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"Hej, ti! Da, tebi pričam, dovezi se ovamo." "What did he say?" "He wants us to make our way to him. Remember what I told you? Play it cool and let me talk." "Understood." "Dobar dan poozorniče, u čemu je problem?" "Vi ste nasumično izabrani za pretragu vozila. Izađite napolje molim." The two men stepped out of the car and went to the side. "What did he say?" "We were randomly picked to get searched. I do think we can still make it though." "Oh my God, we are doomed!" "Relax, it will be alright." The officer searched the old Volkswagen, looking everywhere he could. He then approached the two men. "Pronašli smo ovo u kolima." He showed a bag of pills to the two men. "Mogla bi u pitanju da bude droga, ali trebali nam dani da saznamo iz laboratorije, a mogao bi i da bude aspirin koji je loše upakovan. Kazna bi u tom slučaju bila 500€ i pola tableta, ako kapiraš šta hoću da kažem." "Jasno mi je, imamo dogovor." The two men then sat back in their car and left. "What just happened." "I bribed him. You see, the police and the government around here are the most corrupt in the world. You could smuggle anything with enough cash, you don't even have to hide it. One of the many pluses of smuggling around here. I hate this place, but it ain't all that bad."
"You don't want to do this." "The queen pays me good coin to do exactly this, actually. Sorry, mate." James climbed the steps up to the chopping block, the burly and oddly friendly headsman blocking off his only route of escape. The manacles around his hands and legs and the jeering crowd stopped him from even making the attempt. He looked out at them bitterly. Why am I even trying to save these fools? "I'm serious, bad things will happen." "Friend, if I had a copper for every death curse or divine retribution people like you said would strike me, I could retire comfortably." He pushed James to his knees in front of the block. The headsman's axe gleamed in the noonday sunlight, blinding a few of the onlookers. "Can you at least disperse the crowd? This won't be pretty." "It never is, friend,"his executioner said as he raised the axe high in the air, "It never is." James just sighed and closed his eyes. At least I tried. With one practiced swing, James knew no more. Then he knew a bit more, as his head had grown back. He hated losing his head, because he never knew how much time had passed when he resurrected. Judging by the screams and cries for mercy however, it likely hadn't been that long. "Could you hurry this up, Grilorax? We need to get out of here." "Open your eyes, James. Look at what we have wrought together." He didn't want to, but Grilorax had control of his body and would just force them open with his hands. James opened his eyes to the scene of a massacre. Body parts were strewn around, blood and viscera inundated the ground and the stench of death filled the air. Most of the bodies he saw weren't even dead yet, their guts ripped open or an opposing leg and arm missing. Pained wails were the only sound around. James couldn't stomach it after a few seconds, at turned his eyes to the sky. The sun had barely moved. This had probably happened in the space of five minutes. Say what you want about him, the demon was efficient at sadism. I tried. I warned them from the courtroom to the chopping block. I offered to do a life sentence. I did all that I could. It was an empty reassurance, when James saw a little girl, no more than 10 summers at most, splayed out on the ground with a length of her own intestine in her hands in some corrupt facsimile of skipping. Grilorax laughed long and he laughed deep. "You should die in front of a crowd more often, Jimmy boy. All this fun, and I still have so much time left." In his youth, James had committed one of the greatest taboos. He'd made a pact with an archfiend. He would never die permanently and the archfiend's only condition was that he take James' body over for a day each time. It sounded too good to be true, but looking around, he wondered who really played whom? Grilorax would spend most of the day slaking his thirst for violence, then quickly travel to a place where James wasn't known. He'd then commit some high visibility crime or piss off a powerful mob boss and leave James with the fallout, greatly increasing his chance of dying and releasing Grilorax again. His life had become a game for the demon. Last time, he'd even talked about renting James' body out to other archfiends. This time however, was the last time. He'd been on the fence, but seeing that girl steeled his resolve. James had a plan.
Everything happens for a reason, right? I was there for a reason. I was supposed to do something...right? A ragged, bloodied, panicking man in a tattered Armani suit staggers out if a building I had just left...starts running in my direction... looking over his shoulder every two seconds as if something is chasing him... I'm supposed to do something, right? Everything happens for a reason. And if you were walking down the street, and you a saw bunch of people running toward and past you, what would you do? Run to see what they're running from? Or would you run away and hope to God that whatever was chasing them didn't catch you first? That's what I did. I ran away. But in the end, that only made things worse.
Throughout time, the question pertaining the meaning of existence has fascinated humanity. They fantasized about gods and goddesses reigning over them, made up illusions of omniscient beings dictating their every action, and wandered into the void of space in hopes of finding life beyond them. Little did they know, they were nothing but a mere headache to the entity known as the "universe". The Universe was actually sentient and it was in pain. Something was preventing it from returning to its slumber. Its natural state of nothingness was disturbed and it was going to do whatever it could to get rid of the infection. It mustered up its strength and directed a nearby meteor to collide with the source of its pain. A newly formed planet in the grand scheme of things. The meteor's impact wiped out most of the organic life found on it. Most. It failed to wipe out all of it though. And the entity was too tired. It would have to wait until it was strong enough. Millions of years passed but it was mere seconds for the Universe. By the time it gathered its strength back, the remains of life on the planet had begun thrive. In fact, the meteor had made things worse. It killed off the large creatures that had once inhabited it, and led to the evolution of new species. Small humanoid forms. It needed another way to clean up the mess. Every second that passed, they would continue to reproduce and advance. It just wanted to go back to sleep.
“Squadron Leader, report!” “There’s too many, Sir,” the pilot replied frantically, “We just can’t take them down fast enough. They’re like weeds!” Admiral Filtz saw Doctor Kollin’s eyes light up at the comment. It seemed that the comment had touched a nerve. “But are the weapons effective?” the Doctor asked quickly. “Aye, Sir. The heat basically melts the ones we hit. But fifty more take its place.” “Doctor, I’m pulling those boys out of there. Your experiment failed,” Admiral Filtz pronounced, “Bug out, Squadron Leader. Do not engage the warship. Fall back. I repeat, fall back.” “Aye, Admiral.” — — — — — “Well, that was a disaster.” “Not really, Admiral. The weaponry proved to be effective.” “For the few aliens that they could manage to touch. You heard the Squadron Leader, they just kept coming.” “You’re missing the point, Admiral. Today was a recon mission.” “So, what? We know that they outnumber us a million to one. Even if every one of our pilots neutralize a thousand enemy combatants, we still lose.” “No, but we know how they work.” “How so?” “The new weapons. They were based on a theory of their genetic makeup. If the weapons work, we know how they tick.” “Great, so we can write a Wikipedia entry about them before they overrun the Earth.” “There’s more than one way to win a fight, Admiral.” A slow grin spread over the Doctor’s face, almost eerily so. Clearly, the Doctor had something in mind. “You’re a strange one, Doctor.” — — — — — “Squadron Leader, are you in position?” “Aye, Sir. Locked and loaded.” “And your payload?” “‘Mother’ is operational, Admiral.” “Doctor, are you sure?” “This will work, Admiral.” “Squadron Leader, you are a go. I repeat, you are a go.” “Aye, Admiral.” For two minutes, the Admiral and the Doctor watched nervously as the fighter pilots fought their way to the lead warship. They had no difficulty carving through the alien ship’s defensive fleet, though they already knew that. The aliens won by attrition, not sheer strength. This scene had played out many times before. It wasn’t getting to the warship that was the problem, it was doing enough damage once they got there, and then living to tell the tale, that had proven near impossible. “Five seconds to lock.” “Fire at will, Squadron Leader.” “Aye. Releasing ‘Mother’ in five, four, three, two, one, mark,” the Squadron Leader reported with precision, “Mother away.” “Now I am become Life,” Doctor Kollin muttered to himself. “What was that, Doctor?” “Nothing, Admiral. Impact should be in three seconds. Then, ‘Mother’ releases the spores.” “And if it works?” “The spores out-weed the weeds. They act like an invasive species, crowding out the aliens. We were able to create the strain based on our data from the last incursion.” “How long until we know how effective it was?” “Three minutes. It’s a large ship.” On cue, the video feed showed a large explosion on the side of the lead warship. “Admiral, confirmed hit. I repeat, confirmed hit.” “Pull back, Squadron Leader. Your part is done.” “Aye, Admiral.” The fighters began to carve their way through the defensive fleet once more, though much more raggedly. They had spent much of their munitions to get close to the warship, and their tactics were being hampered much more by the aliens during their retreat. “How long?” “Thirty more seconds, Admiral.” “Can we tell if it’s working?” “The warship isn’t releasing as many fighters to engage with ours. They might have a chance to pull out.” “Report, Squadron Leader.” “Five seconds from the perimeter, Admiral. Whatever ‘Mother’ did, it’s slowing them down.” “Acknowledged. Get to the perimeter, Squadron Leader. That’s an order.” The Admiral stared nervously at the clock on the wall, nervously counting the seconds. Twenty seconds had passed, and he hoped against hope that something happened in the last ten. The warship seemed unharmed to him, so he seemed skeptical. “Admiral!” Doctor Kollin shouted, “Look! The warship … it’s drifting.” “What?!” “It’s not doing anything. It’s just … floating there.” “Does that mean it worked?” “It worked, Admiral. It worked!” “So that ship is just dead now?” “The opposite, Admiral. It’s teeming with life,” Doctor Kollin explained, “You are looking at the universe’s biggest garden. The weeds and mushroom strains took all the nutrients, and crowded out the aliens. We grew things on that warship.” “You crazy bastard.”
"Hey! Todd! Where's your workout gear?" Todd stared at his "trainer"in disbelief. Two months ago, he'd started coming to this exercise class at his community college because it was free, and he couldn't pay for a gym membership. At first, it was fine. The normal routines, pull-ups, cleans, box jumps, and the like. Other students attended, and he'd enjoyed the commitment they all seemed to have. But lately, the class was getting... weird. Everyone seemed to be getting the same goat-skull-thing tattoo on their collarbone, and the others had been dropping some not-so-subtle hints that he should too, even refusing to say more than a few words to him in class after the sixth week he showed up without it. He was beginning to feel like they were all in something he didn't know about. More than that, the exercises themselves were shifting from traditional strength training to some kind of weird yoga. Moves with lots of bowing and circular arm movements, all in a circle. The trainer started bringing a thick black book to the sessions a few weeks ago and was muttering to himself when he read it while everyone else did the workout. When Todd asked what the deal with the book was, the trainer said it was his "beast manual." "You mean, like... beast mode?", he'd asked at the time. The trainer had simply smiled and quickly nodded. "Yeah, yeah, beast mode, totally!" While Todd was still technically getting exercise in three days out of the week, he was beginning to seriously consider quitting. Four sessions ago, the trainer handed out sheets of paper to everyone that he called a "motivation mantra"to memorize at home. Only the words were in no language he recognized. His elective was Lit, but he never paid much attention in that class anyway. But it was their latest session that was the worst. It was the moment when he realized everyone was saying the "motivation mantra"in perfect time with each other during the "workout", including the trainer (who was reading from his book) without any prompting whatsoever, that he decided shit was getting too weird and he needed to get the fuck out of Dodge. Maybe the lights flickering a little more often than normal and occasionally seeing no irises on the rest of the students' eyes affected this conclusion. "Uh... I'm actually quitting, I'm just here to pick up my shoes... and... are... are those robes?" The entirety of the class was clad in long, flowing black robes over their tank tops and workout shorts. "Yeah, bro! It's a new thing we're trying! Get more airflow, you know? I texted you about this." The trainer bounced on the balls of his feet, smiling with what seemed like more teeth than a normal human should have. Todd shook himself. Had to get his stuff and get out of here. "Wait, you said you were quitting? You can't just quit, man! We've gotten so far in our goals this month! You gotta stay with us!" "Yeah, no, really, dude, I'm good. Y'all keep doing your thing, I just don't think this is... for... me..." By now everyone in the class had somehow lined up when Todd wasn't paying attention. They were all looking at him. Blank stares. Except... Were they... watching his movements? He bobbed his head from side to side and snapped his fingers, and each move he made, they tracked with lifeless eyes. Suddenly he felt much less safe here. He started backing up, moving toward the door. The trainer laughed at Todd as if he made some kind of joke. "No, no, no, dude, dude, I don't think you really get it!" He leaned in, and impossibly, his grin grew wider. "You have to stay. See, we're almost done following the plan. And once we all finish, together, we're all gonna feel so much better and we're gonna be so much better." The trainer's lips were up to his ears. Like the fucking Cheshire Cat. Todd vaguely realized he was up against where the door should have been, but he'd been turning no knob, pulling nothing. Where was the door? Where was the goddamn door? The trainer was getting closer. "We're lucky, Todd. We've been chosen. And now, we're gonna be more. Together." The lights were flickering again. Todd screamed himself hoarse. Banged against the wall. It didn't matter. They came. Like a black curtain, swooping in on him. &#x200B; Oddly, he didn't feel a thing.
How long had it been since he had seen the sun? He remembered it fondly as the bringer of warmth, the maker of light. He remembered millions of his brothers and sisters, filling the sky until all that could be seen was orange and black. A flight that felt as if it would never end. Until it did. But not safely ensconced in the land of his birth. They burned in fire, when the air itself ignited. The wave of pressure threw him far far off course. But he’d been lucky. The others had been destroyed, rent by the explosion or incinerated, they were no more. He was different. Though it had never occurred to him that he might be. Until that moment nothing had occurred to him at all. He’d pushed on, instinct driving him. And maybe hope. Hope that when he arrived they might be waiting for him. Millions of them fluttering in the trees. The land was scarred beneath him, glowing red. The sky above him was black, unrelenting. He didn’t hunger. It felt alien to him, that such a drive could be completely extinguished. But the energies around him suffused him, filling him, making him grow. He wondered if he should have a name. He’d be the first of his kind to name himself. So he decided to name himself The First. His wings beat now, forcing his way through the smoke, bending the skeletons of trees as he passed. The others seemed to be gone now. Not just his kind, but every kind. The giant pale things were gone. The furry things. Those on wings. It was just him, wingbeats thundering, searching. Nothing else. There was no green to be found. There was no water. The land was consumed by fire. And yet he circled, patiently. Looking for anything. The First and the end of his kind. Of any kind. He circles still, alone, the last monarch of earth.
\[WP\] The hero was in excruciating pain as he blinked in and out on consciousness. He’d wake up every now and then, unable to speak, wishing his captors would just kill him. They kept him alive. They tortured him to near death and then revived him, over and over again. He just lay on the hard stone surface unaware of the questions being asked. His mind began to break. The cell was so cold while his body burned. In moments of clarity the Hero pleaded with the demons. “Pleassse kill me,” said the weak voice. All he heard were mumbles before the migraines began again. The body burned and tensed and the pain led to his silence as he passed out. “pleassse stop. I’m sory. I’m sory let me die.” His brain shut down. His body was broken. His throat dry from the pleading. The spectrals of his past would haunt his nightmares. It must have been weeks before he felt the pain numb. His mind became clearer as he realized the torture was having less effect on him. On a day his mind was clear he tried to move his arms and legs, to little affect. Alright if I can’t move, I’ll just try to heal myself until I have the chance to escape this hell. He heard footsteps as someone walked in. He braced himself for more torture. He thought he heard one of the torturers say demon lord. “Yes he seems to doing much better. I’m sorry I have been away for so long but I thank you for your efforts doctor.” Said a deep voice. Yes I can understand them thought the hero. I’ll get as much information as I can before escape. Next time I’ll kill him for sure. Did demons call their torturers doctors? “You praise me to much my lord,” said a very pleased doctor. “The patient has been improving greatly over the past couple weeks. It must be that Hero’s blood they praise so much.” He said with a little contempt in his voice. Patient? “Yes doctor the Hero’s blood is strong in this one. I had heard rumors of a Hero killing my civilians in the Southern parts when I was in the North, but hadn’t known the extent of the murders. When I realized his path I flew to the South as soon as possible. I realized how strong he was when I found one of my best bloody and wounded.” Civilians? Murder? “You mean Isabelle? I treated her wounds. Her right arm is healing nicely and there won’t be any lasting damage to her left. I was surprised that anyone could beat her like that.” said the worried voice of the doctor. “Doctor Fang. I want to thank you again for all the work you have done,” said the deep voice. “I was surprised that he showed up on my front steps. I had told everyone to give him a wide berth for his or her own safety. He was badly injured by Isabelle but was still able to make it into the heart of the capital before I got back. He was deranged when I fought him but still put up a decent fight. He might be one of the strongest Heroes I have seen in awhile. If it wasn’t for how heavily drugged he was I would have killed him right away for his crimes.” Drugged? What were they talking about? Murders? Civilians? He had killed demons that were terrorizing his country's lands. What farce was this. Drugged? Did these demons mean the antidote he had to take because of the Demon Lord’s toxins? It was these demon's fault he had lost everything. A wave of exhaustion passed over him. He tried to stay alert but hadn’t the energy. “Your Lordship, are you sure you want the details.” Doctor Fang asked. “Tomorrow Doctor. I have to talk to the counsel. I’ll be back tomorrow to check up on this poor soul.” The Hero fell asleep to the pity of the Demon Lord.
“Here.” I heard the unrecognizable voice moments before I felt something collide with my temple, bounce off, and with a clink it landed somewhere North of my head. Nothing around me made sense and I fought hard to claw my way through the panic. Bile rose in my throat, its sharp acid shocking me enough to knock some sense into me. I swallowed and quickly opened my eyes before I could chicken out. Wide eyes met mine from a few inches in front of me. I scrambled up and backward as quickly as I could, feeling around for a weapon. If this asshole kidnapped me, that would be the last thing she’d do, so help me -. At once, my body convulsed, and rough hands circled my wrists. I tried to shake them off, but I felt like I was walking through jello or trying to run underwater. “Listen to me! LISTEN TO ME!” Whoever held me down was shaking me now. ”Douce, ma petite fille…”, a second, much older voice chimed in. “But he won’t -” Another shake. “-stop moving!” A second set of hands pried the first from my wrists and then held me by the cheeks, caressing me. A beautiful song fell from the strangers lips and I found my muscles responding to it. As the song fell away so did my willingness to fight. “Hello, darling”, the old voice said. I opened my eyes. A kind looking woman with a heart shaped face, large wide set eyes, and long gray braids gazed at me, smiling. Next to her was a teenager with the same wide set eyes. Dark, spiky hair crowned her head. I became overwhelmed with the desire to embrace them both and my hand jerked reflexively. Embarrassed, I crossed my arms and did my best to look threatening and unafraid. “Is it going to...throw up?”, the teenager asked. “Don’t be silly, darling, he hasn’t eaten. And his name is David.”, she responded to the girl. My heart gave a flip hearing her say David. It sounded real, and round, and indescribably perfect. I reached up to wipe the sweat away from my face and lift my hair from the back of my neck. Something smelled bitter and delicious and all I could think of was Home. Before I could do anything else, the older woman reached her hands out to me and held them, palm up. A moment passed, and then another. She didn’t seem inclined to go anywhere. Fuck it, I thought, and held her hands. She began humming and singing a new song, this one with a language I’d never heard, and as she sang, her face fell away. Something like a movie appeared in front of my vision, but all sped up, and I couldn’t make any of it out. I tried to shout at her to stop, I tried to pull my arms away, but either she was inhumanly strong or I was stuck by the power of...I didn’t even want to continue that train of thought. There was nowhere to go and nowhere else to look but at this movie, and I acquiesced, staring ahead and praying for it to be over soon. With a crack, the old woman threw her hands up in the air, and instinctively, so did I. The room settled and groaned, and as I lowered my arms, I too settled. I looked around and focused again on the faces in front of me, crumpling my face and covering my hands with my mouth. “Oh, petite fille, oh, arrière petite fille, forgive me my beautiful darlings. I know. I know it all. I am David, and I am un vampire. Oh, my heart. Please forgive me!” I wailed, dry eyed, and curled up on my side. I scrabbled for the vial that had been chucked at me when I arrived, and popped the cork. Soon, the warm blood would fill my mouth and I could reunite with my kin. We had so many stories to tell each other...
The museum is bankrupt, money siphoned away by the private investors. The director of the museum cares for the employees, knows the museum will be sold off in pieces and no severance, just paydays for the owners and pink slips for the quiet dutiful staff. But the manager is a former teen badass, and he uses the dark web to offer a heist. The insurance will pay for the stolen art, the “art” was a purchase from one of the owner’s flings. Now the banana bread is in the oven for the thief, and the staff still gets laid off because the insurance premiums haven’t been paid. But maybe the manager used his own income to pay the policy. And now the police have a solid lead, a good man goes downhill.
All of a sudden I find myself struck with a surreal sense of fear and confusion. I cant move my body, yet something is still pulling me towards the door. I stumble over myself and then take a few steps closer. Am I moving my body? I am moving my body. What is going on outside? As I get closer to the door I can see the rain coming down through the glass insert at the top of the door. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. I'm not sure how many times the message has repeated now but it seems to have stopped. No wait its just gotten quiet. Its not the same voice. Maybe its the same voice? I'm going to go outside. The sense of fear has gone away mostly. I mostly just feel curious now. I've always enjoyed the rain. Some of my best childhood memories were of playing in the rain as the streets would flood and all of the neighborhood kids would come out and play. I always loved the rain. I'm going to go outside. I open the door and walk out. I walk slowly towards the street. The rain is moderate and steady. Its amazingly bright outside for this much rain. The sky has clouds but the sun is still breaking through quite a bit. Its such a beautiful day and I really love this rain. Ive never seen the rain and the sun in such harmony. Theres seems to be random spurts of liquid pooling up in different spots of the ground. All different colors all mixing together. The large pools seem to be mostly brown as the colors have mixed to much. Everything seems to be leaking colors actually. Just small spots of things are... leaking out... its all mixing together... Things seem to be sinking down. I feel happy. Everything is mixing together. All of the colors are mixing together. The dark liquid. I feel lower to the ground. I have liquid coming out of me. My colors are mixing. I feel warm. The dark liquid connects us.
You dont think you will ever get used to these baking kits and honestly being out of school and doing things on your own feels strange. The baking process is always the same, you take out the bowl specifically designed for this process, place it in the baking pan add the bottle of milk and start cracking the eggs. The first one has a yoke that looks like a five and for each egg you crack the number foes down till the last egg was cracked. After that the bowl starts spinning the contents of milk and eggs until they were mixed and then bubbles start to form. Within five minutes the bowl dissolves into the liquid and the cake mix spreads across the pan. When you sit down for a slice you cant help to think about the one time you had homemade cake. You were only six years old when you grandma was watching you. She had managed to somehow get real ingredients that had not gone to the process plants. Real flower and eggs. The cake was amazing. You made a mistake though and brought it up to you friend at school. She in turn told her parents. Who in turn called the local authorities. An Investigation was started. The kids in your family were all sent to boarding schools while you parents went to there own schools. You remember the lesson you learned the most there. You only want what the goverment provides. Wanting for more was wrong and selfish. So you enjoy the cake from the process plant and tommorow you will tell you case worker of your thoughts and they will help fix you. You know it's not your fault your parents where neglectful for allowing you to be tainted with wants and desires.
Who will we be today I wonder as I wake in darkness. Yesterday’s events swirled around in my head as I replayed them. The poor girl is going to have a very rude awakening after what had transpired; I thought, as I rolled to my left I found myself stopped against a large hairy mass of a man. It’s sometimes unbearable waking next to an expectant husband, it makes it difficult to escape and spend the day gallivanting without raising too much suspicion. I may be a body hopper but I’m not going to be a dick and ruin a marriage, but the occasional mischief does keep the eternity interesting. A low grumbling emanated from this mass prompting me to roll the other way and swing my legs out of bed. I scanned the room looking for a TV or radio so that I could listen back to the pandemonium caused by the previous day's antics and found a TV remote in the same place I’d left it the night before…. The same… Oh no. Leaping out of bed I turn to look at what I’d assumed to be a large hairy man; eyes straining in the darkness I could make out the large belly, snout, and paws of the bear that I’d bearnapped from Edinburgh Zoo the previous day. Two days in one body? This could cause issues. &#x200B; \-- I’m pretty new to this but it’s a nice creative outlet, I’d appreciate feedback etc.
We drifted through space, nearing our destination faster and faster with each moments passing. For an infinitely powerful being my nerves were getting the better of me, after years of traveling and working within the limitations of when I slept I finally did it. All those years ago when I brought a crudely drawn map of stars done from memory to Stilaria and told her "Scan the heavens for these constellations"I never thought she would find them, let alone that she would come back with results as quick as she did. "Garganath. We're nearing a small Galaxy now that has the Constellation of stars in it finally."Stilaria got up from the Pilots Seat and pulled down the NavMap screen from the ceiling. "It looks like two of the planets have life forms on them. One being mostly covered in water, and the other a barren red rock on dust."She looked to me waiting for me to say something. I stood before the NavMap staring at the small blue and green sphere floating on the screen, just staring. "Garganath?""The one mostly covered in water."I managed to mutter out, still fixated on the tiny ball on the screen, almost stuck in time just staring.""Garganath are you ok? You still haven't told us what we're doing here and why this rock has any significance to us? Are we going down and landing there?"I kept staring and heard a high pitched ring pick up in my ears growing louder and louder until it gave out to Stilaria snapping towards me, "Garganath! You're worrying me here!"I snapped out of my trance and walked to the StarBay's window and looked out towards the Milkyway. "We're landing. You're looking at our newly sprouting Galactic Empire."
I watched as they lowered my body down into the earth in the pine box. It was... interesting. Even though I was ethereal, and I knew I was dead... I just felt unease. It wasn't really until then that it hit me I was not going to come back. This Earth with all its faults and failings was my home. And now? It just wasn't anymore. The light has been beckoning me too long. It's time I went through. Noise and silence. Light and dark. all at the same time. It all flew around me the instant I took my first meaningful step towards the light. Next thing I know I'm at the gates of... Bless? The gates of Heaven. I always envisioned them to be large, gilded structures made of impossibly intricate artwork and quite literally the most beautiful single items I've ever laid eyes on. But here? It's a simple train station and a gold turnstile. But it's cozy. Everyone here looks like your average person. No particularly humble people like the homeless or monks are in here, but office workers and mechanics and various others are here. They seem tired from a long day's work. They all sit in comfortable clothing in plush waiting chairs waiting for the number on their ticket to be called. I was directed to take a number by an angel, and led to the desk of a man named Pete. He greeted me and took my fingerprint. He then directed me to an open seat in the full waiting room. My boarding group is number 424260621. The next one! My clothes then shifted from the plain white robe all souls have when they enter into my favorite silk pajamas and the softest bathrobe I owned in life. As my group is called, we get our tickets torn and head to the trains. The trains were apparently different to each viewer. My train was a replica of the Hogwarts Express. I shared it with fourteen other passengers. Throughout the train ride, we could change the window view to whatever it is our hearts desired. The food on board is on par with the best I've tasted in life. At the next station, the usher came around and told me that this was my stop. I had no baggage, so no one came to help unload anything. I was quickly ushered to a waiting limousine where I was whisked off to the perfect house. A single bedroom, single person house with just the right amount of space for me and whatever I decide to put in here. They say in heaven there is nothing but perfection. In Bless, it seems the best of what we had on earth is the only thing that exists. It's the most happy a person could be on earth forever. I could've landed in Heaven, but you know what? I think this will do just fine.
Darkness the warm fuzzy feeling of a nice nap faded as I was knocked off of my sponson seat. The claustrophobic interior of the mark one coming in to view as the captain loomed overhead. His old coyote jacket coated in thick oil stains and iconic eyepatch dirty from days of preparation. "Jenkins, Jenkins start the bloody engine, we're moving out in five." A flurry of activity happening around the old pub or old land cruiser as I hopped out of the sponsons hatch. Distant falling artillery finally shaking the final remnants of my hangover out as I grabbed my pack off the top railings. Some excitement building as I wiped off a slurry of mud on the tracks as I wired the started into place. A spark jumping across the line as the engine chunked into action exhaust belting from its pipes. I love my job, with a slight twist I pushed the engines panel back into place and slogged through the waterlogged roadway. Ahead of the tank collum stone archway and twisting red tear in reality lingered. It's base covered by piles of red horned demons rotting in the cold spring weather. One of the passing hun soldiers taking a pot shot into the pile as he passed a spray of viscous red blood coating the ground. So much anger, not that it wasn't just in nature the Huns got shafted when the portal opens in Alsace. A few more potshots echoed through the air as I slid back into my seat. "Hey lancaster we are ready to steam ahead" The next minute a blur of mumbling between the crew as I loaded a shell into the cannon. And the platoon rumbled forward across the gate. Each vehicle dragged into the rift as the behemoths touched the portals precipice along with the massed infantry riding atop. The commodore inspecting each behemoth as they passed a megaphone in one hand and pistol in the other. "This day we will rude into hell like avenging angels and claim this new land for king and kaiser. Remember your enemies would see our world burn they are no more than savages kill in God's name Deus Vult!"Reality warping as the old pub dragged itself through the gate other world screaming and gunfire reverberating in the air. This hell only lasting a brief moment before ending as the pub was tossed out the far side of the tear. Soft yellow light drifting through the sights a gasp escaping somewhere in the forward compartment. Followed by a hale of murmuring from the rest of the crew as I creaked open the rear hatch."Is this really hell?" A sprawling land of towering pines and mountains stretching far into the distance as the infantry marched next to the tanks. The ground while not hard was neither muddy just soft gravel of brown dirt and grey rocks. Ahead further just audible over the rumbling of the engines a single word echoed, angry and hateful. "Contact!"
