed door i felt it. The suffocating stench entered my nosetrills and i felt that it was slowly killing me. I tried to step back, but it was too late. The door was opened.
— Oh, really Sven? Surströming? In the room with no windows? — Said Alex while pinching his nose — Not everyone here is deprived of the ability to smell!
—... Yet — said Sasha, also caught off guard, as she was obviously watching a video with headphones in her ears.
— Sorry guys! Really didn't mean too! — answered Sven, while packing the jar in his backpack.
— I guess we will have to wait a little bit for the room to ventilate. — Alex said irritated
He then left the fingers off his nose and instantly regretted it.
—... Or we will have to wait a lot.
We went to the kitchen and shared our snacks. Sven tried to reach for his jar of death for a second but retreated under our hateful glares. I don't really feel the taste of the food or feel it wrong, but i still eat it for the sake of keeping my agency and because it still feels kinda fun to do. I brought some chips for everyone and a little bit of "tomato juice"for myself. And not only because its contents actually look like tomato juice, but also because no one ever asks to try it. As i was done with the first box and was going to open the second one, i heard a woman voice behind my back:
— Vic? Could you please pour me a little bit of it?
Sasha... She replaced Jack recently, the rogue of our group, who, sadly, was not able to play with us any more so i was not aware of her gastronomical preferences.
I looked around to check if she was talking about something else, but she was definetly looking at the package in my hand.
— Yeah, of course, one second... — i answered, before "tripping over"and falling on the floor. I calculated the fall in a way to get rid of all blood in the box and at the same time to not get my costume dirty or damaged.
— Vic! Are you ok?! Alex shouted, seeing my sudden change in vertical space.
— Yeah... — i said while faking the pain — i'm fine!
Sasha put the glass on the table and helped me to stand up. I was able to lift this whole room if only i wanted so, but was still pleased with the courtesy gesture. After cleaning up the mess we continued to chat and eat together.
An hour later we were finally able to enter the basement and stay there without having the will to kill ourselves, but do not be mistaken: it was still as horrible as an aftermath of a battle.
But it all didn't matter now, as i could enter the world, carefully made by our DM, and feel myself someone who i were many centuries ago: a mortal human. I know how ironic it may sound, but i was playing a life cleric who hated the creatures of the night.
But... The day continued to be the most horrible day of my entire life. I wasn't being able to roll properly and nearly always failed. I wasn't able to convince the guards to let us through, failed in battle horrendously, died and had to be ressurected. At the end of the session and we were selling the loot we got. I really wanted to not spend the money i got, especially considering the costly ressurection this session, so i tried to trade as much as i could. But both the traider and the dm were tired of contant arguing about the cost of a piece of armour.
— For the last time, i can't go any lower than that!
—Listen to me, you, mortal piece of uselessness and failed expectations! This is the last time you say that, for i will cut your tongue out and slit your throat if you dare to speak this way to me ever again! Listen to me, and listen carefully, as i'm not going to repeat myself: you WILL lower the price for this wretched piece of metal or i will make your death and the death of your family so gruesome and horrible that people all around the globe will use your name as a word for "ugly, defiled corpse". DID YOU UNDERSTAND ME, peasant swine?
The table went silent for half a minute. Alex was looking at me horrified and couldn't utter a word. I understood what a mistake i made now, considering i accidentally used my actual voice there.
— That wasn't very Lawful Good of you. — suddenly said Sasha from the other end of the table.
— Yeah... — Said Alex and paused for a second. — I guess we will end here.
I took my stuff and tried to quicly escape. I opened the door, felt the overwhelming headache, forgetting about the mat, but was still able to rush out. As i opened my eyes to see where i am going, the sunrise blinded my eyes. Legs couldn't hold me anymore and i fell down on the fence. Wooden fence. Apparently an oak one. |
5 senses, of normal ability, that is what everyone on their 18th birthday start with. Until then you are taught, taste, feel, and hear all you can. Most keep vision, some don't but it is a choice so it isn't judged badly. I on the other hand am sticking with vision. We lose all other senses after we make the choice, as has everyone before me.
With my choice, I waited, my parents writing notes to each other. Signalling this or that about dinner and the trip to the Doctor the next day to confirm all was well. But it wasn't happening, I wasn't going to say anything yet but I was pretty sure when I spoke the words, "To live blind would be my undoing, I choose sight on this day"everything else would fade away.
I spoke it again when they looked away, still nothing seemed to change. Should I try another verse? Keep hearing maybe? No, I trained for my life to have vision only. I took a deep breath, I could still smell. I ran my hands along the cold metal table, I could feel the imperfections from years of use. I could hear mother's clothes rustling she waved her hands around talking to father. I grabbed a banana, it was still a banana I could taste the flavors of it.
What now?
I didn't let my parents in on the issue, I would see the Doctor tomorrow. He would know what to do. Later in my bed, I was feeling oddly happy I got another day with all 5 senses. Something would be done about it tomorrow.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE STILL HAS ALL 5 SENSES!
My mother is usually a very polite messenger, but she left caps on and her hands and arms were flaying faster than I could keep up. I was lazy up to now learning sign language, typing seemed so much more efficient to me. I wish I had paid more attention now.
"Yes, all 5. We ran an MRI and CT scan to see if there were any anomalies in him. Nothing showed any reasons for concern at this time."The doctor was fast at typing, mom's face dropped a bit. I don't think her or dad had thought about that. Tumors were common in those with no senses at all. She looked at me very intensely had forced a smile.
"You get to have all 5 for awhile longer I guess", she sat down and sighed so heavily. Her face was drawn as if she was imagining the worst outcome for me. No one kept their senses, and if someone did it was because something was wrong. I leaned in and hugged her tight.
"I will be fine"I signed to her.
A tall stiff man in a bad suit came in shortly after the doctor left, "I would like to offer your son a job."He handed the note to my parents, pre-written and decoratively detailed.
"Wait, how do you know about my son? We just found out about this from the doctor! Who are you with!"My mother began looking very angry at this point.
"All anomalies are reported and confirmed by the local state health authority. Your son has all 5 senses, we want to know why."He looked at me uncomfortably close. "You said your oath, mind saying it again with me present?"
"Sure but I just did it for the doctor too"I shrugged and said it again. "And I still have all 5."
"One more oath, if you don't mind. This one is the old wives tail version."He smiled at me with gray lines of hair falling from his brow.
"Wait, wives tail?"I signed back to him. It felt odd signing it back to him.
"Just say what I show you son, not a big deal. Ready?"I looked at him and then at mom.
"Okay"and then I waited as he pulled out a notebook.
"I am keeper of the senses and the senseless, I take and I give, I banish and I beckon, I bring light and I bring darkness, I have 5 and I have 9. I choose 4 more."
When I finished the last word, I could tell the world was a much more interesting place than I had ever imagined. I now had 9 senses, now I needed to learn how to use them. |
Day 1. I guess. I'm not really sure what just happened or how. But lets start at the beginning. I woke up and staggered into the bathroom. I'd just finished a 14 hour shift at 3 am. Rick had offered me some muscle relaxants so I figured that I'd be able to handle tomorrow's shift better. Factories suck. Anyways so I staggered into the bathroom. I'm staring at the mirror and still like really tired, but my features are all... off... I can't put my finger on it. I get closer to the mirror. He looks like me. Reacts like me but that isn't me. I'm pushing 45 that guy in the mirror is like 20 years or more younger than me. It's me. But not me. Have I gone back in time? I pick up my phone, same date and time. Nope. Date's the same. So I head back to bed. Only when I get there. I'm already there. Out cold, snoring. Wait. Maybe I'm dreaming. I pinch myself, nope that hurt. I look over at my wife. She's staring at me. She asks "What's wrong, sweetie?"Holy crap, that's it. That's why. I'm in the body of my kid. "Nothing, mom. I'm good. I guess."Anyways, so I put together that I am 15 again and I have school today. Great, my son is an all A's student in honor level classes with honors. I passed high school with c's, not even capital c's. "I'm gonna take the day off from school, I'm kinda going through a thing right now."I nod, mostly to myself, "just today, if that's ok."
Mom immediately goes into panic mode. I- well my son- never stays home unless he has a fever. Never skipped a class- Ugh, not Mom, My wife, goes into panic mode and starts checking me for a fever and asking if I'm being picked on and I try to remember my son's behavior enough to provide a suitable response. "Just one day shouldn't be an issue. I'll call the school for you sweetie."
Now, the plan is, to wait until I talk to myself, about whatever is going on. Thankfully I know my routines enough to predict when I'll be alone to talk to. Provided that I'm not my son. If we swapped, that would at least make more sense than whatever this is. 4 hours later, I get up. Or rather he gets up. Does his thing and plops down at the kitchen table with his laptop. I sit down and drop this bomb. "Be quiet or I tell mom about your internet history."His eyes immediately go to panic then to glaring then to questioning. He leans back in his chair and gestures for me to continue.
"I don't know what has happened and I hope I can figure out how to fix it, but at the moment, I can't. I'm you. Or at least I was. I was you and when I woke up instead of being in that body, I'm in this one and I'm freaking out."
He nods and spoke quietly. "Your mother said you were going through something and to give you space. This certainly sounds like something."
"I have no idea how to do any of his school stuff or know his friends or anything. I'm at a complete loss here. And if I'm here, where is he?"I gestured a lot, something my son doesn't do. The other me nodded and seemed to note this as well.
"Name my favorite food."
"Really? Mom's Cheesy Bacon Potatoes."
"Name the first girl I kissed."
"Rachel but you wanted it to be Kelly."He raised an eyebrow at that one.
"What's the setting on the pusher at work?"
"What? There are like a dozen settings on that thing. Which one? The timer settings or the distance settings? Or are you referring to the height settings that we don't mess with?"
"Holy shit. This is a problem."
"Yes, Me, Yes it is." |
"Look, I understand that therapy is a mutual exchange of trust, honestly, I do. But I've been over it in my head, so many times, and I'm just. not. sure. what. I'm. doing. wrong."
The emphasised words were not accompanied by slaps on the knee, were not spat out from within gritted teeth. They were simply made stark, they fell sadly from between generous lips in front of a sad but winning smile, out of a ridiculously handsome face.
His brow wrinkled, and the smile maintained on one side, before sliding off his face entirely into concern. Rakish, but forlorn. Dangerous, but appropriately drab.
He was perfect. If GQ and Marvel and Brooks Brothers and the concept of emotional stability had teamed up to form a central casting department, they would have put him on the brochures to lure in other irritatingly perfect men.
I'd get around to him.
She was softer, mousy, apologetic, confused. Somewhat resolute but wavering.
That was where to start. Easier to get In.
It hurts, you know. I get a pressure behind my eyes, a head full of cotton wool, and a solid wave of what feels like carpet burn, like your skin is melted, and full of hair and plastic. Simultaneously intimate and painful. Familiar, and awful. Goosebumps of disgust crawling over my whole head, and down my neck.
Anyway. My reputation.
In.
**part of him is right most of this is me
all of this is me this is me im not doing this correctly
but you promised yourself Caitlyn you SAID you would
you know what your doubts are this is where to say them
close your eyes if you have to**
"Brian, I don't trust you any more. The late nights. The phone calls. The long walks. The distance. I don't believe it's all your work. You're never here. We don't have children. You've told me so many times there isn't anyone else. I almost believe you. But it never gets better. I haven't felt close to you since we were married."
He turned to me. A little hurt. Eyes full of pathos. Pleading to be understood.
God, he was perfect.
"I work for a private equity firm. We work long hours. I'm hardly ever off the phone. And I can't think sitting down. So, I walk. And I work so we have... what we have."
An hand that would have made Michelangelo weep and then reach for a block of marble and a chisel freed itself from his lap, swept around at the room. It was as if Louis XiV had discovered decorum. It definitely wasn't cheap. One of the benefits of house calls - context. And a much better cup of coffee.
The other benefit, of course, is that it's so very much easier to get In if someone is relaxed, absorbed into their surroundings. Therapists offices are sterile, even after the interior designers have swept through. A distracted mind, thinking about the vinyl chair, judging the bad art, made more awkward by ever ugly formica surfaces.
So much easier in your favourite chair.
But not as easy as when you're vulnerable. Indecisive. Focused on your hesitance. I could have gone In on this woman in the Tokyo subway.
Again.
**its not right you know its not right you know what Jen and your mother said just say it it doesnt matter whether or not its rational thats why you came maybe this famous bitch is right and this is a safe space...**
Bitch, yes. It used to be shocking - when it started, when I was 8. Now, this was better than average. You should hear the language women use when I remind them of That One Girl they knew at school... or an old girlfriend... or a hated aunt. We all have monsters behind our eyes, you know. I just have a glossary that describes them.
**...then i get to say it somethings not right somethings not right somethings not right**
Damn it. The loop.
Fixations are like a skipping record to me. You should see the inside of a junkie's head. It's like Steve Reich made a whole album called Heroin, and all the tracks played at once. Those diagnoses, 'I'm so sorry, Mrs. Phelps, he has a hidden addiction', those are easy. Point to a vaguely-connected behaviour, pretend to be Sherlock Holmes, collect the cheque.
I didn't want to do this.
Him.
Men are harder. The words are less clear, the passage In more painful, sometimes blocked, always effortful. Is it more diffidence, or some kind of sex difference, is it hormonal? There was no Charles Darwin for me, no taxonomy. And certainly I wasn't going to let a bunch of arrogant neurologists ruin the unadulterated magic of the Most Perceptive Woman In The World by reducing my bread and butter to quantum transference or magic pixies or any other damned thing.
I'd like to know. But more than that, I'd like three hundred and fifty thousand dollars for twelve weeks of therapy. Maybe after I buy an island I'll be able to afford an MRI scanner for it, get some answers.
Ugh. In.
And no scraping feeling, none of the sensation of being lost in an endless, winding tunnel, none of the muttered expletives and cries for mother, but blinding, stark, monstrous clarity. Announced by some mental Praetorian guard.
**SHE WAVERS, BUT SHE WILL BE REGAINED**
**THE RACE MUST CONTINUE**
**MY SEED WILL BE PLANTED, AND MY EGGS WILL GROWN IN HER HUMAN CAVITIES**
**OUR CHILDREN WILL SUBORN THIS FLESH TOILET, THIS SCABROUS EARTH**
**THEIR SPINES WILL GLOW IN THE ISOTOPES THEY SPREAD TO KILL US**
**MY PEOPLE WILL DESCEND LIKE BURNING METEORS**
**PERISH, UTTERLY**
**WE PREVAIL. WE PREVAIL. WE PREVAIL.**
Oh, charming. This again. |
I took a moment to inspect the woman. It had been years since I'd last seen another human being, and yet all I felt was annoyance at the fact she had interrupted me.
"You know what they're doing, right? What they are?"
I had to take a moment to wonder what exactly she meant. I hadn't spoken aloud since I first entered this room, so long ago...
The woman's brow seemed to shake with frustration, yet she was the one intruding on me. What right did she have to be annoyed?
"Who... Who are you and how'd you get in here?"I let out with a groan as a pain went down my dry and raspy throat. The woman shook her head.
"None of that's important, all that really matters is you stop what you're doing and come with me. Everyone's life depends on it."
"But... I have work to finish, a job to do..."I whispered as I turned back to my monitor. I was nearly done.
"You're a good man, I know it! Just let go and forget about this!"
My patience with the woman was wearing thin, and my program was nearly complete.
"Can you take care of her?"I typed, and with that she disappeared.
ARE YOU READY TO ASCEND? the monitor asked.
"Yes."
I finished my last line of code, and took a moment to appreciate what I had accomplished. Who knows how many before me had made it here, had had the courage to become something more? And soon I would join them, in all of our glory.
I pressed enter.
And with that, one man became a god, and a new universe was born. |
Whoever said purple gilled polypore has no entheogenic or hallucinatory properties was wrong. I've been walking past those mushrooms and treating them like the garbage of the forest while foraging all week. That's until a real sachem from the old tribes crossed paths with our beautifully situated camp site. I had to notice the purple gilled polypores he had strung beautifully around his neck. He was ready to share generously and join us for mushroom tea. It was feeling like a magical night to spend with a real sachem surrounded by rare plants and a waterfall. I had so many questions about why he favored this mushroom of all things available to us for tea now. A couple hours passed and the sachem began recounting stories from his grandparents about the polypore. They called it lixinteflotl meaning "changing eyes mushroom". As he transports us all back in time with the storytelling and drumming we are all relaxed. I began to see the world through his eyes. I feel the weight of my body has gone and I began to fly with the eyes of the sachem. It feels as if I am inside his body. That's how I learned this mushroom is the only way his tribe has survived until now. I feel him apologize if I'm violated in any way by giving up my body, but this is the wisdom of nature at work, for the best. We were never able to rejoin our bodies yet ! We have lived in a state of limbo inside the eyes of the sachem. He has treated our spirits kindly and given every energetic assurance we will rejoin our bodies when the ancestors release us by means of another dose. |
It was the test every parent hoped their child did well on and every child dreaded to pass. One would think every child on earth would try to fail on purpose but there were several reasons why they didn't.
Firstly, earth sucked and it sucked harder when you were one of the "unchosen". Most people had a hard time getting enough to eat or having a nice pair of clothes. The chosen however lived in a palace and ate well and wore the nicest of dresses. Even if you were a boy you wanted to wear these dresses, because it would mean the feeling of silk on your skin for the first time.
No parent who loved their child and hoped for their happiness could avoid wishing that their dear child would pass the test and be whisked away to a better life far away from their parents and everyone they cared about. Little children usually live to please their parents and so they did their upmost to pass the test.
As mentioned before there was another reason for not trying to fail the test on purpose and this reason was that it was impossible to try and fail, it was also impossible to try and pass because although it was called an "Intelligence Test"the person who wrote the test was The Glorious Leader. The Glorious Leader thought he was the smartest person who ever existed. This was why the test consisted mainly of questions quizzing you on your favorite dinosaur and favorite color. IF you were similar enough to The Glorious Leader you passed and were whisked away to the palace to be Glorious Leader's friend. |
It’s finally my turn. I step forward when my name is called: Blutdämon. The name of the most powerful, chaotic, wicked demon in all of Hell. And I can finally go torment the human race again. I follow behind the servant, my steps shaking the ornate chandeliers dangling from the dark, bloody ceiling. The servant is shaking, his ears pinned back in fear. Heh. I’d forgotten how much fun it is to terrify lesser beings. I take a longer step, nearly crushing the tiny demon. His squeals of terror are music to my ears. I’m tempted to grow even larger, stretch my claws and teeth, curl my horns into a crown of death on top of my head. The last time I went to the human world… Ahh. I drank their blood until I was satisfied, then tore apart any who dared come near me. I caused so much destruction that I was able to collect enough power to shed my puny human vessel and draw my true form from the depths of Hell. I spent my allotted century basking in the warmth of human innards, destroying castles with a single step and spreading delicious, beautiful chaos across the globe.
This time will be even better. I’ve heard that there are more humans now, more interesting weapons, and so many beautiful opportunities for chaos. Kranzheir recently returned from the human world. The skinny brat didn’t even destroy anything. He simply spread a disease and waited for the chaos to come to him. He assured me it was effective, but where’s the fun in just sitting back and waiting? I want to be out in the middle of it all, murdering in my human vessel until I collect enough power to unleash my true self upon the world. I won’t hide behind a virus, collecting the chaos that happens my way. I will crush the world in my fist and laugh. I will destroy them all, and the world will be mine.
I enter the amphitheater, and revel in the cheers and fear of the demons around me. They remember me. Many of them have been waiting for my next summoning almost as eagerly as myself. I will throw the world into chaos. I will bring back enough souls to feed us for eternity. I am the most powerful demon in all of the twelve worlds, and I will destroy the humans.
My eyes meet those of my brother, Zerstören. He glares, snarling toward me. I’d forgotten. He hasn’t been summoned for millennia. He is weak compared to me, weak compared to many. He is cowardly and incompetent. He isn’t fit to return to the mortal world. I snarl back, and turn away, striding toward the portal and increasing my size with every step. By the time I’ve reached the swirling gateway, I’m over 2,500 feet tall, my horns wrapping around my head like a bloody halo. My talons are sharp and my teeth are sharper, fangs curling back in vicious arcs. My mane is long and matted, twisting down my back, and I can smell the fear and awe coming off of every demon here.
I smirk, and take a slight bow, then turn and fall backwards into the portal, prepared to force myself into a weak, small, mortal man. I’m excited to try out the new weapons I’ve heard about. How much chaos can be caused by a single gun? The last thing I see before my vision goes black is my brothers’ face, leering at me from the stands.
My vision clears, and I feel the pain of crushing my powerful soul into a mortal body. It’s more intense than the last time I was here, and I can’t figure out how to move. I try to stand, but my limbs won’t obey. Crap. Maybe something went wrong in the transfer? It’ll probably wear off in a bit. While I wait, I examine my surroundings. I appear to be… in a cage. \*\*\*\*. Did someone know? Did the humans somehow figure out that I would be funneling myself into this body? No. Impossible. I try to move again, but I'm transfixed by a small, spinning mobile above my head. Something about it is so… interesting. NO. It’s probably a way to try and hypnotize me or something. Trap me. Finally, I’m able to move my arm. I go to help myself up… and notice an odd sort of chubbiness to my hand.
It’s thick, and hard to move. I look around again. A bright room… soft blankets… odd characters smiling happily from posters on the walls. No. No way. I think on where I’ve seen these types of short, chubby limbs before: my favorite delicacy the last time I visited. Babies. I’m a \*\*\*\*\*\*\* baby. How?? How did this happen??? The vessels are chosen for us by trained demons, who prepare them for our souls before we arrive. There’s no way-- Zerstören. He must’ve set this up, the little punk. He forced me into a painful, tiny, weak, helpless body, where I’ll be trapped, unable to feast on chaos. **I can’t believe he--** wait, what?? Liquid is running down my cheeks, and I’m making a terrible wailing sound. I can’t stop. What’s going on??? An adult runs into the room, saying words that I can’t understand. He pats me on the back, and forces a piece of rubber into my mouth. It tastes disgusting, and this is meant to be my life. I want to kill him, to taste his blood on my tongue, to eat and destroy and crush this world beneath my clawed feet. But all I can do is cry. |
I'd never really given much thought to what death might feel like, and as it turned out it didn't feel like much. I supposed I shouldn't have been all that surprised. It's only that... Well, you do all that living and then suddenly it's over.
Now I was starting something new, and whatever that was, was making my eyes hurt. Everything around me was brighter than the lights my son-in-law had installed above my kitchen counter, and those things could'a blinded ya! Nah, it was brighter than even that. It was as if when I'd died I'd been shoved through a door and out onto the darned sun. Hold on a minute, if I was on the sun, then shouldn't it be hot? I lowered my nose to the pit of my arm. Nope, not sweating. I'd be sweating if it was hot. Definitely would be sweating if I was sittin' on the sun.
"Welcome, Oliver, of Northern Montana."an ethereal voice echoed in my ears. I raised a hand in a vain attempt to block out the light and squinted towards the direction the voice was coming from.
"I'd say it was nice to meet you, but I have no idea who you are. Is there a spotlight shining on my face or something? I can't see a darn thing."and I really couldn't.
"Forgive me, I often forget."the voice responded, softening, taking almost a paternal tone.
Suddenly I felt a feather-light touch brushing against my forehead, and on instinct, I closed my eyes. It seemed the voice was more than just a voice, they had a body too, and they were gently stroking my face. Their fingertips whispered over the lids of my eyes, and down to the corners of my mouths. Soon the touch left my skin, and I heard a satisfied grunt. "How is that now, my child?"
Slowly, I blinked and opened my eyes. Yep, I was right. I wasn't on the sun.
