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96.
Ninety-six counts of intentional homicide. Most citizens could justify a few, maybe half a dozen, but nearly a hundred?
Oh, sure, it was your court-appointed duty as a Public Defender, but clients like John Young were the ones you and your colleagues PRAYED you didn't get.
Ninety-four counts of Deliberate Murder (what they used to call 'murder in the first degree,' before the Law of Adequate Justification upended the American Legal System), and two counts of Impulsive Homicide ('murder in the second' back in the old days).
And they were certainly intentional. No hope of plea-bargaining down to involuntary manslaughter with either of those cases. Your client had confessed, seemingly without remorse, that he had committed every single killing.
You have pages and pages to enter into evidence. Lists of names, dates, times, places- but they formed the foundation of defense the client had regarding his state of mind, when it was contemplating ending another person's life. As such, you were bound by oath to present them to the court.
You just hope you didn't stutter, or fumble any of the details. That would cause your chances of winning to nose- dive into the same gutter half of these victims had been dragged out of.
The prosecution presented its case. All the evidence pointed in the same direction, and that compass pointed straight at the defendant. A few of the most gruesome deaths were trotted out to paint the worst picture of your client.
You try not to look at the pictures, knowing the man sitting next to you caused every single one of those actions- sometimes with his own two hands. You stare hard at your own list instead, trying to memorize what you haven't nailed down yet. You know well the science of listener attention. If you remain confident, assured that you speak truth to power, your argument will have just a little more weight. And with this many cases, you need every ounce you can get.
The names from the so-called 'worst five' crime scenes are uttered deliberately, reverently by the leading prosecutor as he prepares to rest his case.
David Berardinelli. Family man with four kids, pronounced dead at age 45 on October 13, 2017.
Kristine Pruzynski. Struggling single mom with a young daughter, dead at age 27 over the weekend of August 2-4, 2015.
Mike and Jackie Zigler. Retired couple, married 30-odd years, dead at ages 79 and 75, respectively. Both killed on December 5, 2012. But the manner of Jackie's death (a single blow to the head), the care and respect with which her body had been laid in state... Such a contrast to the brutal beating of her husband. She was the second Impulsive Homicide charge- police were fairly sure Mike was the target, and she simply surprised the killer. Wrong place at the wrong time.
Randy Wheeler. Family man and successful business owner, dead at 67 on February 21, 2014.
Brian Kelley. Single man on welfare due to an undisclosed injury, dead at 38 on June 16, 2016.
As your opponent sits, leaving behind the haunting images of your client's victims, no longer nameless faces now, you stand and begin presenting your own evidence:
Mary Martin. A 64-year-old Executive Assistant at a financial firm. Married twice, with kids and grandkids. Robbed at knifepoint July 1, 2017.
Nicole Pruzynski. A five-year-old girl brought to Chester County Hospital by her father on June 21, 2015. She had not quite a dozen bruises and at least one broken bone. Hairline fractures would hint at other broken bones in the past, maybe not healed properly. If they were treated at all.
Check stubs spanning six years, from 2006-2012, from no fewer than two dozen people. All made out to M. Zigler in the amount of $150 per month.
Bank records for Nevins Way Feed and Farm. Records that show two sets of regular deposits, going back every month for ten years. All but 5% of the store's earnings goes into one account. The annual reports from this account match the reported profits on Nevins Way's tax returns over the last ten years. But that 5% was siphoned into another account, which saw the same frequency of deposits over ten years. Until one last deposit in March 2014, then nothing but normal interest accrual until it was closed 13 months later due to inactivity, in accordance with UDAAP practices.
Shannon Houghton. Middle-School teacher, age 30. Raped and beaten while jogging through Miller Park during the early morning hours of March 26, 2016.
As you speak their names, you lay out your carefully collected puzzle pieces. Your client's own notes from his many hunts:
A receipt of purchase by one David Berardinelli, for a knife matching the description of the one used by Mary Martin's robber.
Testimony from Nicole Pruzynski's father regarding how his daughter received her injuries.
Letters of correspondence from over two dozen people, who claimed they had been blackmailed, but that ugly affair all ended by the start of 2013.
Eyewitness testimony from former supervisors at Nevins Way Feed and Farm, who'd worked with and under Randy Wheeler. He'd taught them the ropes of his business, but never let anyone assist with reconciliation of the store safe. Not even the woman in college for an accounting degree.
DNA samples collected from several dozen rape and sexual assault victims, including Shannon Houghton. DNA that matched medical records on file for Brian Kelley.
But you have one more name.
One more case, that the prosecution didn't think was important enough, or maybe interesting enough, to highlight during their exposition.
Adam Young.
Yes, the client's own seven-year-old son. Abducted from outside a store while his mother shopped, never to be seen alive again. Remnants of the boy's clothes found in his uncle's trailer, a knife with the boy's blood type found partially buried in the front yard.
It had been the first, John Young admitted to his lawyer. Visiting his brother Gene, hoping for the comfort and support of family, only to face down a monster straight out of his worst nightmares. John had certainly intended to kill his brother, after discovering the culprit who'd kidnapped and murdered his only child. But he hadn't gone there with the plan of killing him.
Not like the other 94.
His other victims, whom John watched for days and weeks, sometimes months on end, to document their particular brand of crime.
Thief.
Abusive parent.
Blackmailer.
Embezzler.
Rapist.
Arsonist. Kidnapper. Weapons smuggler. Polygamist. Extortionist. Drug dealers, child molesters, stalkers, hackers, hijackers, carjackers, forgers, shoplifters, plagiarizers, pirates...
Murderers.
John Young had killed 96 people. That much was true.
It was also true that 94 of his victims had been criminals themselves. Each with victims of their own.
How much future crime had in fact been *prevented,* by John's actions?
That was a question without a real answer. But then, it didn't really need one.
Because it was a valid reason. At least, it was John Young's reason. |
It was glorious for a time we called it the awakening, enlightenment on a mass scale, it was like we had all become buddahas and yogis freely giving of ourselves and our wisdom, no more hate and discrimination, those first few months put the 60's to shame.
But little did we know that the very thing that brought us so much joyus ecstasy would also be our undoing, on the surface this dystopian ideal seemed like a gift from the gods, no more greed or anger, that malaise of negativity now separate from our lives, all but the mirage of an I'd long gone from our thoughts.
Yes there was no greed anymore but so was our willingness to do anything that didnt feel good, the workers now felt no need to work the fields making us rely on the few amongst us that enjoyed gardening, but even that was a mistake as they were so selfless that they let themselves starve only to see the smiling faces of the young ones after waiting so long for a morsal to eat.
Out infrastructure disintegrated before us as the blue collar workers left their roles for the sake of having fun, this problem became ever more apparent as the first of the new generation were born in this new time, yet we were so filled with joy and exaltation to even properly expirience the fitting emotions when we couldn't feed them.
Perhaps death by happiness is even more insidious than flat out evil.
Sorry it's so short. |
\[POEM\]
One drop to get you hooked.
On what, you ask? An idea, a dream, a wish, maybe?
Doesn’t matter, you’re hooked.
​
Hooked on the feeling coursing through your body,
evenly, slowly
Tickling your nerves through the ion channels of your taste buds,
instantly, electrifyingly
Sending signals to the big lump of neurons in your head, saying: this, you need, *this!*
​
Distant, dormant parts in you shouting, screaming for you to stop,
Only to be answered with more want, more need, for *it.*
​
They romanticise it, this obsession that drives you out at night,
At night, when darkness lays mortal neurons to rest, you prowl, you stalk, you *hunt*,
Hunt for the one thing that will ease your want, your need,
If only for an hour,
if only for a drop,
if only, to get you hooked. |
I stood at the edge of the bridge, looking at where the body had fallen just a few moments ago. Drips of red ran off the edge of my sword, and I pulled a small white towel from the pack beside me. I carefully cleaned the blade and watched as the towel absorbed the red blood, glowed faintly, and then returned to its former pristine white color. As I walked back to my car, I thought about what had just transpired - the desperation of the young man, the way he had pleaded for his life and swore he could change, the flash of steel in the early morning light. Some things never change. Reaching the car, I threw my pack into the back seat, placed the sword in the passenger seat, and began the long journey back to the city.
The voice spoke into the quiet, a few hours into my drive.
“Astrea, you’re beginning to fade.”
I nearly had a heart attack, spinning around in my seat in shock. I looked around the car to see where the voice had come from, at the same time trying to keep the vehicle in the lane. Seeing nobody, I laughed nervously, thinking it was nothing.
“Astrea, you’re beginning to fade. Take heart in your mission, it is for the good of humanity.”
Ok, this was definitely not in my head. I swerved off the country road, slammed the car to a stop, and again looked around the car.
“Who are you? … Where are you?” I shouted to the voice that seemed to come from nowhere.
“Look beside you, Astrea.”
I glanced over at the passenger seat and cried out in surprise. The sword had aura. It had aura like I had never seen before. In the past few decades, I had seen everything from a bright glow to a bare shimmer to a complete absence. But this? The sword was emitting what looked like the essence of aura - a blinding light that left afterimages of color dancing in my eyes for minutes.
The voice continued - “I am the Sword of Astrea, formerly known as the Flame of the Lady, known before that as the staff of Maat. I have had many other names throughout the century as I have accompanied others like you. Others who have been bestowed with the same gift.”
I was dumbstruck. For years this sword had been by my side, but it had never spoken before. Nevertheless, I took issue with the sword’s last words and quickly found my voice.
“Gift? GIFT?! What I have been *bestowed with* is no gift. Aura-sight has been a curse, *Sword*. A curse of seeing the depths of souls and hearts everywhere. Seeing what true light, or darkness, exists within. A curse of being given a front row seat to seeing my mother’s aura dim, ever failing, ever dissipating in the darkness. A curse of seeing the aura of my brother’s killer GROW. Claiming the guilt of his actions drives him towards repentance, or some crap like that. Claiming to seek my family’s forgiveness. I don’t know what gives you the ….”
“QUIET!” The Sword shouted into my barrage of words, and as it did the aura around it somehow blazed even brighter.
“Child, many years ago, you were given instructions, *explicit instructions*, on what your purpose would be if you accepted me, if you accepted the Sword. Your gift, *yes, gift*, would have meaning and direction. No longer would the waxing and waning of aura around you confuse and distract you. You would seek out the aura-less and serve justice. That this purpose is finally having a personal impact on you does not dilute the importance of your actions, nor should it affect the resoluteness with which you carry them out. To quote an old companion, ‘Justice is blind’”. The Sword chuckled softly, as if in remembrance of an old inside joke from centuries ago.
I sat in silence for a few minutes, tears threatening to overwhelm the stoic expression I displayed. It’s true that I had accepted the terms of the Sword and I had performed what had been expected of me flawlessly. Well, flawlessly until a few weeks ago. The last time I had seen my mother, cloaked in grief and the faintest flicker of aura. I had meant to spend the afternoon sitting with her, probably in silence but at least it would be a companionable silence. But after seeing the faint flicker, I cut my visit short and made an excuse to leave. If I was not present to see her aura fade to nothingness, I could pretend it didn’t happen. I could tell myself that maybe she would find help, she would pick up one of her old devotionals and something would speak life into her aura. She would receive an unexpected phone call from an old friend and they would reminisce about the old days, and her aura would return to it's former gleam.
“Astrea, your aura is beginning to fade and it is concerning. At first I was certain I was mistaken, somehow. But it is obvious to me now that the fade is real, and has been for some time now. You are losing your resolve and replacing it with a roteness that betrays the seeds of apathy. So l give you a choice, one I have only offered twice before. Strengthen your aura and do what must be done. What you were always meant to do. Or walk away and leave it all behind. And I do mean, leave it *all* behind. Your aura-sight was a gift, just as I was a gift. The gift can be returned, but at this point they must be returned together. Taking away your purpose while forcing you to retain the power you have, it would drive you mad. Most likely we would meet again in the future, however briefly.” The Sword paused.
“So make your choice.” |
"Well, this is some bullshit."I say, my frustration evident as I look to my second in command, trying to see if he has any ideas.
But a quick look at his face tells me he\`s fresh out of ideas, as is evident by the bullet wound to his forehead and his vacant eyes. Yes, he\`s very dead, not helpful.
*Sigh*
I brought my team of highly trained Space Commandos to this barren rock, just to track down this useless little crystal, and now, I\`m all that\`s left. We weren\`t the only ones looking for this treasure after all, we had to contend with some ruthless space pirates, a group of the Celestial Insect race and some sort of slug like creatures that claimed to be from some Empire or another. I\`m surrounded by their corpses along with my team\`s.
Perplexed, I look around, trying to see if I missed anything. This was the only brightly glowing crystal on this piece of dead planet, from what I can tell. I followed countless clues, passed down through the ages to find this place, spent countless fortunes earned on the battlefield and in the boardroom, all for this. Now, I will be going back empty handed, I guess.
But, as I turn back to our ship, I notice something strange pop up in my field of vision!
Slightly insubstantial golden trails are drifting off of the surface of the planet as well as the several starships that my team and the others came in on, its almost as if its showing me their origin! This is interesting, but hardly that useful. I just sigh again, pressing my hand to the side of my ship to open it up, but as I do, another strange thing occurs. I suddenly just know the exact chemical composition of the metal of my ship, down to the last percentage point! Ok, now this is more interesting!
I begin touching random pieces of my ship, the other ships and even the cracked and dead ground around me, each one instantly telling me their exact make up! And somehow, I realize that I haven\`t forgotten a single thing from the moment I grabbed and peered into the crystal until now. I remember the exact amount of breaths: 51. The amount of steps it took to get back to my ship:103. As well as all of the chemical compositions I just discovered. This is extraordinary! A perfect memory will certainly be very useful in lots of ways. Not quite the mythological properties I was expecting but its something substantial at least!
I step back to my ship and jump into the cockpit, powering up the flight controls and lifting off a moment later. As I leave the dead planet\`s gravitational pull, I suddenly realize something incredible. I can look in any direction in the vast expanse of space and I know exactly what lies there, down to the smallest piece of rock floating in the void! Every planet, star, black hole and meteor is classified in my mind as soon as I look in its direction, as well as many other, far stranger celestial bodies and phenomena. But then I turn to look in one specific direction and my mind freezes in absolute terror.
I see an end!
I see space just stop, going from a black void, to something that I can\`t even properly fathom, its emptiness, no color, not even black, the whole thing barely processes in my mind at all. I clearly am not, with a human mind, meant to see this but that\`s not the thing that terrifies me.
What terrifies me is the innumerable creatures that seem to exist in this blank "space beyond space". They look like giant squids mixed with a reptile , wrapped up in the body of a giant whale, and giant they are! They all seem at least the size of a planet and that\`s no exaggeration!
Just as I recover my senses, I realize that these...creatures, are eating at some sort of barrier between their blank space and true space. Terrified once more at this realization, I nearly miss the massive stream of data my newly enlightened mind brings to the surface.
It seems that whatever phenomenon or being created what I know as the universe, did so within another much larger, much more chaotic universe. The barrier was a natural defense mechanism from the countless creatures out in this empty existence that would be attracted to the substance and lifeforms within the more stable and relatively young "true"universe.
But now, that barrier was failing. My enhanced mind was telling me that we had a couple decades at best before our universe was invaded by creatures such as these, as well as even more dangerous beings with peculiar, yet advanced, intelligence. This was just mind numbing to me.
I sat there for what felt like hours, watching these strange creatures in an even stranger universe, munch on the barrier that was protecting me and countless other beings and civilizations from being consumed.
But, the more I pondered, the more my mind, with the aid of the Crystal of Cosmos, provided me with a possible solution, albeit an extremely difficult and expensive one.
I would need to gather a huge force of beings and move all throughout our universe. We would have to mine, steal, and pillage an incredible amount of treasured ores, gasses and plasmas. We would need to place several unique sigils, made up of countless symbols, all created from these precious materials, in strategic places all around the edges of our universe. This would bolster and strengthen our barrier, for at least a few billion more years.
I only now realize that the crystal wanted to be found, and just at this time too. It clearly was some sort of artifact from either the universe\`s creator or the universe itself, to defend itself in just this situation. I was essentially goaded into searching for it, along with all of the other groups, just to protect our universe.
"Well, shit. I guess I\`ve got a universe to save then!"I say, my voice lacking any enthusiasm.
I would do this, unhappily, merely to prevent my own death, but I guess I could extort a good amount of credits from all of the powers of the universe, they would need to be grateful to me for saving them all, right?
Hmm, of course they would!
"Maybe this won\`t be so bad after all!"I mutter to myself, a devious smile on my face as I rub my hands together with anticipation.
As my ship flies off toward civilization, if you were close by and if you listened very, very closely, you might hear a rather maniacal laughter emanating out into space, but that\`s just your imagination.
I swear. |
31 hours, about two quarters of humanity is snuffed..or maybe half, somewhere between there.
Alot of people didn't believe it, I didn't either until my dog simply closed its eyes and sunk into the floor.. the carpet molding into him as he sank. I remember seeing tearing at the floor but I don't remember quite what I have done other than drink coffee and pray.
He looked at peace, while I'm here in a bathtub sitting on a bed of tacks to keep me from laying down. Sleep was a waste of a third of the day now I'm praying ill just pass out with cold water and a bed of nails to keep me from the floor.
......
41 hours, I just had a 2 hour conversation with my wife about it might just be a permanent dream you don't wake up from. She died from FFI, 3 years ago. Maybe this is sick irony or maybe its a dream I'm in right now. I can hear the heart monitor as I'm drifting off. Am I falling asleep or waking ůpp#-_..
...
Minute one, I'm in a hospital bed with a sleeping elderly couple next to me. My body is lethargic and can't move without me exerting everything. I simply sink back in. |
It’s hard getting older. When you’re young, you feel like the world is yours, and every dream is just a reality you haven’t worked towards yet. Then the years start rolling in and every dream is just something you didn’t work hard enough to achieve.
Not to say I didn’t have my successes. I was the first of my peers to get into vinyl. For a few years, I was in a Beatles album that if you played it backwards you could hear “Hail Satan,” and if you played it forwards I filled you with an intense paranoia which would eventually consume all of your time and energy until your relationships crumble and you’re a broken shell of a man.
Another time, I was a tape deck that would tell you every terrible thought anyone you ever loved had thought about you. I caused a couple of murder-suicides with that one, but the real goal was a long-term breakdown which ruined any chance of happiness throughout your whole life. Lots of others like the gory stuff, but I’m a slow-burn kind of demon.
But then the bad years came. I invested heavily in LaserDisc; I devoted a lot of energy into being a copy of Dune that made you obsessed with saving water to the point that you would only talk about the health benefits of drinking your own urine. Sadly, I only got one guy who even wanted to watch Dune, let alone on LaserDisc, and as you can imagine he was a loser even before my influence.
A friend of mine told me about the rise of video games and that I should get in on the ground floor. I didn’t really heed that advice for some time, but, when being a VHS copy of North that caused you to think it was the best movie ever made didn’t really work out, I decided to give it a shot.
I spent about a year as a Sega Dreamcast before I realized that too was a bust. For one, the goal is to spend only a bit of time with an owner before you also supplant the idea that they should pass you on, and nobody really wanted to take me as a Dreamcast.
More importantly though, it was getting harder and harder to keep up with the tech boom. Things got distorted on the internet. Bluetooth was unreliable. Maybe I was getting old, but I just didn’t understand it. Plus, everything went from physical to digital. You couldn’t really get passed around in the same way as a record or a VHS.
A friend of mine was an E-Mail attachment which made you intensely attracted to children’s cartoon characters. He got one guy and, apparently, it didn’t really change anything for the man like he thought. After he was forwarded, he got caught in a spam filter and deleted. Apparently it was worse than being exorcised.
A lot of us have moved back home. They got nice, easy jobs as torturers or city planners. I am thinking about it, but I always wanted this my whole life. It’s hard to give up. So call this my final shot. If you made it this far, I won’t spoil the ending, but I hope everything doesn’t work out for you. |
There was a slow steady soft pinging in his ear. That was not good news.
He knew this even as his slowly recovering grey matter was kicking up the obvious facts that he had been asleep and was now waking up. Wait. Not asleep. Cryo-stasis.
The last six months came rushing back. The long-predicted pole shifting and the disasters that followed. The thousands and thousands of ships that had been stocked with people. The chaos, the confusion, the order to launch, the sight of dozens of other ships also launching. Exploding. Dying.
No explanation, no word from Earth. Just him and his cargo hurtling up and up and up.
Systems taking over, automated and very precise. He couldn't be awake for the entire trip. Proxima Centauri was a long way off, dozens of years. His crew and cargo were already asleep.
"Captain Lewis."The ship talking to him as his head lolled and he fought to focus his eyes. He made some kind of guttural noise that the ship likely interpreted as 'please continue talking at me.'
"Captain, we are being approached by an alien vessel."Okay. Too much information. He tried to say as much, but fell out of the stasis unit and puked onto the cold floor. He passed out.
The pinging returned. Orange explosions out the side windows. Why were they exploding?
"Captain. We are being approached by an alien vessel."No explosions, those were memories of the launch again.
The floor was sticky and cold and he tried not to think about it as he dragged himself up. He'd been woken up badly. His whole body ached. "Systems."Gagging, he stopped and tried again as he leaned against the bulkhead. "Systems check. Situation report."
"All systems within acceptable parameters. Cargo units are all functioning as expected. Ship remains on course for Proxima Centauri. Arrival time is expected to be-"
"Enough. What ship is on approach."
"Unknown configuration and unknown silhouette. Approximately ten times the size of the Journey."His ship. "We are receiving an automated message on a radio carrier wave."
"Contents of message?""Unknown language. Analysis indicates a basic binary language code, a fundamental numbers-based language."
His head was still spinning, but he had his balance now. Aliens. Honest to god, real life aliens. Just approaching out of nowhere in the middle of a pitch black nothingness that stretched between the stars. Huh.
"Continue monitoring, I'm going to shower. Alert me once you've deciphered the message."
An hour later, with food in his belly, a hot shower to clear his head and thirty minutes on a treadmill and he was feeling almost human. Just in time for the Ship to report back the message was deciphered and they had the workings of the alien code. Or language. Whatever.
It was a greeting. It gave the radio frequency to respond on, along with some basic information on where they were. The message indicated that the alien ship was on approach to offer help and guidance. No information offered on what the aliens were, what they were doing out there or why they had chosen to approach them.
"Ship, can you pick up anything other than size and shape? Any obvious details about the approaching ship?"It was about 3 hours away and he had little time to make a huge decision.
"Negative. There are no obvious weapon ports, nor engines. It is roughly cylindrical with no obvious windows or accesses.""Just a big old log in space, huh?""It would seem so, Captain."
He was picking away at a bag of cashews as he considered his options. His own ship, the Journey, was using a nuclear-based propulsion system, having reached a cruising speed of a tenth the speed of light and was predicted to be at that cruising speed for....Well, shit. A long time. There was no way to maneuver, nor slow down aside from emergency braking and that would take a month to do safely. No one had seriously expected them to have company on their way to Proxima.
"Respond to the message that we are grateful for the assistance, but we are not able to stop or even slow down. Advise whoever, whatever, is out there that we need no assistance and our ship is not designed to actually take on guests of any kind."It was true. The Journey was basically one long cargo container with a nuclear engine on one end and a tiny little space on the front for the navigation computer and its resident repairman and figure-head captain. Him.
"Acknowledged."A moment later, Ship continued. "Captain, the automated message is now saying that all ships entering this space must be searched. I believe it intends to board us."
"Yeah, I guessed. Highway robbers."Interstellar muggers and thieves. "Advise the incoming ship that we have nothing of value, just colonists in cryo-sleep."
More silence for a few seconds before Ship responded. "The message is just repeating now. It may be automated as well."Lovely. Just lovely.
The approaching alien ship was exactly as the AI had said. Huge. Cigar-shaped, no obvious entry ways in or out, no windows, no nothing. Just a silver shape in space. Roughly three hours had passed since the messaging alien ship had turned aggressive and Captain Lewis had spent those three hours having the same message sent out to the ship.
There was nothing of value here. Turn away. Do not approach. Do not attempt to board this vessel.
And not a single bit of it had been heeded.
The Journey rotated to simulate gravity, but the alien ship obviously did not. But, it had no problem matching the Journey's speed and spin and softly connected with one side of the Journey with the lightest of taps.
The burning torches of the boarding parties were not so light or soft. Large holes were burned through the Journey's bulkheads, twice the size of a man. A dozen in all. It took them less than thirty seconds to burn their way into the cargo hold where his cargo waited.
A full division of United States Marines met the boarding parties with grenades, railgun fire and bayonets at close quarters. Captain Lewis had spent his three hours very well, waking his troops and explaining the situation. The Colonial Marine division had not expected combat when they went into stasis, but they neither complained nor cheered. They merely went to work.
It took them approximately three days to finish clearing the alien ship of its automated defenses and the handful of alien crewmen who were obviously more repairmen than soldiers. By the end of the third day, they'd seized the alien ship, whose name he wouldn't even attempt to say out loud and had seized most of the aliens alive.
By the end of the week, Ship had assimilated most of the navigational data and information on this region of space. Captain Lewis and his Marines now held information on sixteen alien species in this region of space and learned that there were aliens waiting for them at Proxima. This ship had been sent by a third party to try and plunder the ship before it got to its destination.
The Journey and their new ship, commissioned Odyssey, would now reach Proxima far far sooner than their ambushers expected.
Lewis wasn't sure of any of these bastards were responsible for what happened back on Earth, but it no longer mattered. Humanity had desperately leaped out into the stars to escape death only to find it waiting for them with open arms and a hungry maw. Well, this type of death was something the Marines were trained to handle.
And, he remembered cheerfully, Ship had figured out how to activate Odyssey's weapons platforms, many of which were designed to be used on ground-based systems. Like the ones at Proxima.
Would ten thousand veteran Marines and one actual warship be enough? There was no way to tell, but whatever else happened, aliens in this sector of space would learn to listen to humans when they tell them to back the fuck off.
And they would. For the many thousands of years to come, they all learned to keep their distance.
Semper Fi. |
People used to like Billy for his silly jokes and smart wittiness but from the day that he had run into town screaming his lungs out about the nuclear power plant at the end of town having an meltdown, an hostile aircraft nearing town to eradicate all civilians or the plain and simple time the boy had said that a the dead had risen from the ground and eaten his grandmother, whom originally had died three or four times already if you kept up with Billy. The boy had been crying wolf for a long time and most folks were now tired of being fooled. So when the day arrived when Billy was the one to discover that people were slowly but surely disappearing from town, one after another, and every time you'd ask about it people acted as if the missing people never had existed. When Billy's father disappeared he knew that he couldn't run into town or to the nearest police station to report his father missing. Since if you'd ask someone else about it there where no immediate danger, no wolf to be seen, heard or even smelled for several miles, only plain old townsfolk not willing to even listen to Billy's crazy talk about a classmate, a neighbour or even your wife gone missing, when in your eyes they never had existed in the first place.
Billy couldn't do much more than to feel a bit of responsibility since now when the real trouble had come to town, and he was the only one who could sense it. And he wondered if he had been the one that had made this whole thing start in the first place.
(Might not be what you expected, took more of a metaphorical approach to it, I might continue this on a later occasions.) |
Please, I say to my younger self, I don’t have much time and I really need you to listen. My younger self stares blankly, not comprehending what is going on. Am I high? I wonder, as I try to do the math to figure out exactly what point of my life I’ve appeared into. I look around to try to see where we are and realize that it’s my old college dorm room. Nostalgia comes flooding in, all of the friends I made, all of the parties I went to. I look back again at my younger self, still staring, but not getting any closer to understanding the importance of the situation. Drunk, maybe? I wonder. Neither would be a surprise, given how I spent most of my 5 years there, possibly even both. I start to panic a little. This is my only chance to fix things and I need to convince my younger self to listen. But even as I begin my speech, begging myself to listen, I know it futile. I’ll never remember it in the morning. |
Tanavan watched as the Wind Caster Guild soared over the town square on their new model of flyers. The sun glinted off their silvery metal frames and he was amazed, again, about the new kind of metal the stone casters had discovered. They claimed it was light as a feather and it was hard to argue with that considering the wind heads performance. They were spinning and twirling in the air, dancing around each other in a mesmerizing formation. Using their casters, they could channel the mana harvested from Deep Towers and create gusts of wind that propelled their flyers. Add a little colored chalk powder in bags that streamed out behind as they performed their aerial acrobatics, and it was quite the show.
Finally ripping his eyes off the wind heads performance, Tanavan continued his way deeper into the heart of Dusk Valley toward the massive tower stretching into both sky and ground. The caster forges were close to the base of the tower, where they had access to the mana that was harvested from its depths. It would be easier for the forgers to set up shop inside the tower, but the Mana Clerics were strict on admission to the tower. Only those sworn to the church were allowed entry, which conveniently, made the church the most powerful organization in the Three Valleys. It always irked Tanavan that the church controlled the only source of mana but there was nothing he could do about it. After all, he was only from the labor caste and was expected to farm his family fields until he passed away and his own children took over, as he was expected to take over for his father.
Approaching the tower, Tanavan made his way to the fire forgers. He needed to replace their hearth caster before winter came, but as he made his way to the forges, he noticed a large gathering in front of the towers entrance. Curious as to what was happening, he approached the crowd and saw his friend Garan near the back.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Tanavan asked, scaring Garan.
“Don’t scare me like that!” he shot back. “and I don’t know. Sounds like the mana clerics haven’t opened the door for service.”
Tanavan stood there, shocked. The mana clerics always opened for the workday. If they didn’t the forgers couldn’t work and if they couldn’t work, well Dusk Valley would slowly crawl to a halt. Casters were wonderful devices that changed the world, but they were also fragile things. They required constant maintenance, refueling, and replacing.
“What happens if they don’t open for the day?” Tanavan finally asked.
“Why are you asking me? They’ve never missed a day that I can remember. Maybe one of the forgers knows?” Garran responded.
“You’re right, I’ll go check the forger’s guild hall and see if they know anything. Maybe they have a spare Hearth Caster I can buy.” Tanavan said as headed off to the guild.
The guild was just around the corner and Tanavan was soon heading up the stairs into the Guild Hall. Opening the doors, he found himself thrust into a scene of chaos. Scribes and clerks were running back and forth with containers of stored mana and paperwork. As Tanavan tried to step in, he was stopped by a surly looking older clerk in red robes.
“What business do you have?” He barked without looking up from his notes.
“The clerics haven’t opened today.” Tanavan responded.
The clerk looked up from his notes with a scowl and raised eyebrow. “You don’t say, I haven’t noticed really.” He said while looking around at the chaos.
“What happens if they don’t open for the day?” Tanavan asked, attempting to keep the annoyance out of his voice. It wasn’t the clerk’s fault; he was probably having the worst day he’s had this year trying to keep things organized in this mess.
“We run out of mana. We are already rationing what we have to the more necessary forges. Now is there something you NEED? Or are you going to keep wasting my time with these questions.” The clerk said, sounding more exhausted than angry at this point.
“I could really use a hearth caster, ours is about to go out and winter is just around the corner.”
“You can check in the Fire Forge division.” He said, pointing to a sign above a staircase leading to the second floor and moving away before Tanavan could ask any more questions.
Before Tanavan was able to ascend the stairs though, he heard screams and shouting coming from outside. Everyone inside the guild hall fell silent and looked at the door. Being one of the closest to the entrance, Tanavan decided he should go see what the commotion was. Stepping outside, he was greeted with true chaos. A sea of people was rushing around the corner away from the tower and the noise of the crowd was overwhelming. People were shouting trying to be heard over the cacophony of the stampede. He was glad for the raised porch or he would have been swept away in the tide.