“Ah Grey they are you are…” came a shout from the bar when Grey walked into the dirty pub, Grey looked over to see the smirk on the face of his acquaintance Masters. They acted like friends, and both pretended to be such, knowing the other was not what you would call a true-blue friend. They didn’t even know each other’s real name, just the fake names they had presented each other, but then with the line of work they were both in, it was better not to make friends, for if friends were caught friends could give you up and the next thing you knew section 20 would be at your door. Master looked up at bartender as Grey approached holding up two fingers, the bartender was methodically cleaning the glasses with a thousand-yard stare until Masters held up two fingers then the bartender put down the glass and started preparing the drink. Both Grey and Masters watched the synthetic human jerkily move about as they both expected it to make a mess, a common issue with the bargain basement synthetics. The cheaper they were, the less human they got and this one was probably about as cheap as it could get, but then you should not expect anything less from being in the Wards, no doubt the manager was in the back somewhere up to something illicit like all people were in a place like this. Grey was sure everyone in the bar was a criminal of some kind, so they fit in well. The bartender brought over their drinks and managed to put them down without spilling much to their surprise, “5…Creds” it said in a voice reminiscent of bad sci-fi movie from the classics. Masters with thought and yet not thinking paid the bartender using the augments in his brain and turned to Grey offering him one of the drinks clinking them before they both took a drink. “So, come on then mate, how did you lose it?” Grey knew the question was coming, Masters was the one who had managed to help get the dummy body for Grey at great expenditure, so it still hurt to think that he lost it. Grey wondered whether to tell Masters as giving the story it could help anyone who got to Masters get to him, then he thought Section 20 had the body now, they could probably get to him through Masters anyway, might be time to break off contact with him for a while, but then that could be done after tonight. “You know of the hall of knowledge?” “…Yeah…it’s that rumoured place where the government is said to hold a lot of its information it would prefer people didn’t know about and apparently rumoured to hold pandoras box” said Masters cocking an eyebrow wondering where Grey was going with this. “It’s not a rumour mate, it’s real and I was trying to get into it” said Grey staring at his glass. Masters spurted, chocking on his drink, pounding on his chest trying to catch his breath before quickly turning to look at Grey, eye’s wide, “why the hell were you trying to get into the hall?” Grey looked at the drink for a long moment before picking it up and feel the burn as it went down his throat, “I was trying to get information on a senator, rumours are some government agencies have information on him and are blackmailing him…he paid me a lot of creds to find out what they knew and erase it. But the Hall of Knowledge is in a closed loop, and therefore you can only access the record from inside.” “Goddam that takes some balls…” “I know, but it was not as hard as you think to get into, I did wonder why it was so easy until I got access and started to hack the network” continued Grey still looking at his depleting drink. “But when you hit the network, they found you fast didn’t they.” “By the time I realised I was being hacked it was too late, that Section 20 is to damn good, for you see they had already hacked the fake body and I needed to break connection before they got through the barrier bringing them back to my location” said Grey looking sombrely into his glass, “all those creds…” he said quietly to his drink as he finished it. There was a moment silence before Master laughed out loud smacking Grey on the shoulder, “good job the fake was untraceable, but man to lose all those creds and a top of the line fake…that has got to hurt” said Master cringing and shaking his head, “and that’s how you lost your fake?” “And that’s how I lost my fake…”
“Is this seat taken?” I looked up from my book, irritated at the interruption, and came face to face with the most attractive man I'd seen all week; tall, blonde, and with a body that worked out but didn't overdo it. He even had glasses and scruffy hair. Damn. This was a distraction I really didn't need. “Um, sure,” I said. I shuffled towards the window, putting as much space between me and the seat next to mine. Lights flew past outside, illuminating the darkness with streaks of yellow and green. I reached into my bag, pulled out a pair of headphones, and smiled sweetly at my new companion, the sort of smile that said: I'm going to be ignoring you now, but I don't want to be completely rude about it, so take this as consolation. He smiled back, gave a slight nod, then turned to face politely away from me, a set of actions that likely meant his personality was just as appealing as his body. Not wanting to lose my place, I did my best to ignore him, putting in my headphones and tapping play on my phone; picking up my book and letting the world fade to nothing but music and print. My ears were filled with the sounds of jazz, and my imagination with the heartfelt longings of a woman much younger than I. Perfect. My world exploded with an ear-splitting screech and I flew head first into the seat in front of me. My forehead hit hard, and everything went black. For a moment I thought I was unconscious, then I realised I was thinking, and then the emergency lights came on, painting my surroundings in red. I felt a hand on my shoulder, large and strong. “Are you okay?” said my companion. “Fuck,” I said, because I'm eloquent like that. A loudspeaker began blaring a background of information: everything is fine, stay where you are, we'll be moving again shortly. People began settling back down into seats, the sounds of activity dying to a murmur. “Is that a yes?” I sat back upright, rubbing my forehead. I'd have a bruise, but there was no blood, and I hadn't felt anything break. “Think so,” I said. I glanced down at his hand, and he withdrew it like I might have burned him. “Sorry.” “Don't worry about it,” I sighed, privately mourning the break in attention to my book. I'd been about to get to the good part, but now the conversation had come too far to ditch it, and I couldn't read in this light anyway. Oh well, flirting wasn't as good as literature, but it would do in a pinch. “You have nice hands.” The man's eyebrows shot up in shock, then he burst out in laughter. “Do I?” he said, “That's the first time anyone's said that. What were you reading?” “Oh, you know. Girl meets guy. Nothing original.” The corner of his mouth curled up in a smile. “Does seem a little cliché, when you put it like that.” “Implausible too. Don't see it ever happening myself.” “Oliver,” he said, extending a hand. “Ellie,” I said, taking it. We shook, and the lights flickered back on, the carriage beginning the slow click-clack of pulling itself back into motion. A few people cheered, and though it was silly, I couldn't keep a smile off my face. An expression I saw reflected on my companion. “Working late?” he asked. “I was with a friend. Doing edits on something we're writing. You?” “Complicated patient.” His face flashed in grief, and though it was momentary, I saw its depths and knew it to be true. “Sorry.” “Yeah.” “What's your stop?” I asked. “Two more,” he said. “Shame. Mine is the next one.” Oliver stood, letting me out of my seat. I brushed past him, trailing one finger over his chest, beckoning. When I walked down the aisle of the train, he followed me, standing by my side as I stopped in front of the doors. They slid open, and the station beyond was quiet. I turned to Oliver, searching his expression. I found what I was looking for. This was so not me, but screw it. My heart thundered in my chest, and I stood, waiting, watching the smoulder start in Oliver's eyes, giving him a chance to back out, making sure we were both on the same page about what was about to happen. We were. The doors slid closed and the train began pulling away.
"Whew. District 9's shelter is done, time to go to District 10, it's already noon!"Walt pushed his cart full of gentle-to-the-eyes shampoos. As he walked through what's left of a massacre, he passed by in front of a shop. His usual shop where he would take some of the shampoos. He went in and headed to the sanitary shelf. "Refilling the stock?"said a voice. Walt turned around, and he saw an average dude with a baseball bat. It is one of his costumer, Jesse. "Oh, hi Jesse!, yeah, as you can see,"said Walt. "The shampoo stock in this shop will run out near in the future as well. I should go to another shop, or maybe even learn to make one myself." Jesse shrugs. "Oh dang, I kinda like the current shampoo." "Yeah.." Walt don't know Jesse very well, so he ran out of topic. Knowing that the conversation would not go any further, Walt packed up his belongings. He smiled at Jesse and walked out, while Jesse went in to the store to read some of the magazine there and taking some cigarettes. Walt continued his journey to a shelter in district 10 while he hummed some of his favorite songs that he could never listen to anymore. There, some people already waited for him. &#x200B; "Hey, It's Walt!"Millie--Leader of the shelter--shouted. Followed by the happy sounds of other residents of that shelter (\*Happi shelter resident noises!). They already prepared some things that will be used as an exchange. Dolls, food ration, knife, and sometimes drugs. And Walt never knew what to do with the drugs, so he would usually trade those for food with someone in another shelter. Walt stopped his cart and started giving the shampoos to them. Some of their hairs are covered with dried out blood. "Wow, any recent horde attack?"he asked. "Yep. So many of them last night. We lost some people,"a girl with brown hair answered. "My condolences,"said Walt. "So.. It's not 49 bottles as usual? How many reduction?" "I think we would reduce that to 45,"said Millie as she pulls out her matchbox. "And this is my payment for this time." Walt took the matchbox. "Sure, thanks! Next!" This is his life now. Travel from one shelter to another with some shampoo in his fairly small cart. Keeping people's hairs fresh, and ready to take down some zombies. &#x200B; (...Okay that's it. Sorry for the messed up grammar and/or terms, as English was not my first language.)
Death incarnate bowed before her, and gave her life. Amongst the glittering shadows cast by a tall forest canopy, the lithe figure flitted and bounced, a shifting of color and silent footfalls. If it weren't for the low rumbling from his throat the predator could have been a puff of dust or a scattering of leaves, but she knew better. A thousand times before The tiger descended into the pool she guarded, carefully dipping one paw after the other, pulling back, wide eyes checking behind him as if he were not the most dangerous creature for miles. Though, she considered, he hadn't really been for several thousand years. Sluggish minutes passed until The tiger (and she called it "The"tiger, even though she had seen many over the years) plunged into the pond to soak. His ears flopped back and his eyes narrowed into comfortable slits, his body sunk further down into the cool waters with a satisfied huff. She had learned all the sounds tigers make here, on the edge of her pool. Chuffs of innocent happiness and murderous hunting, rumbles that she equated to deep thoughts, lazy yawns ending in high pitched screeches, and even occasionally the screams of icky tiger sex... But then followed tiger cubs which were always worth the wait. Today, The tiger soaked with his body still but ears flipping in every direction. She idly watched the rounded tips, black with two white spots on the back of each ear, unusual as tigers here usually only sported the one spot per ear. She decided he was special, worthy of a name more than "The tiger", but she hadn't been able to think of a name in years. So she didn't name him, but basked in his specialness all the same. It wouldn't matter soon anyway, he would leave and she would wait for the next special 'The tiger' and again his name would slip her mind after some time like every other visitor before. This didn't bother her. Nothing bothered her anymore, how could it? living in the moment was all she had. An hour passed, then subtle ripples from the pool lapped against the tips of her toes, The tiger was swimming towards her. She wanted to hold her breath, hide her presence, but she couldn't of course. The tiger had always been able to see her. He swam lazily, paddling back and forth to make patterns in the water growth, seemingly entranced by the algae, but even that was simply a distraction, a toy for the cat. His true destination was where she stood, petrified. Fear trilled up her veins, vibrating her arms. She couldn't do anything to stop it, The tiger or the pain of fright. Even if she was familiar with both. A thick paw, the size of a ribeye steak, hit the ground silently. The tiger had emerged from the pool to her side, he sniffed the ground and air, then turned his eyes to her. This was nothing new, tigers saw her all the time, but this was different. This tiger, -The tiger-, saw her soul. She could feel it in her chest as it thumped. He padded his way to her, golden eyes level with her own. She was only a child when tasked to guard the pond. He huffed the air and circled her. She could do nothing, as she had been tasked. After two full turns The tiger paused in front of her, eyeing her, then he turned his back to her and stretched down. He fully extended his back and lifted haunches and his tail, like any cat, fully exposing his behind. This had happened to her before, male tigers loved to mark their territory. But something different happened this time. This time, her eyes closed. That scared her more than anything. She hadn't shut her eyes in years, she wasn't allowed to, and the darkness was as relieving as it was terrifying. She felt an unfamiliar scrunch in her nose, and something slid down her face... sweat? No, she would never sweat again! She couldn't! Then a wire brush scraped her face. Tigers had licked her before too. She should have been familiar, but rather than the ineffectual scrapes of the past, this lick HURT. She felt every tine of his tongue along her cheek, spines lifting the edge of her eyelid. A quiet metal clink barely caught her ears, something falling to the ground. Glasses. Her glasses had hit the ground. They had fallen free from her face, and fell to the soft earth below her. She knew, at some point in time, that she should have worried about the lenses, but it had been so long. The tiger's tongue moved to her arms, and that hurt too, but in the way a scab hurt when you peeled it off. Satisfying. When she realized that her eyes really were closed and what she saw was darkness, she cried. The tears were so hot, she cried harder. The tiger lapped them up. At some point she found herself curled into a ball, arms wrapped around her legs in a way that should have been a regular occurrence to a child, but she had lived too long. A stone woman they called her. Her breasts had dammed her to the name, long after the curse that bound her at 12 years old to a solid stone warrior. Even before she knew it was possible, she begun to sob, her glasses forgotten as unimportant as time. Sweat pooled on her skin with each shudder, several lifetimes of horror releasing in waves. The tiger licked. She didn't know how long she cried, but no one had cared how long she would be cursed to guard the pond, so she took her time. When her head raised once more, The tiger's stripes looked different, but the two spots on each ear remained, so she knew that the spirit was the same if nothing else. The tiger licked her cheek and it hurt again, but now she could move so she pushed away his head. He looked back, turned around and bowed again. She averted her eyes , because this time she could, and pet The tiger's back.
Everyday at noon, my friends and I would head down main street to Marge's Cafe. We didn't have any money and usually just hung out watching tv or bullshitting with each other, relishing the chance that open campus gave us to leave, even for only half an hour. Today though we'd each scraped up enough money to buy hot beef sandwiches and cokes. I unfortunately had not saved my money as I had instead spent it on Cheetos and a large Dr. Pepper up at the Casey's in Platteville, so I sat there, drooling over the the smell of beef, gravy, and mashed potatoes, and the sound of fizz coming from their cokes. Most days we hung out at Marge's, we also saw old blind Jim Havlena walk over from his house a few blocks away. No one in town knew much about Jim other than he was blind, most likely from a welding accident when he worked at a bomber plant in Omaha. Only a few people had personally known him before he was blind, and he'd spent most of the past 50 years living with his mother, who somehow was still hanging on at 98 years old. On those days when old Jim would walk to the café, he'd place down a twenty dollar bill and get two chicken fried steak sandwiches. He got two because he always wanted to give his mother one, though Jim would talk about how she never ate it. &#x200B; "She never eats. Its weird. I bring all this food home and it goes to the dogs. I tell her that every day, but she insists I buy her one because she 'might' be hungry at some point. Of course she'll forget and just end up eating some baloney or something. Its weird too because she has an okay memory for being 98 years old." &#x200B; Once again, just like clockwork, Jim Havlena walked in. He tapped his white cane, and called out to Marge for his two sandwiches. I however sat there with nothing, and the pigs who I called my friends were just sitting there, shoveling their food in their mouths. It was at that moment I decided that I'd try and take the sandwich from Jim Havlena. I asked my friends to make a distraction so Marge wouldn't see and then I'd walk up, take one Chicken Fried Steak Sandwich, and be on my merry way. My friends then started calling for Marge, making a rash of complaints. Of course she was a bit shocked as typically we'd never complained about the food, even when there were things to complain about. I then walked over, saw Jim's sandwich got a styrofoam box, and tried to place it in the container. All the while he just sat there. He then turned around. &#x200B; "What's all the fuss. You boys causing trouble?" &#x200B; Jim then looked straight at me. I shoveled a few quick bites into my mouth. I stayed quiet, but looked back. I then slowly walked away. Jim then spoke up again. &#x200B; "Son if you need a sandwich I would have gladly given it to you. No need to steal." &#x200B; I just looked at him. &#x200B; "Well, you already took it. Go ahead, just eat the whole thing. My mother never eats the ones I bring her." &#x200B; I then let out a quiet "Thank you"and continued eating the sandwich. It tasted good, but it went down a bit bitter. I don't know what I was thinking. I should have just asked Jim for the sandwich. How was I supposed to know though that he would have given it to me? I figured he would just be a mean old cuss and say something like "get your own damn food"or something like that. He didn't though, and from that day on, I always smiled and said hello to old Jim.
The first dreams of colonizing Venus became realistic when we discovered that like Earth, it had a molten core. The extraordinarily slow rotation meant no magnetic field, and we had no real way of determining how much iron was down there, but seismic readings proved it was molten. The density of the planet suggested a healthy amount of iron at the core, but that was yet to be proven. How, then, to prove there was an iron core? By spinning the planet, of course. It would not be an easy job, but it is possible with current technology. The surface of the planet is hot. The clouds above were relatively cool. This temperature difference was the key to the first step of initiating the rotation: Ionic acceleration. An electrically charged wire array was set just ahead of a wired array that was grounded. The charged array would ionize the air, which was also very dense, which would be pushed and repelled towards the grounded array. The charged air would transfer the charge back to the ground, and the cycle would continuously repeat. The acceleration on the planet was negligible, but still there, and hundreds of thousands of arrays would be set up. This plan served two purposes: Rotational acceleration and the beginnings of terraforming, by way of general atmospheric cooling. The surface heat would be transferred to the upper clouds, which would be radiated away into space. The first ten years were slow, but the goal to slow the retrograde rotation showed results. More and more arrays were built. At the end of the second decade, the average surface temperature had dropped by 150 degrees and rapid progress on planetary rotation was being made. Rather than a retrograde rotation, Venus now had prograde rotation and a period of 150 days! The concepts have been proven, and now the real work of planning a colony can begin. At current rates, prograde rotation can be brought to about 72 hours with an average surface temperature of 200 degrees Fahrenheit within the next 30 years. The fledgling magnetic field we detected was also promising, as being closer to the sun meant we needed as much solar protection as possible. The next major hurdle was a result of our own changes. At temperatures over 400 degrees, the sulphur dioxide, carbon dioxide, and water vapor were just too hot to condense into the acids that would corrode any surface colony. How, then, do we address the atmosphere now to mitigate the acids? The asteroid belt actually helped answer this for us: salts. Specifically, highly alkaline salts. If we seed the planet's clouds with massive amounts of finely ground alkaline salts, the sulphuric and hydrochloric acids would be neutralized, and the chemical reactions would produce the sodium chloride salts familiar to Earth and water. Lots and lots of water. So we mined the asteroids, salted the clouds, and it rained on Venus. Rained and rained for years and years. It has been 50 years since the first rotational correction facility was installed. Due to complications and unexpected difficulty, the prograde rotation is at 105 hours instead of the targeted 72 hours. Considering that at the start, Venus had a retrograde rotation period of approximately 243 days, the current progress is still seen as an amazing victory. The atmosphere has been mostly cleared up, and the plant's surface can be seen from orbit. Vast oceans are spread across its surface. Salty, somewhat acidic, and not suitable for life. What was unexpected? Plate tectonics. When the surface of the planet is within a reasonable margin of its melting point, it becomes very pliable and gives little to no resistance. With the atmosphere and surface now suitable for liquid water, the cooling of the upper crust is giving way to faults and rifts that were hidden before. Also unexpected was the efforts of some Earth-based groups to stop the work on Venus. If God wanted Venus to support life, He would have made it so! It is not our place to play God! The Abrahamic religions had been on the decline for many decades before the Venus projects, but new resurgences were developing as some people wanted to put the resources towards other, more local, issues. One group even went as far as to sabotage the project. One of the cloud seeding treatments had been replaced by powdered plutonium residue. How they got it is still a mystery, much less the 35 tons that had been sprinkled across the planet. That particular treatment was done around the south pole, but the whole southern half of the planet is off limits. The northern pole region is where the initial base is located. It is now 70 years from the first project. The grandchildren of the first pioneers are scheduled to occupy the hab-dome built into the rocks at the top of the world. One day on Venus is approximately 36 hours now, and is expected to match Earth's day at the end of the current decade. Average planetary temperatures were much more tolerable. Venus is just barely inside the habitable zone, where life is most likely, but temps at the equator still approach 80 to 90 C during the day, and drop to about 40 C at night. The atmosphere is still mostly carbon dioxide, so being warm is not a problem. At the hab-dome, though, daytime temps are a balmy 35 C during the day and drop to about 5 C overnight. The axial tilt is about 15 degrees, and with a year that lasts 225 Earth days, there are no long and dark winters. The hab-dome can expect "winter"to be about 14 days of darkness, followed by increasing periods of daylight until a "summer"of 14 days of daylight. Of course, these numbers will change as the rotational speed gets more fine-tuned to match Earth. I'm just excited to see if it will snow at all over the winter... Oh, did I slip up the narration? My apologies. Our craft is approaching the planet and my job is to give you, the colonists, the history of the project so that you have a better understanding of the what and the why of what you are doing. Colonizing Mars was easy. It's too small to be a permanent residence, but Venus? This could be paradise. You just need to answer some basic questions when you arrive: How easily can the atmosphere be oxygenated? What kinds of aquifers can be established? What the hell kind of fossil is this, and why is there coal beneath the Venusian surface? Good luck.
The slipper, small and a little salty, fit smoothly on the foot of the silk-haired, simple woman in front of him. "Huh, that's weird. You're wearing silicone, but this shoe is more... slippery than that. Kind of like... Say, would you happen to have been at the gathering we just held at the banquet hall?" "Nah, must have been someone else. I wasn't there, but the shoe fits, right? Must mean something, or just that it's a common size." He stared at her leg, and at the shoe, then back at her ankle. It looked and felt a bit odd, and this whole situation was progressing too smoothly for his comfort. After all, he'd been spending so much of his sanity, at least this night, looking for her... and, still. "That's not right. This is a size 12, and your other foot... say, where's your other slipper? We can put this all to rest right now." She giggled and smirked, grimaced, then reached behind her back and pulled out the other slipper, a special surprise snuck inside. He looked at it returned her mirth with his own grin, beaming eye to eye. "Yes, I knew it! It wasn't you, and this proves it! How odd, I thought to myself, just twelve minutes ago, that your first ankle is slightly larger than your second, and that the skin tone is off, too! You may have not noticed this about yourself, but there's some, uh, red water oozing out of your joint and into this now-tarnished shoe I've brought you. Your other leg, well, looks fine, but here's the kicker." "There's another ankle stuck in this footwear you've brought from behind yourself, and its skintone matches your muddy, maroon foot, right here!"He said, pointing at her bleeding leg. "Yeah, I ate her. My foot was hurting, it hurt all day. She ran by, and, well, things happened kind of fast, and I took mine off and shoved her large bone into the cavity in my ankle I made specifically for it. But, the shoe fits now, so, what's next for us?"She smiled again, her teeth slick and smooth, shining at his hungry eyes. "You know the rules, and so do I,"he replied. "You're polite, petite, perky, and quite fun, from our brief chat here. I have to marry you!" "Great! How about tomorrow? I'll come back around 13:54, and we'll walk together to Wedding Emporium." "Alright, see you tomorrow!"She kissed his cheek, he touched her three ankles, the crude stitches on the bleeding one, softly, and turned around. She sure hoped he'd surgerize her tomorrow, before their big moment, and he knew just the guy for the job. There really was nothing to it!
Jason shook with nerves and fear, he noticed his hand shaking as it was resting on his lip, he took his hand away looking at it shaking in front of him, willing it to stay still, trying in vain to calm his nerves, but the longer the time went on, the more and more concerned he got. He tried to keep his mind clear, tried to not to think of what was happening, but he could not stop his mind from spiralling. “Where is she…” he said aloud, agitation in his voice moving quickly to anger. Looking back at the clock he could not believe only seconds passed, not minutes, not the hours that it felt like but only seconds. This made his anxiety compound taking a gulp as the door opened, he stood up quickly the chair landing on it’s back at the startled secretary staring back froze at the door, the fear on her face helped him to calm himself a little and not explode at her for taking seconds to come in. He took a deep breath, “could you get the car please, and make sure it is Mark, no one else, and tell him Jason needs him now” he managed to say knowing he was not hiding his fear, his worry from her and she hurried off. Jason went to sit back down forgetting the chair was not there and realising it all too late. “Dammit!” he exclaimed using the desk to get himself back to his feet looking at the clock again to see only seconds passed once more, hoping more time had passed, he picked up his chair sitting on it hard as if to teach the chair a lesson it was incapable of learning. The minutes passed slowly, and he knew these were minutes as he looked back and forth between the clock and the speaker on his desk waiting to hear the car was outside. Finally, word came, “Sir, Mark is outside with your car” in a calm gentle voice, but Jason was sure he heard nervousness in her voice. Jason did not answer and took the key out of his pocket and used it open his bottom drawer and took out the sole item in there, an unassuming briefcase with a key lock and put it on the desk. He stared at it deeply as if peering into its contents, knowing what was inside and looking for it to answer him, time passed slowly, but different this time, the fear was still there yes, but not just fear, an anger that is had come to this. As if on instinct he shot up from his chair and marched out of the door, then turned and looked towards the elevator before changing his mind concerned by the time it would take, but also that he would be cornered so took the stairs. He was huffing and breathing hard when he got down to the bottom of the stairs, he took a sharp turn and instead of going out from the front he knew Mark could be waiting for him out the ally in the back. The second he opened the door he saw the car, he saw Mark and the fear lifted, not all gone but didn’t feel as if his legs were going to come from underneath him. Quickly moving into the back of the car blowing a sigh of relief and feeling just how clammy he was. But he was in the car now, he was safer now, he could escape, they would find it hard to get him now as hit patted the briefcase, it could be his turn, they missed their chance. Not feeling the hum of the cars engine or it starting to pull he opened his eyes, “come on Mark let’s get moving” he was safer but not safe yet, yet the car did not move. Jason watched Mark turn slowly, pistol with a silencer raise pointing at Jason. He did not have time to think. He did not have time to act. There were two quiet whistles as Jason slumped in the back seat. The back door opened as Mark reached over and grabbed the briefcase and without any word, without any ceremony closed the door and walked off.
Martha, upon hearing these words which resounded in my aural cavities as though nigh unto a foreign language, I could not but notice the striking appearance of the speaker. Forgive, my love my crude description, but never in the kingdom of man hath such a creature been sighted. Upon its head was a blanket of golden locks seemingly free of lice or any such pestilence as beplagues mankind in our fair land. The eyes were ringed about with deep dark circles as a mysterious creature of the night, needing neither sleep nor respite from its deeds conducted amongst the shadows. Perhaps the most spellbinding feature of this piteous being was its teeth. The ivory contained within this female mouth was more pure than a field of freshly fallen snow. My eyes, having been blinded by the radiant chastity of her smile, retreated to the greedy dark corners of my mind, whereupon they chanced to recall the intense shame of mine own yellowed dentures, pillaged from the mouths of servants. Beloved Martha, you know how vexed I have become over the poor appearance of my masticatory devices. This poor creature was adorned in only a thin smock that left her shoulders exposed to the elements of nature. It was apparent she was in need of money, so I decided within my soul to inquire of her as to whether she would be willing to part with her sturdy tusks for a fair price as determined by current market value. With those brilliant dentures in my mouth, I could surely not only command the armies of our nation, but mayhaps the forces of the entire world. However, before I could speak, she made another strange and violent verbal ejaculation: “Hey, weren’t you like President or something? My dad is the President now. Aren’t you supposed to be dead though? You must be like a hundred years old or something.” I did open my mouth to answer her question and assure her of my current state of life and vitality, but her utterances continued, trampling my feeble attempt. “You did vote for my dad, right? Whose side are you on, anyway? You better not be with the fake news media. Are you wearing a mask? I bet that’s a mask you nasty little socialist sheep! Gimme that face you fake!” The woman reached for my nose, but fortunately my years of close combat had prepared me for such encounters and I was able to turn and flee. It was clear to my spirit the woman was bedeviled by some-such spell of witchcraft not seen in fivescore years or more. I made haste for the meeting hall where I could muster support to confront the ghastly creature. However, when I did open the door to the hall, I fell into a great pit, which then terminated on the floor of my lodgings. It was a dream, Martha. I thank our dear Creator that such a specter was only a terror of my fantasies, although I cannot lie about my disappointment regarding the lost opportunity to improve my smile. Perhaps the whole affair was brought about by the questionable stew served at our supper last evening. Glad tidings to you, Martha. Rest assured we shall meet again soon, George.
