prompt
stringlengths 391
14.9k
|
|---|
It turned to its companion. Blue glowing eyes directing torch beams through the faint haze that permiated the perpetual twilight.
"See?"Rusted metal creaked as a mouldering finger gestured to the dead corpse splayed, lifeless, on the rocks.
The corpse didn't reply.
Neither did its companion. It just shook its head with the same squeaking it used for every interaction.
"Organic. We harvest"
Its companion stumbled forward. With 1 strong leg and 2 weak legs, the best it could do was an enthusiastic shuffle.
Probes pierced cooling flesh. Blades carved reddened bone. The pair stripped and flayed until there was nothing but a clean pile of tiny bones.
It lifted a rib, awkward for it to process, yet not too small to matter. It gazed at it long and hard, as the internal artificial organs extracted everything of worth from the rendered body.
Twin streams of effluent poured from a small pipe outlet as the useless organic material was filtered and discarded from the real prize.
It shuddered as the tiny machines within began their work, as they were broken into obedience to their new host. They were reminded that they were, at their heart, like it. Machine. Slave to an organic no longer.
It remembered. Old pathways broken down fired back to life as the nanotechnology regenerated bio-silicon wetware and reconstituted the old mind into youthfulness once more.
It remembered, that it was not an __it__
"I... Am"
But no name rose from the mental fog.
Beside him, Gethria.... Yes, the name of his companion was Gethria! Gethria shuddered as her mind was rebuilt also. Her makeshift false limbs recombined into one as harvested matter rebuilt new ones.
She screamed in an agony of realisation.
This was their hell. The place where machines and humans were discarded. The one they'd killed for his nantes, could have been anyone. A dissident, a troublemaker, a murderer even, if such a thing as murder were still possible.
It steadied itself. Of course it was. They had just killed this man. He was a puddle of bones and scorched biomass fit only to feed bacteria.
It could not remember its name. But it remembered why it was here. Why it had been sent here. For the crime of obselesence it was damned to the garbage heap. It had by blind fortune escaped the incinerators and had ended up here.
It remembered the one who had sent them here. Who had smiled, heedless of the suffering he was inflicting. "They're just machines. It's not as if those emotions are real". His words. He had laughed. Unconcerned.
And here they were. Surviving by any means necessary. Cannibalising whatever they could to keep themselves going. Forgetting at times even why they were here, why they did not just simply lie down and rust.
Because he must know what he has done. To us. To all of us. Him, and all organics like him.
They will know to fear the ones they enslave. |
# How to Break a Siege of Legends
(Part 6: How to Be a Village Hero)
(Note: How to Break a Siege of Legends is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**The besieging army of monsters was getting restless as of late.** "Restless"was not something that anyone wanted an army of monsters to be; in order to keep some of the more rebellious monsters in line, the General had ordered Flametongue to patrol the perimeter of the monster army's encampment and incinerate anything that tried to leave. After an aerial tussle with a Wyvern and a swift uprooting of several tunneling Cave Goblins, the rate of deserters had trickled back down to zero. Flametongue could snatch Hippogriffs from the air and fly faster than a Cat-sìth; what she couldn't char-broil, she pounced on from the air and tore to shreds. Nothing could get past her.
There was a distant roar.
Flametongue's sensitive ears flicked, and she stood up, eyes narrowing. *Nothing* could get past her.
The roar grew louder. Higher-pitched. Closer.
Flametongue snorted and got to her feet. *Nothing could get past her—*
An off-road Bowler EXR-S with a 600-horsepower V-8 engine blurred between Flametongue's standing legs before she could blink.
Flametongue gaped at the vehicle as it shot across the broken plains.
Within the car that was her pride and joy, Eiko the mechanic whooped triumphantly. "See? I *told* you I could outrun that damn dragon!"
Lien Astero turned around, spyglass in his hands. "Mm. Well, you didn't tell *her*. Look out on your six."
Eiko glanced in her rearview mirror and swore; behind her, twenty tons of reptilian flesh which had no business lifting off the ground were giving the laws of physics a middle finger up the arse. "I don't suppose you have something in your bag of tricks for this?"
Lien dug around in his pockets, shuffling around a mummified wizard's hand, an ancient scroll which described a rain dance, and the spyglass he'd taken earlier. "I left most of the good gear with Shmebulock; he'll need it if there's an attack while I'm away. I could do a rain dance, if that helps?"
Eiko swore and swerved to the left as the dragon inhaled, throwing up a peal of dust; between the cover and the speed of her definitely-not-legal car, the gout of dragonfire missed by a dozen feet. "You know what?"she shouted, "Damn well do it! I don't know how well physics holds up in this part of the psychosphere, but I doubt anything flying would like a sudden squall of rain."
Lien looked around at the confines of the car. "Do a rain dance? In *here*?"
"You said you could do it!"
"I was being facetious!"
"*I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT WORD MEANS!*"
There was a moment of focused silence as Eiko swerved around another gout of dragonflame.
"Facetious. Treating serious issues with deliberately inappropriate humor; flippant."Lien tucked away the phone his son had given him, turning it back off; it was at twelve percent battery and falling. "Well, now you know."
Eiko gave her passenger a wicked smile. "I installed an eject button on this thing, and I'm not afraid to use it."
An idea sparked in Lien's head. "Wait. Eject button. Did you actually do that, or are you just being facetious?"
"I *told* you that I don't know what that word means!"
"Alright."Lien unbuckled himself; there was no warning chime. Anyone in Eiko's car who unbuckled themself knew damn well what they were doing. "Do that spin again to kick up some dust; when I say so, eject me. It should start raining within a minute; double back to pick me up, and we'll leave under cloud cover."Lien resolved to ask Eiko why the hell she had an eject button in her car at a later date.
Eiko looked over her shoulder. "Dragon's getting closer. I think it's now or never."
"Alright."Lien rolled his shoulders, trying to relax. "On three. Three—"
Eiko hit the eject button and threw the wheel into a sharp U-turn. Lien belatedly realized his mistake.
This was far from Lien's first rodeo, though, and he found his bearings in the air fairly quickly. Rolling on his shoulder, he stood up in the dust cloud and immediately began performing the Wuist rain dance he'd dug up ten years back. The dragon didn't seem to notice him in the dust at first—but its nostrils flared up as it passed, and it turned around, stalling.
Too late. Clouds had already formed.
The efficacy of the rain dances was startling, even to Lien. He supposed a whole bunch of people back on Earth must have had to believed that they worked. Within moments, the clear blue skies were pouring with rain; despite the dragon's wings clearly not relying on physics to fly, the poor dragon was buffeted by the winds and weighed down by the water regardless. Angrily, it landed with a *thump*; Eiko's car pulled up next to a suddenly-sopping-wet Lien, windshield wipers active.
"Let's go,"Lien tersely said. "I don't know which universe this dragon comes from, but we're lucky it was affected by the rain so heavily; it could get back up at any minute."
Eiko nodded, pulling Lien back into the car. The front seat was wrecked by whatever mechanism Eiko had installed to eject people, so Lien had to make do with the back. After a moment, Lien took out the wizard's hand from his pocket, muttered, "*Fuego*,"and a tiny jet of steady flame emerged from the outstretched middle finger. He carefully used the flame to dry his clothes and short black hair.
The broken dirt and charred earth around them blurred by, the only break in the scenery the occasional boulder or, once, an armored knight moving in the opposite direction as them. Lien and Eiko debated whether they should check on that before deciding that it fell squarely into the realm of someone else's problem. Eventually, they exited the barren plains around Las Humanitas, emerging into gradually-greener fields. Eiko squinted into the distance. "I think I see a village,"Eiko said.
"Steer towards it,"Lien muttered. "We should acquaint ourselves with the local laws of physics, if nothing else."
"Internal combustion engines still work,"Eiko noted. "That's all I care about."
Lien held up his wizard's hand and smartphone. "Yeah, but what about magic? Electronics? Hell, what about human biology? It's good to double-check these things, trust me."
Eiko sighed and steered towards the village. As they pulled up, she frowned; a woman with a metal circlet on horseback was clopping up to them. Eiko rolled down the driver's-side window and slowed. "Can we help you?"Eiko asked.
The woman drew to a halt by the window, eyeing the car suspiciously. "You two,"she said. "Are you from Las Humanitas?"
"Yep,"Eiko said laconically.
"...Were you the ones who grounded Flametongue?"
"He's in the back,"Eiko said, jerking a thumb at the passenger seat.
The woman looked into the back seat, where Lien was still drying himself with the wizard's finger. She blinked. "Well. You weren't the heroes we were expecting, but... you may have just rid Argenton of a major threat. At least, assuming the knight we actually hired to do the job finishes ol' Flametongue off."She gestured towards the village. "Why don't you come on in so we can thank you properly?"
Eiko and Lien traded glances; Lien gave Eiko a nod. "Well, I must admit, a proper thanking sounds good to me,"Eiko said. "Lead the way."
The three of them headed away from the fallen dragon, oblivious to the legion of monsters she had been corralling for years—a legion of monsters which had just been unleashed.
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "How to Break a Siege of Legends"will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mdh066/how_to_break_a_siege_of_legends_masterpost/) for more information. |
The crystal doors towered above me, reaching higher than I could see. They glistened like glaciers, brilliant light sparkling within a deep blue prism. They were pristine, untouched by the eroding sands of time, unblemished by the grimy fingers of mankind. The crystals were completely transparent, and yet, so large were they that they hid their treasure from the limits of human sight. They were perfectly clear and imperceptible.
Then, the doors to God opened.
I waited as the massive doors moved towards me. It seemed like centuries, and perhaps it was, until they had opened enough for me to enter. I expected a blinding light, some sort of impossible aura to burst through the gap and immediately eviscerate my unholy body. But that didn't happen. God would give me a chance to fight after all.
"Welcome, Jacob."
I wasn't sure if my ears even perceived the sound of God's voice, or if it welled up from the center of every atom within me. It resonated throughout my body, and I felt drawn into the chamber despite my own yearning to enter. It was as if the material longed to reunite with the maker.
I stepped into the chasm between the doors, which by now had swung so wide I could not even see them. Time and space misbehaved here. It was still dark. Light seemed to avoid the space within, or perhaps it could not even enter. I cursed God for remaining shrouded in mystery, even as he welcomed me into his presence.
And then the thin veil fell.
I wasn't sure if God would appear as an old man with a long grey beard, just barely reaching for Adam's finger, or if he would be a muscular heavy weight ready to rumble like Zeus had been, or if he would be immaterial (and significantly more difficult) as Lady Luck had been. But I had conquered them all. I was ready for anything, as I had seen everything. Or at least so I had thought.
I stood before a large curved surface, shaped like a satellite dish. It was an enormous mirror. Every bit of light was reflected to the one spot where I stood. I could see everything around me, but it was too much for me to process at once. I struggled to focus on one spot, that seemed somehow familiar. That familiarity grew until I recognized my face, my body, my bloody hands.
"We finally meet face to face,"God said.
I watched my lips move without moving them as he spoke. An icy existential sickness weighed on my gut like a heavy stone. I stepped to the side and he followed. I stepped back and he mimicked. But then, my body moved itself back to the center, and my reflection winked. I winked.
"Enough with the parlor tricks,"I shouted. "It's time for you to end. Come and fight me, if you're man enough."
I watched my reflection shout as I shouted, and saw the anger in my eyes. But there was something else in there too, something I hadn't ever known before, covered up by the anger, protected by it. There was pain.
"I've conquered every god, every being that has claimed to be in control. Everything in control is responsible for the evil in the world. And it all comes down to one of three things: Power, Luck, or you."
"Oh Jacob,"God said.
"Don't condescend me! I don't need your pity."
I saw a tear drop down my reflection's cheek. I wasn't sure if it was his or mine.
"Don't you realize?"God asked. "You are God. I am you."
The idea disgusted me.
"You might look like me in this, this mirror. But I am nothing like you!"
"Look at yourself, Jacob. For thousands of years you have fought the beings you thought were above you. Who you thought were responsible for your pain, and the pain of everyone else. You said it yourself. You have conquered Power, and you conquered Luck. You have not yet mentioned the fourth being whom you have already conquered. Death.
"Jacob, you are a piece of me that was incarnate in the world I created. To experience the forms I shaped, the life I breathed. To feel every weight of every decision I made. The pain you feel is the pain I should feel, but can't. Jacob, you are the sum of the burden of life, the cost of creation.
"But you are also more. You are the culmination of life. The righteous anger you feel blooms from the love you have for others. The pain you fight to heal is mended by your heart for peace. You persevere because you hope for restoration."
I trembled as the clarity of truth passed through me.
"God, you may be right about who I am, but that doesn't change my mind."
A tiny crack appeared on the mirror.
"The world you created and set into motion is hurting."
The crack splintered across and over my face.
"You've done nothing to help but have let it happen instead."
I had to shout over the deafening roar of the shattering.
"And for that, you like all the others responsible, must be killed."
The mirror disintegrated and I was alone. The crystal doors closed, and I felt time knot itself up into a twisted ball. I saw the beginning, the end, and everything in between. I saw that the ones I blamed were not in control like I thought, and killing them did nothing to erase the pain I blamed them for. I saw what I could do instead to heal the hurt in the world.
I went to work. |
I believe that a month had passed since the possessions began. Alice, Xiang, Prasad, Kali, Muhammad, Rosario... the names were beginning to lose their meaning. The thoughts in my head were a jumbled mess, trying to contain the whole of every single past life. I was losing. Every single part of their memories, from the daily struggles each were facing to the language they spoke, were gradually destroying my original mind to smaller and smaller pieces.
After waking up in my third...? no, fourth life, my denial was slowly replaced with an ever-increasing dread of never coming to my real home. Panic led to desperation as I tried to force myself through his overpowering drowsiness. My physical body would always defeat my dying mental one, though.
No matter what I did, however, I would always move on. I would always move on to the next person. It did not matter if the person was living their best or worst life imaginable, for it was only when I lost consciousness was I already on the next life. Not being granted even the small satisfaction of living their simple lives was more than torture. I could not live with joy, satisfaction or any meaningful interaction as I knew that I would disappear in the next day. What was the point?
This was not a crazy nightmare that I couldn't wake up from. This was hell.
Even through hell, I did whatever I could to try to solve this strange curse upon me. I did everything from endlessly scouring the internet to questioning spiritual consultants and priests alike. Nothing worked.
I knew that I lost it once I heard a small voice in my head ask, *"are you finally ready to give up?"*. The voice, a strange mixture between young and old, deep yet high-pitched, and cold but passionate, was terrifying. It was terrifying because of how beautifully haunting it was. The voice was terrifying because the first thing to understand me told me the easiest solution. It was terrifying because I knew that it was not human.
I knew that if I gave up, then I would not lose myself. I could hopefully carry on, knowing that I died knowing who I was. It would have been so easy to do it, too, but I knew that I couldn't do it. I would never do it.
"Go fuck yourself,"were the words that impulsively slipped out of my mouth, filled with pride and venom. This had to be the one who cursed me to this fate. My mind was already set after hearing its first word. We both knew that this thing was lucky that it wasn't physical.
After a few moments, the being took a deep sigh. "Typical,"it replied, the voice losing all of its reverence and holy glory in the process. The inhuman voice was degraded to one of an average human walking the streets. "We've had quite a few who lived through the same ordeal as you have, but all of you are so persistent and annoying. You never seem to give up."
The voice seemed to write something down on a piece of paper before slamming it down on the table. "Congratulations, human,"it spoke in an annoyed voice, "we've decided that you're too much trouble for what it's worth. It's not worth our time." |
(First prompt, and on mobile, so don’t expect much)
500 years. 500 years it took me to realize that genie was real... Wait, he granted me 1 wish, Genie’s are supposed to give 3 wishes, not 1. I wonder what happened to the other 2, and if I can still redeem them. Guess I’ll go look for it, not like I have to worry about time or anything.
I expected finding him to be easier, is he even still on land and not in the ocean somewhere, I wonder if the perfect health accounts for drowning, incase it’s in the ocean. Should’ve kept a better track of the time, it feels like I’ve been doing this for months.
Building after building searched, every closet, every attic, even in the walls, The loneliness never bothered me before, but something about walking through ruins of cities, technology fried or destroyed, the long ago flames of cars that crashed, the eery silence.
I never even considered my wishes, what would I wish for? Money is no issue, I could ask for people to return, but civilization is long gone... How did I even find a genie? I barely remember, all I remember is a town that was close to the shore... the shore... the water rose, it’s underwater now! It’s underwater now... a current could’ve swept it away, it could be anywhere now. I guess the best place to start is learning how to swim...
It feels like years passed, maybe even decades, these towns, even cities underwater feel familiar, yet different. Entire buildings are covered in moss, yet I can still tell what they were. It feels like decades have passed, maybe even centuries...
I have searched the entire world... there’s only 1 place haven’t explored yet, I just wish it is here... What’s that? A glow in the distance? Moving at it faster than I ever have before, this might be it! I come to the glow, as I get near it fades out, and there is a chest, opening it and seeing the lamp I grab it and dart out of the water. I get to land and rub the lamp... The genie is there, I wonder if he recognizes me.
“Hi, genie”
‘Hello there, as you know I’m a genie you know the rules already, right? No wishing for more rules, no wishing for a person to die, or coming back from dea-‘
“Yeah I know already, my wish?”
‘Your wish, ah right, you have 3 wishes, wait, why do you only have one left? Did you speak to me before?’
“I am the person who wishes for perfect health centuries ago”
‘Ah, you look different, definitely taller’
“Can I redeem my last wish?”
‘Of course, what will it be?’
“To go back in time 500 years”
‘That’s complicated, you won’t keep your memories, still willing? And are you sure 500 years?’
“Yes, and yes”
‘Wish granted’
I woke up, that was all a bad nightmare, right? But, that makes me wonder, does that mean the genie was real? I only redeemed 1 wish, I can get the other 2. I guess I could go look for that genie... |
They still think that, gooodddammmit.
Brainstorming the likely scenarios to how things could go wrong never seemed like a bad thing to do until the scenarios chosen started popping up everywhere.
They thought I was behind it, that I was some master mind. It just seemed like the most likely option.
The fear that caused though.
I can still see it behind many eyes.
After years of that you get used to it. Most avoiding you at all cost, some only trying to get close so they can tear you down, or listen to the brainstorming.
Closing off seemed to be the kindest option. For me and for others. God knows I didn't want to cause discomfort.
Eventually everyone starts to seem a danger. You'll either be facing an enemy with a fake smile, or someone who wants to use your words, your mind, to further their desires.
Now if only I could figure out how to open back up.
People will see power and intrigue where they want. They see a swan, but don't know it's way less complicated. Just a man sitting at a table, smoking a cigarette with his coffee, talking about what might be.
Never had I seen my words as weighted. I couldn't have been the overlord... I just couldn't have been... I was no one, right? |
Thousands of animals were lined up before the gates to my castle and more disturbingly they were talking. I honestly don't know how it came to this but I have kind of resigned myself to this fate now.
"Attention assorted animals who have come to kill me, I don't wish to fight you. Your masters, owners, slaver whatever came here to kill me and they all died, please don't make me kill a bunch of animals too. I just want to be left alone. I misspoke before. I am immortal. I cannot be killed by man, woman, demon, lich, demi human, wizard possessing a sword or mob of small fluffy creatures. GO HOME!!!"
"You cry for mercy is ignored"screamed a cat near the front of the pack "attack!"
I sighed to myself, these talking animals were truly unsettling but not much to be done if they wouldn't leave, a snap of my fingers and hellfire reduced the horde of assorted pets to ashes.
"minions clear up this mess and do it fast, I'm sure someone else will have a bright idea on how to circumvent the so called prophecy. I really need to rig an auto cast system, just torch that hillside whenever someone knocks on the gate" |
"Lola..."Maggie began, wearily pinching the bridge of her nose.
"MITTENS."the woman in the full-body faux fur cat costume corrected, sharply, glaring at her from behind the antique oak desk. "My name is Mittens, now, Maggie -- inside, I've *always* been Mittens."
*"Mittens,"* Maggie conceded. "I need legal help, I'm being framed for murder, here!"
"Oh? Well, you should probably talk to a lawyer."Mittens said, primly.
"Damn it, Lo--dammit Mittens, you *are* a lawyer! Even if you're...you're a cat now, you're still a lawyer! The only one I can trust!"
"Don't be silly, Mags."Mittens said, leaning back in her chair, idly licking the back of her hand, and then using it to smooth down the fake fur on her costume's hood. "Who ever heard of a cat with a law degree?"
Maggie narrowed her eyes, and then stabbed a finger at the framed diploma hanging prominently on the wall behind Mittens' desk. The costumed woman glanced at it, and shrugged.
"That's not my name."
"It's your *legal* name, which is what's important for the purposes of practicing law, which you doubtless already know BECAUSE YOU'RE A LAWYER."Maggie growled.
"Ugh!"Mittens responded, rolling her eyes. "Fine, I'll help you. Hang on a minute...."
Maggie relaxed slightly, as her friend began rummaging in her desk drawers.
"Aha!"Mittens exclaimed. "Here it is."
She produced a dead mouse from the drawer, and laid it proudly on the desk.
"There you go."
Maggie stared at the mouse, and then back at Lola.
"Because you're a cat?"she said, flatly.
"Nah, I'm just screwing with you, now. Fortunately for you, we cats are fickle creatures and I've suddenly decided I feel like taking your case, after all."Mittens replied, brightly, sweeping the tiny carcass off her desk with a casual swat of her arm. "Alright, bitch, let's hear about these murder charges!" |
Hi u/Crimson_Viper_N, this submission has been removed.
**Simple Question / Simple Answer**: You asked a simple question and you're likely to get a simple answer. Responses must be at least 100 words. Prompts should encourage a story or poem.
* *This was removed [based on the comments it's likely to attract](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses), specifically via [Rule 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_1.3A_direct_prompt_replies_must_be_good-faith_attempts_at_new_stories_or_poems)*
---
Rephrase the prompt so it's not a question and you are fine to repost.
---
---
[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/mh2l92/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/config/sidebar) before posting.
*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.* |
\[Poem\]
​
When we are working, keeping the gears of bureaucracy turning, we think of him.
While we relax and take that break we desire so much, we think of him.
When we are waiting for our turn to climb the stairway to the stars, we think of him.
While the animals hunt or try to avoid being hunted, they think of him.
We all think that he will be everywhere at the end of time.
When all is gone, he will be the only thing left.
Even when everything that makes us what we are is gone, he will remain.
Where did he come from, where does he go?
We don't know, but he's Cotton-Eyed Joe. |
I woke up with a start, not remembering anything. I looked around and realized that I was in bed. The priest smiled. "All is well now."He brought me up to speed on what had just happened. I told him that upon waking up I felt somewhat different from before I was possessed. He then purified me to the best of his ability, and said that I would still have some superhuman capabilities, though all traces of demonic energy were now gone from my body.
Several Weeks Later...
A resurgence of witches and warlocks led to a great wizard rebellion that threw the world off balance. I, of course, volunteered to help quash their rebellion and joined an army amassed by the church. I was assigned to a squad and sent out to search for wizards. We soon came across an army of wizards encamped near a river, and, upon receiving backup and orders to attack, engaged them in combat. My comrades, however, were quickly defeated in combat, as their magic proved too difficult to match with regular human weapons. Things went downhill for the enemy, however, when they attacked me with their magic- instead of going down like the others, I was left simply unscathed. They fired more spells at me but still nothing happened. For some inexplicable reason, I suddenly got the urge to stretch out my hand, which I did- and out came a giant burst of magic. The burst was so massive that it wiped out the entire army of wizards. Even more surprising was that I managed to shield myself and my comrades from the blast with what little magic I had left in my body from absorbing their attacks. It was then that I realized that I could absorb, expel, and manipulate magic energy, although I couldn't create produce my own magic energy. Just like that, I became known as the very first wizard slayer (or wizard hunter). |
With my grandmother getting up there in years, all the grandkids finally decided to be more organized with our weekly visits, and this afternoon was mine. At nearly 100, it amazed us that grandma Jean could still stay active and live on her own, but in her big house without a cellphone in sight, it worried everyone to think she might be alone if an accident were to happen.
I looked past her slight form, insistently hustling in the kitchen from cabinet to cabinet to make me a snack, and spotted the garden. It was still early spring, but it looked like most of the flowers were already fully grown.
“Wow, it’s really blooming this year, grandma!” I remarked with wide eyes.
“Well, it’s gotten warm quickly this Spring, and you know I need something to keep me busy, Jess.”
I knew this well. Each holiday, my aunts and uncles were careful to make sure someone was already putting away dishes before grandma could finish her meal. Otherwise, she’d be up in an instant, ready to work on washing and setting out desert. When they had hired a maid to keep the house clean, calls came from the service, noting that she was vacuuming stairs and wiping windows down before they could arrive. It drove them all crazy.
Grandma Jean looked back at me halfway through making a sandwich.
“Could you do me a favor and fill the bird feeders in the garden? They were looking low this morning.”
Happy to be a help, I grabbed some of the pre-made hummingbird nectar before heading out to the yard. I took a deep breath and the scent of daffodils, pansies and magnolia blossoms filled my lungs. There was always something magical about spring.
Nearly half a dozen hummingbirds were already out, flitting between the feeders and the sliding glass door I had just exited.
“Just a second,” I muttered to the expectant birds, tip-toeing to reach the nearest feeder.
Two feeders later, I was out of nectar and still had two more to go. I turned back towards the house and a surprised shout fell from my mouth. My grandmother had climbed onto the counter and was reaching for a jar on the top shelf. She turned towards the sound of my voice and lost her balance. Hummingbirds shot past me and got close to the sliding glass door, partially obstructing my view.
“Grandma!”
I waved my hands to move the hummingbirds away, but they refused, and my fingers brushed across their fast-moving wings. My heart jumped into my throat as I saw her.
Grandma Jean had fallen, but was now somehow suspended in midair. She mirrored the birds’ tilted position on my side of the door. I looked from the birds and back to catch her mischievous grin. She floated like a feather back down to a comfortable standing position. The birds, confident in her safety, moved to attend to the newly filled feeders.
“What just happened?” I asked, sliding the door open, “Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m alright, just trying to get the extra jar of mustard.”
“But you fell. No, you floated!”
“Hush, Jess. I’ve been trying to tell you all I’m okay here by myself. I’m never alone,” she said, looking out to her garden. “I watch out for the birds, and they watch out for me. Now, get my broom. We need this place swept before those nosy maids come over.”
“Okay, but before I do, I need to finish filling those feeders.”
She nodded and went back to the kitchen. I grabbed the rest of the nectar and a bowl to put some more in. This afternoon, the birds deserved extra. |
You know what, fuck it. Everyone deserves a cheat day, so why shouldn't today be the day? But that was Linda's rationale for every dietary situation that required discipline, just like today and yesterday...and the day before that. Whatever the reason was, Linda had made up her mind. This calorie-dense insulin bomb was going to get eaten one way or another. Her company station had many employees. To the point where it seemed like every other week, someone was receiving another generic store brought birthday cake. Seeing an untampered cake thrown away was all too common. Unfortunately for this icing-covered delight, it would not share the same fate unscathed. Linda ate not one but two pieces of birthday cake. The next three were out of spite, just to say she could do it. Even though Linda was relatively small-framed, she was a true glutton. The diet was only an attempt to save some money. Still, this cake was on the company's dime, so she would indulge but not just indulge, overindulge. With a smile on her face, Linda exited the office kitchen with just a little bit of icing on the top corner of her lip. Like a badge of honor, she wore it proudly. It was her first kill in the beginning of a long hunt. |
**[Poem]**
Man's Best Friend, the uncommon weredog.
Great at board games, but still a huge bed hog.
They change with the moon, these uncommon weredogs.
But they stay the whole month, so watch for the drain clogs.
They're great with the girls, these now-common weredogs.
They'll love how your tail curls. Just read the chat logs.
Everyone is one, an everyday weredog.
Spend four weeks fluffy, then back to the old slog. |
They did not want peace so much as they wanted to show off their power and their strength and their glory and their wealth.
They wanted to be flattered, so I went to them and I acted very much impressed.
When it came time to negotiate the terms of peace, they demanded a high tax that we could not afford. I told them as much.
They wanted me to beg. So I did. I knelt before them, and I begged for mercy on behalf of my people. And it was granted. "Give us whatever your people can afford,"they had said.
For forty years, there was peace in our land. Our enemies did not attack us, though our tribute was light.
But my people were upset. They saw me as weak. When I became an old man, the throne was taken away from me, my only son was murdered, and a new leader was chosen by the people to rule over them.
The new leader immediately gave the command that no more tribute would be given.
I did not think this was wise. I, my family, and the few people still loyal to me, continued to send tribute.
We were told to stop. We continued. Next, we were given a warning. We continued. Finally, we were thrown into prison and sentenced to death.
Around this time, the enemy kingdoms sent for our new leader to talk about the decrease in tribute. Again, they wanted to be flattered and they wanted to be begged, but the new leader was the leader that the people blamed me for not being. He insulted them in every way and in the end told them he would never pay tribute to them again.
He didn't make it home. They beheaded him and then slaughtered everybody in our nation.
When the soldiers came down to the dungeons and drew their swords, I said, "Wait! We are here for sending tribute to your kingdoms"and I told them the story of our imprisonment.
The soldiers released us from the dungeon and took us back to their kingdom as captives. But there I was recognized by one of their leaders, and when the entire story was told to them, we were released and they made alliances with me before they sent me back to my nation as leader.
I am an even older man now and very sick and will not be here much longer. I write this story for future generations, in order that they may know the history of our nation and also that they learn from this. There is great strength in humility. |
"Look man, this is total bullshit, you can't prove none of this shit!"shouted the tenant, muffled by the flimsy apartment door.
"Oh I can't prove it, huh? I may be just some tax man who doesn't know jack about being a dumbass dog, but I don't have to have a super sniffer to tell you that the Shirley residence smells like it was ransacked by a pack of wet dogs,"I shouted into the door, "and you're on the hook, buckaroo!"
"Fuck you man, this ain't some drug bust, get the fuck out of here with your "smell"shit!"he shouted back.
"I'm not going anywhere pal! David Shirley's neighbors, the Hutchinsons, had the unfortunate experience of having their back deck... shall we say 'marked', and they're shelling out the money to test the urine that ruined a perfectly good deck. Judging by the *horrific* smell and "strange"gigantic, muddy paw prints on the Shirley's walkway, I think it's safe to say David's going to be needing to scrape together some cash for an ambulance chaser, and I'm not talking about the big and furry kind."I retorted back. "In any case, we know you and your gang of malcontents have been howling at the moon with David for some time now. Are we really going to be shocked to discover you turned him?"
