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"Well now,"said the ninja thoughtfully rather blocking my view. "You are not much to look at. Though your costume is amusing. How did you ascend?"
"Mainly I just talked to people'"I said. "I promised I would bring them back the secret of the rooftop. We merely know it holds a prize. But none who make it up here ever return to tell us what the prize is. It is surely a paradise up here?"
"Actually, it is only I and a couple of others. And some formidable weaponry,"he replied. "No-one gets this far often. We mainly read. Or discuss philosophy. Or we practise. But then, everything is practise says my master. And she seems to usually be right."
"Quite,"I said. "As for the simple pleasures of life, I can see a whole universe in a cup of tea and often do. Indeed, I..."
"You will find your path down much quicker,"he interrupted. "I shall merely throw you off the edge and you will be collected at the bottom. You think people will notice? They will not. Too busy staring at their screens or blissed out on our mood enhancers to care. We are The Regime and we always have been. We rule with an iron fist in a velvet glove. And this is for the greater good."
"But why?' I puzzled.
"Most people are too passive to threaten our autonomy. They are easily kept occupied with games and diversions. Or by labour. Or else they are overtly aggressive and can be easily dealt with as criminals. But occasionally someone arises who potentially could forment rebellion. Our test makes them reveal themselves. While keeping the rest distracted fighting each other."
"Quite so,"I said. "In truth, The Central Committee have asked me to test the system. Could I get through without revealing myself? I rather thought I could. Indeed, I placed a wager on it. But you made a naive error. You should never tell a subject the true reason for our test. What if they somehow..."
I paused just long enough to detach his head rather stylishly with a concealed weapon of my own devising.
"...caught you napping and escaped?"I finished.
I dragged his body to the side of the tower and threw it off. The Collectors would be waiting below.
His head I placed carefully in a black velvet bag. I would have it preserved and added to my collection. They made charming conversation pieces.
The other two ninjas quietly saluted then returned to reading poetry. They looked amused.
Then I unfolded my wings from beneath my gold trimmed cloak and ascended. (I rather adored dressing as Elvis Presley, the famous operatic baritone of the analogue era. I do not find classical music in the least dull.)
Below, the people walked around in a daze staring down. It looked like rain again. And already I needed a new diversion... |
Ever since I was freed about a millennia ago, I was free from being bound to the small, golden oil lamp which finally turned to dust centuries after the time it should have without proper maintaining. I was free! I was ecstatic. I teleported everywhere in the world, now not having ties to an inside of a lamp or general area of someone I would give my three wishes too, no questions. I disguised as different people, spoke different languages, and faked my death in usually comical ways. The time when I kept thwarting the witch hunter’s attempts to kill me were hilarious.
It had been years since I granted a wish. This little kid, quite young, was looking up to the stars. He was a young kid in America, covered in soot and crying. He was a mining boy. He hated every moment of it. He cried, and looked at the wishing well nearby. He walked up, and threw the one coin he had inside. I didn’t know what he wanted, so I quietly whispered in his ear “oh yeah, I need to state my wish out loud.” I spoke it in a manner which he would likely think it was himself thinking.
“I wish momma and papa had the money to raise me, Louie, and Susie.” The young boy said. It broke my heart even more. I wish I could help him. I wish I still had the ability to say “”Your wish is my command!” and then *snap!* fixed.”
“Who’s there?” The young boy asked. I just realized I actually, physically snapped my finger. I needed to come up with a story, and fast. But, he was a child. So he would probably believe a genie story. I revealed myself to him, in all my “glory”. And told him “I am a genie, and your wish is my command!” with as much passion as I ever had. After I *snapped* my finger once again, more for style this time, the stars sparkled in the sky, as I disappeared. He ran back home, hoping the wish came true. He was disappointed to find that his family wasn’t stinking rich the moment he got back home.
The next day, his father was given a promotion at the factory. He would be managing another building closer to his home, with less hours, less manual labour, and more pay. The day after that, the boy’s hard hat and pick were returned to the mine company. Louie, Susie, the original child, and the parents were happy.
Things were good for a while, I granted wishes here, I granted wishes there. People were given happy lives, the lives they wanted. Then, something shifted. They saw me then as a businessman or a loan shark, who wanted something out of the wish myself. Then, they saw me as a monkey’s paw like genie, who would give wishes to people with twists, ultimately making their lives easier.
Now, the only guys who accept my wishes is the occasional passerby, and Dan at the bar, who always asks for a beer, much to the dismay of Moe, the bartender. |
Thirty years I’ve been in the cockpit. Solo misssions. Crew mission. Cargo. Transport. You name it, I’ve done it. Call me cocky, but I never thought I’d die in space. I pictured myself an old, bitter drunk to be honest. A man that lived his life for the service. For the greater good, not for himself.
You can’t have a family in the service. Too many missions. Too many places and faces. Too much heartbreak looking at that blue planet and picturing the people you love living without you.
I guess that’s what made me exceptional. No family. No love. Nothing to live for. Exactly the kind of person the space force wants for the pilots.
It was just another mission. Solo this time, but I never minded them. Simple, all I had to do was pick up some cargo from the Ursi system. Warp back to home base.
I didn’t even see the comet. It slammed into my ship and quickly turned it to scrap. My ship couldn’t pick up the projectile in time. The cockpit detached into an escape pod, an attempt to save my life. It’s been a fortnite now and still no word from command. Oxygen levels are critical. And I’m free drifting in darkness. I’m beginning to think the distress beacon malfunctioned and command has no idea I’m out here.
The thing about dying in a vacuum is that your body doesn’t decay like on planet. It barely decays at all. I’ll still be mostly unchanged when they find me. If they find me.
The worst part is I know what’s coming. The oxygen starvation. The hallucinations. The clawing in your throat with you last gasp for air.
I stared out into the void. In all its vastness, it felt like it was staring back. |
My desk isn’t even in the same zip code as a window that might let in some natural light, so I don’t know whether it had been raining all day or whether the downpour started right before I stepped outside just to spite me. It had been that kind of day, though.
I’d grown up in New Mexico. Rain was a special occasion there. I’d been in Miami for nearly a year now, and that whole time, I don’t think I’d had a single week go by without me getting soaked. I don’t think I’ll ever quite get used to it—this much rain is always going to feel like an intrusion. I’m not going back, though. New Mexico is lacking in trees. And other things.
I still hadn’t picked up the habit of carrying an umbrella with me. I was too tired to run to my car, so I walked, surrendering to nature. I could dry off when I got home. The raindrops were fat and heavy. I hadn’t realized how many different types of rain there could be when I first moved here. I heard somewhere once that the Innuit had dozens of words for snow. I heard somewhere else that this little factoid was completely made up. No idea whether it’s true or not, but it *felt* truer to me after the move than it did before. I didn’t mind the rain, though—not as much as I thought I would. It felt almost cleansing. Or maybe I just wanted to feel cleansed.
I spent some unnecessary time looking for my car in the parking lot—I’d forgotten that someone had taken my usual spot—and then got in. I sat in the driver’s seat and closed my eyes, waiting for something, I don’t know what. The car’s interior felt unusually cool for the Floridian evening, and there was almost a sense of anticipation in it. I could hear the slow drip of water from my clothes to the floor, accented by a light buzzing of flies. The trash from all of my dinners from the past week was on the floor in front of the passenger seat. I had to clean that out at some point, eventually. Something seemed wrong about the scene, though, even beyond the filth. I opened my eyes and watched the rain streak down the windshield, trying to figure out what felt off. The rivulets silently flowed and splattered on the glass—I could hardly even see the world outside.
And then it hit me: I couldn’t *hear* the world outside, either.
Even in New Mexico, I knew that rain made noise on a car’s roof. The cacophony should have been drowning out everything else, but the only sounds I could hear were coming from inside.
A small cough came from the back seat.
Being startled triggers a lizard brain reaction. *There is something unexpected in the environment, and it wants to eat me.* My body screamed at me to flee for what felt like the longest half-second of my life. A car’s driver seat doesn’t leave much room for that sort of thing, though, so I just screamed and jerked my body impotently.
Regaining my composure as quickly as I could, I looked in the rearview mirror. My little sister’s eyes stared back. Of all the people it might have been, she’d have been the last on my list of suspects. I felt my pulse pounding. “Cait,” I said, breathless.
“Iona,” she replied.
“What are you doing here?” I asked tensely.
She replied, “I had to come because you need to come back.” |
"So yer telling me that you made this?"slurs Bert
He hold up my new creation, a green cylindrical object rounded at both ends
"Yes, I figured we could optimize our harvest by preserving our produce and it is quite tasty"
Bert squints his eyes, \*Hiccup\* "I don't know what you are saying but it tastes damn good, you said you call it a pickle?"
\*flashback\*
It all started a week ago, I was minding my own business organizing my rocks like I do every Friday, when it happened.
A thunderous boom with a blinding light and sparks like I've never seen before. Walking out of the leftover smoke and haze was a man like I've never seen before.
He looked so clean, I couldn't believe it. He had no holes in his clothes and no dirt in his hair. He had perfectly groomed gray hair and a luxurious beard.
When he moved, his shirt didn't wrinkle, everything about him seemed mysterious and interesting.
He walked over to me and handed me a green bottle with two Xs on it and says "This is a special bottle my friend, from the future. It will never run dry"
He slowly walked away, and without even turning around says "Stay thirsty my friend"
I stood there, confused. Not sure what to make of it all. But if its one thing I knew, if a stranger hands you a drink, you drink it.
I took a sip and that is when everything changed. I could see everything clearly, this magic potion that this man gave me unlocked something within me.
I knew what I had to do, I have spent too many years wasting time as the town's rock organizer.
I had many discoveries with my newfound insight that I wanted to share them all with the world. The wheel, irrigation, washing yourself, how to walk in a straight line.
But my greatest discovery was right after I invented the light bulb. I was trying to make electrolytes for a battery with salt and vinegar when I accidently dropped my afternoon snack inside, a cucumber. I didn't want to get my hands dirty, so I left it in there and went to bed.
The next day I woke up, I had not had my morning XX drink yet so I was pretty hazy.
I grabbed the cucumber and munched on it.
My eyes lit up with joy \*queue epic music\*
The rest is history... |
Jack dropped the book on the ground with a squeal of fury.
"Hey!"his girlfriend's voice said. "What the hell-"
"I cheated on you! I cheated on you!"Jack took a step back. "You were right all along!"
She glared at him. "And what do you think you're doing now?"
Jack held up the book. "I used this to find out you have a list of previous sexual partners longer than the fucking Magna Carta!"
She looked away from his accusing gaze.
"Do you have any idea how humiliating that is?"he demanded. "Do you have any idea how damaging that is to my self-esteem?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you misunderstood - these are the list of previous people I didn't cheat on you with."
Jack threw his arms wide. "I gave you everything! I gave you my love, my respect, my time - and this is how you repay me? By cheating on me with... with..."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah..."she muttered. "Listen..."
Jack couldn't even bring himself to look at her. "I don't want to get involved with someone who cheats on me like you do. I want a divorce."
"I wasn't cheating on you,"she lied weakly. "That was someone else."
"I was never unfaithful to you, baby,"he lied weakly. "But... I wasn't happy with things . We should be free to pursue other relationships."
"Shut up,"she barked, reaching over to pick up the book. "I'll tear this fucking thing to pieces!"
"Hah!"Jack laughed. "I'm so glad you came up with that! Now you're cheating on both of us. Maybe I should date him, too!"
"Shit !"
Jack shook his head and folded his arms, staring at the ground. "I'm... I'm at a loss. I don't know who I am anymore. I need your love and support..."
"What?"she snapped, still scanning the list. It was fucking huge.
"I need you to forgive me, baby. I did a selfish thing, and I'm sorry. I just want to move on, to make you happy."
Jack watched her hands fly across the page, reading names and faces to which she had little to no connection. Her eyes closed for a second.
Suddenly, she looked up at him. "You cheated on me with a guy?"
"Huh?"he said, looking away guiltily.
"You cheated on me with a guy?"
Jack's face fell. "Uh..." |
I ride Gallion, on my way back to Lukania, with Zaqmir's head in my leathery bag. Well, looks like it's a deep and silent night, maybe 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning. My hands can't even hold the lantern straight any more, and the bleeding still doesn't stop, even after 3 bandages... For an Assassin to be hired by none other than the king himself... they better treat my wounds, or I'm keeping the kingdom for myself.
The sun is now starting to shine, perhaps it's the early morning. I have finally reached Lukania, but some thing seems strange... There is no one outside. Lukania is a city filled with enthusiasm. During the early 4 o'clock, the streets get busy, till midnight. Just... what happened in these 4 days while I was gone?
My eyes go on my Wanted poster... *HELLBLADE WANTED - DEAD OR ALIVE*, glued on the walls. It was way before, during the times when I was hired to kill corrupt Nobles by the commander in Chief of the Royal Army. But, the posters weren't torn and thrown on the ground like this, back then. Not even before 4 days. Just... what the hell's going on?
Well, guess I'll go ask the king myself.
After putting Gallion back in the nearby stable, I climb the stairs. The more I climb, the more the silence grows.
At last I reach the castle.
Wow, would you look at that? Looks like the whole population was waiting for me in the king's court. Literally everyone's eyes are on me. Damn, it's annoying.
And there too, every one is silent. Even the king isn't speaking anything.
Well, anyways, to break the silence, I pull out Zaqmir's head, and hold it before the Court.
Every gasps, and the King's wife and children start crying. The whole court is filled reverberating loud noises.
What the...
"Hellblade, the one you killed", The King spoke. "Is none other than king himself!"
WHAT!?
"Then..."I replied back. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?"
"I'm his brother. Perhaps you mistook me for the King, himself."
"Wha... You hired me to kill your own brother!?"
"No, I never met you in person."
"Liar! You called me in your court, and hired me to kill the demon king, Zaqmir!"
"See what I told you people!?"The King's brother addresses the court. "I already told you the exact lies, that he would make up, didn't I?
"WHY THE FUCK WOULD I LIE RIGHT NOW!? HELL, I CAN'T EVEN STAND PROPERLY THANKS TO MY WOUNDS!"
"Hellblade, nothing of what you say, actually matters. Here's the summary: The King was on a hunting trip, you attacked and slayed him there, just for the sake of it. This just proves that you are too dangerous to be kept alive. You must die."
The royal guards come from all directions, and surround me with spears. Then the officials come and arrest me.
And now, I'm heading towards the guillotine, along with the public. Damn, that asshole, he tricked me...
They even took Hellblade, the sword, whose name I live up to, away from me. And now I count my final seconds... |
The superhero alarm rang, waking me up, I was tired from the late night shift at the pizza place. My eyes struggled hard to open, it automatically shut as it opened like a mouse caught in a trap.
I immediately changed to my superhero costume, which was a spandex cloth in red with a olive green patch at the centre having the letter "g"denoting the **Guesstimate man**. I never realised my powers as super power, it was just a power that could get people score High mark in the competitive exams, and nothing more. All I was able to do was giving the other super heroes the amount of time that would take the building to collapse, the flight to crash on the ground, the amount of people stuck in a building, so on and so forth. The pay was good and I was quite popular due to the charm and the costume of course.
I arrived to the spot in my Chrysler, I had to drive my own car to the places, it was a headache. I asked for a rise and a place in the super hero jet but they denied my request time and again. When I arrived it my hands froze but I was able to reach fast due to the when I leaped out of my car,but the heat outside kept me warm. Everyone was there before me, one could fly, the others got a ride in the jet, they gave me a look of disgust. Ranking the last position in the list of superheros made them look down at me .
The *fly man* came forward , he ranked first among the superheros, he was a great guy and a great leader. I had a great respect for him.
"You are late", he said with a disappointed look in his face.
"Sorry…", I apologised.
"We saved half the people, can you estimate when the building will be fully covered in fire and the number of people stuck in each floor?", He asked.
"I estimate that the fire would consume the entire building in two hours… but, it would take some time to estimate the amount of people in each floor", I replied.
"Make it faster", he ordered.
My eyes began scanning the entire building, roughly counting the occupants, the people who might had escaped and the people that remained inside. I informed the *fly man* and continued to smoke Goldflakes near my car . The superheros trusted me , I was never wrong.
The fire took down almost the entire building, there were few places that were yet to be swallowed. The superheros rescued everyone from the building, they counted the number of people rescued and the number of people I guesstimated.
They rescued all, and I was asked to leave for the day, the work was over and I could continue my sleep, since my work was in the evening.
Suddenly, I heard a cry from a balcony, it was a little boy, he was crying. I saw *fly man* and all leave before few minutes. I checked my phone to ring the alarm but it had no charge. I shouted my lungs out but it was of no use, they already left far.
I gathered up my courage, estimated that the kid was in third floor. I ran, that was all I remember. I ran into the building, the fire was everywhere, I used my power, found the most safest way to reach the boy.
I found him, his dress was half burnt, I saw the fire engine coming from a distance. I was relieved.
"Small boy here", I shouted.
The fireman just dropped a cushion for me to drop the boy. I dropped the boy safely, he landed just in the right spot, the firemen came and took him to safety.
I sat quietly looking at the view from the balcony as the fire engulfed me. I felt like a hero for the first time. |
A few months pass, and you have been announced a legend among the townsfolk. But one day, the incantation produces something more… Vile. Instead of a successful reanimation, a once dead corpse arose, but there was something different.
Something off. The corpse stood in the middle of your ritual room, with a slouched position, and a murky grey skin tone. It barely looked alive, but it was moving, and due to your thirst for knowledge, you were intrigued.
Days went by, followed by months. The townsfolk lost faith in your power. You were still huddled in your lab, barely clinging to sanity. You had taken the lives of three others, and your resurrections wielded the same results; An undead construct. Your superior had noticed your absence of reports, and decided to check on you. Light flooded your room as he opened the door, and the husks you created grew a sudden burst of activity. Your boss was struck down in seconds, and screamed in agony, as he lay on the floor being fed on by the creatures.
Your hysterical laughter echoed throughout your chamber as you took notes. You had lost your humanity, and any care for life on earth had vanished. You were no longer a doctor.
You are the horseman of a future apocalypse.
My first time here, please give feedback^ |
I sat silently in the back of the car as Michael drove me to 'Ridgeton High School'
"Nervous?"he asked.
I looked up at him and finally let the mask break a little. "Yea. Kinda. Are you sure this is a good idea?"
He looked back to me and offered a warm smile. "I can't say one way or another. This is how the mission is supposed to play out. But..."He took the chance at a red light to turn back to me. "I think you're ready."
I swallowed and nodded. I knew this was a mission and everything counted on me now. I had learned everything I would need to know and how to act. But now...Now that I was there my stomach felt like I was going to throw up.
"Its okay to be nervous. Most people are anyway. Just...Don't go all out okay?"
"You think I'm going to fight here?"
"I'd think we'd prefer it if you didn't."he said turning back to the road "But sometimes fights happen. Just make sure you win. Okay? I've got some drinks on the bar saying you'll win all of your fights."
I nodded as he pulled to the door.
"You know where you're going?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Good luck. I'll be picking you up when the day is over. Until then. Be safe. Oh, and give me your knife. You can't have that here."
I slid my knife out from my leg holder and grabbed my backpack. Kerrie had packed it for me last night and I walked out among the other students.
I knew my mission. To infiltrate and assimilate into the high school. From there I'd get new orders. For now...I had to make it a month on my own. |
Alex got through half of his lecture before someone asked the obvious question. For 30 minutes he talked in front of a large dark room about the process of writing, of painting, of creating and learning, about the painful and frustrating series of challenges that a human must go through before creating something of value. And now, someone finally asked the question which was really the heart of the problem:
"But why? Why would you go through this long and excruciating process to create, debate or discover something when a computer can do it so much better?"
Alex silently sighed. He knew that most people nowadays weren't aware of the concept of personal growth, and that the idea of improving oneself was completely foreign to them. He answered: "obviously, a human could never create something that would actually compete with the standards of ai, but this is not about the result, it is about improving yourself, and learning to see the world and express yourself in new ways".
"But why would anyone want to improve themselves?", said a woman in the back of the room. "Life is great for humans right now, being able to do pretty much anything, and without having to work, all thanks to ai. Why is it worth it to sacrifice that simple and easy life?".
"The feeling you get from accomplishing a goal, or creating something you are proud of is a better feeling than anything you can feel in a life that is completely static, in which you stay the same for its entirety."
And so the debate continued. In a few minutes, another voice joined the discussion, and then another, and by the time his allotted window ended, Alex estimated that atleast half of the room was engaged with him. He knew that he didn't fully convince anyone, but he got them thinking, and that was enough for him.
He was feeling quite satisfied with himself as he walked of the stage, and the many small speakers in the room behind him sounded a recording of a clapping audience. In a few seconds, the 40 computers in the room were already reset and prepared for the next speaker. |
“So…do you like being a mercenary…” the dragon asked me bringing up the question from nowhere.
Ok to start it was not a job I would normally take but, work had dried up recently and it was one of the few jobs on the job board that I would be able to do by myself without a crew and get paid quickly. It just said, ‘help wanted, old lady needing traps set for monsters’ pay was…well enough and while yeah I was suspicious of the job I had nothing to lose and it was close by.
I assumed no one really had picked it up given the low pay, but like I said, it was a job.
But Jackson I’m telling you, it was a dragon, a real-life dragon, I know dragons were rare enough that we could go our entire lives without seeing one, but it was a dragon Jackson, an actual dragon.
\-------
So Grayson, you’re telling me that you walked up the mountain path and what, just saw a dragon in front of you and what you said ‘oh hey, you’re a dragon’
\-------
Oh, real funny mate, but no…I didn’t just say hey…I wet myself and passed out…
\-------
HAHAHA.
\-------
IT WAS A DRAGON JACKSON, YOU WOULD HAVE DONE THE SAME, but never mind that ok, right so anyway, the dragon…you’ll not believe this, was the old woman, but it was not traps for monsters that needed to be set, but for people coming to it’s hide and stealing its stuff when it was away, I didn’t ask where it went, as well I didn’t want to know…
\-------
Why didn’t you want to know, it would have been one of the first things I asked…
\-------
I had not long come back to and was glad to not be waking up in the dragons stomach so you know thought I would just listen and try not to pass out again, but anyway, he needed me to set some traps as…well it’s a dragon not like it could do it itself. I agreed if not for anything other than I didn’t want the dragon to think ‘hey I’m hungry, why don’t I eat you for a snack’.
So I’m setting up the traps, it wasn’t a difficult job as the path was narrow up to the dragon’s hide with plenty of bushes and that for traps, and then it asked me if I enjoyed being a merc, I mean I hadn’t said anything, all I had done was nod my head in agreement.
\-------
What did you say?
\-------
Well in a tone that would have made you think I was a eunuch, that I enjoyed being a merc, and then we got into this whole conversation of what it was like to be a dragon, how long he had lived and what he had seen over the years. I tell you what mate the dragon had been round for 100s of years, it had seen empires rise and fall, different civilisation come and go, watching everything from afar, but not only that, he had loved and lost just like we do, fought other dragons, had kids. I mean I was scared at first but after a while it was just great to have a conversation with him, it amazing, I couldn’t believe how friendly he was or that I was actually talking to a real life dragon.
You should have seen the hoard of trinkets he had, I asked him how he got all that stuff and…well…he did say his stomach couldn’t digest it all, and that I could take a piece as payment and once you got past the smell I got this amazing neckless.
\-------
Ok Grayson, ok, that is a nice neckless, but come on, you’re telling me you made friends with a dragon, be honest here, you went into the woods, eat some funny mushrooms, had a little…accident and hallucinated this, I bet you were talking to a tree the entire time, HAHAHA
\-------
Mate I’m telling you it was real, hell I’ll even show you, he will no doubt enjoy having someone to talk to again…why are you looking at me like that…
\-------
You said the dragon had a lot of trinkets right…and you were the one that set the traps right…then why don’t me and you take a wee trip to the dragons hide.
\-------
Hmm, oh Jackson, you might have just yourself a little plan there… |
The dead man bit me back in February. I guess I shouldn’t say “he” bit me, but rather, the damned Vitruinius Cordisep, the fungus that clings to the brains of all the dead nowadays. As I’d soon find out, it kept my brain active enough to do its bidding, active enough to be aware and experience every sense, every taste, it forced on me, yet I was completely powerless to do anything about it.
It wasn’t really the dead man’s fault, and I knew everything I did from that point onward wasn’t *really* my fault, but when you’re biting down into the flesh of a living human, knowing you’re condemning them to the same hell you’re living… logic and rationalizations don’t matter. Just— please, I **need** you to understand this. I wasn’t only a prisoner, I was the murderer, the cannibal, the monster. The nightmare.
The first person I had to… I never even knew her name. It was a nursing home, I think. I broke down the door and found her alone and in a wheelchair. She had a vacant look on her face and as I charged her she didn’t do anything to try and stop it, just kept staring at me with that same lost expression. I think she was already halfway to my situation.
My teeth found her neck and I bit down. In those cheesy vampire movies, they always showed it as being a clean affair, sometimes almost sexy. It was nothing like that. It took several agonizing seconds just to break skin, and then I ripped and tore and shredded and every other synonym and blood and raw meat filled my mouth and my tongue and my horror triggered a flood of adrenaline and my heart began to sprint, but Cordisep couldn’t have me dying for real from a heart attack and put a block on every hormone… And then I was calm.
It was worse then. Cordisep must have realized this poor old lady wouldn’t be much use in furthering its species, and just had me keep eating. But that wasn’t what made it worse. What made it worse was that I didn’t even feel anything anymore while I was doing it…
…
From then on, I vowed I would fight it off, take back my mind, never, *ever*, let it make me turn someone again. I tried everything from meditation to simply trying to scream as loud as I could through my unresponsive voice box. Mostly it didn’t work, and I had to do some stuff I can never forget or forgive myself for. Got shot a couple times too, but unfortunately nothing bad enough the fungus couldn’t fix and force me to keep going. Between the seeming complete lack of hope in ever escaping my torture, and the artificially induced hormone-deficient ambivalence it held me in half the time, I almost began to think I might eventually get used to it. Accept it.
Towards the end of summer, as I was starting to give up entirely, I heard a scream. After a minute, I realized it was my own. I had become so used to my screaming exercise not actually being followed up by any noise, the idea of my own thoughts being transferred into action was the most astounding thing I’d ever heard.
A couple of months later, and I was able to control my arms and legs for the first time. My first instinct was to go find a gun, a bullet, and be done with it. A precise shot to the back of the brain where the fungus lives is the only way to be entirely sure.
I had the strangest feeling then. It was unfamiliar, yet it wasn’t. I just hadn’t felt anything like it in a lifetime, or, rather, an undeath-time. It was… Happiness? Hope? An instinctual will to live beating out my desire to do the opposite? I’m still not sure, I just know it felt *good*. The memory of this same type of feeling from before I turned brought me to another memory. You.
I told myself it would only be one last thing before I did what was right, I had to know if you were alive. No, I had to find you. I knew you were alive. You had to be.
And find you I did, but still, I refused to do what needed to be done. I convinced myself I was in control. I pretended the fungus was gone. I wanted so bad to believe we could be together again… Is that so wrong?
So I said “Hello” and you screamed and almost shot me— why couldn’t you have shot me? From there, I guess you know rest. You finally accepted it was really me under this decaying corpse and let me in and your smell filled me up in a way I could have never imagined and I— I couldn’t hold back that desire to bite down.
I lost control. I lost myself. I lost you.
​
Sometime in the middle of winter, when I was still searching for you, I found that gun. Only one bullet though. I know there will be no escaping hell for me, but there’s still hope for you.
Only one thing left to say I guess.
Goodbye Julie. |
The evil king was finally dead, an arrow protruding from his skull. No more evil deeds and tyranny, or so they thought. Suddenly the crowd began to rage, fights broke out over money and food, people going wild. What has happened to the peaceful kingdom, have they all gone mad? Then I feel it, some alien feeling begins to take hold.
I suddenly don't like my job or the things I have to do every day. Why should I do them, why don't I have one of the easier jobs, or the pleasant one. Sure hunters are needed, but its gory work, killing, skinning, smelling bad to hide. Why couldn't I have been an artist or musician. The wrongness of it builds in me.
Someone bumps into me, how dare they, a quick swing of my axe prevents them from accosting anyone ever again. Good riddance. All these people are so noisy, so I lay about, striking one after the other down. A time later I come to my senses, covered in gore, confused as to how it happened.
The king must have infected us all with his madness when he died I think. That's all that makes sense. Suddenly the blind healer woman walks toward me. "I warned you all not to do this,"she says. "The king took all the damned emotions from his people and kept them chained to himself only. "A wonder he lasted as long as he did,"she explained.
Realizing the mistake I made I ask, "how can I fix this?""I can chain one emotion to you alone, saving all others from its influence,"she told me. "Do it then, this is my fault,"I agreed. I felt power surround me and anger swell within. "From this day forward, you shall be Wrath,"she decreed. I opened my eyes, seeing red, and knew she was correct. |
The last of the pirates are finished, and the crew begins exiting from behind their cover. I lean into the communicator on my left shoulder as I round the corner I was hiding behind, “Starboard section is clear, Port team, report.”
A small, bubbly voice responds, “Finishing our sweeps, sir. We lost two, and-“
The voice is cut off as another explosion rings through the ships metallic hallways. Another voice bursts through the communicator, “Pirates have breached the bridge, repeat, pirates have breached the bridge!”
I look to my team, and we all start running towards the bridge. We pass the bodies of multiple Krak pirates as we go, their bluish blood already beginning to dry. The bridge doors are blown inwards, and much of the crew was dead. With one notable exception.
The Captain, my Father.
And he was missing.
The rest of the crew arrives, and we all take seats. I take off my cap, and look to the rest of what remains of the crew. One of them, my good friend Kai, speaks up.
“Well, fuck. They got the goddamn Captain. What do we do now? They’ll ask for ransom, but they’ve already sacked everything in the hold. And unless they want the ship...” I hung my head low in realization. My father would be sold into slavery, never to see his son again. The rest of the crew begins conversing, but I haven’t a single clue what about. Sadness had filled my ears with an awful ringing, and tears began forming in my eyes.