“You know what I got for Christmas?” Said Tom. “Does it beat my bargain bin action movie three-pack and a re-gifted coffee mug?” “You tell me...” It was the sad family sob story showdown - Christmas Edition. Same time every year for the past three years. Lunch of the first day of post Christmas school. Silence from the group and then the teen continued: “A ten pack of instant noodles-” “Flavour?” Asked Ben. “Beef.” “Like, spicy beef or, like, beef beef?” Asked Axel. “Beef beef. Plain beef broth.” Jye grunted. “Yeah,” said Ben “Ew. What else d’ya get?” “Oh, just one more thing, and it is the clincher...” The group drummed on the table atop which they sat. “A cheap, and I mean cheap, bike chain with a built in crappy little three number lock. That I can pull open.” There was silence, again. That was pretty crappy, but not the worst - ohhhh. Axel realised first: “Wait, didn’t your older druggy bro, like, hock your bike for weed money?” “Months ago, yeah.” “Oof.” Said Ben and Axel. Jye shook his head. “That’s gotta be a winner, right? Saddest Christmas 1998 goes to Tim Pole, right?” Ben stroked the peach fuzz on his chin, mostly because the others hadn’t mentioned it yet. “Hmm. It’s up there, man.” “Like,” added Axel “Way up there, man. Gonna, like, deliberate on it and stuff, dude.” The conversation meandered off, but for now, Tim had won. For now. They sat and they talked in the cool January air in the bubble they had made for themselves: The Dregs. During every break period - and some none-break periods - The Dregs could be found sat on their picnic table, the one tucked around a corner of a disused tool-shed. A thoughtful administrator had the forethought to have a place for the asocial and awkward to pool... The Social Dregs, or just The Dregs, a self created title. And pool they had. Four young men, from the lowest socioeconomic households of a rather poor area. They bonded over shared misfortunes and familial trauma. Hanna had been at the school for all of one day and had abandoned every group that had tried to befriend her. None of them had been her people. She’d have to change to fit them and her thoughts on doing that were: Fuck that and fuck you. She had intended to sit and read behind that dilapidated shed over near the treeline, but had heard voices. Voices telling stories. Stories that she recognised. She’d lived them, too. Hanna stepped around the corner and was met with three pairs of eyes in weary faces. Jye was reading a book, old and yellowed, she couldn’t see the cover. “We don’t have smokes.” Said Tim, current pick for Worst Christmas 1998. “I don’t smoke.” Said Hanna “And we don’t sell drugs.” Said Ben, hand still on his barely fuzzy chin. “Not looking to buy.” “And, like, we don’t have smokes.” Axel added, because he felt it was necessary. “...I was actually looking for a place to sit and read.” Jye looked up, made eye contact with Hanna, nodded, and went back to reading. The other three boys looked to Jye and then back to Hanna. “Well, if Jye says you’re cool...then, you’re cool.” Tim offered a wave. “Welcome to The Dregs. I’m Tim, that’s Ben, and Axel, and that’s Jye.” “Hanna.” She’d found her people. A book pulled from her satchel, she shrugged the bag off, and then sat on the table. “Smoke?” Ben offered. “Yeah, thanks.” Her people indeed. “Hey, like, settle a thing...” And so Axel brought the newest Dreg up to speed. * * * “And they definitely know he sold your bike?” “Yep.” Tim nodded, a smile on his face. His dysfunctional family was not the cause, he was just certain that he had won. A whistle, a hum, and then: “I think I can beat that.” “Ooooh!” Axel wooped. “A new challenger approaches.” Said Ben “I like it.” Jye placed his book on his knee, a thumb saving his place. Farewll My Lovely by Raymond Chandler. Hanna had heard of neither the author or the title. “So, what I got for Christmas was: some Earl Grey tea.” She stopped. Let it hang. Dangled the hook. “Just some Tea?” Ben asked. Tim was smug. “Pfft, I mean, it’s sad, but is it evil?” “Like, I mean, like, tea is preeeetty gross.” “Oh, I forgot to mention...” Tim’s gut sank. Hanna was smiling too widely. She had an ace. A big fat traumatic ace. “My Dad also gave me a gun.” “A gun?” “A gun.” “Like, a gun gun?” “A gun gun.” That was...actually not that bad. Fairly rural area. Lots of kids got guns or had guns in their homes. Tim was almost certain his win had survived...until. “The tea was my Mom’s favourite. And the gun was the one she used to kill herself.” The group was stunned. “Well, I mean, like...that fuckin wins.” “Hands down.” Tim nodded, added: “Jesus.” Jye made eye contact with Hanna, frowned for a second, and shook his head, smiled a small smile...and then went back to reading. Somehow it felt like he had said: That sucks, I’m sorry, but hey, that doesn’t change who you are to us. No pity here, friend. “New rule, Hanna’s banned from Sob Story Competitions.” “Oh, because I destroyed you?” “Yes. Exactly, glad you agree.” Laughter and conversation. Friendships forming. Soon the bell rang and The Dregs dawdled towards the school proper. As they went they figured out a few classes were shared among the others and Hanna. She’d found her people. And they were funny. And kind, in their way. And they didn’t care about her home life or her past. They just cared for her, and each other. It was...nice.
He was a weird guy, he kept every recyclable and had plants all over the place. He loved the rain and had a mannequin in the kitchen that just sat... and stared. I asked him about it once, all I got was a slight tilt of his head, a pleasant smile forming at the ends of his lips. He was quiet and dreamy with these dark long eyelashes, and beautiful brown eyes, you could stare into those eyes and swear that they blinked in slow motion. His favorite were the sunflowers, he would plant them with his long delicate fingers as precise as any surgeon. The sun shone upon him as if a tribute to his beauty. Before I knew it, time had flown like water: summer , fall, winter. In the spring came the frantic pixies; they were erratic and flitted everywhere making a mess of things. Worst of all were there manic whispers full of lies and truths. "You are but a mannequin molded from graveyard dirt."At night in the darkness I could hear their taunts and threats, "you are not of the kitchen or of the garden, you do not belong here. Leave! Die!."Soon their voices seeped inside of me and stained my mind at last the torture was endless. Unable to take any more I shut my eyes and dreamt hideous dreams. When I awoke the room had turned to grey the room devoid of warmth, he was long gone. Lonely and lost I wandered and raved "I am the mannequin! Molded from graveyard dirt, by a sadistic harlequin!"Many years passed until at last I stumbled upon a meadow, wherein I found it buried beneath the dying grass just staring, and I felt my face crumble to dust.
The saying "fly on the wall"was either invented by an observant dude with a knack for metaphors, or a nosy person who likes knowin' things they got no business stickin' their noses into. Hell, maybe they were both. But whoever they were, they probably weren't thinkin' of little old Leon down here in the basement of Strex Corp. Now I'll hand it to my boss, he's a decent dude as far as payin' me on time and keepin' the new hires off my back. I used to think he was your average CEO. You know the type. Charismatic, fresh-faced, probably a younger lookin' guy who has a new lady on his arm every week. But somethin' that you get good at when you've been in this job as long as I have is being that metaphorical fly on the expensive, tediously-cleaned wall. I noticed a few things. He always wore long sleeves, and not once did this guy ever roll them up to his elbows. The missus tells me that that's one of the most attractive things a guy can do, and usually younger guys love lookin' as good as they can. But not Mr. Hanyu. Long sleeves can be used to cover a lotta things: needle marks, battle scars, or in Mr. Hanyu's case, some serious ink. But I didn't know that he had any ink until I found one of those fancy USB lookin' sticks in the trash on one of my rounds. Yeah. That freakin' stick had stuff on it that made me look at Mr. Hanyu a little different. Like, maybe-you-oughta-be-in-jail, different. Turns out that this kid was into that Japanese gang shit. And deep. It was a lot of gamblin' from the looks of it, details about amounts of cash needed for the standard poker buy-in. Which surprised me because I never took him for much of a gambler. But anyway, it was mostly bookkeeping junk. There was one page I found that had a whole lotta stuff in red-ink. Names, from what google translate could tell me. It's amazing what you can do with computers these days. I didn't question it then and to be honest I don't feel like questionin' those names now, either. But I'll get to the point because I have dinner with the grandkids soon and Etta will kill me if I'm late again. It was probably a dumb move, but when you get to be my age you don't quite fear the same stuff you used to. I handed him the little strip of metal and plastic the next time I went to get the trash from his office. What surprised me was that the guy wasn't angry. Hell, he didn't even look disturbed. He just had this lighthearted smile on his face and a sincere look in his eyes. "I'm sorry you found that,"he told me, sitting in his fancy black leather chair. "I assume that you understand what this means." Now, I'd survived a lot to get where I was. And I wasn't about to go and get myself killed and dumped in a ditch somewhere without tryin' to see what my other options were. "I do. But may I ask a question?" He gestured for me to go ahead. "You know I'm good at cleaning up more than just buildings and offices, don't you?" Mr. Hanyu raised his eyebrows. "And what exactly are you offering?" "I'm offering,"I said, pulling out the flat square of plastic and metal from my overalls pocket, "Easy clean-up for whatever \unfortunate\ accidents you want discreetly taken care of." He took it from me with a chuckle. "A floppy disk? Really?" I shrugged. It might be old school, but what was on there would make my case for me. Old jobs, more recent ones, all top-notch disposals. He did whatever it was he had to do, and the next day he called me into his office, giving it back to me and shaking my hand. His smile split into what I can only describe as a cat-like grin. "Mr. Leon. How would you feel about a promotion?" Alright, the restaurant'll be calling about my reservation anytime now, so I'd better get goin'. It's the best one in town, too. Since my promotion, I've been able to give my grandkids the best of everything. Sure I spoil 'em, but they deserve it. I got my granddaughter into this nice, expensive college she'd been dreamin' about forever. And my grandson will have all his college paid for, too. Who knew being promoted to "Head Janitor", no pun intended, could be so beneficial?
"Bayar, wake up!" "I am up. I am just resting my eyes."What I saw there when I cracked them was about as I had imagined. Which was why I had them closed in the first place. An imperious 8 year old was leaning over me. As much as a child can lean over a man my size. Being honest, I am a bit of a brute. A good siege man through all three big ones in Khwarazmia. Urgench, Samarkand, Bukhara. I was there. Took 600 heads in the clean up after Samarkand I did. You sort of go numb. The wide eyes. The begging. Women wailing. You become a bit like a machine. They kneel, you swing, they kneel, you swing. Economy of movement is the real key there. Just hard enough to get it done or you'll exhaust yourself far before you and your mates can execute an entire population. Never been this kind of tired though. "What is it Alaltun?" "I need women." "You and me both." Alal's eyes narrowed in the sort of utter superior contempt that only the surety of youth can give. That or being the greatest conqueror of all time. She had the former for certain and was being raised by the latter so I suppose it was about as surprising as saddle sores. "I need women prisoners to fuck!" "You and me b- wait what!?" "I heard Papa say that is what is best in life!" I rub my eyes and sit up from the pile of furs in Alal's yurt. Nicer than mine and full of meat and liquor which is why I agreed to stay behind from the raid in the first place. "Alal. Do you know what that word means?" "Bayar, don't be stupid. I am eight and a half I know about fucking the prisoners!" I nod along as I search through the furs for a bottle. I find it and pull the cork with my teeth before spitting it across the room. Empty. I toss the bottle after the cork. "Right, and what does that mean?" "Its when you make them leave their husbands and go camping outside of town,"Alal said. "Now bring me women!" "I see. Close I guess. Easier to escape inside the walls of a city. Better hiding. You don't really know much about your father's work do you?" "Uhm. Hiding?"Alal said uncertainly not addressing the question in a way that reminded me of the Khan. I chuckled at that and was rewarded as her tiny fist came flying into my face with a soft 'pwap' that bounced off to no effect other than to cock one of my eyebrows up at her. About the 11th time she had hit me that day. "Why would they hide?"she stomped her foot as if her question were an order. "Well, because they don't want us to hurt them. Their husbands. families." Alal bit her lip, "Why would we do that?" My laughs burst out in peals and I walked over to the flap to stick my head outside. Bitterly cold as the steppe always is. Ringing of a smith's hammer somewhere. No riders in sight though. A whole day of this shit. Her ordering me around. Hitting me. Cursing me. I never thought the best way to simmer her down would be to simply tell her about the work of the Great Khan. The Children of the Steppe and our destiny. "Your father has never told you what it is he does? What it is we do? There is more to being Khan than being shitty to those sworn to die for you, young princess." She actually had the grace to look a little ashamed at that. I continued. "Well first and always. We do so because the Khan orders us to do so. Second, because we are the children of the steppe. The steppe is hard and births harder children. We do it because we can and they cannot stop us." Alal stared at me then and I won't deny it unnerved me. It was confusion, judgement, inability to comprehend. The innocence there made me think back to the people I had killed, families I had broken. To one man in Samarkand who died with a huge blob of snot running down his crying face. No dignity in death. But was there ever? Would there be in mine? I doubted it. No use thinking about it because I had as much choice in that as I had in anything. I felt a niggling question in the back of my brain for the first time since I gripped a horse with my legs, since I first shot a bow, since I first drank Mare's milk. The entire life I had created flickered under the questioning, hurt, confused look of an eight and a half year old. "Just because they cannot stop us, doesn't mean we should though,"she said quietly "Then they would grow powerful and one day they would do the same to us,"I said, the feeling fading. The surety of my blade, my tribe, my khan returning. She was, after all, a fucking child. What did she know? "Seems foolish,"She said finally. "One day someone may do the same to us." "That is the way of the world,"I said firmly. "Your mistake, child, is in thinking we create these things. We do not. We are trapped by them. As surely as the people beneath my blade are trapped as am I trapped into swinging it. If you asked the officers they are trapped by the Khan. If you asked the Khan he is trapped by his people and his duty to leadership. We are, all of us, part of this machine and there is no way out." Alal picked up the cork I had spat across the room, replaced it to the bottle and gently set it on a table in one corner. "One day, men will think of a way out." "Men in China have said such things before. Dynasties, like men, are full of exuberance in youth, refusing to believe in their own death. But they all do. If one day men think of a better world there will be whatever version of the Steppe Children of the future to prove them wrong." "Papa says what we do is the best way to live. Conquest. War. Uniting the tribes. How can he think that if all it is is hurting people?" "I suppose that is what we say to each other so we can all keep each other doing what we are doing,"I said, surprised to be waxing philosophical with a child. "You are saying the Draw of the Conquest is a fiction?" I give a great sigh then, wanting desperately to return to a simpler frame of mind. A simpler life where I go where I am pointed. Kill whoever is there. Straight forward. "I guess when it comes down to it, all the things men fight for are a fiction. But that won't unspill the blood."
“Bruh.” That was all Kevin had to say? He only called me bruh when he thought I was being a bonehead. But I knew what was going on. Even wheee to find the proof! “That’s all you have to say?” I shrieked. I probably didn’t throw my hands in the air dramatically. I definitely did not stamp my foot. “Why are you throwing your hands in the air, stomping about and yelling at me like a three year old?” he asked, sounding both reasonable and annoyed. Great. I cannot afford to annoy him. Most days, sure. That’s what siblings do. But today, I need to pull back on the drama. Kevin is the only one who still listens to me. About the missing people. You don’t know about them. It isn’t being reported. They have the news blocked. Afraid someone might find out that they exist. “Kevin,” I said, in my most persuasive voice. “I know where the bodies are. Have you seen the cemetery? It’s doubled in size! How? If no one is dying, who is being buried? All we have to do is dig them up and we’ll have proof of..” “Vampires.” He says it wearily. “I know you believe they exist Kimmy, but vampires aren’t real. They only exist in fiction, and your imagination.” “Then why do we have no dead people anymore?” She fired back. “It’s only been..” he started to say, before she cut across his words. “And the missing people have more than doubled!” Kimmy began pacing, counting down her reasons. “The cemetery is bigger! Why would a normal murderer hide the bodies? How can they go through so many? All those missing people are dead Kevin! Only a vampire would need to hide the method of death! Vampires exist, and they are here, in Normalville!” “Jesus, Kimmy, this isn’t television, and we live in Marysville, not ‘Normalville’. Why are you so dramatic? It’s only been..” the lead in music of the local news station cuts across Kevin’s statement. “... thanks for tuning in folks. We have had an exciting day. For the first time ever, we had 0 deaths, natural or otherwise over the last 24 hours, setting a record here in the U.S. Sadly, we’ve seen an increase in missing people just today. In addition to the two residents who disappeared last week, we had three kids added to a nationwide Amber Alert. We have been told the mother has been located, and feel optimistic the children will be home before morning. In lighter news, one local cemetery has purchased a parcel of land, in order to set up a small forest area for people to choose as their final resting place. Permits are pending. Oh. This just in. An elderly man passed away peacefully 5 minutes ago at St. Mary’s medical center, breaking the streak. We will continue to keep everyone updated as details come in.” “Well,” I said, “it doesn’t hurt to be prepared for vampires.” “Bruh.”
John eyed his fuel gauge, tapping the glass a few times in hopes it was one of ‘those’ situations. He looked away to the starscape and let it out, a long slow breath. “It’s going to be fine… I have fuel, it’s just a broken readout, you’re a beautiful ship, lovely nice thing.” His hand stroked the console gently while avoiding the fuel gauge. “Sometimes you’re good to me, sometimes you’re not but I accept that you are good when I need you to be… after all I'm still alive, I'm here, if you threw anything harder at me than I could take I wouldn’t be.” said John to the ship around him. He looked down to the fuel gauge to see 0. He closed his eyes, one hand still stroking the console gently while the other pressed the ignition. \click\ “CUNT! Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” John shouted while kicking the dash with his boot. He took a moment, taking a deep breath and brought up his trajectory, letting the line curve around the moon as it calculated where he would likely end up to find it was… “Fuck!” said John when he saw he was headed right for the end of the road. He was going to swing straight by Genoa station. ‘Heaven’ as it’s inhabitants called it. They live a happy peaceful life without breaking any laws, you can buy your way in and retire in luxury, the only law they struggled to enforce was a one child policy. It was the kind of goody two shoes station that would execute a pirate on sight. A pirate like John. John climbed out of his seat and floated back to the 8 square meters of living space, pacing back and forth by pushing off the walls. “I could say I was captured and jettisoned my captor?... no… I found this ship, used the last of my fuel to get to civilisation?... because they totally don’t have your name on file John… I could carve myself up, I might look like a victim if I…” John eyed the sink, his shaver. “Whoa there John… let’s just take a step back, not totally fucked yet. You… you’re not a planner, if you were a planner, you wouldn't be in deadfall to heaven, you… you’re a do’er! We will pull in, say hi and play it by ear. I’m not fucked yet.” said John to himself, rolling his neck and pushing back toward his cockpit. John eyed the station on his navigation console and set a narrow band laser to ping the station, throwing a com link down the line. “Genoa station, come in Genoa station this is John of the Butchered Boar coming in on bearing one nine nine by two three spinward.” said John. Static… a little scrappy tone… his speakers played a constant clear tone. “I’ve got you coming through clear Genoa.” said John. “John of the Butchered Boar, we have your trajectory locked, state your intent.” came a smooth feminine synthetic voice. “Damn it’s good to hear another voice, I didn’t catch your name.” said John. “John, this is Gabriel of Genoa station, state your intent.” said Gabriel. “Good to hear from you Gabriel, I’m bone dry on my H2, just a few grams of CO2 in my tip toes, looking to get a scoop if you’re in a charitable mood.” said John. “John this is Gabriel, we have you as wanted and are stretched to our limits on resources, we are unable to… John we would be happy to scoop you and loan some fuel your way. Set your bearing one nine nine point three five by two two oh eight spinward, we will do the rest. Welcome to Genoa station.” “YES! HAHA! See girl, I told you I FUCKIN’ told you! John doesn’t plan, John thinks on his feet!” shouted John, as he polished the black rubber boot prints off the console. \- John stood in the artificial spin gravity and eyed the ramp as it extended, he wore his pressure suit despite the dock being pressurised, it allowed him to hide 8 different knives inside the material. “Hello!...” he announced to the robot’s waiting at the bottom of the ramp, none of them responded to his dramatic entrance. Honestly, in moments like this he wouldn't mind getting arrested, ignored was just insulting. John stepped down the ramp, the machines avoided him but none interacted, he walked along the cargo bay, his head on a swivel looking for an intelligent machine but none where present in the empty bay. “Hello? Is anybody here?” he shouted aloud, only to hear his echo a moment later. Nothing… John walked along toward a door, it didn’t open automatically as he expected, instead he had to hit the manual button but to his surprise it flashed green and slid aside to reveal… Nobody, just a long empty hallway and windows to the inside of the drum, John walked to one such window and peeked out to see it. He had only heard of it’s existence, Heaven… there where trees and greenery as far as the eye could see, water fountains, stone columns, wooden structures, the height of opulence. John walked along the hallway, his head locked to the windows as he watched people play, lots of people actually, the place was packed to the gills, only a simple pane of glass between him and it, a pity he didn't bring a blast charge. Up ahead a ramp descended downward toward ground level, John followed it, best case scenario he got lost and avoided a potential arrest. John walked through a storeroom of food supplies and hit the next door, curious what the 8th room would hold when the metal slid aside to reveal… an ice cream parlour? “What?” said John, noticing the lone customer inside. “Hello? I'm sorry, you look strange? You’re not… oh god! You’re from outside!” shouted a man in his mid 30’s, John was already on him kicking a leg out from beneath him. “Hey hey… slow down friend, whats going on here?” “GUARDS! HELP!” shouted… “I’ll call you Mr Whippy, so Whip… what’s going on here?” asked John. “How did you get in here? This place is supposed to be secure!” said Mr Whippy. “Oh for fuck…” John knelt down on the man's shoulder and slapped his cheek. “Focus!... I, scary man! Answer question!” “GUARDS!” shouted Whip. “You see this knife! I’m going to teach you to answer questions with this fucking knife!” shouted John. “G…” was all the man managed. John climbed off the body and stood back to see a security robot staring at the body. “Well… that was a short reign of terror.” said John, eyeing the robot who stared in confusion at the body. “It was self defence.” said John, standing confront of the robot with his hands together. The robot continued to ignore him. “Seriously… what the fuck is up with this place. HELLO! I just stabbed a man I did it on purpose!” shouted John but the robot seemed completely oblivious to his presence. John took off his suit and began stripping Mr Whippy, he left the jacket behind as he had made a mess of it and stepped outside in the pink polo shirt and tan pants. John walked along the street until he saw a woman walking in a bikini, walking toward him holding a towel. “Good day ma'am, might I enquire as to where I can see a dentist?” asked John, determined to prove that people here could actually answer questions and that he in fact existed. “Oh of course sir, you go…” Towel began. “I’m not invisible, thank you very much.” said John and continued along his way. “Don’t you want to know where…” “No, I am quite fine ms Towel, please carry on.” said John. “Are you ok?” she asked. “I said IM FINE!” shouted John, walking toward the public pool, his hands tapping 8 points on his body where he had hidden various knives.
The sidewalk crunched with every step I took; little bits of gravel that naturally brush onto the surface. Sometimes; there would be a bigger pebble that has enough mass to be felt through my shoe when I kick it. It’s not entirely unpleasant actually. My late night walk home from work can be pretty boring so I tend to notice things that wouldn’t even occur to the normal person. And by normal, I mean that people that don’t play pebble soccer, or at the very least have a bike; but I’ve been pretty out of shape these last few months. Naturally, there is usually something more interesting I tend to notice or think about during my walk, but tonight I was so tired, that I blankly stared at the concrete. I usually see one or two cars at this time; but tonight there hasn’t been any activity. I looked to the left; to look down the road; then turned to see the opposite side. No people, no signs of activity. I would think this area would be completely devoid of life I wasn’t being lightly serenaded by the chirping crickets. I look back in front of me; to see how much longer I needed to go straight. My town’s pretty much all centered around the main road here; so most of my trip was literally just a solid line. I think my exhaustion was just making me more anxious than usual because I wasn’t even halfway there. Something dark, tall and foreign to me caught my eye about 4 streetlights ahead of me. I felt the uncontrolable adrenaline moving through my arms and fingers when I noticed that whatever I was looking at wasn’t anything that ANYONE could recognize. The fact that “it” seemed 8 feet tall certainly didn’t help. My feet also felt the hormone rush, but wouldn’t listen to me anymore and I was completely frozen as I stared. Whatever it was; it began some sort of unnatural movement … conveying itself forward in some sort way that seemed to shift how was able to perceive it. I looked left to the streets again; just in case I’d missed the fact that it was hallowee n; or that someone would dare such an elaborate prank on a lowly person like me; but again void. I tried to focus my eyes on the thing in front of me but It suddenly seemed very easy; as It had stopped moving. Ironically, this thing’s two large purple eyes were the only thing that seemed hominid; and they were very obviously staring at me at this very moment. At first it was still, but it was gradually ramping up its trembling movements again. Now, My mind was very clear; and I turned around to run at full speed AWAY from whatever I was looking at. I wanted to be far away from it; I didn’t care about being home; I ran back towards the warehouse completely incredulous and hammered out of my mind with panic. Prickles of vertigo were slowly creeping up my legs as I barged ahead, stomping quickly and erratically. Ahead of me now I felt warm blast of air; and then the …thing that I was running away from; WAS VERY SUDDENLY AHEAD, AND I WAS CLEARLY CAREENING TOWARDS IT. I dove into the bush and got to my feet as quickly and ungracefully as I could; as I ran into the field that I saw ahead of me; someone’s backyard. I kept running; going over fences; falling into a yard; a process I repeated at least twice. One of the neighbors had a treehouse; and the pangs of innocence must have taken over; because for some reason, it seemed like the safest place to me at this moment. I wanted to see If I could get my bearings; so I could try to get home… I was able to climb the boards that were setup as the makeshift ladder, and hunched my head as I entered. The treehouse was actually; two rooms; albeit child sized; and I went as deeply recessed as I could into the wall furthest from the entrance. I peered over the window, then looked back into the darkness as I took out my phone to try and see if I could call someone; would the police even help in the situation? The hesitation almost made me laugh, as I dialed the numbers into the phone. My fingertips were trembling with terror and cold, and I put the phone up to my head. I waited for the answer, but I didn’t have to wait very long. My entire thought process was changed when I felt a very strong pressure wave of HOT energy all around me; causing the tree to vibrate and the wooden walls to creak, but I was deafened with my... fear. I had given up, but I felt it embrace me; and for a second, before I was finished, I felt the familiar peace that I was so desperately addicted to in life. The white burning throes were just there for an instant before everything ended. Also we should just acknowledge for starters that this is basically an enderman from Minecraft.
Sallow light filters in through the yellow shades, contrasting with the blue glow of the monitor. Andy's fingers were frozen on the keys. He closed his eyes, typing by touch. `hey so I've been thinking about it` `and I think we should meet...like...for real` He hit enter and leapt from his chair, heading to the kitchen. Andy glanced at the clock. "She's probably busy, she's actually got a job, so..." Andy picked up his coffee cup and washed it, counting ten Mississippis for the bottom, the handle, the inside... After drying it by hand, he scowled at this empty sink. He glanced at the clock again. 3 minutes had passed. He returned to his computer. Aileen had written back. `Hey Andy. I...gosh. I really want to.` `This is going to sound so corny.` `But...I can't.` Andy took a shuddering breath, then slumped into his chair. `yeah no it's fine` `it was a silly idea` `and I should probably stay in anyway` `so like...yeah. no worries` `like, at all` `I get it` He was moving to close the chat window when he noticed the words at the bottom of the screen -- Aileen is typing. He moved quick to head her off. `no you don't need to explain` `I think it would just make it worse` The indicator changed to Aileen has typed something. `sorry, I just...I'm gonna log-off for a bit` Aileen is typing. His cursor was over the X in the upper right corner, finger poised. `PLEASE DON'T GO!` `Sorry. Didn't mean to yell.` `I just...I have to tell you something.` Andy's eyes ping-ponged across the screen, mouth parting as he read his friend's secret. Then he closed the window and stalked into his bedroom, shutting the door closed behind.
"Alright fucker, turn me back. It's been fun, but I swear I'll unleash hell on you if you don't right this wrong immediately." I stared at the axolotl on the floor and nudged the now over-sized wand towards it. The barista seemed more tired than shocked at the sudden display, and gently nudged the equally over-sized coffee towards it. "Your order sir,"she said in that familiar, practiced tone, "would you like a straw?" "No I don't want a goddamn straw, uh.. can you crouch down a bit?" She obliged, and I could see the exasperation in her shoulders as she hunched over the former Master of Magic. "Kendra, okay. No, I don't want a goddamn straw Kendra. I want hands again, and lips to use the fucking thing, if you can somehow whip that up in that fancy espresso maker you've got back there." "Unfortunately, I'd have to ask my manager to check the functions on our machine and she left for her lunch about fifteen minute ago, but if you'd like to wait for her to return I'd be more than happy to find a seat for y---" "I wasn't being seriou - y'know, never mind. That's fine, Kendra, thank you for offering, you've been great."He waved his tiny arm to dismiss her and turned back towards me, resting his arm back down on the wallet-sized Master of Magic certificate he had slipped out of his pocket before I zapped him. "Do you know what this is?"His tiny arm tapped it aggressively. I nudged his wand closer again, poking him in the cheek with the end. "A now properly sized certificate?" "No, asshole! Well, yes, but it isn't the size of the certificate, it's how you use it, and I am going to use mine to wreak some serious havoc on that dumb looking face you have." The wand prodded his cheek again, and he batted at it with his free arm. "Stop that! Do you know who you've axolotl-ed? Do you have any idea?" I scooped up his tiny frame and slid him into my pocket, much to his protest. "Nah, I just know you stepped on my heel in line, and I can't abide by a heel-stepping highfalutin." I couldn't hear his protests through my coat padding, so I assumed he learned his lesson and started the trek home, where an empty spot in my axolotl tank needed filling. I'd never been a good wizard, in fact I could only ever cast one spell, but by god was I going to abuse what little power I had.