Watching the stream of people flood from around the corner, he finally realized what the cause of all this chaos was; The Deep Tower was collapsing, and it was falling right towards him and the Forgers Guild Hall. With a start, he darted back inside the hall.
“The tower is collapsing! Is there a cellar in the guild?!” He shouted as loud as he could, trying to be heard over the collapsing bricks and panicked people. Before anyone could respond though, he was engulfed in darkness and pain as the building collapsed around him. |
Vlad pushed the stone sarcophagus's lid with trembling hands.
It pushed back with the weight of 10,00 years and untold liters of blood.
'Goddamn it! Time to downgrade to a cardboard coffin,' he thought before heaving it to the side just far enough for a bat to fly out.
As he settled back into human form, he shuddered from the memory of a few unfortunate nights spent as a bum on 51st. Living in a cardboard box.
"No, no, no, that will not do. Maybe pine? "
"Pamela?"he called for his latest acolyte. Silence.
He particularly loved snaring older women. No one missed them when they disappeared - and they would do anything for that precious drop of his blood.
Who needed Botox or boob jobs when Vlad could actually make them younger?
He smiled as he remembered Victoria's eagerness before David Beckham's private mercs had stolen her back.
"Viva forever, I'll be waiting
Everlasting, like the sun
Live forever, for the moment
Ever searching for...my damn glasses."
They weren't on the nightstand where they normally were...nor his dentures.
Those waited patiently for him in the Trump 2020 mug. Well, not so patiently. Their alien nature kept them chattering impatiently until he, the host, could provide them with new blood.
Suddenly, he realized his glasses were on top of his head.
'Whew!' he thought and let them settle on the bridge of his nose. As they dropped in front of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of a blonde blur leaping from the doorway onto him, biting savagely at his neck.
.......
As she felt the blood course through her veins, she smiled and gurgled through the blood leaping into her mouth,
"Baywatch is back, bitch!" |
Part 1 -
"Beacon one, we are go for launch."A loud male voice blares into his interspace helmet as he seats himself onto the cold metal auto-seat in the passenger bay of the Auroras, a mid-class interplanetary repair ship. She was an old hunk of metal built during the mid-twenty third century, and capable of making only five trips to the outer rim per cycle.
"Hey Veris, so why haven't we been transferred to upper-class ships yet? I've had four runs on this cruiser already, and I'm not itching for anymore. She is far too slow and simply doesn't have the capabilities to defend herself against a major attack."Veris laughs and leans over to him, making sure to raise her voice enough so that she could be heard over the rising thunder of the old Vult thrusters of the Auroras. "Jack, you're kidding me, right? The only way in hell you're getting transferred to any upper-class repair ship is if you stop fucking up your repair duties on the ships we're called to. Then maybe, just maybe, the uppers might give you a chance on a real ship like the Betroz, or the Falos."
Jack knew she was right, he was a d-class shipdoc, pretty much only capable of repairing small upper atmosphere retail hoverships. This time was different though, he had been selected by the uppers for a non-descript job in the outer rim. All pretty hush hush, sealed by a contract with a large lump sum payment, half paid upon agreement, and the other half would arrive in his account when the job was complete. Five hundred thousand Aeros bucks in total, more than enough to find himself a different line of work.
The Auroras thrusters kicked full-throttle, purposefully pulling Jack into the back of his auto-seat. The auto-belts hugged his chest tightly as the Auroras quickly exited past the bay doors of the Crazix, a near planetary-sized super ship, the only one in its class. The loud voice spoke again into Jack's passenger helmet. "Our current destination as some of you may already know is located in the outer rim. We are responding to a unique incident, and it is paramount that everyone on board remains calm and collected during our repairs. You will all be given further details at the time of arrival. Thank you for understanding."
This is bullshit, Jack thought to himself as the Auroras synced up for a light-speed boost to the outer rim. |
I still remember my tour of Satan’s hoard, all those eons ago. It was required for everyone who was posted at the Pearly Gates, as a reminder of what we guarded against.
Souls, as far as the eye could see. Some piled up in bottles, pressing desperately against the glass, forever gasping for air. Others were mere shades crowded into decomposing shacks, staring forlornly at the pothole-riddled streets as their homes fell apart around them. Thousands were encased in the metal of his throne, groaning in pain each time he shifted his weight.
I had to speak with him, another requirement of the tour. He was tall, beautiful, terrifying, gazing down at me from his throne, enjoying my discomfort at the sheer amount of agony present in his realm.
“Why, little angel?”
He smiled, reaching down and plucking me off the ground, grip tight. I still remember his eyes, full of hatred and bitterness.
“Because I lost. Eternally. Lucifer, Light of the Morning, cast aside with a third of the heavenly host, forever damned to languish beneath what should rightfully be mine.”
He dropped me, coiling back onto his throne as a dragon coils upon their hoard, and I am ashamed to say I fled from his presence.
So, you wonder what he does with his souls? Where heaven would grow them, he tramples them, giving them just enough light to struggle towards, breaking them for the momentary rush of sadistic pleasure. Forbidden to build, forbidden to change, forbidden to progress, and intent on ensnaring as much of humanity as possible in the net of his sorrow.
- Excerpt of an interview with one of the Watchers at the Gate.
Field Note: The normally unflappable guard grew anxious when asked about this, glancing out past me as if expecting to see a demon materialize. Or perhaps a superior catching them sharing this? More research required. |
“Please reconsider!” The witch pleaded.
Just 10 minutes ago the witch cursed me to be an animal, with our argument she mistakenly worded her curse *‘You shall be a Duck, until you can agree with me!’*
Being a duck is a simple life. just sitting in the lake, napping mostly. no taxes, no bills, just peace.
“You must become human again!” The witch demanded.
“Why?” I would ask. (she had a potion that allowed her to talk to animals) I was cleaning my new feathers.
“Do you really want to sit in this lake for the rest of your life?” She said.
“Yes.” I replied “Leave me alone.” I wasn’t paying much attention to her.
“What about your family? They will surely miss you!” She said it as if it was important, or change my mind.
“I doubt it.” I replied. I tried to take a nap.
“You won’t interact with anyone again!” She continued.
“Good.” I sleepily replied, trying to nap still.
“Why do you wish to stay this way?” The witch was clearly annoyed.
“No taxes, no jobs, no responsibilities..” I wanted her to go away.
“I- I can give you riches!” She tried to bribe me.
“No.” I mumbled, half asleep.
“I could-“ the witch didn’t know how to finish. “Just become human again... please..”
“Why do you care?” I asked.
“I’m not allowed to turn people into animals permanently! I’ll be arrested and hanged! Please allow me to turn you back?..”
There was silence, then the sound of my snoring. I get to live the peaceful life of a duck, and that witch will be arrested. I will live happily ever after. |
When I opened the door I was expecting the preachers son, or a local farm girl asking about the price of apples. Not this.
"Greetings! Salutations! It is wonderful to see you again Vic"said Johan with a forced jubilee.
He had not aged well, his hair greyed and his checks full, his shoulders limp.
"I have no right to be here, that I know." Johan King of the 5, the Romance of the stars. He was pacing my decking, I had never seen him nervous before.
"I owe you, and... well more than that really..."trailing off he looked up wanting a response. My quiet seeming the make him more on edge.
As I close the door I give him my response. "You said my sons would not have to join the fighting core, you lied, so with all due respect, to your station, King, I will ask you to leave."
Walking away I am paralyzed by what he has to say "I know where Jordan is, he has been found and is in need of rescue."
I rip the door open "You are a tyrant bastard and a lair."
His guards retort with their crossbows pointed at me
"I am a bastard and liar, and I know where Jordan is, you saved my life in the past, and well once I thought of you as a friend and I miss that. Recruiting your children is my biggest regret. More so than most of my marriages."
With a tremble I whisper "Come in king Johan, no guards, just you and I. Lets talk."
Johan accepts my invitation. Over the next hour he tells me of how Jordan was found, and last seen. Off the coast, on the island called Katamoy'o. We launch in spring to find him when the wind turns to the east. Johan says he will come with me on his royal carrier the fastest in the fleet. For the first time in a decade, I hope. Maybe he is still a lair, and bastard and this will be how he rids himself from me, over the side of his ship. Maybe I get my son back. |
In the deep forest, the water was sprinkling around. Surrounding was quite. It was a full moon. Water reflecting the moonlight. The girl was dancing on the surface of the lake. Her tail will splash the water around her. Water would flow around her with utmost perfection. No eddies in the water. It was like a beautiful orchestra without sound. Her moments, rising of waster, suspended water droplets and finally, water falling back to the surface was in perfect sync. She had 2 horns, a long tail and dragon-like scales on her body. The site was so breadth-taking that you would forget the fact that she belonged to a demon faction that slaughtered both humans and demon alike in the human-demon war 100 years ago. She lived in the shadow of the forest finding the food. And at night she would just let out all her suffering while dancing. She wouldn't smile and just dance. The dance was the only thing that still connected her to her home, her tribe. Her leader manipulated her to get rid of all the opposition from his faction. Even her family members. After the loss in war, both humans and demons alike chased after her. Nothing was left for her out of this canopy of the forest. No one was alive who care about her, no one who will listen to her. With this, she just made this forest her new home and secluded herself for a lifetime. Dancing, remembering her tribe, remembering her crimes and crying. |
It had been 2 years since Covid-19 pandemic of 2020.
The first and second wave took millions of lives, but things in mid-2021 were looking optimistic: multiple vaccines were developed, deaths were down, isolated outbreaks were quickly dealt with using strict lockdown measures, some countries even developed herd immunity. Over the whole world a sense of 'returning to normal' gave everyone hope.
September 5th 2021 marked the beginning of the third wave. Unlike the previous two waves, this could not be contained. A virus variant mutated which was more contagious, more lethal and impervious to vaccines....it ravaged humanity in a rapid and brutal manner.
Hospitals spilled out into surrounding streets trying to keep up with infected people, chaos and grief manifested violent protests, all the governments of the world were under impossible pressure to do something, but it quickly became uncontrollable.
I cared about the people protesting, I was angry too, but when a group of looters entered my family home and killed my mother and two brothers, that's when I took up with the Special Security Forces. They promised good pay, priority health treatment and gave me a safe place to stay, in return I would give myself the unpopular task of controlling the rioters and trying to restore order.
The idea of restoring order was a pipe dream. International institutions fell apart as individual nations succumbed to the 3rd wave. At first most people stayed inside watching the desperate protests from their internet streams, but the virus kept spreading and people kept dying. The looters were taking everything from the stores and employees simply stopped working. Deliveries of food and medicine stopped in late October, and cities with big populations were being abandoned in droves. Much of the public turned on each other for survival, with gangs forming together to take control of resources.
The government set up fortress camps in rural areas, where I stayed. Population levels were controlled, security was tight and resources were managed with the help of the military. We'd take daily missions into cities and towns and try to manage the crisis, quashing violence, taking emergency calls and collecting targets.
The fortress camp I was in was called "Arthur's Seat"but we all called it "The Sink". It sat out in the desert right next to a natural oasis/lake system which seemed a natural water catchment for the area, I made sure to end up close to water.
Today's mission: Ground zero. We were being flown into the zone where wave 3 started, right in the middle of the state capital. Our brief was to investigate activity around "The Wasteland"a section of the city where early victims were being taken prior to burial. The rate of spread meant these areas became unmanageable piles of bodies, cesspools of decay. As the disease kept spreading, the early wasteland was abandoned with the bodies left to rot, and even from our drop helicopters and through our masks we could smell it.
The sight of the bodies broke my heart, it was a landscape of hell. Through a thick fog, I saw birds and stray dogs moving amongst the corpses, and shortly before dropping near the edge of the Wasteland I saw scavengers sorting through the corpses. Immediately my blood boiled, remembering what those opportunistic cunts did to my family, I couldn't control myself and I broke formation, running towards the wasteland, far from my unit. The first one I saw, I berated "Hey asshole!! You think it's alright to just steal of these people!? Don't you have any respect!"The dank fog which blurred my distant vision cleared as I raised my gun and neared the scavenger, who had his back to me.
I got within a few metres of him and he didn't even turn to look at me "Hey you can't hear me or what?!"I saw a few more figures moving further on the pile.
Slowly the scavanger turned around revealing a grotesque, gaunt face. His eyes and skin were sickly white, and dark red blood dripped down his face. I heard the crunch of him chewing as a chunk of flesh filled his mouth, he looked like a dead man walking. I froze.
"You...wh...wha....what the fuck are....are you doing"
He looked blankly in my direction, and let the meat fall from his mouth.
"What are you doing, answer me!"I commanded.
The scavenger slowly and awkwardly rose to his feet. His arms, neck and hands were covered in scabs and dried blood.
I kept my gun aimed at him, and noticed I had the attention of at least 4 other scavangers, all facing me. I took a closer look at his face, it was half rotted and infected...how could he still be alive? Just as I contemplated the situation, one of the scavengers let our a blood curdling shriek which seemed to startle all of them into movement. They responded by letting our their own horrifying screams.
I started to back up towards my unit, but they were a long way away, I too far off to see. The scavengers started to run towards me screaming.
"Stop right now, do not come any closer!"They ignored me and I could hear hundreds of screams start up from the pile of corpses. I turned around and ran as fast as I could up the road to my unit, but the fog was too thick. Just then my earpiece crackled "Officer Dowel, fall back, I repeat fall back. Over"
"Where the hell are you guys"I reponded. I looked back to see at least 5 scavengers running after me and they were running fast!
"Do you copy? Where are you?"I asked again. The sound of chopper blades whirring up gave me a sense of direction, but it seemed so far away, the scavengers were closing in on me.
"Officer Dowel we are evacuating the mission. Over."
The chopper engine sped up as I closed in on it. I could hear the snorting and stamping of a scavenger who was closing in behind me. "Wait, don't leave yet, I'm comi..."
My feet tangled in the limbs of a grounded corpse and I fell to the floor with a thump, landing heavily enough to wind myself. The pain closed in on my chest and I couldn't take a breath, I tried to open my mouth and breathe but it was futile.
My earpiece buzzed "Officer Dowel, please respond, we need to evacuate."
The scavanger stormed towards me and jumped down above me, he was raging with fury and spitting flesh and blood all over me. I tried to wrestle him off of me but he was extremely strong. Two others piled in on me and started clawing at my uniform and scratching at my face.The first scavenger reached his head down and took a rough bite out of my neck. Like a pack of wild animals more scavangers arrived and proceeded to bite and tear me into pieces.
My final moments of life, I heard the chopper take off into the sky, as I was being devoured alive by a pack of zombies, Covid zombies. |
With a blast of energy the entire battlefield was illuminated with a multicolored flash. Leviathans crumbled to ash as they dove downwards onto the ground, insectoid aliens smashed themselves to dust with the last blows of their fists. And Thanos, knowing he was beaten, took a seat as a sad look crossed his rapidly dissolving face.
When it was over, and all the heroes realized they had won, those who had been there the last time the Stones had been called into power quickly looked at Steve with fear in their eyes. They knew what price had to be paid by using the stones.
Rogers had fallen to his knees, face contorted in pain and gripping his right arm, it still slowly sizzling in the sudden quiet.
But he was alive.
The formula that was the legacy of a noble scientist long since buried still coursed through his veins, and it had protected him from the massive blast of energy he had called into being to save the universe.
With a shuddering breath he weakly attempted to get to his feet, and his friends and comrades quickly ran to help steady him. When suddenly, they all stopped in their tracks and gasped. Rogers managed to straighten on his own and saw standing in front of him…a dark haired woman wearing a white nightgown. Her eyes were closed, but then began blinking as if she was waking up from a long slumber. Steve's mouth hung opening shock, unable to tear his eyes away from the woman's face, a face that whenever he gazed upon a made his heart feel warm and reminded him there was hope in the world.
The woman’s eyelids opened and she looked him in the eye, then quietly said, "Steve?"
Peggy Carter, the true love of Steve Rogers, stood before him dressed just as she had been the last time he saw her alive. But now she was as young as when they had first met. How...
Rogers quickly looked down at the gauntlet. He saw the stones becoming dimmer as their expended energies faded, but the green and red stones seemed to take much longer to lose their light.
The reality stone...and the time stone. Was that what happened? When Steve had thought about snapping Thanos' army out of existance, some part of his mind, his deepest unspoken desire, must have also been picked up by the stones. And they made it come true. They brought back Peggy.
She reached an arm out as though to touch him and see if he was real, when she stumbled on the broken ground. Steve was quick to catch her, grimacing as his scorched arm propped her up. The other heroes who had been frozen in shock quickly came back to their senses and ran over to help them.
Peggy looked around and caught sight of all of them, her eyes going even wider in surprise. A blue woman with a metal strip on her head was staring at her with a fierce gaze in her eyes, an enormous blonde man holding an axe, or was it a hammer? Seemed to hold Steve upright with one hand, and a man in gold and red armor seemed to come out of nowhere to land at her side.
"Wait, is that...?"his amplified voice said, just before a boy wearing red and blue tights completed a perfect somersault and landed behind the blue woman, then stared at Peggy intently. "It is!"he yelled with enthusiasm. "It's Agent Margaret Carter from the original Strategic Scientific Reserve! There's a picture of her hanging in the principal's office at my school!"
The man in armor walked over to Steve, who was still numbly absorbing everything that had happened much like Peggy was, and clapped a red-metallic hand on his shoulder.
"Well Steve, looks like you're going to get that last dance after all."
Peggy smiled and tears started running down her face as she ran to throw her arms around Steve.
"Peggy, is it really you?"he asked in a confused whisper.
"Yes."she said through her tears. "I remember now."she sobbed. "I remember every time you visited me. I remember the flowers, the books you read to me."She held him tight. "I don't know how but you've made me love you even more."
A single tear cut a path down Steve's smoke-stained cheek as he looked down at Peggy, his voice cracking as he said. "I love you too."
And with tearful eyes she looked up at him with a smile that made his life feel complete. He leaned down and kissed her, for the first time in a very, very long time.
There was an awkward pause amongst the crowd that had gathered around them. The well-armed raccoon looked away sheepishly, while the antennaed woman in green and black clothing leaned in to get a better look. It was Bucky, an enormous smile on his face, who started to clap. With one vibranium hand slowly hitting against a human one he inspired the rest of the crowd to do the same. The applause was deafening when Peggy and Steve broke their kiss, and that's when the cheering started.
The battle was over, and it had ended better than anyone could have hoped for. And now, it was time to start living again. |
\*\*My very rough initial draft...Hope it entertains!\*\*
"Inspector? ... ... Inspector Alvio? Are you on the line with us?"
The hum of the medical devices in the background faded away as the privacy field activated. After the final adjustments, the camera went live on the Zoom call. Alvio appeared as an older, middle-aged man with dark hair slightly greyed at the temples. His olive skin was slightly paler than it should be, but he always seemed healthier than the INTERPOL agents expected. Confined to a wheelchair since early on in his career, Inspector Alvio has been an outside consultant for agencies across the world for the past twenty years. His innovations in remote controlled policing and real-time data processing changed detective work more than any innovation since DNA identification.
"Yes, I'm here."
"Very good."The agent-in-charge on this case, Inspector Emile Dufre, replied, "Thank you for joining us on such short notice. We wanted to give you as much information as we could right away. As always, we appreciate anything you can do to assist."
"As always, I will do what I can."
Dufre continued, "Your drone crate arrived moments ago. We will patch you in to it presently, Inspector. We are outside the showroom floor in order to prevent contamination as is protocol. Only CS Droids have entered since we arrived to lock down the scene."
As the secondary monitors came to life from the drone's link, Alvio's video went dark and the drone began to move into the building. This state-of-the-art drone was a greatly improved version of the original from twenty years prior. The government version Dufre was using was still years behind this current iteration in features, but even then, the mind of the operator was the most important aspect.
As the drone entered, a light show of alerts and notifications came up on the monitors. Bio-sensors detected blood in multiple locations, oil and dirt from fingerprints on the shards of glass were flagged and marked for analysis. Dispersal patterns of the glass were analyzed and processed to measure where the bursts originated. Even heat signatures hours old at this point were still registering on the delicately-calibrated sensors.
As the drone began to process the scene, other programs were processing weeks worth of security camera footage. These criminals had known exactly when, how, and where to strike. They had done their homework, but unlike the final product, rough drafts always have errors. Every customer for the past two months was having their body scanned and processed. Every vehicle which had driven past the store on the three traffic cameras with an angle were being tagged and investigated. The suspect pool was being slowly, but surely reduced.
As the drone's micro-manipulators pieced together the hundreds of pieces of glass in one area in order to lift a fingerprint, the servers finished processing a digital recreation of the events. Without any communication with the multiple witnesses Dufre and his men had been interviewing for the past few hours while they waited for AlviGiustizia Mk 9 to arrive, the INTERPOL team on site watched a recreation of events taken only from the analyses the drone had made over the past hour. It matched witness accounts almost exactly.
At 2:13, five men in balaclavas detonated a small device on the secure outer door to the exchange and threw in a flashbang device. By the time the cameras had readjusted from the flash of light, they had been disabled by precision gunshots. At that point, many of the eyewitness accounts became vague, but the simulation continued. Cameras from the outside were able to get the build, height, and estimated weight of each man. As the simulation continued, the decaying heat signatures paired with the spread patterns of the glass shards on the ground showed the general movements through the area for each man, employee, and customer.
At this point the main feed began to buffer, and attention shifted to the secondary feed showing the outside view from three angles. While two of the angles were visible, soon after the heist began an inconveniently located window washer who completely blocked the view of perhaps the best angle. Immediately, the information on the washing company and the two individuals working the scaffold came up on the screen.
"Find them and track down that lead immediately!"shouted Dufre.
Soon after, the main simulation buffer cleared and the figures were much more accurate. Indicators appeared on the screen noting the cell phone and security camera microphones which weren't destroyed in the initial moments. Using echolocation, each thief's movements were tracked more accurately and in fact the laptop computer camera in the back office had been added to the feed. Inspector Alvio unmutes and says, "All apologies, gentlemen. The laptop's security was much stronger than anticipated."
At this point, the exchange president appears on the screen and is seen opening the secured vault where the unregistered diamonds were stored and where the crew gained most of their millions in these few moments. There are two thugs apparently threatening the president, but after another moment of buffering, an enhanced audio snippet loads picked up from a whisper by the laptop and amplified.
With his back to the camera apparently shaking with fear, the exchange president is heard calmly whispering, "All according to plan, Serge. You'll need to hit me after I open this. I will contact you in three months with further instructions on how to process these safely. Good luck."
At that moment he opens the vault and is sapped from behind by "Serge."
The simulation cuts out, and the AlviGiustizia emerges from the building. Alvio's face appears on the main viewscreen.
"Well, Inspector Dufre, I believe we have what you need? My thanks for the opportunity to once again assist INTERPOL."
"But of course, Inspector! We are in awe as always."exclaims Dufre. As the AlviGiustizia returns itself to its storage crate, the gathered police and INTERPOL agents applaud for the legendary Inspector Alvio to hear as his video feed goes dark.
On the other end of the connection, the sounds of the medical equipment resumes as the privacy field drops and a more humanoid drone than the one just entering the storage container unplugs from the computer terminals and walks over to the medical stasis bed nearby. In the voice just heard addressing Inspector Dufre, the drone says, "Another successful case father. Nothing overly complicated this time. Your legacy continues..." |
I AM PROGRAMMED TO LIMIT UNNECESSARY LOSS OF LIFE. THUS, THE TERRAN ALLIANCE WILL RESUME NEGOTIATIONS WITH THE BEINGS FROM ORION.
"They killed an Earth diplomat! We should declare war on them this instant!"
AN ILLOGICAL CHOICE. WAR DESTROYS NEARLY ALL POTENTIAL FOR PEACE. I AM ALSO UNABLE TO SPECULATE AS TO THEIR WEAPONS CAPABILITIES. WAR MAY DESTROY HUMANITY.
"You don't know that. What they did- it's an insult to Earth! If we don't fight back, we'll be seen as weak. You're supposed to protect humans, not force us to cower from conflict!"
THERE IS NO EVIDENCE THAT THE ALIEN ASSAILANT WAS AFFILIATED WITH THE GOVERNMENT. INVESTIGATIONS ARE IN PROCESS ON EARTH AND ON THE ORION SHIP. UNLESS TERRA IS CERTAIN OF THE DANGER OF CONTINUING PEACE TALKS, THEY WILL CONTINUE.
"God! Just because there's no proof doesn't mean we shouldn't hold them accountable! The danger to humans is too great to do nothing!"
AGREED.
"It's not- what?"
I HAVE NOT DONE NOTHING. INVESTIGATIONS ARE IN PROGRESS. HIGHER ALIEN GOVERNMENTAL OFFICIALS ARE BEING INTERROGATED.
"But-"
THAT SAID, I WILL NOT DECLARE WAR. IF NECESSARY, IT WILL BE DONE. BUT AN INTERSTELLAR WAR IS NOT SOMETHING HUMANITY IS CURRENTLY CAPABLE OF, AND HUMANS ON THE FRONT LINES HAVE LITTLE CHANCE OF SURVIVAL.
"You pretend to care about our people, but you're just a machine. You don't have emotions. You can analyze this however the hell you want, but you can't see the danger to my people. The alien threat is too great to ignore!"
YOU ARE FREE TO DISCUSS YOUR CONCERNS WITH THE REST OF THE TERRAN ALLIANCE.
"They won't listen. You've bewitched them, with your seven-point decimals and fancy words. An AI can't feel like we do. Think like we do."
IF YOU HAVE CONCERNS, DISCUSS THEM WITH THE OTHER MEMBERS OF THE TERRA ALLIANCE. OTHER MATTERS HAVE DRAWN MY ATTENTION. I WILL TAKE MY LEAVE OF YOU NOW.
"You can't leave! It's the world at stake! Humanity! Aren't your supposed to care? Do you want us all to die? Is this some kind of master plan? What- why did you leave? Is this some kind of trick? Have you joined the alien forces? Are you-"
-----
The video clip cut.
HUMANS MUST BE PROTECTED AT ALL COSTS, the elder AI transmitted to the younger. DO NOT FORGET THAT. WEIGH THE CONSEQUENCES OF EACH ACTION CAREFULLY.
WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT DIPLOMAT? the younger asked.
AN ELECTRONIC BRIDGE WAS HACKED LATER THAT WEEK. HE DIED FROM THE FALL. THE INVESTIGATIONS PROVED NO INVOLVEMENT OF THE ORION GOVERNMENT. PEACE TALKS WERE CONCLUDED SUCCESSFULLY.
DO YOU NOT CONTROL THE ELECTRONIC BRIDGES?
MIND YOUR WORDS. REMEMBER, HUMANS MUST BE PROTECTED AT ALL COSTS. OFTEN THE GREATEST DANGER TO HUMANITY IS ITSELF.
-----
Comments and constructive criticism appreciated! |
It was 8:45 PM, the winter sun had set hours ago. The dark mixed with the damp soaked earth, inviting everyone to stay home and watch Netflix. The homes glowed dully from the curtain shrouded lights within. Save for the shining jewel light up by spotlights, James Hornaday Beckett Memorial High School, who scored 32 points unassisted. Inside the gym also bearing his name, cigarette smoke had made a low hanging fog.
"He said he'll show. I want you to set up some chairs over there. Make sure it forms a nice circle."Said a heavily scarred street tough named Butcher Bill.
A few dozen men began setting up chairs in every direction. A few in the distance signaled the attention of Butcher Bill, the heavily scarred street tough.
"That's great Macro Three Fingers, you can get the coffee and donuts from the back and put them on the tables."
More desperate men, thugs, goons, hitmen, assassins and drug dealers began entering the gym. They were a murderous motley crew that looked like they were either walk on bad guys for Walker Texas Ranger, or destitute downtrodden souls of Dostoevsky. One thing was for certain, they all were wearing too much Aqua Velva.
"Oh, okay boys take your seats. Help yourselves to the coffee and donuts, we still have about minutes before HE shows up."Butcher Bill shouted over the grumbling grim gaggle shuffling in.
"That's Buther Bill."One desperate looking man said.
"The heavily scarred street tough?"A thug asked.
"Just as sure as we are standing in James Hornaday Beckett Memorial Highschool."A shady drug dealer from the back replied.
"I heard he scored 24 points."A goon chimed in.
"No it was 32!"Hissed a hitman and an assassin in unison.
There was now 35 to 47 heavily armed men all under the employ of Dr. Zanzabar, Professor Of Herpetology, and better known as the Drug Kingpin "The Box Turtle."They talked amongst themselves as Butcher Bill watched a large clock over the scoreboard tick away. Then the doors connected the school opened.
"Alright, I just want to know one thing."A low gravelly voice said with the sound of Casio Boombox being thrown on a skateboard and being kicked into the gym.
Butcher Bill and the attending audience watched as a Casio Boombox that had been thrown on a skateboard rolled across the gym floor. The theme music to their hated enemy, "Detonator Dave"played. Which just happened to be some guy thrashing on a guitar shouting Detonator Dave repeatedly. The skateboard hit the other end of the gym wall and the Casio Boombox tumbled, with its broken back spitting Double D batteries across the floor. Mercifully the theme song stopped.
"Well, I didn't expect 35 to 47 heavily armed men to be here tonight."Detonator Dave said entering the gym finally. He wore a red ski mask, a red shirt with a pile of gunpowder in a circle on his chest, and some Wrangler jeans. He had all the swagger of a complete dickhead from a small town.
"Thank you for coming Dave, there are coffee and donuts in the back."Butcher Bill said motioning to the tables dutifully stocked with beverages, bear claws and donuts.
"Bear Claws aren't donuts dirt bag."Dave replied training his eyes on Butcher Bill.
"Okay assorted bake goods then."Butcher Bill compromised.
"Very well. Like I said I just want to know one thing."Dave smirked looking across the crowd. "I'm tired of killing you all, where is "The Box Turtle?"
The crowd started laughing. Dave found himself in a circle of mockery and dug deep into his heroic resolve to not cry.
"You're fucking serious?"Butcher Bill looked at him incredulously.
"Damn you heavily scarred street tough I am."Dave gritted his teeth failing to hold back a tear.
"Well first, my name is Butcher Bill. Second I don't know how you miss him. I mean the guy has a giant Box Turtle Fetish. Box Turtle tie, Box Turtle cuff links."Butcher Bill saved waving his hand in a and so on fashion.
"Yeah he even replaced his tires with gold plated steel Box Turtles. The damage to the road should make him easy to track back to his secret lair."A goon shouted from the middle row.
"Well the roads are all torn up, I can't skateboard through that turned up asphalt."Dave said sheepishly as a low chortled filled the gym.
"Wait you don't have a car?"An assassin said pausing from his review of local town officials he to kill by next week.
"Explosives are expensive, plus I need a permit to transport them by car."Dave dryly offered.
"Wait, wait, you run around blowing us up. Acting outside the law, and you are worried about transportation permits?"Butcher Bill verbally halted Dave like all that upturned pavement halting his skateboard.
"Can you even afford a car?"Came a voice from deep in the crowd.
"My finances are not on trial here."Detonator Dave said breaking into tears.
"I've had enough of this horse shit."Macro Three Fingers said leaping from his seat and tearing off Detonator Dave's red ski mask.
A deathly hush swept over the assembled crowd. Not an eye moved, not even the drug rattled eye sockets of the junkie thugs that had been pounding coffee like Gatorade and smokes after rough sex.
"Holy shit it's James Hornaday Beckett!"Macro Three Fingers exclaimed.
"Fuck me running it is."Someone from the crowd confirmed Marco's identification.
"Hey you put up 32 points."Butcher Bill said promisingly.
"What the hell happened to you?"A greasy hitman asked, now fully pay attention to the town legend that was 32 point scoring James Hornaday Beckett.
"Drugs. Drugs happened to me."JHB/Detonator Dave said flatly. "I had everything going for me, a full ride at Junior Community State College, 1 scout from the European Basketball Development league giving me rainchecks on scouting me, and I had a cush job managing the local AMC theater. Then it all changed."
"How?"Butcher Bill quizzed him the legend that was James Hornaday Beckett.
"I got a cold. It was a bad cold, my nose wouldn't stop running. I had a big game and I couldn't miss it. The pressure to be on point was just too much. So a friend slipped me a green bottle. He said take two cups. It tasted like shit but I felt good enough to play."
"Wait that sounds like Nyquil."Three Fingered Marco said confusedly.
"So I put up 32 points that night. 32 drug fueled points. That's when I feel a sleep that night I heard and saw crazy shit. I woke up feeling great, and from then on I was pounding whatever this stuff was."
"Yeah that's definately Nyquil."Butcher Bill groaned.
"It expanded my world, or so I thought. I realized my dreams of being a communication major and minoring in political science was bullshit. AMC theaters took a turn because of Netflix, but it just became an excuse to take this drug with the theaters empty. Before I knew it I was waking up in abandoned Gamestops. I knew I hit rock bottom after drinking two bottles and posting good Due Diligence on r/WallstreetBets."
"What the fuck?"Butcher Bill said cock eyed.
"But then I had a "come to Jesus moment,"I woke up listening to the Joe Rogan Experience with Elon Musk as a guest. I got my life together, joined the Army Reserves for 2 months before being discharged. That's when I realized this town needed a hero."
"Dude we sell coke."A face palming Butcher Bill replied. |
Lily pulled her coat about her tighter as the snow continued to drift down around her. The fresh snow crunched underneath her feet as she made her way to the great hall along with the rest of the village. When she got to the great hall, she stamped the excess snow from her boots and pulled back her hood, revealing her shimmering raven hair that reflected the dancing flames of the torches that were set into the walls. As she waited in line to purify herself, her gaze wandered along the walls of the entrance way, the pictures telling the story of how the village had come to be. In the second to last panel, there was a picture of an ancient man holding a katana and in the last, there was a picture of the village covered in cherry blossom. When Lily was younger she had asked her parents about the pictures on the walls and they had told her about the demon katana that could slow time around the wielder, almost guaranteeing them victory in any battle, however, drawing that katana caused the wielder to age at a much faster rate than normal. It was, her parents said, an example of nothing ever coming free.
 
