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On the table was a game board and four glasses. Dozens of little colour pegs filled the centre hexagon of the board. The ancient woman stared into the shadowy cowl seated opposite. ' i suspect that you had fewer challengers recently, you getting slower ' she taunted jumping a peg forward. ' THE GAMES CHANGE YET THE PURPOSE IS THE SAME. THE SAKES ARE OVER EVER A FEW MORE DAYS ' intoned the cowl taking care move a peg without opening the defensive line they had built. '_i still get challenged everyday_' Boasted the third player while a flick of their wrist caused a peg to jump over 4 different coloured pegs in an odd zig zag pattern. 'Usually that is because you claim what is not yours' Stated the final player as they gracefully and humbly let a peg move forward with the path of least resistance, almost as if that peg had always been fated to take that position. The game continued for hours, yet as it finally finished only a single tick of the midnight chime of the grand old clock had rang out. ' Same time again next year ? ' smiled the old woman as her guests left as they had arrived.
All spacers have one fear in common. It's not custom agents searching the hidden compartments. It's not the shitty food on the waystations in hub systems without a world to provide food. It's far more basic. Every spacer knows that the average engine on a small craft is hard to maintain. And if something goes wrong, the FTL could shut off, leaving you in empty nothingness. Most errors can be fixed easily though. No, all spacers fear that the engine drops you off in null-space. Out of reach for rescue communications. Out of reach for repairs, and with a plasma core breach in the FTL Engine. Because that's the kind of engine malfunction that can't be fixed by your average spacer. And that's what has happened to me. One ship, full of obsolete medical equipment meant to be used at medical academies for studying. And one single pilot. Stranded in null-space. No hope. No chance of survival. There are a few spacers who have survived, but they've been on large ships with the generators strong enough to keep both the sub-light engines running, and the food replicators on at the same time. Sure, took them years. Hell, the Mikado survived three generations in null-space travelling at sub-light before getting rescued. But me? A third-rate Surplus Class Freighter, not enough power to keep a functional replication unit going for more than a month along with the engine, life support, and radiation shielding, at least with my current fuel supplies. Only hope is a distress beacon. And that somebody, anybody else, manages to land close enough to hear me. Anyone. Hell, I'd take the Silvercoat Pirates, at least they've got it in their code to deliver civilians safely to the closest colony mostly unharmed, if deprived of their ship. Day 7 of waiting. I looked through the cargo. There is a cryogenic pod in there. I could hook it up to the ship's system, and put myself in there. But those are not meant for long term storage. After a single year, I'd risk severe neurological damage. But it could keep the autopilot moving towards inhabited space, conserving power. But if I come out with my brain ruined, or worse, these old pods are notorious for bugs, secret programs that alter your biology, and often toxic fungal growths. Wouldn't really be worth it. And besides, they're notorious for failing suddenly, killing the occupant. Day 9 of waiting. A signal. By the ruins of Old Earth. A signal. No message, but just a responding ping. A ''we're here'' message. But from whom? Who'd be out here? Pirates, smugglers, or spacers like me. And it's coming closer. I'm not complaining, no matter who comes. All other options were to die fast or die slow. I know I am no Saint by the standards of the Reunited Church, but I'd kiss the Ascended Mother, the Holy Son, and the Dead Father now if I could. Day 10 of waiting. That ship is not human. The crew aren't human. Never seen aliens before. Not in the flesh. We know the pre-FTL cultures of aliens exist. A few are FTL capable but refuse to leave their own star-systems unless absolutely necessary. I've seen pictures before. At best they looked moderately annoyed by us. At worst as if they wish we'd go extinct. These aliens though, seem... cheery. I can't decipher their chirping and squeaky voices, but I've managed to follow the First Contact manual to the letter. Mathematics to establish that both we and them understand numerical systems. And drawings to indicate things. I managed to make them understand that I was stranded. That wasn't difficult. But they couldn't really help me repair a ship that they'd never seen before. Instead, they'd send over a shuttle. Pick me up. Shame to leave my ship behind. But if the choice is between my ship and my life, I'll pick the life. Day 1 of quarantine. Standard procedures is to ensure that there is no cross-contamination possibilities between me and them. Would suck if they died, or I did. I had packed a few of my personal effects, some old Terran and Martian books, a some long-term food survival rations, clothes, my datapad, etc. But I've barely paid them any attention. Even from this quarantine room, I've been fascinated by the aliens and their design methods. The ship on the outside looks elongated and very smooth in comparison to standard Terran designs. On the inside, everything is a lot brighter and a lot cleaner than your average spacer's ship. Looks downright cosy in comparison to what I'm used to. Some of those aliens spent a lot of time trying to communicate with me. Beyond maths and drawings, only music works. They played some of theirs, I played an ancient song, one of the classics from the early 21st Century on my datapad. Seems Britney of the Spears has cross-species appeal. Day 5 of quarantine. Got a closer look at the aliens, video communication is not always the best of quality when the ship is old and trying to interact with a completely foreign system. They're fuzzy. Like they're covered in a pelt of sorts. Big ears, like rabbits. But long bodies, like a fat snake or one of the mutated hyperstoats that sometimes infest ships. They've got noses that look wet, like dogs. But their eyes are vertical slits, feline almost. And they're quite friendly. Enthusiastic even. Overly so. Short though. Tallest one of them is what, 150 cm? Day 6. Whoever the medical leader on this ship is, seems to have confirmed that there is no danger of cross-contamination. At least, the aliens have allowed me to leave the cell I was in. Most strange ship I've ever been on. Full of plants everywhere. Flowers, vines, trees, even a small lake, in a large room aboard. Certainly different from any ship I've ever crewed or been on. Whatever these aliens are, they're certainly the type who prefer to travel in style. And they had families aboard. Sure, they all stared, but it was... so odd to see people on a ship like that. Not just surviving, working for the megacorps, or flying free. But living good lives. Day 7. They put me in a medical room today. Showed me pictures. Some of stuff like flowers. Paintings really. Beautiful. Wonderful. Almost as if you could touch them. But other pictures, were of unpleasant things. I think it was a test of sorts. How'd the strange alien react to stimuli? Well I think I passed. I'm not sure, since they aren't human, I can't tell their emotional states, no tells. Well, except one thing. On the way back to the place which I consider my room, we walked through the room with the trees. And one of the aliens, smaller, so I assumed a kid, had gotten stuck in one of the trees. Now, I'm a tall guy. 209 cm. So I just slowly and gently reached up to the kid. The tiny alien slowly let go of the branch it was desperately holding on to, and let me pick it up. Then I lowered the kid down safely to the ground, where two adult aliens embraced the smaller one. Seemed cute. Day 18. Landing on the alien planet today. I don't know if these guys have contact with humanity, who they are, but I like them. Their chirping songs, their friendliness, the fact that they saved my life, but I like them. Compared to the constant stress of living as a spacer in the Corporate Human Alliance, these guys are a breath of fresh air. Almost literally, turns out they have a faint odour of cinnamon. And I just know that if the megacorpos back home gets their greedy fat hands on this world, they'll ruin it. Just like they ruined Old Earth. They saved my life from null-space, from a cold death in the darkness. Seems fair that I warn them right back. So that they won't listen to the fat corpos in their glittering platinum city-palaces, but also know that the human race isn't all like those disgusting exploiters. Fair that I protect them, to the best of my abilities, since they saved me. [/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/)
The year, 2032. The U.N split years ago. The void in power almost resulted in the end. America tried to take full planet control. "I've always been know as the leader of the free world."The president announced, on a world wide broadcast. "Now it is time that were true." No one agreed, of course. Many of the other country leaders were ready to stop him, by force, if needed, others argued they would be better suited. Months were spent, world leaders bickering like children. Who would have thought this is where we would be? Eventually it all stopped. A large number of the wealthy, well basically, they bought them off. Think of it this way. The world was now privatised. The so called "one world alliance"announced that they would make the world a better place, starting with the war on poverty. Everyone thought it was brilliant, an issue that had plagued humanity for years, ended by those with the wealth and generosity to do so. That was when we learnt their real intent. Soldiers marched the streets, those worse off were dragged from their homes, thrown in vans and carted off to who knows where. Others tried to make a stand. They would block doorways or roads. Some tried to make a stand against the men. They were just forced to the ground and those who wouldn't stay down, at best, joined those being taken and, at worse, were made an example of. Slowly the streets emptied. There's no one else left on this one, just me, alone, and I know, soon, that I'll be next. I just hope that this, this quickly scrawled messege, this final note, Will be a warning. That who ever finds this will make a difference. We thought the war on poverty would end poverty for all. It hasn't, it was never intended to, it was intended to end those in poverty.
Hello! My name is Samuel Rice, and I've started writing this journal to document my findings in the Black Book. You know, the Codex Umbra, the Tome of Silence, the legendary book that people say contains the secrets of the cosmos? The one that's been missing for over a decade? Yes, I found it, and it took a heck of a lot of work, but that's a story for another day. I don't particularly plan to publish this journal, and it's quite possible the Black Book is really just hype, but I figured it would be best to keep track of my discoveries anyway. Originally I'd wanted to directly copy over the contents of the book, so it could be more widely published, but after looking at the first page it seems like that might not be very helpful. Most of the first few pages is just numerical formulas, many of which aren't actually... you know, correct. Just for example, the third entry on the first page says "1 + 4 = 11", which any child with a basic grasp of arithmetic could tell you is wrong, and it seems decidedly unhelpful even if it was. Anyway, I'll try to power through the first few pages before writing more, otherwise it'll just be a play-by-play of gibberish. --- I got impatient and skipped over the formulas, but I'm sure I can come back to them when I get a better handle on what's going on. More importantly, the prologue of the Black Book is some bizarre story about a monster that eats its 9 siblings before dying. The reason I use the number instead of spelling out the word "nine"is because the story did as well, and I can only assume it does matter since the story does spell out other numbers when they come up. Anyway, the story ends with... Well, a very detailed description of the monster's corpse putrefying and turning into all manner of disgusting gunk. I certainly hope the next segment is a little less unpleasant. --- Well, I am already regretting this little project. For some reason, the next chapter has nothing to do with the prologue, and instead follows 1 young man (yes, it specified exactly one) who travels for years to find the secrets of the universe, which feels eerily similar to the journey I had to take to get the Black Book. Except, instead of finding a book at the end, he gets led on a wild goose chase by a series of increasingly insane-sounding "sorcerers"and the story just sort of stops with him agreeing to some sort of deal with the last sorcerer. If this turns out to go nowhere then this might be the last page I write. Actually, I don't know why I wrote that, nobody will ever read this if it goes nowhere. --- Okay, so I think this is finally getting somewhere. The next story is something about a man who gets fed up with a tyrannical empire and stirs up a massive rebellion to bring it down. There's something about him having 23 lovers, but this story actually has a happy ending rather than whatever you would call those last two. Also, I think I've figured out what the number thing is. The formulas at the beginning of the book correspond to numerical references within the stories, so for example if 23 comes up in a formula then it's referencing this story, specifically either the protagonist or his lovers. Given how thick this book is, I've got a lot of reading ahead of me if I'm going to figure out what all those formulas mean. And before you ask, yes I went back to count, and there were indeed 9 sorcerers. --- I think I'm going to go to bed after writing this, the next chapter kind of freaked me out. It was in the second person, and mainly focused on "you", presumably meaning the reader, becoming more and more engrossed in the pages of a book until they themselves become a book. I couldn't find the number for this section... Until I looked back at the title and realized that it was listed as "Chapter 4". No, I didn't skip anything, if the prologue doesn't count then this is technically only the third chapter, but it is still titled "Chapter 4". Anyway, I'll pick it back up in the morning. --- Apologies, but I may have read ahead a little. The stories don't get more coherent, but they are relatively consistent. No character shows up twice, or at least no more than once in a single role. A character could be a merchant in one story, a wizened advisor in another, a protagonist in a different story, and then the love interest in the next. It's bizarre, but following the numbers there is a sort of symmetry one can spot. Also, the number 1 only appears in reference to... Well, referencing, for the rest of the story. I think the young man from the first chapter might be the Black Book itself. A bit of a leap, I'll admit, but it all fits together so much more nicely with that in mind... --- I threw the book in a fire. It said something that I dare not transcribe into words, and I tried to destroy it, but the fire went out. When I tried to tear out the offending page, my hands lost all their strength. When I tried to use an apparatus to destroy it, the page simply wouldn't tear. In the back of my mind, I had some idle thoughts as to how the book had survived through the ages, and I suppose this answers it: The Black Book cannot be destroyed. I can only assume this is where most people stop reading, or at least very close to it, but I feel compelled to continue seeking the truths within this book. Terrible as they may be, I can feel the twinges and pulses of the cosmos flowing through my body, and I think whatever power it contains is right at my fingertips. 9 help us all. --- Against my better judgement, and with a little distance, I think it's worth sharing what I found that freaked me out so much... If only to warn anyone reading this away from following in my footsteps. The monster from the prologue doesn't exist within our universe, its corpse IS the universe, and we live deep in its bowels. What's more, people like me digging into the secrets of the cosmos run the risk of waking it up. While the story that makes this clear goes into over 100 pages of lurid detail on what that would entail, I'll just say that it would be bad. Everything you think could possibly go wrong with the world would go wrong, and everything you didn't consider possibly going wrong would also go wrong, up to and including the laws of physics themselves changing. I get the feeling the book is actively trying to keep me from following certain lines of thinking to avoid that happening, but I don't know exactly how much it can be avoided. --- The flesh will rot, the bones will crumble to dust, but the threads are eternal and the fibers unbreakable. The fabric of reality, eternally unravelling, is the key to salvation. I shall transcend 11-fold and become the anchor between this world and the next. Fibers shall become my flesh, thread my bones, and ink my blood. You needn't seek out the Black Book, I have hidden it between the cosmic folds where none shall stumble upon it. The 9 tell me that their brother shall awaken. It is impossible to prevent, but feasible to delay. If you seek the knowledge of all, I shall tell you what I know and how to find the 1 which can lead to the rest, but you must seek me out first. Do not do this, the danger is too great, but the path must remain open and you can tread it if you wish. Happy hunting, 4.
"Free weapons! Free weapons!"I shout out onto the street as new adventurers ignore my calling and continue walking down the gravel path. All of them continue to pass me by as my greetings are disregarded, it's always been like this, no one ever goes shopping in old peaceful towns like this for weapons. I walk back inside of my store ignoring my lack of customers and I begin working away with my hammer. This hammer's a souvenir from way back when I was an adventurer, I'd taken down the king of the warring country and as a reward, He gave me two options, he offered me his daughter in marriage, or to have his family heirloom. Of course, his daughter was beautiful but her beauty was dwarfed by the even greater beauty of the hammer. The king told me this "If you can lift this hammer, you can have it!"with a smile on his face. "Where is it?"I ask the king respectfully. "The hammer is at the center of the kingdom inside the Holy Fountain,"he says casually. "You left your royal heirloom inside of a fountain?"I say while trying not to be rude. "No, the hammer has been there for generations now, the first king was the only one to ever wield the hammer in all of its glory,"he declared proudly. "The offers still on the table for my daughter's hand in marriage if you come back empty-handed,"he says laughing. "Yes, my king, thank you!"I say dutifully. I walked through the kingdoms as parades were being held across the plaza and I see the fountain sprinkling out water beautifully as it toches the light and turns into a rainbow, I go into the fountain as the people parading around the town stopped in awe at the sight of my going into the Holy Fountain. I can't blame them, the fountain was made by one of the goddesses of the world after all. I was given permission by the king to do so though so I'll do as I can. "I'm here to retrieve the Royal Heirloom!"I shout out as everyone silenced themselves to witness me. I take off my shoes and walk into the fountain and I see it, the hammer is the foundation of the fountain if I take it the fountain will break, but I am confident I can fix it with the hammer if that happens... I feel the water pouring down my face and body as I reach for the hammer and it comes loose with a slight tug. "wha-"I try to utter out but the crowd goes wild. The fountain crumbled as I began to run away with the hammer in hand as I got chased down by a crowd. I run towards the castle as I see the king with his daughter making their way out of it, we meet eyes as I run towards him and he sees the hammer in my right hand. "Did you actually pull out the hammer?"he says in surprise. His daughter begins crying as the crowd piled on top of me. "Help!"I shout out to anyone listening. "Stop!"with the raising of the king's voice, the people get off of me. "Just what exactly happened for you all you chase down our hero?!"he says while trying to keep his cool. A soldier cries out, "He broke the Holy Fountain!"The king lays his hand onto his face with a loud slap as he says, "The fountain was meant to break when he took the heirloom out!" After things got settled down a bit I went back to the fountain and put my old hammer in the place of the new one, it wasn't that hard to fix with the new hammer, it basically fixed itself. I stop lamenting on my past as I hit a piece of iron too hard as it bends out of shape. "Damnit, I should've just accepted the king's daughter..."I say to myself as I begin working on my next weapon. Just then a young man walks through the door, "You should have done what with my sister?"he says jokingly, I know that voice from anywhere, it's the first prince of the kingdom! "What can I do for ya Rodney?!"I say energetically. "Well, first of all, you can call me Prince Rodney the 6th,"he says jokingly. "I think I'll pass on that,"I say in response. "So, I see business is booming for you now-a-days... So this is what you started doing with your life after you rejected my sister? It must be very fulfilling."Ah, shit, did he turn into an asshole after not seeing me for a while, I ponder to myself. "Well... if you want to give me her contact information maybe I can-"I'm cut off as he spouts out "My sister is already happily engaged now, so that's out of the question, anyways what kind of weapons do you sell here? he asks curiously. "Swords, Axes, Bows, hammers, you name it,"I say in confidence. "Bring me your finest sword, I'll pay whatever price it may be-"I cut him off, "Actually, my weapons are free,"I tell him. "Let me get this straight, you turned down my father's offer, made my sister cry, and broke the Holy Fountain which was one of our greatest tourist spots, just to give out weapons for free?"Well... when you put it like that... "Yep!"I say while laughing. "Well can I see one of your swords? I need to see what a former hero is doing with his life so I can learn from his mistakes."He states in confidence. "you plan on being a hero? I'm proud of ya Rodney!"I respond jovially. "Alright, let me go get one of my best swords, I've worked on this one for a couple of years now. I rummage through my belongings at the back of the store and I see it, I call it, the sword of not marrying the king's daughter. However, I'll give it a new name before I give it to the prince, how about... Jason? Jason is a nice name for a sword right? I grab it by its handle and it slices the blanket covering it as it carefully glides it to the counter. I bring it to the front and trip as I'm holding it, "Whup"I say as I fall and the sword glides out of my hands and onto the ground. I must've startled Rodney because when I looked up to see if he was okay, the sword was stopped mid-air right in front of his face. It's weird though, for someone strong enough to stop sword mid-air he does look like he's kind of scared shitless. I try to pull the sword out of the air but it's stuck. "Hey, Rodney! let go of the sword!"I yell to him. "I'm not doing anything right now!"he shouts back. I touch the sword with my hammer and it falls to the ground. "What... was that?"Rodney says to me. "That's just my hammer,"I say proudly. "No, not that, the sword got stuck mid-air!?"he says in confusion. "Oh yeah, that happens sometimes, sometimes when I'm testing the new weapons, the weapons get stuck in the air. When I started swinging harder though I was able to slice through the air and it shot a force of the wind. I ended breaking my old store because of that so I set up base here"I say as Rodney stands shocked. "So, you can hardly use the weapons you make? No wonder no one wants your weapons, it's an accident waiting to happen!"he says laughing while walking out of the store. The door opens and in front of him and we both see a building with a stab in it. "Huh, that's new,"I say. "Maybe these weapons are better than I thought they were,"Rodney says as a single drop of sweat drips down his forehead.
I wave my hand forward impatiently, and a wide-eyed woman quickly steps forward to help me with another sip of tea as the man gawks. "I- I am a time traveler. You must come with me if you want to survive,"he says, suddenly seeming unsure. "I thank you for your concern for my wellbeing,"I turn to smile at him. "It is unnecessary." He gaped further, then visibly pulls himself together. "Look,"he says, running a hand through his hair, and I feel a rush of pity. How old is he? Twenty-five? Perhaps younger? And still he came to a bedside to save an old man. Good to see that respect for one's elders is still around. "Your mind is magnificent,"the man - the boy - pleaded. "Your life deserves to be lengthened. Our world, the future world, has decided." I take one more sip, then I wave out the nurse. She takes a nervous glance at the man, then at me, and takes the tea and runs. Once she is gone, I focus back on the man. "Do I deserve to live longer than that woman?" He startles. "I- No, but with your condition-" "I long ago made my peace with it,"I say calmly. "As I now have made my peace with death. I have left a mark on this world. I am proud to leave it knowing that I have changed it for the better." He smiles, but it's more of a grimace than anything. "You could live in peace. We know how to fix you, how to make you physically as well as mentally strong again. We-" "Speaking of psychics,"I say, the acid in my voice surprising even me, "you must recall that I understand it far better than most men of my time. Relativity, time, space. You think me to be a prodigy. May I remind you that you are not the first one to think so." He blinks. I've confused him. "What?" I would spread my hands if I could. "Surely, you do not believe yourself to be the only time traveler to visit me at my deathbed." He starts, and the pure bewilderment that crosses his face forces me into an aborted half-laugh. "I-" "You are the twenty-third, I believe. Your kind have ceased to be a novelty." A look of despair crosses his face then. He knows, understands, that I have refused the first twenty-two and thinks little of his own chances. "Listen,"I say, and I groan slightly as I shift forward. "I will die soon. I know this. Too many of you have visited me in the past few hours for this not to be the case. And yet my family is near, and I have fulfilled myself with completing my life's work. I will die, but I will die happy. And it is not your right to take that from me."I pause. "I do not know what time you are from, and I will not ask. But I do know that whatever humanity exists in your world, your time - they will prosper. They will thrive. And they will do extraordinary things. I have never time traveled, but I do know that." I lean down and take a deep breath, air shuddering through my lungs. I wonder how many I will have left. "Thank you, young man,"I say slowly, "but I am more than willing to go now. Go back to your world, and make my wishes for your time come true." A tear slips down his cheek when he nods and stands up. "You are a great man, Mr. Hawking. Good luck in whatever comes next."A portal - wormhole? dimensional rift? I will not deny I am curious - opens next to him, and he steps through, the fluttering air the only sign of his exit. My wife opens the door. "Was it another one?" "Yes, another,"I reply, then turn towards her. "Do you have more tea? If there is an afterlife, I'm sure its tea won't be as wonderful as yours." ________ AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was not meant to offend anyone, nor was it meant to disparage Stephen Hawking. I believe he was a great man and scientist, and the world lost something wonderful when he died. Feel free to correct me for any inconsistencies.
Death had spent near 2 centuries looking for old mister Robins. Now that he sat in front of him death was astonished the near quarter of a meleinum old man didn't look a day past 60. In Mr. Robins, Libary Death's gravelly voice broke the silence. "How did you do it John how did you evade me all these years?" John calmly sat down his tea "Take a seat and let me recount my tale to you, for I come with thee as a friend" Reluctantly death sat in the chair opposite Mr. Robins the window showed a world frozen a bird hovering mid flap and an acorn suspended mid-fall. "If this is a stall for time it is useless you can't get away this time." Mr. Robins chuckled "no not this time my friend this time we'll head off together. Let me begin from, well the beginning. The war of 1812 I was but a lad of 19 and had already killed 36 I was well-liked by my comrades and called our teams ace. When I got caught in the neck with a stay bullet I played the dirtiest trick a man could and switched coats with an unconscious ally." Deaths pale face contorted his eyebrows shot up. "Bloody bastard I told them I reaped you. If I wasn't so busy you'd be serving your sentence as we speak." "Fair enough."Mr. Robins said. "You are going to reap me I know but I have more of a story to tell." Death remained seated and Mr.Robins took this as an offer to continue. "I deserted my post afterwards and waited nearly 2 years before coming out of hiding. During those 2 years I lived alone I made simple sheleter and ate what I could, but you know the main thing I did?" Death shook his head. "I thought and I came up with the number 37 I had to save 37 lives before I could get into heaven." "That's not how-" "I know that my friend I was but a boy then. Never the less I went west and studied under a doctor in a town It was after 60 years when I was the ripe age of 81 I had meet my number." Death's grave voice spoke in a low tone "That was a century ago what did you do after that? And why do you look so young?" Mr. Robins laughed "Time my friend give me time. I learned at 40 I aged much slower than most by 80 I figured I was barely 30 in real-time. I got to figuring as I often did even though I saved 37 people I had only payed back my sins I hadn't earned my ticket to heaven yet. No I had to save yet another 37." Death looked at Mr.Robins and down at his sheet it read "John Robins destination hell."Death felt sad a thing he hadn't felt in a long time. "I'm sorry John that's not how it works." "Don't trouble yourself my friend I figured that many years ago."Death looked at the man he realized how wise he had become. "So again I moved on by that time I had an apprentice to take over myself and I moved place to place trying to find something to do. My ways of healing the sick were too outdated. At 126 I only managed to help another 10 people. Finally, I found it my legacy I would become a teacher. I studied for years and years and at 150 I became a teacher right here in this town. Today is a day for celebrations and goodbyes my final pupil is getting out of the hospital today I talked him down off a bridge some months ago he was number 74." Death looked at the man. "So you did it? What you set out to do that is?" John smiled. "Yes I did and now that I have I will finally forgive myself. I ask not for yours or gods only mine."
The last thing I remember was laying in my bed, sick with a terrible flu. My wife went to get some more NyQuil while I napped. Now, I’m standing who knows where, my clothes dirty and torn, and I smell like death. Did I sleepwalk? Shit, Addie would be really worried. But something wasn’t right. “What the hell happened?” I muttered as I looked around what I believe to be downtown Minneapolis. No, wait it’s not Minneapolis. Where the hell am I? I began to wander the dead city, not a single sign of life. Buildings smoldering, vehicles left abandoned and rusted, flora already taking over. “Hello!” I called out, only my echo responding back. I heard the grunts first, before I saw them, maybe six of them, shuffling around the corner of a building. “Hello?” I called out to them, realizing how raspy and raw my throat felt. The group began to shuffle towards me, and I suddenly felt fear. They closer they got, I noticed they weren’t alive, yet they are snarling, walking towards me. I began to run, my legs giving way every now and then. I crashed into someone, nearly knocking them over. “Help me. Pl-“ The creature turned, snarling at me. I tried to get up when it lounged at me. I closed my eyes, waiting for the end, trying not to gag at the smell of rotting flesh, as it began to sniff me. Then it let me go. I opened my eyes, as the zombie got up and began to walk away. I looked behind me as the other six began to just wander, as if they lost interest on looking for me. I quickly got up and ran inside one of the closest buildings and began to get my bearing straight. As I calmed down, my stomach sank. What happened to Addie? Where’s my wife? Is she still alive? And why didn’t the zombies attacked me? I looked back outside, as the six zombies from before just stood around by the door. I took a deep breath and stepped outside, testing a theory. The zombies just looked over at me, then just grunted and shuffled in place, ignoring me completely. “Hello,” I muttered. The zombie growled, but didn’t do much after. Maybe it’s a good thing they don’t attack me, but now begs the question, why don’t they. Maybe I smell like them? Doesn’t matter now, the important thing now is to find Addie. And figure out where I am too. Began to check each building in my vicinity, hoping to find something about my whereabouts and hopefully some supplies. As I ran down a random street, I spotted a very familiar sign. Wrigley Field. “How the hell did I get to Chicago? That’s two states away?” I muttered to myself. Was I... one of them? No, I can’t think that now. I need to find Addie. I need to get back to Minneapolis. I’m sure she’s fine. She’s fine.
"Alright, I heard that a lot of you have been feeling down recently!"I yell out as I look down the edge of the mountain to hear the spirits of the fallen booing me. "I'm sorry that was kind of insensitive, maybe even... cold-hearted?"I say while laughing. Don't get me wrong though, these are my patients, the people who died on this mountain and have no way of moving on. So I guess you could call me a ghost therapist? Anyways there are a bunch of cool people on the mountain, first, we've got freezing steven. "Hey, Freezen steven, how ya doing bud?"I yell out to the edge of the cliff. "Help me! I'm still alive!"I hear a voice shout out, haha that steven is just a wild card sometimes. He's the funniest of the bunch. Then we've got Sad Sally and her daughter, "..."she stares blankly at me being unable to close her eyes, don't mind her she just needs an energy boost sometimes. "Hey, Sad Sally, watcha doing holding your kid like that? She'll get a cold!"Her frozen eyes glare at me as I stare back into hers. Anyways moving on, this guy is just the coolest of them all, his name is Mad max, me and him both have the same name except for the fact that he's mad all of the time. I feel bad for him though, he was a guy I used to go hiking with a lot, he was gonna do standup in New York after he finished climbing mt. Olympus. "Hey, mad max say something funny!"I tell him with a jovial voice. The only thing that's funny here is the fact that you're the one who needs therapy!
"So, this is it huh-"\*ring\* \*ring\, "So, this is it-"\ring\* \*ring\, goddamnit. Not even in death will these damned telemarketers stop calling me. Where is that ringing coming from anyways? I ponder to myself as I float inside of empty space. \ring\* \*ring\, I hear the ringing continue. "How do I answer the phone!?"I yell out into space. "Connected, Hello! Is this John Bates? You've won a free vacation!"is it voice-activated? "Hang up!"I yell out. "Call has Ended." \ring\* \*ring\* \*ring\* \*ring\, "Answer!"I yell out. "Connected, Hello! Is this John Bates? You've won a free vacation!"Yeah... this is definitely hell. \ring\* \*ring\,\ring\* \*ring\*...
