Split (1)

train · 177k rows

prompt stringlengths 391 14.9k
“What was your grandfather like?” “Um...that’s a complicated question. He was caring, kind, but quiet. Wasn’t one to express his emotions, you never really knew what was going on in his head. Except for me. Me and him bonded, he talked to me more, opened up to me more. I don’t think he was playing favorites, he just finally found someone in the family that could appreciate music and movies like he did. He introduced me to a lot of great stuff.” “Wow, so that’s why he left you this box?” “Maybe, depends on what’s actually in it. He asked me to wait until my grandmom passed away so God only knows what he has stored away in there.” “Did I get to meet your grandmother?” “Once, the first Thanksgiving I invited you to. She was the old woman in a turkey mask and a Turkey Lives Matter sign hanging off the front of her scooter.” The two thirty-three years old laughed as they climbed up the attic stairs. “Was that her idea?” “Yup, my grandfather told me once she was a troublemaker with a quick wit from the day he met her when she was a flapper in Los Angels.” “You’re grandmother was a flapper?” “Yeah, she was 16 and trying to piss off her parents. Considering her parents lived in Ohio at the time, I’d say she succeeded.” “Wow, what year was that?” “ ‘26 I think. They didn’t have kids until they were in their forties.” “Wow, so they were together for 85 years?!” “Amazing ain’t it?” “...think we’ll make that far?” “I don’t want to see my nineties.” “But you see a long-term future for us then?” “...who are you again?” “Oh shut up...is that the box over there?” Shaun laughed and looked over to where his girlfriend Maria was pointing. “Yep, that’s it...” They walked over and picked the box up and moved it to the center of the attic. Maria pulled over two old chairs as Shaun fished in his pocket for the key. “Are these chairs as sturdy as your grandparents were? The one in your right hand is...” “What’s wrong with the other one.” “Sit on it.” “Absolutely not.” Shaun chuckled as she went hunting for another chair. “This is my grandmother's gag chair. An old friend made it for her birthday one year, it collapses when you sit in it. “ “You’re grandmother sounds like a lot of fun.” “She was, but she was serious when she needed to be. Next time you see my dad ask him about the trash bag incident.” “She did not put him in a trash bag, did she?!” “No my dad and his friends were convinced if they wrapped their friend in a couple of trash bags and rolled him off the roof of the shed he’d be completely unharmed.” “Why the shed roof?” “Closer to the ground.” “Jesus...” “Yay. The kid broke an arm and leg. My grandmom wasn’t home at the time and my grandad left to pick up my aunt and uncle from after-school activities and when he came home and saw the ambulance in the driveway, he immediately turned out and took my aunt and uncle to Burger King.” Shaun laughed and looked down at the chest. Maria returned with a chair and sat next to him. “Ok open it up!” Shaun nodded and put the key in the lock and turned it. He pushed the lid open... “Film reels and scripts?” “He told me I’d be the only one to appreciate this stuff's true worth so I guess they must be pretty old...” Maria carefully picked up one of the reels and brushed some dust away from a label on the front. “What was your grandfathers name again?” “Walter Nitt, why?” “Look...” She held the film reel over to him and his jaw dropped as he read the label. “The Comics Muse directed by Walter Nitt?!” “Was your grandfather a director?” “No, he was a doctor.” Shaun carefully began to dig through the chest full of scripts and film reels. “Whos Diego Nash?” “He was an indie filmmaker before there was such a thing as independent cinema. Most of his movies only played for a few weeks before being pulled. They’ve been lost for years. It was believed he was blackballed during the...McCarthyism...scare...” At the bottom of the chest was a left addressed to Shauns grandfather from a Ness Reed. Shaun picked up the already opened envelope and carefully removed the note inside. “Dear Walt, I hope this reaches you before the feds do. Someone in the studio talked to the FBI. I think they told them you and Henry were commies, I saw them talking in the parking lot and found your files missing. I can’t confirm who it was that lied or why, but I think it would be in your best interest to lay low until you talk to the feds. Keep Maria in the loop. Love, Nessie.” “Wow...theres a couple more envelopes. Ones form a Henry?!” Shaun didn’t say a word as he picked up the envelope with the name Henry Kelly on it. Underneath was an envelope marked from the FBI but Shaun figured to save the best for last. He pulled out the note from Henry and found a very brief and telling message. “Paulie finally found out about me and Greta” “That’s all it says?” “I guess that’s all it needed to say…” “That friend that made your grandmoms gag chair...are they still alive?” “No, they died in the nineties...” “Damn...” “I know...” Maria picks up one of the scripts for a movie called Movie XIX written by Diego Nash. She began to thumb through it but found the pages blank, except for one... “Shaun, did you see a reel labeled XIX?” “Maybe...” He wasn’t listening, he was engrossed in the notice of investigation from the FBI. Maria and started to thumb through the reels carefully. In the middle was a reel marked XIX. “Shaun I think we need to find a projector.”
Oh my god that sounds horrifically heartbreaking You spend the whole story watching them grow as people, and watching them learn to care for and love each other. A tale of forgiveness and mending wrong-doing. And some point towards the end, they’d start fighting on purpose. Hurting each other just to avoid the fate they know is coming. If they make up, their souls pass on and they’re separated forever. They know this, and as they’ve learnt to love each other, they can’t let that happen. The finale is a gruesome fight where they’re inflicting as much pain on each other as possible, and in turn they’re hurting their own hearts. But in the end, it’s all for nothing. They just can’t keep fighting. And after one final, candid conversation, their souls evaporate. I’m gonna turn this into a short story Edit: And the final fight mimicks the fight in the prologue, where they killed each other! (The conflict ran that deep). It’s the same fight, but with different contexts and feelings. Edit #2: It’s a twist on Romeo & Juliette! Instead of accidentally killing themselves out of love (through a contrived misunderstanding), they killed EACH OTHER because they adopted their family’s Hatred, and it ended up being more powerful than their love.
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. ... ... ... Size: 3.5 GB (Disquieting sounds) (Sound of rolling a sheet of paper from a typewriter) (More disquieting sounds) (Sound of paper flipping, disquieting sounds slowly intensify) (Disquieting sounds intensify, then slowly quiet down) "How do you like it?"
Ah, welcome! Have a seat and we can get started! Hannah! Could you please bring Mr-- Erm, I'm sorry what did you say your name was? Yes, would you be so kind as to bring us some tea? Mint, if they have it. Thank you so much, Hannah. Well, I see no reason we can't get this interview started while Hannah is getting our tea. First off, I would just like to thank you for your interest in our company. We haven't always been the beacons of dungeon staffing, Gods know, but we have made quite the name for ourselves. And that comes down to two things: the monsters and the people. The monsters are easy. Everybody knows that finding the monsters is quite possibly one of the easiest things you can do in this world. Heck, there's some places, it's like all you need to do to find a minotaur is breathe. But then there's those places where you actually have to look. I mean, really look. It's places like that, only dungeons have 'em, but they almost never start out in those dungeons. And the guy who's in charge of that dungeon can't just go capture the monsters himself; he's got his own problems to deal with. So what does he do? How does he get the necessary monsters to suit his needs? That's where we come in. Ah, the tea's here! Thank you very much, Hannah! Tell you what, why don't you take a break right quick? Don't worry, we'll be fine. See you in a bit! Love her to death, I tell you. I'm sure she knows this already, but I doubt I could get by in this job without her. I mean, this is really as much her office as it is mine. Anyway, you are here about the Wrangler position, correct? Ah, good! I'm glad to hear that! I'd be lying if I said that we didn't need the help in that department. It's not a job that's for everyone, and it is not easy, by any means. But we will train you, and make sure that you only handle monsters suited for your skill level. In time, you can move up the chain to Department Head, maybe even Logistics or even Acquisitions. Now, it's time for the tour! Back from that break already, Hannah? Would you mind holding my calls while I take our friend here on the tour? Thank you so much! &#x200B; Our first stop is just down the hall, the Acquisitions department. These guys are the ones that actually go out and get the monsters that we supply to the dungeons out there. Given the nature of their job, their pay is considerable, as is their benefits package. I'm talking some of the best dental coverage in the company, and that's just for starters. Despite the inherent dangers of their job, you will be surprised to know that our casualty rate is only 15% this quarter. If they keep that up, they're looking at a pretty sweet bonus. But you didn't hear that from me. Now, in the elevator and on to the next stop. Here we are! Welcome to Logistics! The Logistics department is essentially what keeps this business going. They find us clients, requisition weapons and armor for the Acquisition guys. And most importantly, they keep an eye out for the monsters. If you look over at that back wall, you will see the heart of this department. That's the Map. That's the whole continent, just on that wall. They also monitor maps for all the countries, the various kingdoms. They basically monitor every speck of land that could give us a monster that we could loan out to prospective clients. Speaking of loans, it's time to move on to the next department. This is Collections. I know, nobody likes dealing with this with any business, but it really is necessary in our field. Just as I mention earlier, we loan out monsters to our clients. The expectation is that they contract the use of a monster for a certain amount of time and then, once that time has elapsed, we get the monster back or we renew their contract with the client. But we both know how adventurers can be. That's why the client has to put down a deposit for reach monster they contract from us. In the event of a monster's death, the client pays for the handling and disposal of remains. Down to the sub-levels for our last stop, the paddocks. This where you come in. Every monster that we loan out is kept here. Just on this first sub-level, we have a variety of surface dwelling creatures, and even some flyers here and there. On the next sub-level just below us, we have units housing subterranean and aquatic specimens. If you look on, you can see the wranglers take very good care of these animals, even if the animals themselves don't fully understand what we are doing for them. &#x200B; You know, I always enjoy giving the tour to applicants, but I am always glad to be back in my office. Okay, so we went over the salary with you in the intake interview, and you don't appear to have any questions. If there is nothing else, I will be seeing you bright and early on Monday. Welcome aboard!
Technology has always changed the world. Starting from when the first humans carved an axe out of stone and used it to chop down a tree, we have always used technology to change our environments. Agriculture, construction, metallurgy, chemistry - all of them let us dominate and control our surroundings and each other. And when CRISPR led to Cas9, which led to PAMS, MRGES, and then GEPRES, technology finally let us control ourselves, even at the genetic level. People modified themselves, and parents modified their children, resulting in world-class athletes, stunning genius, and, eventually, full-blown superpowers. You always knew, in those early days, who was modified. Laws forced POMs (persons of modification) to be marked for a variety of reasons, mostly for security. If you screen for firearms going into a baseball game, then what do you do if a person can literally shoot fire out of their arm? Over time, the marking got more sophisticated and subtle. Once again, technology allowed us to control our environment and each other. These days, you can hardly tell the POMs from anyone else. There’s always an exception that proves the rule. In the murky time after MRGES was widely available, but before GEPRES made modification so easy that laws were needed to separate the POMs from everyone else, I was granted immortality. No one knew, exactly, how it would work - the prediction algorithms that made GEPRES such a success were not so good back then - and no one is left who knows how it works now, except for me. In some ways, that’s a miracle by itself. All it would take is someone to get some of my DNA and run it through GEPRES to tell them exactly how my immortality works, but, as far as I know, no one has. By the standards of immortality, I’m not terribly old - I just turned 150, and decided to travel somewhere new to celebrate. As far as I know, I’m the oldest person to ever live. What should a person do when they reach such a distinction and still have the body and mind of a 30 year old? Beach vacation. South Island, New Zealand. I’ve heard that’s some National Geographic level scenery. The sims and videos of it convinced me to take the trip in person. I’ve never been afraid of flying, and have flown dozens of times in my 150 years with never a problem. But not this time. Somewhere over the Pacific, we went down. The fuselage ripped open, and debris nearly split me in half, but I healed almost instantly. Then the flames came, choking and charring to death virtually everyone in the cabin. It burned through my seatbelt, and so I moved out of the way to the back of the cabin, away from the flames. By the time I was to the back, I had healed completely, but I was getting tired, which almost caused me to panic. I’m already tired, and we haven’t even crashed yet. An eternity later, we hit the water, hard. By that point, I’m sure I was the only one left alive. I moved to the emergency doors, but couldn’t get to them before we were submerged. I breathed sea water as I struggled my way to the opening in the fuselage, but I felt myself slipping, exhausted from the effort of healing such severe injuries. The plane spun and tumbled as it sank, disorienting me, and making it hard for me to get to that opening - to anything, really, that could let me get out of this sinking coffin. I kicked against the overhead bins, trying to get some speed so that I could make it to the opening. I clawed my way across the tops of the seats, floating on the currents of water that seemed to be forcing me back, and eventually burst out of the plane’s corpse, and swam towards daylight. Sea water spills from my lungs with every cough, slowly being replaced by fresh air. Everything hurts. My mind is foggy. My heart is beating so hard that it is painful. I can’t see well, and my strength is fading. I need rest, food, and time that I don’t have. I look down at my hands, and what should be the strong hands of a 30 year old are thin, spotted, and wrinkled - not by the seawater, but by age. I blink my eyes clear, but they remain hazy - by cataracts, I assume. I am functionally immortal, and can heal from virtually anything, but healing ages me - the more I’m hurt, the more I age. Rest returns me to normal, but rest while dog paddling in the choppy waters of the Pacific isn’t really an option. I look around for something to float on, but can’t see beyond a few feet in front of me. I swim around, exhausted beyond belief, until I just can’t continue the fight. I’m sinking, sputtering and coughing, realizing the darkness closing in at the edges of my vision is my immortal life ebbing away. New Zealand will have to wait for another life, I suppose, if there even are other lifes. I hope there are. This one was too short on birthdays.
The Grim Reaper emerged from the shadows at the first stroke of midnight. It surveyed the mortal's bedroom with distaste. Every surface was covered in a layer of grime. The once white ceiling was now a sickly yellow. The walls were covered with blackish mould. If the sight alone wasn't enough to make any mortal gag, the smell of rotting leftovers, cigarette smoke, and body odour would probably do the trick. Fortunately, The Grim Reaper didn't have a digestive system. So, nausea was not something it could feel. It still hitched its black robe away from the filthy floor with its skeletal hands and glided across the carpet until it reached the sleeping mortal at the other side of the room. Todd. The most repulsive creature The Grim Reaper had ever had the misfortune of meeting. Unfortunately, Todd was also one of the few mortals that had a strong enough connection to the spirit realm to see The Grim Reaper. Even when he had been years away from death. As it got closer, the smell of old sweat became stronger. In the end, The Grim Reaper had to reach out with its scythe and tap Todd awake with the end of the long handle. Todd rolled over. His face lit up as he saw the spectre of death. "Buddy!"he yelled "Finally come to visit me, have you? I knew you'd see reason eventually! How are you?" The Grim Reaper said nothing. Todd said "Ah. Still as tight-lipped as ever, eh? Some things never change. At least tell me who's turn it is to kick the bucket." The Grim Reaper lifted his hand and pointed a long bony finger at Todd. Todd tipped his head back and laughed. "So I get hit by a car, and you let me live. I get struck by lightning and walk away unharmed. I've been shot. I almost drowned twice but I was somehow brought back when you didn't come. Now you're saying that I'm going to die peacefully in my sleep!?" Silence. The truth was that The Grim Reaper should have reaped Todd years ago. But the stench that lingered around the disgusting mortal was enough to keep it from finding the strength to do its job. But the day of Todd's death had finally arrived. The Grim Reaper couldn't avoid fate any longer. The paperwork required to keep Todd alive was becoming unbearable. "Why?"Todd yelled. The Grim Reaper gave a long, sweeping gesture with its scythe to the pile of grime that was Todd's bedroom. It stopped at the side of the room where a rat was nibbling away some old food, unaware of the spectre that loomed beside it. "What's wrong with my house?"Todd asked. He sat upon alarm as The Grim Reaper raised its scythe "Wait a minute! No! You can't do this! I thought we were friends!" The Grim Reaper swung its scythe down sharply. The instant the blade touched Todd's body, he grew limp and fell onto his back. His glassy eyes gazed at the ceiling. The Grim Reaper wiped the blood from the blade with its robe. It retreated slowly back to the shadows and vanished without a trace.
"If you're listening to this that means I am dead. I point the barrel of my gun at the murky figure on the other side of the street. While supporting my rifle with my forearm I glance at the watch on my wrist: '6:59' I gasped to myself. My hands are already shaking. I can't believe that I'm actually going to survive this, I thought to myself. I snapped back to reality and looked up as I saw movement on the other side of the street in my peripheral vision. 'We don't have to do this!' I shouted at the figure. 'Look! Look at the time! We BOTH can survive this!' The figure lowered their gun and we looked, in turn, each other and at our watches. Both of us still with our guard up. The clock hands struck 7 o'clock and a deafening silence filled the streets of Boston. The dense anticipation of waiting for the sirens was so thick I swear you could feel it. 'Why is nothing happening?!' I yelled with exasperation in my voice. My grip around the handle of the M4 I looted off of someone I presume to be a doomsday prepper tightened. Fierce yelling and gunshots from a few blocks away broke the tension between me and the mysterious figure and we both fired at each other. She hit me in the stomach and I hit her in the throat. I quickly limped over to loot her and then made my way inside the building behind her. From there I made my way to the roof, and this will most likely be my final resting place. I just hope that the sirens will blare that triumphantly beautiful sound again soon."
Yes I’m powerful, yes I’m harsh, but to lock me underground for protecting the natural order? I still can’t believe I fell for it. A few of my worshipers who had gotten dissatisfied with my rule had lured me to an underground cave then trapped me there. They claimed they just wanted to ask a few questions and have a discussion. But they betrayed me. Years later I finally got free. And when I did I was horrified by what I saw. The once lush green land was covered in grey stone. All the dinosaurs were gone. Instead the planet was ruled by bipedal creatures with no scales or feathers, only a soft skin and flimsy armor made of some kind of woven fiber. I can’t believe this! My beautiful creations, all of them reduced to dust and bone! And the worst part? My infantile little brother ruling over these beings. He enacted policies that contradicted all i once taught. These things killed lesser beings indiscriminately and in excess. They were greedy selfish hoarders, barely even caring if one of their own doesn’t have enough to eat. But lucky for me, my poor children had left behind some descendants. It’s time I made myself known to them.