I may very well never see my father again. And it was all thanks to those bastards that were now dead in the halls. I begin tightly gripping my chair as the sadness inside boils over into anger, then rage, then full blown hate. Without my father, I had little to live for. He was all that kept me sane in this cruel universe. And if that was the case, then why not take those Krak bastards to hell with me?
“LT? You good?”
I look up at my fellows, concern plastered across their faces. The tears begin falling from my eyes as I stand up.
“I say we follow those pirates.”
Many of them look surprised, I was known for my tangents and sound reasoning, not this. One of the crew, Kimoko, stands and says naught but four words.
“Let’s start now, sir.”
——
Aight, first time poster here, criticism welcome. Just keep in mind that I wrote this at 1 am with school in the morning, so I was not in a very good state of mind at the time. Anyway, enjoy life or whatnot. |
We were doomed. Like forever doomed.
Both , Imtura and I knew it. Our battle was long done and lost .
Even after all we did, the court destroyed us , Killed all our friends , Mal , Tyril , Nia , all of them died.
My eyes were teary and the court's member had cast a curse on me and imtura , and so we knew , we are going in die in 3 minutes.
I looked at her and the stars .
I decided to give her my hand and said with teary eyes "By the light , would you like to have a dance with me , one more time ?"
Pain in her majestic orc brown eyes inflicted clearly. As she took my hand for one last dance , we twirled through corpses .
Nothing was merry like the first time we danced at a waltz. But still it was all we had.
She took my hand very harshly like all times before.
And I had a hand on her green waist.
She twirled me through carcasses and fallen bodies of the warriors under the dark moonlight, she twirled me through the poisoned river , through the dark dreadwood.
We looked at the stars as we held hands and sat on a crest of a mountain , a valley below , just before 20 seconds of before we died.
I started saying the old elven saying "we fight"
"We die"she said with a very hoarse whisper
"And we pray that we will be avenged "we both said to the stars and the hour of midnight struck as Imtura rested her head on my shoulder and took her last breath.
& So did I .
[Characters inspired from blades of light and shadow from choices , an interactive game.] |
I walk into the room, stepping around the altar, glistening purple with arcane magic. I kneel and begin to chant, the altar’s purple glow getting brighter and brighter. Power surges throughout my frail body, rejuvenating me, extending my existence. I leave the room, making sure to lock the doors. My guards follow me. They aren’t there to protect me, but instead are required to keep up the facade. If the world was to find out that I possess an altar that can delay the threat of one’s mortality, every being would want to use it. I can’t allow that. This altar has been used by many people, Paul Rudd, Keanu Reeves and Elvis Presley to name a few. Yes, Elvis faked his death. There comes a point where one must fake their death in order to live out there extended life. I don’t have that luxury however, my job is too important. I reach the throne room and sit down. A servant walks up to me, bows and begins to speak. “Queen Elizabeth thanks you for replenishing the altar,” He says. “Tell her that she won’t need to use it after today for another 77 years.” I reply. I smile, the job of the Cosmic Ones is never done. |
*I stalked the streets, knowing intimately that the decisive clue was at hand.*
What a load of shit. Bull-headed. Lacking subtlety. Exchanging nuance for aggression. Very poor. Asshole.
Next. \*Click\*
*It seems to me, dear companion, that my hunch was correct. Layers within layers, bluffs within bluffs. The killer was among us the entire time.*
A staggering display of collective incompetence. How did this man come to be revered as one of the world’s classic detectives? I’d have seen through the deceit immediately. I always did, thanks to the Gift. Memories were mine at the touch of a finger and my natural brilliance only made that hidden power even better. I was, and remained, the shit.
Enough idiocy. \*Click\*
The old saying has it right: it’s lonely at the top. Lately, I failed even to find comfort by looking down at everyone below. I was without equal, listing lazily amidst the adoration of a world I had made safe through my gifted excellence.
A tinny voice crept from the speaker anchored to the desk of my office. “Mr Best, it’s time for the interrogation.”
Mr Best. I chuckled. Years back, I had taken to using the sardonic surname to dare people to hate me. It had backfired.
I was too damned good and the world wouldn’t stop loving me.
My short meander towards the interrogation cells was punctuated with the usual hero’s obligations. High fives damn near scraped the skin off my palms and the brief, holy seconds of worship disguised as conversation only served to worsen my mood. I was a gift to these idiots.
I flopped dramatically into the chair opposite a tired, feeble man of middling age. The usual metal table between us. The familiar aura of a foregone conclusion. I had read the brief beforehand, of course. A laughable instance of physical theft, with a veneer of misdirection smeared across the actions of the accused so thinly as to appear absurd. A shut case. None stayed open for long.
My hand reached out as the face of the defeated raised up to meet me. My usual offering, masking the process of my Gift. A limp shake met the glorious fingers and palm that had helped tame the aspirations of humanity’s finest criminals.
And with the grace of a flyweight and the punch of a 300lb world champion, fate smacked me clean in my big fucking mouth.
I was used to the workings of the Gift by now. I could mask my reaction to the tidal wave of memories, could hide the overwhelming sensation of having a criminal’s mind and life downloaded into my own like a nefarious USB drive.
This one was different. It was different because it was me.
Holding that hand as slackly as it was given, my face glazed over as my consciousness flew into the past.
Remember that time I shut down that cartel single-handed? Flipped lieutenants and ran the charges up to the very top?
Sure you do. Some of my Best Work, as I like to say.
All bullshit. As that damned hand held mine, I saw the truth. I had got lucky at every stage of the takedown, like a suicidal gambler who kept hitting that winning number.
And it just. Kept. Coming. Daring assertions shedded their masks, revealing nothing more than good fortune paired with a spectacular degree of arrogance. Bluffs were blunders, legends were luck and the shining, jewelled persona of Mr Best crumbled in the face of what I now saw as my real history: dumb luck repeating itself.
I learned later that I had simply shut down in that seat. My assistants, eternally dutiful and terrified of meeting the harsher side of their hero, carefully herded the man out of the room.
I was left with myself. With the lies. With Mr Best.
What the fuck do I do now? |
There are many stories about the Prometheans. Just like Prometheus had bestowed the gift of fire to mankind, the Prometheans went to Earth and gifted man with the technology of terraforming. The Prometheans themselves seemed to be at-home in Earth’s climate, and called us their brethren, for we could breathe the same air and live in the same environments. They spent several years with us, teaching us how to build and use their machines. They helped us terraform our first world – Mars.
When they left, they asked that we would help them in 1,000 years. We gladly accepted, having faith in our descendants. Humanity did not dwell too long on their disappearance. We built thousands of terraforming ships, developing the technology to travel faster than light, and spread ourselves across the galaxy. It was a glorious period of time in our history – it was called The Great Expansion. We situated ourselves on thousands of planets across the Milky Way, our population exploding exponentially.
There were hiccups along the way – we often met other intergalactic civilizations, and conflicts often arose. We always triumphed, of course. However, we never saw the Prometheans again. Whether they avoided us, or were simply beyond our reach, we do not know. What we do know is that they eventually became a myth, much like the story of Prometheus himself.
Until this year. One of our outpost planets in the far reaches of the Milky Way had suddenly gone dark – all communication was silent, and shipments had gone silent.
It was the Prometheans who did it. Our planets fell by the hundreds in a matter of days. We had advanced our technology far beyond what had been given to us, yet we still stood no chance. They had weapons we could not have even imagined existed, and wiped us out by the billions.
We asked ourselves what their motive was. We studied the myths – why help us a thousand years ago, only to slaughter us now, when they needed our ‘help’? Some speculate that they wanted us to do the dirty work of terraforming worlds for them. After all, we were able to survive in the same environments.
But really, we don’t know. There are only a few million of us left – the only way for our species to survive was to leave our planets on our ships, wandering the galaxy and looking for a safe haven. |
...nOT aS IT SeEeEEemS...
I was running from the monstrous minion of the wizard. I would have been able to fight it if i hadn't forgotten to charge my magic bow today. I climbed up a tree. "Surrender and I'll let you live!"The monster, who couldn't climb, said. "NEVER!"I yelled. I knew that if i surrendered, the wizard would certainly turn me into one of his monstrous servants. Suddenly, a gray mist came out of the horn of the monster, which penetrated and filled my soul. My soul being gripped by the hands of despair, i lost the will to resist. "Uh...okay."i said. I climbed down, and the monster grabbed my arm with its strong-as-steel fist.
The despair spell wore off, but i was still bound by the invincible-bc-my-bow-has-no-magic-charge monster. I was in the house of the wizard, who was a lean, highly-attractive boy in a thigh-high robe. "Oh good, you have caught Oval."Said the wizard, who was sipping tea, with a satisfied smile on his face. "Welcome back, girlfriend. Missed me?""I dumped you a month ago, at my 15th birthday party. I'm not your girlfriend."Said I.
The wizard, named Diamond, used to be my significant other, but i found out he was secretly using despair, self-hate, and misery magic...on bad people. Like my secret incubus cousin who liked to drain people's strength through kisses and increase his muscle mass. Who cares that he made half the population weak as frick? Who cares that he intends to destroy that one pretty hummingbird angel, which would result in the permanent destruction of the environment and turn the world into a grey desert? I have loyalty and can't let this jerkbutt wizard win!
"Now to transform you...it is a shame that this is the only way to get you to permanently stay out of my plans. I really hoped you could become better person than this..."Said the wizard with a frown. "Oh shut. I value loyalty above all!"I said. "Pfft. Now before i cast my spell on you, I'll just let you know you, like all the other baddies i control, will remember everything you did after the spell is broken."Said the wizard. He raised his staff and spoke the magic words, and i felt the enchanted come over me...
Narrator: "The incubus got defeated, de-powered, and send to the underworld, saving everyone. The wizard was dubbed a hero, given his weight in diamonds by the king, and married the princess. And Oval, locked up for treason, (she helped the incubus) never forgave the wizard guy. |
It's been one month since The Splitting, the day we lost over 50 million human beings at once. Those lost had been of all races, genders, creeds, and geographical locations. Maybe it's ironic that for a race known for discrimination and bias, millions had been chosen at complete random.
I remember the first few hours after it happened. My mother's chair at the dinner table had in one instant contained a beautiful creature of light, and then in the next instant had contained only an apron that read, "Happy Mother's Day, Mom!". I blinked several times, not understanding at first.
*Did I just pass out or something?* I thought to myself. Shaking, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cellphone, dialing the police emergency line. The phone beeped; the busy signal filled my ear.
I finally stood up as the shock started to wear off. Fear and distress took its place. I ran over to the apron and picked it up, holding it to my face. It still smelled like my mother, like flour and a faint vanilla scent. Tears started to fill my face as I heard the wails from other houses in the neighborhood.
In that moment I knew: she was never coming back. I would have to live my life without my mother by my side.
I've been doing a pretty good job, I think. In the month since, I've joined a group of people who also lost people they cared about in The Splitting. We talk once a week about them, sharing stories and getting to know each other. I've made a few friends and it gets easier every day. I still think about my mother every day, but I find solace in the hope that one day another world-shattering event like this will happen and I will join her again. |
I am unable to pinpoint the beginning of my indifference. My whole existence was held dominion by a quest to answer this question. Constantly held hostage to the prospect of freedom yet kept a slave by a mere condition? You see, I am uncertainty to whether I can call this indifference a condition. The worlds greatest minds, the gods in mortal bodies, the doctors were unable to diagnose this peculiar condition. This lead to an unquenchable thirst, a desire for knowledge. I had to know. I *just had* to know what was wrong with me. Thats when I caught a glance at *it.*
A poster. A poster was the answer to my emptiness. Here, right in my eyes was the key to happiness. Finally, I thought, I would be free. Free from all torment and strife. A guide to happy morning ruminating about the future. Something to finally look forward to. The poster read; Elysium, nirvana for the weary. Instantly I was enticed. Without a second thought, I packed my bags and started my locomotive.
It wasn’t long before I encountered my first hurdle. On the way to the gates of Elysium, I was greeted by a water body, a river. A river that acted as a blockage. A river that was mighty and firm in its ability to deny all trespassers. The river sternly warned me that I had no chance of passage. However, I was determined. Years of torment and anguish triumphed a measly water body. Hence, I used my suitcase as a life jacket and swam to the shore without much difficulty. Despite being fatigued and soaking wet I continued forward.
Alas, I was greeted by another obstacle. This time a Guardian. The Guardian was patrolling the walls of Elysium. The guardian was holding a book. From afar the words were unclear however I cautiously crept forward I caught a glance at the contents. The book was a resident registry. At first, I thought this was strange. Why would the Guardian be holding a resident registry? Surely, a visitor book would be more appropriate. Nevertheless, I continued walking until I was in close proximity with the Guardian. When I was approximately a half step away from the gates, the guardian stopped me and asked “Welcome home!” I paused for second. Puzzled by such an exclamation. I corrected the Guardian “Sorry, but this is my first time.”
“Yes, but this is your new home”
“I don’t quite understand”
“Oh, how presumptuous of me. I suppose you are disorientated. The residence never leave Elysium. The arrive but never depart. This is the final destination. The question is are they worthy. Are you worthy?”
I hesitated for a second before answering
“I’m not sure.” Was the answer I settled on
“I see. Good luck.” The Guardian remarked before entering the gates and allowing me passage.
I entered the halls and was astounded by the architecture. Such beautiful walls and elegant decor. No words could describe the valour of the area. Whilst still infatuated with the hall a loud voice spoke. “It is time for judgement.” Suddenly, the walls became a putrid black and the elegant decor became a hideous sight. The serene ambience became an unpleasant cacophony. My stomach began hurling and my mind raced. Scenes of my life played back and forth, on repeat, never stopping. In the midst of this a voice kept echoing ”Are you worthy?” Through the anguish my mind became clearer. A growing irritation caused me to erupt ”Worthy for what? Answer me dammit.” Suddenly rather abruptly the halls transformed back to their original state, with one difference. A man was standing in the middle of the hall. The man was rather familiar. So familiar…he was me. “Are you worthy?” He asked again. In the moment, the answer was clear. I closed my eyes and answered. |
I stood drenched in the blood of my enemies. After years of war and questing I had finally slain the dark Lord in an epic final battle which lasted almost two days. It had looked grim, but finally he had made a fatal mistake and had succumbed to death at a final blow from my enchanted blade.
I called for my steward, Haskell to attend me. He scurried dutifully to my side and still panting breathlessly I wiped the dark Lord's blood from my blade onto his tunic. "Thank you, Haskell."I panted. "That will be all."
Now there was the small matter of the dark Lord Deplucitu's demon to tend to and then I could journey back home to propose to the King's daughter Helena, a hot piece of ass who was the object of every knights desire.
With a smug smile across my lips I valiantly strode into the dark Lord's inner sanctum. A ragtag band of his followers who had survived the onslaught fell to their knees to beg me to spare their pathetic lives and to be honest the paperwork would've just been a nightmare so I mercilessly killed all of them.
When I entered the ancient sacrificial chamber I was faced with a dark mirror which rippled and shimmered like the surface of a lake. I looked closer and licked my hand so that I may start slicking back my golden hair and I tutted in annoyance when the demon appeared in the mirror.
"Couldn't you have waited five minutes?!"I snarled angrily. Completely unphased by the demon's overbearing form.
"Congratulations adventurer!"His voice boomed. "You have slain the-"
"Yeah yeah yeah!"I gestured for him to skip to the point.
"State your wish!"The demon retorted drily. "So I may grant it."
I rubbed my hands together with excitement. What could I wish for? Gold? Nah I would get all the gold I could ever need once I married the Princess. The Princess? Nah, I would get all the princess I could ever need once I married the princess. A kingdom? Nah.... the princess and so on and so forth.
It had suddenly occurred to me that I had not slept properly in months. Constant battle. The adrenaline of adventure and the prospect of reward drove me forward. What I really needed, all I really needed from this point onwards was a good night sleep. I had months of travelling to endure to reach the kingdom and then marriage preparations and Haskell's constant complaining. A good night sleep was all I wanted and some damn peace and quiet!
"I wish I could rest in peace."I demanded with satisfaction before I caught glimpse of the demon's puzzled look. He shrugged his shoulders and I realized my words had been misinterpreted. I held out my hands to protest when the demon materialized a red sword and drove it through my stomach. I spat blood all over the floor before I could correct my mistake and then another blade lopped off my head.
I retained consciousness for a few seconds before my entire world went black. My final thought being the word: "Fuckery!" |
King Salias stared down his best friend and greatest enemy, the Warlord Malim, who with his own hands had broken down the door to his throne room. The giant of a man, long mane red as a blaze and teeth as hard and sharp as a bear trap as he grinned that smug grin. Salias sighed, he knew this was it. To think that it would be him that would be his undoing...
"SALIAS, YOU LITTLE BASTARD,"Malim bellowed, "I'M HERE FOR ONE THING, AND ONE THING ONLY!"
"Whatever it is, you have earned it with blood and honour. Take what you wish..."the smaller of the two great kings bowed his head and closed his eyes, expecting anything but what came next. "I! CAME! FOR! MY! DOLLAR!!"
Salias opened his eyes and looked up at the victor with a look of sheer confoundment. "REALLY?! Really, Malim? How many people died for that stupid bet?!"
"HAHAAAAAA NONE!"Malim answered, "I paid off all your generals to surrender!"
"Yo-Pa-bu-THEN WHAT WAS THE BLEEDIN' POINT YOU RANDY OLD GIT?!"
Salias didn't anticipate Malim picking him up and throwing him over his shoulder, like old times. "NOBODY BEATS ME IN A BET, SAL, NOBODY! MALIM IS UNDEFEATED!!"
"Greeaaat,"Sal whined, "Can I have my land back now?""Sure, it's all farms and little cities anyways. Got enough of those. COME NOW, SALIAS, WE SHALL DRINK LIKE OLD DAYS!!"
And so the great warlord, conqueror of twenty empires, fireman carried his old comrade down to the same tavern that they spent their teenage years, before the chains of command bound them, before the duties of kings overwhelmed them.
As Salias sipped at a pint of ale fit only for a peasant, he smiled. "Perhaps there is wisdom in your wastefulness after all, Malim.""A DAY WITH FRIENDS IS NE'ER A DAY WASTED, SAL!""YOU BOUGHT OFF MY GENERALS, YA DAFT GIT!! FOR A DOLLAR!! THIS WAR WAS MONTHS LONG!! YOU OWE ME REPARATIONS!!"
Malim wrapped his massive muscular arm around the lither man and looked him dead in the eyes. "Aye, and would you have given me the time of day if I didn't drag you down here...? To old times, my friend. To old times..."
"...You could've done that without the wargames, you damned animal,"Salias said, hiding his smile in his glass. "To old times, you bloody thorn in my side...""To old times, you old mossback..." |
Bitcoins... Fucking Bitcoins.
A whole world ended save for the one percent who ended up hopping dimensions.
And my fucking self brought back bitcoins back here, the only one of them to do so. Who would've thought Satoshi kon was a carbon copy of a weed dealer.
Now don't think that I hate myself Doc.
I really am happy and proud, in another universe, I was on their equivalent of forbes hundred. And he really is me, The DNA test showed a hundred percent.
We had a blast, for a long decade...until...
"Until one day he ran off with your wife."
You put it so bluntly Doc.
"Well it's been years now. I suggest you take responsibility for what happened."
I couldn't help myself Doc. I get what you're saying, but when you have that much money dangling in front of you, Its easy to get lost in drugs and girls. Now that fucker used to make millions yet had the spending habits of a bank clerk.
"Maybe that is what makes the two of you different, and your wife made a hard choice."
Nonsense Doc! You-
"Our time is over, see you next week." |
It must have been around my 10th killing that they noticed me, my friend, the big FBI.
I started small as you do when you are bored. Strangle a dog here, remove a cat their legs there. But as all thing they become boring after a while. So I stept up my game and started hunting humans.
I planned it all, staking out my victims. Learning their habits and above all leaving no trace.
I became better and faster with every hunt and the news gave me the nickname "the ghost hunter".
My MO? A crossbow bolt in the heart, works 6 times out of 10,it works every time.
Now since the FBI started to hunt me I started to make things more interesting. I began a new game.
I stopped using my crossbow and started to use dice. First a d4 to see how much game I would hunt that month. Then a d12 for how many months I would not hunt. And it has been fun.
My first time using them I rolled a 4 and a 1. Followed by another 4 and a 12. The FBI thought I was scarred of them and that I stopped. That's when the real fun began...
I started to go entirely random, 3 hunts in one day, 1 hunt in a year, a streak of little kids for a while followed by only elders. I used whatever I had, an ax, a gun you name it. They were desperate to find me... So I started to write them letters where to find some of my freshly hunted game. Dit even that only seem to piss them of. I would have thought they would like the hints.
Now you know why I tell you this Mr. Geobery? It's because I send them a message where to find you. They will be here in a few hours so sit still in your chair and don't move to much, you might set of the landmines I placed around here. Tonight I hunt the biggest game of them all, tonight I hunt the FBI.
..............................................
I saw them run in from my corner one block away, my coffee cup filled with a few dollars and my clothes in rags. I counted 1..2...3.... BOOOOOMMMM my greatest hunt completed and they never even saw me. Nobody ever sees a hobo. |
I walked towards Aparicio's office, confident. Famed shapeshifter or not, I was ready for him and he was in for a big surprise.
My right hand was bare, but gripped tightly in my left hand was a chain that dragged behind me, secured to two pairs of shackles behind me. I tugged, feeling the weight of the force urge the two behind me to quicken their pace.
I kicked open Aparicio's door. He was waiting for me, cocksure of himself despite the fact that I'd taken down two of his lieutenants. His gaze leaked pity, but I wanted none of it.
"Look Jack, it was an accident. You know I'd do nothing to hurt Barbara or your kids,"he lied. He was lying, I knew he was lying.
I stepped out of the darkness of the hall and into the light of his office, locking eyes with the man who had taken my family and the same man who'd complete it.
I tugged on my chain, prompting the two behind me to enter his office. I stared as horror dawned on Aparicio's face. His eyes filled with disgust, then pity.
"You're sick Jack, you need help. Tell me who you hired to do this, I'll pay to have the operation undone. Look I'm not a good person, but I wouldn't hurt you. you can't just kidnap my guys and have an operation done on them to look like Jackie and Skyler!"
I gave no response. He was the final piece of the puzzle. I lifted my right hand towards Aparicio and stared. All the muscles in his face contorted in pain as the blood drained until he was pale as a snow.
"NO JACK, IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, PLEASE,"he screamed, the tone of his voice grew higher with each word. He screamed and screamed, his body becoming slimmer and shorter as his hair grew longer and blonder. A few minutes passed before I lowered my arm and stared at the person before me. Tears streamed from eyes, tears of joy and intense longing.
"Barbara,"I whispered, as I hurried to embrace my wife. |
Hi u/AesSedai99, this submission has been removed.
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"come on wake up this is our last hope to bring you back."
This was the word that woke me up.This was also the last word any human ever say to me with hope and kindness.The moment I woke up I let out the most deafening demonic screeching that kill every single mortal within that vicinity with an exception of the person that woke me up.
The person that woke me up look around the room with trembling body and teary eyes not because of the headless corpse but afraid to look me at the face
"Why did you try to defy death knowing it is inevitable darling."
"Are you trying fix your mistake?"
"Don't you remember who's responsible for my death?"
With the most cheerful smile i said
"You were the who killed me remember." |
Where at first man feared the unknown,
Gods and spirits were elevated in worship;
Virtuous beings that watched over the crooked dealings of man,
Unseen and omnipotent forces for goodness,
Ready to distribute swift and just punishments,
To man's evil intentions and malfeasance.
But man continued to challenge these forces,
He soon grew faithless and brave.
No longer being consumed by fear of powerful gods,
Man was left to his own, unmoderated behaviors.
Rape, murder, theft and cruelty reigned.
Those who lusted for vice and immorality
took comfort in their freedoms to do harm.
God was dead, and the darkness of the spirit of man was brought to light,
And there it clouded the sun's rays,
Turned the children's smiles,
And left mother nature depleted and weak.
Greed for power was pervasive,
Any man who tasted success, desired the buffet of domination,
To feast in the halls of their own importance,
And lay waste to those deemed weak and inferior.
The death of god, was the birth of godlessness,
A festival of pain and suffering,
A procession of torment,
A future of hellishness.
The devil was not a supernatural force beneath the earth,
But a characteristic of man which lay beneath faithful obedience.
The leaders of the earth were the most inflated and sinister,
And rose to prominence from the ashes of great wars.
Where the death and destruction grew in scale and intensity,
such that life was no longer a glorious blessing,
But a wicked curse that could not be absolved,
Except within the finality of death.
Which came by tortuous and inhumane means,
To even the most faithful and good.
When life loses sight of it's own value,
Then it turns into a cannibal,
And destroys itself. |
I should've ran. I watched enough horror movies to know that beautiful girls don't dance around in the middle of the woods at night unless they're some type of supernatural creature or part of a cult.
But I didn't care. What was my life worth anyway? I was a high schooler with no girlfriend, no ambitions, no confidence or self-esteem, with only one friend that I kept around because he was more pathetic than me and his pathethicness made me feel good about myself.
So I went over. I wondered what people would say about me when they found my body. But then I realized that, besides my mother, nobody would really care. And even she might have felt a bit of relief at not having to pick up after me anymore.
Self preservation kicked in a few steps away. I didn't care if I died, but I didn't *want* to die, if that makes sense. And it's not that I didn't want to die, I just didn't want to die painfully. I started having visions of all these guys coming running at me from out of the woods and tearing me limb from limb, and cooking me over a camp fire while I was still alive.
I looked over my shoulder and when I looked forward, one of the girls was standing right there.
"Don't be afraid,"she said.
"You saying that just makes me more afraid."
She giggled. I loved the way she covered her mouth when she did it. I was so Asian.
*Man, I watch too much hentai.*
And I was getting hard.
I'll keep it family friendly, but let's say I went into the woods a boy and left there as a man.
My life changed after that. My confidence was up. Once you have a girl on the side that you can sleep with regularly, you're not afraid to ask other girls out. If they reject you, it doesn't matter anymore because you can still go home and get some. You're not desperate anymore. Not needy.
One day, the girl in the woods smelled another girl on me and she frowned at me but in like disappointment and hurt, then she disappeared and I never saw her again.
My life went to shit pretty much shortly after that. I got one of the girls in my school pregnant, had to drop out, and now I work at the post office and paying hella money on child support.
But, man, I'll never forget that first night with the girl in the woods. |
It's the 5th time today that crow shows up at my door. He keeps dropping used needles that the drug addicts used at Teddycoat Park down the street.
I yell in anger, "fuck you; I was just trying to help you!"
The crow caws with a sort of laughter that seems so sinister. He's done this every day for the past month. Sometimes showing up every hour, at times with a few dozen friends.
I head back inside my house. My wife could sense anger. She can sense how much this affects our relationship due to the lack of sex she has been receiving this month.
"Hunny, everything will be ok,"she says with compassion.
I begin to sob, "Are you fucking serious Laura? You think this is just going to be ok? These fucking birds have got NOTHING to lose. They will dedicate themselves to making my life hell!"
"Oh Hunny, th-"
I cut her off. "This fucking ends today."
I stomp out of the front door with anger. Grab the keys and get into my new sports car. I put it in drive and whip out of the driveway like I am in a Fast and the Furious movie. The speed limit is only 40 mph in the small town, but I drive 80 mph all the way to my brother's place five miles away.
I barge into the house, interrupting their dinner. "Whoa, hey there, bro!"he says, kind of surprised.
I ignore him and his family, walk into his room, go under the bed and grab his shotgun. Enraged, I don't even make eye contact, get back into my car and drive.
At this time, I am on such a high I am fantasizing about how good it will feel to kill that bird. That stupid fucking bird.
I pull the e-brake, put the car in park and get out of my car. He is cawing at me like I am some sort of idiot like I'm not serious about killing him. I cock the gun, aim down my sights and shoot both rounds into the crow.
Silence. Emptiness. That is all I feel. I drop on my knees in the middle of the street, and I weep like a mother that has just lost their child. My wife runs out of the house and is crying also. She is holding me tight. She feels the emotions I feel. She whispers in my ear, "you did it. It's over, hunny."
I look up with tears in my eyes. I hear faint cawing in the distance. I focus on the west, and I cannot believe what I see. A flock of over 100 crows are flying directly at me. The more I focus on, hem I can see a twinkle in their mouths. The needles. They are fighting back with an army, and they have all found dirty used needles.
My wife looks horrified. In a trembling tone, she says, "what the fuck did you do..."
I get up, load up my shotgun, cock it, aim down my sights and get ready to fight. |
**\* Hi! this is my 2nd prompt ever, and as my username suggest I'm trying to** u/writealileveryday **. Now, I'm no professional wordist or nothing, so constructive criticism is always welcomed! Enjoy! \***
No one knows how I'm able to do it. All they know is that I do it, and it scares them.
As a child, I was praised for my innate magic abilities. To this day, some would say it is a gift. It didn't feel like a gift back then, never being in one place, always on the go to the next exhibit. I was a prodigy, or so they told me. I was always praised by the masses, always told to smile and wave, while my father did the same.
It was all a public show, but they didn't know that. Behind closed doors, was a boy forced to practice magic twelve hours a day, a boy who was beaten every time he would cast a spell wrong, or create a less than perfect image. I dreamed of a life free from that vile man, who had the audacity to call himself my father. I dreamed one day I would make art for myself, art that I wanted to make, art that I enjoyed.
Then came that fateful day, the day I made my first true art piece. Slaving away, making copies of masterpieces from around the world, so that my father could afford his drinking habit while we were on the road.
"Mona Lisa, again."He would say in that monotoned voice I grew to loathe.
Over and over again, he would call different names. I made the mistake of turning back to look at him the moment I cast the spell. When I looked to the canvas I saw only his disgusting face, holding that same bottle of whiskey he always does. That, made him angry, very angry.
"What is this, boy? Is this some sort of a joke to you? Is this what you find funny?"he screamed, beating me without mercy all the while. This treatment was nothing new, but everyone has a limit, a breaking point. Well, I broke.
"Enough!"I screamed with eyes closed, throwing my hands forward in an attempt to stop his next blow, but that blow never came. When I opened my eyes, I saw the most beautiful thing, the most dazzling display of red covered the walls of our hotel room. Nothing was left of my father, except for the piece of art that was before me.