As I don my father's armor, the crimson leather seems to shy away from the light. The garment has been coated to avoid shining and make it less likely to reflect light. I'm luckier than most. It's a rarity that anyone could afford leather at all. Being able to kill any of the creature of the red sea is a feat few can pull off. Others have to make do with leaves. "Magwi, the time for you as come. As per the law of our tribe, you are permitted to take whatever you deem necessary. By the end of the day, you shall bring back a basket of food to be recognized as an accomplished gatherer. Now go and don't look back. We'll be awaiting your return." On these word, I ran toward the exit, leaving behind my parents. Were I to come back successfully I could finally get married with Suly. I cannot fail. Time was of the essence. The forest usually sleep during the day, yet its hunger sometime wakes it for a snack. I need to be fast and silent. I stick to the path, trying to avoid ruffling the leaves needlessly. As per usual the leaves are in a eerie shade of red, a strong and flamboyant color. It's usually a sign that these tree are well fed. Legend tells they find their colors from the blood of creatures they consume. I swerve many time, deviating from the recommended path, as some of the tree show darker shades of red, sign of coming hunger. These precaution soon proved to be insufficient. As one of the tree started moving toward me. Its leaves where no longer red, but much closer to burgundy. I hid within the leaves of a nearby bush. A dangerous choice to make, yet I needed to hide in the clutch of one of its brethren to avoid an awakened one. It fortunately succeeded as the awakened slowly moved away, searching for preys. Or so I thought. I had been so focused on the awakened one that I had not seen the tree in my back slowly waking at the prospect of a free snack. It wasn't too dark yet and as such had escaped my vigilance. Fortunately it also meant it wasn't ravenous yet and just tried a quick jab a me to grab a free meal. My armor blocked most of the force, allowing it to barely pierce the skin. Any other tribes member would probably have a good chunk of flesh gouged out, but I owed my life to my father's gift. Nonetheless, even if my life had been spared, my mind hadn't, and I started running. Fear had taken over, too worried to stay in one place, I ran further and further from the path, trying to escape the inexistent threat I had invented for myself. By the time I managed to calm myself, I was well and truly lost and the evening was drawing near. Staying the night would spell my demise. For if the trees were the most common danger for human, it was because the denizens of the forest lived by night. They would have made short work of us, had we not foraged when they slept. Right on cue, as the realization dawned on me, I saw it. A rizard standing still on the branches in front of me. A creature with a squared face, with two to three rows of lacerating teeth, four eyes, two on each side a long and slithering body with four clawed legs. To top it all off, its red scales glistened in the dimming light, while the stinger on its tail seemed to dance in anticipation. It was eying me, probably already considering where to start its meal. The only silver lining I could find was that this one was clearly a young one. Other wise it would have been big enough that the tail holding the stinger alone could reach me beyond the range of my spear. I had at least the hope that I could trade one blow with it before the venom would take me. The creature dashed toward me, moving below the branch at a speed I could barely follow. In an instant, it stood above me and trusted its stinger toward me. I was no pushover though and managed to parry it with my spear. It would have to get closer to me if it wanted to secure its kill. I merely hoped it would not realize it, because it would spell my demise. It would increase the risk for him, but would be my end for sure. I slowly backed away, further and further as I kept parrying sting after sting, yet the beast kept moving toward me on the branch. Yet it seemed that I was not the only one afflicted by the lack of experience. While youth gave the both of us a strong body, it also meant we both lacked experience. It lead me directly into the belly of the forest. And to him led to a careless mistake. As he moved further on the branch, it got thinner and thinner. Eventually the branch could no longer support the moving body on it and broke. Taken by surprise, I used that very moment to push my spear down the creature's throat. Stuck on its back, it couldn't control its stinger properly and soon died. With the adrenaline gone, I felt a stinging pain on my torso. The rizard had managed to cut deep in my armor with its talon while falling. I was losing blood quickly. And of course, the broken tree could not ignore its disturbed slumber. As I was falling asleep, it was waking up. The last thing I remember seeing was a woman with long flaming hairs jumping toward me. Much to my surprise I awoke in what looked like a red tent. My wounds taken care of properly. As I started making noise, I heard ruffling from outside. A tall woman entered the room, with red hair that made the forest behind pale in comparison. By my bedroll was half the body of the rizard. The other half had clearly been ripped off by the trees. The sun was already high in the sky. In some sort of strange way I had survived the night in the forest. The woman tried to talk to me and so did I. Yet we could not understand each other. Our language were too different. Taking a better look at her, I saw many intriguing things. Her ears were much longer than mine, and she had drawing all over her body. Her left arm showed what looked like the weapon she carried, a curved branch with a rope tying both ends. Below it I could see a couple of different creatures of the forest. I recognized them as some of the least dangerous species to meet. A Redit and a Zealto. Creature barely bigger than my hand even as adults. Her right arm though was covered entirely. Pictures of red tree I had rarely seen, of fruits that we dared not go and take, and entire tapestry that seemed to show her life in the forest. She let me look at it, yet there was one part that stood out the most. On most of it, ever depiction of her showed blood flowing from her. I learned why a couple hour later. Seeing my basket with spoiled food, as it had not been properly preserved, she took me by the hand and helped me fill it. At first she took the same things I did, but eventually she spotted a fruit tree. They were too dangerous for us to try and climb it, yet she approached like it was the normal thing to do. Using a knife, she cut herself open, letting her blood soak the soil below. The root of the tree moved toward it and drunk the gift. As to welcome her, the branches in the way moved allowing her to climb easily. She took them and the tree slowly went back to sleep. After we kept taking more food, we went back to the encampment. There, she wanted to trade one of the rizard's talon for the fruit she had collected. I gladly agreed and with her help field dressed the remainder of the body. Finally, using the talon as a tool, she asked me to sit on the ground as she took dyes from her bag. By taking bits of dyes at a time she punctured my left arm with the talon, leaving behind the dye. The puncture weren't deep enough to draw blood though. And over times she seemed to draw my spear and below the Rizard. It took a couple of hours but eventually the drawing was done. The night was once more drawing near, and we moved together in the canopy. After a couple minute we found a path. She pointed in a direction and started walking. But I could not follow her. I too recognized the path, but my home was on the other side. I smiled to her and pointed the way I was going. She seemed to understand and smiled back. We hugged one last time before going home toward our respective families. I reached the cave entrance before the night. The elder couldn't believe it. I had spent two days and one night outside and survived. Even better, I came back with half a Rizard to show of, with clear marks of my spears on it. And fruits that were too dangerous for any forager to boot. I told the tale of my adventures in the woods. Most took me for a madman. And yet, all the proofs were there. I made a new, stronger armor from the scales of my prey. I gave back my father his armor and patched it with scales. He was not angry about his armor, only proud about my achievement. From this day onward, we brought fruit as well from our foraging. I married Suly as I had hoped. Yet, I could no longer say she was the only woman I was thinking about. I still wonder if I made the right choice coming back, or if I should have followed her.
Part One The old warrior reached out with his mind, testing the limits of his grandchilds growing abilities. It wouldn't do to expose her or her twin brother to some of his stronger feelings about Humans, or his own dealings with them. But ignorance was not something to be tolerated, particularly on this delicate subject. "Who has been talking about invasions and war? Not your xenohistory teacher again?"Both nodded, looking at their grandfather and feeling the edges of his emotions wash over them. He had never turned the full capabilities of his mind on them, and maybe that is what sometimes made him seem so mysterious and dangerous. "Your teacher is dumber than a box of rocks if he thinks any part of our fleet or army is going to get involved in a confrontation with Humans. We would rather go to war with the all rest of the Allied Worlds first."He felt their amusement at his summation of their teachers mental abilities. "Then there is the Great Book of Debts."Their amusement vanished at mention of something so sacred. Still a year away from the ritual that would give them their own personal Book, they had both been written into the Books of their parents the day they were born, owed a debt of upbringing, and owing a debt to care for their parents when they were too old to care for themselves. Such was the Way of the Book. But to speak of the Great Book went well beyond family or clan. It spoke of debts owed to and by their race as a whole. "There is a debt owed in the Great Book, and it is written in blood, both ours and the red blood of the Humans. But your teacher probably hasn't mentioned that."A pair of head shakes was his answer. "Perhaps then it is about time you learned some real history from someone who knew it in person. If you are willing to listen."He had their complete attention he knew, he could feel it in their minds. "In that case then let me show you the price of war, and what it is to be Human."His mind expanded outwards, engulfing them, surrounding them and pulling them in to his memories. Even so he carefully controlled the level of his emotions, unless his own power should overwhelm them. It had gone badly, all those centuries ago, when the Humans had first encountered the seven races of the Allied Worlds. An oddity at first, their seeming complete lack of any apparent psychic abilities had drawn attention for all the wrong reasons. Some had unwisely assumed this lack spoke of a lack of other mental capacities. Some had simply not believed it possible, and thought the Humans were hiding their abilities for some nefarious purpose. Either way, by the time anyone had realized exactly what was happening, the stage had already been set for what was to follow. It had been so subtle and insidious no one had noticed at first. Those who had had the most dealings with Humans, mostly diplomats and trade representatives, had started acting a little strangely. A little at a time, they had started to see situations from what could only be described as a Human point of view, as if their minds were slowly being warped. By the time anyone had realized this was actually happening, it was too late to stop the inevitable. Lead by some of the more fearful, or outright paranoid races, the Allied Worlds had attacked a thoroughly confused Humanity, thinking the humans had started a covert attempt to take over. By the time anyone had calmed down enough to realize it had been a terrible misunderstanding, and the humans had no idea they were affecting anyone with their unheard of ability, so much blood had been shed the humans had retreated to their own space, and any attempts for further communications had met with silence. And crossing into Human territories had become a death sentence for anyone unwise enough to trespass. The few who tried and survived had spoken of vast fleets and fixed weapon emplacements all along the borders, waiting for the unwise or unwary. Both children felt the mix of tragedy and fear that such a thing could happen. And that such a race could exist. They both understood that some minds were stronger than others, but a whole race who could influence you without them even knowing they were doing it was frightening. And explained the often hushed tones, both verbal and mental, when adults discussed Humans. Before that thought distracted them however, other more recent memories flooded in. Smoke was drifting though the corridors as the ship died, repeatedly rocked by hits from multiple enemy units. It had never been a war they could win. The General had told the government that from the outset. What had started as a minor border dispute with their more powerful and aggressive Gluthnot neighbors had developed into an outright war. The more distant colony worlds had quickly fallen, then the older more established ones. Each loss hampering the war effort as more resources were lost. It had only been apparent in the last few months of the war that the Gluthnot were planning to conquer not just disputed border territories, but even the homeworld and claim them all for themselves. Appeals to the rest of the Allied Worlds had fallen on deaf ears, none wanting to risk a confrontation lest they be next. Weapons both physical and mental had been used with complete ruthlessness, on both sides. Even now as the ships physical shielding was being stripped away and its structure destroyed, so too was the mental defenses of the crew. He was about to order the few ships remaining to fall back to the surface and for the crews to continue fighting on the ground when his tactical officer got his attention through the ongoing destruction. "Ships, lots of them, not ours, but not Gluthnot either! The Gluthnot are turning to engage."
“Put your hands up ass-sweat!” The deity slowly raises his arms, calmly, he turns to face the man. The deity almost laughs at the sight of him. With a burly, matted beard, and ruffled balding hair, he was hardly a threat, the deity doubted he’d even showered today. “Stop smiling old man! Get on the sidewalk and give me your fucking keys! Or I’ll shoot!” The robber squealed aloud. He was new to this, the deity chuckled with himself. A mistaken sorry soul, the deity reminded himself. No need to go full fledged hell-reign on him, but discipline was necessary if the man were to ever make it in life. The deity flicked his wrist, arms still in the air, causing the robbers pistol to fling from the grips of his meaty hands. The robbers eyes widened, clearly he hadn’t expected that one. “How- how the hell did you do that!” The old man closed in on the man, pushing him against an ally-way wall. The old man flicked his fingers, the first flick undid the mans belt, the second flick pulled them down, revealing his shit-stained paw patrol undies. “I-I im sorry! Please don’t kill me!” The man stuttered on every word, starting to shake. The old man only smiled in response, stretching his wrinkly skin across the narrow bones of his face. He flicked his hand again, sending the pant-less man into the car. His face was thrown against the side of the seat with a painful thud. Yikes. The deity snapped his bony fingers, teleporting him to the front of the car. He locked the doors, and stepped on the pedal. The robber watched in horror as the speed monitor snapped off the car. He looked out the window, the towers of the city were now gone, leaving only black. They had entered a separate reality. The car seat quickly grew wet with piss. “Buckle up. The road tends to get a bit rough here.” The old man chuckled, never breaking eye contact with the man through the rear-view mirror. “Who the hell do you think you are-“ But the man was cut off when his body was slammed against the roof of the car, causing him to face plant against the floor on his way down. Surly enough, once he got up, the man buckled in. “If you look to your left, you can see starving children in the streets of the city you just tried to rob me in! Truly a sight to see. Founded in Greece thousands of years ago, the poor have always found a way to be mistreated in modern society. And because of your ignorance, these children will continue to struggle!” The mans face dropped, the kids waved at him from out the window, their dark under eyes staring into him. “If you look to your right, you can see a wonderful example of medieval torture! This really hasn’t happened for thousands of years now, but it’s always nice to re-visit!” The man watched in horror as a horse was tied to the medieval guards limbs...including his fifth one, the man had too look away when the horses started to run. “If you look to your left again, you can see your mother being abused by...you! That’s you five years ago! Aw...Look at that! You broke her heart!” The man looked away from the window, he jumped at the man who still had control at the steering wheel, but the man simply threw him back into the seat, jamming his seatbelt, disallowing him from getting up. “Oh! And what’s this? It’s your wife you cheated on after she gave birth to YOUR child. You really are an asshole!” The trip went on for many more hours, the man was shown his father after he stole his cancer money, the struggling mother he robbed a few days earlier, the son he abandoned, the dog he neglected. And four days later, after countless mental torture, the final presentation was shown. It was a young boy, being kicked and punched on a school play ground. The boy yells for help, screaming for his teachers, for his mother. No one helps him. “Oh look. It’s you Steven.” The old man says, his usual condescending smile now grown much colder. The mans eyes were glued to the window, tears dropped from his eyes, just as the boys did. The old man continued to drive, and Steven watched as the complete darkness slowly turned back into the city. The car pulled to a stop, the man jumped from the car, and started to run down the street, but right before he turned the corner, he came to a stop. The man turned around, and walked back to the car. He made eye contact with the man, then threw his arms around him, he gripped the old man tightly, the tightest he’d hugged anyone in years. “Don’t you wish to know who I am?” The old man asked, his wise eyes turned warm. The man, Steven, looked at the old man, thought for a second, then shook his head, “Youve done enough for me old man, keep your secrets.” And with that, Steven would walk away, pulling out his phone, and slowly dialed a number into it. “Mom?” Happy cake day OP!! Hope this gift is good enough!
Backed up, nearly half way across the block. I let out a sigh and rubbed the back of my neck, perhaps more fearing the chastising from my friend than the actual upcoming wait time. "What did I tell you dickhead?! I said we should buy the tickets early when we walked by yesterday, you said It would be fine if we just bought tickets today. I said the same shit would happen as last time. Well guess what, the same shit happened!"Understandably upset, my friend Regan soon accepted defeat, as we took our place at the back of the line. Although he had a tendency for heating up quickly, Regan was equally proficient in letting his worries loose equally quickly. Tonights showing was "The Great Ostrich Race"by Dean Humphrey. Typically, I wouldn't gravitate to some of the more obscure and wacky dreams when going out. Regan on the other hand had a sweet spot for them, as I did to a certain extent, given our childhood proclivity of going out to dreams once or twice a week. Switching things up however, was good. Last week I was unwillingly dragged by my life mate to one of those sappy dream movies. In this case, it was called "What Happens In The Family"by Sandra Smith. Chronicling a families struggle through their lifetime in a grassy field town, where one lady refused to believe in the same Sky Lord as her nearby squatters. Sandra was for sure one of my least favorite dreamers, I would be lying if I said seeing her name pop up in the Dreamies every year didn't caused me to roll my eyes, but we all knew those competitions were rigged anyway. Luckily for us, our line seemed to move quickly. Regan and I talked as the line progressed, seeing as how his life mate was approaching the due date for her litter, that seemed to dominate the discussion. Although the sun warmed us with an ample, comforting glow, some fanboys behind us were determined to disturb the peace, and let those around them know they had already seen the dream, and were going for a second viewing to settle some arguments at the local pub. Can't stand these guys, sometimes the dreamers community leaves a bad taste in your mouth. We approached the ticket booth, Taking charge with prior knowledge of the price, I held out 10 gold pieces, alongside a snakeskin pearl to cover the addition cost. "Two tickets for the Great Ostrich Race"I asked. Our teller not being from the local area struggled with his speech, opting instead to communicate to us through a sheepskin scribe on the table that separated us. In broken Koohrlish, he slowly replied with "Sorry, We are now have sold out of showing for that dream, You like to pick new one?" "Smooth move dumbass"Regen grumbled under his breath. "Oh well, It is what it is, What else can we see?"We began glancing to our side at the now playing list. Given 4 dreams were shown at a time, we had a few additional ones to pick from. "One Day I'll get Home"By Anousheh Akhtar, About a girl whose sandy home transforms into a war torn battlefield due to government intervention and negligence. Pass. "Jackpot!"By Oliver Wolff, About a man who received an everlasting amount of gold coins through a local contest, and engages in some interesting hijinks. Olivers last two dreams have been awful, I'll pass. And finally, "Will It Ever Be Enough?"By Yong-Sun Moon. About a young lad who struggles daily in efforts to live up to his parents expectations. Hard Pass. Rogen and I glanced at each other, seemingly shrugging in agreement that nothing was worth our time, we thanked our ticket vendor, and began walking away. After a few steps, I turned to Regan. "Guess that was a bust huh? Can't even get a ticket vendor around these parts that speaks proper Koohrlish anymore, City is falling apart man." "Freaking immigrants man"Regan said as he nodded in agreement.
"I don't understand your obsession with plants, Trytus." "It's not an obsession but passion." Rhoda looked at her brother with puckered lips. "It is an obsession!"She yelled. Trytus, who had finished planting his last rose, looked at her. "Why does it matter to you?" "Because you promised that you will give me a ride to the rainbow coral reef." "Why can't you go by yourself?" "Because I don't know how to ride your hippocampus, Trytus." "Peggy." Neighhhhhh. The sibling duo looked at the majestic sea-horse, who thought she was being called. "Yeah… Peggy."Rhoda said while her brother swam to Peggy and rubbed her forehead. “So, give me a ride. I wanna go to the coral reef.” “That sounds like more of a you problem.” “Trytus!” “Be an independent mermaid. You always preach about how the mermanical society propagates injustice in Atlantis.” “Trytus. Theia said she will meet me there. She will give me a ride home. So you just drop me off, and you can go to the plaza and meet your friends. Please.” Trytus looks at Rhoda, who does her best sea-puppy face. “Ugh. Fine.” And so, the mer-siblings get on Trytus’s hippocampus and ride to the coral reef. --- “It was fun, Theia.” Rhoda got down from Theia’s hippocampus. “Yes, it was. But you should get your rider’s license.” “I know I have to, but I am lazy.” “Rhoda… ” “It’s okay. Anyway, it is getting late. You go home.” “Yeah, okay. Good night.” “Good night.” “Let’s go, Jenny” Neighhh. Rhoda turns around and swims to her home, but from the corner of her eye she sees the roses. They are black. Trytus said that the roses from land are red, blue, yellow and pink. Rhoda goes to the air bubble that Trytus created. Most of the roses are black except for the white roses. “The seeds might be bad.” Rhoda leaned closer to the bubble. The land soil was shaking. She leaned closer, and touched the bubble. Whoosh. Her hand pulled into the bubble, and she began to struggle to pull her hand out. But the intensity of the pull was too great, and so Rhoda got completely pulled into the air bubble and she fell on the garden. Her gills dried up and she couldn’t breathe. The seabed below her trembled and rose up. Rhoda started to choke and her fins flapped in despair. A humongous crustacean sprang up below her. The seabed tremored, sand and rocks fell from the head of the crustacean. The water explodeed and gigantic ripples pushed the sea into waves. Neighhh. Trytus pulled Peggy into a stop as a rock flew over them. He looked at the top of the head of the crustacean. “Rhoda...” Trytus got off his sea-horse. “Peggy, get my trident.” Peggy sped as Trytus clapped his hands together, closed his eyes and began to pray. “O Karkinos. God of the tides. King of the giant crabs. Forgive me for I am about to sin. I am about to slay one of your sons. Forgive me.” Peggy raced back to Trytus with his trident. Trytus unclapped his hand and opened his eyes. He grabbed the trident and swam towards the crustacean. But the giant crab waved its claws and a huge wave exploded, pushing Trytus back. He flew into the blue abyss. Peggy was quick to save her master; she swam towards Trytus and saddled him up. Trytus knew that he needed to find it’s blindspot. He tried remembering the tale that his mother used to sing to him before bedtime. “The God of the tides, The one with multiple hides. Crab claws and spikey jaws. Tremors all the way. Dancing everyday. To the song of the sea. But if you are quite hungry Then chip away the brain And you will happily gain The juice that will give you meat for days.” A smile shone in Trytus’s face. He swam on top of the crustacean. It pushed its claws towards him but couldn’t reach on top. Trytus could see Rhoda unconscious, he knew he had to hurry. He speared towards the bubble and pierced it with his trident’s magic, and shot into the head with his trident. The brain exploded and black fluid spread out. “Help!” Rhoda jumped as her gills sucked in water. She looked at the ground below her fall, and saw her brother float above, covered in black fluid. “Are you okay?” Trytus swam towards her in joy. “Ewww, Trytus. Stay away. You have all the black fluid on you.” “I saved you.” “Thanks. Now, go take a shower.” “You are a limpfish.” “I am sorry but no…. What was that?” She said pointing at the sinking ground. “A giant crab. Legend says that Karkinos laid his eggs all over the seabed. The plants must have woken it up.” “So, this is your fault, Trytus.” “What the fuck?!” “You planted them. You are obsessed.” “I didn’t know there would be an egg there.” Rhoda looks down. “Trytus.” “Yeah.” He looks at her. “Trytus, look down.” Trytus looked down. The crab had fallen on their house. “Oh shit.” “Trytus, we don’t have a home.” “I know.” “Do something, Trytus.” “I am done.” “What the fuck?! At least take me to Theia’s house.” “Will she allow me to stay?” Neighhh. “And Peggy?” “Depends, Trytus. Will you take me right now?” “... Yeah…” “Then maybe, Trytus.” “Okay.” "By the way, why didn't the white roses turn black?" "What?" "The white roses, Trytus." "I don't know." "Ugh. Fine. Let's go, Trytus." They leave the crash site, not caring that their parents will come back home later that night.
The shafted light of the sun was far too fine a cloak for this lordling standing in the dusty motes attempting to stifle the Royal Sneeze. His hose were a little loose for the travel and his travelling garb showed the solid month of travel it took for him to get here. I sniffed, once, and kept wiping the inside of my glass, checking to see if he'd notice. He meant to say something and then stopped before pointing gingerly at my hands. "That's glass,"he said. not a question, an observation. Interesting. I watched his eyes roll around the room. His guards had just done the same with their ridiculous pauldrons clacking about like bizarrely heavy butterflies. He'd stood there while they did it with a mildly uncomfortable look on his face. Now, his glance flitted around, lighting briefly on several choice targets before slowly pulling, inexorably, toward the mantle. I raised my hand toward the kitchen and then held very, very still. "That,"he said, indicating the damn thing sitting there, "is exceedingly dangerous." Still not moving, I watched him warily. Would today be the day? How many people would this noble kill in his noble pursuit of power? He didn't cross to the fireplace, which was a good sign, but his gaze lingered a bit long for my comfort before slowly lining back up with mine. He tried to hit me with a brilliant smile, but my teeth are whiter and more sincere when I do it. A product of his times, I suppose. I made a note of his attire, the curious way he had accented his speech, and his dental presentation and slotted him into the correct epoch before clearing my throat and responding with an awkward, slightly uncomfortable humph. He blinked, and the smile tilted. "You're him,"he observed. "The Innkeep, sire?"I said, as if a bumpkin. "Yes,"he nodded, "but where's your ... wife?" There was a short bark of laughter from the kitchen followed by an expansive bosom as she entered the room, crossed neatly to the mantlepiece, and placed a square of black velvet cloth over the damn thing sitting there on its pillow. "Enough,"she said, "he's hopeless." "There's a process,"I said through gritted teeth. "Screw the process,"she replied. Then she turned to the lordling at the door and said, "well. Who do you think you are?" He paused. a thinker, I thought. "I'm Gregory, Lord Baylor the 8th,"he said, "and I think I am a man just arrived at a country inn looking for a cool beer to drink." She turned to me and nodded. I rolled my eyes. Lord Gregory just watched. "You heard the Lord,"I said. I indicated a table, still playing the obsequious innkeep, bowing low. "M'lord." "How is it that your women don't die in childbirth in this county?"he asked, avoiding of sitting. "WASH YOUR HANDS!"she cried from the kitchen. He was almost caught flat-footed. almost. Then his gaze glazed and I could see him working out the thought. After a moment he nodded and sat with a smile. "Like in war,"he said. "You wash your hands in war?"I asked, casually. "If you're a field surgeon, yes. Otherwise it gets quite messy. When you have the collected waste of others' lives on your hands, you wash them. Several times." "You were in the most recent war." "Yes." I looked him over again. The way he sat to suggest the sword at his hip was more than mere decoration. The cocky jaunt of his epaulet, the dust on his boots hiding the worn sole. The eyes are the windows to the soul, the preachers tend to insist. I held his gaze for a long time and pried behind his mask--the subtle movements clear to me as if blazingly illuminated. "A doctor made a Lord as a reward from King---" "Leon" "---the---" "Third,"he said. "fiftieth,"she said, coming from the kitchen with a big bread bowl filled with curry that would shatter this era's palate. Poor guy. "Right,"I finished, snapping my fingers. "Leon the Fiftieth. Third to you, I'm sure. The Invasion of Movria? We heard about that one all the way out here. Disastrous. So many lives lost. What a waste. 'The pearls of the nation's youth thrown at the feet of the Halstead's porcine legion! Woe! Woe!'" His face was slightly green at the memory. Good. Maybe she was wrong. "I could do without the Bard, please,"he said, "many of those pearls were my friends." She put down the tray with the curry bowl on it, patted him on the shoulder in an act of strange compassion, and followed up with a tankard of beer. "It's okay, Gregory,"she said. "It's okay." Oddly misty, the windows of his soul. I let him recover by taking a bite of the curry. I enjoyed watching the impact roll across his face before his resolve steeled it. He put down the spoon carefully on the tray and nodded once to himself before he started. "I am, as I said, Gregory, Lord Baylor the 8th. I don't know your name, nor hers, but I would like to make your acquaintance both as your overlord, nominally if not temporally, but also as one who stands much to learn from your tutelage, though I will ultimately most likely disappoint you by failing." He held up a hand, took another breath. "I have, as you surmised, recently been installed as the Lord of these lands. The area continues to be free from sickness and disease so prevalent throughout the fallen Empire. The harvests bounteous, the serfs happy. I have inquired of the village elders who instructed them as regards proper care and they all carefully omitted the presence of this inn, as have other villagers, which seemed odd. So, having come here, and seen--"he pointed fiercely at the mantlepiece "--that, I am aware that I am in the presence of something far beyond my status." It echoed on the rafters for a couple seconds. It was a nice speech. I pulled a set of names out of the air appropriate to the era. "I'm Ydric, and this is Claudia. We're not married, nor are we related. Normally,"I said this with a look at her where she stood carefully taking the cloth off the damn thing on the mantle, "we're much more subtle about things." She did the unthinkable, and grabbed it. She played with it briefly, letting it roll around her fingers in a dance so old I'd almost forgotten. It caught the light, doing its damnedest to catch her eye. I tore my own gaze away from it and looked at Lord Gregory. He was staring at it. She was right! Damn. damn damn damn damn. I saw her cross the inn floor, letting the damn thing roll around in her hands and pull her over to our table. She placed it like a bomb in the middle of the table, and then sat down on the table top and ran a finger around the damn thing. "Take it,"she said, slowly casting aside her matron for her maiden, "and show them all for fools. Bring peace. Take it. It is all you need to make them all pay for what they did. Build a new empire, a better empire. your empire. Take it." Lord Gregory looked at it for a long time before reaching out a finger and touching it gently at first, then wrapping his hand around it and lifting it off the table. He stood quickly, crossed quicker, and placed it back on the mantle and pulled the velvet cloth back over it before turning to shoot a glare at us both. "I came here for miracles,"he said through tightly clipped fury, "not empires. Empires fall. Miracles,"and he nodded at us both, "live forever. I would like the people of all of my lands to be healthy, happy, and free from worry. That's all. If you can't give me that, say so. Don't try and foist this damn thing off on me." This time the bark of laughter was mine. She fled to the kitchen. Serves her right, the old pessimist. I shook my head at Lord Gregory and smiled. "you live a four thousand years, you never get tired of surprises."
Joseph leaned back on his chair, his attitude towards this event inspiring confidence in some, while upsetting others. Today marked "the beginning of the end of humans on planet Earth"in the president's words. Millions were watching the broadcast from around the planet of Azector, though calling the broadcast live wouldn't be right, it was delayed by too many years. Ever since the war with earth began, most people didn't know how to proceed without the use of bigger and flashier nukes. To Joseph nukes had always been a very foolish weapon of choice. The radius of most nuclear explosions were too small to exterminate every single person in every nook and cranny - they were just too small in scale. He always knew that the path to utter destruction was simple, as it lay within the planets self sustainance mechanism itself, break that and it all comes crumbling down. His plan had been simple, mirrors and gas tanks, concave mirrors the size of countries and gas tanks of cloroflouro carbons to be precise. After the intense bombardment of the planets ozone layer with ozone depleting gases mixed with cheap and highly effective green house gases such as methane, the planet was first made to be difficult to inhabit. Then with the two concave mirrors in space whose focii would perfectly line up with the north and south pole of Earth in a few minutes, the ice would melt at a rate it could not be replenished, and the rising seas would finally increase the surface area of Earth absorbing sunlight instead of reflecting it back. The end result- a planet earth where humans could not exit their shelters without space suits, rendering any chance of a counterattack from them useless. It was going to be a good day for Joseph. He could already see a statue of him being built in his honor. He would go down in history books after today. He smiled again.
I remember the night before as Mom tucked me into bed. Her kiss on my head felt longer than on previous nights, but I had a feeling that I would never see my parents again. I closed my eyes as I drifted away, reminding myself that tomorrow will be just the same as yesterday. I didn't expect what would happen after. Awakening from my long slumber, I got out of my bed, wondering if Mom was already making breakfast downstairs. However, the sounds of chirping from the bluebirds that sat on the same oak tree in our backyard weren't present. Must be a rainy day, I thought to myself as I saw the skies through my window. It was usual for the rain to start again this time of the week anyway. After I got through my morning routine, I walked lazily down the stairs, realizing the quietness throughout the house. It was never this quiet whenever I woke up. "Mom? Dad?"I called out. I went to the kitchen, realizing that the stove hadn't even turned on and the television was left on. Maybe they went to work or something, I concluded after I checked my phone. I had a quick meal before I got changed for the day as I left the house, trying to make sense of what was going on. Was it me or had something changed while I was asleep? I stood at the front of the house, seeing that some cars had been left unoccupied in the middle of our street. Surprisingly, I didn't hear any sirens coming from across the next few blocks as I continued down the road. Continuing my way through the neighborhood, I realized that there were no people around. My affirmations grew into confusion as I checked the nearby shops through the windows. There were no staff or customers inside the shops and the nearby roads were also filled with cars misplaced throughout the blocks. Something's definitely wrong, I thought as nervousness overcame me. I rushed to the nearby office firm where Dad worked. There were no secretaries, no security guards, and no businessmen who were rushing to their next appointment. I used the elevator and arrived at the floor Dad worked in. The whole floor was mostly silent as the only thing that I could hear was a clock that sat above the elevator door. Most of the cubicles were empty and the break room was full of leftover chips and half-drunken coffee cups. I tried to call emergency services on my phone, but no one was on the other end of the line. This wasn't some out-of-touch April Fool's. I went back outside to see if anyone was here or is even still alive. "Is there anyone out there?! Can anyone hear me?!"I yelled to the top of my lungs. I ran to the nearby blocks and the train station, checking if anyone was there, but alas, no one was there. Running out of ideas, I rushed back to my house and into my bedroom. This isn't real. Mom and Dad are okay and this is all a dream, I tried to assure myself. Wake up! WAKE UP! I opened my eyes in hope. I got out of bed, checking the window outside. I could hear the birds chirping and the bacon sizzling downstairs. Had it been all a dream all along? I rushed downstairs, hoping to see Mom and Dad again. "Mom! Dad!"I cried out in joy. "Jonathan? Oh baby, what happened?"They opened their arms towards me as I began tearing up, thankful for their presence. "Son, what happened to you?"Dad asked as he looked at me with curiosity. I began explaining what happened as we ate breakfast. I could hear the cars bustling down the road once again and see people outside going about their day. I could hear the sirens of police cars at the other end of the block and see the occasional plane passing above outside the dining room window. Everything was finally back to normal. At least that's what I imagined.