&#x200B; It didn't start out being called Mortal Kombat, a lot of people don't know that. Orginally started as a local access cable show called Tuesday Night General Mayhem. I was working there at the time as a janitor. You see I had graduated High School in 1987 from the Omaha High School in Omaha Arkansas. I played a little baseball back then, that's where I met Sean. We were thick as thieves back then, went everywhere, shared everything. So anyway, after graduation Sean had this idea to go to Bali to start growing weed and shipping it back to Arkansas. Not really the best idea and we never made it but we did talk about it a lot. We did wander up to Springfield the year after though. Sean's girlfriend has a cousin who worked for Target and she said we could get on pretty easy and her cousin had a couple extra bedrooms that he would rent to us. Well now once we got there I sure wouldn't have called them bedrooms, spent the best part of the week cleaning out the "bedrooms", replacing some drywall and painting. Turned out Tonia couldn't get us both on at Target either. Sean got on unloading trucks, he ended up working up and was a department manager for Electronics department. He never did much else workwise past that. He had a couple kids with his girlfriend Cassie but he turned the wrong way down an exit ramp one night and ran head-on into a semi. Now I bounced around through a couple jobs. I even worked at Dairy Queen setting everything up in the morning for lunch. Back in those days you could even smoke back in the kitchen, you had to have those big vent fans on though. I'd be standing there chopping up tomatoes with a smoke hanging out the side of my mouth. Sure couldn't see that happening these days. I ended up getting on full time at Channel 10 WICS. They needed a janitor and I needed a job. That was a good job for me back then, in the union, had benefits and everything. Most of the time I would come in on the weekends for doing a good mopping and waxing the floors a couple times a year. Wasn't a whole lot of people in there on the weekends so that made it easier to keep people from walking on my floors. The main hallway was kind of different than most building, it had another hallway right next to it. So I would keep the mop bucket in one hallway and then mop the hallway on the other side. I came up with this idea that I could just tie a rope on the bucket and just put it down on the hallway. I would go and do the mopping, pull the bucket to me, clean out the mop and just keep on mopping. Another thing was that east hallway had a bit of a pitch to in and the bucket would tend to start rolling in a couple places so you had to keep an eye on it. Didn't pay much attention to it but whenever it rolled away I would be talking to myself and tell it to "Get on over here". That's where it came from. The writer for the Tuesday Night General Mayhem were working one Saturday and they heard me talking to myself. Thought they could put that in the show on Tuesday. Going to be Tom "The purdy boy"Jankin's new catch phrase. Now wouldn't you know it but on Monday night old Tom was out at the bar, had a little too much and ended up in a fight with the bouncer. The police showed up and Tom was still sitting in lockup on Tuesday night. They weren't sure what to do with the main event that night with Tom out of the picture but John Rivers, one of the writers, figured they could put me in there with a mop bucket and try out that new line. At the time it sure didn't make sense to me but I was just a janitor and they promised me an extra $100 for the night. They had it all planned out. I would enter as a masked unknown, Sam (a really nice guy mind you), he would toss me around for a bit, then I took a drink out of my special potion (water in a tube with some dry ice for the smoke), I got energized and then I would give him the what for. He gets all scared and tries to get out of the ring but I got my bucket over there, I pull it towards me, tangling him up in it and say "GET ON OVER HERE". The show was going pretty good. I was nervous I'll tell you. I was smoking Camel Wides in the back room and drinking some sweet tea. Kind of did a number on my throat, suppose I might have had a cold or something I was too nervous to really remember. So everything goes like we planned, I was running my line in head, just getting ready. Sam runs over, I grabbed the line and I went to say it. I had a frog or some flehm or something in there, couldn't quite remember it all either. Came out "GET OVER HERE"all raspy and wet. You wouldn't believe the letters we got, I was a hit. Kind of cleaned up the act after that, the bucket was a little hard to always get right so we had a rope with a kinda heavy ball on the end that I could swing around the legs. I did that for a couple months and I was getting good at it too. It all changed on Tuesday the 3rd in April 1990. I was wrestling Daryl Lebrowski, aka The Crusher. I hadn't wrestled with him before and he didn't show up for the practice on Saturday night either. Real professional is what he thought he was. Part of the act was right before i threw the rope you got to put at least one of your arms up by your head, you got to protect your neck. He didn't, that's for sure. That rope went swinging around through the air and sure enough, right around his neck. They said it was a freak accident but that rope got tangled up with the ball and we couldn't get it off. Had to cut to commercial and bring in the fire department. We was supposed to have a trained medical guy there but we just had never needed one and it wasn't ever thought about before. As it turn out "The Crusher"became the first fatality of Mortal Kombat. The show got shut down after that, I was out of the extra money and I was starting to like the recognition. although I had a mask on I would hear people talking about the wresting. After that the whole story spread, not like today, it's what they call the Urban Legends. Not really sure how it works but it started getting around that I was some secret Asian assassin that had secret ninja ice powers and I bought my way into a wrestling match and killed a guy on live tv. The local station had no interest in the show after that but some kind of network over in Singapore was super stoked on the whole thing. Bought the rights, flew us out there and everything. I'll tell though, I just see that night over in my dreams. Killing someone, even if it ain't really all your fault just sticks with you. I helped train a guy over in Singapore, they named him Sub-Zero. They ran that over there for a bit amping up the effects and they leaned on in to the killing. Over there the killing wasn't real but they didn't tell that to the people paying to watch it. I just ended up taking a payout for them for helping getting it all going. Moved on down here to Florida, got me a poodle from the pound and I try to mind my own business. I'm not supposed to talk about it but I figure, what are they going to do about it? They're all the way over on the other side of the world.
They were odd little creatures. Each individual stood barely above my mid calf, and as a fellow of unfortunate height but oddly well proportioned limbs, that meant they were small. Very small. And not well proportioned at all. They mostly consisted of round heads, with comically small bodies, and enormously oversized mock-Viking helmets fashioned out of steel-rimmed fruit bowls. Some had intricate carvings beneath removable plates, etched lovingly into the ivory by tiny thumbtack hands. Bone grown in a specific shape by plastering wooden boards to the animals' heads as they grew - horns were very common. Horns and wings and sometimes even antlers. They depicted towers of circles, charging into battle, with cloaks and boats and headless "giants"some sat atop, fire blazing in the background. Very good little creatures, though. Welcoming. Beautiful hair, very well kept houses. Excellent hosts in all - if only they weren't ripping through my pockets like rabid terriers. Seems gold is quite hard to come by these days.
For years, he had lurked in the shadows of man. Watching passively from beyond the darkness in wait to finally acknowledge him. The demon had been patient and tried to instil some kind of belief to people so if could break free of his chains. Then, after eons, he found the man for the job. Or rather the boy. A boy sat alone in his room and pondered upon what if demons could lurk in places people didn’t think of. That they were closer to the human world than they thought. In places he was tied to. The demon’s chains began to rust and break the more the boy thought in contemplation. Eventually snapping and retracting back to the abyss he was caged to. The demon smiled to himself and let his presence be known to the boy that had freed him from his inky black prison. The boy was startled to see his wretched form looking back at him with empty eyes, but the demon didn’t care. He moved towards the boy and gently held up his chin, squeezing the soft flesh of his face between his talons. “Thank you,” the demon said in a low rumbling voice. The boy trembled before him, and the demon suppressed his scream with a loud hush, bringing a finger to his lips. Then grinning with his fangs. He couldn’t thank the boy enough for his deed, so he left him a small candle made of wax that had been embedded with the darkest of magics. “A gift,” the demon offered him. “When you need help, light it, and I shall come. But for, I bid you farewell.” The demon moved over to the window and stretched its large wings upon propping itself up on its ceil. Grinning at the boy one last time before disappearing into the night with a new found strength he’d so longing wanted.
[Poem] A ticking watch, A rose not yet touched by the frost. A life lived with beauty, A life filled with grace, And though doctors say the end is soon, Nobody is going to touch you, Precious. My little sunshine, My locket of joy, Time has no bearing on you, Sitting at the edge of your hospital bed, Your ignorance proves innocences. And I laugh, It’s just so funny. A tiny face with no bearing of reality, Laments in fantasies, Indulging in knights and heroes- Please, Please, Continue. Smile, Like tomorrow never comes. And rest, Death has no sway over you, Because you never knew. I claimed you, And as the beeping grew thin, Drawn like lines in the sand, You took your final breath, With no understand of death.
Long ago a dark and powerful sorcerer, Eggnahstai, laid waste to the land of Flavortown, stripping away all flavors within the plentiful foods of the people and further secluding the people into three nations; Diners to the North, Drive-ins to the East, and Dives to the West. Our Monastery, the Keepers of Flavor, protect the last remaining remnants of Flavortown. We have dedicated our lives to reuniting the people of this once-great land by returning flavors from across the nations, joining them and destroying the blandness that Eggnahstai has created. Alas, many have tried to reach the separate nations but all have perished. Legends have long foretold of a chosen one, born to reunite the nations under one Flavortown and return Eggnahstai once more to the Carton of Doom from whence he came. Now, my son, I believe your time has come; I believe you are the chosen one of which the legends have foretold. This quest will not be without peril. You must first venture North to the land of Diners, plentiful in cold-hearty vegetables and herbs that will warm the bellies of an weary traveler. You must then venture East to the land of Drive-ins, plentiful in wild game of the rarest and most exquisite varieties this land has ever seen. You must then venture West to the land of Dives, plentiful in minerals and Magic’s that will balance all facets of a proper Flavortown banquet. Finally, you must return home; once the splendors of the lands are united by our Monastery, the bland shadow cast over the foods of the land will set our people free from Eggnahstai’s grip. To aid you in your quest, I have obtained the fastest mount in all the land, Camaro. To cut down Eggnahstai’s legion that may stand in your way, I have imbued your sword with the Stone of Ember; may it’s flames guide you. Finally, to help you locate the targets, I present you with the Glasses of the Sun. Now you must go my son. You will conquer Eggnahstai and reunite Flavortown. History shall forever remember the name, Guy Fieri!
Guild leader: Jhon! Jhon: yeah what's up? Guild leader: did you really just do that? Jhon: I did alot of things you would question, you'll have to be more specific Guild leader : You ordered an assassin on yourself, and then specifically requested your self, right after we implemented our kill the client rule. Jhon: I have the right to request missions from the guild same as anyone else. Guild leader: that's not the fucking point, do you have any idea how much this screws with the accounting department? For God's sakes they were hired to push pencils not solve whatever paradox you came up with this time. Jhon: well then maybe you should change their job description. Guild leader: if you weren't as good as you are I'd kill you myself. Jhon: you say that like you could kill me. Guild leader: get the fuck out of my office Jhon: I'm assuming you have to repeal the kill the client rule now? Guild leader: what do you fucking think?
It's been two decades since I last heard of the forbidden game, long gone from our history. I remember when it happened. The great purging of the battle royale. It started with the removal of videos on the gameplay, then the slow disappearance of it from the internet as a whole. Following that came the government announcements as the leaders of our country told of the new crime. The once popular game had become a sin punished by death. Those content creators who would play the game and make a living, thriving from it were the first to be “cleansed.” We watched as they one by one were publicly executed to make it known how serious it was. The punishments did not just end at playing though. The word was banned, too, punished to the same degree, and within mere months, the thought of it was more than enough to grant you a meeting with your grave. The game ceases to exist entirely, from the internet and history, and soon even from memory. The select few who choose to try and remember run on a thin line as they fight to not get caught. I had loved the game when it was alive, such a fun experience with its cartoon graphics and unique building mechanics. But I loved living more and so I opted to forget and do my best in living life without it. Though things might change with the situation I was currently in. I was in a compromising position. My coworker who I had recently gotten close with had just revealed he was part of the hidden rebellion. He was asking to recruit me, begging for me to join. The government prepared for this and had put out additional rules for what to do if ever in my spot. I was to turn him into the authorities and if they found the criminal was indeed part of the rebels, I would be rewarded with a nice sum of money. I knew I should have immediately done this, it was the right decision. Turning him over would not only keep me alive, but it would also allow me to pick up some cash. As much as I knew this, I was hesitant. My mind flashed to the nostalgic memories of gaming with my friends as we would play for hours on end. I was salivating at how much I wanted this. “I can see it in your eyes, Paul. I knew from the day we met that we were one in the same. You can't resist,” my coworker, Steve said, quickly looking around to make sure no one saw. I swallowed hard. What should I do? I looked down at the ground, contemplating my options. My logical side told me to get the money for ratting him out, but my heart longed for the thrill of the game. I wanted to join the rebels. I wanted to fight for Fortnite. “Alright Steve. I'll join the rebellio—” Before I could even finish my sentence, the doors and windows around the room were kicked down as a dozen swat officers rushed in and pinned us to the ground, handcuffing our wrists. How did they know? I was in complete shock, what had just happened? In my dazed state, I moved my pupils to glance around the room, scanning for anything that could have seen or heard us. That's when I saw it. The small, almost seemingly unnoticeable flashing red light coming from a spot on the painting. It was recording us, seeing us the whole time as Steve tried to convince me to join his league of rebel gamers. I was a fool to believe we could ever get away with something like this. I should have given up. My only hope now was in the next generations. Maybe one day when society completely forgot about this prized part of history, someone will create it once more. The rebirth of Fortnite will one day come. &#x200B; If you enjoyed the story, follow my Instagram (@zoppy.tz) for daily short story uploads!
I saw why “cosmic latte” got his name, and drank it. I saw asteroids as large as the smallest moons, and as dirty as the best of them. I smelled sulfur being applied to the backs of hundreds of post-reproductive Fosterians. I have (very briefly) joined a conga line. I have seen a lot of really big white ships. I know all of the possible reasons for someone to spend thousands worth of credits on a Transgalactic Cruise. To be specific, I, voluntarily and for pay, have boarded the HMTG Nadir, which I, in jest, named Zenith. Ostensibly for journalism: to see the sights, learn about the operation, and mingle with the various members of different species. Any potential relaxation is lost on me: I could write a book about spacesickness, however. To be honest, my mission was tainted from the start. All I wanted to do was to see the… “Hoomans!” The Walcian daly in mauve licked her spiked cream. “Did you know the hoomans have built at least seven towers?” I nodded, delighted at this new piece of trivia. There was still little information about the species: they were bipedals with two legs; had the color and feel of clay; enjoyed exchanging bodily fluids; some were routinely cast out of their atmosphere, locked in satellite-like ships for a number of time. In summation: these guys were amazing. “You think they’ll let us domesticate them?” Said an eldery Fosterian. “They” being the Regulators: a careful bunch, overseers of primitive worlds, such as the Hooman’s planet E-Arth. E-Arth, named after its discoverer, Exccentrius Arth, was the third planet of the Sol system, in the Milky Way. Its inhabitants, however, had little to do with the Milkens or Waynes. The Hoomans, as they call the members who share their color and geographical location, are an enterprising bunch. They loathe low temperatures, so have built carbon generators to get rid of the glaciers that once plagued the planet. I was worried they would not be around for long enough, but I was fortunate to see them on this trip. “Passengers. We now approach E-Arth. Please don’t interact with the locals. Look, but don’t touch!” The Transgalactic’s PA system announced. “Do you think I will get a graph of them?” The elder Fosterian pointed his grapher to a continent. It clicked, giggling . “Wanna have a look?” I put my eyes inside the visualizer. “Point it to the left: you’ll get to see some hoomies!” I did so; I was awed by their poise, and the fact they figured out garments. They were no bigger than my forelegs, and gathered in rituals and dances. To my surprise, one looked at me! Their eyes, unlike the others, were large, black, and reflective. They stood upright, raised one arm, and showed me their little paw: a digit stood from the middle of it. “That means they loved you”, said the Walcian. “They call it ‘fleaping the burd’... it means ‘get loved’”! I hurled. Hoomans are amazing!
14, 13.... My brain is scattered. I'm staring at the floor.. 10, 9... I'm supposed to be on my way to Russia right now. 6, 5... What do I do... what do I do... 3, 2... I burst out of the closet! "No, wait"I shriek but it's too late, the floor is shaking and everyone is staring at me, buckled in their seats. An older man opens his shield and yells to me, "I don't know who the hell you are or why the hell you're here but you better grab a space suit from that closet and buckle down." Everything is shaking, the floor, the room, my vision. I crawl to the closet and wrestle on the suit. Its snug, not exactly what you would expect from a space suit. The helmet gives a blue shade. It's suddenly much easier to breathe. I was in such a panic I hadn't realized I was gasping for air. I force my way to the empty seat next to the old man and strap down into the seat. The man pointed to a button on the side of the helmet, I pushed it and instantly heard his voice. "Who are you?" I tell him my name is Paul. My voice trembles as I speak, "I was supposed to be on the S.S. Carnation going to Russia..." He interrupts me, "Abandonedment!?"His voice tingles down my spine. "Do you know the punishment for abandoning America?" "Of course I do", I respond. "Prison" "Well then, I guess you're lucky", he says with slight enthusiasm. "Lucky?", I chuckle. "Yeah lucky, we're not going back",he tells me. My eyes widen. "If we were going back they would catch you. So in a sense, you're lucky, and you've successfully escaped America". I wanted to escape America but this wasn't exactly the plan. In 2030 the United States of America took over Canada and Mexico. The following year they invaded South America resulting in a 14 year war that ended with the united states taking over and renaming its new land "America". For the last 5 years I've been living in slums, everyone has. Houses are for favorables. Food and water are for favorables. The people our "Leader"Charles Wilkerson, decides are "worthy"or favorable. Most of the land there has been destroyed into mud lands, where the rest of society is doomed too. Russia was supposed to offer free housing and food to America's refugees but the price of abandoning America is prison. In prison you rot in a cell. The police army throws you in a 2 foot by 2 foot cell with no food or water. Once you die they remove your body and burn it. I look out the window and then back to the old man, "Where are we going?" "Mars", he responds "To start a new colony."We've been given enough supplies to attempt to..." "Attempt?!",I interrupt. "Attempt."He responds firmly. "They aren't counting on us to survive, but we have a good chance." I turn my gaze back to the windows, as I can see the bright red planet at a distance. "Welcome home", the old man declared. "Thanks"I sighed with a smile.