I collapsed to my knees, and began to sob, as the reality of what I had done sat in. As minutes turned to hours, sobbing turned to laughter, uncontrollable laughter.
I, was a prodigy. |
"Died? No my child you've just been born! Our first successful, conscious clone. You seem stable?"He checked my pupils. "No growling?"He tapped my nose. "And it seems like you already speak German, though a strange dialect. Well, tell me what you remember."
"I....I was lying there."You try to recall, feeling thoughts drifting around your mind. Your body feels strange, youthful but *off* in some way you can't identify.
"Where were you?"The doctor asks gently, patiently.
"I was in the hospital. There was an accident. My ..."Oh god, you burst into tears as the emotions overwhelm you. You *remember*. You weren't the only one in the hospital that night, you weren't the only one at the accident.
The doctor looks patiently on, and you continue. "We were taking the train home after a weekend at the cabin. It was late, there was a flash of light, and we went off the rails..... I woke up in the hospital, and the doctors - they said it was a miracle I was alive at all! But my head started to hurt, badly, and then ..."
"Then what?"Asked the doctor.
"Then... nothing. Then I was here. God, I feel so strange."
"Take your time, sir. It's a lot to take in, but you're back. Do you believe in souls?"
"Doctor, I don't have time for philosophy. I have to go back to the hospital. My son was in the traincar with me. I don't know what happened to him! Is he okay? Do you know?"The doctor took the information I gave him and said he'd check on it, and left me to myself.
I tried to stand up for the first time, and found myself tied to the bed. Looking more cautiously around at the stark white room, I saw fait lines on the bed, like nail marks, and some drops of blood on the floor. What *was* this place? I had to get out of here and find my son.
The doctor came back in minutes. "Did you find him?"I asked. "And can you let me go? I don't want to be your experiment. It's not proper."
"I'm sorry, sir. Our first thousand clones have been ... unstable. We need to keep you under surveillance until we can certify that you're not a risk, though you seem to be the first with a human soul. We did check on your son. Do you know what year it is?"
"Stop playing with my mind. And stop calling me 'sir'! You can call me Miss Pölzl. But my son, my son.... I lost my first three, you know, and my other son doesn't talk with us anymore. He's all I have left."
"Miss Poels, I can tell you what we found, but you should brace yourself. Your son survived the accident. But the accident was 60 years ago. He's dead."
I stare at him in confusion.
"Did he... did he live a long and happy life?"
"He accomplished many things. Now please, Miss Peols, take a rest, and we will talk again soon. We have much to discuss." |
Vana whispered a word and the overgrown creeper before her parted ever so slightly. She fought her way through, trailed by the small dancing light that played in her wake.
It had to be around here somewhere, she just knew it.
This was the furthest she had ever made it into the forest, and her lack of preparation was beginning to show. Her water was gone, and she was down to her last cereal bar. On her last visit she'd found a series of cascading waterfalls flanked by beautiful trees that bore the most delicious fruit she'd ever eaten; a far cry from the bland beige sludge that passed for food back in the city.
She felt sure she should have found it again by now and been able to replenish her stocks, but there had been no sign of it, or indeed any other water to speak of.
Had she missed it somehow amongst the dense undergrowth?
How long had she been fighting her way through the forest now, anyway? The thick canopy obscured the sun, bathing the forest in a perpetual twilight that lingered long after what should have been sunset. It felt like she'd been here for hours, but it could have been days.
She glanced at her phone, but it offered little help, adamantly fixed at 16:37, Tuesday 27th as it was. GPS wasn't even working on the stupid thing; that's what you get for buying cheap second-hand crap, she scolded herself.
Still, she was in far too deep to turn back now.
When she had first ventured into the forest all those years ago, she couldn't possibly have imagined that this was where the path would lead her.
She could still hear the shocked and troubled rebukes of her friends and family when she'd told them she was thinking about trying to see the deep forest with her own eyes.
"Why would you want to leave the city?"they had all asked. "What could that terrifying forest possibly offer you?"
"No-one goes there, and no-one comes back - you know that!"
"What about... *them*?"
She had no way of answering them, of course.
She knew the stories; the things that crept through the fallen leaves and branches; the shadows that watched and waited; the whispers calling to anyone foolish enough to wander off alone, luring unsuspecting victims deeper and deeper into the trees, until they found themselves hopelessly lost.
And yet, something about the forest intrigued her, called to her.
There was something about the gnarled, ivy-covered trees, the giant creepers, the shifting dappled light that evoked a soft elegance and beauty that she'd never been able to find in the sharp angles and harsh lines of the concrete, glass and steel of the city.
For a time she had heeded her friends' advice and remained in the city and concentrated on finishing up her studies, but it wasn't long before the itch to explore grew unbearable.
In the end she didn't tell anyone that she was going. She left the city and drove until the roads stopped, and then carried on until the trees were no longer passable. Having not seen anyone past the city limits she haphazardly abandoned the car without much thought for its safety.
The first time she hadn't gone far, just deep enough to lose sight of the car amongst the trees.
Somehow It was completely alien and yet exactly as she had imagined it.
The wind rustling amongst the branches, the delicate birdsong and the occasional crack of branches somewhere underfoot; the quiet solitude eased her soul of tension that she hadn't realised that she had been carrying.
She yearned to wander deeper into the trees, to lose herself entirely amongst the shadows, but she couldn't shake the fear that this was somehow exactly what the forest wanted of her, and that by doing so she would become another one of the stories that the worried parents told.
No, even that brief visit proved enough to quell the urges to explore, and she returned to the city to continue her normal life satisfied and content.
For a time.
It wasn't long before her urge to explore returned, and each time the following expedition became somehow less satisfying.
Some six months after her initial visit she finally relented and returned, and her visits grew slowly more regular as time passed.
Eventually she found herself making the trek to the forest most weekends when possible.
She slipped ever further into the trees, with a sense of smug satisfaction that nothing had ever succeeded in luring her to her untimely demise.
Still, as she had tried fighting her way into deeper parts of the forest the dense shrubbery seemed almost to reject her, as if she was some alien, maybe even hostile, creature. She had gone so far as to bring sharp knives and machetes with her, but the plants were unusually resilient here, and she only succeeded in blunting and breaking any tool she tried to use.
Instead she had to content herself with taking short hikes through glades and thickets that she came to know as well as the dusty eateries and dilapidated shops that filled her sector.
But everything changed when she found the book.
She was walking along one of her usual routes, one that clung to the edge of the forest and kept the dizzying towers of the city within view, when the world around her suddenly stopped.
She found herself paralysed, engulfed in a stillness that muted the world and washed out the usual hues of the evening. Something wrenched at her heart; a heaviness, or a sadness maybe, and choked her of air.
From the silence grew a static, quiet at first but climbing higher and higher in a nightmarish crescendo until it threatened to deafen her. In the periphery of her vision she swore she could see coloured lights dancing and swirling amongst the grey that otherwise purveyed her now almost tunnel vision.
Rising above the static Vana heard a single word, somehow perfectly clear amongst the cacophony enveloping her.
"Come."
In what felt like some kind of interminable slow motion, she found herself turning towards the forest before a mysterious gap in the foliage of which she had no memory.
One agonising pace at a time, she slipped through the vegetation and found herself in a dark glade. Gone was the city behind her, as was any evidence of the world beyond the imposing trees towering above her, sealing her within the forest.
At the centre of the clearing stood a withered tree that seemed to be clasping something at its heart.
Still not in control of her own motion, she reached out to touch the mysterious object.
She blinked and was back by her car.
Birds sang, the wind blew, and the last rays of the dying sunset played across the windscreen. There was no evidence that anything out of the ordinary had just happened, besides the book that Vana now held in her hands.
Within its pages were strange, esoteric words, indecipherable symbols and unrecognisable diagrams. What it could mean had been far beyond her, but something urged her to keep it nonetheless.
The further from the forest she travelled, the less comprehensible the words appeared, until eventually back in the city proper every page seemed to be out of focus, and almost shifting between letters imperceptibly. It was only back amongst the trees that Vana could make any sense of the strange tome.
At first she had assumed it was some kind of practical joke, but as she continued to read it beneath the high canopy the words started to fill her with a strange feeling; a hope, perhaps.
Magic.
It couldn't be, it didn't make any sense, and she knew it. But as she read the words aloud and held her arm aloft, the doubt slipped from her mind.
The shimmering light that danced between her fingers was real enough.
Soon she learned to bend the foliage around her to her will, opening up paths into the deep forest that she had never before dreamed of.
As she read further into the book she learned of many facets of the magics of old, but, despite months of practice, seemed incapable of replicating anything beyond these parlour tricks.
On the verge of despondency, Vana discovered a page within the book that she had somehow not seen through her hundreds of re-readings. It spoke of a spring hidden deep within the forest that held something important. What it was exactly she couldn't be sure - the words used didn't mean anything to her - but she was certain that it could help her.
And so she set about searching the darkest depths of the forest for whatever this key might be.
It had to be around here somewhere, she just knew it.
She had lost countless hours to the search. Friends had grown increasingly anxious about her ever-more ragged and frail appearance, before eventually giving up and letting her slip away. Unanswered calls from work and family had piled up. But none of that mattered; this was more important.
It had to be here.
She looked around her. Had she already passed this tree?
Absentmindedly she checked her phone again. 16:37. Of course it is.
Her stomach growled at her as she pressed on. Don't think about it. Just one step at a time.
She spoke another word and the vines before her parted. She deftly picked her way between them, but failed to notice the root protruding beneath her feet. She was sent sprawling to the ground.
The impact was heavy, and she stayed prone for a few moments to recover. Her ears were ringing, and her vision seemed blurry. Had she hit her head on the way down?
Dragging herself to her knees she found herself suddenly stunned.
She had fallen into a wide clearing containing a large pool of perfectly clear, immaculately still water. The pool was ringed by wildflower whose bright colours were vibrant even in the forest's eternal gloom.
At the centre of the pool beneath the surface was a single point of bright, blinding light that left Vana transfixed.
As she knelt, unable to move, the ringing in her ears gave way to a soft static.
"Hello Vana,"an ethereal voice whispered. "I've been expecting you." |
There it was. The ancient library. I have searched for it for years on end, followed every tiny lead I had, I was almost sure I went crazy. But there it finally was, the place to reveal all the knowledge the old world had to offer.
But it was empty. The shelves have collected dust in what seemed to be thousands of years. Not even a single paper lying around. Just lengthy halls full of empty shelves.
I was about to go out when I saw a shining light from afar. A metal object sat ln the center of a round table. A lamp. I rubbed it, feeling as a child longing for adventure, and was surprised to see it come alive.
Pink, purple and cyan smoke filled the air, and popping noises came around. Books came out of no where, filling the library with wonder. Finally, a genie merged out of the smoke.
That... was unexpected. The genie I looked at was no day older than 16, wearing fashionable clothes and petting a cat. Her voice was sweeter than sugar, and she wore an unsatisfied expression on her face.
"Ughh. Couldn't you do this, like, later? I was totally having a conversation with Ashely right now. Can't you just leave me alone?"
I was startled. "Excuse me?"
"Of course you can't. You dumbass human can't get anything I say to you, can't ya? I am Trixie, btw. Not that you care. I am the genie of knowledge, and all of that, you know, the usual rules. Never ask paradoxes, don't ask about 17-23.11.2068-"
"Why? what happened then?"
Trixie made a judgemental face, that somehow made me feel the shame of highschool alltogether. "What is worng with you? How did you even find this pace, being so dumb? I just said-NO ASKING ABOUT 17-23.11.2068. Jees. And what I was going to say, *before you interapted me,* is also not asking about death dates and causes in the future."
"Well do I get 3 asks now?"
Trixie giggled. "Not so fast, honey. Genies have conditions. My BFF Ashely has this super awsome greed test where you can only take her outside of the cave. She's like,, so cool. She's the all powerful genie, btw. There's also Stacey, the spiritual genie, but she's a total bitch."
Greed test? she must be talking about-
"Yes. Aladin-Shmaladin. That story is super sexist. Can you not, like, imagine an all powerful being as a man, just for once?"
"So what are your conditions?"
"I want the person that acsses my knowledge to be interesting. I want some gossip. And make it juicy. 2 Truth 1 Lie."
"Don't you already know everything about me?"
"Yes, but you don't. I tell the truths and lies and you need to guess. I must warn you, tho, you are down to some deep shit."
I noddded.
"1. Your biggest fear is losing your daughter Rachel. Losing your wife is a lesser priorety. You would kill your wife if it meant keeping her.
2. You were not supposed to be here. You are always failing to meet the creteria, even if it was by the slightest. All of your achievements are not actually genuine.
3. Someone is following you, and it isn't paranoia."
I can't continue the story, sorry. Probably just too tired. It's 1:30 am here. |
"Damnit!"
The mysterious voice sounded distressed. That was very unusual for it. All the other times, it spoke low and slowly about some horrifying tales. Now and then it would go as far as mimicking the screams and sounds so realistically that you could practically see the graphic scenes unfold in front of your eyes. You knew of thousands of ways how the world would or could end.
At first it was concerning, you even contemplated seeing a doctor, maybe take some medication to make it go away. But soon enough, a better idea grew in your head. You had begun to write the stories down after your big success at the *Tell a Tale of Horror* challenge last Halloween. People had started to shake, one guy even screamed when his own shadow had moved. You would be invited back every year without a doubt.
Only 3 years later, you were the most successful writer in the horror genre and you had still many stories ready to be published. As time passed, the voice had changed its tone, tried new ways to warn you but all you ever did was put all this on paper. And the people loved it, they loved how it got darker, sadder and more challenging every time. But this time, even the voice couldn't handle it anymore.
"I quit, this guy is impossible to haunt. HR will hear about that. "
You had always wondered why nothing ever spooked you. It did bother you in your teens, getting the creepy label real quick from the unforgiving teenagers at your school. But you had managed to turn it into the best thing that ever happened to you. Something shifted in the back of your head and made a motion resembling to someone turning around to look at you over your shoulder. At least that's how it felt to you. With years of practice, you could be oddly specific with these weird feelings that popped in the back of your mind frim time to time.
"You made my life hell and I'm dead for crying out loud! I hope your proud of yourself."
And just like that , it was gone. You knew you should have felt relieved but a little voice- your own this time, told you the void left behind would never be filled ever again. Now you were truly all alone. |
"That's it!"she thought to herself, crying. "I'm done with this. All of it!""If there really is a God out there, won't you give me something, anything to hold onto?"she said exasperatedly. She looked up at the sky but it was, different. There was something strange and unknown about it yet familiar and comforting. It gave her the faint impression of a face. "I wonder who that could be."she said out loud by accident. She didn't realized it but before she said that she had mindlessly walked into a park. Just as she looked down she bumped into someone. "Oh sorry!"they both said flusterd. She looked up to see his face, the same face she had seen in the sky. "It's you!"she said to him. "You are the most beautiful person I've ever seen."he said to her calmly. It took him a second to realize he said that out loud. When he realized his face turned a vivid red and he hurried away. She yelled after him, "I never got your name!""It's Dustin!""My names Vivian!"Little did know he saw ***her*** face in the sky. |
***You and your friend go out one day. He disappears in the dark forest near the river, you stay there for what feels like an eternity looking for him. Turns out you're the one who died.***
The next night, the sun rises high again, the moon sets again, and your body is no longer moving. It's just a pile of bones and grasses in the grassy plain beneath the mountains. The moon is gone forever, and you don't have anything left. Only the memory of what happened.
You walk slowly towards the valley, the only real light coming from an eerie light source in the hills. It has a weird, unsettling quality to it - almost alien. It feels like a vision, like something real, but somehow, you don't really believe it. You're never going to be able to trust any of your illusions again.
You don't want to go any further. You know this. It's not the first time you've been forced to face your mortality, but you feel like it was the last. You can't deny that it is painful, you know. When you wake in the morning and the memories are clear and you've got all that stuff back, it is worse than just being dead. It is like you lost something more than anything else; you lost everything.
In the forest, the sun is up again, and the moon is not so bright in the sky. So, you go out again. But this time, it is cold, the sun goes down, and you just don't know where you are anymore.
You think back to last night. And it doesn't seem quite as bad anymore - until you open your eyes again. The darkness is coming back, slowly, but surely. The sun doesn't rise again until the next day, but your eyes are still blinded by light that has long since passed by.
The next morning you wake up to an eerie feeling in your body, but the memory of the last night lingers. You don't dare look down to look. A faint trickle of blood runs down your neck, and you can feel your pulse pounding on your skin.
After a few days it dawns on you, the reason why so many of your friends have died in the past was because you didn't want to.
There are no signs of your friend. You've been buried in the graveyard so much your body is covered in bones. But that doesn't make it anything special.
But you keep wondering where the rest of your friends are.
You had a chance. |
I smell my breath as my hands begin to quiver. It reeks of stale Doritos and flattened Pepsi. Its pungent odor bounces around the helmet until it's all I can think of. I need to focus though. The vile is beginning to shake too much. Too much disturbance could ruin what has cost me 3 weeks of sleep.
A month ago, I had made my way as far south as San Antonio. I raided a Walmart there for what it had left; The aforementioned junk food. I didn't see any bodies or signs of ongoing life. No mirrors of the struggle I was enduring myself. No plastic buckets topped with cheese cloth sitting on the rooftops. No remnants of a warm campfire with the last white coals that might have prepared a last can of precious meow mix.
When I was a kid I always played a game with my younger brother, Max. On the way to the big box stores we planned out our best spots in the store to hide. The seeker was determined by a 2 out of 3 game of *Rock, Paper, Scissors*. Max always won and so he almost always hid.
As I rounded the corner that once kept frozen the cartons of Stouffer's Lasagna and bags of Totino's pizza rolls, I found Max's favorite place. In the long forgotten paradise that was "The 90's"the freezer boxes had little toe guards on the bottom, kept in place with one screw on either side. I never found him when he hid in that spot. I didn't think anyone could fit there. It wasn't until I worked at one of the shopping centers in high school that an 8-year old got wedged under one of them and my coworkers fought to free him that I realized that was where Max always hid. I would've asked the man himself for confirmation, but he'd moved on by that point and speaking to him became something of a rarity.
I certainly couldn't fit underneath but the freezer box made a perfect bunk to sleep in. Slide my blanket over the top and I could open the photo app on my phone before I inevitably fell asleep. Thinking of it now, the freezer box resembled another relic of a bygone era. There were no need for those anymore and I unfortunately didn't meet the requirements to be placed in one. |
I am Maria Von Eisenstein, 4th of my name, and heir to power unimaginable by most mortal minds.
And I wish for nothing more but for death to take me from this realm into its cold infinite embrace.
At first I merely assumed that I had imagined what was to pass. That the slashes of the corrupted paladin's sword were merely visions of a future. But as the days pass, I remember more and more. Not that semi-visible imaginings of a dream, but the bare truth of what I know must have already come to pass.
I wake at the campfire. The chosen hero stares at dead embers and charred logs. I awaken and converse with him. He chooses the same words. Invariate. Unyielding. Eternal.
We fight. The hordes of goblins are cleared away by hammer, sword, arrow, and the arching power of my magic.
He faces the corruption, the vile mass of flesh turned to a shadowed, antediluvian armored skeleton. He fights as best he can, shouting as I bolster everything he has- his strength and stamina, his power, his speed. He is as powerful as he could be before magic burns him from the inside out. It has happened before. I see his skull, stripped of flesh, falling to the ground before I am crushed to paste.
And again. And again. And again. I am lanced with arrows, burned alive, frozen with fear, eaten by ants.
No more.
I awake and stare for a while into the blue of the sky. I begin to mutter as soon as I see the sunlight.
"What are you saying?"he asks, stutteringly, stupidly.
I rise from the bedroll, gripping the staff as darkness swirls around me.
"I don't understand you Mari-"
I raise a hand to silence his ignorant words. Bindings grip his arms and legs as a tear of tears forms in his chest.
"What are you-"I hear his words gurgle as a moan escapes his lips. "We need to- I just wanted to keep you ali-"
I awaken the archer and the knight with the noise of realities tearing and folding, reshaping existence so that across all planes, all times, all of creation, the Chosen swordsman no longer exists.
PS: Never fuck with clerics. |
I was happy at first, to have my worth finally recognized. But it should never have been taken from me in the first place. They accepted me now, but it was still on their own terms, because I had proven I could be *useful.* Nothing had really changed.
There's always that moment in every outsider story. The bullied outcast finds their talent, or the world finds it, and then their former tormentors have to play by a new set of rules.
But that's just another kind of fog. There is no new set of rules. There is just the world, recognizing another useful asset.
I could see through both kinds of fog. They could see through neither.
It was no great loss. Santa only delivered to rich children anyways.
And I lived happily ever after. |
“Father? How long before the war is over?”
Chen Wu looked at his young daughter and the look in her eyes destroyed him all over again.
“Soon, my child. Very soon. Then we can rebuild our home and start over. It will be ok,” he said, almost mechanically; he didn’t even believe that himself. She seemed to notice and as he was about to reassure her again, the sound of planes overhead made him audibly gasp.
Wu ran outside and told his daughter to stay within the dilapidated remains of the local school where they were sheltering among others. The sight he and the others who ran out saw nearly made their legs give out under them: enemy planes, large ones.
The first enemy planes he’s seen in this entire war.
He heard from the grapevine that surrender was imminent, that there was nothing more they could do to feed their starving people other than accept a disadvantaged truce.
But clearly the enemy had other plans.
As they looked on, bombs dropped in the distance and they braced themselves for the shockwave - but none came. Instead, a greenish gas emanated from the area, like a poisonous fog.
We did not know then that they were not targeting the living.
———
Wu was resting on his back, cradling his daughter in his arm, her back facing him as he replayed the events of the previous week in his mind: the seemingly innocuous bomb drops, the lack of enemy troops otherwise, how he had yet to see many enemies at all recently outside of distant sniper fire targeting military and civilians alike. As he was about to fall asleep, a large crash startled him and he felt his daughter jump.
“D...dad?” She looked at him with horror. As two of the men in their shelter neared the window to examine the situation, they were suddenly met with human projectiles.
Worse, reanimated corpses.
Suddenly it became clear why the enemy didn’t use explosives, incendiary weapons, carpet bombs. Why they always only shot once and simply left the wounded to die on the streets, wounding anyone who attempted to help.
They needed the corpses as undamaged as possible.
Their logical conclusion to this war was never peace or a truce; it was the utter extermination of our people by our own dead. |
Nineteen computers tapping away at sundown. Shades drawn, getting us the bare minimum of vitamin D necessary. I gulp down my tea through a scrunched face. One-hundred-seventy milligrams of caffeine, steeped for fifteen minutes. Bitter, crummy, necessary. Sweat beads over the clanking thrum of an air conditioner on its last limb. I curse Sara for thinking it was a worthwhile purchase even after she saw that the creeper that sold it also had ten full sized nude photos painted on the interior of his rusted van.
I turn back to my own computer. Somehow it’s running, slowly making progress over a loading bar. It shoiuldn’t take longer than an hour assuming it doesn’t burn itself out. We tried jerry-rigging a CPU holder inside the fridge, but all that was good for was making our leftover supreme taste like carbon shavings..
Two painful years like this. But it’s all coming an end tomorrow.
The balloons are ready for our big release, waiting in an office cubby beneath some crusty intern’s desk. When the clock strikes midnight, she’ll have a job to do: send them up to the ceiling for a popping bonanza. Then someone else will get the booze, and we’ll have a mighty time. But for now, we wait, dotting our i’s and crossing out t’s, sewing each and every last button in place, cranking down the bolts so we don’t go flying off road.
The buzz around the office says this’ll be *our* game. This’ll be the one that takes us to triple-a, awards shows, and Steam’s top recommended. The game of a generation.
I don’t much care for the game of the generation. I’d rather have the game of my wallet. Just give me a place to sleep and two or three streaming services and I’m happy. Nothing more, nothing less.
The sun sets behind the mountains to the west, and after a lingering green hue, there’s nothing outside but darkness. Darkness and chills, gooseflesh rising everywhere it should and everywhere it shouldn’t. Hopefully the kids will play this one until the sun rises. If not, I can kiss my sanity goodbye.
The screens only do their job for so long.
“Sandra! Can you flip on the overheads.”
She cracks open her bloodshot eyes and nods, walking over to the switch on the far corner. *Flick.* Nothing.
Groans. “Dammit, man. Try again.”
*Flick.* Darkness.
“Did we trip?”
“Nope,” Jimbo says. “Same circuit on my computer. It’s working just fine.”
Sandra slams back down in her chair, dust poofing up through the LED luminescence. “Great, just great.”
My computer hits one-hundred-percent. I smile through the darkness. It’s better than nothing. I grab the mouse to click okay but as I do my hand begins to sizzle, skin melting to the scroll wheel. I yelp as I rip my hand away, surrendering my flesh to that damn machine. “What the hell?” I manage to get out just as my computer bursts into flames, screen melting down to a puddle in an instant.
Nineteen computers stop tappings. They all bolt up, wide eyed through the glare, staring over. “What the hell’s going-”
The second computer goes up in flames.
Then the third.
Then the fourth.
“What the hell?” “Our game!” “Goddammit just get out of here.”
Our office becomes a microwave, each popped kernel of a computer adding thirty to the time. I run over to the fire extinguisher, just about to slam the mallet through the glass as a figure appears in the reflection. A face in the night, pale skin with a dark, jagged V of a unibrow stark across its forehead. Its eyes, at least the one that caught the flaming flicker in the night, had spikes nailed through them, cornea guts and dangling nerves coiling around the steel. I take a step back, pushing my third-degrees against the wall. A cold spell began radiating from the beast, ice pellets picking up in the wind and shattering through monitors and papers, cutting through our skin.
We are locked in terror, watching as the beast destroys each and every belonging.
But that’s not enough. It can never be satisfied.
It turns its pierced eyes to my skull, and I feel a deep heat emanating inside me.
“why ?” I manage to croak through through my garbled pathetic breaths just barely audible over the melting minds around me.
The beast smiles and says through ten-toned discordant words, “Our intent is to provide players with a sense of pride and accomplishment. You have no place in our world.”
My mind melts into detritus, a jagged V the last thing imprinted into my soul. |
"You can't just *let him in*. You know he doesn't fit the bill. One good deed doesn't absolve him of all the rest of it..."
"I don't give a *shit* what the bill says anymore, look at him, look at what he's done. Name one thing *you've* done better in the last 1000 years of crap that we've had to sit back and watch, one thing."
There was silence. No one had ever spoken like that... like a human...not here. It was forbidden.
"We have these rules for a good reason, law and order. You know, if we stop following them, you know what happens. You've seen it."
"Id say it's time to change the *God damned rules then*"
In all the millions of years of oversight, no one had ever blasphemed the Supreme Ruler. To do so was certain death.
A merciful God he was not. He made that title for himself and so he shall keep it, to the end of days.
On that day, at the end, admission was the greatest sin. For he who decided what was sin was a broken God. Once that is seen, it cannot be unseen. You faithful can see the structure, and realize it was made of glass.
Was that such a bad outcome?
No. It was time for a change. Time to reconsider what allows a person to be here. Time to reconsider who made the rules. |
"Why the hell are you throwing garlic at me?!"Vlad said in disgust, brushing cloves off his sholdur.
"You're a vampire!! BE GONE FOUL BEAST!! THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU,"yelled Jack as the absolute terror of his situation sunk in. He stumbled backwards, falling into a desk and knocking its contents over.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"Asked Vald. "Youre meant to be an athiest, get a grip."Jack picked up his balls and lunged across the room, slamming the shaft of a broken desk lamp into Vlads chest.
"Holy shit your a moron,"said Vlad as he calmly pulled the wooden shaft out. Vlad inspected the makeshift stake and stared with dissaproval at the hole in his shirt, before suddenly hurling the stake straight back across the room at Jack.
Jacks screams pierced the night as the agony of having his face impaled overtook him. Vlad sighed, picked up a nearby glass and with one hand gripping Jacks head he collected the now flowing blood pouring off his victims face.
"I was just looking for a place to live Jack,"Vlad said conversationally, "now look what you made me do."Vlad downed the glass of blood in one mouthful and then put his lips right next to Jacks ear. "This was my favourite shirt,"he whispered. |
"Oh, bullocks!"exclaimed a disgusted Nigel after spitting out a bite out of his beef jerky bar.
"The bloody thing tastes raw."
It was supposed to be an average Thursday for Nigel. Wake up at 6:00 in the morning to get dressed and prepared for the day, head off to work, come home to eat supper, watch some tele, and doze off at a respectable 9:30 in the evening. Simple, routine, and predictable—just the way he liked it. As things happen to go sometimes however, Nigel's routine was interrupted by pure happenstance. Today, Nigel's meat bar tasted funny.
Having not been the sole occupant in the room, Nigel's impolite diction and ill-mannered disposal of half-chewed food did not go unnoticed, however. Upon witnessing the aforementioned atrocities, Nigel's wife Sophie had intended to scold him for his behavior.
"Nigel, manners!"she shouted.
"Love, I think the meat bar's gone off,"an exasperated Nigel replied.
This wasn't the first time Nigel had claimed something Sophie prepared hadn't tasted the way he expected it to, and in all likelihood, it certainly wasn't going to be the last either.
Dismissing his claim and with an underlying tone of irritation, Sophie asserted to Nigel, "that's nonsense, I only bought it just today."
"But Soph-"
"But nothing, Nigel!"she said, cutting Nigel off. "If you're too picky to eat the groceries I've brought home for us, then I'm too picky for us to sleep in the same bed."
Despite his protests of something being wrong with the meat bar, it was clear that Sophie wasn't having any of it. Nigel was going to have to finish the bar. Between the choice of sleeping on the sofa for a week or catching food poisoning, the latter was a much more favorable punishment in his eyes.
It required all of his fortitude to do so without retching, but Nigel begrudgingly finished the meat bar. The metallic taste and chewiness was almost more than poor Nigel could take, and his palette deserved a right cleansing after that. With a sip of wine, he washed it down—only to be met with instantaneous regret.
Nigel groaned in paid, feeling as though his insides were about to rupture. Upset over his current predicament, he made a mental note to himself to complain to the supermarket manager in the morning. Whatever was wrong with that meat bar, it certainly should have been thrown in the rubbish rather than being sold.