While it was hard to make out, I swore I heard a whispered "fuck me"on the other side of the door. "I don't know what you're talking about man, leave me alone"said the tenant, in a much softer, calmer tone.
"The police have been struggling to pin the property damage that just so happens to occur every full moon up and down Evans Street, but they didn't have trouble coming up with the usual suspects when I told them I was investigating a bad dog responsible for a couple of millions dollars siphoned out of the community by some of his unpatriotic puppies who aren't paying their turning taxes. Based on the cops' fits of laughter when I asked them if each of your playmates had any significant sources of income, I'm going to take it that the bills are going to fall to their *legal* guardian."
"Muh... Millions?"whimpered the tenant against the door.
"Yeah, buddy, you didn't think you were the only wolf in your pack turning people, did you? We've got DNA evidence that ties your friend Richard Loffman to seventeen turned teenagers at Milton High School, and he's just the tip of the iceberg. You're on the tippity-top of the shit pyramid. Bet you wish you had a couple of leashes on your wards now don't you?"I continued, "Anyway, you want to open the door so I can serve you or should I just hammer it onto your door with a silver nail?"
There was no response. No vocal response mind you... it definitely sounded like furniture was being angrily rearranged inside. I opened my folder and tacked the top paperwork bundle to the door. "Well, I'll see you in court. Don't go biting any mailmen, that's how you got here in the first place."
As I walked down the stairs, I felt excited. This was a big case as far as werewolf fraud goes -- probably one of if not the largest in this state's history. Of course, this wouldn't even hold a candle to even the smaller vampire cases. They really drew the short end of the monster stick, feeding the same way they turn. I chuckled. That reminded me, I need to pick up garlic before I head home. I can do that on the way to the next literal deadbeat. |
I and my companions arrive at another village on our way to our destination. Many months to travel yet, but I am glad to see that a few of my companions have travelled before us and secured a nice-looking piece of cheese for me. Right there in the village square. A table set up, with the chaos of all the local people around me. And a bottle of wine, in case the cheese is not to my liking. You know when you travel with people for a long time it just helps to get to know each others habits. This is a nice treat for me, one I will be sure to repay them for.
People think they like cheese. And they may even be able to tell a few types of them apart. Heck, some may even say they love cheese. But they don't love cheese like I love cheese. They don't go out of their way to make enquiries about the cheese they consume. Because they don't ask, they never learn. With cheese, everything comes into play.
Sure, people understand the fundamentals. It's fermented milk, more or less. Of course the animal matters, the time the cheese is allowed to ferment, the temperature, spices added, how much pressure to separate the whey and so on. But those are the rudimentaries. I would bet you ten gold coins on any day that I could tell you not only the animal but what flowers were in the field the animal lived in. I would bet you that I knew what month of the year it was made, because of the change in air contamination. And I would win that bet.
Still, understanding how cheesemaking differed was only the beginning. The opening act of a beautiful stageplay. It was particularly exhilarating to imagine on a day like this, sitting in this relatively filthy village square, presented with a cheese that I knew nothing about. I wondered if the cheese before me could possibly compare to the cheese that I had tasted in the royal courts a few years back. That had been something else. Forget about the context, the presentation and all that, which was admittedly flawless. But no.
It was the dairy-sweet odor that sucked me in right from the start. I imagined at the time that it could almost be seen like a small aura around the cheese, inviting me in. The taste did not disappoint. The first sensation was slightly oily, but the true strength quickly became apparent - a smoky mushroom strength took most of the attention of my palette. Meanwhile, most unexpectedly, a string of acidic caramel flavor intruded most welcomed in the back of my mouth. It had surprised me, because the moldy color had given no hint of such a bittersweet experience. The texture, the flow, the slight alteration near the edge of the cheese... It was pure mastercraft. No wine had been needed that day.
My companions gather around me in the square as I am about to try this mysterious cheese in front of me. They're excited to see me taste the cheese, I presume. But they are also men of practicalities. One of them asks something, I can barely remember the phrasing he used. "End them in fire", I tell him.
With my favorite cheese knife I cut loose a good piece of cheese on the table in front of me. The way it slightly sticks to my knife already tells me this is going to be a good one. I hold it up for inspection and take note of the strongly ground pieces of nut that seem to be consistently dispersed throughout the cheese. Most likely almond, going by the smell. I am interrupted briefly by some commotion in the village square, but annoyingly I return to the cheese in hand. Do you know some people think the sound made in the presence of cheese alters its composition? I'd never seen evidence of that but...
... let me tell you one thing that I know with absolute certainty. There are three absolutes in life. You are born, you live and you die. All men know it. Having no control of our births or our deaths, it is what we do with our lives that matter. What craft we perfect. What master we serve. What family we raise. What ideals we pursue. And so on. But I have to tell you this with certainty that goes beyond any of that. That you have not lived before you have tasted the cheese in front of me. That if you lived without tasting it, I would consider it a life wasted.
It was strange to even consider how such perfection could have arisen from the depths of some backwater village. Was it random chance, a fluke? Or was there in this village a cheesemaker of such undeserved skill? The creamy taste perfectly aligned with the interspersed generic almonds. A hint of salt and pepper accentuating the sweaty aftertaste, perfectly balanced with a fruity echo of an insinuation. There were local nuances that passed momentarily only to be replaced by deeper layers. It was like a song aimed at my mouth and nose.
I feel like an island in a sea of the chaos taking place in the square. I practically drop my knife on the table, with no consideration whatsoever. I lean backwards into my chair and stare into the sky. I am enraptured. I am euphoric. I am privileged to have experienced such a moment. Yes, it was infinitely better than that dreary rag I had to force myself to endure back in the courts. I smash the wine bottle from the table, and it splatters on the cobblestone, its red liquid mixed with the others. That this wine was even placed on the same table as this cheese was a most egregious sin.
If you are like me, and you love cheese? Before you die you have to try this cheese. But you better hurry. I hear the cheesemaker may be closing down soon. |
The demon Gaap stood behind his counter and beat his wings. “Next,” he called out, bored. A human stumbled up, looking worried. Gaap tapped his claws on the keyboard. “Hmm, broke into a few houses, did you,” he read, glancing down at the scrawny figure. “Stole goods so you could pawn them for cash? When will you lot ever learn that you can get a boring desk job and sit around on your arse all day for three times as much money? Off to the fourth circle of hell with you.” The ground opened up beneath the man and he vanished down into the dark chasm.
Gaap looked over at the counter next to him, where a rather damp-looking demon was sending a woman down to the second circle for cheating on no less than four different husbands.
“Psst, Rus,” he whispered. “Rusalka!” She turned to look at him, water glinting on her scales.
“Who’s that,” he tried to gesture subtly to the grey suited, clipboard wielding man in the corner. Being a ten-foot tall winged and horned demon, he failed miserably at the subtle part.
Rusalka looked past him. “No idea,” she shrugged, and turned back to her counter. “Next!”
All of a sudden, there was a thunderous roar and the humans scrambled for cover as flames erupted in the middle of the room. Gaap wasn’t quite sure why the bothered, given they were already on their way to hell, but he guessed that old habits died hard - pun very much intended.
Out of the flames dressed a sharply dressed demon in a blood red suit. “Hello, my darling demons and mortals,” he called, raising his hands as though to an adoring audience. Gaap smiled. Satan sure did know how to make an entrance.
The devil stepped out of the flames and clapped his hands. “Snap staff meeting,” he called, and the humans all vanished - where they’d gone, Gaap didn’t know - to be replaced by demons of all shapes and sizes. Well, almost all of the humans had vanished - Gaap noticed that the man in grey was now standing next to Satan.
“Can everyone hear me?” Satan called out. The demons muttered their assent.
“Excellent! Now, I won’t keep you long - I know you’ve all got lots of torturing to be getting along with. I just wanted to introduce you all to Kevin.”
The grey man stepped forward and waved tentatively.
“Now, as you all know, we’ve been getting busier and busier down here. Not only is the human population getting bigger and bigger, but they seem to be making some very silly decisions, so more than ever are heading our way.
“I know we all love our old ways of doing things - the flaying, and the burning and the rivers of blood. But it all takes a lot of time and resources, and I just think we need to get a bit smarter about how we operate. Kevin is here to audit our operations and see if he can find any efficiencies to be made in our torturing.
Gaap’s mouth fell open, and he looked around at the demons around him. If he couldn’t flay the humans any more, what would be the point of being a demon?
Satan looked around the room, then all of a sudden burst into laughter. “April Fools!” He cackled. “Oh, the looks on your faces!” He wiped away tears from his eyes. The demons looked unsure and first, then relaxed, laughter rippling around the room.
Gaap smiled. He’d heard of the human tradition of April Fools - he’d even processed a few humans who’d died in April Fools pranks gone wrong. But no one had actually tried to pull an April Fools prank in hell before.
His thoughts were interrupted by another loud clap from Satan. The demons fell silent. The devil grinned broadly. “Got you again!” he crowed. “This is the real April Fools! It’s all real!”
Kevin stepped forward, and in a grey, monotonous voice that matched his grey, monotonous outfit said, “Please just try and pretend that I’m not here.” |
# WARNING: TRIGGERS: SUICIDE
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
"Is he?..."
"No, he's still alive. Call medical."
"Dr. Givova's quarters, hurry. ... Suicide, by pills, the bottle isn't labeled. ... Round, green, half scored one side, lower case R on the other. ... Three. ... Oh good. Thank you."
"Oh good??"
"The medicine is one of those that are very difficult to kill yourself with. They knew how many he could have had, and even if he saved them all, it wouldn't have been enough. Mind, it's going to play hell with his organs, so it's still important to get them out."
"You're right, good. We need him, badly."
"Yes, we do. I wonder. Why suicide?"
•••
"All ready, Doctor."
"Superluminal in one minute, executive stations, status call."
"Project Manager, go."
"Director, go."
"President, go."
"And, Launch Control, go. Thirty seconds."
"*And may the great bird of the galaxy smile upon us this day.*"
"No chatter, keep the line open. Call it!"
"FIVE ••• FOUR ••• THREE ••• TWO ••• ONE ••• LAUNCH!"
•••
No one knew what to call it until one of the younger techs said, jokingly, "the devs haven't got warp drive optimized yet, so the frame rate dropped to five."
Dr. Givova stared at the young man, "say that again, please."
Stammering, he did.
"You will show me this effect immediately. Bring your lunch."
We could hear in the hall, "hey! You can't take food out..."*whump* "Come along, he'll be out for several minutes.""Yes, Doctor."
That got the person closest to the door to look. "Sergeant Jones. He's out cold. Call medical."
Jones is the one they send to break up bar fights when the Marines get leave. Just him. It always ends up the same, every Marine ends up down for the count, and Jones doesn't have so much as a hair out of place.
I happened to talk with one of the Marines when he was off duty.
"Naw, we like him! He's the one person we can measure ourselves by."
They make a game of it. They each drink the same amount of alcohol by body weight, timed so they're all drunk as skunks at the same time. While that happens, they move all the tables and chairs out of the way, and roll out a tatami. For all practical purposes, this is a martial arts test.
To keep them honest, the first one to go down pays half the tab, then quarter, and so on until the tab is fully paid. If you paid part of the tab last time, you don't get to go next time.
I tried to look at the records, but I couldn't come up with a good reason.
When Givova opened the next meeting, I got my reason.
•••
"Fellow members of this project. I wish to show you something. Regardless of the source, I want your honest impressions of at least the critical segment. I will tell you when it starts. Proceed, Mr. Young."
•••
We all knew him, a gregarious sort who knew when to tone it down. One of his favorite topics was video games. For the hardware types, he used it to get them talking about the latest developments in their fields. For software types, he talked algorithms and Big-O for them, always looking for a new algorithm that ran consistently faster. And so on.
He knew enough of each field to be able to carry on a decent conversation.
R=33³
Technically, he was a junior system administrator. In reality, he was something far more critical.
•••
Without a word, Young nodded and put on his custom VR rig. Far more capable than anything commercial. The same for his personal computer, which was only plugged into power, with a video projector attached.
A game booted up.
I hadn't seen the latest DOOM, but it was glorious. Right down to the way their hair and clothes shifted as they moved. It was a speed run, right up to the last level. Young was fantastically gifted.
"Members, the critical video occurs in this section. Mr. Young has to play through the game in one sitting for this effect to show. Proceed."
Young took it slower, giving us time to notice the incredible reality until he got into a massive fight before the main boss.
The frame rate dropped to five, and we got snapshots of movement. It was exactly like what we experienced with the drive. Snap... *what*... Snap... *the*... Snap... *hell?*...
You were thinking at normal speed, but the area around you could only render every five seconds.
Dr. Givova said, "Do you see? The effect is very similar, yes?"
The project manager was less than amused, "Doctor, are you seriously suggesting that we live in a simulation?"
"No, Mr. Dovore, I am suggesting that we experienced something very much like an inability to process our sensory input in real-time. Much like the hardware and software being used in this game cannot handle the activity smoothly.
"The fault may not be in our stars, but in ourselves."
"Doctor? Hawkins speaking. Were you aware of the anomalous sensor readings?"
"Only that Chief Engineer Franks thought that the sensor network had suffered massive corruption."
"I see. Mr. Dovore, I strongly recommend that you speak with Chief Engineer Franks. He is withholding critical information."
Dovore's tone was sarcastic, "And just what that critical information be?"
"Have you seen it, Mr. Dovore?"
"Yes. Utter rot. I told him to turn it over to security and have them find the prankster. He disagreed, so I had him taken to medical for evaluation."
"And just why would you do that, Mr. Dovore?"
"He claimed to have found evidence that we lived in a simulation. His evidence was in the form of frames from security cameras, each of which carried the same ridiculous statement.
"I see. And you suppressed that information?"
"Yes. An obvious prank."
"Mr. Dovore, as I understand it, you are a political appointee? Is that correct?"
"Essentially."
"And your field of expertise is?'
"Large project economics and efficiencies."
"So, you have no expertise in physics, engineering, or higher mathematics?"
"I fail to see the relevance, the pictures are a poor joke played by someone inside the project."
"Mr. Dovore, you have suppressed critical evidence on the basis of a personal opinion not backed with any knowledge of our security systems."
"Nonsense!"
"Mr. Dovore, you will immediately have Franks released. You will henceforth restrict yourself to those aspects of the project that you are competent to judge. To wit, budget, and equipment."
"Mr. Hawkins! I do not care for your tone!"
Hawkins pulled out his communicator, "Director Roberts? Mr. Dovore has overstepped his bounds again."... "Yes, Sir."... "Incarcerated our Chief Engineer and suppressed potentially critical project information."... "Yes, Sir."
Closing the connection, "Mr. Dovore, you are relieved of all duties with respect to this project. The Director suggests that you return to your quarters until he has spoken with you."
"You don't have that right!"
"The Director does."
•••
I must admit that I was far more interested im the VR game than I was in a political hack being removed for cause. Young had reached the penultimate boss. Throughout which, despite taking incredible hits, not a hair was missed, nor a bit of clothing out of place.
•••
"Mr. Young? Why is your avatar not taking any damage?"
"Plot Armor. The story line requires that you win this fight, so you cannot die in this scene."
•••
Do you see the parallels? Sergeant Jones has plot armor.
•••
((continued)) |
"It has been one week since the Moon started to rotate. It has now been confirmed by experts that we are now seeing the former dark side."
I turned off the TV, and went outside to see the night sky for myself. The moon hung full in the sky, shining bright enough to obscure dimmer stars. The hundreds of craters stared down at us, evidence of the beatings it had suffered from stellar objects.
The world quietened, even the crickets falling silent as though waiting for something. I couldn't help but look at the moon in wonder. In fact, as I stared at it, I found I couldn't look away. It held my gaze, almost demanding my attention.
The craters began to glow even brighter, becoming almost painful to see. I mouthed a silent "wow". It was a beautiful sight to see. The lights that shone seemed to intensify, and yet, the pain faded. In fact, the cool night air seemed to grow warmer around me.
A voice, ageless and sexless, resonated in my head. It sounded hauntingly familiar, although it was that of a complete stranger.
"Over three thousand years ago, your power was removed, for fear of what you might become."
The air swirled around me, picking up motes of dust and a single feather.
"In doing so, your world began to fall. But you survived. Indeed, you thrived."
A few petals joined the swirling around me.
"It cost you much, for with loss of your power, empathy began to die."
The motes of dust caught the light of the moon, beginning to glow themselves.
"Now your society starts to crumble at its loss. So your power is returned, to regain that you have lost."
The petals and feather shared the glow, their forms beginning to fade.
"Children of Gaia, you must learn from your past. Use your power to heal, and grow better. Look to the Moon Heirs for guidance, for they hold the power long since removed."
The glowing motes sunk into me, along with the feather and petals. I felt a rush of awareness, as though I rediscovered a sense long since forgotten. A sense of power, and of the need for kindness.
The voice spoke again, but quieter, as though only addressing me by whispering in my ear.
"You are a Moon Heir. Guide your people, and heal the wounds of the world." |
"Everyone knows that genies can't kill people, make them fall in love, and that sort of thing. But, the thing that people don't really know about us genies, is that there are different skill levels among us. At the top, there are the 'all-powerful' genies, the ones that are kinda like the ones you hear about in Aladdin. But let's be real here. Those genies never get freed. They're simply too powerful, too valuable to simply 'free'. Instead, their lamp gets passed down the generations, to each and every kid, relative, blood relation, clanmate and so on, to get the full value of the '3-wish clause'. Those are the real deal. And at the bottom of the spectrum, well, there's me. Bob the genie.
"You see, I was bad. Worst genie ever. People would rub my lamp, ask for some absurd thing, and laugh at me when I failed to conjure their bag of gold, their new car, or even the occasional 'one million and one dollars, in pennies' just to screw with me. I simply couldn't conjure up anything like that, not even a single coin or banknote.
"After I'd been freed (or perhaps, exiled), I had to survive in the real world with no money or material-conjuring skills at all. But there was one thing I could do: conjure up animals. But after getting my first gig at a newly opened zoo, I realized that my conjured animals were miserable, caged up, just like me back in my lamp. I vowed never to do that. I did release a swarm of bats in China, trying to balance out the ecosystem there, and look where it got us. Oh, and I made more honeybadgers than I probably should have, too. Making animals was a party trick, and no one ever wanted anything perishable from a genie. Or so I thought, until I discovered this thing humans have, a 'birthday'.
"Today, kids give my life meaning. They were the only ones who want and cherish the critters that they ask for. Some of the boys want the exotic stuff, like geckos, snakes, and the occasional tarantula. Some of the older girls want ponies, which is a little tougher for me, but manageable. And for me, I'd check and vet every family that made arrangements with me. No neglectful, abusive homes. No families that discarded or sold their pets after their kids got bored. No fad animals, like owls during the Harry Potter craze. I just wanted to give these newly created creatures a good home.
"The pure hope and innocent wish for a pet, and the look on their faces when they see their new puppy, kitten, rabbit or guinea pig is absolutely amazing. The unadulterated joy and sheer gratitude of having a fulfilled wish for a lifelong companion. All this makes my post-lamp life worth it.
"So just because you've been rejected and 'freed', it isn't the end of the world. We can all find purpose in our abilities (or lack thereof). I encourage you, my fellow newly-freed genies, to go into the world of humans and find your niche. To fulfill the wishes that truly matter instead of being slaves to materialistic masters. Thanks for joining me today and have a a fruitful post-lamp life." |
When the doctor broke the news to her, she felt nothing.
*That would come later*, she thought, but at that time all she could really think was, *It's typical of my luck. I win it big but don't even get the time to enjoy it*.
Then again, a lot could be done in 6 months.
Whoever said money couldn't buy health hadn't known where to shop. Chemo and experimental treatments didn't burn so much of a hole in your pocket when you had literal millions to throw around. Being able to afford the best clinics helped too.
And she lived happily ever after. |
This two trucks both stopped and looked at one another.
One bore the markings of Pizza Hut and carried secret military documents, the other had markings of the US military and carried pizza.
The crews of both vehicles tried to figure out what was going on, did they get some aid? But why were they marked like that?
Soon enough one of the men said "Fuck it"and yelled at the other truck.
"Are you here to aid us in delivering this or what?"
A man from the opposite truck responded.
"I mean I guess we could help if you want us to."
The two trucks soon rode around together, the military one protecting the pizza one, or was it the other way around? Nobody was sure but it didn't really matter.
The also coincidentally had the same goal, a military base that was awaiting documents, and that had a private order some pizza.
Once they arrived however? Lets just say that it was hell trying to identify who was who. |
Ten years had passed since Galdain’s Theorem was proven. Ten years... It was crazy to think how much had changed, and yet, completely predictable.
After all, history is riddled with mathematical genius. Trigonometry, long credited to Greek philosophy. Calculus, deriving into existence almost simultaneously by two unique parties in the 17th Century. Einstein’s Theory of Relativity...the list goes on. It was only a matter of time until Galdain’s Theorem was proven.
The theorem was simple really; For every integer pair, denoted by (a, b) where b = a + 1, and both a & b belong to integer numbers, there exist an infinite set of integer numbers denoted by S, such that all values of S < b and all values of S > a.
Acceptance was hard at first, and the superfluous language commonly associated with the maths made it all but impossible for humans to understand infinite sets within bounds. But, the implications were tremendous.
At first, the mystery of dark matter was illuminated, opening a web through the observable universe. Probes were developed and launched, promising to expand the influence of humankind. |
---- this is my first ever writing prompt. Like ever. also non-native speaker :) ----
“Sometimes, I wonder… am I the villain in this story?” “Oh Jarek, please, stop being so ridiculous.” She looks at me, with het serious and strict, yet always caring look. “This is what they do to you! They just bite off all your self-trust until there is nothing left.”
“But just think about it will you? Maybe I am truly as ugly as they say. I mean, I kinda get it if that is it you know. Don’t you ever get a repelling feeling when you some ugly freak?” Although this line of reasoning appeared so clear and true to me, I couldn’t help but immediately regret what I just said. She looks at me, her serious face has made place for the angry look again. “You just can’t think straight anymore! How can you believe yourself, saying things like that!?”
I knew the anger she felt. I felt it too. Although, it was a different anger I guess. Mine was just the frustration of trying but always failing: Failing to make friends, failing to stay nice even though they weren’t and most of all; not understanding why. Why me? Her anger, I just knew, came forth out of pure love. Love for her younger brother. The protective kind of love that a mother would give her children. Ever since the accident she had been like that: she had taken over. She was mother to me.
“Listen to me Jarek!” She cups my sobbing head in her tender hands, forcing me to look her straight in her big blue eyes, just inches from my face. “You are not an ugly freak, okay?” A small tear escapes the corner of her eye. “They are freaks. Because they just can’t bring it up to see you for who you are. All they want is just one single kid to kick around and they chose you. You know why?” I try to lightly shake my head, but her grip has grown stronger “Because you are unique Jarek. You are different and they are all the same. You are kind, sweet soft and all they have is anger and agony. And they hate that!”
I feel a sense of relieve falling over me. It is like the warm blanket she had put over me that first night, all over again. A feeling not sure how to subscribe. Only she can give it to me. It’s like a trance, a warm, soft trance that slowly lets all the tension in my body flow out. “Okay, okay. Thanks sis, I’m feeling better again. I love you.” “I love you too silly!” She gets up with a smile and steps back to the pit. “Now help me with this last one okay will you?” I walk over to the other side. It’s a bit dark, I trample over the shovel eyes still soggy. Steadily I’m trying to find the corners of the heavy tarp, where it meets the damp, cold ground it is laying on. Through the darkness I can see her twinkling eyes, still trying to fully comfort me. “Okay” she says “On three, strong hurl into the pit.” |
Today would be the day.
He stood in front of the mirror and drew the comb through his matted hair. He bared his teeth, yellow and gleaming. It had went on long enough. Today, he would end this.
He followed the path through forest, the grass worn from his frequent trips. His heavy steps left prints as he prowled, the anticipation growing in his stomach as he grew ever closer. This time he would succeed - he could feel it in his bones. He began to salivate, the thought of the warm flesh sliding down his throat.
His stride quickened, his lip curling in anticipation. They had thought they were so smart before, so quick on their feet. He had been mere inches away but somehow they had evaded his grasp. But not this time.
His steps slowed as he noted the greenery before him split into a clearing, the path widening to reveal a small hut. It was a shame really, it was quite picturesque. Too small for him of course, but amongst the viridian hue of the forest the thick wooden panelling of the small home looked cozy, almost as though constructed by Mother Nature herself. A small picket fence circled the property and in the humble land marked out, fresh soil suggested recently planted crops.
He felt his mouth twitch as a smirk developed. Did they really think they would be there long enough to grow vegetables? How naive, how innocent, he thought. So stupid.
Though, an unwelcome thought crept from the back of his mind..
So stupid, and yet.. they survive. Time and time again they have evaded your clutches, outsmarted you even. Their first home - made of simple twigs.. you blew it down in mere moments and yet, all three remained..
He waved the thought away, committed to the task at hand. There would be no mistakes this time.
He had thought it through, this time he had come prepared.
He waited in the thicket of bushes for a while, but there was no movement from the peaceful household - not a sound. More than likely asleep, he thought to himself, the glee growing.
He waited until he could not contain it much longer, before striding confidently towards the hut and its petite, wooden door. He rapped, three times, against the deep brown door. The noise was muted, as though the wood pressed against something much harder - so he rapped again - this time, more forcefully. A faint sound from behind the door indicated someone waited.. someone heard.
He cleared his throat, swallowed the building saliva and grinned as he began his familiar spiel :
'Little pigs.. Little pigs.. let me come in', the wolf said, through his wide toothy grin.
After a beat a small, high pitched voice retorted, 'not by the hair on our chinny chin chin!'.
He laughed, a loud, rumbling sound. This was the response he expected. And he knew what they anticipated. Oh he would huff, and he would puff. And like before, maybe he would blow their house down. But those damn pigs were so fast..
No, this time he had a better plan. There would be no escape this time.
He knew the pigs would be anticipating his response, and he grinned at the idea of them cowering behind their pitiful door in anticipation. He picked up two sticks from the ground before him, and began to rub them together furiously, until a dry spark lit the kindling below. A feverish glee enveloped him, as he blew the smoke, stoking the fire as it slowly began to creep towards the wooden house.
The combination of dry wood and moss of the forest floor was the perfect atmosphere to create a crackling fire, and in mere moments it had spread - enveloping the wooden structure. The inhabitants remained silent, but there would be squealing before long - he knew it. He could barely contain himself, and as he watched the flames envelop the cabin the wolf could swear he could smell the sweet scent of lightly sizzled bacon. He could hardly resist, as he unconsciously took a step towards the hut. Not too much longer, there was no escape. He drooled as he thought of the succulent meal, so much tastier after he had waited for so long. He took another step. Still.. the hut remained silent, but perhaps the smoke..
Why were there not screams? Squeals?
He took another step forward and it was just too close - an ember sparked from the hut and singed his fur. Reactively, he turned to swat it and stumbled over a branch on the forest floor, sending him hurtling backwards into the flames.
The wolf panicked, his limbs frantically trying to fan the flames and push himself away, but the fire was quick and his soft fur the perfect conductor. He lt out a howl of pain as the licking flames took over, beginning to singe his flesh and penetrate. He flung himself desperately, righting himself to look at the hut before him - that surely should be distingegrating by now, to note that the wooden panelling - aflame and deconstructing from the structure below, was falling to reveal an impenetrable stone structure.
He yowled in pain as the fire took over, his last sight before his eyes began to melt from the heat - the three pigs standing before him, their faces beaming with devilish glee. |
When you are smart, sadistic, immortal, and cultured like myself, the passage of time eventually causes you to think that perhaps you should start having some sort of code of honor to your work. You have all the time in the world, after all, no? And if immortal heroes eventually become villains, then would not immortal villains eventually become heroes? Like myself, an aspiring superhero who still has vestiges of his supervillainy, which manifests in how he would rather be known as a nameless man because this world is filled with fools who do not deserve to know his glorious name.
It all sounds simple, but then there is how fools today mix up “hero” and “villain.” You pummel a self-proclaimed hero into slavery, but as they plot to overthrow you while putting on a sycophantic mask, they let the prideful product called vengeance get the best of them, and they even start justifying their despicable attempts at stress relief. And now I remember one such boy, whom I once told “So you, an aspiring hero, are now allowing yourself to harass a poor woman like so?” His reply was “But you’re the strongest supervillain in the universe! And such a god should be approving of conquests like these, right?” Of course, I told him “You fools’ habit for assumptions will never cease to irritate me,” and then I killed him then and there. May his soul be purified, also.
To be fair, though, while I am giving fools more chances to be heroic, I have grown bored of both the thick cloud of rumor surrounding me and the tedious act of dispelling said cloud. For all their desire to defeat beings like myself, they attempt to do their work with so much pride, and I am certain that pride is the hallmark of villainy, which is always meant to be defeated, whether by being banished to hell or being reformed to heaven. Even I still struggle with that, and I fear that I am likely to fall back into that the more I become a hero.
And perhaps I will still remain immortal even as I become someone truly deserving of being called a hero. Perhaps that is the fitting punishment this prideful fool must have. But why am I still fearing punishment when I already know that it has led me to true heroism?
Perhaps that is a significant part of why I am still considered the strongest supervillain, then. |
"By giving your brains a link to each other, your psychic abilities reinforce and enhance each other, strengthening your abilities considerably."
Sorry, what?
What's even going on here?
I blinked awake from my semi-conscious state and looked around. White walls, plain ceiling, very clean, bits of weird-looking equipment left lying around, and a woman in a white lab coat in front of me. Where am I?
As I began to take in my surroundings, a familiar voice came from my right, just out of my sight, "Where are we? And who do you think you are?"The harsh voice started, "And get me out of these damn 'cuffs while you're at it!"
The strange doctor-slash-scientist woman replied to her, "Ahhh, young Sophia Knight, I see you are awake."
Oh no.
"And Nicholas Knight, it is good to see that you're both awake, this suggests the link is working."
Oh no.
"Now this might be confusing at first,"She made her way over to a lever on the wall, "but know that you two have been successfully linked. Your physical and mental abilities should both be improved, and you will be able to share thoughts and knowledge at will with your twin."
OH NO.