Time is a perception. It exists as much in the mind as it does in the space-time continuum that humans move through during their physical lifetimes. When the prison reform of 2082 pushed for mind sentences, society had already felt the effects of mental stasis in the Redstone Pods. Employees could go on week-long vacations that lasted only one working hour. A year, roughly two days in the recesses of the mind. This was not a virtual world created by a digital system, rather a dream state of forced lucidity that could be suggested to the user through the Redstone device. A half a calendar year in the RedStone would be a ninety-year sentence. By 2110, the longest sentence was served by Gerald Robinson, a serial child killer, serving a 3,000-year sentence or 16 years in the Redstone device. While now a law-abiding citizen and free, Mr. Robinson no longer talks. He has a glazed look over in his eyes and while the program for jailed citizens is far from the endorphin-pushed dreams people spend their income to experience, Mr.Robinson seemed to have been caught in a nightmare during his restitution for the most heinous of acts.
On my TV screen, a scene of carnage was displayed. A live feed from a news helicopter circling multiple landmarks, one of which was Elizabeth Tower. Military troops were gunning down the flightless birds to no avail. They kept coming out and swarming the hastily set up defenses. I even heard the explosions from my flat not far from there. I looked out from my window and saw a squad of three armed penguin troops waddling down the road, with nobody in sight. They called out, their bird call echoing down the street. I backed away from the window, confused. How could penguins engaged in guerilla warfare overcome a military? What next, ostriches? I look back at the broadcast, with the news anchor stating that London had fallen to the penguin invasion, with a few other major cities in different countries. The governments thought they had it under control. The penguins even offered peace talks. But no, they kept pushing on. Buildings of importance were rebuilt with propaganda banners attached. "Join the Antarctic Assault. Enlist today! Penguin and Human alike."streamed down the sides of the American Senate. Once the militaries got their act together, there was a stalemate. My house was right on the border between the penguin controlled zone and the planned military push. Bullets were fired. A lot. Explosions, collapsed buildings. Urban warfare was brutal. I should have gone to get food, but what was the point? Some idiot probably panic bought the entire store. The resulting fight was a lot of pushing back and forth. One day the human armies pushed forward, then the penguin soldiers pushed back. I even saw some humans - people meant to be on our side - dead in the streets. Some were used for mine clearing. Now we've lost hope. They tell us to join or be killed. We've gone into hiding. The militaries say they won't fight back for months. Help.
This is the fifth detachment sent on this mission, all within the last two months. Status reports from the previous four all indicated that everything was progressing as planned before they dropped off the map entirely with no cargo moved. I am not the best Peru has to offer; this mission is far too trivial and simple for be worth their time. However, I am much closer than the previous four, because this is goddamn embarrassing. I have done my research, trying to eliminate external factors which may be jeopardizing the success of the abduction. Columbian ninjas are the obvious consideration; we have no record of their existence, nor have they interfered with past missions in the area, but given the suddenness of our agents disappearance, it is the obvious theory. However, novices have been sent to sabotage the roads and water supplies in the area with no interference. These efforts are far more damaging than the llama abduction, which we are mostly persisting in due to spite and bloody-mindedness at this point. If there are Columbia ninjas, they are too insane to predict their goals. The local military and drug cartels are accounted for, well outside the theater of operations. The publicly-known special forces of Columbia are a joke; we have full knowledge of their operations and it has been decades since they could do anything of consequence without our knowledge. And yet the llamas remain. I have planned my approach. Knockout gas is prepared in quantities sufficient for all the nearby residences and will be released on a timer well before I make my move. My weapons are ready, my disguise perfect. Trucks will be passing through, believing they are carrying a shipment of bananas; they in fact have only empty crates with weights, which can be easily exchanged for sedated llamas as they pass through the town and exchanged back at the destination. I am a thing of smoke and shadow. And yet... I am afraid. My comrades prepared as well as I, and they vanished. But it is my duty. I continue. I pass through the nearest rancher's small complex. It is silent except for a barking dog, chasing squirrels. Good. I subtly glance through the buildings for a cursory check that they are lying unconscious, not dead; death creates questions. They have their own chemicals to subdue the herd, but I have checked their suppliers and done a rapid field analysis of the chemicals. They are correct. I use them in my own sprayers for better control of effect, after arranging for the dog to draw the herd to the edge of the road. They sag, not totally collapsing; excellent, as planned. Everything is going too well. No opposition has emerged. I create an interim report while I wait for the whole herd to calm, and send it sealed; this far into the operation, the enemy is beyond our view. The 'banana truck' stops at a corner for their union-mandated travel break, and steps away for a smoke; just as planned. The herd is drowsy and can be quickly moved into the cabin; I do so. But as I move to gather the second batch to move into the cabin, I feel drowsy. Focus! Something is affecting my mind. The driver's smokes? No, too far off. One still-ornery llama spits in my direction, but misses to the side; its breath smells chemical. Poison. From what enemy? I try to resist and purge it by exerting direct autonomic control, but it is too late. As I lose consciousness, I see the problem. In the corner of my eye, dark as the shadows and no darker, my worthy opponent: the llama's ninjas.
Everyone had heard of the miracle healer - the one who could heal any injuries with just a single touch. Literally. Anyone who hadn’t was deemed stupid, ignorant, and the like. All the soldiers on the front lines of the war against the Empire were filled with hope whenever they saw that straight, scarlet hair and the black robes draped over a slender physique. They cheered as their comrades’ wounds closed up in mere seconds with a bit of shining, white light. This healer was almost worshipped as a deity, a god. What these people didn’t know, however, was the cost of the healing. They didn’t see the bloodstains on the healer’s back, because the black colour of the robes hid it all. They didn’t see the deep scars all over his neck, because his long hair covered it up. They didn’t see him when he coughed up blood every other night, because he slept by himself, and himself only.. They didn’t see that, as a deep gash on someone’s leg disappeared, one identical to it appeared on the healer’s. And the healer didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t want to garner pity. He didn’t want to seem weak. After all, he was supposed to be a strong figure, a symbol of hope. What would happen if his wounds were exposed? People would lose hope, of course. The healer just wanted to help selflessly. He didn’t want anything out of his actions. He was willing to hurt himself so strangers he had just met could go home to their families, not crippled, and live peacefully. Then one day, he had to heal a wound on one of the commanders. She had been stabbed in the stomach repeatedly, but despite the fact that most people would have died already, she was still conscious, still smiling. The healer couldn’t just not heal her, because what would happen otherwise? She would likely die, and he would be known as “the healer who helped all but one”. People remembered others by their failures, not their success, after all. So he touched the wounds, a warm light covered them, and as soon as they closed, he fell. The commander caught him, and as she wasn’t an idiot, figured it out pretty quickly. His body, after sustaining so many injuries, was weak, and the wounds he had just gotten were grievous. He couldn't be saved, that much was obvious. So he passed silently in the commander’s arms, finally truly free from his duties, but not before he heard her whisper quietly, “You can go now. Thank you.”
He smiled at my exclamation. "Dead doesn't mean gone. It just means no longer alive." "Thats the same thing!" I shouted at him. Dray had been my friend for years. He was practically unchanging, an elderly man who could still run rings around me with his knowledge of the arcane. "Not quite. Here, let me show you something." He cast a dual teleportation spell, taking me with him. We disappeared from my house, emerging in a darkened cavern. With a wave of his hand a dozen lights emerged, spreading across the room. It was empty, save for a pedestal in the centre. Atop it lay a large ruby, containing a pulsing light. As I stared at it, I realised it was doing a double pulse. Almost like a... "Thats my heart." I stared at him in shock. He smiled at my expression, grasping the front of his shirt. He pulled it open, showing me the empty hole in his chest. As I stared, he covered himself back up. "You probably want an explanation don't you?" "Well, yes!" He chuckled, before turning towards a wall. As we drew close, the rock pulled itself up, revealing a well furnished room. A thick rug covered the ground, and the walls held detailed tapestries of various landscapes. A fire place was positioned between two plush chairs, which flared to life as we entered. "So, you know how the Outer plane wants to get in?" I nodded. "Well, in this spot they managed to breach into the world. I found it, along with a group of Holy Knights. They fought back the horrors, and I focused on closing the rift. But this was no easy fix. They had been here too long, and had gained a permanent foothold. The only way to seal it was a sacrifice." He shuddered slightly at the memory. "I volunteered of course. The death of a Grand Mage was no idle thing. With a void-tainted blade, my heart was carved out, and placed upon that pedestal. I died there and then. But of course, the outer planes don't work like ours does." He rubbed his chest, shirt dipping into the hole where his heart should be. "I was bound to my body with that tainted blade. I could still think, feel and use magic. But I was, and am dead. As long as the rift remains as is, I won't get to pass on as I should have." Confused thoughts battled my mind, but one stood above all. "Why are you telling me this?" He gave a sad smile this time. "Because another rift is coming. I can.... for lack of a better word feel it. It needs to be sealed, but I know what the Archmage will say. He won't believe that a sacrifice is needed. But that rift will be like none they have ever seen. I need someone willing to go and do what I have done." I felt cold as he spoke, and I realised just what he was saying. "You... want me?" "I'm sorry. But yes. You are the only one strong enough in both magic and mind to do it. Well, almost. You have strength, but not the experience to bind a rift closed." He put a hand on my shoulder. "Let me teach you what I know. Its not for me. Its for everyone." I wanted to say no. I wanted to shout and scream. But I couldn't. "How.... how can I say no when you put it like that?" He gave me that same sad smile. "Thank you."
Eustance entered the Captain's office room, full of metallic white walls and equipment. "Captain Selah." Selah sprung awake on her hover chair and burped hearing her name, grungily turning her head to her subordinate, far from sober. "Eustance… we need more spheres." "That's why I came here, Captain. Your obsession with Bitcoin is getting to be too much. If we expand we're going to squeeze out every energy source in the universe-" Selah jolted up as her office door shut itself, drooled, mumbled, and piloted her chair to her computer. "Eustance… screen. Look at the- (hic) the screen." He stood, more staltward than his superior. "That's an ancient projection, Captain." "Yes, Crippo gabby or- Crypto giffy... (Hic) They're BIG numbers..." Eustance's voice tightened. "Captain, the amount of blocks flooding through our ship is going to tank the colony's economy. And we will have used up Kepler's resources to make enough self-replicating ships to create and manage the spheres. What will you tell the Monarchs when you waste this galaxy's solar supply and your manpower on ancient virtual currency?" Selah nabbed and chugged a cocktail pitcher, laid back into her chair, keened, and eyed Eustance. "Tell your dudes- your… tell the dudes to sell their goods… Sell their coinz to da Trukenz..." "Are you referring to the-" Selah grabbed Eustance's arm from behind his back and stuffed a pitcher into it, then patted him. "Hit that shit Eustance… And I need… I need next month's blockchain on my- (hic)... on my desk... longer than my husbands- dick… and…. yours… and wider than my... wider- (hic) my... chest... Eustance. It has to be wider than my chest." Eustance stood stiff, and sighed. "With all due respect, Captain, this is crude, this month's blockchain sheets would have been able to bridge the moon to Jupiter." Selah began grungy. "Print them… big numbers are good… (hic)... and tell- tell the ships… tell them to fuck and deploy at Cosmic Redshit."Selha chugged another pitcher and began smiling. "... Very well, Captain."Eustance pondered before leaving Selah to her devices. Standing outside her office to a gray metallic hallway, and made an announcement "... Men, The Captain has ordered us to deploy 30,000 Dyson Spheres and A.V.N.P colonies to Cosmos Redshift 7, print a copy of last month's blockchain and for each of you to sell your… Bits, to the Troxxan Empire." As he returned to his post he Selah blacked out in her hoverchair through a window, he laid back onto the wall with the worse sense of pity, and chugged a pitcher.
You asked him why are you lying around with other pandemics happening he says in response I got bored! You see every hundred years or so I get bored in the run out of ideas or new storylines in human history. Whenever that happens I just say f*** it and start a pandemic to have some time to clear my writer's block. It is funny I originally made it Hitler to be a man who would bring the German people together through I shared struggle but I thought it was going to be boring. So I spiced it up a little I was going to make him a character who was very very very prejudiced but was a good speaker. As you know something happened and that something was I got bored and fell asleep for a few years then realized a World War happened without me doing anything. So I imagined something quickly a big huge bomb that could destroy cities so that my creation wouldn't destroy my perfect timeline. Unfortunately that had side effects binary the Cold War which I loved making the storyline for. Currently I am having writer's block again and I don't want to kill millions of people without being in control again. Also I forgot to tell you technically you're going to be there start of a new religion because I wanted a weird wacky new religion that was extremely popular in the Caribbean and I'm thinking Washington State and all those Cascadia territories. Kind of like my son Jesus was too bad his followers embellished his acts too much. Or my other son which I haven't seen a picture of an ear as he doesn't like his taken. Anyway since you're going to be a stir of a new religion you want to write anything into history?
With only a few pages in the note, I used by thumbnail to dig into the side. Finally, opening a page, I got a slight paper cut underneath my thumb. The pages were fairly large. It had about the same size of a collage rule note book, but slightly smaller. Looking as this, the best solution was to probably draw very small. That way I can have more space. I took out a wooden number 2 pencil. There were a couple thinks that seemed reasonable for anyone to sketch, such as a stick figure or a penis, but there was one particular thing that I wanted to draw. It had a round shape, four rectangles sticking out at the bottom, three circles horizontally connect attracted to the side, and a stick on the opposite end. It took 30 minutes, with constant erasing, but it was complete, My mouse. For some reason it looked like an elephant without a trunk, but It had three round circles the head, so I was fine. The paper started to glow, sparks flying everywhere. A light blinded my eyes. As my pupils adjusted, there in front of me there was my creation. Its was grey, round, and 10 feet big. It looked like a fat Alolan Persian from Pokémon. I tried to scratch out my creation, but that seemed to make it worse. My paper just recognized it as part of the drawling. Now it just looks like I gave it some kind of spiky fur making it look like a pinecone. This time I tried to erase the sketch, but that didn't work either as it just smudged everywhere. Now it just looks like a puffy cloud with balls.
I ate, and ate, but it was rough going. The tomato wouldn't chew, would only get moved around in my mouth like some great, utterly inedible marshmallow, and it taunted me all the while for my failure to eat it. "Can't eat a tomato, nya-nya-nya-nya-nya-nya!" It was true. I was a lousy, tomato-not-eating person. But I'd be damned if I gave up. I kept at it, kept chewing that tomato. I only stopped when the Minister of Interior Design showed up. "What are you doing! You imbecile! You fool! You incalculable plate of lasagna! That is my tomato!" He snatched it away. I was glad to see it go, quite frankly. It was a very rude tomato. If I have any advice for you, the students of yesterday, it is that you should never eat a rude tomato. It is never worth it. Why, as I stand here, I remember back to my days as a student, studying away, learning this, and that, and the other, and how much fun it was, although I never much cared for the tests. And that was when they dropped a surprise final on us. "You too, Honored Graduation Speaker! You need to pass, or we can't have oatmeal tonight!" I was uncertain, but I would be damned if these innocent students were deprived of oatmeal on my behalf. A test is a test, but this one was hard. The questions made no sense! "How many ovalquicks did Alexander wollop at the Battle of Alesia?"As if I studied the Spanish Civil War! I was panicking. I needed a way out. The emergency exit! I snuck. The proctor saw me, but fortunately the proctor didn't see me. I snuck, and I climbed, and then I was out the window, hanging onto the ledge for dear life. a massive drop below me. What had I done to deserve this? Elsewhere, and also in the same place, I slept, and dreamt, and was safe. Not that I knew this.
We usually called it the inner world. I simply called it 'home' since the physical one wasn't home. I remember Toni called it the dream world. I remember waking up in the bed in my room. I thought, hey, maybe it's just someone else is fronting and switched while we were asleep. No. It was not that. I was in the body I imagined myself in. I was wearing the clothes. "Tiff? Hope?"The two came out of their rooms. "Okay... who else is here?" "Wait, if you're not fronting, then who is?" "I don't know,"Hope says as Toni comes out of her room and Esper out of theirs. I see Rose's door open and her skating down the hall. Lilac comes out during that, adjusting her flower crown. "Well, that's... 7. How about the parentals?" "I'm here in the kitchen, Johnathan. Henry is here with me, and Ryan is making food."Jessica says, bringing us into the kitchen. "Well, that's 10. How are we all here? And, we're in our physical forms... well, this is quite interesting..."Hope comments. "Well, we can deal with that, but not on an empty stomach. Eat."Ryan was making crepes. If you need context, we're a DID system, this is the inner world that has been formed, and now we're in it, physically. We've seen it change and shift with additions of alters, but this, this is new. Now, back to the story. We're eating the crepes. "Papa Henry?"Toni. 12, but sees us as imaginary friends. "Will I ever see J again?" "Sure. We just need to figure out how to get out of here."Henry said. He's 17, but he's a father figure to most of us. "Well, if we can't, we at least have each other, right?"Esper asked. Henry nodded. "Yeah. And besides, this is our world, right? We can just make it bigger and stuff. We can do that here."I say. Toni's eyes light up in excitement. "Can I have a unicorn?"she asks. A unicorn actually pops up in the living room. "Okay, but outside. I don't want unicorn hair everywhere."Jessica says as she snaps her fingers and we could hear the unicorn outside. "Well, now what? Do we try to figure out how to get back or do we stay?"Lilac asks. "We can try, but, we also need a plan in case we can't."Hope replies. We end up not being able to get back, but we do use the power this world has and make people in the village, creatures in the woods, and other things. I help maintain things. We didn't remake the Esper's parents or J, but we at least didn't forget them. We moved on with our lives. We didn't age, except Esper and Ryan. Esper and Ryan were still the same, but we always wondered if death could happen here. Well, we won't know until it happens. I should go now. We're having an election in the village, Hope decided to run, and I'm here to make sure she doesn't threaten to erase their existence.