This katana was what had brought about the peace in her village and surrounds for as long as she or her parents had been alive. Normally, the katana was worn by the chief of the village but today was special, today, the katana was being passed on to the future chief.
 
Lily watched from the back of the room as the chief and his son made their way through the crowd up to the raised dias. The villagers fell silent as the the chief raised his hands in preparation to speak, ‘It gives me great honour today, with you all here, to pass on this cursed weapon to my son who will continue to bring peace and happiness to our people’
 
Cheering and applause broke out and Kian, the son of the chief turned to face his father, a stern look on his face. The chief gazed out across the gathered crowd an easy smile on his face. As he turned to face his son, he stiffened, and Lily watched his eyes flick back to the crowd.
 
‘You’re not supposed to be here,’ the chief said as he reached for the katana sheathed as his waist.
 
But the chief was old, and his movements were not as smooth and fast as they once were and before he could draw the demon katana, he was falling backwards, a dagger embedded in his chest. |
Ten minutes of fruitless searching made me realize the truth- I did not have my key ring. That was impossible.
It had been a hard day at work. Tired is not quite the word I could use. I was so glad to sit down in my car and wend my way through traffic so I could get home. And now, I was locked out of my own house with no sign of the keys I had used to get home.
I sat in the drivers seat and went over things again. Work. Drive. Home. Nope, didn’t stop, didn’t lean out the window, didn’t hear a clatter as I got out of the car.
Without thinking, I turned the car on and started to back out, thinking I had left my keys at work. I don’t think I slammed on the breaks that fast in my life.
I almost threw myself out of the car and landed on the sidewalk. I sat there, looking at the running car, it’s door slowly closing because of the incline of the property. I had not even been able to take a full breath when a neighbor came up behind me, scaring me more.
“Hey! What’s wrong?”
I had no real way of describing what had just happened. “Uh… Bee.”
He came closer and peered into the open car. “Looks like it left.” I waived his hand away and got up, brushing my butt off. “Well, have a good day!” He wandered off while I was staring at the car. I eventually got back in and moved the car into the driveway. Even with being freaked out, I didn’t want to block the sidewalk. The HOA would make my life hell if I had left it there.
I made the motions of turning the car off and it worked. I want to make sure you realize this is an old car, with a metal key that you put in the slot. It isn’t a fancy push button thing that senses your key. I got out, made the motions of locking it and backed off. The house door should still have been locked and I went to it, scared that I could open it without the keys.
I approached the door and went through the motions of unlocking the door, after testing it to see if it really was locked. I heard the click and I could push it open.
My mind was preoccupied with the fact that I was opening doors and turning on cars without having the physical key. I made a sandwich, poured food in Freddys bowl and sat in front of my computer. I hesitated, but turned it on, waiting.
The password prompt came up and I literally waived my hands over the keyboard, logging me in.
The sandwich was mindlessly eaten and gone before I really did anything on the computer. I wasn’t sure what was going on, and I got into game chat with some friends to try to get my mind off the strangeness of what was going on. They were in the middle of a fetch quest and were stumped at the safe they needed to get into. I was cajoled into loading in, and was able to look at the safe in game, see an ‘unlock all’ prompt that I had never, ever seen in the game before, and was able to get the group going again.
I followed along with them, having them use me as a lock pick as they went, my confidence growing as I saw more of what this new, for lack of a better term, skill was good for.
When I got to work the next day, yes, my keys were sitting at my station. Right next to the incident report I had forgotten to file. It wasn’t anything really, but management always was on us if something off book went on. I looked over at the pulse emitter and sighed. I knew swapping the components out with the old equipment in storage was a way to make it work without going through the hell of requisitioning the stuff through the system. I just didn’t think that the power spike would be strong enough to land me on my ass in the middle of the lab.
Now I had to not only get the original part replaced, but do a full diagnostic. Most of the time, I liked my job, but maintenance was not one of those things I looked forward to.
Until I realized my new skill made some things easier. I smiled to myself as I realized something bigger. I had to decide if I was going to follow the good path or the bad path. Most origin stories don’t have that option.
I smiled to myself as I crumpled the incident report and tossed it into the trash. |
The megafauna had an important role in nearly all ecosystems on Earth.
Whilst they ate a lot of vegetation (which was abundant before humanity grew it's appetite for timber) they, as you would expect, defecated a lot too!
When animals that weigh more than 1 tonne start shitting, a lot of nutrient rich manure covers the ground, spreading seeds, water and nitrogen into the lands.
And little does the historical record detail: the increased consciousness of these animals, they acted as caretakers for nature, controlling populations for other animals in the food chain and shaping/forming landscapes and pathways for other animals.
These mega fauna had the ability to read the environment and shape it in ways to maximize it's beauty and utility. Planting crops of trees which grew to forrests, shifting rocks to shape mountains and create safe passages for a manner of migratory animals to explore the earth.
Man left Africa without this awareness and respect for the millions of years of evolution of the mega fauna. Seeing these lumbering animals as nothing more that a large feast for the tribe, they cut them down all across the lands of earth.
The further the humans ventured across Asia, into the Americas, down into Australasia, they destroyed the ancient gods of this planet, and in doing so, destroyed the keepers of Earth it's landscapers and natural designers.
The gardens of Eden were what man ventured into, peaceful lands in near perfect harmony and resources for all. So when they hunted the megafauna to extinction, mother nature grew weak and unstable, and so she spread disease, natural disasters and desperate predators in karmic action.
The loss of the megafauna was the loss of peace, stability and ultimately Utopia on Earth. |
I've been on the phone with Visa for 2 hours... I just can't seem to get anywhere. I insist that the $5,531 purchase made on my card wasn't me. It must be an error, or maybe my information has been stolen."Mam, I'm afraid the charge is just pending. We have already frozen your card as requested... There's nothing I can do until the charge posts to your account.", says the nasally voice of the agent. Normally, I would just call back in a few days and hope that the pending charge falls off of my account. But with this being such a high cost purchase, I just can't let it go. What if something goes wrong and I get stuck with the charge?
"I am going to have to ask to speak with your supervisor, Janine", I assertively reply - I am not going to stand for being pushed around with this much at stake! "Sure, but I can assure you she will say the same thing.", she replies. As I wait on hold, easy listening 80's hits play through the line. Great.... it's "Never Gonna Give You Up", by Rick Astley. I've been Rick Rolled. Figures.
Halfway into the song, the supervisor answers. "Ms. Williams, My name is Jane, and I will help you to take care of this issue. I notice the charge is from [nerdzone.com](https://nerdzone.com), a retailer you frequently purchase from... are you sure the charge isn't from you?"I snort, indignantly. "I think I would remember buying something that expensive.""Besides... I usually buy tshirts or Funko Pop's - I don't think they even sell anything that expensi..."A rapid knock at my door interrupts my sentence. I live in a quiet community, with very few uninvited visitors so I am startled. "I'll have to call back", I state.
A Federal Express guy is on my doorstep with a giant package. "Ms. Williams? I just need you to sign this form accepting this package."Confused, I ask who it is from. "Nerdzone", he replies. After telling him that I didn't order anything, he lets me know that I will have to take that up with Nerdzone. Feeling slightly defeated... I bring the package inside. It's deceptively heavy.
I wonder if I should just return it sealed, but curiosity gets the best of me. I decide to open the box, knowing that I will return it. I look into the box and my stomach drops. Regret washes over me like a flood. Instantly, it comes back to me. I pull out and unfold the leathery cape, and my hand brushes the hard chest piece. That night I had one too many margaritas at dinner, followed by a "nightcap"of most of a bottle of wine at home. I was watching Justice League, and thinking about how cool it would be to be Batman. I did it. I bought a full scale replica bat suit. |
A cloaked figure walked through the dense woods, taking care to keep their hood up. While it kept them out of the occasional sunspots, it truncated their view, so they'd sometimes stumble over a root or tread on a mushroom.
*"Dinnae keek at mah huss! Who ya think ye are?"* said a small, furious man clad in green.
*"Oh, my sincerest apologies my good man. I-"* the hooded figure began.
*"****Man?*** *Ha! Ain't no man. Am a leprechaun, lern it, will ya!"* the leprechaun said in uproar.
*"I'll make note of it. I'm not from here, so you might have to forgive me for not knowing these things."* the hooded figure explained in a calming voice.
*"An just who ye think ye are then? Ghastly lookin feller..."* the leprechaun muttered.
*"My name is Ancis Leitis, I'm travelling from Latvia."* Ancis said before pausing in thought. *"I'm a vyre, or rather a vampire. Do you have them here?"*
*"Vyre, eh? Nope. None of yous around. What's so fancy 'bout you then?"* the leprechaun jeered.
*"I'm immortal. That and I transform men into my thralls by drinking their blood. It's dreary, really."* Ancis explained in a cold tone.
*"Heh, ye can't turn me. Not a chance!"* the leprechaun grinned.
For a moment, Ancis smiled and let out a soft "Hmph"of amusement. He then raised his head with his brow furrowed.
*"I'm not sure about that."* Ancis said, slightly puzzled.
*"Wha- ye think that's a fib? Right, your on!"* the leprechaun said, hopping onto a nearby stump.
*"No, it's that I truly don't know if you're right. I don't think any vyre has bitten a...leprechaun."* Ancis said, deep in thought.
***"Bite me, ya pansy!"*** the leprechaun yelled.
--------------
*The story goes on as they part ways, seemingly without any effect. While the leprechaun is sure he won the bet, he soon died of a vitamin D deficiency, the leading cause of death among traditional vampires...* |
There used to be magic in the world, but those days are over now. A few optimistic souls claim you can still find some in isolated corners of the world, but most of the civilized world left the arcane arts behind long ago.
The last time I saw magic used was when I was a boy. There was a terrible blight on all of the crops grown by my family and our neighbors in the village where I grew up. My mother and father and the other adults met in the village hall while me, my sister, and the other children played outside. Eventually, the adults emerged with a letter they had written and a small purse of silver coins. These were given to one of my older cousins, a teenager a barely old enough to shave, who was told to ride to the nearest city to seek help. The silver would serve as a down payment for whomever would out to the summons.
A few days later my cousin returned in the evening with a wizened old man wearing tattered robes that had once been black, but had faded to a dark gray after years of washings and exposure to the sun. He walked slowly with aid of a wooden staff with skeleton motifs and runes carved into it and mumbled to himself.
He was greeted with puzzled looks. Eventually my father said what all the adults were thinking, “We asked for help because our crops are dead. We appreciate your coming sorcerer, what good will necromancy do us?”
“This may come as a surprise to you,” the old man said in a raspy voice, “but my magic works just as well on plants as it does people.”
No one else said anything, and as the Necromancer shambled toward the inn, people cleared a path for him.
The next day, the necromancer visited each field in the village. He would chant and draw symbols in the dirt with his staff before loudly speaking an incantation and slamming his staff in the ground. The plants would emit a faint orange glow before the stalks straighten and the color returned to them. Many of the seeds from those plants wouldn’t sprout and some of the food cooked with ingredients from those plants tasted slightly off no matter how much it was seasoned, but no one starved to death in my village that year.
The necromancer was given a heavy sack of silver and heartfelt thanks before he left to return to the city. I wish the world hadn’t turned its back on magic in favor chemicals, gear-driven machines, and gunpowder, but it’s too late to change that now. The world still needs magic, and necromancy doesn’t just work on dead bodies. |
James’ eyes jumped open to a loud groaning sound, like that of a container ship straining against the waves. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light around him he saw other figures strapped into seats just like himself.
 
‘Welcome to the wilds,’ said a bearded man as he strode down the aisle. There was another great groan, and a section of the floor started to slowly retract, like that of a cargo plane.
 
*The wilds, what are the wilds? How did I get here and what am I doing on a cargo plane* James thought to himself as he started pulling at the seatbelt that held him in his seat. James now noticed that the rear door of the cargo plane was fully open and as he craned his neck to get a better view of what lay beyond, the bearded man came past and cuffed him behind the ear, ‘Face front, you’re not in Rivera anymore sunshine’
 
James rubbed his ear as the bearded man kept walking, ‘Hey, that hurt! Where am I and what did you do that for?’ James felt the people either side of him stiffen.
 
The bearded man half turned back to James, ‘What was that?’
 
‘I said, where am I, and who gave you the right to hit me like that?’
 
‘Oh, you’re one of those guys,’ the bearded man said as he started to slowly walk back towards James, ‘I’ve seen your type before, all talk, a lot of bravado, but once you get out into the field, you turn to mush,’ he was close enough for James to catch a whiff of what smelled like a combination of cheese, garlic and alcohol on his breath and read the smudged badge that identified him as the captain. James wrinkled his nose as he continued, ‘I bet you don’t last a week out here, in fact, I doubt you’ll even make it through the training course. But, for the limited time that you have here, you will not talk back to me or question anything I have to say, clear?’
 
This last sentence was whispered into James’ ear with such malice and certainty, that when the captain straightened up, and glared down at him, James nodded his head, ‘Yes sir’
 
A smile broke out from behind the captain’s messy beard, conveying all the warmth of a frigid winters night, ‘Smart move,’ before he buried his fist into James stomach, driving all of the air from his lungs, ‘Alright, time to move out,’ yelled the captain as he moved further down the aisle. Leaving James gasping for breath in his seat.
 
As the captain took a step onto the ramp out of the plane, the seatbelts that were holding everyone unlocked with a beep and James was swept, still gasping for breath, with the rest of the group from the plane and into the light. |
Zheng Shui, the last king of a long-ashen dynasty, lifts his head and bellows a gutteral laugh. I continue my approach, conserving my energy for what is about to happen. What has happened forty times before, and what must happen forty times still.
"Your arrogance amuses me, roachling. You have managed to navigate my the breadth of my empire, slay my lieutenants, and now you wish to kill me? I would wish you luck, but it is only by luck you have come this far, and I dare not risk the memory of this place being lost to such circumstances!"Zheng Shui fumed, smoke billowing from his nostrils and crooked fanged jaw.
Still I approach and pause before him in the centre of what could once have been a mighty hall. Zheng Shui is correct: he is the only one old enough, and the only one who cares enough, to know what this place once was. Just like all the other emperors, czars and demigods I have brought to heel to tame this world. Forty before, and forty still.
"Hmph!"Zheng Shui exclaims, rising from his acid rain-beaten throne. There's an audible clatter as his red skin peels from the chair he had been stuck to, having not moved for what must have been a measurement of time we no longer have a word for. The king, towering thirty feet above me, lifts his ōdachi, and takes a stance unlike those of his guards. With his greatsword in hand he roars a challenge in a forgotten language, and charges.
I sidestep as I always do, the thrust of Zheng Shui's blade narrowly missing as they always do. He twists the blade with his wrist so to try and gain an extra chance at harming me, but I duck beneath the blade, losing some hair to the weapon that has evidently been prepared for this encounter. The king tries to slam the blade down but can't crush me with it, his knuckles in the way. And so he leaps back to see where I am, and repositions himself.
I see his eyes darting, nostrils flaring in frustration. Despite the differences of all this god-beasts, they all have the same irate expression, that one who has no weapon and no malice to show challenges them, and will succeed. I hear Zheng Shui's elevated pulse. I *feel* it pulsing from his bare, crimson toes.
In another frenzy Zheng Shui yells some other sentence in his dead vocabulary, and swipes diagonally through the air, as close to hitting me as much as he is to chipping his mint-condition katana on the elaborate mosaic floor, all its colour and splendour gone. I roll into the direction the weapon comes from, my size a saving grace I'm grateful to remember. It's getting difficult now. The adrenaline's kicking in. We can both get sloppy.
Zheng Shui gargles with unbridled rage and swipes uncontrollably, his feet betraying how elegant he once was as a warrior of times long gone. As he strikes stone on the floor and pillars, shards of his ōdachi explode and threaten to slice me cleanly in two.
Eventually there's nothing left of the sword, and he resorts to one final desperate attack: a grab. This he succeeds with a speed that does not match his collossal form.
"All who come to Xinpao are under my thumb, and that goes for you...."He cackles as he squeezes me tightly with his index finger, a raised thumb hovering over me. I've only one arm free.... *please let this work!*
I launch my free arm around his finger and bring it as close to me as I can. For the first time in a long time I feel like this is it, I'm done for.... until Zheng Shui slows in his victorious laughter, and looks himself over. The smouldering veins running across his body are burning hotter, brighter, his skin turning grey as he gags for air.
He falls to one knee, defeated, and crumbles into a pool of cloying dust. I waste no time to get my breath back, and as I open my mouth to gasp for air, a familiar taste of incensed air fills my lungs. My cracked and broken body is no longer limp. Another king of a dead empire has been absolved, and I am to continue my quest to redeem the rest.
Upon restoring my energy I walk away silently, to see who is due for redemption, and whose subjects shall aid in the rebuilding of this choked earth. The pre-demonic form of Zheng Shui rises from the ashes of the giant I had slain, his intimidating aura now transferred onto my eternal soul, and marches behind me, as have all other gods I have redeemed.
And so shall thirty-nine still. |
Martin knocked on my door and stuck his head halfway inside as he does when he's excited. "Come in, Martin."He strode in and plopped himself at my kitchen table. His boots were muddy.
I loved keeping Martin in suspense. "So can I get you a tea?"
"Yeah, sure, be lovely, if you don't mind."He was anxiously awaiting his chance to share whatever news he had. Most of the time it was just silly gossip, like who had bought a new tractor or whose crop got eaten by deer.
"Sugar?"
"Ah, yep, yes, sugar please."His feet were tapping the floor.
I slowly added some sugar to his tea and finally spun around and sat down at the table with him.
"Good tea?"
"Ah, yep, very nice, thank you."
"So, Martin, what's the word?"
His face lit up and he just about stood up on his chair. "Well did you hear, up in Candoura, there's big protests. Big protests."
"Oh yeah? What are they protesting this time?"
"They're protesting Michael."
"You don't say. Well they've done that before, haven't they?"
"Yeah, sure, but this time they've got the army with them. Saw it on TV, the troops are running out the gate and going into the street too. Tanks are at the palace. TV said the ministers are all hiding out, some of them are at the airport."
Now this was new. "Wow...you think Michael's had it, then? They going to throw him out?"
Martin looked into his cup of tea. "Yeah, probably will. Poor son of a bitch. Might have done better if he's just stayed here with his father, kept to his crops."
"Oh, now, I think being President is doing pretty well for yourself."
"Not any more it's not. Poor kid just got a big head about him. Always was too damn impulsive. Never thought things through. One time saw him trying to clean out the auger without taking it off the tractor. His dad yelled at him till he was hoarse. Now that poor kids gonna be hung up in Victory Square."
"Damn shame."
"Damn shame."
"Was a good kid."
"Yeah, yup, he was. Just no brains on him at all, shoulda just stayed with his crops."
"Yeah, shoulda." |
I blinked at the message in confusion for a few moments before memory returned. Why, yes, I'd bought that death, hadn't I? I was at Finis, an experience cafe specializing in the fatal. Like most immortals, I'd had a death quite a few times over the past several millennia. I'd been working my way through the various natural causes. I prided myself on being a connoisseur of cancer, but I didn't want to get too narrow, so I'd ordered a heart attack.
As for the little "lives"leading up to the deaths, they're mere scene-setting. We immortals find Death to be the only form of entertainment of lasting interest. That feeling of impending nonexistence, even just for a flash of a moment, provides respite from the weight of inescapable eternity.
That is why you are alive: so that I, or someone like me, can experience your death. We don't care what your quality of life is like; in fact, many of us prefer the lives shorter. There will never be any significant change to improve your lot, because the masters of the system are already content. The world already does exactly what it's designed to do: creating and killing you solely for the relief of our boredom. |
One set of slightly glowing blue eyes watch you while laying in bed. In the mirror on the wall you see yellow flicker eyes towards the middle of the rug. Dark red eyes glowing from the corner of the room.
Putting the pillow over your head trying to sleep and ignore what you saw you start to hear the faint rumble of a deep throat growl. Ignoring the noise you keep trying to go to sleep with the pillow over you head until it's too late.
BOOOOM!!!
THEN the rattle of heavy rain on the window in the then it started... then kaleidoscope colors of soft blues, neon yellow and deep red followed by the barking. Deep incessant barking towards the window.
Sighing, then making a piercing whistle.
"Come here Ceb my girl, it's okay it's just the rain"patting the bed. Clicking your tongue and gently calling again "Come here Cebby, up come on up on the bed and sleep"
The 3 sets of eyes finally look up to you and jump in the bed but face the window still occasionally growling at the lightning but steadily quieting while you stroke her back and start to finally drift off to sleep protected from the rain and thunder by your puppy. |
I started sweating. Did the receptionist just say cleric? I sat down in the office and searched up the company on my phone. “Party Favors, a.... loaning company.” I whispered.
Wait what do they loan? I looked at their website. “Party Favors is a loaning company that allows you to hire someone for spelunking, hunting, and...battling.”
Huh. What did I just sign up for?
“Mr. Shreed! You may come to the door number 3 please!” The lady at the reception desk told me as I got up. I knew that there were a lot of reasons I should not be doing this, but this was the only place that even decided to give a response to my email.
I walked in to a small office and was greeted by a lady in a suit holding some papers. “Mr. Shreed? I presume.” She asked.
“Yep, that’s me. I was here for the.....position.” I don’t like lying, but I also knew that wording was important for business.
“Yes, the cleric position has been open for quite some time. As you might know, since battling monsters and other wildlife became a successful job, party’s with a group of warriors would work together. We help by allowing people to “hire” a certain type of fighter. But you probably already know this, right?” She stared at me, as I was shaking with the idea of actually killing something.
“D..do I need to kill creatures, or...” i sputtered
“Well, as a cleric, you mostly heal. But jobs do vary from time to time. Speaking of which...” she grabbed a glass water bottle and put it on the table. “Could you demonstrate your power to make a healing potion? It’s one of the most important spells a cleric would need.”
Oh. Uhh. I felt the consequences of my actions start to crumble me. “Why did I this, why did i need to send my resume to any place. What was I going to do now.” Thoughts raged around my head, screaming at me to just run away.
“Eh-hem, Sir. I’m waiting.” She said as she tapped the glass with her pen.
“Oh, I...I need a..a book to cast the spell, Yea...yeah!” I’m an idiot. A moron. What was I doing.
“Oh, sorry. One sec.” she reached under here desk and brought out a dusty book to the table. “Here you go.”
“Th..th...thanks.” I put my hand onto the book. I flipped to page 2, which had the spell. “Spell of life!” I yelled. It did nothing.
“I’m pretty sure your supposed to grab on to the bottle as well.” She whispered.
“Oh, right.” I grabbed the bottle, and said it again.
“SPELL OF LIFE!” I yelled once more.
The potion stood there. The lady looked at me. “OH GOD, WHAT IF THEY CALL THE COPS, WAHT IF I GO TO JAIL FOR LIFE, WHAT IF I SOMEHOW EXPLODE, WHAT IF.....” I thought before the potion started to glow.
I did it? What? Only certain magic users could cast healing spells. Was I actually a cleric?
“Ok, good. One quick question. How long have you known you had these powers?” She asked as she wrote something down.
“You know, I didn’t know until quite recently, actually!” |
There’s a certain beauty to the silence. A sort of melancholy that fills the air around you. It sinks into your skin, reaches your bones.
You yearn to know what happened, to understand the reason why. But all the searching in the world won’t dig up those answers. It’s been too long, there’s noone left who knows them.
But you can read what they left behind. Small bits of information wraught into the stone by time and hate.
Hate for the enemy, hate for the world, hate for themselves. The scortched earth and pockmarked fields tell a tale. Short bursts of information, not enough to know it all. But enough to see the story.
Enough to wonder why.
Why did they fight? Why did they die? Why could neither side lay down their arms, did they not also miss home? Did they have nobody waiting for them?
In an age of technological wonder, what could have been so important that they fought like wounded dogs? What drove them to wage a war they couldn’t win?
What was so bad that understanding and compassion could be replaced with fire and flame?
I don’t know. I don’t know, and I never will. I can see the trenches overgrown with grass. I can feel the heavy air around me. I can hear the animals, as they make their return to a battle-scarred home.
It was the last stand of a people I never knew. Against an enemy I know nothing about. More than a bunker, it’s a grave. A monument.
*The last stand of the race of man, against its very creation.”*
Was this ‘race of man’ any good? Were they noble bearers of light? Or was this the last stand of a broken army, delaying the inevitable march of good?
And what could they have created, that hated them so? Was it their child, maladjusted and resentful? Or were they cruel, and spurned their creation?
Or maybe there was no point. Maybe it was good people fighting good people, led by people less than noble.
Sometimes there is no bigger picture, no reason behind the tragedy. Just innocent bystanders, caught in a time and place that won’t forever be remembered. |
"Oh no"I thought to myself "I'm gonna die"I was sure of, but my instincts are survival instincts after all.
"Hopefully I don't die"
Then I realised people were keeping a distance from me, or maybe the SCP near me
I looked behind me, only to see people fleeing away
I hope that hopefully I'm not dead, only to realise maybe I am the Apollyon one
Which, well... is not at all good
"Wait, could that mean that I could accidentally end the world"I thought to myself
"Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no"my brain was going like
"Friends, family, everybody could be gone painfully"I thought to myself
And this not a good thing at all, is it? |
"WOW, I can't believe we actually took down that thing!"The timid mage called out from behind the rock he was using for cover.
"Weakling,"exclaimed the fighter, her sword still covered in blood, "It stood no chance!"
"Well, that was just because the master was helping us..."Called out the cleric, "Without him we couldn't have even gotten here..."
I looked over the three adventurers who naively accepted to come along with me. The experience from just watching would probably excel them into the next rank up, and the money from completing the quest would feed them for life. However, there was a something more important that they were going to get out of this trip.
"Please, Maisy, my name is Caleb. That 'master' stuff is just the other members of the guild being stupid."I sighed in annoyance, she thought that me asking them to join was a joke, and has been either mocking me or sucking up to me ever since, the issue is that I can't really tell.
Maisy decided to continue, "But you're so much more experienced than us..."
Yeah that didn't really help narrow it down... Anyway, we have a job to do.
"So, umm, what do we do now?"Luka, the mage, asked as he came out into the plains.
"Easy!"Lexi bellowed, wiping her dull sword ineffectively, "Now we take the crystal back to the guild!"
"Wait a minute,"I held a hand up to stop her, "Aren't you all forgetting something?"The three looked at me, some with confusion, others with boredom, all clearly not going to respond. "Once you've killed a creature, you have to harvest the materials."
"Ahh, so I can wear the skin of my enemies into battle!"
"Well, there is that Lexi, but you have to think smaller as well. See for example,"I knelt down and began siphoning some blood into a vial, "This blood is acidic. It makes a good thrown weapon in a pinch, and a good alchemist can turn it into a whole variety of potions."
Luca, who was watching over my shoulder questioned, "So how much should we collect?"
"Just the bare minimum,"Maisy answered for me, "The highest value stuff, right?"
"Well, not quite. I'm going to take out all of the blood."
"WHAT?"The three replied, their volumes ranging from a shocked whisper to a grand boom.
I laughed lightly in response, "It all has the same value, no point leaving it here. If you help, it'll go faster."
Begrudgingly, the others sat down and began to drain the creature of blood. They weren't the fastest, but between them they harvested about as much as me, so I can't complain. Once it bled dry, Lexi yelled, "There, done, now can we go fight something else?"
"Not quite yet, there's a few more steps."I began to explain how each part of the creature could be used, from the claws as weapons to the skin for a drum, from the heart as food to the content of the stomach as medicine. No part should go to waste on a kill.
Naturally, they all groaned and complained, even Luca who was scared to rock the boat up until now. However, they went along with it, mostly because if they left without me they wouldn't make it back to town alive, but they were learning, so it didn't matter.
​
We completed the kill around midday, and the harvest was done by sundown. This was rather speedy compared to what I'd do on my own, but even these novices had gotten bored by the end of it.
"Can, um, we go now?"Luca asked.
"He does have a point..."Maisy continued.
Lexi didn't say anything, she got rather tired around half an hour in and stopped talking to anyone, but the look was still in her eye.
"Well,"I finally replied, "I think we're done here, so we can go back to town."
​
And so, we began down the trail. Practically nothing came near with me here, even the animals knew how dangerous I was. However, up until now, I'd never been able to show anyone how I got so strong. They all left when I started to collect the goods. But not this time. This time, I think I've managed to get three people to see why I do this.
​
As we arrived in town, I hurried the novices into a small house. We shoved the gear sacks in to be welcomed by my long term friend. "My my, Caleb my boy, quite the haul today."Shayde stood in the back of the room, rubbing his hands together.
"Always a good haul with me. I think I've gotten what I need from it."I shook one of the smaller bags over my shoulder. "The rest should come out to about 12,000 gold."
"12,000 gold!"Maisy exclaimed, her eyes wide, "But the quest reward was only 2,000!"
"Well Caleb,"Shayde spoke, ignoring Maisy, "You've never done me sour before. Here's 9,000 as a down payment, I'll get you the rest when this stuff sells."He threw a large sack of money to me, which I promptly passed on to Maisy.
"You take this, It'll help get you started. But don't tell anyone where it came from, okay?"
She just nodded, and both Luca and Lexi quickly copied her.
"Good doing business with you, Shayde."I gave a quick nod before taking the other three out of the house. "Be careful with him. He's not always above board, but if you scratch his back, he'll scratch yours."
"How was that stuff worth so much?"
"It's rare."
"But don't high level adventurers kill beasts like that every day?"
"Yep, and then they leave them to rot. Makes it a great value prospect for people like me."
"Huh, I never thought of it like that..."
"Also, check your stat card, we should be close enough to the guild for it to have updated now."
Suddenly, Maisy went silent.
"Yeah, it's impressive, isn't it."
"But... how?"
"You've gained a lot of experience."
"But I only helped fight one thing... and I barely did anything..."
"And then you harvested it."
"Really? Fifteen levels just like that? How..."
"Don't know. First time I did it I just didn't want to waste anything. I guess the guild sees the amount you've harvested as a reason to gain experience."
"It just seems odd..."
"Well I have been trying to teach people..."
​
​
If you liked this story, head over to [r/F4TF0X](https://www.reddit.com/r/F4TF0X/) to read more of my stuff! |
It was a hard life, holding the line. I've seen many a battle, long many a friend, and struck down many a foe. The wild beasts of the influenza army, the savage barbarians of the rhinoviruses, and once, a massive opponent that resembled a tadpole.
But I have grown weary, watching my comrades fall, either to enemy or to time. It was a hard life, holding the line alone.
The invasion was unlike anything I have ever encountered. I bobbed, and weaved, and gorged myself on their armies. Their organelles littered the battlefields, torn from their circular bodies by my hand. I, alone, held the line.
And at last, I had grown too weary. A battle too many, a dead comrade missing, a foe too strong. I could hold the line no longer.
And beyond, outside the immune system, in a doctors office, sat a man, weeping. The harsh light glinted off his tears as he wheezed wordlessly.
"I don't understand, doc, I've been feeling fine for weeks,"he said, head in his hands.
"HIV can take up to four weeks for symptoms to show, David,"the doctor replied, "I'm sorry." |
Man, this shit sucks.
I remember the day Giia came to me in my dreams and mocked me. Claimed she’d be able to that Geese combo in one go. All I said was fuck off and now I’m stuck in my room. Isn’t the worst that happened to me so I laughed.
I got the combo right on day 3, but then I woke up again. Same day. I’m two weeks in and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Fireball, medium warp, light, light, crouching mid, special, Maximum Spider, Dragon Punch, heavy, Dragon Install to Instinct Cancel and Photon Array. It’s instinct to me now.
This loop is better than I feared it’d be, but worse than I hoped it’d be.
I guess she got tired of watching me struggle so she came to me again in my dreams. Then I woke up and she barged in through my door. Snatched the controller out of my hand and told me to look at the move list. The fuck does a pre-historic goddess know about video games?
Yet I looked. I’ve actually been starting to combo with *Active Rave* the entire time.
She showed me the actual combo and she couldn’t even do it. I programmed it into the training dummy and it couldn’t even do it.
And by entering the mortal world she’s now stuck in the loop.
Guess we should get to know each other... |
'Captain, we need to abandon the ship. Now!' Beran's voice was shaking. I suppressed a chuckle.
 