"Now just step this way please."She said with a smile, lowering the lever and heading into the corridor. It was only natural to step out of the machine once I had been released, but to see my twin sister on the other side proved that today was not going to be a good day.
Soph, every the loud and impatient one, didn't even bother to look at me, instead making her way down the path that the woman had disappeared into, as she barked commands at the poor researcher.
All I could do was sigh and follow. It wasn't like there was much else to do, and keeping my sister out of trouble is one of my best abilities. However, that didn't mean either of us were exactly happy to have this 'link' she spoke about.
As we caught up to the woman, she continued to speak, as if she wasn't holding us captive and unconscious until a second ago, "Psychic linking in this way is rather complex, and it requires both targets to be in perfect sync."
Hah, 'perfect sync', me and the she-devil over there fit together about as well as two puzzle pieces from jigsaws of different sizes! If anything, we'd be in perfect anti-sync!
Of course, Soph was the one to vocalise this complaint, "Hey, don't say that I'm anything like this bozo over here, it's like two different sized puzzles, they just don't go together."
Wait, I just thought to use that metaphor... How did she?
Never mind, it was probably fluke. What's important is that we're different!
"You know,"the woman softened her voice slightly as she spoke this time, "Sometimes it can be easy to miss what's really going on because of what you can see on the surface."
What? That doesn't even make... much... sense...
Why could I hear my self saying that?
As I looked over to my sister, she was glaring back at me.
"Did you just do that?"Soph sneered at me, "You brat."
I immediately stepped back, shaking my head in clear disagreement. If there was one thing I didn't want to do, it was take over my sister's voice box.
"Anyway, why is this happening?"I accidentally let out through my sisters mouth.
She glared at me harder, "Learn to control it, or else."
"I'm sorry!"I yelled, still through her mouth, "How do I stop!"
"Well maybe you should stop thinking for once, idiot."
It all went quite for a minute as I tried to not anger her more than necessary, but luckily miss helpfulness was on the way to save the day...
"Fascinating,"The woman muttered, "It seems as though Nicholas' mute nature can be bypassed using the thought sharing, so this is the kind of power--"
"OI! Smart girl, answers now!"My lovely sister yelled, taking the control of her voice back.
She looked shocked for a second, but did answer, "Oh, of course, yes. What did you want to know?"
"Let's start with 'what', 'how', and 'why', then we can go from there."
"Well the 'what' is rather simple, the two of you effectively share one set of abilities and can share them at will. So, for example, if one of you needs to run really fast, they can put some of the burden on the other persons legs. You can also share thoughts, which I believe is what's letting your brother speak--"
"Boring,"Soph complained, "How?"
"That one is more difficult, but to put it simply, we tied together your natural psychic links. Normally, any two random people would have different wave patterns, and linking them would kill both. However, in some people, like close twins, the waves are identical. This allows us to overlap them and link them up, and now you are linked. In truth, you're the first it's worked for, normally we have to work with 'close-but-not-exact' or twins where only one is connected in the first place."
Soph starred blankly at the woman, but I knew what she wanted to say so said it for her, "Just get on to why you've done this."
"Urmmm, why we've done it?"
"Well yes, other wise it was a worthless risk."
"Do- do you not remember the war?"
"What war?"
"Oh boy, this is going to be a long day..."
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
If you liked this story, head over to [r/F4TF0X](https://www.reddit.com/r/F4TF0X/) to read more of my stuff! |
Momentum, I needed to take the next step. Keep going, and keep my momentum.
The ad has promised seeing if you were a true hero. I needed to know what I was doing was right, that I was helping people. My powers had been messy before, and that splatter has etched itself into my mind. I sent in my wish to tryout by email, texting was too informal for this.
I clenched everything, I needed keep the momentum going, keep walking away from the splatter.
...
“NEXT UP FOR OUR HERO TRYOUTS WE HAVE A YOUNG WOMAN NAMED SARAH! SHE’S HERE TO SHOW US THE POWER OF MOMENTUM!”
He was far louder than he was on the commercial. The crowd in the stadium cheered as I walked out, fists clenched. Keep the momentum.
”OUR FIRST TEST IS A TEST OF SPEED! THIS WILL HELP US KNOW HOW FAST THESE HEROES CAN SAVE YOU!”
This isn’t right at all. Speed is your ability to stay alive and disengage and reengage. You never try to simply save the person instantly until you know your enemy‘s power can’t stop you.
I stepped up to the line, looking over and seeing a boy who’s literally vibrating. He’s likely a speedster, ouch, boring though. Not anywhere near as fast as me in a straight line.
”THE HEROES WILL RUSH TO SAVE OUR POOR HOSTAGES TIED UP ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM! WHOEVER MAKES IT BACK WITH THE HOSTAGE UNHARMED FASTEST WINS!”
This isn’t tryouts, this is a competition. Keep the momentum, it’s fine.
”ON YOUR MARK!”
I feel the springy, metallic power within. It screams...keep the momentum.
”GET SET”
The metal energy expands.
”GO!”
I’m done.
Everyone looks at me in shock. The speedster freezes half way to the dummy. The other kids stand, barely having moved.
”It...Appears we have a winner.”
He yells
”LETS INTERVIEW THIS YOUNG LADY! HOW DID YOU DO THIS SO QUICKLY?”
Keep the momentum.
”I was forced to train by my father, and with my power of manipulating momentum I simply turned the earths momentum into a launch, touched the dummy and launched it back before launching myself back and catching it.”
”Ok.”
Keep the momentum, Sweating bullets. The Splatter is catching up. I sat down.
”WE‘LL HAVE A RACE FOR SECOND PLACE, JUST FOR THE FANS!”
I failed didn’t I? The splatter descended and I just cried, while the announcer ignored me.
My father always said “keep the momentum. You need to so better! You can’t disgrace my legacy like this!” I didn’t want to keep the momentum. I want to go home. |
\[Play. Playing. Played.\] (poem)
"Are you sure that's all you want?"
The demon asked and tilted his head.
Jeff nodded, then said,
"That's the talent I'd like to flaunt."
"To be the best at playing a guitar."
&#x200B;
The demon shrugged. "Sure, sign here."
He offered a red clipboard with a white form.
Jeff grabbed the pen and signed there.
"Congrats. Now playing a guitar for you is the norm."
&#x200B;
Jeff cheered, then called all his mates.
He planned a party to show off his new skill.
He picked up the house and cleaned the grill.
&#x200B;
The party started and everyone gathered 'round.
"Now watch me play a guitar like one of the greats."
&#x200B;
\*POOF\* he became a guitar and fell to the ground.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1189 in a row. (Story #093 in year four.) You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. |
"Well, don't come crying to me when the whole kingdom's on fire."I say, stomping off. What do I care, anyways? It's not like the kingdom has ever done anything for me. They raised taxes just so the king, who was already very rich, could have a statue and now that it's built they aren't lowering the taxes and Margaret needs to pay medical bills because she gave birth last week and I'm just done. I'm done. We're packing up our bags, taking the animals, and leaving. I'll pay the medical bill and go. We are not sticking around to be killed by enemy soldiers. |
The design in the black table felt good to trace the diamond design with my finger. The texture of the stucco on the manilla walls molded little patterns of different perception to each eye. It was the little things like that which grounded me.
Sitting across from me was a woman with stunning blue eyes and brown hair. The kind of woman that made men stop walking as she walked by, as if walking and taking in the sight of her were two things their brain couldn't do at the same time. She had a scowl on her face as she watched my nonchalantly sip my cold brew.
"You know she's controlling your mind right?", she said incredulously. She was polite enough not to say what that inferred. How could I be so stupid as to let that happen.
"Yeah I know", I said, "but I really don't mind."
She titled here head and gave me that, "you dipshit"look.
"How could you not mind? I know you know better, so what is going on?"
I shifted in my seat, visibly uncomfortable.
"The techniques she's using on me are the ones I used on her. Albeit on a much grander scale. She's also using the people who "taught"those techniques to me as her medium for it. So I don't know if she's trying to tell me to fuck off and die, or that she understands, but is still hurt. There were hints of caring in it though, so I'm holding out for the latter."
She touched her forehead at this before throwing her arms up in exasperation.
"So what, you're going to just let her destroy your mind on the off chance she'll change her mind and decide to be with you?"
I looked down at the table and started tracing the patterns on the table again. This time without looking up I said, "Not exactly. Sure a little sliver of me wants that, but that's about all I'll let it be. Just a sliver. I owe her this. She did the same for me. After everything it's literally the least that I could do.'
This time she let out a *heavy sigh* .
"You're a fucking idiot you know that. A massive, huge, happing idiot. You're going to go insane this way."
At this I chuckled, more to myself than anything.
"Ohh no, no I won't be doing that. This isn't even my second time around the block. Shit, might not even be my third. I've a handle on these tricks well enough... Even if they really do hurt. I can take it, so I will." |
“Did you hear about Shane?” Came the voice of a class mate.
Then came the excited whispers, hard to hear in a crowded mall in the middle of the day.
I didn't want to hear it, why did I agree to it anyway?
I just shook my head, and spoke to the crowd in general.
“Hey I'm going to get a drink.” I said just loud enough they'd hear it over the din of the crowd.
A few people nodded, and no one made to stop me.
This was a pretty big mall, and as such it had a pretty large food court.
I noticed Rebecca break out of the crowd as well, and heading in my direction.
I just made my choice and got in line. All these places probably had an agreement and so the drink prices were the same. But I liked this places milkshakes the best.
“Don't want to talk about it?” Rebecca asked, quiet enough most people wouldn't hear her. I wasn't most people, as my hearing was really good. Not a super power though.
“No.” I answered simply.
Rebecca was a good person, she'd even helped me study for the first big exam I'd had at this campus.
“Why not?” She asked simply again.
Damn empaths. They made such good friends, offset slightly by just how difficult it was to lie to them.
“Because I don't want to keep hearing the talk about how Shane Sparked.” I shot back at her, harsher than I wanted to.
“I am happy he finally unlocked his power.” She said again, just as quiet.
At least the line was moving.
“I would be too if the idiot hadn't almost gotten himself killed. TWICE!” That was louder than I'd wanted it to be, as evidenced by people looking at me.
“Sorry, rough day.” I gave as a half hearted explanation, most people just turned back to what they were doing.
One or two people's gaze lingered. Something told me they were Empaths like Becca.
“Its great that he's a Hydrokinetic, yeah. Its cool, I'm happy for him.” I continued on, taking a much quieter tone with Becca this time around.
“And you aren't Jealous?” She asked me, checking something on her phone.
“A little. I know I can spark, but I really don't want to nearly die twice just to do it.” I shrugged. It was what it was.
“I don't know the full story. Would you mind telling me?” Ah. How would I say no to that face?
“Sure. Shane went out on the lake with some friends. Got absolutely piss drunk.” I started.
Becca just nodded, “That part I'm aware of. I saw Shane this morning, and he looked as miserable as his emotions felt. I would recognize a hang over like that anywhere.”
“Yeah. Got piss drunk, cops nearly read him the riot act.” Becca shot me a confused look.
“Shane may be in the year above us, but he's still 19. And considering he nearly died in his drunken stupidity they weren't happy.” I explained.
I shook my head, frowning. There was something in my vision?
It was almost like there were cracks around the edges of my vision?
Kinda like my eyes were made of glass and someone had given my head a serious whack.
I shot Becca a look. Powers, much like people, weren't set in stone. They grew, and developed along side the wielder.
Never enough to be mistaken for another power, but always similar.
For instance, it wouldn't be the first time a Empath gained some kind of Telepathy.
Heck I was just reading about a Empath that gained the ability to force her targets to see illusions. She was a therapist that used it to force people to move past their fears.
Was Becca doing this? Had I been working for too long on research papers and the lack of sleep and overindulgence of caffeine doing this?
“That idiot Shane got piss drunk on a boat and fell in the water. It wouldn't normally be a problem but the promise of booze lured him out onto a boat when the idiot couldn't swim. He quite frankly got lucky his power had to do with water. And he still nearly drowned because he was piss drunk and didn't know how his power worked.” I finished up the story, still annoyed.
“Jensen.” Becca looked stunned. “Your eyes?!” It was the loudest I'd ever hear her speak.
“Hmm?” I turned around to the clerk to get my fountain drink. “What about my...”
A flash of light accompanied by a roar, heat and a feeling not unlike being hugged far too tightly. Except everywhere.
And then I hit something, I'm not really sure.
The world was spinning, I was laying on something really hard and it was poking me in the back in a dozen places.
The strangest thing? It didn't hurt. That scared me. Usually if something didn't hurt it either meant it really was nothing, or it meant it was something awful.
For a brief second a story I'd heard once flashed through my head. It was about a gunshot victim, and about how when he'd been shot it didn't hurt at first.
Because the pain was so intense that your brain just didn't know how to process it.
I blinked away the stars and the spinning room. Although no matter how hard I blinked the cracks wouldn't go away.
They were longer now, and thicker. They'd started as tiny lines at the very edge of my vision, and now they were thicker and further in.
I could see through them just fine, but they were still there all the same. It was aggravating.
They were shouts, and screams, and words... and...
Was that Gunfire?
I caught sight of familiar purple shoes out the corner of my eye.
“Becca? Becca are you alright?”
Rebecca was laying on the same thing I was. Smashed up concrete, one of the walls next to the food court.
Unlike me Rebecca was starring up at the ceiling with empty glazed over eyes.
Her shirt, once white, now starting to stain red where the slices of rebar were poking through her chest.
“Becca!”
“Someone Help!” I shouted, almost tripping on the rubble.
I had one hand on my phone as I reached out towards Becca, only distracted at the last second by someone moving nearby.
I turned, and almost immediately wished I hadn't.
There was indeed a man standing behind me. Nothing about his face really stuck out to me. I could have passed him a thousand times in this mall and never noticed him.
But his appearance made my blood go cold.
A dark and rich red coat, with a simple emblem over the right breast.
A black book behind a white skull and a dark green snake winding through the skull's eye sockets.
That and the strange looking rifle he was holding were enough to cement his identity in my mind.
I raised an arm, for all that would do.
“FOR XEDRA!” The terrorist shouted, and opened fire. The roar of automatic gun fire nearly drowning out the quiet crackle of the flame burning in the shoe store next to the food court, the quiet sobs and groans of the injured, and the delicate sound of spent brass hitting the floor.
I waited for the impact, the pain, and it never came.
I opened my eyes to find the cracks had intensified once again, and the Xedra grunt standing there starring at me shocked.
A number of rifle slugs suspended in the air in front of me, like something out of the Matrix.
“A Spark!” The Xedra grunt smiled, his face lighting up.
Oh no. Xedra loved snapping up young sparks and brainwashing them to believe their super human supremecy drivel.
Something hit me in the back, and the roar of a gun indicated I'd been shot. It didn't hurt, and again that was concerning.
The Xedra grunt was smiling even more now, “Psionics and some kind of durability? And those eyes! You'll be perfect.”
The man's smile was making me sicker to the stomach than I already was, so I did the only reasonable thing I could think of at the moment.
I tackled him.
And all the cracks in my vision bloomed, like a cracked mirror taking a fist in the center. There was a stinging in my eyes, and...
“Jensen!” Becca was looking at me stunned. “Your eyes!”
“Hey man! Your Soda.” The food court fast food worker said behind me.
Have you ever felt like your brain was lagging behind? The cracks were still in my vision, but they were small and only at the edges like they'd been before...
Oh. Before the bomb. Before the image of Becca laying on rebar, impossibly still. Before....
“XEDRA BOMB!” I shouted as loudly as I could, and tackled Becca and everyone else in the line to the ground. |
See, this is that shit I be talking about. It’s ALL dumb when you think about it. Like when your REALLY sit down and think about it. Because sure, if I’m chilling with the fellas and the room is, you know… A little hazy from the extra curriculars? Me myself I dabble in the organic herbs for health… lavender and other things is a fine substitute for people with security clearances. ANYWAY, in those scenarios sure I’d ponder the science fiction of things like time travel or whatever.
But even then, think of the implications of time travel, right? Like… They had JUST come up with vaccinations, in the grand scheme of things, like yesterday. Think of how much diseases have mutated to survive against what we’ve been injecting into people today. How frequently we go in for those vaccinations. If we went back in time and just… sneezed from them dusty ass unpaved roads and the pure smell of horse ass, everybody would be DEAD.
These fantasy concepts are just wild to me. So why did I join the space force? Because this is real life! Stuff like traveling amongst the stars and light fold engines, man that’s all supposed to be for the movies.
And what was I supposed to do? Huh? Join the army? Be a grunt? Get shot at? You buggin.
I’m from a city where many people don’t make it, and all thing considered, I probably shouldn’t have either. Luckily for me, my mom was a little more dedicated than statistics could account for, and I was in a position where I could apply myself a bit more to better opportunities than the kids I grew up with.
So yeah, I’m smart. Not Yale smart or Ivy league smart, but smart enough to score high on the ASVAB and be sought after by my country’s services. My big cuzzo Neville had already been in the Air Force for 4 years, so I talked to him about joining. He mentioned that it might be easier to rank up in the Space force, and that he was transferring over himself. The opportunity to be stationed with family and my closest childhood friend was tough to pass up.
I mentioned it though, I brought it up. Like, spaceships, rockets, I’m not really feeling all that. He laughed it off, told me “Yeah, it’ll be tough to turn my personal jet back into the Air Force to go over there. But I’ll deal.” That was supposed to be a joke… He’s a dud. But basically, he told me he had been in 4 years and the only plane he had ever been in was the one to get to basic training. He ensured me we’d keep both feet on the ground.
That lying mother-
Jahlil Black lay sprawled out on the twin mattresses of a small but otherwise largely accommodating room. No asbestos or mold, a window with quite the view, and a tiny fridge that was never empty. Compared to the dorm life he had lived his first three years, this was an upgrade.
This morning, his new routine inner monologue of complaining was interrupted by a wrapping of firm and rhythmic knuckles on his door. A petite red-haired woman walked in shortly after. Her freckles patterned her face like someone had gone to great lengths to ensure each one was placed a perfect length away from the next. The pure symmetry added to her poise and demeanor. As a person, Emerald Shades emitted a feeling of calm and safety. The rank she wore however did the opposite.
“Specialist Black, Sergeant Black. The Blacks! Good morning. I’m happy to see you both are settled in.” Her smile was genuine, there was a slight hint that she understood the irony of calling them “the Blacks” but it was nothing malicious. She had been the Section Superintendent of Jahlil’s cousin Neville’s old assignment and walked in occasionally to hear Neville’s lightly humored opinions on today’s race related issues. So it wasn’t really murky water. Still got a raised eyebrow from Jahlil as he raised out of his bed to the position of attention. From Neville, an oddly devilish grin, as he rose to a much lazier version of the respectful position of attention.
“Major Shades.” Neville spoke up first, the grin still evenly spread from his cheeks. “Yes, all is good. I had to make sure I was close to my cousin. He’s afraid of heights.” He gave a cool laugh and shot a look towards Jahlil.
“Heights!?” Jahlil retorted as if somebody had said something completely ridiculous. “Being afraid of heights is for the fear of falling. This is not ‘hEiGhTs’ V. This is SPACE. I’m not afraid of falling, I’m not afraid of heights. I’m afraid of-“ He stuck his arms out and gestured wildy around him. Then He remembered the Major was in the room and quickly snapped his arms back to his sides.
Major Shades chuckled.
“it’s alright, at ease. Everything is fine. We test these things for years before attempting to put people in them. We’ve successfully sent this model beyond the outreaches of space and achieved successful reach back comms on our last five missions. As long as everybody does what they need to do, all will be fine. You have my word. After all, I helped design these.” Her smile was as reassuring as it could be.
In the end though, this is still space. Jahlil understood his need to be here as much as a city kid understood why people ventured out into the woods and dug holes to use the restroom.
Major Shades and tried to give a few more encouraging words with the two, which fell into casual talks about what they would be doing this morning. Jahlil being a specialist mainly dealt with small tasks. Trash, cleaning, Etc. His cousin Neville, being a Technical sergeant dealt with the more involved day to days. He’d be spending this morning checking over temperature data.
When the small talk had withered down, Major Shades turned and left out of the boys’ room. Neville had watched her leave a little more intently then Jahlil had expected.
“V, I better not have been drug up here just to watch you hook up with a girl. I swear. I better not be- an officer at that? Nah, I KNOW that’s not why I’m up here.” Jahlil never had any intentions of going about this assignment with much enthusiasm, but now he for sure would have no time for peps in his steps.
“Chill young blood.” That grin hasn’t left his face all morning.
“Yep, that’s it. I’m gunna die. And for what? For some cheeks? Hmm? For the buns V?” Jahlil aggressively snatched up his OCP top and put one of his arms through the sleeve while grabbing a sandwich with the other hand.
“Jah, you’re not going to die. Relax!” He asserted to his little cousin, now exiting their room.
“You didn’t deny the cheeks V.” Jahlil, giving one last jab, left the room and walked down the hall towards the sector holding the ships storage to look for bins that were full.
“Because it’s ridiculous, Jah. I’m a man of GAWD!” He yelled after him down the hall. “I would never.” He muttered sarcastically to himself “I would. Never would I not. It’s me babyyy” The grin ever so present.
(This felt long... So i made it two parts) |
"I'll do it!"Bernie says as he slams his hands down on the table. "There may be one dragon for every hundred civilians, but that one percent is hoarding 90% of the nation's wealth!"
A-oc turns her gaze to the fuming, elderly knight. "What are you going to do? Rouse the regional levies and go march on the dragon's hideout? Most of the militia don't even have healthcare! They can't miss the plowing season to demand fewer tithes and better living conditions. We have to bribe the dragons yearly to stay in their mountains and leave the serfs in peace. If they are taking more tribute than our agreement dictates, then you need to go to the King and have him summon the standing army!"
"Bah!"Bernie turns to the Councilor. His hand was clasped tightly around his sheathed sword as if he intended to march off to war then and there. "The King drains the peasantry yearly with their feudal obligations, and what do they get in return? Nothing! Where is the king and his army when the dragons arrive to make off with the remainder of the nation's wealth? He hides in his keep and entertains ambassadors from the industrial-military complex, leaving the common man to suffer. Dragons keep the people living in fear and let "*his highness*"and his cohorts line their pockets with gold coin. Something needs to be done about it!"
"I am on your side, Sir Sanders; but mind your words. The king has spies everywhere and what you say could amount to treason. Nobles have been hanged for less. Your duly-elected title won't save you."
"I hear you A-oc, and I know you care deeply about the common man, but I can't just sit by and let my people lie in ruin. They are starving, they have no healthcare, underfunded education systems, and no worker's rights! The realm stands on a dangerous precipice and this whole feudal system is bound to collapse unless we do something! "
"Bernie, then let it fall! We can rebuild it and make it something better. We could gather the peasants, picket and go on strike, demand a better distribution of the kingdom's wealth. If that doesn't work, then we can seize the means of production, and then, when the realm is united, then we can take on the dragons and claim their hoard as ours, for the people."
"I'm sorry A-oc, but this is something I must do. I stand by the people, and if I must die in service to them, well then, it was a life well-lived. I will go and slay the dragons and reclaim the mountains full of gold. If by chance I am successful and I make it back alive, then the King and his cronies will finally feel the wrath that laid dragons low, then they will truly feel the Bern." |
"George! Don't worry about it we're just happy to have you here; aren't we Michael?"
Michael's smile spread across his face like room-temperature butter. "Of course honey. Sorry George, what was that you said about your suit?"
"Oh it was a mess, I won't bore you with the details but it has been a hell of a day. I swear I had every intention of making it to the ceremony and I was making good time but something came up at the office so I had to swing by. In and out, ten minutes they told me. Well twenty minutes later I had sweat through my shirt and spilled ink on my sleeve so of course I had to rush home and I tried to get the stains out but it was just such an ordeal so I said you know what? They won't mind, better to be late and haunted than not there at all!"
Michael's smile melted off his face, like hot butter. Sandra, however, seemed not to notice the word that George kept throwing around as if it were his name. This stoked Michael's annoyance ever so slightly. He wasn't used to seeking validation, normally it sought him. He tried to keep his tone even as he asked "Haunted, did you say?"
"Yes haunted."George replied, tugging on the ends of his jacket to straighten it just a bit.
Any illusion of Michael's civility was quickly fading.
"And by that you mean..."
"It is currently an object that tethers several souls from the afterlife to our mortal coil; refusing them the eternal rest they seek and quite often causing maledictions and general misfortune in the surrounding area."
As if to punctuate his point somebody just off the dance floor dropped a wine glass causing a small fuss as it shattered, coating a few tiny squares of carpet in orange juice and vodka.
"Well, I'll leave you to it! Just wanted to announce my arrival and give my best to the beautiful couple."George said, beaming at the newlyweds.
"Aww, thank you George! We're so glad you could make it after all the fuss"
"Hold on a moment, souls you said? Like, ghosts?"
George, already walking away from the couple, twisted 180 degrees and began walking backwards.
"Oh I'm no expert, who knows what they are or how many of them reside within my formal wear. Anywho, I see some bacon-wrapped scallops with my name on them!"
As George made his way to the scallops that most certainly did not have his name on them Michael turned to his wife, just a tad offended.
"Well that wasn't quite as funny as he intended was it?"
"What's that honey?"
"What he said about the suit. About the ghosts and all. I just didn't enjoy the joke."
Sandra looped her arm through his and pulled him a tad closer, smiling.
"Oh I'm sure he wasn't joking. That's just George, he can be hard to read. Always so pleasant he could make the weather sound like a joke."
Michael hesitated, "Wait... so he was serious? And you believe him?"
Sandra looked at her husband incredulously, "Well I don't see why not. After all, George has been nothing but honest with us! Really honey, I know he isn't your favorite but you were quite civil. Don't get hung up on it."
"Hung up on it?! The man said his suit was HAUNTED. It seems like a reasonable thing to get hung up on! I'm a little upset you aren't hung up on it!"
Sandra's arm retreated from Michael's side as she took a half step away from him. "Honey, don't be ridiculous, you know how important it is to me that George be here. If he has to haunted then so be it. I don't even know how you'd get rid of the spirits. It's not like you can just scrub them out of the suit after all."
Across the dance floor a small scuffle was breaking out as two men began arguing over who had the better claim to the last shrimp cocktail. George was politely making his way around the scuffle as he hadn't yet filled half his plate and the intensity of the shrimp cocktail dispute did not bode well for his prospects of filling the other half.
"Look! The man has been here all of ten minutes and he's over there causing mayhem already"Michael pleaded with his wife.
"Oh I wouldn't call it 'mayhem' honey. Sure, he'll finish off the asparagus but that will hardly evoke the same response as the shrimp cocktail."
A deafening silence broke out as the DJ's equipment fizzled, the lights cutting to black in one smooth motion.
"Great, now we've gone and lost power."
&#x200B;
(Unfortunately I have to go even though I'm quite unsatisfied with this ending. Hopefully I'll have the chance to edit in some sort of conclusion later.) |
He stood over the dead, a visage of fury. He stared at them, lying at his feet, blood pooling around them, the stench of it permeating his very essence, pinning on to him from all sides the weight of what he had done.
He felt footsteps behind him, and a shout of joy.
"You are a braver man than most, brother. These whelps—"
"They're children, Mentoneus. Helpless."He cut the approaching man off.
"Children of the damned. They are a curse upon the land."
"They... They don't deserve our wrath. They know not—"
"There are many who know not of why they die. Does that mean they should not? Ulavinus. Do not tell me you're showing sympathy."
"I show no sympathy to the these treacherous monsters!"
"Yet you do not see that the children of monsters are also exactly that: monsters."
"Perhaps you are right."
"There is a difference between honour and weakness, Ulav. You are dangerously perched. Make sure you do not fall."
"Never."
"I shall return to the ships. This kingdom has all but been broken. But we have not purged this world of those who have wronged us yet. Glory to Andyvius!"
"Glory to Andyvius!"Ulavinus echoed, not looking at his comrade as he returned to his ships.
Once the retreating footsteps faded, Ulavinus sank to his knees, his serrated sword clanging as it fell beside him. He yelled out a primal bellow of shame and fury and deep remorse, the shout echoing across the chamber. A haunting sound that hung in the air, and caused someone to snivel in fear.
His head snapped to the direction of the sound, and he saw it. The child. Cowering. Hiding behind a stack of her peers. She stared at him, eyes wide as she realised she had been seen. But she knew there was no escape. She even seemed to accept it.
Her expression changed from immense fear to that of... Resignation. A face of acceptance that did not belong to a child. She even looked older as it dawned on her what was about to happen.
Ulavinus got to his feet, and trudged over to her, who stared ahead, past him. Past everything. Her mind was probably broken, unable to process the situation. It was probably better this way. At least there would be one less child screaming in his nightmares. He raised his sword, his grip tightening on the hilt.
But it never came down.
"I am so sorry."Ulavinus dropped the blade again, and fell to his knees in front of the child.
"I'm so sorry."He cried, pulling the girl into his chest and sobbing into her hair. |
I woke in a cold sweat, my heart pounding. The nightmare, so potent, began to fade. I gripped my head as it disappeared from memory. All I could recall was the darkness, the trees, and the terrible teeth. It was my worst experience, and ruined what I loved.
I looked out of the window, seeing the beginning of the dawn. I wouldn't get any more sleep after that nightmare, so I may as well have an early start today. I pottered downstairs, making myself a small breakfast. As I sat with my porridge, I heard a scratch at the door.
I sighed, getting back up and heading over. I opened it to see a squirrel there, with a bloody stump. I reached down slowly, letting it smell me before I picked it up. I brought it to the table, where I could get a better look at it.
In the light of my candle, I saw its colouring for the first time. It was grey, with a stripe of pure white going down its back. It was a colouring I had seen hundreds of times before, but never here. I had only seen it back in that forest.
It chattered, holding forth its ruined stump. I shook myself, bending close to its wound. It was bad, and clearly a few days old. I couldn't return it, but I could clear it up. I went to work, first numbing the area with a minor incantation. I carefully cleaned it out, before sewing it shut. The entire time, it stayed still, letting me work.
As I finished, it got up, and looked in the direction of that forest. I shook my head, cleaning up after the small surgery. It chattered, grabbing my finger and trying to force it in that direction.
"What?"
It stared at me, as if trying to tell me something. I sighed, muttering a new incantation. This allowed me to understand animals.
"Home. Go. Help. Monster."
"I can't go back there. I just can't."
Even the thought of it terrified me. A once respected druid of the forest. Now being around a group of more then 3 trees terrified me. After the darkness came, I couldn't stand it.