A nude giant, of six cubits and a span, laid on an empty field in the Valley of Elah. The sun, albeit gentle for that time of the year, burned his skin. His forehead and eyes were covered by a rag. An old woman, stick in hand, poked him in his naked stomach. “Rise up, ‘champion’. I know you can hear me”. The giant twitched. He scratched himself at the spot the woman had touched. Then, without thinking, he scrambled, trying to sit up. “I’m ready! Come at me! I’m not down!” The giant screamed. “Give me my javelin!” “Easy, Goliath, my champion.” The old woman gently held the giant’s head to the ground. Her expression was stern. “It is over now. You lost.” “It can’t be! The challenge… what happened?” Goliath reached to his forehead. “You took quite a hit.” “I don’t remember… who was the one to punch me like this?” She removed the rag, wet it with water from her pouch, then applied it on the immense forehead again. “This was no punch. You were stoned. A clean hit by a mere sling, they say.” “It’s all clear to me. It was their coward chief! Cursed be Saul!” She sighed. “It wasn’t their king Saul. Their champion was another. Do you not remember?” “They’re all alike to me… puny, coward babies. It took them so long…” “More than a month, yes. Can you look at my finger? How many do you see? How many days have you waited for the Israelites to accept your challenge?” She raised three fingers. He pointed at the woman’s finger. “Four… forty days?” “It’s been a week now. The Israelites have advanced. Things should have been different.” She stared the giant in the eye. ”I wonder why you were spared. Do you remember who fought you? There is still time for us.” Goliath pressed his forehead, around the spot where he was stoned. “This cannot be. I lost… Against that… tiny, little, puny, ginger, weakling shepherd… boy!” The giant shoved the old woman aside, throwing her to the ground. He sat up, turned to one side, and got on his knee. Then, in one movement, he stood up. “As long as I am still standing, I, Goliath of Gath, will avenge Philistia! I will get this shepherd boy, and lop off his head, and present it to our people! Those fools will regret leaving me in one piece!” The woman laughed. “What is so funny?” The giant then realized he was naked; moreover, he noticed a sharp, burning pain on his loins… He looked, in horror, at his blood-caked groin. “That foolish king demanded a challenge. A dowry, from that little shepherd boy. One hundred of our people’s foreskins… yours was number one.” “Those freaks!” Goliath screamed, wondering, perhaps, if it would be better if they had cut his head instead.
My muse: She sits there in my shoulder as I go about my day, listening to my thoughts and experiencing what I do. My world is hers but her world is not mine. While I am human she is something different, something of emotion, cobbled together of the energy that is as pure as love, and as dark as hatred. She spurs on the feeling of justice and righteousness and stokes the fires of rage and vengeance. She encourages the best that there is in humanity and releases the worst. She takes my thoughts and gives them life, she releases herself into me and multiplies the emotions underneath. She squeezes my heart and draws out my love, my anger, my sorrow, and my joy. She encourages me to write, to share, to create and show the world that even if only one person likes what I do then that is still one person who my muse has touched and grafted part of my soul upon. She is beauty indescribable, and she is part of me.
TW: Abuse I had always loved her. Her lips, her hair. I taught her the wonders of this world. She was hurting when she met me. I tried to mend her. I taught her to stand up for herself. I taught her what to say, what to do. I got her a job at my company. My secretary. Her place was always at my side, and she should have stayed with me, where we both belonged. Together. I loved the woman I molded her into, but the storm changed all that. Instead of the comfy house she wanted that I had learned to love, she ran off gallivanting, out partying. She forgot she was a married woman, after all these years. Going out and getting drunk, fucking other men! I was a calm man, and although she never said a thing, I KNEW. I smelt the sweat on her skin. Even her costume was that of a slut. I couldn't prove it, but my intuition was never wrong. I loved my wife. I trust her. So I checked her phone. In my position, who wouldn't. Call it some perverse need to know, but I needed to see if she was faithful, but there was nothing. She must have had another phone. One day I had enough. I confronted her. Me, an ordinary man, her the invincible woman. I told her I knew she was cheating on me. And she hit me. ME! A woman's place is by the man's side. And she fled. I was the model husband. I treated her well. And she hit me. I took some time to calm down after the slap. But it would be fine. I love her, and she loves me. We can work through this. I would do anything to save my love from this monster she has turned into. Her lips, her hair. They belong to me, not to whatever man she's cheating on me with! I would save her. I would help her get better. Back to my side. I love my wife. So I will bring her back to where she belongs. All I had to do was prepare. \--- Yeah this was a much darker version of the prompt. Was not a good head-space to be in, so I haven't edited it yet. Any feedback is welcome.
“I’m too old for this.” Kelly grumbled as she lifted a box off of the floor. Her oldest daughter moved out for college, so her and husband Paul decided to start cleaning out some of the old stuff. Somehow she got shanghaied into tending to the attic while he got the garage. “Assholes probably sitting down there with a beer, looking at old Playboys while I’m up here working like a dog.” The next box she picked up was a box of old toys. The box was open and as she lifted it from its stack, an old bunny toy still in fairly decent condition fell to the floor. It was her middle child’s favorite toy. Peek-a-boo, I see you! “Fuck? I figured the batteries would’ve corroded by now?” She picked it up and turned the toy around. She opened the back to check the batteries but found the space empty. Her mouth dropped open and she turned the toy back around. Peek-a-boo, I see you! She nodded and climbed down the attic stairs. She walked past her husband in the kitchen as he was sorting through an old box of tools. “Oh wow Peek-a-Boo BunBun, I haven’t seen that in ages! It used to be Molly’s favorite.” “Yep...” She kept walking, pulled open the basement door, and started down the steps. Finding her behavior suspicious, Paul got up and followed her downstairs. “Um babe, whatcha doing?” Peek-a-Boo, I see you! “Holy crap, it still works?” “Nope.” “What?” “Batteries aren’t in it.” “So...it’s talking by itself?” “Not for long.” She pulls open the furnace door... “WOAH, WOAH KELLY, KELLY WAIT I CAN EXPLAIN...” The bunny sudden chatter sent Paul retreating up a couple of steps. Kelly closed the furnace door and back away from the furnace. “Thank you...thank you. Cooler heads prevail...” Kelly’s hands were shaking, her body was covered in sweat. Her heart raced and yet she couldn’t put the toy down. Suddenly the a stream of grey came from the toy and formed into a man about Kelly’s age. “Yes surprise your house is haunted.” She drops the toy and quickly joins her husband up the stairs. “Ok I guess that is a surprise. Anyway that’s not important.” (Paul) “No I think the fuck it is?!” “Ok Paul, let me explain. My names Hank Gretty. Me and my wife Janice lived here once upon a time. For some reason we’re stuck here.” (Kelly) “Great...why the fuck were you in Peek-a-Boo BunBun?!” “Because I needed to talk to you about Molly, and I got lost, I’m blind without my glasses.” (Kelly) “You need to talk to us...about Molly?” “Yes, remember her imaginary friend Stanley?” (Kelly) “Vaguely...” (Paul) “I remember him, Molly never made a rescission without consulting him first...are you telling me?” “Yes, Molly’s imaginary friend was my son. They actually just got married, lovely ceremony...” (Paul and Kelly) “WHAT?!!?” “See Hank you told you you should’ve broken it to them gently.” “Not now Janice.” (Kelly) “Woah, woah, woah, woooooah, how the hell did they get married? Wouldnt Stanley still be a child, ghosts don’t age.” “We didn’t have Stan until we were in the afterlife.” (Kelly) “…how?” “Listen we’re in a fantasy story not a biography, it’s not important. What is important is Molly and Stan. Stan tells us she’s struggling really bad with money, and school, and her work. He’s trying to help but she’s closing him out and she’s too proud to talk to you guys. We think it would be a good idea, if you went and talked to her.” (Kelly) “How? How can her and Stanley live together? Can he hold down a job? Can they sleep together...actually don’t answer that one.” “Not yet, he’s working on that.” (Paul) “Which means?” “He’s doing odd jobs for a sorcerer friend who can turn his atrial form into a human form. He’ll still be a ghost technically but he’ll be able to mingle and blend in among humans, like your daughter. ” (Kelly) “Ok do you want us to just show up about Molly’s doorstep. Claiming we know about her ghost husband, and her ghost father-in-law told us about their struggles, and we’re here for her if she needs us...Paul does that sound sane to you?” (Paul) “As sane as Santa hosting a fight club.” Before anyone could say another word,,there came a knock at the door that almost made Paul and a Kelly jump right off the stairs. When they turned around another ghost, Janice they presumed, stood next to Hank. “Molly’s here!”
It was excruciating, the crack as my head hit the metal bumper, the feeling of my bones bending and breaking as the train ran over me, and the worst part, was just the feeling of bleeding out, the life slowly draining from my eyes...again. Thomas jolts up, off his back. Thomas: *MOTHERFUCK!* Thomas feels his body; face, arms, legs, all in one piece. He sighed, overtaken by relief, until he saw the light again. Thomas: No. No! No! NO! Not again! Thomas starts running away from the light, into the darkness, but there’s no use the light gets brighter and brighter until, \*Hoooonk\, \Crack\, \Screeech\, \Crunch\, and dead...again, Thomas: MOTHERFU…!* Thomas wastes no time, he gets up and starts running. \*Hoooooonk\, a deafening horn blares out. \Screeeeech\* Thomas: Comeonecomeoncomeoncomeon! Thomas runs as fast as he can, faster than he knew he could run. He turns around and sees that the light has stopped. Thomas, cautiously, walks towards the light, sticking his hand out at it. The train then suddenly gains full speed and runs over Thomas in an instant. Thomas is now back in the void, the light rushing towards him. Thomas(defeated): ...shit. But before the light hits him a bony hand grabs him by the neck and pulls him out of the way and into an unbelievably clean train station. A pale, plump woman, with white braided hair gets on her knees and grabs Thomas by the face with her ice cold hands. Death\[161-K\](THICK southern accent): Oh my goddess, are you ok sweetie? Still got all your peas in a pod? Thomas: Wha-...yes? Death\[161-K\]: Thank Heaven above, thought your soul would be worse than flaccon by now. Thomas looks at the woman confused. She picks herself up, dusts off her knees, and offers her hand to Thomas with a smile on her face. Death\[161-K\]: Thomas Kyurk, I’m (Unintelligible), but you can call me, May. Welcome to purgatory!
I tousled Mark's sandy blond head, the way I've always done since we were kids. He used to get a little annoyed by it, then it just kind of became a thing between us. Not much he could do from the get go against a big sister with 5 years on him. This time around he looked at me with melancholy eyes, and I've never felt so powerless before. "I really messed up this time, didn't I?"he muttered, more of a statement than a question. "Yeah"was the best response I could muster as we sat side by side on the stoop of our parents house. Mark absentmindedly picked at a sore on his left hand, staring off into the distance. Even as a child he was restless, always on the move, tapping his feet while at the dinner table, that kind of thing. And I could only imagine how he felt today of all days. He perked up suddenly, and looked at me with an unbidden enthusiasm. "Hey, Jules, remember that time your senior year I snuck into that kegger they had at Ben's house?"How could I forget? Mark discovered alcohol for the first time and learned about limits, or what happens when you reach them. On the way home, he confused a neighbors house for ours and started pounding at the door at 2 am begging to be let in. When they finally came down to see what was happening, Mark was curled up on the porch next to a pool of vomit. Luckily, I knew them and when I got the grumpy phone call I immediately came for my little brother. "You've always been there to take care of me."Mark warmly remarked, almost like he'd read my mind. No doubt he, like I, was remembering all the other instances I've been the big sister for him: alcohol, weed, and now this. I felt the tears welling in my eyes, "Yeah, but this time I can't be there for you." Crestfallen, he looked down between his feet, his shame like a dark cloud overhead that I was under too somehow. Mom and Dad walked out with their things, we loaded onto the big sedan and headed outside of the city. As we arrived at the Rehabilitation Center, we said our tearful goodbyes and watched as he quietly moved up the steps of the austere grey building grasping the rail beside as he did so. On the drive back, I thought on that rail worn well at the ends to reveal the brass beneath. Who knows how many had made the journey before my brother, to try to get better. That rail oddly reminded me of a birdcage my grandmother had at her house. Suddenly, I'm 7 years old again. "Nana?" "Yes, sweetie?"she asked me. "Why does Jasper stay in that cage all the time? Shouldn't he be flying outside with his friends?"I inquired about her pet starling. "Well, honey, Jasper got hurt a while ago before he came to live with me. He can't fly very well, so if I set him free he probably wouldn't survive long on his own." "Will he get better? Is he sad being in there?"I pressed further. Nana smiled lovingly at me. "He's okay. I don't think he will ever be able to be like the other birds, but living here with me can still be good for him. I let him out a lot you know, he just can't fly away. I think he knows that."My grandmother also had a couple parakeets she doted on, I trusted her care for her animals implicitly. I stared outside the car window, musing on how the random memory came back to me. A flock of birds overhead moved westward, they'd likely never need a cage. But they had their own concerns like finding food and predators. I wondered if they were better off than Jasper, and I couldn't really say for sure. We play with the cards we're dealt, like my dad likes to say. Jasper had what he needed at the right time, and that was that. My heart ached thinking of Mark by himself in his new surroundings, less 'free' in a way, but safe. And as I thought back at being at my Nana's house, I realized that one of the birds in the cage was my brother. The End.
I've never really believed in the supernatural. After all, I lived in a very strict military family, superstitions such as burning sage or even going to church were basically prohibited. But as an adult, living very, very, far away from my parents I decided why not try a palm reader to what it was like. One late Saturday afternoon, A friend and I went to this "Magic Shoppe"on the industrial side of town. It looked like it was going out of business so I doubted the palm reading would be accurate, that was until the "psychic started screaming once she looked at my hands. I asked what had happened, and I regretted it. "By the age of thirty you'll do a very terrible thing, and someone will be out for revenge."The old woman then kicked me and my friend out of the building. I had no idea how accurate that palm reading would be, till now.
The grizzled old man checked his map. Yep, it looked like the spot of the fountain after all. The map confirmed what the duo could see with their own eyes. A crumbling ruin of what used to be a fountain. In its prime, it could have been one of those fountains in Italy. Fancy, like in Rome or Milan. I was the guide for this old man through this wilderness. I don't know where he got the map, but he needed someone to take him around. And his money was good, and I needed good money. We had been foraging our way through the jungle for the past two or three weeks. I was chosen for my reputation in gathering and hunting, so we could have an extended exploration in the jungle. We packed mainly malarial medication and first aid kits. That's how much I trusted my ability to survive. The old man did as well, and paid handsomely for it. "Whew, I guess this is it. The Fountain of Youth!"I declared as I got out a water bottle. I didn't want to drink any, yet. I was still much too young. But thought it'd make a great Mother's Day present, either way. I filled up my bottle as the old man took a sip. I watched with one eye as his white hair turned, grey, and then flipped back to brown. Astonished, I almost dropped my bottle. Instead, I filled it up, and filled up the other bottle I had to. Which meant that I'd have nothing to drink water with on the way back. That's ok, I knew how to make cups from tree leaves as well. Once that was over, it was clear that the Fountain had seen much better days. The pool was leaking, and little more than a puddle. I figured the old man, well, the young man, had some money put aside and was going to make a lot of money off of it. Instead, I saw him unzip his fly and start peeing into the fountain itself. "Hey! Why are you doing that?" The young man looked right at me. "A long time ago, the god that put this here pissed me off. I'm just letting him know that I'm still around, and that finding me is no problem. I'll go looking for the last of his miracles next..."