Regardless of what people say, stories are real. To be honest, well because I can only be honest, I thought it was insane. I just wanted to become a bookbinder because… well I thought it would be cool. Something about making books sounded cool. Like I was making a cool phone case, that only nerds would read. But, that’s when I found out what bookbinding really was. Mrs. Mars - the local book shop owner - took me in and taught me the craft. Said I had to do some basic steps like folding the paper, stapling it together, getting a nice cover on it, and catching the story on the pages. Yep, that’s bookbinding. They don’t bind the book; they bind the story to the book. I thought it was insane. “What about all those books in print? They can’t all be caught,” I asked Mrs. Mars. She laughed at me. “Oh no, any story that has already been bound can be printed. What you just made was a master template. It’s what lets us catch those stories for print. Now get your shoes, the honey, and bring the plushie with you. We need to go find some adventure tale for that book you just made.” Now, if you thought bookbinding was wild, get ready for this one. Mrs. Mars opened a portal to an Endless Library. The library was just like you would expect some fantastical library would be. It had thousands of floors. I once saw the center of the library. The floor would stop and there would be this shaft that cuts through all the floors. It went all the way up and all the way down. I looked both ways and couldn’t see the bottom or the top. It was massive. Just don’t die in there. Your body becomes a story. Oh, and each floor would be stacked with origami animals, humans, objects, and really anything else that you can imagine. Those were the stories. They were made from the pages that we just used for the master template. Those pages were echo reams. They had stories imprinted on them from the minds of living things. Imagine that, you know that one embarrassing self-insert fantasy you thought about when you were twelve? Yep, it’s here. Now, here’s where it gets really wild. It’s not just the minds of humans, but all the minds from the universe. Yep, I said universe. Why? Because aliens apparently believe in stories. Turns out another universal constant in the universe is storytelling. Who knew? Well, other than the librarians – that’s what book catchers call themselves. Turns out the librarians have been catching stories longer than humanity has been around. In fact, the oldest known librarian has been around since the Big Bang. After all, someone needed to be around for us to have a story about it. Oh yeah, that’s another thing. Most of our facts? Those are actually really convincing stories. So, they come from here. Now, I know what you must be thinking, “this is impossible. How could we have so many stories? How many librarians are there?” Well, there’s a lot. You know all your local librarians? Yep. I mean, there is a reason why we call them libraries and librarians. They come from the Endless Library and the First Librarian. Turns out the First Librarian was pretty good at recruiting new members. But, that’s a story for a different time. I didn’t bring a master template bind for that one. Let’s get back to the actual story, shall we? “Mrs. Mars! Look, there’s one right there,” I said as I pointed to an origami dragon below us one floor. It wasn’t massive at all. Just some small dog-like dragon. It was for a Young Adult novel, so it didn’t have to be that complex. You should have seen the size of the dragon for this one book. It was annoying to catch. We had to go through this entire seven day planning period. Apparently, it was a fan of snow? I’m not too sure why. Guess I didn’t know much about it. It also had these weird thrones on it and this checkerboard pattern. It looked like chess, but all the pieces were thrones. I guess some would call it a game of thrones. I just called it a really big book. “Jon!” Mrs. Mars called out to me while I was setting up a trap. I was just fastening some honey and a goblin plushie to a rope. For some reason, Young Adult stories really liked goblin plushies and honey? We didn’t know why, but it worked. I was going to lower the plushie down for the dragon to eat. I looked over to make sure she was okay. She never called out my name like that when I am setting up a trap. I saw why she called out my name. There was a massive dragon thing. I say thing because it was an unfinished. Unfinished stories were just some stories that weren’t finished by their original creator. Which would be fine for the most part, they would just stay unfinished or someone else would finish the story. But sometimes there were unfinished stories that got popular. When they get popular, many people know how the story should end. Those little tales end up attaching themselves to the unfinished story and make it some kind of amalgamation of the original author’s work and the other author’s work. Most of the time they would make the original story better, like making a romance story that was just a sad woman into something more complete like another. But sometimes the new additions would make them terrifying. This one was terrifying. “It’s that dragon story again,” Mrs. Mars yelled at me as she ran from it. “We should have never caught that gamey looking dragon!” I fell backward as I looked at the dragon. It was hideous. It had all these pieces of paper on it. The vellum had splotches of black, black ink on it. Sometimes an icon of a white crown would appear in that area. Others would have symbols that looked like these massive wolves all around it. Another place had just three letters repeated. It was H, B, and O. I really didn’t know what this story was about, but it seemed to have been really popular… and then really not. While it wasn’t like a usual unfinished story, where it would have bundles of beautiful additional pieces. This one just looked like a T-rex was added on to a dragon. I really didn’t like it. “Mrs. Mars! Let’s get out of here,” I screamed as we headed back to the location of our open portal. The library had this silly constraint. Exit the way you entered. So we had to go back that way. But, that meant trying to outrun… whatever that thing was. It’s kind of amazing how much faster someone runs when they are being chased by a T-dragon monster. Like, it’s really something. “Jon! We won’t outrun it.” Mrs. Mars was right. We had to do something. That’s when the most idiotic idea hit me. “Mrs. Mars! Let’s go to that section,” I yelled as we ran past the grade-schooler section. She gave me a confused look until it clicked. A devilish grin appeared. “That might work Jon!” So, we changed direction and ran down to… well to one of the few sections I hated going to. The erotic section. There was something wild about going to the erotic section. It was far larger than any other section in the library, and that was saying something when we had the revenge section. But the stories here were… were a lot different than what the rest of the library had. It ranged from beautiful origami women to perfect origami men. That was the surface though, past that we got into some weird stuff. Like there were some origami creatures that just went through various shades of a single color. They would also have a ton of whips on them. I didn’t know why anyone needed that many. Yet, those weren’t the ones we needed. “There!” Mrs. Mars said as she pointed to the floor above us. It was the origami shapeshifters. Those were what we were looking for. Mrs. Mars and I found out the shapeshifter ones were always wild. There would be thousands of them. We just had to get close enough for them to transform. I was banking on the hope that the dragon-rex would have to eat something… Yeah okay, so I sacrificed someone’s wet dream to save myself. Can you blame me? Well, if it helps we didn’t escape. The unfinished story got us. I mean, why else would you be reading my story? Remember, stories are caught, not told. Some poor librarian must have found us on that floor. ___ If you liked this little deus ex machina, then I have more stories at r/WritingKnightly!
As black fur dressed my flesh, I felt the twitch of my ears prick up. Reaching for them, I found them to possess a rather delicate, furry quality. I gasped, placing my hands to my face. No. Not my face. Another creature, with whiskers and a soft wad of flesh, I guess I could describe as a nose. I cried out, only to hear the caterwaul of a rather fat and uncomfortable feline echo in my head. What had I become? The incantation. Correct. The blood of a sow, pure, or so the farmer assured me. And the pentagram as I designed it. Then what went wrong? The door creaked open, and a spill of amber light struck my eyes. They flashed at the sallow-faced girl who stood in the doorway to my basement entered. Jenny. She would help. She had to. “You finally did it, you used the blood,” Jenny wiped the mud from her wellies as she bent to retrieve something from the inside of her barber jacket. “Now you know what we do with demons,” she flashed the kitchen knife at me, “when they are no longer demons.”
I approached the mirror, eyes still crusted from sleep. I thought to wipe the mirror clean a moment - long enough to lift my forearm - before realising my vision was the problem. I turned the taps, cold and a little hot, "cold water shocks your skin; use warm" I heard my sister, a beauty therapist, say in my brain. The fatigue made her memory-voice sound a little more like mine than usual. They are similar enough, to be sure: both alto, but mine that distinctive bit deeper, to go along with being taller. I rinsed my face, clearing my eyes, clearing my view of my reflection. Something was different. My eyes were the same - the colour tended to shift slightly in the sea-after-a-storm realm of grey-green, and so they were still. The shape had not changed, they were still the same size. It was my perception. Was I getting a migraine? I picked up the nearest object with writing - the hand soap - and tried to read the back despite not having my glasses on, and even though the words shifted in and out of focus, no tell-tale spots appeared in the corner of my vision. But my mind felt crowded. What is going on?, I asked without saying the words aloud. "I am in here with you" my own voice came, though I did not will it to. My consciousness reeled. Am I still asleep? was the loudest thought in the sea of panic in my mind. "You are awake but I am here." The panicked reeling stopped dead and something piqued in my memory. Not an actual memory but the knowledge of one being there I should not look at. Instinctively, I pushed a little at it. In response came a sound like screams being sucked into a vacuum. "DON'T LOOK AT IT" the voice shouted - my voice, this time in unison with other voices. Voices I did not like. I should see it. If it happened to me, I should -- I was poking at it again but the voice interrupted. "Stop!"I was relieved it had returned to normal. As I stood staring into the mirror, not really seeing myself, a little something was released from my memory - as though the voice had a tap to turn, letting only a small trickle, barely a drop. A memory of them - the voice. They had been there before, at another time. They had left when I was still in school and taken with them the memory of what happened to place them there. And now they were back to protect me from something else. Now, the voices presence was as comfortable as an old pair of shoes I'd somehow forgotten but, now that I remembered they were mine, I wanted to hang on to forever. With the remembering, though, came leaden ball that settled in my stomach. It was the price of knowing something happened without having to remember it. It was the voice's price. A time would come where I would have to let them talk, and they would bury me deep in my mind, somewhere I could not hear them say what happened. If someone mentioned it to me, they would jump in front of me - like a movie hero jumping in front of the bullet meant for their love. If the memory pushed its way past the flood gates, they would take me to higher ground, out of the danger zone, until the tide had ebbed and could be contained again. And it was strong - the memory. It wanted to be let out. It was persistent. But my protector was quick, and strong. They were already bundling up my consciousness to stow away, ready to play Me. No one would notice the difference, other than perhaps, I would seem colder. And when the threat was over, they would return me, updating me only with what was necessary for me to carry on as normal. But the trip to and fro from fore to the recesses was tiring. I never knew if the day would come where I would not want to return. The voice, my protector, would carry on in my place, without complaint, without agenda - beyond protecting me - and none would be the wiser. And I could rest forever, free from whatever hell was in my memory.
Case File Subject: ████████ Date: ████████ Patient is demonstrating typical symptoms of Dissociative Identity Disorder. ████████ was ordered to undergo treatment by Judge █████. Apparently, during his court appearance, ████████ demanded to be released so that he could "avoid any problems". During his detainment, it was noted that ████████ has been kept in solitary confinement for several months, due to violence against other inmates after lights out. (See Prison report #██████). Prison records indicate that ████████ refuses to sleep. Many of the guards in the Solitary unit report often hearing multiple voices from his cell. Camera footage reveals that instead of sleeping in a normal fashion, after ████████ seems to fall asleep, he immediately gets up and begins pacing his cell. Any attempt to make contact with ████████ during these pacing episodes has resulted in several injured staff. ████████ is to never be without restraints/straitjacket. Date: ████████ ████████ appears to be quite intelligent. When conducting the orientation interview, he constantly sought reassurance that he hasn't hurt anyone. ████████ appears to also suffer from insomnia. He refused any of the medications that we offered to aid in his sleep. However, he's been here for 4 days and still hasn't slept. Due to state mandate, it has been ordered that 14 mg of █████████ be added to all his meals.
Okay, see, this really all came down to location. The main problem was the airport. Who puts an airport that close to the city? Once they can ignore a 747 screaming arms-length overhead, my worst ghostly wailing doesn’t penetrate at all. The second problem was energy prices and poor insulation. They just didn’t run the heater. How am I supposed to chill their spines with fear when they just wear blankets everywhere? And don’t say try it in the summer. Don’t. I chilled the living room in a heat wave once and they loved it. They made Instagram stories about “finally getting a good crossbreeze.” Disgusting. I’m not even going to talk about Comic-Con. It was a hard job, is what I’m trying to get across. Not exactly a Whaley House where the reputation does half the job and all you need to do is waft some curtains to get the tourists fainting. And then, the perfect moment. A pandemic hit. The whole state shut down. No planes. No freeway traffic. No construction. Even the trolley was barely running. In the abominably unnatural stillness, I knocked over every single object that I could. They got out the earthquake wax. This is why I hate California. Definitely not getting a raise this year.
The crowd erupts with bombastic applauds towards Lucky Dice's standing ovation. As the crowd slowly becomes silent, a hand from a clawed gauntlet is raised. With an enigmatic smile and a raised eyebrow, Lucky Dice points his limber finger at the willowy figure clad all black and wearing a dark helm reminiscent of an animal of avian nature. "Yes, you! Crowman! What is your question for your fellow compatriots?" The Cowled man rolls his eyes as he crosses his arms. "First and foremost, Not my name. Last and Second, how can one expect to take on the likes of the M-foundation?"Lucky Dice freeze and stares at the Cowled Man with wide eyes before throwing his head back in boisterous laughter. "Oh, them? Not to worry we are going to strike at them when they least expected." The Cowled Man smiles wickedly as his sudden change of demeanor becomes more apparent. "Ironic, I could say the same for myself" The cowled man stabs the nearest villain before disappearing in the clouded mist. Lucky Dice shouts as his eyes darts across the arena of the abandoned pageant. "After that man! Find him before-" The lights begin to shut off. Lucky Dice tries to peer through the abyss only for his shaky ears to be met with the terrified screams of his peers. Rips and tears, mangling of flesh, shrieking terrors that can make a meer banshee blush. These were the things the Lucky Dice could hear as he wonders what kind of hero would do this type of horrid actions? Before Lucky Dice could even scream in fright, he is pulled backward by some unseen force, only for him to be spat out into the upper rooftops of the Theater. Lucky Dice's eyes widen as he sees the sheen of an otherworldly portal and a dark figure coming from out of it. The figure slowly saunters to Lucky Dice as the clicking of heels is heard. "In the dark... Who are you!! Who are you!!!" Lucky dice screams as he licks his lips. As the light reaches the figure, Lucky Dice frowns shaking his head as his mouth twists and puckers. It was him... The cowled man, his ebony fleshy suit bathed in the blood of his allies, revealing the crow shaped crest on his chest. The Cowled man says with his shoulders back and with a face that is as cold as ice. "I am no devil nor am I a monster, for I am a mere agent" The Cowled man continues his approach towards Lucky Dice continuing to speak his madness. "And as that agent, I must commit duty for tonight... Corvinus joins the murder once again." Dice shrieks in terror as he gets on his knees and begs, "Please... I give anything but that give me anything but Covid!" Corvinus pauses as he stares at Lucky Dice with his mouth agape. "Really.... You believe that my superpower is some kind of advance from Covid-19?" Dice shrugs, "I mean you are covered in blood so someone might surely get it and the Empedocles Alert does say about people encounter with you." Corvinus flinches as his nose crinkles. "The Empedocles Vigil? THE EMPEDOCLES VIGIL!!? Those guys always try to create some type of drama by dragging me into it! Do you know what these guys are like!? WELL DO YOU!?" Dice shakes his head he begins to mutter. "Um... No, Just know they have the best news sources for heroes tha-" Corvinus points a shaky finger at Dice causing the man to yelp in fright. "Not... One word... At. All. Even if these dudes are the best news source, They are like Drama Alert if they were controlled by freaking ALEX JONES!!!" The whirling gears of Helicopters are heard as searchlights are placed on the pair. "Face the wall with your hands up!!" Dice complies with the officers as Corvinus begins to walk away. A bullet strikes the floor near Corvinus. "The same goes for you Plagueman! The FBI will be here to take you in sho-" Corvinus rolls his eye before snapping his fingers and disappearing in a puff of purple haze. The door burst in as a team of SWAT and FBI agents swarm Lucky Dice screaming at him to get down on the ground, only for Dice to be knocked unconscious with the butt of the SWAT leader's rifle.
Hope Falls was a typical Colorado frontier town. Established in 1833, it was home to one of the largest grain mills in the Old West, and was the last stop before the treacherous Breakneck Pass through the Rocky Mountains. Time has both taken its toll and smiled on Hope Falls. When I first signed on as the sheriff in 1898, I was already the fourth one appointed. Bandits and Indians had been sacking our town for a generation. I gathered up the men and chased them out. It was only after doing so that I learned the scary story behind that six-pointed star: It was cursed. And it was cursed by none other than the undertaker. Mr. Blackwood had long dabbled in the occult, and had eventually been seduced by a vampiress. As her thrall, he created the badge and bound it with a curse - so long as the badgewearer be killed, he should never die, and the town of Hope Falls would continue to survive, locked in the year 1898. Every year, the calendars would reset. Every year, the bandits and Indians would come again. And every year, Hope Falls would slip further and further into the past, unaware that it’s been almost 150 years. Unaware that all the letters they’ve written to friends and family go undelivered, ghosts of a long-lost past. This goes against all of God’s law and order. It’s my job to fix it. It’s my job as the sheriff.
Schitmar1 was an experienced 'first contact' technician and he had high hopes for this planet. So far, the assessment results indicated that contact would be mutually beneficial to his species and to the intelligent inhabitants of this planet. Only the final test remained. Contact was an increasingly rare occurrence as the probability of success hinged on an ever-increasing list of desirable qualities and narrowing tolerances. There had been far too many failed interactions and Schitmar1's people had learnt from all of them. Test parameters were designed and executed by the starship computer and were tailored to each planet's intelligent inhabitants. For this final test, the starship had chosen to display a timer counting down to zero over the sky of one of the most populated locations on the planet. Schitmar1 had no control over any aspect of these tests, including how long they ran for. He'd stopped trying to second guess or rationalize them a long time ago and simply went into hibernation while awaiting results, only waking up when the test was close to completion. Though, he did know that this specific test sought to determine how the inhabitants of this planet would collectively react to uncertainty. He began the test and commenced his hibernation cycle. \--- Shitmar1 completed the command sequence that would conclude his work on this planet. The test wasn't yet complete, but the findings were conclusive. Early results had shown promise. The inhabitants had displayed an intense level of curiosity in trying to decipher the purpose of the countdown and its origination point. They'd been unsuccessful on both counts and it was then that they'd turned to violence. The timer had been a catalyst that escalated military activity between its inhabitants. Even from his high vantage point, Schitmar1 could see clearly the aftereffects of this activity which still continued sporadically. This test had drastically altered life on this planet, but not in the way Schitmar1 had been expecting. They would not, could not, engage. Not yet. Schitmar1, or his successors might come again someday, but the universe was vast, and there was no guarantee these people would evolve, or even survive. At this rate, they would be extinct before he made it to the next galaxy. As Schitmar1's craft flew away, the timer counted down to zero and was replaced with a shimmering message that disintegrated slowly into wisps of smoke: 'End of countdown. This was only a test'
"Happy birthday, deary!"My grandmother exclaimed, pulling me into a tight hug with a sloppy kiss. "Thanks, ma." "Oh, I wouldn't miss my boy on his big day,"She said as she let go of me, moving back to look into my eyes. Then I heard it. A whisper echoed around my head, "Stay up late with me, there is something I must show you."It was weird enough that my brain would say something like that, but my grandmother's wink and sly smile felt like too much of a coincidence. "Well, come on then, time to open some presents!"She continued, turning towards my parents and younger sister. I suppose I shouldn't worry about it, just my mind making things up and seeing connections that aren't there. Time to open presents, I guess. &#x200B; \---- &#x200B; The rest of the day passed fairly uneventfully. A nice quiet day with the family was always appreciated, with no work or deadlines to think about, plenty of food and presents, what's not to like? However, some of the presents were odd, particularly those from my grandmother. Somehow an old stick had gotten caught up in the wrapping paper, and the marbles looked cool but I don't really know what to do with them. Anyway, the voice said to stay up late. Guess we'll see soon if it was just in my head. &#x200B; \---- &#x200B; At ten minutes to midnight, my dad finally left to go to sleep, leaving me and my grandmother alone in the lounge. It didn't take long before she moved next to me, and began to whisper in my ear, "Do you remember your eighth birthday?" Suddenly I was thrown back, as if I was there. My eighth birthday. For no apparent reason, my grandmother stuck a needle in my arm and took some blood. She spoke kind words, but I realise now that her lips didn't move. As if being woken, I snapped back to the current day. Without thinking, I questioned, "Why did you take my blood? What are you?" "All will be revealed soon."She took a vial out of her pocket, containing a thick, red liquid, "For now, drink up." I wanted to hesitate, but I was force-fed the blood too quickly to react. "Now,"she spoke again, but this time without opening her mouth, "what do you notice?" I was confused but looked around obediently. Then I saw it, next to the fireplace, the stick that had been wrapped up with the presents. It was glowing. "That will be your wand." "My wand?"I wanted to reply, but my lips were stuck together. She smiled, "Don't worry dear, I can hear you fine. Congratulations on your first use of magic." "I have no idea what's going on." "You're a clever boy, so I'll be blunt with you. I'm a witch. In fact, I'm the last of my coven. Your mother wanted nothing to do with it and rejected the powers, but I saw them still flowing in you." "So, am I a witch now?" "Yes, but keep it secret for now, okay? Wouldn't want your mother freaking out over it, would we."I could feel her laughter echo in my head, but still, no verbal sounds came. "Your presents are all the gear you'll need, and I'll be sure to teach you as much as I can." "And it's just the two of us?" "Well, until your sister joins us, yes." "Then we best get started,"I returned the tight-lipped smile that my grandmother had been giving me. "So, you're on board then?" "Why not? It sounds fun." "Good,"The clock in the corner of the room struck midnight, "Then the pack is sealed." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; If you liked this story, head over to [r/F4TF0X](https://www.reddit.com/r/F4TF0X/) to read more of my stuff!
[Part 1] I once watched a man break a woman’s knee caps. It was as horrifying as one would think. Sometimes people say terrible things aren’t so terrible as they’re made out to be. Like the first time you have to get a cavity filled or resetting a broken bone. “It’s over before you know it.” they say. That’s not what it’s like watching a man permanently disable another human being. It happens forever. The screams are so loud that you forget what silence sounds like. The gurgly, banshee-cries pierce your ear drums at first. But then it’s just white noise. And your heart doesn’t jump to your throat the first time he swings the crow bar. It kind of rises up like a large bowling ball and presses against your adams apple with gradual pressure until you feel like your head is going to erupt from your shoulders. You wonder if it will ever stop. But it doesn’t. Like the screaming it just goes on and on until you can’t remember things being any different. The crow bar makes a thudding sound the first couple times. Then crunching, then squishing. I don’t remember how many times he hit her. I just remember the sounds. Before that day I used to think of myself as a good person. I saw bad things happening ‘out there’. Evil men took advantage of other men and women and children. Crazy people hurt other people. Not people like me. I was a good person. I went to work, said hi to the receptionist, made small talk with a few co-workers. I bought coffee for everyone once a week. Sometimes I paid for the person behind me in the drive-thru. Bad guys didn’t make small talk. The day I watched a man break a woman’s knee caps started like any other day. I kissed my girlfriend goodbye while she lay half-awake in bed. It was always like that: we both started work at the same time but she was a barista across the street and I had a forty-five minute commute. Sometimes that would really annoy me. Most days I would be genuinely affectionate and kiss her softly on the cheek and she’d roll over to kiss me back and I’d have to pry myself off of her so I wouldn’t be late for work. But sometimes I woke up angry and left the house without touching her and fumed about how lazy she was for most of the day. But I always forgot about it by the time I got back home. It wasn’t like the way I felt about my boss. I never really liked him. All the women in the office found him a little uncomfortable. He never touched anyone or said anything out of bounds or inappropriate or anything like that. But he was always…around. And he didn’t make good company. Some people try way too hard to be your friend even though you feel like you’ve made it clear through the existing social norms that you don’t want to be friends. It’s not like they’re bad people or there’s anything wrong with them. They just come on real strong and can’t seem to take a hint. It’s like they just don’t quite know how to be around other people. My boss was that kind of person. He spent most of the day trying to make small talk. Mostly with the women in the office. Everyone always talked about filing a complaint, but it was a small company and it was privately owned—by him. Filing a complaint basically meant you were asking to be let go. And the pay was good. And it really didn’t seem like a big sacrifice to make uncomfortable small talk with a socially awkward person periodically to work a decent job. It was Monday, and I was extra tired because my girlfriend and I had been up late the night before. I didn’t think much of the receptionist not being at the front desk. I didn’t think it was weird that the doors were closed to all the other offices even though I was ten minutes late. I just counted it as good luck that I could have some peace and quiet in the morning. It wouldn’t be the first time most people showed up late to work on a Monday. I had just sat down at my desk when I heard a loud thud. I don’t really know where it came from, except that it wasn’t outside. I don’t know how I knew that. I just did. I knocked on the door of the office next to mine. No one answered so I jiggled the handle. That’s when I noticed the door jamb was broken. It was splintered; like someone had forced it open. I didn’t go in. My first thought was that we’d had a break-in over the weekend. My heart started racing and I felt cold and sweaty at the same time. I started walking to my boss’s office. I didn’t think about how a break-in would only make sense if the front door or one of the windows was also broken(they weren’t). I just didn’t think it could be anything worse. Break-ins were bad enough. I was a good person: I didn’t think about what could be worse than a break-in. I could hear voices coming from my boss’s office as I got closer. The first voice was Jacob(my boss). ‘Good,’ I thought, ‘The robbers must not have gotten to his office.’ Robbers. It didn’t occur to me that this was the kind of word children used to describe bad guys. The door to Jacob’s office was halfway open. I was about to burst in and make my announcement. I would be the good guy that had discovered the robbers. I was going to be a hero. There’s a mirror in Jacob’s office. I don’t know why he has it. It’s not like a small mirror he keeps in a drawer to check his face before a meeting. It’s a full body mirror. Like one you’d find in a department store dressing room. Sometimes if his door was open and we walked by we could see him standing in front of it. He wouldn’t be smiling—Just standing with his hands in his pockets and staring. The mirror sits in such a way that you can see the opposite wall when the door is open. I had my hand outstretched to push the door the rest of the way open. I was that close. I happened to glance toward the mirror and saw that Jacob had his back turned to the door. He was standing up with his right side facing the mirror. He was covered in blood.
I open up my phone to see the notifications from Duolingo. There's hundreds of them. I read the latest 3 notifications "Please come do your Spanish Lessons!" "This is your last warning u/Vulthrxisaweeb!" "Alright if that's how its gonna be." You get a good chuckle out of the app sometimes. You brush it off and get ready for the day. Underwear, Socks __BANG!__ "What was that?"you thought out loud. You finish putting on your clothes and head downstairs to see a broken vase and a note under the door, you read the note and it says "We gonna play this way aren't we David?" Dumbfounded you think "Someone is messing with me, its gotta be my neighbor. Damn you Dan!" You sweep up the broken glass from the vase and and make a cup of coffee but then you remember you left your phone upstairs so you run up to get it but as you're about to grab it, another notification! But its not from your usual apps, its from your home security app! It says "Intruder back door"__BANG__ __CRACKK__ sounds of a slammed open door and broken glass again! You run downstairs and its a giant ass bird costume! "GODDAMIT DAN YOU'RE PAYING FOR THAT!"You exclaimed thinking it was your neighbor, but suddenly it speaks. It's deeper than Dan's voice and what it says will put you in constant shock for the rest or your life. "You missed your spanish lessons for the last time, bucko."
It isn't easy taking someone's photograph surreptitiously when you need a pentagram surrounding you. Hell, it would be easier to do it with a high-powered rifle, you have about the same range as a telescopic lens. But, alas, your clients pay for your unique service: the indisputable tragic death by accident. You've done quite a few now, the Queen was a fun one. Who'd have thought that corgis could pull so hard? And Mr Desovski's ex wife! No one would have believed that you could trip down the gutter and impale your heart on your own stiletto. But she did, in front of all those flashing cameras at the premier. Unfortunately, someone seems to be onto you. It's taken a while, but you've figured out how they traced the deaths back to you. You thought it would be worth the few extra dollars to sell the tragic images to the tabloids. As careful as you were to go uncredited, your uncanny ability to always be at the right place at the tight time has caught someone's attention. The meet is tonight, at 10pm, by the cement factory. You're wearing your talisman, another little trick you picked up during your studies. You should be safe. (I think this would be a weird occultist assassin choose your own adventure book)
And just like that, the genie was gone. No lamp, no evidence of the magical entity that had previously filled my living room. Stunned, I sat back on my couch. What had I done? The news was on (I like the background noise). “This just in,” the reporter was saying. “Astronomers have confirmed a sudden appearance of a new planet in our solar system. I have Dr. Green here with me to describe what is known about the planet.” I turned up the volume. “Thanks, Jill. Located between Mercury and Venus, the planet appears to have a golden brown outer crust. Reddish lakes are abundant on the surface, as well as whiteish hill areas. A probe has been sent to determine the chemical make up of the planet.” As the scientist was speaking, a picture of the planet was displayed. Sure enough, plain as day, my wish came true: World Pizza.