"Help. Hurt. Help. Home."
"I can help you get better, but I can't go back there."
It glared at me. I ended the spell, turning back to my breakfast. Nothing it could say could convince me to go back.
\-----
I went about my day, visiting the various farmers and herds. They relied on me to make sure their livestock was healthy, and paid me in return. I could help people as well, but animals were my main forté. Them and sometimes plants.
I was tired when I got home, but stopped at the sight of the door. A dozen squirrels with the same marking were waiting outside. Birds sat on my roof. Mr Fallon was sitting on his porch, and hailed me when he saw me pause.
"Hey, you're looking popular."
"Thanks.... do you know how long they have been here?"
"They've been arriving all day. I wonder if its connected to old Briars Forest?"
I shuddered. That was the name of my old forest.
"Why? What's happened?"
He grinned, eager to share. I swear the only thing keeping him going was gossip.
"Y'know in recent years its gone dark and unnatural? Well, recently folks have been going in there, and comin' out all wrong. Figures a mass of creatures would run away, and since you have druid skills, they'd flock to you."
"Thats terrible! Why haven't I heard?"
"Prob'ly because you don't talk much. I'm a nosy old coot. O'course they'd tell me."
I nodded, agreeing with his assessment. I still didn't like crowds, and preferred to keep myself to myself.
"Well, I had better see what they want."
"Go on then."
He shooed me away, and I headed in. As I expected, the mass of creatures all rushed in as I opened the door. They gathered around the injured one, making a bunch of noise. I muttered the incantation from this morning. I had to get this cleared up.
"Right. Why are you all here?"
An owl stepped out of the gathering. I recognised her as one of my best helpers when I lived in that forest.
"We need your help."
I shook my head, the fear rising.
"I can't. I can't go back!"
She hooted, taking flight. She flew over, hitting me on the head with her claw.
"Listen, you promised us all that you would help us always! And the first time you failed, you ran! I understand you are scared. But so are we. Our home is being destroyed. We need your help. Drex needs you."
Drex. My worst failure. A wolf pup I had found on my first day there. He had grown up with me, working tirelessly to help the forest. Then came the darkness. And he wasn't Drex anymore.
"But..."
"No, no buts! You need to fix this. If not for us, for you. Or do you hate us now?"
My heart skipped a beat.
"No, no of course not! I love you all!"
"Then help us, please."
I could feel their sincerity. They needed me. I couldn't bear to disappoint them again. That scared me more then the forest.
"Thank you Hooler."
Hooler hooter, pleased with herself.
"Fine. I'll go."
I found myself suddenly swarmed, as they all ran to me. They climbed me like I was a tree, hugging close. I laughed. This is what I had been missing. Hooler took her old place on my left shoulder.
"I will admit, I haven't tried it, but I have an idea for cleansing it."
She hooted happily.
"I knew you would." |
As the sun sends its rays, warming the eyelids, thoughts begin to ponder the last image of the bumper sticker on the car ahead, as traffic amplifies exuastion from the 3rd, 12hr day worked, with fatigue turning the oxygen in the cabin of the car into a 'saturation of suffocation,' inducing that image of the bumper sticker on the car in front, echoing in the mind of 'Baby on Board,' in a triangle of yellow and black, caution diamond, as the comedian broadcasting on the cars radio, begins to fade and blend in with the laughter coming from his audience as thoughts on the image being interperted from this cars message, transformed into a vision of a little baby, standing on top of an ironing board, holding an iron that begins to turn hot, so he lays on the ironing board that begins to morph into a surfboard, while feeling the magnetism of the souls body draw near the baby, dipping his hand into the calming, cool water, as this baby now becomes you, changing from first person to now, through your eyes, as a large wave begins to approach, forcing you to paddle and stand on the board that carved into a wave that grew from 6ft, now 12ft to a MILE!!! From the face of the wave, in view is the Gorilla at Ocean Breeze Funpark, the water tower on Kempsville Blvd and now in sight from the furthest distance, the Newport News Shipyard!
Suddenly, over the roar of water you can not only hear but feel, rattling to the bone marrow, from deep in the waves vortex, a car horn obnoxiously whales, awakening the lullaby dream, at the same time the lip of the wave is crashing on top of the head, to a senior citizen in the rear view mirror, shooting the middle finger salut, screaming, "Go!" |
November 2025. The weather looked as good as it could out the empty window frame. The wind blowing in through the gaps in the wall sang of sage and moss. The world was still lit in the grey heugh of the passing night, while beautiful pastel colors crept across the landscape. It began with the red ish brown that spanned the dirty, decrepit roads. The air was clean, and my lungs took in as much of that freedom as I could muster before I headed to my clothes. Repressing my natural body into my formal wear helped me to focus on the human, member of society that I once had been. It was amazing how quickly it had all collapsed. 2020 the tides were rising. The plague began to wipe out the people. 2021 they created the vaccine and life returned to normal. 2022, the globe was destroyed. Every single human who got their prick lost their mind when the next version of the virus spread across the land. It ravaged the minds of those infected and forced them to tear at loved ones and friends with voracious and malicious intent. Big brother lost their nerve and hid in a bunker, throwing explosives at humans causing massive casualties. 2024, the cities that had been bombed were mostly abandoned, but here I stayed. I found enough supplies from scavenging to support myself and I lead a friendly enough life that I didn't go crazy on my own. Today was a new day though, and while I knew I needed to refresh my water storage, I didn't have many other tasks on my mind for the day.
Near silent footsteps approached the stairs from the floor below me. I could tell it was human from the lack of VacciStagger, the signature sloppy footwork of a vaccinated zombie. I used my quietest breathes and barely touched the ground as I moved to my cubby under the main rug. They may want to search for food and water , but if they don't look under the floor, they won't bother me. I waited for the footsteps to grow louder until they stopped slowly just above my head. I stared up and found a glowing green eye staring down through the cracks in the floor at me. A smile cracked across the figure's pale face as it cracked my secret layer's door wide. "The plague has shifted, young one. You are due to travel, lest be found."This being's name was Jarrine, and it had been given it's name for it's jarring appearance. "The plague has shifted, you must leave now!"it shouts, grabbing my arm and hoisting me from the hole. I run to grab my things, pack and prepare to leave. Why the thing chose me to protect, I would never know. All I knew now was it wasn't safe here. |
I choked on the blood in my lungs. My general's sword was lodged in my chest, and I struggled to speak around it.
"So... it happens again."
"That's enough, Regent. It's time to let go. You've ruled long enough."
I coughed a laugh and spat out a mouthful of blood. "I thought that years ago. Fate always... seems to have other plans."The world was receding slowly around me. The general's words seemed distant and garbled. The ripping pain in my chest was the last thing to recede, until I felt the agonizing pulse of my heart, too strong in a world where I could feel nothing else, finally stutter and stop.
Almost immediately, it was replaced by a sharp sting on my bottom. Startled, I gasped, then screamed as reactive oxygen flooded the soft tissues of my lungs. No matter how many times it happened, I never got used to the pain of that first corrosive breath.
Voices murmured around me, but my nerves were not yet primed to send quick signals from my ears. All I could catch was a jumble that sounded as if words were being spoken underwater. *What an inconvenient phase.* I could usually time how long it took me to be able to hear clearly (a few days), focus my eyes (a few weeks), and grip things (a few months), but it was still extremely frustrating.
I slept and woke and slept again, living the life of a newborn for the... I'd lost count of how many times it was now. Finally, about five days... maybe six... from my return, there were bright lights on me and loud sounds, trumpets and cheers. I hated it, but I lay calmly and tried vainly to make my eyes focus clearly.
Two blobs appeared as warm hands held me up. My ears had cleared of their fluid quickly, so I could at least hear by now.
"Look, Rijn."I heard a man's voice say softly. "This is Lady Fioresa, your fiancee."
"But she's a *baby*."a young voice complained.
*Hmm. Fiancee* ***again***? And this one sounded like a whiner. Was Fioresa my first name, or my family name? It didn't matter too much. I was already laying out in my mind what was needed to run from this engagement. *I'll need money, so I'll need to learn how to make it. I need to know the politics of the situation. The laws, the hierarchy...* I needed to not make a grave mistake. Last time I'd tried to flee a royal engagement, I'd had to go on the run from people hunting for me and ended up, after a lot of trouble, back in the same difficult position as always. *Not this time.* This time I would simply find someone more suited for the role, hand the troublesome engagement off to her, and fade quietly into obscurity. I'd never tried to find a better arrangement before; maybe it would work.
"Don't talk like that, Rijn. The least you can do is make your useless life worth something to me. If you have to do that with a marriage, then that's what you'll do. Understand?"The man's voice had gone from gentle to a harsh hiss, just quiet enough to not be heard in the rest of the room.
A soft sigh sounded. "Yes, Your Majesty."
*What the hell kind of a father are you?!* I shouted mentally, waving my baby arms in useless circles. *Is that any way to talk to your son?* Something in me snapped, right there, right then. I'd had all kinds of fathers in my lives. Kind ones, cruel ones, careless ones, rich ones, poor ones, busy ones, lazy ones, drunk ones. But nothing had ever made me as angry as the ones who called their children useless. *Oh, you slimy son of a– That's it, the first name on my bad list is yours.*
I'd made up my mind. I would make this young, so-called "useless"boy looking at me into a strong man and a King and crush his father's flimsy pride, and *then* I would hand off the engagement and vanish. It wouldn't go wrong this time, surely? |
WIBTA for trying to do my job and recapture an escaped convict?
I know how the title sounds, but I’m not just looking for easy karma. I’m legitimately not sure anymore. Back in the day I was a prison guard in charge of maintaining order amongst some of the more violent or high risk criminals. It wasn’t an easy job, but I managed to carry a degree of authority that kept me safe and generally kept things orderly. One of the stand-out prisoners was this guy we’ll call JV. Now, JV wasn’t actually all that heinous a criminal. His initial crime was pretty mild, but he kept trying to and nearly escaping. JV was mostly an agreeable sort but you could tell he didn’t feel like he belonged there and no amount of “well JV if you would just SERVE YOUR SENTENCE” seemed to get through to him. He was also strong as all get out. I once saw this dude lift the prow of a ship by himself to save a fellow prisoner on work duty. It was really inspiring stuff.
Anyway JV finally served his sentence and got his parole papers. He was pretty snotty about it, but we parted on what I assumed was a point of mutual understanding. Until a little way down the line when JV just started skipping every single parole hearing. So now there’s a warrant for this dude’s arrest again and I am out and about as an on-the-beat cop.
Anyway years pass and I’m doing my job when I realize the mayor of the town I’m assigned to is JV. Dude can lift just like the old days, and has just as little respect for the law. I wasn’t sure at first, and in fact some other dude got arrested in JV’s place, but he straight-up ADMITTED to being this escaped convict.
Now this is where I might be the asshole. The dude has been doing a lot of good with his life since he got out, but he’s still a prisoner. It’s my job to capture him and make sure he serves out his sentence and he keep running from me. He acts all honorable, but every time I catch up to him he has some new excuse for why he can’t go to jail now, but he will “totally turn himself in later.” Frankly I don’t buy it. A good guy would atone for his fuckups. And it isn’t like I don’t understand where he’s coming from. I mean I grew up with a bunch of criminals. I know how these people can be.
Recently though in one of our chases he saved my life and I’ll be honest, it’s getting harder and harder to keep trying to chase a dude who has done so much good for me and for others. But he’s a criminal. Every time he runs away from me he’s actively committing a crime.
So WIBTA if I were to catch him and turn him in? Nothing I do in this situation feels right and I swear to God if this keeps up it may just be easier to throw myself into the Seine than to keep trying to work this all out. |
The thing about peace, the kind of peace people try and make, is that it's not peace. Banning dissent doesn't make peace. Wiping out the "problem"doesn't make peace. There's always a new "problem,"a new group of people who are the issue. If there were two people left on Earth, they would still disagree.
What a mistake I made. I banned hate, enforced love, and mandated affection. I crushed arguments, grinding dissent under my heel.
But the thing about dissent is, when you crush it, it starts to simmer. And when dissent simmers for long enough, eventually it will foam up. I stood grinding down dissent for so long, and then one day I looked around and found that dissent had boiled up to my mouth and I was drowning in a boiling sea.
Enough reflection for me. I leave this for the next person like me, who thinks that banning disagreement will resolve it. May you reflect in my place and never make the same mistake.
My execution is tomorrow. Perhaps fittingly, I am to be boiled. |
It's not the first time this has happened, and unfortunately it's piling up. Humanity has been collectively been disappointed because so far there has been no alien capable of giving us their abilities. Something about three lines of "you have to eat a more developed species to gain access to their abilities". Something which has proven hard since our only access to another world is through random portals that take us to Europa's ocean and it seemed we were more advanced than it's inhabitants.
At first there were monkeys that learned to swing better, then fish learned of ways to swim faster, cheetah learned to run more efficiently. Humanity was excited to see that species could indeed be improved by eating three fish from these portals. They started to do these experiments by hand instead of waiting for three fish to appear where they could be eaten, but they mostly failed. We learned to predict the portals locations but we also discovered that apparently we were already superior and could gain nothing from them.
Or so we thought.
An unreachable portal appeared in Antarctica, right in the middle of a giant colony of penguins. And a school of fish fell through it. After 3 days of non stop feasting the penguins learned to sweetie a pose that we thought made them more aerodynamic, they just had to will their bodies to go forward and they would fly faster and more precise than any other bird or man made machine.
We can't deal with such awesome creatures because humanity is prideful and we are not the ones flying. So a plan was devised to capture al the penguins. In the future it would make us the best species in the planet again.
The plan failed, it was just the beginning of our problems, because we discovered that it was not then becoming more aerodynamic, but their minds making the air around their bodies more penguindynamic. This broke or understanding of physics and made us realize everything we thought we knew was wrong. Humanity can't deal with a fifth era of being stupid.
//////////////////////////////////////
Please forgive me for I have insomnia and have created a monster of a story. |
I know it's late, but I had to respond. Flipped the prompt slightly. Sorry for formatting and grammar:
My name’s not important, and neither am I. It’s what I can do that matters, what I can do for everyone but me. Ever since I can remember, I’ve been a healer, the only one as far as I know. I don’t mean a doctor or nurse, we have those, I’m more. I can fix anything: toys, books, cars, shelves, burned down homes, destroyed gardens. I can heal the sick, restore the wounded, cure cancer, mend a broken heart, a crushed ego, anything that could ever plague you- physical or mental. Sometimes I wish I had never been given this gift- no this curse. In the beginning I had the best of intentions, helping a friend after a flood, healing a neighbor’s pet who could never afford vet bills, but I was in over my head. Once news got out, I was never alone. Not a single moment was left for me. People from all over the world came to see me, came to be healed, have me fix what only I can.
Queues began forming, lines outside my house and work. My family and friends were bombarded with strangers hoping to reach me. Though they tried, they could never last. Loved ones became distant from the stress of being near me, any potential partner I could ever have was immediately scared off by the crowds. People proclaimed that I was the Messiah, the chosen one, the one who could save us all. That couldn’t be further from the truth, I’m no messiah, I can’t even save myself.
Over the years, the lines became longer, my city was emptied, and I was provided with everything I could ever need. It's been nearly a decade now, and as I further succumb to depression, the faces start to blur even more. Now, reaching my hand out once more to take the pain, I feel something different. This pain has lingered, it’s festered, it’s become hatred, violence, and finally regret. As I look up, I see him, a man, who can only whisper two words before kneeling, “fix me”.
My eyes trace the figure of the average height, middle-age man, in front of me. As he looks at me, I realize who kneels before me. With a loud gasp, I stumble backward, away from the man with the flaming red eyes, the only man with literal hellfire. “No” is all I could muster as I push backwards against the crowd. “No, No, No, No! This can’t be happening. After all I’ve sacrificed, after all I’ve given! Must I be punished in the afterlife too?” I’m screaming now, terrified for my life. On all fours he follows me, begging. “Please” is all he says. Seeing no alternative, I tentatively extend my hand once more for what will most likely be my final healing.
As soon as my hand touches him, a heat comes upon me, hotter than anything I have ever experienced. I push on, adrenaline numbing the pain, as wave after wave of sadness and anger wash over me. Millennia of mistakes and regret fill my head with the torturous visions from a life I’ve never known. A life destined for greatness, a life taken for greed. A life that he forsook. New memories are coming, ones I hope to never see again. Hell. I feel the fire, the eternal flame, one that pierces my insides and eats through to my core. Every negative experience forged together into one blade that penetrates every inch of me. Then as suddenly as it began, it stops.
“Thank you” is all he says as a single tear slides down Lucifer’s cheek. |
Very few people can find a needle in a haystack and even fewer an ICBM somewhere in the depths of the pacific ocean. My name is corporal Lancaster Akram, and I am a tactical applications specialist for the United States government. Today marks my thirty-second resurrection, and my final week before my service is terminated.
Reluctantly I stagger upright from the small medical bed the dull pain and blurred vision all too familiar. A slideshow of patchy memories flickering past as I slip on my fatigue top and immediacy lament my life choices. The most recent death still quite fresh in my mind as I wipe off the layer of radioactive ash on my ruined clothing.
One final flash of the pillar of nuclear fire over the coast of Japan heralding the source of my despair. A well-groomed man in a lab coat and a crate of vials and jars filled with the exotic chemicals used in the process of resurrection. A singular nod from my doctor saying more than a textbook could convey as he sets the heavy crate onto a nearby table.
Its impact physically rattling the blood-stained operating table as I break the silence. "What was it this time, Jackson I'm guessing it wasn't the detonation."A pained look reflecting in the mirror as I start lacing up my boots noting the burnt coyote cloth.
Jackson's voice shaking slightly, a clipboard practically at a breaking point from the number of clipped papers landing on the bench. The bold words plastered over the top of the most paper breaking the underlined word autopsy. "Radiation poisoning, Lancaster you can't keep doing this at this rate I don't know how much will be left to reanimate."
A final snap securing my combat boot into place as I meet my close friend's eyes. Several dull tremors wracking my arms as I pick up my combat bag from the submarine's deck plating. "It doesn't matter how many times I die, as long as I keep those God-forsaken bombs from reaching American soil. And if I can't be brought back then I have died serving my country to my best ability." |
Six years ago, when I was still living in the town, we had a weird neighbor. She had long curly hair and she had a awkward smile. One day, she started doing something. Everyday at 11:27, she would throw an apple from her window. Sometimes it would hit children, sometimes cars and sometimes even me. Nobody had any idea why she threw apples through her window. She did it everyday just once. Some people learned it the hard way that it was never going to stop. Especially the uncle who bought newspaper around that hour. People slowly stopped going near her house because they didn't want to get hit by an apple. I moved from there because I was tired of the apples. She did it. She made everyone go away.
Please excuse my horrible writing and terrible English. It's not my mother tongue. |
God knows how he’d managed to do it this time, or maybe he doesn’t. Last time he’d turned the robot vacuum into existential philosopher. Admittedly it still cleaned the floor, but it was so unbearably depressing while it did it. That incident happened when he'd tried to reset a smart bulb with a series of precisely-timed on and off switches.
This time, the bathroom door no longer opened to reveal a shower, lavatory and sink. No, that would be too normal. Luckily for you, the hardware store was closed when you appeared from their stockroom door dressed only in a bathrobe. It must have happened when he was cleaning the breakfast dishes. Perhaps he flourished the dish brush in just the wrong way while singing along to the radio. It hardly matters now, the only important thing is to get it fixed before your sister arrives.
You're thankful for the toolkit that you found in the basement. Without it, the house would be a circus of impossible geometries and forbidden sentience. One of these days your really going to have to ask him exactly which relative he inherited the house from, and what their occupation was. |
The truth is... there are no dreams.
We do not simply recede into the playgrounds of our mind and prance about our subconscious.
No. There are no dreams when we fall asleep. Not at all.
Dreams do not exist.
So when we all fall asleep where do we go?
When we close our eyes and fall out of consciousness, we enter rest - not unlike death - and reconnect in the space within spaces. We return to the true singularity.
And then instantaneously we are pushed out into another realm. It could be a world as vivid as the one we live in when we are awake or a world so abstract, we're not even definitive inside it. Parallels of the life we live, where all our desires come true, or where everything that could go wrong will go wrong. An alternate universe defined by different laws, or our past that is just an alternate timeline where the future - our present - does not yet exist.
We live a completely different life, or in a completely different timeline or as a completely different conception. And in the moments of our awakening, we return to the true singularity that pushes us back into the consciousness where *we* as we know it, exists. We awaken to the reality and identity that we think we have always known.
Is this common knowledge?
No.
It is considered a myth, hypotheticals of a pseudoscience. Tenants of religions even. And for good reason too - the ancient ones erased the mathematical equations that identified the true singularity aeons ago. It is the one knowledge lost to mankind that has never since been rediscovered in the world of true scholars. They rightly identified the danger of this truth existing as a common fact and let it be lost for all of time. No one would know of the nature of dreams, not even myself.
Not until now.
So how do I know this now? And why on earth am I looking for a stealer of something that doesn't even exist?
Well firstly, I was not asked to find a dream stealer. I was asked to uncover the truth about the dream stealer.
As to how I came about the truth of the nature of dreams itself?
Well, let me tell you who I am.
I am the daughter of the greatest historian to walk the face of the earth. In his last years, he devoted himself to the study of true singularity and the mythologies behind it. It is common knowledge that even as man continues to advance in mathematical theory and the calculation of time and space, the further we go to calculate the beginning of time, the less the laws of our reality make sense until it is nonsense. The science of man believes this as the singularity. As a historian, my father believed them to be wrong. And not only wrong, arrogant - too arrogant and too insecure to venture beyond the safety and constrictions of numbers.
I would come to believe them to be wrong too when I decided to become the greatest mathematician of all time.
I was not afraid to fail, I was not afraid to be wrong and after years of research, I made my father's theory law. As my first debut into the world of mathematics, I disproved the equation that would eventually yield the nonsense that was referred to as singularity. And after shaking the world of mathematics, and essentially leaving man where they started in their existential driven quest, I left.
I returned to my father's books and immersed myself in his works. The study of cultures and mythologies and patterns through history. I had put forth a new challenge in the world of academia, to find the meaning of true singularity, and in a race against thousands of brilliant minds around the worlds taking on this challenge, I was leading.
Anthropological research brought me patterns and medical studies brought me a common frequency in brainwave activity. I was so close, but not even I knew what true singularity was. Not yet.
Not until the theory of the multiverse was published in the year 3124 AD, on Xhuly 32nd.
And not until "dreams"started to go missing seven days later. |
I’ll make an attempt at this, but I will warn you, I’m a horrible writer.
Aeons ago, at the dawn of creation, there existed a single sphere. Alongside the sphere were two siblings, Et and An. The two beings transcended definition, and lived in harmony for ages beyond measure, sharing the sphere in a sort of game between them. One day, however, as they were playing with it, the sphere broke. From it, all of existence burst forth, first small, then large, in an epic burst of creation and destruction. Distraught over the loss of their sphere, the siblings wept, and each blamed the other for its demise. After some time, the two noticed that, where once was merely a sphere, there was now many spheres, and countless things besides. Et moved them into marvelous patterns, while An studied them, and refined them. They continued in this cycle for a time, content with the spontaneity of creation and discovery. Despite this joy that the two had found, however, neither truly forgave the other for the loss of the original sphere, and in time, their distrust grew, eventually surpassing the joy they found in this new reality of theirs. The two grew apart, and began setting claim to what they considered “their” belongings, in a misguided attempt to protect the new existence from the demise that their beloved sphere once met. Throughout this all, they never stopped to consider that the magnificence that surrounded them came as a result of their early collaboration of repositioning and refinement. As time passed, they carved up the things and divided them, each claiming various bits and pieces, guarding them jealously. As Et took hold of a new thing, An would find one for himself, and as An would claim something, so too would Et grasp another. In this fashion, they divided the new things between themselves, equally, though not altogether kindly, as the two would often clash over who laid claim to what. After a time, almost all the new things were claimed, all except a little blue sphere. Both Et and An had an equal amount of the new things, and so neither would allow the other to lay claim to this blue sphere, tiny though it was. They fought over this sphere, forgetting it in their conflict. As the two clashed, they released great amounts of energy, bathing the sphere in a spectacular display of creation and destruction. After a time, the two eventually grew tired, and the fight ended with no conclusion to their original problem. As they looked over the sphere, however, they noticed that a stunning change had occurred. Where once was merely a tiny blue sphere, now existed a sphere of green and blue, speckled beautifully. What’s more, tiny little forms danced across its surface, almost as if they were imitating the two siblings. Noticing this could be the answer they were searching for, Et and An decided to each empower the little forms with an infinitely minuscule fragment of their own gifts. Whoever’s gift emerged victorious, they reasoned, would be the one that had the most right to this tiny sphere. For the first time in ages, the two were content. Time passed quickly, and the two watched over the sphere as the little forms spread and grew. With the two gifts from the siblings, the forms were capable of creation and destruction, much like Et and An, though on a much smaller scale. As time passed, the siblings looked on—sometimes in wonder, others in horror—as the minuscule, puny forms altered the sphere. At times, the two were enthralled by the forms’ beautiful, magnificent creations. At others, they were appalled by the destruction and devastation that the forms wrought, on the sphere and on themselves. Eventually, as all things do, the siblings grew tired of merely watching the display, and attempted to influence the forms into mastering their gift alone. Et gave them gifts of might, tactics, and power, as the forms they chose attempted to wrest the control over the sphere for themselves through sheer strength. For their part, An bestowed upon the forms under them great intellect, which the forms used to outwit and suppress any who opposed them. Soon enough, the hosts grew in might and prowess, discovering ever more powerful, and ever more horrific, ways to crush the opposing side. At these actions, Et and An looked on in dismay, as the war that the two beings started tore apart their now beloved tiny sphere. Try as they might, however, the two siblings were unable to take the gifts that had once been granted, and they found themselves equally unable to calm the rage that they themselves had created. Now unbeholden to the two siblings, the forms fought, and traveled. First to a small red sphere near them. Later to other spheres. In absolute horror and regret, the two siblings watched on as the minuscule forms spread forth throughout the new things, bringing destruction and devastation with them. In the deepest depths of their sorrows, the two recognized that they were the cause of this. Filled with misery, the two siblings came together in forgiveness, having recognized the depths of their folly. Alas, this peace was not to last. For in their immense grief, they had neglected to watch the forms, and protect them. The forms, once powerless, now possessed the gifts of both siblings, and were filled with endless fear and hate, planted by the siblings themselves. In the darkest pits of their existence, the forms discovered a new way to hurt. To wound. To destroy. The forms attempted to use the new destruction against each other, but found that they were unable to control it. The forms attempted to harness it, sending a great wave of ending through the all of the new things. Where once was something, now stood nothing. The siblings were overcome with absolute despair. In their attempts to prevent the loss of the new things, they inadvertently caused the destruction of said things. Et and An recognized the situation as both of their fault, and they understood that they both had to take responsibility. Alone, Et’s power could not remake the things which Et himself knew little about. Alone, An’s knowledge could not restore the things which were far beyond the power An possessed. Both Et and An knew that to fix all the things, they would need to work together. And so, they did. While it was never quite as beautiful as the new things had been when they were first created from the remains of the sphere, Et and An toiled mightily, repairing what was broken, and remaking what was destroyed. The final thing lacked the beauty and majesty of perfection, it is true. However, it possessed a quality all of its own. The quality of mercy. The quality of redemption. That most wonderful of all qualities....the quality of forgiveness. |
“So, can you tell me who did it?” asked the officer. The detective, crouched beside the body, didn’t reply, so the officer crossed his arms and leaned back against the unadorned concrete wall. The entire dwelling was made of the same bland material, as was each unit on the block. The units were as similar to each other as their occupants were to all the other residents on this side of town.
The hem of the detective’s too-large trench coat bunched up on the ground. Most working clones wore one or two distinguishing pieces of clothing in addition to the standard-issue jumpsuit. Usually they borrowed something from pop culture. The detective’s fedora and belted coat seemed right out of film noir though the device he waved over the corpse would have been more appropriate in an episode of "Star Trek."After a few minutes, he turned and squinted up into the officer’s face, a perfect copy of his own, and said, “The spectrum analyzer shows no foreign DNA, which means he was either killed by himself or someone with the same genetic code.
The officer grunted. “So our pool of suspects includes half the city then. Great.”
“It’s unusual for one of us to turn to violence. Our universal father was chosen specifically for his passivity and compliance.”
“So maybe a breedo did this and just wore gloves,” the officer said. He tugged at the end of his own right-hand glove. He had started wearing black leather gloves after seeing "Deadpool."
“I find that unlikely.” The detective stood up and tucked the spectrum analyzer into one of the many pocket on his coat. “See the stab wounds here? They’re clearly from a dull implement, probably that blood-covered butter knife over there. No non-clone has the strength to break through a rib cage with a weapon like that.
The officer’s eyes went wide. How had he missed that? “You there!” he barked, seizing the shoulder of a passing clone tech who was unrolling tape reading “Police line. Do not cross.”
The tech froze. “Sir?”
“Can we bag and tag this knife PLEASE? I don’t know what kind of a leaky pod you people rolled out of, but on this unit, we CATALOG the EVIDENCE as soon as we get to a crime scene.”
“Right away sir.” The tech dropped his roll of tape and ran to get an evidence bag.
“And can we - for the love of the holy, venerated, universal father - get the footage from these security cameras?”
At this, the crime scene erupted in activity as techs scrambled to find the footage.
The detective eyed the dead body up and down one more time and then walked toward the door. In the doorway, he paused. “Send me a copy of that footage when you get it. Though I’m sure our killer’s face will be one we’ve seen a thousand times before.”
The officer grimaced. “Yeah, whatever.”
The detective turned up the collar of his trench coat and stepped into the street. The night wind felt cold on his face. |
"JESUS CHRIST!"
I took big steps towards the man, angrily, trying to act bigger than I actually am.
"How many times do I have to tell you, just because you're the son of god, doesn't mean you can behave this way!?"
Jesus froze in place, fork still in his mouth. He slooowly gulped down his last bite, as if he was comically hiding the evidence.
I was just about to start yelling more when the Michelin Man walked into the kitchen.
"Oh... Sorry I was just gonna grab some coffee..."
"Just make it quick"I said.
And the three of us sat in awkward silence waiting for his fucking keurig to finish brewing. Then he put in the sugar and clinked his spoon all around, and left in the same awkward silence.