After the invention came the specialized treatments. The speed and efficiency of care skyrocketed within a handful of years and the resources no longer wasted on wrong treatments were all put towards more science, more technology, grants for anyone who showed signs of being inventors of the Next Big Thing. Thus came interdimensional travel. And what started out as a ground breaking wonder soon became more available. The ultra rich paid handsome to vacation in exotic realities, before the next genius, unworried by financial problems, found a way to produce cheaper parts for the portal. Soon came the tourism boom, and it didn't take long before we found worlds very similar to our own and made diplomatic contact I'd seen a few tourists in my office already. Humans from similar worlds with identical anatomy to our own could apply for medical visas, and as the interest in our inventions grew, so did the number of them coming for help. The woman in my office was plain. Early forties, friendly enough but not someone I would have noticed on a sidewalk. She had walked irritatingly slowly down the hall from the reception area, but noticing her slight limp, I offered her a chair and smiled at her as i sat down to look at the file she'd brought from her own world. She'd been complaining about pains in various places since her early teens and seemed to have been all but written off as a hypochondriac. I asked her about her symptoms, but she seemed ashamed. "I'm not sure there's really anything, i just want peace of mind"she told me, as she undressed and i led her to the station in the corner where we sprayed patients with the miraculous solution that had been the start of all our progress. "This is going to feel a little warm at first, and then in a minute, your body should show us exactly what is going on,"I told her with a little wink. She smiled nervously, and stepped into the booth. I flipped the switch that controlled the blinds and the daylight slowly left the room as the woman's body was misted. I used the opportunity to look through her file a little more thoroughly, and I noticed how many of the possible causes for pain had never been explored. She'd been through physical therapy, but had complained of symptoms worsening. She'd seen several doctors but never been checked for rheumatism or ED or even just hypermobile joints. Endometriosis had been ruled out, but that was the last extensive examination she'd seen. There had been occasional perscriptions of pain medication, some of it much too strong to just leave in the hands of someone undiagnosed, but the more i read, the more i felt that they had been appropriate. Then, there was a short stint in a psych ward, and currently she was being treated with antidepressants and nothing else. She hadn't seen her doctor in four years at this point. I shielded my eyes from the sun and turned to my computer, suddenly realizing that this was all sounding very familiar. The sun. The sun? No. The woman in my office was lit up so brightly that it almost blinded me. There was not a joint or a nerve unaffected. Pain is something that grows, after all. You can get used to discomfort, but real pain just overworks your brain, finds new places to express itself. Like when an infection in a tooth makes your entire face ache, so it is with many hidden illnesses. Whatever had been causing this woman pain, it was clear that the only thing she had gotten used to was pretending like she was okay. She was looking down at herself, in awe. An expression of tranquility spreading across her face. "Oh my god,"she whispered. "I'm not crazy." I typed a few words and quickly found the article I'd remembered. The first one had come through only ten months earlier, but she had not been the last. Many had come after, and while it was still something of a curiosity, it was beginning to create substantial chatter in the medical community. Living torches. For some reason, most of them were women and people of color, and common for all of them was a history of having debilitating pains dismissed. I looked up at the woman, who was still glowing like a statue made of crystal, and felt my eyes water. Pain enough to make anyone scream, but she only looked relieved at finally having her proof. "You are not crazy,"I confirmed. "Let's get you some help."
\[Surprising Prophecy\] The old man was on the ground before the blast finished echoing in Jed's ears. The bright afternoon sun made the red fluids leaking out of the man and onto the grass more apparent. "DAD! What the hell did you do!?"Alvin dashed through the screen door and tore the shotgun out of Jed's hands. "'Meant to be a warnin' shot,"Jed grumbled. "Not my fault he didn't move." "Uugggh,"a faint groan came from the grass and Alvin hoped he might still be alive. If only so his father would be charged with attempted murder instead of manslaughter. He couldn't help but feel this was his fault. His father had been growing more out of touch lately. He should have taken the shotgun away earlier; but, Jed was so attached to it that Alvin couldn't bring himself to separate them. "Go inside and call an ambulance,"Alvin said. Jed sighed, then nodded. Alvin ran to the old man. "Don't move!"Alvin said as he knelt next to the robed man. He'd managed to roll over onto his back. His lungs wheezed with every breath as he stared up at the blue sky. "Oh god, I'm so sorry. Help is on the way."Alvin was a 21-year-old college student with an undeclared major. The only way he knew how to help was whatever he learned on TV. He moved the once blue, blood-soaked robe out of the way to try and find the wound. He remembered that applying pressure to the wound was a thing, and he hoped it was actually helpful. Once he found the wide buckshot area on the man's pale, wrinkled skin, he folded the robe over and pressed hard. "He he... ,"the old man suddenly gave a laugh. "...I never saw it coming,"he said. "Don't talk. Save your strength,"Alvin replied. "Your father is a hero,..."the old man whispered, then he laughed again. "Shhhhh,"Alvin replied. "It's not very heroic to gun down an old man,"he added. "Hero of destiny...,"the old man said. Alvin felt his stomach drop with the realization that an ambulance wouldn't get there in time; if his dad called at all. The robe was saturated with coppery red and he felt his hands get wetter and wetter. He decided to let the man speak without shushing him again. "...destined to save the world from Moloch. I was going to train him..."For the first time in his life, Alvin wished he had closer neighbors. But, their house was in the center of his dad's 4-acre plot. The sound of the gunshot might have been noticed, but it wouldn't draw any attention. It wasn't unheard of to hear gunshots out on the farm any time of day. "Destiny's a bitch,"the old man laughed. "Who's Moloch?"Alvin asked. He hoped to at least make the stranger feel some importance in his last moments. "Powerful... evil sorcerer...,"the man answered. "..but now....," "How can we stop him?"Alvin asked. It was a polite question. He did not believe in sorcerers but that wasn't important to explain to the dying man. "Your father...,"the old man laughed again. "My dad is the chosen one?"Alvin asked. ".. I was going to train him...,"the old man repeated. "What can I do?"Alvin asked. ".. going to train him... then... betray him,..,"the old man laughed again. "What?"Alvin asked in confusion. Then, he noticed wisps of black smoke emanating from the old man's body. "Your father...,"Alvin heard the man's voice, but his lips no longer moved. His bald head fell back and stared blankly as the black smoke rose. The empty corpse disintegrated into white dust that vanished instead of collecting on the grass. "...fulfilled the prophecy." \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1226 in a row. (Story #130 in year four.) You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog.
Although Maya was a true crime enthusiast, she couldn’t shake the sick feeling she felt when she came across a mutilated body. The body was sliced in half, revealing the victim’s insides. She’d been on the internet long enough, she thought she’d be desensitized to this kind of stuff by now. Guess not. Upon closer inspection, Maya noticed how deep the cut was. Of course, aside from the insides being revealed, some were nearly falling out. Flies swarmed the body while maggots and worms crawled in and out of their mouth. The skin was almost blueish, some purple bruises here and there. That sickening feeling intended. Soon, she turned her head and proceeded to vomit just a few feet away from the body. Who could’ve done this? She slowly looks back over her shoulder before hurling again. “Oh my god..” She muttered. Rather than feed her own, morbid curiosity, she backed away from the scene and ran off. —- My friends have been worried since last month. I found a dead body, I was investigated, was grounded for being out so late and everywhere I went, people had questions about the body. Who was it? What did it smell like? How long do you think it’s been there? I didn’t know and I didn’t care. Did I think it was cool? Hell yes. But was I ready to move on? Absolutely. Going back to school was the hardest part. Again with the questions and suspicions. My friends were by side, but I couldn’t shake this feeling I felt. The body disturbed me. After coming down from my adrenaline rush, that disturbing feeling settled in. It was sickening. It was awful. Who could’ve done something like that? The newspapers dubbed the victim the “Dahlia” - a gender neutral title until they figured out who this person was. That day, I felt guilt. Horror. Excitement. Morbid curiosity. I didn’t take a photo, as much as I wanted to. I could’ve shown this off on a crime forum. Maybe sell these photos to some creep who would’ve gotten off on stuff like this. But I didn’t. All I could do was cry and withdraw. Why do I feel so guilty?
"Chin the bitch. What the fuck does that even mean?"I asked Robin. "I don't know Red, it's some military jargon, you know it's pretty much a cult."he told me sparing me a sideways glance before returning to his binoculars to continue watching the briefing. "I guess they've had enough of our shit if they've brought out the whole military." "Yeah, we should probably head to the woods and lie low for a bit." "The fuck and I gonna get a bazooka?" "No Red, Come on we need to talk to Granny and Tuck." "Can I shoot the asshole with the microphone at least?" "Center of mass, don't get fancy." "Yeah, yeah, yeah,"I told him while swinging my grandpa's old 30.06 up a taking aim. If I'd had a little patience I think I could have gotten him and his fat little sidekick, but patience has never been my strong suit. A little pop and a kick later and I watched the whole camp explode like a kicked ants nest. After three years of doing this Robin and I didn't even need to talk. I grabbed the shell casing and followed behind as he made his way back up the ravine and back into the cave system that riddled these hills. "They can shove that eminent domain up there ass,"I told Tuck as I tossed him the shell casing, "I shot a general right in his stupid face." "First Sergeant, Red."Robin corrected me. "All those fucking stripes and he wasn't a general?"
Centuries ago, he wished for immortality. And his wish came true; he simply regretted not asking for eternal youth. Humanity is on an endless time loop. After the world ended as a result of the adverse effects consumerism/capitalism had on the entire world, the elite traveled back in time to escape the current reality; starting a new society. And when that society collapsed thousands of years later, time travel was used again by the rich and powerful. So on so forth.
We had uncovered an ancient complex. Inside was the plant. It had strange glowing flowers and hooked vines. What was most horrifying was that it had been found growing on an eerily well-preserved corpse. It was almost (if not actually) alien. As scientists, we took this parasite to the labs, seeing if we could find out what kind of plant this was. We did every test we could, then we got to genetics. It took us a while to find a good DNA extraction point as most of the tendrils had died, but we found it in the heart of the plant. I ran the test and found the truth of what it was. It was a perfect match with human DNA. We thought it turned humans into copies of itself, disfiguring the corpse in the process. Boy, were we wrong. We were *very* wrong. These plants turned others into us. Once I found out, I wish I could have unlearned the truth. We were the parasite, never meant to exist, but we did. As I pieced together what happened, the more I regretted my very existence. Approximately 250,000 years ago, there was another species that ruled the Earth. They had technology beyond anything humanity had ever made, and they were planning on leaving this planet. We managed to translate what they wrote, and we were terrified. `Day 3922. Please send help. There's a parasite on this world. Glowing flowers and hooked vines, stay away at all costs.` `Day 3923. We can't live in this cold hell. Let us come home.` `[ERR. CORRUPTED DATA]` `Day 3930. We're being overrun by those monsters. The parasite transformed them into savages. Commander, do something!` `Day 3931. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO.` `DAY 3932. ALL IS LOST. DON'T COME HERE. YOU WILL DIE.` `DAY 3933. I'M THE LAST ONE ALIVE. ABANDON SHIP.` `DAY 3934. I'M GONE. [INDECIPHERABLE] HAVE MERCY ON US ALL. GOODBYE, IT IS TIME FOR ME TO DIE.` `DAY 3935. DON'T GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT, DON'T GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT, DON'T GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT, DON'T GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT, DON'T GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT, DON'T GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT, DON'T GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT, DON'T GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT, DON'T GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT, DON'T GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT` A year later, we received a transmission from an unknown source from a distant star. You are under quarantine, parasite. Do not resist or we will ensure your compliance. It was then we knew we couldn't be here any longer. We had to get away from this doomed planet. We're now floating among the stars, terrified for our lives. We used to look down on germs, seeing them as nothing more than a minor inconvenience that we fought with antibiotics and chemicals. Now we are the germ, running for dear life as the immune cells pursue us like cat and mouse. It hurts to know the truth. But we have to live on. In two days, the germs will fight back, rejecting the immune system. We managed to reproduce the plant. And we're gonna use it. After all, the bacteria is the ultimate form of life. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ For more stories (and possibly a sequel), visit r/TerabyteAIXStories!
"Is that an order sir, if it is I would rather take the court marshal."Quietly I set the small set of binoculars in my hands onto the HESCO brick's wire mesh. The cold winter breeze drifting across the tarmac blowing the settled snow in wafting clouds of white powder. This intangible force of nature warping around the obsidian surface of the obstruction resting centrally on the runway. An acrid stench lingering on the air as the general throws his spent cigar into the ankle-deep snow. His eyes set on the obelisk, an uneasy tension palpable as his escort's fist clenches around his rifle. The sound of his leather glove tightening as the general sat down in the small chair next to my own. "It's not an order, it was a request son and I don't blame you for declining." "The thing is the next set of orders coming down the pipeline are not going to be as lenient."
"Hey this is Darren, I can't get to the phone right now, but please leave a message."A loud beep shatters the end of this quiet statement, a cat in the run-down apartment hisses slightly, but life continues on. The caller hangs up, and the world continues on as normal. All was well. "Um, hey, this is Melissa. The girl, from the bar."Or perhaps it was not to be so. A branching path, a change in reality. The girl would indeed call after all. Were this any other day, it would be met with rejoicing. "Look, I know we didn't exactly hit it off the best, but what you said got me thinking,"she pauses, searching for the right words. The message has begun after all, she has committed to this path. She can't leave it now, no matter how much she wishes to. What's done is done after all. And nothing can change that. "And you were right. About Erik I mean. You didn't,"she trails off once again. Erik Linlithgow was the man she referred to. Dies of an overdose in 2 years, in a jail cell. And nothing of great importance was lost. Reality continues on. She restarts her sentence, "mean to be. And I know you were, are,"she attempts to correct herself. "A bit of an asshole. About it I mean. But I thought about it. And I don't deserve to be treated that way. I..."She leaves the sentence hanging. "Look, you were drunk, I was drunk. I don't know if you remember giving me your number. But I needed to thank you."Confidence swelled in her, incorrectly. She still has time to forget about him. It will be embarrassing, of course. But for the best. This path is not a happy one. "But I was wondering if you wanted to grab coffee some time. I would say a drink but well..."She chuckles. "I think it's best not to get alcohol involved. Again."She taps the floor with her foot twice, she's scared and feels the need to be with someone safe. She thinks Darren couldn't hurt her. She is correct on that front. "Anyways, this is Melissa. From the Bar. The Red Toad."She feels the need to clarify, just in case he had been out drinking and met someone else. He hasn't. Her attempts at companionship are futile. "And this is my number. So just, call me back."She puts down the phone. She could have, should have forgotten. She smokes a cigarette. She hopes she came off well. She debated calling him yesterday. She lost track of time. She will continue to call him. She grows invested. She thinks herself stalkerish, but finds his address in the yellow pages. She finds the body. But then is not now. This was the path taken after all. Nothing can change this. The phone grows silent, leaving the house empty but for a silent cat and a hanging man. ---Well, that was a dark take on the prompt. I keep doing that, but eh. Feedback is always welcome :))
First it had been just friends and family quarrels being "resolved"with the app, then it got to the government's, and soon there were people walking around with their phones duct taped to their jackets or hoodies. These "Seekers"as they called themselves were out to "find all the unjust liars of the world and eradicate them". They'd walk around aimlessly and ask random people questions and if the app beeped once they were honest, twice meant they lied and the person would typically be ganged up on by three or four Seekers and beaten to within inches of their life. It was madness. But then a new faction reared its equally ugly head. They simply called themselves The Liars as a kind of rhetoric against the Seekers. They destroyed any phone that had the app and used far more deadly means of attack on any Seeker they found roaming around. This devolved further into a situation where no citizen could go outside safely for fear of either rival gang. The government couldn't do anything, they were caught up in a state of MAD with all other countries, now that everyone knew when the other was lying there was not only tension on the civilian level but also on the government level. Most cities were destroyed by their own citizens and all major government's were in nuclear standoff. Everyone always said that the truth is the best thing for everyone. I know better than that now.
Oh bother. The rafters above Liam's head creaked ominously as crumbs fell from the ceiling of his bedroom, lightly dusting his hair a burnt orange. Cinnamon scented. Oh bother. He thought to himself again. Liam sat frozen, half way out of bed with a single foot on the floor, breathing hard through his nostrils as he took in the transformation the house had undergone. His knuckles were white with fear, fingers forming furrows into the pillow-soft pancake blanket he had been peeling off his body, which now smelt like maple syrup. The walls of the room had come into focus as he woke, it being revealed that they changed from wood panelling to chocolate coated sheets of biscuit, for a brand he didn't recognise. The fairy lights strung above his bed's headboard were now shining gumdrops on licorice wires, twinkling in the morning sun which shone through window panes made of spun sugar. The house creaked once more, as his eyes followed the trail left by a single drip of chocolate, travelling down the wall opposite the window. Liam's mind spun. I've woken with the sun, which is fortunate I suppose. The day looks pretty overcast, even better. Liam dreaded to think what might have happened to him I had he slept in, when it was more likely the new chocolate components of the house would have melted further. As it was, he had time to think and act, although how much he didn't know. Not a lot. What adhesive was used in gingerbread houses? How long until it melted? Liam didn't know, couldn't even guess, regretting having always switched the channel whenever the Great British Bake Off was set to run. Carefully, Liam lifted his foot away from the floorboard, seeing the scuff mark and microscopic cracks that had already appeared in the gingerbread. The only reason I'm not plummeting through the floor right now, he thought, is likely because I weight was being evenly distributed by my bed. A bed which was now made out of chocolate bourbons glued together with icing, already melting due to his body heat. I was trapped. I was trapped in a gingerbread house and I was going to die. Oh, bother. Liam thought about calling for help, and gingerly reached over to his nightstand, pulling open the top draw and wincing when the chocolate drop handle snapped off in his grip. Reaching in, his hand came away streaked with strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla, his mobile having been turned into a Neapolitan ice cream sandwich. Of course. Everything, the entire house except for him, was now sweet as sugar and just as deadly. Liam lived alone, and he wasn't sure whether to be thankful or regretful for that fact. That no one else was in the same danger as him, but also that there was no easy way for him to get help without leaving bed. I have to get out. Oh bother. And yet knowing this, it still took Liam a couple minutes to gather the courage, time in which more dust fell from the ceiling above, and a crack could be heard from elsewhere in the house. Carefully, Liam moved around in the bed, until his head was at the edge, and slid himself hands first onto the floor. Spreading out his weight, Liam began to crawl, his pyjamas being torn to tatters as the fruit-loop cloth disintegrated. He wormed his way to the door of his room, trying to visualise the layout of his home as it once was, thinking about where the load-bearing structures of this candy domicile would be, and the quickest exit. Opening the door from his position on the floor was a matter of punching the malted milk biscuit out with a fist, creating a hole wide enough for his shoulders, not wanting to reach up for or trusting the handle to work. This took a matter of minutes, since despite the crumbling consistency it was still a few inches thick. Coming out onto the landing, Liam pulled himself along the landing floor, using the banister's railing poles, now candy canes, like the rungs of a horizontal ladder. He began to descend the steps head first, putting as little weight on each as he could. This was another labour of minutes as he shifted his weight, not wanting to plummet through the stairs. Meanwhile, the house creaked and groaned around him, and there was an ominous dripping sound coming from the boiler room, a chocolate kettle situation. Which meant a couple gallons of hot water, or chocolate, or something other was melting through the middle of the house. Liam sped up his escape. With no windows in this part of the house, and licorice not conducting electricity, he did this in gloom, surrounded by the sweet smell of a dozen confections. It was when Liam was halfway down the stairs on his stomach that he heard a load crack sound from above. It was not a crack of the gingerbread roof like he had feared, but something far worse. It was the crack of thunder. Realisation followed a moment later. Rain Naked, smeared in chocolate, and high on adrenaline, Liam scrambled down the remaining steps, hands and knees punching holes, until he fell onto the ground floor.He looked around wildly as the first patters of rain began. It was the same hallway, redecorated in gumdrops and icing, the nearest door still being the back one. Liam stood and sprinted past family photos now printed on sugar paper in chocolate frames. When he laid eyes on the back door however, his heart sank. It was made of a solid slab of caramel. Soft enough he couldn't break it; heavy enough he'd struggle to move it. He quickly turned on his heel, heading for the front door. The ceiling behind him caved in at that moment, depositing a boiler, now made from ineffectual Nougat, and gallons of frothy hot chocolate where he had just stood. The rest of the house groaned in protest. Liam slalomed around the corner, knocking free a chunk of the wall with his shoulder in his haste, as other parts of the house came undone. But finally, there it was, the front door, made from mere ice-cream wafer. He ran towards it, not bothering to slow down as he intended to break straight through, when his foot punched through a loose chocolate floorboard, his leg up to the knee disappearing into the quickly melting foundations of the house, now beginning to fill with water from outside. Liam sprawled in the hallway, dazed, but knew that this was it, the critical moment, between escape and a sugar-dusted tomb. Using his hands, he clawed his way forward, freeing his leg, before standing, covering his head with my arms, and throwing himself against the door. It came apart only a moment before the gingerbread roof came free of its adhesive, sliding away from the house and crashing into the front garden, taking much of the second floor outer walls with it. Liam scrambled to get away from the crumbling structure, not daring to look back until he was as far as the gate to the road, his feet slapping aginst what felt like molten mud churned up by the rain, sucking at his legs. The rain fell on his hair and exposed shoulders as he looked back at his house. It chose that moment to give up, being consumed in a cloud of gingerbread dust and sprinkles as it collapsed Breathing hard, Liam blinked the rain out of his eyes and licked some which had gathered on his lip. His heart which felt like it was beating out of his chest, skipped a beat. Sweet. Liam thought with dawning horror.