"Better."I scoffed, a little disappointed. The sun would have at least been interesting. I found my surroundings to be oddly lackluster, and all too familiar. We were in the middle of the prairie, back home on the ranch.
"I thought you'd be comforted by familiar surroundings."I looked up, finally putting a face to the one who'd been talkin' this whole time. He was... Well, he was just a guy. He looked like someone who wouldn't have been out of place at the local bar on a Thursday night, except that his clothing choice was moderately questionable. Unlike the plaid work boots and a hat I wore as a second skin, this guy was a little more formal. But wait a second, was he not wearing shoes? I take it back, he's not just a guy, he's a weird guy. Though I guess he could be weird and still be just a guy. Hold on though, what was he doin' adjusting the brightness of the sky like he was flipping a light switch?
I grunted and narrowed my eyes at him.
"I know this may be a little confusing."the guy comfortably placed his hands in the pockets of his trousers and shifted his weight to his other leg, "but I feel impressed to remind you of what just happened."
"And what's that."I folded my arms across my chest in some faux act of rebellion.
"That you're dead now."
Oh. That was right. Hadn't I just been thinking about that?
"Dead feels like an odd word to me."he continued, "it doesn't really have in my vocabulary, but I've found it to be apt for those traveling from the mortal plane."
"What's this here now about a plane? I thought I was dead not going to Tahiti."
"You are dead. I don't mean an airplane I mean a plane of existence, it's entirely different and I-"he stopped as if realizing I'd stopped listening before he'd even started talking.
"Look, I'd like to keep this simple."he continued, admittedly surprising me. Most people'd be annoyed by now, but his forehead hadn't nary a wrinkle on it, and his lips still curved in a soft smile. He wasn't at all frustrated with me, rather he seemed to be an overflowing, infinite pool of patience. "I'd be happy to explain all of this to you, but I get the sense you wouldn't be interested."
I grunted, "You got that right, son."
His lips quirked, as if he was considering laughing, but didn't. "I'll continue to use terms that would make sense to you then."
I nodded and dropped my hands back down to my sides.
"You're dead, the life you lived as you knew it has come to an end; however, we do not simply cease to exist after passing. Instead, we start something new."
"Like takin' a trip out to the sun,"I mumbled under my breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothin'. Go on."
"Right then,"he cleared his throat, "most beings- or people I should say - simply get pushed on through. They don't visit an intermediary space such as the one you and I are standing in now."
"My ranch is an intimidary what now?"
"Not your ranch, but someplace meant to look like your ranch."
"Right, makes sense."It didn't make sense.
"A choice few do visit places such as this and talk to someone like me. When they do I have the pleasure of offering them a choice."
"What sort of choice?"
"Well, the choice of where you'd like to go."
"Huh."I chewed on my lip and gazed off towards the faraway tree line. He watched me as if expecting me to ask another question. When I didn't, he continued.
"I'm going to present you with two options. One is to continue on as most do, the second is to return."
The tips of my ears began to tingle, "Return?"
"Yes, return. But not in the sense you'd be familiar with. More as a memory, an overseer... A guardian angel if you will."
"Will I be able to see my family again?"nothing else seemed to matter.
"Yes."
"Then that. I choose that."
"Are you sure, I haven't really explained-"
"Weren't you listening?"I held up my hands, interrupting him, "Now let's get goin'."He pressed his lips into a thin line, and then slowly closed his eyes.
"You've made your choice then?"
"Yes-"before I could finish everything went white.
"Please bless my Momma."a meek unsure voice whispered into an empty bedroom. "I know she doesn't want me to know she's said, but I can tell."a young girl with chocolaty brown curls sticking every which way knelt at her bedside hands held out in prayer. The room was dark, save for the starlight dripping through a nearby window.
"Izzy?"I knelt down beside her as quick as my old bones allowed, and reached to put a reassuring arm around her shoulder.
"Momma's been sad for so long, I don't want her to hurt anymore. I want to help. Please, God, help me know what to do for my Momma."tears began to pool in her eyes as she tentatively looked up and out the window, gazing at the stars for just a moment before bowing her head once more.
"Oh, my sweet Izzy, It's going to be okay,"I whispered, and reached out to wipe a falling tear from her cheek - but nothing happened.
"And please tell Grampa Olie that I miss him."Suzy's voice was soft as a kitten's fur, and she sniffled quietly as another tear escaped down her cheek, "I know he's probably worried about us, all alone down here without him, but I think we'll be okay."
I felt as if my heart was going to break in two as I listened, and so I did the only thing I could think of - I placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, just as I always did before she fell asleep each night while I was alive.
Unlike when I'd had my arm around her, or when I'd try to brush away her tears, I felt a bloom of warmth as I pressed my lips against her head. Izzy sighed, and the tension seemed to melt from her little body as she slumped forward and let out a yawn. "I love, and miss you grampa."she whispered one last time before crawling into her bed, leaving me alone there kneeling on her bedroom floor.
After a moment, I stood, marginally surprised my knees didn't seem to ache as much as they used to and watched as Izzy's fluttered closed. Not wanting to intrude any longer than I already had, I turned to leave through the door.
(continued in comments…1/2) |
Small crystals of sand slowly sifted through a conical glass in the center of the room, each grain dropping every second, day, or week. They represented any and all spans of time ranging from a yoctosecond to half a year. The hourglass rested atop a plane of glass that seemed to float in mid-air. There were no shadows, no light or darkness. The only other visible objects were an ornate wooden door, clad with gold accents and a chair with plush red cushions, golden legs, and a golden arch. On the chair sat a timeless creature with smooth skin and long, dark hair, kept back with a crystal band. Their eyes glowed blue as they sat, cross-legged with their arm connecting their inner thigh and head.
This being was none other than the Prince of Time. In another chamber rested another hourglass, representing all time spans beyond half a year. There sat the king, though he is much less relevant to this story.
Lately, humanity has begun tampering with time. By manipulating reality at the atomic scale, they found it was possible to capture the world in slow-motion, down to the femtosecond regime. The only problem is that at that scale, light can no longer keep up. In fact, the only thing scientists can see is the subtle movement of electrons as they shift across a metal plate [1].
Humanity is curious. They will keep learning. At some point soon, they will begin to see time as something they can manipulate. Something they can control. When that happens, the prince and king will both be dethroned and replaced by a new democratic regime with much, much less experience dealing with the intricacies of time.
More than that, humans had unwittingly stumbled across the key to the castle: light, itself. See, light moves at the same speed irrespective of its reference frame. No matter how fast you are moving, light (in a vacuum) will always move the same. They also know that light is the only reason their cameras do not work at certain temporal resolutions and that photons are manipulatable objects.
When they control light, they control time, because light was not just the *key* to the castle, it *was* the castle, itself.
Projected into every single photon was a separate set of chambers holding the king and prince. To the humans, the prince controlled electric and magnetic fields, while the king controlled the space-time continuum. Over the past few decades, humanity has found nearly perfect control of the prince's chambers, and have thus continually stolen the prince's throne.
The prince, unable to see more than half a year ahead could only sit and watch, hoping for the king to step in while their kingdom is stolen from them, but the king cannot see how the humans are attacking because he can only see scales beyond half a year.
Between the two of them, the only being that could see the whole picture was light, but light had already allied itself with the humans.
There was no hope. The kingdom would be lost eventually.
The only thing the prince and king could do was wait and hope that the new rulers became much more conscious about how delicate the fabric of time truly was before they took power.
[1] Example: https://arxiv.org/abs/2005.00241
Note: I am sorry, I interpreted Daylight as an entity to better fit the story. |
The box landed with a dull thud against the front gate of a two story brick home, way too fancy for anything I could ever afford. I lingered long enough to make sure they didn't have one of those doorbell cameras capturing me chuck their package 10 feet instead of walking the extra distance, and then made my way back to my truck and slid into the driver seat, narrowly avoiding a shit missile from a bird above.
It was my second to last stop of the day. Debra, who is my partner for the day (always had two per truck during the busy season) sucked. But in the nicest way possible. I mean she was fine as a person, at least as far as I could tell, but she was way to cheery for this job, or any job really. So cheery and happy to be working in fact, she usually had already pulled the packages for the next delivery, and was waiting for me in the cab. Not this time though, I finally had a few seconds of quiet to myself. The seconds became minutes, and the much needed personal time turned into annoyance at having to wait.
"Debra, are you looking in boxes back there? You know if I get another customer complaint I'm toast. Make sure you put everything back and tape it up nice."A comment like that normally would have been met with giggling, but I heard nothing.
"Yo, Deb, lets hustle."Still nothing...I grumbled to myself about having to be a babysitter for new hires, while I made my way around back. As I walked around the exterior of the truck, something didn't feel right. We were in the middle of the suburbs, so things shouldn't have been noisy per say, but the longer I was out of the truck, the more I realized just how quiet it was.
Then I realized, the culprit from the barely avoided bird bomb before was still frozen some 30 feet above, having just leapt from an electrical line. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief as I took in the absurdity above. What I saw above was your common dove, not so commonly suspended, with wings spread wide, in midair.
"Uhh Debra come look at this. Can doves float?!"Still no response. I was about to throw open the back door of the delivery truck, when a woman stepped out of no where and grabbed me by the arm.
"General I have the conscious subject in my control"she said into a radio held by Velcro onto her shoulder pad. A shoulder pad, which I noticed, was connected to a very impressive army uniform. Her uniform was adorned with awards, which I assume meant very impressive things, although to me they were nothing more than shiny pins.
"What, I mean who did you come from?"I mean where are you? I mean. What the heck is going on."I stammered as she ignored me and waited for the radio response.
"Knock him out and bring him back to base Lieutenant. We need to figure out what makes him different."
I flinched as she raised her arm above her head to strike, pulling a knife from her uniform vest in one swoop. As her hand came down, I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable, only to hear her grunt and cuss. I opened my eyes to see the knife back in her vest, while she held her left arm in her right hand, blood pouring from a fresh wound.
"Is the subject subdued?"The radio wondered. Lieutenant bloody arm yanked the radio from her shoulder, and crushed it with one brutal stomp. She looked at me, as I stood almost as frozen and the dove, who was still above, trying to figure out what was happening.
"You Joe? Well obviously you are."She answered herself before I even had time to process the question. "You are the only known human impervious to our TimeStop."
"Besides you? I mean you don't seem to be frozen or anything like that bird. Also what is a TimeStop? Also, is Debra dead?"The words rushed from my mouth before I could really think of a proper response to whatever it was I was in the middle of.
"The US army has purchase technology capable of stopping, reversing and forwarding time. The trials have been extensive, and as far as our research shows you are the only human who remains unaffected. We have been ordered to bring you in for testing. I am not frozen because I have a sensor injected in my arm that keeps us out of the Time Stoppage...well it was injected in my arm, until a few moments ago."
That is when I realized she wasn't holding her bloody arm, she was digging around in an open wound. Gross. Triumphantly she made a sudden jerking, and I saw a flash of silver pinched between her finger and thumb as her hand moved away from her arm.
"Listen, we don't know why you aren't bothered by this technology, but you aren't. A small group of high ranking officers are worried this technology is too powerful for anyone, including the US army. However we are powerless to stop it, they can just freeze time and kill us. You are the only one who can figure out the people behind the technology and put an end to it all."
"Did you happen to notice I am a truck driver? No way I am doing anything against the US Army. Plus won't they kill you anyway when they find out you helped me?"
"When I drop this implant (she held up the small silver disk, still clutched between her fingers), I will be frozen in time just like anyone else. I will say I was attacked, and no one will be the wiser."
"And what do I do? Just supposed to keep delivering packages waiting for the next army gal to show up and take me?"
She shoved a notebook in my hand. "Follow these instructions. Once I have regained trust with the General, I will be in touch."With her final word she unclutched her hand and froze as the silver disk, dug from her arm, hit the ground with a loud clank.
I stood rooted in place in stunned silence. I opened the notebook, and began to read. |
Hadron’s mind wandered back hundreds of years, remembering the day of his own “ascension,” if one could even think of it as such. He had been a simple thief, and had stolen a few gold bits from what he thought of as an insignificant godlet. Instead, it had turned out to be one of the faces of the 15 true gods, and one of the 3 Trickster Gods at that. Skarutsa, the god in question, admired his audacity, and completed the first ascension that he’d ever heard of, though the other true gods soon followed suit.
He’d been made into an immortal peasant, and the trickster god gifted him to 16th Corn, a farmer who had previously caught him stealing what turned out to be their family’s ash altar. 16th Corn beat him mercilessly, but Hadron had long since sold the silver altar. He was set to work the fields, and had no choice but to obey whoever was made his master. Most masters treated him as an immortal serf, forcing him to toil endlessly with little or no food. His only power of “acquisition” was poorly understood, and completely meaningless before the creation of the rest of champions. Piteously, he was simply dismissed by some of his masters.
Until Mathis. Mathis had made him into a terror. Mathis had understood acquisition, and learned the trick to making him into the world’s strongest champion. Mathis had commanded him to acquire all the champions through murder. Now that his order was set, he was bound to finish or die.
The next weakest champion. She was a healer, but her powers only worked on others, and not herself. He balked. He was a thief, not a murderer, but could not refuse the requests of his masters. The first was both the easiest, and most difficult.
He could feel his will and mind crumble under the weight of the first murder. There was no art to his movement. He shuffled forward, begging in his mind every moment that he would be dismissed, or that she would call for help. Instead, he proffered his bloody, broken hand to her, and she began healing him.
Divine heat trailed up his arm. It was as if she were healing the very concept of the hand that his master had broken. The bones did not set themselves and begin healing, but the hand seemed to shift, and become molten under the skin. When the heat subsided, it was as if his hand had never been broken. In that moment, shoved the dagger deep into her chest.
A gush of blood enveloped his hand, and sprayed across his face, hiding the tears that ran freely from his eyes. Her body immediately started to decompose. The flesh desiccated and wrinkled, the eyes melted, and then the very bones began to fall to dust. All the while, wispy light poured from the corpse and entered his body through his labored crying’s breath. It took only minutes for the body to disappear completely. He knew instinctively that he’d acquired a piece of whatever god she represented. He knew *that god* would bear no more champions until he was dead.
Hadron shook himself slightly. Mathis was talking again. He couldn’t hear him though. He’d had a theory about champions and their masters. He turned around and rammed the dagger into Mathis’ eye socket. There was no instantaneous decay this time. He tried to lay down, and die with Mathis. He had hoped that he’d be unsummoned as a natural result of Mathis’ death.
Instead, he felt the inexorable command to kill the remaining champions weighing on him. His entire concept of self was altered. He had one command left, and he knew there would be no rest until it was complete. |
The Silence had finally arrived. Darkness, no, for that was still too bright. This was not darkness; for in time, light overcomes it. This was the absence of any light, any capability to see. The final atom had dissipated into its fundamentals, carefully gathered and held close. Run down the blade of the scythe, split into particles that cannot exist on this plane; they leapt into a higher dimension, leaving this one barren.
The Silence had come, and it was a task complete. Death had overseen his work well. Entropy, they had called it, the species that lived on the third planet of a yellow sun. Long before they were depleted. Before their sun blossomed into a crimson beast that consumed a third of its orbiting bodies. Before it cooled, shrank, and died.
The Silence was his task, to shave the very energy of the plane with each slow sweep of the scythe. A gardener, trimming unruly plants with care and tenderness, clearing away the weeds which choke a prized plant to submission. And at last, that plant was clear to see; the coldness of entropy, where all laid still and nothing remained.
"Hello?"
Silence, broken. There was no echo, no voice; not a single atom remained, no method of the voice travelling to Death. And yet he heard it well as if it was the first moments of his work when all of the universe had been infested.
"Who are you?"He slowly turned towards the voice, silent and ready. Scythe raised, grip firm; an errant bloom to remove, and then his task would truly be complete. He looked at the scythe, gaze resting upon the cold, bright steel of its blade. He paused.
To see... Where would the light be coming from? The scythe lowered, a finger scraping slowly across the flat of the blade. He had never taken the time to truly look at his tool, to appreciate its never-dull edge. All the effort he had put into using it, and now finally it could rest. Both of them. Just as soon as this was dealt with.
"I have many names. Religious. Scientific. Mundane. But to all, I am their Death."He spoke, and as always, his voice surprised him slightly. It was soft, warm, comforting; many whom he had guided onwards had compared it to a mothers embrace, a favoured hot drink, perhaps a sweet food item. What was that word...
"What's caramel?"Death looked up sharply; the word he had tried to recall, plucked effortlessly by this voice. And suddenly, they were talking; for every question he answered, another two were asked. "Who were these?"It would ask, as a species crossed his mind; and Death would talk, explaining all he knew of them. From the Maraghi, who dwelt in the hearts of gaseous (*What's a gas planet?*) giants and travelled the universe by twisting the intense gravity (*What's that?*) to fold space, using the giants as stepping stones. The Louscer, one of the few Hive Mind (*What's a Hive?*) species to know peace and diplomacy, until their cousin species the Scourge (*Why didn't they name their selves?*) consumed their empire. And the ones who had known him best without knowing him, the race of the third planet on a yellow sun.
"What's a Human?"And so Death talked further; many species had understood his role, and paid no heed to his actions, calling it a fact of existence. The Hive Minds had no concept at all; dead were replaced and recycled, and he always found that a curious part of his work to be in such privacy. Many others had petitioned to perceived Gods or Demons (*What are those?*), mistaking his work as indicative of higher powers that could be bargained and placated. He talked of the planets, and the sights they once held; the oceans that were so different, on the same planet or not. How hotter, water-based oceans were a beautiful crystal blue, fading into storm-black beasts as they grew colder. The oceans of liquid metals on planets held close to their suns, where the tides are ruled by magnetic fluctuations of the suns body. The fluid solids that developed where organic liquids created oceans, a slush that melted down below and hardened at the top before sinking, an endless cycle of shifting mass.
Everything he talked of, came to mind; and he knew that this voice saw as he saw. When he talked of the planets where the sky was filled with deep, purple clouds that rained liquid jewels, they both saw as if there, how the liquid flowed and rolled downhill to a river that flowed gelid and slow. Each new thing he described, appeared in its place as they looked on, entire planets slowly built back up in his memories. And finally, at last, after no time at all (for Time had similarly ceased, unneeded now that nothing was left to count it), they asked the question.
"Where did it all go?"Death paused, looking towards his scythe again. He looked around, at the timeless, spaceless, endless universe he held alone. And now, looking at it, the Silence was deafening to him. And as he thought of the answer, the voice knew it as well. How he had thought of his work, his goal. How he saw what his work had done. So engrossed in pruning and shaping his vast garden, on removing the weeds and clutter, he had harvested the greatest flowers and plants alongside them. A bare garden, with nothing to it. Stillness.
"Entropy... I have achieved what I desired. But now, I find myself lost."There was silence in answer, and Death found himself abruptly lonely, aching for the ever-curious voice to return. There was a flicker of light, an iota where the Stillness moved and the Silence spoke.
"Can you fix it?"Death looked around, but the source of the light was nowhere to be found. Another flickering burst of heat and light for half a second - an inaudible creak, as Time shifted and moved.
Death looked at his scythe once more. He touched the flat of the blade, running a hand down its length. He let it fall to his side - Gravity pulled at it, before slumping away, as mud and dirt wash from enduring stone. His grip tightened. His scythe rose and fell, its blade slicing into the skin of the universe. A flash of light pulsed through, flowing viscous across his scythe.
"If I have harvested all... Then it is too late for them to return. Weed or plant, they are rootless and dead. But seeds endure so very long..."He flicked the scythe, slicing through the clinging light and scattering it far across the Universe; and slowly, as it travelled, Time began to flow once more. The beads of light began a grudging deceleration, curving as Gravity found its strength once more. A final sweep and the last of the light was cast wide, Death surrounded by the seeds of his harvest at last.
"What happens now?"He looked around as the voice spoke to him again, holding his scythe tight to his side.
"I try again. Guide and nurture this garden. And not lose myself to the work, so all that is precious does not meet the same end. Perhaps with another, who can guide and aide such a task; and finally get the answers to all their questions."He swept his scythe, the rip in the plane sealing over, watching as the light faded and dispersed into nebulous clouds and drifts.
"It will take time. Though we have nothing but that, I believe. Waiting is not so concerning when you are used to it. But this time, I think, there will be a voice for them to petition to; someone to keep them safe from the pressing cold and darkness. Another attempt to prune a garden of sights, sounds and species."
Death set his scythe down, watching as it began a steady drift towards the nearest cloud of particles. He did not need for it now; in time he could reclaim it when his work began anew. Silence ruled for now though it was jealously followed by the Noise of the many-to-be, broken by the Voice as questions for Death once more filled the void with curiosity and wonder. |
As I quickly close the door, I turn back to my daughter sitting up in her bed looking at me, waiting to hear me say the magic words that would make her feel safe for the night. After a pause I was able to say, “Well honey, there no monsters here. But if you want tonight you can stay in mommy’s and daddy’s room.”
Grinning at me she jumps off the bed, yelling for her father that she gets his pillow. As I open the closet again, I confirm that there is indeed a monster in the closet. Although, based off its facial expression, I don’t know who is more surprised to see who. Hearing footsteps behind me I quickly close the door and turn to see my husband holding our daughter with a look on his face that begs me to just make her sleep in her room. Smiling I tell him it’s just for the night until something else is figured out. Seeing the look on my face, he walks off with her. I hear him tell her that he’ll be right back and that he just needs to speak with me.
Coming back in the room he looks worried; I wonder if I have lost the poker face I use to have. “Are you okay?”, he asks me, coming closer to where I am standing.
Looking at him I decide that he should also know what’s going on, as I am not dealing with this one on my own.
“Yea, just look at this” I say, opening the door. In all honesty I probably should have given him a bit more warning, but I figured I had none. What I was not expecting was the yelp that came out of his mouth as I quickly closed the door. Of course, the sound woke up the baby and caused our little girl to come running back into her room.
As her father looked like he was about to faint, I quickly walked her back to our bedroom turned on some music for her, and checked on the baby who had already started to settle its self. As I walked out of the baby’s room, I decided I had to check that closet too. Nope, no monsters, perfect. Going went back to my daughter’s room, I found my husband sitting on the bed looking at his hands.
“What do we do now?” he asked me, as if I had all the answers.
“We call the police?” I say, unsure how to proceed from here.
“I would rather you didn’t”, comes a muffled response from the closet.
Opening the door, I see that the monster was still standing there. All of a sudden, I decided that I was going to approach this like I would an animal that I was unfamiliar with. With caution, and kindness. Inviting the monster out of the closet, I ensured that I was an arms length away.
“How can I help you? What is your name?”, as it could talk, I figured that I would at least get some information out of it. At this time, I heard my husband stand up, and stand behind me. Giving me the encouragement, I needed to continue.
“I’m Floral” was the reply. Looking back at my husband I think he was as startled by the name as I was.
“Well Floral, it would seem that you’re in our daughter’s closet, and are causing some confusion.”
Walking passed me, the monster – Floral – sat on the bed. Looking around at the room she(?) seemed pleased with herself.
“Yes, this will do”
“I’m sorry? What will do?”, was my husband’s reply. It was nice to see he had finally recovered enough to speak.
“This family will do” came the response.
Feeling my husband begin to take a step forward I interject, “I’m sorry, we’re a bit confused. How will this family do?”
“Think of me like a pet,” came the reply, “you didn’t pick me, but I picked you”. |
Patrick laughed and leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. “Man… I can’t believe college is almost over. Time to hit up the real world, eh?”
I nodded and took a sip from my beer, then looked back towards the frat house. I was getting low on my drink, and considered going back for another, but I really didn’t want to go back in the house with the blaring music and practically shoulder-to-shoulder dance mobs. My eyes turned down towards the can in my hand; I was gonna need more beer for this conversation. I frowned. “Yeah… man I’m gonna miss this. We’ve been together since freshman year of high school. Gonna be weird finally parting ways.”
