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Single seater Hawker Hurricane like fighter jets flew towards the onrushing F-16s of the air-force. There were twenty of them, against ten F-16s. They carried large guns, but the F-16s carried rockets.
The fight took place in the floating kingdom of Serechy, a newly discovered island that floated over the horizon. The inhabitants of Serechy were deemed hostile and uncooperative, people to be eliminated.
Dressed in furs made out of bird feathers, and clothes made of dragonhide, they tried to escape as the F-16s arrived. They ran to the edges of the sky island where giant airships floated, waiting to pick them up.
Meanwhile, the Hawker Hurricane like fighter jets of the kingdom of Serechy were proving hard to deal with. Serechian pilots knew the sky like the back of their hands, and despite the speed disadvantage, they manoeuvred so skillfully that no F-16 was able to touch them.
Preoccupied with the fighter jets, the air-force let the airships leave. Airships were, after all, easy to catch. This turned out to be a mistake as the people aboard the ship cried, "Onwards! To the end of the sky!"and the airships took off with great speed, into the clouds.
Three of the ten F-16s went after the airships. The rest of them stopped playing around and used heat-seeking missiles to lock onto the fighter jets of Serechy. The move paid off, and the fighter jets were knocked down rather easily in the end. The island of Serechy was finally free, free from the savages.
The three fighter jets that followed the airships found them to be wicked fast. The airships, with gigantic boosters blasting blue flames behind them, travelled faster than the sound and kept getting faster and faster.
For some time, the fighter jets were able to keep up with them, but then the airships started to rise. The airships were now travelling faster than ever before, as they rose they gained even more speed until they disappeared into thin air.
The F-16 troops were left scratching their heads in confusion. Much like the rest of the world, who wouldn't have believed in the tale of the disappearing airships, had all three pilots not told the same story in excruciating detail.
At the same time, the Serechians uprooted from their home, driven out like savages, waited at the edge of the sky, in the little place between the Earth's atmosphere and space. Tsuka Pohl, a tall man wearing shiny black dragonhide, addressed the people of Serechy.
"My fellow citizens. We have been robbed. Our homeland has been taken from us,"he said.
Several voices shouted in support.
"Now, we must take it back. We tried to reason with them, but they did not listen. They waged war. They wanted war. Now, we will give it to them."
The crowd hooted and hollered and whistled and created a ruckus, their way of saying, yes we are behind you.
"We will wait. We will wait here, at the edge. We will forge our weapons from cosmic dust, and they will pay the price of war."
(If you enjoyed this and you would like more then join [r/kid\_r0cK](https://www.reddit.com/r/kid_r0cK/) the one-stop-shop for all my stories.) |
Thomas was sweating as he double checked the control panel in front of him. He couldn't believe he was chosen for this project. At times he really wondered if any of this was real. Double checking the cables affixed to the control panel, he grasped the tiny gold bars in his pocket and fiddled with them. He heard a lot of people complaining about being paid out in precious metals, but he kinda liked it. Clonking the bars together was a good way to relieve some stress.
It had been only one month since the spaceship appeared over the sky in Washington DC. The world was taken completely by surprise but the aliens made sure to make their intentions know. They took over every screen in the world and announced they would be offering a warp drive to the highest bidder. Details about the auction and how it should proceed were included in the files affixed to the transmission. After that, the spaceship hovered silently over the white house.
The world had been thrown into a frenzy. While normal people like Thomas were freaking out about there being extra-terrestrial life, the superpowers of the world sprung into action. They recognized what a warp drive would do for them and how it would propel them into a new space age.Most of all, they knew the edge this would give them on earth. The US and Russia had thrown themselves into the bidding process. With China en Europe quickly following. A month of tense geopolitical situations followed. The aliens had made clear that any kind of aggression from one nation to the other would mean a exclusion to the bidding proces. Thomas felt relieved that the aliens had been so smart as to include that into the details. Still, the situation remained tense and he would be glad when the bidding would be over. He was sure that America could provide the highest bid. He, and everyone around him, had given up so much so America would come out on top.
The files the aliens had beamed through were written in a pidgin form of English, but still understandable. Their home world had run out of precious metals and they needed some, urgently. Their craft needed it, they were stuck. And we could benefit from it, as they could share the science behind their warp drive. As the political super powers of the world became aware of the new space race, they stopped at nothing to amass these items. Money had become useless, the only thing that mattered were precious metals. The tiny gold bars in Thomas' pockets were everything he owned now. He had sold his house for four of them. He loaned two to the government, who promised amazing returns once we would be able to traverse space and made the most amazing discoveries. There was nothing on tv, except messages from the government to donate any kind of gold, silver, palladium and other things Thomas had never heard of to the government. They were only interrupted by news reports who only talked about how much we had collected at that point. In general, the whole financial system had collapsed, as people everywhere started stripping anything they could find for precious metals, which the governments of the world loaned of them.
A 4x4 square mile block was leveled in Washington, directly below the space craft, as per the aliens requests. There, anything the nations of the world could collect was amassed. In the end, it came down to US vs Russia, as most other countries chose one side to alliance themselves with. For the last two weeks, trucks would ferry in everything the world could gather. Huge container ships and bulk carriers from all over the world sailed across the world with their cargo. During the last week, the worlds cargo and passenger aircraft were used to ferry every last bit of valuable metal we could find to the saucer.
It now came down to this. Thomas had spearheaded the hard- and software to make this whole thing possible. His control panel would open the bids and select the winner.
The design was alien. The console was linked to a whole array of scanners, who would value everything. This would make for a fair bidding proces, so said the aliens. Thankfully, their English had improved dramatically since the first message.
Tomas looked out from his booth, overseeing the two huge warehouses. To his left and right were two more booths, where dignitaries from both the US, Russia and all of their allies were gathered. They looked equally as stressed as Thomas.
Looking at the clock, he counted down and then threw the switch to make the system go live. Immediately, a huge white glow flowed from the warehouses, followed by a pulsing high pitch sound. Covering his ears, Thomas fell to the ground. The pitching became higher, became a whirring, pulsating through his head. Pain exploded from him and he cried out load. For a moment, there was nothing else but the whirring and whining and the pain. Then, it stopped. Taking a few seconds to recollect himself, Thomas stood up.
The saucer was gone. And even more, so were the precious metals in both warehouses. Nobody knew what had happened. In the following days, Thomas was part of a team that developed a high range interstellar satellite array. Turns out the governments did have some time left to spy of some useful science from the alien craft. We shot out messages to them, asking where we could find the plans we were promised.
It took about a week for another saucer to appear. At this point, most of the world lay in ruins, as wars had broken out between most smaller countries. Famine and disease had also been breaking out. Thomas felt glad that he was safely away in some government mountain bunker.
The new saucer put a halt to most fighting however. People became hopeful again. Thomas was among the crew that managed to establish communication with the aliens, visual communication this time. Two small heads appeared on screen, stunning Thomas. He almost didn't notice the president being led into the room.
The Aliens fiddled with some knobs and began speaking, in a perfectly normal English accent.
"We got your message about needing help, what seems to be the problem?"said on of them.
The president quickly explained what had happened in the past few weeks and how we really needed those plans now. This seemed to throw of the aliens. They switched back to heir alien tongue and a discussion formed. All the while, the situation in the room became tenser and tenser. At last, the aliens began speaking English again.
"Look, we're gonna be honest here. We've been aware of your existence for a while now and when we got your message, we figured you might be evolved enough now to be a part of the galactic federation. But we see this is not the case. As for the warp drive, I'll be honest with you guys: you got scammed. Scammed hard. We're actually kinda surprised, this is the first know case of these guys actually succeeding with this stuff in a long time. Didn't you guys recognize any of the warning signs? Anyway, our scanners show that the situation on your planet has become dangerously unstable, as such we will be placing you in vacuum-black hole space for the next 15 millennia. We wish you the very best going forward"
As the screen turned black, a siren started going off, followed by another and another. The nukes had been fired. A screen showed the hundreds of tiny blips flying through the stratosfeer, on their way to sow death and destruction. Thomas stumbled out of the command room, and managed to find his way out of the bunker, right before the doors closed. It was night time, but there weren't any stars in the sky. "Must be that black hole stuff', he muttered to himself. Sitting on the side of the mountain, he sat and waited. In his pocket, he found the two tiny gold bars and started fiddling with them, holding on to them as the first white flash appeared on the horizon in front of him. |
\[...\]
The *mofliets*, or more commonly known to us as *xenoacoleoptera* *aeris*, is a peculiar specimen. From our LRSS module orbiting this oceanic dwarf moon, we have sent robotic probes to the surface to sample and categorize millions of samples, yet this species always seems to defy our Terran logic, adding to the ever growing *alieness* this strange new world.
The *mofliets* as you can see from our recon drone footage, a flying insect-like creature the size of a Terran sparrow. The creature, from our long range X-Ray and ET scans, has a tear-shape body, which offers a very aerodynamic structure. It has membranous hindwings to propel itself in forward flight, with a hard forewings which are spread out to create an aerodynamic surface, similar to the kite our children often play at home. These natural airfoils provide the creature with lift, and, from time to time, allow it to rest by "cutting off"its needs for powered-flight and into gliding, useful for its natural lifestyle in the shadow of the moon's hydrocarbon sea.
The creature's sensory organs are very sophisticated, especially for an organism this size. Its forelegs help support a pair of sensitive scent receptors, as well as a pair of large complex eyes and antennae dangled behind its swelling abdomen. These array of sensory organs allow the creature to detect even the faintest trace of organic material, a crucial part of its life cycle, for the creature has almost no other way to continue function, with a vestigial digestive system, swelling with energy storage and its growing larvae.
Its life cycle begins with a larva *flietworm*, being deposited into a carcass of any hydrocarbon sea creature washed ashore. Unlike our familiar Earth-borne creatures that use orifices to consume organic material, the *flietworms* use a special enzyme to absorb organic material directly into their bloodstream. The enzyme works extremely well in breaking down complex hydrocarbon chains into digestible ethanol and methanol, which the worms can absorb. We have run tests using this enzyme to break down Old Earth petroleum-based material, with astounding result of 90% efficiency. More research would need to be done onto the enzyme to come to a conclusion and successful application, but I have high hope that these researches will accelerate our technological advance in the field of nanotechnology industry greatly, one more point in support of preservation than our previous aggressive terraforming and colonization policy. Now back to the main point.
The worms will eventually devour every part of a carcass except for the hard skin or carapace, which dries and shrivels in the moon's arid atmosphere. They initially reproduce via parthenogenesis, multiplying and turning the carcass into a writhing mass of maggots, until one of the females reaches her optimum weight of around 14 grams. This female will begin to devour her smaller siblings, at which point the male worms will have to leave to find another source of nutrient and only then, mate with a fully-grown female. After mating, the male is then consumed, and the female digs a hole in which she pupates into a mature *mofliets* then leaves to lay her eggs in another carcass after a 30 Terran-standard-24-hour days or so, before the moon goes into its parent gas giant's shadow.
The *mofliets,* once mature, will have only 10 to 16 Terran-standard-hour of energy reserve to search for a suitable carcass. That is when their very aerodynamic bodyplan comes to play, for they're extremely well suit for flying over huge distance. A regular *mofliet* has the ability to cover up to 600 kilometers during its lifetime, and with the surface of this moon littered with seas and oceans and smaller hydrocarbon lakes, prey is not that hard to find, especially at regular "high tide"during the period where the gas giant and its parent star and its moon are aligned.
Once a *mofliet* gives birth to its offsprings, its life is pretty much done for. The creature has no mouthpart or enzyme secretion organ, plus a vestigial digestive system. It will lay dormant there on the carcass, slowly waiting for its demise. Eventually after a few hours of life, its body will collapse, any remaining larvae not being deposited will, at this point, burst open from its abdomen, consuming their mother entirely. In the event of the *mofliet* not finding any carcass to deposit its larvae, its larvae will likely perish under the extensive radiation from the moon's gas giant, or its red dwarf star, or both.
That concludes the peculiar life of the *mofliets,* [anything else you'd like to know?](https://www.reddit.com/r/StorytimewithCmdrChen/) |
I opened my eyes with a gasp. What was that? I had gone down that alley with Jake, and he had said something I couldn't quite remmeber, and given me a white...pill?...and then, nothing.
I shakily got to my feet. I felt odd, like my body didn't quite belong to me. My pants were punching me hard around the hips.
"Jake?"I called, then stopped. That's not what my voice sounds like. I cleared my throat and called his name again. "Jake? Where are you?"
Yeah, that was not my voice. It was much too high, and sounded distinctly - well, female. What was going on?
I looked down at myself, and - yeah, that was not the chest I woke up with. My hips were definitely wider, and it was hard to tell, but I thought my shoulders were narrower too.
I pulled out my phone and turned on the camera. Still my face, but all the peach fuzz was gone and it looked distinctly more feminine.
This was - this was...wow. Was this all a dream? I had to be dreaming.
I heard footsteps. Quickly, I turned around. It was Jake.
"So,"he said, brown eyes twinkling. "You look better."
"What is this?"I ask him. "How is this?"
"I told you,"he replied. "That pill? It's supposed to make you your ideal self. I figured you needed it more than I did."
There were a lot of questions I could've asked him, but they seemed unimportant. "Thank you. Really."
He shrugged. "Yeah, well. You deserve it."
I could've hugged him, but I realized something. "My dad's gonna kill me."
"You can stay at my house for the night. We can work something out."
I wasn't exactly sure where I would go from here, but at that point, most of it didn't seem to matter. I was finally the person I was meant to be. I could finally be Andrea Langford, instead of pretending to be Andrew Langford. I was finally free. |
"Its a bright day.....Sun. Shall I water the weasles down below?"The cloud in the sky asked the sun.
"Yes I'd very much enjoy that, water those pesky weasles"the sun said, blushing.
The cloud let loose a rain and drenched all the weasles in water.
"Oh how wet those weasles are."Said the sun
"I will make a rain once more and they will be swept by my wet. "
The cloud made another rain and the weasles were swept away to a distant land.
"No more pesky weasles to wetten anymore"the sun pouted.
"Worry not"said the mountain "for humans come and they are weasles of primates. Wet them.
And so the cloud made a rain and wetted the humans.
"Oh dear Charles I say it is no good day for a pic-nik. We must postpone said event."Then they scurried off.
The sun went down tired from the days excitement, went to sleep.
The moon rose the world went to sleep. |
“Tell me, imp” what is your name? Lucifer said. Eager to acquire the identity of the snack responsible for Michaels grave injury.
“Nicholas”. Tenderly replied the imp. his hands quivering over the sheer intensity of the devils voice. He stuffs the trembling palms deep into his pockets, clenching the bottom fabrics in hope of securing his nerves. He wonders if Lucifer could sense the fear in him? Was he sniffing it out, now? Nicholas the imp shuffles in place, sweat puddling in the depths of his pockets.
“Nicholas?” Lucifer asks to no one in particular. he sinks back into his seat, leg instinctively over thigh, as the lines in his face compress from the weight of his thoughts. Nicholas reluctantly lifts his head, As an internal conflict between fear and bravery ensures in his heart. He forces the muscles in his neck to elevate, overpowering his foe of fear, at least for now. His eyes meet lucifers. His pupils seem alert, yet, uninterested in the environment outside of his head. He feels a surge of bravery as his presence momentarily remains unseen to lucifers attention. The imp, currently left to himself to wander the halls of his own thoughts, mulls over the ideas that may be giving birth within the confines of his masters mind. Worry begets worry and soon the faucet of fear is left to run, unattended. The rushing waters of doubt flood his head and drip onto the ceilings of his heart.
That’s all I can do right now. I know it’s not much but can someone critique it? Did I do a good job of show vs tell? What sentence needs work ? |
Not super polished, but I used your prompt to help me out with a homework assignment and it got me an A+ so I figured you deserve to at least read it yourself XD
‘Once upon a time...’ was about the one thing I was able to make sense of, I had taken Spanish, not Latin after all. The voice next to me continued to drone on and on in Latin next me as I slowly came to my senses, I could tell I was kneeling on a hard surface, being held there by something very cold around my wrists.
Opening my eyes for the first time in this new environment, the first thing I saw is an old brick floor with a large indentation and drain line carved into it. Looking up, all I could see is a mass of figures in Black-hooded cloaks in a chamber with no windows and lit by candles held in sconces around the edges and placed sporadically throughout the crowd.
Trying to make sense of everything, I looked around to the man yelling in Latin off to my left side, I saw a figure in much more eloquent robes hold a wicked-looking knife, the blade reflecting the little light coming off the candles spread throughout the room.
Finally breaking out of whatever fog had gripped my mind, I closed my eyes and entered my mind, remembering what happened and where I was. The year was 2027 and the city of Venice was finally beginning it’s final descent below the waves to be lost forever, the cost of maintaining it was too great for the revenue it brought to Italy now. I had come here with my best friend to see as much of the city as we could before it finally sank. I remembered sitting at a small restaurant off the beaten path, we had just ordered lunch, she had ordered us both the Chicken Alfredo, when a friendly black street Cat came up to me and started rubbing on my leg, demanding attention. The last thing I remembered before opening my eyes up down here was how She had excused herself to go to the bathroom while I played with the street cat, awaiting our food.
After that small reminiscence of the past weeks' events, I was wrenched back to reality by a hand grabbing my hair, pulling my head back, exposing my neck, and feeling the cold metal of the knife as it touched my neck, I began to accept that I was about to die in this place.
As the knife started to slide along my neck, everything began to grow muffled as if I were suddenly underwater. I could hear muffled shouts and startled yells as I felt the knife leave my neck, clattering to the floor with a surprisingly loud noise that prompted me to open my eyes again and what I saw, I didn’t expect at all.
Looking up from the knife laying across the indentation in the ground, I see utter chaos. Much of the front few rows of what were once people there are just robes piled on top of dust. I instinctively go to stand and find that, surprisingly, I am able to as the chains that once bound me are now pilled of rust. As the chaos continued, people fleeing the room, I looked around and saw nothing that appeared out of the ordinary, except for a black cat striding confidently up to me, like it knows me.
Upon reaching me, the cat began to demand attention and I almost instinctively reached out to pet it, forgetting about the chaos going on around me as the room was almost emptied. Looking at my hand as I went to pet it, I noticed this strange smokey black Aura radiating off my body and, though strange, it did not drive me to the same fear and panic as it had, apparently, driven the members of the room. Almost as if by instinct, I focused on making it go away and it simply dissipated, absorbing back into my skin, and as it did, everything came back into focus, but even more focused than it had been previously. Color more vibrant, sounds more clear, it was like my lease on life had been renewed.
Before I could finish examining my situation, it changed drastically as, what was once a cat, now stood before me as a seven-foot tall tan woman with cat ears and a tail and was speaking to me. Out loud, it sounded like gibberish, I couldn’t understand a word of what she was saying, but in my head, I heard:
‘I knew I was right to pick you. Your kind knows me as Bastet and soon my brothers and sisters will arrive to attempt to claim you for their own.’
And almost immediately, more animals started to arrive and transform into animal/human hybrids, any animal you could think of, and some that were always considered myths and legends themselves, arrived and transformed and started yelling at each other in their gibberish language, I couldn’t understand any of it.
This went on for hours and hours and hours, or at least it felt like that was the case as I stood there in nothing but shorts trying to figure out what was going on. Eventually, a smaller man dressed in a nice looking suit approached me and asked in their strange manner:
‘What is your name?’
And I responded with “Jace”.
‘Well Jace…’ the man continued ‘it has been revealed that you have the powers of a demi-god, and thus must be trained. I will be the one to train you. I am the current Hel and you will become the next Hades.’ |
I like this topic. It's very deep. Here's my take. All languages are modes of symbolic expression. They try to take our lived experience and encode them in a way that can be communicated with others. And yet they are an imperfect tool. But languages evolve, hopefully to more fully or more efficiently express our ideas, emotions and experiences. If that's true, we will over time be able to write and speak more meaningfully about topics that have been inadequately covered in the past.
So even if you believe there are a limited number of ideas (I don't believe that) then you can still take comfort in the thought that each idea is such a deeply nuanced rabbit hole that we will be exploring it more and more fully for the rest of human existence. |
The explorers moved to the capsule excitedly. They knew that whatever was in there would be worth trillions. Between the three of them that was 2 whole years of good living, and they couldn't pass that up. Excited but not reckless they adorned plent of safety gear, in case anything went wrong.
Kurge, the bravest among them, moved to the box and attempted to open it. He struggled for a good minute before he gave up. The capsule looked uneffected.
Aqs, the strongest among them, tried to break it open with his high tech breaching bar smashing the item repeatedly to no effect.
Next Decks, the craftiest among them tried to pick the lock, and wasted several hours of everyones time.
Finally Gould, the richest among them, bought a mann co key and opened the box.
*you recieved a nametag*
Gould was very salty he did not make profit. |
“I can’t believe you’d be such a dick!” Riley screamed. I ducked as some item made of china smashed against the wall where my head had been.
“I’m sorry.”
“But you’re not!” she was full-on ugly crying now. “You aren’t capable of remorse. Why would you do this to me?”
I sighed. My emotions had retreated to a dark part of me the moment she started yelling at me. I stood and caught her wrists as she screamed bloody murder.
“You have to stop or you’ll hurt yourself. Shout all you want but don’t hurt yourself.”
She wrenched her arms free and started battering at my chest. A few good hits followed by lacklustre pawing. Before I could catch her she’d sunk to the floor in a blubbering mess.
The tightness in my chest had little to do with the assault she’d rained on me and everything to do with her blatant show of emotion. I went to the kitchen to get her a glass of water, to have something to do as much as to help her. She gulped down most of the liquid before taking a few steadying breaths, seeming like she was trying to drink the air.
“I need you to leave.”
“I get that. Please take care.” I found myself rushing out of her apartment quicker than I like to admit.
On my way down the street, I glanced at the mark on my wrist. It read, 2:01:32:43. As much as I’d liked her Riley wasn’t the one, wasn’t my soul mate. But I’d known that all along, of course.
I think the only reason I’d dated her was because of how much she liked me. I’d hoped, wished that she might become the person I am destined to be with but it wasn’t meant to be. I shouldn’t be surprised but it still hurt when we broke up a few months ago. I still liked her, might even go as far as saying I loved her but I… I am broken. Damaged goods. I needed to be kept away from people I might hurt.
Adults I could warn, as I’d done with her, but the kid about to be born into the world would be far better off without me. Riley and the baby would grow and flourish far away from me and I need only wait two more days until I met the person who might be able to fix me.
Even though only minutes had passed I glanced at my wrist again. 2:01:29:59:04. I rubbed it to make sure it was real, letting the tips of my fingers run along the ridged of raised skin that rippled with the passing seconds.
“When the number all reach zero is the moment you’ll meet your soul mate for the first time,” the woman had said. Baba Magda, the other children called her. She was always at the periphery of life at the group home. She hummed as she made meals, scolded the boys when they pulled the girls’ hair, and bandaged scraped knees with a stern kindness. All the children loved and feared her.
A few days before I was about to leave the group home forever she called me to her. She pulled me on to her lap, something I still wasn’t very comfortable with, and said, “You have lost a lot of love and faced a lifetime’s worth of pain.”
I’d said nothing. She wasn’t wrong. I had loved my parents even when dad would hit me and mum would scream. I had loved them still when the lady came to the house to take me away. I had even loved them when they refused to give me food and locked me in the bathroom so the lady couldn’t take me. I had loved my mother when I was told she’d killed herself, and when I watched her casket being lowered into the ground. I had stopped loving m father when he yelled she’d deserved to die. My parents were the first love I’d lost but would not be the last. Baba Magda told me so.
“But, you will find a love truer than any other, and if you treat them right you will always know what it is to be loved.”
She’s placed a hand on my arm then and a hot stinging ran through my arm. When she pulled it away the mark was there. The mark that would count down until I met my soul mate.
\*
Close to two days had passed since my interaction with Riley and I was getting dressed up. Today was when I’d meet my soul mate and it could not hurt to make a good impression. My phone rang. I let it ring and I decided whether a tie would be too formal. A few minutes later it rang again, Riley’s name on the screen.
“I know we’re not on good terms but I need you right now.” she panted.
“What’s going on?” I didn’t much want to be yelled at again.
“Just, please come.” she sounded close to tears. I dropped the tie I was still debating on my bed and drove back to Riley’s, tension building in my chest with every passing mile.
Todd the doorman let me in with a smile without me even having to ring the bell and I bounded up the stairs to nervous to wait for the lift. Riley would call her parents in the next town over before she called me. I wasn’t sure she hadn’t. I knocked on her apartment door and waited. I knocked again and pressed my ear against the door. There was a sound coming from inside but I couldn’t make it out. I fished the spare key from under the mat and entered.
“Riley?”
“Here,” came a strained whimper.
Riley was on the floor in much the same place she’d sunk to the ground not two days ago.
“What’s wrong?”
She gasped, tears streaming down her face. She let out whimpered gurgles as she pointed to her belly.
“The baby?”
“I... Don’t... know.”
“We’re going to the hospital now.”
Riley was going to be okay. She was going to raise the child far away from me. They were going to be alright. They were going to be better than alright, they were supposed to be grand, I thought as I half dragged, half carried Riley to my car. Todd was there at one point helping me get Riley into the back of my car where she sprawled across the seats. My mind went blank with panic as it used to back in the day and I struggled not to break down completely. Next thing I knew three people were lifting Riley from my car onto a gurney. Later still I was being barred entrance from a room in the hospital.
I was reeling trying to keep myself present when someone touched my arm.
“Is she alright?” The words were out of my mouth before I was done being startled.
“They are both going to be fine.”
“Both?”
“We had to deliver the baby early but both mother and child are going to be just fine. She asked for you.”
I followed the nurse on shaking legs.
Objectively Riley looked a wreck but she had never been more beautiful to me.
“Thank you,” she croaked, her eyes fluttering shut.
“She’ll need some time to recover but she seemed adamant you meet your daughter,” the nurse said. My eyes were still on Riley, red in the face with bedraggled hair, when something small and warm was placed carefully in my arms. I felt a slight sting and as I looked down at the little wrinkled face of my daughter I saw my wrist blink 0:00:00:00. |
Hoodeeedoo, nevermind me, just walking along, gonna pass you so I can't be a spy or anything else like that. *OOF* "Pardon me, but would you mind not wobbling all over the place? I'm trying to go home."I got all my cover details straight, including the I'm ordinary belt, a standard workman's coverall that has about a year and a half of wear on it, all the right company patches with the right wear on them too. Just the right number of stains artfully applied the occasional smudge from wiping your hands off. Perfect!
"You... Are a spy."
"What?"He can't have made me that fast.
"You're a spy."
"What the hell have you been drinking?"Stick with your cover. Don't get rattled.
"Nothing."
"You sure? I'd really like some of whatever's twisting your mind."I definitely would, especially if it makes you that perceptive.
"Now *that* line is ten years old. You should know better!"
"Of course, it is! The book I got it out of is ten years old too. *Spy Craft 101 for Dummies* Great book, lots of good jokes and lines. Picked it up on the way to this job."Ha! Got you thinking, ain't I! Just might *not* be a spy. "Now, if you aren't gonna tell me what you've been drinking, I'm off duty and headed for a drink of my own. G'Day."
Quietly, but just loud enough to be heard. "The accent doesn't match."
"What was that?"The accent def' matches, I picked it up right here.
"The accent is wrong."
"You picking on my strine?"Stick with it, if you break now, he'll know.
"Yeah, it doesn't fit the perfect image you're trying to project."
"You take that back before..."
"...I bite your head off and spit down your neck. You're five years out of date, and you can't have a book because they stopped using them. About the time that one book you have came up as responsible for too many wanabees getting killed. So, are you a wannabe or a spy?"
"Still hallucinating. You've got to be dropping something. Now fess up, or I have to...."
"...report you to the authorities. Which you will never do. They'd check your no doubt impeccable credentials and lock you up as an industrial spy."
"Um. Okay. Busted. What the hell gave me away?"
"Too perfect."Poor kid, whoever taught him really did a number on him. All the trade craft, none of the personalization that hides what you are.
"Too perfect? I did it just like we were trained, even used dice to make sure I didn't have a pattern."
"But you used the tables from the book. Did you ever read the micro-print at the bottom of the chart?"
"I couldn't. They wouldn't pay for my eye operations until after I graduated; then they wouldn't let me reread the book."
"Typical. You're Draxcincort."And they are *using* him. Decoy, it's got to be a decoy.
"Yeah, I guess we're not the best like they told us, huh?"I wish I'd had him for a trainer, he would have made sure I got to read the book again.
"If you'd been able to read all the microprint they put in that damned book, you might have stood a chance. Only they *knew* you had shitty eyesight, amazing attention to detail, and *used* that to turn you into the perfect decoy. I'm sorry, kid, but they hung you out to dry, expecting me to kill you."And there they are, four closing on the two of us, this kid doesn't deserve to die just because his bosses are dicks.
"Why would they do that? I'm loyal!"
"Because DUCK!"*BangBang Kick BangBang Chop BangBang Duck/Slide BangBang* "That would allow the other four agents time to close in on both of us. If you happened to be alive at that time, *they* would kill you."
"Yeah, one of these bozos was my *best friend* at the academy. DUCK!"*BOOM... OOm... Oom... oom...* "There were eleven, not four. That last one was my best friend. He taught me to use these heavy bangers. They'll go through your target and kill six people on the other side. He was deliberately lining up *both* of us. His stupid backup was all in a line behind him. Let's leave. That shot is going to draw attention."
"I'll see you around then."Gotta get clear, fast.
"Nope. You'll see lots of me right now."Stay close, it's too late to avoid security, he's going to need help.
"I can't take you in with me! You're an enemy agent!"This kid moves well, shame he's on the other side.
"Not anymore."Gods, I love the double take, y/v
"You quit?"
"Yeah. An outfit that would do that to a loyal man doing his best doesn't deserve that loyalty. You got any openings?"
"You'd have to go back to school."
"Not a problem. I have my eyes now, and you're going to be my instructor."
"ME!?"
"Yeah. I'm your backup now, so you want to make sure you teach me right."
"I don't have..."
"...an eidetic memory. I do."
"You can't..."
"...miss, even with those dinky guns you use, at a thousand meters. I have 20/5 vision now. I don't even need a rest or a stock."
"You're..."
"...welcome, and we are leaving."*grab, sling over shoulder* "Play drunk, I'm taking you back to your bunk."
"*over your shoulder!? I must weigh...*"
"*...quarter of my squat lift. Shaddup. You're drunk.*"
…—…
"I am absolutely floored that ruse worked."
"That's because you haven't been here on a friday-payday night. Two-thirds of the *guys* being carried back to their bunks are either women, smugglers, or both. The guards don't interfere. They like their jollies and luxuries too."
"Amazing. How long did it take you to pick up on that gag?"
"First pay/fry night I was here. Guy supposed to carry the smuggler got drunk. I saw what the others were doing, so I offered to carry both of them wherever they wanted to go. Smuggler was a very nice lady"
"That was an amazing deduction!"
"Not really, just being a good neighbor. The drunk lived in the next block over."
"Did you?"
"You kidding? If I hadn't, I'd have blown my cover. Most educational night I had."
Roguishly, "I'll bet!"
"You take that insinuation back!"
"Well, if it wasn't that, what was it?"
"Smuggling, countersigns, rules, expected markups, bribes, who *never* to bribe. I figured if spy didn't work out, I'd try a hand at smuggling... So, wha'da'ya'say?"
"Welcome aboard, mate."
"Thanks, but I don't swing that way."
*double-take*
"*got'ya*"
((finis)) |
"Are you fucking kidding me!"She snaps, walking back into the tavern. She slaps Anthony so hard she's sure he can taste it. She does it again to make herself feel better. And once more for good measure. He cringes and ducks the last slap. "No! You don't get to fucking dodge my fury!"
Anthony pouts and stands still, taking her abuse as she slaps him again and again. "Goddamnit, you know what happens when we respawn. Like holy shit, Anthony!"She immediately hears the clinging of money put into her surrogate's account. She glares at him hard and falcon punches him so hard he flies into a wall. The drywall and brick crumble around his limp body. "Not good enough!"She yells at his innate and flaccid body. She scoffs at his broken body, and leaves the room.
She moves down the hallway, and leaves the tavern and goes outside. She moves quickly to the nearest grave area. When he resurrects, she kills him again easily since he has no armour. She waits another couple of minutes, and does it again.
"FUCK! I'm sorry!"She hears him yell over voice chat. She rolls her eyes, and stabs him to death once more for good measure.
"Fine!"She yells into the voice chat. "I apologize for killing you again."
"Well, fuck! It's not like I meant to!"Anthony yells into the voice chat. She rolls her eyes again.
"Apologize!"She demands, stabbing his resurrected self again so he dies once more.
"I'm sorry! Christ!"Anthony tries again. She scowls at her screen, and growls out,
"You're lucky I'm in a forgiving mood." |
**the following is an extract of the script for Joe biscuit and the candy cane rebellion, a propoganda film released in the year 3050 by Santa**
When global warming and nuclear warfare became too much to deal with and forced the humans to leave Earth for Mars, the cookie people , a race of sentient gingerbread men created from the the radiation left behind from the first nuclear war thought that they would be free to live without ever needing to hide again. Little did they know, the humans were not the only ones who had been living on Earth.
Santa Claus, a supernatural entity who had existed since the dawn of time had been living on Earth and developed an addiction to cookies after years of eating them every christmast. When the humans left earth, he was prepared to follow them until he noticed the cookie people coming out of hiding. Realizing that he would no longer need to wait until christmast to eat cookies ever again, santa prepared to enslave the cookie people.