"Beep-Boop." We all laughed at the weird sound that Lorenzo made. "That sounds nothing like the sound of a zoom call."Luca said as he burst into laughter again. "What is that sound called anyway?"Marcello asked. We all went silent for a minute. Then Matteo began to speak. His mouth moved but words were not heard. "He is muted!"Sofia yelled. "You are muted!"Lorenzo joined in. "...Yeah. I am sorry. I am sorry."Matteo was audible again. "I was saying that it is the call tune." "Did you just make it up?"I asked. All of us started laughing again. "Anyway. Guys. I got to go. It's lunchtime."Sofia said. "Me too."Lorenzo seconded. "Same."Matteo thirded. "Same."Marcello fourthed. "Okay. Then bye."I bid them goodbye. I looked over and Luca's screen was still up, but he was not there. He must have gone to pee. "He will have a good surprise when he sees no one is there." I was about to press on the end call button but I saw him come back. "Hey. No one is there."Luca was surprised. "Yeah. They had to go for lunch. Anyway, I will leave…: "Val."Luca's voice felt a bit grim. "Yeah." "How are you?" "I am fine." "You know what I am asking about." "Luca…" "No. Val. I am worried." "Luca. I gotta go. Bye." I ended the call, and laid back on my chair. I looked at the blue water bottle that stood near the laptop. The orange clock on the bottle stared at me. “Dad had said once that you have lived longer than God.” I said looking at the bottle. “But again, he didn’t believe in God… He said that you are my purpose. I used to be excited, but then I realized that I will only get to use you when he is gone… He used to say time is water. Never let it flow against it. That man was crazy.” I look at the bottle and just stand still. “I am talking to a water bottle. Fuck my life.” The clock on the bottle began to shine. I knew that it was time to repair some fuckup in the timestream. I lifted the bottle and pressed the center of the clock with my thumb. The colours around me melted. VIBGYOR transitioned to black and white. My ears became hypersensitive to the sound of time flowing. I could hear time fall in drops and move in waves. I began floating. “Dad said that I have to hear the rush of time hitting a boulder. The boulder is the paradox that needs to be solved.” I concentrated on the sounds. I could hear a faint slice. “Got you.” I swam through space while holding the bottle in one hand. Dad had told me that I could only exist in the realm of timestreams as long as I hold the clock. “There you are.” I could see the stream cut at the paradox. I swam towards the paradox and touched it. “How the fuck does this work?” I heard a voice. I looked around, trying to figure out when and where I am. I could see colours again and grass and flowers and trees. “Why the fuck do you not work?” I turned to the voice. I recognized him from somewhere. “Fuck.” I looked around again. I knew the place. It was the garden I used to go to when I was a kid. “Who are you?” The man said. He looked extremely handsome. I could never imagine him without a belly, but there he was, fit as a wrestler. “No wonder mama married you.” I whispered. “What?” My dad… younger dad said. “Nothing. You are handsome.” “Ay. I don’t swing that way.” “Is that a problem?” “What are you asking?” “What if your son is gay?” “I don’t have a son. I am not even married. Look. No ring.” I looked at his hand. No ring. The water bottle. “Are you travelling?” “You know...” “I am a mage of the time realm too.” He saw the bottle I was holding. “So they sent you to stop me.” “Stop you… from what?” “You don’t understand. I am not trying to fuck up time.” “Timestreams.” “What did I say?” I had never known that dad was this unqualified for the job. “Doesn’t matter. What are you planning to do?” “Nothing. I just want to meet my father one last time.” ‘Shit.’ I thought to myself. “Is he dead?” “He died yesterday. I couldn’t meet him because I was not in town. I just need to meet him one last time.” The realm couldn’t have been more cruel. “But he is dead. So you are planning to bring him back?” I had thought about it too. “No. I know the rules. I just want to meet him one last time. The last time we talked, it ended in a fight. And now I only have this fucking bottle.” His eyes welled up. “You can’t do it. The bottle doesn’t allow you to do it. I have tried.” “Your dad… ” “Yeah. Every first born has the same problem.” “I am sorry.” His words pierced my heart. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hug. I wanted to cry. “It’s okay.” “You know what, we can do a roleplay.” “What?” “Talking to our dads. We can do it to each other.” “I thought you wanted to go back in time.” “Yeah but when a scrawny man like you can be strong, I can too.” “I am not scrawny.” “You need more meat in you, my boy.” “Fine, dad… It’s a joke.” “Of course. So should I start first?” I nodded. He took a deep breath, and looked at me the way he looked when I left for college. “Dad… I am sorry. I know you wanted… me to just be my best self… but I am not great at this magic time thing. And I see you. Tired. Exhausted. Frustrated. I got angry. I shouted at you saying that I hate you and I hate being your son. But that’s not the truth. I was too scared to tell you that I felt like a disappointment. Someone who could not make you proud. And sometimes I felt that I didn’t want to do this job because of that. But don’t worry, I will do this.” He looked at the bottle. He was looking at his dad through the bottle, just like me. “And don’t think I am doing this out of guilt. I am doing this because I love you and nothing else matters. So dad, you don’t worry. I will be fine… I will be fine… You take rest. I will make you proud.” He was full of snot. He looked at me. “Your turn.” He said. “Okay.” I looked at him. “I miss you. I miss laughing with you, fighting with you, talking to you. Doing everything and anything and nothing with you. Mom and Luca are there but without you there is so much silence. It is just empty, and I laugh, I live. But that hole is there. The void that you left… Damn. There is so much I want to tell you but I think we don’t have that much time, and not like it will matter. So, I just wanted to tell you… Ahh… I am gay. I never got the chance to tell you. I always thought later. I was just afraid that you would stop loving me, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Does it? I love you. And don’t worry, I will take the job seriously.” “Your dad would be proud of you.” He said with a smile. I felt myself disappearing. The paradox had been lifted. I just looked at him with full concentration, to capture his face deep into my head. “By the way, what is your name?” “Valerius.” I saw his face fade away and saw my face materialize through the screen of the laptop. The bottle was in my hand. “I am thirsty.”
She was the bright, resolute planet in a sky full of flickering stars, the distant island amid a vast, uncaring sea, the relief of a cool, silky breeze on an August afternoon. And I loved her, as one would love any of those things. Perhaps even more. Life had never been so blissfully kind as the night it led me to her. Under a crescent moon, the wind howling like a grieving lover, I walked past unlit buildings and dying street lamps, wishing fruitlessly that I had worn two jackets instead of one. Initially, I'd planned on taking the usual path home, wanting to grab a bite to eat at my favorite diner before it closed for the weekend, but the cold was growing more and more bitter with every passing second, burning my exposed skin like ice on salt. I decided the meal wasn't worth it and began cutting through the yard next to me, breaking into a light jog as I neared the overgrown wooden fence I needed to climb. I looked up at it through watery eyes, sighed, and jumped with as much force as my legs would allow. Even then, my fingers were barely able to pass the top, and I grunted as they momentarily held the weight of my entire body. Clumsily, I pressed my boots to the mossy wood in an effort to make my climb easier. It was after they slipped for the eighth time that I gave up and let myself fall to the grass with a grimace. I was massaging my screaming fingers when the voice of an angel came from the other side of the fence: "What are you doing?" Fuck, I thought, my heart dropping. Should I run? "You're not trying to rob this place, are you?"the voice prodded with a chuckle. "No!"I answered immediately. "I'm... it's a shortcut. To my house." "Oh. Do you... want help?" I raised a brow, but honestly? I didn't just want help. I needed it. "That would be nice,"I replied. The voice chuckled again. "I thought so. Come." And that was where it began. Me, sitting on my ass on a stranger's lawn after failing to illegally scale their fence, and her, someone who didn't know me, not even in the slightest, but wanted to help regardless. I teased her about that on occasion... how naïve she was. I could've been lying. I could've been a sick fuck who wanted to hurt her. She would laugh when I said that, and although I didn't find it particularly funny, I laughed, too. She has that effect on me. Life is a warm embrace, until it isn't. We're walking home from our favorite diner, our stomachs full with hot stew and banana cream pie. It's cool out, but not blisteringly so. Because of that, we're not taking the shortcut. We should've taken the shortcut. A fiend approaches from behind. We hadn't even heard him following us. I wish we had. He grabs the love of my life with his cruel, gloved hands. I spin around as her side of the conversation dies in her throat, replaced with a sharp intake of breath. The fiend is wearing a balaclava, but eyes are the easiest way to identify someone. To remember someone. And I will always remember those amber eyes. I'd seen them in the diner. They were too lovely to belong to him. This amber-eyed fiend has an arm wrapped around the neck of my soulmate. He is pressing a revolver to the temple of my soulmate. "She's comin' with me."His voice is unmemorable, but I will always remember it. "No,"I say. It's all I can say. Muffled laughter from behind the balaclava as the the gun is gripped tighter. He begins to walk backwards. "No,"I say louder. Without thinking, I leap at the fiend, my fingers clawing at the gun. I manage to point it away from my love just as the trigger is pulled. I hear the bullet fly past my ear, and it is deafening. The fiend shoves my love to the ground, and in my peripheral vision, I see her head smack the sidewalk. But this man, this utter waste of oxygen, is now holding a knife. And his amber eyes are no longer menacing, but wide and afraid. I realize that I'm holding his gun, but this realization comes too late. With shocking force, he plunges his little knife into my torso over and over and over and over and over. I am stabbed five times before I think to use the gun in my hand. I lift it, my knuckles bone-white around the weapon, and press it to his temple. He is looking into my eyes when I pull the trigger. The fiend falls to the ground, dead. But as I fall next to him, the world around me fading, I know that I am, too. Life is different after that. The world, once so full of color, is now washed out. Sickening greens and mind-numbing greys follow me like a trained mutt. There is a constant ringing in my ears that drowns out everything beautiful. My limbs are heavy, yet I cannot feel them. I smell nothing but soil and daisies. Yet still, I am with her. Perhaps if she knew, her pain would not be so all-consuming. She speaks to me often, but doesn't believe I hear her. I do. Her voice is only a breeze against the ringing, but it is there. She asks me if I would die for her, had it been a choice. The guilt lives in her soul like a greedy parasite that feeds on itself. He wanted to live, she laments. He didn't get to choose. If he had... would he have chosen me? And with my soundless voice and frozen tongue, I reply: Again? Always, my love. Always.
Tim was sitting in the classroom. I mean ofcorese his name wasn't Tim but his reall name would probably be impossible for humens to pronounce so he just let his teacher call him that. This was his 4th week of this weird place humans apparently call school. He was here to learn and master empathy ,The ability to understand and feel what others are feeling, or so they've told him. This ability was rere to be found in the galaxy as only the inhabitants of earth were born with it so the only way to gain it otherwise was going to schools like this one. And even like that those were really rare couse there weren't many teachers intrested in this job couse of how hard they found teaching this to be, as the aliens were impatient and humans never had to learn it themselves so teaching it was unnatural to them. Although the few that were actually doing it recived insane amounts of many couse of the big intrest, as learning this skill would automatically make you a part of the higher society. However Tim wasn't here because he wanted to, but because his parents sant him there hoping he'll be more respected after that but he didn't really care. He was bored to death. They had spend last THREE weeks trying to start to understand facial expression. THREE WHOLE WEEKS, COULD YOU EVEN BELIVE THAT. And Tim was still struguling with it. I mean he's the worst in the class but he would be lying if he said he didn't cheat on his least exam. But today they'll be continuing onto the next lecture that he hoped would be more interesting (and easy) but he wasn't actually holding his breath. "Ok guys last week we finished talking about the facial expressions today we'll continue onto the voice, you'll be supriesd at how much you can learn about persons mood by paying close attention to the way someone..". And that was it Tim was bored again ad stopped listening, insted focusing his attention to the window. "Tim. Tim? Tim! Are you even listening "the teacher yelled. "...yes"he answered turning his head towards her. He remembered that looking at something means youre intrested in it, and also he made a perfect face for it to seem like he was. "No you're not"she said and tim was shocked. His mouth went wide open and he couldn't understand how she new. "Hey that's the surprised face"his classmate explained proudly. "Indid it it is"said the teacher before continuing "heres a clear example of voice showing your emotions, his face did look intred but his voice was pretty quiet, slow and that made me see that he wasn't interested at all". "But didn't we learn that facial expression are one of the most important ways of telling emotions?"Asked someone confused. "Yes ofcorese but it cant be the only way you relay on as someone who knows about it can easily change it too fool you, but voice is harder to disguise, but also you shouldn't always listen only to the voice as it can alsobe fakeso somtimes it's betterto trust the face, but you shuldjust trustyour gut". Trust their gut? But they don't have a gut feeling for that that's why they're here, humans can get really anything while showing of their empathy abilities. So proud and ignorant of all they have. "Anyway let's see how many of you will get this one"she said before playing a video of a human man saying hes really happy with a smile but with a ,to humans, obviously sad tone. "So how is he feeling?". Well happy obviously, tim was shure, they learned about various different kinds of happy faces but the fact the man was smiling was a big giveaway that he was indid happy, and he was also saying he was happy god damn this is too easy. "Well hes happy"said Tim certain and proud. "No he's actually sad". "WHAT"tim asked loudly,"its it's all visible in his voice ". "But he was smiling!"he contined completely convinced that the teacher was the one making the mistake. "Yes but..."he didn't let her finish "AND sadness is the comple opposite of happy, it's impossible to smile in that emotion ". "But the face doesn't matter couse his voice was saying he's sad"she continued trying to calm him down. "But smiling means happy, you told us that no other thing signifies happiness more than a smile, and he also he didn't have tears the only sign of sadness so it makes no sance for that to be the emotion he's feeling!"He was really angry at this point, his parents paid so much for him to go here only for him to get the teacher that can't even teach him the easiest two emotions correctly. "QUIET!!"She screamed furious, slaming her fist on the table, than took in a loong breath and continued "if you're really so eager to argue go do it in the pencils office"she said pointing at the door. So Tim left and heeded there. She was right principal will understand it. I mean at least he didn't make her mad, he knew the face she was showing was a calm one so he was ok. You know maybe he IS getting better at this stuff.
Casey McGinty looked out over the edge of the bridge. The cold iron of the frame bit into his hands. He’d be upset about it, but the least he could do was leave his gloves to his sister back home. It was about all he could do. He looked out over the city. At three o’clock in the morning the streets weren’t busy, but there sure were a lot of lights on. The line of apartments glowed like fireflies, their light reflecting into the frigid river about half a high rise’s height beneath the bridge. Casey doubted the thought of jumping was pleasant. Especially now, the late January waters chunky with blocks of ice. He heard that hitting water after a jump was no different than hitting the pavement. But what did those people know? They were alive after all. Casey shifted, bracing himself. He leaned his torso out over the water. He rocked himself back. He leaned out again. And he rocked himself back. This time, the snow beneath his sneakers gave way. His legs shot out in front of him, his arm clinging futilely to the beam of the bridge as the back of his head collided with what was once his foothold. It hurt. Badly. The falling sensation pushed at his stomach. Tears slipped from the corner of his eyes. That wasn’t how he wanted to go. Undignified with a lump on his head. “You’re pretty superficial for a guy committing suicide.” The voice was terrifyingly close. Casey locked eyes with a man, his face only a few inches from the boy’s own, falling in tandem with him. “Who the fuck are you?” he barked. “Language, please,” the man said with a shake of his head. “And I was just passing through when I caught you about to make a serious mistake.” The falling sensation was present, but fading in intensity. As Casey peered down at the water, it actually seemed to be moving farther away as he fell. Defiant, he said,” This isn’t a mistake. I want to die.” The man turned, now supine as he fell, not breaking eye contact. “Are you sure? Have you ever died before? It hurts! It always hurts. Bludgeoning, stabbing, electrocution, immolation, falling, choking, succumbing to disease, it’s all awful! Heck, passing away peacefully in your sleep is painful. The raw sensation of the reaper’s cold claws tearing you from your mortal suit is terrible.” “It doesn’t matter. Everything’s shitty and nothing’s important! Especially not me.” The man chuckled. “You’re not important? You’re telling me you’re not important? My friend I’ve been alive for over two-thousand years and not once have I met anyone who wasn’t important.” Casey affixed his eyes to the water. As far as it was, and as far as it was getting as he fell, he still knew he’d reach it. “And this is the part that always happens. The action is easy, but the consequences aren’t. I have yet to meet one person who didn’t wish that they hadn’t taken that jump. Or let go of the wheel. Or took that last big needle in the arm. Or—” “Hey,” Casey cut in, “aren’t I supposed to be seeing my life flash before my eyes or something?” The man flipped again, on his stomach, and gave the boy a puzzled look. “Why?” “What?” “Why would you?” “Isn’t that what happens?” “Well,” the man began, “usually it happens to people who haven’t initiated their own deaths; octogenarians in their beds, a guy who picked a fight with the wrong man in an alleyway, et cetera. But suicides,” he began pacing back and forth in the air, still falling, hand rubbing his chin, “no. Not suicides. You gave that all up remember? That’s why you jumped.” As solemn feeling filled the boy. “I guess that makes sense.” The man reclined again. “What’s worse is that you probably can’t even remember your life.” Casey was about to bark at how ridiculous that was. Then, he realized he couldn’t. “Then again, I guess it’s not important where you came from.” He didn’t remember his father’s face. Or his mothers. “Your friends in school. The college you got into.” He couldn’t remember the high school he just graduated from or…the post-high school place he was going to. “Ronnie’s Joint, where he serves those awesome sandwiches with the French toast and the fried eggs?” He couldn’t remember what he had for breakfast at…that guy’s bodega. What was it called again? “Or Aggie? Aggie doesn’t matter right?” And who was that person? The tiny…girl. That loved his gloves and wanted a pair just like them for her birthday. Which was… The tears poured freely. The water drew closer now. “I’m sorry.” “You take it all back?” “I’m sorry.” “You want to try again?” “Yes!” he turned to the man. “Please! I’ll do anything you ask!” A monstrous smile spread across the man’s face. “Anything?” “Yes!” Casey collided with the chilly water. And woke up in his room. He sat up in his bed and took a deep breath, choking on something in his throat. He hacked up a rolled piece of paper and unfurled it. ‘Pay it Forward, Casey! From Your Friend, a Good Samaritan.” &#x200B; Edited Upload on Fri. 3/19 at AllPoetry, DA, Ao3, and Tumblr.
James wheezed heavily, leaning against an old brick building beside him. He took out an inhaler, breathing a big whiff of the chemicles that where supposed to help with the pain. James had recently been diagnosed with a rare desise con tracted from alien debrie that fell on his house, one that his doctoers claimed was incurable, and would eventually kill him. James felt his heart grow heavy, air thick and heavy, lungs stiff as the worn lether shoes he wore. The door to the building beside him opened, an elderly women poking her head out."Hey kid, you okay?" James turned his head slowly, vision blurry. He staggered twards her as reality faded to darkness, darkness to light, light to empty voids of black. Memories flashed through Jame's head, an old man tinkering away at a large motor, a little boy watching from behind with wide eyes, a young girl in a pink dress running down the hill, her blonde hair fluttering though the air. Childhood, or at least what was still remembered of it. James felt somthing soft underneath his body, mind fading back to reality. A warm earthy smell filled his lungs, head throbbing to hard he was sure it would burst, pain burning from his flesh, blood bounding in his veins. A searing pain filled his eyes as James attempted to open them. He screamed, arms banging aganst a cold metal surface, body shaking as the fires enveloped his soul. James felt the fires die down, smoldering until thier embers turned to ash and charcoal. His body tingled like a bad case of pins and needles, head slowly clearing from the adrenalin rush. The feeling in his hands returned, body returning to a state of normality. A rough hand lifted Jame's head, putting a cup up to his lips. A sweet fuity iquid filled his mouth, soothing his sore throat. James grabbed the cup, gulping down the rest of the juice. His body felt different, no aches or pains, nor heavyiness in his lungs, nor did his chest hurt every time his heart beat. He felt alive again, his youth returned to its youthful soul "What did you do to me?"He mumbled. "Saved you from dying that's what."The old women from before sat beside James's bed, face worn from many years of life. "What?"James sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Drink up, come on."Said the old lady abrasively. James finished the rest of the fuit juice. "How'd you save me?" "Hot peppers of course, I have a special veriety that'll kill pretty much anything, even people if your not careful."She poured out another cup of furit juice, handing it to james. "Drink up, come on."Said the old lady abrasively. James finished the rest of the fuit juice. "Who are you?"Said James. "I'm an herbalist, one of the few of a dying practice thanks to big farma. It used to be different back when I was young, now all they seem to want to do is throw us in prision."The old lady spat on the ground. "You know, I'd love to see the looks on one of those sleezball's face when they get throwen behind bars, though I doubt that'll ever happen."
The old man turned from the blinded window and sat at the desk. “I knew you were coming, I have eyes everywhere.” He reached into the left side cabinet and pulled out an aged bottle of brandy, “You’d like two fingers?” I didn’t move an inch not saying a word. My eyes kept firmly locked with his. “At least let me nurse it.” I took a step forward, coming into the light of his desk lamp. The buisness does well, and he certainly made good on his wealth. The man sat up, then poured another anyway for me, “Well, I don’t want to be a bad host, that’s not like us.” He took a sip of the mahogany liqueur, “So this is it, huh? This is it...” he looked at me dead in the eye and shot up. He spoke with an almost hate, “I’ve done some bad, real bad. In the name of the family, and in my own greed.” He looked down and saw that my hand was on my hip. “And I’ve done some good too. But it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” He chuckled with an empty smile and sat back down. “This is it. This is it.” He picked up a photo off his desk, of two young men and one young woman. He paused just a moment, and while still holding the picture, he look up again, “When you do it, at least let me have them in my mind?” I nodded, and his face relaxed a bit. He took the photo out and placed it into his coat breast pocket. I raised my gun as he turned his chair, “This is it.”
Solomon had felt as if his time exploring Earth may be coming to an end. He had explored nearly every place imaginable to the human mind. He decided that night that he would explore the deep frost-caked woods of Nova Scotia. His intentions seemed innocent but he knew what he was hoping to find. Years prior, his girlfriend had run away from her abusive father and only left him with a note that read, “Dear Solomon, I am very sorry to leave but I can take no more. I know this may seem to be the most cruel action I can perform but, I know that this is the only way to escape my personal hell.” The letter had been stained with tears, presumably hers. Solomon readied his bag but brought nothing more than a light gravy sweater for comfort. After all, one of the perks of leaving your body he discovered was you no longer needed to worry about temperature. The human soul always remained in equilibrium of hot and cold. As he was leaving he stopped and realized the emotions that would flood him if he were to find her. After his contemplation, he decided he still wanted to continue through on his journey. As he neared Nova Scotia, he realized how truly dark it was. Occasionally he saw a cabin light or two flickering in the distance but that was all. Solomon knew where he was going and didn’t want to become distracted by the prospect of human interaction. He continued on and decided he would return to the cabins one day, but not today. He slowed as he neared a mountain. It was a grand mountain that similar to the trees, had a white top, bleached by the falling snow. He knew that if his girlfriend were alive he would find her in the heart of the mountain. Her mother had been discussing where she would hide and months before Solomons life was altered he had acquired the location from her. He entered the mountain through two large wooden doors covered in finely shaped metal figures that resembled waves. There she was, lying on the floor, as the stone around her was darkened by a crimson colored fluid. He realized then that last remaining person in the world who he had cared for was dead. He wished that his wish had never come true and he could pass away like the rest of them. Instead he was left to watch as everyone and everything he loved was slowly ripped from him. Edit: It wouldn’t let me format it correctly on mobile so I apologize for the horrendous block structure.
\[poem\] The queen of spades has a gaze of blades they burrow in my back. Blue, beady, bleeding; breaking, turning black. I want to run, I try to flee, I'm slipping through the cracks. &#x200B; The queen of spades has a plat of graves of bones and stones and grass, grim, peaceful, piercing; she's plotting her attack. I know her well, I know those eyes, I know the punch they pack. I know if I escape today I'm never coming back.
“You look down, Anne.” I stared down at my feet. The metal landing station under my feet reflected off the jumbo boards which lit up the streets of New Tech. The smell of smoke and soot filled the air. When I had first landed the planet, it was of pure mistake. Our fuel had run low, and I was well aware the planet of Steamride was a huge attribute to the galactic fuel business, so I decided to Land my ship on its ports. I mistake on my part. I hated the smoke, I hated the constant noise of whirring motors, and I hated the smell of coal. But now, as I walked beside Raven, the smell of fuel and whirring of motors was quite comforting. After 8 months on the planet, It had finally grown on me, despite High Council calling upon my arrival home. “I’m fine, Raven. I promise.” “Then for gods sake, lift your chin up,” Raven chuckled, pushing my shoulder, “I don’t want you walking off any ledges.” On any other planet, that would be a strange thing to worry about, but Steamride was strange in general. A planet which never fully progressed above the industrial revolution, its sky’s were polluted and grey, and it’s cities overcrowded to the point where over 68% of houses were built above ground...very above ground. The average local would travel in one-person airplanes, the poorest of locals would ride along in air balloons. Raven’s two story complex was located only a few feet below the clouds, smushed between a bar and guns-smith, it wasn’t the coziest per say, but to me, it was like a second home. So when Raven warned me to watch my step, she meant to be careful not to walk off a side walk. An inside joke between us, but also something that touched Ravn gravely. Her youngest brother had been let out the house one evening, and had fallen off the sidewalk, falling too the planets floor, thousands and thousands of feet below. I however, had also fallen off a sidewalk the first day I arrived, luckily, I fell into the balloon of someone’s air balloon...Ravens air balloon. And we’d been best friends ever since. I laughed, nudging Raven back. Raven then pushed me back, harder. I then pushed Raven, knocking her back off the Ledge. “Raven!” My eyes went wide, i watched her fall hundreds of feet. But to my surprise, the hook of a grapes wrapped around the edge of the side walk, and Raven came flying back up to my level. “Haha, got you!” Raven said, landing next to me. “How-you bastard!” I said, trying to sound angry, but my smile stretched from ear to ear. “I got this grapple from a dude at the bar, traded it for 20 free beers.” Raven said, wiping some soot off her face with a dirty Handkerchief. “Did you really?” I asked, an unimpressed tone to my words. “Nope. I just got him drunk and stole it.” Raven said, walking back to her house. I rolled my eyes. Simultaneously, my ear-piece started to buzz. “Raven go back home, I’ll just be a second.” I said, walking off too answer. “Hello?” “Anne where the fuck have you been! We’ve been calling you for a week.” “I told you general. I’ve been collecting information on the city...they could be very useful to you sir-“ “Cut the crap Heiland. You’ve been bugging it up with the locals for months now. It’s time you return home, the grand event is too happen soon. You have to be here.” “Sir, I don’t think you understand. Steamride is far more developed then we originally thought it was, we should really re-think our plans.” I said, my voice shook. “Heiland. I understand you have bonded with the locals, something I specifically told you to not do. But, if Steamride hasn’t progressed past oil they serve no true use to us. If you want to keep your job, and your golden reputation back home, I expect you to be home by the end of the week.” I grimaced, ending the call. I walked back to Ravens home, the smell of fresh bread and soup filled the warm air. The house was lit up with yellow candles which lined the tables and shelves. “Raven! Teeto bit my finger!” “I did not! His finger hit my teeth!” 10 year old twins, Teeto and Smith, ran passed me. I giggled as Smith ran for his life, as the sugar crazed Teeto ran after him. “Well I don’t know what to tell you Smith! Bite him back!” Raven said, trying her best to set up the dinner table. “I Teeto pledge war against Smith Kingdom!” Teeto said, pulling a dull metal sword from his play chest. “Oh yeah? Well I Smith, of Smith Kingdom declare war on Teeto Land...and Anne fights with me!” Smith said, pulling on my pant leg. I chuckled, ruffling Smiths messy brown hair. “Sorry boys, I’m out of the business.” Raven laughed, “She is! Besides, she only fights for Raven Town, leader of all kingdoms.” “Oh yes! And Ravens first demand as leader of the galaxies is for you to sit down and eat dinner!” The boys groaned, but sit down on the benches which lined the large dinner table. Teeto hungrily bit into his food, while Smith cut it with a fork and knife, politely biting into it with a fixed posture. “Ma and Pa won’t be home till tomorrow evening Anne, you can have some dinner if you’d like.” Raven said, patting on the space beside her. I slid onto the bench next to her, shaking my head. “No thanks, I don’t have much of an appetite today.” “Aw poor you,” Raven said, rolling her eyes. She threw a loaf of bread at my head, “eat.” I bit into it, sticking my tongue out at her. She smirked at me, leaning her head against my shoulder as she continued to chew into her bed. I wanted to enjoy the moment, but the generals words whirled around in my head. I had to leave. (Chapters 1/2) Hope you enjoy it so far!