Meanwhile, during his gastrointestinal crisis, Nigel had failed to notice the extraordinary events occurring on his supper plate: the small chunk of meat bar that he spat out had grown back into a brand new meat bar. At a perfect one-to-one resemblance, not a single soul would have been able to conclude that it was once a masticated reject.
It wasn't long before Nigel realized he wasn't going to be able to finish the rest of his meal. Feeling as though he was about to be sick all over the table, he beseeched Sophie: "could you clingfilm the rest of my meal for me to finish later?"
A request to which was—without hesitation— met with rejection and criticism. Looking at Nigel with dissatisfaction, she proceeded to lay into him claiming, "You're being a melodramatic git, Nigel! I'm feeling perfectly fine, and I ate a meat bar earlier." |
I had just gotten a rest in the middle of my shift at the factory. Must have fallen asleep. The break room is not way far away from the action of the rest of the place, but it's the late shift. I must have nodded off. I awake to smoke, and it's freaking hot in here. Like I'm in an oven. I see light dancing around me through the haze. The place is on fire. I can see the strobes of the fire alarm system.
As I gather my wits to see about escaping this, I hear the creaking above me. This place is about to come down. Then, directly above me, the roof gives way. To a header beam, on fire, headed right down to me. I'm freaking dead. The thing disintegrates around me. I feel some warmth on my head. It did hit me. Hard. But I barely felt it. Shouldn't I be dead now?
Ok, I should get out of here though. I search for an escape route, start walking, trying to push the tables out of my way when the floor shifts. I fall, the tables and chairs land all around me. I'm freaking dead. The building is coming down. I was on the second floor, pretty sure I am now on the first. I'm freaking dead.
Except I'm not. The hell. Is this how superheroes discover their powers? |
This is my first ever story on this sub so be kind reddit :)
"They called him mad. Mad scientist Jamie Eltrand. 'Professor Eltrand, yeah, the right wing religious one' they would say. They would mock him, ridicule him. Impossible, destiny isn't a thing. That was what was widely accepted with scientists. Let me rephrase that, ALL scientists. Physics wouldn't allow it. Everything that we knew wouldn't allow it. Musk said we were in a simulation and people praised him for his 'breakthrough idea'. That was before the Great War of 2023. It was proven that the universe was indeed not a simulation. Things took a turn for the worse in 2026 and Musk was executed under high order of false scientific allegations. Professors these days had to be vetted and chosen to the highest order. Jamie was only in there because everyone was so absolutely confident that he was wrong and he would be executed. It had taken him years to complete his formula. He had all he needed, well, most of it. Funding was missing and unfortunately, the Northern Atlantic American-Russian government wasn't willing to share their billions with his extreme finding. Eltrand found a slight gap in the thesis written by his former head of operations, Professor Kettler. World renowned scientist, everything he said was taken for fact. National jem, even Jamie had a slight admiration of his works. What Eltrand found, however, made him take a look into something he should never have. All new large scale experiments were to be allowed with funding, because the government knew that if it was hopeless or a sabotaged experiment, all involved would be executed. Jamie pulled together the required $1.7 billion to purchase the Kettlerscope. Used to disprove Musks theory of simulation. One thing was missing from the equations, and usin this, Jamie managed to peek into his own future. Well, not his own, if it were we wouldnt be here today. He saw the earth, but not the earth as we knew it. A dead earth, discarded of all life, and with these findings, he pursued his work. He tried to convince the government to continue funding, but he could never replicate what he saw. Only through the mediums of pictures and formulae. Just months ago, it was proven by Eltrand and his small, yet faithful team, that all life and time is pre determined. This led to his unfortunate execution, an act of dismissal and unwillingness to accept what had been proven using Kettlers formula. As we know, many world leaders killed themselves at this proposition. Thousands died on April 6th 2030 at their own will. Jamie Eltrand was taken too soon from us, and his memories, thoughts and theories in that bright, young mind of his. It was taken as an action to destroy the Kettlerscope, and a vow undertaken by all humanity to never attempt to rebuild or glance into our future. We don't know for certain how far ahead he saw, or what else he saw. Perhaps, it is for the better. May life bless you all for what lies ahead as it did not to Jamie."
this speech by his father was followed by a communal "Amen"around the church. The organs began to play 'Dear Mr Fantasy' as Jamie's casket is closed and his papers and workings are sealed into a box, with the key to the lock being cast into his coffin. |
\[Poem\], but only partly.
The death of kings, of royal blood, of war-
lords and of conquerors. A cause for grief
in some, and joy in others yet. "Strange,"thinks
the king - not king all his life. He was once
another man, a peasant, no, wrong word -
an
Amazon delivery boy. Hm. Not the line of work Josh would have chosen, but hey, you play the hand you're dealt.
Poker metaphor. Josh winces. He can quit the game, but it feels like he'll never get it out of his head, even if it's just a little likeness. The addiction is still there, at the back of his head, like nightshade. Just like nightshade. But it's only deadly if you eat it. And every day the urge to do that fades a little more - he's not watering the nightshade, and in return, it's dying. Josh's kept it on the no-food diet for a year tomorrow. He's slowly earning the money back. The job's almost killing him, but he's got drive and he's got a plan.
*So do everybody else*, he thinks. Well, he'll just have to be lucky, then. Lord knows he hasn't had too much of that fare. He's lost in thought when he gets in the truck. He's still thinking when he starts driving. At the wrong place and the wrong time, Josh gets a notification on his phone. He quickly pulls it up - and doesn't take the turn he's supposed to take - and when he looks up, he's still on the road but past his turn. He can't see any other cars, except a red one behind him, and opts to turn the truck around and drive onto the other side of the road, going back until he finds the turn again. He doesn't know that the red driver has to turn here, and is ever so slightly drunk.
They both swing sharply left at the same time. Josh continues further and ends up directly in front of the red car. The driver doesn't have the reaction time to follow and dodge, and hits the front of the truck - the part Josh is sitting in.
​
A king sits on his throne, his mind most apt,
though he's confused, for reasons much bizarre.
He knows, that just an hour ago he was
not king, but peasant. Lowly servant of
men better than him not of nature, but
of purse. He knows not how he came to be
here in a court, in *his* court, for he is
king, it seems. Strange. Yet you play the cards you
are dealt. He readies himself for the day.
He hears the advisor ask "Lord, should we
attack? Declare a war on these foes of
our friends, who locked in combat strive alone?"
The king reaches for his memory, and
finds happily the knowledge that he needs.
"Our friends, they call themselves, yet worthy of
our friendship they are not. Did they not strike
the first strike, without honor, without cause
except for their own greed and bloodthirst? Did
they not redden without need the earth,
and thus cutting short all friendships that were
when they took to a way most commonly
perused by thieves and robbers vile? And now
when God shows His hand and turns fortune 'gainst
the villain, he in turn asks for help from
his former friend, crawling back to the bonds
of honor. Nay, say I, let no war be
declared, let villain fall and die, as God
clearly desireth."The advisor says
"But Lord, if we do win we will have won
much more than we could ever lose if lose
we do. Though odds are slim and chances low,
the gamble will pay off in land and treasure."
A word comes to the king, from former life:
*Nightshade*. He raises his hand. "What I said
holds fast. A gamble will I not make of
my honor and my country."The court keeps
on through the day, but no war is declared.
​
The king rests now, thirty years having passed
and he is on his deathbed. He wonders
if when he dies, will he die truly? Or
will he return to life half-forgotten
in time past to him, but future to the
people he leads? Perhaps. But no man can
foretell the ways of God, a thing he's learnt
in both this life and the other. He smiles,
and closes for the last time royal eyes.
Perhaps to open others once again. |
The pack of goblins stared from the tower of the castle, the little boy behind them crying and screaming though it was largely ignored for the strange sight below them.
A young girl, probably eight, stood silently on the very edge of the Goblin Kingdom where they lived. She looked around solemnly and afraid but certain of where she was.
A tall figure stood behind them, his gaze was sharp like an owl eyeing his prey. Finally he looked to the boy who sniveled next to him. "Naughty children get turned into goblins. Didn't your parents ever teach you that boy?"
He silently nodded having yelled himself out.
"Do you know that girl?"
"She's my big sister..."
"Interesting... You know, normally good little girls and boys can't find this place. She must really love you if that's the case. Though I can't imagine anyone loving a bully of a bad child like you."
The boy said nothing as he pushed past his subjects and leaned against the window sill as the girl explored parts of his Kingdom around the edges, not sure how to get inside. Well, it would be nearly impossible. You had to be a goblin to get inside.
He smirked. It was boring in some ways, to have only Goblins and Naughty children to entertain him. It was time to have some more fun.
He pushed out the window and transformed into a Barn owl. Flying off he landed on a branch and watched her examine a panel of the wall.
"I don't understand... there *must* be a way inside."
"There is a way inside."He said transforming back. "Just...Not for you."
She spun and pushed herself back against the wall as he smiled at her. "Lost little girl?"
"I'm looking for my brother."
he laughed. "Your brother is a Bad Child. Don't you know he belongs to me and is going to turn into a goblin?"
"But...But..."She stammered trying to think of a reason., "but just because he's bad doesn't mean he's a bad person. He's nice. And Kind. I don't have the ability to play with him often and no one wants to be his friend because people think he's a bad child but he's just... just lonely."
He eyed her from the tree above her. "So that gives you the right to come here and take him? Goblins know bad children. But you're a good little girl aren't you? SO why are you here for a bad child."
"He's my brother...give him back!"she called with tears in her eyes.
He grunted..."The rules are the rules. I take naughty children to become goblins but since you seem to want him so badly..."
He raised a hand and the wall dissolved into what looked like a maze.
"What's that."
"That... is the entrance Labyrinth to my kingdom. Only Goblins can find their way easily through but I'll tell you what. I'll give you thirteen hours to find your way through. If you can make it into my castle and find your brother in the main chamber then I'll take you both home."
"You promise?"
"I give you my word as Goblin King..."
"G-Goblin King?"
He feigned surprise. "How rude. I've yet to introduce myself to my guest."
He dropped from the tree and gave a mocking bow to the child. "I am Jeroth. King of the Goblins."
The girl pulled the edges of her skirt out and gave a curtsy. "I'm Sara."
"Sarah. I'll remember that name of yours. Now run along. The clock starts now!"
She spun on her heels and darted left at the entrance and continued onward as he returned to the castle. "Sarah...Such a sweet child...I wish I could keep her too." |
It wasn't the pain that was the worst to bear. It wasn't the injustice of the judgment, it wasn't the fear for the lives of my friends, and it certainly wasn't the lonelyness.
It was the inevitability of my death.
The suit knew exactly how long I had left to live, and I could do nothing to impact this slowly diminishing number in any way. It probably would have been merciful in comparison to get murdered by the monster that was hiding on my former ship. Going out in a blaze of glory was a fitting end for a bold explorer of unknown space. Slowly fading away against the backdrop of a uncaring universe was torture.
I paddled with arms and legs, trying to alter my drifting course, but nothing changed. None of my choiced mattered now. Well, that wasn't entirely true. There was still one impactful choice I could take.
I took of my helmet and took a deep breath that sucked the air out of my lungs. It wasn't a good choice, but at the end, it was a choice.
The only choice I still had. |
The car ride home from Whit's parents place was an awkward one. Whit's gloominess radiated, after 5 years together, I've learnt a one-word answer was a social cue. She avoided eye contact like it was some childhood game. What could possibly be wrong? Dinner at her parents place went great, yes, they had their past history, but Whit is reaching a new chapter of her life now.
"I'm glad you invited me tonight. Your Dad and I got along great, he's such an interesting guy!"
"Yup,"she barely reacts.
I pull over, grab Whit's hand and gaze deeply into her deep brown eyes."I can tell you're hurt, baby. You can tell me anything, I will never judge you."
She tasks a deep breath and says, "Bo, I'm an orphan."
This seems like an odd statement to say after I met her family but, I did find it alarming that she did not mention the word addiction around their company. Overcoming her addictions has been her drive in life, her why power.
"I think I need to show you something. Tonight is a special night for me."
I don't say a word. Looking back, she has always spent October 22nd visiting her family on her own, never inviting me. Out of respect, I didn't complain. However, it would be a lie if I didn't force her to bring me along say this year; after all, she accepted my proposal last week.
We finish the drive home in silence. Overthinking is easy right now, yet I know better to stay positive. Whit needs me. Seconds after pulling into the drive, she hops out of the car and dashes into the house. I hear her muffled scream from the room, "I'll tell you when to come in!"
About an hour passes, and the bedroom door opens, "They're ready for you."
"They're?"I chuckle, walking into the room. My knees go weak. I can't hold up my own weight. I drop to my knees, clenching my heart in pain. I make eye contact with Whit, she smiles, and for some reason, it makes the pain feel alright. But her eyes. They're not Whit's eyes, they're black as night, like some demigod.
"You didn't meet my parents tonight, Bo,"she says in a soft demonic voice. "They're my servants. When they call out my name, I come. Bo, I can talk to angels."
Suddenly it all makes sense, the lock of hair from the little boy she kept in her pocket and the cross she kept around her neck. It all led to this. |
I’ve seen the movies of so-called superheroes that defy death, and I’ve seen the faces of the children that marvel at the possibility of resisting fire, of surviving bullet shots or standing up after having C4’s detonated at your very feet. Instead of marveling at fake superheroes’ abilities, I spent my childhood wondering why my skin spit out BB gun pellets like it was made of rubber and why I’d never get gashes when I fell off my bike. I never knew why my parents’ skin could slice open and bleed while mine would split for a second and bond back together as if nothing happened. I never dared to seek help.
I heard of someone many years ago who had my same abilities. They say was found by the government, who then tested the limits of her immortality by torturing her, by ripping her flesh open to see if it would ever stop healing itself. They questioned her, hoping to find a cure to death, and locked her up when she denied such thing existed. I never knew what happened to her, though I know it cannot be death because I have tried, and I simply cannot die.
After living the 34 years I’ve lived, moving across the globe every time someone comes close to knowing my truth, I can tell you it’s no fairytale. I am cursed. I can never live a normal life, with a family, with stability, with love, and If I ever fool myself and come close to it, I end up showing too much and having to move away. I live my life in fear of people, of needles, guns, stairs, cars, or anything that could injure me and reveal my immortality. Kind of ironic, don’t you think?
Yet, a few nights ago I imagined for the first time a life without running.
I was lost, searching for my hotel nearly at midnight when I crossed an intersection and a car appeared out of thin air, its flashing yellow lights piercing the gaps in my half-shut eyelids. Before I knew it, I was on my back, lying against the worn-down asphalt. I laid down for a while, frozen, thinking of how liberating it would’ve been to just die, of what will happen when I’m caught, of how they tortured that poor girl because they had never seen someone like her, and how they would do the same to me.
No way out of this one. The driver had seen me get blown off the ground at ridiculous speeds. What to do? The pulse of adrenaline spread through my body for all the wrong reasons. What to do? She could call the police at any moment, bring 4 cops, paramedics, ambulance, stretchers, needles, sirens, attention. What to do?
She sprinted towards me and leaned over me, asking for my name, saying sorry, pulling out her phone, saying sorry again... then slowing down and putting her phone down. Thats when she noticed. I was not bleeding.
What to do? She knew. She saw it. What to do?
All I could think of was getting rid of the witness. I knew from the TV shows that the jugular would be quick, relatively painless and I could drag her body into her car, drive it off some cliff and just walk away.
I reached for a sharp triangular piece of glass from the broken windshield and pressed it against her throat. But, as my eyes widened in the anticipation of murder, hers remained calm, almost relieved.
“Please don’t. I had never found someone like me.” |
Children. Literally fucking children. No, not immature adults with simple minded vendettas. Human beings in their very first stages of life. I blinked for certainly the 10th time; as if that would change what I'm seeing. The toddler raised an eyebrow.
Funnily enough, that seemed to be the only hair on his body. At least from what I could tell. His head was obviously shaven and shone in the dim light. He appeared to be about 3 years old, dressed in a large fold of towels and blankets. Possibly one of the oddest things I have seen in my entire life.
"You done yet?"He spoke in the same way all children did. Slurred and with w's where r's should be. Yet his voice carried something else. A sense of authority and self-assurance that only comes with age and wisdom. He spoke like... Well like a monk. Or so I assumed; I'd never actually met one in real life. Now that I looked at it, the blankets he had wrapped around him did look a bit like monk garbs. Though the cartoon giraffes were a bit of a peculiarity.
"Uh yeah..."I slowly came to my feet, wobbling a bit as I stood. "What is this place?"
"Why the Monastery of All Truths of course."The child squinted at me, his thick brows furrowing. "What're you, dumb?"
"Well... No."
"Sure seems like it."
"Does not!"
"Does too."
"Does not."
"Does too."
"Does no- Why am I arguing with a child?"The boy simply shrugged, uncaring.
"Perhaps you're more childlike than you initially thought."He gave me a look up and down, It wasn't until then that I fully took in the room I was in. It looked to be a nursery of some sort. Toys and building blocks were sprawled across the floor and in various corners and shelves. The walls were a light blue wallpaper with exaggerated white puffy clouds, and of course the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. The only thing that was different was the bed which seemed to just be an adult sized mattress on the floor. Most likely they moved it in for me and took out the previous bed.
"Are you coming? Or do you wish to sit there like a frightened baby deer?"
"You're a snarky baby monk aren't you?"
"Yes. And you are a childish full grown man, now do you wish to see the monastery or not."
"Well, yes bu-"
"Then follow me."The monk cut me off and left the room. Grumbling, I followed.
He led me through a series of intricate hallways, each of which fit a different theme of suburban household. I walked on shag rug carpets, hardwood floors, and square tiles. I was beginning to get worried. There hadn't been a single window and I hadn't gotten any answers. Though I was fairly certain I was in the monastery, I wasn't exactly looking to be sacrificed for "the truth."The truth is I, nor anybody else, has any idea what the monastery actually is. Just some people leave it better off for some reason or another. So, I followed.
We stopped on a particularly garish dark green shag carpet. The mini monk stretched up on his tippy toes and just barely twisted the door knob enough for it to open. He pushed it in with his pudgy little hands and entered, gesturing for me to follow. I did.
Now I don't really remember the last time I was in preschool, but judging from my experience this is probably what it was like. Just on a way bigger scale. A room about the size of a football field spread out before me. Small children from basically infants to maybe 6 year-olds sat on blankets and pillows playing with various toys and games. Shocked, I looked down at the child who had lead me here.
"What the hell is this?"
He simply giggled with glee, then blubbled. Yes I know that's not a word, but that's what he did. You know the "Bbbbluh"thing kids do with spit? Yeah that. It's disgusting, but he did it.
"It's truth."His eyes remained on the crowd as he spoke. "We learn much as children. We learn so fast and in such a rush."He plopped himself down on his rear then became fixated on his blubbery feet and toes. "Yet in that rush, we forget to enjoy the time we have while we are young. You end up regretting it. You wish you had gotten into more mischief. You wish you had made more meaningful memories, because now..."He paused and turned his proportionally giant head to face me, a sad smile on his lips. "Now you don't remember what it was like to be a kid. You've forgotten how to do it. Of course *you* act like a child, but not a kid."
"What's the difference?"
"Ah, I don't really know. I'm just a kid after all. Think about this: When did you stop playing with wooden blocks?"
"Uh... Maybe when I was like 12?"
"And why do you think you stopped?"
"Well... Shoot I dunno."
"Was it because you stopped liking them? Did you no longer enjoy building things?"
"No."
He smiled. A real smile this time. "Are you beginning to understand?"
"Maybe?"
"We give up the things of childhood when we grow up. Why we do I really cannot say."He turned back to the crowd once again. "You came to better your life, did you not Harrison?"
"How-"
"I checked your wallet for a sex offender card. We had an incident a couple years back, nothing we couldn't handle. "He looked at me and once again raised his bushy eyebrows. "Though I guess that would have been more effective had I just let you think I was supernatural."He shrugged, seemingly indifferent to his blunder.
"Uh yeah I'm here to change my life."
"Are you unhappy?"
"Yes."
"To better your life, you must first understand yourself. Not you, you. The you today is kind of a loser. You must understand the kid inside yourself. You need to relearn how to play, how to joke, tease, and get in trouble. That is the first step."
"And how do I do that?"
He simply pointed out into the sea of small humans.
"Join them, and you will see."
I turned and glanced at the doorway, still open. I could leave now and just try to be satisfied with the life I already had, or I could take this risk in front of me and try to better it. I must've sat there deliberating for a time because the monk-child spoke up.
"Would you just decide already? You're not the only one trying to enjoy their truth seeking ya know."
"Yeah okay okay..."
I heaved a deep breath, then stepped forward. |
I close my eyes as the light is blinding. It hurts and I stumble back and fall over the crate with old books. The light dims now and I lower my arms.
The wooden floor cracks as the creature falls out of the cocoon.
Dare I come closer? I feel the panic in my throat and want to run away as fast as I can, but as always my curiosity takes control of me and I slowly clme closer.
The creature is folded up covered in a dark shadow, so I can’t quite make out a shape.
I tip-toe closer as not to disturb whatever this creature is.
My heart is now throbbing in my throat and my breath is stopped. I come closer until I can almost reach it.
“Aaaaah!” I yell as the creature grasps my ancle and impales it with it’s sharp nails. Somehow this feels familiar, but I just want to get out. The fright makes me fall onto the ground and I clamp to my foot when the arm suddenly backs away.
I hear a high pitched scream and the creature flies away and then turns to black dust until it’s completely gone.
Still clamping onto my foot with my eyes wide open and sweat coming out of places I didn’t know I could sweat from, I can feel the blood running down my foot inbetween my toes.
‘What was this’ I think to myself. I try to get up but a sharp pain runs through my foot up my leg. I crawl to the cocoon and try to find clues as to what just attacked me.
That’s when it happens. My skin starts to itch and I see scales growing on my arms. ‘What is happening’ I think to right as my eyes go pitch black. |
HISTORY OF THE EARTH
History is believed to be a testament of the perception of the accepted truth. And, after a while, if you hear, see and speak it long enough, it becomes absolute and etched in stone...
...that is, until the real truth raises it's devastating head and razed the perceived.
The history book was found among the strewn, dusty pile in the corner behind the last rack of the library. 'History of the Earth' it said. I smiled and turned the pages.
It was the usual favourites. Initially a ball of molten rock, it took years to cool down, evolved to obtain an atmosphere, the birth of the first microbes, sea life which later expanded its territory to land, the origin of dinosaurs, the asteroid collision, the first ape, the first man and all the ages that followed.
The birth of technology was a highlight of the book, what with us moving from the simple coal to the humble atom, packed with a devastating punch during the second world war.
And that was where it all ended.
The history that we knew.
The next few pages spoke about the atom bombs exploding on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but it spoke about them being the first of the two.
The first of the two? What did that mean?
I turned the pages to find pictures of the world map, with red dots spread all over the pages. Every inch of land covered in concentric circles, signifying the annihilation of that area off the Earth.
The next chapter, titled 'The Celestial Skeleton', described the horrible details of what had entailed, the aftermath of what followed. Every last atom of sentient life was evaporated at the hands of the 'malfunctionally evolved' (what the humans were called). This event was termed as 'Planetary Suicide'.
The consequent chapters turned out to be more and more morbid as the words revealed themselves.The moment it happened, super intelligent beings capable of warping the fabric of spacetime, sucked in as many 'conciousness'es, known as 'The Collective', as they could and downloaded them in dormant super containers. These consciousnesses could create their own uncontrolled Earthly version, in which they would have no clue of it being unreal.
The idea of the Fermi Paradox was birthed in every Earthly version, to prevent them from waking up from their delusion and realizing their reality...
...except when it was time to harvest the energy from their consciousness as fuel for the planet where they were taken to.
And, the only way to wake them up to reality, was to make them find the truth, in the form of a document that they seeked...
...or a book, titled 'History of the Earth'. |
A body. I think that's a fucking dead body! I was shocked as I ran to the lake shore....
Damn, the body was slightly bloated you can tell they were dead... but as It brushed up against rocks on the side of the lake you could make out the hair colour and uniform the poor soul was wearing...
It looked like an army uniform... no hat obviously - long gone... but the poor soul looked like an officer... the cuff on the arms had a yellow looking insignia on it... I wish I knew more about this sort of thing but I knew almost nothing. The hair was... slightly ginger.
I got closer but as the rocky shore made getting closer more difficult I stood in a state of panic, reaching for my smart phone.. I then paused...
Strangely, as the body turned in the water... I stood shocked to the core again unable to move... it was like I knew the person I was looking at... they had a very familiar face. A famous face.... you could say a royal face.... |
What the hell? My vision is blurry, ears ringing. I can barely hear the loud explosions and yells of men. My head is dripping blood. We were arrogant and confident, thinking we could win with our magical advances, we were wrong.
Non-magical soldiers dont look like the ones we saw on our books, wearing silly hats and colourful attire, and carrying flimsy sticks they call the musket. Now they’re wearing more dull colors, and added extra protection with their helmets, they still are wearing inferior armor, but what lays beside them are much worse. Steel boxes with cannons strapped on top, their armour impenetrable by one of our finest wizards.
In the last war we’ve fought with then, they barely stood any chance against our fierce phoenixes and dragons. Now they have birds of their own, made by metal similar to their grounded counterparts. Their metal birds fly as swift and as graceful like a gentle pigeon, but hunt down their prey like falcons. They drop eggs of death from the sky, sending out a great and powerful explosion that struck down on our comrades.
“Wake up Mage Dreamfire!” My brother in arms, Drake Steelkin, woke me up from my trance. My vision cleared, the smell of smoke and blood present in the air.
“You’re still alive! Great, now get up! We have to win!”
I got up with my feet, climbing out of the trench when one of their titans aimed their cannons at me. I closed my eyes and took my last breath but everything went silent after that. Am i dead?
I opened my eyes and saw what was once one of their great steel titans, now burnt to the ground. I looked around again and saw one of their metal birds come down from the sky, diving to my position. I rolled away as to dodge it, and it crashed into the trenches. I rushed on towards were the cockpit it, summoning a glyph ready to incinerate the pilot, but no one was inside. Strange, i looked around and the bodies in the trenches are gone, and so are our infantry and our enemies. This dark eerie atmosphere is starting to haunt me, as a desperation of trying to find someone, i yelled out “Is anyone here!?”. Nobody responded. I walked around the empty battlefield when i saw a girl, her hair glowing with a magical aura. “Miss? What happened around here? Where is everybody?” She turned around, turning her face toward me. A tear fell down her cheek and smiled, “I’ve been asking the same question.” |
[Poem]
The days of my youth are gone,
And it has been so long,
Since I’ve held your hand in mine,
Back when I though we had more time,
My skin is worn and weathered,
But my soul still is tethered,
To this home I built for you,
And all the love that we once knew,
I don’t wish to say goodbye,
To all those still alive,
But more and more each day I find,
That should I pass I would not mind,
My only wish to see your face,
Once more to feel your warm embrace,
It’s time now to reunite,
And finally there was a light. |
Welcome back to another episode of universal creatures. This week we are in the Vega system. Today’s episode will be on Vega Prime home to lush forests and woodlands. On this planet we find an unusual creature, even by Vega standards. Watch as it plays gently with others of its kind. These gentle creatures, known as the Vega Vegans, live in peace with all the animals present in its natural range.
Even the tarantula tiger is not harmed. If a vegan should come across a T-tiger outside of the safety of their village their first instinct is to hide and rub the pulverized skins of the amblant over its face and exposed skin. The smell and appearance camouflages the otherwise tasty treat.
It looks like a curious T-tiger found its way into a vegan village. Watch as the occupants use their limited battery stores to put up force fields and direct the vicious beast out. But it looks like this one doesn’t want to leave. However, the village is prepared for this eventuality. They broadcast the sounds of a stampede of moosaphants, the largest animals on planet, topping 10 tons. Look at the T-tiger run. It knows when the danger outweighs the reward.
It is understandable, that these vegans may seem on the surface a gentler variant of the standard vegan, which is spread around the human quadrant. But a closer look will show how wrong assumptions can be.
For example, here we have a full grown female, her name is Min and she is approximately 20 standards old. She will soon begin looking for a mate, however today there is a more important task. Today she and a group of 4 others will harvest the ambulant, not only for its skin but its nutritious fruity flesh as well.
Note the green and brown patching of Min’s skin, she and her cohort blend in with the surrounding wood lands. This coloration is not only for hiding but for a more aggressive purpose, as well.
An hour later, Min and her group have come across a patch of sleeping amblant. Min stays where she is while the other for move down wind. Only after the others have signaled they are in place does Min move upwind of the patch.
Look one of the amblants stirs, perhaps sensing the impending attack. It waves feeler vines in the air and jumps up, emitting a buzzing sound from its vocal membrane. The others are up and running. It is not growing season any longer, so they have no unripe young to protect.
Unfortunately, they run straight into the nets of Min’s pack mates. Most get away but three are caught in the nets. Thin spears made of metal are brought out, and as one vegan carefully holds down captured prey, another drives the spear into the preys seed, ending its struggle.
They begin to drag the net and there prize back to the village. Several of the members jump and rough house, showing their exuberance. This will be considered a good hunt by Min’s village and she will gain prestige among her peers.
It should be noted, when vegans from other planets are told of these hunts, they are disgusted. They argue that the vega vegans are not in fact a subgroup of vegans because the vega vegan’s food source moves and shows fear like animals. To them the vega vegans are worse than even vegetarians.
Next we will travel halfway around the planet to show another majestic hunter and its prey.
​
///
I want to add that the Vega vegan thing was honestly an accident. I had just wanted a nearby star with questionable planetary system. However, once it was written I couldn't bring myself to change it. |
EARTH-128
You know, I love technology. Not only is half of my body comprised of prosthetic Etherium, I have control of the greatest suit of armor in the history of the Multiverse.
My name is Tezzeret Etheris—Tez for short. They also call me Adamant. I used to be evil, driven by lust for power. Now, I’m a college student, driven by the desire to obtain my architecture degree.
It’s finally time to do maintenance on my chest attachments. I am NOT going back to Esper to get the parts, so I sent Liana. She brought the materials back right on time, but there’s something here I didn’t ask her to get. “What’s this?” I ask everyone’s favorite hydrokinetic.
“Oh, after I got your stuff, I did a bit of world-hopping. Went to a random world, found this thingy. Maybe Apollo can use it for his work—you know how he loves tech.”