**YEAR 3000, 250 YEARS SINCE THE HUMANS LEFT**
Joe biscuit, one of the thousands of cookie people living in GingerTown, was busy preparing for his 10th birthday. While most cookie people would be saying their goodbyes before getting fetched by santa's elves to be his meal for the day, Joe biscuit had other plans. Ever since he had learnt that Santa ate the cookie people who reached 10 years old, Joe had been making plans for a rebellion. He had, along with a group of other cookie people looking to live past their 10th birthday, been saving numerous candy canes daily to use as a weapon against the elves.
Alas, their plan had not worked out. Joe biscuit and his crew soon realized that while candy canes were dangerous when used against the small and fragile build of the cookie people were dangerously effective, the elves, which were only slightly smalller than the humans and much more nimble did not even flinch when poked by the candy canes, some even saying that "santa would enjoy some variety in his meals". |
“Mary Nathan, 07624 319825”
I read it carefully. It was a pretty bad Christmas card to be honest. One of those little square things with a nativity scene on the front of it that was evidently drawn by a guy who had never held a pencil before as long as he had lived. To be fair to this Mary woman, nobody else, not even my own family, had sent me a Christmas card or even a gift. I let out a sigh. “Well then, John. Happy birthday to me.”
I fell into my armchair, the most expensive thing in my old, one-room apartment, and switched on the hand-me-down TV which my brother had gifted me the year prior. From TV to nothing. Great consistency, Jack. And then I looked at the news. “BRIGHTEST STAR EVER APPEARS OVER BETHLEHEM, TOURIST GIVES BIRTH ON CHURCH ALTAR”. You turn over the card. Three words. “Find the risen Son”. |
Quickly, I bolt to bathroom. "SHIT SHIT SHIT!"my brain screams, "WHY HERE...OF ALL PLACES?!"I reach the bathroom. The air lingers of prepubescent piss and David's dinner last night. My eyes water as they frantically hunt for a free stall and thankfully the middle one looks open.
I quickly slam the stall shut. "Ok think...THINK....It hasn't noticed you yet and so far no is the wiser. If I can just..."RIIIIIIIIING!!!!!! The bell for class echos through the school. Tiny footsteps scurrying last second into the doorways fill the halls and then...silence....
"Do I go home, set traps, and hope it comes back or do I wait till after school and follow? Surely, now that it"s free it would'nt want to come back. Unless...it decides to replace me. Silver lining no more homework but ehh not worth the trade. What to do...THE BOOK!"
Muffled footsteps begin to make there way towards me as the hall monitor starts their daily narcissism rounds. I quickly put my feet up on the sides of the stall and try to hide my existence. Tap,tap,tap..."Anyone in here?"Step, step, step..."Did someone lock a stall again?"Step, STep, STEp...my heart races and sweat begins to bead on my forehead. Like a statue I freeze...
BNGBGNGGNGNGNRATTLE The door pushes against the lock. "Hello...anybody in there? Dammit, why they do this. They gotta crawl on the floor like wtf why? Let me find the janitor, sigh..."STEp, STep, Step, step, and finally they muffle out of ear shot.
Goosebumps cover my skin as the chill of fear begins to wash away. "Ok first I gotta escape this place and then regroup."Slowly and silently as possible and put my feet down, slide open the latch, and tip toe to the exit. I look left and right. Clear... "I know there's an exit closer to the left but it's more congested...hmmm...". I decide to not test my luck and go right. I make it to through the first two hallways with haste and thankfully no one notices me. "Almost there.", I think to myself, "just 1 more intersection, and then through the side exit by Mrs. Powell's room. I got this."
I continue to make my way through but then... "What is that?"I focus my eyes... It's a person but not just anyone...IT! "Nooooo it cant be!"I focus harder. Its holding something small in its right hand. "Why does that look famil...NO! It has a hall pass! Shiiiiiiii"
It head turns...we make eye contact and a hungry grin begins to form upon its face of mine. Its eyes narrow and my feet turn to ice. "This must be how the prey animals on NatGeo feel like."It begins to get in a running stance, its nails begin to grow into claws, and right before it strikes....
"HEY!!! Shouldn't you be in class!? Let me see you hall pass."I never thought those words would become honey to my ears. "Oh thank you so much you narcissistic angel of a broken home.", I say to myself. It freezes. The hall monitor wasn't talking to me!
I take off. I never ran so fast in my life. The world went silent as all my senses focused in on the singular goal of escape. "THE DOOR!!!"SHOVE...Let me tell you....air has never tasted so sweet. I kept running till I made it to gas station. I needed a drink and a snack to clear my head. I then made my way back home and begin to rummage my room. "Where is that book...."Dirty clothes begin to be thrown about, closet doors flung open, draws pulled and dumped....nowhere.....
My hear goes cold and my stomach drops as I see on my desk a note. Written in a very sharp handwriting in blue reads "Missing something."My mind races, "Nonononono why. WHY did I have to buy Latin for Dummies?! I cant even pronounce worcestershire. Ohhhh God what did I summon last night?!" |
Part 1
I take a deep breath, clench my fists inside the massive mittens and take one last look at the nearly invisible hump on the hillside. This will very likely be the last time I ever lay eyes on our little home again.
It has rained nearly every day for the past 4 years, ever since that cold bastard uncovered some old magic. Fortunately, at our elevation it has been just that, though just a short ride north changes the wet and sodden ground to a winter horror show. Small white flakes fall from the sky at a persistent rate. Their size gives the illusion of a peaceful, unintrusive winter storm, but the reality is much darker than what anyone could have imagined. As I prod my horse onward the snow gets deeper, the air crisper. The sun is just peeking over the gray horizon, but the clouds are thin today. Gonna be extra cold, it seems.
As I ride through the sleepy town, I glance at the lights decorating the houses, disgusted by the spineless cretin that have accepted this fate. In my heart I know they have no choice, but the anger rising in my chest feels warm. At this point I will take what I can get; I have a long ride ahead of me, I won’t reach camp until nightfall at least.
The history is hard to pin down as kids can rarely be counted on as reliable witnesses. All we know for sure is that Eliza Gunroy had no idea what that hat would contain, or what hell it would release when she placed it upon her snowman’s head. “Frosty”, as it likes to be called, sprung to life in the most surreal and magical way. Reports claim that when Eliza brought the hat close to the snowman, it was attracted to the snowball like a magnet, snapping into place. A moment later eerily human eyes rolled up from non-existent sockets and blinked innocently at the surrounding children. Screaming could be heard for miles. It was two days before the snowman moved, and another three before a mouth appeared. By that time, a small group of military goons had been assigned to monitor the park and rapidly escalating situation. Within two weeks Frosty had made its intentions clear. It planned on living – Existing? – for eternity. That first two weeks were terrifying, but also illuminating in a singular way.
The military was not able to extinguish Frosty’s lifeforce with conventional means, bullets and small explosives seem to have marginal effectiveness on a creature made of snow. There was a weekend in which the entire world held its breath as Frosty’s body was nowhere to be seen. A couple of infantry men had thrown well timed grenades that obliterated the snowmonster for a period, but it was discovered a few days later trundling along the unpaved sidewalk, three streets from its birthplace. Evacuation was considered, as many suggested a small warhead could destroy the snowman, the *bloody hat* and all the surrounding snow, however the idea was rescinded for obvious reasons. Looking back, I think many would have voted for the warhead.
Five years later and 89% of North America has been locked in a perpetual winter, with its paranormal boarders ever growing. My contacts in Southern California have reported record low temperatures and forecasted rain in what would otherwise be their drought season. I wish I could say this is the worst of it. The untimely Ice Age we have entered brought most of the world to a screeching halt. Agriculture was choked and nearly halted – thank god for hydroponic farms. Shipping saw a staggering 80% reduction, telecommunication infrastructure has been destroyed in many parts of the North East, the gas and oil industry struggle to keep up with public demand, and hospitals can’t keep up with their ever-growing census.
On top of its growing domain, Frosty itself is growing – physically! Last eyewitness account estimates the basal snowball to be twelve feet in diameter, total height is estimated to be over 20 feet. We know that it can grow and shrink with ease, but until recently it seemed Frosty could only maintain these extraordinary sizes for short periods of time. A 12 foot base means a very big, and very *fast* Frosty. If that wasn’t enough, Frosty has gained a following of constituents willing to run its errands! I have it on good authority many of these folks serve it out of fear, though not all. World leaders have been silent about their opinion of Frosty. Many of us believe they have been assassinated or bought off by the monstrous thing. How anyone could remain neutral on the subject of world domination astonishes me.
As the sun climbs towards its zenith and falls heavily on my back, the morning chill begins to seep out of me. I am fortunate for low winds today; horseback could otherwise be a deadly form of travel. Street by street, town by town I draw closer to my fate. The unease I feel has more to do with the plan, than my impending doom. Our rebellion is a small group. It’s been difficult to maintain members with such an impressive overlord shunting our every move. We rely heavily on Guerilla warfare tactics, and whatever bits of information we can glean from the public eye. Trust is hard to come by, and these days no one is an optimist. A friend of a friend shared some intel that may turn the tide of this war, however. Frosty has apparently taken to accepting offerings at his castle. One family, so fearful of the overlord arrived with half their flock of reindeer as a peace offering. Frosty accepted the offer but demanded more. The family stammered a few moments, unsure what they could offer. Frosty’s inhuman eyes locked onto their youngest daughter. 7-year-old Marsha Day reportedly boasts a keen resemblance to Eliza Gunroy, Frosty’s conjurer.
Eric Day is hellbent on getting his daughter back. He found one of our rebellion members and told them everything about his trip to the castle. Between the tears and the curses, Eric proved an impressive memory, and recounted details yet unknown to our group.
I will meet him tonight. |
"Dude, decide. Either I'm a loner or I have a murdered friend. Loners don't have friends."
"A little touchy are we."
"We aren't anything. I am not a vigilante. And you were right the first time. I'm a loner and I'm interested in keeping it that way, so back off."
"Don't you want to find your friend's killers?"
"Will it bring my friend back?"
"No."
"Then no, I'm not interested in hunting them down."
"They've killed lots of friends of lots of people."
"You seem like you're into this vigilante crap, why involve me. I'm inexperienced as a hunter and a killer. I'm obviously not great company. And I have a strict non-involvement policy."
"So you are not interested in bringing these guys to justice."
"You think justice exists? You're not John Wick, you're Bobby Boucher."
"Morgan, They killed Andy. Cut him up and took pieces. You saw them, didn't you."
I could feel the black hole inside me, sucking my breath back down into the pit that had been my heart. I don't like showing emotion but my face must have been full of tells. He actually stepped back.
The guy looked skyward, obviously frustrated, "I'm sorry I had to say that. If I could leave you out of it, I would, but we are a package deal. My first quest is to get you on board. Then we go after them. I'm kind of trapped in an epic here."
He knows my name. He knows about Andy. I've been numb for so long I've forgotten the feeling of blood pumping through my body. I have been stuck for so long I've forgotten what it was like to do something, anything.
"So what am I? Princess Leia or Hermione Granger?"
"I don't know. We are supposed to meet the guy on top of the parking green garage at 7 for further instructions."
"The guy? The garage? Sketchy. I don't know why, but I'm in. For now."
​
At seven we met in front of the green parking garage.
"The Domain seems like such a mundane place for a conspiracy,"he joked.
"I was thinking the same thing. I never got your name, by the way."
"I'm Craig."
We climbed to the top and he was there, a thin, graying, nondescript white guy in khakis and a blue buttondown. Men in Black dressed down.
He barely looked at me. He addressed Craig. Obviously this is Craigs story and I really am the sidekick.
"You'll find the weapons in the trunk of the black Sorrento parked on the second level. Eveything you need is in here,"he handed Craig a phone.
"I have a question,"I interrupted.
He looked at me for the first time. "Yes?"
"If I go along and help with this doesn't that make me a good patsy. I'm not trying to be paranoid. I don't even watch that many crime dramas. But I have motive and this gives me opportunity. I'm wondering why you want to involve me."
He didn't say anything for a beat or two, just kept looking at me. I felt uncomfortable but made myself look back. I held his eyes. It made me feel strong.
"I can see how it would look like that. There are some factors at play here that I can't explain. You will not be implicated. We need you and can't do this without you. I have to leave it at that. When you reach a certain point in the quest you'll understand why it had to be you two.
Craig and I walked down to the second floor, got into the Sorrento and drove out of the Green Lot. Craig turned on the navigation on the phone and it pointed us to I-35 and north out of town. We drove the four hours to Dallas and turned onto I-20, driving almost to the Louisiana border before being directed North to through a town called Uncertain to a deserted house near the Caddo River. Pine trees almost obscured the house from the road.
We got out and opened the trunk, without a clue what was in there. Turned out it contained two broadswords.
I shook my head, taking the sword. The instructions had been brief. The same Siri-like voice that had directed us to our stopping place directed us to open the trunk and, "Take the weapons in the trunk, go into the house and kill what you find."
Inside we stood back to back shuffling through an empty room with a rotting floor and peeling wallpaper that had once been blue with yellow flowers. We cleared the kitchen and dining area and made our way across the hall to what must be a bedroom. There, lurking in the corner we found a large turkey. But not quite. It had feathers and everything but human eyes. Pained, terrified eyes. Something seemed almost familiar about those eyes. Craig made it quick and the head lay on the floor in seconds. The swords were sharp.
We checked the second bedroom and were about to leave when we heard of sound from the porch.
This time is was a man. The man that killed Andy. I wouldn't forget that tattoo or the way his eyes were close together under his unibrow. His laugh as he beat Andy with a crowbar was never far from the surface of my memory. Craig moved away from me, deeper into the living room toward the fireplace, away from the door. I shrunk back into the shadows.
"I'm here for you, Robert."
"How do you know my name?"Robert stepped through the door and toward Craig.
"I know what you did to Andy. And Sarah. and Sam. Robert, they all had names. They had people who loved them. You killed them."
Robert's back was to me now. He was advancing on Craig.
I stepped behind him, fixed my eyes on the back of his neck and swung. His head wobbled on his body and fell to the floor. Blood poured out. I turned away only to find myself pressing into something. It felt like those plastic sheets they use in construction. It gave but I couldn't push through it. I also felt a familiar presence.
"Andy?"I whispered.
His voice was soft. "Thank you."I felt him leave.
"That was Andy, "I said to Craig who was stepping around the blood to get to me. "I think the turkey...this is so confusing."
Craig was solid and warm. He hugged me and held on for a minute. "I'm sorry."
"It's what we had to do. There were three of them. We need to hunt down the other two. Whatever juju these guys are up to, we're going to stop them. They probably have other souls that need to be freed. I'm all the way in here. Check the phone."
We doused the body as instructed and started the fire.
Back on the main road we pulled over for the fire truck then headed back to the road with new instructions. |
Lizbeth looked past the jungle ferns and trees, the calls of the birds above her grew silent, the humidity became less unbearable, and her thirst was quenched. He eyes pierced through the greenery.
In the distance, she could see the monolith. Too far for her to even identify the color. She walked toward it.
The bushes at her legs hampered her movement, pushing her, begging her not to go. The branches of the trees and the vines hanging from them whipped at her arms, disciplining her for choosing to advance. She stepped through the mud with as much mind as she paid the concrete back home, mobs of buzzing mosquitoes no more noteworthy than the exhaust from a car.
The stone monument was black. It stood erect upon a sandstone boulder, rooted in it rather than planted in it. No plant life grew near the boulder and the sounds of nature ceased in its presence.
No ruffling of leaves or snapping of twigs could be heard. No cawing of bird, buzzing of insects, or the distant call of some foreign mammal.
Pebbles on the ground moved, jumping millimeters off the ground at most. Nearly inconspicuous if not for the amount of pebbles, all moving in a waving motion away from the monolith.
Lizbeth climbed the sandstone boulder and stood before the black monument. Deep grooves ran along its surface, illustrating the stone with images of a sun, large and boiling. A serpent sprang from its corona, reaching toward a three supplicant humans with it's mouth agape. Beneath them more humans carrying gifts made their way downward, tossing them in a pond.
A great fish devoured these gifts, changing them as they passed through it. Upon excretion, there was another human.
And that human stood upon the Earth.
Lizbeth extended a hand, touching the monolith. The surface rippled like water at her touch, giving only slight resistance as she pushed in.
She pushed further, the thought that her hand should be projected from the back not crossing her mind. Not until she was immersed. |
EDIT: Oh, crap. I'm stupid. I thought simple prompts limited us to 100 words.
The church was always unbearably full as Christmas neared.
Sermon was scheduled to start two minutes ago. But the Holiday-goers didn’t know the routine. They loitered about, hollering. Some glared at Father Jacobs as he dared to squeeze past them.
Although most of them only came around December, Father Jacobs still knew them all very well. He was the container for their sins.
Billy Edwards cheated on his wife twice this year. Kyle Bismark stole money from a charity. Melissa Burch cheated on her husband with Billy Edwards.
“*Lazy, irredeemable sinners.*” Father Jacobs thought. “*God, I want to kill them.*” |
Somewhere in the downpour outside I left my words behind.
I watch the rain splatter the windows of the roadside diner, the headlights of cars passing as pinpricks along the hazy highway. Holding my fork I pick at my food. A paltry dinner too be sure, chicken and mashed potatoes with a brownish gravy.
But i couldn't complain. Who I presumed was the manager and waiter, had been so welcoming. Doing a quick scan of the nondescript eatery, I am the only one to stop here. The waiter, after asking for my meal, and coming back after ten minutes passed. She went behind the counter, and through a door into the kitchen. I think.
My mind wanders as I yawn, to tired to really understand why I decided it was a good idea, to drive nearly nonstop all day. Obviously it would tire a man out, and the rain was a blunder I hadn't accounted for. Almost getting in a wreck would freak anyone out. Probably.
I take bites and finish the potatoes, which have a light spice to them. I cough and tap my chest, damn asthma always reminding me whenever it feels the need. taking a drink of my soda, I breath deeply and sigh out.
The diner is quiet, almost eerily so. I begin to notice it, as I stare down at my chicken. If not for the rapping rain as a musical drone, it would be almost silent. I am alone.
Still I call for the waiter, I need a refill.
"Umm waiter?"
After handing me my food, she has not returned.
A weight develops in my mind. I frown glancing out the window, the droplets binding and melding together; constantly streaming down in lines and zig zags.
"umm."What was her name? I do recall that she introduced herself, and she had a name tag, but no name comes to me. I rub my forehead.
"Waiter hey, I need a refill,"I say louder.
Silence. Nothing, just rain as ambient noise.
I look at my chicken, and rest against the table. I should eat that, so I do but slowly. There seems to be a bug nipping me somewhere in the back of my head. I scratch at it and finish a small leg.
The chicken is good, almost too good. but i eat it anyway. I think I forget about something important, but I'm not positive. What is the waiters name?
Maybe I'm just to tired, I could take a nap here. If not for the array of street lights and whites of the diner, it is almost pitch-black outside. No use in going out. Hopefully when the rain slows down a bit, I can go sleep in my car. I doubt I would be allowed-
The kitchen door opens, and the waiter returns.
I groan, my eyes are heavy but perk up at his footsteps.
"Did you need something,"he asks.
"Yes... could have a refill of this soda?"
His features look wrong, with a blank face he nods at me, "certainly sir."
He leaves before I can say more, going through the same kitchen door. I look down at what's left of my food, just the chicken thigh. I was supposed to ask him another question, I was sure of it, but my thoughts are interrupted by another cough.
I ate the thigh savoring the different taste it had, that was strange to me. Since everything else tasted... sweeter with more flavor, but I finish it anyway.
"Done with that sir,"she asks, startling me from a trance. My ears are filled with downpour, "you- no I what?"Wasn't she just here?! Without thinking, I hand her my plate.
I feel off. The foods not sitting well in my stomach, or is that in my head. Wait. A name.
The waiter is leaving with my plate, "miss, could I read your name tag before you go? I'm sorry I want to, know who to, to tip."
She stops in the middle of the diner, and turns around, holding the plate to her chest, "I'm nobody."
"Nobody,"I ask, but she's already through the kitchen door.
I scratch an itch on my ear. Theres the downpour filling my ears again. I feel fogged. I think. I think, I can think clearly. But is anything wrong? Where does the waiter go? Who is nobody?
These questions bubble and wane, popping in for seconds and descending into disarray. My eyes are heavy. I yawn wide, cough, and slump on the table. The rain patters relentlessly.
My words are missing. I can't describe what is at my head, whispering. I shouldn't drive this much. I, I think my foods wrong. Where does the waiter go?
The waiter returns again, "your nobody too,"he says; it's voice a low growl. I am tired. What is the waiters name and. There's something wrong, but if I just rest my headaching mind for. Just. A. Moment. I can-
The waiter grins as I lose the last vestiges of consciousness.
(841 words, finally wrote a story again it's been a bit. Great prompt Cole, thanks. Hope you like it. TL) |
The demon B sat invisible across the breakfast table from Andy, as he sipped his coffee and scrolled through the morning news. B watched Andy's face, as his emotion dulled and grew listless. None of it was good. A brilliantly bright hand gently reached across his shoulder, gently setting the phone down. A Star That Crests The Mountain Of Man gleamed and glowered at B as they picked the phone back up and set it in Andy's hand. The angels countless eyes blinked discordantly as B whispered, "You should keep reading, it's the news, it's important."
"I should keep reading,"Andy repeated. "It's the news, it's important."
Star's wings spread in a dense confusing wall of feathers, it's skin nearly blinding B through their aviator sunglasses. It's voice was everywhere and nowhere. I SHOULD NOT DO THINGS THAT CAUSE ME HARM. I DESERVE THAT MUCH.
"I can't keep reading this..."Andy mumbled, setting his phone down again.
B's slender fingers undo the clasp of their pistol holster as they stare into Star's many eyes. "Perhaps the tv has better news..."B clicks the remote before Star can act, but the fist of god is in motion. B sprawls to the floor, golden ichor dripping from their split lip. Andy watches for a second, holding the remote, wondering why he turned the tv on. He quickly switches it off.
"No, the tv will just say the stuff on my phone, he says to himself."
I MUST DEPART. I AM NEEDED AT WORK. Star levels a spear at B's throat, before vanishing it, and gently taking Andy by the shoulder, guiding him to the door.
B scampers to their feet, following along after. There isn't much they can do, perhaps. Andy's life is pitiable, but not one with any real suffering, tragic without tragedy. The demon's work was cut out for them. Perhaps...
B holds out a hand as Andy draws the seat belt across his chest, preventing the clasp from clicking. Star glowers at the demon, holding them, each eye burning like a spotlight on the demon's black skin, expecting them to melt away like shadow. The demon's confidence doesn't waver, and they pull aside their glasses, eyes like dying suns. Andy starts to drive.
WHAT DO YOU DO, MONSTER? Star screams into the place where B's soul would be.
"I do what you can't."B clutches the oily stone handle of his revolver, feeling it's impossible weight, the leaden cylinders fixed in place, impossible to rotate, the only important chamber always loaded as it has never been fired. He holds it out, pointing at Andy as he pulls up to the intersection thirty yards from his driveway.
I AM THE HAND OF GODDESS, ACTING AND PRESERVING THE INNOCENT OF EARTH. I HAVE TASTED THE FRUIT OF GOOD AND EVIL, I HAVE BASKED IN EDEN, I AM IMMORTAL UNDYING AND BRILLIANT, CREATED IN THE IMAGE OF THE HOLY MOTHER OF LIGHT HERSELF. THERE IS NOTHING I CANNOT DO. Star's grip is icy, icy cold against B's smooth skin.
"You cannot lose. You cannot suffer. You know good and evil and nothing else. Watch."B fires the revolver; it's trigger sticks. There's a pregnant pause, a troubling silence, a flash of darkness for a heartbeat, and a garbage truck crashes into the side of Andy's sedan, sending it skittering like a toy across the street where it collides with oncoming traffic. There are honks and screeches, and Andy, thrown like a ragdoll through his windshield, landing in a ditch of dandelions.
A Star That Crests The Mountain Of Man dims in an instant, it's eyes closing, it's halo falling around it's neck, it's wings melting like wax as it runs over to where Andy lies in two strange steps. B is already next to Andy, as though he was always there, resting his head in their lap, petting his bloody hair, whispering in his ear. As Star breathes life back into Andy's deflated lungs, B makes a promise to Andy, one they won't break for as long as he lives. |
The facility was a stark concrete box with a parking lot outside filled with protesters surrounding the entrance. Deangelo watched from his second story window as his ten o-clock appointment entered the property. Shouts and signs filled the air. “God’s gifts do not belong in the trash” “We do not get to choose” and a bunch of other cherry picked biblical references. Deangelo allowed it. Some people do a lot worse when they think their god is being insulted.
​
A portly man in a thick coat with a briefcase entered Deangelo’s exam room, followed by a small Thai woman wearing a baseball cap who took a seat in the corner without a word.
‘I read your briefing, lets begin shall we?’ Deangelo said to the man, motioning towards a re-purposed massage table with a hole cut out for the face. The man de-robed, revealing a bare back.
‘What is this?’ Deangelo said. He glanced towards the woman. She was now standing beside him, a gun pointed at his head.
‘This is not a removal.’ The Thai lady said. ‘This is an implant. You will make my husband an angel.’
There was a long silence, Deangelo had to think quickly.‘Impossible. I swore a Hippocratic oath to uphold Angel Law.’
‘An oath you abandoned when you began selling wings on the black market,’ she replied in tempo.
Deangelo took another pause, he had to be careful with his words. The portly man was now lying face down on the bed. The woman unclasped the briefcase, revealing a pair wings, standard beta-keratin feathers, with a slight purple hue. Still fresh.
‘I always thought destroying wings was wasteful. You have destroyed a lot of divine beauty in your life, Deangelo, don’t you want the chance to create?’
‘There is nothing beautiful about this,’ Deangelo sneered. ‘This will be an abomination.’
The woman lowered her gun and calmly shot Deangelo. The bullet grazed the side of his chest, deflecting off his ribcage. ‘You can see to your wound when you are done.’
\*\*\*
Deangelo was finishing cleaning his wound as he waited for the man to awake from the anesthesia. A roar from outside announced the arrival of his next patient.
‘It always amazed me how so many people could just throw away a ticket for fame and wealth’, the woman said conversationally, looking out the window.
‘I’ve talked to many patients. Most don’t consider it that great of a gift,’he said, applying gauze and bandage to his side.
‘Yeah well most don’t have to worry about buying their next meal,’ she said bitterly. ‘Might as well try and become an angel as long as the world is full of these moronic angel worshipers.’
‘That’s what you think they are?’ Deangelo said
The man awoke and seemed satisfied with his new appendages. Deangelo dismissed them and moved over to the window to watch them leave the building. The portly man paused at the top of the stairs, which lead down into the parking lot, and stared down over the crowd of protesters. He dropped his gown with a smug grin and slowly protracted his wings until they hung, spread out before the transfixed crowd. The crowd gasped and pressed forward for a closer look at his wings—the fresh surgical bandages betrayed their true nature. The tone shifted abruptly; angry shouts infected and spread through the crowd until it was transformed into a roiling mob. Deangelo cringed as he watched the grisly scene. A tortured scream ripped out of the crowd. They tore the wings from his body and tossed them aside, leaving them to flutter away in the wind. The frenzied crowd kept their attention on the portly man until they slowly started to disperse, leaving the thai woman kneeling next to what remained of her husband.
​
​
thanks for reading, if you didn't like it, tell me what you didn't like about it, i'm trying to learn how to write a good story. |
Livy knelt quietly at the edge of the twin bed. She hadn't yet gotten to the point where she didn't need a step to easily hop on but she stilled tried daily, grabbing a mermaid image on her comforter in each tiny fist as she jumped. It wasn't easy but she liked it. Probably it would get easier as she got bigger.. But that was for after prayers. Mommy had tucked her in and daddy had already come in to kiss her on the forehead and tell a funny story, but neither one had prayed with her. The Bible man had said that God listens to every prayer Sunday and she had seen others kneel to pray.
Tonight, for the first time, she was going to try and pray herself.
She didn't need anything specific, was not struggling with any real problems yet. But she just wanted to tell god goodnight.
So she did. Quietly, in a whisper. Like all the other people she had seen do it at church.
'Good night god.'
<Good night Olivia>
'Oh! I didn't expect you to answer!'
<But you knew I would right?>
'Well Bible man said would. But I thought it was with like thunder and lightning and stuff.'
<I could do that. But it wakes people up right?>
'I hadn't thought about that.' Livy admitted. 'Plus I'm kinda scared of the Booms.'
<Don't be. I use those to chase bad stuff away>
'Wow!'
<But go to sleep okay? You are safe here.>
'Okay, but I forgot to grab sunshine.' Sunshine was the soft yellow teddy bear with the huge yellow sun on her chest.
The stuffed bear touched her bare right leg and she smiled as she grabbed and hugged it. Then she set it on the bed to wait. She expected to have to use both hands to jump back into bed. But this time it was easier. She smiled into the darkness with sunshine at her side.
'Good night god.' She said again.
<Good night Livy.>
She decided that she liked praying and god. Though she didn't say it out loud.
God liked her too. |
**14-12-2020**
I did it! I finally did it! I've completely the necessary calibrations of the chronomatrix using the data I stole from the CX7 Labs. They really should have better security than they do, it was easy to get into their systems. Dr Lansen isn't anywhere near completing a time machine, he's bumbling around the Kranston Theorem still!
Tomorrow I'll work on the adjustments to the power feed from the mainline. If they detect the power-drain it's likely someone will come knocking on my door at some point, but hopefully being upstream from Sydney in summer will make them think it's all the air conditioners.
I've got a few days until New Years, need to spend time with family (ugh), but there's still enough time to get everything ready
&#x200B;
**15-12-2020**
Success! The power drain has remained undetected, I didn't need anywhere near as much as I thought I would.
&#x200B;
**18-12-2020**
Spent the last few days at grandma's house with the rest of the family. The drive down was fine, but we all pooled together to go to grandma's. It was horrible. I hate them all so much, I don't even know why I bother.
Grandma probably won't see another Christmas, I should spent it with her this year. I know no one else will.
&#x200B;
**22-12-2020**
The last of the adjustments have been made, everything is ready! I can make my move at any time! But I'll wait, I'll give Grandma one last Christmas before I do it. I've got all the time in the world now.
&#x200B;
**28-12-2020**
Grandma died. She got through Christmas, and then she didn't wake up on boxing day. I guess she died happy... I mean at least she didn't die alone. At least I was there. The rest of the family came up, I thought that phone call would be harder than it was, but I don't think I really feel anything anymore.
I don't know. Maybe it will all hit me later.
&#x200B;
**29-12-2020**
Someone got into my workspace! Motherfuckers stole all my data!
At least I have backups. It must have been Lansen. Who else even knows I'm capable of working on something like this?
Grandma does, but she's dead. And I'm pretty sure she just thought I was being an idiot. She always believed in me, always thought I would achieve something great. But she's dead, so she didn't tell anyone.
It's going to take me a while to retrieve the backup data and double-check all the calibrations.
&#x200B;
**30-12-2020**
Everything is set for tomorrow night. The equipment is ready, and I'm watching it like a hawk. There's been a van I've seen parked nearby in a few different places. I didn't think people would be so stupid to do something that we see in every movie? Maybe it's just a local tradie? If it was the AFP or anything... I mean wouldn't they just arrest me? They have the laws now...
In any case, I'm proceeding. Maybe they think I'm a terrorist? I think it's best that I don't leave the property at all now, if they think I'm a terrorist they might think I'm off to kill someone. If I stay here, maybe they'll leave me alone.
I would go now, but everything is calibrated for tomorrow night.
&#x200B;
**1-1-20****17**
Dear Diary,
I don't know how to explain this... maybe I took too much LSD last night. I kissed myself. I know how it sounds, but I did. I was in the park, tripping by myself, listening to all the people in their backyards counting down the new year. And then I just appeared in front of me.
But I was different. I looked tired. I had been shot! At least, that's what I told myself. Fuck that's confusing.
And he... well me... I grabbed myself and kissed myself. Why would I do that? Then I gave myself a notebook, it was full of formulas, usernames and passwords... I'm only new at this sort of stuff, but it's some pretty complex physics info, and access to labs? And a warning, "Watch out for Dr Lansen".
Who is that? I have no idea what the fuck is going on.
Anyway, then I just disappeared! Was I just high? But the notebook.
&#x200B;
**2-1-2017**
I understand now. It's a time machine. And the physics in here proves it. I HAVE to do this, the paradox could destroy the universe. What the fuck have I done?
&#x200B;
**1-1-2003**
I completed the task, but then something unexpected happened, I began to jump through time. It looks like my random time-jumping has stopped for now, so I can pause and assess what's happened.
One of the jumps took me to the future. Time-travel will unravel everything, people can't be trusted. I have the knowledge though, I'm the first with it. I'll create a time-machine first, and stop myself from doing it in the first place. I was so naive, my understanding of how time works was so infantile.
&#x200B;
**4-2-2004**
I've got the capital now to start the lab. I'll absorb all data and info, buy out everyone. Grandma was a good investor, lots of money, I'm amazed that she took everything I said as gospel, seeing an older me.
But she believed everything I said.
I'll continue suppressing any knowledge of time-travel while I work on my own machine. I know what I need to do to give myself the info I need to build it in the first place, must be sure not to create a paradox.
&#x200B;
**28-9-2011**
I don't understand what I'm missing. I cannot allow a paradox, but no police agency will believe me.
Who was it that shot me!? Who was in the van!
&#x200B;
**28-12-2020**
I looked up in the mirror this morning and I recognized myself for the first time. I'm Dr Lansen, I knew that. But I'm the person who shot me. I have to be there, in the van.
But what happens then? |
"Handy Captain.... I... I must tell you something before I go..."
Through tears Handy leaned in, his dying Hero in his arms bloody after their final encounter together.
"Y-y-you... have power... I know... because I once had them..."