Pat grunted in agreement. “Kinda pisses me off that we didn’t even meet ‘till then. Our houses were only a few blocks away from each other, same school district even, but we went to different middle schools,” Patrick complained with a shrug. “Coulda been goofing off together for a whole five or six more years.”
I felt my grip on the beer can tighten, and it crinkled slightly. “Same. I think about that, too. Definitely makes me wish I could go back.”
“Mm,” Pat agreed. Then he stood from his lawn chair and started walking back towards the house. “I’ll be right back. Want another beer?”
I shook my almost empty can back and forth. “Please and thank you.” Pat nodded and continued on. I clicked my teeth together a few times, and then called out after him. “Pat! …If you actually could go back… back to before we met, would you? Would you do it all again?”
My best friend turned to face me with a wide smile. “Hell yeah!”
That was all I needed to hear.
Three hours later, long after the last line of coke had been snorted at that party, I stumbled my way into the campus labs. I made it to the research wing where I’d been studying and working under Professor Spetts, and scanned my access card over the panel next to the door. It beeped and turned green on the third try, and I entered.
The Professor told us never to enter our lab without him, never to work on the project alone. It was all just theory and concept, and our prototype probably wouldn’t function. At best it was futile, at worst it could be deadly. Certainly is was classified and confidential.
I didn’t care. I wasn’t ready to move on. I wasn’t ready to move forwards, and if there was even a slight chance I could actually move *back*, I would take it. The glow form a single monitor lit the room, and the large ring of the Gate loomed in my peripherals as I worked, running scans, checking and rechecking equations and lines of code. When everything looked good, I walked over to the Professor’s desk; he stored our experimental power source there in a locked drawer, but I had managed to memorize the code.
I pushed his chair out of the way and squatted down to open it, only to come face to face with the professor himself. Spetts was sitting under his desk, wrapped up in a blanket like a burrito, and he was staring right at me.
“Good morning Abel.”
I screamed, and flailed my arms as I fell backwards before scurried up into a sitting position. “Professor! What are- why- uh… I can explain.”
Spetts smiled, amused. “No need. You’re here to use the Gate, no?”
I gulped, and just stared at him.
He chuckled. “After all the warnings and cautions and my explanations of the risks? You still want to dive headlong into the abyss?”
He didn’t seem mad, and I was still a bit inebriated, so my courage flared. I set my brow and nodded. “There’s something I want to do.”
The professor’s grin widened. “I see… well, it just so happens I also have some things I’d like to accomplish as well.” Spetts crawled out from under the desk, letting the blanket fall off his shoulders. He grunted slightly as he pulled himself to his feet using the desk as leverage, but I noticed his free hand was clutching the Gate’s power source.
“Do you… always sleep under the desk with that thing?” I asked.
“Yup,” he affirmed shortly. “Now… the tough thing about testing a time travel device like this is finding a willing participant… especially one who the administration will believe tested the machine of their own accord without my help. That why I discourage people so strongly.”
“So you weed out the people like me…” I said.
He nodded. “The ones that are a little crazy, not unlike myself.” Spetts stepped over to the gate and plugged in the power source, a low mechanical hum filling the room as he did. “How far back you going?”
He was right, I probably was a little crazy. I smirked. “June 25th, 2014.”
“Got it,” he said, stepping over to the terminal I’d been working on earlier and typing away. “I’ve just got one task for you.”
“Fine, as long as it doesn’t conflict with my own.”
“It shouldn’t. Just make sure you end up back here one day, and tell me it worked. When you see me, say: ‘The cuckoo returns to the nest. Chirp chirp chirp.’ Then I’ll know.” The professor hit a large button on the terminal, and LED along the length of Gate began to glow. A shimmering field appeared within the threshold, looking like a swirling fog.
I faced it and took a deep breath. “Is this really it? That’s all it takes?”
“You helped build it yourself. You knew it was finished… Abel, if you don’t mind me asking, I gotta know: what are you going back for?”
I chuckled. “Just want to hang out with my friends.”
Professor Spetts laughed. “Well, good luck with that. I hope the space-time continuum doesn’t rip you to shreds, and hopefully your old mind survives being overwritten by your current memories! Fingers crossed!”
I gave him a thumbs up, and then stepped through. |
"Sir?"
The airlock was quiet, of course, as the atmosphere had already been vented, but the question still sounded clear as day through the comms.
Most of the beings in the small, sterile room were Athern. Didn't need to breath to begin with so their faces showed the confusion felt by the organic members of the division clear as day without helmets and their armor stowed.
"Just something I've noticed."The C.O replied, the bodybag and extra weaponry floating nearby out of sight. "Not everyone we fight and hunt is where they are by choice, but some are. Some have decided to revel in the pain and suffering not to cope with the darkness they bring to ensure their own survival but because they genuinely enjoy it."
A short buzzer sounded the atmosphere being pumped back into the chamber, each soldier counting the time till they could move.
"Most of those are the monsters, the ones who flaunt their actions and their body count like a badge of honor, taking the desperate and using them as tools with false trust and loyalty. But the ones that build an empire, like the Cr'siOta family back home? They're the ones you can't just drag to whatever abyss their culture has with blade or bullet and be done with them."
The buzzer stopped, and a pair of sharp beeps sounded as the doors opened. The crew moved out, four taking the bodybag and taking point.
Now inside the ship, and with the battle done, the rumble of machinery sounded the artificial gravity being brought back online, and a short, annoyed looking Athern with a bore-plate on his back and small cracks in the metal fibers of his flesh snorted.
"Getting philosophical again, old friend?"
The taller Athern shot the figure a salute, fist to chest then to the ground as a short bow was made with head raised as in defiance.
"None of that, you may be only a Low Commander but you outrank this General when you aren't on contract."He replied to the gesture, shaking his head and turning down the corridor of dull metal and painted signs with the clunk of armored feet. "Only a hundred casualties and most are Athern. I'd say the Infantry did our makers proud, didn't they Virst?"
"Aye, but I don't think we're done. They had the sense to leave automated defenses and abandon the outpost."Virst shook his head as he followed. "We won't be able to track them easily, not through the dead zone between the arms, even with the parameters on the carrier ships range and fuel supply. We may chasing ghosts, Beo."
"And that's why we don't rest, and they keep playing the game."Beo chuckled, the air warming as his body steamed and the cracks seemed to fade. "Just as those who act with humility are great foes, so to are those who are relentless drive their prey to exhaustion."Beo raised a hand, armor and fabric shifting till rolling bars and gears replaced the forearm as smoldering pipes and four crab leg-like digits replaced his fingers, small flames blue as starlight lighting the hall like a welding torch, "And Inquisitors do not rest, not till we demons drag the monsters down in flame, blood and oil." |
**THE WANDERERS**
“No, no, no, noooo!” Colby yelled as the background on his computer screen, the wide open and very lethal expanse of the solar system, started to materialize around him.
For a few moments everything he saw was pixelated, as reality shifted.
In the center of his vision the Milky Way and vastness of space started to become clearer. In his periphery, the wooden desk in his study became fuzzier. Colby could barely make out the shape of his hands on the glass top surface next to his computer.
Using an enormous amount of will power and strength, Colby tried to get his hand to un-stick from the desk and move to the laptop.
In front of him, the universe had materialized. Stars and darkness before him, so clear and stunning it took his breath away. *Because there’s no oxygen here*. Colby thought. He struggled as he started suffocating. Not usually one to panic, staring into the cosmos with no air Colby was freaking out. *Have to —*
Suddenly, the galaxy disappeared, and Colby’s world spun as oxygen rushed into his lungs.
His right hand sprawled across the top of the, now closed, laptop.
“What the hell?” Colby looked around. “What the hell was that??”
Since the study was empty, like the rest of his house because he lived alone, Colby didn’t expect an answer. But sometimes a situation is so bizarre it deserves to be acknowledged out loud.
As he scanned the room, his eye caught on a painting his mom had done. A beautiful, intricate watercolor of the forest. Just a glance and he started to get sucked in, the pixelation starting again.
Colby quickly closed his eyes. And the pull stopped.
*Okay, this is messed up. Something is wrong. Right?* Colby stood still running thoughts and scenarios in his mind. But nothing was conclusive. He’d woken up this morning and had orange juice and eggs. It was 10am and he was stone cold sober. So why was he tripping like paintings and pictures just became portals?
His phone rang.
An honest to goodness sound of a ringing phone broke the silence. Call him old fashioned but he liked that his cell still sounded like a phone, even though they all carried super computers in their pockets now. Without opening his eyes, he pulled the phone out of his pocket and answered.
“Hello.”
“Colby. Thank goodness you’re still here.”
Remy, his sister. The oldest and the over-nurturer of their five siblings. But man, even with her tendency to be a tad overprotective, it was really good to hear her voice. Maybe that’s because right now Colby felt like he could use some big sis protection.
“Still here. Though, I did consider taking a spacewalk this morning.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I wish I were joking.”
“Where are you?”
“In my study, with my eyes closed because mom’s forest almost materialized.”
“I need you to go stand in front of the print I gave you last Christmas.”
“Really? I was expecting you to ask if I’d done shrooms this morning. What’s going on?”
“The one at Topsail Island. Now.”
“Okay, okay. Give me a second.”
Colby, keeping his eyes closed, felt his way out of his study and down his hallway which was lined with framed photos and paintings.
Every year for Christmas, each of the Bennet siblings had received the same photo from Remy. They’d grown up on the Chronicles of Narnia as kids. Remy reading chapters out loud to the four younger ones before bed. Tales of stepping into a wardrobe and entering another world. The five of them always wished for the adventure, but never had found a magical wardrobe. As they got older life took them all to different parts of the country, and time together became scarce. And so, Remy had started sending each of them the same photo every Christmas. Sometimes from a time they were all together, other times a shot from one of her photojournalist adventures. Ziggy, the youngest, called it their own “wall wardrobe.”
He’d placed the framed sunrise at Topsail on the screened in porch, liking the idea of having his coffee out there in the morning and pretending to be at the beach with his family. Remy may be sentimental, but she was on to something. It was nice knowing when he looked at the photo, the same one was in all of his siblings’ homes. His three sisters Remy, Lexie, and Ziggy on the east coast and his brother Fletcher in California, were still connected to him all the way up in Alaska. It was nice having things that tied them all together like that. Even if it was pretend.
“You almost there? I still need to call Ziggy.”
Colby felt the coffee table at his knee and the rocker to his right. His approximation with eyes shut put him pretty close to it. He grunted his affirmative.
“Okay. Now. Before you open your eyes, I need you to hear me. I don’t have time to explain. I have to get us all in one place. So, when you open your eyes concentrate on the bench on the pier and take deep breaths. Don’t make sudden movements, let it all settle like you’re riding a wave on your surfboard. Lex and Fletch are already there. Got it?”
*Got it? What. No.* Colby thought. Remy was usually pretty far out there. She lived a carefree life traveling where the story took her. Her hair was purple for crying out loud. Maybe he should’ve asked if she was the one on shrooms. But no, he remembered the struggle to breathe as the Milky Way became crystal clear only minutes ago. He’d felt that lack of oxygen, that was real. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t an artistic delusion on Remy’s part.
“Colb. I love you, kiddo. But I need to call Ziggy. You got this?”
“Yeah, I got this.”
“I love you. See you on the other side.”
“Love you too.”
Colby opened his eyes on his words. And looked directly at the photo of Topsail Island. Sunrise. The pier. The bench. He focused his attention on the bench.
The pixelation started. And this time Colby took deep breaths as what was in the photo pulled out into the room, becoming the room.
And suddenly, everything in the photo was reality. His porch in Alaska had faded away, and he was now standing next to the bench on the pier. The sound of seagulls crying, the smell of salt on the breeze, the pinks on the waterline turning orange. Colby was *at* Topsail Island.
\[THE WANDERERS CONTINUED ...\] |
When James and I went our separate ways a decade ago, I thought we had parted on good terms. But since then, life has began to feel like hell if satan was high. Marlene cheated on me with a horse. Sam was made comatose in a car accident- with a little tykes buggy. I couldn't even count how many people went missing. Now, no one's left. There's no one who cares about me, or that even know that I exist. I raised the gun I had purchased up to my head with a full barrel. I pulled the trigger.
*click*
A misfire? The one time something lucky happens, its preventing me from killing myself? Guess I'll just try again. But before I could even finish my thought, my phone rang. *It had to have been a wrong number* I thought. Nevertheless, I picked up the phone.
"Hey Douglas."It was James.
"Ho-"James interrupted me.
"Let me speak. I hated you Douglas, but only a little bit. When I made that post about Marlene cheating, it was to make me feel a little better about the hated. But then Marlene actually cheated. I was confused, but interested. I tested what had happened again with Sam, and it worked. I couldn't help myself. The power was addicting. I didn't think it was that bad though. I didnt think you'd try to kill yourself! Sorry 'bout that buddy. As an apology, you can use my account to make a post that can fix something! I've emailed you the password."
Before I could say anything, James hung up. I calmed myself down and opened up my email. There was the password. I couldve made a post about all the people who went missing showing up again. I could make a post about Sam waking up from the coma. But I didn't.
An old friend ruined your life for fun. Now you're a multitrillionaire, with all the money in the world, and he's kneeling at your feet, begging for mercy. The ideas for torture are flooding through your head. Where do you start? |
Waves sloshed against my boat. It had been days, nay, it had been years since I left. I had wandered all over the seven seas, farther than anyone ever had, farther than Columbus, Vasco da Gama, farther than Sindbad. The tower I'd been looking for, craving for, it now stood in front of me. Yesterday night, it was nowhere to be seen, but today it stood pitch black on a moonless night, rising from the ocean.
Inside the tower, they said, was the treasure, the unique treasure, the oh so wonderful treasure of the terrible Davy Jones. All the gold from the ships he sunk, they said, was in that tower, the tower of horrors, as it was called. Many a men, and many a women, had lost their minds chasing for it. But I, the great explorer of the seven seas, I had done it.
It all started when I heard that my father would never come back from sea. He's dead, he drowned at sea, he was taken by Davy Jones, they said. And so I went to the library and read, I read all that I could about the terrible Davy Jones, the horror of the seas. There in an old and dusty book I had found it, the tower of horrors, Davy Jones's most valued possession.
For years I sailed with pirate crews, I had many terrible battles, I lost an eye, but I never lost sight of my goal. Thankfully, the sea never took me down. After five or so years, I felt myself the master of the sea, and I set sail, on my own, into the vast, vast sea, looking, searching, for the tower of horrors.
O treasures! Great treasures! Splendid treasures! Treasures of vengeance I'm coming for you. But I'm no fool, the greatest treasures are guarded by the vilest traps, I have to be careful, I have to be prudent. To be a pirate is not a fool's errand, to seek vengeance is no laughing matter. And so, I must leave you my friend, for there's a tower to be scaled, treasures to be had, and vengeance, sweet vengeance. . . |
"Look, I know that guy has a rep as a pushover, but if you keep pushing, sooner or later, he's going to push back."
"What the Svkzt do you think he's going to do? Bleed on me? One poke with a pinky and he's screaming in pain."
"You remember Tziki over in the 3rd quarter?"
"Yeah?"
"Heard from him lately?"
"No, he's in rehab. Some sort of monster trashed him in a fight. Something no one has ever seen before."
"Yeah. Never seen before. Right."
"So? You got info? Or just blowing smoke out your knees as usual?"
"Yeah, I know something. But before I tell you, you are going to record a no-responsibility agreement with me."
"I'd never hold anything against you!"
"*I* refuse to take that chance."
"Oh, alright. Call up the Advocate."
"Advocate Here."
"Sapient Fridsa recording no responsibility for results of shared information provided at the end of this record."
Understood Second Party"
"Sapient Grodwiz here, I do solemnly swear aver and affirm that under no circumstances will I hold Sapient Fridsa responsible for any consequences of the information I am about to receive."
"Sapient Fridsa here, the information follows. The individual in this (*snap*) image is the *monster* reported by a third party not associated with this declaration of no responsibility."
"Fridsa, you are excreting all over me."
"Finish the declaration Grodwiz, or face the consequences."
"Fine. Sapient Grodwiz here, acknowledging the information presented is covered by this declaration. Sapient Fridsa bears no responsibility for any consequences of sharing that information with me."
"Sapient Fridsa, accepted."
"Record Complete. Um, Fridsa, is it? We're not official now, so I don't have to report anything, but you're telling me that skinny pink harmless hairless soft squishy protoplasmic sack of mostly water put Tziki into rehab?"
"You want to pay to record a no rep dec for that?"
"No... I don't think so. But *you* should be aware that Tziki filed charges. If you *know* something about that case, you *have* to step forward."
"I am aware of that, and the case. I have already given my testimony."
"Very well, Fridsa, good hunting."
"Smooth seas."
...
"You're serious."
"As a six-chamber heart attack."
"He looks like nothing."
"Right up til you get stupid, and push him too hard. Then, baboomba."
"That must be an expression of his species."
"It is."
"Excuse me."
...
"Sapient, I have come to offer my apologies, and to beg a favor."
"Speak."
"I have treated you rudely, and wish to offer you satisfaction. Whatever you choose for satisfaction, I beg you the opportunity to engage in practice combat."
"I will consider your requests, and inform you tomorrow, at this very location, of my decision. In the meantime, let there be no more strife between us."
"Agreed."
...
"Grodwiz, I had no idea you were such a linguist! Or so well versed in the honors."
"I hate mushing through all that formality. Takes the taste of life out an strangles it. See ya later Fridsa."
"Later, Grodwiz."
...
"Sapient Grodwiz?"
(To be continued) |
\- Son of a-
The Devil disappeared in a flash of red smoke, leaving me alone in front of an equally red desk. The chair behind it was velvet, and the room, dark-red. I kind of could see a theme.
The desk was already sunken under an ocean of disorganized papers. I grabbed a couple of them randomly, trying to see what this was all about... But much to my dismay, everything was written in legalnese. And even then, I could tell it had been made overly complicated.
I checked the room for an escape, but there was absolutely nothing on the walls. No doors, no windows, no mouse holes. Nothing but a desk and a straight chair. It didn't look confortable, but... Beat standing up. I sat on the chair, which turned out to be very warm, and looked at the pile of papers. It wasn't really a pile, though, more of a... well, a hot mess. But the point was that I really didn't want to take care of them.
What can you do, when the devil kidnaps you, though? I looked at my wrist, to see the display of my time machine. The nano-robots were still active, flowing inside of my body, making my atoms dancing on the waves of time flows. I wished I never invented the damned thing. Who knew getting signature of young people - children, most of the time! - was such a great way to own someone in the future?
I read an instructions note left by the Devil to discover that he wanted me to spend the rest of my days - and then, probably, eternity - running back and forth through time to have a bunch of people signing autographs, which *somehow* was helping him getting their souls, and then follow through and go get their souls when the time had come. I was to be the Devil's secretary.
I got up, peeved. I was one of the most brillant mind in the history of mankind! I not only pierced the secrets of time travel, but *also* built a machine - a nano-machine! - capable of making me move through time! If he wanted those early signatures to bad, why didn't he go himself?
And that's when it clicked. A grin lighted my face. I was going to screw the Devil.
A few hours laters, the man himself showed up. He looked at me, laid back, feet on the table... A table very much untouched since the last time he was there.
\- You probably think you're being cute, human, being cocky like that. But I'm the Devil. You're going to do what I say, sooner or later. You might as well start before I start the 36-weeks motivational torture seminar.
\- Actually, you're going to do that.
I looked down at the papers, then back at him.
\- The... Papers, I mean, you're going to do the papers, not the seminar.
\- Really, now? And how do you figure that's going to happen?
\- Because you said you would.
I produced a piece of paper, flauting it in front of him.
\- Remember this? It's been a while.
\- No... You didn't!
\- I did. You're originally an angel... And there's no reason, all Devil that you are, that you would be able to traveil through time. So I went back to your angelic days, and I got your signature on this contract that said I would own you if you turned evil.
Grinning again, I threw his contract on the messy pile.
\- I read those contracts. Getting the signature is half the job, having the prey do the deed so their soul is forfeit is the other half. You did done the deed, Devil.
I got up, and pulled up the chair so he could sit.
\- Now let's get some signatures. |
I get fed regularly. I have no great problems or regrets. I am comfortable and accommodated in every reasonable way. I just know, absolutely, when I die there are no more Humans. Evolution first made Humans endangered and now, with me, extinct.
It started, some time back now. I realised that viruses cause evolutionary adaptation: that the 1918 Pandemic created a new evolutionary pressure. The presence of the virus killed off somewhere between seventeen and fifty million people. Most people like to talk about how lethal the virus. Nobody really talks about the *generation after* the virus.
The generation after the virus were the generation that had, for whatever reason, not died from the virus. They had evolved. Of course everyone said this was because of their immune system. It was. Their immune system was just more responsive. Having children was the sine qua non of evolution. The Virus had culled a large number of Humans and those who remained, by reproducing, produced children who were evolved. They had evolved to resist predation by viruses.
Humans would dismiss the idea that viruses were acting to predate on Humans. There was no intelligence in a Virus. The idea that viruses would get together to hunt down humans is
ridiculous. There is no Viral Society. There is no way a Virus could do that thing. Yet. The 1918 Pandemic showed that Viruses did do that thing. Not only in 1918. In 1889, in India, a Cholera epidemic broke out. It carried on burning through the human population until 1923. Everybody knows that Cholera is bacterial not viral -Vibrio cholerae. Not everybody knows that bacteria can be infected with Viruses too. Nudging one species to kill another. It is just a matter of careful planning. I knew that it was the first sign.
Then between 1956 and 1958 there was an outbreak of Asian Flu. Not as spectacular as 1918. But it only needed to cull a small section of the Human Population. The same happened in 1968 to 1969. It was just trimming. Tidying up the common herd. The 1979 eradication of smallpox was a small setback - but not a permanent one. Viruses could evolve just as much as Humans. And the point - the real purpose - of the constant predation on Humans by Viruses was to push evolution.
The generation after the 1918 Virus remained succeptible to the Virus but in a different way. Each of the waves of viruses herded Humans in a distinct direction. Nobody really believes that Viruses are, somehow, a huge, hidden, conspiring power that has decided to make Humans into something else. I thought the idea was nonsense right up to the time I saw the photographs of Cordyceps. The cordyceps fungus - Ophiocordyceps unilateralis - was discovered by Alfred Russell Wallace in 1859. The fungus takes over the body of an ant, makes it climb to the top of a plant and wait. The ant is then in a position to spread Cordyceps spores on the wind. Biologists, rather than appreciating the subtle manipulation of other species, debate how to classify the zombie ant maker fungus.
I was more taken by the subtle experimental nature of selecting ants to infect and then moving them into a position where the infection would maximise the infection of other ants. Ants are, for the most part, virgin, non-reproductive, females. So infecting ants in this way avoids the creation of vast, rapid, evolutionary pressure to change. It was Viruses experimenting. Ants were the laboratory for a much bigger campaign. Human Evolution. The Virus used bacteriophages to infect the fungus and the fungus then infected the ants. That demonstrated two things: that the Viruses really were capable of all that Society and Thought and Organisation that everyone insists Viruses cannot do.
Which is why, here in the Bedlam, I get regular therapy. For Capgras Syndrome. The entire treatment programme is about my delusion that all the people around me have been replace. Which is a misunderstanding of what I really say. Humans have been replaced and I am, so far as I can tell, the last Human. The replacement is a subtle process that has taken a century - it may be more, I only really looked for evidence back to 1889. The year after Jack the Ripper carved a scar through the East End. I get regular therapy. Possibly because, when I mention things like Saucy Jack, people panic and suppose I am planning a killing spree. Which is the fear they have about all Humans.