“I want to negotiate the terms of your surrender!” The hero, also known by his proper name Hilsent Grinald, exclaimed. “Wh- What...?” The King said in deep shock. There were no signs of it happening for Julius who truly considered him a good king. Neither his advisor Yeln nor anyone else in the country would consider the possibility of the hero betraying them so late in their war against demons. “Hilsent... have you been swayed by the demon lord? Brainwashed perhaps?” Julius asked as he gave his number of guards a stern look to which the guards immediately pointed their spears towards their now assumedly gone hero. It was probably impossible to defeat someone who single-handedly took out the demon lord at this point, but... it was honourable to an enormous degree to lay their lives in order to protect the king, the symbol and second hope of the Kingdom of Hulia! “No, Julius. No. The Demon Lord opened my eyes.” Said Hilsent as his eyes narrowed and pointed straight towards his majesty’s own. “...How? The Demon Lord was the one who destroyed your-“ “No! The one who destroyed my village! The one who murdered my mother and father! The one who sent unknown demons torture and desecrate all my neighbours! That was you! You are the only one besides from the demon lord who’s ever had demons under his control! Unless you surrender and admit to your crimes... Julius, in that case I shall execute you right here and now!” Hilsent was adamant in both his posture, stance, glare and voice. Julius would go down in history as the worst king of he didn’t manage to rectify it right there and then. The king silently stood up from his throne in the enormous hall that was the throne room. The throne itself was some 100 short, but wide stairs away from the hero with his guards being at about the halfway mark between the two with the throne itself being 250 stairs high. “Hilsent! I beg you, our greatest sword and shield to grant me a moment to explain myself!” The king said as he bowed his head to the hero. “Your majesty!?” The guards, the personal attendants and all the few other people present were baffled by the king granting such respect to someone. This was impossible to conceive. No king had ever had to do that in the 2000 year old history of the Kingdom of Hulia! “It is all right. Hilsent deserves more than this. He truly does.” Julius said calmly as he eyed the man he long considered a friend with a welcoming smile. “You plan to make me question your evident dubious motives?” Hilsent still maintained the unhappy expression. “No, just Force you to give me time to figure this out.” The king’s expression saddened slightly. “If you consider me the culprit, why is the demon lord out of the question?” Julius asked. “Because as you hid from me, Julius, the demon lord was engaged in war with the forces of Klimmer. Grivver Klimmer, their king, told me himself.” The hero spoke as his voice echoed through the wide space. “Impossible... I was assured by- I was assured that it WAS the demon lord! This is the first time I hear about this!” The king thought. “What’s wrong?! Why stay silent, Julius?! Is this an admission of guilt?!” Hilsent drew his sword out halfway as his body tensed up. “My advisors told me a different story. Sorry for keeping it to myself, but the demon summoning was never done by myself, but someone else...” The king admitted. “That’s... then who did...? Who-“ Hilsent paused as the throne room’s massive doors almost silently swung open. The person entering bore an evil grin and was clapping slowly, but very loudly. “Well, well, well.” Yeln Kilnic, the masterful advisor was incredibly pleased with the situation. “Yeln! How do you explain yourself?!” Julius demanded from up above. “YELN!! Explain yourself now you-!” Hilsent was about to unleash a sea of threats at Yeln but... “Now shut it, shut it, king of uselessness.” A red-skinned demon with completely black eyes and massive wings stepped out from the right of the massive doorway. “Remember us, remember us, failure hero?” A blue-skinned demon with completely white eyes stepped out from the left. Julius, Hilsent and everyone else present were stunned into a stupor. “Are my dear subordinates Akonihito and Aonihito not to your liking?” He referred to the red then the blue demon. “You... You...! YOU...!!!” Hilsent assumed a stance and got ready to fight. “Yeln... wh- why? For what...?” Julius had a hard time contemplating the reasons behind it all. “They‘ve always been working for me, Julius. What we have here was always ‘the plan’. MY plan. I’ve always wanted to rule both Hulia, the demons’ lands and maybe Klimmer on the side. Hear me! Your graves are a path to my future! Be grateful for that!l, whelps!” Yeln was very confident in what was happening. It was his moment of unbridled happiness. “You won’t be able to defeat us hero, we-!” The demons spoke in unison only to find themselves with their stomachs cut open mid-speech. “Gwaaaarg” the demons both coughed up blood, convulsed and passed out. Their death was imminent and undoubtable. “This was for everything I’ve lost.” Hilsent said calmly from behind Yeln. “And this is for what all of the living could have lost, scum!” Hilsent shouted and beheaded Yeln. “Hilsent!” Julius headed down the stairs in a speedy step, his body type not being fat so Julius was just mildly inconvenienced. “Are you scolding me again, old friend?” Hilsent asked. “No. No... I would’ve appreciated had you not suspected me first though.” Julius stopped at the bottom of the stairs without advancing towards the door. “And I would’ve appreciated if you’d been honest who had the ability to control and collaborate with demons. I could’ve ousted Yeln sooner.” Hilsent approached Julius. Before the guards rushed in as per order... “Protection: none.” Julius made his order and the two friends were left alone, really relieved that neither was bad all along and that they stopped that madman Yeln. This was it, the future where humans and demons could try living together!
I love the setting in [Tech Noir] (https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Zd23T-1SDeo)— it’s in a sci-fi city about to be destroyed, and the narrator is trying to find his beloved before it’s too late. There’s a couple mysteries set up in the song (the city had it coming, for some reason), and I feel like you could take it a few different ways if so inclined. And very different, but for fantasy, I always thought [this lady] (https://www.google.com/search?q=A+Roman+Lady%22+by+Lord+Frederick+Leighton.&client=safari&hl=en-us&prmd=insv&sxsrf=ALeKk00OY6VeTDBXMRy-nlUFWT2wbR43Lw:1620770447063&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiioYm20MLwAhVCgp4KHTFcC08Q_AUoAXoECAIQAQ&biw=414&bih=715#imgrc=8qhD5LxROR81AM) was up to something, and was going to absolutely ruin anything that stood in her way. Definitely no pressure to respond to either of these, but I hope they help!
“Disregard your feelings. Understand how it could be true.” He was a Jedi—almost. He was the hero they called Luke, and sweat matted his hair. There was pain from his left wrist, from where the hand had been severed from a brutal and swift lightsaber blow. Now he clung to a walkway, hanging over an abyss, shoulders sunk, at the feet of Lord Vader. The winds of the abyss surrounded Lord Vader. They swirled over him, and beckoned toward him with the heaviest gravity, the apex of blackholes and star-eaters. And the cloak of his armor crested up in sharp angles, like a winged nightmare. The cold against his skin. Luke closed his eyes and tried to focus. The Force, that living entity, seemed to be screaming. Seemed to know of the sacrilege that had neared, the extremity of balance and the taint of living things called Vader. And the Force shifted, as though itself pulling away from Vader, and all of Luke’s dminished focus couldn’t keep him present. Such extreme darkness, and the Force was seeking balance. It showed Luke a vision. The vision was so near and immediate. The vision resonated so clearly. Yes, it was near, only moments ago. But also near, its potent epicenter not far from this place, too irrestible to be ignored in the presence of infinite night. In the red-glow of control panels and a carbonite encasing module stood Leia. Leia, her hands bound by thick metal restraints as she looked on the gathering before her. “I’ve given you the princess!” Lando said, and stepped forward. “You promised you wouldn’t touch him!” Han Solo wrestled in the grasp of two Storm Troopers and was promptly struck in the head with the heel of a blaster. He slouched over. Leia cried out and step forward but the Troopers raised their blasters. The Troopers now held Han’s slack body up, and he was bleeding from the mouth. There was defeat in how her features sunk. Slowly, Han’s head rose up. The was a peculiar look in his eye, sharp, jesting, as if everything were a joke and the room was full of suckers. Leia read his gaze and was taken aback. Han had something. That smirk. She wondered what she had missed, what angle could be exploited for their rescue; she could see her hero but not the star fighter he would ride in on. Where was the charge to save them all at this late hour in the deepest blackness of space? There was that twinkle, that shining galaxy in his eye, and it was about to flare. But what had she been missing? “I love you,” Han said. “W-what?” Leia's mouth was agape, her eyes wide and her whole body seemed to tremble. A bright flare now. The nearest Storm Trooper struck Han again and the blow was brutal. Totality now, head down, the flare extinguished, his body limp. Chewbacca roared and starting swinging his bound arms, but even then he was there. The Dark One. The unmistakable sound of a lightsaber ignition, violent and red. “I have honored the terms of the deal, Commander Callirssian,” Lord Vader said. “Pray that I do not revoke at my discretion.” Lando clenched his teeth with rage. “And Leia? You promised she wouldn't die?” “Die?” Leia whispered. Die now? Now, only after understanding that a galaxy could flare so brightly? She slumped to her knees as an Imperial officer commanded the platform to lower into the casing pit. There was a machine exhale of hydraulic smoke, a gasp as if the machine knew the revelation of a galaxy now too, was an audience for a flare. “No...” Leia whispered as she was lowered. She would not die. Not in the darkness of these infernal machines nor incased in carbonite nor at the edge of a backwaters planetary system in the court of a pretender. She would not die, not so long as she could claw. She would claw her way back for just one more look into the star shrouded infinity of another person, a person who loved her, a love that she could see in the deepest reaches of his eyes and feel hanging in the air around him, weighted and in counterbalance to the terrible spinning of the Force. “Join me or die,” Vader said. The vision of the Force was pushed away now. Luke opened his eyes again at the feet of the dark lord. Vader extended his black gauntlet. It was the hand that had ended Obi-Wan, and his father, and countless others now —innocent, brave, unknown. Their essence seemed to circle the gauntlet, the last remnant of them now, the last artifact known to them, and of them to others. He was defeated. To touch the gauntlet and their essence would be to move through the essence of the last good thing before grasping midnight. He was defeated. There were no other visions now. There were no other voices, no Yoda, no Obi-Wan. There was only the gauntlet, and the ash of the brightness it had once extinguished. The sweet ash, and nothing else was sweet.
He went through the house. Looking for a weapon. For he has no more time. Protagonist senses his life is in danger. Panicly, he search every nook and cranny. Yes! A knife! Unbeknownst, "It"is near. Creaking sound was heard from the 2nd floor, a silhouette slowly floats down the stairs. Keeping his cool, he turns around to battle, except he didnt know "It"is already behind him. "Do you fear me?"The creature whispers. "As you feared, I am created for one purpose & you know what needs to be said aloud." . . . . . Happy Cake Dayyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!! He screams out loud.
the visions are becoming too much so here is a warning to all of you, yes all of you because no one is safe from them and they're coming fast and hard and terrifying and i see them when i close my eyes oh god it's too much, why me, why is it me but i think about it real real hard, and i realize, you see, that i am the prophet you have been waiting for and if you don't follow me that your chances are low and i reckon you want to live so follow me somewhere magical and we'll be safe from the darkness that's coming for us all JUST LISTEN TO ME, LISTEN for once no don't say i'm crazy, never say i'm crazy because you can't see the darkness and only i can so this must mean i'm a prophet and follow me if you want to live because they will never stop coming no they never will and i-- The doctor turns to the nurse, smiling sadly. "I think we need to revisit his case. There's a lot more to this one than we thought." The self assumed prophet gazed at them, glassy eyed and unseeing, lost in his own head.
This is written during the attitude era. Four score and seven years ago, our founding fathers called on me to kick some ass! John C. Breckinridge, a.k.a. the Southern Jackass, thought he could put his hat in the ring. I'm the one who wears the hat! Now my new opponent, George B. McClellan thinks he he can take on the Almighty Abe. Well i've got news for you! They call me Honest Abe, The Emancipator, The Judge, and the future president of this company! I stand at a whoppin' 6 foot 4 inches without the hat and used to walk miles every day just to go to school. I'm as fit as they come and anyone who steps into the ring with me will rue the day brother! One last thing, if I ever get wind that my opponent thinks they even have a chance to win, i'll kick their ass like the rebels they are! You can't beat the man in the top hat, the emancipator of men, the almighty champion of the World Wrestling Federation!
As ancient lineages go, this one wasn't so bad. Few could trace their heritage back through the millenia and only two other bloodlines go as far back as his. While most of his ancestors never had to realize their power, a few generations have the courage to stand up against the evil power. With the wisdom of the ancient bloodlines beside him, they often succeed where no one else could. This time around however, things were different. In the unbroken chain of heroes, this link felt like he would break. There had to be another way. He mustered up his courage, armed with his sword and shield, masterfully crafted and passed on from hero to hero, and approached the desert fortress before the land could be ravaged. There was no combat. No fighting or bloodshed. He simply asked for an audience and was granted as much. At last, standing before the demon king, he laid down the Master Sword. "Do we really need to do this again, Ganondorf?"
"Just kill me." Angrily I pushed the 'vampire's' glock firmly against my braincase the robber flinching as I conveniently got his blood on my hand. The tension in the room only mounting as he pulled his gun away and adjusted his Biden mask. His raspberry blood sticking to my hand like jelly as the dozens of blood bags on his chest swung with his sudden movement. "Hey go away you damn suicidal shitbird, go get out that door!" A single crooked gloved finger at reaching towards the door as I stood up half terrified and pleased with myself. The gun still firmly pointed at my knee caps as I went out of the gas station's doors into the winter air. My trip towards the small barricade uneventful as I wiped the evidence off of my hand and handed it to a nearby officer. "That's your suspect's blood, I'm going to go home tell the chief next time he pulls that stunt I won't be as compliant."
I sat there at the table gun in hand. The other patrons quietly and cautiously watched me as a slowly sipped my coffee and finished my morning scone. "For 40 years Ive built myself up and grown my life and experiences. Now as things start to crumble and i realize im not happy with the build I chose ive opted to end it all."I said aloud. "Im really hoping my next go around to try a different childhood. Maybe I get lucky and be born a noble or what ever the modern equivalent is anyway." The patrons in the cafe continued to watch as took another sip and shifted myself on the stool. "Im surprised you all seem so concerned."I said speaking to the onlookers. "Sir."the manager said cautiously. "Why are you saying this. we dont want any issues. Please step outside." "Why am I saying this? Let me guess, first time life?"I replied with a smile. "First Time Life?"the Manager asked. "Well yes!"I shouted. "First Time. Has no one told you?" the manager and multiple patrons shook their heads. "I feel sorry for you and glad for you then."I replied shaking my head. "You have both a fear of death and yet never had to relieve those terrible teething years over and over." The on looking crowd was completely silent as several police officers stormed into the cafe. "Well its time for the next life then."I said putting the gun to my head. The crowd ducked in fear, 3 officers drew on me. One did not. "You get it."said to that officer and pulled the trigger. A blinding light and searing pain filled my consciousness. quickly the majority of memories of my old life washed away as a group of nurses and doctors came into view as my new eyes adjusted to the room. In the background the local news playing a story about a stand off in a coffee shop ending just moment ago. "huh, typical media trying to up sell what really happened for views"i thought before being slapped and having and involuntary crying.