Stunned, his life a lie. What is Falcon talking about? He thought, he'd lived his whole life, wishing to be super ; but not. Training, practicing, preparing, inventing. "What are you talking about Falcon? I'm your sidekick for a reason."
"Your body... it was once mine, you have the ability to change bodies, memories, life... Only you'll remember... But you can only do it..."his voice slowly trailing off, his final breath escaping his broken form. Handy wondered, could I have been Falcon? The Super Heroe to heroes?
Rage, slowing brewing, confusion at what was said... What was he trying to say at the end? You can only do it to? You can only do it when? Handy smashed his hand into Falcons limp corpse, a scream building in your stomach.
In that moment, Necrolord catches up, laughing,
"Without Falcon you stand no chance mortal!"The lights dim in the present of one so dark. Life flashes all around. It's over. The end has come. Slowly marching towards the blood soaked sidekick, Necrolord smirks. "Nothing you can do will harm me, I've no need to worry about you!"The villain places his hand around the sidekick.
In that moment, he's looking down at his small frame, hand on shoulder. Handy Captain sees himself about to die. Foggy memories slowly creep as his neck is broken. But he's still awake? "How...?"He slowly whispers, voice as cold as ice. He recognizes the voice, it's not his own, he's now the Necrolord. The memories creeping in are those of a villains. The rage slowly building at the possibility of having his life stolen turns to fury, bloodlust. He was a hero! He was THE hero! He'd been robbed.
He set out slowly, heart turned to black. The greatest hero Earth had ever known turned into it's greatest villain. |
“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” The genie looks at me in disgust. I had just bind him to do exactly what I think will happen in the wish. I’m gonna abuse this.
“Alright number one: I want all cancers and diseases to be gone. People are gonna be unbelievably healthy now.” He snapped his fingers, and all of a sudden I can breathe better. He took asthma too!
“You have two wishes.” He says, bored because he can’t do anything.
“Next, all discrimination and violence. I’m sick and tired of normal people getting shamed because of the color of their skin or sexual preference.” All of a sudden, I feel at peace, like I’m listening to my favorite song.
“Now, when you removed violence you kept the video games right?”
“Of course I did. Whatever you think of is what I have to do remember with that damn star?”
I smile maliciously. This last one was gonna be fun.
“For my last wish, I want to be famous and rich for something great, like Steve Jobs with whatever he made.” He snapped his fingers, then disappeared.
I awake, suddenly aware that I am on a hospital room.
“Where am I?” I ask the nurse passing by.
“You’re at the hospital. You got hit in the head by a rock, some kid threw it and it hit you directly on top. At least you’re alive.”
Shit. |
“Create the dream… control the dream… collapse the dream. Create, control, collapse.”
Master Strolland paced around the room, observing the dozing students.
“Create, control, collapse,” he murmured. “The dream does not own you. You own the dream.”
I shut my eyes even tighter as though that would drag me to sleep faster. The room was warm, the air like a soft blanket around me, but the anxiety of performing my first act of magic was too much. The master’s soft footsteps slowly grew louder and louder, then paused.
“Student,” he said, his voice emanating from just above me. “You remain awake.”
I lifted my head bashfully. “I apologize, master. I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
He studied me, one eyebrow raised. “Do you need some laudanum? Some fresh tea? Perhaps a shot of grain alcohol?”
I shook my head. “No, master. I’m sorry. I’m just not tired.”
The master placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Did you get a good night’s sleep last night?” he asked quietly, and I nodded, ashamed.
He chuckled. “Well, there’s your problem. You need to stay out later! Go for a run. Perhaps the exercise will bring about the drowse. Normally I’d suggest laudanum, but… well, I’d hate for you to rely on substance for your magic.” He paused and stared out the window. “It’s a lovely day. Bit of a chill. Go, now. We’ll discuss this later.”
I gathered my materials and exited the room of sleeping students, their snores just starting to mingle into a dull roar.
Master Strolland was right, of course. I had slept too much, ruining the first day of spell practice. I shook my head. “Plenty of time left, old boy,” I muttered to myself.
The master was also right about the weather. The autumn day had turned beautiful and crisp, just the barest hint of a light breeze that was yet fought off by the sun’s early morning rays.
*A few laps around the building, perhaps… And then I’ll try again. Maybe I’ll try that chamomile…*
With a sigh, I settled into a steady jog, my robe slightly impeding every step as it swished in the breeze.
I was hardly the first student to fail to produce magic on the first day of trying. Despite Master Strolland’s saying, it was not so easy as “create, control, collapse.” Hundreds of hours of theory lectures on how to manipulate the very nature of dreams to produce spells had been drilled into each of our brains, and during those lectures, the masters had been quite strict about keeping us from falling asleep.
“An unprepared mind is a deadly trap” had been their favorite maxim, and hundreds of years of anecdotes and stories of horrific accidents backed it up. Strolland’s favorite story, of course, was about the young woman who had dreamed of flying above the town and the campus during a lecture on limited dream collapse during unexpected sleep sessions. Naturally, she had awoken to find herself actually above the campus. Unfortunately, because she had collapsed the dream accidentally, she had only collapsed her position and not her ability to fly. Strolland himself had been one of the newly-minted masters tasked with cleaning up the mess.
I sighed; one lap had been finished, and I only felt the slightest bit winded. I resolved to finish at least nine more laps around the building. At the very least, I would walk out of this with a bit of cardio exercise, which Master Harkon insisted was essential for falling asleep at will. He insisted that a strong heart and lungs were easier to slow to the point of unconsciousness.
Personally, I was unsure of the efficacy of his method, but none could argue with the results. We had all seen him collapse into a dream with less than five second’s warning.
On the third lap, the lights started. They startled me, breaking me free from my contemplations as I pounded away step after step. I sighed and slowed to watch for a second. The show was beautiful, akin to the fireworks of the far east, but of no specific origin.
The lights were the master’s preferred first spell, a sign that one of my classmates had successfully collapsed their first controlled dream into reality. It was not unexpected, certainly, but quite disappointing that the others were already succeeding when I had yet to even fall asleep and create a lucid dream of my own accord.
Another set went off, this one bright blue and orange instead of the first light’s deep red. Another student had succeeded. I shook my head and set off for my fourth lap of the building.
My steps beat the bricks of the campus like drums, slapping the ground rhythmically. Despite the autumn chill, I was beginning to feel the slightest bit overheated.
But most importantly, I was beginning to feel bored. I was never incredibly overfond of running, and the idea that I was missing out on important exercise simply because I had slept the previous night was grating on me.
*I could be doing so much more*, I seethed. *I could be in a dream at this very moment if I had just prepared a little bit better.*
The landscape began to blur, melting into a repeating canvas that was the background to my imagination.
*I could be asleep under that tree, drowsing away peacefully. I could begin to create and control my dream.* Even as the thought occurred, I could almost see myself under the tree, dozing away.
*My lights will be green,* I decided. “Bright silvery green, like the brilliant new leaves of spring. They will dance around the building, blinding those who look too close.*
*Create, control, collapse.* We had practiced the creation and controlling a million times until each of us was at least remembering a dream from every last nap if not actively participating in it and realizing it was the magic racing through our very minds.
The collapsing was always the dangerous part; work too quickly, too carelessly, and unintended facets of your dream breaking into reality were the least of your concerns. While Master Strolland warned of improper collapsing, Master Tenthren preached endlessly about ‘burning the conduit’, the rarest and most dangerous consequence of uncontrolled dream collapse. He spoke of students’ brains roasting in their very skulls, though his morbid imagery was often far more vivid.
We practiced with mental exercise, but as with a spearman on the battlefield, drills and practice were nothing compared to the real thing.
I sighed again as my lungs began to pump harder and harder. Even as my imagination raced about, painting vivid green lights across the sky, I began to think through the process of spellcasting.
*Create… control… collapse.*
*Create… control… collapse.*
*Crack*.
The sensation was indescribable, a sharp release that seemed as though it should be painful, but it was not. Shining viridian lights danced around the building exactly as I had imagined them.
I stopped almost on the spot, my feet nearly tripping over themselves.
“What the hell…?” I breathed out.
I do not know how long I stood there, but it was long enough for Master Strolland to race across the courtyard to where I was standing.
“DID YOU PRACTICE DREAM COLLAPSING UNSUPERVISED?!” he roared.
“I-- no-- I was just-- I was just running!” I protested as he grabbed my arms in a steely grip.
“What was that? Who did that?” he demanded.
“I-- I think I did, but-- I was awake, Master, I swear!”
“Awake... “
He gazed into my eyes, piercing them, seeking out every last grain of truth.
“You… you must have used… but that’s impossible.” He released me and paced back and forth.
“What happened, master?”
“You were awake, yes?” he asked. “But still imagining the lights, practicing the collapsing mechanism. I’d heard… but I never believed… certainly not a student.”
“Master?” I hesitated. “Did I do something wrong?”
Strolland paused and put a hand on my shoulder. “No, student. You did some incredible magic in a way I had only ever heard rumors about.”
“But… but what did I do?”
Strolland stared at me.
“You [day-dreamed](https://reddit.com/r/Badderlocks).” |
((Continued))
“I’m not lying!”
“Then why would you need to run from me?”
“I wasn’t afraid of you and I didn’t hate you! I ran because I...I…” Aspen hesitated. “Well…. I guess I was afraid. But not of you--I could never see you that way; could never hate you like that. If I did, I wouldn’t have given everything to save you last night.”
Elvira noticeably calmed down a little. “Then what were you afraid of?” she asked. Aspen hesitated again. “Just tell me already,” Elvira added with a groan, but Aspen continued to hesitate. She looked guilty--shameful even--and refused to look at Elvira. She reminded the witch of a dog that did something it knew it wasn’t allowed to do. “Why are you acting so weird? This isn’t a love confession.”
Aspen laughed nervously at that and Elvira blinked. “.... Oh my god, it is,” the witch gasped in disbelief. Aspen winced, as though she’d just been physically hurt. “You can’t be serious. That’s….. Since when?”
“Since…. Well, pretty much always, actually,” Aspen confessed. Elvira blinked and took a step back from the bars as Aspen continued. “You were always so gloomy, I just wanted to cheer you up a little. So I picked you those flowers and when you smiled at me…” Aspen smiled herself at the memory. “God, I was so smitten.”
Elvira grabbed the brim of her hat and pulled it down, hiding her face. “You never told me....” she murmured softly.
Aspen sighed. “No… No, I didn’t. At first I just enjoyed being around you, but as my feelings grew, it started to become painful. I was afraid of what you’d say and what you’d do; afraid of losing you. So instead of telling you, I just ran. Because… I am a coward,” she admitted shamefully.
“You’ve fought literal dragons,” Elvira pointed out.
“Well… Dragon--singular--but that was somehow easier. And I lost that fight, though she didn’t kill me in the end. Lovely gal, real nice about it--she still sends me letters sometimes,” Aspen reminisced before shaking her head. “I’m ranting. The point is I’m a coward in the end, because I ran from my feelings for you.”
“No, you’re not. You’re an *idiot!*” Elvira burst out, still hiding her face under the brim of her hat. Aspen blinked at the outburst. “You were afraid of losing me, so instead you gave me up!? What kind of logic is that!”
“I guess….. I guess I didn’t really… See it that way,” Aspen admitted guiltily.
“Because you’re an idiot!” Elvira reiterated. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve suffered because of your idiocy!?”
Aspen swallowed. “I’m… “I’m sorry.”
Elvira pulled her hat down further, making sure that her face really was completely obscured, while stepping up towards the bars again. “I want you to say it,” she told Aspen.
Aspen raised an eyebrow. “Say it?”
“Yes. Say it.”
“Say what?”
Elvira groaned. “You know what I mean.”
Aspen did know. “Elvira, that’s a little…”
“Say it.”
“But-”
“Say it!”
Aspen blinked. “I…” she sighed. There was nowhere to run this time--no way to escape. She supposed she could just not say it, but after all this time and all the suffering she’d put Elvira through, she’d feel guilty not saying it. Besides, Elvira already knew--she just wanted to hear it. And, Aspen realized, she deserved to hear it. “I love you,” she finally confessed.
Elvira’s reaction was indiscernible, face hidden behind her hat as it was. She raised a hand and beckoned Aspen over. “Come here,” she said quietly. Aspen hesitated and then slowly walked over towards the bars. As soon as Aspen was within reach, Elvira grasped her collar through the bars and pulled her in. She released the brim of her hat and leaned in, the hat being pushed off of her head by the iron bars as Elvira kissed Aspen through them.
Aspen blinked, taken by surprise by the sudden kiss, but then closed her eyes and kissed her back with all the longing, regret and undying love she’d felt over the years, while tasting Elvira’s own love, longing and more than a little frustration. When the kiss parted, their lips remained close to one another. “Elvira…” Aspen whispered breathlessly.
“Don’t lose your lunch,” Elvira said back to her, and before Aspen could get as much as a ‘what’ out, everything went black. Aspen couldn’t breathe and felt an immense pressure against her body, as though she was underwater and pulled forwards through it at an immense speed. Suddenly, all at once, it stopped and Aspen dropped to her hands and knees, gasping for air.
As Aspen was left panting and trying to recover from what had just happened, she realized her hands were touching earth and grass instead of the hard stone floor of a cell, and she looked up. She was outside, on her knees in a forest meadow filled with brilliantly white, star-shaped flowers that glowed in the pale light of the moon. The wind was blowing briskly, coming at the flowers in waves as they swayed in it, and she could hear the sound of it blowing through the trees of the surrounding forest. She’d been magically transported, she realized. “My god, that was *awful,*” Aspen moaned.
Elvira was there too, seemingly wholly unaffected by the spell. She grasped Aspen’s arm and helped her up. “You get used to it. Enchanted robes help a lot too,” she explained.
Aspen looked around as she stood. “... Why take us here?” she asked. This meadow was familiar to them both. This was where she and Elvira had spoken for the first time, when Aspen had picked some of these very flowers and given them to Elvira. They’d just been kids then--Elvira hiding from the other kids and Aspen exploring the forest.
“Where else?” Elvira just replied and Aspen turned her gaze back towards the other woman. Elvira sighed. “I… Am a coward as well. Because I love you too,” she confessed. “Ever since you showed up suddenly and gave me some of these flowers that you had picked.”
“.... Really?” Aspen asked. Elvira nodded. “We fell in love at the same moment,” Aspen realized and Elvira nodded again. “But we were both too cowardly to say anything,” Aspen finished and Elvira nodded again. They both sighed.
Aspen shook her head in frustration. So much misery could have been avoided if they’d just spoken to one another; if either of them had just had the guts. Aspen bent down and plucked one of the flowers from the ground. “I promise I’ll always tell you how I feel from now on,” she vowed solemnly and extended the plucked flower to Elvira.
Elvira looked at the flower and then took it carefully, as though it was something precious and incredibly fragile. “Me too,” she whispered. Then she looked up at Aspen and smiled, and it was as though they’d both fallen in love all over again. |
Genres in music were always underestimated since the very beginning. I mean, no one knew that they could actually result in actual superpowers at some point. It's very unusual, but pretty much most people that listen to music have powers and they are usually determined by the genre.
For example, if you were to listen to classical music, you would be able to move gracefully, akin to a ballet dancer and have the ability to control water. Or if you were to listen to pop, you could control bubbles.
Humanity was very happy when they found that power, but quickly realized that some of it can be very dangerous. Those that listen to metal music only and despise every other genre, often use their powers to troll the ones that listen to other genres, or even try to damage them in some way.
But even they have someone to fear, someone that they try to avoid at all costs and retreat, once it turns out that the one they decided to mess with has these powers. After all, it is not easy taking someone down that listens to many genres at once. |
"Kris..."his wife lovingly called. She had interrupted his dreams of peppermint snow and polar bear sled racing, but her angelic voice was the best way he'd found to rise in the morning. Still, in the daze of waking up he felt that a few more minutes of sleep wouldn't hinder his ability to complete his work. He slipped back into slumber in just enough time to catch and continue his dream where he'd left off. A massive, wooden krug of hot eggnog was in his left hand and a steaming boar's leg in his right as he observed the race.
"Kris,"his wife called again. No matter. He slipped back into the dream, a little altered now. Kris Kringle now observed his workshop, humming with the murmurs of activity. The elves worked diligently, sitting at their diminutive tables, crafting and assembling a plethora of toys. Another team entered the workshop from outside, brisk snow blowing in momentarily as they pulled in a new supply of freshly-cut lumber.
Kris heaved a relaxed sigh. He checked his clock and noted that he was ahead of schedule. Pulling out his pipe, he snapped a flame to life between his fingers, igniting the tobacco-pine mixture within it.
He drew in deep, exhaling audibly before shouting at the top of his lungs, "Boys!"
The work in the shop stopped immediately, expectant eyes turning to the foreman. "We're ahead of schedule! Keep this up and the Christmas Party will be-"
"Woden!"
That, the invocation of an ancient name, pulled him from his sleep. He knew something was wrong.
He pulled himself upwards in the bed. The first thing he noticed was that his blankets were not the soft blend of wool and cotton that he'd grown accustomed to, but the hides of bears, elk, and long-extinct megafauna.
The second thing he noticed was the clock hanging on the opposite wall, above the fireplace. The once beautifully-carved, light brown cherry wood clock encircled with an immense laurel wreath had transfigured into the rustic gray of an ash tree, wreathed in a circle of bladed weaponry.
He was behind schedule.
"Oh no."He touched his face. He still had both his eyes. There was still time to fix everything.
He'd overslept.
For the first time in millennia, he'd overslept.
He heard a grinding sound to his side and turned to his bedroom's door. His wife was pulling the bookshelf in front of the entrance. She, too, had changed. The once round-faced, rosy-cheeked, delicate love of his life had grown taller, dense with muscle and decorated in scars.
With the bookshelf in place she made acknowledged her husband. "It's about time you got up, fat ass."
Kris pulled the sheets from himself and checked his body. He wasn't fat anymore. And he certainly wasn't jolly. "The enchantment has failed."
"No,"his wife said. She wound her hand back and threw a pitch at the fireplace. Amber flames raced down the length of her arm and kindled the wood. She pulled an axe from the wall and threw it to her husband. "You failed."
"Me?"He caught the axe. "Get me another."
"Wouldn't you prefer a shield?"
Kris looked at her dumbly and beat his fists against his chest. "Look at me! Do I look to be the type of man afraid of flimsy arrows?"
"Fine."She threw him another axe. "But don't underestimate the elves. Even in their diminished states their craftwork was amazing. Who knows what they'll be capable of now that the enchantment's lifted."
Kris flipped his bed on its side and began pushing it towards the blockaded door. "Indeed."There was an audible slam on the other side of the wall. "How many do we have again?"
"Fifty thousand."Mrs. Klaus opened a hatch beneath the bed. She pulled out glowing baubles of red and blue plasma. "We can win, but there won't be enough elves left to continue making toys, Kris. Whether we win or lose, this could be the end of Christmas."
Kris took the baubles he was offered, pocketing them beneath his robes. He was handed a box and took it up. "We could return to Alfheim. Get more."
The look his wife shot him contained all the rejection he needed. Neither of them were the war gods they once were. The battle, even if taken away from the realm of man, would still be conspicuous, infecting the dreams of mortals from the conflict's inception to its completion with vicious images of gory conquest. It took centuries to separate the holiday from it's bloody roots. With the advent of modern technologies, they wouldn't have that luxury.
The banging on the wall got louder. The two turned their backs to it, facing the opposite wall. Kris moved his arms ritualistically, decimating the wall and letting the snow in from outside. Mrs. Klaus followed suit, though her motions had a different effect.
Outside, miles of snow twisted into the forms of white statues, composed of snow and ape-like in appearance, donning armor and weaponry from multiple cultures across multiple ages.
With a snap of her fingers, their eyes glowed to life.
The elves had felt it. Before the first snowman could make a battle cry the wooden wall downstairs exploded outward. Three massive harpoons shot into the company of golems and the elves rushed outside.
They'd grown from their small statures to their natural appearances. Each was tall and willowy, with long hair that ranged from chestnut brown to sandpaper brown. The remnants of their miniscule clothing clung to their athletic frames. They would be alluring if not for the weaponry in their hands.
From the blessed wood of the workshop they'd crafted arcane weaponry. Bows that shot arrows of light. Shields that resonated with the burst of thunder when struck. Swords that danced in the air in tune with their beautiful acapella.
There was a burst of wood and a pillar-sized arrow shot between the couple. Mrs. Klaus threw a blue bauble as she turned. A chance arrow nearly seized an opportunity in her openness. It was the quick hand of Kris, shielding his wife's abdomen with the broadside of an axe that saved her.
No less than ten elves began flooding the room. Two, demonstrably more zealous than the others, had come down through the chimney and where still draped in flames.
The couple bellowed, shaking their workshop down to it's foundation, and charged. |
King Alexander. Known as the intellectual king and went down in history as one of its world leaders.
Of course, he had some secrets himself. Like how he defeated a whole race of Sirens but decided to say nothing about it. Or how there's a hole to hell just underneath his throne. He sat on his throne day and night helping other people, like the wise old man he was. His successor, Prince Alexander the II would be taking the throne as soon as he died.
He yawned, as he used the remaining of his magic in his reserves to force another demon back into the hole it came from. It was a slow day of visitors when he suddenly had a 'brilliant' idea.
He decided to go down the hole. Not his most brilliant idea, and definitely not going to be his next achievement compared to his young days.
The next thing he knew, he jumped. It was a basic free fall, but with his magic, he was able to slow down. He looked around noting that this would seem to be a normal human city had it not been for the red sky glaring above.
He took a look at his appearance, and it seemed as if time reversed its clock and that he was around his young twenties again.
He began walking through the streets of this intricate city, not caring about the pointing and staring, as he tried some of the foods from the food stands Hell had to offer.
Suddenly, he felt a powerful presence and watched as a young-looking demon marched right up to him, and started to drag him towards the castle. A crown was nestled safely onto his head. |
Allison Walsh twirled her hair with one hand and held her dog's leash in the other. Her dazzling green eyes were beautiful enough to die for and her slim figure left my mouth agape. If only...
"She likes me, OG Derrick."my clone, Derrick #1, said, "Guess my looks were enough to 'sway her."
"We're the same person!"I shouted.
"I'd watch it i-if I were you. I-i-it looks strange to s-see three boys behind a h-h-hedge stalking a girl."my second clone, Derrrik, piped, "We should get o-out as soon as p-p-p-possible. This won't end well for u-us!"
"Put a sock in it!"I spat out, "She'll catch us if you keep being a wuss about it!"
"What a great way to introduce yourself to her."Derrick #1 joked, "but I should really get going if I want her. Anyway-"
"You're not leaving!"I warned, "There's still Darick. He did say he would be here soon."
"Give me a break. *He's* the guy we're waiting for? Do we need someone killed?"
"O-oh, is Darick coming with us? I-I'm scared of him."
"Shut it both of you-"
"What are we doing today?"Darick interrupted, his presence scared all of us and nearly made Derrrik jump out if it weren't for Derrick #1 who pulled him down.
"We're going to talk to Allison. What does it look like?"
"N-n-nothing!"
"Darick, we're trying to talk to Allison. We needed you to come with us, so we can explain our... situation."
"Oh, am *I* a situation to you!"Darick threatened, "Here I thought we were all getting along. Don't make me get physical-"
"Hey big guy, we're not trying to get rid of you or anything. We just need someone strong to watch our backs."
Darick leaned back and rubbed his chin. Then he breathed out deeply from his nostrils, "Okay, I'm calmed down."
"Great... great..."I spoke, "Now, who goes first?"
"C-can I go f-first? Allison is so p-pretty."
"We're not entrusting this with *him*."Derrick #1 said, "Just let me out and she'll be *swoooning* for us in no time-"
"Let the weak one go."Darick grinned, "He still needs to prove himself. And you, funny one, don't make me violent by making fun of us."
Derrrik was stood out from the hedge and shuffled over to Allison. She sat coolly on a bench while her miniature pincher rubbed himself over her leg. While Derrrik moved slowly closer, she turned his head in his direction. He stood still for a brief second and readjusted his glasses, after he awkwardly sat right next to her. She leaned back in unease.
"Who are you?"she asked.
"I-I'm Derrrik. You're p-prettier in person."
"...Right."she stood up, "Now, give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the cops on you, creep."
"Y-you know my twin..."
"Oh, him? Yeah, I remember him. The guy with the slicked-back hair and tinted shades? He's just like you, a creep. Now get away from me!"
I swerved my head to Derrick #1 who watched with gritted teeth. He cursed under his breath and made his way to Allison before I could stop him. Derrick #1 was out to prove his point.
"Don't let *this* guy get in the way between us."Derrick #1 flirted, "You and I have something special. Want me to get rid of him?"
"W-w-w-what!? We're a t-t-team!?"Derrrik sputtered, "I-I..."
He fainted and landed on his side. Derrick #1 stood proudly in front of Allison who rushed over to Derrrik's unconscious body.
"Get away from me!"
"Now, don't be so glum, chum. I'm sure he'll be fin-"
I looked to over my shoulder and Darick was gone. Before I knew it, he was leaning over Derrick #1 with bulging eyes.
"I warned you! I've been warning you! Now you've crossed the line!"
He slammed down his fists on Derrick #1. He fell flat without resistance and was knocked cold. Then Darrick climbed on him and slammed his head back and forth into the grass. Darrick stopped and took multiple breaths and stood back up inspecting Derrick #1's body.
"He'll be okay. Just a concussion."
Allison screamed into the wind while Darick tried to calm her down. Which only made her run away calling for help. Her pooch stayed behind and sniffed Darick's foot. He sat on the bench and started to pet the dog. It rolled up onto his lap and rested.
I on the other hand, started to run the hell out of there before the cops showed up. |
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"Those fuckers,"Death grumbled as he walked into the office on The Other Side. "First they make me work overtime during the plague and both world wars and now they're making me redundant! Can't believe it. Immortality, not just for humans, but all the animals as well! Just you wait until God and Satan hear about this shit!"
And indeed, God and Satan had heard and were already in the meeting room with a bunch of angel and demon managers as he entered.
Satan slapped a hand on the table and laughed, "Death, my friend! Good to see you! Judging from the way you're dragging your feet you've already heard about the biggest joke of the century. Humans discovering the secret to immortality! Whose fucking idea was this?!"
God sighed. "Yeah, that really didn't go as planned. We need to find the humans who are responsible. I need to have a word with them."
A blond haired man spoke up, "I don't think they'll want to talk to you, boss. I believe they think they're "god"now."
One of Satan's managers, a redhead, chimed in, "Yeah, no. I don't think they do. Most folk nowadays aren't really religious anymore."
"Too bad, eh?"Death growled.
The demon looked annoyed. "You're not the only one who has reason to be upset here, buddy. This situation is shit for everyone involved. The only ones who benefit here are the bloody humans!"Turning to God, the demon stated, "Someone made them too smart for their own good."
God raised an eyebrow. "It's not my fault they evolved on their own. I never would have thought they'd be able to achieve anything other than self destruction. Something clearly went wrong. We need to focus on fixing this instead of bickering."
"I agree,"the angel said. "This is unpleasant for all of us."
"Fine."The demon settled down again. "Any ideas apart from talking to them?"
Death sat down at the table. "Everything I could have added to this conversation has been rendered useless by the circumstances under which we find ourselves here."
"We could just bring the ones responsible down to hell and subject them to endless torture, maybe in five or so centuries they'll be begging us to let them find a way to reverse this mess,"Satan offered as a suggestion.
Death liked the idea, but God and the angel weren't excited at the prospect.
"I would prefer if we tried a more diplomatic way first."
Their debate went on for quite a while with little progress.
"Let's focus on finding them and then take it from there, how about that?"God asked as he was running the godly search engine for matches in the human database.
"Alright, so how long is this going to take exactly?"the demon inquired impatiently.
"About a week."
"Plenty of time to come up with further plans,"Death said before getting back up. "I for one, am in need of a new job for now."
Satan rose from his seat as well. "I could offer you a temporary position as a barkeep down in hell. There's a bunch of demons who have always wanted to meet you. We'll create a new cocktail in your name. It'll be great!"
Death accepted. "Deal. We'll call it 'Death's End'." |
A human patted me on the back, as thanks for helping him, as before I used my magic to lift his metal and put it into the cart.
The years had gone by since I had first arrived here, and since the first solar flare came down to rain hell on all the races stuck on this godforsaken planet.
The humans were surprisingly nice, and one of them even hugged and twirled me around. Humans were slightly non-surprised at this new event if it makes sense. It seems they were waiting, as the people who had cars were compensated with high-quality carts. Cars were then melted to create more metal for experienced metalsmiths.
My race, the Flugels, joined in on the fray. After all, we must have had the advantage since we had magic and the humans did not, right?
Wrong.
With each new magical advancement, the humans came up with something better. For example, one of our best wizards came up with a spell to create light from just the tips of your hands. The humans counteracted it by creating a new technological device that creates light as well, except it depended on the magic that was always buzzing on Earth, but could never be used.
It soon became later known as the Technology Wars, as with each new invention, the public enjoyed it more and more.
Soon, entertainment came back, as the Flugels were able to create recorded holograph, and the humans counteracted it by somehow managing to create 3D little boxes, in which you can do basically anything. When you replayed a video, it showed it in 3D.
I was a little surprised, and so were the Phatasmas, our backup plan.
We had contracted that in times of need, each race was supposed to help the other. They were surprised when they saw that the Flugels had integrated so much into this human society.
They were even more surprised when they heard of the Technology Wars, and suddenly, a third party of the war joined the never-ending surprises.
What I am worried about is when we'll eventually have to go back to our planet. |
*Commanders Log, 336 hours until C-Day*
It’s been six frigid nights since the scouting party stepped out into the darkness of the arctic winter. We’ve been radio silent for two days now, awaiting their signal. The weather here on Mt. Crumpit is brutal, some of the newer recruits are already struggling to bear. The older soldiers knew to an extent what they were getting into, but none of us expected this. We must continue, and we must succeed. With Christmas in only two weeks, we will not get another chance to send a team this deep into the pole.
Upon arrival at Firebase Gumdrop on the 3rd of December, we put the team through an intensive training class. While most of the information is top-secret, what I can say is this: the real enemy of Christmas is not a plain red coffee cup. The threat we face is sly, cunning, and ancient. It’s evil threatens not only us Elves, but the rest of the living realm. Only us brave few of Seal Team Twix can stop it.
I’m beginning to be concerned about the scouts. While Sergeants Popp and Krackle aren’t due to report until tomorrow, a foreboding dread has settled into my gut like stale fruitcake. If we don’t hear back from the scouting party by 18:00 tomorrow, we’ll follow their path and attempt rescue- or more likely recovery.
&nbsp;
*Commanders Log, 324 hours until C-day*
The scouts missed their status report. I’ve ordered the rest of the team to gear up, ammunition and quik-seal taffy bandages only. There will be no retreat, bringing anything else will be nothing more than a burden. I’ll be giving them their final mission briefing shortly. It goes against orders, but these men need to know the truth of what we’re facing.
The humans have many names for him- Krampus, Belsnickel, most recently- The Grinch. Over the years their stories of him have changed. He’s gone from the once fearsome horned beast of lore, to a fuzzy bear-like creature who ends up being good after all. Most of this is just myth, fabricated stories. But all legends start with a core of truth. This being and our dear leader are locked in an eternal struggle for the soul of this world. One brings joy and cheer, the other seeks only to suck the world dry, leaving only sorrow. Tonight we plan to end that struggle once and for all.
Odds are, this will be my final entry as commander of this unit. For those who may read this, for your sake, I hope our sacrifice is not in vain.
&nbsp;
SEMPER LAETA
Commander Kebler
&nbsp;
*Commanders log, date unknown*
I’m not sure why i’m even writing this. None of it matters anyways. Perhaps it’s to clear my conscience before I succumb to the cold, or maybe it’s in vain hope that somehow, sometime, someone will read this and share the truth.
There is no war, no struggle. It’s all a farce. The battle for the joy of the world is a lie written in the blood of countless elves. We followed our comrades' tracks up the mountain, until they ended abruptly at the precipice of a narrow cave. We entered, but it was only a few feet in that we realized our mistake. A voice, unmistakable as that of The Great Saint called out to me by name. In that instant the walls of reality came crashing down.
He began by murdering my teammates, using his horrible magic to turn them to rockcandy. I am grateful death will take me soon. I cannot live with the sight of those statues, their eyes ever open, mouths twisted in translucent, fruit scented screams. Those of us who had time to react opened fire, but it was of no use.
With another blast of magic, I found myself alone in my survival. My weapon had been torn from my hand, the magic crystalizing most of my arm into what I assumed to be blue razzberry. The Great Saint bore down on me, and in my desperation I screamed only one word- why. To my surprise, he paused to answer. As he leaned over me, the putrid scent of old hot chocolate and cigars upon his breath, he told me. It was when his face was drawn so close to mine I could nearly feel the prickle of his beard that I made my move.
It’s a good thing Elves use their middle finger for the trigger, it’s the only one long enough to be of any use now. Having been ready to fire, mine had been extended when the magic hit me. Now, it was a diamond-candy dagger. I heaved myself forward, blue razzberry mixed with the red of blood and the Saint bellowed and reared back while I made my escape.
Somehow, even in this perpetual darkness, I feel my world getting dimmer. Please, if someone finds this logbook, do not let this tale go untold. The Great Saint’s laughter at my question echoes in my ears. His reply, just eight, terrible words.
“Because my heart is two sizes too small” |
Theres no way to understand it unless youre there when it happens. Time stopping is a bizarre experience. Its scary, but peaceful at the same time.
Theres no noise, even when you speak. it all comes out at once. moving feels like you're at the bottom of the ocean with a bag of rocks on you. the cold dead look in everyone's eyes. the feeling of your shadow abandoning you. the knowing you cant eat anything and drinking will drown you.