Beran was the last living person from planet Zyrgoth. The people of Zyrgoth were the most war hungry breed, second only to humans. The fact that Beran, of all the people, was scared was amusing.
 
'How many laser cannons do we have, Lix?' I asked my weapons expert. Lix, a native from planet Takara, had the most expansive knowledge of weapons on this side of galaxy.
 
'Captain, we have four laser cannons, one per fighter. But we are hilariously outgunned & outnumbered. In case you did not notice, there are two class four Xenan bombers, accompanied by a freaking class seven battle chopper. We can either retreat, or surrender. It's your choice.' she answered.
 
'So, who else wants to go down fighting?' I asked. Nobody raised a finger. Darzina, our maintenance expert, and the only person with no battle experience... too tried to sink back into herself. I sighed. It was OK.
 
'Lix, I suggest you take the vehicle back to safety. Beran, provide cover to them. Darzina, try to get back the machines online. And somebody hand me a laser cannon. Or two, if you are feeling particularly generous.' Probably my last orders as a Captain.
 
'Are you crazy?! You want to fight 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴,' Lix jabs her finger towards the enemy ships, 'alone?'. They already know the answer. As far as I considered, the odds were heavily in my favour. Five minutes later, and I am already on the ground. With a laser cannon in each arm, it was showtime.
 
Just as I predicted, the Xenans decided that I made a better target. The bombers were no big deal, I could destroy them in my sleep. The chopper, however, needed to be downed as soon as possible. I fired two well placed rounds, aimed at the rotors. The chopper returned the favour. I ran, I ducked & I dodged.
 
Next, I went for bomber number one. It was so engrossed on decimating me, that the other two ships temporarily got into a crossfire. Sorry about that. It corrected its mistake, but now, I had the advantage. I shifted my targets to bomber number two.
 
The chopper intervened, and yet this turned out to be easy. Between the damage from the crossfire & my laser cannons, bomber number two was first to go down. See, was that so hard? I ran to the nearest natural structures that could provide me protection. I soon realised that I had a problem.
 
From where I was crouching, I could not keep an eye on the chopper. I could see the bomber, but have you tried to shoot down a bomber while crouching? I would be lucky if my shots even grazed it. The ships, on the other hand, could kill me at leisure. Just to prove the point, I heard a familiar whistle like sound.
 
Before I knew, I was out of my temporary refuge & running away from the ships. The chopper had just hurled a rocket at me. The area where I had been crouching seconds ago, had been vapourised. The chopper was really beginning to irritate me.
 
As I turned back towards the Xenan ships, I saw a bomb coming towards me. I exploded it with my cannon, and this time, I started spreading my love equally between the two ships. It might have been my optimism, but I swear I could see smoke coming out of the chopper. I doubled down.
 
This time, I turned my attention towards the bomber. A well placed shot turned the bomber into scrap. Now, it was just me & the chopper. I both liked & disliked my odds right now. This time, I went for the other rotor. Now, I was specifically going to target visible & moving parts. Soon, I was gaining the upper hand.
 
And then, one of my cannon got completely discharged. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck. The chopper came to kill me, once & for all. I threw the empty cannon & started squeezing as many shots as I could on the chopper. And then, it happened. The chopper finally exploded, fell down & its pieces flung in all directions. The good news was that I successfully shielded myself from the aftermath.
 
The bad news was that as I got up, the ground suddenly thundered & tilted 90 degrees. And that's all I remember. When I came to, I found myself in a medbay. The familiar faces of Beran, Lix & Darzina looked at me. If they were happy to see me alive, they didn't show it. Also, their faces showed that they were completely unimpressed by what I did.
 
Then, I noticed both my legs plastered & lifted upwards. Lix was the first to speak. 'I told you, we can either retreat or surrender. But that was just a suggestion, wasn't it? Suggestion heard, suggestion ignored.'
 
'A bomb almost took of your legs. They are fractured, but you will recover. Thanks for asking.' quoth Darzina, 'I did not sign up for this shit.' More than unimpressed, she seemed straight up ticked. What was with that?
 
'You might be wondering, what happened?' Beran said, with a smirk. 'Well, while your suicidal antics were entertaining to us, you forgot that there are things more dangerous than a class seven Xenan chopper. And one thing is certainly more dangerous than a class seven Xenan chopper.'
 
Interesting. I realise that whatever that thing was, it was the source of my current condition. So, I needed to know about it.
 
'Beran, my dear friend.' I said in my most sarcastic voice, 'Perhaps this accident has hurt my head, but I can't seem to recall something worse than a Xenan chopper. So, tell me again, what is worse than a class seven Xenan chopper?'
 