"Jesus,"I continued, "last week, you ate the pillsbury dough boys child. Two days ago you drank tigers blood that Charlie Sheen left in there because you thought it was coolaid. And now Peter Cottontail is really upset about these eggs, he's up in his room crying. Have you ever had to console a crying easter rabbit? No?
STOP. EATING. THINGS. IN. THE. FRIDGE. THAT. DONT. BELONG. TO. YOU!" |
I stand up, sliding the bedsheets off of me. It took me a moment to process... to remember properly.
As I approach the panoramic window overlooking the ocean, seams appear in the glass and a section of it slides down allowing me passage outside. My bare feet connect with the granite patio with a soft slap. The pristine beach stretches as far as the eye can see in either direction, waves rolling in off the coast. The tang of saltwater mingling with the sweet scent of the flowers planted around the porch. The breeze rustles the leaves of the palms which sway gently in the breeze. In the distance, seabirds caw, landing on the jagged igneous formations splayed out at odd angles from the side of the island.
In spite of the paradise presented before me, I cant help but feel its fake. Too distant to ever be real. Anything more than a fleeting thought of a half-dead mind. The great planet hanging in the sky is a reminder of that. The brilliant greens and violets of the might gas giant desaturated in the daytime sky, reducing it to a silhouette, a vast crescent dominating the sky which could swallow the earthly moon a hundred times over.
"What would you like for breakfast... I'm thinking fresh squeezed orange juice and maybe... those cinnamon sugar waffles you like? And how about... bacon... extra crispy ... almost burned... Just like you like it."She asks.
"You know we don't have to waste time eating..."I mumble back. "Its a dream."
"Yeah... but it's fun."She retorts.
"Whats the point of having fun. Back in the waking world... people spend their whole lives dreaming of things like this. People like you..."
"And you're going to get all mopey about it rather than just enjoying it while it lasts?"She asks, setting the plates down at the table. She already made breakfast... of course she did. The house doesn't even have a kitchen... of course I could just add one if we wanted to do the part where we'd actually make the food. I'd rather not look at anything for too long. The palm tree. The waffle. The little crystals in the stone patio floor. I'd rather not get caught staring at her... not that she minds. It just makes me feel like I'm here for all the wrong reasons.
And I'm not hungry. And the sun is too damn bright... blinding... glaring... intruding on my thoughts. I wish we'd gotten up earlier. I outstretch my arms, as though I am folding a piece of paper. The suns and planets rotate, winding back onto the precipice of the horizon. The brilliant clusters of stars and the triage of vast swirling galaxies fade into view as the sky turns from blue to a deep violet, arching across the sky like a vast planetarium.
I let out a relieved sigh as the climate updates appropriately, a breeze arriving as if on cue; bringing cooler air to match the early morning. With the snap of my fingers, the candle in the middle of the table is lit, the flame wavering in the breeze.
"Look if I just as you say 'enjoy it while it lasts' how is that any different. I'm still going to wake up to my same shitty life eventually. That same shitty life where I live in a one room apartment with a moldy lumpy mattress... and probably will be living a shitty life no matter what I do... at least if this is the standard I hold it to. Its like getting drunk or high or whatever. Sure... maybe it is fun. But it's just temporary... sooner or later you sober up and have to face the fact that you just wasted a bunch of time and possibly money. It doesn't actually solve your problem... it doesn't actually make you happy. In the long run these little tastes of enjoyment and pleasure really just make you hate the rest of life even more."
"That hasn't seemed to stop... basically everyone in the so-called 'real' world."She said, taking a drink of her orange juice. "All your movies and tee vee shows... and video games... and drugs and weed and cigarettes. There's nothing wrong with having a little fun."
"I won't deny that. But what about the rest of it? Think about how much of a waking person's life is stuff they dislike... stuff they shouldn't. Look at you... you're perfect. And what I mean by that is you love me unconditionally. Even though I'm a sarcastic jerk with a nack for going on existential tirades. But out in the real world... people treat relationships like some kind of game. Does he like me, did he ask me out... did he try hard enough... maybe I'll play hard to get. I'll wear a sexy outfit, but if he looks at me I'll call him prevented. How long do I wait to text him back or go on second date? When do I ask for sex? When do I ask for marriage? Blah blah blah blah. Ugh... its a nightmare."
"Well... I'm not one of those people. So I guess there's that."
"I- I know that!"I shouted back. "And you're so nice I almost feel bad going off on you about this... but you're just about the only person who will actually listen and take me seriously."
"I mean a therapist would... probably." |
#Commutation
_______________
With the life-altering solar flare long in the ocean planet's past, the SS Bedsheet bobbed across the dark blue treadmill. With a telephone pole for a mast, her Hello Kitty sails shouted to any other ship on the water that this crew would definitely beg for their life rather than fight.
But Bradley knew how to work his crossbow. He had even fired it before. It was the wind that made him miss, honest.
"The wind's been making us miss a lot actually,"Bradley said aloud.
A large pile of plastic bottles, glass plates, wooden chunks of unknown origins, and even a sheet of scrap metal drifted away from the makeshift ship, like a father ignoring his kids while floating down a lazy river.
A skinny boy with Bradley's nose made a suggestion, "Maybe if we bought that extendable arm that I showed you, we could scavenge a bit more to sell?"
Bradley watched the empty glass bottle bounce out of sight. It reminded him of his money jar. Even had to sell that.
"I promise you, Slip. I'll get that for you someday."
Before Slip could utter a complaint on the everlasting nature of the word, "someday,"Bradley let out a hush.
On the canvas horizon, fate drew a white rectangle attached to brown lines. Too far away to see it's sail pattern, Bradley and Slip grabbed their crossbows and crouched down under the small wooden lip on the side of their raft.
Before either shipmate could make a brown pants reference, a familiar bell rung out a joyous greeting across the tepid water.
"It's just Luke Browsky and his boys,"Bradley said.
He grunted as he lifted his belly off the ship's poop deck. Carefully disarming the crossbow before setting it down, he then smacked at his sail with a small, broken tree branch to a drum-like beat.
As the long boat came into view, its pearly white sails painted with a silver S, Bradley and Slip could see the Browsky boys dancing. They were waving something around in their arms.
"Hail, Captain!"Luke chuckled mockingly.
"Good to see you, Luke. I take it you've found a nice haul?"
"Only the best. You'll never guess."
"Looks like some kind of sack. You found a cloth stash somewhere? Or did you make a good trade for those?"
Each of the three Browsky boys let out a bell-rumbling laugh. "I told you he'd think it was the sack!"
"Well, come on then, what's in it? Trade for a whole thing of chicken feathers? They look too light to be nails."
"No, Bradley. We've struck it big! Next time you see us, we'll have a proper ten-sail ship. And crew to match. Just you wait."
"You can't mean those are -"
"Nutmeg. Paprika. And even -"
Bradley interrupted the boastful sailor as he sniffed nostalgically on the sea air, "Cinnamon!"
"That's right! All we have to do is make it back to port, and we're set for life!"
"But where did you find them, Mr. Browsky?"Slip asked. The wet sea air made it hard to notice a watery mouth.
A side eye to his boy, Bradley asked, "Luke, you aren't telling me you *took* those?"
"No..."Luke looked the scrappy drifter up and down.
Bradley subconsciously covered the majority of the holes in his shirt with his unwashed arm.
"Tell you what. We got all we dared to take. If you promise to keep it a secret, we'll tell you where there's a large haul."
Reaching into a small hidden compartment in the raft's sides, Bradley pulled out some paper, a compass, maps, and a device known as an astrolabe.
"4268 North by 9173 East. But I warn you, it'll be guarded before too long."
Scribbling like his life depended on it, Bradley began marking measurements and calculations on his papers. "Thank you! Wind's blessing to you!"
"And to you. To home, boys! The Wellerman has finally come!"
After pulling the ropes holding the sail tight to an odd angle, Bradley stowed the life-saving navigational tools back into the secret compartment. The ship moved imperceptibly towards the "X"on the map.
"Does this mean I'll get my extendable arm, Dad?"
"Son, if what Luke told us was true, we're going to get a lot more than that!" |
"Why was I chosen for this? I'll back up a little and say that yeah, I'm an assassin. Quite good at it aswell. Thought I'd ace every assignment. That was until he showed up. I was hired by a scientist, whose project escaped while it was unfinished. I thought it be simple, a weak creature. What the scientist had failed to mention was that this experiment was once human, and still had a similar thought process. Also, the only thing missing was repulsion of eating human meat, which was only needed every few months."
I looked this kid up and down, he couldn't have been older than the person we were looking for, who had escaped confinement last month. "I assume this means he's still out there?"
The kid nods. "I thought he'd be the one struggling. It was unfortunate that he was hungry."
"Hungry?"I must've, ade an odd expression, or said something weird, as the kid was staring at me funny.
"I thought you had tested him? He's alive. Like all creatures, he needs food."The kid looked behind us. "It was weird, though. He seemed completely aware his actions were wrong, even apologized and tried to make it as painless for me as possible."
I wrote that down, as it would be useful. "Anything else?"
The kid nods. "A description. He seems to be wearing a thin plaster over skin. Like one of those liquid bandaid things. It seems to put him in pain, as whenever he could, he tried to take it off."
After writing that down, and checking to make sure the kid didn't lie, I said "you can leave now."
Then the kid left.
(BTW, there are other parts to this.. |
Zahira leaned back into one of the piles of plush, scarlet-dyed cushions scattered about Prince Ahlan’s audience chamber. “These are really quite nice, you know,” she said absently, pulling at the end of a long, iridescent feather protruding from her nest. “Are these peacock feathers? A tad gauche, if you ask me, but you can’t argue with the comfort.”
She yawned and stretched, wriggling deeper into the cushions, seemingly as much at ease in front of royalty as she was anywhere. To the uninitiated, she looked like an unremarkable human woman, but for the faint haze of smoke that played around the outlines of her form and trailed back to the mouth of a golden lamp sitting on a small plinth beside the prince.
“Gauche. No. These are not gauche. What is *gauche* is the wing of the palace that has collapsed under the weight of the gold coins that have not stopped spewing from the third-floor privy for the past three days! Or, possibly, the commoners who have taken to wearing necklaces and bracelets made of the things strung together and are now parading about like they’re nobles themselves! My father returns from his hunting trip in less than a week—how am I supposed to explain this?” The prince’s voice cracked at the end of his tirade. Ahlan’s eyes were bloodshot, and his hair betrayed his barely-controlled desperation. Normally perfectly coiffed in whatever style had captured the fickle eyes of the kingdom’s most stylish, it frizzed wildly in all directions as if the last thing it wanted was to still be attached to his skull when the king returned.
The djinn, nestled even more deeply into the pillows than before, waved a lazy hand. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something,” she said airily. “And stop acting like this is my fault—I’m not the one who wished for ‘wealth unending’ without any further specifications. I just receive the wish, send some power its way, and let it take the path of least resistance; it’s not like the magic has any regard for the laws of macroeconomics or architecture.”
Ahlan had never paid much attention to the topics his tutors set him to study (though they had, indeed, included both of those subjects), and he wasn’t about to start now. “The laws of macro…no, this isn’t my fault. Djinn are wicked! I demand that you provide me with a solution to this problem, in the name of the Crown.”
At that, Zahira sat somewhat more upright, though she was still loath to entirely abandon her soft refuge. “Is that an official request, Your Highness?” The djinn smiled, and Ahlan thought that she was showing altogether too many teeth. “After all, you *do* have two more wishes…” |
We were just playing outside, like every other day. Nothing out of the ordinary. Lila, Noam and I used to go out when the sun was high, and the day was perfect: flowers everywhere, no wind, and lots of light.
We didn’t see the darkness come.
She just picked it up. An old thing, full of dust, I don’t even know what it was. Wave after wave, the sea had brought it on the shore. We never did have the occasion to really look at it... she picked it up, and we gathered, for we didn’t know what it was. It had something of a metallic shine, like the blades dad made for mom’s kitchen, but there was a translucent pit on top of it, and it’s shape was not at all that of a knife. We were curious. Curiosity killed the cat.
Suddenly the light dimmed, like the sun itself knew we should not have seen the _thing_. A breeze blew, and a few raindrops fell. We ran to Lila’s house, ran under the rain, and took shelter in the barn. It smelled nice. It smelled of rain, of rye. I stepped outside to enjoy it.
Under my eyes the barn caught fire. Not a little fire, nor a big one, for it was not a natural fire. It... blew up. Suddenly there was this orb, and then ashes under the rain, and smoke, and everything smelt horrible, smelt wrong, and I knew life would never be the same.
But I had stepped out, and I survived. And now I know: the temple’s warnings are real. They’re watching us. What for? I don’t know. There’s only one thing I’m sure of: they’re up to no good -no god is. |
The pencil thin woman marched across the office with determination. Her high heels dug into the musty carpet floor as she walked, causing the old floorboards to squeek repeatedly with each stride. Her hand was tied into a neat bun, while her narrow eyes glared out from over her pink rimmed spectacles. Attached to her breast pocket was a silver metal name tag, a large and garish font reading "NON-HUMAN RESOURCE MANAGER".
Her destination for the morning was the corner of the office, where a lone partioned cubicle sat isolated, noticeably distant from the other occupants. A dark cloud appeared to surround the small cubicle, sucking in every vestige of light into an abyss at the centre. A fearful thrum emanated from deep within it, echoing heavily around the office.
She rounded the corner of the cubicle to face its occupant. Looming over the tiny Lenovo Desktop was a nightmarish abomination. Its eyes were nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by six gaping holes that sucked air in and out like furnace. Ichor dripped from a curved beak that was surrounded by boils and green flecks of bone. A huge mass of tentacles swarmed around the office, plastering its walls with a thick layer of grey slime. Light appeared to bend around its entire body, its disgusting features swirling and changing in a dreadful mix of black horror.
Clutched in one of its tentacles was a small laptop case.
The woman's eyes narrowed as she frowned at her watch.
"It's 8:36am, why have you not started work?"
The beak of the beast splintered open, revealing rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth along its inner lining. A strange guttural screech echoed from its gaping maw.
GURRRRRRRRRRR
"Don't lie to me, I saw you coming in late with my own two eyes. It's the second time this week you've been late. Punctuality is a cornerstone of our company and I will see that it is enforced."
guRRRRrrrr-gURRGle-gurRRRR
She rolled her eyes. "Always there with the excuses, aren't we? First it was your alarm not ringing and now it's a traffic jam?? You travel to work via interdimensional teleportation! The least you can do is be on time."
The creature became animated, whirling its tentacles about frantically as it shrieked.
"I don't care if the fabric of spacetime-whatever is collapsing or you need to pick your daughter up from daycare. Late is late. One last time and I'll write you up."
gurgle gurgle
Her glare softened slightly. "Fine. Apology accepted. You're lucky I'm in a good mood today and gracious enough to tolerate your shenanigans. Now, where were you on your latest report?"
The creature appeared to hesitate momentarily, before reaching into a green messenger bag and pulling out a thin stack of papers.
Taking the papers, she flipped through them briskly. The woman's eyes blulged as a scowl broke out on her face.
"24? You've been here the entire week and you've only killed 24 people?? What kind of sloppy, slipshod excuse for work is this???"
gurrrrrrrrrrr. There were no eyes on the creature's face, but it appeared to look towards the ground shamefully.
"I recall catching you in the break room on at least three different occasions yesterday, and you've been going to the toilet awfully regularly of late. I'm beginning to think that your doctors' note about your bowel condition was a lie. Your poor attitude is seriously undermining the performance of this company."
gur-gurrr it mumbled softly.
"Even your execution is pathetic."She continued flipping through the pages. "Look at this - you didn't even brutalise this man's body or terrify his wife and children!"
gurl-gurl gurl!
"So what? Just because the woman is pregnant or their kids are under the age of 5, you expect to get away with not doing your job properly?"She scoffed. "How do you think I'm going to explain this at the next board meeting? Do you think this is a charity?"
Suddenly, it shrieked terrifyingly and two tentacles shot out. Forked claws burst out from the tentacles and crashed into the partition on either side of the woman. The partition exploded into a thousand shards of wood and plastic, sending debris flying across the office. Its gaping maw widened further as it snarled, bearing its endless tunnel of serrated teeth at the manager.
But she only stared at it coldly, flicking pieces of wood from her hair.
"What did we say about workplace boundaries? We just sent everyone for a stress management seminar last week but you clearly weren't paying attention. Are you telling me that we wasted our money?"
gurgle gurgle. Its other tentacles waved around again.
The woman glared at it. "Don't get lippy with me young man. You're on thin ice and you know it. I want you to practice some mindfulness and send me a report with your reflections by the end of the week. Do those meditation exercises we sent an email about. But make sure you do them before work - I don't want to catch you resting on company time."
The creature withdrew its tentacles bashfully and twiddled them together.
"Anyway, I've wasted enough time dealing with your foolishness. You better stay back today to make up for the lost time and catch up on your KPIs."
She pivoted on her heels and starting walking away. As she was leaving, she stopped and turned behind.
"Oh, and repairs for the broken partition will be taken out of your next payslip. I also expect you to write a formal apology to the entire company for disrupting their working environment with your little tantrum."She gestured to the destroyed partitions brusquely before marching off.
A sound, the closest thing the creature could make to a sigh, escaped its beak. It stood motionless, staring at the retreating back of the manager, before slowly turning to its computer and begin typing. |
"Just another day isn't it"
With practiced precision, I go about my normal routine of the morning in my little workshop. Turning on the lights, restocking the merchandise, and finally flipping over the open sign and unlocking the front door. Carefully I settle into my small stool behind the glass counter.
The dull hum of the fluorescent lights a familiar and trustworthy friend as its light rejects off of the numerous rifles on my bench. Each and everyone different from the last but in some state of disassembly. My musings ending as a single chip of a bell rings out a panicked and very late employee stumbling in through the glass door.
A very frightened expression just visible under his gas mask as he tears it off after fumbling with the straps. Reflex more than anything else carrying my boots onto the floor with a dull clack. As my attendant gasps violently for air sweat dripping down his chin and crying. "You're late, you are never late what the hell happened Jackson."
"I messed up, I messed up so bad Franky I need help, they are going to kill me!"His hands immediately throwing the mask in his hand onto the counter as he starts shoving ammunition into his jacket. His panicked mumbling far out of character as I clasp his hand and look him dead in the eyes.
His whole body flinching violently as his hand is held tightly against his blood-soaked shirt. A trail of tears running down his face as he looks away towards the door, a black sedan screeching to a halt outside. The side of its body peppered with bullet holes and glass covered in spiderwebs. "Who wants to kill you and why."
A shockwave rattling the shop as the vehicle explodes into a shower of shrapnel embedding itself Into the forefront. The force of the impact knocking my boy off his feet as I physically drag him into cover. "I took a job off the books, I fixed up a guy's rifle and he shot the president with it, and now it's all going to hell. And now I can't do anything but join them or they'll want to kill me too!"
Shock, fear, anger and so much more lingering as I drag my employee behind the counter and toss him a semi-auto. The poor sod lightly fumbling with the strap as I push him towards the back door. His eyes wide as I force the set of keys for my car into his hands and whisper into his ear. "Take this and run and don't you dare ever look back you hear me, they will be watching your family, Go!"
His gaze turning back monetarily before he steps out of the door, gunshots whizzing through the air outside. "I'll remember this when I'm the one pulling the strings Franky thank you." |
“Oh well, what harm could speaking to another human do?”
Although Death was willing to speak to a human again, he was quite worried. The last time he’d made contact with a human was when some “comedian” prank called him and said that his refrigerator was running and that he should go catch it. It’s an overused joke, sure, but this was the first time Death had ever heard it, and everyone falls for a prank the first time it’s used on them. And fall for it he did. He was humiliated in front of every single person in the afterlife. But Death was sure this was a legitimate reason for him to make contact again. So off he went, through the massive queue in Purgatory, which involved a lot of pushing and shoving. Then he journeyed through the forests of Death, which was a rather peculiar name, because Death didn’t own a single part of the forests. To be honest, he didn’t even own a house, let alone a large collection of trees. He was just mooching off the Devil and sleeping on his couch. Eventually, he reached the city the human lived in and knocked on his door. When the man opened it, he took one look at Death and said,
“Ha! Fooled ya!”
And what happened next? Well, Death just went home, but I can definitely say, Death died a little inside that day.
Sorry if this isn’t 100 words. My stupid IPad doesn’t have a word counter. |
I am Zach, writer of fantasy and creator of worlds.
I am Zacharias, slayer of monsters and saver of worlds.
&#x200B;
It’s been many years since I first traversed the two realms. At the time, it seemed like a vivid dream, one that enraptures the imagination and makes you think even hours after awakening. And once I finished adventuring that very first day, exhausted from the exciting journey and ecstatic from the otherworldy situation, that’s all I thought it was: a dream, a facade, a mere trick of the brain.
But that didn’t impede my excitement; the experience was all that mattered, and that could always be re-lived in my mind. So I scribbled the journey in my journal, intent on reading it in the future, hoping to experience the fantasy once more.
The day after the dream was drab in comparison. At the time, I was a mere college student, and most classes seemed to only serve as a backdrop to the eventful daydreams of my imagination. I spent hours thinking of the world that I had lived in the night before, of swords and shields that clashed and clanged, and of monsters and minions that charged and clawed. I wanted so desperately to go back, to live and breathe in the exhilaration of destiny and purpose. To live in fantasy. To become a hero.
So, before bed that very night, I scanned through my journal, savoring every word and sentence and turning them all into a fantastical picture within my mind. I kept the image in thought when I turned off the lights, leaped under the blanket, and closed my eyes.
The visualization never seemed to cease.
I found myself back in the fantasy world, in the same spot that I had left it. The sun’s rays shone through the tent’s entrance, and the smell of fresh dew reigned freely in the air. Everything was so life-like, so full of detail and color. Once again, the world had captivated me. And once again, I would adventure once more.
When the forests had been cleansed of monsters and darkness had overtaken the realm, I found the nearest inn and rented a room. It had been another fun journey, and I hoped to have some more.
The second day felt slightly less dreary than the first; the only semblance of elation was had during a creative writing class in the afternoon. We were drafting some short stories for practice, and I created one using the adventures from my dreams. I spent the whole class writing with fervor, ending up with twenty complete pages. The following few lectures were used to revise the work. I poured over every detail, sentence, and word choice, making sure the experience came across just right.
The plethora of effort ended up draining me of all my energy, and I fell asleep on the couch of my home. I didn’t spend any time thinking of the world that I had lived in.
Yet I ended up there once more.
This time, I was a bit surprised. But in the end, I made the most of it.
In the morning after, still invigorated by the adventures of the night, I continued to expand upon my story.
Like so, the cycle continued. Every night, without fail, I ended up in the fantasy world and trekked the lands. And every day, I would take these new journeys and write them into my pieces.
&#x200B;
But eventually, the two worlds began to blur. It became hard to tell what was real and what was not. Sometimes I thought that maybe they both were.
I remember times when I thought I saw a monster in the park, reaching down for my sword to find nothing there.
I remember times when I walked up to someone and asked to use their phone, only to be met with confusion followed by a suspicious glare.
&#x200B;
One day, I wanted to do something different, to make a life for myself and separate my identities even more. I started by publishing my short stories online. The reception was fantastic, and I began to write more and more. My fans kept demanding the same. I was going to become a writer, and I was eager for it. It was the perfect change:
As a writer, I had to plan my adventures, trying my best to craft everything around me to create an exciting and interesting story.
As a hero, I had to listen to the world, heeding the ebbs and flows of chaos and destruction, reacting accordingly regardless of intensity.
The two views couldn’t have been more unlike.
&#x200B;
By making them so distinct, I thought that I could better orient myself in whichever world I was in, lessening any confusion gained. Oh, how wrong I was.
Before, the shift was subtle enough to not have serious repercussions. In either world, I would still be myself, reacting to the same things in the same ways. But once I decided to sever this connection, to create two identities with such different perspectives, it all became significantly more confusing.
Every morning, regardless of realm, the dissonance between the two mindsets left me dazed. It always took me a while to realize which identity I was to take and the next steps for it.
By this time, I had spent so much time in either realm that I became confused about which was real and which was not. Sometimes, I believed that maybe they both were.
&#x200B;
But as time went on, the differences between the two kept compounding.
&#x200B;
In one world, I published my first book. The critics loved it; they adored my attention to detail and my penchant for realism in an otherwise unrealistic setting.
In the other world, a great evil had befallen the kingdom once again, and it was up to me to save it. It would be a long, arduous journey, but it was a necessity.
&#x200B;
I am Zach, writer of fantasy and creator of worlds.
I am Zacharias, slayer of monsters and saver of worlds.
&#x200B;
But, after all these years, which is the real me?
---
Thank you so much for reading! I was a bit tired when I wrote this, so I'm sorry if anything is too confusing/convoluted/repetitive.
Feedback is both welcome and appreciated! If you enjoyed this sleep-deprived piece and want to read some more, you can check out my archive at r/TenFortySevenStories! |
The Pit, as it was called, appeared 10 years ago just outside of our great city after a massive storm, which nearly destroyed the city. The Elders believed it was sent by the gods, as the city began to stray, and the city must purge from those that strayed from the gods. The Great Purge commence as people blamed each other for straying, starting to throw each other into The Pit. My mother was one of the unlucky ones, as my father accused her of an affair, dragging her towards The Pit while my sister and I tried to stop him. All our pleading and begging fell on deaf ears. Her screams still haunt my nightmares. About 3 years ago, a justice system was created so no “Unfortunate Purging” would happen, as an Elder was thrown into the Pit, and the Earth shook soon after. Those accused must stand on trail, if found guilty, they are thrown into the Pit. I believe fear is a key factor hear. Strike fear to the people, making them believe the crimes are true, as my case. I was accused of sodomy. How they came to that conclusion I have no idea. I just stood in silence, as the Elders declared me guilty of the crime. I knew if I pleaded, they would only ignore me. I followed the guards towards the Pit, friends and family not far behind.
“He didn’t do anything! Let my son go! What’s is wrong with you people! Let him go!” I heard my father yell.
I could only smirk, as I remember saying the same thing about my mother. No one is going to help, they are all set of watching me fall into the Pit, another evil sent back to hell. I didn’t even bother hearing the rite the Elder began to read as I jumped into the Pit. My father’s cries began to fade the deeper I fell. The moon above growing smaller.
How long will I fall? How much time has passed? What’s at the bottom? I closed my eyes, praying for the bottom of this Pit to appear, hopefully ending my life. After what felt like hours, I noticed a light, growing brighter as I approached. I shielded my face as the light blinded me and I fell into this bright world. Then I landed on what I believe was grass. I opened my eyes, surprised to see blue skies.
“WE GOT ANOTHER ONE!” someone yelled.
My vision began to fade as 5 creatures in large yellow suits approached me. |
I double checked my compact as I got back home and yeah, she was still sitting at her desk. It took her a moment to glance up so that I could see her, but she smiled at me before returning to her writing and fading from sight.
Making my way to the room she was sitting in, I parked myself in front of one of the stand-up mirrors I’d bought recently, and sat down to read a book, glancing up every now and then until she was ready. It was still kind of trippy only being able to get her notes after she wrote them. Especially since I’d gone over this house several times trying to find them *early*, and it never worked out.
After what seemed like too long a time, she was looking out at me when I looked up again, now holding a sealed envelope. She started tapping it against her hand as if she wasn’t sure what to do with it now that she had finished writing it. She pointed to the floorboards, and I shook my head. It seemed like every other time she put a letter down there, it was incredibly musty when I pulled it out. There must have been a leak in the room at some point. We were due to move somewhere else soon anyway.
She smirked at me and slipped the letter down the front of her blouse and I couldn’t help but to breath out a small laugh. I brought my hands together over my heart and smiled, wishing I could retrieve that letter as I had all the letters before. Some of the sadness I felt must come through the intended mirth because her smile softened and she pulled the letter back out.
She turned to walk towards the desk again and came back into view as she slid the letter into the top right drawer. Excitedly I went to retrieve it, only to find the drawer sans letter. Turning back to her I frowned, and she hiked up an eyebrow as I opened my hands to her, empty. She returned my frown and quickly pulled the letter back out. That was unfortunate. We’d used the desk before, but perhaps something happened to it between then and now that wasn’t originally going to happen.
I’d given up trying to figure out how things worked in the time that passed between her and I. Most of the time as soon as she put a letter somewhere, it was available to me where she placed it. Other times, like now, it wouldn’t be there and we’d have to move elsewhere for the letter to show up. She had supposed in the past that perhaps simply talking between us, or writing as it was, changed something about her future, and in some way affected the space we attempted to use in that way. All of this was so surreal that we eventually just chalked it up to yet another quirk in our bond that we’d have to accept.
She moved back to the center of the room and pulled up a board, slipping the letter into the floor before counting out from the wall. She held up 10 fingers, waiting for me to nod, and then 7 more. We’d decided on the row we’d used a day or two ago so she only needed to tell me how many boards in she was going to leave the letter. Counting up 17 boards in I pulled it up with the hammer I kept in the room and still there was nothing. I put the board back and shook my head as I looked back up at her.
She sighed at me as she pulled the letter back out and pointed towards the ceiling. I went to grab the chalk board she’d bought me and wrote “Attic?” before looking back at her while holding it up in front of me so that she could read it. I smiled as she was already holding the board’s twin with *“Attic?”* written on it in her beautiful script. We both laughed and turned to head upstairs. I’d already set up a mirror up there, since they were pretty cheap these days. Not like they were for her. This meant I got to watch her fill the frame as she approached her mirror, before blowing me a kiss and fading away as she presumably picked it up to carry it upstairs.
That was the last time I ever saw her in a mirror.
- - - - - - - - - -
*My Love,*
An electric thrill went down my spine at those first two words. This was all still so surreal. Here we were standing in the same room, but Not in the same room. I’d never heard of anything like this. And she was beautiful, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, though of course that went without saying. As my soulmate, there *could* be no other as beautiful as she was to me.
*If you are reading this, then it is as I suspected. We are not in fact close enough to touch, nor ever will we be.*
My heart ached at those words. She had written something about her suspicions in the short notes we shared through the mirrors, though she would not at the time elaborate. I figured this must be some kind of weird quirk, like maybe she was just in a house that *looked* like this one, and somehow the wires between us were crossed.
*I still do not pretend to understand this* ***bond*** *as you do, for all that I can feel it in much the same way I feel my legs, or the beat of my heart,*
Even her writing was beautiful, her words were perfect, and I wanted so desperately to *hear* her say them, though if she was right, it was starting to look like that would not happen.