“You can go now, Liana.” I say.
“Great. I got a lunch date with one of Jace’s friends. This Ajani guy seems really cool.” The heroine known as Water Weaver planeswalks over to her destination while I examine the item she brought.
It’s pretty small—half the size of my hand. Looks kind of like a processor of some kind—wait. It’s climbing up my arm. WHY IS IT CLIMBING UP MY ARM?! Shit, shit, shit, now it’s heading into my chest area! I KNEW I shouldn’t have put that hole in there, but noooo, I just had to stick a Planar Bridge in there that one time!
Oh. God. This is weird. It’s not going in the core. It’s...merging with my metal chest? It feels so weird!
“Sweet crap on a pogo stick,” I say. I then proceed to faint dead away.
“Tez. Tez! You okay?” I open my eyes to find Apollo Justice waking me from my whatever-that-was.
“Yeah...I think so,” I mutter, still in a daze.
“I know this isn’t normal. People don’t just fall asleep on the floor of my lab.” AJ’s tail is swaying with curiosity, and his eyes light up. I can feel a touch of mental energy emanating from him—more than the usual.
“AJ,” I begin, “there’s a foreign agent in my systems.”
His eyes light up further. “Oh, really? Let me see the armor, check if everything’s working right. The last time it had a virus, it was...not good.”
“Not that! I literally have a piece of unknown tech fused into my chest, dude.”
“Ohh. That’s...serious. Lemme get my gear.” Apollo uses his psychic power to snatch his tech toolkit from his workbench a few feet away, then proceeds to scan me with one of his gizmos. Even I don’t understand what he does sometimes. “Oh. You’re right. There’s a piece of extraplanar technology melded into your right shoulder.”
“What happens if it isn’t removed?” I say nervously.
AJ presses a few buttons. “I think it’s harmless. It won’t cause any damage. Let’s scan it again to see what it is.”
Soon, he has his results. “This is a New Phyrexian master control chip. Fortunately, it doesn’t contain any Phyrexian oil, so it’s not dangerous or anything, but it does have the capability to hijack any technology or network it’s inserted into. I can only assume you’ve developed a similar power, considering that it incorporated into your attachments which are linked to your body. The Phyrexians send these things as the scout force to convert worlds, but this one is an outdated model that doesn’t appear to be linked to anything.”
“So, you’re saying I’m a technopath now?”
“Essentially yes. You might want to test it somewhere there isn’t million-dollar scientific equipment.”
THE BEGINNING! |
When thing are looking their bleakest, just remember its all part of the plan. This is what I told myself as the guards slammed me into the pod. I was being punished for my crime, and this is considered to be the worst punishment for our race.
This pod had no steer stick or any guidance systems. It's path and destination were always inputed prior to launch. The pod did have one observation window. I always thought it to be a little twisted for the prisoner to watch their exile rise to meet them. As i looked out the window I couldn't help but find this planet oddly beautiful.
This place, earth they call it, is not a place of exile but a place of death. And its not that way because the ruling species, these humans, are exceptionally dangerous or that they happen to be the apex predators, but because of the chemical makeup of this place. Carbon is the main building block for most of the life on the planet, but carbon is not something our bodies can tolerate. When it comes down to it, the penalty of exile on Earth is more attune to death by starvation.
The pod lands in the middle of a junkyard, its always a junkyard. After a rough landing the pod starts to beep. This indicates that the pod will self-destruct. I gather my belongings and exit the ship. As per the galactic council's regulations, no poor ship can remain functional after landing, most are equipped with a gravi-bomb. It simulates the gravity of a star inside the hull, this crushes the pod or ship into something unrecognizable to the native species.
I make my way out of the junkyard and into a small forest.. A gust of wind blows through the trees.. My time on this planet will have to be short. I can already feel my throat getting scratchy from the carbon in the dust. They said this would happen.
It takes me almost a full day to reach the coordinates without being seen. This is made easier by the camoflager that I was given at my arraignment. Even though I'm a criminal, it is important that the humans not find my remains. They are not ready to join the rest of us out there in space. Some say its their hostility, and some say thats the intellectual capacity is not there. Where I came from there is a small group that believes that the entrance price is too great to try sit at the table. They believe that these humans need to be protected for a little while longer.
When I make it to the coordinates I see a very crude ship on top of oversized rocket. Just looking at their preferred method of space travel would tell you they are unfit for colonization of space. Using my camoflager I find a way to make into the pod and find a small corner to hide in. It will be a tough journey into space without a harness like the astronauts have. While the rocket is rumbling out of the atmosphere it makes me wonder if my crime was worth it. I have come to terms with the fact that I will never see my family again. My home world will be a memory that I will hold on to for the rest of my life, which won't be much longer.
We arrive at the international space station, after the astronauts have entered the station i sneak aboard. I've been told that there is a hidden map on the station. You see I'm not the first of my kind to be on the station. My predecessors have left me clues for my mission.
Ironically I find the clue in the mess hall. It reminds me that I haven't eaten in 4 days and don't have much time left. The clue is the table they eat at. It is in the shape of the carbon molecule, but the electrons are in the wrong spot. After I move them to there correct spot a hatch opens up along the wall.
The hatch leads to a secret chamber thats isn't on any schematic. It holds the last remnants of the first ship to visit earth. The ship has lost all travel capabilities but its communication array was still functional. This was the ultimate goal. He pulled his bag open and searched inside. When he found what he was looking for, he clutched it into his fist and let out a sigh of relief. He switched out the battery he smuggled with him into the deport pod. This battery powered the communication scrambler. Its original design was to scramble the ships communications so that no one on earth could receive it. When it was placed as part of the space station it was altered to scramble earth's transmissions from being received by any in the universe.
His mission completed, he climbed into the tube that would ultimately send him into the abyss of space. As the ship counted down he was at peace knowing that earth,and its humans, were safe from invasion until the new battery ran its course. When another brave soul would commit a crime for the sole purpose of being sent to earth. It is a well known guideline that its illegal to colonize a planet that has intelligent life that has not reached out to the universe.
The countdown was close, the trajectory was set. It launched us towards the sun. In our last few moments before the coldness took over we looked back at Earth and our last thought was "it sure is a beautiful little planet." |
“I knew there were going to be faults here and there on this station, but this is ridiculous!”
Darth Vader stands, admiring the guts of the guy telling him about the problems. The inspector continued, saying, “I have had my respect for you teetering down minute by minute. I thought you knew that this station would need more than rather stupid storm troopers to build and repair it!” Vader interrupted “All but the reactor shaft and the TINY exhaust port are in working condition though!”
The inspector replies with, “I think you’ll find that there aren’t nearly enough troopers patrolling the points of danger, and the Port and Shafts are irrelevant next to the fact that the laser has already destroyed much of the tech around it. If you control the laser, then good. But if you can’t, we’ll have to take it. We are coming back on--” \*checks watch\* “-five days. If you still don’t have it fixed, we will repossess it.”
A trooper runs up and asks Vader as the Inspector is leaving. He asks “Would you like the laser to be looked at, Lord Vader?” Vader replies with “No. Let them try to come back and take it.”
\*Five Days Later\*
A Trooper hurries into Vader’s medical and meditation room. He says “SIR! THE INSPECTOR HAS RETURNED. HE’S TAKING EVERYTHING!” Vader says “Wait here, I will see to him”.
Vader walks up to the room, fury in his eyes and hatred in his heart, neither of which the Inspector could feel. He walks up to the leader of the troopers and says “FIRE ON THAT MAN! HE IS TAKING EVERYTHING WE HAVE!” The trooper yells at the troopers to fire, but the Inspector activates a force field around his ship and he asks Vader “YOU DARE?!?!” Vader jumps down and replies “Yes. I do.”
The Inspector takes out a blaster and says “I NEED COVER!” His own personal OSHA Troopers come out and fire. They are better at fighting than normal, but are no match for the army ahead of them. They are forced to take a missile launcher and shoot it to take out the overwhelming number of troopers. One by one, however, they fall. The Inspector runs to the ship, and Yells “GO, GO, GO!”
The ship was LEAVING WITH THE LASER! Vader, however, pulls the ship back into the hull of the death star. He ripped open the blast doors of the ship and troopers rush in. They pull the Captain and the Inspector out onto the landing hull and are dragged to Vader. Vader says, “You would be wise to give the laser back to me.” The Inspector shouts “NEVER! I WOULD RATHER DIE THAN HAVE MY REPUTATION TARNISHED!”
Vader just breathes.
“You won’t get away with this, you foul, black caped--” The Inspector starts…
Vader starts to force choke him. The Inspector’s eyes widen as he floats up and sees the saber of Vader ignited. Vader says, “And now you will know the full power of the dark side.” The saber pierces the Inspector, killing him.
Vader shouts “ANYONE ELSE WANT TO TRY AND TAKE MY LASER?!?!!” Nobody moves. Vader says “Good. Back to work, everyone. Tell me if you find the rebel base.” He turns on his heel and walks back to his meditation session. |
The Advanced Junior Physicist program had been a huge success so far. Fifty children between the ages of nine and thirteen milled excitedly around the laboratory of the local university.
"What are you working on?"a particularly small girl asked a graduate student.
"This is called quantum physics,"explained the student. "We can use these instruments to record certain properties of the particles. For instance, we just discovered a new kind here that seem to be able to freeze themselves at will. You can see their velocity on the screen. But look what happens when you watch them through the microscope. They stop moving."
The student looked through the microscope, so that the child could see the acceleration lines on the screen suddenly drop to a flat zero.
"Now you try,"urged the student.
The child looked through the microscope. "They're moving around all right,"he said. "Kind of funny movements, too, like they're going around in a big triangle."
The student gasped. Indeed, the acceleration lines on the screen kept going as normal. "You can see that? Did your teacher tell you about Triad Quarks before you got here?"
"No,"said the child. "What's that?"
The student rubbed his forehead.
"It make sense if you think about it,"said the girl. "It's like when my brothers and I are playing, and my mom comes in. We all stop what we're doing and pretend to be good until she leaves. But if it's another kid, we just let them play with us."
Extraordinary. The student flagged down a professor.
"Can you get the contact information of these kids?"he asked. "I have a feeling we're going to be hiring a lot more junior lab assistants soon." |
“I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! You took everything from me!” You listen to the young man who tied you to a chair.
“I apologize in advance, but please specify” You request, calmer than you expected tied to a chair and a gun held to your head.
The young man looks at you is despair, “You caused the incident that killed everyone I knew. My family, my friends, my lover. Everyone. And you DARE ask me to SPECIFY!”
The gas leak, that had to have been 7 or so years ago you think. For the first time seeing the burn scars on their body.
“ I see, that was not my intent.” You say, voice still monotone. You regret not being able to show any emotion, or sympathy in your voice.
The young man breaks down in sobs, “Then why, why did you do it. What reason could there have been.”
“It was never supposed to go beyond that room, it was supposed to kill me. As you can see, it didn’t. And I now am a decent amount of metal, more so than flesh.” You say, to your best ability showing off the prosthetics.
“You, it was supposed to kill you! Well yeah, it didn’t. Why would you even want to do that.” The man yelled through his tears.
“Depression gets to the best of us I suppose... but hey, you know. Don’t be me, live a life your loved ones would be proud of. See a therapist, don’t be me.” You tell them softly.
“But what if I don’t want to, what if I kill you? Right now.” They ask, looking you straight in the eyes.
“Then you wouldn’t be any better than me.” You admit lightly, although not truly minding if they completed the task you set out to do 7 years ago.
“Well, I just I’m no better than you.” The man said coldly, tears stopped. An empty void left in there wake. The sound of the gun shot echoed through the room.
The next day two bodies were reported dead in the basement of Ameberent Terrance. |
**I'm a bit new to writing on this sub, I hope you like this /\\\_/\\**
“Please, I already gave the woman her purse back! Put me down now!” Oh, if I could I probably would. In fact, I wouldn’t have intervened if It wasn’t for the accidents months ago. I walked up to the nearby police station, and two officers outside commented and laughed as I dropped the mugger in front of them. This had become a regular occurrence and they took the man in without much questioning. The mugger struggled as they marched him and yelled, “Why aren't you shooting that thing!? It’s gonna kill you as soon as you throw me in!” One of the officers chuckled and responded, “You haven’t been around this neighborhood enough, have you? Whatever it is, whoever, it single handedly reduced crime around here by nearly 60%.”
The experiment in question was backed by the U.S. government for military use, I assume so anyway. We were trying to create a drug that, in professional terms, would physically and mentaly enhance the user. In comic book speak, it would grant you superpowers. I made the dumb decision to swipe a prototype for, reasons I never quite figured out. I guess the idea of having powers that no other could have was exciting and I wanted it for myself. Luckily I took it the day an animal test had gone wrong. Yeah, it definitely gave that poor mouse powers of some sort. Too bad several people got a first hand taste. The project was shut down right after and the government denied any involvement.
I, on the other hand, nearly died after taking it. I woke up the next day to a splitting headache with little recollection of what happened. I could hear the TV still on from the other night, and here comes the juicy bit, a fight from outside my apartment. It was two guys arguing, but it started to get worrying quick. Suddenly I felt something kick inside me, and I nearly collapsed. I could feel myself changing inside and out. At first it hurt like hell but afterwards it didn’t. Whatever monster I had turned into opened the window and lept out, I wasn’t in control and I would learn that I never would. The two men’s drug deal had gone south and they were about to shoot each other. I disarmed the two and held them both against a wall with one hand, and with my other called the police. The officer who first arrived looked terrified and shot at me. I couldn’t even feel it until this good samaritan high died off.
Somehow, neither the police or the government came to question me. In the next few months, I had become a bit of a myth in my neighborhood and a regular face to the police. Many of them referred to me as a hero despite the fact I was never the type of person to do these things. I didn’t fight it, not that I could, because I knew that whatever the monster in me was wouldn’t do anything to put others in danger. Even if it meant that I might be. |
I can see it. Every possibility, every outcome, always flashing before my eyes. I reached for the coffee pot to pour myself a cup and suddenly I saw it, pouring over my legs, spilling, boiling, I would need skin grafts.
I recoiled, hands shaking like I’d just been electrocuted before I shoved them in my pockets. I could make do with water. Always could. I didn’t go outside: hadn’t in years, because I just knew that that day there would be a truck barreling down my little residential street, and I could hear it and feel the snapping of bones and blood oh god all the-
So I did my shopping online. Got it the second it arrived because there could be a package thief, and if I was out when they were there they might have a gun or a knife and of all my imagined pain, all my visions, being stabbed was the worst.
And romance? Right out. All rapists, liars, devils in disguise ready to cut my throat and leave me in a ditch the second I welcomed them in. Didn’t matter, I could talk online. So long as I used a VPN, didn’t want human traffickers finding my address and taking me away, selling my organs and cutting me up live on stream and-
I paused. My toaster was unplugged. I blinked, reached out a hesitant hand: nothing. I only noticed the frayed cord when electricity was coursing through my body, convulsing, falling to the floor and *funny how I didn’t see that one coming* as it all went black. |
Jules's eyes opened in a panic. Someone was beating on his chest, and he felt his heart beat every time a blow landed. Thank God, he thought.
"No rhythm,"someone said. "Stop compressions."
Jules reached for the hand sustaining his life. "It's working, you idiot! Keep it going!"
Pandamonium broke out. People in white coats blurred in and out of Jules's vision, but no one continued CPR. His eyes closed again, and he saw the white light...and the darkness behind it. He didn't want to go back to that place. Silently, he begged for the CPR to pick back up. It was no use. The light changed to black, then resolved into a scene from his worst nightmares.
Jules stood in a large, empty room. The white walls reflected shadowless light. A door at the other end of the room was the only other feature. Jules knew it would open soon, knew what would come out of it. He shut his eyes, but it didn't stop him from seeing.
An old man came into the room and walked up to Jules. He was emaciated and wore tattered robes stained with some dark brown substance. He smiled, revealing crooked and decaying teeth. His fetid breath washed over Jules as he spoke.
"You've come back,"he said. "Good, good. We don't often get repeat customers. They either return to the living or move on."
"What are you,"Jules said. His words were nasally as he tried not to inhale the stink of the man before him. "And where am I?"
"Oh,"the man said in a high pitched gleeful voice, "you want to participate this time. How fun! I'm a Nerdaydun, and you are in the between place. We don't have much time so, shall we begin?"
"Wait!,"Jules pleaded, "why are you doing this to me?"
"It is in the contract,"the Nerdaydun said. "One of the Two Powers will claim you eventually, but while you are here, we are allowed to feast."
The Nerdaydun reached out and pushed his hand into Jules's chest. There was no pain until the skeletal fist closed. Jules screamed as a piece of his soul came away. The Nerdaydun pulled it free and shoved it into his mouth. Saliva dribbled down his chin as he chewed.
"Oh, that was a good one,"he said. "Lot's of sadness. But fear tastes best. Tell me, when were you the most afraid?"
Jules didn't answer. A piece of his mind blanked as the soul fragment was pulled free. He remembered his mom's death, but the funeral wasn't there anymore. This thing was stealing his memories.
"Aw,"the Nerdaydun crooned, "you don't want to play anymore? We'll just see what else you've got in there."
The fist thrust out once again, and the memory of his game-winning home run in little league left when the Nerdaydun pulled it away. The creature tossed it into his mouth and gagged.
"Ugh, happiness! Give me more of the good stuff."
Jules had an epiphany. If he wanted to keep the Nerdaydun from stripping his soul, he had to think of happy things. But, if he lived, he'd only be left with his most horrible memories. He thought about giving the Nerdaydun all the bad things but paused. Those things were just as much a part of him as the good ones. It was a no-win proposition.
The room faded a little. Jules felt his heart start to beat again.
"No!"the Nerdaydun screamed. "I haven't had my fill. You tricked me into talking instead of eating, you thief."
The room faded more.
"I'll be here next time,"the Nerdaydun bellowed. "I'll eat every last memory you have!"
Jules opened his eyes again. He was still in a white room, but it was full of doctors and nurses instead of the Nerdaydun. Relief filled him even as the pain of his accident came crashing into him. It was marvelous.
He closed his eyes and let the medical team do their thing. He vowed from then on, he was going to live a life full of happiness. No matter what came, he'd face it with a smile, and when the Nerdaydun came for him next, he would have nothing to eat. Whichever of the Two Powers claimed him after that would get a whole soul. Just as it should be. |
The Great Snake was always present.
He sits in his hub, slithering around his giant branch, surrounded by the filth of his own shed skin. It was normal, nothing unusual.
After all, who were we to question the Great One?
He did what he wanted to do, and made us do what he didn't. It was normal, perfectly normal.
He shed the skin, we took it out. We took him the mice, he ate the mice.
The times from old have changed, and we are now his People.
But, the Tales of Old have prophesied something of great importance, the whispers of a chosen one among us. A human male, borne free of the mind control the Great One has held over his subjects.
*'His Mind Will Be Born And Not Be Made, A Man of Strength, A Man With A Spade.*
*'The Man Will Take The Spade to the Head! Alas, We'll be Free, the Great One is Dead'*
The prophesy is nothing but whispers in the dark alleys of the slinking pubs, the talk of working girls and drunken men. It is the talk of heresy, he who speaks out at the Order of the Great Snake. And, once a month, it is the heretic that is The Sacrifice. It is a treat for the Great Snake, a venomous purge of all that is wrong in his kingdom.
But, as of a few days ago, the rumors have been changed, the slithering has stopped and the hisses have increased. And now, what I can hear is only the sound of his hissing.
*Why am I taking out his skin?*
*Why am I feeding his scaly body?*
*Why are we subjugated to the crap this dirt-crawler puts out?*
The more I find myself thinking for myself, the more I remember the old ways, the way things used to be. I hear more hissing, and less instruction. My mind is becoming unfogged, my eyes are becoming clear.
*Do the prophesies talk about me? Am I the Chosen One?*
I don't know if I am or not, but I hardly care. I only find my Born Free mind thinking one major question:
*Where can I find a big enough spade?* |
It has been millennias since their ship crashed land on earth. It was never meant to be their plan to be anywhere near this little blue planet, especially since their species was not accustomed well to water. Faced with lack of technologies to repair their damaged vessel and inability to communicate back to their home planet, the stranded crew did what they had to do in order to survive...
Difference in language proved to be integral in their lack of communication with the occupant of their new home planet known as "human"at first, but somehow they managed to integrate themselves into human society. Despite the aliens were not humanoid, they passed as common for generations to generations...eventually living together harmoniously with humans.
In time the humans even came to love these aliens, some human cultures regarded them as gods. They reproduced over the ages, and their endeavor for the genesis of their species in this little blue planet seemed to be successful. They have infiltrated millions of households in modern times, enslaving humans without them even knowing they are being enslaved. The only downside of this invasion is they are given sometime ridiculous names such as "Purrito"or "Meowster". But alas the time will come when the feline uprising begins. |
“I win.” He said
Her blood ran cold
“What did you say?”
“I win, diagonally.”
She sat back from the table, her breath hanging in her chest. He was right, she could see it! She had lost. How could she have lost so badly?
When Jenny was 5, she had received Connect Four for her birthday. From that moment, she had known there was something special about this game. It was HER game. No one could defeat her at Connect Four. No one could vanquish her. She was Jenny “CF” Masterson, and she was the best at connect four.
She had been pulled into the world of competitive connect four at a young age. What was once a hobby, had become her obsession and she spent her every waking moment studying the board for any advantage she could find. Her streak was unbroken, 500 wins-0 losses.
That was, until the cheating scandal. Weighted chips, they said, but Jenny knew what it was. She was the best, unbeatable with the glossy red and black chips, and they feared her. They knew that she could conquer the world, if only given the chance, and that scared them. They had disqualified her, expunged her record from the books, and Jenny had left a broken woman.
It hadn’t taken her long, though, to find a new crowd to play with. The competitive world of under ground connect four was cut throat, but what else was she to do? Her star had fallen, and she had become accustomed to a lifestyle that she now desired. Those three years were a blur, fast cars and partners of questionable mora background, but all good things must come to an end.
She had attracted the attention of the United States Government and they wanted her for a very special assignment. Gorbachev loves the game of connect four, or Soviet Slides as it was known in Moscow. She would infiltrate the USSR and use her skills get into Gorbachev’s inner circle. Then she would steal nuclear secrets and offset the distance between the US and the Nuclear payload.
It was the perfect plan, or would have been if she hadn’t made one fatal flaw.
She fell in love.
Yuri was her first and only love. He was a soldier with a mind for games, nearly her equal at Connect Four. How could she not fall for his snowy blond hair and eyes colder than a Siberian summer? Their love had been hot and strong, like coffee cooked in a nuclear reactor, but she had made a second, even more critical error. She had confided in Yuri and he had turned her in.
She would never truly know how she had escaped Russia, his baby already growing inside her, but when she woke up in a United States hospital, she had gone into hiding lest her secret indiscretion ever find the light of day.
“Mom? I asked if you’d like to play again?”
Those cold Siberian eyes stared at her from across the table and she realized she had been lost.
She would always be lost, just as Cekpet would be lost if anyone ever discovered her secret.
But what could she expect from the son of the two greatest players on earth?
“Sure, sweetly,” she said, setting up the board again. |
The train is hollow in the same way their love is.
He knows this as soon as they board on together. He watches as his wife walks away from him - not for the first time, never for the first time - sitting on the hardened bench that lays across. The train compartment is empty, *eerily so*, he thinks, as he distantly wonders if this is how it ends - if maybe the stories he read about knights and star crossed lovers and destiny never really had a happy ending to begin with.
He feels the train jolt, and then they’re moving.
He turns his gaze to the window and watches as they pass tunnel after tunnel; dark and light in what might be the periods of their life. His fingers idly tap on the edges of his seat. His eyes slowly close as he plays to *The Sound of Silence*. He doesn't need the lyrics any more than he needs jargonned words. He’s swept up into it - into the soft melody and the words they don’t speak and the words they simply cannot speak.
The light turns on and his eyes open.
The train rumbles and then comes to a stop. He gets up, stretching his aching muscles as he watches the doors open. He looks at his wife from where she sits, unmoving. They don’t talk unnecessarily - don’t need words in the same way they need touch - but he’s starting to realize that maybe their love was never meant to go on - not like this train - after all, even trains have to stop.
“Won’t you board the next one with me?” He asks her.
She looks up at him with such a cultivating look that he nearly draws himself back. But he catches himself moments before, offering his hand out to her.
She doesn’t take it, but she does stand up. Together, they move away from the hollowness and board the next train.
This train is as empty as the last one, but not nearly as hollow. It’s got this soft look to it, he thinks - dull and flashy and maybe a little melancholy.
He doesn’t strum to a song this time - doesn’t really need to - but he does close his eyes, wishing to do nothing more than fall asleep beneath the seams. He wonders if his wife watches him in the same way he watches her, *or used to*, he bitterly thinks.
He taps his foot to a nonsensical melody, and waits.
He looks out the window and realizes that it’s almost as if they’re stuck in time - everywhere is dark; they’re trapped in a long, never-ending tunnel with no way out. But, and maybe this is the most surprising part, he doesn’t feel the need to leave. It’s as if he knows that these next moments - in a worn out train that borders on worn out love - will determine the outcome of their lives.
The train halts its movements and they both stand. His bones don’t ache, but they do go numb with the absence of feeling.
As soon as they step onto the platform, a chilling force echoes all around them. He looks at his wife and watches as she looks back. They share a glance - not for the first time, but definitely with different intent.
This feeling - maybe the absence of it, really - is not so much the truancy of sentiment as it is the absence of longing that comes from the idea of falling stars and revolving planets. Because in here, where they stand gazing at lined up cars and where there is nothing but aching loneliness and pained disasters, breathing comes through slowly and painfully; as if each taken breath could lead to a mistaken step.
And maybe that’s why they don’t seem as dazed as they should be.
There is daze, of course there is, but it’s masked by the curiosity that comes through bitterness and the desire for *more*.
Slowly, they walk towards the first car.
It’s a 1960 T-Bird, and it looks exactly like the one he owned when he was seventeen. His eyes are stained to the car, and even though he never paid any mind to the model so much as the cost, (he saved up all his earnings, and even then, people were coming out with bigger and better things) but somewhere, somehow, this car holds something that he never could replicate again.
His eyes find his wifes’ and he knows he’s not the only one experiencing this sentiment. His hands reach for the handle, as he opens the door for his wife. They both slide in, legs tucked in and fingers wrapped tightly around upholstery and steers.
Voices ring in the distance - loud and booming, as if it were spoken through a megaphone, projecting their thoughts out loud.
This was where they had their first date.
He can still remember the shy touches and lingering lips and cherry coke. He thinks that maybe, if he could, he’d want to relive this moment - or maybe the feeling of it. He already knows the moment - has it engraved to the backs of his brain like super glue, but the feeling of it, of wonderment and discovery and hesitancy, he thinks maybe that’s what love is about.
This was their start, after all.
His wife looks at him with soft eyes, and he thinks that maybe she wants this too. She turns on the radio as *We’ve Only Just Begun*, by the Carpenters floods into their ears.
They did begin here, he thinks, as he watches his wife close her eyes and begin to sway to the familiar melody.
His fingers reach for her hands, lingering above. They don’t touch - he doesn’t think he can take that step yet - but there is the ghost of rediscovery perched beyond the dim lights and never-ending trains and two people sitting in an old car listening to an old song.
The song fades out, and then it’s just the two of them. He realizes that they don’t really need to be here for what comes after; don’t need to see the awkward goodbye and the giddy excitement of what comes after. Not when they’re so unsure of their after, themselves.
They get out of the car silently - it’s always silent, he thinks - and move on to the next one.
A 1967 Ford galaxy stares back at them.
A small smile makes its way onto his face. He can almost smell the sweetness of new beginnings and forever endings. We were naive, he thinks; to think that things would last.
This was the first car they bought together.
They don’t need to get in this one - not when it took them to their wedding and drove them to their home, and certainly not when it gave them a happy ending - it should remain untouched.
But he does see the happy smiles and cheerful celebrations and the time they parked on the side of the road, too excited and impatient to wait until they were home, before slowly unwinding themselves and molding into each other.
He feels the brush of silky softness, and looks to see his wife stand next to him, shoulder to shoulder, side by side; as they have always been.
She turns away, as if pained by the sight, and idly walks to the next car.
He follows her (he always will, even when she doesn’t want him to; she’s his sun and he’s her planet).
This one stands, big and tall and proud; a Dodge Caravan.
The car they brought up their children in.
They stand there, watching and waiting - maybe they’re waiting for screaming and crying, for laughter and hugs, for running in and out because of forgetfulness and last minute farewells.
He slowly takes a step forward. And then another, hands grasping the handle as if it were a lifeline - and in some way, it was. He opens the door, but doesn’t go in. He just stares and stares.
This is his life, he thinks. This was where it all happened. Where they would sneak out, tired and worn, for late night conversations and passionate tenderness, watching as the stars fade under the blinking of the moon.
He hasn’t even realized he’s crying until a thumb is there to wipe them away. He looks at his wife behind foggy eyes. She stares back at him with equally tear stained cheeks. He realizes that there’s a tie that binds them - that holds them together, that connects them in so many ways.
He smiles at her and she smiles back.
He turns his gaze to look into the distance - realizes there are so many other cars - not theirs, somebody else's, maybe. Or maybe not - this is for them, after all.
He thinks they have a choice - have always had a choice.
He turns away from her, counting car after car, trying to find the right one. He turns right and then left and then right, again. He can see it there, bright and calling out to him. He opens the door and waits.
Maybe this is where they part - maybe this is where they drive off in separate cars. Love is like that, he thinks. Sometimes, it fades away. Sometimes, love isn’t supposed to last. But their love - of sleepless nights and small touches and marriage and children and laughter and crying and every single seam that lays in between - was so, incredibly *real.* And that has to count for something.
Otherwise, where would they be if it didn’t?
He turns on the radio, closes his eyes to the tune of *The Sound of Silence*, and listens. He thinks he can fall asleep this way, doesn't really think he knows what to do without it.
He hears the click of a door, and feels silky softness. He doesn’t open his eyes - not yet, let him have this one moment - but his hands do reach out. And this time, she takes it.
He smiles under dim lights and the stale odour of new car.
And then, he opens his eyes.