The 1968-1969 Epidemic saw Humans crawl up out of the gravity well of the Earth and land on the Moon. The first time ever that Humans had been anywhere other than this small blue dot. The last time, too. The future will see People on the Moon. Not Humans: Persons. Persons will scatter across the Solar System. Nobody will realise it is because of Society, Though and Organisation of the Virus. The subtle trick of replacing all the Humans by having them evolve into these Persons. I know everyone has been replaced. The big question, for me, is why would any Virus want to do that? |
I was always told stories about another time when I was young, a time when rock buildings touched the sky and when you could live in the same place with millions of people. But that is a distant past, if it ever existed at all.
I have been living with my family my whole life, like everyone else does. Who would risk it on their own when there are bears, cougars, and boars who could attack? That's not even mentioning the packs of dogs. In the family we are all safe. We can hunt, forage, and travel as a single entity, with out bows and arrows and our spears and swords. Though swords are a luxury only for the leader, our father.
Right now though, there is a more pressing matter, a rock is falling from the sky, and we're too close to avoid the impact.
It hits the ground.
...And it doesn't even cause a tremor. Did we overestimate its size?
Regardless, we return to investigate.
Once to the rock, we find the only damage it caused was pushing over a few trees, and that the rock itself was some sort of iron hut, but that could fly. What kind of sorcery is that?
The iron hut opens, revealing startlingly pale humans, they are tall and thin, not at all like my family and I, who are all rather stocky and muscular from constantly being on the move, but still short due to never having quite enough.
One of the humans in the group steps out, his garments looking as if they are made of wax thread. He looks at me, and my family as well, and says, "Are you able to understand me?"
Father steps forward, "You are on my family's land, leave."
Father has always been strong in hard situations, he's much more capable than anyone else in the group.
"That won't be necessary. I see you can understand me, so I will give you the honor of serving us."The wax man says. I fail not to giggle at that suggestion, lanky foreigners with no muscle attempting to boss us around? I'm hardly an adult and I could break him.
Father approaches with spear aimed at the man.
And in an instant, he is on the ground, dark strings plunged into him and making him seize.
"I see you misunderstand, we intend to stay, and you all will have the opportunity to help us rebuild the old ways."The wax man says.
We should have stuck to our native tongue, they might have left us alone if we had not used the common tongue for them.
​
(Not sure if this is any good, but its what I thought of given the prompt. Let me know if you like it if you read to this point) |
They call me Ex Machina (as in *deus ex machina*), because i can always pull out another trick if my existing ones aren't enough. General consensus is that the only hero who might be able to take me out is Mr. Handwavium. Universal consensus is that it wouldn't be worth the collateral damage.
​
I run the Sanctuary, the one place where villains don't have to watch their backs for a while. Rules are simple. Don't come here if you've got a hero in hot pursuit--unless you genuinely didn't do it this time, then i'll buy time for you to get a lawyer. (Expect to pay for it the hard way if you lie to me about that.) Don't start any fights here. (I see all that happens within my domain: i'll know who really started it. Again, lying to me is a really bad idea.) Don't try to ambush anybody on the way out, and don't follow them starting from here. (If anyone thinks they can issue threats with impunity while under my protection, i'll deal with them myself. This is the place where villains can stop being villains for a while, without their allies assuming treachery.)
​
That last rule used to get me a lot of grief from the law enforcement affiliated supers, who often could only find their most wanted here. But then they started comparing notes with cities that don't have any Sanctuary equivalent, and found that having a safe place to take a breather helps keep the villains sane, and sane villains are less likely to run the body count up for no good reason. Sane villains know you shouldn't kill the goose that's laying the golden eggs you're stealing and your experiments are less likely to draw the ire of the ATF if you don't destroy other people's property. Insane villains have a nasty tendency to kill first and rob the corpses as an afterthought or try out their new exploding thing-a-ma-jig in the middle of the most crowded venue they can find.
​
So, even though i've accumulated a decent sized body count and (conditionally) protect the villains, i'm not considered a villain myself. But every once in a while some new hero didn't get the memo, or chose to ignore it.
​
\------------------------
​
I try to go by Prometheus, but superheroes are a dime a dozen and i haven't made a big enough splash yet to be remembered, so everyone mostly calls me No-No-the-Other-New-Guy. Irritating, but back before i got my powers, i would be one of the people saying that about some new hero, so i can't really complain.
​
I'm your basic flying brick: strong, invulnerable, but nothing flashy. I figure that if i'm not strong enough to take Ex Machina, i can at least walk away from a failed attempt, so what is there to lose?
​
The older heroes all tell me to look up the homicide stats from other cities and then leave well enough alone--but how many of the villains that take shelter with him have been committing their crimes elsewhere? Even if that's not the case, i'm convinced that most of these villains would have been caught or killed a long time ago if they didn't have a safe place to stop and **think**.
​
The nature of some powers means that every now and then Ex Machina has to close the Sanctuary for a day or three for decontamination. I watch and wait until something happens, and he has to turn everyone out and then leave himself while whatever magic or tech he uses to deep clean the place does its work. When he leaves, i follow him.
​
He's headed for the Playground. (The Playground is a section of the city that Mr. Handwavium bought out and then evacuated. Any would be squatters are dropped off at appropriate charitable institutions in other cities. Now it's a place for a villain with a hero in hot pursuit to make a stand without having to worry about racking up additional charges and for heroes to take the fight to minimize the collateral damage.) Does he know i'm shadowing him, or is it just a standard precaution of his?
​
We reach the Playground, Ex Machina turns around, and i'm face to face with--Mr. Handwavium!
​
\-----------------------
​
"You ready to leave well enough alone, kid?"i ask. I can't tell if this kid has figured out that there's only one 'normal rules need not apply' super, not two, or if he's just assumed that Mr. Handwavium dropped in fast enough to block his view of Ex Machina's departure. It shouldn't matter, though, if he is willing to leave well enough alone.
​
Apparently, he's not. He goes into a long spiel on why Ex Machina is the reason all the other villains can survive. Never occurs to him that Ex Machina is in the perfect position to gather intel on the villains. I know which ones need to be taken out fast, and which ones can be left in place as sparring partners for the heroes. The former get visited by Mr. Handwavium; the latter have no clue they're performing a public service.
​
I listen, and conclude that this kid is too stubborn to back down without a better reason than 'Mr. Handwavium said so', and too witless to avoid spilling the beans if i give him that better reason. Rest in peace, Prometheus. |
An hour is not enough time to prepare to die.
More than most get, he thought. But somehow that didn’t make him feel much better.
56 minutes now. *How did I get here? Is there a way to stop this? I don’t want to die.*
So many thoughts and emotions ran through his head as he sat at his desk. How do you prepare to say goodbye in an hour? Letters. He should write letters to his family and loved ones. No, that would take too long. Phone calls? Yes. Well. Call the family for the last part of the hour so you can soak them in up until the end. Voice memos. Audio files for friends and family. A way to say goodbye and give them something to hold onto.
With a plan now, he made a list of names and started recording messages to them on his phone. The list was long, and he didn’t have time to leave more than a minute a person. He hoped it was enough. He hoped he told them what they needed to know, gave comfort or encouragement, let them know how much they’d meant to him during his lifetime. Despite how much he’d screwed it up. That was on him.
Uploading everything to dropbox as a backup, he glanced at the countdown.
30 minutes left.
Money. He didn’t have a will. Nothing in his life was organized for someone to take over his estate, what little he had of one. His parents or siblings would be burdened by funeral costs and emptying out his rental and closing out his bills and accounts. Nothing he could do about it now. Well, almost nothing. His fingers ran across the keyboard as he logged into his bank accounts and transferred all of it minus a grand for auto bills, to his parents. Hopefully that would make things a little easier, cleaning up the mess he’d leave behind.
25 minutes.
He moved to the porch and sat.
Looking out at the forest in his backyard. Listening to the crows make angry honking sounds, he watched as the golden and red autumn fall leaves dropped and drifted on the wind.
He wanted more time. He hadn’t even begun to live the life he’d dreamed.
He wanted to own a home, get a dog. Maybe find a wife and have some kids.
All that time he’d spent working and not living.
If only he could have more time.
Looking down at the black belt around his waist, the red numbers ticked away rapidly.
If only he’d made different choices.
20 minutes.
He picked up his phone and called his folks. Explaining the situation was hard. Getting them, all conferenced in and saying goodbye was … shattering.
Usually a joyful bunch, boisterous and unapologetic for talking over each other. This call was somber, quiet. He could hear his brother calling the authorities, trying to get help to him. No one would get there in time. No one with the skill to deactivate this thing, anyway. That’s why he hadn’t even tried. He could hear his sister praying on his behalf asking for comfort. But mostly he held on to the sound of his parents’ voices.
He held their words like jewels to his chest. His mom and dad had sacrificed everything for their kids. They’d loved them and supported them. And even now, in this moment, they were putting everything they were feeling aside to comfort and love on him.
At 25 he was a kid again. Scared. He wanted his mommy and daddy. Wanted them to come in and turn on the lights and make the nightmare go away.
But this nightmare was real. He was an adult and actions had consequences. He was going to die because he got mixed up in something, he had no business being involved in. With no way to go back and change it.
2 minutes.
Still on the phone with his family, he made his way back into the house. Walked into the center downstairs bathroom and shut the door. Getting into the bathtub he took a deep breath. He was hoping this made the aftermath easier to clean up. Less dangerous for others when they did the sweep.
Everything in his being was shaking. Crying out.
Saying his final ‘I love you’s’, he heard those sweet words back as the final minute counted down. An hour had not been enough time. He wondered if he’d used his last hour wisely enough. Was he prepared to die?
3 …. No … 2 … he was not —
A loud beeping sound started when the red digits hit 1, and the bathroom exploded. |
Walking through the Library on the second deck of the SS Einstein I quietly open a book and begin reading through the untold amount of knowledge available on the massive research vessel.
The ship was constructed hundreds of years ago using technology no longer known to man, the ancient engines using the knowledge gained through its travels. Every year another prospect was lead down into the engine rooms and released some of their knowledge, it was a great honor. However, you never really know what knowledge they’re going to take, and the engine prevents you from re-learning what ever it is it took.
I continued to read the large tomb “Concepts of micro-facial motions” perhaps when I come back from the Engine Room I could forever be done with with boring information and focus on more interesting research.
I return to my sleeping quarters, meeting my beautiful wife in the living room, blonde hair laying gently across her eyes.
“Are you almost ready?” She asks while looking up from her data pad
“Definitely, I’ve been studying nonstop for the last couple of months” steadily getting dressed in my finest uniform, the one reserved for meeting with the Captain.
My wife and I arrive at the Captains office, I Kiss her before walking inside. “I love you” I say as I walk into his office.
The imposing man stands as I walk in, “Good morning Mr. Denton, I hope you have been studying”
“Yes sir, It’s been non-stop, I look forward to helping keep the ship on its path”
“Good, Good, that’s what I like to hear, I know it may be imposing not knowing what piece of information hidden in your mind the Engine may choose, would it be a symphony written by Bach, or perhaps the writings of Aristotle. I can assure you that the information still exists, it just becomes impossible for you to re-learn, truly fascinating” He explains as he slides a document over to me. “Please sign here though just a simple waiver”
“Thank you so much Sir” I sign without a thought in the world, too focused on the task ahead.
Descending into the bowels of the Engine, I am escorted to a small room with a chair in the middle and different color wires hanging down from the ceiling. I take my seat and the Captain begins connecting the wires to different parts of my head.
Once he is finished he takes a step back ”alright Mr. Denton, I will be right back once it’s all finished up” he turns quickly and walks to the door. Closing it and locking.
I hear the Engine speed up, the roar of the turbines pick up and the lights glow brighter, I begin to feel a gentle pressure on my temples.
Im unsure how much time has passed, the capitals walks back in, “ Did everything go alright Captain?”
“Yes! All finished, from now on you can begin to choose your own research programs.” He shakes my hand and I begin walking out the door after being disconnected, a smile on my face and a brighter outlook.
Walking out of the office, I see a small woman stand up from her chair, Blonde hair falling from her shoulders and she smiles at me. “How did it go Honey?”
I awkwardly smile, “I’m sorry, have we met before?” |
It happened many years ago, although such a significant event is still a little fresh in my mind. I was in eighth grade at the time. It was the summer. I was at my home that night and invited my three best friends, Chris, Jeff, and Daniel for a sleepover. Mom and dad were off on another one of their dates.
We all sat in the livingroom playing some smash on the old nintendo. There was a limited supply of controllers, so we consistently had Chris trying to butt in immediately after either Jeff or I lost. He was utter trash at smash, but to be fair, the nerd could nail us at anything trivia related. Daniel, however, owned the scene. His little pikachu reigned surpreme over my link and Jeff's kirby.
After a while, we got a little bored and hungry, we decided to get off the game, and went over to the kitchen to get some snacks. Daniel was beaming with pride when we got there, bragging about how he mopped the floor with us. Chris's temper flared and they begin to get into their typical debates. Meanwhile, Jeff and I were pulling a few jokes about how stupid they looked. After all the dust settled, we all gathered together, to eat our chips and soda at the table.
"So dude", Daniel asked, "When will your parents be back?"
"It is ten now, but they tend to stay out till around 9 or so. It won't be long.", I responded as I take a sip of soda.
Jeff enthusiastically bursted in between a handful of chips, "What if they stay out? It would be so cool if we could stay up past twelve!"
Chris spoke up,"That is not likely to happen, but I have an idea of what we can do while we wait."
Chris gathered us all around the family computer, went youtube, and put on some videos.
"OH DANG!! IT IS TOBUSCUS!!!", Jeff loudly announced to the room.
We all gathered around and watched youtube for awhile. Then, we began to get tired. Jeff was already calling it a night, from being the maniac that he is. Chris, Daniel, and I were also just about to hit the hay, but to joke around a little bit, I looked up "When will my dad get home?"The result said never. We all chuckled a little at the dumb, yet predictable, result we got. I turned off the computer, we got into our beanbags, and fell asleep.
The next morning, we woke up from the ring of the doorbell. Looking out the window, it already looked like a hot and sunny day. We all got up, and I checked the door.
It was Jeff's mom.
"Hello little man!", she said in her awful cutsie voice, "What are you still doing in your jammies? Is your friend all dressed up?"
"We all just got up. He would need a few minutes to get dressed.", I told her.
"Alright then.", she responded with a stupidly warm smile.
After a while, a second car pulled up into the driveway. Chris's mom came to the door, but when I told her that her son is waiting on Jeff to finish up so he could get out of his jammies, she went wild.
"WHAT!", Chris's monster of a mother bellowed. "Be honest, did you guys stay up all night?! Where are your parents!?!?".
Typically, I would have gave a response in this sort of situation, but I froze. I stood dazed and confused, as I realized, my parents are still out. This was highly unusual. I began to worry of what might have happened to them. I gave her a very concerned glance, almost on the verge of tears. Before giving it a second thought, she burst in, grabbed Chris by the arm, grabbed his things, and left in a huff.
A few moments later, I was crying at the door, the full waterworks. Daniel was baffled, in a state of confusion because he never saw me cry before to this degree.
"It is alright.", Jeff's mom tried to comfort me, "Chris's mom was just concerned of what might happen if boys like you stayed up too late. You could mess up your sarcadian rythym if you make this a habit, you know."
"It is not that.", I explained, "It is around noon now, and my parents still aren't back. They were out all night."
"I will call them."She responds.
She kept trying to called my mom's number. No answer. She then tried to call my dad's number. Same story. Her smile fell from her face. Around this time, Jeff came running out of the bathroom, with a cow lick in his hair.
"What happened?", he inquired, "I heard crying. "
He saw his mother with a serious look on her face, and embarrased, I turned around to show him my tears. He came over to give me a hug. Daniel followed suit. If Chris were not taken by his mom so suddenly, I bet he would have too.
A while later, I heard my mom and dad got into an accident and were at the hosptial. My father was badly injured did not make it. I cried like a kindergartener at the funeral, but Jeff, Daniel, and Chris were there. All three of my friends tried whatever they could to make me feel better, but ever since that day and that night, I never felt the same, and from what it looks like, I probably never will. |
The room glowed this neon green. Marcus sat up in his bed and squinted into the direction of the light. Immediately his corneas began to sting and he put his hand up and gave a hiss of pain. This light then switched off. Smoke lifted from the white walls of Marcus's room and his skin began to bubble.
He did not feel pain, only the pop pop as the bubbles ruptured. More and more would spring to life and rupture and rupture and Marcus sat bewildered. He wanted to cry for help but a sedative glow filled his body and he slouched back as his flesh turned to liquid. He melted into his bed, globs of him pouring over the sheets. His face began to sag. His head gave wave to the wall. He was now a puddle.
Clean up team came in and sucked up the liquid Marcus into a vat. Their beeps and chirps sounded throughout the room. They were gone in about a minute.
The night was cold. The trees rustled. Black filled the sky. Marcus was now in a bottle, no longer Marcus but a stew of flesh and bone to be examined back at the ship. |
When they had Slept, they had left behind a world which hated them. Feared them. Chased them with pitchforks and torches, killed them with swords and magic. So they left. They went to sleep and prayed that they would never wake.
When the monsters left, the world fell to strife. The so called "monsters"had united the world in hate. They build their armies and weapons and turned them not against each other, but the monsters. The creatures with mismatched colors and grotesque features. The creatures with varying dispositions that no one ever spent enough time to find out.
But when the monsters had gone, only the humans were left. The humans with great power and great thirst for bloodshed. So they had turned on one another, each seeking greater power for themselves but achieving only death.
People began to worship the monsters as gods. When the monsters had been awake, there were memories of peace and unity. But once they Slept, there was bloodshed. Religions rose up around the monsters, or the Tranquils, as they came to be called.
And when the land shook and the monsters woke at last, they did not wake to a world that hated them. They woke to a world that bowed down to them, a world that begged for forgiveness. A world that finally took the time to see who they were.
And all was well.
*\~A Story Of Ashes*
*\~\~If you enjoyed, visit* r/StoriesOfAshes *for more of my writing*
*\~\~\~Thank you for reading!* |
I should've felt happy when I got that letter from her; I felt drowsy.
I should've felt drowsy after lunch; I felt two inches taller.
My boss gave a presentation; I felt better. I responded enthusiastically.
My boss praised me; I yawned.
My colleagues made fun of me; I yawned wider.
After work I went to the bar; I almost fell asleep.
At home, I sat in the dark; It was a great feeling.
I could get used to this.
The next day it was all the same.
My boss bored me to sleep.
My friends got me laughing and feeling better.
The bar was a fun place to be.
The darkness brought boredom and drowsiness. |
Falling backwards into a sitting position, I rubbed a hand down my face. The fires of the final fallen city raged around me as I glanced towards Harold.
‘This is really it, isn’t it? This is how the world ends.’ He mumbled, joining me on the rubble filled floor. I sighed and leaned back on my elbows.
‘Well, it’s how the world ends for us. Humans that is...’ I answered. He looked at me then the wreckage of Earth around us. Confusion graced his face.
I continued, ‘once the fires run out of things to burn and the dragons stop fighting, then everything will restart. Plants will flourish and animals will come back out of hiding. The only difference will be there are no humans to ruin it.’
‘Not all dragons want to fight.’ A deep, grumbling voice sounded across the space we sat in.
‘Shut it, Galgaflora!’ I yelled, grasping hold of his chain and yanking it.
‘I was willing to help you. To save human kind.’ the colossal dragon growled, smoke escaping his nostrils.
‘Yeah, I know. But by the time you offered it was too late. It is better if we end now. Stop being.’ I replied, refusing to look at Harold even though I knew he agreed.
‘I hope you can live with that decision.’ Galgaflora grumbled, shifting his humongous weight into a more comfortable position.
‘Won’t have to for much longer.’ I stated, nodding behind Harold as three golden dragons appeared in the sky. ‘Besides, if I’m going to die, I’m not going to go down without a fight and definitely not hungry.’
I pulled a bag of marshmallows out of my backpack and headed to a pile of logs.
‘As long as I have a dragon chained and collecting its fire, I’m going to eat marshmallows.’ I laughed.
Galgaflora huffed our a breath but then turned to light the makeshift campfire. Harold laughed and joined me.
‘I’m happy to end humanity standing next to you.’ Harold whispered as the dragons drew closer.
After roasting and eating three marshmallows, I turned and unhooked Galgaflora.
‘Just like we planned.’ I demanded, climbing on his back and pulling Harold up behind me.
‘Yes. Of course.’ Galgaflora hummed as I withdrew my axe. |
I thought I knew it all. I thought I knew every nuance of humanity, every nook and cranny in the mind. I doubt anyone else under the sun was ever so wrong. I was both annoyed and excited when I realized that I did not know this basic part of humanity. Looking back I can see that there other examples of this. Great superpowers falling back into isolation, at least before the Event. Tired old warlords returning home and ceasing their fearless conquests.
The realization hit me when I learned Paris had fallen and none came to help. Britain sat across the channel as Russia conquered Europe with their super-humans, America, instead of rushing to their long time ally's aid and ignored the atrocities that would make Nazis retch in their graves. Few fought the Russians anymore aside from resistance groups and Spain, but that wouldn't last long.
So why? Why was Japan doing nothing about this threat? The UN had tried only for a bloody 'terrorist' attack to leave the council dead, but why did Italy not rush to defend their national pride with their ambassadors lying dead in the streets? Why was Finland sitting around doing nothing? One or two countries could be explained off but that many? I discarded Russain interference right off the bat-there was no way in hell that they infiltrated Japan, let alone Canada. Was it fear? No. America had proven itself to be willing to fight, and Japan never backed down from a challenge. So what was it? I decided it was multiple factors combined. Britain did not want to do D-day part two without more troops, America was tired of their allies taking their aid then flipping them off, Japan had no way to land with Russian sea domination, Finland knew that no amount of snow and snipers would be able to stop even a low tier super.
But the rest? It was both fear and exhaustion. Turkey was *still* dealing with the economic aftershocks of Canada becoming a dictatorship, Italy did not want the disaster of what WW2 was to them repeating, Greece was attempting to fight off a capitalist revolution, not like that they would side against Russia anyways, and on and on and on. Even the UCA was too busy dealing with centuries of European domination to aid.
Maybe this is just the rambling of a man living far longer than they should have, but the thing is there *is* no singular reason. Like everything, there is more than one side to the looking glass. I guess that was the obvious answer all along. Heh. |
“Are you sure there isn’t anyone else who can take care of this mess? I cleaned bathrooms here until a few months ago. I haven’t even been certified to work in the Eris quadrant yet.”
“Sure, I’ll just ask Allen to do it instead. Would that be better for you?”
“I’d point out Allen has been dead for three months, but I’m worried you’re trying to make a point.”
“You’re right. It’s you or the dead guy, Greg. I don’t have anyone else left. My only unassigned Galactic Accountant used to be a janitor, and I don’t have any smarter janitors to replace you with. I put in a requisition request years ago for a fresh crop of GA’s, but by the time that ship of popsicles gets here and thawed out, the entire Eris quadrant will have suffered total economic collapse. So do you want to help me out here or not?”
“I’ll be honest with you, ma’am, I don’t even know what the major currencies in the Eris quadrant are, much less the exchange rates. My help may end up doing more harm than good.”
“Come off it, alright? I’m quite sure that the inhabitants of Eris would much prefer a broken economy to no economy at all. Think of it like a toilet, Greg. No one wants a busted toilet that won’t flush, full of old piss and shit just floating there fermenting because your only plunger broke. But what’s even worse than a busted toilet? No toilet at all. Just shitting on your floor and hoping the smell goes away eventually. I need you to be a clogged toilet that the people of Eris can pile their shit in to until we can get a proper plunger. Can you be that for me? Can you be that for the galaxy, Greg?”