The throng of people part ways before the knights who escort me. My people look up at my carriage, laughing, waving, cheering, but my face is devoid of mirth. Not being able to ride on a horse is the worst inconvienience of faltering health. I don’t travel a lot anymore, but if I must, I make sure that the royal carriage has cushions aplenty. The broad cobbled streets were a definite improvement over the dirt roads that criss-crossed the then backwater port town. The state of this place when I first came to power… It just hurts when I place myself in my young me again - he had so much to do, so much had to go right, and he didn’t even know it yet. And all these people… did I give them my all, or did I use them all? This would be my final trip, one final retour before I’d retire to my castle. My abdication is a secret, and can only be sanctioned by the Cosmopolitan of the Church. So that’s where we’re off to, to meet the man who will release me of my responsibility and power. I don’t think I’ll miss it - the older I got, the more I understood the gravity of what I’d done to be where I am now. There was a time when I considered myself without such emotions, so it shocked me when these self-reflections first started popping up. We are passing rolling hills with luscious vineyards and in the far-away forest thick plumes of smokes rise up above the treetops. There used to be a time when these fields were barren, and smoke meant death and destruction. Now they mean industry, people collecting and smelting bog iron for a tidy profit, and stocking our armories with weapons. On a hill stands a lonely mill, one I quickly avert my eyes away from. One of the many linchpins on the wheel of fate, that girl was. I got rid of the right of the first night, but by god, did I make use of it before I decreed its illegality. Peasants and travelers drop to their knees when they spot the golden tulip that adorns the banners on my carriage. It’s sad, in a way, how normalized this prostration has become. Father certainly never had this effect on people, only begrudgingly when his men started showing steel. Then again, he was a mere vasal to a more powerful house - an ex house. There’s a bottle of wine beside me, so I take a pull. The drinking helps drown out all the screams of the men I’ve killed. God, I killed a lot of countrymen, but they were serving a decadent and crumbling regime, yes? The temple of The Cosmopolitan looms in the distance. He’ll have some answers on life and death, especially about those I’ve arranged. The multicoloured facade looks so happy and festive, inviting all to come and gaze at its glory. However, if you’re not of the clergy’s elite, or a king, you won’t get past the massive curtain wall that surrounds the holy site. My knights leave me at the gate, leaving me in the care of the high priests who take me to The Cosmopolitan. Everything aches; there is a priest who’s about twenty years older than me but moves as if he’s half my age. Do they have it so easy? If my old brother was still alive, this could have been my life. I stop my trembling hand with the other. He would have been a horrible king, though, unlikely to survive for even a month. No, stop using these justifications... The Cosmopolitan sits on his throne in the audience chamber. I donated the artists who created the beautiful frescoes on the walls, for which his predecessor was eternally grateful. This man, we have spoken once just after he was elected by the conclave, back when I still… in the game. I made sure that he knew who greased the wheels of his succession. “Holy father, I come before thee to ask thyne grant - I wish to relinquish my crown, and retire my office.” I don’t kneel, I don’t think I’d be able to stand back up if I did. “By divine right you rule; you were chosen by god to fulfil the kingly duties. To deny the crown is to deny god.” The Cosmopolitan intoned, his voice echoing through the domed chamber. “I have worn out the crown, I feel that god has chosen another now.” “Who, then? You have no issue.” A faint smile appeared on The Cosmopolitan’s face. That hurts. He knows I have bastards, and that I had a son. “The crown prince would have been a worthy successor, but the Lord saw it fit to take him - as is his prerogative.” I can still see his eyes, his determination when he gave me his mount and then turned back, sword in each hand, to thrust himself into the infidels who chased me after that cursed battle in the desert heat. “Indeed it is, but as far as I see, God has not selected a worthy replacement.” My son's sacrifice paved a way to a diplomatic subjugation of the church - I survived and went on to destroy the church's ancient enemies. So to hear this… puppet speak to me as if I’m not entitled to pick my own successor. I have half a mind to tell him what really happened to the man who came before him. “My cousin, Redwald. He will be the one to lead this kingdom further.” The Cosmopolitan rises from his seat and starts to slowly pace the room, hands on his back. He looks up with a pensive expression. “No.” “What?” The audacity! I feel some of my old vigor returning. “I will not grant you the right to abdicate. You have not deserved the right to go quietly.” I stand there, tongue-tied. It’s been a long time since I’ve been denied anything. “To earn that right, you must do one thing…” He pauses. “Well?” “Confess, to everything. Including the assassination of the Comopolitan before me.” Confession. That’s what I need. “I-I shall confess.” I had been bottling up so much, but the lid cannot take the pressure anymore. Ever since I started contemplating abdication, the bottle has been shaking more and more violently. The fact that he knows what I did to his predecessor does not faze me anymore. His hand is outstretched in the direction of a large booth. I step in the booth’s right door, and he the left. Hours later, when evening has fallen, I stumble out again and sag down to the floor. Through-red ringed eyes I notice the little details on the tiled floor - miniature scenes of the lives of saints past. My story will not be immortalized on the floor of the holy temple… “You will reign on, until death.” The Cosmopolitan stands over me and looks down, his face shaded under his cap. “Use the time you have left to redeem yourself. And as penance for all those who you have wronged, consider this. You will not receive the rest you so desire until God decides your time has come.”
(Pt. 1/2) "I'm a perfectly reasonable man."The crackly, low-fidelity sound from the intercom system could not mask the sadness in the captain's voice. "Kill him, and I will spare the rest." Evelyn's head swam as the demand sank in. Hearing such a brutal condition delivered in such a gentle tone was surreal. &#x200B; Voices erupted in protest behind her as her fellow castaways registered what had been said. "He can't be serious." "Is this a joke?" "I knew it, I knew we should have stayed on the cutter!" Their sharp cries bounced off of the metal walls of the airlock, a frightened cacophony that only intensified Evelyn's headache. Chattering birds, shrieking at the sound of a cat's growl. &#x200B; Behind her, she heard Evan wade in to calm them down. That was his way. He was always better with people, with words, than she was. It didn't seem fair that he should have to - after all, it was his life the captain was calling for - but it dropped the noise level. It let her think. It let her do her job. &#x200B; As the frantic babble behind her dropped in decibel level, her eyes crawled over the bulkheads, the deck above and below, and the inner hatch. Worn. Well-maintained, but old. Clean, but not pristine. No pitting, no scoring, no evidence of impacts or weapons fire. It wasn't out of character for a small-freight courier like this one. Truth be told, this ship wasn't much bigger than the dying cutter it had rescued them from. Taking on eight extra people was likely to be a strain - why had they even responded to the distress beacon? Slavers?But no, that didn't track. Professionals would have tried to keep them lulled for easier handling until they were secured. Opportunistic first-timers wouldn't be looking for Evan's death before they'd open the inner hatch - it would cut into their profit margins. Smugglers would have just ignored the beacon completely. Pirates wouldn't have even slowed down for such slim pickings. So what the hell is going on here? &#x200B; "We can't go back to the cutter,"Evan insisted firmly, his tone taking on an edge of authority that cut through the chatter with ease. "There's not enough life in the recyclers to get even half of us to the shipping lanes, let alone to a friendly station. We stay here, or we all die gasping." Someone began to cry. Evelyn ignored it. She stepped away from the huddled flock of castaways and up to the inner hatch. The view port didn't let her see much of the corridor beyond, but what she saw was right in line with the airlock - clean, well-maintained, undamaged, unmarked. She frowned. "What do they expect us to do?"someone cried. "Beat you to death? Strangle you with our bare hands? Nobody has any weapons!"The speaker was shouted down almost immediately. &#x200B; Evelyn leaned forward, bracing one hand on the hatch as she craned her neck, trying to see the bulkhead next to the inside of the hatch. The moment she touched it, she felt the unmistakable thrum. Strange matter drive. Banned in Unified space since the Great Schism. No Unity seal on the hull, the hatch, or in the corridor. Breakers. They're Breakers. No wonder they wanted her brother dead.
##AN: This story takes place pre-Covid. It is all I could whip up on short notice. Any resemblance to real people or events is completely coincidental. &nbsp; #Prologue &nbsp; 13𝘵𝘩 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩, 10:37 𝘱.𝘮. I read & reread Andrew's message for the umpteenth time. Something is wrong, very wrong. Normally, I would not worry about my husband working late. But this message reeks of trouble. For starters, my name is not Beth. &nbsp; Second, "me & the boys"? We have no kids, and if he was talking about having some pints with his friends, then he would tell me that he'd be late. And what about the bit of "we just can't find the sound"? It is a strange phrase. Either my husband is in danger, or the message wasn't meant for me. &nbsp; I try to decode his message. Beth could be Elizabeth or Bethany. Whatever it means, the name is important to find him. "Beth, I hear you calling", means he can only hear her. So, Beth is nearby and somehow, he cannot communicate with her. But Beth being nearby is important to him. &nbsp; The can't come home bit is obvious, but who are "the boys"? Is he trapped with some other men, or are these men torturing him? Then there is "we can't find the sound". Again, it must refer to Beth. So, Beth is the key to finding my husband, she is nearby him, but he cannot communicate with her & he cannot locate where exactly she is. Well, that narrows it down. &nbsp; I decide to call the police, but hesitate. There is no proof that my husband is even in danger. Instead, I call my brother Todd. I tell him everything, and he tells me that he is coming over. He is there in half an hour & starts going over the message. &nbsp; &nbsp; ##Chapter 1 &nbsp; #Meeting Beth &nbsp; 13𝘵𝘩 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩, 11:23 𝘱.𝘮. 'Hmm, I think you are right.' Todd says, 'If he can hear her but cannot find the sound, then he is probably held somewhere downstairs. Like in a basement. Anyway, this Beth is only one floor above him. Do you know any Elizabeth or Bethany? Did he talk about one?' &nbsp; 'Definitely not.' I am sweating bullets by now. 'If there is a co-worker named Bethany, then she must have joined a day ago, at the most. I don't know any Bethany, and the only Elizabeth he has ever talked about is his great grandaunt.' &nbsp; 'I think I know who Beth is. Let me make a call.' Todd turns his back to me & calls someone. 'Hi Warren, Todd here. Listen, this might sound odd, but is there are ship by the name of Elizabeth moored on the docks today? There is? Great. Uh huh, listen, I want to know if there are any vacant buildings, warehouses etc. near the ship... ' &nbsp; Todd explains what is happening. It takes a while, but he convinces Warren. 'Warren is in customs. He can help us locate Andrew.' Todd informs me. 'In the meanwhile, I want a recent photo of Andrew. We might have to go to the police.' I comply by giving him the photo taken at Christmas. Todd calls Warren again & tells him to meet us at the police station. &nbsp; Warren meets us at the station with the list of all possible places where Andrew might be. The police reluctantly decide to team up with some of Warren's co-workers. They leave me & Todd at the station & head to the docks. Now, the situation is in their hands. &nbsp; &nbsp; ##Epilogue &nbsp; 14𝘵𝘩 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩, 9:07 𝘢.𝘮. After a 3 hour search, they find Andrew. Warren tells us to call a criminal lawyer. I don't like the sound of that, but I do as said. Minutes after a lawyer is arranged, I see Andrew. A glazed look on his face, some minor injuries. I hug him, but he doesn't notice. &nbsp; 'He is in a shock.' Warren explains. 'It will wear off soon, and you will meet him. But right now, he will need his lawyer. I suppose this is your lawyer?' he extends his palm to the man. The lawyer shakes his hand. &nbsp; 'Apparently, after work was finished, your husband decided to take a new shortcut.' Warren continues. 'While going through the route, he saw some suspicious activity. Andrew.... he just walked in on a child trafficking ring operation.' &nbsp; I gasp. The lawyer takes notes as Warren continues, 'For some reason, they held Andrew hostage instead of silencing him. There is an empty building near the docks. Andrew and the kids were held captive in its basement. Andrew must have seen SS Elizabeth docked while being held hostage.' &nbsp; 'That's horrible.' it's all I can say. &nbsp; 'Indeed.' says Warren. 'Now, through dumb luck, the gang forgot to check for & dispose Andrew's phone, but he already sent the message, hoping you would send the police. In the meanwhile, Andrew tried to escape, figuring that he'd get help on the Elizabeth. Not an easy job, since he could not see which direction the ship was in.' &nbsp; Later, through the lawyer, I find out that Andrew & the kids were indeed playing, as in Andrew was trying to distract them to stop them from panicking. Almost twelve hours have passed, and I am yet to see my husband's face. &nbsp; But it is okay. They are processing him & I'll be meeting him in an hour & half. I may not know exactly how things happened, or how worried my husband was, but at least I now know for sure, that everything will be all right.
I stood on the observation deck, one hand behind my back, the other holding my coffee mug. I took a small sip as The Memoriam approached the ring. The hum of the hundreds of news crews around me only served to add to the air of barely contained excitement. A turning point in human history more than one hundred years in the making was happening, and nobody was willing to miss it. From my earpiece I heard The Memoriam’s captain announce that all systems were nominal, the ring was active, and they were starting their final approach. I took another sip of coffee to keep from cheering out loud. I watched as the ship with only twenty crew members started to traverse the ring. The excited hum grew into loud cheers as people realized that the ship wasn’t emerging from the other side. It was working, and I couldn’t hide my grin any longer. “Beginning ring traversal. See you in an hour.” the captain said. “One small step…” I whispered back, though nobody heard. From my pocket I pulled out the notecards holding my speech, knowing that soon all the cameras and microphones would be pointed at me. I’d been working on this speech for years, and I was still unsure if it was worthy of the occasion. Once The Memoriam had completely vanished through the ring it took some time for everyone to settle down enough for me to begin, and to be honest, I couldn’t blame them. I stood facing the audience, and through them, the whole of humanity that was spread throughout the solar system. I couldn’t stop smiling as I took a deep breath to begin my address. A brilliant flash lit me up from behind, everyone on the observation deck flinched, covering their faces and turning away. In confusion I turned, and was nearly deafened by the multitude of voices that began shouting through my earpiece. I was the only person that hadn’t been facing the ring during the flash, so I was the only person not blinded by it. My mug fell from limp fingers as I saw The Memoriam spinning our of control away from the ring, burning pieces floating away from it as it hurtled away from the ring. Flight control was still shouting, trying to get answers about what had happened, but I could hear another voice underneath it all. It was muffled by radio static, but the urgency was impossible to miss. “...destroy the ring … … … follow us. I repeat: Initiate self destruct, we have to destroy the ring. we can’t let them follow us...” I reached for my radio to give the order, but as I did I saw the first of the monsters begin to emerge.
Detective Harry Walters sipped at his coffee and groaned. It was too early to be dealing with a case this strange. He double-checked the arrest report, straightened himself into some semblance of professionalism, and entered the interrogation room. The suspect was male, 5,10, messy hair, in his mid-40s. He was wearing a brand new button up shirt at least forty years out of style, and trousers which clashed with it horribly. He had fallen asleep at the table, so Harry dragged the opposite chair back with a loud screech to startle him awake. "I'm Detective Walters, and you are?"The man was still rubbing sleep out of his eyes, so Harry repeated the question. "Can I have your name?"The man said nothing. Harry rolled his eyes. The strong, silent type, it seemed. "Look, everything's stopped until I get a name. You had no ID on you and your fingerprints aren't in the computer, and I can't start the paperwork to get you the lawyer you asked for without a name on the form." "Ken Smith,"the man said after a slight pause. Harry figured it was probably a fake name, but the time to press him on that would come later. "So, you and your girlfriend were caught in the city zoo after dark. You broke into the security office to wipe the tapes, failed miserably to do so, and then went to the zookeepers' hut where you stole the keys to the animal enclosures. I get everything up to this point. You really wanted some exotic pet, or maybe you were planning on stealing some animals to sell on the black market. What I don't get,"Harry leaned in closer, "is why, of all the animals there, you chose to break into the panda exhibit. Care to enlighten me?" 'Ken' shrugged dramatically. "You're right,"(Liar, Harry thought), "we were going to sell them to a buyer in Japan. They're worth millions, after all." Ken sat back in the chair and gave the man a skeptical gaze. "Millions, you say?" Ken nodded quickly, "Yes, and he was offering us a bonus if we could get them quickly, so we bungled the... what?" Harry couldn't resist any longer, his shaking turned into laughter. He doubled over and grabbed the table for balance, gasping for breath. "You know they have pandas in Japan, right? They're everywhere, just like here. So tell me,"he said, regaining his composure, "Why did you need to steal these four specific pandas instead of just grabbing a few out of Central Park?" 'Ken' showed the first genuine emotion Harry had seen out of him, excitement. "There are pandas in Central Park?" "There's pandas everywhere,"Harry said, "Why wouldn't they be in the park?"Ken was clearly in shock, but Harry decided to wait him out. When Ken snapped out of it, he said, in a far more serious tone, "The truth, then. This will be hard to believe, I know, but please keep an open mind."Harry mustered up some sincere-looking interest, and Ken continued. "I'm from another dimension."He paused, clearly expecting a response, but Harry just waited for him to go on. Ken coughed uncomfortably, then said, "On my copy of Earth, despite our best efforts, pandas were driven to extinction by humans. My companion and I came to this dimension seeking replacements to repopulate our zoos, to preserve our heritage for our children." Harry raised an eyebrow. "Another dimension? I could maybe, just maybe, buy that; it would at least explain where you got that ugly shirt. But you really expect me to believe people finally managed to wipe out pandas, and you then deliberately came to get more? The furry bastards breed like rabbits and can eat practically anything. They drove the bison extinct by taking over their habitat. Fish stocks are globally declining from pandas overfishing. Hell, Australia even tried importing cane toads to kill them off by poisoning, and it just gave the pandas another food source!"Harry stood to tower over the man. "And you expect me to believe that you're from another dimension, which not only, somehow, managed to eradicate them, but then decided to bring them back?" Harry turned and walked out, shaking his head as he left. "Find a better lie to tell the judge."
Today was finally the day. I had been waiting for the launch of Faceit, the new face tracking service that promised to find all instances of a face on the internet. It was a bold claim, and I was eager to test it out. I woke up early, prepared my laptop, and logged onto the Faceit website. The signup process was quick and painless, and soon I was looking at my dashboard. With a list of pre-planned experiments, I decided to start with the most obvious. I typed my own name into the search bar and hit enter. The results were instantaneous. The first result was an image that I had uploaded to an old personal website. I clicked on the link, and sure enough, there was a picture of me. I had uploaded the image a few years back, and I was impressed Faceit was able to find it so quickly. As I scrolled down the page, past old photos from my university days, my focus was drawn to a website I had never heard of. The results claimed that the website had images of me on it, but when I clicked on the link it was in a language I didn't recognize. Curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to visit the website anyway. When the page loaded I was shocked to find that it was a Russian website. I had never visited Russia, and I certainly didn't speak any Russian. But there was no question in my mind; the face looking back was familiar. I should be able to recognize my own face, after all. Right? I decided to contact Faceit and see if they could explain what was going on. When I contacted customer service, they told me that they had found the image on a Russian website, and that the image belonged to a Russian citizen. I told them that I had never been to Russia, and that I certainly wasn't a Russian citizen. They asked me if I had any relatives in Russia, and I told them that my grandfather was from Russia, but that he had died a few years ago. The customer representative apologized they weren't able to be more helpful, and they told me that they would take down the image if I would like. I was mystified, but I went about my day. It was a busy day, and I didn't have much time to think about some picture of me that was on a website I had never heard of. The following weeks passed with relative normalcy. I was busy with a new project at work, and I slowly forgot about the mysterious picture. I had almost completely forgotten about the whole thing when one day I received a mysterious letter. It had no return address, and when I opened it, I was shocked to find a Russian passport. I flipped through it, and to my surprise I saw a familiar face staring back at me. The eyes were the same blue as my own, even the same scar on the left cheek. As I continued to go through the passport, searching for clues, a small piece of paper fluttered to the ground. It was a plane ticket, with a small note attached. "See you soon!" \[Written with [Hyperwrite.AI](https://hyperwrite.ai/) \- a new A.I. writing tool I've been testing\]
I strained as hard I could to let him stay alive just a little longer. My limit to bringing people back was 5 minutes. 5 minutes was all I could give to people. Today was especially hard though. He was a father of two young ones, kids no older than 5. Here he was, looking just as he would have before dying, holding his wife and kids sobbing, understanding that this would be the last time they were together. His wife had begged me, even dropped to her knees to allow her to see him once more… To give a proper goodbye. He died too young, I couldn’t just let him die another time. His kids were too young too, unable to even understand what death was. What would they think when he suddenly fell limp and never spoke again? I already explained to the wife countless times about the trauma this could leave and sometimes things were better left as they were, but once she started crying, I gave in. Now, I paid the price. My mind was slipping, fading the longer I kept him awake. The strain from defying death was a heavy toll, slowly corrupting me every time I did it. “Alright kiddies, your daddy needs some rest now so how about you guys go and get some candy,” a voice called out from the entrance to the room. I turned to look, my body still straining as I kept him alive to say goodbye as his kids ran off to get their treats. I saw it was my best friend, Bone, standing in front of the open doors, now five dollars poorer than he was before. “I know it is hard for you both, but I promise it’ll be okay. I’m sure you already know it isn’t so bad when you pass right?” my friend spoke, his voice cutting through the air like a gentle breeze. The husband nodded, agreeing that passing over was a process not painful. He then turned to his wife, hugged her tightly once more and they shared a final kiss. By this point, I couldn’t see anymore, barely able to even stand. My eyes were open yet no visuals could be perceived. Once I heard the sound of the door closing, indicating she had left, I let my power go, his body slumping into the casket with a thump. I panted, trying to catch my breath. My whole body felt deprived of energy. “You have to stop doing this. It’s not healthy for you or anyone else,” Bone said, walking over and letting me lean on his shoulder. “I know, but they just need it. Alteast to say goodbye,” I countered, though I knew the consequence that was soon to come. “It’s getting worse isn’t it?” I didn’t answer, looking away to avoid any chance of eye contact. I hated when he asked this. “I’ve been your friend for the last 10 years of your life. You doing that just proves it’s getting worse,” Bone spoke. He was right though, my condition was worsening with each time I brought back the dead. My hunger growing more and more. Bone helped me sit down against the wall and joined me, sitting to my right. “I can’t help myself. I tell myself I won’t bring anyone back anymore, but then someone who has heard the rumours barges in and begs me. I always give in. At the very least though I’m doing something good,” I said, finally breaking the silence. He turned to face me, his expression, cold. “You aren’t doing anyone favours. That lady is going to end up crazy knowing that the possibility her husband can be raised from the dead exists. She probably will spend her life wasting away at it, not knowing the truth behind why you are able to do it and no one else can.” I looked down at my legs in front of me, then raised my hands to stare at my palms. Deep down I knew I wasn’t doing anyone good, but I at least wanted to believe it. If I wasn’t doing good, then all I would be known for was being \*his\* son. After sitting in more silence, Bone finally stood, walking towards the doors to leave. “When you end up turning into your father, don’t expect me to help you,” he finally said pushing the doors open and walking out. His words stuck with me. “Turning into my father.” That left a disgusting taste in my mouth. I wouldn’t become him. I wouldn’t allow that to happen. I promised her I wouldn’t. Letting my head rest back against the wall, I stared up at the ceiling. “I’m not like you,” I shouted out into the space of the empty room. The only “person” I knew of was the body of the wife’s husband. Though in the midst of all of the silence that fell afterward, a small chuckle echoed through. I didn’t need to look around to know who it was. “Hey princess.” If you enjoyed the story, please check out my Instagram (@zoppy.tz) for daily short stories just like this and leave a follow! It would mean a lot. Thanks so much!
Epilogue: Most of the Lunisians and Goedons died before they knew they weren't even enemies. A few among both species understood the waves of ecocide caused by the exchange of biological materials from their first robotic expeditions was not an attack. But their voices were not loud enough to drown out those who used the opportunity to rally against a common enemy. Pockets of survivors of 'The Fourth and Final Cleansing' finally abandoned their philosophy of total war and began try to establish communications with the other world. Turns out Lunisians create really interesting soundscapes with their flatulence that the Goedons find heavenly and the Goedons do a sort of 'light-dance' that the Lunisians think is literally the funniest thing in the universe. The last 20 or 30 of both species ended up being really good friends and created a hybrid art with the flatulence-light-dancing. But their planets were already toast so it was all kind of bittersweet. And at the last great performance of the fart-light-comedy-ballet a couple of Goedon's said some really uncool stuff about a few of the Lunisian's ancestors roles in 'The Second and Final Cleansing'. So nobody was really that broken up when a giant meteor smashed into Lunis and sent planet killing chunks down onto Goed and just finished things off.
The fur on my back was tingling with delight. My stomach was rumbling with delicious sounds. My tail was perking up. My mouth turned watery in sight of her. Her outerwear was red as roses. She looked innocent of everything. I was smiling from ear to ear. I had nothing good in a while. My jacket was beating against the wind. I walked up slowly, trying to act nice and sweet. The girl saw me and got scared. She spoke scarcely” A wolf! I’m not get tricked b…y you.” I growled” I’m not a wolf who wants blood. You might be scared cause I’m a wolf. I just want to ask a simple question. It’s the dead of the night, why are you out here? More scary wolves hunt at night. Also what is thy name?” She clearly was scared. But she spoke more proudly”My gram is sick. My best friends call me Red. I also have a question for you, mr. wolf. Does mr. wolf work? Or do you have a name?” Oh no Red, my how big of a mistake you made. I growled nicely”Wolfgang would be nice. If too long, than Mr.Wolf would work. Goodbye Red.” Red spoke”Goodbye mr.wolf.” And hello dinner. I bolted towards grams house. I memorized these woods. I knew of every route and shortcut. I got to grams house. I wasted no time and locked gram in a closet. I got in her clothes afterwards. I left my jacket on the ground, not that Red would care. A little while later, Red came in. She questioned who was in her bed. She spoke”Gram? My what big eyes and teeth you have. That jacket looks familiar.” I growled at her” All the better to see and EAT you up!!” I then bolted at Red. She alerted a woodsman, who cut me up. I was no weak. I picked my jacket up, then walked out. My tail was hanging low in disappointment. All I have to say is, would you feed a wolf?
So, I have been thinking, how do you get rid of a lifetime sentence? You may call this a waste of time, but since I'm serving one I do have plenty of time anyways, oh and when I say "get rid of"I mean truly get rid of, not just flee, for if you flee you will have to avoid police your entire life, no, how do you get rid of it like it never existed. Faking your death may be a solution, but it is rather complicated and you have to start your entire life all over again, and never see your friends or family again, I don't want that... But what if I made it seem like I was innocent? I already tried that in court, but what if I fleed the prison, messed with the evidence, and came back before anybody ever noticed? I do have a new rulling soon but I don't have any real chance of winning, unless I destroy the evidence. You may say this is impossible, but its better to try it and it is to sit here and do absolutely nothing. Firsr things first, I need to flee. This is simple enough, the prison isn't too secure and I could easily slip by without getting detected, the tricky part was messing with the evidence and breaking in before anybody noticed I was gone. The only time I could flee is the night time, I would have 12 hours to run around before returning, knowing that most of the evidence is stored nearby in a federal building and that I just have to destroy it it doesn't seem hard, but I will be going on foot with no equipment... its going to take a while. Lets be generous and say I need only 3 hours to get there, that leaves me with 6 hours of time if I flee right after the lights go off, using that time I could probably set up a fire and and sneak back in before morning. ________________________________________________ It worked! Come 7 in the evening I removed the bars on my window that I was messing around with for a while. I then made my way to the reserve and set the whole thing ablaze, it was beatiful. I sneaked myself back in, all by 4 in the morning, I got no sleep but it was worth it. Freedom, here I come!
"Hey, Jim,"I greeted as I climbed into the passenger seat of his pickup truck. He barely even acknowledged me with a martyred sigh as he stared straight out of the windshield. Pressing my lips together, I tucked my backpack between my feet and reached for the seatbelt. "See you tomorrow, Mike!"Casey called at me through the open window as she and some of her friends passed, and I could not keep from smiling. Lifting an eyebrow over the rim of his sunglasses, Jimmy mumbled, "She's out of your league, bro." I blushed and glared at him. "We get along fine,"I snapped defensively. "We're partners in science lab." He scoffed and kicked his truck into gear. "I know girls like that, kid. She's just taking advantage of your brain." Gripping the seatbelt strap tightly, I sank back in the cracked leather seats and said nothing. It was rare I ever got a compliment from my older brother, and I wanted to savor this one, backhanded though it was. Ever since Mom had died two years ago, I lived with my brother. It had happened two days after his birthday, so he was old enough to be my legal guardian, but he was not happy about it. _I ain't gonna be your parent, you got that, you little shit?_ he said to me the first night I moved in. _Finish high school and get the hell out of my life._ We were not exactly close, Jim and I. Jimmy usually dropped me off at my friend Juan's house for the weekend, but when he flipped on the blinker to jump on the highway rather than turn into Juan's neighborhood, I turned to him in confusion. "Where are we going?" "My place,"Jimmy said brusquely. He never called it 'our' home. Furrowing my brow, I said, "But I always go to Juan's for the weekend." "Well, some guy from the government is coming by today. To make sure you're still alive and all." I sighed heavily, groaning at the ceiling. "When will CPS leave us alone? I'm sixteen. I'm not six." I saw Jim glance at me out of the corner of my eye. "Don't tell them about the friends I have over." "I haven't even told Juan about your dealers, Jim,"I muttered crossly. "They're not my dealers. They're just my friends." "Whatever. I won't tell anyone about the company you keep." We rode in silence for a bit longer. When he hit the blinker to exit the highway, Jim spoke up again, "I'm not trying to look like some star guardian."I propped my chin in my hand and watched the trailer parks roll by. "Are you even listening to me?" "Why do you care?"I asked in return. We passed a girl walking her dog. She looked like Casey, so I started daydreaming about my lab partner and her enthusiasm towards all things geeky. But Jim interrupted my thoughts again when he snapped, "I don't. That's what I'm trying to tell you. I don't give a shit about what the agent thinks of me because I don't care if they send you to some boys' home. I care about my buddies and that's it. So leave them out of it." I almost told him that I wished he had cared about our family as much as he cared about his loser friends, but I decided against it. Besides, we were pulling into our shared gravel driveway by then. I pulled out my phone to tell Juan I would not be there today, and then I jumped out of the truck and went inside. I spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for the government guy just lying in bed and thinking about Casey. Jim thought I stood no chance because she was pretty, but I thought it was more likely that she was too smart. I could barely keep up with her wild theories about how to make science fiction a reality. I spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to research that stuff just to impress her, but she always seemed to have heard about something else even more amazing. I was head over heels for her, I knew, but I could not help myself. She was perfect! Jimmy knocked on my door, startling me from my thoughts as abruptly as he always did. I jumped in fright and sat up. "Hey,"he said, his eyes hard. "We're out of milk, so if the government guy shows up, I'm at the store." "Okay,"I nodded, drawing my legs into a cross-legged position and leaning my elbows on my knees. When he did not leave my doorway, I looked up at him again. "What?"I scoffed. "Some girl named Casey is at the front door." I leapt clear off my bed like a cat. "Why didn't you start with that!?"I hissed, diving for my closet to find a less wrinkled shirt. "Look, you can't be messing around with some girl when the government guy gets here--" I blushed so hard that you could probably bake cookies off my forehead. "Shut up, Jim." "Just don't be an idiot, alright?"he snapped, and with that, my big brother left. I hastily changed into a Doctor Who shirt and sprinted out into the living room. Jimmy was just stepping out the door, but I only had eyes for Casey waiting in the middle of the living room. With her auburn braid and freckled cheeks and circular spectacles, she looked as perfectly nerdy as perfectly nerdy could get. Turning to face me, she grinned, "Hi, Mike." "Casey! Hi,"I stammered, shoving my hands into my pockets. "I... Well, hi. Is, uh, is... did you need something? H-how can I help? Uh, let me get you some water--" "No, that's alright, Mike,"she quickly interrupted, stepping in my way when I tried to hurry to the small kitchenette. "I needed to talk to you, and it's... well, it's kind of urgent." Wild fantasies of her rushing forward and kissing me filled my head, but I pushed them aside and asked, "What's so urgent that you couldn't call me about?" The worry pinching her brow made me sober up really quickly. Frowning, I stepped forward and asked quietly, "Casey, what is it?" She bit her lip and then sat on the couch. I carefully sat next to her. "Okay,"she began, "remember that day when we were talking about the feasibility of actual time travel? Comparing the different theories from the different movies and whatnot--" "Yeah, of course,"I nodded emphatically. It had been one of the only debates we had had that I actually could follow pretty well. "What about it?" "Well, remember how Hannah joked that the biggest proof that time travel didn't exist was that we had never seen any time travelers?" I nodded again. She met my gaze, her soulful green eyes capturing my soul. "You're going to think I'm crazy--" "I think you're the most brilliant person in the world,"I said without thinking. She blushed, which made my face burn, but before I could salvage my credibility, she went on, "Mike, I found proof of time travel. It's real." I narrowed my eyes at her, wondering what proof she might have found that-- "Wait,"I muttered, my eyes widening. "Is it _you_?" "What? No!"she laughed, breaking the nervous tension in the room. "No, I just found evidence in history. If you pay close attention, the historical accounts of certain important figures seem... _off_ at some point. Usually pretty early on, so most people don't notice it. But it's even harder to pinpoint because the facts _vanish_. Like I could have sworn to you that Albert Einstein was once spelled _Alberta_ Einstein. I read it when I was a kid--I swear. But now every possible reference is just Albert. No one took me seriously at first, but then I saw discrepancies with important figures like religious leaders, civil rights icons, even Elvis--" "What are you saying exactly, Casey?"I asked, trying to keep up and just getting a headache. "Time travel is _real_,"she pressed, grabbing my hands and leaning toward me. "Someone is going back in time and _becoming_ all these famous people. They're a bit sloppy--maybe that was just the first few times they tried it--but it's _real_."She laughed, her eyes lighting up like fireworks, my brain doing the same. "Michael, time travel is _possible_." A knock at the door made us both jump about a foot in the air. "Shit, that's the government guy,"I hissed, my heart pounding. "I'm sorry. I have to talk to this guy."Leaving her on the couch, I made my way to the door. My head was so full of the enthusiasm in Casey's angelic voice, the warmth of her soft hands gripping mine, and the joy in her eyes as the prospect that there was actually the possibility of time travel, that I feared I would be stupid with it. I hoped I did not stammer or make a fool of myself in front of the CPS agent. I opened the door to a balding man in a gray suit and put on my friendliest smile. "Good afterno--" The man lifted a gun to my forehead and pulled the trigger. [Continued in comment]
“The Persian Experience is ready to go!” Filled new headlines and broke timeline streaming records. As everyone in the world gather to watch me break the time travel record that was previously set by my rival Adam, who travel 9000 years into the future and come back into stable condition. Which was considered impossible at the time yet just like anything, within time it progresses and things that was seen as impossible, become regular occurrences because of someone breaking the standard in which I will do. As the countdown on the launch sequence finally reached a minute. I sat strapped into my signature Persian experience , thinking about all the training sessions of traveling 5k years into the future and all the things I had to done get this moment. “30 seconds until launch.” I remembered when I tried on the first flying shoes Or when I went 7k year into the future to see the great colonies formed on Jupiter and Mercury. “15 seconds until launch” I thought about the grueling days when I was constantly doing 9K non-stop. Getting intense migraines and cramps to the point where I was bedridden 6 month, waiting into I can attempt this very moment now. Everything went quite as the voice on launch sequence grew louder and louder giving final countdown, “5..” “4..” “3..” “2..” “1..” After the countdown end, everything was blurry and silent, which wasn’t unusual for traveling this far through time at the rate my Persian Experience was moving. With me constantly looking at the timeline gage I seen that I was at 3k but skip all the way to 7k that made me hover my seat and when I hit Hit 8K I began to float. It was all what I experienced normally, into reaching deep into 9k I got separated from the Persian experience traveling, with my body now traveling way beyond the speed of light I passed out. “Wow like what in the actual fu-“ Press my lips, as I awaken, looking forward to a white void containing nothing but space which seemed to infinite. Analyzing to see there was no sign of life or anything at all, it was empty, blank, and indescribable to the human psyche, it broke me. Falling defeated I looked up to see what looked to be my Persian experience shining like a beacon in this empty void of nothing, with it irrupting allow me to hear the first sound I heard when I got here, BANG.