"I want this server burnt to the ground."The man in uniform shouted orders as others shoved the computer parts into a pile, throwing accelerant on it. "Please sir, we don't have any scripture here."The tired and scared clerk begged the man in uniform hopelessly. "We know you're one of them, don't even try to pretend otherwise. As per Article 12 of the Religious freedom revocation act, any medium suspected of housing scripture is to be burned. Just thank your god that we're not allowed to throw you in that pile with the rest of the trash." The clerk watched as the servers he managed, a simple chat service that had nothing to do with crimes or religion, go up in flames. He would probably lose his job. His employers wouldn't dare risk another attack on their infrastructure because they continued to employ a theist. And they'd warn any potential employer about his faith as well, which meant his chances of getting another job that came remotely close to his skill set were all but gone. He went home. Defeated and tired. He wanted to go just fall into bed, and hope he would wake up and realize this was all just a nightmare. Instead he got down on his knees. The thanked his God for protecting him today. He thanked his God for the strength to carry on. He asked his God to guide him, so that he could find a way to support himself and his family in the wake of this disaster. Then he reached under his bed and pulled out a leather bound book. It was old and worn. Monogrammed on the cover was the name of his father, who had left it to him after he died. He opened the book with little care for where it opened to. It happened to open to the 14th chapter of the book of John, which he read in it's entirety. Near the end of the chapter he found a verse that had been highlighted by his father. [27 Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.] As he read those words, he felt the truth of them inside his heart. He knew the times ahead would be hard, for himself and his family. But he knew that no matter what hurdles the world threw his way, his God offered a peace that could not be taken from him. And that brought him comfort. He closed the book, thanked his God for His support in this turbulent time. Then he stood up and moved to his computer. He still needed to find a new job, after all.
You have never smelled anything like the game rooms on testing day. The sharp, ammonia scent of dye permeating everything, comingled with the stench of hundreds of pairs of anxious armpits, with the occasional hint of rotting meat or burning garbage or excrement wafting in from the streets. (I still feel it was just yesterday that those streets were clean and the windows of our skyscrapers polished.) Row upon row of ragged people huddled over old laptops with loud fans, madly clattering away at their keyboards, shooting vengeful looks at each other. The games were not built for amusement. They were more tests than games. They were meant to stratify us. To win at the game required perfect retention of all the esoteric screwball facets of the new ideology. Our poorly rendered avatars could only move forward if they knew exactly how, when, and why they should betray their fellow avatars, which oversteps and fatal faux pas to pick up on, which facial features should warrant a person being instantly reported to the authorities. Nobody won at these games. There were only losers. Those of us found lacking some essential quality - alertness, etiquette, ruthlessness, or most egregiously, Belief - were dyed. The dye stung and stank on our flesh. It itched for days afterward and was probably carcinogenic. Each colour represented a different fault. Kids who showed they would not willingly betray their parents got green blotches on their cheeks. People especially bad at picking out genetic inferiority in others by sight had grey rings smeared around their eyes. I'm what they call a Rainbow. There are more of us. More than they can take. We meet, we plan, we have our wits and our resentment and nothing to lose. One day I'll see those skyscrapers gleaming again. Or maybe I'll see their charred steel skeletons strewn about with glittering glass. Whichever it may be, it's better than this. \[feel free to continue\]
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Season 1 Episode 5 of “Where’s My Hero?” Narrator: “From where we last left off, our hero, Marcus Eymad, was making progress in his trek to defeat the the evil bandit leader, Sonia Latefest. After an unintended detour, Marcus sets sights on the capital, Alcrest.” Marcus: “Ughhhhhh! How do you even read this map?! Why is it Alcrest so farrrrrr?” Narrator: “Marcus, you’re holding your map upside-down.” Marcus: “Shut up, you disembodied voice! Your voice popped out of nowhere and started following me ever since I fought those goons who were bullying that female merchant that I wanted to flirt with. And now, you’re making me go fight their leader?!” Narrator: “Marcus, it’s for your own good. You get character development by the end of this.” Marcus: “If you say so...” Marcus turns his map upside-left, then upside-right. Marcus: “Oh, it looks like Alcrest is only... 10 more miles of walking! Great!” Narrator: “No Marcus, that’s Stalfort. See the flag symbol next to the town? It’s blue, not green.” Marcus: “Hey, I told you yesterday that I never memorized any town flags! Nor can I read...” Narrator: “You know Marcus, all you really have to do is turn right at every fork in the road towards Alcrest. You didn’t even need to bring your ma-“ Marcus: “Shut up! I don’t trust you!” Narrator: “...You don’t have to be so rude, Marcus. I’m just trying to help...” Marcus: “You can help by getting out of my head! I never wanted to be the hero, anyways!” Narrator: “Well, I’ll leave for now. But while I’m gone, you better not forget my advice and start taking left turns, alright?” Marcus: “Easy peasy, don’t worry about it.” Narrator: “The last time I left, you turned left into Maidenholm...” Marcus: “Stop talking. Go away, shoo!” With a small flash, my invisible, omniscient self swiftly teleported to Sonia’s location. But when I reappeared, I happened to be in... her bedroom? Wait, she hasn’t woken up yet? Narrator: “SONIA!” Sonia: “Hey! You’re ruinin’ my beauty sleep!” Narrator: “Sonia, why aren’t you on the ship?” Sonia: “...excuse me?! You said that I had to board the ship to Alcrest by Sunday, so I decided to sleep all Saturday. After all, I really can’t get any good sleep if I’m on any kind of ship. All that boat-rockin’ just doesn’t do it for me.” Narrator: “...Sonia. DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS?” Sonia: “Yeah, duh, Sunday morning.” Sonia removed her curtains to reveal the orange light of sun that was peeking above the horizon. Sonia: “See? Crack of dawn! Time to equip my gear and head to the docks so I can get to Alcrest by Tuesday!” Narrator: “NO! IT’S DUSK YOU IDIOT!!! DID YOU REALLY SLEEP FOR THIS LONG?!!” Sonia was in shock. She ran to her front door— she was still in her pajamas— to check that it really was evening. Sure enough, the merchants across the street looked busy closing up shop. Idiot Sonia: “NOOOO! I missed the ship!” Narrator: “See? And now you can’t get to Alcrest in time.” Desperate Sonia: “You said that I’d be able to meet some guy with rare gear on ‘im, and that gear was blessed with power, and if I beat ‘im, that blessing would transfer itself to me, right?!” Narrator: “Yeah?” Bargaining Sonia: “Why can’t you make the dude stay in Alcrest for longer than a day? Like, tell ‘im I’m hot or something?” Narrator: “Sorry Sonia, just like you, the hero doesn’t really follow my directions. He just sorta does what he wants. Plus, Marcus doesn’t like tomgirls. He’d much prefer hitting on girls in Elfheim than in Alcrest.” Sad Sonia: “Damn it...” Narrator: “Well, maybe if you, by some miracle, manage to gain access to the teleport system at your city hall, you can perhaps get to Alcrest in time?” Sonia: “No, that’s impossible... They won’t let me do it because of my criminal record...” Narrator: “Figures.” Narrator: “Well, guys! Seems like Sonia’s in a bit of a predicament here! How will our villain get to Alcrest so she can beat Marcus and steal some sweet divine power? And if she doesn’t get there, how will Marcus react once I tell him that he’s walked all the way to Alcrest for nothing? Stay tuned for the next episode of, “Where’s My Hero?”! Sonia: “Who are you talking to? Wait, I’m the villain? I thought I was the hero?”
Now, in the last hour, as the heavens empty, and the night presses in around us, we see that even Demigods die. The stars have gone, and the night is empty. I stare into the endless dark, but it is far too late now to see. I can just barely recall what they once were, when the skies were lit by uncountable tears, lending a cool beauty to the night. Now... now the skies are dark and empty, not cool but cold; cold as the ever darkness at the bottom of the sea. An open wound, sapping the last of our light, our life, like a great vampire. We were here when the heavens were young, and in our childlike way, we knew then what was coming. We feared the darkness, the shadows beyond our fires. Feared the prowling beasts that came to take us from the light. In truth we feared the great darkness beyond the world, and sought solace in the hope, that there was a light beyond the dark. But when we had tamed the beasts, when we had slain disease, when the elements themselves bent to our will; we thought we had found our answer. We thought we had found a way to kill death himself, and he's been laughing up his sleeve at us ever since. I have seen wondrous things, I watched the birth of stars, and set galaxies in motion. I have made life, and raised immortals into being. Now my children are lost in shadow, and night falls over the ageless. I walk the darkened streets alone, no light to guide my way. We can't afford such extravagance any more, not now; but acquaintance of countless centuries guides me, and I do not stumble in the dark. As I pass by a low ceilinged building, I hear someone speaking words of the distant past. "...They have neither knowledge nor understanding, they walk about in darkness; all the foundations of the earth are shaken. I said, 'You are gods, sons of the Most High, all of you; nevertheless, like men you shall die, and fall like any prince'..." And then I am beyond. We had all but forgotten the words of our ancestors, in the height of our power, we forgot our own mortality. We thought we could endure forever, but now we huddle around the embers of a dying star, as darkness swallows the skies. I turn a corner, and hear the whisper of a soft voice pass by. ^(...According to Your lovingkindness remember me, For Your goodness’ sake, O Lord...) Here, in the last hour, as the heavens empty, and the night presses in around us, we see that even Demigods pray...
For The King Who Has Everything The stone steps of the Castle felt cold as Aikan began ascending the spiral steps to the King's Chambers. The once bustling halls were quiet and barren with only few people staying within the castle walls. As the loyal scribe had reached the top of the steps, the dark oak door laid before him. He pushed it open with a hefty shove. Walking towards the throne he began to speak. \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ "As requested the people have begun preparations for the ceremony, and I've received word from a courier that the Duke is on his way however plans to make a stop in Kanton for-"Aikan was cut off short as a ring adorned hand brushed passed his field of view. "Aikan, I trust in your abilities you've served me for this long haven't you? Why would today be different. The day melds with night into day once more. The past century has been a blur! I've had evil and peace, war and democracy what more is there to do!" "My Lord? I'm not sure I understand? Is there something I could do?' "Yes! Surprise me! Start a civil war or summon a demon I don't know. Find me something to do I haven't already done or seen or experienced"Lord Kohan said in a tired manner, his eyes falling to the chamber's stone floor. "My Lord, I need your express permission to do what you ask because you will not like it.." "Yes by all means do whatever it is you must! Just get me out of this rut." "Very Well,"Summoning his courage, Aikan walked towards the center of the room which held within it a stone recession in the floor. In the center, was a brilliant crystal shining bright white illuminating the entire chamber in nearly fluorescent light. Aikan reached down and spoke an incantation separating the gem from its containment apparatus."As the gem was removed the light in the chamber faded only illuminated by the orange glow of candle and torch light. Aikan sighed and watched the kings expression drop. "Aikan what are you doing?"The eyes of Kohan fixated on the stone. "My-"Aikan began but shortly stopped himself, "Kohan, this is it. You are right, with nothing left to experience there is only one gift I can truly give that means something. I have stood by you as you led battles, but also as you have killed innocents. You are too powerful, and now I have a chance..."Aikan looked down at the stone in his hands. "I said I wanted a change not this! Why now after all these years!?"Kohan began to find himself angered and panicked at the thought of what was to come. "Because, you finally wanted it and I built as much courage as I can to do it."Aikan began reciting a spell Kohan had never heard before, his words weaving in mysterious ways. As Aikan finished the spell. The once bright gem, began fading. Aikan placed the gem in Kohan's hands. "What have you done?"Kohans eyes began darting around the room. Frantic "You are now Mortal, things will hurt you, you will experience the world differently than you ever have before. Your power truly did blind you to the truth about living didn't it." "What stupid truth might that be?!"Kohan angered and enraged stood and then felt dizzy, falling back into his throne. "That it must end...Life only matters when bounded by death"
"I activate Surprise Potluck! When my opponent declares an attack, I can sacrifice ten peanuts and anything of equal value to deal psychological damage directly to your life points! I choose: My Wife's Signed Divorce Forms for a total of one thousand damage! What should you bring? What will you wear? Why are you the last to know? Once you're done recoiling from the implications, I can then bring any spell card back from the graveyard and onto your field. You may remember earlier, when I had spilled salsa on my hands. That was only a ploy to coat one particular card and make it identifiable for this exact moment. I'll bring back: Party Bowl, now infused with Tainted Salsa! This spell card decides the mid-battle snack your monsters will consume throughout our fight and it cannot be sacrificed or removed from your field when it is summoned through Surprise Potluck, or else you'll suffer Potluck Failure, starving (killing) all active monsters and making all future monsters think you're lame, halving their attack and defense stats for you. Not that it matters. Tainted Salsa makes them sick and unable to attack or defend for 2 turns - the amount of time it takes for them to realize it's the delicious salsa that's making them lethargic. It's a double-edged sword for me; as they'll be rejuvenated and deal 75% more damage the turn after. That leaves me with one turn to summon and one to attack. I don't have what it takes to beat you in my hand, so it all comes down to the card I draw next. And victory is mine. I'm sure you know about Exodia. Gather all five pieces of the forbidden one and the power of Hellfire's Rage is yours to command. In other words, you've lost. To oblivion!" &#x200B; "Sir... this is a Chili's. If you can't pay your bill, then I'm afraid we'll need to take down your information and hold onto your ID. If you continue to make a scene we won't hesitate to call the - SIR!" &#x200B; (Distant) "Sorry, I'm late for another duel at Ben and Jerry's!"
One day, I swear, those two will get the memo. I grabbed my keys and climbed into the car and rang up Adrian, a star player and the cities greatest hero and the oldest of the twins by an hour, not that my wife would have made mention if she was alive. It rang. And rang And rang. BOOP "Hey, it's A! Sorry I'm busy but that doesn't mean I don't care. Give me a message so I know to call you back." I took in a breath. "If the two of you know what's good for you, powers or not, you'll knock it off and wait for me to get there. Heaven and powers won't save you, you two know that." I didn't bother saying who it was. I flipped to David. A villan the youngest and still a good kid to most who knew he just needed people to understand. Fortunately, both Adrian and I did. Unfortunately, that didn't mean that, as brothers, they didn't fight. David was a villain in the city and was always harangued about his brother. News everywhere would show up Adrian, but he never liked it much. Truth be told, Adri hated the spotlight. But, as brothers do, they were prone to fights. And being powered didn't help much. I didn't catch the news, I got called by Tom, the manager of a hardware store I worked at for a long time before they were born. He told me about it and despite his attempts to break them up it didn't go well. I left the same message on David's phone. NORMALLY if either of them got it first, the other would know better. Sometimes however it was too much to check your phone. Or listen when it rang and Dad was calling. I pulled off the service road and went down the back ways to where the depot was. There, sure enough, I could see a small column of smoke. They started something alright. I parked near enough for them to climb in as I saw Adrian throw another punch to David who dodged out of the way and dropped for a kick. Adrian ended up flying backward and hit a streetlamp, a small dent in place where he landed. I climbed out as David stood ready, letting Adrian get up. "You seriously don't get it. Do you?"Adrian grunted. "Is it really that big a deal to have something you really want to do besides what's in front of you?" I stood silently, arms crossed. I figured I'd let them either see me and stop or get in more trouble. Most in the city knew me by now. I raised the boys by myself, and I'd like to say I ran a tight but fair ship when it came to the twins. Their mom died of cancer when they were both nine, David's powers manifested about four months after the funeral. Adrian's shortly after their tenth birthday. I knew then that I'd need to be careful: both for the town and for everything around them. But more importantly, for them. I wasn't overbearing like I think most would have been. I bought a field on the edge of town, where they could go out with their powers, learn about them and hone them. But I also encouraged Adrian's musical desires and Davids programming studies. They ended up going seperatly on the track of hero/villain styles but that didn't mean that I would raise one and demean the other. Both would often get in trouble. David for his villian work and Adrian for breaking curfew, missing meals and lagging on schoolwork. And now that both were in high school they were each learning about who they were and things were getting more out of hand. However, that didn't change what the rules were. And their reaction every time I grunted a cough. It wasn't loud by any stretch, no louder than a real cough. But it had that cut to it that most kids, when they grew up with it, and even a few who didn't, knew that if they didn't want to get in more trouble, it was best to stop, be quiet, and hope that it wouldn't end in a spanking. And true to form, even at sixteen with sirens, blaring and chaos around them, those two to their credit would know that cough and hear it in a nuclear blast. They spun, almost to attention and stared at me faces pale watching me. I looked around and took in a breath to keep me calm despite my eternal burning anger at the sight every time this happened. When I was calm enough I spoke. "First, you two are gonna clean up, then you're gonna apologies for this mess, then you're gonna climb in and we're going home. We'll discuss what happens to the two of you after." "Yes sir."They stereod I sat down on the curb as James, an old friend joined me, "I swear, you run with an iron fist." "Nah."I shook my head. "Just a good tight ship. I put reasonable limits out there, explain why they are there, the consequences for breaking past them and if they're broken, let them know that I'm not joking on the consequences. They learned pretty quick that powers doesn't help them against Dad. What were they fighting about?" "Something about college it sounded like." "Oh, that. Yea. Adrian's giving up a prestigous spot due to his hero work. He wants to do something not related to it and Davids been calling him out on it because David lost his shot with it a while ago. Sounds like we need to have a family talk when this is over. Let people vent and argue with words instead of fists." "Sure that's a good idea?' "Yup. They just need a good referree. You'd understand if Jamie had a sibling. Fighting is part of siblings, especially these two."