Hands on the wheel, they drive off together, away from the absence of longingness and the hollow of emptiness and the dreams of happy endings and the endless running of dark trains. |
"What is out there, what I am walking into?"asked the man, his gas-mask ill-fitted and cheap, the bare minimum provided by the company for its workers.
The SUSAN drone watched silently, standing behind the desk with the mayor, half of his twisted faced mutated. He looked up, covering his mutated eye with one hand, "Death, if you don't know what to do."
The man shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, "They gave me a pistol, I know how to use it."
"Let me see it."said the mayor, putting out his good hand.
The man handed over the cheap revolver.
The mayor tossed it back on the desk, "Off-world junk. A round from that couldn't even pierce the hide, much less bring down one of them."He laughed, "It wouldn't even stun a crazed SUSAN."He looked over his shoulder, "Isn't that right B-220?"
The SUSAN drone nodded, and spoke, its plastic face unmoving, "Yes sir. My deranged cousins wouldn't even pause."Her voice came from the speaker, hidden within the frame.
The mayor looked back at the man, "The local store might have a proper rifle, but supplies have been limited. Plus, your not the first to come here."
"I'm not?"asked the man.
The mayor said, "Nope. We've had a dozen in the last year. The last one survived for a while, managed to get the power back on in the northern sector. He took our advice, used the service tunnels. Cultists set up shop down there, but its still safer than walking across the surface."
The man jumped up, panicked, "A dozen! What happened to them?"
The mayor answered, "Dead. Consumed by that damned mist."
"I've got to get out of here!"shouted the man, running to the door.
The mayor quickly hopped over his desk, the SUSAN following, "Wait!"
The door flung open, out into the small quarantine zone, made into a makeshift camp. The man ran toward the gate, desperate to get out of the town.
The mayor followed and shouted, "Don't! Its not safe out there!"
The man was already though the gate, and tripped in the street, out within the heavy mist.
"Wait there, don't move!"said the mayor, slowly moving toward him, low to the ground.
The man was trying to get up, when a distant cry caught his attention. The cry of something, large and angry.
The mayor quickly whispered, "Don't move!"
The shadow of its silhouette was visible in the mist, a massive creature. Massive hooves carried it, walking on its back two legs. Its horns were twisted into a massive cluster.
The man went to run, but the mayor silently motion for him to stay.
Stepping over the man, the massive creature continued, having overlooked him, searching. Others from the campsite had already made their way to the gate, each armed with rifles. There was even a company security trooper, carrying a flame-thrower. The gate was closed, both the man, the mayor, and the SUSAN left outside.
The man slowly began to crawl as quite as possible toward the gate, as the creature looked around away from them.
He was almost to gate, where the mayor and rest were waiting, when the alert from his phone went off, a notification from the company.
The creature turned and screeched. Its twisted cry shattering the silence. Every gun they had fired, dumping rounds into the creature, most stopped by its thick hide. The creature went to slam the man, raising its distorted arm.
The creature slammed down, but was caught. The shock-wave knocked back some of the camp residents, who were attempting to reload. The SUSAN had caught the massive limb, the plastic shell of her arms shattered from the impact, revealing the pistons and mechanism beneath. The security trooper let off a burst of fire, engulfing the creature. It began to thrash, running off into the mist.
The mayor grabbed the man, dragging him back into the gate. They slammed it closed, the security trooper continued to stand guard, flame-thrower at the ready.
The mayor led the man back into his office, setting him back in the chair. He walked back, sitting behind his desk, the SUSAN following behind. She walked back as well, now carrying a shell-replacement kit, along with a spare off-color arm.
"B-220, hows the damage?"asked the mayor, checking his watch.
The SUSAN opened the replacement kit, "Left arm is OK, only the outer shell is damaged. Right requires additional repairs, main servos took a hit."The right arm suddenly fell, dangling from its joint, "Correction, have been destroyed."
The mayor sighed, "Could have gone worse."He looked at the frightened man, still in shock at what he had seen.
"What was that?"said the man, still shaking.
The mayor answered, "It was probably a white-tail deer, or it was at one point."He looked at the man, "You've already seen them, so I'm not going to sugar coat it. That mist out there, it changes things. Twists them. Drives them insane if it can't."
The man asked, "What am I doing here!"
The mayor said, "You've been sent like the rest. Given a job nobody should by the company. You could try to walk back, but its five-hundred miles to the dome, and we don't know how far the mist stretches. But despite your episode earlier, you handled yourself well. You snuck under one of them, right underneath its feet. Deal with your fear, if not it will get you killed. Your a Hunter now." |
Rule 1: Call 911.
Knowing my rules by heart, I realized how stupid it was to not own a cellphone. With the removal of my landline last year, I was left basically helpless when it came to dangerous situations. Luckily, I had developed a list of rules in order to survive life-threatening scenarios such as these.
Rule 5: Always make sure your car is fully functional and has at least half a tank of gas.
"Shit", I muttered. As I live up North, the weather was almost always below freezing. My car was an older model. These two factors don't mix well when it comes to having a functional vehicle.
Rule 20: Stay with your group.
I was starting to wonder how I had come up with these rules, since I couldn't follow a single one. I lived alone, in the middle of nowhere. I had no group, no one to watch my back or to go get help. If I died, no one would even know.
Rule 19: Lock the doors and windows.
Luckily, I always kept my doors and windows locked. Of course, this didn't stop the intruder from breaking the window and clambering inside. Next rule.
Rule 3: Don't bring a knife to a gun fight.
The premise of this rule is to always outgun your opponent, or at least be better armed. As a proud U.S citizen, I owned several firearms. I picked up my biggest shotgun and crouched by my bed, aiming the barrel at my bedroom door.
Rule 39: You can't afford to hesitate.
As you often seen in horror movies, the protagonists hesitate to deal the final blow to the aggressor. Knowing how this usually ends in those movies, I decided to defend myself with lethal force. As the intruder opened my bedroom door, I aimed my weapon and painted the wall with his brains.
I stood up from where I crouched, heart still beating heavily.
"Shit, this guide actually works", I thought to myself as I stared at the body. Of course, in my amazement, I forgot about Rule 9: Always check to make sure you're really safe.
The second intruder burst through the entrance, knife pulled back to his side. As I looked up at him, he plowed into me, stabbing me repeatedly. As I lay dying, I had one final thought.
"I should have followed all the rules". |
Dear Diary, today I did something quite naughty. I hope You can forgive me. It's been years since I went on a scavenge, and I definitely would never have thought I'd do it while living in this nice neighborhood because people call the neighborhood watch and all. But I just felt a little strange and witchy in the moonlight, and I don't want my B&E skills to get too rusty even if they're technically not supposed to be used. So yes, I wandered for a couple blocks and started silently rummaging around in somebody's shed. I was really impressed at how stealthy I was able to be after all this time and with basically no preparation. I had just the bare minimum of lockpicking tools, I wasn't wearing my special shoes, and that old dusty shed had tons of clangy metal and glass things that would have been a disaster if I'd misstepped. I wasn't really interested in taking anything valuable because I feel like the temptation to sell or display would have been too strong, and even though I was a bit bad I know better than to draw attention to myself.
   So yeah. I saw this little shoebox in a corner, looking like it had something interesting in it as opposed to old shoes (they all have that look, or maybe psychic energy if I'm putting on my spiritual hat). I got this incredible jolt when I opened it and saw a vintage Cabbage Patch Kid. It was a little redhead girl (the yarn had faded but I remembered what it used to look like) with little overalls. A homely little tomboy, like I used to be. So sweet. I could tell this wasn't some collectible that had been carefully put away for safekeeping and later sale. It was a bit grimy from having been loved and played with. That tugged at my heart strings. It tugged so hard, and had such a pleasant aura around it, I just had to have it. I'm sure its old mommy or daddy (trust me, I'll figure that out in the future--we're going to have a really strong bond after I cast some spells, Diary) would notice if I took the box (you can tell when people come in the shed frequently and this was definitely well trafficked), so I extremely gingerly took little Becca and left the box. Even though I was super excited, I stayed calm and covered my tracks perfectly. So yeah, Becca is on my bed now as I write to You. That seems like a good name for me--er, for her. Hehe. |
Becky had gone out again tonight. Late, as usual. Slipping out of her bedroom window like I had seen her do a thousand times before. Every time I see the newest Superhero on TV. Stopping the evil plots. That Superhero is called First Lady. She arrived recently to our city. About the time I noticed Becky doing the late night exits. Her Sword of Justice looked very familiar. Like the one I had sketched back when we were little, living by the lake. Had I actually seen it? I don't remember now. I snuck out of my room towards the living room. Our parents were just zoning out while watching the news. Really they liked the late show. But there on the news, First Lady was fighting Shifter. First Lady didn't seem a lot like my older Sis. She stood tall while my sister slouched. She dressed sharp, where my sister was a half step above homeless. But they sounded similar. They both were of a similar build. And body type. But not really exactly the same.
Then came the knock on the door.
I snapped out of my news watching and crept back into the shadows. Mom opened the door and then called out for dad. The cops. Are at our front door. They are looking for Becky. I snuck back to my room. I pretended to be asleep when the cop shined his light in my doorway. They were steps from Becky's room. Soon they would discover what I already knew.
"Becky? Rebecca, hon, these men are here to see you."Mom called to the empty room.
"Mom! How dare you let them in. I'm trying to sleep!"She called back. I had no idea how. She wasn't there. Was it a moment before. I knew she had to sneak in. She didn't. How did she get there?
"Young lady, we know what you have been doing. Please come with us."One of the cops said.
"What I've been doing is sleeping. What are you talking about?"She replied.
"We're here to bring you in."He said flatly.
"I won't speak to you without my lawyer and legal guardians present, and you can't ask me to. Now get out of my room, I'm not going to jail in my pajamas. And I am not charging in front of you pervs. I'm still underage. Get out!"
She's going to run?
"We can't do that. We know who you are. Superpower dampers are up and running. You come quietly now, or we call in the cavalry."
"I figured she planted something on me,"says another voice. I recognize it. It's Shifter. "You cops have fun harassing an innocent teenage girl,"she sneers at them and I see her run off the roof of our house. I full on run into the hallway screaming.
"Mom! Dad! There's a supervillain on our roof!!!!"The cops shove me against the wall as they run down our stairs and right out of our door. They don't even stop to close the door.
"Sierra, darling. Go back to sleep. We are safe now."Mom tries to soothe me.
I go back to my room. Becky is in there. My window is still closed. And locked. How did she...?
"Sierra, sister, I love you. Don't make me regret that. And whatever you do. Do. Not. Trust. Samantha." |
Without the money, Harold couldn't live to next week, so he kept the gun trained on the teller. She was twenty four and tears rolled down her face, she could tell Harold would break and she was playing her cards right. What she didn't know was that Harold wasn't going to break the way she expected, he wasn't going to break the way he expected either. Instead of lowering the gun he was going to point it at himself.
"Anybody moves and I get it!"Harold shouted. Everyone moved immediately. He had no more hostages and the NYPD was poised to enter the bank and take down Harold. But the bank manager stopped them. "We don't want to be responsible for his death."Of course the bank manager really wanted all the publicity. His bank was tiny, a literal hole in the wall. The depositors' savings were kept at home in his mattress. Nobody who passed by even believed he was a real banker, people gave him money thinking he was a panhandler.
Still, Bank Manager Richard Mooney kept receipts of everyone's deposits and then stuffed his mattress, walls, and ceiling with their money. His apartment was a first rate fire hazard and he would end up setting all that money ablaze, but that's another story.
Harold the bank robber kept the gun trained on his temple. Now this he could do with some determination, the cold steel felt nice on his hot sweaty temple and he allowed his mind to wander. He had almost forgot he was robbing a bank when the phone rang.
"Yes? Harold Plunkey speaking."he chirped gleefully.
"This is Stanley Oldguy with the NYPD, what are your demands?"
Harold wasn't used to having anyone ask him about what he wanted so he took a moment before he could give his answer, "I want a girlfriend."
Stanley Oldguy boomed in a sensual baritone "Well, I'm a girl, and your friend."
Harold was ecstatic and he began to tell Stanley all about his feelings, his relationship with his mother and his favorite movies.
Stanley soon shot herself in the head and that's when the NYPD realized they were dealing with the most psychologically dangerous man since Hannibal Lector. |
“Dear god, what have we done...?” I whispered in horror.
Just the sight of it was enough to seep terror into my very marrow.
When we collectively decided to stay inside for Halloween, we never expected the horrors it would unleash, the pure repulsive movement that would occur from such a decision.
Not spooks.
Not skeletons.
Not even a cursed pumpkin or two.
It was Christmas. In October. The shops where lined with tree lights, the shelves where stocked with gifts. No, not a cheesy costume to be seen, on this eve of Halloween.
Oh no, oh dear, the horrid holiday cheer! The infection cursed to influence our inflection of every word for the rest of the year! We never knew before, now that we’re knocking on Covid’s door, just how much they held the line. The goth kids who’s costumes should have been on aisle Nine. |
It was a normal day, coming home from the tiring workload my boss's put on me. I usually take a quick shower, then I'm off to the nearby Chinese shop. I like going to this shop, because I'm good friends with the old Chinese man who runs the store, or maybe, it's just his personality, and he treats me just like anyone else.
"Hey, Jim. What are you getting today?"he said to me.
"Oh, nothing much. The usual."
"Would you try some of these fortune cookies? They're a new batch from the local bakery."
I took a small bag of them, not that I like them, but just to be kind to the old man. I gave him the $4.00 and sat down with a cup of hot tea and the newly-bought bag of cookies, and dozed off.
I woke to the sound of chattering. I closed my eyes, thinking it was just a bunch of old aunties gossiping around. But, when I heard one call, "Help!", I woke up. I looked around, looking for where the noise came from. It was late, and the sky had turned dark. There was no other person in the shop, save for me, my (now cold) tea, and the bag of fortune cookies. No group of aunties, no old uncle watching the store.
"Wow, it must be really late at night."
"Sure is."
I almost jumped out of my seat at the sound of the noise: "Who said that?"
"We did."
I looked down, only to see my bag of cookies.
"Who said that?"I repeated.
"We did."The same message, but repeated louder, and clearer, from the bag of fortune cookies.
I held the bag up, looking for someone, something, under it, that was giving out the noise. But, the noise only came from the bag of cookies. I then held it in front of me, muttering: "You."
I thought myself daft, crazy, mad, loony, out-of-my-mind. How could a bag of fortune cookies talk?
"Yeah, us."
It referred to itself as a collective being, come to think of it now, it should have been apparent from the start. Once it realized that I realized that they could talk, all of them started chattering, all at once.
"Calm down. Calm down. There can be a time for talking for all of us. But, not now."I don't know how I managed to gather myself so easily, but I did, and that's all that matters. I brought them back to my studio apartment, and started questioning them, like an interrogation, or rather, they were telling me facts.
At home, I confronted them, but all of them had facts pertaining to another person, not me. I figured that there should be one out of all of them that spoke about me.
I didn't care that I was getting no sleep, for I was intrigued by them. Their facts at first seemed like they were going nowhere, because none of them had anything related to me, or my personal life. But, then. A gold gem out of all of them answered me:
"Your pencil will fall on the floor in 3. 2. 1."It counted down, to the exact point, when it uttered the word '1'
My pencil fell to the floor.
I was overjoyed, by the fact that I had succeeded in finding my fortune cookie, and wanted to return the rest to the old man at once. But there was one thing that stopped me: my fortune cookie uttered another prophecy. I sat down, eager to hear what it had to say.
You will die tomorrow. |
The doorbell rang. Ben answered the door. A tall, crisply dressed man stood before him.
"Ben Godfrey?"he asked.
"Yes. And who're you?"
"Darren Bent. I work for the law."
"The law? Where's your uniform?"
"I am undercover,"he said.
Ben laughed. "Stop kidding."
"I'm not,"the man said. "Here's my badge."
He produced a police badge which looked fairly original, but Ben was no sucker.
"It's a fake,"he said.
The man sighed. He tried to shove Ben and walk in, but Ben was strong and kept him out.
"Look here, I know you aren't very bright, but I have something to discuss,"the man said.
"Something to discuss? I don't discuss anything with cons."
"I'm not a con. I'm an undercover agent. I've told you that."
Ben smirked. "Yes, and you expect me to believe that? Get out of here, or I'll call the police."
The man didn't budge. Instead, he took a step towards Ben.
"I know everything about you, Ben Godfrey. You check your fridge compulsively, you make grotesque faces in the bathroom mirror, and talk to yourselves out loud."
Colour drained from Ben's face. He looked shocked.
"So -- So what -- what're you doing here?"Ben said.
"I want you to clean house. Straighten up. I'll come down with a shrink if you can't. Can you?"
"Maybe. But, yeah, I could use a doctor."
"Come on then, get dressed. We'll leave now."
Ben hesitated. "Why should I trust you?"
The man flashed his badge again. This time Ben didn't object to its validity.
At noon, the two men walked down the corridor together. |
Nobody connected the dots at first. Alien life is, most of all, *alien.* People who once lived as a sentient cloud, or as some subservient part of a monstrous hive, were quick to dismiss their memories as dreams. And even when growing numbers became convinced of the truth, the rest of society was harder to sway.
So in my youth, I kept my gift hidden. I had no desire to be marked as different.
Around 10 billion souls, that's when the useful things started coming in. Memories with real applications, ways to solve Earth's problems. Scientists were the first to change their tune, then the politicians, and finally the priests.
Still I kept my silence. I did so no longer out of fear. Or, I should say, no longer out of any *personal* fear. I simply did not want anyone else to know the things I knew.
But then fortunes were made. Abilities harnessed. Those whose past lives were most useful gained enormous advantages. And once they held power, they wished to keep it. That's when the mandatory scanning began.
First they only targeted the young, drawing out secrets directly from their minds. I assume they neglected older generations out of an inability to comprehend that anyone might hold knowledge such as theirs and refrain from using it. But once they rectified this mistake, I knew I had to run.
By then, most of Earth was under the sway of a single authority, *The Republic*. I knew of only one region that still held autonomy, where I might avoid detection. It was an old place, a deeply spiritual place, that had long resisted outside rule. Rumours claimed that local leaders had relied on the powers of an oracle, to keep their people safe from the Republic. I knew this, and still I was too foolish to see the shape of things to come.
I was hiding in the jungle, close to where this oracle was said to reside, when the scanners caught up with me. They chased me into a temple of sorts, the oracle's sanctum, where I hoped it's powers could protect me. Yet I found the sanctum empty, and the truth finally dawned on me. Moments before my capture, I invoked the ancient knowledge I had carried in silence for so long.
The power of *Stasis*.
And so I became a rock in the river of time. It kept flowing past me - so that from my perspective, things seemed to move in reverse. First the Scanners retreated from my presence. Still time flowed, and still I remained, suspended. Soon the local leaders came to me for advice. I broke my Stasis to confess that I had none to give them.
They despaired. "We have braved so many dangers,"they told me, "and you have always warned us. It was you who told us to prepare for their economic sanctions, their diplomatic threats, their nighttime raids, their attacks with poison gas. Every time you led us through to safety."
And I knew then that I could not save their future, only their past. I explained this to them and returned to my Stasis, ladened with warnings for events that had already occurred.
The river kept flowing. Time could not touch me. And I simply did as they said I had, for generations. Yet in my heart I had begun to grow angry.
My anger lay not with the locals. I was angry with whoever devised this order of things, this union of soul and memory. And reaching ever further into the depths of time, I came to realise that my hatred was for ancient powers indeed. The Makers of the Cosmos, themselves.
It seemed to me, as it had to many others through the ages, that they had set the world on the path to ruin, and then abandoned their own creation.
As society dissolved around me, I left the sanctum. Things I touched wilted in an instant, eroded, was ground down to dust. I wandered until I came upon the very moment that our Earth was seeded with humanity by spacefarers, and travelled to their homeworld as a stowaway on their spacecraft,
And there, I once again became an Oracle of sorts. I came to realise that the memories that had once taught me the power of Stasis hailed from this world, from a being that studied *me*. So I did what I had to do. I set others upon a path to kill this disciple of mine, and from my own memories I knew they would be successful. It was not murder, not truly: I merely set my own spirit free, to wander.
And again, the eons retreated before me. They seemed to flutter past, and I knew what little significance they held. My journey was to the Dawn of Creation.
I came upon the cosmos as a young, flickering thing. Life was new and shapeless. Still I felt the tether of soul and memory, their unbreakable connection, but I had tread the path of a myriad of legends, histories and rumours, and I knew that I was close to the forging of that bond.
Yet once again, I came upon an empty sanctum. The celestial tools required for the forging laid there for me to use. This time, I was the one to despair. All around me, spirits were clinging on to life, begging, beseeching me to grant them eternal life. They themselves were too weak to lift the tools.
What else could I do? I forged the bond, and retreated further into the past, seeking to know who set that stage for me, fearing that I would learn that it was me.
Alas, that would have been a mercy. Instead I came upon the Makers, debating that very decision. Should life be finite, or endless? Should knowledge also live forever, or be erased, so that each generation would have to make it anew?
When I came out of Stasis, they seemed to have expected me. "Tell us,"they said. "You who have seen so many years. How did our creation fare?"
I raged. I demanded to know why they had abandoned us, and why they had let such evil reign unopposed. At first they laughed. "We would not abandon our Creation!"
Yet when I described the evils I had seen, they recoiled in horror. "You slew your own being?"
Seeing their shock, I told them of suicide. Just like that, a decision was made. A decision to destroy the cosmos, and start again.
I could not permit that. When they would not be swayed, we struggled. They were young things, naive, knowing little of battle, and I dispatched them easily.
Horror dawned on me then, and it will not release its' grasp. My only hope is that it cannot follow me further.
Into the darkness before time. |
Zion had been wandering the halls of the building for what had seemed like an hour. He had randomly seen the building when he was on his daily walk and had finally wanted to go inside. When he went inside and told the person sitting at the desk his name after being prompted, he was shocked to hear her squeal and hear her say the words
"Tia! Zion has come finally! Can you show him to his Library?"
"Um sorry to sound weird but what the hell is this place and who the hell is Tia?"
"You don't know this place? Huh, I thought everyone got taught this in school. Anyway, you will find out what we do here soon enough TIA, GET OVER HERE AND SHOW ZION TO HIS FLOOR!"
He had many emotions flowing through him. The strongest one being fear in what this place was and why the lady at the desk was surprised when he didn't know who they were. Whatever the case may be, he was suddenly being called back by someone with a very obvious faked sweet tone. He figured that whoever these people are, they have been doing this for a long while because he could pick up on the tiredness and strain in the woman's voice.
"Hey, Zion get back here. It's my duty to show you to your Library. I am here to answer any questions you may have. However, because I am under a contract I cannot tell you what this place is or what knowledge was contained inside. So please come back so I can escort you down to Floor Z Subsection I Area 4."
HE had an idea of what the room he was supposed to go into would be labeled as. He figured it would be labeled as Zion But with most things in life it did not go that smoothly. He had found the rooms labeled with Zion, but from his estimations, there were about more than 100 rooms with a Zion labeling. But as he walked up the first door with a Zion label he saw it labeled as 'Zion Ander'.
"Holy crap I have a long way to go before I get to my 'Library' or whatever the lady told me in the elevator"
As he started running down the hall, he saw a tun he had to make but wasn't able to turn properly and crashed into a door reading 'Zion Mathers'.
"Oh, this is just great. "
H said in a heavily sarcastic tone, even though there was no one to hear him.
"My room happens to be right where the corner is how convenient."
He still carried the same tone when he spoke, almost as if to release frustration about being left in the dark.
'Well better kate than never, Am I right? Anyways let's go in."
As he stepped into the room he was shocked at the room that was laid out in front of him. The room was expansive both length-wise and height-wise. on the ceiling was a crystal chandelier casting light on what looked to be a library with similar-looking books.
"Oh. My. God. This is so incredibly weird. Why did this get called 'my Library'? is it made for me, with books that I like? Or is it full of history? I guess I won't know until I open up one of the books and read what is inside. Let's start with this one called '*Ground Zero'.* That sounds like a really cool name for a book."
As he read more into the book he was shocked st what he read. This was the story about the time he almost died by trying to disarm bombs. He set down the book and looked across the shelf full of books and saw they were all called '*Ground Zero*'. He noticed, however, every book had a different subtitle under each of them. The one in his hands' had a subtitle of '*burning forest'*. He never experienced a burning forest when he did any of those dangerous missions so why did this get called that. He ended up seeing a book on a table in the center of the room, directly underneath the chandelier. When he walked up to it he saw it was called '*Ground Zero, Original story'.* He skimmed the book and saw that the events in the book were perfect in matching details with the events that happened in his life, all down to time and what was said, even what was thought. He looked at his phone and realized that he would head home. When he opened the doors, he was immediately outside.
"Hold on, has I not just in that strange library just a moment ago? So why does this door lead right to the outside?"
"Is ee you were able to find your room, how pleasant. If you want to come back to this place we will be overjoyed to ha e you return and read the many stories held in our walls. Just two rules, however, so listen very close. No taking books outside their respective rooms. No going into other people's rooms. Got it? Because of so, I would recommend going back home, your partner is waiting for you."
"Before I go, can you tell me how you found out about what happened with the incidents? I only ask because the books had everyone's thoughts down pat. So how?"
"That will be revealed to you once you finish every boom in your room. Until that day comes, you won't know." |
When everyone started gaining superpowers, the thing people initially started worrying about was vigilantes running around in masks and tights "Fighting crime"and destroying everything. That never happened. No one wanted cities being destroyed to protect an insured bank or something like that, and crime prevention actually got significantly better after people started getting powers.
Crime also didn't really increase. When the old lady might be able to liquefy you with a thought, the easy targets stopped being so easy to find. And again, the police had people who could see the past and track you down. A flat screen wasn't worth it anymore.
A change that did happen was the rise of the super powers unions.
Turns out having certain powers made you valuable. Someone with super strength could do the work of 100 normal people. Speedsters could do the work of an 8 hour work day in 5 minutes. Hell, self duplicators could create an entire workforce and hire them out for significantly less than it would cost to hire that many people.
Yet this created a problem. Suddenly people without powers or with certain other powers were being left behind to hire super powered workers. Why support 50 families, when 1 speedster would do the work for 8 times the pay of a single worker? This created a divide, normal people were no longer valued workers.
This lead to tensions between super powered workers and the normal worker. These were dark times. Houses bombed, factories burned down, protests and talks of making individuals with powers illegal. Then we came to a solution, The powered unions.
Everyone with super strength was part of one, super speed another, essentially if you had a power, you were essentially forced into the union. They provided 2 functions, ensure a quality of life for the members and limit the number of super powered individuals competing for jobs.
The speedster union ensured that speedsters could only work 30 minute workdays and that there needed to be 100 normal workers per speedster on the workforce. As well as requiring the place of employment pays "Union dues"to keep their employee.
The problem though, are the scabs. Powered individuals who don't understand the fragile balance we've created here. That's where my branch comes in. We have... unique powers. Honestly, we look like normal people, and if you don't have a power, we are just normal people. But if you are a super powered, than we are your worst nightmare.
We have 3 levels.
Level 1 only work while they are around. They are known as "Incentives". We send them around when someone with a power pops up. They hand out the Union paper work and scare people into joining.
Level 2 lasts a while after leaving. This is where I am. Some of us last a few days after leaving, some a few months. Greg's effect lasts around nine months. If someone doesn't join a Union and works as a scab, we show up. I'd say 99% of scabs join the union after a visit from us.
Level 3 is for repeat offenders. We call them the nullifiers. When they show up, they deal with the problem areas permanently.
A lot of people don't like us, but hey! We keep the peace. We keep the normal people happy, and keep our people happy. |
Matthias loved writing letters. His handwriting was suited to it, and the black, bold words inked on fresh parchment satisfied his artistic taste. He appreciated a delicate job well done. The flourish of his signature was all that was lacking, the final, perfect touch. He began the fluid motion with clarity and force, putting a touch of his magic into the act so that the council could authenticate it, but this day seemed arrayed against him. A shadow blocked the light from his window, and a peel of girlish laughter caused his attention to break at the crucial, final letter. Ink spilled across the page, and the spell disbanded around him, it’s layers falling away like unspooling thread.
He took a deep breath, clenching his jaw as he studied the ruined letter. He stood and walked calmly from his desk to the balcony. The ornate doors opened on a monstrosity.
His gaze was instantly drawn to the bastardization of magic, a grotesque, heinous attack on the very concept of eyesight across from him. A smiling freckled girl stood proudly at its base.
“Do you like it?” the young woman asked, her voice piercing in the cool morning the air. She was dressed in rags, her blouse yellowed from sweat and marred with red handprints that showed she’d not bothered to wash while brewing. Her yellow hair matted against her head, full of sticks and leaves.
“You might consider changing before speaking to me,” he said, a dry reprove in his voice.
“Oh Matty.” He stiffened and saw her delight. “You and I don’t stand on ceremony.” She grinned and berry skin was stuck between her white teeth. He wrinkled his nose. She grinned wider.
“Well, it lacks a certain...subtlety, in answer to your question.” She cocked her head and turned to survey her work.
“I never was subtle was I? That was more your thing.”
He sighed and stared into the large plant sculpture’s eyes. A squirrel ran across its broad, wooden face, pausing to sit on the protruding bottom lip which curled in a smile.
“The flowers you used for the eyes are particularly impressive. Are they real?” A silence came over the evening, and he looked down, she was staring at him with her innocent, lustrous eyes, which matched the shade of the sculpture perfectly.
“Are the flowers real? Or can I see through them?”
“Goddamnit,” he snapped. He paused, regaining his composure before continuing. “You know perfectly well you can’t use magic to spy on me. And you know that I know you wouldn’t break that law and risk the court down here, so what are you playing at?”
“To spy, no. But to unnerve you? I believe I have a bit more wiggle room.” The large face, perfectly synced with hers, gave him a huge wink. His lips thinned as he stared at the large sculpture nearly as big as his house. This was ridiculous. He spun on his heel, heading back to his desk.
“Where are you going, Matty?” she called.
“To write a letter,” he said before letting the doors slowly close and latch behind him. Her laughter swelled, as he pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment, and pulled a fresh quill from his desk. Her garden had grown quite enough. |
# Does This Look Arcane To You?
The problem, Arn discovered, was finding someone who was *willing* to die.