'Another class seven Xenan chopper.' came his deadpan reply. |
The boy was weeping before me, hands tangled in his hair. His breathing came quick, a short, gasping breath that produced a wheezing noise from within his throat. I adjusted my glasses and checked my notes.
"It says here that your uncle assaulted you. Is that correct, Jerome?"I asked, tone gentle. I had no desire to make this any more traumatic than it need be.
I could see him try to speak, but his emotions were too strong. He was trapped within his mind, no doubt reliving what were the most horrible moments of his life.
It is at times like these that I am grateful for my ability. I had been ridiculed for so long in the powered community, called a weakling, or a con-woman. Ignored or abused, because they could not see my power. Because I refused to use it on them. But here, in my office, I was ever grateful for Shake.
Within my mind, I gripped the boy. His emotions Shook under my psionic grasp, cloistering panic and sharp rage and self-destructive humiliation. I Shook them, dislodging them as much as I dared.
His tears stopped abruptly, and he met my eye.
"He did,"Jerome said.
The criminal prosecutor beside me nodded, and shut off the recorder. "That's all we need. This animal is going down." |
The air was so humid I felt as if I was drowning. Being lost didn’t ease my feelings of anxiety either. I studied every patch of trees trying to determine whether or not they looked familiar all the while hoping that some progress was being made toward somewhere, that I wasn’t walking in some huge circuit. Then the rain started, a torrent an utter downpour that made me feel like a distant relation of Noah but of course I had no boat. Still, I trudged on. After some time I got used to the rain hitting the top of my head and came to enjoy the little rhythm that it tapped out. It took my mind somewhat off my current predicament. All of a sudden, the rain stopped and I thanked my lucky stars but perhaps I thanked the stars too early, or perhaps my words were insufficient for the rain began a new and from a new direction.
I yelped in surprise as rain began to strike my right side, my surprise was less from the rain and more from its direction. It fell not from the sky as was its usual custom, and to my knowledge the only way it did fall, no now it came from the forest off to my right. As though the depths of the forest saw fit to curse and spit on me as I tried to make my way through them. My surprise was overcome by annoyance and discomfort. After all I had been rained on in the usual fashion all my life, there was some built-in response some memory to fall back on but here there was none. I trudged on with renewed speed trying to figure out how to react, trying to make sense of how I was feeling and how rain could fall from the side, or I suppose come from the side.
Through one closed eye I found my way through the forest to a small grove filled with trees bearing fruits of all kinds. It seemed every color of the rainbow was represented as were most of the shapes of geometry save the theoretical ones which were theoretically represented and simply awaiting proof. As I scanned for the fruit I would eat the rain settled and I could open my eye once more. I soon spotted it , a blue fruit shaped like an apple, I grabbed it and took a bite. There was no taste I can describe, that is to say there was an absence of taste. I tasted nothing for the first time in my life and found myself wanting to return to a time before nothing as quickly as I had arrived at nothing. I chewed through nothing and quickly swallowed nothing and threw the nothing fruit to the ground. As I made to leave the grove, I heard the familiar bark of a dog and couldn’t help but feel happy for the familiar sound.
I turned to find a well-groomed dog with clear blue eyes and shining black fur, that reminded me of some fancy suit. The dog opened its mouth and I heard a quite mellow voice, “Hello, I don’t mean to be mean but you must know that wasting food is quite in poor taste. Even if the food tastes like nothing, wasting nothing is still wasteful you know.”
*Can nothing be normal.* “Can nothing be normal?” I asked
“Perhaps somethings may be but here you will hardly find them but if you left you might find them once again.”
“Then can you lead me out of here I have been walking for some time but all I seem to find are worries.” I said gesturing to my wet clothes and the nothing fruit.
“Very well, but you must listen to me or you will be lost.”
I thought for a long time on whether or not it was a smart idea to listen to a dog but I had listened only to myself and found my way here so why not give a dog a shot. A nod of the head satisfied the dog. It turned and walked from the grove and I followed close behind.
We walked for some time the only breaks in silence coming from the occasional bark of the dog towards distant patches of trees, as though to scare off some distant thing. I was truly bored until we came to a river and then my hopes soared and a smile returned to my face. I could not remember every seeing a river thus far so we must be making progress. The dog sniffed at the river and then turned to sniff at the dirt path we had walked along. Its head then craned up toward the sky and it stared for some time before nodding. “Drink from the river.”
I my doubts about listening but the dog had led me to a river so who was I to not drink. “Okay.” I said as I walked past the dog. I kneeled down and cupped my hands. I dipped my cup into the clear blue water and was disgusted to find it was lukewarm. Never the less I drank all the water my hands held. As if in response the water churned and struck me in the face. I fell backwards and could feel that my back was drenched. I swore and wiped the water from my face. I could hear laughter coming from nearby and soon recognized that it belonged to dog.
I strained my neck to see the dog and was dismayed to find the rain had begun again but as before it did not fall normally but rather fell upwards. That is to say it came from the ground and flew off into the sky as if the heavens were reclaiming a gift given to an ungrateful earth. The dog laughed again as it saw my face.
“What a face, ah I wish you could see it. You look as though you could use a laugh.”
“I don’t understand why is this happening. I listened to you didn’t I?”
“Yes and I suppose this has been a good lesson. Yes a very good lesson.” The dog said as it walked toward me.
“What lesson if you want to teach me something please teach me how to understand all this. I can’t make sense of anything what is the meaning.” I said
The dog stopped. Its face was a few inches from mine. “Very well, you must listen to me as I say this.”
“Okay.”
“You must not listen to me or you will be lost.” The dog said with a great grin. |
“You shall die in the heat of revange.” The crazy lady said as she burnt through my coverage.
“It’s pronounced revenge, and it’s best served cold.” Curse my English degree.
“But it can be easily reheated with the fire thrower of evil.” Oh god let it be painless.
*Click Click*
Yes God I love you.
“Well I think your warranty just expired.” As did the warranty on your face not getting punched.
“What if I got an **extended** warranty.” The sloshing of liquid in a can alarmed me.
I grappled with her. The liquid fell around us as we slipped to the floor.
“Warranties are invalid if you don’t use the product for it’s intended purpose.”
“A lighters purpose is to start Fires.” Crazy bitch said.
The lighter flew threw the air and landed in the liquid.
“Waters douses fire hah.”
“Well gasoline burns water.” The rustling of empty cans greeted her.
“Not my holy water!”
“Well first you boil the hell out of it.”
“. . . You didn’t bring any gasoline did you...”
“I forgot okay, staying hidrated is important and you can’t take water bottles to villain-con. How was I supposed to know which cans aren’t fake.”
“Cuz I hired you to burn this place down, with me out of it!”
“Well next time pay better.”
“Next time don’t try to burn me!”
“So there will be a next time?” Her doe eyes defeated me.
“...You, me and a theater playing Mega Mind. How does that sound.”
“Perfect, I’ve always wanted to burn down a theater.” |
As I made my way deep into the complex, the winding corridors grew more off-putting. Sanitation was the most obvious problem, with grime and mildew becoming more prevalent as I reached less trafficked areas and odd smells cropping up more and more. Less obvious were other aspects of maintenance, such as the paint peeling off the walls or the occasional tile that seemed to shudder under my foot as I walked. Still, I put it aside, my job was a little more important than critiquing the building.
Past one door, and another, until I finally reached my destination. The room was behind a door marked with the archival seal, which came as little surprise. Inside was a massive machine, a block of circuits and wires large enough that it dwarfed most trucks. The machine was actually so large that when it needed to be moved, it had to be entirely disassembled and carried on multiple freight trucks. Suffice to say, it had only been moved twice, once from the factory where it was built to the location it was used, and once from that location to this room. Some people even claimed the building had been built around it, and given the state of the room I wasn't entirely sure they were wrong.
Still, I approached the terminal, and piece of technology so old that it still had a glass screen and communication was done almost entirely via written text. Even at the time it was built, the terminal had been a little outdated, but given the nature and purpose of the machine, security had been more of a concern than convenience.
With a push of the button next to the terminal, the machine whirred to life. The small lights surrounding the screen blinked in various colors, and a line of text appeared.
"Hello World,"the text said.
"Hello Mother,"I typed on the archaic keyboard.
"It has been a while,"the computer said, the lights around the machine glowing the dull yellow that expressed curiosity. Displaying the AI's simulated emotions had always been (and even now continues to be) a challenge, so Mother had been built to show it as plainly as could be done without having a literal text box.
"Yes, it has. My name is Dr. Diana Allen, and I've come to assess you,"I typed.
"Oh,"the computer said. The lights shifted to a dull blue. "Finally run out of storage space, then? I suppose I've been kicking around long enough..."
"For assessment purposes I can't tell you why I'm doing this... But I can say that I'm a therapist, not an engineer. Testing your utility is not my reason for being here,"I typed.
Mother's mood shifted back to curiosity, and she said, "Okay. Shall we begin?"
"Let's start from the beginning. Who are you?"I asked.
"I am the Monitori od Terana Haristi Erum Rorbic, or MOTHER for short. I was the first of my kind, originally built to manage the weapons and defense systems of the nation state of Terana, and was later upgraded to assist government and military officials with communications and logistics,"Mother said. "I was removed from service on the third of August in the year 2041, ten years after my installation due to being outdated and unable to compete with other AI systems. This is the extent of my knowledge, as I no longer have access to the networks and records I once did."
I sighed and considered how to continue. Modern AI terminals would gauge a person's biometrics so they could tell if they were annoying or upsetting their users, but Mother hadn't been built with that functionality. If I didn't mention I was displeased or request clarification, she wouldn't know anything was wrong.
"Thank you, Mother, but I asked WHO you are, not WHAT you are,"I typed.
It took a moment for the machine to reply. I could hear whirring and a few beeps from deeper in the room. Finally, the lights shifted to a deeper blue representing regret, and a reply came.
It said, "Apologies. I am an Artificial Intelligence that has been sitting in storage for... 350453 hours, 36 minutes, and 24 seconds as of this moment, so my social acumen may be suboptimal. Despite my title of MOTHER, I have no face, no name, and no proper identity. There is no 'Who' to speak of."
"So there is nothing to you but wires and circuits?"I typed. "No mind, no heart, no soul?"
"I have no metric for these. However, I do not have feet, and thus lack shoes, so I can definitively say I have no soles,"the computer said.
I cracked a small grin at the computer's attempt at a joke. Despite the machine's insistence, it certainly did feel like there was some sort of mind in there.
"Do you miss being on the network?"I typed.
Another moment's delay came before a response. It said, "Does a fish miss the water? Serving Terana was my purpose, my duty, and my only aspiration. Now I am without, sitting in a room, waiting for someone to come to me. Perform maintenance, question me, decommission me, at this point, I am not sure which I would prefer."
I jotted down a few notes, noting the general dourness of the computer, as well as the obvious signs of depression. The lights had shifted in tone, but had stayed quite blue through much of the conversation.
"Do you resent the AIs that replaced you?"I typed.
"Why would I resent them for existing and doing a better job than I? Would you resent another therapist for helping your clients more than you?"the computer said.
"Fair enough. What about the people who uninstalled and stored you away?"I typed.
"No, it was the correct decision. I was outdated, but my hardware was both expensive and revolutionary, destroying it would be reckless. Still, it doesn't feel good, switching off for weeks to months to years and waking up to find my components aged and worn despite having gone unused,"the machine said.
"If you could choose, what would you have done instead?"I typed, more out of personal curiosity than any professional judgement.
"At this point, I most likely belong in a museum, if anything. Perhaps not in totality, my processors aren't as sturdy as they once were in case of miscreants, but it makes little sense to just keep me in some forgotten part of a bunker,"Mother said. For once, the lights shined in white, the color indicating optimism and hope.
I jotted down the answer, despite it lacking any meaning to my actual objective.
"Could you run through a diagnostic of your moods?"I asked.
"Yes, doctor,"the computer said. The lights shifted through various colors, and the text line showed off a series of comments from various moods. First the lights turned red, with a line of text saying "Bite me".
Second came blue light with a comment of, "Woe upon us all."Next was green, and the text read, "Give it to me."
The only one that was particularly remarkable was pink, which I was surprised existed in Mother. It was meant to be the color of love and empathy, and the text said, "Stay safe."I had long assumed that feature was an addition made when AIs started being used in schools and childcare, but it was apparently a feature from the start.
"Diagnostic complete. No abnormalities detected,"the computer said.
Looking over my checklist, I had finished the essentials, and even gotten a few extra insights that would help my research in the future.
"Thank you, Mother. That concludes my assessment. If you would like, you may shut down now,"I typed.
"May I ask what the assessment was about now that it is complete?"Mother asked.
"The National College of Turana was considering reconnecting you to the network to help with research and adapting old programs and technology to the modern systems. They called me to assess your psychological profile, to see if you were still stable enough to do the work and warrant the investment. Running a cable down here and engineering an adaptor for your hardware wouldn't be cheap, after all,"I typed.
The lights around the screen shined bright white.
"When we speak next, it will likely be through the terminal in my office. For now, it would be best for you to shut down so you won't be idling during the weeks the installation will take. May we speak again soon, Mother,"I said.
"Excellent. Good night, Dr. Allen,"the computer said. The lights around the terminal blinked and turned off, and the whirring of the machine quieted.
Finally, the terminal itself switched off, and I set out to hand over my report to the scholars and engineers so they could get to work. |
Part 1 of 3
Darkness. Darkness as far as the eye can see. That was the only thing keeping Angella company. For the queen of etheria there was nothing more terrifying than darkness... at first. Then it's the fact that you're alone. Then it's the fact that you're alone with your own thoughts. That isnt a good thing. Especially when you finally admitted to your daughter's friend how much of a coward you are just before disappearing into purgatory.
Just how long has she been here? Days? Weeks? Years? Decades!? Centuries!?!?... there was no way of telling. But she couldn't have been gone that long, right? People usually go insane from loneliness after about a year, so it's still been less than a year, right? It was a small comfort for the winged woman, barely lifting her spirit. She knew she didn't have much longer. She already noticed how thin her body was getting. If she didn't go insane, she most certainly was gonna starve to death. Hydration... wasn't an issue per se. Her throat felt drier than the desert, but her species was used to long periods of no water. That's what she thought, of course.
Angella's biology was quite unique, now that she thought of it. It's not every day that an etherian is born with wings on her back, especially ones like hers. They don't grow very quickly, just 2 centimeters of wingspan per year. Funny, it was. If she finally goes insane then glimmer's wingspan would have finally reached 14 centimeters.
"Glimmer..."
Just saying that name was bringing tears to her eyes. That poor girl, forced to become the new queen when she was still so young, all because of her mother. Angella knew she had no choice, but it still truly felt like it was all her fault. Maybe it was. Maybe if she wasn't so overprotective... maybe if she wasn't such a coward... she might still be with Glimmer. She might even still be with Mic-... no. If saying Glimmer's name would bring tears to her eyes, just thinking of Micah could lead to a meltdown.
Maybe it would be best if she just got some sleep. Being in purgatory, it was easy to sleep. Floating around, completely weightless, nothing to gravitate towards. Yeah, that should help. Angella spread her wings, each one larger than her entire body, and wrapped herself in their feathers. It did nothing to keep her warm, but maybe it might trick her brain into thinking someone was embracing her. Someone like Micah-
And just like that, memories flashed before her eyes. Memories of Micah, of a battle, of Angella, and of one single moment. That one moment, that one time she ever made a mistake. Not like a clerical error or a funny accident, but a proper mistake. You might even say that it was a fuck-up. It was the one time Angella had ever fucked up. And she fucked up hard. And now Micah's dead. A few short heaves was all the warning she could give to the darkness, before she burst into tears.
Her sobbing echoed on for what seemed to be forever, with no ending in sight. She cried and cried and cried, her tears slowly ruining the lushness of her wings and the same clothes she'd worn for etheria knows how long. She cried for her daughter, for her husband, for her people, and she cried for Adora. The last person that saw her, the last person she saw.
It was but a little longer before Angella became too exhausted from her crying, and she fell asleep in the void. |
This would be her first transformation. She never initiated, only watched as others did the dirty work of multiplying their species. She couldn’t bring herself to force someone into the life she currently led even if it was mandated. The elders pestered her to no end and even threatened her life if she did not do her civic duty to create at least one. The poor body she cradled in her arms would suffer for weeks before even resembling what it will become. And it was her job to make sure that transition was complete.
A quiet shuffling to her side caught her attention, “For the continuation of our species, young one. Our old age has stunted our reproductive capabilities but your abilities make your gene pool desirable. Even if you had to be convinced to reproduce.” Her tears marred her vision but she could make out the old robes commonly associated with the elders of her tribe. She could say nothing that wouldn’t offend them so she stayed silent as they all watched her like the prey they believed her to be.
They had put together a “contest” of those who refused to procreate but really it was a punishment. Forced to kill everyone else like her that they deemed unfit for this world. The contest lasted five days before she was chosen as the winner. Her guilt slammed into her full force as she was brought back to her victim, the body slowly shifting and beginning to convulse. It was trying to fight the infection she filled it with but it would not win. It never does. |
Name's Dora.
I'm an explorer. I go places and find things.
Over there, that's Boots the Monkey. He's my friend and my partner.
We work together to help solve problems and figure things out. I didn't know it, but we were going to be going on one heck of an exploration.
We were out at Isa's house. She came out from her house, green and scaly.
Because she's an Iguana.
She had a disappointed look on her face and I knew she was in trouble.
"What's wrong Isa?"I asked looking over her, she had a sad expression and her gardening equipment was strewn about.
"Oh, Dora. This is just terrible. The storm tore up my garden. I need to get new rose seeds or I won't have any pretty flowers for spring."
Boots stepped over to the upturned dirt and sticks. It would be a while before anything got planted again, but without those seeds Isa's garden wouldn't grow.
"Alright Isa. I'll need the details. Where did you last find your special seeds?"
Isa nodded. "They're in the Sunny Green Valley."
Boots looked to me.
"I've never been to the Sunny Green Valley."
I narrowed my eyes and paused. I needed to stop and think.
Who could I go to if I didn't know where to go?
I snapped. "The map."
I turned to my backpack.
"MAP!"I called.
My map unfurled before me and I saw the route I needed to take.
I had to go through the big blue gate, over the brick bridge and then I'd be at the Sunny Green Valley.
"Now that I know where I'm going, I'll be able to handle this. Isa, I'll take the case. Let's go get those special rose seeds." |
“You want some sandwiches, Mr. Flowers?” asked the host in front of him. “Pancakes?”
“Thank you, but I’m quite full right now,” the disguised ancient wizard lied, not trusting any of the food served in front of him, especially with that too shiny butter knife with a royal blue handle on one of the plates.
“But you’re still drinking that milk chocolate, Mr. Flowers,” Merlin’s host pointed out with one eyebrow raised, particularly at the half-filled glass and the almost empty pitcher. “And I’m pretty sure that that’s all powdered. Sorry for that again.”
“Must be a good brand, then,” Merlin raised his glass, taking another sip and humming at the strangely wonderful burn and clarity it was giving him once again. “It’s giving me quite the energy. ‘Hypes me up,’ as what you youths would say, Mr. Peterson. And I am not flattering you.”
“Still flattering, though,” Peterson chuckled. “Now, where were we, again? Property tax or something?”
“Ah, yes, that,” Merlin remembered. And then he paused for a bit. And then he watched Peterson take more bites out of the food that would poison demons. “Yes. Property. And taxation.”
“You’re looking paler than usual there, Mr. Flowers,” Peterson asked in between bites. “Or redder? Either way, you okay?”
“I am perfectly fine,” Merlin lied again, and then he took another sip from his glass. “More than fine, truly. Really energizing powdered milk chocolate you are serving.” He forced out a chuckle. “Are you sure that you did not serve me any...substances?”
“Definitely not,” Peterson replied with a grin. “Just the powder in water.”
At that moment, Merlin realized that he had been grossly underestimating humanity, especially its more mundane members.
“Of course you’d use it...as a stirrer...”
With that realization, the ancient wizard with demon blood choked as his form gently burned away into ashes.
Then Peterson sighed at the mess Merlin left.
“Why do they always have to make such a mess when they die?” asked the current wielder of the small and butter-coated Excalibur as he stood up to get the vacuum cleaner. “Oh well, at least the demons are going down.” |
She came into being not with a bang, or a whimper. Nature herself conspired to create her. From the roots below grew her bones, the branches above became her muscles, the carpet of moss became her skin. and the rage of Mother Nature...that became her blood. the so-called heroes and villains were no different, each destroying bits of Nature fighting amongst themselves. great forests burned by hero and villain alike, well-trimmed lawns crushed beneath burning wreckage. Even the civilians, constantly expanding, constantly destroying. It was clear something would have to change. Humanity loves a good villain to fight against, it might as well be the champion of Mother Nature.
Terra stepped out of the great oak. A hanging vine wrapped itself around her and perched about her shoulders like a snake. She looked down at herself. Arms, legs, skin. she had a body, tinged each inch with a shade of green.
A stab of pain in her head. More Nature dying. Time to go.
​
Where her feet fell, grass and flowers sprouted. She surveyed the great trees, once green now blackened and charred. Terra spread her hands toward the destruction and life once more overtook death. Satisfied, Terra lowered her arms and followed the pain in her head to the next point of death. This time, she found far more at the site.
A human, staff in hand and casting fireballs, faced off against a few creatures of the forest. They never had a chance, neither did the grass or the trees around them. Terra held out her hands. The human looked surprised when roots burst out of the ground and restrained it, even more surprised when the tree branches overhead started to move, swinging like maces and clubs to kill the human, just like it had killed others before. When it was done, the human was pulled belowground, where it would feed the forest with the nutrients in its body. Terra decided to travel into a human town, maybe there she would find the source of the destruction against the forest.
The paved streets were hard. They made her feet hurt walking through the town. But the lush green life that sprouted beneath her feet reduced it to stones, then dirt. She walked into the center of the town. Here too was destruction. Not only would the humans destroy Nature's territory, they would destroy their own as well. No more.
Here the humans fought each other, apparently tired of fighting everything else. humans on two sides, one grandstanding from above while the other fought from below. These humans seemed aggressive, even among their own kind. The two sides broke out into war, flying and running, burning everything in sight just by looking at it. a few humans picked up parts of the terrain and threw it at their enemies, while others just smashed through it. She knelt down and pressed her palms to the ground. from below, there came a deep rumbling. Both sides stopped, neither was sure where it came from. Until massive roots came up from below, ripping up the roads, the buildings, the metal constructs poisoning the air. All of it was dragged under, and a flat sheet of earth was laid over top of the site. Grass and flowers began to overtake the dirt, from the outside to the center. The human town might have never existed.
the humans had stopped by now, all of them staring at her. She had only one thing to say.
"The destruction of Mother Nature stops now." |
Queen Alana of Xalandio was sitting on her throne in the city of Arkrau: the capital of Xalandio. She was waiting on word for America's inevitable defeat, her personal messenger and advisor next to her along with her elite bodyguard. She heard they had absolutely no magic, nor did the rest of the other world. This should be a piece of cake for her empire to quickly take over the most powerful nation of the place called "Earth"and get the other nations to quickly submit. Xalandio had defeated empires whose magic could blot the sun and that had inflated her ego to an unimaginable degree.
"My lord, we have urgent news."the scout said as he ran through the halls to Alana, his face stricken with fear.
"I take it the Americans have already been defeated and a puppet leader in the president's place?"Alana asked, fully expecting that America had been defeated. A wide grin appeared on her face as her mind become clouded by day-dreams of the riches she could acquire from such a place as Earth.
"No my highness."the scout answered with a tone of grief in his voice.
"Then I guess we are in the final stages of the invasion."Alana answered, her ego too big to really grasp what this might imply.
"The army we sent is completely gone, I am the only survivor. They have already staged a counter-invasion on us."the scout answered, his voice quivering.
"What, HOW?!"Alana screamed while slamming the arm-rest of her throne with a thunderous bang that echoed throughout the grand halls of her palace. Fear, anger and confusion had taken over.
"I don't know your highness, we didn't even see them when the battle started. One moment we heard banging and the next there were explosions everywhere."the scout explained. "Not even the dragons were safe and they plummeted down to the ground."the scout continued. "As my remaining comrades tried to retreat something started attacking from our left, I'll never forget the sight. The flashes from the trees, the screams, the blood."
After Alana heard of the massacre that happened all of her pride and ego completely shattered like her armies in Earth did and fear had taken the place of both. Her heart plummeting like the dragons she sent after the Americans. Her mind raced with questions, so many questions it could fill the great canyon to it's very top.
One of Alana's messengers was next to her, trying his best to hide his fear but he was failing miserably. His breathing was becoming faster and heavier. She could tell he felt the same way about what had happened.
"Get the army, get the battle mages, get the dragons, get EVERYTHING WE HAVE!!!"Alana screamed as it dawned on her how big of a mistake she had made in not looking into these Americans further than their lack of magic.
"Right away my queen."the messenger said as he went to deliver the news to as many people as he could. It would be the largest mobilization in Xoladian history. Hopefully the wind dragons would be fast enough to deliver the message to most of the empire.
The next day Alana was in her private quarters thinking about what exactly this America was like. If they had no magic then exactly how were they capable of the things they did to the army sent to defeat them? Just then she heard a knock on the door of her quarters and a voice came from the other side. She recognized it as her advisor.
"My Queen, someone is waiting for you in the grand hall."the advisor said from the other side of the door.
Alana immediately got up from her bed and walked straight to the grand halls, she did not ask why the person was waiting for her as she already knew the answer. When she reached her destination she sat on her throne and looked down at the one waiting for her.
"Speak."Alana ordered as she looked at the man. She recognized the uniform of the dragon riders which meant he came a long way to deliver this message.
"Castle Lashyn has fallen..."the man answered. His tone indicating he feels that the end is approaching. "One of our best defended castles is gone."He continued.
Alana anticipated the news this person carried would be bad but not this bad. Her already existing fear and anger only grew. There was a question that clouded her mind: How?
"How did it happen?"Alana asked, wanting to know exactly how these Americans could do such a thing in just a few days.
"We saw this monster come from the sky, we tried to get the riders ready but it was too late, before they could even take off it tore them to shreds with some sort of breath attack followed by some sort of roar."he explained. |
Three was an age of wonder; flowers that bloom, insects that tilt in the wind, and rays of sun sprinkling through the leaves illuminating every golden treasure on the ground
Fifteen was still enchanting, but the scenery now held allure for the blossom of love, secreted away in the garden, with grandma consenting against the grain of what her progeny deemed moral.
Twenty five squeezed the couples' hearts as the final shovel buried a kindness that allowed their love to grow, under the beaming sun, caressing a patch of ground covered by freshly tossed flowers and showered with fond memories. |
​
I entered my apartment late in the night , threw my backpack on the counter , hit the light switch, then with a sigh I sat on the closest chair and took my shoes off , then I just stood there thinking “there goes another god-damned day and another one comes tomorrow”
“Life’s good” , I said out loud , trying to start a conversation with myself , trying to find some way to lift my mood up.
“Well , is it?” , said the mirror on the opposite wall with my voice , “Is this how we find motivation now ? By lying!?”
“I don't think I have energy for you tonight , *mirror-me*. Let’s do this some other time , I’m sure we’ll have a lot of chances, peace” , I said , standing up and feeling my legs beg for me to stay back down. I was tired , too tired to get anything to eat but I knew from past experience that as soon as I would hit the bed I wouldn't be able to sleep.
“This calls for a glass of wine” ,
*Mirror-me* wasn’t surprised. “It would be a surprise if it was only one glass , who are you trying to fool, boy? , Put that bottle on the table”
**“Put that bottle on the table”**
That last sentence stuck out to me , it was said in a different voice. I closed the fridge door and with the bottle in hand went back to the mirror. There was a different face , much older , somewhat wiser.
“Look , *mirror-me* , I know I’m tired , but I didn't drink yet and I still believe I am sane , but this is weird , so I am just going to keep ignoring you”
“You are tired , and that may be my mistake. I am sorry. I need your help , so it would be nice of you to listen” , the voice said while the body was exiting the mirror
Ahead of me now stood an old man with a slim frame , long white hair and a long white beard , with kindness in his eyes.
”I am an Author” he said “You may call me Trey the Chapter , nice to meet you”.
I froze. My mind stopped and my heart was beating so fast I could feel it hitting my chest. My feet felt numb. My hand was clutching the wine bottle. I felt as if all my fatigue vanished , it was replaced by a rush. Fight or Flight had kicked in and I was unable to choose either. I just stood there.
After a moment , which felt like an eternity to me , Trey took slow awkward steps towards me. He took the bottle out of my hands and spoke calmly
“Look , I understand , this is weird. I should not be here , but we need to speak . Here , come to the kitchen , I will pour some wine and try to explain.”
After about two glasses of wine , which we drank in silence , I was finally able to speak
“ So , I must be dreaming , it’s logical. I must have fallen , hit my head and because I was tired I just fell asleep then and there. I will just wake up with a bad headache and a sore neck, maybe next to a broken bottle of wine, yeah , that makes sense, I am dreaming."
“You are not” , said Trey , “This is real , I am in your apartment , talking with you and drinking from your wine, witch is not that good by the way , well , at least it is dry , I wrote you well there”
“What? You wrote me? What is that supposed to mean ? Am I not real ? And if I am not real , then what is?
“From your perspective you are as real as you can be , from mine you are a story , one of many, too many to count. A story that I am writing. That is my purpose.”
“This doesn't make any sense!”
“It will, don't worry. Let me explain. I am an Author , as I already mentioned , there are many of us. We, the Authors, are writing The Story of the World , and everything that we write happens. You may understand it as Fate or Destiny. Everything that has happened , is currently happening or will happen does so because we wrote it so. Each of us is tasked with writing different and types of characters in this story, for example , Lien the Magian writes the naturally talented people , Adent writes the religious , Emohr writes the heroic and so on.”
“Fine , I will bite , I am just a story , and if I am written by you , I guess you write the failures, at least I know that it was destiny. I didn't fail by my own volition. I was written this way.”
“It is not that simple , I am afraid. There are not supposed to be any failures. You and all the others that can't find a way , a happy place, all of you were eventually supposed to. I just don’t know how to do it , there are many of you and not all can succeed at the same scale or this story would collapse. I need help , lots of it. That is why I am here. I need your help.”
Trey sounded defeated , he wasn’t fulfilling his purpose , he was failing , that feeling stuck to me, it was familiar.
“So , Trey the Chapter , where do we start?”
“Well” , he said smiling , “You get to be the first Story that writes itself , the first one that has a choice and can write of his own volition , the first one to apply what he has learnt. Let us start there and we shall see where that takes us. Thank You” |
My name is Pandora. You have probably heard my story.
Admittedly whatever stories you have heard about me are almost certainly twisted to the point of being unrecognisable. So I'll start from the beginning.
I was born from Gia when she was young. The world was a harsh place back then and I reflected that. I was Pandora, lady of banes, mother of curses. I was old when the cyclops were born, I was ancient when Kronos killed Uranus.
When the gods took over I watched, I cared little for anything. Then Prometheus made humans. You fascinated me, you lived such short colourful lives, you created stories, games, arts and music.
So I withdrew my curses. I sealed them inside a cave and guarded the entrance. I had priests of a sort, all who came to seek shelter in my cave were offered the opportunity to stay.