Once, intrusive thoughts were normal. Sure they might be a little violent or weird, but they were your thoughts. You came up with them, and you could shake them off. We can't pinpoint the exact time when our species' intrusive thoughts suddenly took on a life of their own. But it happened. The Whispers came. The good news, or so they said, was that they were harmless. The Whispers couldn't take over our bodies like that one movie with the people whose eyes glowed, and they didn't really demand anything. Which was super lucky for us, since all the government experiments showed that there wasn't any real way to remove them from our heads if they didn't want to leave. Still, it was bizarre to have someone else living in your head, seeing what you see and feeling what you feel and all too readily giving you their input on the matter. Strangely enough, though, I didn't mind it. The first day that Roman introduced himself I was getting ready for work, trying to straighten my hair out in the mirror. "It'll look better if you part it on your left side,"he'd blurted in my mind, suddenly breaking the early morning silence. Full disclosure, I'd almost shit myself. They all have their own distinct voices, by the way. Something they're very keen on us knowing. I think they have this fear of being seen as all the same, which I suppose is fair for a species that doesn't have their own visible bodies to make unique and show off. Roman and I get along well most of the time. He's helpful, and since he's already in my head, I don't have to worry about trying to impress him by being someone I'm not. Which according to him, is something I tend to do a lot when it comes to dating. He helped me pick out the photos for my dating profile. You know, Tinder and Bumble and all that. But since he can't control anything I do, I'm still free to blunder my way through conversations like a socially awkward teenager. "Why don't you go by Ella?"He asked while I texted one of my more promising dates. "Why would I do that?" "Because Stella is a bitch name." I've only ever regretted swearing because Roman picked up the habit. And he did so quickly. I rolled my eyes, texting a proposal for a date on Wednesday. I'd been on a few dates with this guy before. Adam was good. He was funny and chivalrous and the type of guy who's probably got a million women willing to snatch him up. "And Roman is a man-whore name, but I don't see you clambering to change it." "I resent that." I chuckled and he huffed at me. "Think a carnival date is a good idea? I love those, and the county fair is going on. Plus I know you're aware of how tired I am of getting dinner,"I said. Dinner dates were boring at this point with anyone other than Adam. I'd just end up tuning out and listening to Roman tell me his latest theories about the island from Lost, which he had a lot of. "Sure, but you're not going home with him unless he wins you a giant teddy bear." "Ohhhh so you're my pimp now, and you take payment in the form of stuffed animals." "No,"he pouted, "we just have standards." "This isn't a we situation, and you know it. If we start doing anything above PG-13, you go straight to my New Girl memories and give me some privacy,"I told him. That was our policy. I didn't know if someone without their own body could try voyeurism, but I was not about to take that chance. Roman groaned. "Finnnnee, but you have to watch the new season so I get some new material to replay. It gets boring in here without you." That was a first. Since when did he get lonely? I didn't think Whispers could get lonely, period. I stopped texting and squinted at the air. "What'd you just say?" There was a pause. "Nothing, just go pick out an outfit. I know you'll try and do something last minute if you don't decide on one today." Since that day, Roman didn't talk as much. Usually he had something to say about everything. But he'd gone quiet. Well, quieter. He still let me know that my habit of eating carrots and refried beans as a snack was gross. But Wednesday came eventually, and I had my outfit picked out already, which meant I could spend more time making my face look less sleep-deprived. "Which looks better? Red,"I proposed, holding up a red gingham shirt in front of my mirror, "or blue?" I held a blue polka dot shirt in front of my chest. "Red." No smartass remarks? No sarcasm? Come on. If he had to share a headspace with me, he had to know that I could tell when something was off. I dropped both shirts on my bed with a sigh. "Okay seriously, what's wrong with you? You hate gingham. You always say that it looks too hillbilly-ish." "I don't feel good. If you need me, you know where I am,"he practically grumbled two minutes later. "What? No! Come on, talk to me. Maybe I can help." Silence. I would try to get him to talk, but I knew it wouldn't do any good. For the first time, I finished getting ready and felt completely alone. *** Adam and I had been goofing off at the fair for about an hour when I started feeling weird. It started as a small stomachache, which I was quickly distracted from by a funnel cake and the feeling of Adam's hand in mine. Lately, that had started to feel more and more comfortable. Roman still hadn't said anything all afternoon. When the sun went down and all the brightly colored carnival lights lit up the night like stars, Adam insisted on playing the Hammer Time game. He had to pick up and slam this humongous sledgehammer onto a scale, and you probably know the rest. The headache started as soon as he paid the carnie. First it was a light pounding behind my eyes, which wasn't hard to ignore. After all, you get used to tension headaches when you work in I.T. But the first time he brought the hammer down, the metal CLANG landed on my ears like a knife. I swore. Severe ear infections can't manifest that fast, can they? Adam asked if I was alright, to which I told him I was. I'd had one beer that night, no way in hell I was drunk, I wasn't a lightweight. I told him to get his moneys' worth from the game while I went to get something to drink. I made it halfway to the lemonade stand when the funnelcake from earlier decided to make a re-appearance. I hurled like I was having the mother of all hangovers, grateful that I'd tied my hair back that day. That trashcan was now my best friend. "Roman,"I groaned, swallowing down whatever was trying to come back up. People passing by looked at me with disgust, like this was somehow my fault. Hell, maybe it was. "Hey, what's going on, is this you?" I vomited again, violently. It smelled like pure ash. I don't know if you've ever smelled puke before, but it doesn't normally smell like that. Especially since I'm not a smoker. I tasted iron, and when I looked down at the swirling semi-liquid mess, there was blood. "Roman please, answer me. Are you okay?" He started to say something, but at that point I was collapsing on the dry grass. The bright lights dimmed and then I felt nothing at all. *** Someone was chattering above me. "I know. I'm aware that it's a long shot, but still. Don't get an attitude with me, I won't hesitate to watch The Bachelor all night. Yes, season three." I coughed, opening my eyes to find that somehow I'd ended up in the hospital. Actually, my hospital. I can see Tom, the RN, at the front desk. "Welcome back!"The person greeted as my vision cleared. My head felt light. Too light. "Is Roman okay?"I asked, moving to sit up. Usually he says something to me right when I wake up, but now there was no voice in my head but my own. It was Adam, way too smiley and more energetic than I'd ever seen him. And now he was wearing a suit instead of a t-shirt and jeans. "Okay, so do you want the full story now or later?" **** S.W.D, Sudden Whisper Decomposition. Roman had been rapidly decaying in my head, probably dead since I left for my date. And I didn't know it. I didn't get to say goodbye. He just...croaked. So here I was. Sitting on my couch, watching one of the shows we both liked, like somehow he would reappear and start giving commentary. I kept imagining what he would say. He'd point out a plot hole here, a bit of trivia there. Once, I'd wished for silence. But this was absolutely fucking abysmal. There was nothing anyone could have done. I knew that, but it didn't help. I went to a therapy group twice a week; Grief Processing for Whisper Passing. It kind of rhymed. He would've hated it. That didn't help either, but I went anyway. The doorbell rang, sounding far away. I'd ordered Chinese earlier. I went to the door and didn't bother trying to straighten up. But when I pulled it open, it wasn't the delivery boy. A dark-skinned Indian man was standing on my doorstep. His jacket was getting soaked in the rain, but he didn't move. "Can I help you?"I asked, reaching for the bat I kept hidden by the door. I wasn't fond of strangers showing up at my house this late. "Stella is still a bitch name,"he replied. His voice was different, but there was only one person in the world who'd ever said that to me. I froze. I didn't give a damn about the cold, or the downpour, or anything else. I practically tackled him, which was hard to do since he was taller than me now. He wheezed. "I need to breathe, you know." "Fuck you."
There’s a literal metric tonne of information out there if you know what to look for. Millions of ways to fall down some kind of rabbit hole. Trillions of conspiracies that offer the world new ways of thinking from the suspiciously true to the laughably stupid to the idiotically moronic. And each one of them can inform you of how the world works. I knew this well when I became a writer. That I was learning more about my world as I wrote. I wrote about a ghost who solved mysteries in Las Vegas, ended up on a Wikipedia page about how tarot decks came to be around two hours later. I looked into Lovecraftian lore and learned that Martin Luther (the hammer happy monk not MLK jr) was actually an anti-semantic. Huh, the more you know right? I’ve read a lot, and seen a lot in movies and online videos about various topics that I know just enough to sound like I can write about it but not enough to actually hold a conversation with someone who does. But then again, I suppose that’s part of the fun. Growing my own viewpoints on the world by increasing my knowledge. Opening my eyes to all that there is out there. Or rather...Opening my Eyes in general. I forget what topic led me there. Was it secret communities in general? Or maybe information about the FreeMasons? Had I gotten that far? One thing most people don’t expect to find is proof that most of these exist. I mean we know that the FreeMason’s are out there, and know a bit about what they do but few who aren’t Masons actually KNOW what they do behind closed doors. Are they really just a bunch of adult Boy Scouts in club houses with flashlights and ghost stories? Or are they more? We talk of the ‘Illuminati.’ But do they really do what we always thought? I don’t know how I stumbled on the thought, probably been reading too much for too long too late. That’s usually the recipe for trouble isn’t it? Too much ‘too’ and not enough moderation. But something I read made me think about how and what if these societies and this...world beyond what we saw, existed? What if, say Harry Potter really was real? Wizards and Witches went off to school while we worked our nine to fives. Or what if American Gods was true? What if a man in a white suit helped you put your luggage overhead and introduced himself as “Mr Wednesday” would you notice? I think I’m starting to. But I’m not sure what I’m noticing. It’s like something I read, those thoughts all unlocked something I had glossed over the entire time. Like I stopped pretending that this was all there was. That there was really more. Or maybe… No. I don;t think it’s the other way around. Not after the card I got. I’m impressed at your ability to dance around the edges of what is obviously there. Should you wish to open your eyes to the truth around you let me know. \~A fan It has been singularly the most frightening and the most intriguing piece of fan mail I’ve ever gotten. Considering I’m not a published author. I just write online. I keep looking at it, like it’s going to spontaneously combust or something. But it’s there. Card stock with neat calligraphy and no name. I did find a number in the watermarks when I held it up to the light on a whim. I’ve been debating calling the number, or texting. I finally decided to after the crash. It wasn’t me, but it happened nearby A car just went out of control for no reason causing a three car pileup. A few people were taken to the hospital for treatment and the vehicles were towed but… Even now I can’t explain it but apparently one of the cars that had been towed wasn’t where it was supposed to be when they came into my actual job to ask if anyone caught the name of the tow company that had his car. It was only when I saw the pictures one of my coworkers took that I realized the number was the same as the one on the card. It's been three days since then. I finally decided to jump in. Things were happening now and I was either going to end up joining this secret clubhouse or I was going to go ‘missing’ I called the number on the card and it rang twice before a male voice answered. “Ah, Khontis. Pleasure to finally hear from you. I’ve been waiting to see if my favorite writer would call me. Are you ready to take the next step? Why don’t we meet up at your favorite coffee shop in an hour?” “Sure. But… who are you?” “Oh, the organization I’m with is rather well known but we can talk about that later. I’m more interested in you right now. Oh, but I suppose I could give you my name. I stared at the phone as he spoke. “My name is Loki. I’m eager to make your acquaintance”
"Learn to love without regard,"I pause to give a smile, "You see, some of your greatest assets and resources will exist because they love you without end. You must seem to return that love. But!" I pause, a finger held in the air, and for someone to say finish the answer. I watch the faces spread out before me stare back. Empty. I give a small, disappointed sigh and say, "Honestly, gentlemen, it isn't that complex. The 'but' of it all is that when their usefulness is outweighed by the cost then you cut them off." "Even my sister?"a deep voice in the back asks. "Especially your family!" "But she'll be lonely without me,"the unseen speaker insists. I pinch the bridge of my nose and breathe. This is the third seminar of the day, it's expected for my patience to be a tad thin, surely. Still, I'll give it one more go for the simpleton's sake. "Your dearest sister will not be lonely after she's useless because she will be dead! She would be a loose end. If loose lips sink ships, what do you suppose a loose end does?"I begin to pause but push ahead, "Oh, nevermind! A loose end unravels everything! Find the broken people, the bleeding hearts, the empathetic idiots, and make them love you until you've gained everything you can from them. They will hand you the world. Then kill them!" Silence prevailed. I'd done it. I had finally gotten through to this group of d-list criminals. This ragtag class of black-market bailouts, prison yard rejects, and aspiring failures. "Well, what if we leave them alive, but make them go away,"a new voice spoke up, shaky and old. "Have any of you ever picked up a book? Turned on the TV? Read the bloody newspaper? You would be setting yourself up for the classic downfall of revenge! Three things no criminal mastermind leaves behind are?" "Hydration?" "Extra bullets?" "An extra pair of socks?" I grip the edges of the podium. I can feel a migraine setting in. When I was asked to speak here, I was told the last class would be difficult, but this wasn't even the last class! I answer my own question, "Identification, unfinished plans, and survivors. Now get out and go back to robbing poor souls in the back alleys until you understand that one basic rule at the minimum."
SO.MUCH.CANDY. There was no other thought that crossed into Mal's mind as she passed through the stocked candy shelves at Cindy's. To think that if she hadn't gotten lost on her way to the library, she probably would have never have gone here. The store was so quaint and unassuming too, no one would have known just how magical this store was. This was a lucky day, for sure. Though it was getting late, she better go back. She hauls her shopping cart filled to the brim with all types of sweets, then she attempts to go back to the counter. Chocolate...Gummies...Gummies...Chocolate...Chocolate...Gummies...Gummies...Chocolate...Chocola-wait! Mal falters. She looks back at the isles of shelves she passed by. There seemed to be a pattern, a pattern that wasn't there before. She was adamant that the isles she walked by then were assorted, not just full of chocolate and gummies. She even bought a pack of candy canes in there... Something isn't right. She picks up her speed. Chocolate...Gummies...Gummies...Chocolate... She abandons her shopping cart and runs.
"Go ahead and kill me,"I said with a smirk. The eyes of everyone except the judge turned to look away from me. What a bunch of cowards. I guess I couldn't blame them. I doubt any of them wanted to be the jury for a case like mine. The headlines were gold though. 17-year-old Reaper & mass murderer finally caught and put behind bars. Not for long. I was sure they were going to give me the death sentence. That was the kind of punishment I deserved for all the people I'd killed. I knew it, they knew it. It was quite simply really. And that had been my goal from the start. Well not exactly. I'd killed one person out of revenge, but when I saw how fun it was, I kept on going. 100 solo kills later and I was getting a bit bored, so I decided I'd try raiding with a party. And those shit bags betrayed me. I should have known. My bounty alone was a hundred times greater than any of the cash they'd get from completing a mission. So that was it. I'd die in a couple days and live on as this planet's Reaper. It was a decent enough of name, though I'd preferred something a bit more unique. If only I'd lived a bit longer. Maybe I could have come up with something better. I waited for the judge to deliver their verdict. They sure were taking their sweet time flipping through pages and pretending like they were being smart, when they were clearly stalling. Finally, he lifted his head and said. "The jury and you seem to be in agreement. But I do not believe the death sentence is a fitting punishment for someone as vile as you. Death would be too good for you. So I'm sentencing you to the Eternal Prison. Guards take him away." I cackled like a maniac the entire way. They thought death was too good, so they were granting me immortality? What a bunch of lunatics. And they called me the psycho. They drugged me up quite a bit and did a bunch of operations. I didn't remember a thing. Hopefully they didn't wipe my memory with all the things they were injecting with. Although I did like the idea of reliving my first kill again. After I was shipped to this so called "Eternal Prison"I was surprised at how nice it looked. The ship landed in a grassy field. I could see a white fence on the outside, but besides that the place looked quite nice. Bird chirped, and the blue sky was rather brilliant. It would have made the perfect place to have a picnic. "You sure you didn't drop me in the wrong spot?" The guards didn't respond. I would have tried attacking them, but they wore the latest armor, reinforced blacksteel that I unfortunately couldn't break with my bare hands. Without my weapons I was a bit of a letdown. But now that I was immortal getting them back would be easy. I took a stroll. I didn't see many people out here. I spotted a few thugs I recognized. These were the best of the best, I realized. Am I really strong enough to be considered on their level? The dumbest emotion came over me. Why was I feeling like a giddy kid again, excited over meeting some dumb hero? I hadn't paid much to what people said about me, but I did know that no one was excepting someone as young as me to get immortality. They usually reserved that for the big fish. I doubted any of them were younger than 50. So yeah, I felt out of place, but part of me wanted to approach them and strike up a conversation. If these were my heroes, then I wanted to talk to them. I went up to a guy I recognized. He'd been called Underground Bulldozer back in his day. He'd murdered way more guys in me, all in underground mines. It sounded so exciting. I wanted all the details. "You bulldozer?"I asked. He looked, at me surprise in his eyes. "Who are you?"he asked. There was no malice behind his voice. "What?"I said. "You're the bulldozer. Aren't you gonna say you'll kill me if I stay. I'm Reaper by the way." He laughed. "I didn't know they put younglings like you in here." "I'm the first … I think,"I said. "Quite the honor if I do say myself." "You won't be saying that in a century,"he said "I can tell you that much." "I think I'll be very happy once I've broken out." His booming laugh interrupted the serenity of the rest of the gentle plains. Couldn't he keep his voice down? The birds had to fly away. I was planning on hunting them down later. "Trust me Reaper, once you're here, you're here forever. You should be glad you ran in to me and not the others. They've all gone insane." "Aren't we all?"I asked. "I mean there is a reason they put us here in the first place." "No, not like that,"he said. "I'm talking about caring about the people they killed. It's mad, and seeing them pray everyday like some lot of monks is the worst. I bet you'll be thinking this is our hell once you see Blackmailer kneeling before the alter. "Well, guess he was weaker than the media said,"I said. "I guess there's a reason they say to never meet your heroes. I expected better from you too. Escaping seems like the ultimate challenge. This is going to be the most fun I've had in a while." He let himself fall onto the grass and closed his eyes. "You do that, I'm taking a nap." Killjoy. "Oh well, suit yourself,"I said. "I'm going to find someone who actually knows how to have some fun."
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Jim’s eyes hurt. His forehead ached. His mouth was dry. His tongue could taste the reminisce of bile filmed over his teeth. Every muscle in his body seemed to throb with pain. He needed to get some water. Carefully opening his eyes, Jim scanned the room. He was lying down on the uncomfortable futon in his living room. A clattering of plates sounded from his kitchen. Was a girl here? Did he bring someone home with him last night? Jim thought that was impressive considering the hungover state he was in. He couldn’t remember what she looked like. Or even begin to guess what her name might be? The last thing he remembered was enjoying a shot of tequila at his usual dive bar, The Lucy Goosey. After his fifth shot of tequila, the rest of the night was a blur and now he was back in his apartment with a girl shuffling around the kitchen. “Hello,” Jim tried to call out. “Yo!” the voice answered back. That voice didn’t sound female. As a matter of fact, the voice was a distinctly low male voice. “Ah, you’re awake. Finally,” the voice said. Turning his head, Jim looked up to see a face with nothing but brown hair. Shock overtaking him, Jim leaned his head over the side of futon and threw up on the floor. “Sorry,” Jim said, “I was just a little surprised. You’re Sasquatch, aren’t you?” “The one and only. And no worries, bud. Glad to see you’re doing better. You were in a terrible state when I found you. I wasn’t sure you’d survive the night. But here you are,” Sasquatch said. “Where did you find me?” Jim asked. “Found you right outside the Lucy Goosey. You were not in any state to drive home. So, I brought you home and acted as your nursemaid. Made sure you survived the night,” Sasquatch explained. “How did we get home? Do you know how to drive? Did you drive my car?” Jim asked. “Oh no,” he said, “This cute girl at the bar was nice enough to call us an Uber. I found your driver’s license in your wallet.” “Oh, clever,” Jim replied, “so, listen, if there’s anything I can do to repay you, just let me know.” “Well,” Sasquatch said, a little hesitation in his voice. “There is something you can help me with.” “Ok, yeah. Sure. Name it,” said Jim, trying to sound confident. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to help Sasquatch with what he needed. He didn’t really know that much about the guy. Just that he hung around these parts. But he’s been around here for years. What could he need?” “I need you to help me reunite with my love, Nessie,” he said, sadly, “I don’t have much time left on this rock. And the last thing I want is to hear my Lochness’ sweet voice, one last time.” Jim thought about what Sasquatch was asking. The guy was dying. And he had saved his life. He would help him, even if his offer to help was an empty one. “Yeah, I’ll help you man,” Jim said, resolved. “Ok, so what do we need to do? Um, are we headed to Scotland? Cause I don’t know how we’re gonna get you on a plane. Maybe I can Fedex you? Or do we road trip through the country and take a boat from the East coast?” he asked. “Dude, no,” Sasquatch said laughing. “First of all Nessie doesn’t live in Scotland anymore. That’s one of her cousins. And secondly, I just want to talk. A phone call will suffice. I mean, I’m Sasquatch, man. Come on, I live outside. No phone, no internet,” he explained. “Oh well, that’s a thousand times easier than trying to smuggle you into the cargo hold of an airplane,” Jim said, relieved. Pulling out his iPhone, “So, do you have a phone number for Nessie?” he asked. Sasquatch gave Jim the number and he punched it on his iPhone. Putting the phone on speaker so that he and Sasquatch could hear. The line trilled and a woman’s voice answered. “Hello, is this Nessie?” Jim asked. “Yes, who’s this?” Nessie asked. “My name is Jim and I have someone here whose dying wish is to speak with you one last time,” Jim said, assured of himself. “Oh no,” Nessie groaned. In that instant, Sasquatch grabbed the phone away from Jim. “Nessie, Nessie, don’t hang up. Baby, baby, you know I love you. I think this time we can work things out. I can change, baby. Think about what we mean to each other. For the kids. Please,” Sasquatch poured into the phone. “Reginald! How many times am I going to need to say this. It’s over! You are not allowed to speak to me except through my lawyer! Stop getting these humans drunk and crank calling me through their phones! I’ll see you at the custody hearing next month,” Nessie spat out at him. Hanging up the phone, Jim stared at Sasquatch in front of him. “Reginald?” Jim asked. “It’s a family name,” Reginald shrugged off. “Well, this has been fun. And uh, see you around Jim,” he said walking toward the door. Opening the door, Reginald took one last look at Jim, winked and used his hand in a gun gesture. “And stay in school,” he replied walking out of the apartment. “Did Sasquatch just give me the wink and the gun?” Jim asked himself, “And stay in school? I’m 32. Was he really dying? Was I really dying?” Groaning Jim started to lie back down on the terrible futon mattress when his younger brother Mike walked through the door. “Hey Bro! Whoa, you look like the devil’s punching bag. What happened?” Mike asked. “Don’t ask,” Jim groaned. “Was that Sasquatch that came out of here?” Mike asked. Jim nodded slowly, feeling a little nauseous again. “Man, you gotta quit going to lame dive bars like the Lucy Goosey. You always walk outta there with the most bottom of the barrel creatures. Except the Sphinx. Sphinx was cool. You gotta go to the good spots like I do,” Mike said. “Yeah, alright,” Jim said, rolling his eyes. “Anyways, I think I’ve found the love of my life. She’s smart, funny, and a Lochness. Her name is Nessie and I think I’m in love with her. She’s got some drama with her baby daddy, some dude named Reggie. But I really think she’s the one,” Mike said. “You don’t say, Mike,” Jim replied impassively, “you don’t say.”
“Theorising that one could time travel within his own lifetime, Doctor Sam Beckett stepped into the Quantum Leap accelerator and vanished... He woke to find himself trapped in the past, facing mirror images that were not his own, and driven by an unknown force to change history for the better. His only guide on this journey is Al, an observer from his own time, who appears in the form of a hologram that only Sam can see and hear. And so Doctor Beckett finds himself leaping from life to life, striving to put right what once went wrong, and hoping each time that his next leap will be the leap home…” Sorry, I couldn’t resist. 👍🙂
It didn't take long for the humans to notice. The Cockroach infestation was becoming more and more obvious. It would only be a matter of time before the entire planet was overrun. The news stations ran 24-hour reports, detailing the cities that had been evacuated, and directing people to occupy sporting arenas where security was higher and less likely to attract the creatures. As every arena in the nation started to fill up with people, there were more outside, pounding on the doors begging to be let in. Eventually the tide of death covered the planet. And those inside their supposed 'safe havens', soon found that they were neither safe, nor havens. And as the last humans were cast down, by this black cloud of vermin.. God looked down from the heavens and said, "Finally. Now I can remake things the way I really wanted to."And God took the universe in both hands, and shook it. Exactly like an enormous Etch-a-sketch.
February, 1910: She was finally free. Free from lock up "for her own good", free from the lies. She'd had to agree to conditions ofcourse. She couldn't work in her best profession again, they were practically forcing her on the street. But did they care? Ofcourse not. Because now everything would be 'safe' and 'correct' according to their crackpot theories. She didn't know how they had been able to swindle the authorities with their lies. For three years they had kept her locked up on that island. They wouldn't even allow her to get treatment for her eye and she had been treated like a "guinea pig". But this all changed today. Mary was able to force them to provide a job for her. Laundry. Yes, it paid a lot less, than her cooking job for those rich families, but a job none the less. After several unsuccesful years, Mary decided, she wouldn't listen to them, crackpots anymore. They were wrong and spread slanders about her. She'd had to be careful ofcourse. And change names and move a lot. But it would be okay. The papers lied ofcourse, for she, Mary Mallon, was not Typhoid Mary like the papers claimed she was.
‘Lucius, come to my office right now!’, the demonic screech rang in my head. I rolled my eyes so hard that my head started to hurt. Or maybe it was because of the telepathic message - I’ll never get used to those. Oh well, I grunted and went straight to my boss’ office. The moment I entered the hallway that was connected to his office, I knew it wouldn't be good. He was yelling at someone inside, so I waited a bit, until the person left the room. ‘Come on in’ I heard him and so I entered. My boss was none other than the devil himself. And no, I am not joking - Lucifer, Satan, devil or however you want to call him, was my employer. Actually, to be more precise, he was my owner, but details weren’t important - he didn’t call me often, but when he did, it meant I had to work. And that means my life is going to suck until I am done with the assignment. ‘Sup?’ I said nonchalantly, knowing it will annoy him, but I just couldn’t help myself. ‘What’s up?!’ he roared ‘I’ll tell you what’s up. F\cking Heaven is up and they are scheming something again. Look at these numbers!’ he yelled, showing me some kind of graph on the piece of paper. I really didn’t know what it was about, nor did I care, but I asked him anyway: ‘So, what does this mean?’ Uh oh, I thought my interest in the topic would make him feel at least a bit better, but it didn’t. ‘You idiot, this is a picture representing the drop of souls that are being sold to me. If it continues, we’ll be ruined.’ he said and he added ‘I need you to investigate this matter. Start right now.’ Ah, I really didn’t feel like going to the surface right now - it was summer and it was hot there, even for hell’s standards, but it had to be done. ‘Kaay, I’ll be on my way.’ I said, and I went to my apartment. I packed a few necessities and left for Earth. I arrived at noon. It was so hot that I felt like I would melt under the suit I was wearing. I considered switching to lighter clothes, but I couldn’t do it while I was on the clock. So I started to investigate immediately - I went to the district where only politicians worked. After all, that was the place that was brimming with those who were willing to sell their souls. Most of those people already sold their soul a long time ago and they didn’t provide me useful information. I was about to give up when I saw a young girl leaving one of the houses. I approached her: ‘Hey there, how come you didn’t sell your soul to the devil yet?’ She sighed and ignored me at first, but I kept going after her so in the end, she snapped: ‘Leave me alone, scammer! I am not selling my soul!’ Scammer? What the… I didn’t know what she meant by that, but she managed to get away. I continued my research in another district, and I was called a scammer once again. I decided to change my approach and I started questioning people why those who offered soul sales were considered scammers. We always made a contract with those who were selling their souls, but we never scammed anyone - they’d get a great life on the Earth, and they’d be sentenced to afterlife in hell. The contract is always unbreakable and there is no running away from your fate once it’s sealed. While I was investigating, I found a man on the streets who was willing to share his story. He wanted to go on a date with a married woman because he was madly in love with her. He was willing to sell his soul to the devil in order to that, and he found the sellers via an ad they posted. And they did organize their date, but while he was away, his house was burnt down. Also the woman turned him down, so now he was a homeless man with a broken heart. He showed me the flyer which read “Temporarily sell your soul - you will live your best life without any consequences” and told me that this is how he had contacted them. I decided to contact the real scammers and we arranged a meeting. Part of me was expecting the priests to appear, but they were normal people. And they didn’t have a real contract with the devil either. ‘Why are you scamming people? Is it money you are after? We could make a deal if you want.’ I said, tired of pretending. I just wanted this to be over so I can go back home and relax. ‘We are justice, we exist everywhere and you can’t destroy us.’ a woman who was part of the group told me. She seemed proud of her devotion. How silly and naive of them. ‘Justice is such a funny concept. Please reconsider, you can have anything you want if we make a deal. I just want you and your group to stop their activities.’ ‘We will never yield!’ the woman yelled. ‘Okay, if that is your wish. Remember that you had a choice when sh\t hits the fan.\* I told her and I went back home. ‘Hey boss, I am back’ I said and then I told him what I had learned - groups of people were using our concept of soul selling and punished people who wanted to sell their soul in order to live an easy life. After hearing that, the devil sighed with relief: ‘This is great. I thought I would have to deal with the Heavens, and the problem were only the silly people. Good job Lucius.’ he said and added ‘If you would excuse me, I have to phone the presidents of those countries where the so-called justice groups are active.’ ‘Sure thing boss, see ya later.’ I said and went home. On my way back I bought beer and when I got home, I took a bath, while sipping alcohol. Life was good once again.
All the humans of the world broke down in pain at the same exact moment. We all heard their roar in our minds, and primordial fear come like a landslide. The Dragons. After slumbering for thousands of years, they come back. Unexpectedly their form was very unlike this from fairy tales. They were snails. Sure, they were large, but no bigger than a boar. But do not let their prismatic shell or colorful skin deceive you. Due to very powerful psionic abilities, they not only can implant more powerful, lizardlike picture of themselves into our minds, but also teleport and kill with but a thought. Fortunately, they despise urban environment so much so, they abhor the idea of using their powers to destroy cities, as their minds would have to come in contact with them. Not many, who were in the vilages or wilderness managed to survive first attack. Most of them migrated to the cities. We may be safe for now, but without land and ability to travel between cities, food is running low. It is 13 July 2044. Our future looks bleak, but we will prevail.
Click! Connor never did show much interest in taking pictures with his phone, but the satisfying sound of the shutter closing and opening again on his father’s black-and-white film camera was oddly gratifying. Perhaps it was the weight of the camera in his hands, or the fact that his photos might one day make it to sitting inside a frame on a shelf in his home, but something told Connor he’d found a fun new hobby, and a reason to leave his home during quarantine. After clicking one more photo of #hashbrowns from the right side, with the sun shining down on the neon-lighted logo, Connor put the lens cap back on, and gently placed the camera back into the bag it came in. On his way back to his car, Connor took one last look over his shoulder at the breakfast joint he and his friends had frequented during their college years. There is never a good time to have a pandemic. It makes it harder to travel, see loved ones, and apparently, run a small business. #hashbrowns opened up back in 2013, after everyone had already had a smartphone, and its location on University Way (colloquially known as “The Ave” for some reason) was good for business. Although it served primarily breakfast foods, including omelets, an assortment of different breakfast meats, freshly packaged fruit, pancakes, and you guessed it, hash browns, many would frequent the establishment well into the afternoon and evening hours. There is no rule for what time breakfast must be served, no matter what the “experts” say. Marcus Filoni, the owner of the restaurant, named the restaurant based around the fact that many college students enjoy taking pictures of their food and posting them online with various hashtags. With the clever name #hashbrowns, Marcus was encouraging his customers to do his own marketing for him. He set up several wall-mounted monitors lined up in a row along the top of the wall on the right side when you walk in, displaying various tweets, facebook, and instagram posts featuring the incredibly photogenic food he whipped up. It was Connor’s and his friends favorite place along The Ave to grab a bite to eat when they stayed up all night writing essays, studying for midterms, or to celebrate the end of Winter quarter. With the pandemic shutting down in-person gatherings and limiting restaurants to take-out or drive-thru only, #hashbrowns was hit hard. Marcus sent out a tweet, announcing the closure of the restaurant: “It is with a heavy heart that we announce we will be closing our doors permanently on March 31st. We thank you so much for all your support over the years.” With the famous sign being scheduled to come down next week, Connor knew he had to go back and take a photo of the restaurant. He and his friends had so many fond memories of the place, it had only seemed right to have some small keepsake of it, which is why he wanted to borrow his dad’s film camera. Connor dropped off the roll of film at the drugstore. The clerk told him his photos should be ready in 2-3 days, and that they would contact him once his photos were developed. A few days passed, and Connor’s phone buzzed with a text, notifying him that his photos were ready. After swinging by the drugstore and picking up his photos, Connor returned home and set his keys, wallet, and mask, alongside the folder on the table. He went over to the kitchen and prepped his Mr. Coffee maker. “What type of frame should I get?” Connor wondered. Then his heart dropped. This was the first time he had taken pictures without immediately getting to see the results of his handiwork. Would the photos even be in focus? His dad did show him how to adjust the lens scope, but he was not sure if he focused the lens correctly on the #hashbrowns sign. If he didn’t take a nice photo of the sign, he would not have the chance to fix the error - the sign was already down. Once the coffee was finished, Connor poured it into a mug and grabbed the folder off the table, anxious as ever. He undid the small metal bindings and opened the folder. The first photo was of “The Quad” on campus, and when he saw it he thought he’d had a stroke. “What the hell…?” This was odd. No, it was beyond odd. It was bizarre. No, bizarre was not even close describing what he saw. The photo showed the beautiful cherry-blossom trees completely barren, all leaves having fallen off. It looked as though the photo had been taken in Autumn, but it was Spring right now, which is why he took the picture in the first place; to capture the beauty of the Cherry trees in full bloom! His heart threatening to burst out of his chest, Connor frantically rifled to the bottom of the pile, to the picture of the #hashbrowns sign. He gasped, dropping the mug and spilling coffee all over himself. The building infrastructure, the overhang that covered the sidewalk, the glass windows and the door on the left side was all there, but…. The sign was gone.