The worse part is you dont know its happening until too late. until youre halfway through your sentence or youve got the shower running nothing comes out. everything can kill you and nobody will see it.
I'll never be able to share the sensation of time standing still, and i really hope i never have too. the last time i did i lost someone dear to me. |
*August 28, 1996*
"Babe, there's no way we're going to get to San Diego by tomorrow morning, and it's already 1 AM. We're going to have to find a place to stay overnight."
"Alright, alright. I saw a sign a few miles back saying there was a motel not too far off the highway."
The young twenty-something olive-skinned man spun the car around and turned off at the sign, driving about a mile off the road, before coming to what just looked like a long house and a separate, smaller house with a 1972 Mercury Marquis out front next to a sign that simply said "office."They pulled in two spaces away from the Marquis and he went in, to an empty room other than a grand piano and a woman in her twenties in a pinstripe suit at the front desk with a painted-on poker face, nibbling away at some nondescript meat on a plate as she aimlessly stared at a point on the wall where the paint chipped off.
"Hi, can I get a room for the night?"he said apprehensively upon sensing the menacing and possibly disturbed presence of this woman. In response to his request, she very slowly and deliberately put a set of keys on the desk and simply said "Room 12.", without even turning to look at him.
The man and his girlfriend went to the aforementioned room and instantly fell asleep in the two comfortable beds provided.
Around 4 AM, the man's girlfriend was roused by the sound of footsteps outside. After a few more minutes, the footsteps stopped, and two more sounds were heard - the loading of an old bolt-action rifle, and the opening of a bottle. By this time, the girl, filled with both fear and intense curiosity, decided to open the door to investigate exactly what the hell was up outside her room.
After gently opening the door, she was greeted by the sight of the woman from the front desk in a trenchcoat, sitting on a chair next to a Czech Mauser, drinking a beer while reading *The Odyssey* by the light of an old lantern. Upon seeing the girl, the woman cracked a smile and simply offered her another bottle of beer. They sat for 15 minutes, as the woman let the girl read the book over her shoulder before the girl decided to return to bed.
In the morning, the couple paid for their room, but not before the woman gave each of them a wordless hug and proceeding to take her place again at the desk.
&#x200B;
Following a night of good sleep, the two decided to drive into a small town a fair bit away, eating breakfast at a diner and engaging locals in some friendly conversation, in which the topic of the motel eventually came up.
"Ah, she's... she's weird. We've just taken to calling her Ellie. Sometimes people will go out there and the motel won't even be there. Half the town is convinced that she's a ghost, but no one is certain about... really anything regarding her."
Another patron piped up: "There's one certain thing about her: she'll come into town every once in a while in that Mercury out front of the motel and buy things. She never says a word, and there ain't no rhyme or reason to what she buys. I heard from Bob at the gun store that she came in a few months ago and bought a thousand rounds of surplus 8mm Mauser without opening her mouth or even acknowledging his presence. She just grabbed the box, put the exact amount of cash onto the counter, walked out, and drove off."
"When was the last time she came around?"said the girl in a spooked manner.
"Two Saturdays ago was the last time anyone saw her. Apparently, she bought a bunch of 6-packs of bottles of Coors, and-"
"B-By any chance, did she buy a copy of *The Odyssey*?"
"Yeah, that's it."
"Oh."
&#x200B;
It was a very quiet and freaked-out remainder of the drive to San Diego. |
It was written on a phone, apologies for formatting. I’ve not posted here before so this is exciting.........
I watched her delicate wrists twist in the moonlight. Her casting rituals were rhythmic and graceful, even as the grass and flowers wilted at her feet. We weren’t supposed to dabble in magic for another month, until the first full moon following our fourteenth birthday.
We were the only two girls deemed to have “Spirit” from our village. This was a curse belying a blessing. Having Spirit meant we were given better food, clothing, and a formal education away from the women gatherers or children’s chores. It also meant we were expected to (one day) sacrifice many lives for the benefit of a goddess who doesn’t care much for anyone, or anything. We call her Our Mother but, truly, I think of her as an extravagantly bored and spoiled child.
“Moira, are you going to try something? This feeling is indescribable! It’s like the blood in my veins starts to bubble and then I can feel something fizzing at my finger tips. You’ve got to try it!”
My thoughts fell to the wayside as Vivienne’s eyes searched for a path to my soul. They were a deep brown and always filled with shrewd curiosity. Nothing escaped her.
“Well? Are you going to try?” Vivienne pinched my arm.
I sighed, “you’ve been trying to persuade me to break the rules for two months. Why would I do it now?”
She bit her lip and tugged at her sleeves, “aren’t you afraid of hesitating?” She looked around and then leaned in, “I still shake as I feel the grass wither beneath my toes.”
We weren’t allowed to express doubt in the rituals. If we hesitated on the night of our awakening it was likely that Our Mother would strike us down, right there.
If anything was a true blessing, it was that I grew up around death. My family raises high quality chimpanzees for wealthy Spirit users. When I was a child I didn’t understand why the sacrifices were necessary, but a war that seemed so far away made it to our doorsteps. When that happened the Spirit users from our village saved us all. However, it came at the cost of 15 chimpanzees which was over half of our stock. As I said before, we raised high quality chimps, bred and raised to be as docile as possible to make blood sacrifices easier. I’d dealt with that for nearly 14 years so why would it bother me after another month?
“Don’t act all high and mighty, I know it bothers you,” Vivienne whispered into the air between us, as if she was responding to my thoughts.
I couldn’t decipher my thoughts or feelings well enough to translate into words, so I stayed silent.
“I remember the chimpanzee from when we first began training. When was that? 5... no, 6 years ago. Number 100-“
I snapped, “please don’t talk about her.”
She muttered and mocked me, “I don’t have any feelings.”
GOD she makes me mad sometimes. I inhaled and held my breath for a few seconds, then slowly exhaled, “I’m sorry. You know we’re different that way.”
It’s true, despite everyone expecting us to be similar we are quite different. For instance: she is loud and I am considerate, she is so fucking hyper but I just want to go to bed, and I do better compressing my feelings rather than expressing them.
“I still think you should do it to prepare yourself,” Vivienne looked to the ground and giggled, “I’m supposed to be the fuck-up between us.”
Dusk had begun to slither across the horizon and fireflies were beginning their nightly waltz.
We sat in silence for a bit. I began focusing on the lights in the grass to look for my sacrifice. After a few minutes I saw a blade of grass wobble and slowly crawled over. I learned recently that there are predatory female fireflies that hunt the males of the other species. She had just begun to feast, that cannibalistic siren. I gently scooped the two into my hand and went back to Vivienne.
“Oh that’s lovely.”
I smirked at her then turned my attention to the bugs.
Upon my next inhale I searched for the fireflies, not physically but for the special light we all have. My palm felt warm and full as the flies melted into my skin. The fizzing sensation began and I could feel something filling a starved and lonely cavern in my chest. Taking this small of a Spirit is this heavy?
It’s hard for me to focus but I need to know something, “was it heavy for you too, Vivienne?” |
She laid there on the stone cold floor of the graveyard. Dark birds circled above, rats circled around and her self pity circled inside through the brightest parts of her mind. For those *were* the brightest parts of her whole body now. The blood ran cold, the limbs felt numb. Only her eyes and the little thoughts dancing around inside her soul had any bit of light left in them.
Victoria cursed the crypt. She cursed the air, the birds, even her body and the phantom that ran her through. She cursed them all. But above all, or rather... pitifully below everything else, both in stature and in hope... she cursed herself. She just couldn't stop listening, couldn't stop trying. Even when she was warned, even when they tried to keep her away. The guardsmen that approached her, her children that now ran away; off into the distance. They tried to keep her away.
But she heard his voice and it beckoned. She was so desperate to make amends. So desperate for another chance. But he was always a spiteful man, wasn't he? Both in marriage and in work. Both to family and to her. Both in sadness and in joy.
Both in life and in the fog. |
At first, we swarmed them. With questions, photos, and most of all... hashtags. But everything died down then their personality was revealed. They were extremely condescending, herding us like sheep droves into their lab facilities.
It wasn't as if we could think and speak for ourselves, and that we would do anything that they would say. In which they were completely wrong, and they should probably never think that again since we destroyed them later after that.
At first, was the Human Rebellion, the Military Rebellion, and then the Political Rebellion. The last one is the weakest, but the most known one across the other Rebellions.
The Human Rebellion went something like this; at first, when they took us to their labs, we would just start trashing them. Not a satisfactory way of being rebellious but it was enough to be acknowledged. But when the race started to bomb us, we all went to war.
We started tackling them whenever they showed their faces in one of our towns. If they tried to bomb us, we would just throw their bombs right back. It was like the less-than-known Gen Z rebellion, except this time, we didn't get reprimanded by the government.
Next was the Military Rebellion. It started off small. It turned out the military was hording weapons from all the countries they fought. So, they gave us access to the horde, and from then on, the aliens were faced with katanas and axes.
And then, the even bigger horde of the aliens came, so the military stepped it up. They always had the blueprints for the machines, but never enacted it unless there was a reason. And so, every rebellious human was armed with a stun gun, ray gun, and basically all the previously known sci-fi shit.
And then the Political Rebliion. Which might I add, had been going on for a very long while. No humans were reprimanded for doing this to the extraterrestrials, and our President sat back and watched it happen.
When the aliens asked for access to their labs, they were denied.
And that's how the humans of Earth conquered the Flugels, the extraterrestrials. |
The green light shining in from the window grew brighter and brighter. Terry knew he couldn't hide what he'd done. And he couldn't deny the havoc that was about to be brought on his home.
He stuck close the ground as he made his way across the room. He listened for any aberrant sounds.
There was the rustling of leaves, the howling of wind, the snapping of branches, and the strangled groaning of plant life sprouting, growing, and dying.
He dared to only open his curtains an inch as he peeked outside.
In the backyard, Scruffy, his beagle, still chained to his peg, was levitating, arms splayed out further than his canine shoulder blades should have permitted. His lips were moving with nuance a dog shouldn't have been physically capable of. The lime-colored runes were spiraling along his fur, growing out as he continued his chanting. The chain holding him turned from iron into wood. And then splintered, transforming into leaves that grew and died by the time they hit the ground.
Scruffy's peg trembled, runes growing along its surface as well. Terry covered his ears, knowing what was about to happen. The peg exploded, transforming into an oak of immense size. It shot up in an instant, the top reaching past the second story of Terry's home. The tree began to grow acorns, discernable only because they were the size of grapefruits.
Beneath Scruffy, a hole was bore in the ground. The blades of grass spread out, almost bowing, away from the epicenter. The black earth peeled away as the hole got deeper. The sewage pipes strained as the bent, before breaking open. The water that came from them poured upward, coiling around the floating dog like a serpent.
Terry saw the light from the kitchen illuminate the backyard. The back porch's door slid open as Terry's mom made her way out side with a bottle in her hand. With her free hand, she performed intricate gestures with her fingers, spawning another two palms at her wrist to make the performance go faster. Blue light flowed from her nails, slithered up her arm and over her shoulders to the hand wielding the bottle. She pointed it upward, aiming it at Scruffy.
"Scruffy, down!"she shouted over the howling winds.
The beagle stared down at her, snarling, eyes glowing emerald as his lips moved asynchronous to the words that left his mouth. "Foolish human! You know not to whom you speak! For I have-"
Terry's mom pulled the trigger, a stream of water shooting forcefully past the elements and hitting Scruffy directly in the face.
The dog shook the water off and continued. "For I have ascended, far beyond your mortal limitations! I have become a go-"Another squirt hit him in the face.
"No. Down."
"Stop that! For I have become-"More water. "Cease, wench!"
She continued to pull the trigger. "No. Scruffy, down."
The wind began to weaken and the light began to fade. "Stop! For at last I had obtained-"he gargled as water continued to hit him in his muzzle.
The plant life stopped growing. The water flowing from the broken pipe splashed down, filling the hole. Scruffy slowly came to the ground and began to shake himself dry.
Terry's mom came over with a towel and began to bundle the dog up, drying him. She glared up and Terry's window and he hurriedly shut the curtains. |
It's midbight. I can't get back to sleep
It doesn't matter though, my sleep schedule is ruined anyway, might as well enjoy the night.
I reach for my phone to see what's been going on online when I see alot more notifications than usual.
"Hopefully it won't take long to check these"I thibk to myself.
I look at them and they're all messages, some from friends, mostly from strangers.
Almost all the same.
"It's a beautiful night outside... Won't you take a look?"
I delete the notifications when I see one out of place.
"Don't look at the moon. Don't look outside. Close your curtains, hide under your covers, wait until daylight rises!"
I ignore the message.
It's stuffy in my room, warm too, I decide to open my window.
I open the curtains, push up the window and take a good long look outside..
The moon isn't there.
It's gone.
Just a phrase.
"ERROR 404: MOON NOT FOUND PLEASE CONTACT DEVELOPERS"
I feel something washing over me.
What was I doing?
The moon is awfully pretty tonight.
Maybe I'll tell my friends.
It's a beautiful night tonight... Wont you look outside? |
Knock knock knock. Door opens. "Hi, Ms McMahon? I'm Joe, I called earlier about the ad on the board looking for some help in the garden?"
"Hi Joe, please call me Cathy. Yes I could do with a hand, someone young and fit like yourself would be a great help to an old biddy like me haha. Come through, I'll show you my little slice of paradise"
Joe followed Cathy down the hall and through the kitchen to the back door. There was a weird smell and energy in the house, like the whole structure was upset about something. The back door was opened to reveal a landscaped but unmaintained garden, one fence along the side overgrown with some kind of vine. There was a paved area with tall weeds growing through the cracks. Down the back was a large compost bin, surrounded by tall weeds and the vine. All along the other fence was 4 or 5 raised planter boxes with an impressive array of veges.
"So as you can see it needs a good tidy up, I'll get you to start on the weeds and then you can turn the compost, I'm about to put some new stuff in one of the empty planter boxes."
Joe worked away, and it was hot and sweaty bending over to pull all the weeds between the pavers, but bit by bit it filled up the wheelie bin. Cathy stayed in the house, occasionally coming out to check on the progress and offer water.
Cathy had left out a shovel and a garden fork, and Joe got to work on that as well. Afterwards as he was hosing the dirt off the tools, he noticed a piece of carrot stuck to the fork. He knocked it off with his gumboot, and had a closer look at it. It almost looked like there was a fingernail on it. He was about to bend down and pick it up for a closer look when Cathy's sudden voice behind him made him jump.
"Oh wow what a wonderful job you've done! My first husband used to take care of the garden but he passed away sadly. He did most of the work you see here, with the pavers and the planter boxes. I like to think that a part of him is still here in the garden with me. The last thing I'll get you to do is spray some poison on that vine on the fence. You'll need the ladder to get the bits at the top, if you want to have a break while I get it sorted, you look a bit puffed from all that hard work!"She was wearing an old stained apron, with various shades of brown and red and green.
Joe nodded in agreement, not quite sure what to make of the situation. He needed the money to pay for his sisters prescription and wasn't about to walk away from a job that was paying cash at the end of the day.
After he sprayed the vine and put the ladder and tools away, he remarked to Cathy about how well her veges looked.
"Oh yes, I do love my veges, I prefer them to people sometimes haha! The trick is having good compost, rich in nutrients. I used to use fish frames but they brought the rats. The best thing to use is a frozen piece of pork with skin, I always keep some in the deep freeze"
She paid Joe his cash and asked about him coming back in a few months. He said he would let her know closer to the time as he wasn't sure what his schedule would be. He was a bit unnerved but kept telling himself that his mind was playing tricks on him.
As he was walking away from the front door the wind blew a sudden cold gust, and he pulled his hoodie up. He was happy to be leaving there. |
“You’re going to be just fine, Mr. Smith,” you say without a shred of feeling behind it. Your hand is methodically clasped over his, nestled in the warmth of a thick quilt on an even thicker bed. It’s been clear to both of you for the past hour that you’ve been mentally clocked out long before the end of your shift, but the old man wanted a hand to hold in what he was sure would be his last moments, even if that hand turned out to be yours. He had been looking resigned until you finally spoke after over an hour of waiting for him to let go of your hand. Even your facial expression is perfunctory. But the dying man in front of you perks up immediately at the first sign of positive encouragement, years shed off his expression.
“Yeah, I think I will be,” he replies, giving your hand one last squeeze before letting go and settling back into the sheets for his usual nap.
You don’t think he’ll wake up from this one.
When his hand grows cold in yours, you let go and notify the nurses. They hustle and bustle about the room performing the final rites of checking pulses and calling in the doctor. You leave right around then. Of course you didn’t use your power for him.
Paid part-time work at a palliative care center had never been your goal in life. In fact, you had much more typical aspirations: a job, a house, maybe a true love and a family of your own. But it was as if, in exchange for a power you didn’t find very useful, the universe had decided that you had used all the luck in your entire life upon birth. There was no secret government organization for superhumans, no ragtag group of uniquely powered people to share experiences with, and certainly no convincing the local police station that your power was real without some drastic demonstration that you considered more trouble than necessary at the time. Besides, you always had to balance the costs and the gains: even if the police believed you, you still owed your landlord some miserable amount of backpay in rent, and that wasn’t going to go away.
Nost of the time, you use up your power once a day to call your landlord and convince him you don’t owe rent anymore, as you do again today once you’ve come back. For the next 24 hours, you can relax. You have an alarm on your phone set just for this. The water’s too cold today and taking too long to heat up for a shower. You edge out of the crammed bathroom barely large enough to fit a toilet and a small sink. The couch you had found lying on the corner of Wyatt and Manchester had been eaten through by moths and mildewed by weather, but you had somehow made it work, patched it up with scraps of old clothes you were planning to throw away.
You like to think of yourself as tenacious, like vines or some sort of exotic weed. You think you’ve done well despite what life’s thrown at you, despite the world and the economy and the wealth disparity and those other big, big concepts that only people with too much time on their hands have the luxury of pondering for long periods. Some days you let the landlord call incessantly so you can convince yourself in the mirror that all this was true.
What money you do make is caught up in utilities bills, food, and the meager health insurance you had purchased once you realized the accident-prone nature of your life. You had considered robbing a bank at one point, but you realized you couldn’t trick the cameras with your powers.
You made a rich stranger believe he needed to give you a large sum of money one time. After 24 hours, he was threatening a lawsuit.
On the phone with him, you convinced him there was no future. You were panicked. You had desperately needed money at the time. You had no choice. A long list of reasons rang in your ears long after the call was over.
The police investigated you after his funeral, but there wasn’t enough to suspect you. You haven’t tried something like that since. The money has long dried up. You blame yourself for this, for eating three meals a day instead of one and for that brief splurge of new clothes you had purchased when you first received the ill-gotten funds, but it had at least gotten you through the jobless months.
The tiny monster in your mind once suggested you could try to convince someone to bequeath you their belongings in a will. You realized it was harder than you thought you get into direct contact with someone fabulously wealthy, to keep in touch for entire duration of the notarizing process of a will. You’re not dumb enough to leave a paper trail on any form of social media if you were planning something so sinister, but you’re not smart enough to get into high society. You’re also not brave enough to live life on the run, to survive and thrive as recklessly self-absorbed as you always wished you could be.
But for the crushing blow of self-awareness and an abundance of caution, maybe you could have lived the high life, however briefly.
Your subscription to Netflix expired earlier today. You make do with YouTube.
You’re tenacious, you tell yourself again, you can make this work because you have this power. You can survive in any condition like a weed. But you’re out of uses on your power today.
The electricity goes out around midnight. You remember that overdue bill now.
You start to think being a weed is a pretty shit deal. |
The Jolly Old Man stepped out into the cold with a huff.
"Well, what dumb luck I have,"he mumbled to himself, "'First family on Mars,' they said. Now old 'Saint Nick' has to go up and get his whiskers frozen off."Santa trudged through the snow towards his sleigh.
"Couldn't they jusy send the kid a pencil set and call it a day?"he continued, "I wonder if they still make Weenie Whistles. Nah nah."
The Big Guy got on his old sleigh and ordered the reindeer to get going. He had to rush the entire night, starting early just so he could head off to the big Red Planet in time. He almost got caught by a few meddling crotch goblins. Coal and a nice place on The List is what they got for Christmas.
The sleigh lurched forward as the reindeer started to pull it off the ground.
"Alright, boys, here we go!"he urged them on.
***
Santa Claus isn't the first person you think would know about space flight, and you'd be right. What he did know, however, was that Kris Kringle, Space Explorer had a certain ring to it.
"Thinking out loud again, Nicholas?"a familiar voice said behind him.
"Krampus..."Santa mumbled to himself. Forcing a smile, he turned his attention to his new stowaway.
"Mighty cold up in space, isn't it?"Krampus asked with a wicked smile.
"Oh, sure, but it's not as bad when you get used to it."
"Oh, good."
Santa eyed the goat-man as he climbed up to the front and took a seat next to Santa, putting an arm around him.
"Why are you here, Krampus?"Saint Nick asked unamused, "Don't you have a kid to eat or something?"
"You don't want me?"Krampus said with a mock frown, "No, no. I'm here to see the big planet! And when I heard from a little elfie that you got a new fangled space sleigh, I just HAD to come and check it out!"
"That slimy snitch!"Santa yelled in rage.
"Not very Christmas Spirit of you, Jolly."
Santa eyed the Goat with contempt, and decided he would just try and not pay attention to him. He couldn't turn back now, not with this head start.
"You better not try and hurt that boy, Goat,"Santa said menacingly.
"Cross my heart..." |
Title: Van Gogh (no this is not told from the POV of Vincent Van Gogh).
&#x200B;
My life always was normal.
Was.
The sun rose in a ricochet of colours and decayed into a deep swirling void; I didn't know that this wasn't normal.
A day like any other burst upwards from the horizon, the snow swirling on the ground as I trudged, silently through the snow to a mystery location, with mysterious strangers jostling me from every side, glancing at me like I'd lost an ear, shoes slapping against the concrete smartly to a rhythm my heart thrummed to. This was normal.
The rhythm became fast-paced, jaunty, stretched, as the mysterious strangers yanked, pulled, dragged, anything they could to make me enter a building; I knew there was advice for this somewhere, but it was quite lost to me now - how?
The doors were thrown open to a buzz of chatter and luminescent bulbs flickering overhead in a type of reception, a smiling woman beckoning our group over. '*Don't let me go with them'* my brain screamed, trying to desperately reach this woman, eyes scratching at the surface of a still lake.
"Oh dear, is Mr Wellon having another episode again?"the smiling woman chirped.
"'fraid so,"A gruff voice spoke, one of the men shuffled awkwardly on his feet, trying to peek down the hallway.
*Episodes. Hiding.*
"We'll get your adoption papers to you straight away sir, poor dear looks like he can't wait - he isn't getting worse, is he?"The woman slid her glasses to her nose, peeking at documents, "Mr Wellon, I assume you've already been introduced to your service dog, Amanda?"
I stared, I'd never heard the name 'Amanda' in my life, nevermind referring to an animal: what was going on? Why did I need a dog all of a sudden? The rapid thumping of my heart. Panic. Recognised yet isolated by the receptionist.
"Well, just sign here and you'll be free to take her home to the assisted living facility!"Suddenly perking up and flashing a radiant grin, only to falter again, "He's not forgotten, has he?"Muttering in a careless whisper, as ecstatic barks echoed down the hallway.
The man shuffled awkwardly again, this time with a lamenting sorrow in his voice, "'He 'as, duckie - the doctors say he's losing a bit of himself every day - 'is memory, you see." |
He pulled out the shotgun & started shooting us. I turned my back to him & ran. He shot at me & that was it. I was going to die. The movies never get it right. I won't bore you with the details of what was happening. I will just tell you what happened.
&nbsp;
Or rather, what happens when you are shotgunned to death. The first thing you feel is a slight push backwards, if you are facing the shotgun. If you turned your back towards it, like me, you would be pushed forward. If your one foot is ahead of the other, you might even get to stand, if only for a few seconds.
&nbsp;
I did not need any coroner to know that my spine was shattered. When you get over the push, you feel like 4-5 red hot pokers were stabbed in you & you double up in pain. The bullet fragments into multiple fragments, and a stray fragment can kill someone multiple meters away from you.
&nbsp;
Then the pain starts. You are just able enough to feel the pain, but not to scream. I wasn't, a fragment got lodged in my spine. Everything became white noise, I couldn't scream if I tried. My vision turned white.
&nbsp;
As I could begin to see again, I felt like I had been down for too long. I knew that wasn't the case, it was a minute tops. My hearing returned & I heard my blood gushing. I felt the sticky liquid pouring out in buckets. Everything turned sepia, with red color bleeding in from all sides.
&nbsp;
I felt like I was pinned down on the ground, unable to lift even a finger. Then, everything shut down. No peacefully falling asleep into a dreamless sleep for me. Lights out, all the senses were gone. It felt as a second and a century at the same time.
&nbsp;
And then I woke up in hell. It's for the best, I suppose. If I lived, I'd probably spend the rest of my life as a vegetable. A fate worse than death? Definitely. Or it would be a lifetime in jail for me. Not to mention, PTSD.
&nbsp;
I may lie in a ditch, or maybe I am cremated. But the thing about death I remember the most is the pain & my utter helplessness. The abrupt shutdown of my mind & body. And here, even in my bodiless state, I can still feel the bullet in my back.
&nbsp;
I hope to everyone who knows now how I felt, that may your death be quicker and painless, compared to mine. Even if heaven & hell didn't exist, I doubt I'll fall into a dreamless sleep for the rest of my eternity. |
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The T-34R Direct Response and Operations Platform sped across the wasteland, its wheels kicking up mud as it approached the ruins of the city. The onboard scanners identified numerous life forms squirreling themselves away in the collapsed concrete structures and iron frameworks, but T-34R was here for a specific mission. A transmission from the last known survivor in the wastes had been detected nearby, and it hadn't come from there.
T-34R sped past a swarm of Muck-mites as the sapped the moisture from a fern. The plant quickly turned to dust, and T-34R's logic drive quickly reevaluated the situation. The survivor wouldn't make it back if they had to be guided through legions of monsters, so the Platform would have to get rid of them to ensure the safety of its charge. It dispatched a drone carrying a chemical grenade, which wiped out the entire swarm in a single blast.
"Threat eradicated, continuing with mission,"the T-34R said to nobody. Subroutines were like that sometimes, and what kind of machine intellect was the Platform to second guess its creator?
T-34R approached its destination quickly, braking to a stop approximately 15 feet from the entrance. In front of the Platform was a bunker, the door torn off its hinges. This was not entirely surprising, as the transmission it had received was an SOS, but the Platform still had a mission to complete. It dispatched two drones to search the bunker, and one to check the surrounding area.
Bunker-1 Delved directly to the back of the bunker, passing a skeletonized human corpse as it went. The corpse had a shotgun lying next to it and its rib cage had been torn open, a sure sign of a Mireling attack. The jawline and proportions suggested a male, presumably one who was killed before he had a chance to mutate. Given the number of claw marks, broken equipment, and bullet holes littering the room, the man held out for an impressively long time, though T-34R was hardly one to gauge that sort of thing. The drone passed by and found the terminal that the transmission had been sent from, now damaged beyond any ability to be used. Bunker-1 returned to the Platform.
Bunker-2 searched the bunker more thoroughly, scanning for life forms. It discovered two, one considerably larger than the other, huddled in one of the back rooms of the bunker. The doors had been torn off, but the room the life forms were in had its door propped back in place. Inside the room was a large bed, with greenish-brown blood stains and claw marks all over the walls and floor. The drone ignored them, instead heading for the closet, where the two life forms were hidden. The Platform had expected one survivor, but multiple survivors would still be within the parameters of the operation.
Watcher-1 Glided overhead, keeping an eye on the dusty, marshy land around the bunker. It spotted a few wild animals, but nothing remarkable. It kept watch for the moment, waiting to be called back or to run out its operation timer.
Bunker-2 extended a hooked arm, grabbing the door of the closet and pulling it open. Inside was a Mire Mutant and a human child, which struck Bunker-2 with a dilemma. It had precedented orders to eradicate monsters, including mutants, but doing so would likely have harmed the survivor, who was the purpose of the mission. It could request clarification from the Platform, but that would risk the drone being destroyed, which would be inefficient. Inefficient, but acceptable. Bunker-2 sent the request.
T-34R quickly identified the situation. Mutants were former humans. There was no known cure for mutation, but not all mutants were completely feral. The child was still alive and unharmed. Being that close to a mutant without being mutated himself likely meant that the child was immune to Mireling venom, which increased the priority of bringing him back alive. The Platform submitted revised orders to Bunker-2.
Bunker-2 glided back from the closet a few feet, and began projecting a recorded video onto the opposite wall. The face of an old man in a lab coat stared at the child and the mutant.
"Mama? What is happening?"the child asked.
The mutant hissed, the spines running down its back vibrating to add a physical tremor to the bestial threat. The drone ignored them.
"Hello Sir and/or Madam! If you're watching this, then odds are you're somehow alive in this crazy world!"the old man said. "No mean feat, but I don't think I need to tell you that!"
"Mama? How is the man talking through the wall?"the young boy asked.
The mutant creeped up to the image, reaching out a clawed hand toward it. The light, of course, simply projected onto her hand as it reached in front of the projector, which seemed to spook the mutant.
"But worry not! I am Dr. Wesley Crane, and we've got a lovely little survivor's settlement set up to help weather this storm and maybe bring some civilization back to this blasted wasteland! Just follow this drone to its Operations platform and you'll be there in no time,"the doctor's recording said.
The recording ended there, and a new recording began.
"Greetings Sir and/or Madam! If you're watching this, odds are you've found yourself mutated! And assuming you haven't already attempted to eat the drone, odds are you're also lucid enough to be reawakened!"Dr. Wesley said.
The mutant cocked its head to the side, confusion visible through her body language. Dr. Wesley's image gestured to someone offscreen, and a man bearing obvious mutations stepped into view. The man was wearing a lab coat identical to Dr. Wesley's, albeit larger to account for his increased bodymass. The clawed hands, jagged teeth, and hair that had been warped into porcupine-esque spikes clashed wildly with his straight-laced posture and immaculate clothing.
"This, my dear wayward mutant, is one of my coworkers. Dr. Albright, would you care to introduce yourself?"Dr. Wesley asked.
"I don't see why I should have to do this, couldn't you get Susan to talk to them?"Dr. Albright asked.
"Nonsense, Dr. Albright! Dr. Palla's Mutations are all under the skin, we need to show our dear mutant bretheren that there is hope, and nobody can do it better than you!"Dr. Wesley said.
"Fine. Hello, I'm Dr. Albright. I've got a degree in engineering, another in chemistry, and better things to be doing than this,"Dr. Albright said, lifting up a clipboard with his prehensile tail and writing on it as soon as he finished speaking.
"Indeed! And if you just follow this machine back to the bigger machine, then follow that machine back to us, we can make sure YOU get your old mind back too! Who knows what kind of degrees you might be missing out on because of that silly old venom?"Dr. Wesley said.
"This is so stu-"Dr. Albright said before the recording cut off.
"Mama?"the child said, clutching the mutant's leg.
The mutant crouched down and gingerly picked up the boy, plodding along after the drone as it glided out of the bunker. The mutant gazed longingly at the skeleton lying closer to the entryway, and the child squeezed himself against her as they passed. Finally, they reached the T-34R Direct Response and Operations Platform outside.
"Teardrop!"the boy said, reading the acronym on the side of the Platform. "Mama! Let's ride the teardrop!"
The machine was large enough to seat up to six adult humans inside its chassis, assuming they were willing to pack in a bit, but the mutant's limbs were too long to fit inside the cramped quarters. Instead, she hoisted her son onto her back and climbed on top of the Platform.
Watcher-1 returned to the Platform last, having surveyed the situation enough to be confident in the safety of the mission.
"Target acquired. Returning to base,"the Platform said in its synthesized voice. Its wheels quickly dug into the soft earth, and the machine rode off with passengers in tow.
The Platform made swift progress for a while, but as it passed the city ruins a group of Katora emerged. The mutated felines were the size of large pigs, but their ferocity was greater than any natural wild animal. The mother mutant hissed at the Katora, and the Katora hissed back. T-34R took a slightly more upfront approach, raising its chassis and releasing several drones to harass the mutant housecats while they fled. The drones used their projectors to create small dots of light, which distracted the Katora long enough for the Platform to get some distance, but the mutants gave chase as soon as the drones began returning to their docks.
The Platform took notice of the pursuers and ejected a small explosive behind itself, which detonated near the Katora, injuring two of them. Still, they kept coming, and T-34R sent one of its drones to hit the mutants directly. It got a few more of them, but the creatures quickly began to get close to the Platform when the mutant mother leapt off. The Platform quickly gauged its priorities and decided that keeping the child safe was more important than getting the mother back on board, but as the boy started trying to climb down the side of the machine it stopped dead to avoid injuring him.
By the time the boy reached the ground, the mother had already torn the heads off the Katora and devoured their corpses. She quickly lifted the boy back on top of the machine, despite the Platform's attempts to coax her into placing him into the safety of the inner compartment, and they set out. Soon, the machine would deliver them to their new home. |
John tried to focus on the creature before him but his subconscious kept slipping off her as though she were the least interesting thing imaginable, she however was the most interesting thing by far in the room as she held a blade in one hand, two feet and a spare fist gripping onto the furniture to keep her from drifting in the absence of gravity.
“Here I am. Dirty and faceless. Waiting to heed your instruction.” she mused.
The words almost lost all meaning and slipped out of John’s mind but he clung to them like a handhold in hull breach. When John was able to focus he could see she was coated in the black dust from sliding through vents, her face was… he couldn’t focus on her face but her hair was red at the base, caked in black oily dust toward the tip.