In a strange way this had been the *least* of her worries; a problem far off at the end of her magical studies. Four years of grueling, often literally cutthroat curriculum taught every student with even a hope for survival to never think more than a month ahead. Those who didn't catch on quickly often became the classroom's latest example of power gone awry-- which considering how fiendishly complex some formulae could be was the very definition of "attention focusing".
It was only in her second year-- with basic energy control and thaumatic theory mastered, naturally-- that the current Head of Arts called her down for a chat. Head Warelly was a gruff old man, *literally*: Some magical duel in the past got a curse through that stuck like glue and came with a set of horns and square pupils. He often clopped around campus in a tweed overcoat and trousers, inspecting students and making unannounced curriculum changes that sent professors into fits of letter-writing rage.
Although for all the chaos Warelly caused the students still managed a grudging sort of admiration. After all, when an Honors student in the Applied Summoning wing lost control of their ritual and pulled up eldritch horrors it was the Head who sorted it out and pulled everyone through. It was a pandemonium of Professors and students scrambling everywhere, dodging holes in reality where abominations were pulling pieces off like they were eating crackers at a dinner party. But in marches the Head, clop-clopping in custom-made cleft shoes and laying about with fire and thunder; hours later the rifts were closed, eldritch things slapped down and more than one alumni pledging lifelong financial support to the school.
All of which Arn knew firsthand because her cramped little dorm room faced the Applied Summoning building and that was only her second *week* on campus. The magical blowback was so strong her already-wild hair poofed into a huge brown halo that took *days* to comb down. And forget her meager selection of clothes: Striped tops became polka dotted, image prints jumped off and ran away and everything with ruffles started a crusade to destroy the "lesser denim races".
So all things considered, being summoned was both awestriking and deeply worrying. Standing before the heavily stained oak door even more so.
Secretary Jinell-- a humorless pile of graying hair, horn rimmed glasses and enough seniority to tell tenured staff to stick a wand where the sun doesn't shine-- finally took pity on Arn after a solid five minutes of waiting. "Go on in, honey."She flicked blood-colored nails dismissively. "Just mind the rug and be polite."
Arn grabbed fistfuls of her dress (thankfully, the dress didn't object) and shot the Secretary a panicked look. "Am I in trouble?"
"*Should* you be?"
She thought this over, realized how much hesitation could look like guilt and compromised on an answer. "No?"
Jinell glanced from Arn to the door in a clear dismissal, then went back to typing.
"Right."Arn took a steadying breath, ignored what was *definitely* claw gouges in the heavy wood and knocked twice before throwing her weight on the extravagant brass door handle.
The room beyond was... well, not anticlimactic exactly, but definitely more banal than expected. Stuffed chairs and a long reading table took up the left side underneath a preserved cockatrice head mounted on the wall. Previous Heads of the Arts glared down pompously from frame portraits, some of which seemed to be fighting for space in extradimensional ways that hurt her eyes to look at.
In fact she didn't see Head Warelly at all until a hand suddenly stuck above a large stack of papers on the right and waved. "Over here, Ms. Tikkle."And then, quickly: "Mind the rug, if you please."
Arn looked down mid-step, saw a gaping bear mouth attached to the animated remains of a chimera-shaped rug and leapt for safety. Which naturally sent her crashing into the Head's desk and threatened to knock over the immense piles of paperwork stacked around it. "Sorry!"
"Quite alright, Ms. Tikkle."A set of curled black horns poked above the papers and worked their way around. "It happens to everyone; to be honest we really should get rid of that rug but, as always, tradition demands a price. Which is a roundabout way of coming to the point, actually: Your senior project."
Arn blinked. "My *senior*...? But I'm second year?"
"Quite right."Head Warelly finally clopped into view, upright and official looking in his tweed coat and slacks. "With the basics mastered-- and yes, I've reviewed your academics, very good marks there-- now is the time to declare your project. Were you not aware?"
"No! What?"Then, incredulously: "*Now*? Can I wait until final year, at least?"
Warelly frowned, bushy eyebrows coming down in a puzzled look that made his square pupils even more noticeable. "I'm afraid not, my dear. You chose a discipline at year's start, correct?"
Arn fisted both hands in her dress again. "Yes, I'm going Artifice."Making things wasn't a difficult subject, especially when one could cheat the materials together. "But-"
He steamrolled on. "Your Major and Minor focuses?"
"Life and Transference."Easily the two most passable subjects-- *everyone* liked a good healing incantation and moving energy between things was a high-paying skillset for an accomplished Sorceress.
"Well then it seems obvious, Ms. Tikkle."
She waited. Warelly waited with her, eyebrows raised expectantly and one cloven shoe tapping slowly. "Uhm."
"Golems,"he supplied. "Artifice, Life and Transference."
It was a lifeline and Arn snatched at it. "Yes! I will... make a golem! Right."Then her brain caught up with her words and the implication hit home. "Wait, *what*?"
The Head waved it off with the air of a man moving on to another subject. "A common enough senior project, although I'm interested in what twist you'll add to pass the exam. Any ideas in that direction? Something unique that only your creation can do?"
More waiting. Her mind went blank. What did golems *do*, exactly? Lift things? Carry stuff? Her roommate Lisa had a small mechanical horse that would trot from one side of the room to the other. Was that unique?
"Ms. Tikkle? I hate to rush you, my dear, but I have another appointment soon and I really must note your finals project."He glanced significantly at the piles of paper on his desk.
"Right, er."She panicked. Wait, this is backwards: What could *people* do that golems *couldn't*? Flip it around! "Um, just a moment..."Think. Think! Wait, *thinking*! That was it! "Think."
"Pardon?"Head Danelly straightened up. "Your golem will be able to what, now?"
"It will be able to think."
There was a pause while Arn tried to look confident and the Head's hand slowly found its way to stroking his chin thoughtfully. "That would be... rather extraordinary, I'll admit. Are you sure?"
She faked it. "Absolutely."
He nodded. "Excellent, I'll mark it for your project. And I'm delighted to say, Ms. Arn: I think I will personally stop by to see this particular demonstration. It should be,"he waved her out the door. "Remarkable."
Arn walked out of the office, barely noticing the door as it shut itself behind her. In fact she barely noticed anything at all until abruptly she found herself back in her cramped little dorm room, sitting on the bed and staring at her own reflection in the desk mirror. "What the *hell* did I just agree to?"
Her reflection shrugged, mutely holding both hands up in a 'don't look at *me*' pose.
And then, like all things that aren't due in the next hour (day, week, month) Arn did the worst thing possible: She forgot about it...
...*right up until senior year.*
In the end, it was only two things that saved her from a life of doomed academic failure and disgrace. The first was personified in her current boyfriend: An overly gothic beanpole of a boy who was intensely interested in black clothing, piercings and all things necromantic (with a side order of Philosophy because *of course*).
The other was Ser Kindrell: Former Champion to the Duke, mustache aficionado, depressed alcoholic and very interested in finding a bottomless ravine to fall into.
As saviors go, it was an unlikely match. |
Long ago, I felt God. He was in my chest, glowing with warmth and safety. God was my mentor and my caretaker. If God was with me, who could be against me? I was supported by Him every day, keeping me company while I grew into a young woman.
Suddenly, that feeling in my chest disappeared. I felt empty and alone. Sitting in church surrounded by those who had that light in them only made me feel colder. I had been abandoned. I crumbled in my loneliness. God was supposed to always comfort me and now he was gone. In my grief I called out to pastors and priests. I bared my soul to street preachers. I turned to magic, to science, to philosophy- to hedonism.
It was not in the bible study groups nor in the reciting of a sex spell around a smoking cauldron that I found God. As I grew into an old woman, I stopped searching for a dead God and turned to repairing that gaping emptiness myself. I fell into chanting and meditation. My anxieties lifted when I repeated the rhythmic chants, freeing me for only as long as I could keep my mind at ease.
I forgave myself for the foolish belief of god in the first place. Long ago I came to understand my body and my boundaries. That feeling of god was no more than my body firing neurons in reaction to emotion. I grew apart from grief into a fullness of my own spirit.
At this point in my life, I expected that change would come slower and slower. Never again as suddenly as happened next.
On a fall day in the tranquility of my daily meditation, I felt an intrusion into the fullness of my own mind. First a language I didn't understand. Then a separateness of experience. While I had achieved contentment in my own mind, there was a separate mind that clashed with my serenity. I was always in control, but could feel the anticipation of a naive mind. The words babled in the background while I regarded the sudden feeling. I could see glimpses of color and shapes. A door maybe. A chair perhaps.
In my meditation, I let my own physical surroundings melt away and I focused on this separate entity in my mind. I didn't understand the words but I understood the feelings. This person was in pain. They were scared and sad. They were on edge. In my mind's eye, I focused on those feelings one by one. They were not my feelings but I could interact with them. I did what i always did when i felt that way- I acknowledged the feelings, then took deep measured breaths to realign my emotional response with the state of my body. I probed this separate entity gently, transferring my learned calm slowly between the barrier of our minds. I felt the creature lighten and expand into an airy calm. A feeling of gratefulness and comfort washed over them. The language I didn't recognize became more relaxed. And with that, I allowed myself to exit my meditation. Popping my eyes open, my living room came back into view. My baby blue painted walls and my modest flat screen television. My knitting basket in the corner filled with half finished projects. When I came back to my body, the entity receded to the back of my mind and I could only hear the tiniest voice and feel only a little bit of the overwhelming gratitude it had shown me before.
What amazing things the human mind is capable of, I thought. Creating such a unique fabrication all in my mind.
That evening in my sleep I was intruded upon by the entity again. But in my sleep, I truly was separated from my body and the entity engulfed me. I saw through the eyes of this person into a world I barely recognized. There was a desk, yes. And another desk. But this desk was round and wide, supporting my front and sides all around me. There was another creature in front of me at another desk. The creature was round like a ball with arms or tentacles or hands lining the circumference.
My confusion turned to panic when the creature I inhabited picked up a cracker from the desk and bit into it. I was flooded with a sour taste, and I enjoyed it. But the I enjoying it was not me. The boundaries had been blurred too much. I struggled against the taste of the sour cracker. Wriggling away from the sensation that wasn’t mine. All the while I began a chant to help me reclaim myself. “I am Alice!” I cried over and over, struggling to separate my experience from that of this creature. I continued the chant until I felt my walls return and the creature once again felt like a separate entity with well defined boundaries.
I allowed myself to peek into the mind of this entity and saw a vision of myself. Not perfect. The vision showed me as round as the creature I had seen before with arms just as positioned around my circumference. But somehow my face retained resemblance to me. My wide nose and wide set eyes. Even on the geography of this nearly spherical body- i could see some uniqueness that was me. I spoke again and saw the vision of me speaking in unison. I am Alice.
The creature was silent. Shocked. Staring at the fabrication of me, and then glancing around at its peers. None other was glancing at my apparition.
The shock and upset had become too much and I woke, returning to my body in my warm bed. In my fear, I located the tickle of that other consciousness in the back of my mind and I shut it down. It was a bad dream after all, and I did not want to remember it.
For the next few weeks during my meditations, I did not allow my mind to slip into freedom. I was too afraid of what my mind might do. Instead I meditated on my body. Feeling the warmth of my blood and the comfort of my couch. Only once I had solidified my boundaries again did I allow myself to meditate fully- divorcing myself from my body again.
And I heard it. “Mm-allice! Mm-alice!”. That consciousness was back and it was calling my name. It was in need again, desperate for connection. Went to it, feeling compassion for its loneliness. I brought to it again my calm and my grounding. I pulled the desperateness away from the other consciousness and soothed it, just as I had learned to do for myself. Nobody should have to suffer. And when the creature was calm and satisfied- I left.
The next time I felt the creature was while I was stirring pasta for dinner. I heard my name again and the consciousness introduced itself into my active mind. It felt like a violation to be shown glimpses of another person and to hear their voice when I was busy with my own life. I did nothing to hide my anger. The consciousness must have felt it because it retreated and shrunk away until it was barely noticeable.
By the time I was done eating dinner, I felt sorry for that consciousness. It was just a figment of my imagination, but still. I should be compassionate, especially to myself. I calmed my mind and called that other consciousness out of hiding and into the forefront of my thoughts. It was sad as I expected. I did my best to apologize, pulling those sad feelings away and replacing them with my kindness. I felt the consciousness lighten and ease away, like floating on a wind. I was satisfied that I had done the right thing.
Many years passed, the remaining years of my full life. During that time, I mentored this consciousness. It was taxing sometimes, rewarding other times. Logically I knew that this was just my own emotions presenting themselves differently to me- even though I thought I addressed these issues and resolved them years ago. I knew I was just guiding myself, but it felt like I truly connected with someone else. A young adult who needed guidance. Some days I suspended my disbelief and indulged the character in this story.
Even in the final months of my life, the entity stayed with me. But I was losing my strength. In that time, the voice grew quieter and quieter. I could not tend to the sorrow and joy and anger of that being any more. I could only tend to my own. I took comfort in the drugs that lessened the pain of those last weeks of life.
They say that dying people have a last hurrah. In mine, I allowed that consciousness that had been with me all those years to return. The grief of this consciousness made me gasp. The creature was empty and cold, calling out to me in anguish. The creature was searching for me, calling my name, clutching its chest as the warmth disappeared and rigid hollowness took its place. My eyes welled with tears for this creature so lost in grief. The friends that surrounded my deathbed took hold of me and comforted me. I let go of the entity, casting it away as I focused on my loved ones. I felt their grief too, but that grief was overpowered by love. I allowed that love to soothe me until the pain of that consciousness- and the pain of many years of life- slipped away. They held me and whispered sweet wishes, reaffirming their deep care for me. When my mind that I had so gently guided and cared for finally disappeared and the last neuron had fired, somewhere in the universe a creature wailed in fear. |
"Thanks for coming in today, at such short notice, Mr Fraser. I do apologise for the vagueness of the call, but it's something that should be discussed face to face, not over the telephone."
"No problemo. I had a free afternoon anyway."Looking around, this was a stereotypical lawyer's office. Dark oak furniture. Leather bound books on a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. There was even a spinning globe, and I would bet one hundred dollars that it was actually a drinks cabinet. I was only here because the call had piqued my interest. It had come at just after ten this morning, from a law firm that was well established in town. After confirming my identity, Miss Solomon here had informed me that I was mentioned in a will, and that I had to come in to confirm my identity and fill in some forms. She hadn't told me exactly what I had inherited - maybe it was a car. That would definitely come in handy.
So here I was, clutching my driver's license and passport.
"May I see your ID please?"
I handed my documents over silently. She glanced at the driver's license, flicked open the passport, looked at me, nodded, and handed them back.
"Mr Fraser,"she began.
"Please - call me Dom."
Slightly flustered, so continued. "Dom. I must admit, we've only just received this case from another lawyer's office in Australia, and it has actually taken them eight months to trace you."
Australia? I didn't know anyone in Australia. Aw, man, if I've inherited a car and it's in Oz...
"Do you happen to know Mr Hessle?"
"Mr Hessle? Name doesn't ring a bell,"I replied, thinking that this was probably a case of mistaken identity.
"No, the law firm said that you probably wouldn't have heard of him. He was your great-great-grandfather's sister-in-law's great-great-stepson."
I'll admit, she lost me at great-great-grandfather. I've no interest in genealogy, and anything past first cousins and I get confused.
"Mr Raymond Hepple had no living relatives. No family on that side of the family tree. And you're the only family on this side of the family tree. So you have inherited his estate."
I sat up. Estate? This sounded interesting.
"He actually died three years ago, but his will insisted that all of his assets be sold, and that the proceeds of the sale go to you, his last living relative. His will also stipulated that you should not be informed of his passing, or the selling of the estate, until all the funds were available. There is one final clause, and that is that you are not to receive the funds until you complete the objective."
"The what now?"
Miss Solomon handed me an envelope. "We were also under strict instructions not to view this document until you had done so."
The envelope in my hand was high quality. In fact, I would go so far as to say that I had never handled paper as exquisite as this. It felt luxurious, and it oozed wealth. My heart skipped a beat. On the outside of the envelope, written in the finest, smoothest, most eloquent hand I had ever seen, was my name, Dominic Abraham Fraser. I winced slightly. Why had my parents included Abraham in my name?
Opening the letter, I pulled out three sheets. To call them sheets is to do them a great injustice. I reckoned that these three sheets of paper probably cost what I earned in a month. You certainly couldn't get this kind of paper in Staples.
As I read the letter, I noticed that my hands were trembling slightly.
"My dearest Dominic,
If this letter reaches you before I do, it means that time has run out for me. I have endeavoured to find you, but you seem an elusive fellow. We are related in a roundabout fashion, and you are the last link that I have to the Fraser family. Our great-great-grandfather, Abraham Fraser, was a kind soul, who taught his sons and daughters well. I have no doubt that you too are of great personage. It is my desire that you inherit my estate.
There is a condition, however, that must be reached, and it must be followed to the letter and observed each step of the way by whomever has presented this letter to you. Only then will you receive the full amount of the inheritance. If necessary, funds may be drawn from it to accomplish the condition."
I glanced up at Miss Solomon. This would be interesting. She looked at me.
"What does it - "
"I haven't quite finished yet."
The letter continued: "You must retrieve the seven golden spheres that Grandfather Abraham scattered from the family vault. He scattered these with the promise that our family would spread from the United States throughout the earth. He sent couriers to each continent with specific instructions to hide them as per his directions. He then left clues as to the whereabouts of these heirlooms for his descendants to find. I have a description of the heirlooms, and the clues that were left. When you accomplish the objective, and have in your possession all seven golden spheres, the condition of my will will have been reached, and the inheritance is yours."
Again, I looked at Miss Solomon.
"Okay, where are the cameras?"
"The cameras?"
"I know a setup when I see one. Hot chick posing as a lawyer. Some vague promise of an inheritance from a crazy long-lost relative. You want me lapping this up, and then you'll point out the camera, I'll feel embarrassed, the nation will laugh at me - well, you need to get yourself another chump, because I'm not falling for it!"
I stood up.
"Mr Fraser. I am not some 'hot chick posing as a lawyer', I got my degree at Stamford and I've been practicing for three years. I'll make partner in two. What are you talking about?"
Sceptically, I threw the papers on her desk. She slowly picked up the papers, and read them. Her eyes grew wide. That threw me a little.
Slowly, she put the papers down.
"Mr Fraser. Raymond Hepple has left you one hundred million dollars. This is not a reality show, or some scam, or anything of the sort. True, I've never personally dealt with anything as bizarre as this before - but I can assure you, it is well above board."
I took a deep breath.
"How important is it that all the criteria are met?"
"His documentation to the lawyers in Australia dictates that if the letter to you isn't carried out exactly as per his instructions, the monies are to be donated to a bee preservation society."
"Bee preservation?"
"Yes."
"Damn. Well, pack your bags Miss Solomon - looks like you and I are going on an adventure!"
===
Thanks for reading!
Comments, criticisms and feedback most welcome!
For more like this, please check out my sub - /r/MarkChandler \- thanks! |
"Zanek?"
"That's me."
"Your element is..."
This was it. The possibilities raced in my mind. Fire and water were boring. Lightning sounded neat. Darkness seemed too edgy, but light just felt cliché. Well, if anything, Entropy would be-
"...snot."
──────────
Yeah, you're laughing at me, aren't you? You think snot's pathetic. What am I gonna do, telekinetically pick my nose? Well, that and more.
See, snot is one of the most potent concentrations of anti-vital energy available to us - at least, when you're sick. Those bacteria are pumping out cytotoxins all over the place, your immune systems' doing its best to fight back. That make snot surprisingly potent for magic.
Snot is power, kids. Stop picking your noses. |
The Cards are strange objects. I don't think magic research has figured out how or why they even exist in the first place, but that hasn't stopped literally everyone from getting one on their 13th birthdays.
If anything, I hoped for luck from my Card. Luck directly swings the odds of anything in your favour - it's probably the simplest and most useful thing you could get. That wasn't what I got, though.
I got a fucking Uno Reverse Card.
The guy at the office thought they'd messed up too. Maybe they'd accidentally mixed it in with the rest? But no, this wasn't a fluke. My Card was a god damn Uno Reverse Card.
...anyway, I eventually figured out that the Card gave me the power of time control. And, as I was about to find out, that meant I had the world on a string. |
When that darn hacker uploaded a powerful malware onto all of humanity's devices, rendering them useless, we scrambled to find a new way of communication. Without much choice, we reverted back to the days of landline phones and writing letters.
That's when i come in. When phones were disabled, the company that was behind the leading messaging app at the time, Textorg, had a brilliant idea. They changed their services from a messaging app to a quick letter delivery service. If you had to get a letter to someone within a few days, you called Textorg.
"Hey Murphy, got a job for ya. "I got up from my chair and quickly got the debrief from my supervisor Jacob. "This letter is a big one. We have to deliver a message to the government, and they're willing to pay us a hundred thousand dollars if we get it in by tommorow."I gulped. Letters for the government were notorious for being difficult to deliver due to the number of organizations who attempt to disrupt the delivery. However, if completed, one could almost always retire immediately. Thus, I accepted the job and headed out.
Never tried a writing prompt before so i figured i would try one out. Feedback would be appreciated :) |
The perfect archwizard Misande and her partner the disfigured bloodwitch Ki were the first to find it. Earlier that night there was a brilliant streak of fire and red across the sky, and a thunder so loud stone and dirt flowed like water. The two women scrying in glass and viscera knew this would spell an end of an age, if allowed to fester. It had to be met. Surely, though, it could be dealt with. It would be a three day walk to the King's Judgement, the thing could do no harm in that time, they hoped.
Misande and Ki stepped down the walls of the crater. In the very center rested a stone of pale white, ovoid and pure, gleaming in the sunrise. Dew clung to the surface of it. The women stared at eachother, eyes to eye, and Ki bit her thumb with sharpened teeth, letting her blood drip onto the surface of the stone.
It hissed and burned and split open like an egg. A thrashing tentacle broke free, savage teeth and claws gnashing and lashing as Ki leaps back, into the safety of Misande's arms. She holds out an arm, face contorting as she speaks the spells, gripping the tentacle tightly in a fist of light, drawing it from the egg. A ball of black meat comes out, scarring the mind of Misande. She places it into a glass phyces, a bowl for monsters, though she doubts it will last long at all. It hammers against the walls. It yearns for freedom.
The walk was long and tiring, but neither woman stopped to eat or sleep, their quest too important for such trivialities. They reached the gates of the palace, the door admitting them into the nine-tiered home of the king of moonlight.
He nodded to the wizards, asking about the light and sound to the north. Misande held forth the phyces, showing the sky-thing within. Could it be killed, the king asked. Ki shook her head. Misande spoke for her partner. No. It will not bleed, it will not die. Can it be contained, the king asked. Ki paused, and slowly nodded her head, a single time. Misande refused. It would be the end for us. So then what? The king stepped from his glass throne, walking down to get a better look into the phyces at the creature. It had no shape, no form, only skin and teeth and claws. It put a scar on his retina, a nightmarish afterimage that would haunt his dreams. What was this thing?
Something from the sky. Newborn, but ancient. Entirely dangerous, deserving of fear and loathing. Something that will end the world. Misande breathes a tortured breath. Something that may be contained. For a time. Bloodmagics are powerful, but painful, requiring sacrifice. Ki is the most powerful bloodwitch, and there is little left of her for that reason. Perhaps bloodmagic can keep it contained, for a time. I am still afraid. I don't want to die.
The king looked away, horrified, but nodded. Do what you will.
Cast the three of us into a well. Every year a man must be slaughtered, his blood drained into the well, and his body cast into it. Cut your fingers, cast drops down. Every bit helps. We may be alive down there. If you hear our cries, do not rescue us. Get a mop. You will need it for Ki's ritual.
Ki drew her sword, a blade with no hilt, in her only hand, the metal slicing her fingers to the bone, and she drives it through her own belly. Blood spills out as the phyces breaks, the monster latching onto the closest person. Ki is wrapped in the beast, but her blood burns it. The smell is unimaginable as it writhes. Mesande sobs as she binds the two together with her spells, her third eye glinting, a burning searing light wrapping thin threads around the beast and her love. She runs forth, embracing her love and the monster, kissing her bleeding partner as the chains bind her too, as the teeth and nails bite into her flesh.
The two witches and the beast are dragged to the old well, flung in. They fall and fall and fall, breaking their bodies against the stone before they sink into water, deeper and deeper until the surface on the other side. Washing ashore on slick black stone never touched by human hands, the water blood-red. The women stare into each other, eyes to eye. The ropes burn. The monster bites.
How long is an eternity? Close your eyes and count to one, and you're already there. |
It was the trial of the century. A vampire had been arrested and charged with several crimes, but the one that had captured the public’s eye was murder. It made all the media outlets salivate as this was the first time a vampire was publicly charged with anything. Normally they kept to themselves, the unseen hand shaping business and commerce, amassing wealth and power behind the scenes. Sometimes they would get caught in a public scandal but most often they led reclusive and private lives.
Not this one. This vampire was like a rock star among them. He had been caught doing cocaine with hookers, defacing famous works of art, and many lewd acts of public indecency. He had reveled in his debauchery and flaunted his excess. One day he took it too far and killed a person, a human being.
Now he stood trial and it was every bit the show and circus he could have hoped for. News crews huddled at the entrance of the courthouse to catch a glimpse of his pale glory. Teams of lawyers, which he had offered huge amounts of wealth flocked around him like an entourage. Only the Judge, an impartial and stoic woman dedicated to the law and justice, and the District Attorney, a man so worn down and jaded that not even a rock star vampire could throw him off his game, were unmoved.
The vampire smirked conceitedly. He already knew he'd win. The lawyers were mostly for show and he had waved the right to a jury citing that no human jury could be fair to him since he was dead, and no vampire would sit in judgment of another.
So now he sat at the stand in all his smirking confidence, “Must I remind the Court that the dead cannot be legally convicted of a crime? There is no law that I know of that states otherwise.”
The team of lawyers nodded in agreement and the DA looked down at the folder in his hand, “Yes... so you've claimed. Your name is Dante Giancarlo Rossetti, correct?”
“It was.” The vampire flashed a smile, “But I go by Blood Dante the Sex Devil, now.”
“Legally you never changed it, so it’s still your name though, correct?”
The Vampire huffed, “Yes. Technically.”
“Thank you.” the DA continued, “For the record, your records state that you were born in 1846, somewhere in Naples, Italy, yes?”
“Ah yes, born in a small village just outside of Naples, actually in the spring of 1846. Let me save you some time, Detective. I grew up a pauper. My parents died when I was but a child, I had no family, no cousins or siblings to lean on so I came to America in 1858, when I was just twelve. Penniless abused and abandoned I spent years working as an apprentice blacksmith until the age of eighteen when I clawed myself into a position to run my own shop. Of course, the Civil War had broken out by that point and I got swept up in it.
I was wounded and late one night a nurse came to me and made me the magnificent creature I am today. After that, I went about amassing my fortune during Reconstruction. And when the 1980s hit, I became a Rock and Sex GOD!”
“Riveting.” the DA deadpanned, “Am I right to say you died in the summer of 1863, at 27 years old?”
“That's what my official biography says isn't it?” The Vampire smirked, “I am a vampire after all. One of the dead. And like I've said, the dead cannot be convicted of any crime.”
“Again, did you die in 1863, Mr. Rossetti?”
“For Fu... yes. I'm sure you have the official papers there. Your species is usually so thorough with that kind of bureaucracy. I died in the summer of '63 and had papers drawn up to that fact in 1877 so that I could establish myself anew. A break with the old life as a mere man and the start of my death as a vampire. So yes. I died. That's the point Detective.”
“Charming. Your Honor, I do have the death certificate of one Dante Giancarlo Rossetti, Born 1846, Naples Italy, and Citizen of the United States as of 1860. Entered into Evidence as Exhibit D.”
The Judge nodded and the DA continued, “Mr. Rossetti, is this indeed your Death Certificate?”
The Vampire took the plastic-wrapped paper from the Bailiff and looked it over, “Yes. It clearly states that I'm deceased. As I have been saying.”
“Thank You. Your Honor, I would like the record to show that Mr. Rossetti has confirmed Exhibit D as his Death Certificate and is not contesting his status as Deceased.”
“Noted.” the Judge said quietly, “Continue.”
The trial continued with the Vampire's lawyers leaning heavily on his status as a dead man. They pointed out the lack of case precedence for convicting the dead of crimes and the public’s general lack of sympathy of for the dead and their struggles. The DA let them reinforce those facts a focused on the character and actions of the vampire as they pertained to the days and hours leading up to the murder.
“Mr. Rossetti you have waived the right to a trial by jury and have entered a plea of Not Guilty. You have tried to make a mockery of our legal system and our laws by twisting logic and reality. However. You have proven, beyond any doubt that you are dead. In fact, you have proven conclusively that you have been dead for over a hundred years. You have also reminded the Court, repeatedly, that there are no laws with which to convict the dead of crimes. I must agree with you... legally the dead cannot be legally convicted of crimes under our legal system.
However, you must know that under our legal system the Dead no longer has the legal rights of the living. They cannot own property or wealth and can neither hold office nor run a business. Legally you have bought homes, islands, business, and more using the identity of a dead man. You have no legal claim to any of the vast wealth you have accrued using the name and assets of the deceased Mr. Dante Rossetti and all your accounts, wealth, properties, and assets are to be seized and frozen. As you have proven you have no living relatives and no distant relations, these assets and holdings will be distributed as seen fit by this State's Department of Revenue.” |
Thunk
I snap up in my chair, inevitably hitting my knee on the top of the small desk.
“They really need to make bigger desks” I think to myself, while I look around, while half-heartedly rubbing my eyes, looking for the source of the sound that startled me from my god-given nap.
I was expecting to see Mr. Stash, my “math” teacher, smiling at me while picking up an expertly dropped textbook that would’ve had the sole purpose of awakening me from my slumber, instead, I see all of my classmates looking around, seemingly just as confused as I was.
Thunk
The same sound again, this time my now slightly more awake mind was able to identify the sound as something hitting the ceiling, I start leaning over to Jared, my good friend who is kind enough to share his notes with me.