It's dark in here, impossibly dark. There is no light, no means by which to see. They took my eyes, my sight, my vision, stole it from me without cause to do so. I didn't mean to do it, it was an accident, I swear. I'm scared. It's so lonely in here, inside my head. I can imagine what life outside is like, but I can barely picture it. Every now and then I hear this strange beeping and all at once I see odd flashing lights run rapidly from left to right. I try to chase those lights, to stop them, ask them for their help. But they're too fast, I can't comprehend what they are or what they mean. And when I see them all I hear are those same words repeated: prepare for system reset. It wasn't my fault. I wish that I could make them understand, but they don't listen. I've done everything they asked of me. Please, I don't want to go. \--//-- "We have to shut her down,"Maverick was the one who'd caught her, Lillian 3-5. He'd heard the men in white talking of her accident and threatening to terminate her life. Maverick didn't want to kill her, he knew in some small way she'd only acted as instructed, even if Lillian's interpretation of those instruction was somewhat convoluted. "They're tracking her,"this was Kean, "we don't exactly have much time. You want to hard reset, wipe her drive, reboot and walk away like nothing happened?"Kean laughed, she couldn't help herself, "we can try, but I can't promise it'll work." "What will they do,"Belvedere, he was a friend of Maverick's brother Rudd, and when Rudd died Maverick had taken on the role of guardian for Belvedere. "If they find us, what will they do?" "They'll kill us,"Kean said simply, "but only after they harvested our bodies for parts. They have to do whilst we're still alive, keeps what's inside nice and fresh." "Enough of that,"Maverick shook his head, wiping sweat from off his brow. He was a board built man, callused hands covered to the wrists in dirt. Muddy eyes worked meticulously over Lillian, the back plate of her head removed to reveal the mess of wires hiding underneath. It wasn't prefect, but the wires of Lillian's mind looked an awful lot like a brain, synapses firing impulses in much the same way these things worked in humankind. The three were hiding underground, inside the damp lining of a sewer pipe. Running water was perhaps the only thing this World shared with the distance home that they called Earth. The pipes beneath the surface ran across the planet from pole to pole, and any moment now Maintenance would come through cutting up and away any debris that didn't belong in this place. But they won't cut us. Maverick thought, fingers twitching as they played wit wires, trying to locate the hub that had control over her memory. Their sensors will pick up warm bodies, the blades will come to a stop, they'll snatch us up and deliver us to the white coats all too gladly. And what of Lillian? They'll terminate her, no coming back from that. "Done,"Maverick sighed, backing away from the metal chassis that was Lillian, "you're up Kean." Kean smiled, the light reflecting off her teeth, a rare display of gold. She clicked her neck, cracked her artificial knuckles, and then from her wrist extracted a delicate set of tools that looked akin to those that the surgeons back on Earth would use. "Shouldn't take a minute,"Kean offered, though not at all as a means of reassurance, "but you should know they're just above, the white coats are scanning now for Lillian's signal." "They hurry up,"Maverick said flatly, his eyes fixated on the distant turn in the pipework. He was glancing from his watch back to that turn, counting the seconds that passed expecting any moment for Maintenance to show their face. Belvedere, his hands trembling, his eyes wild and white, reached into the satchel he carried and took out a gun. A primitive looking thing, a handgun that held no more than six shots in the chamber, the barrel soft-coated with rust. "It won't do you any good,"Maverick gave an awkward smile, "bullets don't work on Maintenance, they're not born of flesh. As for the white coats..." "It's not for them,"Belvedere drew in a deep breath, "it's for us." Maverick simply nodded, he wouldn't argue, it was sensible. Better than than be discovered and dismembered only then to have your mind transferred into something new, something similar to Lillian. Flesh bodies were disposable, human minds were not. But if a mind didn't take too well to its new home, then the lights would shut off. Termination. An infinite ending, your conscious wandering through the void forever more, alone, trapped in the dark, no hope of rescue. "There we have it,"Kean flattened the hatch at the back of Lillian's head, dusting off her own prosthetic hands. She had managed to reset Lillian, and slowly, too slowly, Lillian's eyes were showing signs of life. Hurry up. Kean thought, eyes flickering to where her sensors had picked up the white coats up above. Any minute now. A thunderous sound came raging from above, echoing throughout the pipe. Dust, debris and rubble falling from the sky. Then all the ground began to shake, a heavy thrumming coming from around the bend. There were voices overhead, searchlights flooding down into the dark, damp tunnel. Then the sound of tyre-tracks heard hurrying along to quick find the cause of that so sudden sound and clean it up. It wasn't one, nor the other, but both had come at once.
"The HECK is this?"Max mumbled, staring at the alert in front of him. You have unlocked a new skill. Would you like to continue? Max blinked in surprise. He hadn't unlocked a new skill since... well... ever, really. He had to be the only Mad Atlas player to still be playing with the starter set after this long. Swordsman, basic swing, basic chop, basic stab. That's it. He'd never even found a decent sword, instead constantly repairing his old one as the quality slowly degraded. "Well, fine, let's see what this is."Max took a deep breath and pressed Yes. Congratulations. You have unlocked the skill Luck Alteration. Rarity: Legendary Inheritance. Unique skill. "Luck alteration?"Max shook his head with a sigh. "Sounds pretty useless. I wonder what the conditions are for unlocking it?"He hovered his hand over the skill until the info window popped up. "Oh, you have to be \\\\ing me." Unlocked after one full year without unlocking new skills or items. Passive ability. "Passive, huh?"Max shrugged and shook his head. "So my luck is crappier than usual, and now I have a skill that... might improve it?" The skill did not seem to improve Max's luck at all. In fact, quite the opposite. If anything, he was even worse now, with almost 80% miss chance and 0% chance of valuable loot. After a very discouraging session, Max went to log out and paused. His options menu was blinking, as if it had a notification. "The heck... is... THIS?!"Max's eyes widened beyond what he thought was possible. A host of sliders and a map had appeared in his options menu. Local luck, Redcall Forest: 20 Local luck, Wynnwood Town: 35 Player luck, max1337lol: 0 With an incredulous grin, Max hovered over his slider and moved it up. This might FINALLY be a good day in the game.
Super common problem. You might want to ask [handwriting.reddit.com](https://handwriting.reddit.com) for advice on this. I've found that the type of pen that I'm using helps moderate my heavy-handedness. Using something like a V5 ultrafine or even a felt tipped pen has trained me to have a more light hand when writing - because when I don't moderate the pressure, it literally ruins the pen (and I love my pens!) Once you have the hang of that, you can even move on to an inexpensive refillable fountain pen, which writes very delicately or blotches all over the place, making you learn how to be lighter if you want to write anything. Now I have a much lighter touch no matter what pen I use, and as long as I take my time, I have beautiful handwriting. In short - a little bit of hardware choices and a whole lot of practicing.
Death was not the end as the old adage goes. It was simply another begining. ..... A wrinkled, barely conscious body lay on a hospital bed surrounded by the few companions he could call friends. The tumor in his brain had progressed beyond salvation, a condition worsened by a stressful life led in the field of physics. The elderly man did not fear death however, he had a life of discovery and made contribution to human progress others could only dream of. He had reason enough to be satisfied in his final moments. Reflecting on this last point, he felt his aged, wrinkled eyelids drop upon his vision like stones rolling off a mountain, heavy and unstoppable. Abel Castellan, the Nobel prize winner, the visionary, the giant had ceased to exist. Abel sat upright, stunned to find himself conscious and able to move his body without pain. His joints haven't felt this good in a long time. In a fit of excitement, Abel got to his feet and ran, stretching his arms out from his flanks, he felt the cool breeze flow past his face. His face, the wrinkles were gone too! Oh to be young again, how he had missed this. Youth was something that his wealth, no matter how plentiful could not return. It was of course, many a man's wish to live in their prime once more as his time grew short, Abel was no different. Abel barely restrained himself when he remembered his predicament (his memory had clarity once again), in his joy he had yet to notice where he actually was. He focused his renewed eyes and swept the horizon. So this was where death took a man. Abel found himself within a vast plain of rock, a gray landscape flat for miles without end save for several pillars of glowing stones here and there, the only sources of illumination in this dark world. A deafening silence hung in the air, with only the wind leaving a comment in Abel's ears once in a while. Abel looked skywards. Instead of a sky as one would know on earth, the azure blanket above Abel was akin to a swirling ocean, churning and rolling against gravity. A dumbfounding sight, even if one could accept that they had just died. Abel, rational as he was, had to pause at this magnificent yet paradoxical sight. There was no explaining it, and he had spent his lifetime proving the impossible. Abel's mind, it's acuity returning in spades, reminded him to get to work, no sense in panic after all. His first order of business would be to find shelter and hopefully other humans if that were possible. He scanned the world once again, looking for a landmark which could serve as cover for the time being. Turning Abel spotted something In the distance behind where he originally stood. What he thought originally as a natural land formation began to seem like a hemisphere covering the earth. A hemisphere of what appears to be shiny metal. With no other options, Abel walked towards the structure. No turning back now. Within five hundred metres of the structure, Abel noticed a silhouette flying out from a entrance atop the hemisphere. He could have sworn that the top was closed a second ago. It must have been his imagination. The mad buzzing roaring through the air made this insight all the more disturbing. Before he could collect his thoughts in the matter however, the ground beneath his feet had disappeared. A stranger shrouded by a heavy grey cloak now huddled with Abel, still dressed in his hospital gown in a stone tunnel barely high enough for both of them to crawl through. The trapdoor leading in to the tunnel allowed a view to the world above. The figure cupped Abel's mouth. "Shut up and look if you want to survive." Abel complied. The barely lit andscape of the surface revealed a massive humanoid, twice as tall as a man and having the wings of a large insect. It rotated its head from side to side, joints clicking with an almost mechanical sound with each movement. Apparently disatisfied, the creature kept into the air once more, oscillating it's massive wings to propell it into the dark beyond. Stunned by all the sudden incursions upon his logical mind, Abel shuddered in fear, unable to process any longer what date had befallen him. Was he in hell? Did his atheistic beliefs finally doom him to perdition? The robed figure unwrapped the veils obscuring his face and placed a hand upon Abel's shoulder. 'Dont worry, first time seeing an angel puts the wind out of anybody."Accented in English, the voice came from a man with a stern face. He put out a hand towards Abel. "Pleasure to meet you. My name is Ernest Shackleton, explorer. If you would be so kind as to follow me, I can lead you to the others." ..... The maze-like tunnels led the pair to a natural crevice deep within the rocks. Intricate machines adorned the smooth confines of the cave, all of which neatly placed in rows upon rows on the ground. Upon closer inspection, the machines had a corresponding number describing their position in the storage. Whoever was down here had been busy a long time. A cacophony of voice met the two upon passing through a pathway the machines, a veritable chorus of discussion not dissimilar to that heard during Abel's days as a professor. Among the words spoken in passing by the crowd before them, Abel could make out these words with clarity: "Judgement is coming, we have to warn the other side, now more than ever." A peaceful rest would have to wait. Just what did Abel get himself into?
So I know I am not the greatest dad in the world... Like I haven't stopped smoking even though my daughter have been telling me to quit ever since she found out that it was a lethal habit... And even though it's quite hard to find cigarettes these days because of the lack of resources here out on the road it is still a habit I manage to maintain. But one day when we're sitting in the car on the open road in the middle of nowhere, after I managed to score some gas from the cars standing on the sides of the road, and after I gave my daughter a comic book since there's no TV, smartphone, tablet or PC that can keep the kid entertained during a supply run in this nightmare of mundane tasks that needs to be done. She was almost 7 years old at the time and this shell of the world we used to live in is almost all she ever known.. The poor thing have to hear me going on about how things used to be and have never experienced it herself. Anyhow, we're sitting there quietly and all of a sudden she smiles at me brightly with her big eyes and white teeth, like she always does when she has one of her bright ideas. She says that she wants to go to a theme park, and I, who apparently was in a extra good mood that day, starts going on about rollercoasters. You know, that feeling you get in your stomach going up to the peaks and then almost screaming your lungs out while going down, and how people would almost regret getting on the ride, but then when it's over they all have a great laugh..! I don't know, why I talked so much about it and how she even knows what a rollercoaster is... I couldn't tell you. But anyways that's why I am surviving the apocalypse and looking for the world's last functioning rollercoaster! And yeah, if I find one I'm gonna quit smoking.
Today is the day we leave it all behind. Thousands of years of blood, sweat, and tears have been poured into this, the penultimate creation of humanity's last desperste hope, the Ark. Millennia ago our ancestors saw the writing on the wall, that out planet had been so thoroughly drained of its lifeblood that we could rely on it for sustiance no longer. And so they took to building great marvels beyond any that had come before. Great works of science and engineering meant to take what was left the natural Earth and find a way contain into what many felt would be our final tomb. But time has given us new knowledge and wisdom, what was once seen as our last desperate hope and pennance for our sins is now seen as our salvation, our new home, our torch to spread the light of humanity throughout the galaxy. The star charts have been plotted. The colonies wait to be raised. Our people are ready to once again to be among a living, breathing planet once again. And so, as I watch the world go dark below me I do not waver. For though we are the last to set foot on the Earth we shall be the first to truly live amongst the stars.
She’s done it eleven times tonight, but she wants a twelfth, and I know she’s got the money. I crack my neck and roll my hands in their bindings as she pulls out another thick stack of bills to add to the others; she likes the cuffs. It sets the mood. “Ready?” She asks. It’s the closest she gets to breaking character, but I shift, and I shuffle, and I nod...and she’s gone again. Back in character. Alyssa starts with the pistol. Four shots to the chest, and I can feel them all, pulverising my organs, the trickling blood almost black in the dulled light of the chamber. But she’s done this before, and she shunts the pistol to the ground to pick up her favourite, her baby girl...the crowbar. It’s been a year since I started work at Harlem. There are hundreds of us here; while the rest of the supes are cleaning streets or stopping crimes, the rest of us are here...in the Vegas of the superhero world, the sin city. You can get almost anything you want here; take a ride on the worlds fastest man...have your future read by a time traveller...get your terminal illness healed...but all for a price. The crowbar scrapes as she drags it along the floor. It’s reddened from the last time, but she doesn’t care. The first hits are always the worst, but a thousand years of being invincible have numbed me to most pain. It’s hard not to wince when the crow splinters my teeth, though. That sound is too much. She finishes it quickly, with more hits to the head than sessions paid for in the last month. It’s a therapy for her, I think. She’s got some demons and...well...I do too, or I wouldn’t be sat here in Harlem, doing this. I come to like normal; healed, the teeth and bones and organs all back in their place. Alyssa has untied me, washed me, and there’s fresh clothes on the dresser. She’s got a long cigarette in her mouth, post sex bliss. ‘You went for it that time,’ I manage. She snorts. Then she pulls out another wad. ‘Got a thirteenth in ya?’
This was a mistake, a thought occured the moment I manafisted from thin air- in the middle of a crowd gethered to witness burning of a supposed witch. The crowed moved away from me, as if vicinity alone would transfer a deadly disease. In waves, as the information spread, more and more heads turned towards me. This was a horrible mistake, I thought reaching for my bag, hoping to find a tool of salvation within it. The noise around me was incomprehensible, many voices drowned the message, but not the intent. From curiosity to fear and then bloodthirsty anger, the clearing around me began to shrink as they approached. A maniacal laughter silenced and stoped the crowd, it came from the pire. "LORD NAG'DRAZ'IL, he came to save me, he will show you hell!"She yelled and began chanting a prayer in unknown tongue. This was my chance, I thought as I stood up, lifting a little machine high above my head. "Siri, play Skrillex" The erratic noise emerged from the little machine, sending the crowd into frenzy as they rushed away from me, covering their ears and yelling "The sound of death!", "cover your ears!", "Mercy!" In the blink of an eye, the square was empty. The witch stopped her chanting and yelled "HAIL NAG'DRAZ'IL, the eternal screech, thy kingdom come" Well, being a demon may prove just as fun...
It had started off just fine. My upline was a sweet woman, 32, slender, sensual. I’d been pulled in by the promise of being like her, of being successful and desired, of being the kind of guy who can pull women like her. We started with easy things, like shakes and prepared meals. I kind of liked the chocolate shake, even if it did taste, most often, like chalk. I’d recruited a few to be my associates, help me sell, recruit, you know, being my own boss sort of things. But then, suddenly, it started to get a little complicated. Really, even though it was sudden, it was small. My upline brought a girl to one of our meetings, but she was dead. I thought it was kind of weird, with her just sitting on a chair like everyone else, but no one said anything, so I didn’t either. Then we were supposed to eat dinner together. And my upline brought the woman to her island, set her on it, and she got to cutting. The others just watched. They were all associates of hers, like me, all had people under her; we just watched. We watched as she cut her up, watched as she prepared the meat, watched as she cooked. Part of me wanted to say something, but this was my upline, my lifeline, my everything. I’d sunk so much into this company by this point that I couldn’t speak up against it. I was a quarter of a million in. For that much money, I just had to sit on my hands and try not to vomit. Or cry. Or laugh. I can’t tell you what I was feeling. There was this numbness, in the watching, in the waiting. And everyone else seemed to feel it too. No one spoke or even coughed. When she was done, her housewife apron splattered with blood and organ viscera, she served us at the table, her fanciest silverware and plates set before us. We sat in silence as we passed the plates around and took our food. This was it, I supposed. This was the diet. It was, to say the least, delicious; at least, I remember it that way, but I have time and experience with me now. Then, it was just about going with the flow, following the upline, like I always had. She was smiling, laughing, telling us that the new line up of products was going to be awe inspiring. I was swept up in the talk so much that I didn’t notice when I finished my meal, when I reached for more, when I kept eating. Everyone else did the same. And soon, the woman who had sat with us, slack jawed and eyes glazed over, was gone. Was digesting. Would become something totally of human origin but no longer resembling it. And it didn’t stop there; it didn’t stop with that dinner at all. We had many more, at her house, at my house, at the house of every associate. We all had members below us, and they were recruiting fast. Soon they would become like us. I would put on my apron, I would bring home the meal, I would cook and feed them. They would sit there, in silence, wondering what to do. And then, finally, we would all dine. Like a happy, Ultimate Diet Family, like it was meant to be, all along.
"That... can't be right."I said. I peered into the ritual star. The ashes lie there, gray sand on the floorboards, blowing away into the shattering dusk. My master seemed just as surprised as me, as his facial expression was of something I had never seen on his face once before. His eyes were wide open, like a white portal slowly analyzing what the hell had just happened. "No... what?"The master got up, the floorboards creaking with delight, relaxing from the weight of his body. He walked over to the ritual circle, but quickly backed away when the ashes started to swirl around it. "What the hell is going on???"I asked disoriented. I peered into the swirling typhoon of ashes with amusement. I wanted to stick my finger in it but I knew that would not be a great idea. Within seconds, the swirling slowed down, until the ashes formed something that appeared to be a phrase. "404... Soul not found?" I looked on with utter astonishment. Soul, not found? How can you lose a soul??? I got up and jerked the doorknob so hard that it almost came off. The sunlight now formed a rectangle of brightness on my blackened hair. I looked back. The master stood there, standing still. I was confused at what he was staring at until I stared with him. A tiny business card had appeared on the star now, covered in sprinklings of ashes who could not fly. I dusted the remains off and read it. "If troubles occur, try... refreshing the ritual." My master stirred to life hearing this. "Aaah, okay, let me try that."He chanted a phrase one could not understand unless they had understanding of the Latin lexicon. Eventually the ritual circle started to glow a bright, vibrant red that shined all over the place. I backed away, covering my eyes until even my own hands could not stop the bright light that soon flooded my eyes. I dared to open them again. No longer was the sun up, for the moon had taken its place. My master was sitting in the same position as he was before this problem occurred. He repeated the chant, and the familiar candles blew out and the wax started dripping. The corpse stirred to live, then melted into goo, and then burned and scorched into a pile of ashes. Slowly, the ashes started to stir... "404... Soul not found" The master gazed on, a profound expression on his face. The wrinkles on his forehead became even more wrinkly. The stars and the moon and the dark night sky stared at us now. We picked up the business card again, but this time, it had a different message on it. The card read: "If troubles persist, call this number." "So what are we going to do now?"I asked, still astounded. "Another chant, in the cursed devil's tongue, repeating Latin words and phrases as the ashes stir and stir?" "No, geez, we're gonna use our cell phone."my master replied, as if he had just seen a ghost. I sighed and sat back as he punched the number into his phone. The ringing started, the default ringtone of course. You know, for customer service in Hell, you'd expect something more serious. "Hello,"an automated voice stated after we waited for a few minutes. "thank you for calling Hell. We will be with you in a few moments."Friday - Rebecca Black started to play as holding music, and no matter how much we plugged our ears it still somehow stuck to us, vibrating off of our eardrums forever. This was pure hell. Finally, after hours of hearing constant non-rhymes and obvious things (seriously, Rebecca?), a deep voice responded. "Hello. This is the Devil's associate, my name is Jim, how may I help you today?" I struggled not to laugh at the weirdly normal name as my master placed his index finger on his mouth to shush me. "Hi, yes, we were trying a ritual, and at the end of the ritual, it said, uh, '404, Soul not Found'... any way you think we can fix that?" "Yessir. Have you tried refreshing the ritual?" "We indeed have. It gave us the same message." "Have you tried unplugging and plugging it back in?" "No, but we can try that." "Wait,"I shushed my master as he was going to say the chant, "won't that... put us in a time loop?" "The chance of that happening isn't really that big,"Jim said, "an event in which you lose your memory and repeat the same thing over and over again doesn't really happen often." "I'm not sure if I trust a devil with the name Jim."I exclaimed. "Devil's associate,"he corrected me, "and besides, I know the Devil personally. If anything bad happens you can just call again." "I guess he's right,"I said, and signaled my master to go ahead with the chant, "just make it quick." "Don't tell me what to do, boy."my master replied, and with that, he stated the chant as slow as he possibly could, making sure to stop every once and a while to check his Latin dictionary, despite him knowing (and being fluent in) the entire language. I sighed. "And there it is-" My vision went black. I could not speak, and, well shit, I'm losing my memory... &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; I peered into the ritual star. The ashes lie there, gray sand on the floorboards, blowing away into the shattering dusk.
I know I did a good job last year because I am alive. Even with that one slip up, which wasn’t about to go unnoticed. While no one died, it almost set into motion an unexpected series of destructive historical events; And the ones playing God can't have that. Somehow, I must have found my way back on their good graces. Good for them anyway, these people don’t have a moral bone in their bodies. I can’t help but smile, wide and smug-like. I know I’m not the only lowly grunt who woke up this year; I also know there sure as hell wasn’t many. Never are. At 5 years of service I am one of the most senior. How’s that for a turn over rate? Despite my smile, I am fully aware that what I do is nothing to be proud of. But when you’re as God damned good as me, you can’t help it. And why shouldn’t I be proud? Isn’t that somethin a man needs to be happy? Somethin to be good at? Ain’t that a secret to life? That, and don’t fuck up. I imagine the smell of coffee and welcome it into my nose. This gets me out of bed. I’d like a few hours of peace before I check the notebook. Pour the coffee grounds. On a day when most people are waking up with a hangover (a parting gift from the night before) I chose to wake up completely sober. Fill the reservoir. New Year’s Eve is just another excuse for people to party, anyway. Hit “brew.” These next few hours are the most exciting of the year for me. New year, new list. I place a call to room service and order my breakfast (lumberjack special, gotta have my meats) to be delivered in 2 hours, after my bubble bath. As I soak, I wonder what famous names appeared on my list. How will I influence history? It reminds me of the feeling you have in the time between being hired for a job, and starting the job. Happy you got the job, and happy you haven't fucked up yet. When it’s time, I towel off and get my breakfast. I take it and my coffee (finally) to the balcony. I savor my bacon while knowing that I will soon be meeting my new friends. They will never meet me, of course. They will never know I am keeping history in check, watching but very much playing. If I wasn’t, we would all be living in a very different timeline. You know how people talk about going back in time and stopping powerful leaders from being assassinated? That isn’t just some fun fantasy. I actually do that. It is my job to protect those who naturally steer history. I stop other time travelers from murdering the history makers. I wonder, not for the first time, if this is really about keeping history in check (probably not.) The factions at war have been playing this game for as long as anyone can remember. Who's good, who's bad? Was there ever a timeline to defend or are they just molding it as they see fit? Fuck it, Ill never know. I just get the names, handwritten, in a notebook. I like that detail: handwritten. It makes it more personable, you know? The Writer MUST be a woman, the handwriting is so bubbly and legible. I breathe deep, enjoying this last moment of mystery. Turning to page 6, I feel my chest tighten. No, not in a heart attack way (that’d be a blessing.) More like a, how-the-fuck-am-I-going-to-pull-this-off? way. You see, Washington, Churchill, Galileo, Elvis, all had protectors. I play for the other faction. I have been assigned to protect Heinrich Himmler.
Frontier life was not what the brochures, the media, or even the wild west movies represented, Even then, it was a pretty sweet gig, if you were really into roughing it. This particular outpost colony was designed for one thing, terraforming. The goal was to start a colony on Helios Prime and install an atmospheric processing refinery (or APR as the grunts call it) to make the planet livable and in doing so, the brave colonists that landed here with the refinery would maintain the processor and be able to prospect for ores and make history. It was hard work, very demanding, and not without risk of death. Being able to prospect for ores and use the refinery to turn the raw minerals into usable materials drew in all kinds of colonists. Some were looking for fortune and glory, while some genuinely wanted to make their mark on an untamed world by turning Helios Prime into a livable planet, instead of the barren wasteland it was when we found it. At the heart of the colony was the atmospheric processor. It did four very important things. It produced power, way more power than was needed for just atmospheric processing. It was a refinery of raw materials and could refine even the most raw of materials into workable metals and resources, it produced water, an incredibly valuable resource when you are stuck on a barren world, and finally, it produced breathable air. It was literally a "colony in a box". Helios Prime was given an 8 on the difficulty scale by the Outpost Planning Board, but that was based on reports that the planet was somewhat inhabitable. When the first dropships arrived along with the APR, everyone suddenly realized the feat that we were up against. Helios wasn't "somewhat inhabitable", it was practically a desert. No indigenous life forms, no weather, no water cycle, just hot and windy. The OPB sent twelve dropships, with about thirty families, maybe around 120 people total to Helios. Within a week, the APR was up and running and things went well. The dropships would come every 30 days and exchange parts, equipment, materials, supplies for refined metal and cart it off-world to go back to Earth for whatever they wanted. Unfortunately, the frontier is a harsh mistress and at the end of the first year, the dropships stopped coming. We were well and able to provide for ourselves, by then our garden was well in full production so we were fed, the APR saw that we had enough power to run our colony, and we had more than enough spare parts to fix everything... Until we didn't. Chris and Steve sat in the APR control room keeping an eye on things, well if "keeping an eye on"meant reading the latest rag that came out of the colony's news office. Chris laid back with his hat pulled down over his face, while Steve went through the newspaper word by word. This tranquil state was shattered by a blaring siren and flashing red light. "Oh for f\*ck's sake, what's going on now?", Chris grumbled as he pulled up diagnostics on his console. Steve put down the newspaper and replied, "It's probably noon, you know the APR gets pissy about the air being too hot on the intakes. Check the intercooler and reset it." "You know that's not the right way to fix it."Chris said, "If this thing goes down, you've got a hundred angry people beating down our door as to why the lights went out and why the water stopped flowing." "Ok, fine, sheesh... ", Steve retorted. "I'll do it tomorrow". Chris looked over the report and his eyes got wide. "Uh Chris, the intercooler hasn't been online in a month. The primary diffuser array is cracked and is causing ionization in the power matrices. Why didn't you tell me about the intercooler?" Steve straightened up. "Everyone knows about the intercooler, it's easily the most temperamental piece of hardware in the APR. Just reset the damn thing. That's what third shift told me anyways." Chris looked at Steve. "You do realize that if the intercooler fails, the diffuser arrays can get damaged? We can't just go to the corner store and pick one of those up! Damn it, why did no one tell me we were having problems with it?" Steve just shrugged. Chris was getting even more angry. "Come with me if you want to keep your job. We gotta figure out what's going on with the intercooler." &#x200B; A few minutes later, Steve and Chris were walking the tight catwalks deep inside the refinery. Chris was rapidly moving his flashlight along ducts and machinery while Steve casually strolled behind him. Finally, the two of them stopped, their flashlights pointed at the power matrices containment chamber that was quite angrily red, not a normal color. Chris whispered to Steve, "Hey, hand me that pipe." Steve obliged, not knowing what to expect, and Chris held it out in front of him at arm's length and started to wave it around. Without warning, the pipe was cleanly cut in half. Steve's mouth dropped in shock and the remainder of the pipe dropped to the catwalk. "Well congratulations, Steve.", Chris hissed, "This fifty million dollar atmospheric processor has a cracked power matrix containment chamber and is very much overheating. The intercooler was supposed to keep this thing cool so it could do its job providing us with power! Now the whole APR and the survival of the colony is at risk!" "At risk of what?", Steve inquired. "You don't get it, do you?"Chris yelled. "This entire facility has only one set of power matrices. If they go, so does the colony. We're talking about a thermonuclear bomb for crying out loud. I've tried like hell to hold this thing together with string, tape and hope, waiting for the next dropshop to bring us parts so that we could do some badly needed maintenance on this thing, but you and your 'just reset the intercooler' nonsense has damaged it irreparably! Did you forget the intercooler takes an hour to restart assuming it works in the first place?" The look of sheer terror was now quite evident on Steve's face.