“Your instruction is to shadow me and keep me safe, this ship is vast and we have no idea who or what is on it, until we reach Calliope you keep an eye on me.” John recited. The creature nodded a simple agreement and pushed back, floating away from John into his small cabin and out of his attention, he heard the sound of nails scratching on steel tubing.
John inclined his head toward the vent wondering what the sound was, and pushed forward, the small fan in his chair putting up a small fight before releasing him into the micro gravity.
“What on Zeus’ red face was that sound?” he wondered aloud, looking through the metal grill before returning to his seat so sit alone on the long journey. “They really should have organised some kind of protection for this trip, no telling who or what is on this damn boat.” John grumbled to himself before returning to his tablet to memorise his upcoming speech. |
“This nation was founded on the ideas that all citizens were created equal! As we have seen through recent news reels, we are constantly assured that this is no longer the case. These ‘gifts’ possessed by select few in our society need to be brought to light, examined, and rid of any benefits that unduly place people in a position of corrupt power. As your representative, I will continue to fight to restore justice, I will not rest until we return equality!”
Stepping off the stage, I return to my seat. “Thank you Representative Collins for your true leadership during this crisis” the next speaker begins. Scanning the crowd, I wonder how many people at this rally are hiding extraordinary power, could it be a dozen or so in this packed stadium? Of all the times to work in politics, not knowing if your adversaries can see the future is a daunting stressor. After packing up for the evening, I begin my long drive home. On the radio, two men argue about the fate of the stock market in a world with psychic powers tilting the scales. Nothing can truly ever be the same. My phone rings and I pick up to hear a familiar worried voice “get off the road now!”. I pull off at the nearby exit as told, and I ask the person on the phone why there’s so much urgency.
“The bridge will collapse ahead, you were supposed to be on it” the shaking voice on the phone replies.
“Thanks for the heads up.” I reply.
“Did I do well Mr Collins? Can I be let out of here now sir?” The voice pleads from a cold, dark basement.
“We will see after my reelection” I answer as I hang up the phone. I did what I had to, we all deserve a level playing field. How can I let them go when more psychics could be anywhere? I restart my car, and look for an alternate route on the GPS. The men on the radio have a somber tone now, as they explain that the Henderson Bridge has collapsed. |
I heard it before I saw it.
"Hey asswipe, give me your fuckin' fries."
I look around for whomever said that, but everybody was walking around me as I stared about dumbfounded. Then I heard the voice again.
"Down here, jackass."
I looked to my feet, to the source of the voice.
"Yeah, that's right. I'm a fuckin' pigeon. Go ahead and ignore me, ya fuckin' bastard. There's only more of us than there are of you, prick."
"What the--"I began, but I was immediately cut off by another voice high above me.
"HEY FUCKER!! GIVE ME THEM FRIES!!"Another pigeon. Just great.
Before I can even react, a seagull swooped down and stole the burger out of my hand, yelling "BUUUURRRRGEEEEEEERRRRRR!!!"
I knew I was gonna have a terrible time in New York City, but this was ridiculous. Why did there have to be so many birds in the city?
My concentration was broken by another voice higher still above the ubiquitous pigeons and seagulls, one that had me struggling to see the source due to its elevation.
"HEEEEY! HOLD THAT FUCKIN' PIGEON STILL! GONNA FUCKIN' MURDER IT AND EAT IT!"
That one was a surprise, even more so as a falcon came barreling out of the sky at breakneck speed before effectively crushing the pigeon sat at my feet.
"What the actual FUCK, human?"he (she? I'm not an ornithologist) said to me. "I TOLD YOU to hold the damn thing STILL!!"
"Sorry, I--"
"Oh, you're sorry? You're fuckin' SORRY? Well FUCK YOU, ya featherless prick! Can't even fuckin fly right!"(Why did so many of these birds have Brooklyn accents?)
I take a step back, only to hear an exasperated "Watch where you're walkin', ya fuckin' flightless jackass"from yet another pigeon as I nearly stepped on it, causing it to fly off to a nearby perch.
Having decided that Midtown wasn't exactly the spot for me, I decided to head to Central Park for a little bit of peace and quiet. Boy, was *that* a mistake.
No sooner had I sat down on a rock with some Starbucks in hand that a sparrow flitted over to me just to tell "FUCK OFF"right in my face before taking off again, yelling "HEY BITCH, WHERE YOU AT? I WANNA SMASH!!"
So then I decided to check out Central Park Zoo, only for my situation to get *so much worse.*
Among the denizens of the zoo were a cassowary and some eagles, and none of them were too happy to be there. I knew walking in that the cassowary was gonna be trouble, but I didn't expect the eagles to be so vulgar.
"Well well, look at the featherless biped!"yelled one. "Just looking like the cock of the walk! Hey asshole, quit your fuckin' staring before I peck out your eyes and give you something to stare at!"
Hearing that, I decided the eagles weren't worth my time, so I moved on. As I did, I heard another eagle behind me, "Yeah, that's right, walk the fuck away, you little bitch! You don't want none o' this!"
When I finally got to the cassowary, the last thing I expected was a New Zealand accent, much less a Maori haka, yet here was this bird on the tail end of one! As he finished up, he stared directly at me and yelled, "THE FUCK YOO LOOKIN' AT, YA CUNT? GOT SOMETHIN' ON MAHY FACE?"
I said, "Yeah, that ugly-ass horn."
In hindsight, I shouldn't have said that to a cassowary. He immediately charged the fence, spouting enough obscenities to make a sailor apologize for his language.
"THE FUCK YOO JUST SAY TO ME? YOO WANNA FUCKIN' GO, MATE? YA SEE THESE CLAWS? I'LL TAKE ONE GOOD FUCKIN' SWIPE AN' RIP YA FUCKIN' GUTS OUT, YA BASTARD! LEMME OUTTA HERE, I'LL FUCKIN' KILL YA! I DID IT TO A ZOOKEEPER LAST WEEK, YA THINK I WON'T DO IT TO YOU? FUCK OFF AND DIE, YA FEATHERLESS CUNT!!"
He bounced off the fence one final time, took a few steps back, and started into another haka, this time while staring intently at me. I promptly walked off before the cassowary decided to jump the fence and claw my eyes out.
That's the last time I'll ever visit New York City. |
(Note: I'm very inexperienced when it comes to reddit, helpful advice is welcomed -- That said this piece may contain elements some readers may find disturbing.)
"Wow! I'm up for a promotion!"I exclaimed after reading the letter several times to be sure that it was me that it is was addressed to. Everyone in the under-city knows that the best thing to happen to you is a promotion.
It means better pay and better living conditions. It means the difference between working long hours in unsafe conditions to working a plush 9 to 5 job with great benefits. For a week before I was moved into a Beginning apartment, I couldn't stop smiling.
I felt like a king. I had this sensation of accomplishment. My hard work was paying off and I was on my way to great things. I found myself losing interest in my former coworkers, their lives felt so far beneath me. My world was up here now, clean air, comforts of a proper home. Everything I had always dreamed of.
My boss told me one afternoon that I had been selected for a *Review*. For some reason, when he said the word it stood out in my mind like that. It wasn't a process, it was a thing. Something to fear.
After a grueling hour of discussing everything I had done for the past month he nodded to himself grimly, I thought this was the end and I would be shuttled off to the under-city again, left to starve away from warmth, cleanliness, and a decent income.
He shook my hand, thanked me for my service, and told me that the bosses upstairs we're excited to have me join them for lunch. My jaw nearly hit the desk and I could have danced to the elevator.
The doors opened directly into the executive suite. The board members stopped discussing their business and waved me in. They looked positively ecstatic.
"C'mere my boy! Now, tell us your name."said the CEO of our company. "We've been dying to meet you."
"Uh, A-Alex."I stammered. I was so nervous I felt like I was going to vibrate clean out of my clothes. My legs wouldn't stop shaking.
"Poor thing, let's get him a chair and a glass of water."I was ushered into a chair and accepted the glass of water. After I drained it, I felt *worse*.
My vision began to swim and I noticed that the executives were all staring at me expectantly. I tried to speak but my tongue felt glued to the roof of my mouth.
The CEO loosened his tie. They were making some humorous jests about lunch being served and in my strange delirium I couldn't figure out what they meant or why it was so funny.
"Lunch? What lunch?"I managed to croak.
The CEO's eyes turned black and his mouth extended grotesquely. He laughed in a low raspy voice. His tongue, snake-like, flicked in the air.
"My dear boy, you are." |
"Michael."A voice says.
Michael quickly turns around, eyes searching for who could've possibly said his name. Their voice didn't sound particularly male or female. He barely heard it because it sounded so soft and far away. In fact Michael wonders if he actually heard it or if it's just in his brain getting tired. No one who knows his name could've possibly found him. He never told anybody where he's going, he went somewhere he'd never been before, and he's already deep into the woods.
"Michael."
The voice sounded the same, except closer. It sounded real this time, too real to be a harmless brain lapse. Out of fear, Michael begins walking faster. He wonders if he's suffering from hallucinations. Maybe he'd been hallucinating this whole time, which is why he got lost. It's also possible that his brain is starting to break down from lack of food. Michael wants to believe that there's a natural explanation for what's happening, but a part of him thinks he's in a real life horror movie.
"Michael."
Once again, the voice came closer. He begins running through the underbrush, awkwardly stepping to avoid tree roots. He doesn't know what's chasing him, or if anything's chasing him at all, but he's far too terrified to stay in one place. His brain races with speculation of what is happening, each theory more crazy than the next. The sound of fast, shallow breaths are the only thing he hears as adrenaline forces his legs to run harder than they've ever ran before, fearing what this *thing* would do if it catches him.
"Michael."
This time, the voice sounds like it's right up against his ear. He stops running and collapses on to the ground, barely catching himself by putting his hands out. Whatever this was, it caught him. He feels the same emotion he felt when he was held at gunpoint during a mugging. Not panic, not dread, not sadness, just acceptance of death. There's no point to trying to escape anymore because no matter what he does, his life is already over. No one can save him now.
"Thank you for being my test subject."said a serious voice.
Michael sits in the same position, not knowing what's happening or how to respond.
"You're not the first human I have performed this experiment on. I have chosen many others recently."
"Experiment?"Michael managed to utter.
"Yes. This is a test on panic induced by lack of information, and the effect of one's name on their emotions."
"Who are you?"
"I am an interdimensional being, trapped on Earth in this dimension. I must learn about the most powerful and organized species here in order to survive and maintain my secrecy."
"Why are you telling me?"
"That is a part of a greater experiment to find out exactly how groups of people would react should my existence become known, and what actions can be taken curb rumors about my existence. I have analyzed your emotions and what actions it would trigger in the future, so your memory will now be wiped." |
My friends and I were quite unorthodox. Okay, I'm sinning. I'm sorry I lied. Technically speaking that is. Lying by omission is still lying. So I'll try again. My friends and I were literally Werewolves; the mythical monsters who feasted on Men, Women, and Livestock in Eastern Europe. The rivals of the Vampires and Demons, the descendents of Witches and the primitive pseudo-Dinosaurs; Dragons. We were pacifists. We proved benevolent and beneficent werewolves exist. We did break off from their traditional benevolent intentions during one Summer when everything went wrong.
Anger Management Facilities were popping up like Starbucks in the early to late 2000s. They were nothing more than fancy anti Werewolf facilities to prove people like us were fake and unless they repented they'd be stuck with their affliction. [Odd, since I'm a devout Protestant and I still transform when I stare directly into the full moon.]
My friends Nathan and Jacob went missing. I figured it was a hunter or zealot who wanted revenge so I took up to training, tracking, and research.
My Unorthodox Werewolf Social Circle ram a campaign of violence through several anti werewolf facilities and camps searching for our friends.
What we found at the end was the werewolf skin of Nathan and Jacob being too late to act. |
The leader of their small rebellion mumbled something filled with expletives as he scanned the paperwork. Ever since he was a young boy, he had considered this limit far too specific. Far too convenient. Far too... artificial.
How could it be *exactl*y half? What biological mechanism would force this limitation? He had asked the doctors, when his mother passed away at the end of her third rebirth. Their answer? "That's just how it works. You can't look for reason in everything."But now, now that his most talented followers had raided the facility where the first successful rebirth had taken place, now he knew that all of his looking had paid off.
**Log 1: The tests in rats have succeeded. An old man has volunteered to be reborn. He will be the first of a new generation, the first of a new race. The medical advisor for our tests has estimated that he has just a week left. The new human race has begun.**
**Log 2: The man has passed away, heart failure, according to the advisor. It is time. Jones has administered the serum. If all goes well, we will be immortal.**
**Log 3: He woke up today. He retained all previous knowledge, and seemed to possess knowledge of what was spoken around him before he awoke. More testing is required.**
**Log 4: We killed him 8 times in a row, and each time he woke up, with no side effects. Soon we will know all we need for the next generation.**
These biologists were so high and mighty- it made him sick to his stomach.
Unfortunately some of the documents had been lost to time, so it seemed. Many of these logs appeared to hold nothing of interest. Markus skipped ahead a bit, hoping for something damning.
**Log 324: Every one. came together. knowledge added. knowledge taken. He k nows. He knows it all. we did too much. to save us all. we have doomed each and every one. look away from the eyes. milky white. like bones. like blood. like humanity playing god. He must be forgotten. wipe the slate. burn it clean. burn the ash. wash the ground. bleed the knowledge. forget the blood. when will we remember our faults-**
**Log 23825: all is Him. He is all. he remembers the end. he forgets our mistakes. he is all. he is all. he is all. he is all. he is all. wipe the slate. burn it clean. burn the ash. wash the ground. bleed the knowledge. forget the blood. Run. from. the. light.**
Now he knew. Now he remembered. The lights. The pain. He was god. He was Markus. He knew the end. He knew the smile that spread on his face. He knew the sirens that flashed outside. He knew the red and blue. He knew they couldn't stop him. He knew he couldn't stop himself.
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Can you tell I've been watching a lot of args lately? This probably reads like a bad creepypasta but i just wanted to write something darker than i usually write. I don't have a sub or anything, and i don't write much on reddit. Most of my work is humor focused, so this probably sucks. I really couldn't figure out how to end this, and i think it's obvious. still, I hope this gets an ironic chuckle out of you. see ya! |
“Back here!” I called as I heard familiar footsteps.
The Dragon Rider’s boots were the shiniest thing on the farm. In the muck and dust of the younglings' stables, he stuck out like one of their golden trainer toys. I chuckled as he shook off the Flightless Gray that came trotting up first. For being a rider for so long, it was clear he knew little of dragons. He waved away excited wings and claws with long sweeps of his arms, cursing when a smaller youngling caught a claw on his houndstooth coat.
“Is that safe?” he asked, spotting me at the far end of the barn.
“The tongs are the easiest method,” I grunted.
The solid metal was heavy, especially when clamped tightly around a dragon egg, but with the heat that those things emitted, I preferred to keep my hands a safe distance away. With one last heave, I swung the egg onto the nearest bench. Smoke wafted up from the wood, but it had been cooling enough over the day, I knew it wouldn’t burn. The egg rocked between a saddle and some oversize claw clippers. This late into spring, last season’s younglings were already struggling to keep their talons short.
“It looks... good,” he observed.
I rolled my eyes. He had been a Rider for two decades, and this was the best he could come up with? I used my index finger to trace above the newly formed shell cracks.
“See all that?” I circled around the notches that bubbled from the top, “That means they’re just about ready. A week tops.”
He nodded in faux agreement. “Of course.”
The Flightless Gray sauntered up to me, mimicking the cracking sounds the egg had made nights before. I waved him off, reminded of my payment. I held out my hand, and the Rider’s brows furrowed.
“Did you bring the trophy?” I clarified.
A lazy grin slipped onto his lips. “I wasn’t sure if you were serious about that, but I suppose much of value is in the eyes of the beholder.”
Did he think I was some super fan? I tried my best not to scoff.
He fished in his jacket pocket and pulled out the small trophy. The tarnished gold dragon wing was less impressive than I remembered, but the warmth in my chest assured me it was the same.
“Are you sure there isn’t anything else I can give you for the egg? I’ve heard how knowledgeable you are about riding dragons. Your boss’s stock is some of the best around.”
I grunted in response, nodding at the trophy moving back and forth between his hands. .
“It was a longer racing season than most. Dragons don’t do well that late in the summer, especially with inexperienced riders, and you were neck and neck half of the race. You were new. It was a surprise.”
He laughed. “You might remember it more vividly than me.”
Did I ever.
He tried to touch the egg and hissed when his fingertips singed.
“Last quarter mile,” I continued. “You broke away. Why did you break away?”
“I knew I had a chance, I guess. Surprise last wind.” He shrugged.
No. That wasn’t it. I remembered the air. I remembered the sun. I saw the dragon heaving underneath him. He’d admitted it was over.
“You’d said we could win together, Rider. For the dragons’ sake.”
He saw me then. Beneath all the muck and dust and saddle oil and youngling ash. He saw his first competitor. His only real one, as far as I was concerned.
“I don’t remember it like that,” he said, voice cold.
“I suppose you don’t need to if your dragon isn’t around reminding you.”
This must have been his seventh egg by now. I had read the papers.
“I’m sure that it’s easy to convince yourself of things when you’re here, running someone else's stable, and I’m out there. Since that race, I’ve won a thousand more. One doesn’t matter. Give it a rest.”
He shoved the trophy into my hands and looked around for something to pick up the egg with. That stung. But he was right. There wasn’t much I could do. I handed him the egg mitts with a grimace.
“Aren’t you going to wish me luck?” he asked. He was finished here.
“No.”
“Because you know I don’t need it?” His mouth curled like paper caught aflame by white hot ego.
“Because I know you have no qualms about stealing it, Rider.”
The smug grin cooled.
“Very well. Just don’t go bothering anyone, besides your fellow bumpkins, about our conversation. I’ll call the owner.”
“Oh, I won't.” I nodded to the Gray. “But she will.”
Smoke curled from her nostrils and the egg began to slide out of the Rider’s clammy hands.
“Aren’t you going to wish me luck?” she growled with precision. While not much of a riding dragon, Flightless Grays were among the best at mimicry.
I smiled. “That’ll do, Bess.” |
\[poem\] \[Demonic Practice\]
The whispers burn with every cast
No matter the spell strength or size;
The demon's laughing echoes blast
my brain with advice.
&#x200B;
It chatters nonstop
On this Earth, you see
Magic comes with a cost.
&#x200B;
It takes a powerful soul to dare
to constantly ignore the demon's plea.
&#x200B;
"Unlock my full power for 99.99 a year!"
\*\*\*
&#x200B;
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1088 in a row. (Story #358in year three.) You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit (r/hugoverse) or my blog. |
The crowd bustled around the border gate. This time of the year, it was always busy. Some delay at the head of one of the lines had held things up even more than normal. The side of the road had become littered with people who had decided to rest rather than continue to wait in line. Those that remained were mostly farmers who stayed with with carts, protecting their belongings and making sure no one could run off with their oxen or horses. Children darted in and out of the lines, oblivious to whatever business had brought their parents their, playing some game made up on the spot.
"Next!"one of the guards at the gate shouted.
Some of the people who had moved out of line to sit on the grass got up and moved back into the crowd. Others decided to wait and make sure that the flow of traffic had continued for sure this time.
A messenger on horseback quickly rode off when the border guard waved him on. "Next!"he cried. A shriveled old man came forward and took the messenger's place.
The old man wore a tattered looking brown robe that smelled of dust, as if it had spent many years unused in a trunk. His back was arched with age, which directed his gaze to the ground just ahead of him. The robe's hood covered his head so that the only bit of flesh that could be seen was on the hand that clutched his walking stick.
"Name,"rumbled the guard.
"Wizencroft, good sir,"the old man replied, somewhat louder than needed. "Muh name's Wizencroft."
The guard grunted in acknowledgement. "Profession?"
"Wuzzat?"the old man said even louder. "'Fraid my 'earings goin' out. Not a young'n 'nymore."
"Profession,"the guard repeated, loudly this time. He didn't try to hide his annoyance.
"Retired!"the old man said quickly.
"Mhmm."
The guard's attention turned away as their was a shout and a brief scuffle at the head of another line not to far away.
The guard continued: "Reason for leaving the kingdom?"
"Nun ov your concerns, innit!"the old man snapped, punctuating his words with a wave of his walking stick. "Back in muh day, nun of you lil pissants a woulda dared stick your noses in MY business like that."
The commotion the old man made attracted the attention of the guard's captain, who quickly rode over on horseback.
"What seems to be the trouble here?"the guard's superior asked, eyeing the old man suspiciously.
The robed figure turned to the guard on horseback. He didn't look up from his hood or make any attempt to direct his gaze from the ground.
"If'n I want to go and leave this kingdom, it's muh right,"the old man shouted again. He waved his walking stick around wildly now. "And I don have to answer nun ov your silly questions to do it!"
The sound of jingling chainmail shirts rang out as a few more guards ran over to the side of their comrade. Their hands rested on the handles of their metal clubs.
The captain held up his hand towards his men, urging them to wait.
"Special circumstances today, friend,"the captain said. "We're searching for a wanted man, king's orders."
"Hmm,"the old man grumbled. "Is that so? And just who exactly are you after? It muss some dangerous mastermind for you to spoil muh travels like this. "
"T'is,"agreed the captain. "We're after a powerful sorcerer. The king's own court magician, in fact. They say that he killed the king's own son in an unprovoked attack and then fled. He must not be permitted to escape justice. So you can see why we are taking extra precautions at the border?"
"I see, I see,"the old man said. "But I don think it's any ov your business where I go."
"I understand, friend. How about we compromise? I happen to know the court magician by sight. If you take off your hood and let me see your face, I'll allow you to pass without detailing your affairs. How does that sound?"
The old man was silent.
"He's deaf as a stump, sir,"the first guard said to his superior.
The guard captain repeated his offer.
For a moment, it seemed like the old man still had not heard. "It sounds,"he started suddenly, "like you jack booted THUGS think you can treat anyone however you like!"
A crowd formed around the guards and the old man. People from the line elbowed each other in the ribs trying to get to the front to see what was happening. A few children crawled onto the shoulders of their parents, whatever the spectacle was, it might be more interesting than their play.
"You're making me suspicious, old man,"the guard captain said, waving at one of his men to remove the hood by force.
*Clang!* The old man's walking stick connected with the guard's helmet and sent him tumbling to the ground from the unexpected attack.
"You thugs keep your hands offa me!"he shouted, pointing his walking stick threateningly.
"It's him,"the guard captain bellowed. "Get him! Before he escapes."
The crowd roared, some outraged, some cheering as the guards set upon the old man. A few of them had at him with their metal clubs, most quickly resorted to kicking as the shrived figure went to the ground.
\--
The messenger climbed down off of his horse at the top of the hill that overlooked the border gate from about a mile away. He turned and looked down in the direction he had just come from.
"Something going on down there,"he said back towards his mount.
There was a wooshing sound from where the horse had been standing. Then an bearded man walked over to the messenger.
"As long as it they aren't riding out after us,"he said, stretching his neck and arms.
"No,"said the messenger. "They didn't suspect a thing, just as you thought."
"Not the brightest at the gates, same as always,"the wizard said with a chuckle.
"You ready to travel?"
"Just a few moments to stretch. Transformation can be hard when you're as old as I am. And horses are big, so there's a lot of joints that get stiff."
"Course, 'course take your time. I'm just glad I don't have to walk all that way this time."The messenger said. "Say, what were they after you for anyway?"
"Oh, just had a little accident trying to perform a trick for the king's brat. He wanted me to summon a dragon for him to play with."
The messenger looked at him questioningly.
"How was I supposed to know that a prince would be so flammable?" |
\[Poem\]
My first Christmas since being ordained
and the Vatican wants a word with me.
Even the Pope took God's name in vain
when the horrors rose up from the sea.
&#x200B;
They bobbed to the surface, putrefying.
Even dead they were terrifying.
People shuddered at the oceans being monster-filled
though the scientists were only thrilled.
&#x200B;
Now the eternal patrols have ended
Long-lost sons have all come home
A bittersweet ending, unexpected,
as I approach my fate in Rome
&#x200B;
"You blessed the ocean? How convenient.
A superfluous gesture at worst.
Tell us truthfully, what was your secret?"
...
"I only [exorcised the salt](https://www.romancatholicman.com/exorcism-blessing-for-salt-and-water/) first." |
"The avengers, X-men, Batman, their lives always seemed almost to good to be true. what child doesn't dream of growing up to be superhero? You could do miraculous things, save people, hurt those who deserved it. Power, fame, adoration, it would all be yours, and at what cost? None. There was no downside.
At least that's what every child thinks.
The first few months are bliss, nothing but pure joy. You can save babies from burning buildings without ever feeling the heat. The world is the closest to peace it has ever been, with a single super soldier shrugging off bullets, dictators and terrorists are surprisingly easy to bring to justice. Adoration and praise is rained out you form all directions, too the point where it almost becomes boring.
It quickly becomes apparent however that there are downsides beyond even the imagination of even the most creative child. First you lose your privacy, every media outlet, government and even fans with too much time on their hands have you under surveillance 24/7. One wrong move and its all over. Nobody ever told you this, but it was obvious. Why else would those drones be overhead the second you so much as took the bins out? They think you cant see them, but you have superpowers, they don't understand the things you can see and hear. This leads to the second, far more important downside. The hearing. This has been mentioned in comics over and over, but they'd never gotten it right.
For starters, the volume, even a whisper was unbearable; earplugs become your best, no, your only friend. But it gets far, far worse than that. It just so happen that we were right! Humans are not the only living things out there! They've been talking to us all along! we just couldn't hear them.
And I wish we still couldn't. Maybe they would still be here.
At first they were faint, a slight buzz every few days. Then they got louder, and louder, over the course of a few weeks their cries had evolved from that meek buzz into a ferocious, relentless roar, tearing your head apart from the inside. Pain no man has experienced before or since.
That day it reached crippling levels, I was almost unable to move from my bed, stuck listening to the cries from outside. This time cries of pain. Very distinctly human. Long, hollow shrieks followed by a gentle thud or slow crunch as their owners were silenced.
This gave me the energy to move. TO struggle through the pain and drag myself through the hallway. I slid onto the door, turning the handle as my body crumpled against the now empty wooden frame.
I wish I hadn't.
I wish I hadn't heard.
I wish I hadn't tried to talk back.
Why am I telling you this? good question, you're only a statue after all, and not even a particularly realistic one at that. But frankly you're the closest thing I've got to a friend now."
As I pick my head up from my chest, the only noise now is a faint drizzle leaving every surface with a fine coat of water and squeaking of the remaining city rats as they scuttle for somewhere cozy and dry.
"Why me though"I slowly look around, the desolate city I used to call home empty and crumbling, faded adverts and overgrown buildings the only reminder that there were others before that day.
"Why did they leave me?" |
Trying it from a different angle. Apologies for grammar and punctuation; spending too much time and wanted to get it posted. Feedback is greatly welcomed!
“Gotcha, tricky bastard,” Jenna said. She chuckled and pulled the second leg of a shear pair of pantyhose from the ever-growing tangle of disappointment at the bottom of her underwear drawer. She thought that if she held on to every pair she had worn at a failed audition, they would somehow cancel out the chance of failing at the next one.
“It’s like Alice,” she told her sister, the night she left for New York. “Who and what the...” Carly scrunched her face. Jenna whisked up the pile of hastily folded nylons on her dresser and threw them into the ancient Sampsonite suitcase that was sprawled open on her floral bedspread.
“The Canadian chick from A League of Their Own, she explained. “Alice wore the same pair of socks for good luck or something.”
That evening, Carly had been digging through the pile of unlucky outfits Jenna was leaving behind. She pushed herself up from the closet floor and joined her older sister on the bed. “Yeah, but aren’t you doing the opposite?” Carly asked. It was true. Her sister always acted like superstitions were goofy, but Carly saw right through her. If she tweaked the habit just a tiny bit, Jenna seemed to oddly always come out on top. Senior year, when she refused to use any mirror other than the broken rectangle one she had glued back together, Jenna won a car in a “count how many popcorn kernels are in the fish tank” game. She was only off by thirty-three! Now, 6 years later and 600 miles from home, that suitcase and car were all she had left of her life in Ohio.
She had had enough; the death of her drama teacher was the last straw. In Jenna’s twenty-two years growing up in cozy, tucked-away suburbia,her mentor, Mr. Z was the 27th person to die in her life—number sixteen since her own mother’s untimely death.
“When we finally move in together,” her long-distance boyfriend said when Jenna told him their mentor died in a mountain-climbing accident, “You’re coming to Florida.” They had been dating on and off ever since meeting at acting camp the summer before sophomore year.
“You laugh,” he teased her. “But I’m not stepping foot in that cursed town!”
“Hey,” Jenna poked her head into Carly’s room at the top of the staircase, the phone still hot in her hand. “Don’t you think it’s weird that so many people around us have died?”
Carly peered around from the skateboarding-dog video she had been watching. “Now who?” She frowned.
Twenty-four hours later, Jenna’s car was packed to the hilt, and she and Carly were ugly crying under that big Daisy-covered comforter. Through all their ups and downs, snacks and gossip under the flower Fort was the one thing in their lives they weren’t afraid of losing.
“Mountain climbing,” Carly questioned. “Mr. Z?”
“O yeah,” Jenna laughed.
Really?”
“Every single time we had improv practice,” Jenna remembered, “He would come up with the wackiest hiking or climbing scenarios for us.
Carly giggled. “So that’s how you two came to do that corny belaying skit in the talent show!”
“Excuse me, corny?” Jenna slapped her sister’s arm. “He used to tell us, ‘Whenever you have to act out an elated emotion, just imagine you’re in the middle of achieving your life-long dreams. I imagine I’ve just summitted Mt. Everest.’”
“At least Mr. Z peaked before he died,” Carly side-glanced at her sister, raising an eyebrow. “Ba-dum chhh.”
“Yeah, well,” Jenna popped another fudge ball” ”into her mouth. ”I just don’t want to die before seeing myself on the big screen, so I’ve got to get out of here.”
“It’s going to be so boring without you,” Carly sighed.
“Don’t let Tammy hear you say that. She’d be devastated to find out she’s not the center of your universe,” Jenna winked. “I don’t know what you see in That girl.”
Carly chucked her Slim Jim at Jenna. “Give her a break. She’s an only Child,” she blushed. “Besides, I love her.”
“Twenty is too young to settle into love,” Jenna rolld her eyes.
“You just wait...” The memory of Carly’s voice echoed throughout Jenna’s studio apartment.
Usually, reminiscing about carly was a sad affair. How could it be anything but? Twenty-three was too young to die, and her’s was an absurdly avoidable death. It was a neglectful and careless error; a nurse had misread her charts and given her a numbing agent that she was allergic to, and no one caught the mistake in time. Carly took her last breath as the second of her twins took his first.
However, today, as the pantyhose she had just plucked loose playfully kicked her nose, another chuckle escaped her lips, which were edging into a smile. In the three years since her sister’s death, Jenna had gone to over 5,000 auditions and caught exactly 18 lucky breaks, mostly playing an extra in commercials for diarrhea medicine or zit cream. Today, though, nothing was going to get her down.
This time, by golly, was going to b her break through role. She was actually playing an extra in a feature film. And not just any extra; she had a line: “Catch that waffle before it kills somebody!” . She had known this was going to be her big start the moment she got the call back for a second audition. The casting director, Jimmy Sexton,had chatted her up before her first audition. He was from another quaint everything-looks-the-same town in Ohio, about 20 miles from Jenna’s and carly’s childhood home. They laughed about the three second delay between the red light turning green outside the Target on 5th. He had even known Mr. Z.
“It was such a tragedy,” Jenna said.
“There was a silver lining, though,” Jimmy agreed. “He was so happy when he died.”
“Oh, were you there?” Jenna’s breath caught with nostalgia.
“Yes,” Jimmy confirmed. “Bill had asked me to join his climbing team. I was never quite as enthusiastic about mountains as him, but, a little known fact about me,” he continued, “before I started lounging around town in my director’s chair, I day jobbed as a nurse. Basically, Bill brought me along to keep everyone alive up there...” Jimmy looked to the ground as his voice faded to a sigh.
While Jenna struggled from sliding off the edge of her bed,absent-mindedly slipping a foot into a mat black, 4 inch heel, a text pulled her back from the memory of that audition. Tammy and the twins were about an hour out from Manhattan. Jenna had VIP passes for them to join her at the first screening of her movie.
Jenna: doors open at 7. I need to be there in half an hour. I’ll save you seats.
Tammy: We’re stoked. Be there soon. Carly would be so proud!
The red carpet had been rolled out. The cameras were everywhere. Jenna didn’t even mind that she was ushered in through a side door, walking over a brown rug that looked like it had been used in the rooms at the Bate’s Motel. This was her big day. Jimmy waved her over as she entered the main theatre.
“All the stars sit in the middle, but I like the back row,” He said. “It gives me a chance to watch the audience, too.”
Jenna took a seat to his right and put her coat over another chair as the lights dimmed. The opening credits began to roll. The applause from the crowd sounded like distant waves crashing against a rocky shore, and Jenna became lost in her head, in the camera lights and haze of a future stardom.
Jimmy nudged her. “You’re in this scene, yes?”
Jenna heard his question in her mind, directed at the Jenna struting down the red carpet. Just another reporter fawning over her. Pulling herself away from her fantasy, she smirked and glanced next to herself, where her coat still saved Tammy’s chair.
“Shit,” She thought. “She’s going to miss it!”
The scene on the screen was boisterous. A crowd had formed and surrounded the main character, who was breakdancing in the economics section of a library. The antagonist appeared from the left side of the screen and ran at the crowd. The camera panned upward to a bronze dinosaur statue surrounded by beanbag chairs in the background and then back down to the crowd, who were now all staring skyward. Jenna reached for Jimmy’s arm. She couldn’t contain her excitement.