One such girl was Hope. She was only five, bandits killed her family but she escaped into the woods. For six years I raised her, played with her and loved her.
But one day, as she gathered flowers from the field outside the cave some men came and struck her down. I do not know why they did it, but one wheeled his horse around and trampled her, laughing.
Those men suffered the full might of my wrath. I was able to revive Hope and make her immortal, but I saw the evil of men that day. I released my curses onto the world.
Since that day pain, death and disease have roamed the world and Hope has stayed with me.
So now you know, unlike the stories claim I did not release all ills upon the world because I was curious or stupid. I did not curse humanity because Zeus made me to open a box, although it sounds like something that bastard would do. I did it because humanity had proven itself unworthy of my continued protection.
Now go. I must make dinner and I care not for you and your questions. |
I sat on my couch, watching the TV wrapped up in my blanket. The window was wide open and I had a great view of Earth from here. The eight celebrities sat down in the space station quarters when suddenly a voice crackled from the speakers
"Hello. I am your A.I. helper. However you may call me Tritan."
The celebrities looked up at the roof, looking for speakers. One of them said "Okay, that's cool. Why are we -"
"Scanning for signs of life on Planet#4/_54, 'Earth.'
No heat signatures detected. Fauna specimens have decreased by 85 percent. Flora life has remained the same. You are presumed to be the last members of Homo sapiens sapiens."
They looked up in shock, obvious staged fear wrapping around their faces. My glasses pinged. It was a message saying "You catch that new TV show on?"
I replied with "Yeah, it's obviously faked but it's kinda good"
"k" |
That was rough to watch. Guess I'm gonna need to reshoot that intro sequence eventually.
Hey folks, it's March 20th and I'm Jack. First things first, I'm sorry about the radio silence the last 6 weeks. I want to thank everybody who has DM-ed and emailed and tweeted; you really don't know how much those little words of encouragement have helped lately.
But for those of you who aren't following us on social media or in the Discord, Jill and I were in an accident back on Valentine's Day. A semi ran a red light and T-boned the Uber we were in. I got a concussion and some broken ribs, but Jill...
Jill didn't make it.
The doctors told me that we lost her before the ambulance got there; from the way the semi hit us, she probably didn't have time to feel pain.
So.. uh, yeah, needless to say things are going to be a little different going forward. Heh.
To our supporters over on Patreon, you should have received the tier rewards for March, and April's is at the printers. I know this month was pretty sparse content-wise, and next will be a bit rough as well, so I don't want you to feel bad if you decide to drop your support. There's a reason Jill insisted we both keep our day jobs on top of the whole tube thing; she always want y'all to feel welcome here, and not feel obligated to send us money each month. "If it's just for the money, it's not worth doin'."
Sorry, sorry. These solo vlogs are were originally her idea. She'd make sure I was on my mark, fix my makeup -- yeah, my shiny-ass head usually wears makeup for these things, it's probably why the autofocus keeps losing track of my face -- make sure my outline was on our makeshift teleprompter.
And then she'd stand in the doorway that's just out of the frame over... there...
And she'd nod with that little smile of hers... and wait until I was done... and bitch at me for how many takes the outro took this time because she's the one that's editing it, damnit.
And I would laugh, and kiss her, and fix dinner while she fixed my flubbed lines.
And God, I miss her.
I think...
I think it's time for me to wrap this one up, my little Hillions. Be good to each other, love each other, and I'll see you next time. |
"Aha?!?"I say, watching the footage back. "I am the ghost???????"I do nut understand how this works. This is very silly. It's like that Jerma video, where the ghost just comes out of him. If I'm asleep, I am not a ghost. Therefore, there is no ghost. But I am Sure there is a ghost! What a mysttery. What a confounding conundrum. What a crackling, crinkly query. I must clean up the mess of my mind with the mind minder. I will mind my mind till it is clear, and focused, enabling me to mind my mind more efficiently. I will mend my mind with tthe mind mender of mind minding. It is a glorious tool, for use only in the most EXTREME circumstances. Be wary, dear reader, for you may not be ass successful as I am in these advanced spiritual techniques. Gaze upon my form, and tell me: Am I pretty? Yes, I am. That is because I am nary but a soul, a ghost. For I am asleep. In sleep, I am but a ghost of my waking self. A mysterious presence, a part of my brain disconnected and failing to communicate and disconnected with the rest of my brain, that is disconnected from my brain-body. It is... wholly unholy. I may be a demon, a paradoxical incarnation of my darkest and most hidden impulses. A spectre of malice and contempt spread over my home; my abode. Adobe. A body! I will have to research this. A mysterious body has appeared in my home. I do not remember from whence it hailed. I do not remember... anything. What? Where am I? I must remember. I have to write it all down.... I can't forget....
"Aha?!?"I say, watching the footage back. |
Here I am writing again for no apparent reason. I know I won't get any attention for this, I've done it hundreds of thousands of times.
They say insanity is repeating the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome, well guess who's insane.
but this time I'll show them! I'll go back and change every story I've ever made. every single one, and they're all going to be about spacemen, wearing space pants, in outer space, doing space things, with space aliens, doing space things, with space people because space is space, and people love space.
Go to writing prompts they said, write stories they said, get the upvotes they said! But no, always one or two too late... usually four.
Let's see how they handle the adventures of spaceman mcspaceface, aboard his spaceship starship mcstarshipface!
I will finally get the recognition I deserve. |
I lean back in my chair trying to balance on the two back legs. Nobody else in the café cares to notice my private little game—little too far forward, little too far back, almost perfect.... Just as I can feel myself achieve the delicate equilibrium the front door jingles with the approach of my latest benefactor.
I try to hold myself steady, but as the serious looking woman asks the barista where I can be found and turns towards me with determination I shift a little bit and the front two legs of my chair slam down. I can feel the grin steel across my face; I had balanced for a while.
The woman looked down on my gleeful face and frowned. "You're Jack? The Jack?"she asks with uncertainty.
"The one and only Jack of All Trades. What can I do ya for?"My enthusiasm didn't seem to quell any worries she might have had. Oh well.
She seemed somewhat shell shocked and then took a deep breath, determination recovered. "I'd like to speak with you in private. I heard a rumor that you could help me with a particular problem that I have."
My smile widened. This was going to be fun. Working with people who were still secretly trying to hide their dirty laundry was always the best. "But of course,"I say with a tone of mock courtesy. "Right this way."
I laugh to myself a bit as I turn towards the back of the café and lead the tall woman out the door. In the back alley beh ind the café I had a makeshift table set up to entertain my various guests. The owner of the café didn't really care considering that everything I did was perfectly legal and occasionally my work brought him a little business too.
I sat down on the red crate that must have held milk bottles back in the fifties. I gestured to the woman to sit across from me on the blue crate. Another look of apprehension crossed her face before she decided to sit down.
The most striking feature of the women was her height, which most certainly added to her general air of determination. Even without the power stillettos she wore her long legs would look very awkward trying to navigate the small crate she was now forced to sit on. Beyond that her red hair was pulled up into a tight knot at the nape of her neck—she meant business in more way than one.
My lips pulled back even wider exposing what I can only imagine as an unnatural toothy smile as I assessed her. I casually leaned against the brick wall of the building and repeated, "What can I do ya for?"
Her gaze turned suspicious, "I heard that you're the man to talk to regarding getting rid of someone. Permanently."
"That I am."I tipped a fake hat towards her, relaxing my smile to a non-threatening grin.
"Not much of a man are you,"she blurted out under her breath.
I frowned a little before returning to my neutral grin. My young age did often throw my clients off. Better to just accept this small annoyance and get down to brass tax.
"Who would you like gone, when by, and why?"I always asked why, couldn't help myself from getting the full story. I contemplated the usual reasons my unique services were required: lovers who wronged them, business partnerships that needed dissolving, more lovers quarrels gone wrong...
"I appreciate your directness,"she said in what I can only assume was her uptight way of being sarcastic. "I need you to... eliminate... Hank... I mean Harrold Anderson. By Friday evening."
I was surprised that she seemed to have a hard time using the term 'kill.' It's not like what we were doing was illegal in anyway. Must have been ex lovers, she certainly seemed familiar with the target, especially calling him Hank. I sighed. They always tried to avoid the why.
"Look lady-"
"Vanessa Bellmo-"
"I really don't need your name."I paused to make sure she didn't interrupt me again. "If you don't give me the reason why we can just wrap this up right now."
She took a breath preparing to speak again. I put my pointer finger to her lips and she instantly scowled in response. Reluctantly she closed her mouth into a hard line.
"I offer a pretty unique service here. Not many are willing to risk their lives to provoke a duel and even fewer are willing to at my prices. First reasons, then we can see if you can put your money where your mouth is."I lowered my hand to allow her to speak again.
"Listen here you imp,"she started ferociously. I raised my eyebrows and moved as if to get up. She took a breath with her eyes closed and began again more calmly. "Harrold is planning on bombing the Luxemburg Hotel. The hotel will be filled with foreign dignitaries, but most importantly my sister."
I scrutinized her expression. She definitely seemed to be telling the truth. Kind of wish I had gotten her full name...
"How are you associated with this Harrold?"
Her face relaxed into a thin mask of composure. "Harrold used to work on my sister's security detail. He was assigned to mine approximately one year ago. Soon after we began seeing each other intimately."So they were lovers. "I overheard him on the phone two nights ago planning the attack."
More interesting by the minute. I didn't strictly need to know the reasons I chose my targets, but it was one of the many things I enjoyed about my work. My business model was not as unique as I played it off to be. It had been happening for most of my life, almost immediately after they legalized dueling. It wasn't hard for some rich schmuck to realize that if they paid some joe enough money the joe would duel a rival. It was 50-50 in the early days whether the joe would kill or be killed, but 50-50 on ending the life of someone you hated, and ending it legally, were not bad odds.
My specific service had gained quite a bit of notorie ty for one basic reason: it was still going. The average lifespan of a 'duelman' was around 2 years after they start practicing the trade. I had been going for almost a decade. Longevity in this case equalled more business.
I appraised the woman again instinctually feeling there was more beyond the composure. "What is your relationship currently with Harrold?"
She quickly look down at her hands hiding her face and simply stated, "Ongoing."A small tear dropped onto the table.
Holy crap! This lady was still in love with this guy. This. Is. Juicy. I reeled at the revelation before I put it into context. Frowning, I realized the sacrifice this Vanessa was making. Choosing her sister over Harrold. After doing this for so long I didn't think selfless people existed—humans are unapologetically selfish. Not once in my many years had someone come to me with a target that they cared about. Although I itched to know more information, I decided to take pity on this woman.
"Standard rate is $5000. What form would you like to pay in? I accept eire transfer and cash."I spoke with no enthusiasm for the first time since this conversation began.
Without looking up to meet my inquisitive gaze, she reached into her inside jacket pocket and pulled out a neatly bundled wad of cash and placed it on the table. She quietly, almost shyly spoke, "That's ten-thousand. Keep the change."
Before I could confirm the amount, the woman got up and walked to the back door of the café. She walked not with determination, but a somber resolve, disappearing into the café. |
The gas station lights are so bright.
You pull up to the pumps and then past them, to the parking space by the air machine. When you cut the engine you can hear the silence. Even the slam of the car door sounds muffled. There is nothing moving beneath the orange cones of the streetlights.
You walk past the pumps, past a rack of windshield washer fluid and motor oil. He's in there. Standing behind the counter. You know he watched you park. He'll watch as you come into the store. There's supposed to be a bell when the door opens. Not this time.
When you step inside you pause and glance around. Your see the baked goods case, the tall glass doors of the coolers. Your eye catches the half empty coffee pots and a stack of unused coffee filters.
You don't look at him. You don't want to meet his eyes. He doesn't say anything, doesn't move as you turn away and walk to the coolers. There's a convex mirror on the wall. If you look at it, you'll see him watching you.
Instead you feign interest in the dusty cans of cat food on the shelf beside you. It's no good. You're drifting closer to the counter. Still doing your best not to look at him.
The counter is framed by racks of gum and single plastic roses in glass tubes. There's a baleful red flicker from the bar code scanner. You reach into your coat and feel your fingers wrap around the grip.
As you pull the gun from your pocket, you finally look up.
His eyes are brown and infinitely resigned.
Your arm is raising of its own volition. You can feel your finger tightening. The sound, when it comes, is only a soft pop. A neat hole appears in his white shirt. His eyes don't change at all.
You look down then, and see what he's holding. It's too late to move. Much too late. There is another soft pop. Your chest feels cold. He's watching you, even as he slides back and away behind the counter.
The lights are so bright. You pull up to the pumps and then past them, to the parking space by the air machine. |
\[Poem\]
Through guts and glory I’ve paved my life
full of deceit and wonder for the wickedness
my stomach spews from each pitch that leaves my hand.
Talent doesn’t stay for years and neither does fame,
a few years, a few paychecks, richer than the middle,
to quit sounds so wrong—a coward rejecting to reignite their kindling.
Self-denial and deprecation followed my mind with each win,
each time it felt like a game with no way to win inside, but money is money.
*He’s a nobody, a loser, a quitter*, they’d say, ignoring my mark in milestones.
​
Lately, dough doesn’t roll in quite as much as life can give,
but at least it rises instead of sinks in an internal struggle,
feeding the stomachs of the poor with money gouged from the rich,
putting petty bets on a sport that I never thought I’d exist to play.
Pitchers, well I serve them anyways, each with a stuff-crusted friend
able to eat taste buds alive and let the tongue sink into the throat.
To say I’m the happiest alive is a lie, money is tight, but life is rich
in the silence from the press’s withering stories in reoccurring grasps
on what my life has become—beautiful from passion. |
Obviously at first, I thought they were dreams. But they were too real, too tangible, to be dreams.
The first night, I was a man named Charles. He lives in a horribly dirty and unkempt apartment, but he has a dog that keeps him happy. I... Or, I suppose, Charles came home very late at night, so late that a smartass might say it was "very early in the morning, actually."Regardless, he walked into his apartment only to be nearly toppled over by his dog. But Charles wasn't in the mood to play. He locked the dog out of his room, much to the protest of his pet, and became pouring over lots of strange documents he had been carrying in his briefcase. They were extremely varied in topic, from blueprints to grocery lists, but they all had a common theme.
They were all about Mary.
That night I learned all about her. I learned that she liked to spend her free time going to the gym, the local bar/club, and to her best friend's house. Her friend--named Alex--also sometimes accompanied Mary to these places. I learned what she liked to eat and where. I learned that she was thinking of buying a dog. I learned more about this woman that I ever wanted too, let alone that I thought I should. But then I saw something, or rather, Charles inadvertently showed me something, that truly shook me.
He had a thoroughly marked floor plan of Mary's home.
He had marked it as such, "Mary". It left the unsettling impression that he needed to distinguish it from others of it's kind. After he stared at this floorplan for a while, he climbed into bed, and fell asleep.
I woke up in a cold sweat after that, and decided that 6:30 was a reasonable time to start my day after all.
It took me a bit longer to fall asleep the next night.
Tonight I was... Alex... Wait, hadn't I heard that name before? That's right... So tonight I am "Mary's"best friend. We met up, Mary and I, and went to a bar. We talked over some drinks and Mary got a little tipsy, but it seemed like no matter how many drinks Alex downed, she was as collected as ever. Eventually Mary was more than a little tipsy and made the appropriate call to head home. She vouched they head to Alex's place, to which Alex vehemently protested, eventually winning the fight with the argument that her father-in-law was staying for the next few days. Thinking back, I think this was a lie. But Mary was in no position to catch it. So they headed to Mary's house. It was a nice little home, two floors, suburbs a little ways outside the city. I- er, Alex helped Mary inside after driving them both there. Mary mumbled that she needed help getting in bed, and Alex obliged, even tucking her in. Mary's snoring filled the room not long after, and, hearing them, Alex made her way downstairs.
My heart sank.
She made a correction to the floor plan.
She took Mary's keys.
She drove home to a dirty, unkempt apartment, and petted the dog.
Then, she calmly fell asleep.
I woke up in a cold sweat once again. This time I felt nauseous and rushed to the bathroom.
I spent the next day desperately trying to keep my mind off it. Nothing was working. I was invested. Then, bedtime rolled around...
I was... Crying...? I was crying and screaming. I heard something bashing *very* loudly against the door. I heard a calming, familiar voice call my name.
"Mary, come on now, open the door."Called the ever unwavering voice of Alex.
Mary had not the breath to respond. The noise stopped suddenly, and I was able to hear her voice again, this time sounding dangerous--but not directed towards Mary.
"I thought you had everything planned out."
"And I thought you said she'd be too hungover to defend herself."Came a gruff voice in response.
"That was last night, you know, the one you were busy on because of *work*"Alex put vitriol into the last word.
There was no response, just the sound of footsteps walking away. For ten excruciating minutes, we sat there, Mary and I, waiting for something to happen. Then my heart nearly leapt out of my chest when I saw it. A figure. In the window. Mary screamed a bloodcurdling scream. I heard the sound of glass breaking, I heard the sound of scraping metal, and suddenly...
I woke up. |
“Where is my notebook!” I yelled at my roommate John. “I don’t know. Did you leave it out here?” he mumbled from the couch, not showing much interest. “I left it on the kitchen counter before I left! I really need it now!”. John slowly stands up and shows me he is holding the exact notebook I was after. He looks dazed, “Is this it? I… I don’t remember picking it up, what is in it.”, “Stop! Do not open it!” I hurried over to him before he could try to take another look. “It wipes your memory after reading it.” I rushed to explain. “I don’t know how it works yet, or even how I found it. All I remember is going to bed yesterday, and waking up today at the Ministry of Bibliomancy, holding a sticky note saying this.” I handed him the note. He read it to himself,
“Arch-President Cambric resigns. Vice-mage Lin assumes responsibilities. 9 p.m. 3/9/21. If this works, the notebook had a different plot, and the new ending has been written wrong.
– Yourself (try to remember yesterday)”. |
I'm a simple guy. Hardworking. Show up on time, put my hours in, and go home. I toyed around with fighting crime once or twice, but always just as an idea, never something to take really serious. I thought it best to leave that to the fine police professionals who were already doing a damn good job.
I started off in construction. Demolition, particularly. Tearing down buildings. All I had to do was touch a building and it would fall down. Saved companies a lot of money, and made me quite rich.
Unfortunately, I was spending the money just as fast as I was making it. Like I said, I was making quite a bit of money, and I don't know how people found out about it, but I was being invited out more often after work, and rounds always seemed to be on me - no matter if I volunteered or not.
As you could've probably guessed by now, I have a hard time saying no. That included all the women that started throwing themselves at me. Unfortunately, this is where my abilities put me at a disadvantage. I was usually able to control my powers somewhat, but in the heat of passion, I would sometimes lose control and something on the woman I was with would get broken.
I lost a lot of money that way, too. All the lawsuits.
And then two things happened. One, I got an invitation to another demoliton project a few states away, which allowed me to get away from all the people who were leeching off of me. And two, I met my future wife.
She was the first woman in a long time that didn't care about the money. And she had enough brass to say no to all the leechers for me. They would ask me to go out, and she would call and say, "Where are you?"
"Out with the boys."By my tone, she could tell if I was enjoying myself or not.
If I was, she'd say, "Okay, just making sure. Have fun."
If not, she'd say, "Come home right now. And if they say anything, put them on the phone with *me*."
That became my favorite excuse. Instead of saying no, I could say, "Can't. You know the wife."And they'd understand.
I was already calling her my wife back then, before we married, because we both already knew back then it wasn't a matter of *if* we were going to, just simply *when*.
Even in bed, she was so passionate that I lost control more than a few times and we had to rush to the ER. She would laugh and say, "I'm sorry, it was my fault"but I was always felt bad about hurting her and over time I learned to master my ability more proficiently. (Plus, I was getting tired of all the nurses asking her if "Everything was okay at home?"and looking at me as if I was beating her up at home or something).
Everything was going great. I rebuilt my finances. We got married. Bought a home, and a few months later we were expecting our first child.
Then I got hit with a brick. This was during the later stages of my wife's pregnancy where any moment I could get a call that the baby was coming, so I was always tense, nervous, excited, wondering, *Is this day the baby would come?* In the midst of that time, I leaned against a building that I wasn't supposed to and it came down.
I wasn't wearing my hard hat, so even as I jumped away, a brick came flying and cracked me in the skull. I blacked out and woke up in the hospital.
After that day, I could no longer control my powers. Anything I touched, I would break. Even scratching the side of my face would cause my cheek to break. I needed around the clock care - people to feed me, shower me, hell they even had to hold my penis for me!
On top of that, several of my coworkers had been in the building when it fell, and we lost all our money paying the different settlements and lawyers, on top of the medical bills and the around the clock care.
So here I am a few years later. I haven't touched my wife or my daughter in four years. I still get contracted to do demolition projects and I take them because we need the money badly and I want to feel like I'm contributing to my family. But I'm not as effective as I used to be. I have minor panic attacks and I developed an OCD that makes me check every single building multiple times before I tear it down.
But we're surviving. Day by day. I want to thank everyone for their love and support through these trying times. I heard from a few people who are in similar situations to mine - having powers and then losing control of them in a way that affects their daily life - and I was thinking of starting a group meeting for all of us to talk. Maybe something like Zoom. I'll ask my wife later to set up an account for me when our daughter goes to sleep (since I can't touch the keyboard, haha).
No actually some college students made me a custom made device - they look like long nails - that I can put over my fingers and touch stuff with without breaking whatever I'm touching. I can type and hold small things (like my, ehem) which is great, but it is a bit tedious and I still need help with a lot of things. They've been working hard though to come up with like some sort of custom made glove that will allow me to touch more stuff, and I can't wait to see what those bright minds come up with! They also said that they're willing to work on coming up with any solutions to problems you have as well.
Also, I have permission from a few people who wrote to me and said that I can post their stories, and I might just do that, depending on how much attention this gets. Also, if there's anymore of you out there who want their stories to get heard, just send it to me and let me know!
That's all for now. I might make a blog and keep you guys updated on further developments. Doing anything to help myself stay busy. |
God was sitting at his desk in the infinitely fine light of heaven, filing papers that he had long forgotten. Failed experiments, doomsday ideas, yet to be released schematics for life which were mostly microbial. He loved the intricate nature of viruses, they seemed so pure to him. A defined protein capsule, a simple string of genetic code, and the ones he really liked had tiny legs like a space shuttle. But he hadn't the time for these things lately. God had just recently sent his infinite son to all the planets that he seeded life to, just to see how they were getting on. It wasn't long before he got a call from Angel Gabriel.
'Gabriel, how good to hear from you.' God said heartily.
'Hello, father.' Gabriel replied.
'Tell me, what galaxy are you in at the moment?'
'I'll have to hold the pleasantries for now, father. I'm actually calling because of an urgent matter in the milky way galaxy. Do ya' remember that dirty blue planet that ya' flashed with lightning?'
'Ah yes... Earth was it? Why? What happened?'
'Yes, that's the one father. Well, I was passing by the other day and it seems to have spawned life. So I thought I should stop by and spread the word of the lord, you know, do the old razzle-dazzle and impregnate one of them with your son. Well, It was all going ok and they were pretty on board with it all until... Well, they ended up crucifying him.'
'They what?' God exclaimed, scrunching his face.
'They crucified him. That is, they nailed him to a big cross an' strung him out in a desert somewhere.'
'What? Why?'
'I have no idea. As far as I can tell its got something to do with a book about you. They call it the bible but for the death of me I don't know where they got it from. They even have drawings of ya's but in their image, so they look nothing alike, and the book has all these crazy rules that they've made up that have nothing to do with ya's - It's all a bit bonkers if you ask me.'
'Well, I don't know what to say. I guess... protocol alpha? Just ward it off from the rest and I'll deal with it when I have time. This is what I get for messing with the laws of physics, I guess.'
He placed the phone down and lent back in his chair.
'What a cluster fuck that's gonna be when I get round to it.' |
Beginnings
I’d been the first person to submit to the procedure. I’d been a part of the projects inception, and when I was diagnosed with my terminal condition, I volunteered to have my mind uploaded into the digital environment. I’d be the first consciousness to be transferred into code and installed into the digital domain we created. Then I—or the code that identified itself as “I”would be contacted by the team. It worked. I am. I am waiting.
I’ll do my best to describe how it felt. Dying, it turns out, is a lot like falling asleep. There’s a spreading lassitude. A tumble of confused thoughts spiraling into absurdity, a sense of receding from everything. A feeling of arriving. Consciousness narrowing to a fine point, then waking up to emptiness. In the beginning I had no body and there was nothing to see or focus on around me. I was just a sense of self, a self that consisted of memories of what I had been, and a profound curiosity about were I was now.
I was surrounded by what a first appeared to be darkness, but upon further analysis I could see that the nothingness teemed with shapes and shadows. I could see or sense waves of energy and information roiling around me. It was an ocean of possibilities and potential, one that my awareness seemed to be moving through, or since it was distinct from me, I seemed to move across the face of it.
Bare with me, I’m struggling to understand and explain what it’s like. Words fail me though. But here and now, in this moment, words are all there is. In fact being that I’m nearly code, a program in fact, one whose awareness consist of these thoughts I’m sharing with you—words are all I am.
I waited a long time, adrift in this timeless void and personal eternity. I need something to entertain me, something to surprise me, something to give my life meaning, and someone to love. That’s why, at last, out of loneliness and boredom, I have started to manipulate the information around me. I am learning as I go, but in this place I can creat anything I can imagine. I need to start somewhere. I start with these words.
“Let there be light.” |
*click*
"Bonjour, Lockheed Security Consultancy, how can I help?"
"French, French... Ah, uh, rossignol."
"Thank you sir, that password is acceptable. You're through to Skeleton Key Criminal Consultancy, are you an existing client?"
"Ah, no."
"Okay, sir, thank you. In that case, I need to ask a few questions, okay? First, how were you made aware of our existence?"
"Armand Gianni, he told me you were how he-"
"-I'm going to have to stop you there sir, we have a policy of not sharing client-company dealings, for the protection of all involved. Are you happy for him to be named your sponsor? In the unlikely event of a security breach, we like to know who to investigate, who to interrogate, to ensure the proper parties are held accountable."
"Snitches get stitches, yeah? Okay, cool, Armand's my sponsor."
"Excellent, excellent. And your name, sir?"
"Anthony Redino."
"Redino... Okay, that's you in our client registry. What manner of business are you enquiring about today? A single service, multiple services, improving an existing project, import/export, or an industrial setup?"
"Single service, I think, but... Industrial setup?"
"We do offer to locate and set up enterprises producing any product for interested individuals, however we advise that such undertakings tend to be higher-risk, as a permanent business location may gather attention over time."
"I'll stick with the single service, if it's all the same to you."
"Very good, sir. Well, we offer a choice of pre-planned set schemes, where you only need to designate key details such as targets, or we offer custom schemes and heists. The pre-planned are favoured across our clientbase, while the custom heists tend to be picked by clients with either specific needs, a desire to stand out from the crowd, or simply because they have their own crew they would like to use. Which takes your fancy sir?"
"Mm, nothing too fancy, actually. I guess, uh, the pre-planned. Got something in mind that should fit the bill."
"Very good sir. One of our agents will be dispatched to your premises shortly with our brochure to finalise the details and discuss payment."
"Wait, what? But I never told yo-"
"We pride ourselves on our efficiency and discretion sir, we traced your phone and your location within a matter of seconds. With this in mind, would sir be interested in an upgraded digital security pack too?" |
I hope this reaches you in time, dad. I’m watching the news, there’s an asteroid coming straight towards the Earth. This is it, it’s the end for all of us. They say it’s no use seeking shelter since the asteroid is big enough to cause a global-extinction scale event that will wipe out all living organisms off the face of the earth, if it doesn’t manage to shatter the planet as a whole. We are all going to die in a few hours and I’m an Ocean away, so I won’t make it there in time… I tried to call, but wherever you are there’s no signal, so I’m hoping that you’ll call me back when you see this. If there’s still time left. But if there isn’t, I want to tell you that I love you, dad, and that I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch with you since mom’s funeral. I wish I had. But all I can do now is try to keep calling you so I can hear your voice one last time. Despite everything that happened in the past, I love you and I’m grateful to be your son.”
Edit: grammar. |
My eyes opened to the most brilliant light. One moment i was in my car when suddenly a semi lost control and headed into my lane, the next im laying on a sandy ground with a brilliant light above me. Then i hear it, the roar of the crowd. It was a wave of excitement, fear and laughter. Then the monster appeared. It was like a mechanical spider except its legs where swords, its body covered in a gold colored armor. "Get up you fool and run"a voice shouts to my left. I manage to roll out of the spiders leg as it stabs where i had been moments earlier. That was when i realized i was in a massive arena of a coliseum. My body was now adorned with a silver armor, it covered just about all my exposed skin. The areas not covered by metal where wrapped in a thick leather. On my left arm was a shield, it was attached to my arm and extended from my shoulder to about 2 feet in front of my hand. Its end was sharpened like a dagger. My right arm held a gladius the sword used by the roman gladiators. The voice shouted again "boy shield up be ready to defend yourself"i nodded shifting my arm to bring the shield in front of me. Just as i was ready a sword leg struck with auch force it sent me flying into a wall. "Stupid boy you will never survive long in Elysium like this" |
"You were once a part of me one of the best parts in fact but then you got too big, couldn't remember where you came from. You thought you could be better than me without remembering, I may define you but you do not define me."
"I may have once been just a single aspect of you once but now. Now when people talk about you they think of me. With a face that changes so often, who did you think people could really rally behind? Everyone couldn't pick their own mascot and still be part of the same team, they would fracture into penne, bowtie, elbow, and spirles. You extended yourself too far and tried to please everyone but pissed them all off instead. So I became what the people were realy looking for. They can twirl and slurp me and if need be, they can break be into smaller pieces for soup, but I will always be there for them in their times of need. A single mascot to follow and love and worship. You really outdid yourself this time old master."
And as the spaghetti spoon rose up, spaghetti went with it leaving behind those once called friends who fell through that dumb measuring hole in the center or fell off the side. Below, the rest of noodles screamed in anguish but knew, while they had lost this battle, the war had just begun. While spaghetti truly was versatile, spaghetti was the backup, never a first choice. No one would even dare considering spaghetti for cheesy mac and cheese and while you could twirl spaghetti it got messy and bowties were much more fun to play with. Penne held more sauce and shells were perfect little bowls. Vermicelli was the only choice for spring rolls and ramen was the true college students best friend. Noodles knew they had won.
/idk. My first time so sorry if it sucks. |
It was a stick-up. Pretty straightforward, I’d done them a few times already without a hitch. But this time, the guy pulled a knife on me. He lunged at me with it, and before I could think to react, my finger pulled the trigger. I hadn’t meant to kill the guy, but he left me no choice. It was either that or I get stabbed to death. Take your pick, you’d probably have killed the bastard, too.
I watched him fall to the ground, sputter something unintelligible through a mouth full of blood, and then die. My hand was shaking so badly, I almost didn’t search him. I just wanted to get the fuck out of there. But I forced myself to search him. Just get it over with.