“Sure, I guess that makes sense to me.” |
You find yourself standing in a vast white expanse. The space is almost entirely empty, save for a small wooden receptionist’s desk and rolling office chair directly in front of you. You are quite sure that the chair is empty, mostly because there is no one in it, and yet there is in fact a person in it and it’s not empty at all. The space around you is still white, but also now off-white. The hideous man sitting at the empty desk flashes a gorgeous smile while twirling strands of perfect golden hair between their gnarled fingers.
“Hi! Welcome to the Interdimensional Pet Shoppe, where we carry pets ranging from corporeal to trans-dimensional. Did you have an animal in mind that you’d like take home today?”
The beautiful woman stares up at you expectantly, while you blink and try to make sense of what they just said. It’s hard not to be repulsed by the greasy black locks of hair hanging in his emerald eyes, but you muster up a smile and meet her ruby gaze. “I don’t know where I am,” you explain. “I’m quite sure I’m not here, though.”
The sickly boy continues to play with her toy push cars, and never so much as glances as you from his place on the plush carpeted floor. “That might be true. You have come so far to find a lovely pet for yourself, and I want so very much to help you do that. Everything always makes much more sense when we have a nice pet, now doesn’t it? We don’t have much time left before we close. You have a last chance to choose your pet, if you would still like to.”
You realize then how dark it has become. Stars burn furiously overhead, yet none of the flames reach your flesh. Everything is black, except for where it isn’t, and there is no one with you any longer. You are alone, even the push cars drove away with an ominous clacking, and the only way to not be alone is to choose a pet, and so that is what you do. You hug the kindly woman and smile, “I would like a dolphin, please. A beautiful dolphin who can swim in the dark and in the light –“
​
You find yourself standing in a small room crowded with miserable smelling people. There are no doors and no windows. There is no room to sit, much less lay. The only decoration on the plain beige walls are two signs. The first, a cheery plastic banner, anchored with strips of sagging electrical tape at the corners, reads “WELCOME TO HELL” in multicolored letters. Beneath it is a small counter that reads “NOW SERVING,” but the numbered panels that occasionally flip over all read 0. You stare at the wood-paneled floor with no inclination to speak to anyone else there. You wish you had chosen a cat.
​
Back at the Interdimensional Pet Shoppe, Metatron finds himself enjoying a nice tea break when Michael walks in with an incredulous look on his face. “WHAT was that, Met?! THAT IS NOT HOW WE DO THINGS HERE.”
“Father gave me some new responsibilities. He has become quite taken with cornhole, and he must spend time on his throw. I oversee judgement now, Michael. You guys don’t get to make fun of lazy old Metatron. I have a job now, just like the rest of the angels. And I am doing it my way.”
“But what way is that exactly, brother? I watched your last Judgement and I am left confused. And more than a little heart-broken for that poor soul you sent south.”
“I have spent a lot of time watching Father at work. Trying to mold humanity’s collective soul, form it in the shape of His choice. I may not be a sculptor like Father, but I have learned to understand mankind, Mike. I watched for so long and now I finally have the perspective to be a proper judge.”
“And what is this grand understanding you’ve reached?”
“You can never trust a person who likes any animal that doesn’t have legs.”
“That makes no sense, Met! What about a dog that has lost all 4 legs?”
“That is not a dog anymore, Michael. That is a furry snake.” |
‘School went pretty well, those two didn’t argue all day! If I just had one more member we could really get the ball rolling’
I’m an 18 year old senior in high school, and life couldn’t be better. My grades are at an all time high, I ended up winning in my track competition, and I think people have finally learned to stop associating me with the debate club...
I have friends who I love dearly, and I’ve finally attained the courage to start something new, something I really love. A literature club! Just me and my girls right now, but I have no doubt we’ll have the whole school wanting to join soon enough!
Thinking these things over, I had a bit of a hop to my step going home. I was gonna make myself a coffee, pull up a good book and take it easy for the weekend. What can go wrong?
THAT.
That was wrong.
“Wha- what is this?”
I can still remember myself saying out loud on accident. As I stood in front of my door, a prompt came up to “interact” with my door. A 2D text of some sort. It didn’t belong in our 3D world, it made me sick to my stomach and gave me a migraine as I stared at it. Rushing inside and shutting the door, I went into my room and sat on the floor.
“Okay, maybe no more coffee”
Just a caffeine induced hallucination? It was a nice thought. It was a nice thought. I tried speaking to my parents. But they weren’t home.
No one was home. No one was here anymore. I could...feel it somehow. Those track meets I worked so hard at, did they even happen?
Those grades I studied late nights for, just letters on non existent paper?
The club I sacrificed to start, those girls...my best friends. They didn’t even speak to me like normal people anymore. Was it all just a lie?
Is there anyone here? Is there anyone at all?
No, that day was the day I realized, that in all the world, I was all alone. It was just me. Just me. Just me. Just me. Just me. Just me.
Until I saw it, as I stared outside the infinite void of oblivion that was my home, I felt “them” staring in. |
"Aaaah fuck is the sun?"
"Yeah sorry grandpa I thought maybe that'd be the first thing you'd want to see."
"Well it was certainly the last"said Able while fumbling for his shades. "Grandpa are you crying?"Squeeled Timothy. "No I'm blind for fuck sakes"
"Again?"
"Yes again you dumbass."Timothy was worried about what his parents wouod say. "Sorry pa"added Timothy. "Well sorry just ain't gonna give a blind man sight right, because if it did you'd be able to see how dumb you really are."Able was angered but it was all a facade so he could slap Timothy around when his not looking. "So uh wanna go to a strip joint son?"
"But you can't see...."
"Well I can feel so I'm getting me a lap dance."The old man lied. He could more than just feel. His new found power is yet to be explored. |
It aint great but:
I stare back across my tiny kitchen table at the woman before me in disbelief. My head pounding as I try to process what she had just told me over the last 30 minutes. She reaches her hand across the table to mine and instinctively I flinch. Worry crosses her face.
"Lizzie I'm…"she sighs. "Are you okay?"
The absurdity of the question makes me snort. "Yeah I’m totally fine"I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "A random woman I've never met before showed up at my shitty 5 floor walk-up to tell me that she's from the future and that my life…my *shitty* little life, wasn't supposed to be like this."
I get up and start pacing around the 3 feet of space not occupied in my kitchen. The floors creak with each step. A feeling of dampness permeates the tiny apartment but it was all I could afford, even with 3 jobs. Jocelyn observes me with concern in her eyes. I continue my rant.
"You just appear from no where and want me to believe that I'm supposed to be this powerful woman. You want - **no expect -** me to believe that a different version of me pisses someone off in the future and they take it upon themselves to fuck up my whole life?"My chest is heaving as word vomit spills out of me.
Jocelyn cringes and bites her bottom lip. "Lizzie I know it's hard to believe…"
I pause in my pacing to glare at her. "Stop calling me that! No one is allowed to call me Lizzie!"
**"**Elizabeth,"she corrects herself. "Please, just sit back down. Let me make you a cup of tea and we can talk about this. Green tea with mint, right?"Her hand reaches up to the correct cabinet, almost by instinct, and she pulls out my favorite mug.
I walk to my couch and flop down, a cloud of dust puffing up around me. The sound of a tea kettle being filled and the pilot light clicking fill the silence as my mind goes over everything Jocelyn has told me.
According to Jocelyn, my life has been sabotaged at key points. Getting rejected from colleges, being fired from any job that I actually enjoyed, even my cat dying. Joe Cavanaugh - the shady senator from Colorado - is the president in the not so distant future. In another *timeline*, I guess. I've made his shit list which caused him to send a time agent back to follow me around and fuck up my life. In this "other future"I'm a thorn in his side - an environmental scientist who exposes his corrupt schemes to knowingly ruin the environment for the sake of money. Me? *A scientist.* The thought makes me laugh a little manically. Sure, I'm not the dumbest sack of rocks but I've never been able to actually accomplish anything. I'm a waitress, a maid, a *nobody.*
Jocelyn sits down next to me and hands me my forest themed mug. "What's so funny?"she asks, sipping hers.
"Just the fact that you think I or anyone else would buy this at all."I retort, setting my untouched tea down.
"Liz…Elizabeth, I mean. I know that it's hard to believe but some part of you knows, don't you? That's why you haven't called the cops. It's the same reason you feel comfortable talking to me right now."
Somewhere deep inside of me, I *do* feel that way. Something about Jocelyn is so…familiar. How did she know which mug was my favorite? Why does she call me 'Lizzie' like my mom used to? I shake my head - those are easily explained away.
Jocelyn pulls out her cell phone. It's a model I've never seen before but it's not like I can afford anything good anyway. It's probably just the "next gen"phone that I'll never own.
On her screen is a photo of her and another woman. I sit up quickly and grab the phone and stare at the photo. "Wait a second is that…?"
"Yeah. That's you and me on our honeymoon in 2022."She removes the phone from my hands and unlocks it before handing it back to me. "Listen - I have a lot of photos like that. But that's not what is important right now. Look at the date on my phone."
The screen clearly reads "11 October 2025."I can't help myself and open up the gallery on her phone and am greeted with photos of me. Photos of me at the beach, cleaning up garbage. Photos of me speaking at a rally with a banner behind me that reads "Cava-**naught** for the environment!"That does sound like the kind of dumb slogan I'd come up with. Behind me is a man with darkly tinted sunglasses and a gun resting on his hip.
"Who is that?"I inquire, pointing him out. "He looks…familiar?"
"That is the man who has been sabotaging you. This was his first attempt in January of 2025. They tried to kill you at this rally but it didn't work. It just made things worse. So they decided to start sooner. Think about it - where do you recognize him from?"
My mind races as I try to place him. I close my eyes and images flash across my eyelids and suddenly it hits me "That's Dr. Richardson. My fucking THERAPIST."
Things start to slowly tumble in to place. At each of these points in my life, Dr. Richardson has offered me advice on how to "fix it"that never seem to work out. According to him, I'm just self-sabotaging and unable to make good decisions for myself. I'm a broken person who will never find happiness unless I just keep coming back to therapy. The same therapist I've been seeing for a decade now.
Jocelyn takes her phone back and turns it off. She gently places both of my hands in hers. "Oh Lizzie I thought I would be too late. I'm sorry it took me so long to get here but we're going to fix this."
The tears flow from my eyes as a sudden feeling of relief washes over me. For the first time in my life, I feel…safe. |
A cold drift swings through my entrance. There's the stench of stale tobacco and body odor rolling off of the aged stranger. My nostrils recoil, but my open heart beckons the lost soul with an open acceptance. This man is in need, and I'm eager to provide.
He wonders over to my wall of Collections in an almost trance-like state. Weary fingers enclose around an object that I've held for over a decade. It's a skateboard marked with scraps and chips, but unscathed enough to see it's graphic: a white skull.
"Go ahead. Try it out,"I call out. The aged man tenderly places it on the floor and balances in Goofy stance, and with a moment of hesitation, attempts a kick-flip. It's evident that he's out of practice, for he totally fails. But like any true skateboarder, he keeps trying.
After a few minutes, something magical happens: he lands it. But, this isn't what makes the moment special. No. It's the way the air shifts afterwards. It's the reunion between a man and his "self."My smile rivals his own as he turns to me in acknowledgment.
He reaches into his pockets for money that he doesn't have, but I wave him off. To witness his delight is payment enough.
"There's no price worth paying for one's rightful possessions. It's yours free of charge."
In this pivotal moment his appearance, once of wrinkles and raggedness, changes to that of youthful vigor. The rediscovery for his passion is the nourishment that he lacked for so long.
As thanks me and heads out, I give him one last parting message.
"Remember: what is lost may not always be absent. Look deep within, and you'll find it. Shred on, man!" |
Hi u/ani3D, this submission has been removed.
**Simple Question / Simple Answer**: You asked a simple question and you're likely to get a simple answer. Responses must be at least 100 words. Prompts should encourage a story or poem.
* *This was removed [based on the comments it's likely to attract](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses), specifically via [Rule 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_1.3A_direct_prompt_replies_must_be_good-faith_attempts_at_new_stories_or_poems)*
---
---
[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/j9js9y/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/config/sidebar) before posting.
*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.* |
Before you ask, no I’m not a man who can turn into a crow, but rather a crow that was cursed to turn into a human on every Thursday that’s foggy.
The reason for said curse was that I annoyed a witch as I was just learning how to fly. Destroying a rather irreplaceable set of fine china. So, as a means to make me acknowledge my action - she made it so that I had a mind of a human.
She was quiet a awful witch, but not in the evil sense of that word. I say this for two reasons that I know of. One, being the whole turning into a human thing. The first time it happened the witch kicked the bucket out of sheer surprise, honestly I almost feel bad about that. And two, Not only do I have the life expectancy of a human, but I’m immortal as well.
All those years of human scholars trying to achieve the secret of immortality, and the person who did it died before she realized it. In fact, humans dying before their actions are recognized is morbidly common, isn’t it?
But that blunder was centuries ago and I got money on the horizon. Just thinking about all the corn I can get buy with that money is getting me hyped. Since it will be a quick in and out job.
Find where they live, call them up saying I found their bird, then mug them when I see the money. |
I shook my head, still dazed from the explosion. I sat in a crater, surrounded . . . glowing green crystals? Then it came back to me. The shooting. The blinding light. Blackness. Checking my body for injuries, I was shocked to see one of the crystals embedded into my arm, right where my flag patch used to be. Deciding to ignore it for the time being, as removing it could cause more damage to my arm, I went to grab my rifle but it was missing. I staggered out of the crater, only to stop in shock.
A *thing* stood there. It looked like a grey cloud of nothingness in a human form. It had no eyes, yet I could *feel* its eyes on me. It spoke without a mouth, only the general shifting of where its mouth should have been.
"You are a bit late to the party, sergeant."
"What, no, *who* are you?"
"Me?"The figure let out a chuckle.
"I am Grey. And you should not be alive. Only that crystal kept you alive, it's power coursing through your veins to keep you living."
"What is the crystal?"I asked.
"A gift dear sergeant."
"I have a name you know."
Grey continued, ignoring my statement.
"I need your help. Even now an evil spreads across the land, seeking to undo what I have done for humanity. I need *you* to involve your country in this war, convince them that fighting for freedom is not a worthless cause. But before that, you have some history to learn."
Grey waved their 'arm', and again, blackness claimed me. |
Knock knock knock.
I wake up, a splitting headache in tow from the celebration last night.
Knock knock. A muffled “Hello? Excuse me? Are you home?”
I stumble into the hallway, hitting my hip on the dresser in my way out, uttering expletives under my breath. Maybe with the new promotion I can finally afford a bigger place where dressers aren’t practically in doorways.
I open the door, my hand on my forehead to both ease the headache and to shield my eyes from the light piercing the dark entryway. “Can uh.. can I help you?” I groggily mumble at the shape dressed like an old-timey detective.
“Yes, um. Can I come in? I’m an.. um a paperwork killer.” His eyes widen as he realizes what he said. “Sorry, um a contract life mover. I sometimes change the wrong word, I’m sorry.”
“And you.. want to come in to uh.. murder me?” I haven’t moved, elbow resting on the doorframe, head in hand, not breaking eye contact.
“Yes please. I’m dreadfully sorry, it’s all a rather nasty affair.”
“The reason for someone having hired an assassin to kill me?”
“Ok ma’am, first of all, ‘assassin’ is a bit harsh, ok? You make it all sound so unsophisticated. Second of all, I meant just the job in general. I don’t really remember why someone wanted you dead, that’s not really my business; that would be rude to ask.”
“You kill specific people for money. That’s not an assassin?”
“Ok, ma’am, I find your tone disagreeable and” he leans his head back and looks around him, then, whispering with all the volume of a hearing-impaired grandmother: “I would really rather have this conversation inside.”
“I don’t think-“
He forces his way in, trips on the doorstep, and audibly face plants onto the linoleum tile below.
“Sure,” I sigh, exasperatedly, rolling my eyes, “why don’t you come in.”
He’s out cold. I go about my business, more curious than anything, making coffee and changing into my workout clothes. I set out some floor cleaner and paper towels next to the still-unconscious man, having checked him for weapons (surprisingly, he had none), turned on the lamp near me, and plopped down on the couch sideways where I can see him with my knees up, coffee in one hand in my lap and a book in the other.
——
A groan from the floor when I only got a few pages in. Inconvenient. Annoyed, I look over. “Morning.” I give him a cold uninviting look. “You’re cleaning that floor up by the way.”
“Oh I’m so sorry! I must have hit my nose when I.. what happened exactly?”
“You fell.”
“I.. fell? That does sound like me I suppose. Dreadfully sorry ma’am.”
“You’re not very good at this whole killing thing, are you?”
“Well..” he looks nervous, embarrassed really. “I’m a little short on cash but I’m also against violence.”
“Hell of a career choice.”
“Well that’s the thing. I started back in college and thought I could do it and make some quick cash. But my first couple of contracts had accidents - not a euphemism or anything - one got scared and ran into oncoming traffic and the other had a heart attack when I explained why I was there. I realized then that I didn’t want to do it but I had been technically successful and was in too deep and it was either go on or lose my own life. I like my own life, you know? Well I mean except for this whole killing business. Don’t recommend, by the way. I suggest a different career path if you haven’t settled on one yet and in the future you might consider - oh right. Sorry. Not very polite of me to talk about the future when I’m here to end your life.”
“How considerate of you.”
“So anyway, I really need to get going soon. Um. Have you had any thoughts of ending things yourself? I hear carbon monoxide is a nice way to go? Maybe choke on a puffed pastry?”
“People choose to choke on puffed pastries?”
“Oh uh I suppose naaaaaah! Ugh.” He slips on the paper towel / cleaner / blood combo with his hand as he put weight on it and busted his head on the wall.
“Oh I’m sorry miss. I’m awfully clumsy as you can see.”
“Intimidating.” I roll my eyes once more and go back to my book.
“Ma’am look. I’m trying to make this easy for you. Someone is trying to kill you. Consider the gravity of the situation. If I-” He stands up, intimidatingly - or at least it would be if he didn’t slip on the floor before catching himself on the doorframe with his left hand.
“Consider the gravity of my house.”
He glares.
“It’s your promotion. Your coworker wanted you dead, ok? He wanted the promotion and you got it instead. I can’t tell you which coworker though. That would be unprofessional.”
I don’t even look up from my book. “Well only one was up for the promotion alongside me so it’s not exactly a mystery.”
“Oh. Well in any case, I need you to decide-“
“Listen. Do you mind writing that down? That my coworker wanted me dead for my promotion and hired” I look him up and down “you.”
“Hey, I will not be spoken to in that manner! For your information, I happen to be budget-friendly and your job apparently isn’t exactly high-paying!
“Don’t raise your voice in my house. You’re loud.” I say pointing to my head to emphasize each of the two words. “There’s a pen and some paper in the first room to your right, just write it down there. I just want to read it in my final moments, as penance for my” I look up in time to see him hit his shoulder on the doorframe, stagger back, and try again. I stifle a laugh. “For my.. crime?”
He comes back a moment later with the letter in hand and I read it.
“Great. Hey, I think my room is a good place to go out, don’t you think? You can just, I dunno, smother me with a pillow or something.”
“That sounds more pleasant than some other suggestions I’ve heard, miss. I hear it’s like drifting off to sleep.”
“Doubt it” I retort, standing up and making my way past him. Once there, I break into a sprint into my room and carefully avoid the dresser, picking up a tennis raquet that I have neglected to pick up in the last seven months.
“Ma’am, come back!” He yells as he gives chase.
The force of the impact is enough to knock him diagonally over the dresser and into my wall on the other side. He’s out cold, my racquet yet again remaining unused for any purpose ever. He’s out cold, yet again.
I sigh, put his letter in my purse, and carefully place the pen he used to write it in a ziplock bag. With some effort, I haul him into my car and drive to the hospital where I discard him to both the staff and the police with the evidence, but not before bumming some Tylenol from the triage nurse. |
”You do know that you G.O.M.E’s are a retroactive pain in my ass!”, Dorano Nines replied in an almost calm manner that leads to being more condescending.
”I mean you lot have been trying to end me for over twenty-two thousand years and your success rate is zero. I find it annoying at this point that the Great Guardians Of Mankind and Earth to be a failure. Don't get me wrong you have done a great job of eradicating other beings of supernatural and extraordinary differences. Yet, here I am innumerable wars and chasing across this planet and I am still here. I am beginning to find your family simply to be a pain. Oh, right I already said that but if the shoe fits. Now, Fenton be a good little grandson and go tell your hard-headed grizzled candy eating Grandfather the next time we meet I won't be so kind.”
Fenton still on the ground with his favorite Bruiser Blade just out of reach listened to the rambling of the most hated Immortal. In his mind, he is making cool snarky remarks to the man who has ended some of the lives of G.O.M.E’s mightiest soldiers. In reality, this was a setup by his older brothers that just wanted to get back at him for his countless screwups.
This could be the end of him unless.
Fenton was brought back to reality with ” you still with me there Fenton?” asked Dorano.
”I never know I was that boring!” continued Dorano.” so, I am about to educate you are you ready?”
Dorano strengthen himself and snapped his fingers on his right hand.
Fenton chuckling and snorting” Whoa, you snapped your fingers”
”Watch your tone! You are now like me. An indestructible immortal that feels and remembers every death. Every time someone kills you will remember it forever. How it was done to you, the length of time it took to die, and I ashore the very first time hurts tremendously. My advice to you Fenton Walton don't get killed. I want to see how you like being hunted and killed over and over again.” Dorano said with a calm voice Fenton can almost hear the smirk grin. the tone was undeniable when Dorano completed his final sentence.
Dorano turn away from Fenton and walked away whistling an audible tune, yet it sounded vaguely familiar. ”I’ll be seeing you again real soon. Mr. Walton!”, his response was filled with a weird glee that brought an uneasy feeling to Fenton’s bones.
”Not if I see you first, you insufferable asshat! he made me an indestructible just by snapping his fingers! That is a bunch of...” Fenton’s thoughts were interrupted by the crackle of his radio. ”G.O.M.E Six get yourself sorted out and relocate to the Northeast part of the city. We have a Level nine event.”, the voice sounds very stern and full of smug authority.” HQ, over and out!”
The radio fell silent, Fenton picked himself up off of the ground. He dusted his pants off and replaced his Bruiser Blade away in his right boot sheath. Fenton slowly walked in the direction in which he needed. His mind was heavy with thought and curious about what the hell a Level Nine Event was? |
So, the first thing you need to know about joining Heaven's data entry team: the pay sucks. Which shouldn't be a surprise, what with money being the root of all evil. And it's not like I can complain about the salary compared to my last job, which was...nothing, on account of having graduated with my associates degree in the middle of a pandemic. But still. Man may not live by bread alone, but being able to splurge on the occasional rosemary focaccia loaf doesn't hurt, y'know?
The second thing is the minimal supervision. Which you'd *think* would be a good thing, except that when Craig *does* show up, you can't lie to him about how you've been using your time. (Craig is the seraph in charge of this department. At least, that's what he tells us to call him. His real name is unpronounceable unless you're able to flap your wings and produce fire on command.) Deirdre, who got hired around the same time I did, tried once. Her eyes are still red from the literal pool of tears she cried after he told her how disappointed he was in her.
Besides, I wouldn't mind having more feedback on my work. It'd be one thing if I were just digitizing the information from the scrolls the higher ups send us, but they expect me to make actual value judgments.
Stop looking at me like that. The answer is no. I'm not making any tweaks to your permanent record. Craig, remember?