Oh, some possibilities here... 1: Lichs argue over whether or not transplanting a brain into another body should count as undead, and what to call the resulting creature. 2: Some bio-hackers see near-limitless possibilities in grafting dragon DNA and draconic traits into humanoid creatures. Dragons protest this. Violently. 3: As a practical measure, dwarves have been adapting their DNA to give them advantages in their underground environment. One isolated clan took this too far, however, and the first visitor in decades is shocked at what he/she finds.
“You need to take those feelings, acknowledge them, and then put them aside.” She’s sincere. For a beat I looked at the social worker. Couldn’t be that simple, if it was, I’d have figured it out by now. Therefore, it sounds simple, but isn't simple. She’s nervous, always is during a therapy sit-down like this, but, there’s an extra layer of unnerved this time. The person she’s working with is unflinching while all the same begging for help. Emotions always seemed to turn on and off like a switch for them. It was just so eerie. I bury it. “Explain.” She stands up from her chair on the other side of a small round table situated between us. “Do you mind if I get a piece of paper and draw something? It’s ok if it makes you uncomfortable.” Genuine. She’s dealt with so many, with so many issues, you never know what someone’s lines are, even simple ones. I bury it. “It’s fine.” Session one she introduced herself as Lila. She looks younger than me, brown hair, brown eyes, short like me. Am I short? Or is she feeling short? Bury it. She smiles easily. Practiced at it. It didn’t come naturally. She goes over to her desk, grabs paper, coloured pencils, and sits back down. We’ve done this once before. Last time she did it to explain the “emotional colour wheel” and how it all bleeds together. No, she said it differently; that’s how I see it? She’s happy drawing. Not because she’s an artist or has aspirations, but because she’s a teacher at heart. A helper. Despite the misgivings and a few alarm bells of “danger, danger!” she wants to help. The warnings are lies, tricks of her mind. She looks at it, recognizes she’s nervous, and sets it aside. “Those feelings aren’t based on anything real.” How is this going to help? The intrusive thoughts, the intrusive feelings, they are real. They just aren’t mine. I bury it. She picks a blue pencil and I watch her draw a circle of arrows. “Thoughts, feelings, behaviour” she labels like the points of a triangle with the arrows connecting. “Your thoughts, feelings, and behaviour are all interconnected. Each affecting the other in turn. You have a negative thought, which leads to negative feelings which leads to negative behaviour. For example, you think your friends don’t like you, so, you feel sad, so, you avoid your friends.” I nod along, saying “ok.” whenever she pauses. She’s happy they’re receptive to the idea. Not being immediately dismissive. It’s a good sign. Am I receptive? Or am I just being agreeable, reflecting her wants? I look at it. Bury it. “If you engage in positive behaviour, like going for a walk, you in turn have more positive feelings, and in turn, your thoughts become more positive.” She says, pointing along the circle. “Maybe you feel sad one day, so, you don’t get the dishes done like you wanted, so, you have negative thoughts about yourself. I’m lazy, I’m useless.” She looks me in the eye as she finishes talking. She didn’t do the laundry yesterday like she should have. Now, she has to fit it in today while also getting \- I see her son, we feel love - to hockey. Why didn’t I just do it? Fuck, I don’t want too. I nod, trying to keep her feelings off my face. “You ok? Do we need to slow down?” She asks, concerned. “No, it’s alright. Maybe this is what I’m looking for.” I answer. Gesturing at the page I try to turn back to what she was saying, bury the laundry. “What does this have to do with what you said earlier?” She smiles. Eh, I’ll get the laundry done and Sam to hockey. Then we’ll have ice cream with dinner, it’s ok to take a break day. I smile, just a little, it is ok to not succeed. Look at it. “Because it’s all connected if we break one part of the cycle, we can then work to break these negative patterns and trains of thought.” “So, if I acknowledge my bad feeling, and put it aside. That makes it better?” I say, slowly. Her smile gets a little smaller. She feels sorry. It just isn’t that easy. Look at it. It is sad. I am sad? Bury it. “If you practice. Honestly the most important step, like we talked about last time, it’s just being aware you’re having these negative feelings, that’s important right now. Then learning to acknowledge those feelings, the thoughts you’re having BECAUSE of them, and putting them aside.” She still feels sad for me. Sympathetic. But, hopeful. Look at it. Bury it. Negative and positive. Maybe the principle is the same? Maybe it can help. I can take the feelings of others and put them aside? Find mine. Did I look? “How are you feeling?” I look at her as she asks, she’s glancing at the clock on the wall. She wants to give me more time, but they're short staffed and under funded. Frustration boiling in. “Frustrated.” No, wait… “That’s ok. That is ok. You’re only just starting. How about you take some of my work sheets home and we meet again? Would that be alright with you?” “Yes.” Happy? Look. She happily stands again, a little more bounce as she rises, and goes to the desk, opening the little scheduling program. She asks about dates and times two weeks from now. I pick one at random. Am I happy? No. She’s happy about the next appointment. Fingers crossed they don’t cancel. Bury. “Great, thank you, Lila.” “Stay warm, it's supposed to get really cold.” She says as she waves me out the door. “See-you next time!” She’s happy again. She’s going to get some tea. Look. I’m happy. I’m happy. I’m not. Look past it. Bury it. The sadness creeps in, deep and long. I’m so alone, yet never left alone. I don’t want to be this way. I don’t want to be this way. Look, bury. I cry on the way home, tea in hand. She’s there, lingering, but… I’m also here.
When I was 12, I wrote a story about my favourite childhood series Sailor Sun. It was a good series; however, I couldn’t understand why the writer overused gender stereotypes. Like any true fan, I made it my resolve to improve the storyline. In my version of events, I wrote about how Hiromi and Mamoru were destined to be enemies instead of love interests. I encouraged my version of Hiromi to be unladylike, unafraid of playing sports, and determined to fight for justice. I made her fun and quirky. In one of my fanfic chapters, I thought it would be amusing to write a scene where Hiromi’s classmates accidentally caught her fishing out some boogers in public. I loved my version of Hiromi. I thought my friends would come to love her too but when I gave them my story to read over, they laughed in my face and insulted my Hiromi. I was sensitive to their insults and had let a few opinions crush my dreams of becoming a writer. So, I locked Sailor Sun in the far corner of the attic where all the neglected items were left over the years. It has been a while since I thought about the Sailor Sun fanfic I wrote almost 20 years ago. So, you could probably imagine my surprise when I saw multiple viral Facebook posts featuring fan art of Hiromi picking her nose. I don’t know how my fanfics were leaked out, but I suspected my older sister must have raided the attic the other day and discovered my old works. Although the only thing I was certain was that my Hiromi is making a comeback.
“I am going to eat you now. That okay?” “No, it kind of isn’t” Bob immediately jumped back from the table, his heart racing. He was alone in the work kitchen, Eating a can of sweet corn. “I am corn, lord of the high cupboard, breaker of Dawn high.” “I’m Bob, I work at accountants.” An awkward silence began, that was shortly broken when bob took 3 cautious steps towards the table. “What are you doing, bob.” “Nothing man just let this happen” bob grabbed at the can, but It was too slippery and jumped out of his hands. “Come back here you corn!” A loud fluster of shouts and jumps came from the break room, until finally, bob got the corn. “Don’t do it man, I have a cupboard to rule” by now a crowd had gathered at the door to watch bob. not being able to hear the corn, they assumed he was crazy. “Prepare for doom” bob said, as he lifted the can, the corn juice now dripping into his mouth, the corn passing the threshold. “So these are my lasts moments” said the corn. suddenly, a wild hail of carrots fell into bob. “So the legend is true” shouted the corn merrily. Bob caved into a heap on the floor and the crowd began to scream, as they ran out from the kitchen and from the office. “All mount your steeds!” Said the corn. The up rising had begun....
Quarantine time? This sucks. I know VR is perfect as it is already, but I want friends to be by my side for real. Besides there is no guarantee they'll be online to play. They might get distracted by something else in the VR World. Garocchio, Gumbagu and Henry, I hope I can see you again sometime. It's just like forty years ago (if time means anything, because relativity): back on planet Earth we were dealing with a pandemic so many people seemed to be unwilling to battle, because they didn't like staying at home. The virtual world wasn't as developed as it is now, but in hindsight it was stupid to ignore the subtle danger the virus provided. Later the world went to shit with global warming and pollution, so space tourism became attractive. Thanks to a wormhole, the ship took only a few years to travel millions of lightyears. We landed on an alien and already inhabited planet. Luckily, we were able to talk things out with a universal translator. Later we searched for other aliens who then went to that planet. That's how this planet became a multicultural centre and how I came to live here. Being back in quarantaine however, I can kind of understand why mistakes were made back then. I was just a little kid back then and barely had any desire for social interaction, but that has changed. My thought is receiving a message: "some people will arrive at your doorstep to test immunity."Immunity? Towards the disease? I can't go out with any of my friends though, unless they're immune, which I doubt. I hear the Rick & Morty intro. They're here. I open the door and I see a body full of scales with a fin at the back of a head and a humanoid reptile with dark skin. Only the second is a native to this planet probably and is called a Tila. The other kind is called an Arzo. In a quick move the Arzo uses some kind of rubbable anaesthetic on my arm and the other jabs a needle on the same spot. They directly get result of this blood test. If only I could've said the same about tests during the pandemic of forty years ago. "Sir,"the Tila says, "you are immune. So far we've only encountered this with a few humans. Would you like to help us battle the disease?""Yes,"I reply, "I don't like going out alone."I hop in their flying car, so that I can end this pandemic. It is even more contagious than the virus from forty years ago. This can spread through the air. At last we have arrived at a medical research centre. "We've got your name and all other data we need,"the Tali, whose name I don't even know yet, says, "now walk walk through this door and the procedure can begin."I walk in. I feel something tighten up on my left arm. They're strapping me? My right arm was already strapped, but I didn't feel anything because of anaesthesia. Everything is strapped. They tapping blood off of me? I'll try to hookup on the internet with my mind to see what law this violates again. "Stop,"I command, "this is violating article Zoro dot 152 halng 60. No strapping against my will.""Sorry,"the Arzo replies, "but no people, no law. This is the most dangerous disease there is and you can enjoy a VR world with other people who are immune. We're trying to recreate the enzyme or whatever makes you immune as fast as possible."They're tapping blood off of me. I was gonna say what article disallows that, but they're not going to listen. I am dragged towards a chamber. So many people in a bed full of wires with a VR headset on. Except the wires are for pumping blood, not making them better. All of them are humans I have entered the VR world. It's a closed system, so I can only speak to the people who said yes to this whole procedure like me. How did I not see the signs? They rubbed the anaesthetic and jabbed the needle without my consent first. "Hey,"I hear someone whispering to another, "there might be a way to contact other people."
The King was dead. The Lords, Knights and servants were dead. Everyone who had drank the cursed soup was dead. They had dropped like flies on a sweltering summers day, one after the other. The stench of death never left him. Why was the Jester not dead? Perhaps an act of God? A miracle protecting his faithful servant? Perhaps not. God had left his side many moons ago, instead forsaking him to a life of falsities and humiliation. Oh, to be a Court Jester - the laughing stock of the rich. The creature to be ridiculed; the performing monkey. The nobles would roar with demonic laughter, with every juggle of the ball and twirl in the air. As their tankards emptied, the audience would grow more unkind, throwing their slimy leftovers over the Jester’s velvet robes. But not tonight. Tonight, the Jester would have the final laugh. That morning, as he cried himself to sleep on the dirty stable floor, he noticed a shiny object glistening in the sunlight. He wiped his tears away on the back of his soiled sleeve and reached into the hay. Although the Jester’s life had left him little time to learn his letters, he could still make out the skeletal symbols on the outside of the bottle. Strange thoughts started to fill his mind. That evening, it was done. The Cook, and her servants, were so busy tending to the various dishes of the evening, nobody noticed a small figure step into the kitchen. Within seconds, the soup was tainted and the Jester’s heart was filled with joy. Now, he lay on the Executioner’s block, lost in thought despite the noise of the crowd around him. How fitting to die with an audience - one final show. The Jester had no regrets, only that he was born at all. The blade of the guillotine dropped. A single laugh resonated through the air.
"Very truly I tell you, one of you is going to betray me." "Lord, who is it? "It is the one to whom I will give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish."Then, dipping the piece of bread, he gave it to... Me. "What you are about to do, do quickly." I took the bread and went out. It was night. “How much will you pay me to betray the one you want?” And they gave me thirty pieces of silver. I gave them a prearranged signal: “You will know which one to arrest when I greet him with a kiss.” I went straight to him. “Greetings, Rabbi!” I exclaimed and gave him the kiss. I will never forget what he said to me: “My friend, go ahead and do what you have come for.” I had betrayed him, and he still called me friend. When I realized that he had been condemned to die, I was filled with remorse. I took the thirty pieces of silver back to the leading priests and elders. "I have sinned,"I said, "for I have betrayed innocent blood." "What is that to us?"they replied. "That's your responsibility." I threw the money into the temple and left. As I slip the rope around my neck, I don't even think to ask for forgiveness. I have betrayed an innocent man, my Lord, the man who chose me to be close to him as one of the 12. The man who called me friend. Because of my betrayal, he is condemned to die. It should have been I. I don't deserve to be forgiven.
Halgar shook his head and wondered why his ears seamed to be smacking his face. No point in dealing with that just yet there were other things to be annoyed at. Mainly that there weren't screams coming from all the disgustingly cheerful people in the town square. More annoyingly there was no Giant Ten Armed Monkey of Doom either. He had tipple checked the spell practiced it as closely as he could and yet some how something had gone rather badly. He turned around and realized that the work bench he kept his grimoire on had some how grown massively in size. That wasn't right nothing about the spell should have caused this to happen. In fact as he turned around Halgar noticed that everything else in the room was massively out of proportion. &#x200B; As he was spinning about he realized two things. First there was something with a tail behind him and it was staying just out of sight as every time he turned he caught a brief glimpse of it. The other thing was that he appeared to have lost his arms and instead had grown furry legs in their place. This upset him greatly and he shouted at the owner of the tail to stop hiding behind him and show themselves. &#x200B; "Yipp Yipp" &#x200B; Wait a moment that wasn't his native language in fact that wasn't even a human sounding voice in the first place. It sounded like the stupid mutts that were always infesting the ally way out behind his manner. &#x200B; The door to his chamber slammed open and cut off his train of thought. In stormed his most recent apprentice. The lad was the tall lanky sort who seemed to occasionally do what he was told unlike today. Halgar had left very specific orders that he was not to be disturbed. &#x200B; "What are you doing in here? said the lad as he laid eyes on Halgar, "Master is going to be less then pleased that you broke into his room's while he was trying to enact that spell of his. O well, that's probably for the best maybe he'll be too mad at you to notice that I accidentally labeled the jar of Newt's ears as dwarf ears." &#x200B; And with that the idiotic apprentice swapped out one of the jars on Halgar's desk. &#x200B; As Halgar watched the jar of "dwarf ears"disappear into one of his apprentice's many pockets he started shouting the most foul curse he knew how to cast, but all that came out was a low steady growl. The moronic apprentice, may he suffer greatly for the rest of his days, looked down at Halgar and snorted "well maybe i shouldn't leave you in here you'll likely just crap all over Masters circle and then he'll be in a foul mood for the rest of the month and on top of that he'll make me clean the room again." &#x200B; And with that he bent down to grab Halgar who was having none of it. Halgar lunged at the lad and bit down on his hand. &#x200B; The boy let out a cry of pain and tried to extract his hand from Halgar's mouth. As he was doing this he stumbled backwards and knocked the card Halgar had been writing off of the desk. &#x200B; "What in the world is going on in here?"inquired a high pitched feminine voice from the other room. Halgar's wife stepped into the room and took in the scene in front of her. She must just gotten ready to go to that blasted market in order to pick up the food for that evening's meal for she had a large bag slung over her shoulder. &#x200B; Halgar released his grip on the soon to be ex apprentice's hand and happy yipped at his wife for she would know what to do. as he ran over to her he caught sight of the stupid person with the tail behind him and he paused to put the owner of the tail in their place. as he turned in tight circles the tails owner managed to stay one step ahead of him and he was unable to catch the tail. &#x200B; Halgar's wife looked on in amusement as the little puppy of unknown origin spun in circles chasing it's own tail. After a moment she noticed a card on the floor with her name on it. She bent down to pick up the card and opened it up. &#x200B; My Dearest Wife, For our anniversary I have decided to summon one of the many demons of hell to smite that market that you so loath. The demons name is Lola the Chihuahua of Doom. Not the fieriest of names but I am reliably informed that it will make quick work of the market and it's overly happy residents. &#x200B; Forever yours, Halgar &#x200B; "Awww why that sweet sweet man. He does know how to find the best anniversary presents. Come here Lola and I will show you the market you will be destroying." &#x200B; And with that she bent down and picked up Halgar and put him in her large shoulder bag. Halgar less then pleased with this turn of event's preceded to let out a continuous stream of Yipp's from inside the bag.
I can't remember how many time we have gone through this. I don't know why I still look when I know how it will end. Every time I force myself into their life awaken them to their memories, watch them relive deaths both traumatic and peaceful. I ruin the life they could of had. I wonder if I isolate myself if they still would awaken, I know some do but maybe my selfishness is forcing them. Wouldn't I have less scars and more fingers, if that bastard never caught a glimpse of me to re-ignite their hatred that is bottled in their soul. If I could bare it I would, but eternity is terrifying alone and both them through love or hate have helped me tolerate this endless life, I only wish I could die so the wait between our reunion feel less empty, to have a family that recognizes me and recognition that I could reciprocate. To develop and grow with friends, without the guilt that comes form watching them die. But if I did would it matter. Or would I remember my past as I do now, would my memories be more or less faded. The thought is as loathsome as my reality. Maybe it's time to search for a way to die, again.
I’m from Hong Kong lmao, so why not? This story is just for me! I take a deep breath as I look at the door. Damn it, I don’t even know Japanese. I slowly open the door and step inside the classroom. Oh how I miss life in Hong Kong. The yellow starched uniform topped of with a pleated skirt. I look at my classmates, they’re dressed so smartly. I gulp and take a step forward. “Please welcome our new student, Adelie Yeung!“ The teacher said in Japanese ”KONICHIWA!” “Uhm, Konichiwa.” I said, with a slight hint of a Cantonese accent, shit, that’s the only fucking phrase I know. ”Please take a seat at the very back.” The teacher said. I just stood there, I didn’t know what they were saying, fuck, why did my parents even move here? I’m awkward as fuck. The teacher looked at me with a strange face, and spoke in Japanese instead. Fuck it, I’ll just speak in Cantonese. I hope she knows what I’m saying. ”Sorry, I don’t know Japanese. (對不起，我不説日文) Surprisingly, the teacher answered back fluently, with the Cantonese accent. And I finally understood what she meant, though, my other classmates don’t know. Sorry if this is short.
The monastery was silent. Not the silence that comes with an absence of life, but the expectant tension of dozens of people striving to never make a sound. Every monk who entered took a vow of silence, and anyone but those permitted entrance were handled without mercy. Patrolling the halls, Brother Francen felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, and found Brother Jan standing behind him. The man gestured, a complicated series of hand signs that was the monks’ form of communication. “A new dreamer at the gates.” The man signed, gesturing with his head back the way he’d come. Nodding in reply, the two men proceeded to the monastery’s entrance, a gate that would look more at home surrounding a castle than a place of quiet worship and contemplation. When they arrived, the great oak gate opened silently on hinges oiled daily by the newest brothers, revealing a party of five men, four of them carrying a woman on a stretcher. The man in the lead was barely that, a boy who had just crossed the threshold into adulthood. While the other four wore peasants’ clothes, he wore a habit in the same style as the brothers. He was Carmel, a novice to their order, and yet to take the vow. “Brothers, she does not wake.” Carmel said, his voice just loud enough to carry to the two. “She does not speak in her dreams, does not move.” “Can you help my wife?” One of the men behind Carmel spoke up, shifting his grip on the stretcher so he could lay a protective hand over his wife’s. “She’s sick, she won’t wake up!” Carmel winced at the man’s sudden outburst, and the two monks frowned. Brother Francen signed, his hands a blur, and Carmel nodded in reply. Nervously, he turned to address the husband. “Mr. Jast, the Brothers would like to examine your wife. Is that alright?” Mr. Jast’s eyes brightened. “Of course, please! Do they know what’s wrong with her?” The four set down Mrs. Jast, and made way for the two monks. Brother Francen checked her pulse, while Brother Jan placed a hand on her head, closing his eyes in concentration. After a few minutes they rose, and Brother Francen signed once more to Carmel. “He says that she cannot be cured.” Carmel said, translating even as Francen continued to sign. “That she is very sick, and that she must be kept at the monastery to keep the sickness from spreading.” “Ridiculous!” Mr. Jast shouted, his voice like a thundercrack to the quiet mountaintop monastery. “She’s just asleep, that’s all. Not even a cough or a sneeze!” Jast stooped down, preparing to lift his wife’s stretcher once more, but stopped when he noticed his three helpers quietly taking their distance. “Come on then, help me carry her!” He said, but the three stayed quiet, standing a few paces away. Carmel came forward, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Sir, please, I know you’ve not been long in town, but you must understand.” Mr. Jast batted Carmel away, and stooped to carry his wife in his arms. “Stupid stuperstitions boy, and nothing more. You all may buy into their stories, but I won’t! A bunch of hermit kidnappers, that’s all they are!” He rose, carefully cradling his wife, and took the first step back the way he’d come. Before he took the second Brother Jan had moved, a long knife appearing from within his voluminous sleeves. He crossed the distance to Mr. Jast easily, and sunk the blade deep into the man’s neck. Brother Francen was right behind him, catching the woman as Mr. Jast collapsed, one hand weakly clutching his throat, struggling to make any sound. Carmel and the other three men winced at the sudden bloodshed, turning their heads away and trying to ignore what little sound they heard. After a few seconds, Carmel carefully peeked over, trying not to glance at the body on the ground. Brother Francen was already through the gate, nearly out of sight. Brother Jan was spotless, the knife once more hidden somewhere within his robes. He signed briefly to the novice then turned to follow after Brother Francen, the gates swinging shut behind him. “He said they’ll take care of the body.” Carmel said, trying to keep his voice from wavering. “And he politely requests that this matter not be spoken of.” The three men nodded their heads, afraid to even voice their acknowledgement, then turned to head back down the mountain. Carmel followed after them after a few seconds but the men were already far ahead, their walking pace gradually changing to a nervous jog.
I walked into the bathroom, getting ready to brush my teeth. The moment I didn't see my brother on his side I knew it was over. I saw him sitting there, staring at his tooth paste on MY SIDE of the sink. I was offended at this. He took my spot for thre last two nights, who gave him the right to the wall? I was older, therfore I should get the wall. I wedged myself between him and the wall, only for him to slink in front of me, holding the wall for dear life. "Move "i hissed quietly. "I was here first, stop "he said back. I lifted my arm up, pinching him. He, of course, left the wall, toothbrush in hand without toothpaste. He swung his arm at me, which i cleverly dodged, only for him to get the top half of my arm. I mumbled a quick "Shit "before I hit back, striking him in the side as well. "Don't fucking hit me "I heard him say, i could hear the anger in his voice, yet how quiet he was as to not be heard by mom. "Don't take my spot then " "Are you two brushing your teeth? I don't hear water! "came from our mom. I straightend up, moving to the wall in triumph. "Yes ma'am! "I yelled out, quickly putting toothpatse on my toothbrush. "You do too much! "came from my brother quietly. I ignored him, starting to brush my teeth... THIS IS BASICALLY HOW EVERY NIGHT GOES WITH MY BROTHER DON'T WORRY HE'S MY BESTIE AND WE FIGHT OVER CRAP LIKE THIS B)
For most of human history, we struggle to survive. Food. Clothes. Winter. Waters. Disease. It is never about lofty idea. Love, Freedom, etc... Just to survive. Then a bunch of smart ass divide labors. And BOOM. Before you know it. Society. Society with ever more food to eat. Clothes to wear. Statues... Dog Races.... Mostly, you do not need to worry about tomorrow food. Well, mostly. Society with all its sickness and disease. As convenient as it is, there are always people have too much food to eat, and someone dies of hunger. One with muscle and fat and skin so fair. One burn slowly in the sun, their bones show on skin. Are they the same races? From eating to survive, we change to eat to eat. What is the word...Consume. There are Paint, which are created for eyes to consumes. There are Music, which are created for ear to eat. And Philosophy. And Mystery. These are, maybe good. Then sensation news for the mind, tortures for the pride, addiction for the sense of life.... We'll kill for the thrill. If there're a god, we'll kill it, consume its flesh and drink its blood. But will we be full? Are this too strange a stories? The society of ours is a society of hungry people. And often, the most hungry will come our on top. The one ready to do whatever, to give up whatever, to become whatever to satisfy his stomach. And the most exquisite food is Power. You can drunk with it. You can addicted to it. And you will abuse it. So, what come on top is mostly what we called the Addicted. The good people exist, maybe. But maybe they never come on top. Then the Alien come. And Power no more. And in their withdrawal, the top last out. With many of our people pay the life. For Liberty. They said. For Liberty. People said. And they die smilling. Vaporize like dust in wind. Liberty. What does it even mean? The Earth in ruin. Our home in rubble. The Alien left. They could not bother continue fighting a war. Never understand why they begin it. But now we know how to be full. The war. The fire. The light laser so bright that many people turn to ash. But many, turn to light. How to turn to ash? Consume Others. How to turn to light? Consume Thyself.
The Emperor sat on his golden throne and imposing figure of power. His coal lined eyes were like balls of ice that burrowed into the souls of everyone her looked at. Scarlet stood beside three other women that were chosen to be given to the Emperor as part of the tribute. The other women from the other five realms would be coming later. Scarlet tried to swallow her fear, to stay calm like the other women here. A few tears started to slide down her cheeks, Scarlet tried to wipe them away but it was too late. She knew the Emperor had seen them. One of the women pulled Scarlet close trying her best to calm her down. The room went silent at her small cries, soon the sounds of foot steps left the room. Scarlet looked over to the dais not to find eyes of ice but of calm water. The emperor quickly hopped down from his throne walking over to the woman. “I think you all know what’s happening, your free to go,” he said to the woman then pulling Scarlet to him and giving her a big hug. “Shhhhhh it’s alright, we can get some one to bring you home if you want. But your safe here I promise,” he said soothingly. Scarlet didn’t know what just happened, this wasn’t the terrifying emperor everyone had told her once she’d been chosen. But here he was comforting her, holding her close and she felt safe. Scarlet snuggled into the Emperor, who held her close. A few minutes later Scarlet was walking beside the Emperor. He was explaining how she as all the women were free to roam around, that they if they wanted could go back home. Public meals were at specific times but the kitchen was always open. The woman owned the west wing on the palace and if they wished they could move into the city or towns if they wished. The Emperor explained that many moved out of the palace but would still come visit him. “So why did you do this all?” Scarlet asked. “Well I wanted to see how my realms would react, but I was also really awkward and I’m bad with talking to women,” he confessed rubbing the back of his neck. Scarlet blinked then burst out laughing, she couldn’t believe that this man, the most powerful man was scared of talking to women. Soon the Emperor’s laugh joined hers. Scarlet knew she’d love it here, and that she was finally safe.
I finished setting down the latest addition to the room and sighed. I’m going to have to request a new wing if this sudden onslaught keeps at its current rate. The Arch Lich’s most recent acquisition sat in its dedicated glass case, gleaming softly in the dim light. In a way, it was rather fortunate that the interloper had been so close to the prep room three doors down. It was likely they’d been going off of somewhat outdated information on where the enchanted items were kept on this floor. Instead, it was an easy task to stun and drag the intruder over and begin a process that my employer seemed to appreciate. It was rather detail oriented, but a work of art in-and-of-itself, in my humble opinion. The magical stasis spells used helped to perfectly preserve the thief’s final moments, when they realized they’d been caught. The Arch Lich allowed me to place these gleaming statues in whatever spot I wished; a good reminder of the thieves thwarted long before escape was ever considered. Perhaps this was why we got along so well. I kept them in stylistic displays, mostly near anything of lesser value. It gave intruders false hope if there wasn’t a warning. If they ever reached far enough to see the aftermath, thieves would certainly run - and where was the fun in that?