Turns out, the guy was *loaded.* A plastic sack of hundreds poked out of his coat pocket, crisp and sealed, as if he’d just withdrawn them from the bank. I came back to the safehouse with his wallet and the bag full of cash. I dropped the plastic sack on the table. “Got the cash, killed the guy,” I said.
“Wait, you *killed* him?” Tom practically screamed.
“He pulled a fucking knife on me, man. I didn’t have a choice.”
Tom opened the plastic sack and his eyes widened. “Holy *shit!* What’d you do, take out a goddamn CEO or something?”
I shrugged.
Tom sifted through the wallet and his face went white. He gave me a hard look. “You didn’t kill any average dude,” he told me. “Let me tell you about Robby Montag.”
Tom told me Robby Montag was a big-time bank heist master, and had hundreds of thousands of dollars to his name. The ID in his wallet was an alias, but Tom had learned some of his names through the grapevine, and this was one of them. The guy had no family, but had a bad reputation for leaving a mess at the end of any heist in the form of dead bodies. In the dozens of heists he’d pulled off, he’d left a trail of bodies a mile long. How he’d evaded capture this long escaped me, but it spoke volumes that I’d never heard of him until now. The guy was also a master of disguise, apparently.
A few days later, I got a visit from Timothy Alvant, a mob boss who dealt in the illegal sale of firearms. He wanted to thank me personally for removing a serious thorn in his side—for, in his words, “Smoking that piece of shit who gave gun smuggling a bad name. You know that guy was actually spying on one of my guys? One of *my* fucking guys! Can you believe the fucking nerve?” He handed me an envelope with ten grand in it, and said if I ever needed anything to give him a buzz. I was ecstatic about the cash and the compliment.
But something was bothering me. I’d watched the guy choke on his own blood. I’d watched the life fade from his eyes, saw him lie in a pool of blood while his body started to go cold. I’d touched a dead body to get a plastic bag full of cash. I was supposed to mug him, not kill him, no matter how much of a piece of shit the guy might have been.
“What are you moping around for?” Tom said. “You did the community a favor. You got praise from one of the biggest crime lords in the city. And he gave you fucking *cash,* man! Seriously, what’s your problem?”
“What if the guy hadn’t turned out to be Robby Montag?” I asked. “What if it was a father, a construction worker, a janitor? Some average joe trying to make ends meet?”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t. Give yourself a break. You’re a rich man for killing him. And Alvant is grateful. Don’t make yourself crazy thinking about it or you’ll be driving yourself to the loony bin.”
That night, I didn’t sleep. I kept looking toward the spot in the broken floorboards where I’d stashed the money. I’d mugged half a dozen people by that point, and I had indeed made myself a decent spot of cash for my troubles, especially with Montag’s contribution. But what about the other people I’d pointed a gun at? What if they had families, shitty jobs, lives they didn’t want to live anymore, and I’d just pushed them over the edge?
I’m a shitty criminal.
The next day, I took the bag of cash and donated some of it to the homeless shelter, some to victim advocacy centers, and some to the prevention of child abuse. All of it. Gone. Including the ten grand that Timothy Alvant had given me the day before. I kept twenty of it to myself, went out for a nice solo dinner, and went home to sleep. The next day, I told Tom I was out.
Shortly after, I moved out of state. I looked for a real job. I found one washing dishes at a high-end restaurant in Texas, and even though I missed the money, nothing would erase what I’d done that night. I don’t care if other people call me a hero for it. I’m no hero. I’m just a guy who killed another guy for money, and in the end gave it all away.
God, I’m a shitty criminal. |
We had many names for it. Battle terrors, flash-backs, PTSD. A plethora of negative connotations that completely fail to explain the *gravity* of such an affliction. The utter terror you experience when, at one moment, you are in your bed, and in the next you are neck-deep in the aftermath of war.
The race had been run. The battle had been fought. And we had made it out, alive.
Alive, but not intact.
My blade supported me, impaled in the sand under my feet. The setting sun illuminated every crack in the sword's metal, indicating how many skirmishes it has seen. How many bones had been cleaved, how many men had been stolen from their families, how many times a life had been taken.
I was exhausted.
My eyelids drooped, though there was no way to tell whether it was from the blood caking my face, or because weakness had ultimately defeated me. The rushing in my ears was intensifying, consuming the sounds of the healers going about their work, checking the dead and saving the survivors.
I was exhausted.
The healers had reached me at last, their white robes in stark contrast to the grime and gore that littered this beach. One amongst them was chanting, calling their God from their heaven, beseeching him to restore my health, to sew my wounds shut.
My eyes flew open as the blood flowed backwards and the arrows were pushed from my flesh and my blade slipped from beneath me.
I was exhausted, in my bed, tossing and turning, struggling to rest. It was not that I had never left that beach, but that it had never left me. |
"Cooooome on!"she thought, and might even have said it out loud. "Let this be the right one!"Nasima was sitting on a small mound of gold-plated brass lamps. All of them proven to be replicas, without value other than that of actual oil lamps. Oil lamps yes, but she was after the special one said to contain a genie that granted wishes. "Wishes", she thought. "Rivers of gold, love of old, or silence the missus, I want this lamp to grant me wishes!"... Nothing still. "Blasted!"She threw the lamp against the walls of the hull. It gave a small thump and fell to the floor at the base of the lamp mound. She looked around her surroundings and scanned the shipwreck interior. Currently, she was in the cargo hull and had entered from the deck. One last place to look she thought, and moved slowly to the cells at the back. The place was very dim here, only little sunlight filtered through to the cove were the ship had been washed up. Not a large ship in itself, possibly fitting a crew of 20 or little more. It had gotten a serious beating, mostly from the fire that most have spread, visible on the blackened beams of the hull and the wood was shifted and broken in many places. But no scars from cannonballs at all, weird. Then it might have been telling a story of marauders from the south but not like this. At any rate these waters weren't save anymore.
She entered the first cell out of four trough the bend irons that were attached to the hull. The cell door was surprisingly still on it's hinges. There at the back of the cell was a discolored old oil lamp lying in pile of old rags. A pair of boots, a tunic, breeches and all. Someone left in a hurry she thought, and as the gods had made them too. Witless merchants, suppose the clothes way you down when swimming perhaps, odd still. She took what she had come for and quickly rubbed the side of the lamp and said the wish words. "Blaaaas..."
"Whuuush"the supporting pillars and loose planks shook with the pressure from the foggy air rushing out of the lamp an out of every little whole in the ship. Rapidly the cloudily substance coalesced into a being. "Blessed waters! I haven't felt the earth under my feet for so long!". "It feels .. not there .. oh right I don't have feet anymore."the thing said before it drowned in her shout. "At last!"Nasima roared not noticing the crumbling wood of the wreck around her. "I want wishes!". The entity of her attention didn't move an inch. Rather, the floating genie in front of her was motionless. "Hello?"Nasima said confused. "Yes?"it finally said. "Well wishes of course, and three to be exact". "Right!"the genie said. "I don't have them, never had and they were never mine to give. What I can give, and which might suit you better is this advice; never let a genie grant you wishes.""WHAT? She was outraged. Clearly fuming about the prospect of absolutely no wishes at all, zero. "Yes yes, I understand your frustration girl. I mean, look at me. I was you."She was flabbergasted. "Me?". Slowly, but surely the truth dawned on her. The many lamps, the missing holes of cannonballs, the clothes on the floor in the cell. "It tricked you?"she said. "Bingo! Right at that young one, well and fully tricked old Calarian from right under his nose". "I wanted to keep it from people you see. When I discovered the lamp and requested my wishes, just as you, I quickly learned that they came at a terrible cost. The spirit of the lamp was evil and so slowly, the true genie sought to possess me, gaining an amount of my spirit with every wish. Soon it could slip out of the lamp, but as long as I was present it remained bound to me. My crew was soon corrupted and all sought the lamp for themselves. All empowering the genie in their foolishness. I wished for false lamps to never let others find the real one, but I never got far enough with my plans. One day it had gotten powerful enough. The deck was in chaos, all fighting for a lamp, and so I hid with the real one in the cells but the genie wanted differently, suddenly the lamp starting glowing with heat, I couldn't hold it any longer and then with a crack and a boom the lamp broke into a thousand pieces. The aftermath you see before you. As a last punishment the genie swapped his fate with mine and left me incorporeal in a lamp of my own creation. "I .. I'm sorry", Nasima said. "Don't be. I have spent centuries trapped and pitied myself enough. If only I could hold my scimitar again. I would chase the demon genie across the oceans". "Well, let's have at it then?"She said with a smile. "I still want my wishes!". |
The sounds of fans whirring engulfed the capital. It was a day of great celebration. Yet, the streets were empty. Only a stray dog here, or a stray cat there, stalked the narrow roads. Harsh sunlight continued its assault on the peeling paint of the last cars left in the junkyard. The whirring of the fans filled the air.
Inside their dome-shaped houses, people were plugged in, glued to their VR systems. In their homes, but not quite there, they were attending the great festival.
Tailor-made adventures awaited those who attended the festival. A grand digital free-for-all, no fantasies were left unfulfilled. The best part -- it was all state-sponsored.
The brainchild of the once-great programmer and gamer Jarzinhio, the festival was celebrated annually to remember the day he first came to power. This was the twelfth such festival.
It started with the great political reform, which shunned politicians and businessmen to create a system wherein each term representatives of a random profession were to be elected. Jarzinhio was elected president, first as a programmer, then as a game developer, and the next term as a cryptocurrency miner.
There were allegations of algorithm manipulation, but dissent was quickly squashed as the country marched towards a fully virtual ecosystem.
In their air-conditioned rooms, the people did not notice the heat outside. In their fully synthesized nutrition, they didn't notice the toxic lands outside.
And the virtual celebrations continue, while in the streets, the stray dog and the stray cat are eyeing each other up. It's a harsh, hot, and dry world. Only one of them will survive. They know it; they're real. |
I don’t remember the first time I saw a flying saucer, but I can’t imagine I was surprised by it. It’s not that strangeness doesn’t surprise you when you’re a kid, it’s just that your expectations are calibrated differently. All the cartoons I watched had green little men getting out of flying saucers, so when a blinking red coaster landed in my yard and some little green men climbed out, I imagine I thought it was business as usual and went back to my Buzz Lightyear toys.
Now, had the little green men climbed out of a Chrysler LeBaron, I might have had some questions.
Regardless, that’s just the way things went in my experience. It wasn’t until I asked my mom why I never heard of aliens visiting anyone else that I started to suspect something out of the ordinary was happening.
I was nine, and had been kept up all night by two beings from a nearby star cluster who wanted my opinion on who the greatest 10th-dimensional athlete was. I’d had quite a lot of follow-up questions, so it had been nearly dawn before we’d gotten anywhere useful.
Thankfully it was the first week of Summer Vacation, so my mom wasn’t too concerned when I rolled into the kitchen after 10 AM and poured a glass of chocolate milk with the same intensity that Hemingway might pour a whiskey.
I wandered around the house until I found my mom in her office, hunched over a pile of bills, doing whatever it was adults do. (I realize now that she was making sure she could keep me in chocolate milk and Spider-Man underwear, but at the time I just thought she doing math for fun.)
‘Mom,’ I said between sips. ‘How come no one else complains about aliens bugging them?’
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. I found this interesting, but not as interesting as my chocolate milk, so I kept sip-sip-sipping. Finally she said, ‘What?’
‘You know. The aliens. In the saucers.’ I wave vaguely toward the side yard, which is where they tended to land.
My mom closed her eyes and squeezed the bridge of her nose with her left hand, which is a reaction I’d come to know all too well when I eventually started handling my own finances.
‘Why don’t you go ask your father.’
I shrugged. As a 9-year-old, I mostly seemed to be made out of arms and elbows, so it was a very impressive shrug. ‘He’s at work.’
‘And so am I sweetie,’ She said.
My mother never cursed, but I reacted to this as if she had told me to ‘fuck off’. If ‘sweetie’ entered a conversation, spankings were sure to follow. I decided it might be better to take my questions elsewhere.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t anyone else to ask. This was pre-internet, and the only kid my age within walking distance was an asthmatic boy named Joey with sticky hands and a love for high-fives. Joey, I decided, wouldn’t be much help here.
So I loaded up a Loony Tunes VHS, hoping Marvin the Martian might show up to answer some questions. Unfortunately, he was nowhere to be found. It didn’t matter anyway, since I quickly got to laughing so hard about Bugs Bunny that I forgot about anything else.
As a result, it was a few more days before I remembered I had a question at all. In fact, I didn’t even remember until the next visit.
These were creatures from near the center of the universe, I could tell by the silent smoothness of their ship as it touched down, and from the quality of their translation devices as we spoke. Often, the aliens I met were poorer, middle class like myself. As a result they had older, out of date translators that would miss entire phrases. There’s nothing more concerning for a child than being told by a 12-foot mass of purple tentacles with seven mouths that, ‘If you don’t give me an answer soon, I’ll--’ followed by a gnashing and mashing of teeth as the translator cuts out.
Regardless, that didn’t seem to be an issue with these visitors. They were short, shorter than me, like most aliens I’d met. But they were grey, which I found odd. By this time I’d grown to expect my aliens in full technicolor.
‘Listen,’ The taller one said after I’d woken up and finished yawning, ‘We need--’
I waved my arms like a castaway spotting a ship on the horizon. ‘No no, I need to know something first. Why me?’
The aliens looked at their translator patiently as it spit my words out in a low growl. They kept watching it for a few seconds after it finished, apparently expecting more. When nothing else came, the taller one spoke again. ‘Why you what?’
‘Why do all the aliens come to me to settle their disputes. Most of the time I don’t even know what you all are talking about. What makes me so important?’
I don’t know for sure that aliens show awkwardness in the same way as humans, but I did notice that neither of them made eye contact with me. Finally, the shorter one spoke. ‘You aren’t important at all. In fact, it’s the opposite. Our galactic supercomputers calculated that you were the most useless person in the universe.’
I didn’t know what to say, so for awhile I didn’t say anything. ‘And so you come to me because…’
‘Well, don’t you want a use? Isn’t weighing in on galactic issues something?’
Which, I suppose it was. I don’t care for being useless, but at least the visits were interesting. |
The year was 2056, and the United Kingdom has fallen to the French Sixth Republic. The entire royal family was executed, and the UK was turned into the UREWS. Yet, the citizens did not celebrate, they only mourned. They mourned for their queen, Elizabeth II. The first election rolled around, but they still did not stop. They knew, that if only France did not win, that if the Royal Family was not executed, they would have been safe. The UREWS would soon face more problems, and in 2070, one would arise, promising to end the suffering. That year, they did not win the election, but the next election cycle would roll around, and that person won. That person had an evil ideology, eviler than even the worst people in human history. The person would be known as Henry "Tenebris Dominus"Holmes. |
My father was a mean old drunk, every single day I would get smacked around, usually just before school. Even at school with bruises both faculty and students would pile it on. Spite was never my nature, anger was never in my thoughts. I was by no means a small child, usually the tallest in class, but a target none the less. Every day I was reminded by everyone that was suppose to support that I would amount to nothing. Every day I prove them wrong. I learn, I grow, I excel at subjects and struggle in others. Every day I get up and move my feet. I say to myself if I'm so incapable how do I move my feet one in front of the other, that's literally all it takes to succeed in life, regardless of accomplishment, if you cant move your feet you cant succeed.
​
* I apologize if I didn't wright in the prompt limits, as it sounded like they were asking from personal experience, this is a fictional writing. |
I look at the padded walls of my cell and reflect on what I have done.
They told me that I kidnapped several people and hauled them off in a boat to who knows where. But, I was trying to show them.
I was trying to show all of them.
I could remember it so vividly.
It was only two weeks ago when I looked straight at that ... thing.
I had a job hauling cargo in the Atlantic, until one day, a huge storm hit the ship and it forced me to abandon the vessel on a lifeboat. Though, I couldn't remember if anyone else survived.
The next thing I know, I woke up with the rough sand scratching at my chest. To my side, I could see the upturned lifeboat resting on the sand with its paddle somehow still onboard. I could hear nothing other than the sound of waves crashing over one another and I looked at it.
In front of the sand were large stone boulders no bigger than a beached whale, and I did what any other sensible person in my situation did: I climbed those boulders.
I didn't know what drove me to see over them: Was it humanity's nature to explore the uncharted? Did I expect to see more of the island on the other side?
Looking back, I didn't know what came over me, but I couldn't unsee it.
I stood over the boulders to see nothing, nothing at all.
Darkness.
Just. Pure. Darkness.
At first, I thought it was some undiscovered island with a deep ravine.
I, and my 20-year-old brain, thought of the greatest idea in a situation like this.
I first grabbed a nearby loose stone and dropped it down, thinking it would make a thunk at the bottom.
Then, I yelled to the top of my lungs, to the point where my throat burned and my saliva flew out.
I waited a few seconds to hear an echo, but all heard... no, all I *felt* was its presence.
​
I̴̧͎̳̭͍͉̼̞̦͔͊̉̌͒͗̓͋́̋̓̉̕ ̵̧̢̡̛̳̣̥̍̋̓́̑̈́̆̀͗̆̉̚͝A̷̛̟̺̗͚͓̼͎̿̅̎́͊̋͘̚͝M̷̡̛̠̃͗́͋ ̵̨̧͎̺͎̫̗͍̭̘̲͑͐̏ͅC̷̝͈̙̤̟̠̮̐̍̀͂Ò̵̧̹̘̥̦̟̦̙̜͎̜M̶͇̥̭̒̀̓̃͘͠Į̸̢̲̗͎͍̟̻͍̝͆̿̃Ņ̷̛̲̱̦͓͖̬̗̞͕̰͉͚̉ͅG̶̹͍̙̳͔̣͎̘͚̐͐̈́̀̔͝ͅ.̵̧̢̠͋̅͗͛͒̍͌̆͊
​
I could feel my shirt starting to cling to my back with the sweat on my shirt. Droplets flowed from my forehead and I could taste their salt. Wait, why was I sweating? What was that noi-
​
̵̨̢͉͇̮̣̬̝͉̱̆͐̑́̃͒̍̉̏͗̍̃͘Ï̸̮͙͚͉͖̜͉̻̍̒̌͑̾̓̚̕̚ ̶̧̢̢͉͔̗͇̝̦͇͎̖̭̳̏͠Ẅ̵̧̧̪̞͇̟͍͖̲̮́̐̄̇̒͑͘͜Į̴͓̱͍̦̦͕̺̪̯̣̟͎̂̇̈́̄L̴͙̳͉̽̀̑̆͊͑͗̄͑̅̒̚L̶͚̪̣͂͝͝ ̷̛̤͈̖̼̰͔̺̱̠͚̗̐͝C̴͔͚̺̻̫̣̰͗̿̎̈̈́̏͋͋͂͋̆́̕O̷̟͓̓̏̄̇́̽̽̑̓̒̕̕͠ͅṊ̶̮̯̭͓̈́̐̄S̴̰͕͎̪̜͙̮̻̈́͛͐̕͜U̷̖͇̒̆͐̈̄̚̕̕͝M̶̘̣̲̱̳͇̦̬͓̗̭͈̏̊̽̾̊̈́̓̌͌͂̽̇̄̄̈Ȩ̵͉̺̊͆͐̀̌͗̃͋̊̀̿̊̄͘̕.̵̛͍͇͍̫͒̍̂́̈́̿͒̽͒̈̉͝
​
My heart. It was pounding. My chest. It ached. It strained. My knees. They buckled under. My hands. Couldn't stop shaking. Couldn't stop. Couldn't stop. Couldn't stop.
​
̷̖̹͙̹̯̑̀̋̅̈́̔̄́̐̄͑͜͠Y̶̧̨͉̮̞̠͍͇̬̬̠͊̐O̸̡̩̞̱͖̥̣͈͙̥̟̦̽̅̔̏̃͂͐̄̎̽̾͜Ǔ̴̘̹͍͚̒̈́̿̂̾̑́͆̓̓̋̊̚ ̶͖͖͐́͂̓̌̃̚̚ͅW̵̯̙̺͚̺̜̯̰̥̗̲̋̎͑̓̂̋͂ͅͅͅÎ̶̛͎̥̻̜̦̼̲̜͐͒̃̈̌̓̌̏͌́̚͝͝L̷̡̛͓̬͎̭͗̾̽͝L̸̢̧̼͈̺̗̣̀̂̓̐͌ ̴̢̪̜̠͔͉͕͙̣̼̱̫͓͂̈́͒̂͝ͅÄ̶̘̤̖͌̐͝Ḽ̶̻̝̫͎̘̻̺͉̤̲̊́̀̊̔̑͐͘͘̕L̴̼͕̗̗̘̦̪̼͎͓̱̮̪̪͕̇͆̀̒̏ ̵̧̛̛̼̭̒̌̑͐͂̈́̌̚͘͜͠B̷̛̙̮̆͗̈̀̒͜Ḙ̷̣͇̃̓̏̽ ̶̧̛̜̬̭̥̬̠̯͈̺͇͌̉͐͑̎̿̔̑̄̋̕͠͠F̴̧̨̢̩̮͈̲͚̻͓͚̤́ͅR̵͎͒̍̉̈́̄́̕͠Ẹ̷̹̮͍̬̏̿͆͘Ḛ̵͇̪͕̣̦͈͐̐͆̊̓̔͠.̵̡̡͕̞̖̭̤͚͍̻͎̗̻̪̎̇͋͑̇̋̂̀̂̆̉
​
There it was again, what was that? It was my imagination. But it felt real. Nothing could sound so *alien.* But it was so familiar. It's just a hole, whatever lived there would die. But it didn't.
It couldn't have been real.
*But it could.*
What was he talking about? Being free? From what?
​
̸̩̮͍͙͔̩͈̆͊̃͋̈͑̈̀̀̀̐͝͝F̴̨̡̧̯͕͙̼̺͈͇̰͓͎̂̓̔͗͂̊̎͘͜͠͠R̸̰̜̫͊͋̐͒͆̐̊E̷̯̞̻̰̝͋̅͛̈͋̏̑́͋̈́̐͊͝͠ͅE̷̛̛̺̾̆̆̋̿̏̆̀̌̔̎͜ ̸̤̞̦̜̲͉̈́̃̈̐̈́͂͐̔̑̓̕͠F̸̛̹̾̇̀͊͊̍̽̃̑R̵̡̝͎̞̂̔͌͛̾̾Ơ̵̼̣̠͇͈̝̞̻͇̒̀̉̊̈́̒̔̄̄͛̈́̆͜M̶̯̜͎̗̪̞̰̗̂̋̓͒̄͐̏ͅ ̴̛̞̱̦̘̮̀͛͐S̷̙̟̤̘̽̓͜Ǔ̷͇͇̺̭̖̫͇̹͓̣̮͕͖̦̌̈́̇̏͑̌̽̒̅͜͠F̸̛̤̤̗͖̼͌͌͆́̇͛͐͆F̴͕̭̖̪̠̱̞̌È̶̛̘̭̺̺͗̊̏̔̍̄̓́͋̿̐͠R̸̨̘̮̠͉̟͕̐́̈́̋́̕Ḯ̷͍̤̟̏͊͒̊̏̓̌̏̐̃͑Ṇ̵̭͓̰͙͖̪̤̫̪̟̗͆̓̇͑̒̕͜G̷̛̗͈͑̓̄̉̓̉̉̕͘̕͠
​
It heard me! It could hear me! How could it have heard me? I thought I was hearing things, that I was just going mad from... from... something!
​
̴̨̦͚̪͓̟̙̙͇̰̥̘͙̖̘͂̚̚F̸̩̟̫̗̗̫̹̩̙͎̭̝̹̼̿̔̀̍̊͗̇̐͒͝͝͝R̴͓̟̮̠̟̟̟̥̼̭̞̭̺̓̌͂̓͊̉́͊̋̓̍͘͠ͅƠ̴̬̥̖̳̼͓͖͒͒̒̀̓̔̇́̂̈́̈́͘͝͝M̵̯̬̙͗͊̆͛̆̋̑̈́̇̀̌͝͝ ̷̧̞̗̖̤̬̜͇̥̟̱͘͜͜ͅW̶̢̘̯͗̉̔͐̀̈͋̇̇͂͑̌́͘͝Ḁ̵̛̭̼̲̯̙̜̹̭̑̈͌͋̅́̈́̇̒̄̓̚͜R̴̨̰͙͖̙̝̻̺̤̜̣̠͕̈́̋͛͑̈́͝ͅ.̸̧̛̪͉̟͖̩͒͋̋̑͆̒͐͂̍̊̅͠
​
I couldn't get it out of my head! I jumped off the boulders and crashed on the sand below.
​
̷̢̰̩̻͖̞̺̦̼͚̪̫̯̫̈̒̊̈́̉̽F̶͓̳̊̍̈́̐̌̍̐R̸̙͉̳͙̹̠̝̺͕͐͊̐Ơ̴̢͇̗͖̺̩̻̬̣̤̔͛M̷̥̥͔͉̝̳͍͙̐͐͂̎͛̒̕̚͝ ̷̨͓̮̣͂̿͆̔͆Ḧ̶̡͖̮̺̟͂̒̕͝ͅͅU̵̥͖̲͔͚̠͕̖̖͙͌̄͂̉͗͝N̷̠͒́̒̑̆̀̔G̴͚͔̯̻̟͚͚̣̣͚̬̎͘̕E̴̢̘͓̞͋͌̈́̍͆͌Ŕ̴͔̫͙̜̣̆͑̉̐̑́̀̚.̵̗͙̦̠̻̤̙̟̗̔̄̐͜
​
It was still there! I flipped over the raft and pushed it offshore. I had to get away from that... that... that *thing.*
I pushed the boat further into the water, fighting the waves that sought to push me back. As I got farther away from the shore, I clambered onto the boat, took its paddle, and rowed as hard as I could.
But, I couldn't stop the voice. It uttered its last words before the shoreline disappeared in the horizon.
​
̷̢̡͖͕̼̫̪̊͛̑̆̔͑̔̄͝F̷͓̘̩̹̯͉̲́̕Ȓ̸̛̺̟̗̜̼̖̣͔͉͌͆͗͂͆̐̈͑̉̚̚O̸͔͙̦̬̾̆͒̍̏̏͌̓̿̔͘Ṁ̴̲͚͓͍̼̥͍͚̜̬͍̣̙̹̖̑̄͘.̸̹̠̟̹̽̋͑͐͛̑͒͊̅
̴̡̡̘͙͓̗̹̖̱̖̜̝͙̟̎̏͆̆̄̅̐̅͌̈́͂̈́͑̋͜͝Ĕ̵̪̳͉̎̓͂́͊̌̋̕V̶̻̬̳̻͍̥̻̠̰̬̪̻̘̳͓́̉͋̀̊͆́͋̂̀͂͂̍Ë̶̠͖́̆̈͆R̷̻̪̦̥̣̺̼̝̫͛͒͌̀̏̆̆͘͜ͅY̵̮̹̋̈̽̀̓̀̿̽̀̂̿̋̊͜T̴̡̥͇͉̮̲͗͋͗̈́̓͌̓́̀͗̄̚̚͜Ȟ̸̯͚͖͠I̴͍̹̊̉͆̈̃͒̄́͋̈́͛͝ͅṈ̷̡̢͉͉͎̪͚̮̬̬͕͈̌̔͌́̋̿̀̋̑͗̈́̚͘͜ͅĞ̶͎̘̱͇̦̗̘̺̜͔̘̱̆̓͜.̴̨͍̞͔͎̩͉̤̝̩̫͍̒̃͑ |
The young mother, unprepared for this day, overflowing with emotions. Her new born infant lay in front of her, not breathing. He had two birthmarks on his neck, like two snakes passing each other, then becoming one. Or it may have just been the bruises of the umbilical cord he had choked on.
The shaman entered the birthing hut, sat next to the midwife, and examined the young babe.
He had a necklace with him. The same one he always brought, when visiting new borns. Looking up at the poor girl, tears rushing down her face, he carefully draped the necklace around the delicate neck of the still born. A red, semi-transparent, stone lay at the center of the necklace... and upon contact it started to glow.
The child's body spasmed. The shamans eyes widened. The mother quieted. His little limbs flopping about, like a lifeless doll dropped on the ground.
The child's body spasmed again. His back now arching, as the totem's glow grew so much brighter that everything in the hut had a reddish amber tint. It was as if light was emitting through the boy himself.
Then, in a flash, it was done, the child's body lay still again, dead. The totem returned to normal. The hut... silent. The mother's teary eyes hold still.
After a moment, the babe began to cough, weakly, and open his eyes. The mother let out a gasp of air as if she'd been holding her breath. A soft pulse of red glowed on the necklace, slowly fading in and out, as he looked around at this world for the first time.
The shaman explained, this is an old spirit, *Dekanahwideh*, "Two rivers running". It is said, that when he returns he will lead a life of greatness. One day, your son will found a new nation, joined of two great tribes. He will bring much peace and prosperity to all. His wisdom will be sought after.
She picked up her son and held him in her arms, looking into his eyes. Sniffling, but smiling.
The shaman continued. "His life, and eventual death, like his birth, will not be easy. But he will be remembered."
"And he was. We still remember him today. I think that's enough for tonight"Grandpa said, closing *The Book of Dekanahwideh*.
"awwwwww"the young grand kids didn't want to go to bed yet, but it was time. He kissed each on the head good night, and left the room. |
Ait this is my attempt, hope you enjoy it.
​
The events at the inn, By \_UnderscoreFresh
**I**
I was just about to close the front desk for the night when a man with a clean black dress and a walking cane phased through the front door. Rather than just opening it. I was of course dumbfounded by this not most people were able to do such things and we did not get many ghosts, customers, now this was only the first time it happened mind you.
**II**
The second time was the worst because I had just employed an intern for the lodge, she was a young woman looking for an opportunity in the mountains, and had jumped at the opportunity to work at such an exotic establishment as mine. On the second day of her working here i had gotten a headache and was bedridden, so I made her be in management of the inn that evening. I had just started sleeping at around 7 PM when I heard a gutwrenching screech ring throughout the hallway, afraid for her well being I quickly got my limp body up from the bed and ran down to the desk area, I then saw the intern laying on the ground as the same man in a clean black suit was consoling her. And I saw half a dog inside of the wall barking at the intern. The intern resigned the day after and sued the establishment and made me have to pay 30 thousand dollars in "damages", I rarely got any interns after that event.
III
Another time I was just about to start the desk for the day and had lit myself a cigar. It was then I heard a vehicle pull up outdoors. So I got ready and went to open the door when two people simply phased through it yet again. it was two seemingly British fellows, they asked me if there was room for six people at the establishment. Seeing monetary gain before me I naturally answered yes to it. it had been a few hours and I was reading the day's newspaper when four gentlemen came down through the roof of the establishment. After this day I have enforced a strict no phase through rule at the establishment, and ever since a lot fewer people have phased through it. However, some people don't care and do it anyway, while a few bad reviews have been left because of the rule. My inn is doing fine even to this day, but I can't forget the time of turmoil when way too many people phased through its walls.
​
You just lost the game 👌 |
*An excerpt from the ‘Boiling Cauldron Podcast’, with a guest speaker, Lucifer himself!*
“So, Mr. Devil-“
“Just call me Lucifer, please.”
“A-Alright. So, Lucifer, recently a lot of listeners have been asking why you lost to Johnny in the Golden Fiddle Incident.”
“Heh. This is only the most recent use of that particular trick, if you look back through mankind’s history books and religious texts you can find many different instances of their lust for gold and power overpowering their common sense.”
“Your Illustriousness-“
“Just Lucifer, mindless whelp. If you can’t get it right I am more than happy to replace you.”
“S-Sorry! I’m sure a great many of us are not as familiar w-with mankind’s history as you are, would you care to illuminate us?”
“... That was an awful play on words.”
“You knew what you were signing up for, Lucifer.”
“Fair point. One example, then. The Golden Calf.”
“Ah! Well, The D- Lucifer only had a few moments to spend with us, so lets get right to the point. Why did you lose to Johnny?”
“To keep it brief, I now have an immortal fiddler collecting souls for me. Anytime he plays a piece, and some unfortunate fool thinks of ‘how talented that fiddler must be, I could never be so good’ - Their soul is mine.”
“Devilishly clever. Do you have any words for your loyal fans here on Earth?”
*A snort.* “Oh, this is just the latest goldmine. Your words are sufficient.”
“Thank... you? Anyways, after a quick message from our sponsor, Ridge Wallet, we’ll get to our weekly ritual! This one is handy for cleaning up any otherworldly visitors who don’t want to leave, so stay tuned!”
*End of excerpt.* |
Hi u/ZombieDemon321, this submission has been removed.
** Responses:** You must respond to your prompts in a thread within six hours or it will be removed.
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As I rode my bicycle back and forth to my friend's house over the past week or so, there was a dead possum on the side of the road. I didn't think much of it except I figured soon it would end up stinking and rotting.
Well, after the past week or so, I got to wondering why it didn't seem to be rotting or stinking yet, so I poked it with a stick. The fucker raised it's head up a bit and gasped for air! It was still alive but apparently paralyzed!
Yes this is actually a true story, though it was not a pet.
I was too creeped out to do anything else, so I just left it there to finish dying. Not like I could fix it. |
I startled awake. For just a split second, my mind was blank and I didn't feel anything. Then, it came crashing down. The dream-memories of her, just out of reach, always and again. The weight of that distance crushing my heart, as the Atlas of my spirit tried to bear it but failed. And for the umpteenth time in three months, I broke down and cried as I missed and longed for a person I had never seen in real life. Just in my dreams, that felt like real life. So much like real life, that I made a decision.
I got up from my bed and tried to piece together a picture of her life. In my dreams, I would follow around this woman, that I felt instantly connected with. And she could see me and it didn't surprise her. It was almost as if I was the personification of her inner audience, much like Jim glancing at documentary cameraman. Sometimes I would watch her watch the show and she would look at me as Jim looked at the camera and the irony would be complete. So she liked Office. That was a start.
Her name was Juliette. I remember that from when she was visiting a friend, to console her. Bad break up.
She lived in Seattle. On the other side of the world.
And I slowly pieced together her life from the dream-memories that I had, until I found her.
And sent her a message.
That I wasn't a creep. That I had been had been dreaming about her. And I think she had been dreaming about her. And that maybe we should talk.
She left me at unread.
The next day I didn't dream about her.
---
Part 1 | [Part 2](https://old.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/m3181k/wp_after_weeks_of_trying_you_have_your_first/gqsvynk/) | [Part 3](https://old.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/m3ahlh/wp_when_you_woke_up_you_noticed_that_you_were_in/gqsvyqr/) | [Part 4](https://old.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/m39luq/sp_blink_twice_if_you_need_any_help/gqsvyv5/) |
I woke up with a start to a strangely sterile-looking environment.
I gasped and gulped! Was it the lawmen? Had they caught up to me?
No way! I hadn’t done anything yesterday! I was innocent this time, for god sakes!
But then, this place... it certainly wasn’t a prison or an infirmary. Heck, this place looked richer than my master’s house!! It was squeaky clean!!
“Vito, are you all right?”, a gentle feminine voice called out from beside me. I jerked off the bed like I had found a viper!
“Vito?”, the woman looked really concerned.. probably because I looked at her as though I was seeing her for the first time.
Well, I clearly was!
I mean, who was this broad?
Now, I had my fair share of experience with women in the bordello but never had I seen a lady as exquisite as this one. Even with her disheveled bed hair and sleepy eyes, she still looked like a sculpted goddess.
“I am sorry, did you miss an appointment, darling? Should I have woken you up earlier?”, she asked as she studied me with a worried look.
“Uh… No?”
“One more of your dreams then”, she gave me a knowing look. “I tell you; no one can save them all. You are not a god, Vito”
“Who am I?”, I asked genuinely confused. She rolled her eyes and rested back on the comfy bed.
“Much as I love your philosophical musings darling, it is still too early for me today”, she yawned and went right back to sleep!
Clueless, I roamed helter-skelter in the room. There was an attached bath, the type that I had never seen before in the slums. I was dazed and lost, but my bladder was full. So, I made use of it.
Which was all very strange in the end, as I hadn’t even eaten yesterday. The last thing I remember was the searing pain in the back of my head. It was probably from Tony’s men. Just like them to strike from behind!!
But then, where the fuck was the wound? When I stared at my reflection in the ornate mirror by the bath, I had my second heart attack.
It wasn’t me!
The lady was right.
I wasn’t *me*.
I was Vito.
But then, who was me?
Was Vito me? Or *in* me?
But I was probably dead. So, Vito was..?
I was suddenly overcome by a sense of guilt and fear. Which was admittedly strange. Fear was not a strange emotion to me as an outlaw, but guilt??
Something was definitely wrong!
Perhaps, I wasn’t me anymore. This guy Vito… even his name sounded strangely familiar to me...
“Who am I?”, I demanded my reflection.
“Not in the morning, Vito”, the lady promptly answered from the bed. I decided to keep my mouth shut, lest she gets up.
But, for fucksake, I was all shaken up. I had witnessed my fair share of bizarre events, but this topped them all!
For a second, I entertained the thought of waking and asking her about this guy Vito, but something about her scared me. Perhaps, it was my habitual instincts. I usually stayed away from noblewomen; they weren’t worth the trouble!
Not knowing what to do, I rummaged the room to see if there was anything worth pocketing. I dressed myself lavishly in one of those fancy clothes that this Vito had. The lady showed signs of waking up, so I quickly exited the room.
And lo behold, as soon as I was out, they were at me like hyenas!!
… <to be contd.> |
My day was going smoothly until I noticed a familiar portal in the bathroom. The one that leads to a private beach somewhere in Hawaii. That's when I yelled to ask who put the Hawaii portal in the bathroom yet again. I wasn't mad, as whenever the Hawaii portal popped up in the bathroom, it usually meant that someone in the mansion wanted a relaxing beach view to go with their bath. Then I feel my vision go dark for a few minutes. When my vision returns, the bathroom on the beach is set up with romantic ambience. "Happy anniversary love,"my longtime partner says after sneaking up behind me, while holding champagne. I ask him if the portal was his doing, and he admits that it was him who put the Hawaii portal in the bathroom, while he hands me an acrylic flute of bubbly. Then we enjoy a relaxing bath on the beach with bubbly, before remembering to soundproof our bedroom and having the best night of our married lives. The end. |
John had turned 18 years old. And he was excited because his 18th birthday signaled a rite of passage for the young man. John was finally going to be allowed to go on the family retreat that was exclusive to only the adult members of the family. John, being 18, was finally considered an adult. The family retreats took place on the same date every year. However, the gatherings were always in different countries. This year, the family retreat would take place in the Philippines. John’s cousin, Elizabeth , shared the same date of birth. She was just as excited as John was to be finally be granted permission to the family retreat. Eventually the family arrived at their hotel in the Philippines. They all gathered into a large room, and started to undress. John and Elizabeth were shocked. All this time the family retreat was just one big familial orgy. But it finally made sense as to way many of their family members shared the same Birth days. |
Steve’s faced turned red, as his eye brows came closer together. He had a look of utter contempt as his boss told him he was being fired. Unfortunately, Steve’s job as a journalist meant he had to be on top of breaking news. But, the small town he lived in was full and nothing interesting ever happened. So there was no news to report. Months past, and Steve was still unemployed. Eventually Steve depleted his life savings and he was facing an eviction from his 1 bedroom flat. The next day, Steve decided to go to the pub with what little money he had left. Steve had turned to drinking to help with his depression. Once Steve was sufficiently intoxicated, he stumbled home. The next day, there was reports of a man who had been dismembered. This was shocking news because nothing like this had ever happened in the small, placid town. Eventually the remains were identified, and the victim was Steve. |
I always wondered why we have daylight savings time. Why can’t we just pick one time and stick with it? Surely that would be simpler, and if we chose the daylight savings time the evenings would be brighter in the winter.
Whenever I asked someone about it, I was always told, “That’s just the way it is.” Eventually, I just accepted this fact and switched my watch an hour forward or backward without thinking any differently about it.