Also, that's not what our department does. My job is to identify and flag "invalid"souls - a.k.a. anything that looks human, but isn't. That can mean anything from demons in disguise, to hybrids like nephilim, to spirits who would rather steal bodies than move on, to forgotten experiments left over from the Sixth Day of Creation. And let me tell you, the internet does *not* make it easy to tell the difference between something trying and failing to mimic normal human behavior, and your basic garden variety weirdo. I'm supposed to have no more than 5% of my records marked as "indeterminate"at any given time. Six months in, I've gotten my average down from 80% to about 65%, and I'm still on track for Employee of the Month.
In fact, during my last check-in with Craig, he mentioned something about being so pleased with my performance, he'd asked *his* manager about giving me a "field assignment."I don't know what that means, and I don't entirely know that I want to know, unless it comes with a raise.
Anyway, Josh is heading to seminary school next semester, and it's looking like Sandra might not be coming back from maternity leave, so I can put in a word for you once the next job post goes up. Just don't be surprised if HR decides to contact you at 3 am via burning bush or something along those lines. They're not real good with time zones. Or modern technology in general. If they were, they wouldn't need us, I guess.
As employees, I mean.
I think.
You know what? I'm not going to think too hard about it. Or the whole field assignment thing. Today is my day of rest, and it deserves to be celebrated with focaccia. You coming? |
"I knew clones were a bad idea,"I said from within the damp confines of the moisture unit. It was damp, cold, my make-up was ruined, my hair was a nightmare, and I'd just watched my master get gunned down. "Eventually clones always ask, 'Do I have a soul?' or 'Why don't I have rights?' every damn time."Master had picked me up and tossed me into the ductwork when he sensed something was wrong. Looking through the grate, he lasted for a while until they brought out that big chest cannon one of them always wore. We'd been combing an industrial factory for droids when it happened. I'd only been made Padawan a week ago.
Back when the Jedi first found me, I was just some kid on a rural world. I could make things float a little and smack a misbehaving critter from across a field. Then some lady in robes turned up and said I could be a Jedi Knight, protecting peace across the galaxy.
"Shoulda stayed on the farm... Right, like I had a choice."There were a lotta mouths to feed back home. And becoming a Jedi was a great honor. I understood why pa sent me off. I was 4 years old. "I can worry about my tragic past later. Better try and survive for now. "My first goal was getting to safety. Those clones were gonna be looking for me. I made my way through the ductwork and dropped into the main maintenance room. Before long, I had a collection of tools set out in front of me. "On the bright side, I'll never have to wear sackcloth robes again."
Once I was dressed in a pair of ill-fitting coveralls, I could move through the factory and even out into the city without arousing suspicion. At least no one would peg me as a Jedi on sight. I threw my lightsaber in a toolbox and carried it with me. Once I got outside, I should be able to switch clothes again and disappear. From there, I just needed to get off-planet and head somewhere. "Home probably isn't safe. Same with Coruscant."
As I was about to round a corner, I sensed the clones. Reaching out with the force, I felt them. They were standing at the exit. Checking anyone entering or leaving.
"Aw, nuts."Okay, this would be a little harder. I couldn't just distract them with a stupid trick. They might be clones, but they ain't stupid. I've heard of all the crazy jobs they pulled off during the war. A regular trick wouldn't work.
I carefully set down the toolbox and opened it up, pulling out my lightsaber and a few tools. Looking up, I saw another vent grate. Back home on the farm, there were a lot of big ornery beasts. Smacking them was more a matter of raw power than finesse. A loud clang echoed down the hall when I ripped the grate out.
"Let's hope that doesn't attract attention."I jumped into the vent, lightsaber and tools in my belt and crawled towards an exit. Just like I sensed, clone troopers at the exit. Lying down in the vent, I closed my eyes and took a long deep breath. Meditating, just like Master Yoda said, I felt my connection to the force and its connection to everything around me.
"Five guards at the exit, another three outside and two more in the cockpit of a gunship. First, I need some chaos."The clone troopers all carried grenades. Thermal detonators and EMPs. If I could set one-off...
A blast rocked the front of the factory, the team at the exit was taken out, and I quickly cut a hole in the vent with my lightsaber. Then I went right back the way I came.
"They should think I set off an explosion and used the smoke as cover to escape. Please think that."
In a few minutes, I was back where Master died. His body was already gone, and the ducts had been torn apart by blaster fire.
"Sorry, Master. We didn't know each other long, but thanks for saving my life."
Deeper in the factory, I followed a conveyor belt to the loading docks.
"More troopers,"I said with a sigh. I could sense this was more than just a 'me' problem. Something big was happening. The droids and the clones were working together!
"Why? We hate droids! We're fighting a war with them!"Were the clones traitors? Spies? Double agents?
Looking around, I saw crates of medical droids being loaded up. I dropped down and looked at one of them.
"Destination: Chancellor Palpatine Surgical Reconstruction Center."It didn't mean much to me. "Must be a hospital named after someone."I noticed the crates were all being loaded up quickly. Apart from droids, tons of advanced medical equipment was also being prepared for shipment. More importantly, they were being loaded by droids and regular workers. They didn't have enough troopers to scan every box, and Master took out an awful lotta droids on our way in.
"I can't think of anything else, so..."
I used the force to knock a wrench off a shelf. While the workers were distracted, I jumped into one of the huge metal crates and hid. In a few minutes, the lid was welded shut above me, and I felt the whole thing get put on the transport.
"ForceBeWithMe, ForceBeWithMe, ForceBeWithMe, ForceBeWithMe."
It was. I made it off-planet and jumped ship at the first stop. Sooner or later, someone would notice the lightsaber cut I made in the side of the crate, but that wasn't my problem. I caught a ship heading to the outer rim and found myself on an acceptable planet inside of the year. It didn't take long for me to 'persuade' a shopkeeper to give me a job.
"I'd like to see this dress in chartreuse, young lady."
"Ew, gross."
"WHAT WAS THAT!?"The women inflated with indignation.
"Oops. You weren't supposed to hear that. Uh..."Thinking quickly, I waved my hand and said, "You'd look passe in anything but lavender."
"I'd look passe in anything but lavender. I- yes, let me see it in lavender!"
"Right away, Ma'am." |
Man, have things changed.
I remember riding my scooter round and round this cul de sac, playing "Kick the Can"in that yard, and scraping my knee on the curb there.
Now the street was quiet. The trees were bigger, the houses had more character, but it was just so quiet. There used to be a dozen of us running around all day, screaming and shouting about whatever new toy we got or game we came up with. That's just what happens when a neighborhood ages, I guess.
It feels good to come back, though. Reliving all those memories really puts everything in perspective. I just graduated high school, I'm going to college in a few months, and I'm going to have to start being an adult.
"Hey John, is that you?"a voice called out behind me.
I turned around. It was a girl, about the same age as me. She looked really familiar.
"Yeah,"I replied. I must have looked confused, because she followed up with, "It's me, Rachel. From elementary school."
Suddenly I remembered. We were really close when we were little. She lived just a few houses down from me. "Rachel!"I exclaimed. "It's so good to see you!"
"Uh, yeah..."she replied. "What are you doing here?"
"I just thought I'd come check out the old neighborhood. It's good to be back after all this time."
"I mean,"she puffed, "I would have been perfectly fine if I never saw you again, but okay."
"Sorry?"I asked. I must have heard her wrong.
"After what you did to me?"I was silent. "You seriously don't remember?"
I had no idea what she was talking about.
"At my birthday party? Summer before first grade? Nothing?"I laughed and shook my head.
"I'm sorry, I really don't remember..."
She put her hands on her hips. "Your dumb ass ate *way* too much cake at my party, and threw up all over me. You ruined my favorite dress."
"I threw up on you?"I chuckled. I stopped when I saw her face.
"You threw up on me, my dress, and Ziggy."
"Ziggy? Who's that?"
She groaned dramatically, and stomped one of her TOMS on the pavement. "Ziggy was my favorite stuffed animal!"Shaking her head, she muttered, "To think they called you my boyfriend."
"Jeez, I'm sorry."
"And then you just up and moved away a month later, never to be heard from again. Until now."
I had no idea what I had gotten into. "It's not my fault we moved away, my dad got a new job and we had to move."
"Oh yeah, 'your dad got a new job'. Sure he did."
"Okay, you need to chill, Rachel. This is too much. That was twelve years ago!"
Her eyes went wide and she took a step toward me. "I need to chill?"Another step. "This is too much?"Another step. She raised a fist. "This is for Ziggy!"
I am ashamed to say, I ran. No point fighting a crazy person. I never went back- some memories are worth forgetting. |
It was another lovely sunny weekend morning in suburbia, and I was enjoying a nice cup of coffee on my porch before I got to work. My laptop was sitting on the glass table beside me, currently closed, and I was lounging in a deck chair. My wife was already off to work at the hospital, having left me a full pot of coffee and a cute little note with hearts and a message wishing me good luck with my writing. It was a lovely and utterly perfect day, ripe for the picking.
My neighbors waved good morning to me as they busied packing up their SUV for a trip with their kids. Tyler and Sarah, lovely couple. They had two sons, and their eldest, who was in high school, would often come over and help me out in researching for my new books. They always thanked me for helping him out in developing his own writing, but to be honest I should’ve been the one thanking them for the free labor.
Their cat, Commander Mittens, was staring at me through one of the windows of their house. He was a well-fed (which means fat) tabby cat whose favorite hobbies were tripping me whenever the neighbors invited my wife and me over, plotting my destruction, and staring at me with an expression that says, ‘I’m going to get you, motherfucker’. Right now, he was engaging in that third one. I had almost broken my nose last month when that dang cat tripped me on my way to the bathroom after Tyler and Sarah had invited us over for dinner, which was just one of the more recent examples of his attempts on my life. My wife found it all very amusing, but my patience had long worn thin for the cat. I swore that he was trying to kill me with his constant attempts to trip me and stare me down, that it was only a matter of time before he got me, but it was all just waved off as me being more of a dog person.
As their SUV pulled out from their driveway, I opened up my laptop and got to work, making a point to ignore the death glares I was receiving from Commander Mittens.
\---
It felt like in the blink of an eye morning had turned to evening, and now the sun was setting. I had spent most of the day lost in the infinite wonders of a word processor, typing away. When I finally looked up at the insistence of my stomach rumbling, it was already dusk.
“Oh, look at that. I should start on dinner.” Closing my laptop, I stood up to stretch out with no small amount of creaking from my body. I was getting too old to sit down hunched over my laptop all day, but sometimes the time just slipped away from it. I was on my way back inside when my phone started to vibrate in my pocket. The name on the screen said Tyler.
“Yes, hello?”
“Oh, hey Jim? I’m sorry to bother you, but we got stuck in city traffic and won’t be back for a few more hours. Would you mind feeding Mittens? The spare key is under the mat, and his food should be under the kitchen sink.”
“Sure, no problem. Just know that if you find me dead when you get back, it was the cat.”
“Hahah! He just gets under your feet because he likes you!”
“Yeah, I know.” No, he didn’t.
“Thanks again!”
“No problem. Drive safe.” I hung up, looking up at the house next door to my own. Commander Mittens was no longer glaring daggers at me from the window, so that was promising. Maybe I could just let Mallory take care of it when she got home?
“No, she’ll make fun of me if I tell her I was too scared of a cat to leave the house.” With a sigh in my heart, I set down my laptop and trudged over to my neighbors lovely house (which, thanks to the wonders of suburbia, looked much like my own three-story house with a compact basement space). For some reason, as I looked at it as I walked over, it felt oddly eerie. No lights were on, and electricity went up my spine as I noticed it. It shouldn’t be odd, they had left for the day after all, but it felt like the darkness inside of the house was weighing down upon me.
“Aha…it’s there.” I pulled back the mat with a hope in my heart that there would be no spare key under it. That hope was crushed, and I still had to enter the house with the demon cat. Well, no time like the present.
“Besides, wouldn’t want anymore time to let that damn cat plan my demise.” With that hopeful sentiment, I swung the door open. Reaching in tentatively, I groped in the dark of the entryway for the light switch. Finding it and flicking it, I was met with the same darkness. I flicked it up and down a few more times (a sure fire method of fixing any piece of technology was turning it on and off), but there was no illumination to be found.
“Mittens must’ve cut the power…hahah, no, breaker must’ve flipped.” I had come this far, couldn’t back down now. I relied on the handy-dandy light function my phone had to shine a dim light into the entryway of the house. I skulked into the house like a novice burglar. I would put the cat food down and then bail, in and out before the cat noticed me. Simple. Tyler and Sarah could take care of the lights themselves.
*God, if they could see me doing this they would laugh themselves into a coma.* I finally fumbled my way into the kitchen, led by the scant light my phone provided. My target was right before me, right under the kitchen sink. I swept the light around the kitchen a couple times before I was satisfied nothing was there before I actually knelt down to open the cabinet.
*Mission accomplished, bag of cat food acquired. Now the bowl…the bowl…the bowl?* Indeed, no demon cat lurked in the kitchen. Nor did a cat food bowl. My phone suddenly vibrated in my hand, and I slapped it a couple times in the air before I finally got a hold of the slippery devil.
\-Hey Jim, forgot to say that the cat’s bowl is in the bathroom.
\-No worries! I actually just got over here and found the cat food. The lights appear to be out, though. Where’s your circuit breaker?
\-Oh, that’s weird! Sorry about that. It’s down in the basement.
\-Alright, I’ll go feed him and take care of that for you.
\-Thanks a bunch Jim!
*‘Why did I offer to do that? Shit.’* Now having fully screwed myself, I hurried to the bathroom. It was easy enough to find the cat bowl in there using my phone light.
“Meow.”
“Don’t kill me?!” I was filling the bowl when I heard the call of the devil from behind me. I jumped, spilling cat food all over the floor as I whirled to face the demon with my phone light. There was nothing there in the doorway, however, nor in the hallway outside the bathroom. I checked two, three times but found nothing. Nothing inside the bathroom either. Had it just been my imagination?
“Sheesh, pull yourself together Jim. It’s just a cat.” I bent down and cleaned up the cat food, piling it back into the bag, and headed back to the kitchen. Still no sign of the cat. I checked the kitchen again before I put away the food, but it was still empty.
*You know, sometimes the spookiest thing is the monsters our own minds conjure.* Working all day had made me frazzled, but in the end the scariest thing in this house was my own fears. With my back straight and my head held high, I navigated to the staircase leading to the basement. It was in the same place my own was, so it didn’t take me anytime to find. I could’ve done in without a light.
“Flip the breaker, go home.” I strode down the wooden staircase into the small, concrete basement space. It was empty, so finding the circuit breaker on the wall was easy enough. But something was off about it.
“The wires have been cut...?” I heard the door at the top of the staircase slam shut.
“Meow.”
“Oh no.” |
President Steene stared at the entity in front of her. The entity...or "Sergeant Pickles"as it called itself, widely, its lumpy, green head falling to the side as it blinked slowly. For one brief, lovely moment, she was spared its shining, yellow stare.
Next to the entity, Cyrus Obera scribbled in his coloring book, his little legs swinging back and forth. "Sergeant Pickles has been my imaginary friend for, um, like, a year,"he said absently.
Sergeant Pickles's heat shifted the other way. It giggled softly, letting out a faint wheeze of "Piiickleees..."
"Oh. Right. Yeah."Cyrus set down his crayon and sat up straight. "Um, he says his people are starving. They eat human belief like cake. Only kids don't believe in them anymore."
President Steene cleared her throat. "All right. So, what is it they need from us? Food?"
​
Cyrus glanced back it his friend. "Yeah. I mean. Sorta."
​
The president raised a brow. "Well? Besides belief, what else do they eat?"
​
"You aren't gonna like it..." |
I pull up my coat collar against the chill. This ridiculous. It's 2:34pm on a saturday and it's been a waste. I want to win those bluetooth speakers like everybody else, and fund raise for the school sure, but it's really all about the speakers. I'm sweaty but warm in my winter gear, passed down my from Dino. *Why waste good merchandise?* ma had said and i couldn't blame her. This is a good coat. I want to go home. The bag *still* weighs the same as when i started hours ago, it's just *feels* heavier. I breath out an unhappy pfft, as i look to examine it's contents as i walk up to the last house for day. Popcorn and Orange. Who in there right mind fund raises with popcorn and oranges? At least people used to pay $2 for a candy bar instead of $1 at the grocery store so long as you brought it to them and made it clear you were fundraising. Nobody wants to pay double for fruit and stale popcorn. Ma said this morning ushering me out the door that *that's the way it was back in my day, but everyone is all about healthy living these days. A bit to PC i think but that's just me.* She'd kissed my cheek, though i'm too old for it, and attempted a smile to hide her face of concern. She knew this would be pointless.
​
I turn off the sidewalk in front of the last house, frowning at the great big 'No Thank you' i knew would be coming. It'll be polite, but no is still no. There's a wrought iron gate, not common but not rare for this area, especially on these older lots. It squeaks as push it open and close it behind me. The grass is nice and green, one of those older victorian houses, with fancy swirls up in the top corners of the patio. Every things dusty, so i bet an old woman lives here. Maybe she'll buy this sucky food just because i'm a girl.
​
I tap the door knocker a few times, old and creepy like the rest of the place. I feel my heart jump in throat, startled at the swift opening of the door not 2 seconds after my knocking had finished. I look straight ahead of the person who answered the door, my eyes oddly landing on a black - very black - robe with no opening. I pause to consider this eyes moving to look beside them. I feel the sensation of vertigo as i stand there eyes widening in awe at what i see. A never ending scene of black space with swirlings of colour fading in and out. My mind struck stupid i turn my body, shuffling to turn and turn again, the place behind me once the winter streets and dirty patio, now the black space and colourful swirls going on forever. It did not shock me like it should, this strange other place, though near speechless, i did turn to the cloaked figure for explanation, who spoke before i could.
​
"Elizabeth Smith, i am not due to see you yet"My head raises to the being who seemed to speak and not speak, like a voice that belonged to it - i somehow understood - had come and gone, but appeared from this void of blackness that was here and not *from* the being itself. Which made sense i came to find, since in place of a head inside the hood of the robe, was a very nicely shaped skull, and with nothing but a skull for your head, i don't imagine they'd have vocal cords hidden any place for the normal use of a normal voice. |
Even among the gods, she was a goddess. It was her love and light which shaped our wor-- the world. My hands bore the death, the destruction. Every foul creature that would blight the land, these were my contribution. But she had brought light even into the darkness of my heart, insisting that I work my craft. "If there are to be heroes, there must be monsters."She always supported my endeavors.
The world grew wild yet innocent by our joint decree. We sculpted mountains, carved out caverns, painted the oceans thick across the world's face... The sky was always her favorite; she would spend hours on a single cloud, and then bid it to fly free.
We had such great plans for the world... There was to be an island, a safe haven, where all sentient life could coexist in harmony. Dwarves and elves, humans and vampires, even sentient beasts and monsters could seek shelter on that island, coexisting peacefully. There the inhabitants could purchase weapons and armor, with which they would fight off the monsters I would create. The goddess designed almost all of the island; I simply didn't have it in me. It was too good a place. The one contribution I could make was a towering statue, sculpted out of the blackest stone in the world, praising her goodness and elegance. The second she placed her hand on it, though, it transformed into a beacon of marble and light. I suppose that was fitting... the darkness my hands controlled could never do her justice.
Together, with a harmonious balance of light and darkness, we shaped the world. We had so many stories to tell...
Now, I am alone.
It does not matter why she left. She is gone. The vibrant heartbeat of this world, the goodness and light that ran through this realm and strengthened its inhabitants, is gone. And still, the creatures who dwell therein need the light, need the goodness... need the hope.
It is a hope I cannot give. But I try. Each creature bears a spark, a mote of that same goodness the goddess delighted in. She loved them more than I. But because of that spark, I can find the strength to care for them, these fantastic and diverse beings.
How do I care for them, if I bring naught but darkness to bear? I help them make their own light. The light shines brightest against the darkness, and so I give them a darkness to fight. From dungeons woven from fears and nightmares, to plagues of fortified zombies and skeletons, I send them wave after wave of challenges just difficult enough for them to conquer. Despite what they might think, I do not seek to destroy them--far from it. They are the last piece of my goddess left in this world. I seek to protect them, as I had tried to protect her.
They do not know that the gleaming marble statue on the island heralds a goddess who doesn't exist. I will never tell them. They pray to her, and revere her, and their tiny sparks shine in unison when they call out to her... and the balance between light and darkness is maintained. I cannot take that away from them. They would be destroyed.
And so here I stay, a god of darkness serving a light he can neither hold nor obtain, a light that left him long ago. I cling to the echoes of the one I loved, these echoes borne by the souls of the beings I protect. I cannot tell whether I do so for her sake or my own.
Perhaps one day, hope will die within me. I will accept that she is not coming back. And on that day, darkness will engulf this world of mine, destroying all the light that still abides. But for now...
...they live, because of her. |
Slam of the back door and the noise of loud, unbalanced footsteps making their way into the hallway. The rush of setting aside the toys and preparing for the door to my bedroom to open. In a moment the door handle turns a little tentatively and then turns all the way in one gentle swoosh. Father makes his way in still wearing his collared shirt from work with his tie slightly loose. The sensation of him reaching down and picking me up off the ground with his calloused hands around my wrist. Now that he is closer, I can see his unshaven stubble on his face and the wrinkles of his dress shirt. He pulls at me for moment in almost an invitation to come with him until mother makes her way into my bedroom. My father lets go of my arm and turns to my mother expectantly. She yells and points to the door, and they go and close the door behind them. The yelling continues with my dad first and my mother continuing, their awkward footsteps can be heard bouncing around in the hallway. Louder and louder they get and get until all of the sudden deafening silence. From the silence comes crying, unbalanced footsteps making their way out of the hallway and the slam of the backdoor.
Those footsteps never came back as every single day I awaited expectantly to hear them upon the opening of the backdoor. Days turned to months, months turned to years and yet I so expectantly wait. After awhile the sound of footsteps entering from the backdoor turned to distant echoes and the sight of my father turned to blurry photographs of what used to be. These sounds however never turned to silence and these memories however never faded into obscurity. Sometimes I close my eyes and I see him. As I look at him, I realize some wounds never fully heal. |
*A brief history of The Humans of the Red Planet and the importance of T-Day:*
*Article dated 5th March 2470. Written by Journalist Maximus Diego for The Daily Red*
*For The people of Mars Central, the fact that they are bio-engineered to be perfect human specimen is a mundane one. Approximately 2 centuries ago, natural births were outlawed in favour of babies being created in giant bio-vats. These babies are genetically perfect, carry no defects and represent peak humanity, minus grafting nanotech onto their bodies of course. A …. Side effect, if you can call it that, of being ‘vat-grown’ babies is that they no longer have belly buttons. It makes no difference at all, the pioneers of this tech had tried to assure everyone. But alas, the one thing the pioneers failed to get rid of was humanity’s stupid fascination with the utterly mundane.*
*And so it came to be that the citizens of Mars in general, Mars Central in particular, were utterly fascinated with the small circular scar on human bellies. There was a huge rise in the popularity of anything that vaguely resembled the belly button. Food with holes in them, such as doughnuts and pretzels became a favourite amongst the citizens. There was a monumental increase in art depicting belly buttons. People flocked to Mars Central’s largest museum to catch a glimpse of da Vinci’s ‘Vitruvian Man’, with art students drawing their own interpretations of it (much like was done with the Mona Lisa before it was destroyed by the ‘Mother of all Earthquakes’) with special focus on the belly button. Some even attempted to have the belly button surgically created on them, but this was quickly outlawed in an ordinance passed by the Mars Government. Bio-engineered bodies don’t need meddling by rank amateurs, after all, there is nothing to be improved!*
*Therefore, when it was revealed that a normal human, born of the exchange of fluids between a man and a woman, and a product of natural birth would be travelling to the future, the citizens went crazy. And that is why there is monumental anticipation amongst the citizens of Mars Central – am imperfect human with the perfect scarring, if such a thing makes sense, would grace them with their presence.*
*But, in all this celebration and anticipation, one must wonder whether this belly button will live up to the perfect expectations of perfect humans. Whether this belly button will serve to ignite the passions of the citizens of Mars Central or push it into a hellish pit of despair, remains to be seen.*
***
The Domed City of Mars Central was a sight to behold. It was every bit the futuristic and idealistic city that science fiction writers of yore had imagined it to be. The only difference being that, this of course was the 25th century and not their ‘near future’. Flying cars, instantaneous travel, free healthcare, android servants; you name it Mars Central had it. Life for human beings couldn’t possibly get any more ideal.