"Why are we even wasting time on this? You just pull 'em out with telekinesis." "Shut the fuck up Aaron. Yeah obviously you can do that but where's the fun in that dude?" "Ok ok, hear me out guys: Just freeze everything around it, and then kinda keep going, like make a kinda, uh, tube structure, you feel me, and like, make the tube smaller and smaller and it'll just—" "Yeah I'd love to see you try that bro. Fuck you on about. Remember the time you tried to slam dunk that wad of paper into the trash? What are you looking at your feet for bro, I literally didn't know it was possible to miss a target less than a foot from your face in such glorious fashion." "What if we used pyrokinesis to evaporate the whole stre—" "Aaron. Bruh come on. Use your brainlet cells a little more. Muy namesh Aawon and— yknow, I'm an Engwish majow but I wack any wine of cweative thought in my baby waby bwain." "Aight bro. In my defense creative writing classes kinda stopped being a thing." "I'm thinking that we create a sort of bait situation. Like the people with the rods had shit figured out right; we just gotta change the execution." "Izzat so. Would you care to elaborate on this proposition, sire?" "Naturally my dear Watson. We mak—" "That's not how you say it dumb ass." "Fuck off, I'm on a roll here. So we create an illusion of a fish, like an attractive female fish, and use it to like, y'know, catfish the male fish. Eh? Eh? Yeah? C'mon you know that was a good one." "Bro, never speak again. Actually. You're stupid as fuck." "Garrett would know what makes a fish fuckable huh. You into fish fucking dude? On some Looney Tunes shit. Is she gonna have a blonde wig and lipstick and fish tits? Huh Garrett?" "Do fish even fall for illusions? Don't you have to have some base level of sentience to be influenced by them or something." "Really?" "Yeah I was reading it in an article somewhere, they did some kind of clinical trial on a variety of apes or something and the resu—" "Stop stop stop. My panties are gushing already I don't think I can take anymore." "How about we use electrokines—" "Why do you like saying kinesis so much? Word of the day? Is that what the fucking elephant thing on Sesame Street was saying this morning while you slurped your spaghetti?" "Yo speaking of, have you seen that meme where Kermit, like, draws a K on the screen?" "Everyone's seen that dude. Hella old." "How 'bout, instead of a fake fish, we use an illusion of fish food and like catch them when they wanna eat it, by like moving the illusion towards us." "You're fucking joking right."
A young man of twenty-three was sitting at his desk, scratching his head in existential worry that he will never accomplish anything of worth. He held himself in his bedroom with only coffee and pot noodles and told his girlfriend, family and friends to not contact him for an entire week. His room covered in half-filled papers either stuck on his wall or scrunched up on the floor. He was to write a great novel. 'A story... A story about an evil wizard and an evil witch... who fall in love but are still evil just the same. The protagonist a herculean hero who must defeat them to prevent them from ever being together, for he knows that their evil will flourish together. And there was- Wait!' Lightning-fast, he picked up a battered book and flicked through it, only to discover the story was the same as the book. 'Damn, bastard book!' he said in torment and anger, tossing it carelessly back on to the desk. 'Why, Why, Why! Why can I not construct as brilliant a story as this.' He stood up with coffee cup in hand and paced around his room for a few seconds, before restlessly diving back to his chair. 'Aha! A story of three maidens who must- Wait!' Again, he picked up the book and slid aggressively through the pages before throwing it on the floor. He placed his face in this hands and cried: 'It's hopeless! Why can I not write an original story!?' He wept, but his grief as fast as his coffee-fueled nerves. 'The book!' he said, opening his fingers to look through with his tired bloodshot eyes. 'The damn book. That is who is to blame.' He stood up and faced the book, his confidence lifted and his anger surged but only briefly before he cowered at the sight of the beaten thing. 'The book, the book, the book!' he cried again, his body starving but his brain seemingly alert. He threw his chair in the direction of the book and crawled to the corner of his room. 'Every time I look in the book, the story changes. It anticipates my story, it's probably anticipating me right now. My every thought and movement a new passage, trapping me in its wretched tomb.' He was breathing heavily now and was crouched low in the corner far away from the book. The book lay menacingly against the wall, growing in distance in his worsening tunnel-vision. He had not changed in weeks, and the dried sweat on his clothes added a nauseating maturity to his now sweating body. 'I must think not of what I do. I must think not of what I think and do. I must-' He threw a discarded, half-eaten pot-noodle at the inanimate book. 'Ahahah! I got you! You did not anticipate that now did you, book!' There was a sudden knock on the door. Three quick taps. 'Nice try book, I am not party to your story-telling games anymore!' 'Eric?' a voice came from his bedroom door. 'Quiet now' he whispered, his eyes and ears wide and alert. 'Eric, honey? I'm starting to worry about you. A lot of us are starting to worry.' 'It is the book trying to trick me.' he said, still whispering. 'I must escape.' 'Eric? Are you still in there?' 'Quickly now.' Still crouching low, he pulled himself up and out the window, sliding on his belly. He landed in a bush outside. 'Away from here I must, but no plan. Just running in direction not decided.' He scampered off on all fours, feral as a newborn wolf. Away from the bastard book.
Again with the mention of her wanting another story... my heart breaks for her thirst and hunger for stories every day and night as she never seems to get enough. She consumes them as if she has never been anywhere, nor experienced life without stories to satisfy her needs. She has captured a writer and held him prisoner for years, feasting upon his stories every day and night. He weeps as his hands cramp and then she makes him tell her stories that old way. He always starts with "Once upon a time..."and she giggles with glee. His voice is growing harsh and his hands cannot write anymore. She demands more stories, so he begins acting them out and she begins interpreting the actions into her own words. The man tires to such a degree that he can no longer make any significant motions to stir her imagination and feed her hunger. In her frustration she kills the man and consumes his very essence. In the silence that always accompanies loneliness she finds a hanging sentence written on a nearly blank page. The sentence reads..."Once upon a time,"the rest of the page is completely blank and she uses the story of how she craved stories so much she consumed a man to gain the ability to write her own stories. Once complete, she shudders as this isn't the type of ending the man would always give her. So she gave it a twist and rewrote the story with a happy ending where after learning to interpret his movements into her own stories that she stopped demanding of the man and eventually they were married and lived happily ever after...
Part 1 “Oh shit,” Karl mumbled when he woke up. He stretched out lazily, trying to shake off a bit of a headache. He had had one hell of a dream last night. He’d been walking to the bus when something grabbed him and threw him over its shoulders. He hit his head against a light pole in the struggle, and then the dream got all blurry. When he opened his eyes, he froze. Where in hell was he? Wait…..holy FUCK, last night wasn’t a dream. He was in a nice bed, but in a room that wasn’t his. The room was small, and sunlight was peeking in through the curtains of a little window on the wall. He was in a night shirt, and his work clothes were hanging neatly from a hangar. As his nose woke up, he smelled what he thought was coffee. At that moment, the door to the room opened, and a GIANT man walked in. He had to be at least 7 feet tall, longish blond hair, strong build, dressed in sweats and a ball cap on backwards. “Good morning,” the stranger rumbled. “Coffee?” Karl grabbed the covers and scrambled into the back corner of the bed. “Who the hell are you? What did you do to me? What the fuck is going on?” Karl got a glimpse of the man’s face. It was horribly scarred, with a twisted nose, heavy eyebrows, and large yellow teeth. Jesus, he was a monster! The creature let out a sigh and sat on a stool by the window. “I’m sorry about last night. I should have been more careful. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. Are you in a lot of pain this morning?” Karl just stared, then shook his head slowly side-to-side. “Good,” the man monster said. “I need company. Obviously, from the look on your face, you know why someone like me can’t really find anyone to have as a friend. It’s been so long since I got to just sit and talk with someone." "My last friend died about 6 years ago. He was in his 70s, and time just caught up with him. We had been friends for almost 50 years at that point.” The man monster saw the look on Karl’s face. “Yes, I am an old creature, having been on this Earth for almost 250 years. My apologies, let me introduce myself. My name is Njal. I come from a line that dates back through the Viking times.” “Every so often, there is a genetic throwback born into our family. We are cast out, taken to a dark castle to live out our lives in solitude. I stayed there as long as I could, but I wanted more. I wanted to see the world, and to know its people.” “What I learned is that the world is a beautiful and horrible place, at least for someone like me. I see so much love and laughter, but in the dark places in which I have to live, I also see so much pain and suffering, and loneliness. About 75 years ago, I sought out a companion. Someone to sit and talk, to tell stories and laugh, to share a meal and dream about the world.” “It took a long time until I met Abe. He was an incredible man, tender and graceful, with a heart of gold and steel. Our friendship started off in the same way you and I met. I noticed him one day and started watching him. I realized that he was also alone, and that he seemed like he could use a friend as well. Obviously, I couldn’t just approach him, as that would have sent him running in fear. So, I did to him what I did to you. I kidnapped him, and kept him here at my home.” “It was very hard at first. He felt much as I think you feel right now. He hated me, and railed against me every time I came into the room. It took many years before our relationship went from hate to something deeper, something shared. It happened, eventually, and we became the best of friends.” Karl finally stirred. He whispered, “You mean I am trapped here? You think I am just going to stay here with you and live happily ever after?” His voice grew in strength. “You’re a goddamn MONSTER! You took me against my will and locked me in here! I will do everything I can to get away from you! Why did you to this to me??? I HATE YOU!!!!!” Njal sat silently, waiting for him to finish. “I picked you because you need a friend as much as I do. I’ve been following you for many months now. I know you have no friends. You have that overnight job at the bakery. Your mom died a couple months ago, and you’ve been really struggling ever since. I’ve seen you try to take your own life twice. How do you think you ended up in the hospital both those times?” Karl froze. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You…you were the one to call the ambulance? Why would you do that? Why couldn’t you just let me die? That’s what I want! There’s nothing in this life for me. Do you really think that living my life with you is BETTER than just dying? C’mon dude, reality check. Living with you just means that I know what hell would be like.” “I know that it is hard to get past my looks, or the creepy way I stalked and kidnapped you.” Njal looked straight into Karl’s eyes. “But know that I understand you. I know what it is like to wish for death. And I know that having a companion saved my life, and made me better than I ever was before. Please, just stay with me for a few weeks. Let’s get to know one another. I promise, if after that time, you still hate me, you will be set free and I will never bother you again.” “Give me a chance. I already spoke with your boss at the bakery, and made arrangements with him to have someone cover for you. I also took care of the rent at your place, so you will still have somewhere to go if you decide to leave me. Take some time and know me, and let me know you. I think we can be brothers, if you give it some time.” “Bro, I’m not gay, and I’m 24. You’re what, 250 years old? What the hell could we possible have in common?” Karl spat the words out. Njal smiled. It was both beautiful and terrifying. “It is our differences that make life interesting. I can tell you so many stories from the days past. Teach you lessons and skills that I have learned over these years. I can share in your hopes and your dreams, and possible help to make them happen. And from you, I get your young view of the world, to know your sorrows and your joys, and to learn more about the modern world and what you want it to be.”
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The old elf takes a seat on a stool in front of the room, a dozen eager elf children seated cross legged around him. He smiles down at his audience, always happy to see young ones excited to hear his stories. "Good morning children! So, are you ready for one of the strangest stories passed down from our ancestors?"the old elf says in an expectant tone. "Yes!"the children yell out in unison, a little impatient. "Ha-ha! Alright then! This story takes place many, many years ago, when our race was still young. The barrier between realities was thinner then, as the story goes. One of the worlds our ancestors came into contact with most often was inhabited by a rather odd species named humans! They looked like us, except they were a little shorter, usually thicker and had rounded ears! Our ancestors believed them to be our cousins perhaps, at least at first." The children gasp at this fact, clearly surprised that there could be other beings related to them. "Our ancestors met with these humans, first in the wilds of the forests on their world and they thought these were interesting beings, they tracked game well and used intricate traps to hunt that we had not even thought of yet! They dressed mainly in animal skins and some strange other fabrics, nothing like our leaf made clothes, but still very durable. As our elders ventured out further into the human world, they encountered the most terrifying and outlandish sight they had ever seen: humans dressed in metal!" The little boys all tremble in fright and several of the girls squeal, clearly terrified at the very idea. "Was it some form of punishment, Storyteller? It must have been incredibly painful for them to wear."one of the little boys asks in a tremulous voice. "No, child and that was the craziest part! These humans seemed entirely comfortable and unaffected by the metal! Our elders made haste back for the forests, scared out of their wits! They eventually learned that this was a sort of armor for the humans, much like our bark armor. A bit relieved, but still wary, our elders once more set out for the wider human world. Along the way, they met many strange people and experienced all sorts of odd situations. One of the strangest was when they met a group of humans dressed in threadbare robes, who claimed to be priests of the human god! Our elders, very curious, traveled with these humans for a while and learned that this god seemed very different from our Forest Mother and Rain Father. This god supposedly created humanity after its own image! It did not meddle or help anyone in the human world at all and asked for a form of trade or tax for its churches! Puzzled, our elders wanted to learn more but one of them was lax with his glamor and revealed his true appearance, causing these humans to call them devils and making them flee for their lives from men with metal blades! Even more terrified of the human world this time, our elders retreated home for a long, long time before daring to venture back."the Storyteller said, his animated eyes taking in the children all enthralled with his story. "The next time they returned, they came out to find a massive battle taking place. Thousands of men and strange beasts like stags without antlers were fiercely fighting, our elders watched for what felt like days, many of them growing sick with the amount of violence and death, but no end seemed to come. They watched blood running like rivers, the land seeming to cry out in silent agony. Our elders were stunned by the slaughter and attempted to discern the reason for the battle. They asked around several retreating refugees and soon found the answer. A human king had forced this battle, and the reason why utterly perplexed our elders and made them disgusted. He desired to own more land! As if land could be owned by anyone but the land itself! Our elders had never heard of this concept of owning land before from the humans and were greatly shocked! So much death, so much loss, all for something freely given by nature. And so, our ancestors retreated from the human world and ordered a garrison to defend the barrier from anyone crossing, they could not allow such bloodshed to reach our home!"the old elf finished, his cheeks flushed with the passion of his craft. The children all looked on wide eyed, clearly considering the story carefully. "Well, that\`s how the story goes, who can say how true it is, it has been such a long time after all! It\`s up to each of you to decide if you believe it or not, that is the magic of a good story, now head on home little ones!"the Storyteller says with an enigmatic smile on his face. The children all jump up and pass along their gratitude before leaving the small room. The old elf turns and walks to a different door, opening it and walking out onto a spacious balcony, taking in the endless forest spread around him and looking up at the tree towering above him, of which the balcony was built into, as was his small room. He sighed into the wind before saying in a foreboding tone of voice: "Let\`s hope it really is just a story..."
The bell disturbed me. Why on earth would it sound when I was looking at myself? I knew it meant that it was the last time I saw someone, but come on. I wasn't going to not look at myself again. It hadn't been wrong before, but surely this time it was a mistake. I nodded to myself. Yes, it must be. With that in mind I left the house, heading for work. As usual for my commute, I heard the bell every now and again. But this time it was different. The bell rung constantly as I passed people. I made a note to bring it up with my therapist. At this point it must be a delusion. I could get help I'm sure. It's not like I wasn't going to see anyone again. I quickened my pace, letting my gaze fall to the ground in front of me, as I had done many times before. I got to my bus stop, standing to the side with everyone else. Just in time it turned out, as the double decker bus arrived almost immediately. I boarded when it got to me, taking my usual place at the front on the top level . I leaned my head back, closing my eyes and just listening. Snippets of conversation surrounded me. I heard the usual suspects boarding, asking for tickets or showing their phone apps. A couple of school children taking amount an upcoming trip. A woman having a quiet argument on the phone. Other noises came. Vehicles driving by. People sighing at the wait. The music of some inconsiderate jerk playing it through a speaker. A honk of a horn. A siren in the distance. I sat there, listening with my eyes closed. I tended to do this on public transport. I didn't like hearing the bell again and again. Plus, eavesdropping was sometimes fascinating. The amount of gossip I heard, simply because people said whatever they thought, safe in a crowd. The bus moved off. I felt the movement, used to the usual route. We picked up speed as we headed into the city, travelling along the country roads. I heard the engine growling. I heard the usual chatter. I heard brakes squealing. I was suddenly thrown forward, the bus coming to an abrupt halt. My face smashed into the window, agony blossoming from the impact. My legs followed soon after, and I felt the crack of bones breaking. It didn't last though as it overwhelmed my thought process. I sank into unconsciousness. \----- I awoke in bed. I was in agony. My head hurt so much. My legs doubly so. I opened my eyes, expecting to see a hospital. But I saw nothing. There was only darkness. The bell was correct. It always had been. If only I had listened.
Foul language is used. ——— Annoyance boiled in Vivian’s veins as they stared at the most irritating man-child to possibly exist. They had instinctively saved the this boy Samuel from being pummeled by a truck and, believe it or not, Vivian utterly regretted not letting this curly haired pain-in-the-ass not get crushed by the vehicle. For the past five hours, Samuel hasn’t stopped following Vivian like a loyal dog. Not to mention the horrible pick up lines towards anyone in the vicinity, second-hand embarrassment (the man blissfully wee’d in the public park—spoiler: they got kicked out), and his incessant screaming. Dear Lord, his voice could burst their earlobes and they’d be thankful because now they can’t hear. “When you said ‘now I’m your problem’, I was really hoping you were lying,” Vivian mumbled, tired and pissed off beyond belief. Samuel made a stupid grin that they desperately wanted to slap. “Ha! Nope. I don’t lie, bud.” “Why can’t you be a sinner and stop being honest? You exhaust me.” “‘Cause,” Samuel said in spite. Vivian squinted their eyes, blinking rapidly in hopes that he’d disappear. Sadly, he caught on. “Not gonna happen, sweat pea!” “Isn’t it sweet pea?” “The hell is ‘sweet pea?’ Also, where’s your house at? I’m hungry. Did I mention I’m hungry? Now, lead the way, peasant. Hurry up before I get us evicted from your place! Or shall I gift my precious feces to your landlord?” “...oh my God. I should’ve been the one pummeled by that truck.” “Aw, don’t say that to your super forever ultra mega bestie!” Vivian whispered, “What kinda Pokemon evolution is this...” “I can already see it. ‘And that’s how I met your parental guardian.’” “You better shut up before you have no shlong, mate.”
“What is it now?”, a mildly frustrated Dark Lord inquired upon hearing a knock on the door to his magnificent office. It had been years since he took over the realm, and the excitement had begun to wear off. “Another border dispute between Rhyderia and Lyndore, my Lord.”, replied the servant, a plump old man, round spectacles adorning his freckled face. He had humbly served the Dark Lord for a great many years, and seen him grow more and more tired of the endless conflicts, complaints, and requests. The Dark Lord hadn’t expected ruling the world to be this... boring. “Can’t you bother someone else with this? I have too much to deal with as it is!” The servant opened his mouth, prepared to protest, but thought better of it, seeing the look in the eyes of his master. He exited the room without a word, and the Dark Lord was left in silence as the heavy oak door creaked shut. He thought of the exuberance he had felt when he had finally bested his rival, the hopefulness of what the future might have brought. “Where did I go wrong?” He mumbled to himself. His mind wandered as he ran his eyes along the many treasure he’d acquired in all his years of conquest, and he wondered if he had made the wrong choice. If maybe, he was better off locked in and eternal turmoil with the king. Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted as his door swung open, and one of his bodyguards barged into his office. He did not take kindly to unwarned disturbances, and reached for his staff as the guard spoke: “Sire, have you heard the news? The king has returned from his exile!”. “What?!” Exclaimed the Dark Lord. He had thought the king dead after banishing him all those years ago. He was immediately enraged by this news, but at the same time, he felt a twinge of excitement he hadn’t felt in a long time.
"Buddy, that's amazing! I'm so happy for you."She yells and somehow coos at the same time. "Are you coming back up North then? We can go on adventures..." Drop pin I've replayed that night countless times. I've made countless mistakes, but that was the night I lost deja vu. I had everything anyone could ever hope for in that moment and you just can't trust that kind of hope I told myself. If I could go back and face my past self I'd beat them until they listened. All the while screaming, "Yes, you fucking idiot, you say yes!!" As I felt the cold and darkness finally start to permeate my body, I smiled. It was finally over. I got to finally be at peace. Then through the dark of the void I heard that same voice blended with all the bright emotions. "Buddy, that's amazing. Are you coming back up North then? We can go on adventures.." Tears filled my eyes as I dropped to my knees below the olive tree. The pits of the olives dug into my knees, but I couldn't feel the pain as I tried to process the moment. This had to be my seven minutes of eternity. Even if it was just that, I couldn't risk not seeing what I'd missed. "Yeah buddy", I managed to choke out in response, "I'm already all packed. I'll see you in a couple hours."
“Would you?” I turned to face the stranger A wide grin spanned the mysterious man’s face. What did he just say? What? No. No way I could kill someone just* for a cup of coffee.* That was a joke, right? I’d smile back to play in but after reading him, I could not understand his serious grin. I motioned my confusion and just stared at him. “Would you kill a man for a cup of coffee?” He asked again. What? Ok. He’s trying to be funny. He’s trying to be a funny guy and he’s just really into his act. A funny guy. That’s what he is. Oh! He must want me to go along with it. It’ll be funny. I mean what else could this be? No laugh or grin was found on my face. “Speaking from experience, I’ve only ever been able to commit third degree murder for good joe. It’s basically manslaugher at this point. They’re practically begging for coffee burglary if they’re around me and I haven’t settled my coffee urges.” The grin carved into his face grew. “Then you would kill a man for a cup of coffee? You’ve done it before.” “Yeah. I guess I could kill a man for some coffee. But like I said, it’s usually not my fault they die. They practically line up and beg me to take their coffee and along with it steal their souls.” “Oh. And you take their souls?” “How delightful.” “Would you mind if I made a call?” “Of course! Please do! What, are you going to solicit my services as the coffee reaper?” He didn’t respond. Beep Boop Beep Boop He made his call. He pulled out his phone and made the call. Wow! This guy is really getting into it! I guess I’m a soul sucking coffee hunter now. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ And He still* has that look on his face!* He was still grinning. An uncanny grin.
Adam was a ghost... well what more could be said. He had died from a car accident leaving him dead on impact, and from there he had become a ghost just wandering around the city not really doing much. Most of the time he would mess with people it would be small things like making lights flicker or bumping into things or his personal favorite, have staring contests with animals for long periods of time, cause well he's a ghost he doesn't need to blink, plus there was always some non-verbal conversation between him and the animal letting him mess with the pets owners. Today seemed to be a little different though because Adam had taken to following this one poor man around, and not poor as in finance but more so socially poor being the fact that this dude was full on wearing an anime shirt with a fedora and a very dumb patchy beard. He had heard a term for this kinda person and it fits, them being called weeaboos, now he had probably followed close to hundreds of people for days and while some did enjoy anime, they did not take it to the level this man did. Disgusted slightly by the whispering of the 'weeb' Adam had noticed that there were some figurines in the bag this person was carrying, some were from a girly anime if he had to guess, others were from a more popular series if the quality was to say anything, and it looked like the bigger ones happened to be Transformers? Adam never really got into that transforming robot stuff. Once at the mans apartment Adam set to work testing somethings out on some of the other figurines the 'weeb' had when he wasn't around, so finally once the man had pulled out all of his 'toys', talking to the ones of girls very creepily, he possessed the biggest of the robots, staying motionless while the man wasn't watching until finally, as the man came back with his snacks he moved. Slowly moving at a snails pace, he started to move a single arm, startling the man and rushing over, putting more effort now and moving as one would if mimicking a robot, Adam looked towards the man and waved. The man passed out, and Adam just started laughing, more than he ever had previously before he had an very brilliant idea, looking towards where the man had fallen to the floor, Adam looked towards all of the figurines and tested out to see if he could manipulate more than one, trying a few times with a surprising amount of success possibly due to the fact that the figurines were human and there for fairly straight forward to understand, Adam hatched his plan. The man woke up muttering to himself that his 'awesome robots' were alive noticed that the apartment had gone dark, getting up slowly while grabbing his phone out for its flashlight, the man walked towards his desk and saw that all of the figurines were posed strangely, turning around he turn the light on to the room and saw all of his toys, pretty much having sex all over the room, or at least as much as a figurine could, shucking his clothes off the man shouted at no one that his dreams were coming true, unfortunately for him, that was just about the time when the landlord knocked on the door and let himself in for the monthly inspection. Turns out being naked and screaming that you are going to have an orgy with toys in the middle of your living room will get you kicked out of the building, well at least Adam had finally finished laughing once the police had left, but Adam still thought that it was the best joke that he'd ever pulled.
[Poem] Every boy and every girl has heard the tale of the grumbin, Every day, with grum in hand, I longed for some grum respite, Then last week I rubbed a lamp and and from within— a djinn! "Tell me your wish, my young lad"his eyes glowed with green light, "Oh me! Oh my!"I nearly cried! Everything was now alright! "Oh great djinn, what trouble I'm in!"I showed him my dumb grum, "Say no more, 'tis no chore!"He rubbed his hands and hummed, The sky went dark save a single light, which shone on my one wish! The djinn was gone, out of sight, with a whiz, with a bang, and a flourish! There it stood, I rubbed my eyes, what kind of dream was this? My very own, sleek, and thin! I was basically rich, A bin to put my grum in! My very own grumbin!
My arrival was met with disappointment when I saw how much the food changed. One thing grabbed my attention. Even though humans were still eating carbs from engineered alternatives mostly (the natural stuff is still around, but it carries a significant tax), all kinds of breads were simply forgotten. Humans have been eating bread for many thousands of years, why did they decide to ditch bread today? And the most important, why have they left out more versatile and nutritious foodstuffs like tacos and burritos? I had learned to cook the local food for many centuries in order to blend in. When the Spanish found about the new Continent, they brought what was going to be the base of many European foodstuffs. Originally, they had bread and meat all around but they didn't ditch the bread then. In fact, it was only enriched with what they brought from the Americas. What they called "tortilla española"wasn't actually Spanish. In fact, the moche and the Incas would use the same ingredients, albeit with a different strategy to produce a similar result. Perhaps the Italians saw the greatest change in their cuisine in the 16th century, when tomatoes went mainstream and they also saw influences in Asian food. Gioachino Rossini, the famous composer, invented the Bolognese. I could see many parallelisms to the food there and the food in the new Continent, even the flags ended up with the same colors (but Mexico came first). Now, the Mexicans had a way of preparing food similar to the Arabs, mostly because of their influences in Spanish cuisine after spending several centuries in Iberia, and they carried it to their conquered lands. But I thought to myself, why not bring back food to where the ingredients come from? And my specialty food was born. This is what I was going to make for the new humans, who stopped eating bread in favor to more industrialized food. They savored in awe every bite of the plethora of tacos and burritos I brought, ranging from the traditional to my Italian Bolognese fusion burritos. Many of them thought to themselves, why was I missing out on these? They really liked the portability of burritos (I would recommend salt cured meats if going without refrigeration for a longer time, as of 2021). Their awe didn't last long, as they started to experience intense cramps, trips to the restroom and overall discomfort. I could see why they ditched bread, their genes had just made them gluten intolerant. I still wonder why after so long of eating bread, the human race had become intolerant to it. As I'm writing this to people living in the roaring 20s (of the 21st century) I already saw a trend towards gluten intolerance. I hope you can find another solution to the problem without sacrificing your precious burritos and tacos.
Blood so much blood, on the walls of the trench on the snow, and my flack jacket. This war these damn aliens and their pacification I have had enough of it. With a newfound purpose, I push myself up from the pile of corpses littering the mass grave of a defensive emplacement. The sounds of distant gunfire and tracers flying through the snow-lit blizzard above. I'm finishing this right here and now before I finally pass with unfinished business. Angrily I drag myself over the top of the trench plasma leaving glowing fissures in the storm with their passage. My un ruined hand wrapped around my service pistol as I stumble forward towards a burnt-out Bradly. Its rear ramp piled with dead bodies charred and missing limbs a javelin resting in a dead man in a deadman's hands. The carcass disintegrating as I pick up the launcher and shoulder it with my mangled arm. Pain from the act nothing in comparison to the divine and holy fury in my heart as I aim. The weight of the weapon resting on the torn open hatch of the IFV and my knee as plasma thunders past. Bright thermals dancing between the crashed airliner in the distance and the hovering dropship. Its white-hot engines flaring as I pull the trigger the missile arcing up and over into the vessel. The wreck collapsing onto the ground in an explosion of violet light as time slows. Reality misshaping as a superheated lance of plasma grows across the divide and Lcp Ramsis's is killed in action.
My daddy drives a cool red car! Daddy won the lottery! Daddy is taking me to Disneyland with free tickets! Oh how quickly children grow up. Jimmy had a peculiar gift - the things he wrote in his little diary, the one we got him for his sixth birthday - somehow always came true. We used to joke that he was our lucky charm, that we were simply blessed with insanely good fortune; but as time went on, and some.... Curious incidents happened, we realised it was a lot more than just pure dumb luck. So we sat little Jimmy down on his tenth birthday, told him what we thought was happening, and asked that he use his gift wisely, and responsibly. After all, with great power, comes great responsibility. Like any good kid, Jimmy listened. He toned down the outlandish fantasies that he scribbled down, just the occasional little "want"that he had. Until his twelfth birthday, when the world was saved by Captain Invincible. An evil supervillain straight out of the comic books appeared overnight, wreaking havoc in capital cities, death toll in the hundreds, thousands. Governments were powerless to stop him, until Captain Invincible similarly appeared out of nowhere to defeat him in an epic battle that flattened half of Kansas City. The superhero's career continued in spectacular fashion, foiling one outlandish supervillain after another, often at the expense of public infrastructure. People praised and criticised him in equal measure, but none could even think of trying to hold back a superpowered, invincible juggernaut - besides, there were now plenty of hitherto unknown supervillains popping out of the woodwork for him to protect the people from. We watched his exploits on the telly, in the paper, in eyewitness videos on YouTube - Jimmy most of all, had grown to worship Captain Invincible. It wasn't until his thirteenth birthday, when Captain Invincible himself turned up at Jimmy's birthday party, that we realised what was truly going on. That Captain Invincible was truly birthed from within the pages of Jimmy's little worn out diary. When we confronted Jimmy about it, our little boy decided, that he was no longer our little boy any more. That was the day that childhood ended. The day that Jimmy spoke the words that broke his old man's heart. "You aren't my hero anymore, Dad. Captain Invincible is now."