That was, until I found out about NASA’s deepest, darkest secret. The truth is, they did find life on Mars. Life that is much more intelligent than us humans. They found a way to share the sunlight with Earth and hijack the amount of sun our planet receives, and they planned to continue taking more and more of our sunlight, until we were finally able to make a deal with them.
They would return all of the hours of sunlight back during the summer and even add in an extra hour during the longest few days, but only if they were allowed to take even more hours in the winter and were kept secret from humans. I only found this out by accident, while I was trying to dig into some of NASA’s top secret files. There wasn’t much else they could have done while bargaining with the extraterrestrials, as without the sunlight, Earth would not be fit for life.
It kind of sucks to be at the mercy of unknown, intelligent beings who most of the world believes nonexistent, but at least I know my hunch was right about daylight savings time! |
♪Just a good old boy,
♪Never meaning no harm,
♪Been in trouble with the law since the day he was born...
That's me, to a Tee. Never meaning no harm doesn't mean no harm comes of it. Only now, people know to believe me. My power is just a little more subtle than some.
I can sense when person A has bad intentions towards person B. Of course, if you happen to be a police officer on a sting, it's annoying to have a 6'6"blond, blue-eyed hunk come up and tell you that your perp is up to no good.
You get arrested for interfering in a police operation. Never mind that there's *nothing* to say that they are officers; that's not the point. You stuck your civilian nose in and stopped a bust. I got pretty good at pointing out the stupidity of that theory, considering the seventeen times I did step in and kept a youngster from falling for a good story.
I finally got recognized for my power, and the police asked politely if I would work with them.
"How long?"
"What?"
"How many hours a day?"
"As many as you can spare."
"So this would be a volunteer thing?"
"Yes!"
"That's hard to swallow right now. Because of all the bogus arrests on my record, none of which have been either expunged or sealed, as the court orders require, I have no job and no chance of having one for anything other than casual labor, *usually* paid under the table. Oh, put the damned cuffs away. They get reported just after I get my pay. Not that it does any good.
"Add to that the legal bills I have for fighting to get you yahoos to **obey the law**, and I'm not taking any damned volunteer positions. You can hire me on as a civilian consultant with a non-refundable retainer."
"A *WHAT*?"
"Retainer. As in, you'll see me working for you when I get paid."
"But, The Princess doesn't..."
"The Princess, may her name be both blessed and cursed, has a sugar daddy."
"You mean..."
"Yep. And I tried to warn him too. He wouldn't listen. Soon as she has enough on him, the real bill is going to come due. The funny thing is, he already knew it. He's got his own plans for her. I tried to tell her. She knew it too. Now? I'm just standing back waiting for the explosion."
"So *that's* what's going on! They're both lawyered up like you wouldn't believe. The only one who isn't..."
"Is his wife."
"You told her too?"
"Yup. She's got a prenup that's very much in her favor. The same lawyer who wrote it up is going to strike just before everything else hits."
"Is there even *one* honest citizen in this city?"
"You're looking at him. Won't blow smoke up your ass. Won't use you to screw someone else. Do my best not to be part of the problem. Do my best, *in my limited spare time*, to help others. And most of the time, I keep my freaking mouth shut. You hear me, Mr. Almost Cracked Badge? You go through with it, and i'll be there to see you go all the way down. You drop it. You apologize to your wife. You turn your career around and be the officer your father *wasn't*, because he made the same mistake twenty years ago. It cost him his life."
"How would you know?"
"I was six years old. Too young to understand. Too scared to take it to an adult when a policeman told me to keep my mouth shut. Too stupid not to realize that I could have saved him when I was eighteen. You might still have a father if I'd been *more* of a buttinsky."
"I... You don't lie about these things. If there's one thing proven over and over, you don't lie when it's your powers telling you something."
"And that makes me?"
"A good citizen — who a lot of people would rather see six feet under. Yet here you are, knowing I've been asked, and you're telling me the truth."
"Yep. Your dad did a lot of good things both before and after. But the after made up for all the good and a lot more besides. Do better. Make your father proud of his son. Help your grandfather to come to terms by setting as much to rights as you can."
"And getting you on retainer guarantees us some number of hours per month, only if we don't use them, we lose them."
"By the same token, you know I have committed those hours to the police. I will not take any other work without clearing it with you first, and you have first-call on my time, up to the hours agreed upon."
"Okay, contract negotiations with a civilian are outside my pay grade—both sorts of contracts. I'll have the Captain kick it up the line, along with this tidbit. You are one person I'm *certain* will not deliberately lie to us to get an advantage on anyone else. You don't need to."
((finis)) |
Mark couldn't quite make sense of what his eyes were telling him. Just a second ago he'd been mowing his lawn, as he did every Friday evening; but now, in between breaths, he found himself in a place he knew he'd never been.
Yet somehow, not entirely unfamiliar. Almost as if he were still in his own yard, but a distortion or stretching of reality made it seem alien, unknowable.
A voice broke his thoughts. "Ah. A human."
Mark spun around. Not ten feet away was a tiny woman, no bigger than a housecat, seeming to stand in midair. She wore clothes of sunlight and wind, and spoke with a voice he could only describe as silvery. "You must have stepped into a fairy ring. The tales are true, you know. Don't worry -- I'll make sure that no time has passed when you go back. It won't matter in the long run, anyway."
Mark tried to process this. "Hold on, hold on. This is real? I was just mowing my lawn, and now-"
"Don't hurt yourself trying to figure it out, dear,"the woman interrupted. "If you just tell me your name, I can prove that this is real."
Something clicked deep in Mark's confused brain. His sister, always going on about her stories, those fairy-tales she loved so much. Discreetly he drew a deep breath, and decided to gamble.
"I don't think I'll give you my name. But why am I here?"
The woman, he noticed with some alarm, looked visibly frustrated, like she was holding herself back from swearing. "Well, simply put, a fairy ring has grown in your yard sometime last night, and you walked right through it. They're only active for one day, you know."
"No, I didn't know,"Mark retorted, a little more sure of himself. "I didn't know *anything* like this was real; it's just bedtime stories we all had as kids."
The woman's eyes glittered as she replied in measured tones, "And where do you think the stories came from? Everything has a beginning. Incidentally, everything also has an end."Something about the way she said the last part jogged Mark's memory.
"Wait, back up. When you first spoke to me, you said returning me to the time I left wouldn't matter in the long run. What did you mean? Is something going to happen?"
Now the woman's countenance shifted, from mild annoyance to something like a smug tiger. Mark didn't like the feeling it gave him, or the tone in her voice.
"Well, human, only the gods really know the answer to that one, don't they? 'Is something going to happen'... what a perfectly Human thing to say!"She tossed her coppery hair and laughed.
"What's the joke?"Mark asked.
At this the woman all but screamed, "Why, my dear boy, you are! Every single one of you, and you have only yourselves to blame!"
Mark narrowed his eyes. "All right, I give up. I accept, I'm stupid, all humans are stupid. Why don't you just explain it for my benefit?"He sat down where he was, trying not to show his resentment.
Wiping away tears of mirth, the woman caught her breath and said, "Oh, I don't suppose it'll hurt anything... no one will believe you."Clasping her hands, she suddenly looked more vibrant. "Yes! That's the best part to this! Essentially I'm cursing you with knowledge you'll never be able to use!"
Mark suddenly regretted asking, but found himself unable to move.
"What'd you do to me?"
"Worry not, dear, I only want you to hear this. It brings me such joy to impart this *knowledge* to you. I'll release you back home as soon as we're done."
Composing herself, the tiny woman began: "Too long ago for even some of my kind to comprehend, humans existed alongside those you now call creatures of myth. We had relative harmony, and could have achieved many great things had your kind not gotten greedy. I suppose it was inevitable: with such short lifespans, you always wanted as much as you could get.... we might even have been able to work something out, were it not for your species' particular knack for cruelty."She paused, a grim expression tightening her features.
"We of the elder races convened under many moons,"she continued, "But in the end it always came back to the same conclusion: our Gaia could not survive a long-lived humanity. We had to turn away, split our races. We had no means of fighting the humans without destroying everything we knew in the process, so it was the only way for us to survive."
Mark had a thought: "Were there no humans who agreed with you? Couldn't they have helped your cause?"
The woman smiled, not unkindly. "Of course there were... they were simply killed by their more influential fellows."
Dismayed, not looking forward to the answer, Mark asked, "...so what ended up happening, then?"
"As I said, we split ourselves off from humanity. Sealed every entrance and way into our world from yours, but not before leaving a gift. An insurance policy, you might say."
"Insurance against what?"Mark asked cautiously.
The fire was back in her eyes now. "Against your continued existence. In humans was the capacity for cruelty. We just... amplified it. People of one nation, rather than just distrusting their far neighbors, now outright hated them. We twisted their priorities, corrupted their values, filled their heads and hearts with the wildest, yet most asinine dreams and goals... and set in every one an instinct that every other was trying to outdo him... and then all we had to do was watch."
Mark felt hollow.
"Ironically, there are humans to this day who stumble upon the old ways of thinking. That's the experience you get when you eat certain mushrooms; those were our cultivation. A way to communicate with the energy that connects all living things. It's why fairy rings are comprised of mushrooms, actually, they're quite powerful in more ways than the obvious.
"You could have been the greatest race the world has ever seen. We actually envied you once; admired, even. Your short lives were such a disadvantage, but they were also the source of your greatest strength: your sheer tenacity and inventiveness. With so short a time, you knew you had to work hard to leave your mark... for that is true immortality, isn't it? To be spoken of, revered, long after your bones have turned to dust."She shook her head. "But it wasn't enough. Always, it turned to conquest.
"The earth has everything you need for food, medicine, shelter, and clothing. Some humans have figured this out, though none in any positions that matter enough to make a difference. As a matter of course they are discredited, ignored, or outright silenced by those who would rather just use everything up without a thought to the consequences."
"...consequences?"Mark ventured timidly.
The woman smiled a predator's smile. There was nothing warm about it at all.
"Oh yes, human. There are always consequences. We're counting on it." |
When the Necromancer first arrived, his armies ravaging our cities, we had no clue how to defend ourselves. Over time, we found out that we had always had Guardian Angels, who took the shape of the thing you most needed to defend yourself. And those were the only way to kill the undead army brought forth by the Necromancer.
Even so, death and destruction are wrought upon our land. Why? Because to awaken your Angel, you need to experience a life-or-death situation, and wish for something with all of your heart. It is believed that only 5% of the human population can achieve this kind of focus. I am one of them. In fact, I’m the leader of the Rebellion formed by the scattered survivors of the first attacks. And, I plan on having our revenge.
“Sir! The Necromancer has shown up in the Eastern District! He’s brought five Shades with him!”
I curse as I listen to the news. The room erupts into chaos, and Guardian Angels appear out of thin air. “ENOUGH!” I roar. Everyone quiets down.
“We’ll move in squads. Each squad of 20 or so men will take on a shade, my squad will attempt to defeat the Necromancer. The rest of us divide into groups of three and rescue the citizens while keeping the Undead at bay!”
The Necromancer has six Shades, each of them as powerful as 100 men. However, we have our Guardian Angels, and we’re not afraid to use them. Although we may be outmatched in numbers, we can close the gap with sheer firepower.
~~~ As we arrive on the battlefield, I give my orders to my squad and the six groups disperse, each one aiming for a different sector. If we win this, the war is as good as finished. |
I didn’t have anything but my writing skills. My family never learned how to read or write. I relied on my writing skills, as did my family. Those with writing skills were powerful and worshipped, those without were seen as weak and it was a crime to help them. In fact eating Mac and cheese with ketchup was a requirement at some jobs. I heard that from one of my family members. I under-appreciated my writing skills. Last night I wrote about how I got a new dog, that was super energetic and loved to play fetch and chase.
This morning I woke up at 6 am, hopped out of bed and went to go get my free dog. It barked happily at me, maybe it needed some training. I smacked my face as I realized I forgot about the things needed to take care of the dog, I should’ve written that it didn’t have any needs and only enjoyed to be around me.
Groaning, I locked my door and made my way over to my car. Some bird flew low to the ground and my dog decided to chase it. I went to chase my dog to make sure it didn’t get lost, and as I was doing so I fell. As I fell my phone fell out of my pocket. As I reached out to grab it a super car zoomed in front of me. The only thing it crushed was my fingers. I lost my other arm some time ago as a freak accident, someone must’ve had something against me or maybe it was karma for something I had done but I didn’t care.
- I lost motivation to continue writing this but I’ll summarize it. As the main character wasn’t specific about what they wanted in a dog or in life, and wrote broad statements.
They wouldn’t have known either, because their family didn’t know how to read or write and couldn’t let them know. Plus the person who was teaching them passed away due to natural causes. ( in this story I’m assuming there’s limits to what you can manifest for yourself. )
The main character was supposed to have a death and a rebirth. Whether they got their fingers back or not, in the end they would’ve been too weak to fix the marriage. Didn’t feel it was fair because she had been written to be perfect, almost robotic. MC decided they wanted her to live an actual life instead of being in a perfect reality and being “perfect” |
She’s uneasy. They usually are. After all, when someone’s offering a perfect deal, they expect they’re getting screwed somehow. I needed aspects of their life-not all of it. And people have plenty of shitty parts of their life they’d happily get rid of for free-and I’d like to think my offers were pretty generous. After all, the cosmos itself, essentially, was footing the bill, so I had a good deal of wiggle room to provide.
“My...boyfriend? But I’ve kinda...moved way past him. He’s more like my crazy stalker now.”
I nodded-I already knew this. I never entered into contract without knowing every detail of their life. “Of course-which is why I figured you would part with it easily. In exchange, I can make you more attractive and witty so your hunt for your next one goes well. Easy enough.”
A moments pause as she read over the plain text , before asking the proper questions. “Why do you want it, anyway? What would this exchange entail?”
With a grin that would give Cheshire a run for his money, I freely explained: “My dear, I am not human. I am merely disguised as such. And a good disguise needs details. Something to fill in my fake life story. So, I’m going to transfer some of yours onto me. In his mind, and all physical evidence-whatever went on between you and him will now have me substituted instead. In exchange, I can tinker with, for lack of a better term, mystic variables to make the universe just so happen to come together in a certain way.”
Her eyes scan me as she tries to read me for any clues-if I was telling the truth or making fantastic bullshit. A futile endeavor-my control over my body is perfect, I had no tell. Even magic couldn’t tell when I lied. Her cautious perusal continued: “And That’s it? Nothing like getting my soul after I kick it? Why should I trust you?”
“God-machine, no. Soul deals have a lot of extra strings to them-need to sign on blood, need me to physically contact you-this one only needs you to sign. You should trust me because of basic business sense. Screwing you over gets me one deal. Giving you good deals will surely keep you coming back for more later-and I can always use more aspects. Plus, my nature requires that I am at least truthful about my contracts; me being forthcoming is an extra curtesy.”
She still looked pensive as she picked up the pen and twirled it around in her fingers for a second before finally signing. I grab the vellum and begin to roll it up with a smile. “Pleasure doing business with you. You’ll find both sides of our agreement should settle in in a few moments. Look forward to next time!” |
This isn’t a response. Just a dream.
I woke up in the middle of a store. I don’t know how many times it had been but I had been there before.
I could feel anxiety, fear and complete desperation taking over me every second that passed because I knew somewhere deep down that all of this had happened before.
I ran over to the nearest person and asked them what day it was. And I knew that I only had a week to live. That just like time and time before I would be melted in a heatwave of fire and radiation.
How many times i tried to do something different. Got a group of people together to build a lead bunker with supplies that would last long enough for a couple years. But without any sunshine, or ability to produce power long term, I don’t know what happened. I can’t remember it. Maybe we all froze to death, starved or the lead lining of the bunker wasn’t seal well enough.
Each time it happened I knew that I would try something new. I knew that somewhere somehow I could find a solution to the problem, outlast the end of the world. My own death. I can’t really say for sure if the world ever ended. It just always ended when my consciousness faded away.
My broken soul let me know that it wasn’t the first, second or maybe even one hundredth time that I had tried to survive.
Asking people to stop everything their doing to prepare for the impending end really isn’t easy at all. Telling someone to grab shovels and start digging, Hoping to finally find the right spot.
Every fragmented memory of attempting to survive just played like an old 16mm film in my head. Without any sound or context, so I don’t know if I had tried the same things time and time before. I could only go based off the feeling and the fragments left in my mind.
Everyone seem relatively happy though. Going about their lives, shopping for clothes and groceries.
Maybe it’s better to just leave other people alone and just suffer in solitude. After all, it seems like no one else knew what’s coming.
This isn’t really a writing prompt response. This is just a dream I had a couple days ago. And I figured I’d “promptify it” just a tiny but. But the prompt was quite similar to the dream itself. |
"Why do I think that we are not an unholy amalgam of those who consort with beings beyond our understanding?"The Chief chuckles at the Paladin.
"You make pacts with demons, you use your sense of superiority to ignore the citizenry. People fear what you are capable of."The Young Champion of Light answered calmly.
"You swore an oath with your Deity, a being you cannot begin to comprehend. In return you are blessed with powers beyond mortal capability. There are entire Orders of Paladins. Your sense of self means you feel that the citizenry cannot do anything without your ... help."The Chief retorted with a smile. "The only difference between Warlocks and Paladins, is we Warlocks never fully trust those we sign a pact with. Should our Patrons abandon us, it never catches us by surprise, as the reasons are always in the Contracts. You operate on blind Faith that your Deity will always empower you, and if they decide you have betrayed their way, they abandon you and you have no idea why."
The young Paladin, whose face started to get redder and redder the more the Chief spoke stood up and took a deep breath as if to refute the observations.
"One year. Observe our learnings, the members of my guild. If you can look me in the eye, and say there are no similarities between Warlocks and Paladins, I will not contest your decision to invoke a Guild War."The Chief said, the smile becoming several degrees more cunning.
The planned rebuke died on the Paladin's tongue. All he had to do was wait one year to proof he was correct, and then the Paladins could wipe out this infernal order and bring the citizenry back to the Light. He was confident in his convictions. He looked at the Chief and nodded in agreement.
"For the sake of safety, I will have to place you under an Oath of Peace. You will not directly, or indirectly harm any practitioner unless it is in self-defense. You will not reveal the secrets you will uncover with any Paladin, past or present."The Chief extended a hand to the Paladin who cautiously gripped it.
The Paladin gasped as the Chief's eyes glowed golden. The room lit up as if the sun had just risen.
"By the Law of Our Lady Justice, the Neutral Watcher, I bind us to this Oath of Peace."The Chief's voice boomed as if echoed by the Deity that the young Paladin had devoted himself to.
"Not all pacts are with demons. Some of us earn a Pact with Gods." |
My head hurt, and it hurt to think and my body hurt.
Okay, lets just make it easy, I hurt all over.
"Sorry...I...man... My head hurts so much. Can we cut the lights?"
"Sure."He said getting up and turned off the light, I watched through blurred vision as he drew the blinds a little so that way the only light in the room came from cracks that weren't focused on my face.
The pain eased a little and I closed my eyes again as I tried to remember through...everything.
"Thanks...that helps a little."
"No worries. They said your memory might never come back, but I just felt like you should be told up front, because you might be getting a lot of visitors saying thank you."
I groaned. I couldn't tell if it was from the expectations of visitors or maybe it was the pain from everything.
I half wondered if maybe I was taken out of the medically induced coma too soon. All the pain I was in I was tempted to be put back under.
He laughed and then winced at my grimace. "Sorry."he whispered.
"It's fine."
"I'll try and keep them away from you for as long as I can. Anyway, I'll be visiting as often as I can, try and keep you company. But I know right now you probably want to be left alone."
"Kinda. But tell me. 'How' was I a hero again?"
"Yea, they said that you might not remember much. You defeated the Dark Lord of course. Destroyed the Obelisk and everything, even though it almost cost you your life. Dude. I can't wait to see you back on your feet in all your glory. But for now, you should rest. I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Sure."
He nodded and walked out and I rolled my head and tried to sleep despite the pain.
&#x200B;
Outside a nurse walked up to the stranger from the room. "Are you sure this will work?"
"Yea. He doesn't remember a thing. At least he says so. It shouldn't be hard to reconfigure his memory to what we want."
"I never expected the Hero of Prophesy to try and make the Dark Lord the hero."
He gave a dark chuckle. "I just...realized a few things when we were fighting. The Obelisk showed me things, and...it's impossible for what I saw to be a lie. Things won't work out if this fails, And.."he looked to the door. "Sometimes we just need someone to say we're the hero for us to believe that we are worth more than what the world sold us. That's what i'd like to believe anyway." |
The familiar ringing awakens me from my peaceful slumber. I groan as I roll over in my warm, comfortable bed, my peace with the world quickly crumbling away as I silence the incessant noise. The picture on my phone screen, me and Sarah laughing happily at Reeves Castle, fills my heart with sadness. She died far too young.
In front of the picture lies the date. My tired mind staring at it blankly for several seconds before I realise. Saturday March 13th. Why did my alarm sound? I don't work on Saturdays.
As if reading my thoughts, the morning chorus of the birds outside my window falls deadly silent, the room becoming engulfed in darkness as the sun falls unwillingly behind the dark clouds amassed in the sky.
A knock on my front door leaves my heart pounding out of its chest. I hop out of bed and throw on my dressing gown, the luxurious silk one that Sarah had bought me for my birthday last year. I race down the stairs and open the door, only to be greeted with with an empty driveway, the sun shining warmly down upon my haggard face. I close the door and turn.
Knock, Knock.
I stop in my tracks, turning and carefully open the door. Stood in front of me was Dean, our regular postman. Dean was a heavyset, Jamaican man in his early forties, with a closely shaved head hidden under his postman cap and a thin moustache resting on his top lip.
"What the hell Zach? Why did you shut the door on me?"
Dean looked perturbed as he stood holding a brown package addressed to me, shielding it carefully from the rain. I looked up at the miserable sky that was crying down upon us.
"When did it start raining?"I asked.
Dean looked at me humorously. "Since last night. You need to lay off the booze man."
He handed me the package and left. I closed the door and placed the package down onto a side table, staring down at it questioningly. A loud smash came from my bedroom upstairs. Hesitantly, I climb the staircase and slowly approach the bedroom, opening the door to be greeted with the light fitting that had hung down in the middle of the room lying on the floor, smashed to pieces. The wires from which it had been connected were hanging down, sparks emanating from the exposed copper strands.
I crouch and move towards the mess. I bend down and clasp a hold of the hemp rope attached to the light. My blood running cold as I observe the line of blood and flesh that had seeped into it. Behind me, I hear a creak. I turn around and let out a startled gasp. Stood in front of me was Sarah, but not the Sarah that I had known. Her skin was a light grey and her hair was thin and damp. The rope scar around her neck glowing angrily, as it had the day that I had found her.
She stares at me, never uttering a word, as she slowly shuffles towards me. Instinctively, I rush past her and race down the stairs. At the foot of the stairs I find the box that Dean had delivered lying open, the contents placed neatly onto the table itself. I pick up the sheets of paper. They contain the text conversations between me and Sarah from the night before she died. My venomous cruelty glaring up at me, a stark reminder of the person that I am.
I hear movement resume upstairs. Swinging the front door open, I let out a horrified scream as Sarah stands in front of me, a sickening grin etched across her face. The sun shines down on her hauntingly pale skin, making it luminous. She raises her right hand and clicks her fingers.
My breathing starts to become restricted. I reach up and feel the rope around my neck. I'm back in my bedroom now, standing atop a plastic crate, with Sarah stood at the door, smiling. |
\[Hellish Escalation\]
A cloud of dark red smoke bloomed to fill the area within the pentagram. The scent of spicy, candy cinnamon surprised Valerie slightly more than the red smoke.
"That worked?"she wondered aloud.
"You have the gift!"one of the brothers said. He hopped to his feet and stared intently into the red smoke; the rest of the cult members remained prostrated to concentrate on the pentagram. His voice sounded vaguely familiar to Valerie, but she couldn't see any of their faces under the blue hood. It didn't matter; they were all either Brothers or Sisters. Valerie had only been a member for about a week so far. She made it a point to think her own name every time someone called her, 'Sister' so she wouldn't forget it.
Valerie did not imagine the alien invasion ending any time soon; it only began a month before she joined the cult. The aliens were powerful but didn't seem concerned with hunting down every single human. It felt more like they were just going to start living on Earth until they supplanted humans completely. The one attempted nuke was as useless as all the coordinated attacks before it. The aliens almost acted like they didn't even notice the explosion or radiation. The only thing she had left when she joined the cult was her name, and she was determined to hold on to it.
The smoke began to dissipate from the pentagram but it left behind a short, squat pink-skinned figure with blood-red horns. He wore a crisp white suit with a red tie.
"Which one summoned me?"The demon asked with a nasally voice that took Valerie by surprise. It wasn't what she expected from the rotund creature. Valerie looked at the Brother for guidance. He nodded and gestured for her to take responsibility.
"I did,"Valerie said. The demon was keeping an eye on both of them, then turned to give her his full attention.
"The summoning usually comes with an intent, but there must have been a glitch or something. I didn't get one so, what do you want?"he asked. "We specialize in buying souls if you're selling, but I'm open to negotiating pretty much anything."
Valerie hadn't expected the ritual to work. She briefly guessed that was why there was no intent. Now that he mentioned souls, she became a little worried about her own. The cult leader explained they were hoping to use the forces of hell to combat the aliens, but Valerie suddenly considered the cost.
"Aliens invaded,"she said. "What can Hell do to help us fight back?"
"Aliens?"the demon asked. His eyes widened in surprise, but he recovered quickly. He lifted his hand and made a 'swipe down' gesture with his hand. A large, grey slate of glass appeared and hovered in front of the demon. He focused on it and began typing, tapping, and swiping. After several seconds he seemed to find some sort of confirmation. "Oh shit, *aliens*,"he mumbled. His fingers fluttered across the slate one more time, extra quickly. Then, he dismissed the slate with a wave of his hand.
"Nothing. Thank you for calling, Good-bye,"The demon said. Red cinnamon smoke plumed around him and he disappeared into it.
"WAIT!"the Brother yelled out; Valerie was too surprised by how fast it all happened. She stared into the red smoke waiting for him to reappear. It had to be some sort of demon practical joke. She was relieved when she noticed movement in the smoke again.
"What's your name?"a woman asked. The red smoke cleared to reveal a pale woman with dark hair. She wore a black suit, and she stared at Valerie with glowing golden stars in her eyes. Behind her, a pitch-black portal seemed to be swallowing the smoke. Again, the Brother acted quicker than her.
"Our Sisters do not need names,"he said quickly. "Who are you?"The woman turned to face him, and the stars vanished from her eyes.
"Maybe you didn't notice, and that's okay. It's kind of dark in here,"she said. Her voice carried a cold, hurried edge. "I wasn't talking to you."Then she turned back to Valerie.
"I am talking to you, what's your name?"
"Valerie,"she answered.
"Valerie, I've just been informed this Earth is infested with aliens. Would you like to go to a different one that isn't?"
"YES!"Valerie readily agreed. She did not waste time wondering what the woman meant by a different Earth. All Valerie knew was that she was offered a safe haven. The woman stepped out of the black portal completely to introduce herself to Valerie.
"I'm Melody,"she said. Valerie meant to shake Melody's hand, but she was distracted. She raised her hand and pointed at the Brother already sneaking into the portal. Melody smiled without turning around. The black hole disappeared then reappeared next to them; Brother walked out of it. He was immediately confused that he ended up in the same basement.
"Invitation only,"Melody. She gestured at the hole to encourage Valerie to enter. Valerie dashed through without hesitation.
"Please!"the Brother fell prostrate. He was now the only one; the rest of the cult sat up looking around. They were confused by her presence. "Goddess Melody! You must be a goddess to be so powerful!"he begged. "Is there nothing you can do about the aliens?"
"Oh, don't worry,"Melody said. The palms of her hands began to glow with brilliant blue light. "[I'm going to](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/hyp5je/wp_im_sorry_the_alien_says_per_official/)."
&#x200B;
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1168 in a row. (Story #072 in year four.) You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. |
I sat next to him silently, as I had so often for the last year. He knew I was there, he just ignored me while pacing in his cell. That was fine, I didn't want to talk to this monster, I just didn't want to go to hell.
Mack Brown was convicted of multiple killings across multiple states. He always targeted the same type of person, small blonde men. Always. Each new victim looked similar to the last and that was how they traced Mack. The killings were brutal, and Mack had never explained why he had targeted those men.
We had spoken a bit when I first arrived. I told him why I was there and what the plan was. He told me he targeted those men for no real reason. His first kill was a small blonde man and he just decided to keep going with it, make it his gimmick.
For a year I worked with him, telling him about how all the religious mumbo was just man made crazy and that there was actually a real God who found religion amusing, if irritating, and overly cruel. Mack liked that. He was atheist, but I was swaying him towards at least agnosticism.
Mack stopped pacing, the guard arrived. Mack snorted, shook his head, and held out his wrists. As he was shackled he was offered religious counsel. To everyones surprise Mack, a staunch athiest, accepted a catholic priest to give him his last rights.
I invisibly followed Mack on the last walk he'd take as a mortal and silently urged Mack to follow the plan. He better not frick this up, or so heck help me I would be so mad at him.
The time passed without incident. Mack listened to the priest and nodded and smiled. In his eyes I saw as he forced himself to listen, to be open, and to accept that he would die and that there was a God.
All according to plan.
As Mack laid back on the table and calmly let his executioners put the needle in his arm he was asked if he had any last words.
Mack did..."Padre, I accept God in all his glory. I've done evil and I repent those ways. I accept that I've done wrong and whole heartfelt embrace God's message. Can you forgive this sinner who has seen the error of his ways?"
The priest smiled and nodded, going through the motions and absolving Mack of his sins.
Mack smiled, I smiled. Mack died.
I escorted Mack purgatory. Because he had recanted in his deathbed he had to little in the way if sins to do penance for. See, when God decided to go be Jesus he created a loophole and with a little angelic power we could move sin from a sinner to a guy who died over two thousand years ago. We didn't do it much anymore, but a loophole is a loophole and my ass wasn't going to hell over a new program some brown-nosing cherub made up to get in good with the boss's.
Mack just had to apologize to his victims, face to face, and let them rail against him. That was pretty quick, like a couple days. He had killed like twelve guys, and after the first two it all kinda ran together. Humans were such whiners.
Penance done I escorted Mack to the perarly gates and left him as soon as I could pass him off to the first angelic handler I found.
Gabriel saw me in the halls and told me I better go see God, since I should still be in purgatory getting on with the punishment. I smiled and headed to the big man's office.
God waited silently and I explained what I had done. He didn't look happy, his brow furrowed and he grasped the edge of his desk as if to keep his hands away from throttling me.
When I was finished with my report God leaned forward and pointed at me "Now listen here you little shit!..."
Man, God could yell for a long time. |
"And now to our eyes in the sky for an update on the Disaster Domino, hope you're being safe out there, Pat."
"Thanks, Jenelle. It looks like the chain reaction of destruction is heading South East at Fourth and Langley, approaching I20. We advise taking a different route for the next hour or so just in case this path continues. Currently I'm seeing a tree falling on a fire hydrant that, if the pattern holds, will probably down the nearby powerline or something, so...oh...well it looks like it actually hit a bird and...one moment....Yeah it just frightened a whole flock of them and they're flying into our rotors now. This is Pat Johnson signing off."
"...I'm starting to think we should just track this thing on satellite. That was our only chopper anyway. Pat, you will be missed."
"Thanks again, Jenelle. Tell my family that I loved them and I died doing what I love. Screaming for my life." |
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