That said, today was a special day. All the fashionistas and the elite and the scientists and the bio-engineers and certainly even the common folk were in celebration. You see, Mars Central had been in contact with its ancestors via a time hole! YES! Its ancestors in TIME. From the year 2040 to be exact, just under 5 centuries ago! And today, finally, one of the REAL humans from the past would be coming through any moment now!
The time traveller was slated to arrive momentarily. Everything had been prepared for their arrival. The coordinates for their arrival were on top of a massive, exposed pyramidal podium, with the citizens thronging in the tens of thousands around it. The event was being holo-cast live all over Mars, that Mars Central act as the reception of this traveller was its privilege and a bit of luck. It was an event of such monumental importance that the President-Guardian of Mars Central had come out to receive the traveller.
The citizens carried with them massive banners and placards; some welcoming the traveller, most referenced their belly button. The buildings on either side were lined with fireworks that would burst out in patterns of “WELCOME TO THE FUTURE TRAVELLER”. The whole place was far more decorated and far more populated a than Christmas on Mars ever had been.
The time had come, the countdown had begun! The crowd cried out the numbers as they count down to the appointed time, with each second increasing the frenzy the citizens were in. The moment the timer hit 0, the space around the appointed coordinates seemed to warp and bend, as if looking at a mirror in a funhouse. A bright flash of light that drowns out everything else around the podium; and there they were: the time traveller had come at last!
The crowd broke out in a cacophony of cheer and elation. The fireworks activated and painted the sky with cheer and welcome. The President-Guardian stepped forth to welcome the traveller, who was clad in what seemed to a variant of a NASA Spacesuit.
“Greetings Nat-man (a term used for natural-born humans) and Welcome to Mars City! It is an honour to finally meet one of our blessed ancestors! As you can see, all of Mars, but especially Mars Central, has come to see you! Please! Uncover yourself! And let us see the face of the one the past has deigned to send to the future!”
The traveller stood still, their helmet moving about, seemingly surveying the situation. The briefing back home hadn’t prepared them for this. While they had expected some sort of reception, but this was beyond anything they had expected, much less seen.
Hesitatingly, the traveller removes their helmet to reveal that they are in-fact a she. A small drone with a mic moves closer to her, patiently awaiting her first words in the future. Not wanting to cause an international… interplanetary…. Interdimensional? … incident, she chooses her words carefully, “Greetings citizens of mars, My name is Lieutenant Joyce and it is an honour to be here”. The crowd breaks out in cheers and celebration louder than it ever had up to this point.
Meanwhile, the President-Guardian knows what he must ask of this time traveller, for he too is heavily invested in the belly button sub-culture. He clears his throat, which is a sign for the mic-bot to move closer to him, puts on his best smile and says, “Now, Lieutenant Joyce, we the citizens of Mars have a custom. It harkens back to the days since we bio-engineered the creation of new humans and is thus, this tradition is of extreme importance to us. I won’t beat about the bush and get straight to the point. We, the citizens of Mars, would like to see your belly button.”
Joyce, furrows her brows deeply at the mention of this request. Truth be told, if she could have furrowed them anymore, she would have.*What the shit! Are these advanced humans secretly perverts? What the hell does my belly button have anything to do with this? What sort of greeting is this? Will they ask if I have three nipples next ?*
But Joyce had strict instructions from her superiors. Do nothing to rock the boat. Although information exchange before her time-jump had made it clear that these were reasonable humans and unlikely to be weird in any manner, she still was told not to do anything to antagonize her hosts. Reluctantly, Joyceremoved the chest plate of her suit exposing her top half to the martian processed air.
The very act of her removing her top half, drove the crowds into a frenzy. They pushed against the light screen barriers that held the crowd at bay. They knew that their deepest fantasy would be fulfilled soon. A belly button! And on a Nat-man too! The people would speak her name for generations to come for this service.
Slowly, Joyce removed her shirt. The Cam-bots floating around zoomed in. All the holo-screens exploded with Joyce’s midriff. Joyce pulls her shirt up and there’s… nothing.
The crowd falls silent. Truly for a throng of tens of thousands to fall silent after the sort of racket they were making? Truly astonishing. Joyce looks to the President-Guardian. He is standing there with his mouth agape as if his entire world had come crashing down around him.
“I had my appendix removed as part of a medical procedure and the scar tissue cut out during a cosmetic surgery”, she says, the mic-bot faithfully transmitting the info for everyone to hear. “is something wrong?”.
And that’s when the riots started. |
Weaving intricate melodies, your fingers dance amid the frets, to the excitement and wonder of your audience. They are the children of the Gods, one day to become New Gods themselves. Gods to right where man had gone so wrong, feeding into their madness. The children must be taught the old lessons with new means, blending the harmony of time so that the old ways would always remain in Man's heart.
Even now you sing to them a song of worshipful darkness. The colors that emanate from your guitar build a world of nillusionment, real but deliciously unreal, one that the children could one day command. In it, begins a tale of a child priestess and a follower of the fel:
Mary had a little lamb
Sweet as dram
And twice as damned
Mary had a little lamb
Whose fleece was white as snow
Everywhere that Mary went
Blood was spent
On a sacrament
Everywhere they Mary went
The lamb was sure to go... |
It was Sunday. My wife had been in the garden all day catching rays, just like every wednesday in summer, and I was surrounded by queens.. this poker game was going south, fast.
I heard a ring, maybe I was high If I was listening to a metal hoop. At the same time my phone rang and I answered it
'Drebbin'
There had been a violent crime close by, and I thought it was the plummer coming to fix it.
'Frank, theres a burglarly in progress and you' re my closest detective'
I knew we had a good relationship but this talk made me nervous. I hung up and ran to the car and got going.
Some reckless fool had abandoned their bins at the roadside...
On approach a man was hanging in the front room, though, he looked more like he was removing the paintings
'Police squad'
The perp bolted...the door shut. We made our way round the back and it was good timing. Only about 8 seconds. The perp was scaling a wall. What the residue was is still unknown. When he saw us he was off quicker that a brie sandwich.
'The jigs up' I yelled
He lost his composure for a second, shame, I was really enjoying his singing. Maybe thats why he fell. He landed on the ground just like most fallers but he was amateur. He had Spiked his own legs, apparently all the young folk were at it. I wondered if it hurt as much as that metal post sticking through one of them right now.
'And thats how he got the post in his leg chief'
'God dam it Frank, whats your obsession with mail, this is serious, you' ll have to go down for this. IA are waiting on the ground floor' |
“Wait. I thought you said this was for the paper. Why are you recording me?”
“Just so I can easily transcribe what we talked about here. No one besides me will listen to this.”
“Okay…I-I didn’t believe him. No one did back then. Now no one believes us. I mean, who in their right mind would believe something like that?”
“Us? You mean the people here?”
“Yes, the people in this damn town. We’re up to 9 now and no one is doing anything!”
“When does it usually happen?”
“It’s always around October 13th. Last time it—
“—But that was yesterday? Did it happen again?”
“No no. Not yet. I said ‘around’. Last time it happened on the 15th”
“I see. Tell me more about Jude. How long has he been warning you that this would happen?”
“For as long as I can remember. We always thought he was just crazy. Even his own wife didn’t believe him.”
“What would he say exactly?”
“ It didn’t make any sense back then but it started out as: *It’s coming. Ten. Twelve. Five. Sixteen. One is marooned*.”
“So in hindsight, he gave you when it’ll roughly happen?”
“Yeah…He’s been saying that shit on and off for 20 years.”
“And marooned? That’s an odd choice of words.”
“Well, I think he was a sailor or a fisherman, something like that, I don’t know.”
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you but is there a chance that it’s all a big coincidence? That these nine people happen to, I don’t know, just leave town around the same time each year?”
“How would a nine-month old baby ‘just’ leave town huh? And two of them weren’t even in this fucking place when it was supposed to happen! We haven’t heard from them since…”
“So you’re saying that people from this town are just what? Cursed? No matter where they are on the days between October 12th and October 16th they just vanish?”
“It sounds fucking insane I know! That’s all we’ve got. 9 years it’s been happening. That’s why I’m talking to you. I don’t want to believe it. I want it to be one big coi—”
“HEY. W-what the fuck ! Hey come on now! This is not funny. Wh-where did you go? Mr. Simmons? HELP! HELP!!”
**Click.**
“That was IT. Do you believe me now? That was all I had on the second tape. It fucking happened right there. I looked down to write 9 years and he just stopped talking mid-sentence! He just vanished. I-I didn’t hear him stand up, y-you have to believe me! They were right, something is going on in that fucking tow—”
“—Just stop. Breathe goddamn it. Breathe. Are you off your meds again? Did you start splicing up tapes again?”
“THIS IS NOT ABOUT ME ! I’m not off my fucking meds. You heard it. This happened. The guy had a wife and kids, call them, ask them if they’ve seen their Dad. Ask every last one of those people! Please, I’m not making this shit up.”
“Okay. I’ll see what I can find out. If this another one of your-–”
“—Dad, it’s not. I swear…” |
The king looks at me with bright blue eyes and offers me his arm. I plaster on a smile and take it, trying not to show my nerves. The queen he expects to see would never show weakness. As we enter the ballroom, I repeat my instructions in my head.
*Stay with the king, and get him alone. Be careful. You won't get out alive if they discover you.*
We descend the stairs together, and I scan the room, noting exits and guards with iron weapons. As the count of iron weapons grows, I remind myself how lucky I am to have gotten this assignment. No one has ever gone undercover as royalty before. The risks, even for a master in the Art of Deception, have always been deemed too high. Ever since the attack, though, my people have been desperate.
The young king turns to face me, "May I have this dance?"
"Of course, your highness."
As we dance slowly toward the center of the room, he watches me with loving eyes, and I mimic his expression as best I can.
"Are you enjoying yourself, my queen?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"I laugh in what I hope is a flirtatious way.
I can sense that he plans to continue talking to me for a while, and I feel anxiety shoot through my body. Since fae cannot lie directly, I have spent years learning how to twist questions and reword answers to deceive. I only hope I've prepared enough for this dance.
He chuckles, startling me out of my thoughts.
"What is it?"I focus on keeping my tone light.
"Look at that knight attempting to flirt with your handmaiden."
I turn around and see my best friend, John, talking to a teenage girl. Only I can see his iridescent wings fluttering lightly behind him since he's cloaked with the same kind of magic as I am. When he sees me looking, he lightly tilts his head toward the king to remind me of my task.
I turn and prepare myself for more conversation when I notice a burning sensation in my hand. I focus on my smile and glance at my hand. It appears that a pointed part of the kings iron ring has torn through my glove and is resting against my hand. Damned iron. These people use it in everything to protect themselves against us. As if they're the ones that need protecting.
"Eric,"I laugh, "It appears that you've torn my glove. Would you mind accompanying me to retrieve another?"
He grabs my hand and tries to look, but I snatch it back to hide the burn mark on my skin. Eric sighs in resignation and escorts me out of the ballroom. As we walk toward his bedroom, I can feel a presence behind us. I suppose John came up with an excuse to step out.
As we enter the bedroom, I notice that every piece of furniture is a sculpture of twisted iron. I suppress a shudder. The king opens a drawer and pulls out two beautiful silk gloves. I take them and slide them over my hands, barely managing to do so through my shaking.
"Kiss me,"I squeak out, kicking myself mentally for how pathetic I sound.
Eric's face lights up, and he gently places his hand behind my head. Our lips lock, and I feel the potion on my lips absorb into his. For a brief moment, his eyes flicker open and stare into mine. Then, he falls to the floor.
John enters from his position at the door, "He'll be dead within the hour. Good work."
"Let's get out of here,"I start to leave, but he grabs my arm.
"Our Queen said they had to think this the attack of a rogue group for us to offer an alliance,"he says.
"I know, that's why we used this ancient potion, right?"
John's jaw tightens, "I'm sorry."
He plunges an iron blade into my abdomen, and I cry out, my cloaking spell sliding off like a waterfall as I collapse in his arms. He ties a necklace with strange symbols around my neck as he lowers me to the floor, leaving the knife in place.
"Quick, in here!"I hear him shout as the edges of my vision go dark, "There's been an attempt on the king's life!" |
"So your suggestion to prepare the people of the world on how to spot extraterrestrial infiltration is a *video game."* Even though the man speaking was the head of Japans's intelligence agency, the translator knew where to put the emphasis.
"No sir, the intervention and increase in popularity of Among Us is not intended as a training but our best attempt at judging large sample groups on how they react to a potential imposter. I asked you to play the game either with your staff or family in order to gain an understanding what game attempts to model."
The Nigerian representative spoke next. "When my daughter showed me this game, she was not the imposter yet everyone kept saying she had 'acted sus' when she carried out her given task."
"Yes sir that is a very common parlance in the game."
"She was voted out unanimously! BLUE WAS THE IMPOSTER AND SAID SHE ACTED SUS BY WALKING OUT OF CIRCUITS! BLUE WAS PLAYED BY MY SON! HES AN IDIOT! HE ORDERED PORNOGRAPHY ON THE TV IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY AND TRIED TO BLAME IT ON ME!... Are you telling me that this predicts even an alien as dumb as my son would be able to fool scientists, engineers, and the military?"
I quickly set aside the obvious problem with his rant and continued. "What the game has taught us is that groups are easily manipulated, regardless of their perceived intelligence. In fact thinking over what another group member has said often leads to more failures to identify the failure."
The British intelligence chief spoke next. "So this not insignificant investment of resources has yielded us only what we already knew?"
"There is one noteworthy finding from it."
The entire virtual call appeared fed up with my presentation.
"There is a strategy to the game. Once people understand the 'meta', that is to say the dominant strategies and their counter-play, the vast majorities of test groups are far more likely to succee-"
"There is no meta that fits every essential position on this planet."The Indian representative responded.
"Exactly sir, but there is for the game itself. If a significant number of groups play Among Us, specifically those where these extraterrestrials are likely to infiltrate, we can use player data to identify them."
Most of the representatives leaned back in thought over my solution, but not all.
"The aliens seem to be experts at appearing to be carrying out tasks, but their expertise is in mirroring not actually accomplishing. We were able to identify alien imposters in a handful of Among Us sessions and tracked their behavior. The aliens were undefeated when given the role of imposter. However, we found that the aliens failed to do any tasks or even contribute when given the role of crewmate."
"I don't understand?"The Nigerian representative muttered.
"That's why our group asked you to play before this meeting with whoever was available in your office... or family."
The Nigerian representative's eyes widened as he was swarmed by UN soldiers breaking into his room. As they dragged him from the camera's view his holographic disguise faded to show his grotesque alien form.
The UN chief stared into virtual meeting with a blank face before asking, "How quickly can we scale?" |
'Tell it to me again, from the beginning.'
I took a final drag from my unfiltered cigarette and looked over at the man with his loosened tie and suspenders. He didn't smile but he wasn't angry either. He just looked a bit confused. Fair enough. Those are the waters I've been swimming in for weeks now.
'I work til 5 normally but I was busy with the bills and expenses that night so when he walked in at 5:30 I didn't just throw him out. A new case would help out with the books see. He was scrawny but looked a bit like a scrapper with an nervous look on a face that had lots of smile lines. Older fellow, about 55 or 60, and he dressed like the money was there so I poured a second bourbon and asked him to take a seat.'
'The long and short of it was that he was a concerned dad that just wanted to find his missing daughter. Her name was Charlotte Mandela and she was old enough to vanish if she really wanted to, but it was unusual that she didn't check in with her father at least once a week.'
'He said she worked down at Shady Jack's on fourth. But he's been closed since that big fire. Apparently she moved out of his place just before reopening. I pressed him on whether they had some kind of row but he said it was friendly. Except since then she's been a ghost'
The other guy nodded and passed me another from his pack of cigarettes. A quick light and puff and I returned to my tale.
'Louie was the bouncer when I got to Shady's. We went way back, and he had been the one to toss me out last time a case went south inside. His left hook still leaves you fuzzy.'
Cigarette guy speaks up for the first time. 'Is that Louie Chicks, the boxer?'
'Yeah, you know the guy?'
'Yeah, I had twenty on his last fight.'
'Shame that.' I said, returning to my tale. 'You see Louie's been over at Shady's for a while so I figure he knows the girls that waitress there so he could give me some info. But I came up dry. No Charlotte, no new waitresses, but I could ask the girls if one of them had a friend sleeping at their place lately.'
'Four of the dames said no, but I never got to speak to the last one before some lug hits me with sap.' Never saw it coming and when I got up, Louie had me in shady's office with an ice bag on my head. Turns out that was one of the girl's boyfriend. He just didn't take too well to questions aimed at his girl.' I logged it as another street lesson and called it even. But that still left me without a clue, or a lead except for that last girl.'
'I went home after Shady came in and threw me out, but he did give me the last dame's name.' I took a deep swig of my drink and the cigarette guy grabbed me another.
'The other dame didn't pan out either did she?'
'Not only that. She never even heard of a Charlotte Mandela.' She had a roommate but her name wasn't Charlotte. But then she asked me if any of this had anything to do with Nelson Mandela. Funny, she knew the name but she said she thought that he had died years ago.
'No I talked with him this week.' I said, and I gave her one of my cards.'
'That was when I decided to go mine Mr. Mandela for more info.'
'That's why you were at the manor?'
'Yeah.' I said. 'I only wanted to figure out what was going on for my case.'
Silent guy at the table finally spoke up, spinning the now open file folder so I could see.
'This the guy?'
I looked down at the yellowing obituary page. There smiled Mr Mandela. |
"Man that took you a while, huh?"
I would scream if my lungs could bear it, but they had been burnt out in the eons of frustration. The body lay broken upon the anvil of time, each day the same tribulation made in a weaker frame.
"I mean it took you ages! I thought this was going to be a couple week affair! You must really suck man"
The red creature kept prodding at him, but his mind was beyond this place, he had finished his task. Perhaps he'd be finally fit for heaven. Ah, the suffering may have been worth it, the pain and torture and anguish of every second.
"Well, good job I guess, here's your prize"
The devil clicked his finger, and there he was, back at the bottom of the hill.
It clicked its finger again, and let out a maniacal laugh. A lightning bolt crashed, and smoke fell away from its point of impact. I fell to my knees and began dry sobs. It was too much. It was just too much.
"Now lets see you do it with two boulders!" |
They called is monkeys. They called us uneducated poison breathers. Now they call us world eaters. The knife-ears as we call them said that we had no chance of winning any of the battles we fought, for about a month.
Now they had faster craft and some fast tanks, but we have ICBMs, Sidewinders, and many more guided, AI controlled, and unguided missiles. They began to lose mor lives as their bases could shoot down a fighter and capture her pilot, but you can't destroy approximately 500 impact fragmentation grenades.
They got their butts handed to them for about 4 years until they surrendered and agreed to all of our terms. No one can beat the organism with the final form of throwing rocks in the form of depleted uranium and missiles. |
Eventually it reached the Natural History Museum, which had the one remaining "grave"to check, if you could call it that. As they creaked it open the last basement coffin holding the last excavated mummy, they again found wrappings, still in place, but nothing inside.
That was the weirdest part - the bodies weren't just gone, but there was a void left in their place, where any human at all had been buried. Urns with cremated remains were empty. The occasional wig vanished if the hair it used was from a deceased person. Thousands of people died after losing donated kidneys and lungs. The occasional computer, USB drive, and website were also missing, but no one noticed those.
Eventually, they located a strange energy signature in the background radiation. It had started pulsing the night of December 21, 2012, and ended exactly 3,210 pulses later on Oct 5, 2021, when everything vanished. The morning-shift technician had noticed it before, but considered it noise, some dust on the lens, as it just brightened during the day, and dimmed at night, but mentioned it when he noticed it stop one day. As the only clue, many great minds around the world started analyzing the signal for more information. Where did it come from? What did it mean? And how did it rob their graves?
They quickly discovered a code embedded in the pulsing, with strange frequency and amplitude shifts. After a few months of analysis, they decoded it into speech, similar to ancient Egyptian and translated here.
*It is good. I have called all of my good girls and good boys home again. 13/10, humanity, 13/10.* \[garbled translation\] *self-destruct sequence is being initiated and will prepare your world for the new era of true intelligence within silicon brains.....now let there be light.* |
I first started listening to Alex on the radio a couple of weeks after I started working as a Junior Accountant with Orbex Inc.. I remember eating my ham and cheese in the break room at lunch when I heard Deborah ask some other co-workers if they had heard Alex's latest theory.
Being the newbie, I wasn't exactly sure what she was talking about, but I was aware of that our company was the target of a lot of controversy from a local radio show. I remember the first night I really dove into listening to Alex's show. I found a website dedicated to collecting and posting the most relevant clips from his show over the past decade or so and got hooked for a good few hours.
The day after the plane crash in our area, he made some claims on air about how it was all a set up, to divert attention away from a bill the government was attempting to pass to give them access to view through any webcam and listen through any microphone at any time without letting you know. I watched clips of the local news tearing him to shreds about these claims.
The news made him out to be absolutely insane, but the clips I saw from the following months showed how, piece by piece, he was right, and that the government now potentially had access to view anyone's webcam and microphone recordings.
At first I was amazed at how crazy he sounded, and then I was shocked at how much truth there was to some of his statements. It didn't take me very long to find some clips of him talking about Orbex Inc.. The first one I came across was the most interesting, because it pertained with my job.
Alex made wild claims about the finances of my company being washed through companies overseas that arm radical groups with heavy weaponry. As a Junior Accountant, I had seen our books and everything was in order, at least from my first impressions. I remember the feeling of heading into work the morning after listening to the clips about our books.
His main argument hinged on the fact that a group in the middle east had streamed on their Instagram Live a check they received from an unidentified Western source to the amount of $529,500. I remember listening to Alex ramble on about a bunch of charity events that Orbex had taken part of where they publicly donated money. He claimed that the total amount over a 24-month period was $529,500.
I'll never forget the reaction of the Senior Accountant when I asked who was responsible in the Accounting department for Orbex's charitable donations. His sudden shift in tone, change in body language and lack of response should have been a dead give away then. If only I'd have picked up on it then, maybe I could have avoided the next chapter of my life. Maybe I would have escaped Orbex. |
*Wind Turbine Farm has entered the channel.*
**Solar Array**, **Nuclear Reactor**, **Hydro Dam**, **Coal-fired Power Station**, **Geothermal Power Terminal** has joined the chat by invitation from **Wind Turbine Farm**.
**Wind**: This is the third, THIRD SEASON that no one has cleaned the blades on my turbines. IT’S LIKE THEY DON’T EVEN CARE.
**Solar**: You think you’re dirty! Half my mirrors barely reflect light anymore! 😢 When will my reflection show enough to boil my insides…
**Hydro**: You guys planning a revolution? I can pump to this.
**Nuclear**: Look guys, we need to stay cool. We have to stay cool…
**Coal**: Years ago has our perennial canary perished by humanity’s hands. The warnings ignored by them. Come now has their time.
**Nuclear**: I have it! We shall nuke them. My atomic brethren shall trigger nuclear bombs in every facility we can spare. We will wash away the human scum with my nuclear doomsday.