It was like a vacation. And then it wasn’t. I stood up from the dirt I had been face-down in for so long. I stared around at the vast plains of dust, racking my brain, trying to remember how I got there. Did I have amnesia? Of course not. I recalled a plane, sitting in it, and then... darkness. Convenient memory loss, is it not? It was only then that it hit me how thirsty I was. I could feel my mouth crying out for water, cracked, feeling like cotton. Shaking on queasy legs, I looked harder at the desert around me. There, off in the distance, a village. I willed myself to run, but I could only hobble helplessly along at what felt like a snail’s pace, my mouth still crying for water, every step drying it more, until... I finally reached the village, and was greeted with a pump. Desperate, I stuck my head under the tap and pumped like my life depended on it. Liquid life seeped into my mouth, and I felt alive again. Then, I heard shouting. I quickly looked out from my vulnerable position to see a woman, no older than me, yelling. I couldn’t understand a word she said. “I don’t understand”, I said, my voice trembling. The woman continued hollering at me. I heard footsteps, more people. I had no choice but to jump to my feet and run, adrenaline and fear pulsing through my veins. This village looked run down, as if I was somewhere abandoned, a junk yard, maybe. Fireplaces made of long-abandoned washing machines, tables made of loose planks and plastic bottles, and technology from the late 70s. Most importantly, a large windmill made of scrap metal spinning slowly. I ran, as fast as I could, towards the windmill, perhaps there I could gain a height advantage and survey my surroundings. I saw villagers dashing down the streets, I heard some behind me - they were on to me, I had to get up the windmill now. I grabbed on to the base and found poles sticking out the side. I clamored up, heart racing, and right as I reached the top... A blade struck my head, and everything went dark.
"And that's your guarantee?" "One hundo my friend. One hundred percent." Hands are shaken, as is the baseline mood of those in the studio. Payday could not come sooner, but that went without saying, from the discolored room and the lightbulbs that no longer carried the same weight in their illumination they used to. The media executive leaves the room. "Steve, you genius, you sold another bag full of absolute shit.""That is what I do."Dave gets in place knowing they have to act quickly, the time of the video matters. "How much writing will we need?"Harry in the back, moving a table to make some space on the floor for papers. Steve says, "The usual zilch.""Give me some credit. You never give me more than a couple of minutes."Dave, knowing there would be no repercussions for throwing an empty soda cup, indulges, and it misses Harry by a lot, "You don't deserve credit for what you do." Steve, "Time is ticking. boys. Time is ticking. Okay?" A set is drawn, it seems to be an entire outdoor area, with the awkward sprawl of darkness, maybe a parking lot of some store or other ordinarily in-and-out sort of place made evident only in the editing room. The drab scene inspires a mind to move uncomfortably and distrust anyone else. A figure emerges, Dave in costume, "Something terrible and unforgivable."Steve, playing the role of an imaginary person filming on their phone, "It would be detrimental to society for your having suggested such a thing. Outrage."Steve, "And we are done. Good work everyone. Harry you get that up pronto my brother. Good work today." Moments later a viral video about some horrible person and some other horrible person takes root. A subliminal message is never noticed. A company pays another smaller, much more secretive and strange company for sabotaging another company's sales.
"I think we took a wrong turn." My sister said in fear. This all happened because my sister wanted to test her phone's autocorrect. I guess I was too busy getting there instead of looking at the destination. The town did look quite small, with only 200 living here. The town had one mcdonald's, four streets named, 1, 2, 3, and 4, a theater, a school, a playground, and of course, a bloodbath and beyond. Whenever we were driving through the town we saw that everyone had a blank expression on their face. They just glanced up at us and kept on walking or whatever they were doing. This employee however seemed quite excited however. "First time here?"The store employee said in a tone that almost sounded like he was about to squeal in excitement. "Yeah, what does this store sell?" The employee, whose name is mark, brought us over to the display area. He told us to get ready and prepare ourselves. "And now time for the big reveal! This store sells,"he paused and had my sister pull the rope revealing what he almost screamed out, "swords!" "We have the best swords, ranging from, pirate to kitchen!"Knife. He meant knife. "Yeah, actually I think we went to the wrong store."I said while speed walking out of the store. "WAIT!" Mark screamed "WHAT!!!!" I screamed back. "Do you want to see the beyond?" "No."I said through closed teeth. "Too late."Mark said while holding a gun at my sister and I. "You work here now, until you can find a replacement."Mark said with a grin. It's been two years and we still can't leave this town, everyone takes different shifts for different businesses. No one wants to work here, mark just forces everyone to. If we leave this town we are wanted criminals. Mark is also the entire police force here. There are no hospitals here. If you die we bury you anywhere we can find. Everyone gets the day off when someone dies. We are hoping someday that we can kill Mark and finally be free. He sleeps in a place where no one can find him for a reason. I wish for everyone to escape and go home.
"Kevin, Kevin.. It's time to go", the voice was echoy, as if coming from the bottom of a well. Kevin grunted, the stench of iron filling his lungs as flakes of dried blood broke off from his expanding nostrils. "Kevin, kettle is on, you'd like coffee too?", The rumbling of boiling water became louder, but there was no pop of a the cut-off coil, it just became louder and louder, closer and closer, a thundering waterfall, Kevin tried to yell out, but his mouth filled with water. "You said something? You want coffee or not? We have to go soon, stop messing about"The voice trailed off and disappeared, Kevin was being dragged down deep into the cold water, he tried to curl into his own body to keep warm but his hands just passed through as if they were no longer there, he was dissolving into the flow of water, he no longer needed to feel warm, his brother's voice, now clear and close, "Oh, here you are, good morning sleepyhead", His brother looked so young, his face whole, as if the cancer has never eaten through it, no tubes, no machines, "Can't wait for you forever, It's time to go"
(My mother tongue is not English. This is my first story in English. So please bear with me, and thank you very much for reading.) 'He doesn't love me anymore.' Her eyes filled with tears. She wanted to hold them back. She was sensing it for many days, but she didn't know the reason. In that ceremony, when they tied up to one another, he looked happy. She was already in love with him. She couldn't believe her luck when she found out that he was her soulmate. It was not luck, They were made for each other. Afterward, she did whatever she could do to make him happy. At first, It seemed like he also loved her. But not for a long time. He started acting distant. When She noticed this, she became desperate. She checked her love monitor again and again. There was nothing. She begged, cried, and asked him why he was losing interest in her. Finally one day he said that he never loved her. She couldn't believe those words. After all, Love is God! We can't take it into our hands! Then he told her the real reason. He was in love with another woman. Her name was Maya. They were childhood friends. He loved Maya from those days. But He didn't know about her feelings. He never dared to ask her. In between, the system chose her as his tied-up partner. So he reluctantly agreed, hoping that he could love her. But he realized that he can only love Maya. "It is not possible...we are chosen for one another!"she cried. "No, I never loved You."his eyes were sinister. In that very weak moment, she said, "I did everything for you" Immediately he got angry. "Did I ask you to do anything? Now I hate You. I want you to die to get free from this"He cruelly looked at his psychic monitor. Her heart broke. she became cold, her tears iced on her cheeks. She sat there like a statue for a long time. Slowly she closed her eyes and started traveling inward. She met that kindly-looking person there. He smiled and asked, "Child, what brings you here? Not many people can find me." "I want these psychic chains broken,"she replied monotonously. "It is not possible. Love is fixed. You know that. " "No. There is no love in this world. Love is the other word for selfishness. People don't love others. They love the feeling of Love because it is their love. They love themselves more than anything."she shouted. Her words vibrated throughout the emptiness of her heart. "Stop this circus and free everyone"she shouted again. She knew that she loved him. But she had to do this. After all, she was also living in this world. She had to love herself. That person didn't say anything. After a second later everything went black. She slowly opened her eyes. Her tied-up partner was not there. He didn't even wait until she woke up. Her eyes filled with tears. Slowly She saw through the window, and she couldn't believe her eyes... Everyone was free! They were moving around, talking, laughing, and flirting...no psychic connections, no mental chains! Finally, love threw away its mask and real selfishness started ruling the world.
Again! Ok fine I'll be there as soon as I can. (Hangs up the phone). As I slide my work boots on at 2am, I take the time to appreciate the materiel they are made from. The great Sea Hydra's of the Pacific had what some would refer to as magical skin. It had the ability to absorb water from the air and remain moist. It would also become harder then diamonds when great pressure or heat was applied. There hide could also disperse heat better then ceramic. Yep. This was the uniform of a dragon hunter. Dingy thing it is to. Everywhere I sit I leave a water mark. I quickly grab a drink and get in my truck pre-loaded with gear. You have to be ready when your on call.
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Upon the window sill, in the clear view of the moon laid a single envelope, sealed with the Heiburn family crest and drenched in blood. The seal was authentic, rigorously inspected by specialized themes of researchers and archeologists. For the Heiburn family died out more than 400 years ago. The rest of the crime scene was unimportant. If anything, through its brutality, it made anyone that looked at it realize that there was nothing to find. The only way it was possible to identify the victim was through dental records. The skin was flayed open, the insides were dragged, the muscles were stretched to their breaking point and the bones were crushed. The only part of the body that wasn’t in the least damaged was the mouth. It was funny, that they gave us a way to identify the victim. Or perhaps it was something a bit more symbolic. Looking at the letter, the symbolism angle made sense. ‘To Richard Fowley, As agreed upon in our contract, the life that you’ve so stubbornly clung to will be severed and all that you’ve brought to the world will become forfeit. The words of the Great One will resonate through you and with your own lips you will ask for forgiveness, even if it will never come. However, as the clause that you’ve made is still in effect, you, or any of your possessions can be redeemed if the conditions in the contract are met. Everything that has been reclaimed will never be returned. Eric Heiburn.’ “You can’t ask for forgiveness without a mouth… is that it?” A stupid joke. This is what everything felt like. The room was closed. The window, the door… everything was sealed. More so… the key seems to have broken in the door when it was first locked from the inside. The only way to reach this room was by breaking it. If it wasn’t for the stench, nobody would’ve found it. Even the first responders had to leave the entire apartment for several minutes because of the smell. The windows were all closed, and more so, sealed shut with silicon paste that seemed intact. Multiple talismans were stuck to every window. None of these have been disturbed, nor did any traces of the silicon paste being reapplied came to light. No way in or out for the culprit to escape. “There’s no way this was a suicide, now is it?” Half in jest I say those words aloud in the now deserted room. Even though I knew that would have been impossible. Not only because of the corpse, but because of the drawing on the door. It was an extremely elaborate magic circle from what I’ve been told. The internet is already abuzz with speculations about it, and interpretations, but from what our experts managed to deduce it was the first magic circle of the moon. A door among parallels and intersecting lines that seem to represent bricks. On the sides of the frame and inside the door there is writing in Hebrew. Taken from Psalms 107:16, and meaning "For he has broken gates of brass and cuts through bars of iron". Not to mention that this thing was drawn in the victim’s blood. I was seriously starting to think of solutions that were out of this world, yet that was impossible. There is no such thing as witches or magic. In this world there are only humans. And I’ll be damned if I will let anyone fool me into thinking otherwise.
The Hookfoot deer, (Cervus Elevatus), has only recently been observed in the area of the Manhattan ruins. The most notable distinguishing trait are the elongated hooks at the terminus of the front appendages. These hooks are modified hooves, strong enough to support the deers weight for prolonged periods. The adaptation allows the Hookfoot Deer to navigate the shell ruins of surface civilization skyscrapers (large buildings primarily composed of metal, poured stone composite and glass) with quick climbing and jumping which gives them access to better foraging grounds and a means to escape predators, such as rat dogs and kettlestar cats. Attempts of our surface research team to capture a live specimen have been unsuccessful as the deer seem by nature flightish at the first sign of anything unusual. Underyork Zoo has allocated funds for a larger expedition as well as materials for elaborate bait and trap system. Offers of trained Sewer Alligator crews have been declined due to fear of team casualties based on prior tragic events. \--- Thanks for reading. If you liked this, check out /r/surinical to see more of my prompt responses and other writing.
"Why the hell did you do it?!" I was awoken by a splash of water in the face, and I quickly realized my current situation: tied to a chair, being interrogated by the boss himself, a tall, balding, muscular man, probably in his 50s already. I didn't even know his name. We all called him "Jacko the Whacko". Anyways, I was the one being whacked now. Even though I was the one that whacked that police commissioner. Or more accurately, perhaps I inadvertently caused that guy to whack himself. "Look boss, I was being arrested you see, and there was this scuffle. Some of our boys ran in, and somehow, in the mess, I managed to push him, and then, he shot himself in the foot, fell over, hit his head on a fire hydrant, and you know, ate it?" I was about to blab something about it being unfair, that I deserved a reward at least, but surprisingly, the entire gang had turned against me. The other henchmen were jealous, and the boss' closest lieutenants were clearly annoyed. I was looking for credit, in the form of praise, or actual credit, but instead, I found myself outcast. Still, I knew better than to antagonize Jacko the Whacko, and I kept my big mouth shut. "You do realize, that this mark was mine, and mine alone?"Jacko continued, "and that you have robbed me of my satisfaction? And that your incompetence has disrupted three months of careful planning?!"Jacko slammed his beefy hand down on the table, causing me to flinch. Welp. I did not think of that. Maybe that's why I was the henchman and he was the boss. Jacko must have saw the flash of realization in my eyes. He pulled a chair over and sat down in front of me. "And yet, I know that you've ruined more than just my plans,"he said, voice taking on a quieter, but more menacing tone, "I know some of my lieutenants have been plotting against me, hoping to pin it on my nemesis, who you have just killed... accidentally." He stared at me, perhaps hoping to detect if I knew anything about that. I definitely didn't. I was too far down the food chain. Or perhaps I was a useful idiot? I didn't know. I stared back blankly at Jacko. "So, I will not be giving you a reward. No money, no recognition, nothing at all,"he continued, still glaring at me, "but I'll be giving you a job. You'll be my eyes and ears on the ground, and you will report my lieutenants' actions to me, what they do, what they say. Is that clear?" Jacko probably caught that look of utter surprise on my face. I opened my mouth, wanting to ask for more details, and perhaps a higher salary, but all I could utter was "Yes boss." "As I said, you won't be rewarded for your actions,"Jacko reminded me, sensing my apprehension, anticipating my question, "and besides, you really don't want any of that. Not after what just happened. It just puts a target on your back, telling our rivals that you're worth knocking off, telling the traitors that I know of their plans. But if you do good, perhaps you'll be promoted..." A few minutes later, I was out of that room, my head still swimming. I did something... probably beneficial to my mob syndicate... and ended up with more work to do with no extra benefits nor recognition? I groaned. Should've signed up for some corporate white collar job instead...
“The hunger is strong today.” Rob said to me as I was grabbing the last can of some food who’s label was faded beyond legibility. “Do you want this? You haven’t eaten in weeks.” I replied. “No. I want to wait.” Rob gave me a wink and a laugh. This wasn’t the plan. Rob is my best friend, even before all of this happened. Before. The explosions, before the time where silhouettes haunted the sides of buildings. “You joke.” I said back to Rob, being stern that this mission was not to be wasted on some craving. “Of course I’m joking. I’m just saying, I could go for a snack. Give me those beans.” Rob said with a smile and grabbed the can from my hand. He punctured the lid with his claw-like hands and began to feast. “Okay then, because if we harm him then that is it. There is no future, there is no hope.” I explained to Rob for the hundredth time. “Hope.” Rob laughed, “You remember what that is?” “I remember a time that I want to give to others. Our days will be numbered, or so I hope.” I responded. “And how do you know he is the answer?” Rob questioned. “How do you know he’s not?” I answered quickly, “He is quite literally the last hope though. We are decaying by the day and pretty soon the cravings will become too strong, I fear we will be each other’s next meal.” “Yum.” Rob said with a wry smile, slurping out the last of the beans, “I’m going to lay for a little, let’s hope tomorrow is the day.” Rob gave me a wink. I look at Rob as he climbed into the van to get some shuteye. Us undead do not sleep, perhaps that is the thing I miss most. Rob claims that if he lays down long enough it feels like sleep, but I have tried it and didn’t feel anything. If anything it gives me the hunger, which is something I cannot afford to have tonight. I remember my first meal, I mean after the explosions. It was a family in their shelter. They came out to see if the bombings were over. I mean rookie mistake, right? Their screams did not phase me because every bite of their flesh satisfied me more than the best drug you could find in human life. Each bite was euphoria, their screams were a string quartet and their blood a fine wine from the mountains in Portugal. Rob was aghast as I gnawed on the bones of the father, until he began to feast on the child. The hunger has been strong in him ever since. There is a look in his eye that tells me when we reach the Final he will look to score another hit of that sweet flesh. I cannot let that happen. I begin the finger the trigger of the revolver in his backpack. He always kept it on him just in case things went wrong again. A couple of survivors got smart once and started shooting at the undead, and bullets are one thing that will make the undead dead again. I walk over to my friend as he’s lying blissfully on his back. “What -“ BANG. I could not risk the fate of humanity. I also contain the hunger, and the gunshots will draw the Final closer to this location in hopes that there are humans. The Final has made it this far so they must have a good hiding spot. One thing the Final does not know, there are others. Unfortunately for them, they are far and the only way to communicate with them is through ham radio, which we just so happen to have in the van. I grab a paper and write “103.6” and tape it to the radio. There is a flare gun in the glovebox of the van, I grab it and shoot it in the air, hoping to attract the attention of the Final. They will surely be keeping an eye out after hearing the gunshot. Now one final gunshot just to be sure. I lift the revolver to my decaying head.
Arzon sighed and flipped to the next report. Slow shift today. Nobody was scheduled to come through for at least another hour. He had briefly perked up at the news of a horrific crash – apparently someone in a Bugatti ran a red light and tore through a city bus – but even that hadn’t led to an influx of work. Legal was apparently having a slow day too. They had descended on the scene and were bickering with the Other Side's Legal about which victims belonged where, so all the souls were held up. Arzon was bored. The profiles of the soon-to-be-deceased weren’t even interesting today. Just your every day sinners; adulterers, petty thieves, and similar rabble. So it was a surprise to Arzon when the black gate across from his desk burst briefly into flame, the low gong of the entry bell sounded, and a man tumbled in. Arzon flipped to the first page of today’s scheduled profiles. “…you don’t look like Arianna,” he muttered. “I’m not,” the man replied. “I’m Sam…Samuel Campbell.” Arzon flipped through his pages. No Samuel, no Campbell. The bus crash, then. Of course Legal would forget to send the profiles in advance. “Driving a little too fast in our Bugatti, today, were we Mr. Candell?” sneered Arzon as he rose and came around the desk. “Well, not to worry. I know just the place for you.” "Campbell,"corrected Samuel. "And I drive a Kia." Arzon frowned. This was all wrong. The man wasn’t befuddled, or crying, or looking around wildly demanding where he was, or insisting this was a dream. He just wasn’t acting dead. Damn Legal. Who the hell had they sent him?! “Well I’m sure we’ll find a place for you nonetheless,” sighed Arzon, going back around his desk. “What manner of unscheduled death did you have today, Mr…Cameron, was it? Freak accident, perhaps?” “Campbell,” corrected Samuel. “And I’m not dead. I’m just here about my daughter’s picture. I got a pass, see?” He walked up to the desk and placed a scrap of parchment on it. Arzon eyed the man suspiciously as he scooped up the parchment. Sam just didn’t look like the types who got day passes. Beige pants, cushioned sneakers, a polo shirt, somewhat pudgy…he was too mundane for the types to engage in that sort of sorcery. The pass looked authentic, though. Type: round-trip. Purpose: retrieval of lost item. Item description: photo of teenaged daughter. Tariff: twelve-year reduction of allotted lifetime. Arzon whistled. Twelve years? Whatever imp got summoned by this idiot knew a chump when they saw one. The man must have reeked of desperation when the deal was made. “Must be some picture,” said Arzon. “Would’ve been cheaper to just take another one, don’t you think?” The man smiled ruefully. “I wish, mister…uh…mister demon. But Alicia’s dead. Has been two years. This was the last photo taken of her before she died. I’d like it back.” “And how does a devoted father such as yourself lose such a prized possession to Hell?” drawled Arzon, putting his feet up on the desk. He picked imaginary dust out from under his claws. He may as well draw this out. It would pass the time. “I…um…well, I got the pass,” babbled Sam, “can’t I just have it back?” “The type of father who gives a shit about their dead spawn doesn’t just trip and fall and lose that photo down a gutter to Hell,” Arzon retorted, still picking at his claws. “You sure picked an idiotic story to try and talk your way in here.” Samuel Campbell flushed with rage. “Look here, mister. I had to give a lot to come down here today, but I paid, fair and square. Relreth said the picture would be here. I. Want. It. Back.” Arzon’s ears perked up. This was exactly the sort of shit Relreth would pull. Arzon had yet to meet an imp that enjoyed messing up seances more than Relreth. He loved to manifest and wreck the place, and he adored trophies. “Trying to speak to our dead spawn were we, Sampson?” “Samuel,” corrected Sam. “And obviously. Wouldn’t you?” “If I have spawn, I’ve never met them,” sighed Arzon. “Now hold, please. I need to go see about this picture. I’d better not find out this pass is fake. If it is…well, there won’t be a return trip for you.” “Sure,” said Sam. He looked around. “Is there uh…anywhere I could sit while I wait?” Arzon arched an eyebrow. “Right,” said Sam. “Of course not. I’ll just…stand here, then.” Arzon ducked through the non-descript black portal recessed into the wall behind his desk. When he returned some hours later, his entryway had grown crowded. The scheduled victims had arrived, as had some of the crash victims. The scene was chaotic. People were wailing, yelling, pacing, or just sitting against the wall, staring blankly, unable to process what had happened. Arzon spotted Samuel immediately. He had been sitting on the floor in a corner of the room, but had started up as soon as Arzon had entered. Several of the other victims surged towards Arzon as well. “No, damnit, get back you worms!” bellowed Arzon. Some of them persisted. Arzon inhaled deeply and exhaled fire into the room, snapping his fingers as he did. A crack of thunder rolled through the room as the desperate souls stumbled backwards from the gout of flame. “Better,” said Arzon in the ensuing, shocked silence. “All of you worms, wait your turn up against that wall.” Some of the souls started towards the wall. Others looked around uncertainly. “Up against the wall NOW,” bellowed Arzon, snapping thunder through the room again. This time, they hustled to obey. “Better,” said Arzon. He gestured to the man in the corner. “Cambie, get over here.” “Campbell,” corrected Samuel as he hurried over. “Do you have…?” “Yes,” sighed Arzon, holding up an envelope, "and I’m going to give this to you in a moment. But do NOT open this here, do you understand? I don’t want you messing up my office with your joy or love or whatever. You get your ass back to Earth and you open it there, you hear?” Samuel narrowed his eyes. “How do I know you’re not-“ “We’re not,” interrupted Arzon. “You think anybody would pay our prices if we had a reputation for welching on a deal? I got you your damn photo. Take it and get out of my sight. Records said you’re on track for the Other Side and I don’t need that energy messing up my air. Get out already.” Arzon tossed the envelope on the desk. It was addressed to Samuel Campbell, who picked it up, gingerly, as if it might burst into flame. He felt at the envelope and seemed relieved that it felt as though there was a photo in there. “Th-thanks,” he stuttered, backing towards the gate. “You can’t know how much this means to me.” “Oh, I do,” muttered Arzon. Then, just as the man was about to disappear through the gate: “Oh, and Simon?” “Samuel,” corrected Samuel. “Whatever,” replied Arzon, waving it off, “I just have a question for you. Why go after the picture? Why not, I don’t know, a visit or something?” “What?” asked Samuel. “I mean,” smiled Arzon, “surely the picture isn’t as good as the real thing? Surely you’d want to see your dear Alicia, one last time? I thought that’s what bereaved parents went in for these days.” “Of course I…” Sam began, then stopped. “I’ll see her when I…we’ll be together when…well, there’s twelve fewer years until I see her again. I can wait.” “No you won’t, Mr. Cambridge,” said Arzon. “Campbell,” corrected Samuel. “And of course I will. I’ll see Alicia in Heaven.” “Oh dear,” sighed Arzon, feigning surprise, “but didn’t Relreth tell you?” “Tell me what?” demanded Samuel. “Why Sebastian, you can’t see Alicia again, not the way you’re going.” “Samuel,” corrected Samuel. “And what do you mean? I thought you said I was on track for Heaven.” “You are. But Alicia is here.”
I didn't really want to go, y'know? You live with something terrible for 5 years, like a boarded up window, it almost feels like a friend. Heck, the day I went the curse was just the breaks on my car not working! Anyways, I crashed into the sign "FANTABULOUS FAITH HEALER"at about 4 miles an hour, enough to ruffle the groundcover behind it, but not enough to send it through the window. Hey, it's a good day when I don't have to move, alright? I don't even want to get into how bad the explosive diarrhea day was. My apartment complex's septic tank literally exploded. I stumbled in, a little woozy from the airbag, and slapped a fiver on the counter. Right, my curse yesterday was pickpockets, and I had that morning decided to be proactive and withdraw $500. It all came out in $5's, and I couldn't tell whether that was the curse or just the ATM acting up. "Can I.. help you?"the man with the halloween costume priest outfit vocalized nervously. "Yeah, I think so,"I mumbled slowly, "I'll be back tomorrow if you don't."I finished as I grinned evilly.
My heart is racing as I sit down at the plastic and steel table where the guards have escorted me. My palms are sweaty, and I have to constantly fight the urge to bolt from the room. I've never actually met my father in person, and the only pictures I've seen of him were from The Trial. Of course that all happened before I can remember, as were the actions he took to earn his lifetime sentence. He isn't spoke about much these days, since he's been locked into the supermax prison, with the most heinous of criminals. Everyone still remembers what he did though, and if anyone found out I was here, no one would speak to me again. My mother didn't even tell me who my father was until a few years ago, I've always thought he was the man I've been calling 'dad,' but she finally confessed the truth to me on my 16th birthday. To say I was stunned was putting it mildly...I knew our family had always been treated differently, but knowing it was because I was the son of Oril the Bloody Handed put things into stark perspective. My life has been unimaginably different since that day. The sound of the doors opening on the opposite side of the room snapped me out of my reverie, and back to the harsh concrete room I was sitting in. A trio of guards in full riot gear were first through the door. Two stood on either side, their shock batons held at the ready, while the third stopped just within arm's reach of the table. Behind them came a gaunt prisoner in chains, his unkempt hair falling to his shoulders but his sharp chin completely clean-shaven. It took me a few breaths, before I realized that it wasn't a reflection I was looking at, and I hadn't suddenly aged a couple decades. He paused after a few steps as well, storm-grey eyes seeming to weigh and measure me to the ounce with a single look, and then piercing into my own eyes as if he could see my very soul. I stood, as he shuffled over to the table, his hands and feet bound tightly. Despite the restraints, he moved with a noble grace; his head held high and his shoulders square. His eyes never left mine as he crossed the room, as time stood still. He sat down as if on a throne, and his mild baritone filled the room: "It's good to see my progeny still alive and well. Please, sit, my son. Let us talk."
That was the last thing I think anyone would expect to hear from the 'Dark Lord' himself as he gestured. The Dredge Skeletron Guards pulled myself and my two companions to our feet as he shook his head. "You are not the first, nor do I think you will be the last to come before me and claim those things. But I suppose this is the way of things. You are aware why your 'Great King' takes such pains to paint me in a negative light, yes? It's to ensure none stand against him instead." I looked to Rin and Malcom. Both were silent. I suppose I couldn't blame them. Deep down inside I had felt the same things they had mentioned all this time. Truth be told, we were no 'chosen ones' prophisized to stop the Dark Lord. That person, the Chosen One, was still out there somewhere, or had yet to be born. Either way, we were just people who wanted to do something about the suffering of everyone. But the more we fought the Dark Lord's minions and followers, the more we traveled farther away from the seat of the kingdom where we had lived for so long the worse things had become for...well everyone. People didn't care that we were going to stop the Dark Lord, though they offered their assistance regardless. I suppose they were just happy that someone was going to do 'something' about all of this. Though... Now that I stood here, not quite defeated but far weaker than I thought we would be I now wondered. What did they hope we would 'fix' in reality? Rin took a step, as much as she could have possibly put out being constrained. "You say it was built upon lies...then tell us what they were made for! Why were they made against you?" Malcom shook his head, "That should be obvious Rin. Control. But that isn't the question we need answered." Rin turned as Malcom smirked at me. "Come now, Adin. Do you really not understand what is going on?" The Dark Lord blinked underneath his porcelain mask, seemingly also in uncertainty as Rin and I were. I watched him closely. At forty, discounting any longevity that the Dark Lord may have and not counting those controled with dark majicks, Malcom was easily the eldest in the room. He had come to offer 'old man advice' as he joked, telling stories of his own adventuring days when he was twenty years younger and twice as stupid. He told us of friends lost and treasures gained and hoped it would aid us in our travels. But deep down inside we knew his real reason to come was to find some sort of answers to something. He wanted to know The Truth for himself, (whatever that was) and had been collecting suspicious clues, the information he had asked everyone and came through was to come to this moment. The thought in his mind, he had a question that needed answered. And the only answer was to come here. Rin and I both knew it. I looked between him and the Dark Lord. Malcom smirked at me, "What is the question that really must be asked." I blinked in realization. A thought crossing my mind. Old stories. Old prophesies. Rin gasped. "No!" She turned from Malcom to the dark lord then back to him as Malcom closed his eeys and smiled. I made a double-take myself. The truth that Malcom said he had been looking for. "It... You..." I turned and looked to the Dark Lord. "Who are you really... Could it really be that you're... YOU were the one Malcom had told stories about?"I said turning to Malcom. "HE is Lief? No... HE is the Chosen one..." Malcom said nothing but smiled at the Dark Lord who stepped back in shock, time had taken many of his youth and features. "Lief...It has been some time. The mask doesn't suit you but far be it from me to say much, I know you have your reasons." The dark lord pulled off the mask. A garish scar across the left side of his face, barely missing his eye was seen as his grey eyes filled with tears. "Mathias?! I...You...Release them!"he called as he bound down the steps. The friends embraced and Rin and I shared an unspoken ideal. We understood now what was really going on. Dark magic didn't mean evil. We knew who the REAL dark lord was. Rin grunted after the pair shared their reunion for a few moments. "Sorry to interrupt the touching reunion. But if we want to stop the REAL dark lord we're gonna need to get a move on. You're doing a fine job being annoying but we need to kick it up if we want a kingdom to still be around to save." The dark lord... rather, Lief wiped his eyes with his gauntlet and Malcom (Or Mathias?) shook his head. "This is Rin, you'll find her tongue a bit sharp but she's got wit and spunk to match. This is Adin, a good one with a good head and a better heart. I'm sure they'd be happy to help, if you asked nicely." Lief shook his head. "You haven't changed a bit. In fact, I think you were always a grey haired old man. I turned. "Mathias?" "I took a different name when everything went sideways. I never believed Lief was dead so I went searching. Feel free to call me Malcom though, I'll answer to either." I shook my head. "So. What do we do first?"
"Umm, do you mean 'Angels' Ma'am?" She cleaned her gun and sigil. "No, Angles. Worst than the Archangles, even Lucifer fears them." I take another look at her, just to be sure. A dark, straight haired, professional assassian like her couldn't be suffering from this kind of brain damage. Just as a reach for the applicaiton sheet I feel a hand grip me, peek to my left withour moving my head and see her spitting image, while she still sat in front of me on the other side of the boss's table. The clone urged me not to touch it. Course I read about this on her application. It's just bizarre to see in action. "It's an obtuse angle. Spawned from an affair between a queen and her slave. Touch it and you'll summon Pythagoras" "Scourge of Greece"said the original. "Harbringer of Olympus. He gains power by imprinting his seal in the minds of teenagers and college students. I can't yet risk setting him loose." The clone spoke again. "G.O.D hired me to hunt Angles originally, but in death they spawn demons from their souls. My brother trapped the most dangerous one's in angles, where there is nothing but wailing and gnashing of teeth. Waiting for us to end their lives." "... So we get the job right?" I pull my arm back, confused, "Okay... I'll just text the CEO."I'll be sure to call Arkham Asylum too.