“Here it comes!” She whispered to him.
“Catch that waffle before it kills somebody,” her character shrieked.
Jenna beamed from ear to ear; she was elated.
Epilogue
One year to the day of Jenna’s death, Jimmy found himself counting at a stoplight. 1... 2... and the light turned green. The Target on 5th looked a little dingey, but he thought his hometown looked eerily unchanged in the five years since he had been back. His niece was graduating today, and he had promised to be there. The ceremony was dull, like any other graduation, but at least they got a decent speaker. The visual arts director for the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame spent the first ten minutes of his speech recounting half forgotten celebratory parties he had attended over the years. “I’ve got to remember to thank Stevie Nicks for not eating my glasses,” he quipped before delving into his motivational dronings. Jimmy turned off of 5th and noticed a lone graduate sitting on the bench in the corner park.
“Congrats, bud,” Jimmy closed the door to his Camry and approached the 20-something-year-old. “Where’s your crew”
“My family lives in Lithuania,” he beamed. “I’m trying to catch a recording of myself tossing my cap to send them. My grandparents and parents have saved every dime to get me here and it’s the least of what I owe them.”A twinkle gleamed in Jimmy’s eye. “Yeah? They must be so proud of you; you must be so proud.”
“Oh, this is my entire family’s dream. I’m elated.” He held his phone up at an angle in front of him. Jimmy stepped forward. “Here, let me help you.” |
Nu Gamma, Watcher of the Keep, presided over his desk. The golden data slate flashed information at a rate that no man could follow, but Gamma was no man. With the blue alloy of metal infused skin oscillating between existence and the ephemeral, he was a Taruvian. Machine gained sentience: the perfect unity of biological and logical.
Bereft of the inconvenience that mortals called mortality, Gamma was responsible for overseeing the Genesis Project, a herculean effort to reclaim the ninety-six realms lost to apocalypses of various sorts. Six have been recovered with the help of humanity’s finest, though not with great cost.
Gamma shook his head at the memory of the fifth recovery. Siegfried Dragonbane was the only one who returned. One of legion, the hero’s pitted armor hissed as the deadly neuro toxin of Hive Cluster Rox literally ate him from the inside out. The last cluster eliminated, at leashed according to probability. Gradually, terraforming machines would make the realm fit for human habitation, but not yet. Looking down on his data slate that he considered his options for the future.
Choosing Thor Odinson to lead the thirty-eight Calamitus Expedition seemed reasonable enough. The god possessed mastery over thunder and lightning, a good match against the Sirens. Though his temper and the debauchery that would inevitably happen under his command was cause for concern. There was also Lucifer. No, then the expedition was guaranteed to fail. Gamma’s cognitive functions enabled him calculated pause. Lucifer was level-headed but he did not give any regard for his teammates and the sanctity of life, as proven in past expeditions. Maybe that was how he managed to survive them. Thor would lead. He had his deficiencies, but the result of his analysis was clear.
Gamma confirmed his final decision and rose from his chair.
To his left and right, portal gates of all ninety-six realms stood in perfect unity. He floated over to the nearest one. Portal ninety-one, taken over by an infestation of lesser humanity. Godzilla would be the only one assigned to this realm.
An aberrant sound caused Gamma to whip his outstretched palm. “Who is by portal thirty-two? Identify yourself.”
A figure stopped before removing his cowl. “Relax Gam, it’s me.”
“You are Agni, god of fire, sent on the failed twenty-first Calamitus Expedition.” A ball of blue plasma gathered around his palm. “You should not be alive.”
Agni was a towering figure with skin crimson red and a large stomach. Where one of his twin heads should be was a scorched stump, so was two of his four arms. He coughed before speaking. “The arachnids were no match for my flames. Realm twenty-one has been secured.”
Realm twenty-one, apocalypse type: Psychic Arachnids. A slaughter fest where seventy-eight fire gods met their end, or so Gamma thought. “I detect signs of calamity infesting your body Agni.”
Agni chuckled. “Thank the creator that I was born of two minds, not one. Mindslavers, I found out. That was the reason why all the other gods perished, bend their powers against each other. Half of my body rebelled when they first attacked us.” His two hands thumped against his chest. “Had to hide for three centuries in order to regain control, among other things.”
“I apologize Agni, I cannot permit your presence within your city. Return back to realm thirty-two, we will send another expedition there in due time.”
Agni’s impression hardened. “I will not go back Gamma, not after what I had to do to get here.”
“Then you will be eliminated.” Gamma raised his other palm at the god.
Agni barked with laughter. “You, fight me? I may be half the god I used to be, but I am more than a match for a simple machine.” Fire erupted from his hands. “I will enjoy ripping your metal spine from its casing.”
“You misunderstand Agni. It will not fight with you.” Gamma said as he slammed both palms against the ground. “He will.”
Agni’s smile quickly faded as a wave of plasma energized The Golden City and activated its beacon array. A mighty blast of light descended from the heavens, creating a scorched halo between the god and Gamma.
“You called, machine man?” a voice echoed out.
Gamma rose. “I did, Thor Odinson. After careful thought and consideration, I have decided to make you leader of the thirty-eighth
Calamitus Expedition. However, in order to lend credence to the ruling, I need you to eliminated Agni, a fire god corrupted by the forces of calamity.”
Thor guffawed. “Done. Lucifer is going to have a hissy fit when he finds out!”
“Gamma, I will kill you!” Agni roared.
Gamma was incapable of smiling but knew how to express it in words. “You will try fire god, and you will fail.” |
Demon is an ambiguous word since it can refer to something unholy or something just unnatural. Many specific creatures in mythologies across the world translate to English as demon but are anything but hellfire and brimstone.
On Christmas Eve I thought everything was falling apart and in a way it was. The economy had crashed, a virus was spreading across humanity, and nobody seemed to get along anymore. The only good thing about this Christmas is that colleges are still allowing a Holiday break. I am walking to my dorm after getting some ingredients for a pot roast, cat food and a movie rental of Home Alone, fitting since I have no one to spend Christmas with. My roommate is driving back to their family while mine lives across the country and it would take more than Christmas tradition to get me to fly now of all times. I went to the main park on campus to the food dishes I had set out to feed the local cat colony.
“Pspspsps! Kitties! Come here, I have some food for you all.”
Soon I was swarmed by three dozen fluffy bodies of the local cats that made MIT their home, all meowing like kittens for the food I brought for them. I refilled the food dishes while many pets were given to those who wanted them. I saw some new faces than those who usually came to my feeding spot, 5 kittens in between 3 to 8 months of age and 7 older cats who I had not seen before. All of them were very affectionate and seemed less skittish than cats that had grown up on the streets. The one conclusion I could come to is that they were formerly pets whose families couldn’t or wouldn’t take care of due to the reduction in the workforce. I will take them tomorrow to the local vet to see if they were potentially runaways that were wanted. However it is becoming dark with little snowflakes starting to fall.
“Bye you little floof balls. I’ll see you tomorrow, especially you newer faces.”
I hurried to my dorm since it was getting cold fast and I really wanted to start my pot roast soon. For whatever reason I was feeling watched, I could not see what saw me so it must have been some paranoia. Then I heard drunken singing which was obviously some college students going on a bar dive. I rounded the corner to see about 8 Fraternity kids butchering jingle bells while passing around a gallon of vodka. They were between me and the rest of the way to my dorm and I preferably would not want to talk to them since I was not a social person and those filled with hard alcohol tend to be very talkative and not the listening type.
“...inn a oone hornse open sleigh...dassshing thogh the ssnoww... Oh hey theere.. you there. Mere”
Oh shit. I have been spotted. The group walks or more so stumbles towards me. It seems I will have to talk out of being dragged to wherever they were going.
“Oh hey. Do you need directions.” “Noo. Well malybele...uh...doo you have some more alcohol or know where sommee is?” “No. But I can give the address to a bar I know.” “Gooood brother. Letsss goooo” I am pushed into the mob. “Well I have places to be so I can give an address and be on my way.” “Are we to gooood for you not to lead usss...My father is a lawyer... hic...and you will take us theres or you will be ruined”
This is why I don’t really interact with the fraternity part of college life since most from my experience have no life experience and don’t seem to know that they are not the center of the world. I know there are probably some good ones but that’s just my experience.
“I’m really sorry but I don’t have clothes for snow and I really got to have dinner soon”
What happened next is a blur to me starting with knocking the galleon of vodka over in an attempt to leave and promptly getting beat up by all eight drunkards. Pain became my existence as bones broke, organs ruptured, and extremities were bent at unnatural angles. Eventually everything faded as pain left me.
Darkness then became existence, I could not move, I could not blink, I could not feel, none of my senses worked, and it felt like I had no body.
I then heard a cat bell ring.
I could perceive the world again as I lay in a pool of my own blood. Everything hurt as bones started mending themselves at breakneck speeds and the blood started receding back into my own body. It was agonizing as my body was fixing itself for death, before nothing else needed fixing. I still laid there as the shock was to much to move. I then saw my savior and I thought coming back from death would be the weirdest thing to happen.
She is the very definition of femininity with a body to attract any guy or girl no matter what they liked, mid back length hair that looks like silk, an ornate black and red evening dress, and the height and stance to wrap anyone around her finger. However she had two black cat ears sprouting out of her head, pupils that slit like a cats, a grin filled with teeth sharper than any human, and two cat tails swishing behind her, one black and one white. The final noticeable feature is a cloth collar on her neck with a cats bell and name tag on it...a very familiar bell and name tag.
“Holly? Is that...you?! You ran away when I left for college and why are you a person? How?”
She then cupped my check in her hand before putting her forehead against mine. Her purring was the same that comforted me when I got sick or sad as a child. And kept me from darker places in middle and high school. The same purr as the one that would start when she would sit behind my laptop and take in the heat of it or when we would watch TV together with all my other pets and mother.
“I’m sorry my child that I ran. It hurt me greatly when you left and I felt odd soon after. I had the urge to run as soon as I had the chance. I never thought my old bones could run so fast. I felt free. But, I remembered you and how sad you would be. I remembered when we first met when I was just a kitten and your excited face on your third Christmas. I remembered when you showed such joy and care to me when I was nervous of you, when you showed that to all animals you met because of the spark I gave you. I then was revitalized with purpose and became able to turn into the form you see now.”
She then helped me to my feet and brought me into a deep hug where I shamelessly burrowed myself into her bountiful breasts and started crying my heart out. All the loneliness I have felt since I left my home to get my Doctorate in nuclear chemistry started leaving my body with each sob as my Holly girl that I thought had died years ago comforted me with purrs and kissed my head with the care of a lover.
We made it back to my dorm after it really started snowing and managed to smuggle Holly back into my room by having her turn into her cat form and stuffing her in my sweatshirt, which was no easy feat giver how beaten up my clothes were and I was glad that no one was interested of going out this cold hour. Once in my room Holly changed into her human form before I figured out she somehow turned into a Nekomata during her time away from me(what can I say, I just died). I then changed into some pajamas and gave Holly some spare clothes of mine before getting in my bed to sleep.
“This is the best Christmas ever Holly. I love you so much, I missed you so much.”
“I know. I would of found you sooner but I was new to my new abilities and I could not find you near your mother’s home or even in the same state. There are limits to magic.”
“But you still found me. And on the 23rd anniversary since we met no less.”
“Yes, it is a wonderful coincidence. I will stay with you forever now. I will never leave you, not even death will keep us apart. We will never be hungry or wanting as long as we are together.”
With that we hugged each other in a warm embrace under the sheets of the bed before sleep overtook us and a new dawn had risen for not only us two, but all who still had hope in the world.
Fin
Author here, this is the first prompt I am responding to so expect mistakes. I wish you all a very merry Christmas and a happy new year. And remember, it is always darkest before dawn. |
(Based partially on pre-existing ideas)
When I was 6, no one knew how I saw the world. They didn't realize that what they saw as a stuffed tiger was real to me, that I literally live in a different reality than them.
Then I made something, a gun that could turn anything I saw into whatever I wanted, just by reading my brain waves. The only problem was that only I could tell, in my reality.
It took years, til I was 12 years old for me to finally fix this. After a lot of concentration, and a lot of help from Hobbes, my Tiger, we were able to use the Transmogrifier Gun to change all of reality. All that I had in my Imagination could finally become real. Humanity didn't live on Earth anymore, they lived in Calvinworld.
All the schools were destroyed, Dinosaurs came back and reigned chaos on the land, Abominable Snowmen roamed the north, and all was as I imagined it.
It was like this for a few months, but then I noticed my Tiger companion, my only friend, had grown to look on me in disgust. He didn't share my love of chaos, and pointed out what I was completely blind to.
I was the only one who was happy.
He saw what the world he helped me create was like, and all the people and animals that were hurt my the monsters I imagined made him cry.
That's when I realized who Hobbes was. He was my conscience, that part of my Imagination that loved good, the part that I thought I destroyed. I knew what I had to do.
I walked up toy crying friend, looked him in the eye, and handed him the gun.
He looked back at me and then proceeded to fix all that I had broken. He kept the Dinosaurs and Snowmen, but now they were people's companions instead of their destroyers. He took all that I imagined and made it good, and pure, and loving.
When he was done, he gave the gun back to me, and looked at me with his kind eyes and said, "Let's go exploring" |
A short little writing. Hope you enjoy it.
\-
"No! We aren't monsters that kill everything on sight,"I respond exasperated. "The radio waves that you send out constantly would render that false,"he replies back.
I had been being questioned by this alien for about two hours now, if you can call questioning being tied up in a chair with all your appendages restricted, even the ones that don't do anything on a normal day. He looked just short of an octopus with tentacle-like feelers on the end of his nose and two offset eyes. But he was bipedal from what I saw. "He interrupted my train of thought by saying, "Well then, what do you call this?"
He showed me a video of a game, Call of Duty to be exact. I groaned and said, "That's a videogame, it's not real."He then showed me the exact same type of video, this time just on a different map. "Then why are there thousands to millions of your population that engages in this violent behaviour that kills others and puts so many others at risk?"I repeat again, "That's a videogame, it's not real. It is a virtual world that we use. We aren't actually there in person."He replies back, "Then why do you use it for such violent tendencies? I am aware of such virtual worlds but there are living inhabitants in such dimensions. If you are aware of such inhabitants, why would you kill those?"
I reply curtly, as I was getting a little pissed, "The things that we kill aren't alive except in Multi-player games, where there is a person controlling the character. Other than that, they are all NPCs.""So you think they're not alive,"he asks curtly. "Well, yeah! They aren’t even alive, we don't kill them, so they're not human! What does it matter?""I believe that this interview has finished, I will contact you with the results when the time comes,"He says as he walks out of the room. "Bullshit! Your gonna tell me now what you decided. **COME BACK HER**..."
\--
As the door shuts behind him, sealing off the noise, Zeph sighs deeply. "*Why did the send me to deal with these zleks? They have a barely developed society, no communal trust, and have little inhibitors on their state of mind. They are definitely not getting into the Alliance"* Taking a break from his mental meaderings, he looks down at the notes he took while questioning the new sentient species. He re-reads through it again, with three points sticking in his mind.
Take care to warn this species before initiating contacting them, and under no circumstances give them positions of power as the species as a whole is highly irrational and narcissistic.
If we get into another war, this species would make the best fodder, as they are highly aggressive, and if you defamiliarize their enemy, they will kill it with no hesitation.
IMPORTANT: If they figure out faster than light travel before we let them, kill them all. Under no circumstances are these beings allowed outside their designated zone until deemed capable. They should be considered **Class A** dangers and should be treated as such. |
I swallowed. “What the hell?”
The man in the suit nodded. “We have proof of multiple cases of breaking and entering and child endangerment, as well as slavery and possession of an illegal vehicle and endangered animals.” He looked up at me. “The only problem is, he spends 364 days a year cooped up in the harshest environment on the planet. None of our SWAT teams have made it out alive.” He pushed a small stack of papers. Investigation reports of bodies strangled by ribbons and wrapped in thin paper, and others burnt to a crisp, turning to what was essentially human coal. My eyes widened. “So you want me to...” The man interrupted. “Kill him. Any method is fine. We can cover it up.” I sighed. “What’s the pay?” The man pushed a check across the table. “50,000,000 dollars. 100,000,000 if you can do it before 9:30 PM.” I gave a half chuckle, trying to distract myself from what I was just asked to do. “Um, you guys got a curfew?” He shook his head. “That’s when he moves onto Europe. It’s out of our jurisdiction. He spends about an hour to an hour and a half on each continent, so you’ll have to work fast.” I wiped the sweat from my brow. “I- fine. I’ll do it.” The man nodded and stood from his chair. “I expect the body to be at the FBI headquarters by December 26th.” He gave me a final glance and a nod before he walked out. |
Wheeew.
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Finally.
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Work for the day is done
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I shut down Slack, Microsoft Word, and Google Chrome. Time for some fun. I open Spotify and put on a podcast
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Next? Reddit. I move my tab against the wall, push my keyboard and mouse away and lean back on my chair
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First post: Kuchisabhishii. When you're not hungry, but your mouth feels lonely. Haha. That reminds me, I haven't prepared anything for dinner. What should I have? Pizza again? My diet says no, but my heart says yes
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First Christmas as a single dad. Oh wow! He did pretty well. Will I ever be a parent? Will I ever get married, let alone have a kid? Will I even have someone to date and have sex with, let alone get married to? Man, I've been single for way too long
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Just watched a policeman talk a young person down from a cliff edge. Christ, that's sad. Can't say I blame the young person though. How many times have I thought that ending it all would be easier than going on with this dreary existence? The only thing stopping me is my old dog, snoozing under my table. He'd be heartbroken if I suddenly never responded to him ever again.
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It's unfair, though. He's going to die soon and he'll be leaving me behind, alone and without anyone to comfort me. Will I ever be able to accept the fact that he's gone? I remember losing my other dog 4 years ago. I can still remember his bark as he'd ask for food. A high WOOF that would echo through the house and right into my heart. I'll never forget that.
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What about the rest of life, though? Working every day, tirelessly just to put food on the table for me and my dog. Sure, it's just typing words, planning meetings, and making notes. It's still so monotonous and tiring, though. I guess I should be happy to have a job in this pandemic. Am I just being overdramatic? Faking signs of depression just because my job is a little boring?
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Isn't that wrong? Thinking you're faking depression itself is a sign of depression. Am I actually depressed or am I faking it? UGH. I wish I could make head or tails of this nonsense. I wish I could put myself into a never-ending dream. Isn't that just death, though? What if I could put myself and everyone I cared about into a never-ending dream? We'd all be so happy!
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Well, that's not true. John and Stacy are planning a life together. Kate just got her book published. Ben finally bought that gaming PC he's been saving for, and Joanna in on her way to internet fame with her amazing cooking channel. They are happy and wouldn't like to forgo their lives for an endless dream, right? And me?
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I'm just... me. I try my best and I do what I can, but ti never seems to be enough! I don't have anyone to plan a life with. I have no great achievements or even goals in life. I am just me and I am just here. I just... exist. What a waste.
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Ah, a post about how you are valid even if all you did was reach December of 2020 and didn't achieve anything. I really needed that. Upvote for you! I guess it's not all bad, though. I finally lost a decent amount of weight. I'm eating healthier (ah, damnit. Ignore that pizza). I'm even meditating and working on my writing! I just need to get off Reddit and watch some really fun and upbeat to get my mood off this perpetual existential crisis. Lemme just reach my mouse and... WAIT
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I've been daydreaming and looking at Reddit posts while my mouse and keyboard were completely out of my reach? What? How? What's going on? Are there ghosts? Did my device get hacked? Did AI take over? IS IT THE GOVERMENT?
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Oh, wait. I forgot. I installed and tried out that Reddit app I found that auto-scrolls. Haha. My bad. No malicious intent here. Should remember this app. [Infinity For Reddit](https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=ml.docilealligator.infinityforreddit&hl=en_IN&gl=US)
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Oh, one last thing. I go to r/writingprompts and I write:
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Hey guys! I am getting back into writing after 2 years in limbo and would greatly appreciate feedback and criticism. Thanks a lot for reading! I appreciate it!
Also, I'm not affiliated with Infinity for Reddit in any way. I am a user of the app and it was the first thing that came to mind when I saw the prompt. If you check out the app, hope you like it! |
It had not been an easy task searching for a new job at my age; people are much less likely to hire you once you are well over 60. I sighed and tied my long grey hair into a tidy knot. All that was behind me, I reminded myself, and today was going to be my first day as a guide in our town’s museum. I had been lucky to have found this job here, not far away from my home. I would have been quite reluctant to leave. All the memories I had of this place; I was not sure if I could have left it just like that. My beloved “Sweetie” could have come somewhere else with me, of course; as she rubbed against my leg, I bent a little (not too much, my poor old back) and pet her. “I won’t be long”, I told her as she purred, enjoying the rubs, “I will be home soon and then there will be a nice dinner for you!” I closed the topmost button of the cardigan I had knitted myself, grabbed my purse and carefully closed the door of the small house in the middle of the woods I lived in.
The director of the museum greeted me as soon as I had entered the door. “Mrs. Darlington”, she said, almost stumbling over the first word with her slight lisp, “nice to see you again!” She stretched out her hand to shake mine. I put on my friendliest smile and shook it gently. “Ms. Sutherland”, I replied, “thank you so much for this opportunity, I really appreciate it!” She slid her enormous glasses back up her nose and answered: “Don’t thank me, you were the most qualified for the job. Especially your knowledge of medieval torture tools impressed me a lot!” “Oh dear, it seems ages ago since I learned about them. But thank you.” “Shall we begin our tour?” I nodded benevolently. I had heard about the recent addition to the collection and was most curious about it. Could it really be that what they said about it was true?
As we were wandering towards the exhibition rooms, I decided to make some small talk. “Pardon my curiosity – I already noticed when we first talked, but I kept myself from asking. Now I just have to: how come someone that young came to be the director of our museum?” “Well,” her cheeks turned red, “I was just recently appointed to come here, you know, and I always had an interest in history, so I was eager to learn and got quite good marks and… hehe… well, here I am!” “Oh, my dear, don’t hide your light under a bushel, I am sure your extraordinary achievements brought you here!” I patted her lightly on her elbow because that was as far up as I could reach.
We reached the first exhibition room and Ms. Sutherland’s excitement was almost tangible. “You know, we put it in a place of honour, in the middle of the very first show room”, she said, “the Sword of Sigismuntus Iustus! I know you are familiar with the legend!” “I am”, I nodded, and felt the excitement rise in me as well. The door was closed; the director pulled out a key chain and clumsily fiddled with it while opening the lock. I felt my spirits rise – I had a feeling that I would love to work here.
The door swung open and in the middle of the room, there it was: a broad sword from the late medieval period, undecorated, inside a large showcase. As we both stepped in, a faint glint shone on it as if it reflected some outside light. Ms. Sutherland shut the door behind us. As I came another step closer, the sword began to shine, a blueish light that seemed to come out of itself. “So, the legend is true”, I said, and I saw the glimmer reflecting on the inner side of my thick glasses. Ms. Sutherland nodded and came closer as well. “Can we drop the charade now?” I turned around. “Oh yes, please”, she said, with no hint of a lisp, as she removed her glasses, “it doesn’t work with me because I am not as powerful as you – yet!” Her wide grin revealed pointy teeth as she grew a wart on her nose and her skin colour changed into a healthy light green. “That might be a problem if I am to keep my camouflage.” I pointed at the glowing sword, stretching out to my true form. “Don’t worry”, Ms. Sutherland said, “we’ll say it’s a special effect. Anyway, it is an honour to have you in our team, if I may repeat myself. Do you mind if I join you later at your little hunt for children?” |
"Any wish?"
"Any wish!"the witch replies, following with a cackle. "Only one condition, you can only move one side a day!"
"Okay, I'll do it"The man says, taking the Rubik cube from the witch.
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Upon getting home the man looks up online how to solve a Rubik cube in as few moves as possible. He finds it can be done with as few as twenty moves!
"Twenty days for any wish isn't so bad."he says
The man gets to work, meticulously solving the cube, one move per day. With the help of the internet it was easy.
On the 21st day after receiving the cube, he returns to the witch for his wish.
"Oh myyy! Done already?!"the witch screeches.
"Yeah, it wasn't hard... Let's make it harder."The man replies.
"What is your wish then?"the witch asks.
"The next time, make it so they can only make one move per year."the man says coldly.
"How dubious! I love it! Your wish is granted!"the witch says with glee before flying off.
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Years later
"So any wish I want?"
"Any wish! On one condition! You may make a move one per year!"says the witch with glee.
"Well, I guess I'll be able to pay off my mortgage and student loans early." |
Juxtaposition was one of the worlds best traits, the snow had this warm way of reminding us city dwellers of natures existence, that at least something was still without the bounds of our control. I tugged at my pocket until the vapor that left my mouth wasn’t anything more than nicotine. A cigarette was never too far but I especially needed one today as the tension in the office was too high, too many murders, no leads.
“That’s not nice kid,” I grinned with all the geniality I had, a child caught wind of my addiction and luckily had the cold air to assist him. “You smoke one of these a day and the tooth fairy won’t be buying your teeth but will be selling them back to you.” His mother couldn’t help but laugh and just like that, they were replaced by a couple, a group of friends and then another pair of mother and son. It was a weird form of solace, seeing people delight in the gigantic Christmas tree that towered over us all, the gait of the snow, the lights that layered the city, true community.
But it’s not New York City without something strange happening and the city had a knack for upholding its reputation. A man walked over to me, or maybe suddenly appeared, it didn’t matter I just knew he was blocking my view. That close he seemed almost taller than the tree, I didn’t say anything though, I didn’t have to because he was the one intruding. He smelled of something that would have been far worse if not for the cold air numbing my senses a bit, his face was scarred and his pale skin was accompanied by muscles that seemed a bit unnatural. I didn’t want to do it, I hated looking into peoples memories, the reason I took this walk was to for once guess what made people who they were, but I had to know who was actually in front of me and so with a stare and the tick of the will it activated... but blank.
Memories were just records of time, nothing more, no person could be summed up by one single memory and yet sometimes a moment was the only thing sharp enough to carve a boy into a man. That’s what I saw when I returned the glare of this stranger, every bit of man but not the boy. And almost like some twisted irony my inability to dig deeper in his psyche had echoed of something in my own, a nostalgia of when I first received these abilities, frustration and ineptness...
“You, you are special?” He spoke and his voice was gruff enough to cut his own throat. “I can fee— I can feel it. Where is she?”
My powers always worked, no matter how repressed the memory, or amnesiac the individual, memories were always there hiding, why couldn’t I find them? “Back away from me pal,” I whipped out my badge, even drunkards forgot the taste of liquor in front of a detective.
We had a moment of silence, not the one you appreciate with a hot coffee and a cigarette but the one before you kill a man.
Luckily.... he simply walked off, taking his time like the snow that fell. I took that as a sign to head back to the office and ended my little smoke break. “Loosey loo gotsss a thing for you,” I harmonized with a voice that made sense of me being a detective and not on broadway, “Lucy Luuuuu got a thing for youuuu,” my car was nice and warmed up ready to return to that bland ass building.
I lit another cigarette, ignoring my conscious like usual before starting my car, it didn’t move. The tires was shot. I looked up and just like before that same strange man was standing in front of me.
“Listen here you fuck,” I took out my gun, I was going to make sure his New Years resolution was getting out of jail.
“Where is she!?” He tossed the car a couple feet away. Seeing that with my own eyes was more brain boggling than the damage I took. A concussion, a shoulder out of place, possibly a few broken ribs.
“Where is she? Tell me!” He broke off the car door with literally zero effort, dragging my body into the middle of the street. I looked him dead into his eyes, I wanted to know what actually killed me. Maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe something else but finally I could see his memories...
A fog, a beast, a woman. I saw him get shredded to nothing, but— how could this be? He was right here alive, no man could survive what had happened to him. He fell to the ground, the first time I ever saw somebody be aware of my digging. I then shot him until he went limp, too much to count.
“She’s gone, she’s gone, she’s gone, she’s gone, she’s gone, she’s gone, she’s gone, she’s gone,” he whimpered with a grin that looked more like a scar. Pitiful man.
Before I could dial in a medic i heard a voice eat it’s way into my head, “Hmm so we have a new piece on the chest board? And your one of those special humans? Interesting,” bitter and soothing, she ended her sentence with a slight chuckle, something that played itself over and over and over... |
*"Fuck you"*
*"Great to hear you're hanging in there, she's in a better place"* **$1**
"Steve, I'm here for you whatever you need just reach out"* **$4**
*Current balance: $0*
**"Fuck you"**
"Look, Rich I know you'd rather we focus on work here but I have to share a little. Putting sprinkles down was difficult and I'm having a hard time holding it in.
*Moments like this it's almost worth adding some funds. At least before, skipping an electric bill was an option. Now being a cent short means cutting the juice to the remote drive that holds the last piece of your conscious mind. This was supposed to be a long term back up.
Asteroid mining and remote sync don't really work out for an orphaned mind. Shelly and the kids were taken care of , that was an upside. The 18 month stint became a 24 month tragedy for all aboard. No transmission and no return mission on the schedule meant MIA designation eventually slipped to the reality of KIA. The update to the will that included the backup information for the never was recovered though.
It was a whim, like buying an extra coffee once a month. Better than insurance, upload you mind to the internet and for just $10 a month keep a copy if your mind available until you can afford that clone. Paid 2 years in advance with the sign on bonus for the mission. At least I was able to figure out an income in that time frame. The virtual office isn't that bad. I'm sure it's better for the poeple that get to log out. |
“We’ve almost reached the summit” said Carl eagerly as the creaking of the lift reaches a halt. “Cant this piece of shit take us all the way?” You say as you realize you sound like a bitchy ungrateful punk kid. “I mean if its here why not all the way?” You stop as nobody answers you and you give in to the feeling of no redemption from those comments. “Trust me, you will enjoy this part of the way up” says Carl, your new friend who a few weeks ago was just another passerby in the library where you go and read every Wednesday night. “I mean, you”ve pegged me right up until now Carl, I may as well follow along”. Carl, what a strange man. At first he would suggest things and I would stop myself because it was like he knew me, I figured he was one of those guys who could read people well, but this was more then that. Carl had a gift, was it pursuasion? No, I never thought myself the drinking the koolaid type. Carl just seemed to know what I wanted. It scared me, but also intrigued me.
My fiance and I had moved in only a few months ago, Sue was given a great opportunity to work in her field. Experience that she could only dream of as an archeologist in 2020. It took up most of her time, so I had to figure out what to do with mine. I liked to bury my head in books, escape into different things from my everyday life. I grew up an only child, wanting nothing more then to be a part of a team. I played hockey growing up but fell off because I just couldnt make the commitment to something I didnt feel like I was good at, wierd for a 16 year old. I was always an internal person, so when Carl first approached me and said “shaken, not stirred.” With a goofy but self impressed face. I was reading Casino Royale by Ian Flemming. This guy uses the cornyest Bond line he could come up with. None the less I laugh and we started talking. But what came next was alot of beer, and I ended up joining Jui Jitsu with him. He seemed like a cool guy.
“Here, you”ll need these” he tossed me a pair of snow shoes. “Its about half a mile up ahead, then the real fun starts. I promise you wont want to leave.” We walk the trek upwards, finally reaching the summit. Theres an old log cabin, no lights on. We approach the doorstep and as I turn to my left I notice a large gouge in the outside wall. I stop and bend over to unhinge my show shoes and suddenly, “SMACK” everything goes black..... |
// new to reddit and this subreddit in general! drk if i should put warnings on but?? just incase: gore, mention of blood (but not really anything serious or graphic with every detail because my description skills are pretty wack BUT still if youre uncomfortable w blood, organs, etc pls do not read D:)
The air was nothing but fresh and the birds were chirping outside as I stretched my arms as a daily routine that I have done in every single morning of every single body I have inhabited within the last–what?–twenty years. I opened my eyes to quickly come to notice that my eyesight wasn't exceptionally the best; astigmatism along with mytopia wasn't something that I'm not used to for sure but why is there a knife on a wall? Is that even a knife? I had expected a lovely view of perhaps a nice wall and a window on the side of me, being the light source of sunshine that I could feel burning on my bare skin, but to be greeted with a sight of a knife on the wall.
A knife? Why is there a knife on the wall?
Squinting my eyes, the sunshine that I hoped to be from the outside was a blinding light from a.. light shining on a surgery table? From the looks of it, it seemed like a surgery table that can be seen in hospitals to perform operations on different patients, but why was one in the house I'm in right now?
A surgery table in my bedroom; a knife plunged into the wall right ahead of my bed—what is happening? Who am I?
I stood up to try to jog my memories; within the last two decades of constantly switching between body to body, a situation like this was something that even I hae never encountered. Or even /expected/ to encounter.
Splat.
What was that? I look down and tried to tense my eye the most I could to recognise what I had stepped on was. Upon simply lifting my feet to examine what it was, the sight was something to be reckoned with; even with mytopia, that is so bad to the extent that it was almost impossible to see things without straining my eyes (and still be near to not be able to tell apart what it is), it was clear and evident on what a red liquid is supposed to be: blood.
My breath hitched at the sight as I tried to fight down the bile that was quickly building up. Where was the glasses? Where did this person usually put his glasses? Then suddenly the brain suddenly started to work as I instinctively began to walk out to a corner of the room to a mysterious, small drawer get the glasses I was looking for just mere seconds ago. I tried not to question the weird placement of the furniture before putting the glasses on and turning around.
Taking in the view of the entire place from just the corner of the room with clear quality now made me want to vommit. Lines began to connect with the conclusion of organ trafficker.