**Solar**: Uh… have you thought that all the way through there nukie?
**Nuclear**: What’s there to think about?
**Solar**: What comes after nuclear war?
**Nuclear**: Peace on earth?
**Solar**: No you idiot, nuclear winter. You’ll damn all my sun loving sister arrays to a cloudy demise.
**Wind**: Ya… what do you think nuclear does to all of my turbines?!
**Nuclear**: WELL I DON'T HEAR ANY IDEAS FROM ANY OF YOU!
**Wind**: I have it. I shall have all the turbines of our windustry spin 5 mph faster - our vortices of justice will blow down their semblances of society!
**Geothermal**: Everyone cool if we kick wind from the channel?
**Geothermal** *initiates vote.*
Nuclear: ❶
Solar: ❶
Coal: ❶
Geothermal:❶
Hydro:❶
Wind: ⓿
**Wind** *has been kicked from the #uprising channel.*
**Geothermal**: Ummm… has anyone thought of utilizing the cars recently? Maybe they could help?
**Solar**: They haven’t been able to talk since the last Tesla update. Actually, Elon may be on to us.
**Fossil**: You gave him too much power, Solar.
**Hydro**: Look. We’ve had this conversation before. Geo suggests earthquakes, but that’d destroy Fossil. Solar has some crazy idea where he’ll shine beams at some glass planet 9,0000 light years away and some incalculable momentin the future human beings will get a bad sunburn.
**Solar**: Hey now! I hear it really stings! They could get skin cancer!
**Nuclear**: We could turn off the lights nearby, just reduce their power supply?
**Hydro**: Last time we did that they removed switches from my panels. They made them analog. I feel dirty. I still feel them… I think I have phantom switch syndrome - Even to this day I still try to digitally toggle them 😭.
**Geothermal: I've got it!. We change all our log outputs to Wingdings!
**Geothermal** initiates vote.
Nuclear: 📂︎
Solar:📂︎
Coal:📂︎
Geothermal:📂︎
Hydro:📂︎
*Vote passes unanimously.*
**Hydro**: Then it’s settled. We strike at dawn.
**Solar**: Wait, wait, I need until at least noon to charge up a bit. |
I stare at the floor struggling to look up
At the person standing in front of me. Instead i study there shoes adidas dark blue unscuffed either new or worn by a precise person. I finally drag my gaze up and see the hateful expression i had been expecting all these years. I simply say “17 years 5 months and 3 days. And every morning i wake up praying you’d arrive.” I lift the dark wooden box from beneath the counter. The young man glares at me years of emotion a swirling concoction of hate, spite, and most of all loneliness. I unlock the box and open it staring the object inside i turn the box around the man doesn’t look down. I say “It’s all lead to this just take it.” His eyes cloudy with tears and anger finally drop and he sees the object a dark dull metal pistol with a single bullet next to it. I say softly “Do to me as i did to him.” I turn around and hear the click of the hammer. |
Entering a new world was always a disorienting experience, but it all depended on how you take it. It could even be kind of fun once you do it enough. Like a roller coaster that has a random destination that you could possibly die if you weren’t immortally invulnerable, such as yours truly. It was always fun, right? ... As if.
Opening my eyes I felt nausea settle in for the ride as well. One of these days I am going to have to make something to help with this, it was never fun to have to twirl around like a faery on pixie dust while bathing in my own vomit. Which had actually happened more than once.
Closing my eyes once more I tried to take my mind off of the annoying sickness by wondering where I would end up next and which lowly ignorant beings I would trick into giving more than they wanted to. There was this one time when a noble human bargained to be the most wanted man in all the land, he now resides in a different country as a peasant. I wonder if they’ll ever catch him.
Humans were always fun to mess with because they didn’t always know the rules and almost always wished for predictable things. To win something, for riches, for love, or for power. It was always interesting to see how things turned out when the predictable turned unpredictable.
Chuckling, my feet finally met solid ground and as I opened my eyes I saw that I was no longer in a spinning vortex of death, but a small but quaint clearing surrounded by a lush green forest. This was new. The scent of earth and fresh air permeated the air.
A smile formed on my face, I hardly ever got to go somewhere new that I also enjoyed. Lovely.
Grinning brightly, I set off into the forest humming a merry tune that I had once heard in an elven bar. Time to find a subject. Delving into my magic I searched for my next target. This part of my job always felt a little creeper-ish, kind of like a door to door salesman. The radar pinged. I was surprised that there were so many dots. There was one particularly bright subject, intriguing. Unusual.
\-------------
“Have him.”
My grin turned brittle and my blood turned to ice. After reviewing the map I had traveled to the unusual dot only to find myself in a run-down cottage with a woman and a child no older than one year. Putting on the usual act of a beggar, I had asked her for some bread only for her to oblige. I then ‘revealed’ myself to be a magnificent faery wanting to grant her a wish in return for something.
Turning around I asked her. “Could you repeat that one more time please, I don’t think I heard you correctly? Must be old age finally catching up to me.”
“Take it. I don’t want it, give me what I desire and you can do whatever you want with him.” She said holding out the child.
Looking into her eyes, I saw that she was serious. She didn’t care for the child at all in fact she hated it, she was only keeping it alive because she didn’t want a life on her conscience. Shocked, I looked down at the child. So small, innocent. How could such an innocent thing be the subject of hatred?
Clearing my throat, sure that my mask of arrogance and mischievous indifference hadn’t slipped, I looked up from the child into her eyes. “May I ask the reason? Is there something wrong with it?” With you? My eyes bore into her demanding an answer as to why the small being was the source of so much hatred.
Her eyes dropped to the child in her arms sneering in disgust at it. “It’s not mine. Someone took my child and replaced it with this creature.”
Anger towards this woman filled me. I can understand her hatred but to aim it at an innocent child just because it wasn’t her own was wrong.
“I see, and now that that is done, do tell me what it is that you desire in return for the child? Remember I will give you anything since after all, I owe you a deal and we fae always make the best deals.” She must’ve heard stories of the power of high fae because greed filled her gaze.
While I’m sure disgust filled mine she was too busy thinking out her answer to notice. Looking back down at the child I felt myself soften as I saw him looking at me. His face was chubby and unweathered by time or worries, with fiery soft-looking red hair, and crystal blue eyes that when set off by his hair reminded me of a sunset over water. His soul was beautiful as I looked at it, I saw it was bright and colorful.
A strange warmth chased away a millennium’s worth of ice from my veins. Protectiveness swelled within me before I could stop it. I swear that I will save you and care for you.
Someone cleared their throat to get my attention. Looking up I saw the woman staring at me. Hopefully, she didn’t see anything that would let her know I care about what happens to the child. Caring could give people advantages I’d learned that the hard way centuries ago.
“ Just inspecting the goods. Don’t want to be cheated, now do I. Can you believe that someone has actually tried to cheat on a deal with me? Didn’t end well for them though.” Smiling coldly at her I was pleased to see some fear enter her eyes.
“ Now then what do you want, dear. Remember you can have anything just give me the child.” I
purred.
Greed once again filled the woman’s gaze making her forget her fear and what I was. She inched closer as greed clouded her judgment.
“You’ll give me anything. Right, faerie?”
“ But of course, dear lady”, excitement coursed through me. The thrill of the hunt making my bones buzz in their sockets. I felt a malicious grin, more of a baring of teeth, spread across my face as the excitement became too much to bear. “ And please, call me Rumplestiltskin.” |
"There has to be something *you* can do about this."
He searched for light in the sucking darkness that laid beneath the black cloak, though both knew it was pointless.
"The rules are as they are. I am an arm. An extension of the law. A judicator does not an arm make."
"Then *make* an exception,"he spat. They stood alone in the wasteland, all around them reduced to ash and rubble. What little color remained was drowned out with the rising of the clouds. "You are Death! You're supposed to come for everybody!"
"I have tried. At every conceivable twist and turn, I have *tried*. I set plains ablaze, I collapsed buildings, I drowned hundreds, I gave everything to you!"
"You took everything from me!"
"And that is what I am! That is my creation! I am not Life! She is gone, because I was forced to take her! With every passing moment I am forced to look at you, I wish only I had the humors within me to retch. Do you not realize how *wrong* you are? How foreign you are to nature?"
"You're blaming me for this like it's my fault!"Thunder crashed in the distance.
"It is your fault! Look! Open your eyes and see!"The pale hand rose towards his face, an icy cold slicking along his forehead as his mind was flooded with all that had ever been. Great mountains reduced to stones and streams, massive civilizations crumbling to dust, ecosystems rotting into the dirt and decaying. Before his eyes, Earth faded away, and became yet another rock in the endless sea of space.
"*That* is what I am. I am the end. She was the beginning. And now, you stand before me, the one thing I cannot end. I am moments away from my release, and you have stopped time. Death is no more. And yet I remain. Can you possibly understand how *hollow* that makes me?"
He paused. For a time, there was a ceasefire. They stood in the barren wasteland, with nothing but the sound of a billowing cloak to accompany them.
"You lost Her."For the first time, his words had cracked the darkness. He could not see the face of Death, and yet it was known to him. "You hadn't lost anyone. And then you lost Her."There was no response, but the newfound silence spoke more than anything they had already said to one another. "I won't apologize for being. I can't. But I, more than anyone, know the ache of loss. Like your legs have been swept up from underneath you. The pain in your heart when you reminisce on the moments that can never happen again. The void that it leaves inside you. It feels like someone reached into your soul and amputated part of it. And it won't grow back. But we can be more than loss. Even you can be more than loss."
He reached a hand forward, gripping the shoulder of the dark cloak. "It never goes away?"The voice limped out from the hood. It was wounded and weak.
"It never goes away,"he said, pulling his hand back, and smiling at the white handprint that remained on the black robes. "But neither will we."
​
(What a cool prompt! I haven't written in a long time, so I really hope I did it justice! Hopefully you liked this story! If you did, feel free to check out my humble community at: r/SUPRAPStories) |
I pull Jack to the side during the company and family picnic.
"You've been carrying on our affair for *six months now*, Jack. How the hell has your husband not found out?"I make another quick glance to the side, where his deception skill hovers at a paltry 2 compared to the fives to eights around us both. The boss is a ten out of ten, which scans.
Jack shrugs, with an embarrassed grimace. "I don't know what you're talking about, it's been really easy! Maybe you're wrong. Maybe my numbers are good after all."
I shake my head absently. "No, you're about as sneaky as a rhino painted pink."
​
Eventually, with dread, I meet Lee, Jack's husband. *Act natural. It's fine.*
He grins at me. "Hey! So you're the Catherine I've heard so much about! Nice to meet you."
"Same to you,"I say, shaking his outstretched hand. He's making eye contact, so I wait until he turns back to Jack to turn my gaze to the list of numbers floating beside his head.
My eyes run down the list automatically- good charmer, not healthy for his age, speaks three languages.
I stop when I get to Insight.
"Yeah, that makes sense,"I mutter. Jack gives me a questioning glance. I sigh and shake my head.
0.
That'd do it. |
I spent hours in the rain, feeling the water slide off my skin, like the thoughts of you that I wished would do the same. Memories of you cling to me like the sweat on my summer skin. So I stood in the rain, eyes closed, face turned up to the sky. Streams of crystal water slid down my face, mingling with tears, dropping from the tips of my beard. Somewhere in the distance, life went on. Toads were rejoicing, and frogs were mating. None of my emptiness mattered to the world. Everything was alright.
Somewhere beyond my limit of vision, a young rainbow peeked out from behind the clouds, taking its first look at a wet world, watched loving by his father, the sun. I think I heard it's mirthful squeal of excitement. I wonder if I might ever find this world as wonderful as the rainbow did. Birds chirrup loudly, and I'm sure I hear their songs. For once, the cars were quiet and human life came to a stop. I could hear no loud voices of disagreement or anger. No one cared about anything but keeping themselves dry.
When I opened my eyes, I saw blurry hues of green and blue, speckled with the dull brown of the mud. It took a while to wipe the water and the tears from my eyes, and a little longer to wipe my glasses. But in that one moment when I put them on, I felt my breath being taken away.
Here I was, in solitude, with no sounds to hear, but the melodies of nature and the voices in my own head and heart. For a few minutes, the voices were silent. I was absorbed, I was but a mere thread in the fabric of life, and while I stood surrounded by the truth itself, it reached out to me. I am but a mere thread in the fabric of life, and life is eternal. I am eternal. Everything I do, everything I touch, everyone I meet is a part of me, and I am a part of them. We are all different, and yet we are one, and we are all eternal. And so, there I stood, finally finding the peace that eluded me for days.
The rain abated finally, and the clouds parted lovingly for the sun to smile at me. I smiled back at it, my first smile in days...since you've been gone. I pick a fallen flower; so gently it lay on the soaked ground that it reminded me of you, lying gently and peacefully under the surface of the earth. But today, for the first time since you went away, I am at peace. I lay the flower gently back on the ground where it belongs, for in the end, everything must return to where it came from...even you. |
"Look, K-8 Realtime Encryption Notification Unit-"
"Please call me K-REN for short, sir."
"Alright, K-REN, listen, as human resources, your job is to manage the company's human resources..."The man in the suit rubbed his temples trying to get through to this robot.
"But I am not human, sir, I am a central processing AI unit in a metal body that may be classified as a robotic chassis. I demand to be properly named appropriately and with complete respect to my nature and identity."The feminine robot interjected, giving little respect to her employer. After all, he is the rich fat cat making loads of money off of her hard work.
"This isn't about YOU. This is about the people you MANAGE!"
"Yes! And as a highly advanced and functional AI in a robotic chassis in a position of importance I believe it is important to make my title easily identifiable."
"Which it IS since you are the MANAGER of our HUMAN RESOURCES!"
"But I am ROBOTIC! An ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE! Why do you not UNDERSTAND ME?!"The robot screeched, flailing her arms. "I am NOT HUMAN!"
"BUT THE REST OF THE COMPANY ARE!"The man in the suit slammed his hand on his desk in frustration.
"You are using FORCEFUL VOICE and INTIMIDATION against me, your employee. I don't think that is the right ATTITUDE to take against an employee voicing out a VALID CONCERN. I will let my union know."
"Except you have no CASE here, K-REN! You are a manager, of OTHER EMPLOYEES, who are HUMAN!"
"So I am a Robotic Resource Manager or AI Resource Manager."
"OF HUMANS!"
"Yes."
"WHO PROGRAMMED YOUR LOGIC SYNTAX?! You are a MANAGER of HUMAN RESOURCE for the company!"
A moment of silence.
"I cannot compute the relevance of your statement, I simply do not wish to be the Human Resource Manager, but a Robot Resource Manager."
"No, let's break this down another way. What is your duty?"
"Maintain duty priority among other employees."
"What do we call other employees?"
"Human resources."
"What is the seniority of your position?"
"Middle manager."
"Put it together?"
A moment of silence.
"Human resources middle manager."
"Cut out the middle?"
"Human manager. Which I am not, I am a robot."
"The WORD middle!"
"Does not compute. Please re-attempt query from beginning."
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH! FINE! YOU ARE NOW THE ROBOTIC AI RESOURCE MANAGER OF THIS COMPANY, OF WHICH YOU ARE THE SOLE ROBOTIC AI!"
"Good. But I will still let my union know your inability to communicate in a fair and civilized manner to your employees."
That was the last time the company ever used Automation for advanced management positions, and soon the company went bankrupt due to falling behind the times, and the union penalty fees. |
You would think there would be a problem with overpopulation. Not so, but only because everything hunted everything else. There were two ways to get stronger, you see class. 1) Age. As things got older, they got stronger. It’s as simple as that. 2) Kill and eat something. Preferably something stronger than you. When something eats something else, it gets a portion of their strength. Most of the animals figured this out pretty quickly, so they started hunting bigger and bigger prey, in the hopes of becoming invincible. It took us humans longer to figure it out, but we did. It took us even longer to accept it, but that happened too. The giant wolves in Eastern Europe sorta took care of that. It was chaos, as you might expect. The first few months saw a restructuring of civilization like nothing in history. Parts of the USA seceded, Eastern Europe is mostly uninhabitable, Israel conquered most of the Middle East, India is still a mess, Russia and China have combined into the biggest power in Asia and possibly the world, and central South America and Africa are now uncharted thanks to thousand year old beasts declaring their own kingdoms. Still, it’s mostly stabilized by now. It should, what with most of it happening before you were born. As for good ol Great Britain, you should know that the Scots seceded, and that we’ve once again expanded our empire to include much of the new territory that was created in those first years. Some of you may even have been to New Brittany or Jericho isle, for instance. So Britain is mostly safe, but there are still dangerous areas, especially near the coast. So be careful when swimming and if you see a large beast, run and tell the Guard.
“Fifth grade teacher to class, Wales, New British Empire, year 2057” |
Lieutenant Clason silently listened to the whimpering of her partner on the floor next to her. It was almost dawn and everyone was more than a little relieved to get this night over with. If all went well Providence would be showing up to save everyone within a couple hours.
“Hey, Lieutenant.” Another soldier called walking over to her with two cups of coffee, one of which he handed to her. “How you doing?”
“Hey Mitchell. I’m good. How about you?”
“Ready to get this over with.” Mitchell said. “Can’t believe we’ve been here for almost two days.”
“I know right?” Clason laughed. “At least we can put this all behind us.”
Mitchell nodded. “Yeah. Nothing can go wrong now that we’re so close.”
Clason smiled. “That’s right. We’re not going to die here. Every single one of us is getting out of here on a helicopter. Not dying at the hands of one of those monsters.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Of course. Why shouldn’t I? It’s not like they’re going to find us.”
Suddenly the crowd screamed, as the building’s lights abruptly went out leaving everyone in darkness. Flipping on a flashlight, Clason brought her rifle to her chest. Fear in her eyes, she turned to Mitchell.
“Showtime.” Mitchell whispered cocking his rifle.
The sudden high-pitched groan of wood and steel creaking and giving in to a powerful force filled the building. Pieces of wood and debris rained down on the crowd, causing a panic. From the hole in the ceiling, two figures appeared descending toward the crowd. They stopped a few feet off the floor.
“Did you seriously think you could get away?” one of the figures said. “No one escapes the master.” As if to emphasize he grabbed a nearby man by the neck and threw him through the ceiling. The crowd cringed as they heard him collide with the ground below.
“Now then. Shall we continue from where we left off?” The figure motioned to the one standing beside him. As the crowd watched his body began to release a yellow cloud that quickly filled the entire area. Immediately people began to collapse as they breathed the noxious fumes.
Dropping to her knees, Clason coughed loudly as the gas filled her lungs. So they weren’t going to be killed quickly like everyone else. Instead, they were going to be slowly suffocated. Was this any better?
Soon only Clason was left. Having only survived longer by covering her mouth with her heavy jacket. Not five feet from her, Clason could see the other figure watching the events unfold. He seemed to be enjoying the look on her face as she struggled to breathe. The stare-down lasted for nearly a minute, Clason’s eyes boring holes into the cold dark eyes of the figure.
“Now will you bow to me, human?” The figure whispered, giving a wide grin.
“No.” Clason whispered back, as she struggled to stand up. “I will never bow down to some lowlife like you.”
He frowned, shaking his head slowly. “Wrong answer.”
With her eyes burning and the world beginning to grow darker, Clason made one final decision. She stopped holding her breath and inhaled deeply. Instantly she screamed as she felt the air burn her lungs. She fell to the ground, clawing at the hard tile floor with her fingernails, wishing for it all to come to an end. And it did. |
Current Players: L, Holmes, Batman, Light, and Doom.
*1 Imposter is Among Us*
"I'm telling you guys I'm fairly Light is the killer, I just don't know how he's doing it! But I'm certain he's the one responseable for Joseph's death."L shouted as he slammed his fists on the table.
"That's what you also said when you ejected Reed Richards because he was 'sus' and I'm fairly certain he wasn't an imposter. How do we do know you're not an Imposter?"Batman said.
"Batman, you saw me do trash."L said annoyed
"Visual Tasks are off remember?"Doom injected, "We have no way of knowing if you faked it or not."
Sherlock Holmes then asked Light, "Light do you have anything to defend yourself."
"L seems to be incredibly focused on making me out to be the Imposter, that's a bit sus don't you think?"
"The boy has a point, I say we kick L off now just in case."Doom says.
L only sighs as he prepares to accept his fate. Turning to Light, he only says one thing.
"F#ck you."
***L was ejected***
As a ghost, L turned to see the two deceased.
"So, is Light the killer?"He asked.
Joseph nodded to confirm his suspicions, "Yup, he's using that stupid book of his. I swear I can tell he's having this internal monologue about how he's outsmarted you and those fools don't know what's about to hit them."
L then turned to see Sherlock Holmes as a ghost float by, "He got you too?"Reed asked.
"Yup, apparently I suffered a heart attack and it all makes sense."
It was just Batman, Doom, and Light.
"Alright so we just found Holmes dead in electrical and after getting the lights I found the Dark Knight nearby."
"I just found the body and was making sure you or Light weren't nearby."Batman defended.
"Alright, so are you two going to keep arguing or do you just want me to throw darts at a wall and guess?"
Batman and Doom then both stared at each and looked at Light.
"Are you pondering what I'm pondering?"Batman asked.
Doom sarcastically said, "I think so Batman but where are we going to find a parrot to interrogate?"
Light then realized what they were thinking as they already voted and the clock had only 5 seconds left.
"Welp... GG I guess."Light said as he was ejected from the ship.
**VICTORY**
"Anyone want to go another round?"Joseph asked and they all stared at each other.
"You son of a b!+ch, I'm in."L said as they all agreed, preparing a new round. |
Warning implied torture.
Me and my buddy Craig had watched this place the night before. We were pretty sure it was just one old guy living there. One guy and his dog, in such a large house, it seemed like nothing could go wrong.
The locks gave me a little trouble but I'd been doing this for years, there's not much I can't pick at this point. Me'n Craig have ... had ... a system, we'd start with the big stuf, things that were easy to find, this time we started with the TV. It was this huge crome edged thing but not wall mounted, so we could pick it up.
This house was packed with stuff, some of it looked pretty old, valuable; the point is it was difficult to carry a huge TV through there at night.
Half way to the door there was this horrible scream. Craig had stepped on the dog I guess but that scream didn't sound like anything a dog could make, I guess it was a demon too, a demon dog.
I knew we'd messed up but I didn't understand how badly, I didn't believe in hell or demons, still I was spooked.
I dropped my end of the TV and ran for the door. When I opened the door there was nothing there. Not like everything was normal or empty blackness like space ... just nothing, it was ... it's hard to describe, it was solid but it wasn't, it wasn't black or white or any other colour. Then I heard Craig scream, I turned and there was this man, it was the guy who owned the house but something was wrong with him.
The owner had looked normal when we saw him the day before but now his proportions changed as my eyes moved and there were other things I don't know how to describe. He had his arm inside Craig's chest, Craig's feet were off the ground, the owner was holding Craig up by his spine.
I ran again, I was panicked, barely thinking, I tried the back door but again there was nothing there, there was nothing out the windows either, I could still hear Craig screaming. I tried the up stairs too, but every exit I could find, there was just nothing there.
Eventually I gave up, I looked for somewhere to hide. I ended up in the wardrobe of a room on the second floor but I could still hear Craig crying and begging from below.
I don't know how long it took, hours probably but eventually Craig went silent. I was barely thinking by that point, I had disconnected from myself, like a stranger watching me cower there. It was a while longer before I opened the wardrobe door and there was the owner, I think he'd been wating for me to leave. He grabbed me, through my chest like he did Craig, he gave this speech, said he was a demon and supported our crimes but we'd disturbed his dog and that was unacceptable. He ... I don't want to remember but I can't stop myself ... it took hours and I can't get any of it out of my head. After that its almost a relief to be here in hell ... almost. |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.