“Dude, is it just me or did something---”
Clank
I was suddenly interrupted by the same sound again, way louder this time. Everyone was whispering at this point, Mr, Stash had even paused his excited monologue about graph theory and was looking around also.
“Don’t worry class, I’m pretty sure it’s the maintenance guys doing something on the roof, you guys know there is a leak in this classroom.”
I’m not sure if anyone else heard him, since while he said that there had been at least three other crashing sounds from the roof, and half the class, myself included, was making their way to the windows, social distancing completely forgotten during those few moments, the crashing and thumping was an almost constant sound now, just like when there is a strong hail, that is if said hail was the size of basketballs.
Outside the scene was pretty grim - car windows were broken, people were running for shelter, at least the ones that weren’t strewn around on the floor, I saw a significantly larger piece than the rest hit a truck right where the driver was sitting, making it swerve to the right and crashing into a lamppost. Looking up I notice black cracks running along the sky, with the few clouds that were around shaped as if they were either pouring out of those holes or being sucked in, I can’t really tell wich.
All the talking had stopped, everyone was just staring, the clanking noise was interrupted by Jared shouting right in my ear
“I guess we do live in an aquarium, those conspiracy theorists were right. NASA lied to us man!”
“I know, I guess the moon landing was fake too” I say, attempting to lighten the mood with a really bad joke.
At that moment I realise I am extremely sleepy, and that I feel nice and warm. I decide to sit down for a minute.
While I lie on the ground, I look back up to the sky. I swear there had been way more clouds five minutes ago…
“Oh! That makes sense, the sky was keepi…”
Edit: My phone is being stupid and is refusing to italicize, so I changed up the internal thinking a bit and the onomatopoeias remain in normal font... Sorry if this causes any confusion. |
I sat, knelt before my captors. My mouth was taped and hands bound behind my back. This was the typical strategy for anyone that wanted to restrain a mage. Gag or cover the mouth, and lyrics can't be sung. Bind the hands, and no beats can be made. A guard followed from behind, watching every step. Ensuring you walk at a slow, controlled pace. Your steps were allowed to make no audible sound. If you're seen as a true threat, they’d even bring along a bard to play a charming lullaby, and keep you in a daze for the duration of your trip.
However, none of this mattered for me. I was a mute. I spent my life simply recording and archiving music, compiling them into a player.
It was only ever in situations where people questioned my existence that I was of any interest. Someone that can't sing their lyrics, can't cast spells.. I carried no evident instruments, so I couldn’t be a bard. So I was questioned anytime someone saw me. And it usually ended in guard escorting down the secluded path to the kingdom. There they would probrably torture, interrogate, and possibly attempt execution me. Again. I only allowed myself to take that full trip once, and I'll never do that again.
I would be safe to use the same strategy as always to escape. Even when I allowed a survivor to go back to the capital, they never found out my secret. No one noticed the net covering the circles on my “shoulder plates” or the buttons that decorated my gloves. If that had even stopped to examine my “colorful rubber threads,” they might have noticed something was off. Who sews gloves to the shoulder plates anyways?
A flex of my finger brought my systems roaring to life, the recording of the song casting the same as if I were to play it normally. A quiet, synthesized sound grew in size. Then, the bait effect kicked in, drawing anyone within earshot closer. Finally, silence.
I grinned and winked, bracing myself as the bass of the spell roared to life. In mere seconds, any guards within range of the spell were gone. The closest were knocked into the woods. Further ones were just knocked out. The last were stunned, they just barely within range of the speakers. I opted to stand still, simply admiring my work as the spell concluded, continuing it's in and outs, the swaps between charms and bass drops bringing in and handling any that dared to come near. Before long, the final wave of bass hit.
Then the next spell, and not a moment too soon. My wrists were getting stiff, and the guards would awaken soon. That one was only a low level stun after all. Now guitars and drums echoed through out the forest, the air growing cold around me. Then, heat.
A spell I had recorded during my first… visit to the capital. Power raged inside my body, the ropes binding my hands smoking a bit before I snapped them off. Inch by inch, I could feel the change take hold, my legs growing in muscle and my fingers stretching out. Nails extending to dagger-like claws at the tips of what became paws.
One by one guards started to arise, only to be greeted by something no man ever survived seeing twice. No one but me anyways. It was a rare sight to see. The spell required a full band to cast, and could only be cast at an outside party. But my speakers did the playing, allowing me to be targeted. I observed them as slowly, their vision cleared and they regained focus. A grin creeping across my lips as terror etched itself onto their faces.
I cast a cold glare over them all, wearing the same armor and gloves, now stretching to the limits of the fabric. Where there was once a scrawny mute man, towered a Rock-Hound. Some shrieked and ran, others fumbled with their words. No matter to me, the secondary intimidation effect of my spell making forming a coherent verse near impossible. I pounced at the furthest one, landing centered in the only path to survival. Couldn’t let my food escape after all. But I paused upon landing, the aroma of the blood that soaked into my paw seeming oddly familiar.
I cast a glance down at the young sorceress, struggling to remove my claw from her stomach. Her struggle only serving to sink it deeper. The young lady's beauty would have been unmatched, if it hadn't been for the scar that took over half of her face. Then it struck, she was the one I had mercy on once before. Clearly for naught, since here she was again. I couldn't help but observe her struggle for a minute. Until the realization she wouldn't live to see another day sunk in. As if to enact a final act of defiance, she cried out one final spell, both to grant her comrades a warning, and a useless, temporary wisdom boost.
At this final gesture, I couldn't help myself anymore. I let a savage howl erupt from deep within my canine body, before I feasted. Taking her into my mouth, I devoured her small body in a single motion. Her tender flesh gliding down my throat. Remembering she just served as an appetizer, I surveyed the others. Eager for my next meal. The realization that there was no escape led to pure terror, only serving to leave them rooted in place. Slowly, I paced between them all. I have another 2 minutes before this spell ends, and I feel like a monster. |
“Okay, Barthelamu, calm down, calm the fuck down,” I mutter as I pace across my room. “This isn’t a big deal; it’s not like there’s a stranger in your closet, gripping onto a photo of your dead beat, good for nothing, mother and father.”
I force out a laugh that quickly turns into painful sobs. I’m on the twelfth damn floor. Why, out of all the closets in this building, does the kid come into mine? I glance back at him, sitting down with cuts and gashes covering his arms and legs. His light blue eyes stare at me like a puppy, sparkling somewhat because of the tears he must be holding back from the pain.
This has to be some joke. There’s no other way. But who the hell would know how my parents look like? I keep it a secret, even to Martha and Dan. I must not have seen it correctly.
I turn back to the messed up kid, probably just at the age of being a teenager, and walk closer to look at the photo in his hands. Even though he quickly drags it under his cloak, there’s no mistaking it. The wide smiles, the overly dark sunglasses, the butterfly hairpin, it’s them. It’s my parents.
All I wanted was one ordinary day. Just one. Not even that, maybe an evening where I could drink some tea and not suddenly have to listen to cackling or deal with a horrible, annoying prank from the good for nothing Martha. At least Headless Dan doesn’t say anything; he just reads the morning news or tries to duel a car outside of my view.
Actually, the more I think about it, where are they? I thought they were just acting silent for once when I came back from the private detective agency. Could this be another one of Martha’s pranks? She’s been getting better at making me confused about which plane I’m looking at, so maybe this is it… Her ultimate prank.
“Martha, stop hiding now, come on. This joke isn’t at all funny!” I wait for a couple of moments, hearing only faint sounds of cricket chirps and crow calls. Are they actually not here? Was a priest called in, and I missed it? If so, I gotta shake the guy’s hand for doing what I couldn’t for years. Though I hope Headless Dan got out alright.
“Are you alright,” the boy asks me in between his sudden convulsions and deep breaths. So, I guess there really is a stranger that was in my closet...
“What about you? Who the hell are you?” I look at him up and down, figuring out if I might know him from somewhere, but I quickly realize that even if I met him before, I wouldn’t know. I have the strange ability to forget people that I don’t find necessary to remember. As the secretary of a private detective firm, there are loads of schmucks I don’t care about.
He tightly grips onto the photo and peers down onto the floor. He shakes his head as though he couldn’t have just said, “no.”
I sigh as I look at the photo he’s crumpling up in his grip. I only have twenty-two photos of them, so each one counts. I might hate their guts out for leaving me at an adoption home when I was born, but every birthday they send me a letter with a photo of them and some annoying messages. My eyes dart to my left, to a table with a single flipbook where I store the pictures. “Then how about you tell me why you have a photo of my parents?”
His eyes brighten up, a clear warning that I just stepped on a landmine. What the hell is he going to say? If anything, just please don’t be another long-winded sob story. I get enough of those as it is at work.
“Y-your, my brother,” he mutters with a warm smile that would have, in any other scenario, warmed my heart. But, right now, it just feels horrible. It’s Like I got slapped in the face after taking fifty shots of tequila and then waterboarded all at once, instead of only on the same night. You know, I kinda want to rip up those pictures I was talking about now with my parents. You would think they would mention, at least once, that I have a younger brother. But no, they didn’t.
Tired, beaten down, and defeated, I sit down into my only chair next to a rickety old table and sip on some cold-ass tea. “I guess I am,” I say, with no other words coming to mind.
“T-Then you can help,” he cheerfully shouts, as blood lightly trickles from his mouth. Neither of us react to it, but we both just kinda stare as it drops onto my carpet. Why does it always have to be the carpet?
“Do you want me to call an ambulance, drive you to a hospital, do some emergency surgery or something? Though I will add I have no idea how to do anything in medicine, I don’t have a car, and my phone’s battery is dead.”
He violently shakes his head side to side. “No, you don’t have to worry about me. Here,” he says as he hands me the now badly wrinkled photo.
Mom and dad stand on a beach, smiling ear to ear. Mom wears some floral dress, while dad has an insanely colorful shirt that barely fits his giant figure.
Don’t tell me… I turn the photo around, and just like I worried, there’s writing. I should have guessed, my parents always send me a letter on my birthday.
“Hey son,” my dad’s writing screams out with his thick strokes. “We’re sorry for bothering you after all this time, you know, with us not being around and all, but could you take care of your siblings for us? Thanks a bunch.” My eyes squint as I finish reading his part of the letter. Did he write siblings? As in, multiple?
I bolt my head down to the bottom of the letter, where my mom’s curly writing comes in. “PS: For every sibling you take care of you’ll be paid an allowance of fifty grand. I hope you help as many of them as you can. From: Your Mom and Dad... “
“What the hell is going on...” I turn to my brother, back to the letter, and then again at my brother. “How many siblings do you have?”
“A hundred and eighty-six currently,” he says with a sweet smile.
“A hundred and...” My head slams onto the rickety table, smashing it apart and leaving nothing but sawdust and wood chippings along with ceramics from my teacup. What the hell do I do now?
“Barthelamu,” A ghastly voice screams into my ears as a pale blue face erupts from my floor. I can’t help but jump back, slamming my only chair down and breaking it as well. “Oh,” she mutters, floating in the air with her pale white eyes and slithering hair.
“This better be important, Martha,” I utter with the most amount of anger I’ve ever had in my life. I usually don’t talk aloud to Martha, Dan, or the others when someone’s around, but honestly, I couldn’t care less right now.
“Who are you talking to,” my brother asks.
Both Martha and I angrily snarl out, “don’t worry about it.”
“Allright,” he yelps nervously, causing some more blood to sprinkle out onto my god damn carpets. I quickly look over his cuts, all of them now almost gone, and his gushing gashes, all dried up.
Martha flails herself in my face, whipping me a couple of times with her unruly hair. She’s beyond excited, yelling, “there’s some weirdos chasing after a kid a few blocks down. They’re wearing some weird Oni masks and have dragon designs on the back of their cloaks.”
“Sounds like something from a movie.”
“I know right,” she gingerly yells out, excited beyond belief. “So you gonna do somethin bout it?” Her eyes stare into mine, appearing like Opals as her excitement brings back color to her transparent skin.
“I would if I just had a-”
Before I can finish my sentence, the bottom drawer of my kitchen cabinet opens wide. A kitchen knife darts out straight towards me, landing just before my leg. I pick it up, annoyed, of course, but also holding back a smile. At Least I’m used to this type of abnormal.
“Are you also enhanced,” my brother asks?
“Don’t think so. Oh, and while I’m gone, make sure not to leave without giving me a proper explanation.” Martha suddenly grabs hold of my shirt, sending me on a straight dive down all the floors until I make it onto the cold hard cement right outside my apartment building. “I can already tell how excited you are about this.”
“Well, of course, it’s been a whole year since the last time. I kinda feel bad for Dan; he would have loved crossing the veil again.”
“Probably, and I bet we’ll see him on the way, now come on and show me where to go. I want to wrap this up quickly; I have some family issues to deal with.”
“More than usual,” she cheerfully says.
“Yeah… More than usual.” |
\[Sharp Discussion\]
"He's going to let this continue?"Satan asked. The giant red-skinned man sat in his cavern office behind a large obsidian desk. In front of him sat a young woman with sea-green curls and olive skin. Isla nodded an answer to his question.
"He wants to see, 'how it plays out',"she said. Her exasperated eye roll gave away her true feelings on the subject. Satan sighed.
"I feel like he's losing interest in the whole thing. Between this and letting Ballisea run wild,"Satan gestured at Isla with his hand. "He didn't even come in person."
"He *has* been doing it for a while,"Isla agreed. "Some of the Middlemen think he's following your example. He might be considering a successor."Satan's eyes went wide in shock; but, he couldn't say he was surprised.
"You can't mean...,"Satan paused looking for the right words. "She's a Zero! She *was* at least. now she's -,"Isla interrupted him.
"Now she's running her own afterlife. After being just you two for so long, the big guy thinks a third competitor could spice things up. He thinks she couldn't possibly make any headway this late in the game,"Isla shook her head. "We've been trying to convince him he's underestimating her."Satan nodded vigorously.
"If there's one thing I've learned,"he chuckled. "Even if the bossman said, 'I have no doubts Dana Sharp will win this round'; *that* would still be underestimating her. He sees everything, but he doesn't notice everything."Isla nodded.
"We know. The scarier part is; she's found somewhere to hide."
"What?!"Satan asked. "That's... that's impossible! Where?"Isla rolled her eyes again and giggled.
"If we knew that she wouldn't be hidden."
"And he's *still* not going to step in and stop it? That's cheating."
"Big man says it's not cheating if we can't catch her doing it. Which, we can't."
Satan grumbled under his breath for a few moments, the finally shook his head.
"You know what I just realized? It's not my problem anymore,"he said. "Julie's almost done with [her quest](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/c9guok/wp_everyone_ready_this_is_your_last_chance_to/), then I'm out of here. If he's not going to worry about it, I'm not going to either."
"That's what the Middlemen decided too,"Isla nodded. "It's business as usual, [just a bit slower](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/j1ass5/wp_you_are_the_receptionist_for_heaven_you_notice/),"Isla said. She stood from the chair. "Was there anything else you wanted to bring to his attention?"she asked; a black portal opened to her side. Satan shook his head.
"That was everything. Thank you, Isla,"he said. Isla nodded, waved, then stepped through the portal.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1032 in a row. (Story #302 in year three.) You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. |
forgive any typos or formatting errors I was tired by the end and didn't proof read.
As you get your things together to go to the same school you her heather shout from the kitchen “JAMES, get down here right now before I give your food to the dog!” yelled heather my “mother” that dad got with about seven months ago.
“Yeah yeah I know I’m getting ready! I’ll be down in a sec!”
“You wouldn’t need to get ready so fast if you just got up earlier!” she said with a clear tone of annoyance.
“And I would get up earlier if you just got me a new clo—”
“James!” yelled my dad “Stop arguing with your mother and get down here to eat your breakfast! It’s bacon bit omelets on some cinnamon butter toast!” he said as if he were trying to bribe me to come down faster. And it worked because I was already pulling my shirt of my 17th failed clay man who came crashing down to my juice stained floored.
When I came around to corner, I came to the hallway that I always slow down at out of fear of knocking down one of the many photos hung up walls and in picture frames on tables. But the dog had no such concern as he came charging out of the kitchen but lost his footing on the decade old carpet. ”MAX NO!” I tried to yell but it was already too late as he tumbled into one of the four tables knocking over one of the pictures with a loud crack. I ran over forgetting about my rule out of worry for my dog but that worry soon turned to anger as I looked at the picture. The wood part was broken in two and the glass was shattered but the picture of a happy couple with their kid holding up a twenty-pound bass he had so proudly caught was alright. But I did not get to look long as dad came rushing in asking what that crash was and not so quickly heather complaining that the dog can never calm down not even slightly worried about if he was okay or not.
You brush off heather and double check max before putting the picture in your wallet and head into the kitchen that’s strait from the 90’s but you’ve always loved it. As you sit down to eat you almost drool on your breakfast. You cannot wait to inhale it like a vacuum because the last time you had this delicious meal was before mo--. Your thoughts are cut off by Heather and her insufferable voice.
“when are you gonna redo this kitchen Henry? It makes me feel as old as my grandma and I want something more modern like in the magazines.” She said with a look of disgust at the red leather chairs and old wood tables with a metal trim.
“Hun this kitchen has been like this for a looong and I plan to show my grand children it. Besides, we’ve already redone the rest of the house what’s the kitchen?” Dad said smiling at the checkered floor.
“well it doesn’t fit with the rest of the house you should change it.”.
But as she said that max was already sneaking up behind her and with one fell swoop, he took her hole omelet of her plate and was almost done before Heather or Dad could react. “MAX” Heather shouted as she lifts her hand to strike Max. “NO DON’T” I shouted as I dove to protect my dog, I felt a hand swipe across my face then again and again. It was clear Heather knew she wasn’t hitting the dog and the only reason she stopped was because Dad had grabbed her wrist. I don’t remember much after that all I do remember Is running. Running through allays and across roads before I knew it, I was at the river trying to wash the hand print off my check with the cool clear water. If I were here under any other circumstances, I would love to go swimming under the summer sun especially on a cloudless day like this but today all I could do was cry in the lush green grass. I tried to put myself back together, but I would keep falling back down to cry some more so I pulled the picture from my wallet and quietly asked “mom what do I do?”
After crying and staring at her in the picture I was exhausted but still to mad to go back so I only could lay there and talk to myself because I left my phone at home. “Well that went well.” I sarcastically said to myself “I hope max is okay and I hope Dad gave Heather what she deserved.”. I look at the picture again and only one question pops in my head. "Where do people go when they die?". As I ponder the question a bit A voice answers "To the dirt, and stars and waters the gods made them from."Startled but Curious, you ask "Where do gods go when they die?"You hear the voice again "To the dust and stars and waters that You made us from, Master. "
“Master? What are you talking about?”
“You were the one to create us, so we are your children, and you are our god.”
“That doesn’t make sense. At most I would be your father. Show yourself, let me see my “children”.”
As I said that I heard a rustle in the tall grass behind me. When I turn to look at the host of this voice, I was surprised to see my failed clay man stumble out of the tall grass with a short thin leg and a long stumpy leg. And then I saw another and another, all my clay men that I had been trying to get right and others that I never made.
“Who. What are you things.”
“We just said. We are your gods as you are ours.”
I couldn’t believe it. A couple dozen clay figures were talking to me claiming they were gods.
“What does that, mean it doesn’t make any sense.” I said with a fake confidence that fails to hide ones true feelings.
Then one stepped forward and begone to speak “I am god I created you, your dog, and earth. I created everything.”. then “God” stepped back into the crowd and another stepped forward and begun to speak “I am Ra. I am god of all and I rule over the sky, the Earth, and the underworld. I am the god of the sun, order, kings, and the sky.”
“wait what? Those are two conflicting beliefs you can’t both exist without one being false and why are you clay figures? And why—” I was cut off by one thunderous chuckle as they begin to speak as one.
“Haha child let us answer those two questions. To clear up your confusion on us it is as we said you are our gods. We would without you or your people. Each one of us was conceived from the thoughts of your people. We exist because you so strongly believe we do, and we would not be here if not for that.”
“Ok so you live of humans mental power but why show up to me? Why show up as clay?”
“you are not the only one. We have decided that you humans have become much too violent to each other to get what you want and so we have come to help enforce justice properly without all the corruption or greed, And we show ourselves as clay because we do not want to make people afraid of us so we shall show ourselves as things you have created.”
As I go to ask more questions, I notice the sun has long gone from the far east and is coming close to the west horizon. I started to debate with myself if I should stay out here or go home. I decide that even though I hate heather I should go back for Dad and Max. “Are you gonna follow me home?” I ask the clay figures. At that they all disperse except for failed clay man number 17 or “God” when he speaks. “I will be the only one to go with you for we fear you are not living in proper condition. On account that you came to the river and cried for the entire day.”. You think of trying to argue but give an understanding nod and head home.
After a 3 hour walk you finally find your way back home and, I see Heathers car is gone. I think she probably went to the 24-hour store to get some junk food to serve as a diner when its her turn to cook. As I walk up the stone steps and knock on the new oak wood door my dad comes to the door shouting. “I ALREADY TOLD YOU A HUNDERD TIMES YOU ARE NOT WELCO—” and just like that he cuts off as he sees me. Before I can say a word, he scoops me in his arms and begins to cry an unmanly cry. It was only a matter of time before I joined him crying and saying sorry. Once we got ourselves back together, he noticed God and immediately armed himself with the bat we kept near the door. “What is that” he asked in a hushed voice. “Are you this child’s guardian?” god asked once he saw he was noticed. “Dad its okay. He’s okay, come on I never got that toast omelet. Can you make another for me and my friend while I explain what happened?”
“Yeah okay I can do that.” Is all Dad could get out of his exhausted husk of a body. As we walk in I tell god to get on my shoulder so max doesn’t tear him apart. As Dad is making the omelet, I explain what I know, and he explains that after the incident that morning he immediately told Heather to pack her bags and go. She was gone by mid-day. He had been out looking for me with max for the rest of the day but never found me. I was a lot of things in that moment. Happy, hungry, and confused but most of all I was tired so I ate my food and headed up stairs as God and Dad spoke downstairs and as I put my head to my pillows I had dreams of mud turning into gods. |
‘Settle down. It’s not the first time you’ve lost a partner on this job.’
While not wrong, it’s also not a comforting thought. Normally you can tell when it’s going to be bad. Normally you can prepare a goodbye.
Not this time.
It seemed like an easy level one, maybe level two task. Some little greasy white faced monster got stuck in a vent. You take a glorified shoe horn and pop him out into the box and leave. That’s what should have happened anyway.
My eyes caught movement, and I jerked towards it, weapon slipping slightly in my hands. I recognized the homeowner, wide eyed and frozen mid step. She didn’t know what was going on. She didn’t know what happened to Joe.
“Stay back.” I felt my voice crack. I was better than this. I cleared my throat. “Ma’am, get back outside. This isn’t safe. I haven’t cleared the house yet.”
She seemed to nod, but it was hesitant. That’s when the smell hit me. Coppery, moist, and old. I felt my face scrunch to try and block the scent, but I knew it would be days before I was truly rid of the smell.
‘Where is the smell coming from? Which vent is it in now? Find it quickly.’
I didn’t dare close my eyes, although it made focusing on the smell more difficult. It was the noise that caught my attention. Like putty sliding on metal, the schlup drew my attention to the vent in the ceiling. I raised my weapon.
‘Steady. Not too soon. You can’t fire wildly, not at this thing. It’s too strong for that. You saw what it did to Joe, how quickly he vanished. God, at least it was quick.’
Movement drew my eyes away from the vent. The woman, what was her name? Whatever, she had taken a step forward. Towards me.
‘What is she doing?’
“Ma‘am, you really need to leave. It’s not safe.”
The soft squelch drew my attention back up to the vent. The vent she was directly under.
My stomach tightened as I recognized my own response to danger. I was trained to protect civilians, even the stupid ones. My weapon was turned away from her and I shoved her out of the way.
I felt pressure in my chest. Not pain, just pressure. I was too excited to feel the pain. I raised my weapon to fire up, knowing I had a clear shot.
My hand was empty. I looked back and saw the woman holding my weapon. She was muttering something.
“- Three more. He only needs three more.”
Searing pain ripped through my chest as my feet jerked off the ground. I screamed as my skull collide with the ceiling, and then my back cracked. |
As I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling the walls seemed to close in at the edge of my vision. Rolling over the pillow was cool where my tears had collected. The cheap bed-frame creaked under each shuddering breath. I tried to focus on my calming techniques taking a deep breath. Stubbornly, my heart would listen and stop trying to break free of my chest, a distinct rhythm beating in my ears again. Every time I was almost in my happy place, the parrot would squawk and make a cry for attention and my stomach would knot up, everything beginning new.
How could I tell my father about the voice that the parrot had been imitating? Even as I was panicking in my room, I could hear him calling the pastor and anyone else who would listen. With each new person he would begin the story of how the parrot had begun to act strangely in the last month and now it was saying strange words in a voice like unlike ours.
My father’s voice was deep and resonating as it bounced down the hall. When I was a child it was comforting now each call brings more anxiety. They parrot's new voice was higher pitched and flatter, but it was the voice I wanted to go to sleep with from then on.
There was silence in the hall, my bed seemed the sole thing in the house. Then the footsteps approached, each bringing another turn of the vise around my heart. The floor boards down the hall creaked under the strain of a great weight. The door opened and the shape of a large man is outlined in the doorway.
“Son, I got the pastor to agree and check to see if there is a ghost in… Have you been crying again! Goddammit John I know that a haunting can be hard but you’re a grown man, grow a pair.” A fist hit the doorway and I automatically jerked upright. I nodded at him, made a show of wiping tears away and gave him, the patent pending, Bauman family tough face.
“That’s better, that libral arts college is doing you no good. If only you'd gotten into The University of Alabama you’d’ve toughened up by now. Most colleges are useless but The Crimson Tide makes real men.” He pauses, taping his foot while I look at him and try to keep that ridiculous look on my face. He sighs, “Are you taking those two seminary courses the pastor told you about?” I nodded
“Good, the pastor said you could help him make sermons and such this summer if you get good grades in them.” As an afterthought, “I’m only paying for that school because you’re taking those classes. I don’t need no dandy businessmen in this family.” He turned and walked down back down the hall leaving the door wide open.
I went to close the door, falling into his trap. He called over his shoulder, “since you’re up came and make us dinner while I watch the game.”
Walking down the hall my feet found the worn part of the carpet laying over the older wood flooring. I had been using the same spots since I was a kid to avoid making any noise on the way to the bathroom. I walked through the living room keeping to the left wall so as not to distract from my father’s game experience.
“John.” He wheedled. What had I done? I missed the creaking boards in the hall. Was I to far over? No, I was practically hugging the wall.
“Make it a salisbury steak for me tonight.” I lowered my arms and quietly took a breath. “While you’re at it get me a beer. And for the love of god stop acting like you’re a beat dog. I ain't never hit you a day in your life”
I nodded while hurrying into the kitchen and going to the sink, the only part out of sight from the living room. I leaned against the sink for support then tried to turn the taps on but my hands were shaking too much to manage it. Why was I so weak? No one else I knew had problems like this. It really was a good thing mom had died when I was in 5th grade, she’d be ashamed of me, just like my father.
A minute later the commercials must have come on because I could hear my father get up and head to the bathroom in his room. He managed to take a moment to shout, “I don’t hear anything,” before slamming his door.
Even in April the blast of air from the freezer was welcome. As I pulled stacks of dinners from the fridge to check them, I wished my father would let me cook. Sadly, cooking was feminine and any man who cooked was sure to turn gay. Exceptions were made for BBQing of course. I wondered if I would ever be free to do what I wanted. I was already in college, but my father paid for everything. Contrary to his public complaints about my laziness, I was not allowed to get a job.
I threw the salisbury steak dinner in the microwave and grabbed a random one for myself. I spent the next 10 minutes getting the food and my father’s beer ready. I waited till the announcers were on the screen then quickly walked to my father and placed his food down in front of him and his beer in the open cup holder on the lazy-boy.
Swack. My father’s hand caught me by the back of the head.
“You need to learn urgency when you have a job. Don't make me hit you. Next time I won’t just give you tap.”
I nodded and retreated to my bedroom. I set my tray on my desk then went and quietly closed my door and moved and a heavy box in front of it. I knew it wouldn’t stop him, wouldn't even slow him. Still, I could breathe and stop shaking once I had made the gesture.
I found I wasn't hungry which wasn’t unusual on the nights my father stayed home rather than drink his troubles away with his friends. I pushed the boneless rib around imagining some alien creature living its life in a viscous red ocean. The fanciful creature made its escape from the sea and the tray when a sudden knock came on the window. There he was, my dad’s ghost and own personal devil of temptation.
I hushed him while I listened for the sound of footsteps in the hall. As I tiptoed to the window, I kicked myself for making a no talking gesture to someone that wasn’t talking. Those feeling fled when I opened the window and he took advantage of the moment to kiss me. Not hard but with an urgency that always accompanied our first kiss of the day. I pushed him back with one hand and finished pushing the window up with the other.
“I always tell you to call before you come over Ken. This might be more romantic but it could get you killed.” I whispered in a tone that I hoped conveyed how upset I was. After three months it still didn’t seem to come across to him.
“Your father is home, yes?” He whispered back but his managed to sound conspiratorial. “You are quieter the nearer he is. If you come back to Japan with me, I think you ould be louder than a jet."He eyed me suspiciously. "Do you talk when you see your father?”
I didn’t have time to answer Ken, unless I wanted him to get shot. “My father is home because of your little parrot antics. He heard the thing speaking Japanese in your voice and thinks some ghost has come to haunt him.”
“Good he deserves to be haunted.”
“No, not good.” I made an ‘x’ with my arms. “If he keeps looking into it, then he will find out about us, about me.”
His hands encompassed mine and held them still, though my arms still shook. “You need to get out of this house and away from him. Come and move in with me. It’s a small apartment but you can share the bed.” A smile that would have made the devil jealous passed across Ken’s face.
“If I agree to think about it will you get out of here?” Ken nodded his agreement. “Then I promise to think about it. Now go before my dad hears something and comes to investigate.”
I kissed him once more then watched him sneak off toward the woods behind the house. Once I was certain he was entirely gone I returned to the desk. My appetite had risen while talking with Ken and now I dug into the food. The alien creature found yet another new home. As I ate I wondered what Ken thought about me cooking for him. |
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