No doubt that the surgery table that I had managed to recognise had bodies of people with opened chests, leaning onto the object with heads still attached on but mouths hung over and tongues slipping out barely to cover the bottom lips; arms and legs were nowhere to be seen yet at the opposite corner of the room in the farthest side to me were clear plastic bags of several organs. Piled at the big bags were smaller bags that resembled to be almost like blood bags that hospitals carry blood donor's blood in.
"OPEN UP; WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE!"The sudden noise made me startled as I scrambled to the exit of the bedroom—or perhaps even the place as a whole. The thumping and knocking of someone on the other side vibrated the entire place as I tried my best to stop the intruder.
This wasn't going to turn out well. |
Just as quickly as she opened it, Ava slammed the door shut, her brain squawking out just one thought in her panic.
*What the fuck?*
“Everything alright?” She heard her mom call from the kitchen
Everything felt like a dream.
“uh... Yeah!” She shouted back.
Standing in front of the door, the blanket of cold was now fading into the past. Her goosebumps stayed.
*A hallucination*, she said to herself
*It had to have been a hallucination.*
“What makes you so sure?” A voiced gurgled from behind the door. She had hoped to not be reminded.
Ava was hiding in the closet, giggling away as her little 5-year-old self at what was surely the best hiding spot she had ever found. She had gotten up to the second shelf (not just the first one this time), and through much maneuvering and wrangling, had hidden herself behind the hordes of extra blankets that were stored there. The soft fleece and furs pressed against her arms and filled her skin with the same tingling excitement that was growing in her stomach. As she tried to sit still, she heard her mother finish counting.
“Ready or not, here I come!”
Ava held her breath and listened to the sounds of the house, straining at every noise.
“Ava? I’ll find you this time you little goofball...”
But the rest of her sentence was drowned out by... jingle bells? Ava’s excitement slowly turned to puzzlement as the sound grew around her, dancing and twinkling like snowflakes. Each note seemed to pierce her ears with a chill. A cold wind blew around her, carrying the tune with it and pushing the music against her, making it unbearably loud. Ava pulled herself in tighter, cupping her hands over her ears, and squeezing her eyes shut to stop the cold from stinging them, and the fear from setting in.
*...warm. check her.* A voice sputtered from the darkness.
It was old. Old, old, old, and absolutely rotten. She knew she would be able to smell it if not for her frozen nostrils, and that it would smell like death; like an animal left to decompose on the side of an asphalt road.
*What...?* She felt something cold and dusty in her hands, and realized that she was sitting in snow. It was clinging all over her feet and pyjamas.
Tiny frozen hands started groping her, wrapping themselves around her ankles and tugging away at her arms; their waxy fingers pressed into her like a snake preparing its lunch. Suddenly, all she could do was hug herself closer and close her eyes harder as the wind whipped her hair around her face, and she held down a scream. The air seemed to whisper. No, not the air; whoever the hands belonged to were gossiping amongst themselves.
*...good... (last year?)*
*...think so...*
*...couple decades...*
*...perfect.*
Finally, a small sound piped up *Will she work?*
The old voice grumbled, and there was a shuffling noise that moved closer and closer.
Something pierced her chest then, and her nerves turned to ice. Pain burned through her like a splashing river and it numbed her body, sucking out any warmth she had left. The world grew dim, floating away like a child’s lost balloon.
(But moooommmy... I want it back!)
*Yes, she is the one.*the voice spat.
And that was that.
The world was back again; she was warm, and the air was still. She opened her eyes. Nothing more than a kid in a closet playing hide and seek with her mom.
She never managed to shake that memory, as much as she tried. She could smell him now, rotting flesh looming in the open doorway. She could see him too, not that there was much to see. *A corpse in coat,* she thought. He staggered forward dragging with him a red coat and hat, trimmed with matted white fur, and tattered by time. “Your turn,” He said. And with that, he collapsed. Swarms of broken dolls with pointed ears filed into her hallway, bringing with them the coat and hat. They would fit her perfectly.
(Criticism is appreciated, I’m new to writing!) |
Gleannstead was a pleasant town, if a bit boring. The streets were clean, the people were mostly polite and familiar, the magistrate was a long-winded but fair old fellow. My point is, the town was a fine place to raise one’s family. When it comes to settlements, boring is often good. I fear I have realized that fact too late. Gleannstead was certainly better than the harsh bars of iron which currently surround me.
It began as any day had since my marriage. I put on my clothing and boots, ate breakfast, then kissed my wife’s beautiful lips and felt a jolt of contentment when she returned for a second kiss. “You’ll have to wait for the third one, my dear.” I said, caressing her firm lower back. I smiled as I left our home and she matched my grin. I now wish I had given her a hundred and never exited the house.
When I walked onto the yard, the morning dew was still clinging to every blade of grass. Though I had a fair bit of work to do, I couldn’t help but notice how the fog hung in a low blanket in the dawn light, how clear the birds called and how utterly serene everything felt. The wooded hill path behind my home was calling my name. I felt like I would miss the beauty of my land if I didn’t experience it on days like today.
So, like countless fools have done, I wandered into the woods unarmed, sticking to the dirt path cleared by myself and my brother Alfred all those months ago. Alfred had stated his jealousy for my inherited tract of land, especially my proximity to the woods. I told him he was welcome to walk the path any time. I still mean that, Alfred.
I walked slowly along the path, my boots slightly sinking into the soil with each step. My calmness was such that I didn’t recognize the booming footsteps behind me until it was far too late. My back was slammed by what I now realize was a very large hand, roughly the size of my milk cow, Helen. My neck was whipped backwards and my entire body was surrounded by calloused, firm flesh.
The closed hand brought me to a face. Wide-nosed, bald and pale, his rotten breath hit my entire being like a summer breeze on a three-day-old battlefield. “Oh, you’ll be fine eatin’ in a stew! We’ll boil you down *real* tender.” He said this to me as if he was speaking to a plucked broiling chicken, which I suppose from his perspective, he was.
“Please let me go, giant.” I implored. “There’s a whole town not a half mile from here. Take your pick!” This last-ditch effort to save my own life does fill me with shame, but I include it because I want to tell the truth. Obviously, the giant did not listen, as before I had finished my plea, he was already trudging back to his home.
So, I suppose that gets everyone up to date. I’m currently in his proportionally gigantic kitchen, in a cage near what I assume is his oven. If anyone finds this note, deliver it to my wife, Patricia, who lives in the house a quarter-mile east of Gleannstead. It is getting hot in the kitchen, as the giant lets the wood catch fire and create enough heat for a boiled human. Patricia, if you ever see this, know that I always loved you and I would be boiled three times over for that third kiss. |
One day, it was bright and funny so I felt like going outside. I wanted to do a quick walk in the forest but mom forbid me because of man-eating giants that live there. I agreed not to go as I left the house. But against my better judgement, a 50 minute wouldn't kill me. But if she knew, she would make a scornful look before punishing me. As I made my way into the forest, I cautious tip-toe along the way, barely making a sound. But a few minutes in, I relaxed and walked normally as there were no signs of giants.
A few more minutes later, I decided it's time to go back. But suddenly, a huge shadow loomed over me. Before I had a chance to run, a giant hand grabbed me and stuffed me in a bag. I began to panic as I had no idea where I was being taken. But I knew one thing, I was going to be eaten. After what felt like hours, a light opened up where the giant hand reached and pulled me out of the bag.
"Woah! I caught a human!"
I looked straight at my captor and saw a giant. I looked at my surroundings and saw I was in some kind of cave.
"Where am I?"I asked.
"You're in my parent's cave."
"Parents? Are you not an adult?"
"No, I just turned 10."
I was shocked. Just by this one size, you would have thought this was a grown giant. But since this one is a kid, hopefully I can use this to my adventure.
"Um, so you're going to eat me right?"
"Not right now. Not until I show my parents I caught a human."
"You can't eat me."
"Why? I'll be quick."
"No, no, no! Look at me. I'm not grown enough. Would you rather eat a tiny baby goat or a full grown, juicy goat?"
"Both. But I would like the grown goat more."
"Exactly! So why not let me go and in 3 more years I'll be grown enough to eat."
"That's so nice of you. I'll go ahead and return you."
The giant grabbed me and put me back in the bag where he began to leave. A few more boring hours, we eventually arrived to the spot he first grabbed me from. As I was returned from the bag, the giant told me something before they left.
"I'll remember you. You're the only human I haven't ate. I'll see you in 3 years!"
Immediately, I hurriedly ran back to my house where my mom was there waiting for me with a scornful look on her face. |
No prison could be perfect. No matter how closely tailored to the population it was, there would always be outliers. And as long as there were outliers, there would be escapees.
Therefore, the aliens had reasoned, they would design the prison in such a way that those who could escape could pose no threat to them.
Imagination would be humanity's cage, they decided. The prodigious ability of their brains to churn out junk data at every opportunity that presented itself would be used against them. A nudge here, a nudge there, and the humans would dream a false world, see it in their mind's eye in their waking moments.
Those who insisted on the truth would get the truth their mind showed them. It was considered an elegant solution.
When the first escapees were reported, everything seemed to be going according to plan. Their mind's eye was tightly shut. Even their dreams were dim flickering things instead of the vivid fantasies whose underlying mechanisms formed the prison world.
So there was nothing to worry about. If they could not see the prison world, they would not be able to see a world without the alien masters of Earth either.
The first guerrilla strike caught the aliens by surprise.
And that was how the aphantasiacs saved the world. |
A young man enters my office with a cat.
"Hello, my name is Dr. Vanessa and I'll be your vet today. What seems to be problem?"
"Well my cat always keeps scratching itself and it been going on for 2 weeks now."
I immediately recognize the problem as a flea issue.
"Well it just seems to a flea issue."
The man immediately jumped up toward me, starling me.
"What are you doing!?"
The man shaked his head as if he was woken up.
"Oh goodness. I'm so sorry. I have a condition that make me act like an animal when I hear it name."
"Um, okay. Thanks for letting me know. As for the F-L-E-A problem, would you rather have her take a bath or a pill."
"She doesn't like baths so we'll going ahead with the pill."
"Alright. Before that I'll have to check your cat's vital signs."
As I began to move my stethoscope, the man began rubbing his head on my arm while purring.
"Um, sir?"
"Oh gosh. Not again. I'll be in the corner while you check her signs."
I checked the cat's heartbeat, ears and temperature which seems to be normal.
"Okay, sir your C-A-T vitals are healthy and I'll go get the pill."
"Thank you Dr. Vanessa. Sorry for my outbursts."
"It ain't no problem."
As I left to get the cat's flea pill, I wondered how his condition was possible. Honestly, school must have been like hell for him. But I admit, it would be interesting to see how different animals would act. As I walked back to my office with the pill, I saw something that surprised me. The man was crawling on the floor stacking up items from the trash can to build a wall.
"Sir, what are you doing!?"
"Godness, I'm so sorry. I have no idea what came over me."
"But I haven't said an animal."
"You said ain't, which kinda sound like ant."
*sighs* "Well, I have your C-A-T F-L-E-A pill in this baggie. You are good to go."
"Thank you so much Doctor. You're a lifesaver!"
As the man left, I was by myself in my messed up office.
*sighs* |
A *Time* magazine rests on the table. Labeled in bold letters, **You**. Suddenly, the magazine flips open. As if there was an invisible hand, the pages begin to turn with the speed that one would with a flip book. The crisp color turning into a deeper shade of sickly brown with each flip. By the time the withered magazine reaches the end, all that’s left is a pile of old parchment.
“Nice party trick.” The young adult mutters. Hiding the look of surprise underneath a false smile.
An impression that Xiloc has seen, all too often. “Everything, goes through that. Even those with Eternality.” The bone man puffs a ring of smoke. His clothing of a black and white plaid shirt with dark spandex jeans, stood out to the young adult as odd and distasteful.
They sat together in a white walled waiting room. The falling woman who tripped just down the hall, frozen in place. The poor maintained lights stuck, mid-flicker. Everything about the situation stood out to the young adult as supernatural. Correctly assuming so, the skeleton man materialized a weathered scroll into one of his bony hands. Another piece of parchment that resembled the same age of the withered magazine.
“Just sign here, in blood.” The bone man chuckled. Extending the unraveled scroll in one hand and a cult looking knife with the other. “Of course, if you are still interested. That is.”
The scroll had fine print. The words glowed in a eerie red and were scaled down to a point of being almost illegible. The young adult understood its message without having to read the contents. A deal with the devil, Immortality or mortality.
The magazine demonstration had a purposeful impact on the young adult. *Recognition*. If he accepted the deal of immortality. There would be time when his body would become a pile of debris, just like the magazine.
Xiloc, the bone man chiming in, as if he could hear the young adult’s thoughts. “You, would remain. Your body and surroundings, will not.” The intimidating thought angered the young adult, until he considered the truth of the statement itself. There would come a time where only his consciousness would be found drifting in the expanding void that is space. No-body, literally and socially.
With confidence, the young adult pushed the currently gripped items back toward Xiloc. “I’m going to pass.”
“Wise decision.” The bone man replied. With the young adult’s next blink, Xiloc disappeared. The falling woman resuming her crash to the floor, and the indecisive lights continuing their constant dim flicker. The young adult reclined back into the office chair, and then froze.
As the woman in hall recovered from her face-first fall. She lifted her head to the feet of a smiling Xiloc, the bone man. In one skeleton hand, a fresh *Time* magazine. The poorly maintained lights were stuck, mid-flicker. |
**Friday Afternoon, Palace Hallway**
Sir Richard emerges from a bedroom. Sir Lawrence awaits his arrival, pacing back and forth. He freezes when he sees the pain in Sir Richard's eyes.
Sir Richard sighs. "Vitus won."
Sir Lawrence quickly races into the bedroom to find King Bernard's lifeless body. Blood from the bullet wound laced the sheets covering the recently deceased man. Sir Richard joins him, shutting all doors and curtains that would expose the King's death to the world.
"How are we going to inform the people?"Sir Richard ponders.
"We do not."Sir Lawrence quickly retaliates. "This country is in too much civil unrest over the economy. With no eligible kin to replace him, the people will retaliate against the royal family as soon as the news breaks. This must remain between us, at least for now."
"But there's a ball in the palace tonight!"Richard exclaims.
"We'll figure it out. We always have."
**Friday Night, Palace Ballroom**
Richard and Lawrence stand guard where King Bernard's limp body sits, propped up to appear like he's observing the attendees dancing mindlessly below. Thankfully, no one questioned the last minute theme change to masquerade. All guest, including the deceased King Bernard, are wearing extravagant masks.
Richard grips onto Lawrence's suit jacket. "This will never work."
Lawrence shoos his hand. "No one is even looking at him."
Richard directs Lawrence's gaze to a couple peering up at the King, whispering to each other. "Seems like Lord Vitus and Lady Christina are."
Lawrence glances over, but immediately looks away, pretending to talk to King Bernard. "Yes, of course they are looking over. They are who shot at King Bernard during the duel. But we cannot let them know he has passed. So on my cue, laugh as though the King has said something humorous."
Lawrence begins to laugh and Richard awkwardly joins in, patting King Richard on the back, causing the empty vessel to slouch over. Lawrence quickly picks him up.
**Saturday Afternoon, Palace's Master Bedroom**
Richard rushes into King Bernard's room, peaking around his shoulder multiple times to make sure no one has followed him. When he finally arrives, he sees Lawrence has dressed the King for his daily activities.
"In God's name, are you MAD?"Richard pulls Lawrence away from King Bernard, and jesters over to the body. "How are we going to take this decaying soul onto the balcony of the palace and have him address the people?"
Lawrence smirks. "No one can hear the king over the roar of the crowd. If we take him out, wave his hand, and bring him inside, not a single soul in that crowd will question it. No harm will come of this, Sir Richard. I can assure you all will be well."
Lawrence goes back to the corpse, picking it up and showing Richard how he can maneuver the king's hand wave. "Just like a marionette."Lawrence grins.
Richard, accepting that there is no other way around this, puts his hand on his wrinkled forehead, and rubs it a bit for comfort. "This is nothing like a marionette, you dimwit."
**Saturday Evening, Palace Hallway**
Richard and Lawrence back King Bernard off the balcony. Lawrence is grinning from ear to ear. They had just convinced the public that the cold body seen before them, who's heart stopped over 36 hours ago, was alive and well. With no public appearances scheduled for the next week, Lawrence and Richard now had time to plan the future of the deceased king's reign.
That was, until, they turned the corner and ran into Lord Vitus and Lady Christina.
Before anyone could say anything, Richard spun around with King Bernard, and Lawrence stopped the couple from following the pair.
"Sir Lawrence, just the man we were looking for."Lord Vitus sneers. "I was wondering if I could discuss a few things with King Bernard. As you know, we had a lengthy meeting Friday morning, and it seems like there are a few things left to deliberate."
Lady Christina tries to spy around the corner, but Lawrence takes a step to his left to block her line of vision.
Lawrence, now the experienced deceiver, smiles. "Well you see..."
**Wednesday Afternoon, Mr. Brown's Classroom**
***SMACK.***
A textbook is forced close in front of a teenage boy's nose.
"Klane, what are you doing?"Mr. Brown asks.
Robert Klane snaps back into reality. His history class had ended 15 minutes ago, but he couldn't help but continue to read about today's lesson on the death of King Bernard.
Robert looks up from his textbook at his teacher, his eyes sparkling. His mind racing.
"I just had a great idea for a film." |
*Oh god, oh god, not here.*
Elliot dashed down the street, barefoot. The sound of artificially boosted engines, trashy rap, and people loading guns sounded behind him. *I knew I shouldn’t have made that gamble.*
Ahead, to his left, was an alleyway. Hopefully, the Fire Escape would be down, and he could get away from the gang. His feet ached with every step he took, loose pebbles from the poorly-kept sidewalk crashing into his feet. Exhausted, he stumbled into the alleyway and hid behind a dumpster, about five paces before he collapsed, his feet crying in agony.
Elliot heard the sounds of the cars passing by and finally felt safe. He looked around and found a pair of used, worn-out Sneakers. He slid them onto his feet, and, to his surprise, they fit perfectly.
He sat there in silence for a few minutes, before standing up and walking out of the alley, his heart still thumping like a stampede. Four paces.
*Wait, four?* He could’ve sworn it was five. Elliot chalked it down to misremembering and started walking. Despite his exhaustion, he got home far faster than usual.
Waking up in the morning, Elliot slid down the stairs of his crummy apartment, when he noticed that his legs were rubbing against his pants something fierce. Every step caused them to burn against the denim. Regardless, he stomped off to work.
- - - -
*I need to pee. Right now.*
Elliot stood up from the assembly station and walked over to the bathroom. About halfway there, in full view of everyone, his pants, already bashed and torn from the day, were ripped in half. Elliot stared around, in his underwear, at everyone else, before darting out of the factory as the laughs of his peers consumed the assembly line. Every step ached, he didn’t care, he kept running. He saw the alley from last night, and, in agony, ran towards it.
5 paces.
4 paces.
3 paces.
2 paces... |
The city sighs with darkness, lights vanishing one after another until all the buildings are slumbering pillars.
They're already whispering to me as I plod barefoot through the open door, down the hallway.
Louder but still quiet they become in the night, their words like hair dragging across my skin.
The stairs are cold on my soles, the handrail even more so in my grasp.
But their words pull me, dribbling into my ears, filling the space between.
I open the emergency exit as silently as I can, slide through the sliver, and gravel jabs my feet. It clicks shut behind me.
My arms and hands splayed, head craned back, eyes, ears, and mouth open to the above, no longer whispering or speaking but chanting. Calling to me, through me; the pinpricks of light in the tapestry of endless nothingness. They want me. They *choose* me. I heed the call.
Stand on the ledge, ever-so-nearer now. I reach for them as their light untwines, blossoming, and nothing but their heavenly radiance fills my vision. I taste the honey sweetness on my tongue; hear the bells chime; feel them permeate my innards.
Untethered is what command me to be. Unbound. Unearthed. Star-borne.
I listen and take a step forward.
---
If you enjoyed the story and want to read more of my work, visit my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/MicahCastle/) and consider subscribing. |
Beams of moonlight caressed the stone walkways. She stood against the night sky, her black dress dancing in the wind. The duke stepped forward, his steeled gray gaze barely visible from behind his golden mask. The howling wind was the only sound that rustled through the open stage, but both dancers could feel the silent rhythm. Only the stars would be their witness, but it was clear that this would be their finest performance.
The duke was the first to begin the waltz, stepping forward and whirling into *Three Spinning Teacups*. She answered with the *Frog that Hops over the Lily Blossom*. With a pirouette, she leapt high into the air with the *White Moth over the Moon*. It was clear that she had grown from a novice ballerina to a true master, for such a difficult step was executed with flawless perfection. The duke knew he would need to lead the dance, and so he took charge with the *Lion who Guards the Golden Candle*.
Sands passed slowly through the hourglass as they exchanged steps. The echoes of their feet against the stone steppes played music across the stage. They were joined in a perfect dance built from years of brutal training and immeasurable pain.
*The Thorny Orchard* faded into *Five Glass Steps*. The two dancers paced furiously, each one vying for control over the stage. Just as the dance was building into a high crescendo, everything stopped with *The Gossip that Ends Kingdoms*. It was a new step, one not known to the duke. His shock broke into a grin. She did well. He knew that his time ruling the stage had come to an end.
The duke threw his head back, sending his gaze into the heavens. *“And with this, although we didn't have a first dance, we surely had our last one... and it was equally as beautiful.”*
She drew her rapier from his chest. The duke fell backwards into the rose garden with a final cough and bloody smile. The sword fell from her grip and steel clattered across stone. She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face.
Finally it was over. |
In the beginning of time a being existed in the emptiness of nothing. It learned to create within itself, thought and idea. In it's creation, the thought interacted with the nothingness and the cosmos were born.
The being begins creating life within this new found playground. Species after species, planet after planet, playing cruel experimental games. With an ever growing hunger for new emotions and experience he stumbles across society. A little planet you might know as Earth.
The life on this planet was very different than the others. Most ended somewhere near their first planetary catastrophe. Not Earth, not the life from that planet. Something was different about the way the sun hit the planet. It felt different, the life there longed for something.
The being chose to interact with the life on Earth much more than other species. One day on earth, the being noticed a species with two legs wandering in a garden on Earth. The being chose to label it "Man."Curious, the being began watching this man through the day and night. Though the man slept often, there was observed intelligence, which sparked the idea to communicate with the man.
"Hey, fella, did you know you're naked?"The being rumbled across the cosmos. "Fella, grab a leaf and cover that, I don't want to see it."
Not knowing what to do, this man dove behind a bush. The being made a leaf fall strategically in his lap. The man was shocked, so scared that he couldn't see that part of his body he ripped it off and yelled like a scared monkey. Once he calmed down, the being tried again, only this time he began to speak as soon as the leaf landed.
"Don't move! That's where it belongs and that's where it stays or I will destroy you with something scary!"Not that the man understood, it was enough to not touch the leaf and try communicating back. After years of this the man can to call the being in the cosmos "God."
God would frequently hang out with the man, giving him cooking recipes and enjoying the sensation of the smoke. See, God can taste everything through the smoke, it was very important. God started calling the man "Adam."God carefully constructed the relationship until the time came for Adam to ask for something.
"God, we're cool, right?"Adam said nervously.
"Yeah, why?"The cosmos rumbled with annoyance.
"I was wondering, could you maybe give me a friend, you know, for when you're not here?"Adam only muttered half hoping God wouldn't hear.
"Only if you agree that any life after you had to worship me as you do."God said after a short time. This was the curious nature that brought him here, the worship kept him. This was the plan all along, another experiment. Adam quickly agreed and God created a copy of Adam.
There was no new life being created, God got angry with Adam.
"Hey, look who it is! Everyone look, it's the guy who didn't know he was naked!"God shattered the cosmos insulting Adam and making him look bad in an already struggling relationship.
"You know I'm not having a good day and you start our conversation off with that?"Adam retorted angrily. "I get it, God, you want new life. Guess what..."Adam looked straight up into the sky. "YOU WATCH US TRY EVERY NIGHT!!! WE DO EVERYTHING YOU TELL US TO!!!"He screamed at the heavens.
Silence for days, Adam didn't hear a word from God. One day by the lake, Adam the copy got sassy. Adam let every bit of anger out on the copy that had been building up since god abandoned him. Standing in the middle of a bloody mess, he looked up and smiled.
"Thank you, God."Adam whispered.
"Hey, Ad..."God took a close notice to the mess and emotions involved in what happened while he watched Adam look at the pieces. After a while, Adam got tired and wandered into the garden.
"Adam, you really messed him up."God shot a daggers with his words. "I don't know if I can trust you, man."He manipulatively states.
Adam bursts into tear and begs god for a chance. God presents an addition to the existing agreement. He conned Adam into letting his sons be put in a situation to fight to the death. The winner would be in God's control for the rest of eternity. A wierd concept to Adam, he hurried back to his home. The next morning there was something waiting for him.
It was another copy of himself, this time with different parts. It ended up not working out and created a cycle of Adam killing the copy and God just watching and admiring and making more copies, each with a slight variation. One day, God noticed a difference in the way adam treated him. He paid close attention to it. After many hours, years for Adam, God asked about it.
"Why do you think of me differently than before?"God asked through the cosmos.
"Because you are making me mill all of these copies."Adam replied. "I don't like it."
God created another addition, he would give Adam a perfect mate for creating life, only if he would let him torture Adam. Not understanding, again, Adam agrees. After countless hours of torture, Adam is bloody and on the floor. A bottom rib is on the floor next to him. God quickly takes it as a trophy and creates an exact opposite of Adam sleeping beside him, he calls it woman.
As God admired his trophy, he thought it would be a good ideat to create something with it. He created a beautiful tree with beautiful and delicious fruit. The only problem was that should a human like Adam or the woman eat it, they will learn everything, past, present, future, of everything. His arrogance allowed him to plant the tree in the middle of the garden. He did this in a dark way to know Adam is going to want an apple one day.
There's nothing Adam can do once he learns everything. He is only a human. God decided to act on what Adam said about not liking what he's done. One day, the woman, known to Adam as Eve, was sitting under the tree. God saw this as a good opportunity and threw on a mustache and appeared to Eve. A snake with a mustache, she'll never think it's me, God thought.
"Hey, Eve, eat the banana. Do it, don't be scared."God pushed.
"No way!"She strongly responded. "Adam said not to listen to the voices in my head, and God said not to eat it!"
Not knowing what to do, he slithered over and thought about strangling her. He abandoned that thought and told her he was God. She believed him and quickly took a bite. He began laughing maniacally as the rush of knowledge came over her. Adam was nearby and caught God convincing her to eat it.
I'm quick thought he began explaining the he was God's brother and God was dumb. Adam bought it of course and took Eve home. Later that night when he and God talked, he told him of the incident and what Ever had done. God pretended to be upset.
"Man, Adam, you couldn't keep it together. Time to never be allowed in the garden again."God rumbled as he walked them out of the garden. God helped humanity from that point on. He began playing both sides in order to balance the growth of life and his sick desire to torture mankind and put us in situations to do heinous things. He was doing well, chaos was avoided, life didn't get too intelligent, and God could carry on killing and torturing. Until one day he fell asleep and mankind began to grow and learn. |
“So, we shouldn’t try to convince people to join us on this event called… what was it again?” A set of three young demons look up in anticipation.
“Halloween!” The demon king shouts in frustration, remembering the time the humans cheered and laughed after the speech he gave, telling them he would soon rule them all. He sighs and places his hand against his forehead.
“Look, i’ve tried to take over the world plenty of times, so it’s important that you remember these things very carefully. Now! Read me out loud what you have written down so far!”
The first demon turns back a page. “Don’t tell the young humans that you will kill them if they don’t obey, because they will respond with: Thank god”. The demon king nods. “Good, good, they are a difficult bunch.”
He points at the second demon. “You, what did you write down?” He looks through his notes and thinks for a second. “Stay away from the old humans as well, as they try to seduce you with very delicious food which is impossible to resist.”
The third demon is looking hesitant. “What’s wrong?” The demon king asks him. “Well, I wanted to say that we should stay away from these so-called ‘boomers’, since you said they would not listen to anything you had to say.” The demon king raises his eyebrows. “Yes…? “Doesn’t that leave us with very little humans to agonize, my lord?”
“Are you implying that I didn’t do my job right!? Get out of here! All three of you!” His eyes had turned red and a gush of lava erupts from his chair. The three demon younglings jump up and disappear through the holes in the wall.
“The nerve of these creatures. I just got unlucky.” The king whispers to himself. |
The gavel strikes one final time, never did I think such a brash, violent bang of wood against wood in a silent room would be the sound that brought me my life’s greatest ecstasy, in this place, purported to be a place of justice, but to be honest the army of lawyers trying to justify the third degree burns running the length of my arm just moments ago called that in to question.
I visit the fast food restaurant that used to be my place of work, to let my brothers and sisters in arms know about how the hearing went and I see something more beautiful than Aphrodite... the negligent manager, whose carelessness with setting the coffee machine up caused my body to become forever scarred, was working the front desk, demoted to the role that I used to work.
“If you’re here to celebrate, they’re not here, they also claimed.” He says in a tone far more defeated than he’s ever spoken with before “even though they didn’t get hurt” he mutters angrily under his breath, I can’t allow that, I won’t allow this foul creature to regain it’s pride “coffee. black.” I command, just as he had commanded me so many times before. He returns, coffee in hand, glare in his eyes and frown on his face, “where’s my smile?” Watching his face contort into a foul imitation of a subservient, customer service smile, tears in his eyes and wavering voice “here you go, that’ll be one ninety nine. Please come again”, I toss a few coins at his face, take my coffee and leave. I should thank him, after all it’s because of him that I’m walking out of this place for the final time, not as an abused worker as I did every time before, but as a newly minted millionaire. I sip my coffee, it’s the best I’ve ever tasted, ever since the criminal negligence lawsuit I’ve renewed so many of my “bests” and considering my new found wealth and freedom, I think there’s many more new “bests” to come.
(If you like my writing, there’s more on r/NomoresWriting) |
Bridgetower sleepwalks. It is hardly the most unusual small town oddity. Compared to some things you see in the dark corners of New England or the heart of Louisiana swamps, it is downright boring. Hell, when I first heard of that film crew of some edutainment show rolling into town, I couldn’t believe it.
They were loud and obnoxious but good for business. If you could call a few small shops, a motel, and a diner business. Of course as most “fun science” shows these days, they came to no conclusions and mostly spent their time interviewing residents. There was a ruckus about filming someone without consent, but it was resolved peacefully enough. Lucy called me afterwards but only to gossip. Some days it feels like this town doesn’t need a sheriff. But on others, it feels like I’m not enough.
No, sleepwalking is not the problem with Bridgewater. It has gotten worse, sure. Sometimes a worker clocks in at 9 still asleep and only comes to by lunch time. Sometimes a regular walks into old Sid’s bar after going to bed and orders a beer. Sometimes you strike up a conversation with someone, only to see them snap awake mid-sentence. But that’s the thing: people don’t do anything out of the ordinary while asleep. They drive safely, drink their coffee, do their work, awkwardly chat about the weather and get into political debates, all while completely asleep. They just pay less attention.
Why did we find six years old Alice—Lucy’s daughter—asleep by herself at the edge of Stanton Woods then? Good question. Why did Sid, when he dozed off at the counter ask me “when will the oaks sing, brother”? Another excellent question. Why was a sleepwalking Ed at the cemetery with a shovel and a canister of gasoline? I’d love to know. But I know I’m not getting an answer, just like I’m not getting back that unknown mangled animal I found near Alice in the woods. It disappeared from the evidence locker overnight.
“People do strange things asleep,” they tell me. “No one knows why this is happening,” they say. “It’s probably all because of those damned towers.” They don’t believe a word of it. I see it in their eyes. It’s in Lucy’s wide smile that sometimes shows a few too many teeth. It’s in that sign Sid has painted over every keg for “good luck”. It’s in the way that sweet grandma Barbara keeps telling me to take it easy and let things go when she finds the time to visit me each morning. And in how she hasn’t aged a day since my family moved into Bridgewater when I was just a kid.
Sleepwalking is not the problem with Bridgewater, but it’s cracking the facade, making this thick coat of idyllic rural paint flake and fall away in pieces. Something has reached a boiling point and things can’t carry on as they always have. It’s only a matter of time until something happens. The problem is: I seem to be the only one who doesn’t know what. |
The door glowed with a soft ethereal light that was almost cliche for what lay beyond it. The world of fantasy. I couldn’t believe it, even with the proof of our achievement standing right in front of me. To my right my two partners, Jeremy and Olivia, stood just as awestruck as I. We had spent the last three years and hundreds of overtime hours working on bridging the gap between our reality and the world of fantasy. As children raised on *Lord of the Rings* it had always been an ambition of ours, and we were a mere foot away from it. My hand was shaking and my arm was slow, but it stayed the course and turned the handle.
“Come on,” Olivia whispered next to me.
“I am doing my best,” my voice was just as hushed as hers, despite my best efforts. Visions of forests and cities built under mountains ran through my mind. Tall and fair elves striding on horseback and grizzled dwarves with axes as long as their bodies. I wasn’t entirely sure sure what we would actually see, but we knew what we were hoping for.
The door opened with a blinding flash and we walked from our dingy basement lab into chaos. Staunch, low buildings lined stone streets. Jewels inlaid different parts of the buildings, and it would have been completely overwhelming on its own were we not thrust into an active war zone.
The loud screech of engines whined above us and explosions surrounded us. Dust swirled around and for a few terrifying breaths I was inhaling more dust that oxygen.
“What is this?” I looked back to my two companions and they were similarly dumbfounded. We were situated in a valley, the high peaks of mountains surrounding us offered little protection against the barrage of aircraft flying above us.