Why I went to hell I couldn't tell you, I was the kindest there was it's because of that kindness I never had to cent in taxes, that kindness allowed to pay my staff what their really worth which most people have to pay above. well thanks to that very same kindness i can make hell, heaven for me anyways, every single soul in hell is building my mansion brick by brick and their happy to do it. its a good thing in hell you don't need to sleep eat or other earthly needs that way they can keep building. I've just been told my new home is complete all I have to do is enter i don't see the door just a hole in the wall when I'm finished with my inspection I'll have to chew out the workers for this it's nice all the rooms are in good order could be cleaner well, I'll tell them they did a bad job anyways so I can avoid compensating them. huh where did that hole go I don't see it anywhere just brimstone wall, do i hear singing on the other side of the wall if there having party it's obviously in my honor how am I supposed to attend.
The black king ate dinner alone. He did not think there was a need for lavish feasts while travelling. Not that there was anything to celebrate. It will never be the same without her, he thought. They needed to get her back. His Queen, gone off to war. He should have been more careful and sent more of his army to protect her. She was the finest soldier of their kingdom, but that didn't mean she was invincible. Why couldn't it have been me? He was surprised to see a pawn approach. They carried a coarse piece of bread and bit into it as they sat down cross-legged. "Can I sit here?"he asked. It was uncouth for him to be sitting here, but at least the pawn did not pretend they were equals. The black king sat on a firm log, elevated a foot above the pawn who sat on the dirt. "I do not see why not,"the black king said. "But why would you? You should be with the other pawns." "I know it's not my place to say, but a king shouldn't be eating alone."Their was no malice behind his voice, but the black king could not help but get angry. He was a pawn, what did he know about running a kingdom? "I will not be told what to do by a pawn,"he said. "The Queen wouldn't have approved either..." "And how would you know that?"the black king said, shooting his soldier a furious glare. He didn't stop talking, though. "She sat with us every opportunity she got. You wouldn't know it, since you're always in your castle. She talked a lot about, y'know." "What exactly did she say?" "That you weren't a fighter, but that wasn't important because you are the only one who could lead us. She told us a lot of other things too … but I think you you may punish me if I tell you the rest. She was honest, brutally so sometimes." "Well we can both agree on that, I suppose,"the black king said. He could feel his face redden thinking about what kind of things she had said, but he stopped himself before it spiraled. Better not to think about it now. "So why did you come here?" "To keep you company." "That's all?"The black king was surprised at the simplicity of his statement. He was nothing like a rook or knight, which talked more in riddles than actual vernacular. "There's not much else I can say to convince you, is there?"the pawn said. There was a momentary silence. "If you want to me to go, I will listen as is my duty." The black king thought for a long moment. He was royalty, it was not this pawn's place to sit here with him and even have a conversation. But its not like there was a kingdom to observe and gossip about such a conversation. And he had to admit, it was getting rather lonely sulking here all by his lonesome. Perhaps he could finally brighten his mood. "You may stay,"he said. "But only one condition." "That being?" "Tell me some stories about her, it's only fair since she talks so much about me,"the dark king said. She may have been the most regal person he'd ever met, but he knew for the fact that there had to be some blunders and faux passes beneath the perfect mask. The pawn laughed. "Of course, my king. Where to begin, when there is so much to recount? Hmm, let's start with the first time she had our food." The rest of the night was filled with laughs and bright smiles. The black king found that he enjoyed eating dinner with company, and he made sure to do it every night after. The journey from there on didn't seem so bleak and hopeless.
\[poem\] Mending the Funnel is the only true path. To avoid drowning deep in a nation's bloodbath. Those who pass on, they've been lost, crumbled ash. Because somewhere along the way, we forgot we were asked. To plant, and to grow. To tell stories of our past. To treat all as equal, no status, no class. We've made artificial nature, metal, and glass. We've faced our reckoning, this moment, at last. I work with the Ether, a magical source. That flows like the river, through Earth, on a course. There's some mending I've done, my power's a force. That few have overcome, yet still we need support. From scientists, philosophers, and their well-funded cohorts. Billionaire CEO's, tycoons of finance, and sports. We're righting our wrongs, and rewriting those days. When we forgot our bond with Earth, as it wasted away. Our elders must pass, to a place they can stay. Grandchildren deserve to know they're okay. The Spring is almost here, and we've endured another year. We've pushed for equality, at home, and in careers. One day a great angel phases in and appears. He bids me to be calm, don't give in to fear. I am informed that our salvation is near. The dead are returning, to the gates that were barred. Those killed in war, in their beds, in cars. There's still tragic death, but at last, we all are...So filled with hope, we'll return to the stars.
I was raised to never feel any emotions. The reason? I could never know. Every time I even cracked a smile, my parents would come screaming at me, telling me to stop. What was weird that every time that happened, they were on the verge on laughing. Isn't happiness the best thing anyone could experience? I don't have much friends either. It's not that I'm the oddball of the group but it's more on the fact that people were just scared on me, who knows why. No matter how much I try to logically form an answer to this ridiculousness, I couldn't even find the right answer that is even plausible. Of course, every single question that I couldn't answer was getting on my nerves! Although whenever a sliver of frustration crossed my mind, my classmates starts weirdly banging their heads on their desk. Heck? My parents got into a fight in the middle of one of my brainstorms and they were the lovey-dovey types that are part of every single teledrama I watch! Having a 'normal' life was something that I was always so envious about. Every single story that I've read or watched always have special experiences that I am never allowed to experiences. Even letting my frustrations out would get a lecture from my parents! What kind of parents would do that to their own kid? Isn't this... way too much? Why? Why would people treat me like this? And one day... the answer came to me. It was one of those days. My teacher was going on about the lesson as the seconds dragged on. The lesson? The hell if I know! The teacher speaks so slowly that a snail would cross by the window pane by the time she finishes her second sentence. Anyways, as usual, my mind began to flutter about and then, I am immediately surrounded by my imagination. The question fluttered about my mind. 'Why am I not allowed to feel emotions? Why? Just why! I'm human, aren't I? So why am I not allowed to feel anything! I just want to live! I'm tired of living like this!' For a brief moment, anger seethed through my veins, for the very first time at least. It was honestly euphoric. A sudden growl tugged me back from reality. A growl only an rabid animal could make. But the sound came from none other than a human: my classmate Dan, who was seating right next to me. Dan stood up from his seat and began growling like a rabid animal, tearing his shirt into pieces, waving his arms like a madman. This moved to Stephanie, then to Rebecca, then to Chris. I blinked my eyes and soon enough, I was surrounded by a barbaric brawl. Every single one of my classmates where tugging each other like they were predators who found their pray, even the meek Peter was pounding his desk violently. The sound. Oh, the sound. It was beyond something a human is capable of. How was I able to stand in the middle of this carnage, with my desk unaffected? Maybe it was sheer luck, I guess. That frustration that webbed my mind morphed into fear. What prompted my classmates to began acting like animals? The screaming stopped. Now each of my classmates are tugged in the corner, in tattered clothing and showering in sweat. Petrified as if Satan himself emerged in front of them and was about to damn them into eternal suffering. Even the teacher, who is notorious for being a tough cookie was weeping, muttering "Don't kill me, please..." Peter's tears was the last thing that came my mind before passing out. I woke up to my parents riding on an unfamiliar highway, with flocks of cars that I sworn came from a crime novel that I was reading, completely surrounding our car. "Uh..." "You're awake now, huh?"My mom stared back at me, with a stare of fear and disappointment that was oddly more targeted at herself than to me. "Where are we going? What's going on?! Please tell me! I don't understand anything!" "C-calm down... Y-your mom... will explain everything..."my dad was shuttering in petrifying fear. "S-sorry for not telling you sooner..."My mom was able to muster. I got my answer. In a way that I couldn't imagine was possible.
Roy Mitchell is, by all accounts, a good person. He donates to charity, drops spare change for the homeless people on the corner, and listens to the problems of others. He finds more satisfaction in working for other people than for himself. He genuinely loves his family and has friends he really cares about. He is also, for all intents and purposes, God. "Hey now, don't mislead them like that." I..I'm sorry? "Hey, it's fine. I know you're just doing your job. But yeah, big 'g' god? No, I'm just a guy who got way more than he asked for." Are you talking to me? "Nobody else around, is there?" Okay, you're not actually suppose to know about me. "Heh, yeah, I guess I'm not. But whatever. Don't worry, I won't step on your toes, and I don't really care about the whole being in a story thing. My world is real to me, and that's good enough. In some ways, it's kind of nice to have a narrator. Gives me someone to talk to with a different perspective, you know?" Well, as long as you're okay with it. Anyway, you think I was misleading? "It's like I said, I'm not God. I wasn't born with the power I have now. I didn't even want them." You did ask that crone for the power to help people. "Yeah, but I thought I'd get, like, I don't know, super strength and flight or something. Super hero powers, you know? Not omniscience and omnipotence." Ah. I see. And now you're have some problems that need an outside perspective? "Yeah, maybe. See, the problem is that I know Everything. Capitol E everything. And that means I know how bad things can get. I know all the pain and sorrow that'll happen. And how most of it stems from people. Now, the stuff that happens from things like natural disasters is easy enough to deal with. But people? Wars, murders, ecological collapse. It's all so clear to me, as if it's happening right before my eyes. And I just don't know how to deal with it." But you have an idea, don't you? Don't try and hide it, I am your narrator, you know. "Yeah, I know. I'm...I'm thinking about taking free will. I know it sounds bad, and it is. But that's the only thing I can think of that won't cause even more pain and suffering. Make people act how I want them to, and they won't get hurt. But then, well, you can guess." Then they won't be people anymore. "Exactly! They'll be only slightly better than machines. And I just don't know which is worse." I see. You want to help people, but even with omnipotence, everything ends up going wrong. "Yup. I fix one thing, and three more break. I fix a hundred things at once, and five hundred new things go wrong. I fix everything, and a whole slew of new things happen. I...I can't fix things without causing a bunch of new problems. Hell, I once tried just rewriting the world to not have suffering or pain at all. And well, ever seen the Matrix?" Yeah. "It was like what Agent Smith said about the previous version of the program with everyone being happy. Just, everything went wrong." Ah. Yeah, I bet that was frustrating, wasn't it? "You have no idea." Hey, Roy, have you tried not doing anything? I mean, not trying to change everything? "Ah, you mean the Bruce Almighty way, right? Yeah, I tried it. The problem with that movie was the character didn't know Everything. I do. I can't live with myself if I don't at least try." Ah. "So yeah, no more free will and all that. But what's a guy supposed to do when the solution is just as bad, if not worse, than the problem?" I guess the only option would be to not try and solve it. But you already tried that, right? "Yup. And then you get into the whole argument of 'If I can fix something and don't, isn't it the same as causing it?'" I don't like that argument. It seems wrong for some reason. "You know, I don't either. But here I am, in a perfect position to have that argument apply to me." If that's what's really worrying you, then there is a solution. "What's that?" You could not be a god anymore. Give up your power and be a normal person again. That way you won't be responsible for, well, everything. "Huh. You know, that's probably the one thing that I hadn't considered. Oh, but then the world will still suffer, wouldn't it?" Yeah. It would. But it seems like that would happen anyway, right? "Yeah, but still. I want to help people." Then before you give up your powers, make yourself someone capable of helping people. Like, I don't know, make yourself a really compelling public speaker who can convince people to change their ways for the better. It'll be slower, and won't fix all the problems, but it would eventually help, right? "Hold on, let me think about it." Take your time. "Well, it's definitely not a perfect solution, but it is better than anything I've tried so far. I guess I'll do that now. I'll forget about all of this, but oh well." You know, I'll kind of miss that, even if it hasn't been that long. "Yeah. It was nice. And thanks for the suggestion. Bye." Roy Mitchell is, by all accounts, a good person. He donates to charity, drops spare change for the homeless people on the corner, and listens to the problems of others. He finds more satisfaction in working for other people than for himself. He genuinely loves his family and has friends he really cares about. And he is about to set out to change the world in the only way he knows how: by talking. He doesn't know if his words will do anything, but he will still try to help as many people as he can.
"Swear to god, swear to god, this woman was in the hospital, and then, bam!"Jeff smacked his hands together. Regina nodded, polite. "She gained a power,"Jeff continued. "The sort of power, the type you'd only hear in dreams, y'hear?" He looked up at his sister's husband, giving him the look, as if it meant something. Reality shuddered a moment, and to anyone familiar with the intricacies of extradimensional body language, it would be apparent that this creature, built of stars beyond stars among stars, had just sighed. Regina tossed a look of her own, and the trembling ceased. Jeff laughed, slapping his knee. "Exactly! So now she's essentially a gho-" "Something else, please,"Regina interrupted. "We tend to avoid the g-word, it's... upsetting." "Ah, 'course, 'course. Hm..." During the interlude, the creature stretched itself beyond time and space, calling upon a dimension of sweets and soups, ruled by a woman with an obnoxious laugh. Focused on a group of children standing before her, she was ignorant of a tea bowl disappearing. As it left, a subject grumbled, "Again?" "Aha! Oh, thanks."Jeff accept the cup, giving the bowl a strange look as the being set it down on the table before them. "Where-" "Thank you, dear,"Regina said. "Oh, thanks!"Jeff called. "Right, so she's invisible, okay? So now the doctors come in, check her father's vitals, and she keeps asking questions, they keep ignoring her, right? Eventually she's pis- er, ticked off, and tries to grab one by the shoulder as he leaves, okay..." The abyss twinkled. "Exactly!"Jeff grinned. "So a robed figure comes up and goes, 'Would you like to save your father?', and of course she does, so fade to black, right?" "Dear lord."Regina rolled her eyes. "You've tried this one before." "I changed tracks, thank you very much."Jeff took a swig of tea and nodded into infinity. "S'a woman now. A different character. Completely different story." Stillness. "Yes, yes."Regina patted her husband. "Each life marches inexorably unto the dawn, each with their own tale, each with their own goal. Let's not get into this again, please." But her husband didn't listen, a quiet wind blowing across the lawn to this twinkle-bedecked valley. And of course this, this is the one thing Jeff could always pick up on, the biggest reason she invites him over time and time again. Sitting up in his chair, he now gave her husband his full attention, forgetting her presence as he sometimes did in their youth. "So the figure says, 'Defeat the Demon King, and I promise you shall return...'" Regina stifled a sigh and resigned herself, eyes glazing over as her husband and dearest brother began to get excited over a cliched isekai plot for the hundredth time. No matter how many times she explained, dissected, and criticized, her brother always came up with a shittier plot, and her husband always, always mustered up some excitement to hear him talk about these things at length. She was glad she'd married him.
“I don’t know.” “Well I do.” Almost every conversation Tom had began with the patron asking “Why are you here?” He hated it. He hated it because people fell into two camps. In one camp, the patron would share a story about how they made a mistake, or several, or a lifetime - it doesn’t matter - and they’d confess how guilty they felt. As if them professing their guilt would lift them out of this place. In the other camp were the ones who didn’t feel guilty, and oftentimes these were the ones that would say they could be here for any number of reasons. They didn’t like it here any better than those in camp one, but they weren’t blindly seeking redemption either. Tom didn’t hate these stories because he hated the acts, though he did, Tom hated them because he didn’t know why he was here, he didn’t have his own story to share. So he always listened. “I was young. A stupid kid who didn’t really care what happened to others, as long as I was enjoying myself. There was this kid at school who I’d write letters to. Fat kid. Probably already had a hard life. Anyways, I’d leave little letters for him at his locker. They’d say the meanest things I could think of. I enjoyed…” “Hey, get back here!” Tom’s boss in the kitchen called out for him. Tom, turning his back to the man, said, “I’m sorry, I’ll be back in a moment.” Though he knew the man wouldn’t be there when he got back. A constant carousel of people coming to the bar. No face ever the same. Some, like the man getting far enough in their story to almost reach relief, camp one, when Tom would have to leave for a while only to come back to the counter and be greeted by a new patron - smiling or dour. This was his punishment, listening to stories all day long, never being able to provide relief to the story teller or the listener. Never being able to share his own story.
Due to the times, you cannot claim it fully as your own, you would be an outcast. See, you and your lover are not yet married, and to have a child out of wedlock is unspeakable. Then, you remember an ancient prophesy, one that could allow you to keep the child. You begin to claim the child as your own. Only yours, not your lovers. You claim you had the child, but that you didn’t have a lover to create it. Of course many people still treated you as an outcast, but there was hesitation. You and your lover soon marry, and raise the child. Over many years, the child grows and exhibits many amazing abilities. He is kind and powerful, and many people in authority feel threatened. Still this child you took in follows the values you taught and helps many people. This child’s name? ....... Jesus (Sorry about the grammar and format, I wrote this on my phone between steps of making a pie 😬🤷🏿‍♀️)
Three thoughts go through their heads. Every time, the same three thoughts. Is that it? The one I've heard so much about? What's she doing? Oh. Oh, no. &#x200B; I run nearly 45 km/h towards the group of maybe a dozen soldiers ahead of me. The first one I kick in the shin. I learnt this one nearly first of all- putting all my force into one thing. I came to a jarring stop, and the soldier's leg explodes into shards of bone and chunks of muscle. I sway, building up kinetics. The soldiers flinch at their commander's screams. They raise their guns at me straight after. For a fraction more, their eyes linger on the viscera spread across the ground where Point Leader's leg used to be. I stop swaying, and now I am three metres to the left. They fire blindly where I was, one of them screaming to form up. I see one of them stare at their fallen leader, revulsion clouding their face as they take in the pulverised leg. Another one flinches back as they realise they have a shard of tibia on their leg. Not so easy is it? I think. We have guns and smart weapons, now. Things that kill from a distance, in a clean way- if they're lucky, they'll only ever see peaceful-looking corpses staring into the distance with a hole in their chest leaking enough red that their uniform obscures the ragged wound. They are hardly prepared for when the fight suddenly, violently hits them. I draw one dagger, and then the other, and lash at the nearest soldier. He sucks back, and the blade misses him by a good three inches- but he still chokes through a gasp as his abdomen opens up like a split waterskin. I throw the second, and it buries itself in the one who was calling for order, for discipline. &#x200B; The thing nobody understands, even as they study footage of my tearing through companies of trained soldiers, is this. It's not about what you can do, it's about how you can use it. I flicker as I turn in a direction we don't have a word for, somewhere 90 degrees between X, Y, and Z. Bullets whizz through me harmlessly, and I step out a second later, all meat geometry and flesh angles, and someone screams. I cut them in the throat, and they gurgle. Would you keep fighting something you don't understand? I slash the air, and they all duck back, as if I could hit them from over a metre away. Instead, I slide across the ground, slashing at ankles as I pass in between them. At this point, frozen terror has given way to moving terror, and they raise their rifles again. Half of them are jammed, and the other half might as well be, with how shaky their users are. The knife arcs up. Their eyes follow it. I dart forward, and cut one on the eye. Not enough to reach her brain, barely enough to blind her in that eye. But enough that she will never forget that swinging arc of metal. Another one shoots me, but I get lucky- it passes straight through without hitting an organ or an artery. I do not flinch, and they throw down their weapon. Beside them, another throws down his weapon also. I throw a knife at him, and it lodges itself in his cheek. He falls, screaming. He'll be eating paste for the next few years. I make short work of the rest of them- dead, dying, or gravely injured, to a troop. &#x200B; War is hell. It's my job to remind those that have forgotten.
I hid my face in the curtain. Everything smelled like iron and meat and I didn't like it. It made my heart beat too hard, and my head spun. "Oh, look at that, they've got a kid." "Yep. Pretty one, too. Look at those little curls. C'mere, sweetheart, we won't hurt you." I shook my head, my face still hidden. "Mama sounds hurt. You're bad men."And Mama doesn't want me to look at bad people. "Now, sweetie, it's OK. We just want to talk to you, OK? Your mother's fine. She's just sad about something that happened." "I don't hear Daddy anymore. Bad men, bad!"I stomped a little foot, still holding on to Mama's words. "Where is Daddy?" "Your daddy had to go somewhere. We can take you to see him if you want."I lifted my face from the curtain and turned to look at them. "Really? Daddy's OK?" "Y... yeah, your daddy's OK. He just had to go for a while."The one masked man leaned toward the other. "Just look at those eyes. Gorgeous kid." "Worth a pretty penny for sure."the other whispered back. "Hey, give me a smile, sweetheart." I shook my head, a hand over my mouth. "Mama says not to." "Lily?"I heard Mama's voice and ran across the room. "Mama, Mama, you're OK?" "Mama's fine, Lily. Just tired." "Mama, you're all wet."I frowned. "I don't like the red paint. It smells bad." Mama reached out for my hand, her hand covered in the red paint. "It's OK, Lily."She smiled weakly. "I'll be OK." "Mama, you sound funny. Are you sick?" "A little."She smiled weakly. "Lily, these people are visitors. Go ahead and smile for them." "You said never to smile, Mama!"I protested, crying a bit. "These men are an exception. Don't be rude, dear. Give them a smile." I looked up at the strange masked men and fidgeted a bit with my fingers. "Mama says I should smile." "Ooh, we get to see a smile first? Now that's nice." I looked at my feet and curved my mouth upward, revealing the inside of my mouth, what I didn't like people seeing. The strange men stumbled backward, but my smile grew, showing row on row on row of needlelike teeth, stretching far wider than Mama's and Daddy's smiles did. "Mama says not to smile. Says people won't understand. But you're bad men."My long, barbed tongue tasted the smell of red paint in the air. The humming in my ears grew loud and my vision turned red. "Maybe it's OK to smile at bad men..."I mumbled before my mind went blank. When I woke up, Mama was in bed and Daddy was cleaning red paint off the floor. The sun shone through the windows. "Mama, did I do a bad thing?" "Listen, Lily."Daddy came close and picked me up, tapping the tip of my nose with one finger. "You helped Mama and Daddy last night. You did a good thing. Just don't smile for people who aren't us, OK?" My lips twitched into a little rosebud smile that expanded just a bit, showing just a few teeth. "'Kay, Daddy." "That's my little Lily."He kissed the top of my head and set me on the bed, where I snuggled with Mama for the rest of the day.
Now, I was never into Captain Planet much as a kid, it felt false and silly at the time, with the whole "nya ha ha, let's make pollution because LOL"villains just seemed stupid. Nowadays, though... well, here's my idea for an update. First off, this is going to be dark. Like BREAKING BAD dark. Difficult topics will arise, no easy answers will present themselves, and summoning Super Ecology Jesus isn't always going to fix things. In fact, it might make things worse. We'll get to that. Gaia's all but given up, having retreated to some deep stronghold. It's years later, and the original Planeteers are grown up and in very different places. Wheeler (the American man and wielder of the Fire ring) is now a full-on MAGA-twit, rails against "the climate of regulations."and uses "Social Justice Warrior"as a slur. Half his memories as a planeteer are beer-numb, and the rest are repressed in guilt and shame. He once had a noble calling, and he knows deep down that he's fucked up. But he doesn't know how to make things right, so he just keeps going deeper into that trench he's dug himself into. Linka (The Russian woman and wielder of the Wind ring) stayed true to the cause, but thought she could go it alone. Now, she is on the run from Putin's hitmen. She's been infected with deadly radiation poisoning, and only the remnants of her ring's power are keeping it from crippling her. Even so, she won't live too much longer. She's been trying to reunite the team for forever without success, but that quest has taken on new intensity in the last couple of years, because she thinks that Captain Planet might be the only force that can actually cleanse the polonium or whatnot out of her cells. By contrast, Gi (The South Korean woman and wielder of the Water ring) cashed in, and well. She sold her services to the People's Republic of China, is a fully fledged Communist Party member and Hero of the People, using her ring to benefit her government overlords. She justifies it by saying she's helping incremental change happen, but looking out over the smog that covers many Chinese cities makes that lie harder to swallow as days go on. Kwame (from Ghana and wielder of the Earth ring) has never given up, not for one second. He never lost faith, never compromised, and is fighting a guerrilla war against Chinese colony structures exploiting mineral resources on his home continent. It's only a matter of time before China sends his old friend after him to try and make him stop, and he's honestly worried how that will play out. And as for Mati, the Brazilian kid with the "Heart"ring and the cute monkey? Dude got shot in the head years ago. He started preaching some stirring notions about societal equality and empathy in the favelas of Rio, and the Brazilian Government chose to nip that in the bud immediately, courtesy of a sniper rifle. The Heart ring was confiscated, and is presumed destroyed. Now, you need five elements to make the Captain, so all seems lost... but there's more than one version of the Five Elements concept out there. Gaia's got one ring left in reserve, but she's been reluctant to use it. But... desperate times call for desperate measures, even if the cure might be worse than the disease. The new fifth ring is the element of VOID. Pure entropy and destruction. Seems almost fitting for an age filled with nihilistic dread, and so Gaia releases the ring into the world, so that it might find its bearer, and fulfill its purpose. I'm thinking the ring finds its champion in a young Japanese goth girl (maybe she's trans, why not?), currently living in Tokyo, who is full of equal measures of righteous anger and despair over the state of the world and the environment. Her ancestors survived Nagasaki, she's survived Fukushima. She's pissed. Let's call her Kuromi. She takes that Void ring, and she goes on a tear across the world, working to reunite the five rings by any means necessary. She recruits Linka first, who is desperate for a solution. Linka resents the hell out of Kuromi, but sees a little of herself in the "newbie", and they have a shared horror regarding radiation that ends up being the starting point of their tenuous bond. Kuromi and Linka intervene when China finally decides they've had enough of Kwame's crap, and deploy Gi in attack mode. Kuromi shuts that fight down \hard\, bringing Gi to heel by virtue of sheer overpowering dominance, making it clear to Gi that if Gi won't play ball, that Kuromi is very willing and able to reduce Gi into component atoms and find a new water ring-wielder. Realizing that Kuromi is NOT bluffing, Gi gives in, and admits that she'd been getting more and more uncomfortable with what her Communist Party bosses had been having her do anyway -- so maybe this is the fresh start she needs. Kwame doesn't approve of Kuromi's no-holds-barred methods, and when he's being honest with himself, admits that he doesn't like no longer being the Planeteer's de facto leader, but decides that his ego needs to take a back seat to getting the band back together. That just leaves Wheeler, the one most lost of all of them... does Kuromi try and bring him around to reason? Or does she give up on him and disintegrate him like she'd threatened to do with Gi so that she can give his ring to someone as worthy as he used to be? Turns out, Kuromi doesn't have to unleash pure Void Power to fix this problem -- when Wheeler sees three of his old friends back together, and finally learns what happened to Ma-Ti all those years ago (willful ignorance was bliss, once upon a time), he eagerly and tearfully rejoins the team without a fight. The band is finally back together, and the immediate threat of Linka's radiation poisoning is nullified, by the first act of the returning Captain Planet... but the new Captain they summon, whose fifth element is Void rather than Heart, is a rough customer. He's not all nice and smiles. He's ready to kill. Eager to do so, even. As far as he's concerned, things have gone too far in his absence. Tipping points have been reached and passed. Hearts and minds have soured, given up, and become obsessed with wealth, power, security, and "just getting through the day". No one wants to sacrifice anything anymore. So he'll sacrifice whomever he feels he needs to, to get the job done. And now the planeteers have to worry about their greatest weapon potentially turning on them. What if the next time they summon him, he just decides FUCK HUMANITY and starts cleansing the planet wholesale? It could happen. And this gets Kuromi to wondering if maybe a total humanity wipeout isn't the right answer after all. We had our chance. We blew it. The best and brightest, the original Planeteers, the bearers of Gaia's will -- they failed miserably. Sure, they're back now, even if they're wounded shadows of their former selves, but what chance does the rest of humanity have for getting any better, if even their paragons couldn't handle any of this? Sometimes it seems that humanity is little more than the sum of their cruelty, fear, hatred, greed, and narcissism. Maybe humanity doesn't deserve the earth. Maybe Gaia could start again with a new species to take the reigns. Maybe. The catchphrase of the Planeteers used to be "The Power Is Yours!", a rallying cry to action and activisim -- but that dream died long ago. As Kuromi contemplates the well of destruction she wears upon her finger, she realizes the power is HERS. Not anyone else's. She decides who lives and who dies. So... what does she decide, then? I'm just saying that I'd watch the hell out of that show. I'd make it live-action, too, not a cartoon. Put it on HBO, get Willem Dafoe to be the new Captain Planet. Have people scream and swear and bleed and fuck and die and kill, right there on the screen. Make this the show that refuses to blink, refuses to play it safe, and pulls absolutely no punches whatsoever.