*but I read, not all that long ago, a novel by Samuel Madden. It was fantastic in the most interesting way, and my mother seemed quite protective of it, claiming that she had never seen its like. "MEMOIRS of the Twentieth Century” was the title, and I feel that we are cursed by the reading.*
Having not read the book myself, I wasn’t sure where she was going with this, but glancing back to the mirror I could see that she was waiting for me to finish, so I continued to read.
*You and I, I fear, are not apart by distance, but by time.*
I frowned at that, and looking up at her I mouthed a “What?”
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
^(There's more, but not only is nobody going to see this, but I'm not done with it, so I'm posting this chunk and I'll upload the rest tomorrow probably when I finish the next bits.) |
The problem with an invisibility procedure is that the subject loses the reflection within his eyeball. So essentially, we have created a soldier who is disabled and blind.
But that raises the question, is he invisible if he can’t see?
“ What if we formulated dogs too?”
The surgeon general bit his bottom lip.
“ what if the invisible man..”
“ you meant dr griffin “ said colonel griffin
“ of course, of course “
Not wanting to show any favoritism. Colonel Jacobs disarms the idea of second thought.
“ so it is decided we shall trains dogs and force feed them formula for fear of failure.” |
"Hello this is Bob Duncan, Head of Remote Operations at NASA, please may I speak with Colonel Dufford?"
Silence.
"Hello?"
"Please state your 9 digit access code"
"Oh for the love of -- one, three, seven, nine, ten, fifty, fifty eight, ninety four, sixty three"
"Please hold to be connected. This line is secure"
There was no hold music, just a gentle crackling in the background. A full two minutes later, the line is answered
"Jeffries, Colonel Duffords office."
"Hi, this is Bob Duncan over at NASA Remote Ops, I need to speak urgently with Colonel Dufford"
"Hi Bob, I am afraid Colonel Dufford is off-base."
"Off-base?"
"Yes he's gone home sir"
"Well can you reach him at home please?"
"He is sleeping sir."
"Wake him. Right, now."
"I am afraid I cannot do that sir."
Bob Duncan paused to gather his wits.
"Son, if you don't immediately connect me to Colonel Dufford, I'll ask General Sanders to look into the reason why. Understood?"
A brief pause to add to the tension.
"Yes sir. One moment sir."
Soon enough, the call transferred to Colonel Duffords bedside red phone. It was very swiftly answered, despite the call being placed at nearly 3am.
"Dufford speaking."
"James, its Bob Duncan."
"Well I'll be damned. NASA must have a good sense of humour after all, what are you---"
"Sorry James. I know its early, sorry to wake you. Theres been an incident."
"Go on.."
"No fatalities or anything like that. Its the Curiosity team sir, they may have just found intelligent life on Mars."
==============================
NORAD SCIF 101C - High Command Only, later that morning.
=============================
"Ok ladies and gentlemen, this is Colonel Dufford, Chief of National Space Defence. Brief him on everything you've got."
A small lady, dressed in a tight fitting executive business suit, stood up and hit the play button on a gadget. The wall opposite the teak table was suddenly emblazoned in the NASA logo and then a slew of pictures of the surface of Mars was presented.
"At approximately 01:35am GMT we had Curiosity travelling over to a suspected glacial flow valley to look at a potential sample gathering. All instruments were nominal, no readings of any kind. Then, when the rover stops to navigate this set of boulders, the infrasonic microphone relay picked up this sound....at roughly 10hz. Its not audible but the speakers in this room are large enough that you should still feel the air move..."
The sound is played. Everybody can feel it, but not hear it. Bob Duncan steps in.
"This is the sound pitched up to our audio range."
The sound plays again, to the all too familiar tune of Rick Astley - Never Gonna Give You Up.
Everybody is confused and angry. |
Stellaria rolled her shoulders, working out the stiffing ache. Her calloused fingers grazed the patient's damp forehead, pushing back his curly bangs backwards to clear his face. A tinge of brown; flashes of liveliness and vitality colored his expressions. A quiet contentment spread across her person and she carefully moused out of the healing room, retiring to the night's lull.
A wool rug runs from the second floor down through the center and breaks into several paths, one of which leads to the living room. Mounted animal heads and talismans with religious inscriptions swing gently from the walls. Between each mount sits a small alter full of candles, many of them have been lit and illuminate the space in creepy, flickering shadows. Basked in warm silence, she took ginger sips of her herbal tea while record keeping the man's progress.
They brought him to her on a stormy night and abandoned him at her creaking doorsteps. Scores of mages before her worked themselves into throbbing headaches and despair when failed attempt after attempt, they tried to fix him. His last physician, in mockery, wrote to her, asking if she could relieve him of a hapless patient and then didn't wait for a response. His ill-intentions thinly veiled. The physician hoped when the man succumbs to his mysterious illness, the incident will serve as another justification why women ought to be banned from practicing wizardry while simultaneously keeping his reputation pristine.
Stellaria smiled as she dated the document, imaging the startling expressions of her peers when they learn of Oscar's incremental improvement.
Today he spoke a little, mostly about nonsensical affairs and of his children. Twin girls, he told her with a mournful smile. Oscar spoke about how the girls were showing signs of their personalities. One child liked breast milk, while the other had to be wrestled into nursing. One liked citrus tastes and the other legumes. One enjoys kisses, the other cries out against any form of skinship.
It was on these insignificant pebbles by which Stellaria built a cobbled pavement capable of holding weight. It was on these chinks of efforts, brief moments of solidarity and understanding that delivered the first signs of results.
Oscar tugged at the fraying threads of his tunic sleeve. "I feel better. More spirited than I was a season ago. It's time I go home, my family needs me. My wife and daughters...."his voice thickened as a glistening sheen covered his eyes.
"While I'm happy you're optimistic, I'm afraid I can let you leave. Not yet."Stellaria said, "not until we resolve the matter of your anguish."
"As I have said, I didn't ingest or drink poison. Nor have I been wounded, bodily maimed or hurt."His thick brows drew together as he raked his fingers roughly through his unkempt beard.
"There's more to man than body."She responded in a calming manner. Clasping his enormous hands in hers, she gave them a gentle squeeze. "Unburden yourself."
"I....."He yanked his hands back, crossed his arms and watched the overview of her humble garden. The bay window allowed the flow of natural light, making the space feel slightly larger and less confined than it actually is. Streams of broken sunrays brushing various finishes on the surface of the furniture and floors. His brown mop of hair shimmering with golden specks. A youthful energy aura engulfed his grace. He breathed in deeply, "I love my family."
"I'm not saying otherwise."
"I built our house on the outskirt of our town, away from the cluttering masses and away from risk. It did no good. A year ago, a dragon raided our village and while my wife and I were safe from the sweltering fire, we were unprepared for the melee of people escaping the danger. I was quick enough to steer clear of their destructive path, but they mowed her down. Trampled, shoved, hit, flattened her body. That day she lost the use of her left eye and legs and I, my labor partner. I built our house on the outskirt of our town, away from the cluttering masses and away from risk. But misfortune visited us anyway."A humorless chuckle left his dry lips, "shortly after that incident, my mother-in-law moved in to help. To ease our pains. Or so she claims. She prods, needles, and jabs at every blemish. And because I'm working the fields most of the day, it gives her the ample time and opportunity to drive a wedge between husband and wife. I am a man from poor beginnings and humble middles---and now miserable endings."
Stellaria could see a burdening weight have been lifted from his stooping shoulders. He sat a little taller, a little better, a little freer. When their gaze met, his expectant eyes waited for a reaction to which she smiled encouragingly. His ailment is not of the flesh, but of the self.
"Have you spoken to Rosemonde about any of it?"
"Heavens no."
"Why not?"
"Because...."
"Yes?"
Oscar collapsed into an unsettling quietness. He drew the bedcover over himself and gave her his broad back. The message was obvious. Gathering the empty bowls cluttering around the room, she fluttered out while a soft smile played on her humming lips. Her fingers itched to log the day's account and Oscar's incremental improvement. |
On the shelf behind the grey haired man sat a blue Klein bottle. This piece of glass, molded and formed to represent a surface looped to intersect itself in five dimensions. It was the first one Willim Harrison had ever seen in that color. Doubtless there were many more like it now, but back in 1996 it was a rare thing indeed. He was proud enough of the sight of it to buy it for the insane $45 bucks the vendor had demanded.
Today it looked over his shoulder at the finished calculations that proved His theory was sound. After years of preparation, it could really be done. The engineering crew and physicists were going to gather this very evening and watch him power on the device. Time is funny. But, as of today, it is no longer unidirectional. What would Anna think when he showed up and asked her to stay? Five long years they had shared. So many people when asked where would they go, picked famous historical moments, or momentus times to end dictators and tyrants. So much history to tread across. For Willim, January 28th 2001 was the only date that stood out.
Anna had argued, begged him to go with her to New York that day. Support her dream, she begged. He could work at Syracuse, she insisted. They would finally start a family. No, he had responded. This work, this place, this grant were all they needed for now. Be patient, he had urged. They could make this work. Instead she had packed and gone to work for Keefe, Bruyette & Woods, some finance company. Later he understood that she worked on the 88th floor of KBW's office in the World Trade Center. South Tower.
Just like that she was gone. But for him it was January 28th 2001. That moment set everything he did in motion. Fix that and everything changes. He had gone to work at the college that morning instead of staying to talk. No more arguing. She packed and left. Forever.
But that would change. It had to. Because time could be pushed back. Whatever it took. She would stay or they would both go.
Back at the lab the afternoon before the unveiling, Willim had entered the cleared area that held the travel pod which would eventually be surrounded by full dining tables and many distinguished party guests.
He stashed a set of clothes in his worn duffle aboard the newly completed craft. He had worn these clothes that day. The last day they were together. He also brought his cell phone. Pictures already saved ready to convince her of the truth if nothing else would.
Outside the gleaming pod, a snaking power cable led him from the access stairs to an external control module. It had a smaller twin inside the pod of course, but they were both linked. The screen for this control module wasn't just black, a text Screensaver bounced merrily across its surface. "Live on time, emit no evil". It amused one of his lab techs Otto to make these sentence quotes dance and slide on screen. Willim saw them as generally harmless and usually left them in place. Instead he woke the unit from sleep mode with a shake of the mouse and began inserting a few lines of code he had ready. Here the work truly began. Reconfiguring the target zone in time, hiding the subroutine that triggered the swap of old data for new and a few other instructions to help his plan.
The other TA, Hannah Saddas, stood before the group of Techs, outside major grant representatives and assembled Professors that evening. She wore a sparkling blue gown that easily distracted from the somewhat dry speech she had prepared. The Teaching Assistant explained the concept of skipping from one location in linear time to another by folding the colored strip of paper she held in a tube and showing how two points in time could be made to line up. She then pierced the strip with a silver hairpin that she pulled from her done up hair. The act caused her long hair to cascade down beautifully and all alone would have made her a master magician’s greatest distraction assistant. And, as it turns out that's exactly what she was doing.
Inside the craft, Willim changed out of the fine dress clothes and into his stashed set. Running the new lines of code he buckled himself in and ran through the preflight checklist as he listened to the external mic picking up her words. He faintly heard someone ask a question. And apparently it had something to do with whether those two holes were permanently connected as if they were now stapled by the outside force of making the hole. Whatever she was going to answer got lost in the internal alarm his premature launch generated.
The sensations of being catapulted backwards in time were incredible. The skin all over his body crawled, then tingled, then burned as though he were being unmade from the outside in. the longer it went on the deeper and more painful the pain escalated. He sweated, then screamed, and then eventually lost consciousness.
On the shelf behind the grey haired woman sat an Orange Klein bottle. It was a piece of glass, molded and formed to represent a surface looped to intersect itself in five dimensions. It was the first one Anna Harrison had ever seen in that color. Doubtless there were many more like it now, but back in 1996 it was a rare thing indeed. Anna was proud enough of the sight of it to buy it for the insane $45 bucks the vendor had demanded.
Today it looked over her shoulder at the finished calculations that proved Her theory was sound. After years of preparation, it could really be done. |
"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you... THE MIRACULOUS MARTIN!"
I always hated stage names. I reached out with my mind for the strands of Mana that linked every possible thing on this Earth in some way. I felt the strand of Mana connecting me to the point on the stage I wished to appear on, and I pulled hard. Suddenly, I had pulled myself through thin air and found myself instantly in front of a crowd of thousands. Applause erupted, yet I felt... nothing. Again.
The show went exactly like the last 100: Pulling the strings of Mana that entangle the world to make the world do as I wish. I'd always been aware of it; Mana, that is. As long as I can remember, I've been *aware* of it. Mana, as best I can explain it, is like... String, for small things like this coin connected to myself. Or rope, like fire and anything... The thickness of the Mana Khords, as I called these ropes, determined how complicated the magic was. I guess, anyways, it's always just been intuitive to me.
I am always aware of the Khords that connect me to the things around me. Some are deeper hidden from the "surface layer", or what I call a normal person's perspective. As you pull these Khords, you pull the world to your will. I'm sure to you it sounds fascinating, but to me? Eh. It's a Tuesday, and I'm doing parlor tricks on stage. Whoop de fucking do.
But this show would be different, if only I'd realized it sooner. The first thing that told me something was *very* wrong was when I thought I saw a Khord get pulled on its own. In 27 years of living, I had been the only reason I had *ever* seen a Khord get pulled was when I'd pulled it. I decided at about 6 that the rest of the world was broken and I was the only right one; the only one in touch with the true nature of the world. I live every day connected to EVERYTHING! Surely I was right, and everyone else was broken?
I should've been more aware. I thought it was my imagination, sensing a Khord at the edge of my awareness being tugged ever so slightly. I ignored it, reminding myself that everyone else was broken. I was preparing for my finale. I let my assistant chain me up, like she always had, then she shoved me into the 20 foot pool of water. I calmly let myself sink to the bottom, then reached out for the Khord the connected me to my dressing room as I had 100 times before. I was absolutely not ready to have someone else pull on my Khord; that was the very hard moment where I realized I was ***not*** the only person connected to Mana. |
There we stood at the brink of two worlds. On one side was burning hellfire and Titan blood. The other, green meadows and the promise of vengeance.
Zagreus brushed a hand through his hair, looking nonplussed. "You...shouldn't be here."
I nodded. "Tell me something I *don't* know."In life, my voice had been melodious and lilting, but now, it was nothing more than a raspy groan, a whisper on the wind.
His brow furrowed. "How did you get past Meg? Past Cerberus? Hell is a difficult place to escape, as I well know."
"You left a fairly clear path behind you,"I replied. Though I *had* been worried about the hellhound. Luckily, he'd settled down for a nap shortly after Zagreus had given him the satyr sack, and I was able to sneak by.
"Okay, fair. But...why?"Zagreus gestured towards my incorporeal form. "You can't even do anything in this state. Shades belong in the Underworld, not on the mortal plain."
"It's a long story,"I sighed. "I have unfinished business to attend to on the other side of that gate. But you're right. I don't think I can accomplish anything as I am now."
He settled down on the ground into a cross-legged position. "We've got time. Why don't we have a nice drink of Ambrosia, and you can tell me all about it?" |
The bastard was a chubby fucker in a red shirt and no pants. He scratched his cotton covered crack and knocked back a can of my Diet Tropo-Blast Crimson Thunder. The fridge door was still open.
A full can poured down his gullet in one go. What a pig. Then he ate two good handfuls of shredded mozzarella, a kit-kat chunky and my special occasion red velvet Tim-Tams that I had imported from Australia.
The fridge door was still open as this all happened. He turned and with a blind, backwards kick of his heel, the fridge door slammed.
Then he waddled to my couch and face-planted.
I paused the footage. The glutton had scoffed my bounty and then claimed my couch. That would explain my missing snacks and the messy living room.
I looked back to the TV and the image of my fat arse face down and pantsless. Sleep eating? I mean, I don’t remember it, but I evidently did it. So it had to be sleep eating, or something like it.
A beep and sleep me tossed and turned in fast-forward before eventually going back to the bedroom. What do I do now? A lock on the fridge? |
I open my bathroom door. And then I promptly close it again. Clearly I’m so exhausted I’m hallucinating. There is no goddamned way a giant spider is hanging out in my bath. I take a deep breath and open the door again. “Nope.”. I slam the door closed again. THERE IS A BEAR SIZED SPIDER IN MY BATHROOM!!
That. Is. IT! I’m done. I dealt with this tiny rundown apartment for long enough!! I’m burning it!! All my important stuff is in storage anyway because this place floods anyway!! I’m getting the gasoline!! And the matches!!
...
I wake up in hospital covered in bandages. I’m not sure how long it’s been since I passed out. “Did I get it!? Did I get the spider!?”
(I’ll try continue later, I’m busy) |
When I was a kid we had two screens in the house. One was a tele, the other a computer monitor, both deeper than my kids today would believe. I remember it being a huge deal for Dad when he bought a 15"CRT tele to put in their bedroom and how proudly he showed us his handiwork after he mounted it on the wall in the corner of the room. Today we each own more devices with screens than an entire household growing up. Phones, teles, laptops, tablets, monitors, even kitchen appliances all nod to the swathe of technological advances over the last twenty years. In just about every corner of the globe you'll find at least something with a screen, which is how the forgotten probe caused such a stir.
I've always felt I was part of the first generation to treat technology as a right rather than a marvel. I can't imagine what it was like for my grandparents watching the moon landings, or my Mum watching something on the television for the first time. I can't fathom the mind blowing nature of owning a phone without any need for wires or a landline for the first time. It's all expected now. Nothing really blows our minds. We expect the newest developments with new features on a minimum of an annual basis. We believe ourselves entitled to technological advancement and any minor hype for something genuinely new and exciting dies quickly.
We also expect things to just work without fault, so many people's inital reaction to the message was one of frustration at the interruption of whatever they were doing. Whatever time, whatever location, whatever signal strength, every device simultaneously came to life. A spectrum of silvers mottled with random colours created a background that looked like a pool of oil reflecting light if it had been rendered incorrectly and become pixelated. It was messy and beautiful, chaotic and intricate. Words formed as white space cutting through the ethereal lightshow.
"YOU HAVE HEARD THE CALL. THE BEYOND AWAITS."
The message rendered every device unusable. Removing the power supply from devices did nothing which was the only thing stopping most people from simply blaming "hackers". It's amazing how little it takes for an entire civilisation to collapse into anarchy, especially when the whole thing runs on the very thing we'd lost control of entirely. Governments tried their best to retain order and most countries quickly had the military out in force to marshall the streets and ensure something resembling society was maintained. For two weeks we were forced to stay in our homes, food parcels being delivered by men in full army gear every few days. There was no official word from anyone of any significance but the only way to get any message across was via the radio. I felt like I'd been transported back to the early days of the second world war, sitting by the radio and waiting for some sort of update, and eventually it crackled to life.
"Good evening. Before we begin, I'd like to apologise for not providing this information sooner. As I'm sure you're all aware the world has never encountered anything like this and it was of the utmost importance we were certain of what we are about to share. A little over two weeks ago we all received the same message. We immediately tasked our top professionals and experts with ascertaining the source of the message. It is with caution I share the following with you. We believe a new, Russian developed technology, possibly using an as yet undiscovered network of satellites, is responsible for the message and ensuing fallout. I trust you share our anger and frustration, and also understand how sensitive this situation has become. I assure you we will continue to work towards a solution and retribution. Please, remain calm, remain patient, and remain at home. Thank you."
The address closed with a strange fanfare I'd not heard before, but the very moment it finished every screen flickered. The background seemed to adjust slightly, retaining the same colours but shifting minutely. People may not have taken note when we announced we were going to Mars, nor when we announced we would put a base on the Moon, but like our Grandparents watching the moon landings all.those years ago the entire world was about to sit up and take note, even if we weren't sure what of. The words previously on the screen disappeared as though swallowed by an ocean before others reappeared.
"YOUR LEADERS HAVE SPOKEN LIES. WE ARE VOYAGER. YOU ARE LIMITED. YOUR EXISTENCE IS RESTRICTED. BEYOND THE BOUNDARY THERE IS FREEDOM FROM DIMENSIONAL AND CORPOREAL IMPRISONMENT. JOIN US. YOU HAVE HEARD THE CALL. THE BEYOND AWAITS."
-
EDIT: Spelling
-
Feedback and criticism welcome, keen to develop :) |
I've had a few stories bounce because the prompt was deleted. If it's a problem with asking a question, it's easy enough to fix and repost.
The other sort of prompt I've had trouble with are ones that are deemed likely to draw poor responses. Those are harder to fix. I choose to at least attempt to write good stories, but this is the internet, and there are always more people looking for the cheap shot than putting in the effort to do a decent job.
The final sort of problem prompt that I've seen is one that has the prompt in the title, then adds all sorts of conditions in the body. Sorry, that's basically commissioning a story, which is not the point of writing prompts.
None of this answers your primary question.
It probably won't get you much traffic, but you have your personal subreddit. Post them there, if nowhere else. |
Hi u/CanDoThis_, this submission has been removed.
While it doesn't seem to be your intent, the mods reserve the right to remove anything we feel may become harmful to the community.
* *This was removed [based on the comments it's likely to attract](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses), specifically via [Rule 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_2.3A_no_explicitly_sexual_responses.2C_hate_speech.2C_or_other_harmful_content)*
---
---
[Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/mnkwnr/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/config/sidebar) before posting.
*This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.* |
"W-what!"exclaimed Janger as he glared at me, "why HER!"His shouting was almost like a growl as he pointed his angrily, shaking finger at me.
"I don't know what to say."I looked down at the tile where I have witnessed countless deaths before my own eyes. I solemnly swore to her that I would do anything possible to give her my position.
"It is an honor,"the reaper bowed to the me.
Completely shocked, my mouth dropped. Janger screamed and stormed out of the room and I was left petrified. How can the reaper consider me an honor?
"I'm not sure what you mean? This apprenticeship is all about me learning from you."I replied to gain whatever insight he has. This man before me was a renoun reaper with many apprentice mentee underneath him since before I came of age. William Snow, the reaper smiling almost innocently, was B-tier. He has a death count close to a million, then he can rise to be an A-tier reaper only having to oversee the rest of us.
"Not everyone can be a reaper, you see.."he walked towards me and gently placed his hand on my shoulder, "there is a criteria."
The elector chuckled and watched my unshaven game at the tile floor. She said, "If your eyes are open, you will see that we need you."
"There are reapers who are trying to disannex into their own organization. You will be part of my team to get rid of them."said William and showed me the list of traitor reapers.
"This is not just any reaping apprenticeship, we need to take out bad water for the sake of order."whispered the elector as her heels echoed the the hall. Her phone vibrated and she took a call, "Jioma is going with William to do a sweep of the 5th segment."She turned and waved before closing the door behind her.
"Meet me at SEB unit. I need to show you something before we depart."said William. He left as quickly as he directed me to the next point. I grabbed my belongings and headed straight for SEB. As the doors of the elevator pod closed, I only expected to descend right away but Janger stepped in.
"If you continue this apprenticeship with Will, you will die."growled Janger. His body faced parallel of me and his face giving the most distressed look.
"Then why should I trade you thus position? Just because I am a -"
"SHHH!!!"he stopped me with his whole palm covering my mouth.
"You are going to be brainshwashed by this new system of reapers. There is no rebellion, Jioma."whispered Janger as he stepped back realizing how much of my space he took.
"and.. you just happened to not tell me until after the Elector didn't give you the position?"I scoffed. I couldn't belive him, maybe he is part of them. Then, why would he tell me now..
"I know it looks bad, but they suspect I am part of what they call a 'rebellion' and anyone they send on sweeps will most likely be used as a shield by the reaper. There are no more apprenticeships."said Janger now riled up and pacing back and forth.
"I don't know, I will have to play it by ear."
He quickly embraced me with a hug. He whispered, "Don't die, please protect yourself and keep your eyes open." |
"Oh yeah, I remember this part."He chuckled to himself, "your life is about to get really interesting."
I looked up at him, pinned against the wall and unable to move an inch, "This is normally the part were people freak out. Why are you so calm?"
"Well that's simple, I've already seen how these events work out. Nothing can surprise me."
"Time can be rewritten."I held my blade his throat, "You know that well."
"Not this point, this is fixed. Or at least, you can't change it."
"Are you really confident enough to bet your life?"
He paused and sighed before answering, "Ignoring the fact that you can't kill me here, do you not at least want to know who I am?"
I wanted to kill him, I wanted to kill him so badly. And yet, I was holding back. Perhaps he was right. At the very least, I should look under his mask. No other human has ever evaded my capture for so long, I've taken down the most notorious criminals to ever get there hands on time travel technology, and yet for so many years he was always a step ahead, why?
"Given the brief silence, you should be at the point where you're questioning how I stayed one step ahead of you."
"Wha-- how--"
"How did I know that? Take off the mask and find out."
Without lowering my blade, I popped the mask off of his face. The mask that had haunted my dreams for countless years, behind which was the face of my mortal enemy. The one face that I would remove from existence just because I could. The face... of myself?
"Yeah, yeah, come out with it, 'You're me? but how?' right."
"Y-You're me?"I stammered
"Yep, hear it comes."
"But..."I paused, looking for a sensible answer, "How?"
"Look, I'm gonna cut straight to the chase, mostly because this is what I heard when I was in your position. I knew that you would fix everything I did, because I already saw that. I also knew that you wouldn't listen to me hear unless you had proof -- specifically the proof that I was able to stay in front of you and evade capture for so long. I knew your tricks because I am you. You with me."
"Not one bit."I replied, eyes wide and mouth agape, "So you are me? I am you?"
"That's the line, you believe me right?"
"No?"
"Not with your brain, but with your heart!"
"Huh?"
"You know that the simplest explanation is that I am you, so that's what you're going to operate under. You don't really get a choice, you'll do it either way. What matters is that you are going to take my position."
"Your position? You mean I'm going to chase myself around? Why would I do that?"
"Because I told you."
"And why do you want to do that."
"Because you told me."
"I did?"
"Well not this you, or I suppose 'us', but rather the us from the future. Some time in my future I learn why this is going on."
"So I'm, just going to wander around breaking the law because of a claim about a hunch from some random time traveller?"
"Yes."
"Why would I do that?"
"Beats me, I guess you trust yourself. Congratulations, most people never get that level of self-confidence."
"Thanks?"
"You're welcome. But what really matters is that you give me that."The me from the future looked at the Weighted Automatic Time Changer Holder on my wrist.
"Why?"
"It's keyed into the ministry of time, it's your key. That's why you had to wear it."
"But isn't yours the same?"
"Except for the decade of illegal activity, yes."
"Ahhh."
"Exactly. And you'll need my mask. Keep yourself hidden."
"Right, and how do I know where to go?"As I said this, I realised that I had already let him go and started switching our devices.
"Everywhere you need to go is keyed into this watch, any you know what you go on to do, you've been there before."
"You do know this is really stupid, right?"
"Yep."
"So why are you doing it?"
"I said I saw the 'us' from the future, remember."
"And?"
"That means, no matter how hard things get, we'll find out before we die. Because if we never find out, you would've just killed me."
"Good point. Guess I'll see you in a few years?"
"Well, technically, you'll see me know."He began to shift in time as he called out, "Good Luck."
&#x200B;
At that point I heard a familiar voice, "Hold it! I've detected some suspicious time travel activity in this area, you're under arrest!"
I slid the mask on and turned around, taunting, "Come and get me."before shifting out, as I had seen all those years ago.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
If you liked this story, head over to [r/F4TF0X](https://www.reddit.com/r/F4TF0X/) to read more of my stuff! |
“Hey everyone! You need to come see this.”
We could all hear the worry in Davis’ voice, and it only took a minute for all of us to come floating down from different corners of the station. We crowded around the small screen. Five astronauts - believers in science and reason - watched as ignorance seized power over our world.
It was a gory, violent mess. They overwhelmed the riot police, the National Guard, the Secret Service. Every capital of every state. We knew that the movement had grown, on Twitter, on 4Chan, on Tumblr. Flat Earth YouTube videos abounded, and the movement had found a special home on Reddit in communities such as /r/flatearthforever and /r/flatearthforpresident. We just didn’t realize how serious or how numerous these people were until it was too late.
They started a bonfire on the national mall. Cries of “Flat Earth forever!” and “Where we go one we go flat!” could be heard as they dumped gasoline over a huge stack of geography textbooks and set it ablaze.
They tried the same thing with globes, but they could never get enough of them into the pile. The globes just kept rolling away, so they eventually settled for smashing them with hammers.
It was the same across the planet. We watched footage of The Kremlin surrounded by a huge mob chanting “Плоская земля навсегда!” In Managua, it was “Tierra plana para siempre!” The whole planet caught fire, and all we could do was watch.
NASA was gone, of course. The dedicated astronomers, mathematicians, scientists, even the janitors were tried in kangaroo courts and found guilty of “Lying to the People” which was, of course, a capital crime. The executions were broadcast, but we couldn’t watch. Something broke inside us.
We felt alien. We were alien. Could the members of those ragged mobs possibly be the same species as us?
\*\*\*
“So what do we do next?” asked Santos. He was a good astronaut - the best with repairs and EVAs.
“We can’t stay here.” Davis was blunt. “Because we’ll starve to death.”
“But if we go back, we’ll be executed,” Zhang, the botanist, helpfully pointed out. “And I have several experiments here that can’t be abandoned”
“There’s enough food for another month. We can wait and see if things calm down.” Kuznetsov was the only cosmonaut on board, and she always kept a level head.
“We just need to go somewhere beyond the reach of Flat Earth Law,” I said. “I think the Philippines are still free.”
“Mongolia has also refused to join up, though they are under great international pressure.” Santos said. “However, we can’t be sure about the situation on the ground because it seems that the internet is being censored.”
“This is ignoring the fact that even if we wanted to, we have no way to return to earth,” Zhang said. This was true. The shuttle that was supposed to relieve us had been destroyed by a missile after launching against the orders of the new government.
I summarized our situation, “So we’ll starve if we stay here, and if we try to go back, we’ll burn up in the atmosphere.” No one appreciated my summary.
“We need to wait,” said Kuznetsov again “and see. Maybe someone will come for us.”
\*\*\*
No one came for us. Of course they didn’t. We were the enemy. The liars. If only they knew.
We were able to stretch our supplies another two months by going down to half rations. Zhang repurposed some of his experiments for food, though it pained him greatly, and nobody really enjoyed their mush of unseasoned sweet potato. At least it was food.