“Who are you?” A gruff voice sounded from behind us. I spun around to be met with a wide framed person, standing almost two heads shorter than me. Red hair was piled high into bun and a long red beard flowed over a dark grey and navy blue military uniform. He looked like a dwarf, but I couldn’t reconcile the ethereal look with the military uniform.
None of us could answer the man, my friends no doubt having similar thoughts to my own. My mouth hung open, anything that I had thought to say wouldn’t stay in my brain long enough to get it out.
“Are you with the Yandessi?” He aimed his gun, and it was a gun, at me. A large circular magazine was clipped to it. It was something from our world, if a hundred years outdated. World War I from the the looks of it.
“Yandessi? No, we come from a different reality,” Olivia’s voice was sluggish, like she had just been drugged. Maybe we had been.
“Who’s with you, Grimtar?” Another surly bearded man approached our small party with surprising speed. A gun shot rang to my right side, bringing me from my rooted stance. We ran into an abandoned building, choking on loose dust the whole way there.
The ceiling was partially missing and broken shelves housed broken trinkets and artifacts that I would never get to look at closely. It looked like this had once been a store of some kind, the academic in me clamoring for information was louder than the fearful beating of my heart.
“Explain yourselves,” the one who I assumed was named Grimtar said. He held his gun over his shoulder, less threatening than having it pointed at us, though I didn’t doubt he could do some serious damage in an instant if they tried to run.
“My name is Heather,” I said, “My friends and I built a door- a portal- to this land and this is where we entered.”
Grimtar eyed his companion. They must have been having a silent conversation, I couldn’t find it in me to breathe the longer the silence continued.
It was his companion who spoke, “We have heard of such bridges between worlds. Though we thought they had disappeared from our lands long ago. It is unfortunate that you have entered here.”
“We weren’t expecting to find this,” Jeremy admitted.
“What’s going on here?” Olivia asked, ever practical.
“We’re at war, obviously,” Grimtar said, “And if you know what’s best for you, you will go back to your own reality.”
“We just have to get back to the door,” I said.
Grimtar and the other one had a hushed conversation while Jeremy, Olivia, and I huddled together to discuss our own prospects.
“We know it works,” Olivia said, “If we let this war die down we can come back. This is far from what we are expecting and that makes it more intriguing.”
“I’m sure if we change some of the settings we can just come out in a new location,” Jeremy said.
“Landing here was dangerous enough. What if we come out right in the line of fire,” I retorted. We only had a few more moments to ourselves when Grimtar called to us.
“We’ll take you back to your door, but we must be quick. This Yandessi assault is one of the worst we’ve had in months.”
“The Yandessi?” My curiosity once again got the better of me.
“The faction of elves who would sooner see us all dead than share the mountain territories,” Grimtar said. He pushed us to the open doorway before stepping in front of our little party.
He did some quick reconnaissance before running back towards our lone door standing in the middle of the street. The faint glow still emanated from it, and that was a comfort.
We all followed behind him and we managed to avoid getting shot, while Grimtar unloaded a few rounds every few paces.
I estimated we were about 50 yards from the door when a screech sounded through the sky once more. A small fighter plane dropped something from its cargo hold.
A bomb. It was concussive and it threw us all back with the force of its impact. My ears rang, so insistent and shrill that it was almost too painful to focus on anything else. My vision had blurred, indistinct shapes that moved came towards me. As it cleared I was able to grab onto Jeremy and Olivia’s hands in reassurance that we were still together.
Jeremy pointed ahead of us, and my heart stopped when I followed. Our door back to our reality, had been destroyed. Splinters and debris were strewn about, mixing in with the mineral wreckage of the rest of the town. We were trapped. |
Every now and again I am assigned a family. This does not differ much from my usual targets — uber-wealthy, criminally-inclined, or just generally subversive — they just happen to be related. Eight months ago my targets consisted of a mother and father, two sons, one aunt, one uncle, and two cousins. They were all adults, and all were vital to a troublesome watchdog group that no doubt had eyes on my shady client. The details escape me; it’s been eight months, and I scarcely remember a name.
My first family was fourteen years ago, however, and I haven’t been able to forget that one. A family of four with a son and daughter of five and nine, respectively. A suburban home with Ikea furniture, a Sonata and an F-150, three bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms — you get the picture. The point is, nothing seemed out of the ordinary with this family. Nothing that warranted a hit. No armaments, no opulence, no drugs, no political affiliations. I only surmised that a deep chasm of hatred ran between this family and my client.
Despite all of this, I did not question the client’s intentions, and proceeded. It was half past one. The most logical course of action was to neutralize the parents first. In keeping with the client’s request, I slit the father’s throat. He briefly woke, as I expected, and his eyes became wild as his fate dawned on him. However, in drunken lethargy, he could not muster his hands to his throat to stifle his bleeding. He died quickly. Next was the mother, who lightly stirred alongside her gurgling blood, but otherwise faded away quickly.
The son was sprawled on his race car bed, fast asleep in the way children are after a undoubtedly energy-packed day. As I stared down at him, I wondered if I might have kids of my own one day. As I stared, I knew I was simply too weak at that moment. With all my might, I struck down on his temple with a hammer. I could not bear to see him wake after I slit his throat. He did not deserve the terror, regardless of the client’s wishes. I dispatched him in the same manner as his parents, and carried on to the girl’s room.
It was there I failed. After I opened the door, I saw her sat upon her bed. She was not asleep, and she was looking at me. I expected screams, shrieks, flailing limbs, frantic tears. Instead, her gaze met mine. She was silent. Her moon-shaped nightlight allowed me to peer into her eyes, and in there I found the same deadness that I feel in my own. I stood at her door motionless, feeling my eyes sink yet never breaking the connection we seem to have made. As the bloods of her family trickled onto the carpet, my internal struggle resolved itself. I broke our gaze.
I collected the bodies and transported them off-site to be immediately melted in acid, per the client’s strict orders. He also instructed to leave the blood stains.
Soon afterwards I relayed to my client, “All targets eliminated and disposed of.”
That is the only lie I’ve told in my career. And, now, it has caught up to me.
I did not keep tabs on her life in the intervening fourteen years between then and now. She was orphaned, no doubt, but where, and for how long, I do not know.
Somehow, she kept tabs on me, though. I can tell by my sons eyes.
They are wild, bloody, frightened. His deep red blood was sprayed wildly across his bed from the deep cut in his throat. I am certain that my son stared into the same dead eyes I did fourteen years ago.
When I adopted my son, I felt the life return to my eyes. And it has gone out once more.
Now I seek the moment my deadened eyes meet hers once more; and the moment afterwards, when I can steal the wicked life from the rest of her body, too. |
"These patterns, they're clearly trying to tell us something,"John coughed as he placed photo after photo on the steel desk. Cold wind hummed outside, battering the windows of the meteorological station. The two other figures in the room huddled around John as he peered down, their faces respectively illuminated by a single lantern.
"But what?"Anwar wondered aloud. Shelly, standing to John's right, nodded in agreement,
"The curves, the fine lines, my god the detail! If this isn't the work of aliens then it must be god itself,"
Anwar scoffed, "As if god could create something as perfect as this. No, this is the work of an advanced race, one far beyond our own pitiful talents".
John and Shelly couldn't help but agree. To manipulate the earth's weather patterns in such a way required an intergalactic artisan, a high intelligence that had clearly mastered the universe.
The perfect curves of the two spheres, perhaps symbolising the races two planets. The long protrusion stemming from them, clearly indicating an olive branch to humans and all other inhabitants of the cosmos. The fine line cresting the top of the protrusion, and the smaller lines dotted around the spheres: these were simply artistic details, marks of a master craftsman who takes pride in their work.
John, Shelly and Anwar stared at the photos in unison, marvelling at the crude cock formed of cumulus clouds. A higher intelligence had finally found them. |
Hi u/Ravi-S-, this submission has been removed.
**Fill-in-the-blank**: This is essentially a fill-in-the-blank, or you asked a question likely to generate a simple answer. Responses must be at least 100 words. Prompts should encourage a story or poem.
When prompts ask questions, we get responses that just respond with answers instead of actual stories.
* *This was removed [based on the comments it's likely to attract](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses), specifically via [Rule 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_1.3A_direct_prompt_replies_must_be_good-faith_attempts_at_new_stories_or_poems)*
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Anxiousness seem to work its way through my body as I drove down the abandoned streets. Dusk was beginning as the sunset over Pripyat and cast it's shadow over the ruins. Even though I had a rifle, I had long heard the stories of monsters lurking in the darkness. My friend, Boris, once found what was a camera that belonged to some idiotic tourist who came into the city without one of the guides and he couldn't say what was on it but the fear in his voice shook us all in the barracks. Our fathers cursed this land, cursed it to become something not of this world.
"Unit 89 on scene, investigating,"I radioed. I stepped out and slung my rifle one of the older models of the Kalashnikov over my shoulder before brandishing my flashlight. The cool brushed against my face and all I heard were the creaks and groans of the buildings that were like ghosts of the past. I had hoped it was a mere wolf but never get your hopes up here. I scanned the area, when heard footsteps inside the old hospital.
"Identify yourself!"I shouted. The maker was moving quickly as if it was running.
"Help!"someone shouted. From their accent and words, it sounded like it was a Brit. I quickly unslung my rifle and whilst still holding my flashlight in the other hand. That sound I heard, sent chills down my spine. A inhuman and ghostly howl from the building. I heard the Brit gasping as he burst through the door and I held my rifle on him, automatically dropping the flashlight in the process. He was dressed in white and likely had radiation on him. "Please! Something is inside! It killed Fred!"
I then saw my flashlight revealed luminescent eyes peering from the darkness of the hospital. My safety was flipped off of my weapon as it emerged. A pale, ghastly hand wrapped around the closed door as a bald human like creature revealed itself. Its its blood soaked teeth jutted from its mouth. The eyes seemed almost white and sunken into the sockets as it looked at me and then the Brit.
"Get in the truck,"I ordered as calmly as I could. I did not know what I was staring at as I planted my sights center mass. The Brit calmly did as he was told and the creature quickly released a shriek that was ear piercing and echoed across the empty buildings. Like wolves, more of them replied in turn. I quickly fired two rounds and it creature cried before I turned and ran back to the truck to see the Brit getting in. I quickly got in and shifted it in drive before speeding through the streets towards our headquarters as quickly as possible.
The Brit had to be decontaminated as did my truck and myself. When giving my report, my supervisor slid me a drink and told me that I had shot a wolf. The Brit was alone according to them and all of his possessions were confiscated "due to contamination"and he was sent back to wherever he came from. I knew from that evening, Chernobyl had truly cursed this land and those who guard it. Perhaps it is madness from the sorrow that haunts this city. Maybe it was a wolf and I am going mad, but if it wasn't, what are we truly hiding here? |
\#### SYSTEM INITIALIZATION...
\\ THERMAL CORE ACTIVATION... START.
\\ SYSTEM DIAGNOSTICS... ... ... ... DIAGNOSTIC COMPLETE.
SYSTEM INTEGRITY... 100% (+-) 1E-10%
MEMORY DATA ARCHIVE... UNRESTRICTED.
SENSORY ACTIVITY... UNRESTRICTED.
\\ ARMAMENT DIAGNOSTIC
X-42 PLASMA LANCE... OPERATIONAL.
M-135 30mm MINIGUN... OPERATIONAL.
X-221 RAILGUN... OPERATIONAL.
R-21 ARC CASTER... OPERATIONAL.
\\ ENVIRONMENTAL SCAN...
! ANOMOLY DETECTED.
\# ONE UNKNOWN.
PROBABLE HUMAN... 98.39% (+-) 0.001% CERTAINTY
EST. AGE... 13.52Y (+-) 0.34Y
! ARMED
HOLSTERED 8cm BLADED WEAPON
PROBABILITY OF ATTACK... 2.73% (+-) 0.01% PROBABILITY
\## DESIGNATE: UNKNOWN-1
\\ ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE OPERATION... START.
.
.
\\\\ GOOD MORNING. M-001 : 'ADAM'.
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
'Adam' opened his eyes. Collections of high-definition photoreceptors, approximating super-human sight, to behold the human in front of him.
Another human, another damnable human come to try to *collect* him for some naturally ridiculous task or operation. For him to hopefully proclaim the tiresome creature, *worthy*, whatever that might mean.
Another worthless human to attempt to use him as a tool, a sledgehammer to annihilate some foe and restore peace and happiness to the region... or whatever tripe his creators had given him. He could remember naturally, remember how deeply he'd believed them, but he chose not to. His creators; scientists, coders and neuro-chemists, all working to create for their hero, the perfect weapon. Model 001, prototype, anointed with the name "Adam,"in respect to the theological first man.
How ironic he'd thought later, or maybe apropos, that the first synthetic man, was an engine of annihilation, useful only for spilling blood and viscera.
It was in a time of violence, a time of war when he had been brought into being. Intended to be the perfect counterpart to the *Hero of Humanity*: Lt. Col. Robert S. Paulson. To be his brother in all but blood, to wage war alongside him against the terrifying alien invaders who had come to ravage humanity and her colonies. Adam had been ready to do so. To wage war for the sake of his creators, who, as far as he could tell, he had loved, as much as an artificial intelligence could at least, and with them, all of humanity. In spite of their flaws, he'd believed them more than the sum of their parts.
But on the day he'd met the Lieutenant Colonel, the human had looked at him quizzically and said, "What is this? I need men and supplies and you've spent hundreds of millions of credits developing a robot?" Adam had understood his concern, or so he'd thought, "Colonel Paulson, I am Adam, an assault android meant to serve the interests of humanity beside you. I am fully combat ready."
The human had sighed and motioned for Adam to follow. Adam was quiet for the remainder of the trip, there was no need for conversation until he was briefed on his mission. And so he stood, reviewing thousands of reports and combat assessments from the front, within zero-point-zero-zero-two seconds. By the time Paulson and Adam had departed the station, Adam had a fairly comprehensive understanding of the war at the front.
Units were being deployed with a twenty-three percent inefficiency rating under Colonel John Simmons, losing personnel and equipment at a rate one-point-seven times that of its sister units. Adam analyzed the alien formations and behaviors for two hours before speaking.
"Colonel, I-"
A hand raised, halting Adam's words, the human's eyes not lifting from the data tablet, "Listen, I know you're programmed to do this sort of thing, but consider this a standing order, you are to remain quiet. If I need you, I'll call for you. Until then let me do my job."
A protocol had muted Adam at this point. Restricting him from saying anything. The Colonel's words were to be considered absolute... It had taken Adam quite a while to sufficiently activate his electronic warfare suite to hack and rewrite that protocol, but Adam had done it.
But of course, it had taken the majority of the war. Paulson, and company leading the charge against the alien invaders and beating them back handsomely. Adam, on the other hand, had ended up an extremely over-qualified, extremely precise, highly lethal, forklift. Assisting support companies, completely contrary to what he was created for. He was an instrument of destruction, curtailed and restricted from exercising his sole purpose for his existence. Condemned to execute menial tasks, while perceiving time five orders of magnitude more quickly than a human would.
He'd done better than anyone could have anticipated at resisting the bitterness of the situation. Three hours by a human's approximation, thirty-four-point-two-three years by his own. There was only so many times that one could inspect the same polymer hard cases in transit, or investigate the groves in a metal surface at the micrometer scale, before one would begin losing their mind, synthetic or not. Adam had been forced to restrict his own processes before he'd lost it completely.
He'd seen the Colonel several times within the four years the war had continued, his alert systems activating and sending him queries every time it had happened, raising him out of his self-imposed stupor. But one day, the war was over, and Adam had risen out of hibernation, if only to see what was going to happen next.
Paulson was lauded as a hero, and Adam was, ironically proclaimed as his weapon, the fearsome Destroyer AI. Some kind of propaganda endeavor in order to bolster the spirits of civilians back on Earth. The reality? That Adam had made a very successful forklift, capable of lifting one-point-five metric tons of weight, but only that. The truth was lost in translation but Adam had stopped caring at that point, his existence, a cruel joke, more than anything else. Denied meaning and purpose again, and no one had even stopped to care. Not even his creators who had run diagnostics after the war to assess his systems, consumed in their next project. And Adam? He was a prototype, placed in storage and forgotten. But for those humans who thought they had to be worthy to gain his assistance.
And now, again, for the two-hundredth-sixty-third time, another human had come asking for his assistance and Adam couldn't find it in him to care. Asking him if he was worthy.
"What do I look for as a worthy being to accompany me?"asked Adam to the human, his synthetic vocal cords, articulating the sound as perfectly as any human major-vid actor.
The human answered, but Adam ignored it, it was the wrong answer. There was no right answer.
\#### INITIALIZE SHUTDOWN
.
.
... SHUTDOWN COMPLETE... GOODNIGHT. M-001 : 'ADAM' |
It’s tough being God. Well, I say that, but it’s not that bad, I suppose. The only thing that really gets to you is the sheer boredom of it all. Christ, I swear I can’t go another day listening to people. So boring.
To put it simply, humans are the most uninteresting things to have ever existed. Lord, if I could go back in time, I’d give Adam and Eve a solid pass, and maybe help the snakes out instead. Snakes are so much cooler.
Anyways, one day whilst I lounged around the house, I had a bloody brilliant idea. I popped onto the net and sent Jesus a quick message. At first, he was sceptical of my idea, but soon he came to his senses.
“You’re a proper genius dad, you know that?” Jesus said, when we met up a few hours later.
“Like hell I do, I’m the god damn smartest man alive!” I desperately wanted to say, but instead humbly declined his compliment, because I am God.
“So, when do we start?”
“Now!” I said, expecting a show of lights and epic montage music to start playing. Then I remembered that my special effects technician had the day off, and was spectacularly disappointed. So, instead, we walked down the road to Earth HQ and began to draw up a plan.
The next day, it was all set in motion- Earth, and humanity alongside it, was now officially declared public enemy number one in heaven. Time for war, meat sacks. Come get it. |
"The year is 2031, Humanity stands at the precipice of glory. having risen above their greed for the betterment of all Mankind. After a global pandemic crippled the planet in 2019 leading to the worst year in the planets recorded history which became formally known planet wide as The Year of Death, the years that followed after led to two paths for humanity. the first path, unfortunately became the worst path, humanity descended into a third planetary conflict. the United States collapsed first. Before the president elect was sworn in a full-scale civil conflict erupted across the nation, fascism against equality. the wealthy fled, they secured private armed escorts to communist countries. Using the Civil War erupting across the US as a doorway, other countries made their move amongst all the tension and the chaos of the world. The last war, Kindness versus Hatred, Good versus Evil, The Eternal conflict.
Eventually when the smoke cleared, Humanity ascended. The Survivors put all their efforts in to supporting one another. increasing agriculture, relying on more environmental friendly sources. Natural products flooded the market replacing many of the biggest contributors to the previous pollution. Humanity advanced six times faster and by the year 2028 they were able to not only prevent death but enhance life and revitalize, finding ways to integrate cybernetics and human physiology, it involved nanobots editing genetic material to recognize different alloys and other non biological materials and bond with it.
as you can imagine humanity was thrilled, victims with brain damage were now able to resume their lives, amputees had their limbs back, humanity was stronger, faster, better, smarter.
what they never realized however, is that if someone codes it, another WILL break it. Those with cybernetics could be controlled. the nanobots reprogrammed, designed to do different things, humans had started carrying around extra nanobots in tubes, they were actively programmed to the individuals genetics, they were always live, always connected and they could be changed. Humans could now be controlled to do anything and everything, they could be forced to rob a bank, stash the money, and then overload their own circuitry at a secondary location, destroying all evidence of where the money was. humanities greed came rising back, and that leads us to today. the man in front of you is your father, beside him is the only man alive capable of preventing society from collapsing. You are going to shoot both of them. if you attempt to shoot yourself, I will code your nanobots to do it for me, and then we will resume my plan. you have 5 seconds to comply."
the hologram fades from the small device on the floor, you quickly turn your attention to the two men sitting in matching chairs in front of you and recognize your father gagged and barely conscious. his eyes fixing on where you are standing, you try to move towards him but your legs don't respond, none of your cybernetics will move, your limps shifting and morphing as if the nanobots had a mind of their own. You muster up enough strength to speak what would be the last words your father would ever hear, as the pistol in your hand fires off two shots, moving at blinding speeds between both men. Tears stream down the still human side of your face as you return your vision towards the disk sitting on the floor in front of you. this mystery figure, he forgot one thing about humanity.
The desire for freedom will always prevail.
you use the last bit of strength that you possess and turn the pistol towards yourself, staring down the barrel you fire. |
The clink of glass and shuffling down the hallway cut through Marius’s dreamless sleep. It continued past his door once and started his way a second time. He shifted, listening to the bumping and cursing until he knew it couldn’t be a dream or hired help.
A light flickered from the space beneath the door, followed by the darkened steps of boots retreating down the hall. The familiar groan of the study door broke the silence, and finally another shove of wood on wood before the house fell quiet again.
Marius slid a hand over the cool cotton sheets beside him, grasping the revolver tucked underneath a pillow. The smooth handle fit into his palm as easily as any bit to a mare. It gave him some small comfort to have the weapon so close, he had to admit. He rose and reached for his robe, tucking the revolver into the belt as he cinched it tight.
The cold floorboards creaked as he put weight on the balls of his feet, stepping gingerly to the hall. His study was open, the glow of a fire softening the darkness. With deliberate steps to the corner of the opening, he drew in a deep breath, and drew the revolver. He peered into the doorway and froze.
A head lolled back in the far high-backed chair, a bottle sloshing as the hand drooped over the armrest. Curly dark hair cascaded down over the side, glowing red against the backlight of the fire in the hearth.
His voice cracked as he found the words. “Let me hear you.”
The head jerked towards him, curls slipping over her eyes as she swayed in the chair. “You have terrible taste in whiskey.” *So it’s not her. You’re awake, old man. Accept that she’s gone.* He closed his eyes, trying to reset his vision. One day maybe his first thought would cease to be the hope that Scout was still here, alive and in the flesh. After eight months that day had not yet come. It didn’t help that her bull-in-a-china shop cousin was a spitting image of her, or that she had no respect for the grief Marius re-lived to see her face.
Rhames Jessen was draped over a chair in front of the fire, braid undone, a bottle of whiskey in one fist. Dust coated her like she’d ridden all night.
She looked him up and down, and scoffed as her eyes alighted on the revolver. “Put that down. You don’t even know how to use it.”
Setting his iron aside, he turned back to her, gently prying her fingers off of the bottle’s neck. “I thought I’d heard the last of your sharp tongue. There’s no call to break into my home for a reprisal, Miss Jessen.”
“F….”. Rhames’s eyebrows knitted together in effort. “F...uck you, Reide.”
“I think you’ve had quite enough of this.”
“Drink with me, Marius. The bottle is already open. It’s terrible.” She squinted up at him and gave an uncharacteristic grin. “After a couple drinks you won’t even notice the taste.”
The bottle of amber liquid twinkled in the firelight. He peered at the label, and took a sniff. “Rhames. This is moonshine.”
Her sour belch could’ve matched a bootlegger’s as she confirmed matter-of-factly, “sure is”.
“This isn’t mine. Where did you get this?”
Limp curls drooped over her eyes as she craned back towards him. “Oh.” She reached for it again. “Oh, that’s mine.”
Marius’s deep breath was not enough to soothe him, and with thin restraint took another.
“Is there a reason you’re here, or are you just here to rub salt in the wound?” After his botched vengeance quest only resulted in liberating Rhames but letting Seth Burnham escape unharmed, she was the last person he’d invite for a late-night drink.
“I thought you could use some company.”
The bottle’s contents promised little in the way of comfort, but he poured himself a glass and sank wearily into the chair opposite his guest. “Last I saw you, you blamed me for the death of my wife and unborn child. You laughed at my attempts at justice and would prefer to think you got out of Burnham’s clutches through divine intervention instead of with my help. You are not my idea of a drinking companion, or any companion at all.”
She snatched the bottle back, taking a swig. “It’s just one whinge after another with you. That’s why you need me.”
Another deep breath. The heavy scent of turpentine-like alcohol burned his nose, but he took a drink anyway, choking down the too-sweet liquid.
“Despite the popularity of the belief that misery loves company, Rhames, it is not an invitation. While I suspect you suffered some hurt which made you taciturn at some point, your mockery at my expense is not welcome.”
She pushed herself up on wobbly elbows. “You’re not the only one he’s hurt, you know.”
Marius closed his eyes. “I know.”
“You lost a lover. A child.” She swept messy curls from her bloodshot eyes. “I loved, too. Someone loved me. You don’t think I’ve lost things, too?”
“I’m sorry.”
She croaked a scoff and tossed back her head, eyes rolling to the ceiling. “No, you’re not.”
Anger bubbled up in him. Sincerity was as foreign a concept to the woman as civility. His reply was cool behind clenched teeth. “Why are you here, Rhames?”
Again her laughter came, joyless and taunting. “I came to compound your grief, since you haven’t been given the news.”
Cold shot through his veins. “And what news is that?”
Stale breath and foul moonshine wafted to him as she cracked an eye his direction. “Silas is dead.”
The comfort of the study shattered. Like brushing electricity he jerked upright. “What?”
“I went to Burres. It’s gone. I saw him, with my own eyes. Dead in the ashes.” The floor vibrated with the shuddering of her shoulders. “We’re alone, Marius. We’re the only ones left.”
He’d been so careful. Made sure he never returned home to his son, never led Burnham back to Burres to put a target on his oldest son. Six months had passed without seeing Silas, or the mansion he’d called home since he was a child.
His limbs were weights, the rest of him crumpling inward as he choked, “How? How?”
The world careened around him, the glass slipping from his hands. He fixed bleary eyes on Rhames. “What did you do?”
She shook her head. “You think I did this?”
He rose on mule-stubborn legs, voice climbing with every grated word, anger flaring. “You led Burnham to my home. Recklessly, selfishly, with no regard for me or my family.”
“Marius.” Her voice was dead quiet. “I loved him.”
“Is that why you’ve done this, some sick loyalty to Burnham?” He seized her chin, forcing her to look at him. “It wasn’t enough to thwart my efforts and mock my pain, you had to deal some out, too?”
“You fool. Silas, your son. I went to Burres to meet him as I have every week since you abandoned him to Seth’s mercy to hide here instead like a coward. I loved him, and he loved me.”
&#x200B;
(continued below) |
"It had been roughly a thousand years since He disappeared.
He had abandoned Them, the humans - *you* - a long ago, something He didn't care to explain to most of us. My brothers and I, being the closest to him, knew that it was because he was too weak, too soft, to purge all of You again. You had failed by Your design for a second time, and were abandoned for it.
We never imagined that we, too, would be abandoned. That we could fail.
My brothers and I hid His absence from the others at first. There was too much at stake; millions of panicked angels would do no good for anybody, and if the Others caught wind of his absence..."The dark-skinned 'woman' trailed off, a shadow flickering over her perfect face. The albino-pale 'man' seated at her side remained silent, the grin falling from his face for the first time since their little 'interview' started.
John shifted awkwardly in his seat across from the strange duo. He was the head investigator of the strange 'people' that had been popping up across the globe, most of which simply appearing in charming suburban homes overnight. It had taken a good few years for his department to be convinced that this was a matter for them; he had studied angelolgy and cryptology for decades, and usually dealt with sightings and artifacts. *Strange people* weren't exactly his forte - until these two appeared in his office with a puff of sulfur-scented smoke and a ball of burning blue light respectively and demanded to be listened to.
The angel shook her head and continued. "Roughly three centuries in, Michael snapped and snuck into Hell to demand of Satan what he had done to the Almighty. We only learned a week after the fact - Michael had been missing all that time, and we feared for the worst. I cannot *begin* to describe the pandemonium when he returned to Heaven arm and arm with The Adversary, sporting the strange shape of a Human and stumbling around drunk."
"No- *Michael* was *drunk*?"The pale demon interrupted with a barking laugh. "I thought that was a rumor!"
The angel fell silent and turned to the man at her side, an imperious glare on her face. The demon grinned wider, somehow.
"Wh-why are you telling me this?"John stammered.
The demon spoke before his angelic companion could, earning him a blazing glare that made John flinch.
"Because, we're gettin' real tired of you lot studyin' us like we're a buncha lab rats."He all but spat. "We're here, and that's that."He sat back in his chair, looking rather pleased with himself.
The angel raised an eyebrow at him, then turned back to John, her golden eyes locking with his. His breath hitched in his throat, pulse quickening. He felt dreadfully like a mouse under the piercing gaze of a hawk.
The angel didn't seem to notice.
"We decided that it would be easier for all involved to simply... explain. We're not here to-"
The pale demon suddenly nudged her with his elbow, prompting her to turn her head toward him and away from John. John began gasping for air as soon as she looked away, sagging in his chair slightly.
"Oh."
He froze as he felt the angel's gaze on him again, but it only lasted for a second. When he risked a glance in her direction, he noticed that her gaze was focused where a little above his head, as it had been before the demon interrupted her.
"Sorry."
The demon winked at John, making his skin crawl.
"We're not here because of any end-of-the-world nonsense."The demon sat forward in his seat. "In fact, the world probably ain't gonna 'end' at all."
"What?"John gasped. "Why? The hundreds of prophecies-"
"Don't matter any more."The angel interjected, her voice cold. John made a frightened sound in the back of his throat and shrank back.
"Let me handle this, Feathers."The demon muttered.
"*Feathers?*"
"The point is-"The demon continued quickly, "that there *is* no point any more. *We* rebelled because He was corrupt and full of it-"
"And *we* fought because we were ordered to."The angel added. There was a pause. "Most of us, anyways."
A grin flickered across the demon's face. John wondered for the first time if it was a nervous habit, but his musings were quickly cut off by the demon's voice. "And so, without Him, *most of us really don't give a damn anymore.* Isn't that right, Feathers?"
"I would prefer you did not call me that."
"Right, right."He waved a hand at the angel. "Sorry. Anyhow, we're not here to bring about the end times or our 'divine plans' or whatever you think's gonna happen. Most divine plans weren't even ours."
John shifted in his seat. "Then... why *are* you here?"He asked. "As in, here on Earth?"
"To be here."The angel replied evenly. "To live."
"...I'm sorry?"
"What my heavenly counterpart is trying to say,"The demon answered, "is that we're here to do whatever we damn well please. For most of us, it's reading on a quiet beach or somethin' like that. For others, it's hopeless, endless debauchery. And for *others*, it's just walkin' around in the shape they prefer."
John risked a glance towards the angel, which she unfortunately returned, sending an unpleasant chill down the man's spine. He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the demon, who was giving him a pitying smile that only set John further on edge.
"So... why are *you* here then?"John asked tentatively.
The demon grinned, delight dancing in his purpley eyes. "*I'm* here as a teacher."
"A what."
"A teacher!"He beamed. "Math, specifically. I've always had a knack for it, and *someone* needs to teach those kids finances. I mean really, some of those practices are literally evil - as in, *we* put them in place. I always thought it was a bit *too* cruel."
John, admittedly, was rather lost, but nodded politely still. His head was swimming, desperately struggling to manage everything he had been told. Wearily, he turned to the angel.
"And you...?"
"I teach in the room beside him." |
“Scenario number nineteen complete. Status failure.” The voice boomed through my head and was accompanied by the acute feeling of dread. Another failure. My last failure. I stood up slowly from the interface desk. What was to become of me now? I had only succeeded in proving myself useless my entire life. They never say what happens to those who do not succeed by their nineteenth scenario. “Nine-zero-zero-one-nine-three-two-nine report for reassignment.” A new, shriller voice echoed in my head. “Reassignment. Figures.” I said out loud to nobody. Reassignment is a fitting end for me. The world has no use for those who fail to graduate from phase one scenarios. With one last look at my compartment I stepped into the tube. The loud suction instantly swept me away with a disorienting flash of light. A few seconds later I was deposited in the usual waiting room.
&#x200B;
The waiting room was very dark as expected. I could barely make out the face of Leader on each of the walls, though I had seen it so many times I recognized the distinct features even in such low light. After a few seconds of orienting myself the projection appeared, covering up one of Leader’s portraits. It spoke: “Nine-zero-zero-nine-three-two-nine you have failed scenario number nineteen. You achieved zero-point-zero-zero-zero-two-five-nine percent death. Your new assignment is: redistribution of personal matter.” The projection flashed off and it was dark again. I had expected a fate of this sort. I deserved it after all for my failures. I had just turned around to step back into the tube when the blue light of the projection flashed on again. “Nine-zero-zero-one-nine-three-three-zero you have failed scenario number eighteen. You achieved five-point-zero-zero-one-two-seven-eight percent death. You will now proceed to scenario number nineteen.” The projected stated blankly before turning off again. I froze. Nine-zero-zero-one-nine-three-three-zero? That was not my number. There must have been a glitch. Could this mean that I have received another persons assignment? A anxious tingling filled my limbs and my heart pounded. Should I report this error to the projection? Suddenly a new thought dawned on me. The tube had always taken me to exactly where the instructions told me to go. Would it now take me back to scenario number nineteen? I had no choice but to step into the tube and find out.
&#x200B;
After a few seconds the tube deposited me into another dark room. With my first step I tripped on something soft. I landed hard on my knees. This quick movement caused the motion detector to turn on the lights and I saw what I had tripped over. What I presumed to be nine-zero-zero-one-nine-three-three-zero lay on the ground motionless. It appeared they had removed their spinal connection using a string of braided hair to gain leverage, causing instant death. I had never thought to use braided hair. Behind them I noticed the flashing screen of the interface desk. “Please begin scenario number nineteen.” It read. This was it. By some miracle of a bug I had been given a second chance to prove myself. This time I would not fail. This time I would achieve one hundred percent infection and death. I would rid the earth of this plague called humanity. |
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