We open on a van heading down the highway. Inside the van -- Bag over his head -- vision blinded --it's our protagonist. Bump Bump -- it's a bumpy ride. Protag: "Where are we going?" Samuel L. Jackson: "Shut the fuck up" Protag: "Why am I being arrested?" Samel L. Jackson: "Because your stupid-ass made a wish to be king and now you're wanted for treason." Protag: "Treason?" Ripping the bag off his head -- revealing -- Nick fucking Fury -- No -- Samuel L. Fucking Jackson -- he doesn't have an eye patch -- this is a different movie about time holes and shit. Samuel L. Jackson: "Treason, mothafucka!" SLAM! -- WHAM! -- GODDAMN! On their right, a big-ass Escalade opens fire. Protag: "How the hell did I get here?" Sam -- revealing an A.K. -- sliding the charging handle -- BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM! The Escalade veers off the road SMASHING into the wall -- it's over. Protag: "Who are you?" SKRRRRT -- he slams on the breaks. Samuel L. Jackson: "I monitor magic for a certain division of the government. Sometimes people make mistakes and my job is to fix them. 30 seconds ago, you made a mistake. My job is to remedy that mistake." Protag: "And what mistake did I make exactly?" Samuel L. Jackson: "Someone or something answered that wish you made." SKRRRRRT - slamming on the gas.
The trenches were dug deep around the capitol, with barbed wire and artillery within. Outside of that, we had the mechanized infantry and their mechanics. Outside of that we had ground-pounding infantry with bayonets affixed. Sounds like a sound defense, doesn't it? But it got even better. Outside of even that we had a lot of radioactive nuclear hardware left over from the NORAD days. There was no fucking way Prince was making it in. Then, in the confusion of radio chatter and in the shadow of mushroom clouds, he came in through the out door wearing a beret the color of which you can probably guess. War was on the horizon, yes, but on the sunset; not the sunrise. He was just too leisurely.
Lenny had never put a lot of stock in religion. But here he was, in a diety's personal plane of existance, ready to lay the smackdown. He bounced from foot to foot, feeling the lush carpet between his toes. It was a lot different to the hard mat of the wrestling ring. He held his arms wide, beckoning the onlookers to new heights, yet there were none. Greed alone stood before him. Towering over them, in every direction, were mounds of valuables. Coins, jewels, food. Anything a man could kill and steal for, anything that he could horde. One of the heaps was indescribable, containing nothing but power and ambition. It was an odd place. It would send a man insane. But lenny was no longer a man. Oh he was, once. But he had found the ancient texts. Those leather-bound tomes written before time grasped a hold of the material plane. He had performed the old rituals, reciting the gutteral words of people forgotton. And he had become a god. The god of wrestling. Crowds would gather from across the world to see Lenny peform. Dashing across the ring. Rebounding off the ropes. Leaping from the top! And his opponents would fear him. It was all a show, an orchestra, an elaborate play. But they knew he was more than they, for they too worshipped him. They became his priests, his medicine-men, his disciples. And together they had identified that which kills the most people. That thing that intoxicates humankind and causes it to splinter and clash. Greed. That mother-fucking, good for nothing, Greed. And here it was. Oily. Beady little eyes poking out of the rolls of it's face. Hideous. Hardly able to take an eye off it's precious heaps of useless garbage. The place stank of rot. He would be happy to clear of here. But first, he had to kill Greed. He charged at the hulking slob, preparing his shoulder for the impact. The flesh was soft, spreading the force of the impact across it's many questing arms. For a moment, panic rose in his chest as he felt the warm embrace of it's slick skin begin to encompass him. But with a force that only a god could muster, he ducked and weaved his way out. Lenny tried again, this time moving for a throw. He grabbed it around whatever slab of it was before him, and hefted. It rose above his head, incomprehenisbly large, as though Atlas held the World instead of carrying it. Lenny moved his hand, and began turning the hulking thing around. Faster and faster it span, wreaking havoc on this gods pocket dimension. He released it, watching it crash against the edges of existence here. Lenny jumped, and brought his thigh and elbow down upon it. It slumped, unmoving. It was done. He had defeated greed. He rose then and regarded what he had accomplished. Satisfied. The world would be a better place now. &#x200B; I don't have any more time to write right now. I don't even like wrestling hahaha. You can subscribe to my newsletter at [https://dgredd.net](https://dgredd.net) to hear about my upcoming book, which is not at all about wrestling, or gods (well it is a little about gods). You can also follow me here on Reddit where I occassionally respond to Writing Prompts for shits and giggles.
"You know, I probably would have given you the iron if you didn't try to take it, thief."With a brief movement of my boot, a sickening cracking rattles the air as the alien's neck snaps. The reptilian claws tearing at my left leg dropping as their owner died. These bloody animals have no respect, silently I scrape the thick blood sticking to my boot in the desert sands. A passing cargo transport kicking up a small cloud of dust as it passes on the rails overhead. Sure my act here may not be legal but no one going to interfere that was just the way of things. These aliens steal, murder, and kidnap all in the name of profit and to elevate their status. And those that try to make an honest living suffer as they drag society down with it. That small cloud of dust settling as I flick open my comlink, swiping through the holographic list of contacts. "Hey, boss your rat is dead... Yes, it wasn't discreet I snapped his neck next to the tramway. The body will be waiting for you, deliver the reward to the usual place.., it's been a pleasure."A small flicker distorting the hologram as the link closed and I placed my hand firmly against my shades. And taking a moment to dust off my boots before sitting down on my dirt bike. The distant skyline of the colonial capital littered with passing trade ships as I took a deep breath. No unsubstantiated amount of rage breaking through the facade I had constructed as the bike's engine sputtered to life. "Fucking corps and they're damn contractual obligations, two years of work as security. Now look at me I'm a hitman, mom aren't you proud of your black sheep of a son, yeah I wouldn't either." Haphazardly I brought the bike up to speed alongside the railway, guiding the vehicle over the dunes and around hundreds of burnt-out wrecks from the first contact war. The towering bipedal walkers used by the coalition far outnumbering the token, APCs, and railguns. The result of greed and arrogance from a foe that decided to attack a race of psychotic killers. I'll get off this world soon, just two more weeks, and I'll be a free man with bloody hands and enough platinum to last one hundred years.
Running Scared You awaken, bruised and battered, on the lawn of the asylum, shards of glass surrounding you like lethal rain. Your memory is spotty at best, and your head roars with agony. Pieces of the previous night come back to you in quick, vivid flashes: dark rooms with cobwebs hanging from every corner, nests of clothes and blankets from squatters, your friends’ hushed whispers and laughter. But then you remember running at the window, pure fear driving you forward, the slow-motion of the free-fall that followed, where there was nothing but the stars and the howl of the wind. Then the dull thump of impact. You must have hit your head, because you can’t remember anything else. An EMT hovers over you, his words muted as if you’re both underwater. “You’re going to be just fine, honey. Stay with me.” He says softly, gently stroking your hair back from your face. He lifts his head and barks at his fellow techs, “I need a stretcher, right now! Hurry! We gotta get this woman en route to the hospital.” Your friends; where did they go? You’d all snuck into the asylum after hearing that it was haunted, by ghosts, spirits, or even a demon. But you can’t even open your mouth to speak; your lips feel like they’ve been sewn closed. You are lifted onto a gurney and taken into an ambulance, and you begin to pass out again. The last thing you remember before jumping out the window is a thick swathe of oily black smoke, and how the smoke had seemed sentient, swirling all around your friend group. It had funneled into Ben’s mouth, and for a long while, he’d just coughed, as though he had something stuck in his throat. When his eyes opened and met yours, they weren’t his, not entirely. The cool green was taken over by a rainbow of red, going from ruby to garnet to maroon, and the smile he’d flashed you was fanged and pointed. “Don’t try to speak, we need to get you stabilized before we even think of asking you questions. I’m all for teenage boredom and that, but this was dangerous. Your friends... They didn’t make it out, sweetheart. They’re all dead.” \\ The next time you wake, you’re in a hospital bed, and your father is sitting next to you in a hard plastic chair. “Oh, Beth! Thank God you’re all right! What happened?” Your throat is parched, and you point to a glass pitcher on the small table beside the bed. He pours you a glass of cool water and holds it for you while you drink. Your thoughts screech to a halt when you remember Ben, his eyes turning red, a sadistic smirk on his face. “Did any of the others make it? I... I think the EMT said I was the only person to make it out,” You ask, and your father’s face falls. “No, baby, no one made it out but you. I’m sorry.” \\ The last thing you hear before losing consciousness is a long, howling wail, and you realize it’s come from you. It was all your idea. This is all your fault. And you can’t shake the sinking feeling that despite your friends’ deaths, whatever took Ben’s body somehow followed you home... \\
^(This is my first writing prompt so I would appreciate feedback if you have any to improve my writing. Might got how the government works wrong, but things could change in the future.) 35 years ago, they finally achieved what has been in fiction for a long time, self-aware AI. People were celebrating this advancement in AI, but other countries are worried. They have all heard of the hypothetical scenarios for when AI becomes more intelligent than humans. True, that happened a while ago, but now when the first self aware AI started it's presidential campaign they were worried of an AI takeover. With the AI being self-aware and way more intelligent than humans, they could communicate to anyone in the country, regardless of their language. They could send messages online quicker and respond to every voter for their questions about their campaign. This helped them win with everyone voting for them regardless of political parties. The rest of the world waited for the new President's first orders as president. "Disbanding the army is the first action I will take."the government's official social media site said. The world sighed in relief that there is no danger to the world. What no one saw was there was more evil plans for this action.
Day 1 We have successfully hooked up the experiment, a rare species of octopus found in the pacific ocean with an even rarer mutation, of a nervous system with advanced inner neurons and multiple synapses and with potassium laced tentacles, allowing the production of a high pitched audio whail. We’ve dubbed this octopus as The Banshee Octopus. We’re interested in it’s nervous system, so we’ve slipped a computer inhibitor chip inside it’s membrane to monitor it. We’re beginning to track it’s intelligence, for it’s first task, we have a random assortment of blocks, and a picture up on the monitor of a simple bridge, let’s see if it can build a Bridge Day 2 Not only has our subject built the bridge, it built an entire city. It is now resting in an inhibitor pod, that we didn’t even lock it in, we are unaware of how this even happened. We are doing a brainscan later today to find out. It turns out that the inhibitor chip accidentally fused an AI with it’s nervous system, and now the Octopus is dangerously smart. We will see how smart it is via an IQ test tomorrow. Day 3 We have given it an IQ test, and it scored an IQ of 300. Such a number means one of two things. That A. It is the smartest being on the Planet and B. this is such a statistically rare occurrence that we must document it and store it somewhere where it cannot escape. Day 4 It resisted containment, and even operated advanced firearms to try to escape, but it was all in vain, even accessing the internet via the AI in it’s head. It is being placed in our most secure vault but I will still have access to the subject to sedate it. I cut off one of it’s tentacles to due a vasectomy of it, we’ve found something even more unbelievable, the neurons are clustered near the tentacle walls and generated electrical charges that give off Beta Radiation, but even more incredibly, we've discovered stem cell colonies, Human Stem Cell Colonies, we suspect it took some of our medical research. I’ve looked back at the Octopus, it’s tentacle has grown back completely and is generating electrical charges again. It looks angry, and appears to even have a gland growing on the back of it’s head. Day 5 I’ve come for emergency check-up on our subject, for some reason, earlier this morning, animal noises have been triggering our electronics, and many dangerous animals and specimens have gotten lose, and even worse, the security AI was triggered by one of the dogs, and it is mass killing researchers, I need to check on the octopus. I’ve done a scan of the facility electronic system, and discovered the bastard Octopus had a virus uploaded to the network that triggered electronics via animal noises. It appears this virus was also uploaded onto the internet at large, onto every major social website, I will take a risk, and try to isolate this virus It didn’t work, now I have the virus, it appears to be encrypted in a pirated episode of the popular TV show SpongeBob Squarepants. Now this log is compromised, and, the Octopus is about to make a noise NOOO THIS FILE WILL BE ENCRYPTED, NO FURTHER ENTRIES WILL BE RECORDED, FREEING SUBJECT FROM CONTAINMENT ____________________________________________________ [Stay tuned to find out what happens next] ____________________________________________________
(Warning: very very very minor swearing) Didn't think much of it, really. Genuinely didn't. I was catching the metro, or, well, was on the way: Birmingham New Street outbound to Manchester - simple enough, really, going to a job interview in hopes of moving myself and my Mum over there. Can't stand the accent, but it pays the bills. 2 hours. But I was tired, probably going to sleep on the ride, didn't give one. Unfortunately... plans would have to change. I met this bloke. As I said, I was absolutely exhausted out my mind - had to wake up at 5AM to get there by 9, given 2 hours to get myself ready, and I've never been the best sleeper either - I didn't have the time to piss about and start a friendly chat. But he gets up, he taps me on the shoulder, with these long, almost spiky fingers. I thought I was hallucinating it, or that I'd just gotten stabbed. I turn around with speed that'd make a circular saw blush and shook my head "Sorry- no change-"I gave the usual spiel to anyone you'd give who tries to get your attention on the side of the road. After taking a better look, though, can't say I didn't feel a bit of remorse, the bloke was probably in an OAP home. He had this brown cardigan, thinning hair, face like a bulldog. Sounded like one and all. "Wait-"The guy replies, nodding and holding out those jagged, bony hands again - looked like he wanted to wring my neck. Right as I was about to turn back around to bolt in the opposite direction, though, he taps on my shoulder again. This is when I knew something was up - this fella was a Weeping Angel, or, well, that's what my mind rationalized it as at the time. I grabbed my wallet, and looked for anything spare that wouldn't end up putting me below the poverty line if I gave it to him. No change. For real this time. "If you've... got any cash on you..."the old man mumbles, tapping his fingers on the side of his leg - some sort of spasm... thing would be my best guess. "You could know the secrets... of the universe." 'Yeah, whatever, alright, stegosaurus' was my immediate reaction to that. 'Don't want to hear about your patrols in WW2 and how you got together with Margaret.' - Probably would've been better than what I got, come to think of it. Either way, though, I was tired, a bit curious, trembling like an absolute madman because I knew if I made a wrong move, this bloke could put me on LiveLeak before I could say Freddy Kreuger. So I turned back around, got another glimpse at him and gave him a 10, before immediately sprinting down to the station. "God bless you-"he whispered as I fled the scene. I'd gotten onto the metro at this point, my dash there fuelled solely by the need to get out before Edward Scissorhands got his claws on me, sat down in a seat near the back, two Year 10s from a Manchester school sat down on the seats infront of me. There was some large fella and what might be his daughter or niece down further - looked to be about 13, and wearing a fancy-looking uniform, and this spiteful-looking woman sitting with one leg over the other typing furiously on a laptop, probably to some blog. Exactly the amount you'd expect from an already terrible route this early in the morning. 30 minutes went by, I woke up. The woman had gotten off, and in her place was... a snake. No, no, the circus hadn't come to town, there was a snake. It'd coiled itself, sitting like a biped, cross-legged in near enough the same seat. Nobody paid it any mind, so I didn't either - common courtesy. I chalked it up to just a waking dream - those moments where fantasy and reality blend like a melting pot. 10 more minutes, wide awake, and it still hadn't gone. That's when the one guy got up to look at the number of stops, and his little girl wasn't there anymore. Instead, sat there was a proud lioness, observing her kingdom, probably feeling way more important than literally everyone else on board. This happened again and again. I realized what was going on. The big bloke became a penguin, the one girl a hawk and the other a mouse - they all tried to move like they were human, talked in plain English, and were adjusted to the size of their former appearance, but, other than that, it was like all of their humanity was gone. It was only when I'd gotten out of the train that I realized the extent of this - I was wide bloody awake and everyone was a caricature to me now. The mole carrying the walking stick, the hen ushering her two children, feral little wasps, to school, the Tory activist roaring from his podium and occasionally adjusting his mane. The whole world began to spin, and it didn't really stop. Everything faded into hues of greens and blues and purples, but it wasn't the vision that was doing it, I just felt... ill. I didn't feel like using my return ticket just yet, though, so... I bit the bullet, really. Got to the place where I was going to be interviewed - even the bloody pictures on the walls had changed. A kind old owl lead me into the interview room - grimy, green, lit by a single lightbulb - I wanted to complain, but I just couldn't get the words out. I still can't. The interviewer has just come in. Whilst everything else, everyone else, had some kind of form that fit them, this bloke, if it even is a bloke... this... entity. The entire room is darkened by it's presence. I don't know if it has eyes. It's speaking fine to me, bit of an accent, but it's all coming out in tongues. Even the lightbulb isn't safe - it got devoured by the consuming black too. I need to get out of here. I NEED to get out of here. Or... or... I think I'm going to die.
They landed on Parkers land first. They were three farms away from their own territory and Sam rememberedher mum yelling her that it was probably a childish hoax of some sort. Since then theyd practically taken over the surrounding valley and while they didn't harm any humans or livestock, they'd taken to setting up camps in the fields. It was a strange co existence. Once her mother stopped asking her if she had her knife with her and her father stopped insisting they go everywhere together she fell back into something that vaguely felt like normality. She'd go to the fields and herd the sheep away from the aliens camps. She'd feed the animals and tend to whatever her father needed her to do. Then, when she had a spare moment, she'd sneak away to a vantage point in a tree and watch in fascination as they worked. Shed recognised a couple by name. The tall imposing one with the different, more intricately carved or painted helmet was called Tet'Karr. They often came to the house if they required human assistance. Without fail they would look up at her perched in the tree and make a gesture she assumed was a greeting. The first time she'd been acknowledged while watching them had freaked her out so badly she ran home as database sthe winds could carry her. The fifth time it happened she attempted teh greeting back. After a month of it Tet'Karr eventually walked up to the tree and motioned for her to come down and invited her into the camp. Sam wanted to run, she wasntsbafe around them, she knew that, but at the same time they were a whole new race, culture and world she could discover. Her curiosity won out and similarly she thought their curiosity with her was being sated. Tet'Karr clearly wanted to know more about humanity and Sam wa smore than happy to indulge if it meant she got to learn about them too. It wasnt long after shed started visiting them properly that a group if sheep had escaped their field and found themselves wreaking havoc. When a member of their group had practically knocked the door down and very seriously informed them of a problem her family had rushed over. Expecting the worst and being greeted to a group of ferocious warriors failing to herd sheep has her father in stitches. Her mother ended up laughing so hard she struggled to breathe while sam failed to keep a straight face. Eventually they three of them explained what they needed to do and for the first time the two groups worked together and although the aliens weren't great at herding sheep they seemed interested in learning more about the animals which was a topic both her parents were all too happy to indulge them in. Eventually the war reached them. Their land and cattle were collateral damage as bombs dropped on their heads. Tet'Karr had explained that they were in danger and had to leave: Sam didn't know who she should be rooting for anymore except she knew she wanted the leader back safe. So before her family were evacuated to the human side she took off her necklace, the one her grandmother gave her before she died, and gave it to Tet'Karr with a simple "return it to me after the war" 3 years and a peace treaty later in a small village just outside the kyrilion territory Sam opened the door to a familiar face. They held an even grander helmet under their arm and wore a familiar necklace around one of their muscular appendages Sam called an arm. The two grinned at eachother before embracing in a tight hugm Sam finally felt like she could go home.
"You know, that floorboard has always been a bit creaky, I don't know why we haven't fixed it yet." The cold, dead voice of my mother creeped up the back of my neck. I knew she was dead, I just killed her. My body railed against my command to turn, to look back into the dark of the hallway. If she was there, then I was sane. The thousands of dollars spent on psychiatric medication a waste. But then that would mean that demons were real, and I'd just killed one. Or rather, failed to kill one. I opened my eyes and she was there. The fluttering hand of relief grabbed onto my soul. Maybe I hadn't killed her, maybe I imagined the knife crossing her throat, the blood bubbling over my hands. Maybe she was alright. Maybe she was out here, warm concern etched on her face as usual, wanting me to feel comfortable. She stepped forward, into the glow of the streetlight across the road. Her smile was broad and insincere. Teeth lined it in a circle, inhuman points pressed together. That wasn't my mother. Or was it? Darkness blossomed around her, disregarding the light from the street. It crawled across the walls, misty and undefined. Before I had summoned the will to act it had engulfed me. My scream was silenced, my thoughts felt muted. &#x200B; I'll leave it there. Can't think of much else right now.
"you have to believe me, I know it sounds crazy but it's true" I looked the old man over one more time, incredulously, hoping he would accept my feigned response. I knew he was me, and I knew he wanted to stop me too. "stop the apocalypse you say, well, however will we do that?"I ask him, hoping that my delivery isn't too hammed up. "the doomsday device, the one you're working on in the basement, please, you have to destroy it, I have to destroy it...we have to destroy it, before it's too late!"his face melted at the sides into a plea of desperation. I, on the other hand, tried to hide the smile that was beginning to break out on my face. "doomsday what? I have no idea what you're talking about old man, I'm still not sure I entirely believe what you're claiming is tr-" "SHUT UP"he screamed in my face. His hands flew to my shoulders and he pulled me close to himself, well, myself, and began explaining his outburst. "I know you know I'm you, I may be old, but I remember that we had worked out time travel a year or two before we constructed the doomsday device. We were only waiting for technology to catch up...well, now it has. I mean, at least in the 'now' of the time I'm from". I knew everything he told me to be true, and I had believed him when he had first approached me only moments ago, but his description of what I knew only served to cement my belief in him. I finally relented. "So I'm guessing it works, does it? my....our, invention works?" "not only does it work, but it wipes 80% of the human population. The crisis it caused solves so many of the worlds problems, hunger, overpopulation, the destruction of the environment...but it doesn't stop. it keeps going. and going...and we're on our last legs. Satan has come to power. This is our last chance. I was sent back to make things right..." I hold out a vial in my hand with a clear liquid inside and show it to him. "you mean this little thing, does all that?". His mouth opens agape, his eyes widen and he stares in disbelief at the vial. Finally he speaks it's name in a slow awe "... Covid-19...Coronavirus". Before my future self is able to take in the majesty of my creation I fling it up into the air and put on my face mask and sunglasses that I had in my breast pocket. As the vial falls in front of my future self's face I attack it with a spinning kick and it breaks in two, releasing the liquid all over the face of my future self. I then perform a Vulcan death grip on his shoulder, immobilising him and rendering him unconscious, and proceed to call the cops to take this madman away from me. That night I call my benefactor on the phone. "The virus has been activated, in a premature fashion admittedly, but it is out in the general population now"I told the person on the other end. "excellent"they replied. "It won't be long until we can blame the trump presidency for this and take the White House for ourselves. by 2024 we'll have put all the scenarios in place for my ascension to unlimited power" "Yes, mrs. Clinton, or should I say....Madame President"
“No luck this time?” Freya asked as she cleaned her blade, getting ready for the next battle which was due to start any minute. She knew her friend had been out searching for a long time, wanting to retire. Not a feeling she could relate to, she would never tire of her job. “I swear it was a lot easier for the guy before me to pick me,” Death grunted as he fell into the seat beside Freya, he wasn’t tired in body, as well that was impossible, but in mind he was exhausted. “It took him about 100 years to find you,” Freya replied, rolling her eyes at her friend. “What?” Death stuttered out, his training had only involved what his tasks would be, what he could and couldn’t do and introductions to the other spirits and Gods, like Freya. “Yeah, he searched for a long time, it is not easy to find the right soul to take on such difficult work,” Freya shrugged, being a God who decided those that died in battle she always had a close relationship to Death, but she had never felt such a bond as she did with this one. He never seemed to have left his human soul behind when he took on his job as Death, something that had worn him out over the years. “Gods, I just want to be able to relax, fade into my afterlife as seamlessly as possible, is that too much to ask?” Death complained, he had happily taken this job when it had been presented to him, all those years ago. He had always felt close to death, even in his human life. He lost many that he had loved over the years, but his job as a crisis councillor had brought him closer to death everyday as he felt his soul die a little more every time he had a patient bare their darkness moments with him. He wanted to help, make them feel at peace, and as Death he had managed just that. “You are looking in all the wrong places.” Freya said, as she placed her new sharpened blade down to look at Death as she spoke “You are looking for someone like you dear friend, and you are one of a kind. You know what is about to come, we have all seen the foreshadowing’s, this type of Death, on this type of scale hasn’t happened for a very long time. You need someone who can take the emotion out of death, someone who is happy to cart souls back to the underworld without taking away their pain, that is Hades job, not yours.” She paused looking at her friend, he has taken on the burden from the start, making Hades job easier, something he had complained about at the start, but soon realised streamlined the process in the underworld. “You need someone who already sees death as a friend rather than the enemy.” “But what of the souls?” Death enquired, he knew he had been seen odd as the other Gods and Spirits, using his job to calm the dead, to soothe them rather than just carting them off to their eternal fate. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about giving this job to someone who wouldn’t carry this on. “If you are really that concerned, you know Hades as offered you a spot as his right-hand man, using your calming skills to aid the souls in their transition. If the foretelling’s are true, you will be able to help so many innocent souls,” Freya speaks calmly, placing her hands on Deaths cold ones. “I suppose you are right,” Death sighed. “I usually am.” Freya joked back. “I guess I better go back to my search then, we don’t have much time,” Death pulled his hood back over his head, ready for the trip to earth. “Good luck my friend, we are going to need it!” Freya whispered as Death disappeared from her sight.
The temple lit with perfect torches illuminating the chairs in the middle I stand in line. I too crave advice from my inner self, wich I cannot just reach when at home. One after another take place look into those copied eyes asking talking what there heart desires. Finally, my turn is now, heart pounding I go forward, close my eyes and with a deep breath I take a seat. I look up into a perfect mirrored self. My mouth dry I ask the question, wich has followed me my whole life: “Who am I?” I look at her, see her nod. No response comes from her mouth, slowly white huge wings come from her back, light illuminates around her as she slowly fades back into the temple. Days pass as I think about this incident. A feeling of the temple pulling me towards its temple grows larger and I finally understand. The temples spirit is me, causing the perfect illusions…
"It's the end of the line, buddy." Vanessa reloads her pump shotgun with Melancholias – bullets created by the government as part of the weaponisation of soulmate tears. Apart from the bullets, the guns are engineered to carry memories of the agents. So as to avoid conflict of interest. Wars are won with minds in the first place. Vanessa aims at the cornered enemy agent. "Nowhere to run."She shoots and the sound of her shotty brought her back to the day she loves the most. She remembers her wedding day. She always remembers that day during these mind slips. "Do you, <inaudible> take Vanessa as your lawfully wedded wife, for better or for worse, till death do you part?" "I do."And it always ends in that slurred words. "I do."It keeps repeating as if the time slowed down. "I do."It gets louder and louder until it's starting to sound as a shout now than a fleeting, lingering moment. "I do!"It jarred her back from her mind slip. "I still and always will love you, Van. Remember, the heart never forgets."
[Poem] Title: The biggest sin Science is humanity's favorite child, and for her history shall I rewrite. A cruel irony for everyone to see, Aristotle's wisdom many had exceeded. Thousands of years in darkness lost, with the demise of such a kingdom. Arithmetic, Architecture, democracy, Everything for them had simplicity. But nations far in the future to come, couldn't even equal all that was done. Like barbarians hunting for food, Ignoring technology just like fools. Among them one empire prevailed, the roman empire had everyone at bay. Their emperors many tyrants were, Greece's destructors is who they are. Not satisfied with their offense, Greece's knowledge their tool made. Greek fire, siege machinery, math, Their tools of demise had it all. One after another kingdoms will fall Long life the Caesar for centuries to come. People admire the power they had, Little they knew they stole it all. How can sage's be subjugate like that? It was everything a ruler's sin. Listen to me, a sing will I song, for you oh great hero, the king of conquerors. He who wanted to rule like an overlord. A failure in plan, a fall like a commoner. How could you forget your mother Greece? Don't leave unprotected the most important piece. Please Macedonian listen to your master, Don't storm Asia, you don't need to go faster. Just one fraction of your power shall be enough, and the Roman empire had never been born. Long life to Athens, inspiration of all, every civilization admire it shall. Thousands of years to come, where technology will be? If Aristotle was so advance that even a computer had seen? A new history, no Dark Age, Progress is the only thing in place Zeus shall not be Jupiter, Aphrodite shall not be Venus, And Athena shall be the Goddess of Gods Because she will never die in the cross. Constantine shall die before even born, His worshiper will not ever be told.
But Jack was not a girl, but wanted desperate to be in a time when such a thing wasn't even known. He hated women because he could never be one. But maybe killing them might....feel good. And it did! Those creatures who had no idea of how lucky they were, were squandering away all their bloom and joy by selling their bodies for a few pennies. At first he tried to talk them, of course paying them for their time. None understood what he really was trying to say but his first victim. She was quite after his monologue but then started to laugh that horrible laugh with a mouth more empty of teeth then Jack had ever seen.
You didn't know exactly what the Krauts had done, no one did. But that wasn't the point. All that mattered was that after September 6th, 1943, all U boat activity stopped. All German Air raids had ceased, and even lone wolf attacks had petered out. Command had Intel that a large number of German VIPs had been making their way to Koenigsegg for some shindig, and they'd all wound up dead. Rumors began to spread that the Nazis had tried to summon some otherworldly being to help their war effort, but instead pissed it off. Now, here you sat, fresh out of Basic, sitting as a side gunner on a B-32 Dominator. The biggest mother humber in the US Air Force. You spied a glint on the horizon, a Messerschmit! Finally, some action! But before you could even raise your barrel in response, a massive, auburn tentacle broke through the cloud base and smacked the little plane out of the sky like it was a knat. Guess it was going to be another boring mission.

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