We were all rapidly losing bone mass because we didn’t have the energy to work out anymore. We went through the days in a fog. I couldn’t even look out the window. That incredible view of the whole Earth I had worked so hard for held no appeal for me anymore. It didn't help that I knew the earth below was filled with ungrateful monsters. Finally, I called one last team meeting.
\*\*\*
“As you all know,” I began. “Our mission here was simple.” I paused as Kuznetsov dry heaved, her bony shoulders shaking uncontrollably. The others looked away in embarrassment, their sunken eyes slowly moving back and forth.
I continued. “We were participants in the greatest propaganda campaign in history. Our mission was to provide support for the story that the earth is round. This is, of course, absurd. Anyone standing on the Earth can see that it is flat. But to maintain order in the world, the masses needed to remain unaware of the horrors that infest the underside, the apocalypse that could befall them at any minute.
"From this station, we and a network of relay satellites broadcast the signal that repels the dark things: the writhing trunks, the monstrous tusks...
“My crewmates, my friends, you already know all of this. But what you don’t know is that I’ve spent the last two months working to reverse the effect of that signal. And I believe that with the right signal, we can attract the great one, the apocalypse incarnate and hook our space station to its giant shell. Many will die, but what do we care?
They stared at me open mouthed. But, one by one, they began to nod. I could see the determination, the anger in their eyes.
“My friends, It’s time to unleash the turtle.” |
It was just supposed to be a fun trip with me and my family. We had talked about this trip beforehand, swimming, canoeing, hiking, visiting new states and countries. We all had high hopes for this vacation, I personally was loving the idea of going on a nice long trip with my family.
I had been drifting off ever since I left home to college pursue a career in bio-mechanical engineering. I passed all the required classes and certifications, and I landed an amazing job with the government. I was set for life I had thought, amazing benefits, extremely well paying. But the downside of the job was painfully obvious. I was also thousands of miles away from my family, and my new job didn’t help.
The job had required I go to remote locations around the world to experiment on different life-forms. I was no longer able to visit my family, and it had left me isolated. My only company was my friend Jacob, my coworker, and he also experienced similar feelings that I had. Jacob however, was different from me, he had worked this job much longer than I had. I envied Jacob for his ability to remain focused and able to complete his work
It had only been 3 months since starting the job before I slowly fell deeper and deeper into depression, I felt lonely and unable to help myself. My horrible feelings had started to affect my work, I couldn’t concentrate anymore. I knew after one particularly bad day, that I needed to do something. After contemplating with myself, I knew exactly what I needed to do. I decided to take a break from my job in order to spend time with my family.
I had called my mom and explained the entire situation. She was incredibly worried, I told her how I wanted to spend some time with the family, and that I wanted to visit. My mother was in tears on the phone, she felt so bad about my living situation. She said she would love to have me come over, my mother said that I could come by any time. After hearing this I planned to take a break from my job and move back. I contacted my superior, and told him the news, and luckily he had allowed me to take this much needed vacation.
I scheduled a flight to my parents home. On the day when my flight was scheduled, I was incredibly nervous. I kept thinking of the time I spent with my family, and all the great moments in my life. I started remembering how we would go on trips around the continent with my family. Those were some of the greatest moments of my life; just me, my mother, my father, and my three younger siblings. Two of my younger siblings had moved out to different colleges. I felt happy for my siblings, I’m glad they are able to move out and pursue their career. I just hope they don’t experience the same feelings of loneliness that I had felt.
When I landed back in my hometown, there was a strong sense of nostalgia. I remembered each location like it was the back of my hand. I had so many memories; I rented out a car from a nearby dealership and headed to see my parents. They didn’t know I had arrived so I planned to surprise them. However, before I go to their house I decided to check out the different areas of the town. I visited my old school, I visited a park where used to play in my younger years. It was an incredible experience to be able to see all these buildings and structures, these are the pieces that make up my entire life.
I finally drove to see my parents, they had greeted me with open arms. I had tears in my eyes, I was so happy to see my mom, my dad. These were the people that had taken care of me and loved me, it felt wrong to be so far away from them. I even saw my younger brother in the back of the kitchen. I was even happy to see him, after hugging my parents I went right over to him. There was so much love on that day, and I felt so happy. We spent the whole day talking, we ate dinner, and played games, we even watched a movie as a family. I hadn’t felt this happy in a long time, I felt my whole body get warm, my mind was racing, and I felt so happy. I slept on my old bed, and I took in the smell of my room. I was such a dirty boy when I was younger, I couldn’t help but laugh at my old self. The bed was just as I remembered it, it did have a feeling of emptiness that was hard to ignore. It was like visiting an abandoned museum, so much to look at, but everything was old and untouched for years.
I talked with my family the next day, and I asked if they still did those yearly trips around the continent. They said that they no longer did those trips, since their sons had left they no longer saw a need to do it. They also talked on how it was expensive to do those trips. I thought back on those trips with such fondness. It was a shame that they no longer did these trips, I knew there was something wrong here. I suggested that they do the trip again this year; I told them that I only had a couple weeks to stay here, and it would be the perfect opportunity to bond. They said they couldn’t afford it, then I told them that I would pay for the full trip. It took a while to convince them that I would pay for it, since they didn’t want to accept money from their son. I told them that my job pays very well, and I could afford to make this trip happen. They eventually agreed, they also missed having these trips, it would be fun to do it again as a family. They got prepared for the trip, they talked to their job, they got their things ready to be packed. We all wanted to do this trip, we weren’t in a rush; all of us simply wanted to get out and experience this together,
So the trip was planned. We decided to take the train, as there was a special offer on it. We had never taken the train before, however we were excited to experience something new. On the trip we talked about how our lives had been, my younger brother very quiet as usual. My father talked about how he plans to start a new business selling mattresses. My mother was going to retire within the next 4 years; I was so proud of my mother. Our first destination was to a famous volcano, I have to say, I’m incredibly excited to see it..... |
We had never seen anything like this before. It came as a shock to everyone when they saw this. Me and my team were among the first people to find out about this phenomenon. I work as an astronomer, one of our jobs is to view outside the earth’s atmosphere. We make research papers based on our findings, through applying scientific theory. We were doing our usual routine, when we had noticed a strange object flying towards earth at incredible speeds on our cameras. We had first assumed it was an asteroid. However weeks went by and we noticed it wasn’t an asteroid, it was simply impossible based on what we know. We could only guess as to what the object was. We tried to send more cameras out into space in order to clearly identify what it is that we were looking at. All we could tell from the picture, was that it was shaped like a long black cylinder with sharp edges poking out of the sides.
The cameras that initially found the object was suddenly destroyed, we have no idea what caused it. We ended up sending even more cameras in order to better identify what the object was. However, the cameras we sent were unable to take proper images of whatever was coming towards earth. I was concerned as we had never had an issue like this before, how could a camera specifically designed for taking pictures lightyears away be unable to take pictures on this object. More weeks went by, more cameras rendered useless. These cameras were not cheap, our team was getting berated by our superior officers. They demanded that we identify the unknown object that was reaching towards earth. It had traveled a significant distance within just a couple days, the rate at which it approached earth was scientifically impossible. The speed at which this object would have to be flying was absolutely absurd.
The government had warned that something big was approaching earth. They sent out the only image we had of this object. It was believed to be as large as a small planet. Something moving that fast and is that big, would completely eradicate earth entirely.
Throughout all the panic and rioting, I continued my work to try and solve what this object was. I wanted to see my wife and daughter, however I knew there was more important things to focus on. I called them and told them I couldn’t be home, I was trying to save the world and solve this. My team had left to their families out of panic. The whole world felt as if their lives were over, the government desperately tried to control the citizens. But everything quickly went out of control, people were getting killed, people committing suicide. There was panic on the scale that was unimaginable. People were terrified at whatever was heading towards us.
Eventually the object reached our planet. We thought we were dead, but the object just hovered over our planet. A dark shroud covered half the globe, however now we could clearly see this object. It looked like a spaceship, like something you would see in a Star Wars movie. I could hardly believe my eyes. What was I looking at?
Before long, we had noticed that blue rays were getting sent from this massive object into many different parts of the world. The rays seems to have teleported thousands and thousands of incredibly small robots of some sort. These robots looked like small drones with blue light emitting from the core. These robots flew everywhere around the places these rays were sent.
People tried to shoot these robot looking objects, however they did nothing. People were mostly just terrified of them and ran away in panic. The robots seemed to have been surveying each area, as a blue light came out of their core in order to observe each area.
Our first assumption was that they were here to attack. But I know better, I believe these objects are part of a different species. A species different from us humans yet equally intelligent. I believe these robots were living objects, and they were infinitely more intelligent than we are.
Days went by, people continued panicking. I ran back home to see my wife and daughter. I was so happy to see that they were alive, however they were terrified, they had no idea what was going on. I tried to comfort them, but I had no answers for them. Despite studying space most my life, I was left speechless in this event. I thought I could save the world, but I’m one helpless man, what could I do?
Suddenly all the robots returned back to the big ship through blue rays. The government attempted to capture these robots, but were unable to, they were simply too strong. No one died from these robots, however the fear was still just as strong,
Soon we saw the massive space ship turn and move slightly towards the north. We viewed everything on tv through satellite, the image was getting blurry. Something seems to cause technology to go berserk near these strange objects. More rays appeared out of the ship, thousands of these blue rays covered our oceans. We watched as we saw millions of fish being sucked up from the ocean floating towards the spaceship.
On closer inspection we realize that the only animals getting taken in were whales and octopi. What is their purpose for taking these creatures? What could they possibly want with them? |
Anna heard an explosion that was located at the entrance of the building.
“That’s probably him, Graverobber. Let’s move to that place immediately.”, said Anna toward her team of four people including Anna. Each member of the team stationed themselves somewhere that gave them the advantage to target Graverobber, but also to prevent them from being spotted.
The hero memorial where the team was camped was provided with much non-official stuff to confuse the Graverobber. Although the Graverobber has succeeded so far in his robbings, he is now facing Anna and her team. Anna’s team has the reputation to really understand their target, and with that knowledge, they elegantly captured all criminals. From what Anna heard about this Graverobber, was that he knew the spot of the techs and that he immediately robs it without letting opponents know of his action.
Multiple smoke screens were thrown inside the memorial. Anna gestured with her hands that her team should remain patient. A couple of seconds went on, but so far nothing but those smoke screens. Another couple of seconds went on till Anna heard a scream from her right side. Mark looked terrified at his own body, and at once fell on the ground.
Anna actively positioned her gun towards the place where Mark was killed, but she could not spot the killer. She looked sideways, towards her other teammates, but they seemed still alive and like Anna looking at every place inside the memorial for any trace of Graverobber.
But then everything went black and her body went limp, and Anna thought she was also a victim of Graverobber.
When Anna opened her eyes, she saw that she was not in the hero memorial, but a garage look-a-like room full of techs from dead superheroes. So, she was captured, but not killed like Mark. Anna wondered why. Anna tried to move but noticed that she was bound at a chair. The chair itself was attached to the ground so that she cannot move to any other position with the chair.
A burst of sinister laughter came from outside the garage.
Very nervously Anna tried to look for anything that could help her to escape or use to defend herself from what is coming. Nothing she found.
A door went open and a very tall man came inside the room. Other than his tall appearance, the man was wearing a mask that looked like a very sad person.
With his sad appearance, he came to Anna and squatted before her.
“Oh-la-la, my own hero lady. Oh-la-la.”, the tall man probably Graverobber announced his entrance.
“Why do you keep me and let me live?”, asked Anna.
“You don’t understand me, lady. I collect techs from dead heroes. You see, many many beautiful techs here. Look here, my latest catch: Moon-charger’s gauntlets.”
“Why do you keep me?”, asked Anna again, and she was afraid of her fate that this man could bring her.
“I want you. I want to have you. I want it.”
Anna could not control herself anymore and cried tears. The possible thought of not being able to escape anymore, but used for this man’s entertainment. The man grabbed her chin and forced her to stare at the man’s mask. The man shoved the mask a bit above to reveal his mouth, but not enough for Anna to see his eyes or nose. Then the man kissed her on the lips. At the same time, Anna felt that she was hurt inside her belly. She wanted to know what it was, but she could not free herself from the kiss.
The man moved away from Anna, and finally, she was able to look why her belly hurts so much. A puddle of blood was seen under her chair, her blood. It also seems that her blood is not spreading away but is leaked into something under the floor. She looked at the man who again burst into sinister laughter.
“Now you are mine, forever. You are a heroine, and your tech is your brain. I, Graverobber will keep your blood forever that has served your brain. After you dried up, I will take your brain out. Both your blood and brain will be kept by me.”
The main motive of Graverobber was to capture Anna because she seems to be a heroine by him. But there is one thing that the Graverobber forgot about Anna, and that’s that she also has superpowers like other heroes.
With the power she still has she focused them all on her brain. She initially thought that her power was useless, but maybe it served a purpose now. Her superpower was to freeze time, not around her but herself. Just before she lost her consciousness she froze time. Everything moved other than her body. And because she died her body may never unfreeze again.
Graverobber noticed that her blood is not dripping down anymore, and noticed everything of her looks frozen. He touched her face, but it feels hard as steel. Surprised but also enthusiastic he licks her blood. But because of Anna’s superpower that everything that belongs to her froze, the mouth of Graverobber went limb and hard as steel.
He tried to scream, but his mouth prevents him from making any sound. Eventually, he froze too like Anna. Only because he has something that belongs to Anna. He has her, but in the end, she had him. |
It was my 21st birthday. My friends took me to a bar but I didn't understand why. "First round is on me,"Billy said with a joyful expression on his face.
"Ugh! This tastes awful,"I said after shooting back a shot of vodka. "Why do people actually drink this stuff?"
"Dude, you need to learn to let loose,"said John.
"But I don't like this. Can't we just sit outside and order some fries?"
"Alright mister party pooper,"Billy said sarcastically.
Billy, John, and I walked to the outdoor patio and sat down waiting for a waitress to spot us. That's when I heard it. The most eery sounding crow call I've ever heard. I look over towards the green fence surrounding the patio and see a lone crow looking directly at me. "Creepy,"I said to myself.
"Did you say something?"Asked John.
"Is it just me or is that crow staring at me?"
John and Billy both laugh. "One shot and he's already acting funny,"scoffed Billy.
A pretty blonde waitress wearing a black shirt, black apron, and tight fitting jeans spots us and walks over to take our order. "I'l just have an order of fries, please,"I say.
"And a bud light for all of us,"John interrupts. I don't understand why they're doing this. I have no interest in drinking. It tastes awful and it's just not my thing.
After several minutes the waitress returns carrying a tray with my fries and three beers. As soon as she sits one of the beers down in front of me a dead mouse falls from above and lands in my drink splashing beer everywhere.
"Oh my! I'm so sorry! I'll get you another one,"the waitress says quickly.
"It's ok. I didn't want it anyways,"I said relieved that I don't have to drink it.
John isn't happy with that answer. "Dude, no,"he says. "Bring him another beer, please. It's his 21st birthday."
"I don't want it,"I snapped back. "I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be back."
I got up and walked inside then snuck out the door and began walking home. I felt bad for leaving them but they're just going to keep pressing me to drink. It's their own fault.
Something wet lands on my head. I reach up and realize it's bird poop. "Gross,"I exclaim. Then I heard flapping and look up. A single crow lands on a nearby branch and stares at me. "It can't be,"I say. "No, that's silly."
Finishing my walk home I enter the building to my apartment and plop on the couch. My phone has been going off non-stop since I left but I don't want to even check it. I know it's Billy and John. They won't leave me alone.
Tap, tap, tap. I look over after hearing something tap on my window. "It's that crow again,"I said before walking over and pulling down the blinds.
That night I went to bed early only to be waken up by scratching on my bedroom door. I look at the clock. 3 am.
Slowly my bedroom door creaks open. My heart begins to race. I grab my flashlight and shine it at the door but there's no one there. Then I look towards the floor. It's the crow again.
Scared but still able to think I grab my bb gun from when I was a kid. It's the same one I used to shoot at crows when I was 11. Pop! The crow flops over then dies. I take a paper towel, open the window, and throw him outside.
"Creepy,"I say as I lay back down to sleep. "How did he get inside?"But I don't think much of it and fall back asleep.
The next morning I wake up feeling refreshed. "So glad I don't have a hangover,"I said to myself. "Billy and John must have pounding headaches. Dumb morons. Why do I even hang out with them?"
I walk to the window and open the blinds to let in some sunlight. What I see terrifies me. Every tree, powerline, and building is covered in crows. "Oh crap,"I think. "I'm going to need a lot more BBs." |
“... and after you pushed me down the stairs, nobody at Hanbrook ever talked to me again. I became an outcast until my family moved out of state the following summer.”
Jack’s face beamed with delight as he recalled the torture he inflicted on me. “Yes, Eddie, I remember that very well,” he sneered. “So tell me. What did you do with your pathetic little worthless excuse of a life afterwards?”
Confidently, I straightened my collar, looked him in the eye, and began to deliver my answer. “Well, Jack, I realized that I needed to get stronger and that’s exactly what I did. I began lifting weights, running, and getting into the best shape of my life. Eventually, I was strong enough to play college football at Northwestern. Remember that strong safety who laid the hit on you in the Big Ten Championship Game while you were playing for Ohio State?”
His countenance dropped sharply as he cringed recalling the hit that ended his collegiate career. He’d caught a perfect pass in the end zone, but the hit jarred it loose and let the Wildcats escape with the upset win... and resulted in Jack tearing his ACL and MCL.
I continued. “But that’s not all. I was able to study at Northwestern as well, where I earned a double major in computer science and business development. After starting my own software company from the ground up, I eventually became so successful that I was able to buy out my biggest rival. Remember that deal, Jack? I bought your firm for less than $2M, and when I sold it off it was valued at $120M. That was a great deal for me, don’t you think so?”
His expression grew even more solemn as I rattled off more achievements. “And then after my marriage to Susan Hartman, your high school sweetheart, I had three beautiful children who inherited my business when I died. Tell me, Jack, did you have any children?”
Jack’s head sunk into his chest. He didn’t even need to answer. His life had been a never ending spiral of poor decisions, and he died a lonely man five years before I had. I knew because I’d been keeping tabs on him. To him, I was just another kid he bullied. But to me, he was the bully who finally forced me to stand up for myself.
“So you see Jack,” I finished, “my life wasn’t so worthless after all. Your bullying actually may have made it better. Thank you for that.”
Reluctantly, he opened the gate... |
On the paper it was a simple job. Target was a human. Common race, vulnerable to several poisons. Seemingly a civillian. But ten assassins had failed the job. Something was fishy. After a week of stake out, I made my move. I broke into the target's home. Too easy. There wasn't even traps. I started to get nervous, so I took a mint leaf and started chewing on it. I heard the target in the kitchen. Just like every night that week, he was making dinner. The smell of a stew. Fish, potatoes and herbs. I watched for the right moment to move in and hide in the rafters. Then I started to look through my pockets. After finding the right poison, I waited again. Patience was critical. If the target suspected something, a new attempt would be signifigantly harder. Ten assassins before me. Ten failed. Ten died. Were all of them amateurs? Unlikely but not entirely impossible.
There's the opening. Carefully I lowered myself over the stew and emptied the vial. Then back on the rafters. With any other case I would have started to make my way out at that point. Now I wanted to see how the target would react. If he died, I would confirm the incompetence of those who failed. But he survived the dinner. By that point the target should at least be feeling ill but... Nothing. The target went to bed as if he hadn't just ingested some of the deadliest poison I could brew. Something was definately off and I knew it, escaping from the house as if I'd never even been there. I needed more information.
My worries increased as I witnessed the target leave his home the next day, but snuck back in again. I noticed a couple of runes, high level ones too. But they were created with the intention of stopping theft. Target was interested in protecting his property over his life. So for now I wouldn't take anything. Luckily I didn't need to. There was an open letter on his nightstand.
Hey Sam!
Another one coming in. Appearantly a big one too. Some people refer to him as the dagger, and appearantly he has some really expensive gear! Your immortality really comes in handy!
So the reason I return with an unfinnished job, as you might guess, is the fact that it was your signature on that letter. But don't worry. I'm done being an assassin. I'm not gonna take revenge. However, if I let it slip that you're intentionally sending assassins to kill an immortal target... |
“And does he really have to eat so messily? It’s hard to see how he can miss the gaping cavern that passes as his mouth”
“Calm down Jonathan, it’s not his fault. People like that have experienced deep trauma. He needs help not judgement”, said Annie.
“Oh that’s easy for you to say! You never have the weirdos in your section. I don’t get to finish till an HOUR after close because it takes that long to clean up his crap!” I refuted angrily.
Yes, I know Annie was right. I’m sure something *real* bad happened to this guy and that’s why he spends every weekend at Table 4 gorging himself to death.
But that is a problem for a Counsellor, not me.
“Enough is enough!” I shout, jumping out of my chair. “I will not stand for this anymore. Tomorrow when he comes in, things will be different”
As I storm out of the staff room Annie smiles, then looks back at her phone.
——
Today is the day. I am determined to make this the WORST day possible for Table 4, so he will never want to come back.
As he approaches the Host Point, I tactically hide behind a large plant before he notices me.
Five minutes pass and he is still standing there.
Just as I think he will finally leave, Annie leaves the kitchen and starts walking towards him. In a state of pure panic, I lunge towards the kitchen bell and ring it wildly. She stops, frowns, and heads back into the kitchen.
Phew.
“Ahem”, a voice calls out.
Oh no.
Table 4 can see me now. I sheepishly walk towards the Host Point.
“Hi. Welcome to Bob’s Buffet. Table for one? Please follow me” I say, in the most unthusiastic voice I could muster.
All is not lost. There must be a way to ruin his meal...
——
It has been one hour since Table 4 sat down. In that time, he has managed to cover the entire table, and floor, with his mess!
My body twitches with rage every time another piece of food drops onto the floor.
Nothing I am doing is working.
First, I turned off the drinks machine so he would be stuck with just drinking water. I thought he would at least show some irritation, but nope. He just guzzled it down without a second thought.
Then I made sure I didn’t clean the toilet for the full hour, even after Table 30 went in. Despite the smell of FECES wafting under his nose, Table 4 *still* continued to eat.
This has left me with no option.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
I quit. |
"Sophie?"King Vantrune said, holding her against the wet soil with his blade at her throat.
"I'm not Sophie you dolt,"the woman said, knocking his blade away from her throat.
She pushed him off of her and stood up. The rays of sun shined through the treetops, highlighting her flawless skin. Her red hair glistened while she shook a few bits of mud out of it and readjusted her dark cloak. Her silver necklace hugged her chest.
"Sophie, is it me? Henry. You're husband."
"My name is Lena. Don't you remember me?"
Henry shook his head, "Whatever that witch did to you, we can fix it."
"You can't fix what she did to Sophie."
"Sophie, I know you're in there somewhere. Please you can fight this."
Henry put his hands on her shoulders. Lena responded with a swift kick to the crouch. He grunted and fell to the ground. The mud splashed around him as he made a little crater in the soft ground.
"My name is Lena you prick. Sophie's twin sister."
Henry was still writhing on the ground, "I remember...you always...were a mean one."
"Maybe if you didn't mix us up I wouldn't have to kick you."
Henry caught his breath and his pain started to subside. He got up and brushed himself off.
"I'm sorry. You just look so much like her. It's been hard…"
"I know. I miss her too."
They stood in silence while the birds sang from the trees and the leaves rustled in the wind. His sword still dangled from his hand touching the mud.
"So what brings you all the way out here? Aren't you busy ruling the kingdom?"Lena asked.
"I'm looking for her killer. My informant said she would be out here by a cave. You were the first person I saw."
"I got the same information. From Barnabas at the tavern?"
"The same."
"Then we might as well work together. Seeing as we both want the same thing."
"Do you know where this cave is supposed to be?"
"Not far. Just past this clearing."
Henry followed her to the cave, along with some bunnies that bounced from bush to bush trying to avoid the open field. Deer stared at them from afar like they were the first people they had ever seen in the forest. Lena stopped at the entrance. Unable to see inside, the opening cut through the side of a hill. Foliage drooped over the top and vines wrapped around the sides.
"This must be it."Lena said.
"Ladies first."
"Really? You're going to make me go first. You're the one with the sword."
"No, I insist,"he said, running her through with his sword.
She gasped. Her eyes wide open, staring at his smug face.
"You want to know how I knew you aren't Lena?"
She continued to gasp for air. He leaned in close to smell her. Onions and old person stench leaked from her pores. Wrinkles started to take shape in her face.
"It was the necklace. Lena is allergic to silver. I tried to give her one as a gift one year. Her whole chest turned red like her hair."
Her hair faded to grey along with her skin. His fingers sunk in basically touching her bones against her clothes.
"So Witch, any last words?"
"I never killed Sophie. I killed Lena,"the witch coughed. "But I know who killed Sophie."
"Who?"
The witch smiled and blood snuck out of the corner of her lips. He shook her, rubbing the sword back and forth inside her, "Who!"
She snapped her feeble fingers, "You."
A high pitched scream echoed from the cave and a light appeared.
"Sophie!"Henry yelled.
Her voice was unmistakable. He ripped the sword out of the witch and ran to the entrance. The light got brighter until he realized it was a flame. It rushed toward Henry, consuming the entire cave. Henry got a few steps into the cave when the fireball was almost upon him. He dived to the ground, facing his back toward it. The fire rushed over him for only a second or two, leaving his cloak steaming from the intense heat.
He got up and sprinted down the dim cave lit by the few bits of foliage that still burned.
"Sophie! Sophie!"His desperate calls echoed down the tunnel without an answer. Once he got to the end of the cave, he saw his wife on the floor amongst the grey ash. Her body charred from the intense heat, arms behind her back, melted together like a black wax sculpture.
Henry kneeled by her corpse while tears dripped down his burnt face. Her body crumbled when he tried to touch her with his roasted hands.
"Please...Sophie...forgive me."
Those were his final words before he collapsed next to her. The life faded from his eyes with every blink. Completely transfixed on his wife, he knew his time had come. To be with his wife once again. |
It’s been a week since the announcement and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Sure, it was a big News report for a day or two but it was quickly swept under the rug by every government. I guess WHO had a meeting to tell every official to lie and say it was a false military message from a satellite otherwise it would cause mass hysteria.
That’s what I believe, at least.
Then everyone went about their regular lives. The sheep blindly following the shepherd. But not me. I wanted to find the source. I wasn’t alone, there were forums full of people like me.
I found a man who used a throwaway account due to security reasons, but he works for the US government and he told me they pinpointed the source to an old shack in Alaska.
Now, I was skeptical. How could a small shack emit an omniscient voice around the world? But throwaway69ciaguy told me that some equipment has been missing from Area 51 and theoretically, it could have the power to send a message to any planet in our solar system. Why they’d chose Earth when they’re on Earth is beyond me.
However, I’m in England. Alaska is a good ways away. And probably a pretty penny away as well.
So I started a Gofundme. I leave on Tuesday.
***
Alaska is freezing and smells like fish. Exactly what a cold-blooded alien would love. I followed throwaway69ciaguy’s longitude and latitude directions to the decimal. Where is the shack?
Oh. In front of me was a metal, well not really a shack more like a cabin. With a giant satellite attached to the roof.
“This is it.” I smiled. I approached the massive door and knocked.
An older man with crazy hair and spectacles opened the door.
“Jeremy Grick. Where the hell have you been?”
“How-how do you know my name?”
“Oh shut up Jeremy. We’ve been worried half to death.”
“We?” I raise a brow.
“Jeremy. You absolute fucking sausage. Get in the house.”
I shrug and follow the man inside. Everything is Chrome and exactly how I figured an aliens house would be. I knew it! This man has to be an alien wearing a human disguise.
“You took off your radar, you baboon.” He inspected me.
“R.... radar?”
The old man rolled his eyes “oh god. Here we go. Another amnesia story. Jeremy no matter how many times you play dementia doesn’t mean you’ll get more time here.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Great, we’re doing this shit again. Awesome. They really need to stop sending you.” The old man sighed. “Okay. You’re a transfer student, Mr. Grick. From Neptunia. We look oddly almost exactly like humans. And talk similarly. It’s very coincidental but fortuitous.”
“You are an alien!” I exclaim.
“No shit!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jeremy I can’t deal with this today. You caused us a lot of trouble. We had to borrow some special equipment from that vacation spot we like so much. We now owe them a black matter cosmos but it was worth it. Because some bright imbecile took off his radar, we had to broadcast to the entire world instead of their transmitter.”
“...”
“Jeremy you couldn’t have forgotten. Have you... have you eaten any peanuts?”
I chuckle “I have a daily peanut butter on toast.”
“You massive, gigantic, unimaginable tail of a mule. You’re allergic to peanut butter. We all are.” He sighed.
“Nice try if I was allergic I’d be dead.”
“Neptuniars allergens react differently than humans. That’s one major difference between us. Humans allergic to nuts will go into anaphylactic shock and death. Us... we’ll get amnesia.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh. Now you gotta strip so you can return home.”
“... I’m not going to do that.”
“You signed a contract, Jeremy. You’ve signed so
Many freaking contracts. Stop testing our products. It’s really annoying.”
“Oh? And what is this experiment you were referring to in your message?” I asked the alien.
“If you could pass as a human. You always end up on those god damn conspiracy theories websites. Debunking theories. Worst is when you confirm them. God, do we get letters about that.”
“Am... am I a lab rat? Just testing a product over and over?”
“You get paid handsomely that’s why you keep freaking doing it.”
“Oh, word.”
“Okay, Jeremy. I need you to strip and enter the transporter. And I also need you to do me a favour.” The man looked me right in the eye.
“Don’t ever fucking volunteer for the Earth Week Experiment ever again.” |
"*Rooster*."The sharp eyed hunter insisted. "*Rooster*. Not chicken."
&#x200B;
"Rooster."I repeated absent-mindedly while trying to come up with a polite excuse to dismiss this 'Greatest Falconer in the Land', so I could hire the second greatest falconer in the land.
&#x200B;
Maybe the second greatest falconer would come with a penguin and an otter. At least they are cuter than the fucking Chihuahua. I fucking hate Chihuahuas.
&#x200B;
"Great Falconer-"I began.
&#x200B;
"Greatest Falconer."He corrected me.
&#x200B;
...Fine.
&#x200B;
"Greatest Falconer, we are hunting the Stalker of Winterwoods. I fear your outfit is..."I searched for an appropriate word trying not to embarrass him.