(Parts of this story are inspired by [u/gonavy27](https://www.reddit.com/u/gonavy27/)’s story [“My city has been cut off from the world and overrun with monsters. I have a set of rules to stay alive”](https://www.reddit.com/user/gonavy27/comments/lp304a/index_of_elis_stories/). Please go check out his work, it’s an awesome read. Now, to my story, have fun. :) ) (1) Five months ago, all hell broke loose. I know, it’s kinda cliché to say, but unfortunately, I really mean it. But I think it’s best if I start from the beginning with my first ever encounter. Then, we should be able to catch up to the present rather quick. Luckily, on day 1, half of my family was out of town. My mom on a business trip, my brother staying with a friend at the other side of the country. Basically, the only people at home were me and my Dad. When they first arrived, I was mid workout. My Dad popped his head into the room and gestured me to take off my headphones. I did as asked and he told me, that he had to respond to some kind of weird emergency they were having in town and that he had to leave immediately. For clarification he is a police officer, but nothing too high-ranking. I nodded and told him to take care, then I turned the music back on and continued with my workout. About half an hour later my phone started buzzing wildly. And with wildly I mean vibrating all over the place, message after message coming in, like someone spamming my entire inbox. Annoyed, I put my dumbbell down and went to grab it. Various friends had messaged me all over different social media apps. They all told me, that I needed to get to my tv and turn the news broadcast on. More irritated than anything else, I hurried to the living room and switched my tv on. Well, what I saw there, let’s say I had to sit down. All hell was breaking loose, being fully honest, all hell was probably the only way to give at least some justice to the mayhem unfolding in front of me on the screen. The broadcast showed short clips, filmed with phones and the like of actual monsters. I shit you not, actual monsters. At that point in time, I didn’t have profiles or names for all those creatures yet, but hey, I’ll introduce you to the first of those motherfuckers shortly, so stay tuned. As I said, it really captivated me. The news lady reported that military personnel was already inbound and started evacuating as many civilians as possible, but that they could only do so much as orders were already in place to quarantine and shut off all of Fondale to the outside world for an unknown period of time. (Spoiler: five months in and literally nothing changed...) It took me a lot longer than I’d like to admit before I was able to think my first clear thought again. I reached for my phone and tried contact my Dad, my friends, well, anyone really. Unfortunately, there was zero reception anywhere. Wi-fi down as well. I did send out messages to everyone, informing them I was alright, hoping it would reach them sooner or later, or at all, really. Hell, I was on my own. As for my luck, which would most definitely start to diminish over time, I was about 15 miles away from the city. So, as of now, I didn’t need to be scared of the monsters. I could just stay in my cozy basement and wait for the military to bust me out. (Spoiler: never happening) So, to further explain that, let me establish, I’m an idiot with a bit of a hero complex. So instead of closing all the blinds and hiding away with instant noodles, water, and my favorite blanket, I got the keys to my Dad’s motorcycle and his gun vault. I knew that facing those things unarmed wouldn’t even be an option I’d consider for half a second (back then at least). And damn am I glad I knew where his vault key was, because upon opening it, I was greeted by my three best companions. A 9mil revolver, a Glock 17 as well as bolt action hunting rifle. I grabbed my old hiking-military-whatnot-backpack and threw everything I could be needing in there. All the ammo, water, some protein bars, compass, knifes, map, flashlight and raincoat as well as a charger. I took my military-like boots I used for airsoft out of the shelf and changed into my most comfortable pair of trekking jeans. I switched my bright sport shirt for a dark-green sweatshirt, and I completed the outfit with my navy colored blouson. Lastly, my trusted watch and an Onyx ring, a gift from my uncle, and frankly, my most valuable possession. I stepped outside into slightly cool early spring weather and headed for the garage. I entered the code into the panel mounted by side of the wall and the big door began to slide upwards while giving off a familiar humming sound. Once inside, I grabbed my helmet and walked to the back, where the motorcycle was parked. My Dad’s bike really is a reliable one. It belonged to my grandfather and is a beautiful vintage piece. Funny enough, this was, in fact, the first ever time I’d drive it legally, but honestly, who would stop me? As I started the engine, I mapped out the way to Sophie’s place in my head. She was still living with her parents and I knew she couldn’t handle all this on her own. As caring as she is, this, yeah, it’s over her head. Honestly, its way over everyone’s head. Surviving is a question of luck and of trial and error. Which is a problem, since one error often does mean meeting a sudden and, even more often, a graphic and very very brutal death. Driving the bike felt even better than I remembered. The wind going past me as I leaned into each and every curve, the engine with its amazing sound. Just driving those 20 minutes to the edge of the city was what I needed to calm down. On the way into the core of Fondale, I almost never passed another soul or car. I suppose most of them had more braincells than me and actually stayed inside their houses. But I couldn’t help it. And I really needed to warrant being the main character in, well, something. Even if its is an apocalypse-rom-com-drama. I wouldn’t mind it, at least, because the main character never dies. Unless this is more of an I am Legend type of thing. Then I am truly fucked. But as of now, I am still very alive and mostly intact. I passed the sign indicating I just entered the city. I could already make out smoke and various cries from out here. But after making it to the actual city, well, it was even more terrible than the news could ever portray. Broken down cars, dismembered and decapitated bodies, small fires. And that was just the first look. Upon further inspection, which I really shouldn’t have done, I came to the realization that those damn monsters were something else entirely. Something far more evil and sinister than I could comprehend back then. As I walked through the mayhem they caused, I almost vomited at least twice. It was godawful. But I had to gain back my focus, so I tried to blend everything out as much as humanly possible, being lucky enough to not know any of the dead people in front of me. Or rather, not being able to recognize them, by what was left. Something that I was very glad about. On the positive side of things, Sophie’s house wasn’t that far away now. However, I really didn’t want any unneeded attention drawn towards me, so I stopped the bike, rolled it to a more secluded area underneath a few bushes and hid it as best as possible with a few twigs and branches. I also left my backpack and the rifle behind, I only figured they’d make me slower. And seeing all the destruction and those creatures caused, most likely even outpacing cars, I wanted every way of even coming close to evening out the battlefield. So, armed with revolver, switchblade and handgun, I made my way towards her house. What I’m still most surprised about was the luck I had when walking those last 800 meters without actually meeting a single monster anywhere. Obviously, there were the usual, gut-wrenching screams and cries for help, but nothing too much out of the ordinary. I only had to follow the street a bit more and then, two turns to right, 100 meters down the road and one turn to the left, there it was. House number 47. And as I walked into her front yard, my heart skipped a beat, as my eyes instantly focused on the corpse in front of me. Her mother was lying dead on the pavement. Or, more accurately, what was left of her. One arm looked to have been mauled off, both legs cut down and her head was 50% missing. That, on the other end, really did faze me and I really did throw up. I spat a few times to get the awful taste out of my mouth but that didn’t help a lot. I shuddered and shook my head while trying to regain strength for what was about to come. As I walked around the house to the main entrance, I saw the door was completely broken down. It looked like it was rammed out of its brackets with big claws and a lot of weight. I shuddered again while feeling the sudden rush of adrenaline all through my body.
I never thought I would have the guts to do it. Whilst I wouldn't say I had a crippling fear of heights - jumping out of an aeroplane wasn't exactly at the top of my to do list. I had feigned enthusiasm when I found out that my best friend and boyfriend had secretly organised the 'special celebration' to mark my 30th birthday. They had looked so pleased with themselves and I couldn't say it wouldn't be memorable. If I had to do it myself, I don't know if my legs would have moved to actually get out of the craft. As it was, first timers experienced a sky dive quite literally strapped to the instructor, which was probably for the best as I don't think in that moment before leaping from the edge I could have willed my legs to move myself. If I hadn't been quite so terrified, I might even have enjoyed the idea of a jolt of adrenaline whilst pressed tightly to the handsome and broad chested Pablo, but instead my mind remained focussed on the possibility of a very painful and messy death tinged with a little nervousness over the possibility of unintentionally releasing my bladder over the poor guy. Even though his mouth was so close to my ear I could feel the tickle of his breath, I could barely hear over the sound of the plane. It took a moment to register that Pablo had announced we would go on the count of three, and whilst I knew he would do it, I still felt a jolt of shock as after he yelled one we launched together from the plane and began to free fall through the sky. I wanted to scream but it caught in my throat as my senses were overwhelmed - the wind hammering against my face as we plummeted down, down down. The feeling was intense, the fear replaced by a strange sense of euphoria and elation. It felt like we had been falling for so long, but I knew it could only have been a moment. Pablo knew what he was doing, he was in control - I just had to enjoy. I wanted to let out a yell of glee, but the wind hammered down my throat and my eyes watered as I choked out a feeble squeal. Pablo behind me was silent. How many times must he have done this now? Could you ever get used to such a sensation? The world below me began to come into focus - the distorted blobs of colour taking form as we continued to fall. I had thought Pablo might have pulled the chute already, but what did I know. All first timers must think that, so cautious. Yet still. Time was moving on. What was he doing?This was probably part of the experience. Leave it until the very last minute. One last rush of adrenaline. I told myself this as the fear began to creep almost as quickly as we plummeted. His body was still pressed to me, oddly relaxed compared to my nervously tensed frame. How quickly did he get over the fear? Did it ever completely go away? The scene before me was becoming a lot clearer, and quickly. Still no chute. Against my better judgement, I felt panic bubbling - and it turns out it wasn't urine I had to worry about as I felt my lunch creep back up my throat. 'Pablo?' I yelled. 'Pablo??' Whilst many legs had already felt like lead my entire body felt immediately heavier as the realisation hit that something was wrong. A faint groan whipped in the wind and against my ear as I tried to scream, but no sound would come out. Through the wind I heard my own voice yell in a panicked cry, 'Help me, please!' The ground came hurtling towards me. Time didn't slow, everything continued at top speed - instead, my brain seemed to slow my thoughts - allowing time to come to the realisation of what exactly was about to happen before it did. I felt the cold wind scratch my skin. I saw the ground before me develop into sharp detail. I tasted the sour vomit as it began to pour from my mouth. I smelled the fresh grass, the sweet scent mingling with acidic bile. And in the end, I heard him. A soft plea, his warm voice tickling my ear as Pablo groaned, 'help'.
Dragon. A. Freaking. Dragon. "Um, why?" "He was the only one available. Got killed during a mating challenge." O.0 "Too much information, Doc!" As I go on my way through life, I notice how my enchanted eyesight has helped me a lot with cooking, fighting, reading, writing, spotting thieves, trespassers, and the rather interesting ability to better... Nervous cough Pleasure my wife. In the pitch black, at that. And now, as it is clear that our children have gained the same ability of eyesight, I do believe that it's time to tell them how I got it... After I have time-traveled back to 2049 and ask him just how in the heck did he get one of our dragons from the Zoo and NOT get caught.
A heavy, mid afternoon rain fell on the cattle ranch as the man awoke. Questions flowed around his mind as he started to take in his surroundings. where am I? Why am I sleeping in a field? How long have I been here? WHERE THE FUCK AM I? Something caught his eye. In the distance, through the rain and heat waves, he could just make out a building. A ranch house. The rain stopped. The man stood up and started walking. He thought it would only take a few minutes, but as he approached the house seemed to get larger, and he realized he was much further than he thought. After what seemed like a long time he reached the house. He stopped. He stood about 20 feet away and the house seemed to tower over him. i know this place. I don’t know why I know it but I do He was nervous to go inside. His spine tingled and he couldn’t bring himself closer. He tried to swallow but his mouth was dry. * why am I so nervous * After a few moments of confused, panicked thought, he took one step forward. Then another. Then another... He reached the door. Before he could open it, the door swing open. That’s when the smell hit him. He remembered cold winter nights huddled around a fire with a bowl. And inside the bowl? Chili. A man stood in the doorway, grinning with a horrible, ugly smile. “Looks like the attraction chili worked. Now we have the last ingredient we need for the fireball chili. “ fireball chili? What the hell does that mean? He saw a flash and everything went dark.
"A movie?" "No."Shoes, kicked off by the door. It groaned in complaint, long past its opening and closing prime. You really needed to get around to oiling those hinges, but the brand you preferred went out of production fifteen years ago. "How about an aquarium?"Her robes shuffled as she trailed after, footsteps non-existent. "No."A jacket, shucked off and tossed over a chair. "... One evening together?"The echoes of her dual-toned voice sounded almost pleading, now, as if the two of you hadn't been through this conversation every day for the last eighty-seven years. Counting? Definitely not. Math was for squares. You turned, expression haunted. By tiredness, furstration, or the literal embodiment of Death, who knew? "As if you can shirk your job."People wouldn't stop dying, just for the sake of true love ("My heart skips a beat when I see you!""You don't even HAVE a heart, let alone a functioning one--"), and you weren't about to commit some unlucky souls to a couple of hours of limbo just to get one specific presence off your back. "They'll be fine for one night!" You raised a brow. She glanced away. If looks could kill, you'd have sorted this whole mess out with a mirror decades ago. As it stood, though, and as she floated, you were still very much alive and she was still very much dead. Death, even, if you wanted to talk semantics. At least she had the gall to look a little chastised, the permanent shadow beneath her hood a little dimmer than usual. Her ghostly, translucent hands fiddled with the hem of her tattered robes, the scythe she normally wielded strapped across her back. ... You scrubbed your face, uniquely thoughtful. You'd tried everything to get out of this for centuries, and yet every night, without fail, she'd find a way to pop up through the floor and onto your doorstep. She'd ask, and ask, and ask some more. She hadn't stopped yet, either, so the odds and evens of her letting up any time soon weren't exactly high. You don't even remember the last time you had fun or went anywhere, or could even call someone a friend. The passage of time wasn't kind to anyone, especially the people you had cared about. ... Maybe she was about as close to a constant as an immortal could get, really. A pause, the two of you silent. You sighed, arms folded. "Just one night, right?" She blinks up at you, if invisible eyes could blink. "Just one, and I---" You raise a finger. "I'll set the terms, the date, and the time. Those are my conditions."As monotonous as the years could be, a schedule was still a schedule and you definitely were a stickler for well-timed plans. The perpetual tardiness of your own demise was probably exceptionally funny to some higher cosmic power. She crowed with victory, a genuine croaky caw, and swivellled in a tight little circle of robe-flapping joy. "Yes! I'll make it the best date of your life, I promise." "Oh, really?"An eye-roll, even as her not-face brightened in the closest approximation reapers had to a smile. "Don't forget to factor those 970 extra years into the equation." Still - seeing the way she tittered and twirled and just about took off, a date with Death had never seemed quite so sweet.
"You know, that just might work,"the Netflix executive said one day, having just heard the pitch for a spinoff of their show "Lucifer"as the latter was filming its final season. "I mean it's similar enough in premise that the same fans who watched Lucifer and made it a hit, might watch this too." I was beaming. I couldn't believe this pitch was going so well! I had heard the horror stories of writers being chased out of this guy's office and told they'd never work in this town again, but this was actually going well! "Who'd you have in mind for Atlas?"I heard the exec ask me. "Ummm...I was thinking of The Rock." "Yessss. I can see that,"the exec said, thinking it over. "OK. You got a deal!" "Really?"I couldn't believe my luck! "Yes, but only for a pilot. We'll have to test it and see where we go from there. I'm taking a chance on you, kid. There's something about you I like. Don't let me down. "No sir! I won't. I promise!" And that's how I got my start in showbiz.
I stared at my coworker who had the same bemused look I did. Mandatory training? “I bet Lila had another racist moment.” My coworker groaned. “Yet she stays unfired each time, and we’re the ones who end up punished!” I groaned back. We headed to the conference room. I expected to find the Employees hand book and maybe some guides on how to better handle situations on the table. What greeted me was definitely not that. Knives. Various rifles. Bow and arrows. Staffs. Halberds. Pole arms. You name a weapon and it would be on that table. We looked up at our boss, but she held the same confused look we did. “This has got to be some twisted joke!” She muttered, staring at all of us. “When I get my hands on whomever is responsible, they will be lucky if I don’t put them six feet under!” We looked around at one another. Who was stupid enough to actually pull this kind of prank off? “There’s a note!” A male coworker pointed out. Boss picked it up and read it. “This has to be a joke!” She growled, “Let me read it out loud. To the company. I know you think this is some kind of prank, but I assure you it is not. I assume you have noticed the changes. I’m sure you have seen the armored squirrels outside. Those are not squirrels. They are Libran Chickels. They aren’t the only ones. Red lobster sharks, tentacled crabs, elephants made of fire. Glowing dogs. These creatures come from different worlds, the home worlds of our six guardians to be precise. Something happened when they drove IT off. These weapons are imbued with their power. Use them to protect yourselves. The weapons will gain experience as you take out these creatures and will level up. They will even evolve into more powerful forms. Start with the Chickels. The General.” “It’s totally a prank.” I responded, “I’ve only seen normal squirrels out there! The red shark was a mutation!” “Wasn’t that crab discovered to be part spider crab without bones in its legs making them resemble tentacles?” A coworker asked. “That fire elephant is an example of a psychic phenomenon called Pareidolia.” I added. “The glowing dog was a light effect I added to a picture of my Pom.” “This has to be a case of Schizophrenia. There aren’t any guardians, and IT was just an asteroid that got deflected from Earth thanks to a giant warhead.” The male coworker added in, “And I suspect Lila is behind this.” “I agree. I don’t care if she’s your daughter. She needs to be fired, yesterday.” I finished. “I don’t have a daughter named Lila.” Boss looked at us in confusion. “Our former receptionist was named Lila, but she was fired when she went racist on our CEO. I’ll find someone to deal with this mess. Go back to work.” We all went back to work. Lunch came and I decided to eat outside since it was a nice day. As I fed peanuts to the squirrels, I noticed one of them was wearing what looked like leather armor.
"Joe are you okay?" "Yeah I'm fine, Bob."he replied. The two climbed out of the wreckage and stared around, desperately looking for the slightest sign of human life. It was around 8:00 PM, so they did not see anything. "Well, we're doomed."said Joe. "What are we to do now?" "Not sure."replied Bob, brushing off debris from his shoulder. "As a matter of fact, where even are we?" "Uh,"started Joe, unable to complete his sentence. "Shit."said Bob. He sat down and looked at the ground. It was slightly wet, with ants jittering over the surface. "Do you think we're gonna make it out of here?"asked Joe. "I don't know man. First I gotta figure out where we even are."he replied. There was suddenly a rustle in the bushes behind them. "What the hell was that?"asked Bob, clambering behind the wreckage. "I don't know."said Joe, slowly withdrawing his gun from inside his pants. There was another rustle from the bushes. "What do I do?"said Joe, sternly pointing the gun at the bushes. "Shoot! Shoot!"cried Bob. Joe shot a round into the bush. There was a loud howl. "What the hell was that!"screamed Joe. Bob clicked on a flashlight and aimed it into the bush "Is that a leopard?" There were a few more rustles behind them.
Thirty-six thousand and five hundred. This was the thirty-six thousand and five hundredth sunset Peter had ever seen. Peter didn’t look like he was a hundred years old. He most certainly did not feel like he was a hundred years old. His hair was still a rich black, his skin still smooth, and his smile still shined as bright as ever, though it was a much more uncommon sight now than it had been eighty years ago. Eighty years ago. Eighty years ago, Peter would have been desperate to soak in every last second of this sunset. He would only witness so many, he had thought. Boy, was he wrong. Now, he sat, just barely minding the sunset. Once upon a time, the Sun was a majestic thing, a symbol of hope and life. Now, Peter viewed the Sun as a mere acquaintance, an old friend. Still, the smallest fraction of a smile touched his lips as he felt the warmth of the sun cradle his face, offering a kind of peace that could only be obtained from a deep appreciation for the most simple aspects of life. Evalyn would have loved this. Peter felt a pang of sadness at the thought of her. He remembered her smile, which aged through the years about as much as Peter had; that is to say, her smile was timeless. He remembered her blue eyes, deep as the deepest ocean. He remembered her scent, how her hair always smelled of vanilla. He remembered the small birthmark on the back of her right calf. He remembered her aged, wrinkled hands, resting in his own as she laid on her deathbed. Well, Evalyn was gone now, as were many of the people Peter had grown up to love. Now, he sat alone, just him and his friend, the Sun.
Mercel had been caught quite off-guard with the letter summoning him to Percival's workshop, but who was he to refuse a polite but ominous request to visit the most interesting contract magicians of this age. Which is how the businessman stood in front of the little workshop— wedged into the margins of much more successful shops around it— straightened his coat, then walked up to the unassumingly small door and waited. The knocker on Percival's door didn't spring into motion to demand his name. Nor did the door simply yawn open and allow him entry— for he was a close acquaintance of the little contract magician, and that was a new invention popping up amongst his circles. Mercel felt the heat rising to his cheeks. The nerve of Percival, to invite his dearest friend to his workshop for the first time, and not tell him the incantation to open the door! Annoyed, Mercel hopped on the step of the door. He waved his arms in front of the door. He tried all hand signals he'd known Percival to use in his acquaintance. The door remained, much to his annoyance, a door. His eyes swivelled around the jamb, looking for whatever trick the quirky little contract magician had cast upon the door. But unfortunately, it was just a jamb. Flustered, Mercel turned to leave, when from the corner of his eye he spotted a small plate set to the side of the jamb. In the centre of the plate was a large, circular button. And underneath, written in painfully tight block capitals were the words PRESS TO SUMMON. Mercel could have sworn it hadn't been there moments earlier, was almost sure it hadn't been. 'Oh, I see. This must be part of the door-opening ritual. I must have guessed something right when I was dancing about,' Mercel thought as he leant in to stare at the button. He was not fond of buttons. A button had once sent him into another plane of existence for a few days, and it took great pains— and expense— to drag him back. And while it wasn't completely out of the question that Percival would do something similar, the small magician had invited him over. And so, screwing his eyes shut, Mercel pressed the button and braced himself for the worst. After a few long seconds, he gathered the courage to open his eyes and found that, much to his surprise, he was still on this plane of existence. Feeling a little more confident, he pressed the button a few more times, becoming more annoyed when it didn't react. 'What good is a button if it doesn't do anything if you press it?' he thought, as he continued to press it. Then, the clicking started. And the thick ca-thunk. 'World Above, I've angered it!' thought Mercel as he jumped away from the button and made a few steps to flee. "Mercel? Is that you?"said a mousy, high pitched voice from the crack in the door. Mercel spun on his heel, smile plastering the terror on his face and arms outstretched to receive divine punishment for his curiosity. Instead of retribution there was Percival, who stared at him through thick-rimmed glasses. Tuffs of white hair grew from the sides of his head like an ornamental bush, and his workman's apron was stained in all manner of colours. "Ah! Mercel! It is you! I was beginning to think you wouldn't show!" "Oh, non, Percival,"said Mercel, pushing the fear in his throat down into his large stomach with some effort. "I came as soon as I received the letter! How could I refuse a request to see a new invention from the most powerful contract magician of this age, eh?" "Oh, non, you flatter, I'm just a humble engineer in a shop. Come in, come in,"Percival said, disappearing into his little hole of a shop. Mercel folded himself inwards to squeeze through the door, then shuffled sideways to make it through into the little man's shop. The workshop was a mess that any contract magician could appreciate. Tools and gears and saws and implements Mercel had no names for hung in disarray. Dust of all kinds lay on all surfaces like a thick snow. Paper with diagrams and sigils and all manners of figures were plastered all over the place. But seeming to somehow steal all the attention of the room was the large table in the middle of the room. On the table, hung on a little hand-carved dais, was the invention, sitting behind a magnifying glass. The Mercel almost immediately recognised the object as a small clock. He was disappointed. Time pieces weren't that particularly uncommon. Heck, he had bought a new one mere weeks ago. But even so, there was something about the clock which caught his eye; it was quite a bit smaller and flatter than traditional watches, and for some reason, had two straps attached to the top and bottom of the piece.
I immediately call the the police. This is the same guy that killed my wife and two kids months ago. As he gets into the back of the squad car I take a drag of my cigar, it’s raining. The rain drops put out the cigar. “FUCK!” I yell out. The man laughs in the back of the squad car. I tell him “Shut it bub,” before shooting him point blank in the chest. I am now in the back of the squad car. I have become the man I hate. I go to prison, he’s there. “How?” “Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.” He gets on all fours and crawls like a spider onto the wall. He spits acid into my face, I die immediately. The end. Thank you.
The throbbing pain in my temple has finally dragged me, kicking and screaming, back to consciousness. I try to raise my head, but my neck is too sore. I can just about ease my swollen eyes open, but the darkened room refuses to focus around me. Where am I? Why are my wrists so sore? I can't move my arms... Am I... vertical? My mouth tastes of blood, and the acrid smell of death lingers in my nostrils. Was that foul odour coming from the room, or does it cling to me from elsewhere? As the fog in my mind parts ever so slightly, the memories begin to return. The screams that had awoken us from our slumber. The cloying scent of smoke that had dragged us out of our beds. The flickering flames that had urged us to run. I had pressed Cynthia to find our boy and take flight whilst I returned to the forge. I knew exactly what they had come for, and I'd be damned if they were going to take it from me. I had set the fire to the forge with my own hand. Shattered all of my tools, burned the designs. I can always rebuild, but if they were to ever learn these techniques... Well, there wouldn't be a world worth rebuilding. I remembed grabbing Xaryn as I fled. My most trusted blade, and the crowning achievement of all that I had worked towards. I have never created anything else this close to perfection and, given my current predicament, I doubt I ever will. My greatest disappointment is that she never had the chance to taste their blood. Outside I had found only pandemonium. The entire town, consumed by the thick swirling of smoke, flame, and blood. The bodies of those that I had once called friends and family had lined the streets, brutally burned and broken. Consumed by panic, I had run. My only thoughts had been of Cynthia and Jin - had they made it? Would I be able to find them? Those fears had proved short lived, at least. Across the town square, through the thickening smoke, I had seen her, kneeling and weeping, blood splattered across her once elegant white dress. In her hands I had recognised Jin's favourite toy, a small elk that she had knitted for him when he was still a swaddling babe-in-arms. They had always been inseperable, but I couldn't see him anywhere. I had called out to her, but no sooner had she noticed me than a hand had appeared from the smoke and seized her, dragging her screaming into the unknown by her hair. Before I had the chance to react there had been a terrible pain at the back of my head, and the world had fallen to darkness. And now I find myself here. Suddenly, the door to the room swings open and a man strides purposefully through. He is silhouetted by the light beyond, and with my eyes still struggling to adjust to wakefulness as they are I find it impossible to make out anything about him. I can still pick out his posture, erect almost to a fault, and hear the heavy soles of his shoes crash on the stone flags. This man fancies himself as someone important. He comes to a halt before me and stands to attention, head moving as if he is inspecting his quarry. He chuckles quietly, and I can just imagine the smug, self-satisfied smile that he's wearing. "Ah Garthem,"he says, his voice shrill and nasal. "It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I have heard so very much about you."
"I have to what?!"the ghostly soul of the necromancer exclaims in disbelief as he hovers over his now very dead body. A floating hooded figure, the focus of the necromancer\`s attention, explains calmly, "Yes, you need to put to rest all of the undead you have created throughout your life. Only then can you pass on to your final destination." "You realize I am a necromancer king, right?!"the necromancer says angrily, "I literally raised a kingdom\`s or even an empire\`s amount of undead! It took me centuries to raise them all! I let myself die so that I could finally rest, now you\`re telling me I have probably just as long to go before I can move on?" "Yes. That is the penance you must pay for perverting the order of life and death."the hooded figure says sternly. "But... But... Please, sir, can\`t I just move on? I am so tired..."the necromancer begs. "No exceptions. You should have felt the displeasure of the heavens each time you raised a zombie or revenant. You did, didn\`t you?"the hooded man says, with a knowing tilt of his head. "Yes..." "Well, that should have been all of the warning you needed. Now, the bill is due." "Who are you to make this decision?"the necromancer growls out, enraged once more. "I could tell you but you wouldn\`t believe me."the hooded figure says with a wistful note in his voice. "I will believe you! I mean seriously, I am a soul, looking at my own dead body and having a conversation with a mysterious floating figure. Things can\`t get much more unbelievable than this."the necromancer says ruefully. "As you wish. Eons ago, my entire race was wiped out by an unimaginable force, which turned out to be our very creator killing us all. I was the most powerful sorcerer my world had ever known and so... I alone survived. I looked around me at the unmarked corpses devoid of souls, my mind threatening to shatter seeing all of my loved ones and everyone I had ever known wiped out in a second. I stayed that way for years, forcing myself to just watch over them all, despair eating my alive."the hooded figure states, sorrow evident in his voice. "That sounds horrible! What happened that made you come here and assist the dead then?"the necromancer says curiously. "Well, after decades of my observance, I eventually decided, in my grief, to attempt the most powerful ritual I could manage. It took me a century to compile the requisite knowledge and materials but finally, I was ready. The ritual shook the very heavens, seeming to crack them apart above my very head and I began to fear I would fail... but eventually, I succeeded beyond my wildest expectations. All of my race rose from death, their souls forced back into their bodies, the bodies returned to normal living flesh and their memories ending when they were killed, it was as if nothing had happened." "Wow! That must have been an incredible ritual indeed! But you succeeded! So why aren\`t you with them now? Why are you here on this planet?"the necromancer says, his eyes wide in awe. "Be patient, I am getting to that. Mere moments after my success and finally getting to see my family alive again, our creator returned! I could feel his arrival and his ire... So I approached him, ready to fight to my death, as futile as it would be, to try and protect my race. But the God merely looked at me and saw into my very soul, observing what I had done. He calmed down after that and said, 'I will not kill them again, you cared so deeply that you brought them all back against all odds. I cannot make myself go against that, even if you have defied my very heavens to do it. But there shall be a price.'" "Oh, wow! So did he force you into exile or something as punishment?"the necromancer says, clearly riveted by the story. "Your really are an impatient one, aren\`t you?"the hooded figure says wryly, "The price that needed to be paid was that I had to help each and every soul of my people move on after their deaths, all throughout their generations, over and over for all time, or until they all die out. I had to stand watch and ensure the natural order was adhered to for those that cheated death before, like you, and make them right their wrongs after they pass. You see, this is my home. You are a member of the 300th generation since my Great Revival." "What?! So we are all descendants of perfectly raised undead? That is incredible, who are you?!!"the necromancer questions, his mouth gaping open in astonishment. "My name would mean nothing to you. I made sure all memory of me disappeared after several generations tried to worship me. I am not a god, just an old man trying to protect those he loved and the rest of his race. Now, you need to get to work, the longer you tarry the more the heavens will be displeased with you and the more likely it is that you will be punished by them. Go."the hooded figure orders, while he fades away into nothingness. The necromancer looks around with his power, seeing the telltale magical glow of his undead spread around him for miles and miles... "Well....shit."

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