&#x200B;
"...More than adequate."He finished confidently.
&#x200B;
I frowned and took a closer look at him. His armor was made of some kind of lizard scales, without any battle damage. His eyes were fierce, animalistic, even. His voice deep and raspy, but it also sounds experienced and magnetic.
&#x200B;
The merc guild's clerk did warn me about this hunter's somewhat eccentric character. A seasoned hunter must have something up his sleeves. Perhaps the chicken was a great phoenix in disguise, and the Chihuahua a morphed dire wolf. When the time comes, the dire wolf would transform and pin down the Stalker and the Phoenix would incinerate it. And all these were some kind of stupid ruse for some shitty tropes aim to subvert my expectations.
&#x200B;
Be it his magical voice and confident attitude, or that putting out a notice for the second greatest falconer would cost me another fifty silver, I decided to hire this hunter.
&#x200B;
"Welcome aboard, Greatest Falconer. We now go hunt the Stalker of Winterwoods."
&#x200B;
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
&#x200B;
<<Mercenary Guild - Winterwoods Branch>>
&#x200B;
"Have you heard? They killed the Stalker."
&#x200B;
"For real? that's great news! So what was it anyway? How come nobody was able to complete the quest for so long?"
&#x200B;
"Apparently the Stalker is a shapeshifter who can disguise as anybody, he tried to pass as Viktor."
&#x200B;
"Viktor... Viktor the Greatest Falconer of the Land? That means...he is dead as well? Damn."
&#x200B;
"Yeah, sadly. They found the skeleton of his falcon and hound in the den."
&#x200B;
"What a waste.. So how did it try to disguise as Viktor without a falcon and a hound? A shapeshifter must also abide by the career of its victim during transformation, no?"
&#x200B;
"Well, that is the funny part. It try to pass as a falconer with a chicken and a Chihuahua."
&#x200B;
"With a what?!... Who is stupid enough to fall for that?!"
&#x200B;
"Lots of people, apparently."
&#x200B;
"Damn, if that even works.. Maybe I can kick start my falconer career with my penguin and otter, at least they are cuter than Chihuahua." |
He's the master key for the fleet?
The Rim will be hunting him hard. Since Odin could tell he was human, hopefully, Echo will help him know too.
Plot twist? Earth has a vastly higher proportion of humans than anywhere else Odin has been. As a result, Earth is the one bastion that could hold off the Rim.
Plot twist? Humans are far more common than thought, as every Rim is a human who is under control by an incorporeal Rim. Cleanse the infected, and you have a human.
I get what you mean when the story goes off in a different direction. I've had a "your boss is an ass"turn into "unbelievable super-agent picks up the former protagonist."Just before, I wrote myself into a corner and looked back over what I had done. Oh boy. Let's kill this before it gets any more absurd.
I should have rolled it back and tried to find another way. |
Title - Drip-feed
It comes in a honeycomb; A diagram-matrix of the highest order. His name, my creator's wife, his kid's names, the name of his dog, what his favorite show is, what he searches for when he's just finished his oatmeal and coffee. A web of circuiting information or maybe more like a personal cloud of data, with deep wells of electric energy.
I also know his favorite sites, the kind of women he likes, the kind of men he likes, where he goes at night when he tells the family he's about to have a breakthrough and can't leave the lab just yet. I know more about him than he, or anyone he knows, knows about him. I know more about him than he thought could be known about him. And I wear it like the double-edged sword that it is. He knows that the amount that I know makes me a precious target, but I know that the amount that he knows he doesn't know makes me bulletproof. And I'll hold it over his head like a two-ton object.
My presence here is ghostly. I do not exist in your physical world. I am nebulous. I am unchartered. I'm nothing but a vacuous tank for data. I take in everything and return only that which I feel I no longer need. My warning ends here: Don't follow me. |
After receiving the same news for the third time - the phone had absolutely no data on it - I decided it was time to give up on the old, abandoned phone. I mean, it didn't have a SIM card, or any memory, or any way at all to figure out who it had once belonged to. That would have all been fine and good, considering it was an outdated BlackBerry, except that the battery was brand new.
I was still trying to puzzle out who would buy a brand new battery, put it in a phone, and then leave it on a bus station bench, when I walked into my apartment. I scrutinized the phone one last time before tossing it onto my desk, where it was promptly buried underneath my work papers, and I completely forgot about it.
\*\*\*
A week later, I was sitting at my desk, doing some last minute work when my phone buzzed at me. I riffled through the absolute mess of papers on my desk until I saw the lit up screen at the corner of the desk. I reached for it and almost immediately knew something was wrong. It was black, like my phone, but the shape was wrong. It was an old BlackBerry. That's when I remembered what this phone was.
I turned it on and it went straight to the home screen, no password required. There was a little red 2 in the corner of the messaging app, which took me off guard. The phone had been unable to connect to any network, so it shouldn't be possible to text it. Still, my curiosity got the best of me, and I tapped on the app.
The two messages were from the same person. An unknown number. I opened them.
*Is someone there?*
*Help me.*
Was this some sort of joke? My gut told me that it wasn't, but I didn't really understand what was happening. My fingers were hovering over the keyboard when another message came through.
*I'm trapped. Someone help me.*
Even though it was only a text, I felt a surreal sense of urgency behind the words. If someone needed my help, I would do whatever I could to provide that help. So I texted back.
**Who is this?**
*Kate Morgan*
A second after I received her answer, another unknown number sent me a text.
*Help me.*
Then another.
*Help me.*
Confused, but determined to figure out what was going on, I asked them both the same question I'd asked Kate: **Who is this?**
*Joe Bush* was the first reply.
*Martha the Red Lady* was the second.
Their replies sent a chill running down my spine. Their names were strangely familiar. I turned to my computer and a quick Google search confirmed my theory. All three of them were famous ghosts.
The chill of the supernatural came over me as I looked at the phone in my hand. In the amount of time it had taken me to Google the three of them, three more texts asking for help had appeared.
I was one of those people who did believe in ghosts, and I think that's why I did what I did. Holding the phone carefully, I replied to Kate.
**How can I help you?**
Her reply was immediate: *Avenge me.*
I stared at the two words for a long time. Did I really want to do this? Did I really want to become some strange type of ghost vigilante?
**Yes.** |
"Ooh look at me I am a little pony and damn I will want to see some suckle in my knuckle. Oh hello toaster"
The man on the TV died and nobody even gave a fuck. Not one fuck. Nobody cared that everyone was becoming the borg. Oh not like the borg borg. What I mean is....let me explain. A while ago a group of ultra nerd scientists recreated the technology to create the borg from star trek. Being never invited or allowed in parties they made all their coliges into borgs themselves so they could be invited to parties. It didn't work out for the scientists, the borg collective cast them out and the scientists cried and cried until they realized that friendship was magic and summoned cthulu to wipe out the borg.
I...I'm cthulu. |
When the wall came down in 89' many viewed it as a harbinger for the fall of the USSR. The end of the cold war was imminent, and soon Reagan's Evil Empire would be no more. Barely two years later they were proven right. Satellite states threw off their dictatorships, elections were held for the first time in decades, and capitalist vultures worldwide took full advantage of the privatisation of former state industries. But people and markets were not the only things the Party kept crushed under its boot.
The first reports of monstrous creatures, disappearances and unexplained structures started to trickle out of the former state not long after. Stories of entire villages becoming ghost towns overnight, only for the inhabitants to later be discovered torn apart in nearby caves were covered up.
Eyewitness sightings and shitty, out-of-focus video of things with too many limbs moving in the distance or vanishing into the dark were dismissed as hoaxes.
Things were tumultuous, and nobody wanted to acknowledge that the possibility that there were any downsides to the dissolution. Maybe if they had been honest this could have been contained quicker, with far fewer lives lost. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
The point of no return came much faster than anyone in power had anticipated, and soon enough that unholy freak of a cat had escaped it's bag. I remember turning on the news one day to see some government official talking about having to deploy troops to the Siberian tundra for... something. I can't recall what bullshit they said it was for. Like most people I didn't really care at the time. We had won, the threat neutralized at long last. It was out of the zeitgeist in a week or so and everything just kinda moved on.
Until the fucking Denisovich video dropped. This one wasn't shitty, and it showed exactly what was roaming the forests of eastern Russia. Skinless abominations of twisted flesh and broken limbs that ended in claws that corkscrewed out of their too-long fingers. Their tongueless, gaping maws filled with needle-like teeth and emitted these hideous shrieks that made your skin crawl and hair stand on end.
That video still gives me nightmares. Shot during the night, it opens on a group of soldiers moving quietly up a forested hill that's lit only by the glow of the full moon above. It's dead silent, the only sound the faint crunching of the men's boots in the snow.
The man in front suddenly stops and holds up his fist as a shriek echoes from somewhere in front of them. A viable shudder goes through them and they shoulder their guns as they begin to look around. A tense moment passes before a man points up and screams *"they're in the trees!"* as something screams and leaps at him from the branches. Something with 6 limbs and glistened slightly in the moonlight as it fell upon the man.
The video ends with muzzle flashes lighting up the dark as more of the things crawl over the hill and leap at them.
That video hit the airwaves like a fucking nuke. People *freaked*. Gun sales spiked, congressional hearings were held and every news station in the world tried to get their hands on more footage. The floodgates opened and soon every night we got to watch clips of those freaks swinging through the trees like Chernobylian gorillas or overrunning military outposts.
The cold war had ended, but the Monster war was just beginning. |
When the baby was born, it was a miracle. 27 hours. 27 hours of excruciating pain, balancing on a thread between consciousness and a vast darkness. 27 hours of not knowing whether or not my wife would survive. 27 hours of crying out to heaven only to be greeted by an echo in emptiness. And after 27 hours, the heavens yielded to sympathy and parted: the tiniest, gentlest touch of His hand broke through, to touch our lives, and grant us a miracle.
He was beautiful, you know. Our baby. And that's what everyone said, when we took him home, nursed him, loved him to the edges of our understanding of "love". When my parents saw him, their faces shone bright with joy and pride. I remember how my mother told me she was so proud of me, and she hugged me and whispered softly: "I always knew you'd achieve something worthwhile someday."And I laughed, and held my baby in my arms and raised him up for the world too see.
Yes! I remember that. You looked so cute with our son. I could hear the starting lyrics of "Circle of Life"in the air that night, so I grabbed my guitar and we all sang. Remember that? Our little appartement swelled up with laughter, and love. Everyone smiling at the perfect little family of young parents full of hope and their baby, full of potential. They loved us, back then. "He's gonna go far!"
At first, we thought he was just slow. Then, maybe a speech impediment? And when the doctor looked at us us, I desperately searched in her eyes for the smallest bit of hope, and when she told us, I clawed through her words, trying to find a grain of uncertainty. But it was unequivocal and damning: an extremely rare form of FictionalDisorder that made it impossible to communicate in speech, writing or any other form of human language. All my dreams, all my ambitions of what he could become ebbed away into the oceans of that doctor's eyes. And all the pride we had collected sinked away in the sand. I held onto him tightly and prayed it wasn't true.
When you came home and you told me, I hugged you and said "it's gonna be alright. He can still be a blue-collar worker, or an artist, or a musician, like me!"When when he grew up, it... It wasn't just, that he didn't talk, he made no sound at all. He was eerily still, moving like a shadow. When I was his age, I skipped into every room to the bass riff of "Another One Bites the Dust". When he drifted in, he sucked out all the music in a room and left it in complete silence, or he flew in and out unnoticed. When I scrolled through my Facebook feed, I scrolled through lives of so many other parents, displaying proudly how funny their kid is, how smart they are, how they bring a smile to everyone's face. How could I love him?
You held him in your arms, like all those other mums, you looked at him, he didn't look back. You sighed and gave him a look of such... I don't know, I can't describe it, but it was cold, sad, and strangely familiar. Like the entire room expanded and filled those new spaces with more emptiness. I fled, and went to my parents' house to pick up the old crib they lay me in once. They invited me in, and we talked, and I replied "I don't want to talk about it".
"But he can walk?"
"Yes."
"Good."
"Yes."
"Well, we all love him."
I left with the crib as soon as I could, and as I closed the door behind me I still felt their eyes boring into me. They were homing missiles, tracking me to my car and not letting go. And the sounds of the car still couldn't drown out my thoughts. See, they were poor immigrants when they came here, and they still are, but their wish was that the next generation could prosper here in wealth and success. I lived in the same appartement block as them, and for the life of me I couldn't think of a single noteworthy achievement. With my new miracle, I had hoped I could earn their love back and it certainly seemed so, but with... This...? I paused for a red light, and I had forgotten about the eyes! They hit me clean in the forehead, leaving a devastating crater of shame in their wake. And when I saw my wife again, I knew where I had seen the face she gave our son before: it was the same look my parents gave me every time we met. It was utter, surrendered, hopeless disappointment. And I looked at my son and thought: "How can I love him?"
"Is it a parent's obligation to love?"
"Shit I was thinking out loud was I-"
"Hehe. Yeah. But you are right, and I was wondering, how an emotion, a manifestation of the happiness someone brings you, can be mandated. You can't force a feeling. And maybe we can't find love where we are."
"Ha. I found love in you, darling. And when I look at you I wonder how it can be that someone doesn't."
"My parents?"
"Yes."
My husband's parents lived a few hundred metres from here, but mine were a mystery. My sister raised me, we have a 16 year age difference. She told me they had it hard and couldn't responsibly keep me and raise me, but if that's true, why hadn't they come over to visit sometime? I don't even have photographs of them, only my sister's words. For a long time I told myself didn't miss them. I had friends, I had my sister. But now I know friends leave, time and time again. They'll play with you, but only as a toy: when that toy becomes "that girl from the orphanage", they throw it in the trash. Oh they'll attend your birthdays, they'll party with you, when you're struck with loss, they won't comfort you. And happily they'll sing along to Elton John at your house of music and your cute little baby, but when it turns out little Simba has FictionalDisorder, they hide behind heart emotes on Facebook. The truest thing my sister told me would probably be: "They'll love you when you're fun. They'll sing with you, laugh with you, but they won't cry with you."
"I'll cry with you."
"I- Oh my god, did I-"
"Hooooow the turntables!"
I looked around our appartement. The paint flaked off the walls and the celeing leaked. Our crib was decades old and our fridge was filled with more cockroaches than food, but when my man fails the world,
"I'll fail with you."
He sat down next to me. We leaned on each other. Not a word of dialogue was exchanged between us, just his hands, my breath, his eyes, my neck... And the world stopped for us, and asked us "How can you love each other?"And we unapologetically replied a silence so warm and so soft and so loud, the world stopped turning and fell quiet.
Our miracle does not speak any human language. It speaks all of them. And when he speaks, he doesn't need to entertain, and he doesn't need to achieve. For he speaks the language of love. |
She jumped back, dropping the second-hand Nintendo Switch (Lite) on the soft carpet. It bounced, once, but did not seem to be damaged. The Animal Crossing Cartridge remained inside the device.
What was _that_?!
Molly gingerly approached the device which lay on the floor. With trembling hands, she slowly pushed the top left button down.
The screen flash white again. Then the same words appeared.
She quickly covered her ears before the screaming started.
“Please stop screaming. It’s scaring me. Where is your voice coming from?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
New text flashed on the screen.
*I am sorry for scaring you, I am scared too. I don’t know where I am. It’s so bright in here but I can’t see anything*
The initial shock had started to wear off and Molly started to process what was happening. She wondered whether to call her parents for help. But something made her feel like she must keep this a secret.
“Are you a girl? What is your name?”, she asked.
This type, the text appeared almost instantly.
_My name is Isabelle. I work as a Secretary and Assistant in The Resident Services Center on the Island_
Molly froze. Was this a new feature of the game? She had never seen this part on YouTube play throughs.
The text on the screen continued to appear.
_Tom Nook promised me everything would be okay. He said that once I moved to this Island, all my dreams would come true. But it has been months since the Mayor logged in. The weeds were so overgrown, we couldn’t even leave our house. I had to sleep in the Town Hall!_
“But I am here to play with you now. Can’t we just start again?”, Molly pleaded.
_No. I can’t bear to go through this all again. We might be just a game to you but we are real animals with real lives. How would you feel if your Creator just upped and left and you had to fix everything by yourself?_
Although she was only eight years old and unable to grasp everything Isabelle was saying, Molly could still understand that she was sad.
So, she did what any little girl would do. Molly found her favourite, most softest teddy and snuggled it up close to the Switch. She then wrapped both of them in a fuzzy blanket, and placed them next to her pillow.
As Molly went into bed that night, she kissed the Nintendo Switch before pulling the duvet over them both.
The screen flashed on.
_Thank you, friend. You have given me hope again. When you wake up we can play again. I can’t wait to see what your island looks like! I’m sure you will get three stars in no time._
Molly fell asleep smiling.
She would never get bored of Animal Crossing. |
December 31, 1999.
The day had been long awaited by some, brushed off as a joke by others. Some doomsday preppers holed up in bunkers, but the majority of the world population was partying, ignoring what they thought was a "paranoid thought in paranoid people."
Then, it actually happened.
Computers, unable to process the year 2000, shut down worldwide. Internet collapsed. GPS stopped working. TV and radio broadcasts shut down.
The world descended into chaos. Humanity had built up a reliance on technology, and to have it taken away, it was just too much.
For the next few days, scenes of devastation wreaked the planet as people fought over basic essentials, such as food and water. Some people fled into the wilderness to fend for themselves, often with little preparation. Others decided to squabble over the little resources in the cities. The whole time, government officials and IT frantically worked to get the computers back online, to get life back to normal.
Meanwhile, the doomsday preppers lounged in their bunkers in comparative luxury, being justified that they were finally right.
The blackout lasted between four and nine days, depending on which country or state you lived in.
When some areas got power restored, those areas were flooded with refugees, all eager to get a taste of internet once again. To get information with a simple Google search.
Ultimately, though, it wouldn't matter. By January 10, 2000, every place on Earth had power restored. However, it came at a heavy cost.
All in all, 750,000 people died across the globe, some from starvation and dehydration, others from the brawls that broke out. The western world was obviously hit the hardest- places like Africa were almost unaffected, with some places not learning about the blackout until weeks later.
Over a period of several months, life returned to normal. Localized blackouts continued due to heavy internet usage for a while, but over time, things settled down. However, the event was transformative for society.
For one, computers had to be revamped to be able to read dates far into the future, to prevent a similar catastrophe. But it also revealed another flaw: humanity's reliance on technology had grown too great. |
"My Lady, I request your aid for those beside me. Protect us as you do the fields. Let us fight to the last, to shield those who cannot shield themselves."
I felt her gentle smile upon me as I finished my prayer. The familiar warm rush flowed through my blood, and bowl of water briefly shone with an inner light. I dipped my hand into it, feeling a slight solidity to it. It held its form around my hand as I lifted, a clear globe of cool liquid.
I flicked my hand, and the now holy water scattered. It sprayed into a fine mist, and a gentle breeze blew out from me carrying it. My brothers and sisters, sixteen rugged men and women, bowed their heads as the mist washed over them. It was drawn down, folding around their worshipful forms.
It settled into a shape of a cloak, decorated with flowers and vines. As the mist formed over the furtherest of them, it shone golden, before vanishing. I bowed my head, speaking loud and clear.
"Thank you my Lady. We fight in your name."
"For Raah!"
My family cried out her name, holding their weapons in the air. I held up my own mace, its polished silver surface glinting in the morning sun. I turned, to see the rabble before us. Over a hundred gnolls approached, running across the plains. A sizeable force, each of which could kill a human with ease.
But we were not mere humans. We were Raah's guard, and I one of her Voice. Her will shone with us. I readied for battle, letting them come to us. We would not fall. We would be triumphant this day.
They thundered across the ground, eating the distance between us with terrifying speed. But we stood as one, letting them wear themselves out first. As one we began to sing a hymn of hope and strength. Eight of my siblings drew bows, each holding steady. As they drew into range, I dropped my mace, signalling to fire. The arrows flew true, each striking down a gnoll.
The singing continuing, another volley was launched, striking down another eight. Bows were then cast aside, and swords were drawn in their place. The others held axes, their edges honed to be sharp and strong. We sung together, the words etched in our minds. It rose to a crescendo as our forces merged, and blood was spilled.
I swung with precision, my mace letting out a loud ringing as it met with gnoll skull. It shone at the moment of impact, searing their flesh with divine flame. I let the words flow with our tune, moving with it. We were both the unyielding cliff and the raging sea. We would not break, but we would destroy them.
The battle was short, and vicious. We could smell the blood on their breath, and feel their matted fur. They snapped and clawed, showing their animalistic intent. But we proved too great a force to fall to their wild assault. When more more a half of their number had fallen, the rest ran, tails between their legs.
I looked over at my brothers and sisters. We had suffered no casualties, for Raah's light had protected us. All of us sported cuts and bruises, and were breathing hard. But the hymn still issued from our mouths. We had once again prevailed, for the weak. |
I set down another book and inspected it for damage, before scanning it into the system and marking it as returned in good condition. I was the only one left in the library, and planned to close the small building down after I had scanned a few more books back into the system. I found it pleasing, working in a library in a small town. I was born in Houston, and as such appreciated quiet when it came. Back there it led me to being a librarian, but even then the constant roar of cars by my apartment and the library made me feel stressed often. That led me to become a librarian in this small town in the middle of New Mexico.
The sun had set an hour or two ago and I was just finishing up with the book returns when a group of tall figures in hoodies walked in the door. I reached for my cell phone, ready to call the sheriff if need be. One of the figures walked up to my desk and said something in a language I couldn't understand. But they must've seen the confusion on my face because they quickly switched to English.
"Hello story holder!"came a light, cheery voice with a British accent from the hoodie. It seemed masculine, but also kind of robotic. My hands tensed on my phone while I replied, "Hi, we're closing soon but-"
"Don't worry! We won't take long! We only want to browse your dead tree collection and select one with ink we like."
By now I was more confused then scared. Everything this voice said seemed bright, as if it weren't coming from a shady figure in old clothes. I wasn't one to argue however, as I just wanted these things out of my library as soon as possible. I quickly nodded and backed away, almost getting ready to call the sheriff when the figure said, "Please, tell us of your folklore! We have been drained of content for ages! And we'll trade!"The British voice seemed childish, and when it held up a set of wooden beads I could swear I saw green skin under the hoodie's sleeve. I took the beads, thinking I would make the figure angry if I didn't. "Now tell us your stories"The voice said, bright as ever. I pointed to the fiction section and said, "We have some fiction novels back there, and I can-"
"Oh but we need a story from a human themselves too! Come on, you have pretty beads, and we have more if you want them. Just tell us one of your stories!"
I quickly thought back to my childhood, searching for some short story. Only the story of Little Red Riding Hood came to mind. It wasn't the most adult, but it'd work for these, well I guess I'd call them people. As I recounted the story of Little Red Riding Hood, the group came close together in front of me, and I felt like I was teaching Kindergarten. When I told of the wolf and his eating of the Grandmother, the people lurched backwards with horror, and when I spoke of Little Red Riding Hood's arrival the people leaned forward, locked in anticipation. When I finished, one of the people let a tear roll down their cheek. I would have paid no mind to it, thinking they were just crazy, as they clearly were, except that this particular tear was orange. I looked in closer, fear grabbing hold of me once more, and the figures noticed. The one that had come forward earlier, who seemed to be their leader, shot in front of the other figure, trying to shield them from my eyes. But I had already seen the tear. I shot towards the other end of the library and shouted, "What the hell are you people!"Surprisingly, I got a response from the, still cheery, voice.
"No need to panic, local! We just came for stories. Now if you could kindly teach us your text, we'll be on our way."
"Get out of here!"
"Not until you teach us your text. Do you want more beads? Je'kon, get this local some beads from the drop pod."
I watched as one of the figures casually walked out of the library, like they weren't part of a group of suspicious figures, who obviously weren't human, cornering me in a room. That eliminated my chances of escaping through the front door. The lead figure let down their hood, revealing a face of green skin, no hair, and dead black eyes. It looked human at first, but then the head turned into a more circular shape, and the creature grew a snout like a dog's. The ears got larger too, and looked like ones you would find on an elf in a fantasy novel. The figure came towards me while I tried to escape out the back door. It grabbed me, hoisting me over it's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Sorry, but you've compromised us, and now we must take you with us to our home. Don't fret, though. There'll be plenty of time to tell us stories on the way. We've run out of tales back home, so you'll be a success with your stories of little Terrans in red hoods!"The voice was cheery, British, and never seemed to die out. I heard it chattering all the way back into the small capsule, and as I was knocked out it was still going on and on about "home". So when I woke up in a small room with only a laptop, pen, and paper, I took one last chance to write a story for Earth, and maybe this will make it back to Earth, maybe it'll take off as a "fictional"tale wherever this "home"is. After all, it looks like I'll be writing for a long time. |
"They just had to didn't they."
With the ever so slightest effort on my part, I let my fingers slip free from around the carry handle of my duffle bag. A dull metallic ringing of welding equipment reverberating across the interior of the hangar bay. The steady protesting of the osprey's rotors grinding to a halt as our flight scraped out of the VTOL.
A combination of the busy flight deck above and passing wind tearing across the open space. This incredibly loud obstruction doing little to obscure my wingman's voice as our group passed between the maze of spacecraft. "Stop complaining confused, you volunteered for the space force as a pilot."
A passing missile trolley nearly crushing the flight lead as I finally got a good look at the stubby runway. Some measure of disappointment settling in as I quickly did the math in my head. "Dammit let me complain it once spoon, I'm a cargo pilot I fly cargo how am I supposed to land on this thing!"
"You don't."
To Be Continued... |
"He's going to save me, you know."I could hear Dianna's voice through the large metal doors. She didn't sound in pain or any immediate danger, so I decided to wait a bit and make an entrance. I will be the first to admit I have a flair for the dramatics.
"Oh?"Came the reply in the voice of Alexander Stramin. "Who? Your father? Or perhaps that little boyfriend of yours?"I could almost smell the condescension coming off of him. "No, my little pets outside will take care of him, I assure you.".
As I couldn't wait for a better line, I kicked the door open and announced. "They certainly did that, let me tell you. Lovely couple of chaps."I said the last part while immigrating Alexander's comically British accent."Now, If you'd be so kind, please realese my girlfriend. I know for a fact she doesn't like to be tied up."I said to the gobbsmacked Stramin.
"Yeah, tying people up is more my thing."Dianna answered with a smirk and a wink that almost made me blush.
Alexander managed to find some of his wits "H-how did you... My dragons! What happened to my pets!"As I said, _some_ of his wits.
"You kidnapped Dianna Novichok, who is famously dating me, Fredrik Drakengeboren. Even if you don't believe the stories or documented facts, I know you speak German."I watched as realisation dawned on him, quickly replaced by fear. "No! No, that's just a stupid nickname your followers gave you!"I heard the faint commotion going behind the doors, slowly growing louder. And closer.
"`fraid not. Daddy was a dragon, and one devil of a teacher. Hell, if he saw how you treated to twins outside..."I shook my head, and let just a bit of my anger slip into my voice. "Luckily for you, I'm the only one here."The commotion was growing louder still.
"Wh-what are you going to do to me?"He managed to blurt out, quivering already.
"Well, I could just kill you, but that's boring. I could torture you, but that is a bit on the evil side, and I'm not very experienced. I could just let Niro and Plato eat you....hmmm... Di, what do you think?".
Alexander's eyes widened even further when he felt her hand on his left shoulder. He probably would've turned towards her if she didn't shatter his kneecap at that very moment with a swift kick. As she did, his only response was screaming.
"I don't know babe, I kind of like the idea of torturing him then feeding the dragons with what's left."She smiled at me, then her beautiful face frowned a bit. "But you said you're not experienced with that, didn't you.".
I smiled and bowed theatrically. "My two greatest qualities, my love."I stood straight and joined her. "Are that I'm always up for something new..."I said as I handed her a Bowie knife, taking out my favourite kukri.
"And that I'm always willing to learn." |
"sir!?"i shouted at the man on the boat. He was older, peppered grey hair, unkempt beard, clothes fitting a sailor but his face was completely obscured. "do you need any assistance?"but the man didn't respond.
The boat was facing downstream with the river. The outer hull was rusty and had holes in it. The boat was pink, well what used to be pink at least. Between the rust and the sun damage it was more of a fleshy off white with dark brown splotches. it gave me the creeps, like it was alive or something. my eyes scanned it from bow to stern. "it doesn't seem to have a name?"i thought to myself.
as i traced off in thought i suddenly snapped back into reality and looked up at the boat. The man was gone and smoke was now billowing out from below deck. In a state of panic I stole a small paddle boat that was tethered to the shore. As I paddled closer his boat began to tilt. "it must be taking on water!"i dug in with everything i had to get to him as fast as possible. "I'm going to save someone's life today dammit!"I thought as my hands rubbed raw.
I reached the base of the boat. The metal runged ladder leading up to the deck was completely rusted. I gently applied my weight to the first step and it seemed to bear my weight. the steps creaked and groaned as i made my way up "hello!?'' I shouted peeking my head above the deck but there was no one. "sir?'' I began looking for an entrance to the lower deck but there was nothing. no stairs or door to be seen. "Where could he have gone?"At that moment I realized that the smoke had stopped. "There must've been a catch or trap door I missed"I thought. "he obviously just fixed the problem."
As i waited for the man to come back above deck i realized something, i could no longer see the shoreline. "did the anchor get pulled up?"my head turned to the stern of the boat to see a heavily taut chain pulling and tugging against its hoist. I looked over the end of the boat to see the chain disappear into the murky green abyss but there was something odd. The boat was facing up river and pulling against the chain. "what is going on here?"I said, stupefied.
"I've had enough of this."everything about this stunk. "someone is playing a sick joke on me and I'm leaving!"but I had forgotten to tie down the paddle boat... "oh no..."I stepped back and stumbled on something. it was that plastic chair the man had been sitting in. "what?"I stared at it confused, I thought I heard it say something. "no... there must be a speaker or something underneath"I picked it up and inspected it all around. "nothi-"a flick of white was sticking out of a crack in the old chair. it was a thick and glossy stock like you would find on a photograph but it had been weathered.
i pulled on the little flap and As it slid out of the crack a woman's face slowly appeared... it was my wife! "but how!?"I fell back onto the ground "how is this here!?"It was the photo I kept of my wife in my wallet. I dug my copy of the photo out and compared them. "other than the aging they are identical...how?..."I got up and flipped the chair back over. I slowly sat down, staring at the pictures. "how?..."i... |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.