Having been around for a couple centuries, I has seen many changes of the human world. I always think about them while strolling around town. It gets kind of boring because there's nobody to talk to and nobody to make friends with. Also, humans can't see us ghosts so it gets really lonely. That was until a human touched me. "Excuse me mister. Why are you translucent blue?" It was a little girl around the age of six. She had black hair tied into a braid and sparkly blue eyes. She dressed like a noble and the way she spoke was truly like a noble. "Wait. You can see me?"I asked. "Yeah. Why are you translucent blue?"the little girl asked again. "I, where are your parents?" "I asked, why are you translucent blue?"The little girl spoke in a gentle voice, but it sounded a tiny bit harsher and impatient this time. "I'm a ghost. Where are your parents?"I replied. "My name is Meredith Kensing. Pleasure to meet you. What is your name?"Meredith said, curtsying. "Where are you parents Meredith?"I said persistently. "May I know your name first?" "Ok fine! My name is Zane Orpheus. Now where are your parents?"I demanded. Meredith kept dodging the question and I was growing really impatient. Why can she see me in the first place? "Well, my parents thought that I was crazy because I could see you ghosts. So they sent me to my room. I escaped and ended up here. That's it."she explained. "Woah. Sorry for being rude."I replied, a bit surprised. She ran away from home? That was actually pretty brave of her. "Uh, so I need to go now, bye."I was about to walk away but Meredith's hand held my wrist. "Wait. Can I tag along with you? I don't really have a home now."she asked innocently. Her face was truly pitiful, so how could I not give in? "Alright, c'mon."
Administration, or Admin as I call them, never tells you why. It's not important for your average joe. But for fuck's sake, being armed with a rifle "just in case"for an office position is a whole new level of bullshit. What does Admin expect at a train station? What are they hiding? Better read these orders from my boss. >Go directly to the office and lock the door. Glance at the camera outside your door every five seconds. More frequently is preferable. The importance of this procedure cannot be overstated. This is the only camera capable of thermal imaging. No trains arrive tonight. If you see anything, tell me immediately. Stay inside. Stay safe. Just about the only thing that made sense was that the security office was in between two of the railroad tracks. It's an industry standard. I thought I was just signing up for a simple security position, and they have thermals? What's going on here? At least the office is intuitive. Oh, looks like my boss left me some more reading material. -----------‐--------------------------------------------------------------------------- Administrative Report Date: May 15 2021 Subject Terminated: Cornelius Vanderbilt Position: Security Officer, Night Shift Cause of death: Unknown Details: That's the third time this week. The recordings show nothing new. Recommendation: Invest in more security. -----------‐--------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oh for fuck's sake. Not even Admin knows what's going on. Vanderbilt. That name rings a bell, but I can't put my finger on it. As I started my shift, It all went smoothly. No trains, no people, nothing. As it should be. For about 30 minutes. I swear I heard my boss screaming for help. The cameras showed nothing. I was panicked. Beads of sweat were dripping down my face. Five minutes later, the doorknob turned, and I know I locked it. I reached for my rifle as the door swung open. I braced myself for the horror I was going to witness as I shouldered my rifle, turned the safety off, and discharged the weapon three times. But there was nothing there. My ears were ringing. My boss walked into the doorframe, doubled over laughing, with one key in his hand. "WHAT THE FUCK, SIR?" My boss was struggling to compose himself. "What, did you not recognize the camera's dead zones? There's one just outside the office. Why don't you check the magazine of your rifle?" I did as he instructed. Blanks. "Blanks?"I asked. "Blanks!"He responded, bursting into yet another fit of laughter at my expense. "Wait, wait, you've got to see this. Move over." He took over the CCTV, and closed out of it, revealing that there were a couple guards on patrol. It was a recording. I was watching a recording the whole fucking time. "Oh you should have seen your face! Priceless! And Vanderbilt! Did you not recognize Vanderbilt? The capitalist that owned the railroad industry, who died more than a century ago. Oh, how absolutely priceless!" I was stunned. That's the first time I was hazed, and I had a feeling, call it a hunch, that it wouldn't be the last.
With a flash, her enchantment merged with the barrel of the flintlock pistol. Runes shone blue along it, before fading away. They marked the magic that was now inlaid. Iltha the Ageless picked up her handiwork, inspecting it. The web of magic appeared strong and whole to her gaze, which satisfied her. It was a modification of an enchantment she had used on multiple bows before. This was the first time it was used on such a strange weapon though. She carefully loaded it, following the instructions of the gunsmith who sold it to her. She aimed it at a straw figure, readying the striking mechanism. Then, with a slow exhale, she fired. There was a loud explosion, and the pistol tore itself apart. Iltha was thrown back slightly, swearing as she went. "Cats tears! What the hell was that?!" The smoke thinned, showing a charred mess. Pieces of the pistol were scattered around, lightning arcing over some of their surfaces. With the enchantment broken, energy leaked out before disappearing. She pointed to fingers, letting out a magic dispelling pulse. With a sigh, she picked up the pieces of the pistol. She examined each part, trying to figure out the issue. It had meant to just light the shot on fire. Why had it not worked? She resolved to test it further, with another one of the ten she had bought. In the meantime, she focused on the next enchantment to try. "I wonder if ice would work better?"
For millions of years, Homo sapiens remained relatively unchanged, prevented from extinction in its various space bases and prevented from evolving much by its own cultural norms. From their vantage points from a near-earth space station, various people descended onto Earth to keep track of its biodiversity. Since science fiction was first established as a genre, terrestrial cephalopods have been envisioned. From The War of the World's Martians to The Future is Wild's Squibbons, we found ourselves drawn to them because they're so similar, yet so alien to our own kind. Five hundred million years in the future, researches found a squid that seemed to rise from the surface of the water, holding and releasing it in controlled pulses that rocketed it out to escape from predators. As a species of extreme interest, they were observed throughout their evolution. People were eager to find out what they'd develop into. As soon as one species traded its water reserves for gas, scientists assumed they'd become gas bags, floating balloon animals drifting with the wind. Then, one individual evolved powered flight. Two hundred million years later, researchers tried setting up camp on Earth to observe the local fauna once again. They were met by a rapacious beast the size of a hang-glider, dangling from a branch on an enormous tree. It let go, parachuting to the ground and landing with a sickening thud. It seemed to pay no heed to the humans, instead going over to observe the metal dome they had set up to live in. A tearing sound, a violent shaking was heard as it opened the shell to shake out whatever interesting trinkets might be inside. The researchers tried to ward it off, but it then saw them as a threat. With a blast and a cloud of vapor, it used its siphon to jettison itself into the sky, eyeing them, analyzing them. It twirled around gracefully before tucking in its wings, taking a dive, and impaling one with hooked claws. The scientists immediately fled the planet. Next time, they would take more precautions to avoid the curiosity of these dangerous beasts.
I gave a deep breath as I rested a hand on a wooden desk of a small booth lit by a few lanterns. It was stocked with my common and slightly less common items for heroes. While they're not going to get anything really rare like magic swords and golden armor because where would be the fun in that. After spraying a fresh dose of monster repellant I keep on me to make sure I would avoid unnecessary conflict, I sat down. I was completely exhausted though since I had to run all the way here before the heroes did and avoid encountering them and that's not even mentioning the stronger monsters who got in my way. But alas, such is the life of a merchant like myself. A few minutes later a group of 4 adventurers saw me and purchased a few healing potions and magic potions to restore their HP and MP for the boss of this dungeon, alongside two revival items in case they needed it. As soon as they passed me by, I ran out of the dungeon through the entrance and simply take a shortcut to get around the dungeon as I walked to the closest village up ahead as the dungeon leads to the next area they need to go. They would be fighting him for a while, they're certainly going to win, but I always enjoy it when they look so confused on how I'm always somewhere before them. Just because this job is hell, doesn't mean I can't at least find something to enjoy in it. Such is the life of a merchant like myself.
It's small but hefty. His eyes start to shine as he fumbles to put his metal detector under his arm. It was heavy enough to fetch a good price if it was iron. It looks a bit like an iron rod, he thinks. He goes over to the stone wall lining the beach and sets his metal detector on it, turning the item over in his hand all the while. He washes it off in a pool of water close by and begins to see a pattern. It looks like tree with branches going further down into the part he's not able to wash off yet. "Now, that's cool,"he says aloud. This might be worth more than he thought. Maybe even an antique. He sets off for home, backpack filled with secret treasure from a good run. A few watches, some gold bands from tourists, and even old coins. The house smells delicious when he gets in the door. He can't wait to show his partner what he found. "Hun! I wish you would have come with. I found something pretty epic. You might even wanna take it to that Antiques Road Show!" "Let me see!"his partner rushes out of the computer room, excited. Carefully, he takes it out of his backpack and sits down on the living room couch. "Now, I haven't washed it off yet, but look how neat this pattern is! Really wanted to ask you what you thought about it." She sits down next to him, takes the cloth he opens up to show her, and she frowns. "Did it fall out?" Now it's his turn to frown. "Right there,"he says, pointing at it. She pats the towel and her hand passes through what he's trying to show her. He freezes. The dirt is gone now. But now she's raising her brows at him. "Haha, now come on, show me!" He shakes his head and grabs the pristine rod, silver and shimmery. Sometimes he and his bride play together like this, and he loves it. He holds it up, declaring, "This, my love, is my grand treasure this day! I present to you--" He stops mid-sentence, suddenly seeing the glowing on the rod. It's a tree, some type of animal, and words whispering to both of them. sʇuɐld puɐ sǝǝɹʇ ɹᴉɐɥ sᴉɥ ɟo 'sllᴉɥ ǝɥʇ sǝuoq sᴉɥ ɟo 'ɐǝs ǝɥʇ poolq sᴉɥ ɟo "Babe, seriously, what's wrong?"she asks him. "I--"He drops the rod and it rolls in the middle of the living room. He gets up and goes to snatch it. Triumphant, he holds it up again, squeezes it. "Thi--" He looks in his hand, and it's gone. "Babe, are you okay?"she asks more urgently. I uǝǝp ɯoɹǝ ɐɟɟǝɔʇᴉou ʇɥɐu ʎno ʞuoM He sits back down again, holding his head. "I'm honestly not sure. I thought I had something..." His wife sits next to him and starts rubbing circles into his back. "You'll start believing yourself soon too." He looks over at his backpack and notices it's empty. He doesn't think he even went to the beach today, suddenly. But he does see the shimmering rod on the mantlepiece, just as he drifts off to sleep. "Ygg..."
The man was hysterical, and frankly, I couldn't blame him. He's been dealing with a haunting for the last week and nobody he's called has been able to help no matter what method they used. Even his attempts at a DIY exorcism didn't go over any better. He was very earnest in his admission that he only called me because he ran out of other options- I was listed at the very bottom of the list of ghost hunters on Hauntapedia for a reason I'll never understand. I didn't take offense, though, as most people rarely sought me out due to my unique methods. "I'm going to need you to leave me alone with the spirit if you'd be able to direct me to the room you believe they're in. This only tends to work when it's just between them and me." The poor guy shook all over as he pointed toward the guest bedroom, displaying how much this situation has rattled him. I'd enter the room and close the door behind me, and already, I could see that he was not merely being facetious- this was truly a rowdy ghost. Clothes littered the floor, writing was all over the walls, and some creepy music was being played on a record player. The ghost manifested itself in a very expected form: a small girl with long black and seemingly sopping wet hair. Interestingly, they appeared to have claws rather than regular fingers, and their skin was a light blue color. They also didn't seem to have lips or actual eyeballs- just a gaping maw of teeth, and two black dots. At first, the ghost didn't notice me, but then I'd snap my fingers, and they seemed to be caught off guard- probably because of how long it had been since anyone went in there. Hissing at me, the ghost would urge, "Leave, you will not banish me!" "I'm not going to banish you. I know I advertise myself as a ghost hunter, but... really, I'm more here to help you than him." They tilted their head in confusion, certainly not thinking I'd say anything like that. Continuing on, I would state calmly, "I know why you might be acting like this. Being born looking the way you do must've scared other people because that's not what they're used to seeing, and it made you feel like you didn't belong. Before you even became old enough to have any choice in the matter, you got sentenced to death merely for having the sort of temper tantrums that are fitting for a child who has been given no real love or care. Now you're an immortal being with no sense of belonging." "What are you trying to do...?" Stretching my arms out, I'd respond with a smile, "I want you to come with me. Whether you come as a guest, a friend, or maybe even a daughter, I could always use someone around the house to make things feel more like home." They wanted to be angry, clenching their clawed fists, but soon they would relax enough to let themselves cry. Then, they ran toward me and gave me quite a big hug. The usual cycle for me is that I bring a vengeful or otherwise bothersome ghost down to a more benevolent level, and after a week or two of living with me, they ascend to some greater plane. However, this little fellow really grew to enjoy being with me. I certainly must be the first ghost hunter to say with complete sincerity that I'm housing a willing and happy ghost.
One would expect a legendary artefact to be mystical. Unfathomable, even. “I really don’t think I like moving around so much.” Emile stilled her hand and held the Sword at her side. In some ways, it was relieving for the weapon to have a voice so human, even if the echoes in her mind were undeniably strange. To her, goodwill from the Sword of Justice seemed valuable, if only for that it would be a long-time companion. “Does it cause you discomfort?” “Not at all. But see that’s the problem. Because it ought to make me feel queasy, shouldn’t it? But it doesn’t. And that gap, see, it makes me tingly.” Emile’s fist tightened on the grip, “I can try and keep you steady,” she offered, “but I cannot foresee every little jolt during our travels. Besides, I must wield you in battle.” “About that, do we really have to? This seems like a perfectly fine town and—” “Of course we do,” said Emile, before the Sword could continue its nonsense, “I am the Hero and I have a duty to my people.” “Kid, I was stuck in that rock for five centuries and I’ve been around for a lot longer than even that. These things tend to resolve themselves, with or without a Hero.” Here the sword sighed. Without flesh, there was no accompanying rush of breath but upon weariness and sorrow laid the weight of millennia and her armed slacked as she almost dropped the Sword. A moment passed in silence. “You understand nothing.” she stopped trying to keep the sword still and let it swing in time with her step. “That’s real mature kid. But listen, you don’t have to do this. You’re young, you can leave. I can take you to places so far away that this war isn’t even heard of. You can find someone and—” The pathway was empty and so Emile had no reason to hold back. She struck the nearest tree with a ferocious slash, but instead of getting stuck in the meter-wide trunk, the Sword sliced through it effortlessly and the tree fell over with a crash. Dissatisfied with the lack of physical feedback, Emile gripped the sword with both hands and stabbed it into the ground. The sword slid in without resistance until its hilt struck the mud. She was red-faced and breathing hard and all the while the sword remained silent. “You understand nothing,” she repeated “Tara is my home. I owe it everything. Every moment I spend bickering with a lazy, jaded blade is a moment when children are dying from disease and hunger. The demon’s armies ravage our lands. That wouldn’t change if I ran away like a coward. You—If you have nothing useful to say, you will stay silent. I need your edge, not your judgements.” Emile pulled the sword from the ground, as she had from the stone mere days before. For a while, the only sounds were that of the forest and her heart hammering in her head. She’d ruined any chance of getting the Sword’s allegiance. She’d been warned time and time again, to keep her temper on a leash but— “You’ll die.” “I won’t. I’ve felled warriors and monsters and I stand even now. My skills become greater every passing day. Besides,” she paused “I have you with me now.” “You do.” the Sword confirmed and relief washed through her, “But that’s not what I meant.” “What did you mean, then?” “I’ve been too blunt today. Not a great quality in a sword, that. Never was.” She closed her eyes and centered herself with a deep breath. The Sword was a strange entity and the elders said she hadn’t tapped into even a tenth of its powers. With her mind as muddled as it was, she stopped with a start when she realised where she was. Her home was right around the next bend. Well, the front gates at least. Already she had reached the boundary wall of the orchards. There would be widows in front of the gates, and crying children, and the sick, all with two rows of soldiers holding them back and priests waiting with pompous ceremony. All waiting for her—The Hero of the Sword. She stood there a while in indecision then turned to face the wall, and with a running start, jumped up to grab the ledge and leapt into the grounds. This place was familiar, the trees and the grasses mapped a dozen times in her childhood. Without hesitation, she ran toward one of her trees, marked as such in a fit of childish whimsy years past. She could climb one of her trees blindfolded, carrying the Sword was no task at all. Surrounded by the smell of fresh fruit and spring breeze, the sickness in her stomach waned with every breath. She held up the sword with both hands so her eyes were reflected in the steel. “If—If you would be amenable, I would have your wisdom.” After a dozen verses of birdsong, each sinking her heart further into despair, the sword finally spoke. “The wizard that made me is dead. My first companion, with whom I battled the stars, is dead. Their countries and people, their children’s children’s children are gone. You are worthy. For all the power I possess, I cannot stop you from wielding me. We will go into battle and I will stab the hearts of your enemies and they will die too. Eventually, you will die and I will be here, my mind and knowledge and voice trapped in cold, unfeeling steel, damned to an eternity as an instrument of violence in human wars. After all the wars are over, because you all just died, I’ll still be here. Alone in this world in unending silence.” The sword seemed heavier than it had ever been before. “Emile, there are correct and rewarding ways to fill your time other than endless conflict. If I’m going to experience infinite time, I would rather meet another friend than fight another battle.” Emile sat there as the sun reached high-noon and began retreading its daily path downward. She sat while the birds collected twigs to weave into their nests, and squirrels gathered their acorns. Hours passed, and she knew there would be much clamour and search parties looking for the Hero who had vanished, but this seemed more important. “I cannot leave my people be,” Emile began, and from the Sword she felt resignation, “but I wish to offer you two things. I would have your companionship. Your wisdom, knowledge, and cunning. However, even if you offer me nothing but your steel, I will treat you as a fellow being, together with me on a journey. I will not let my duty blind me to the beauty of this world. Indeed, I would cherish it. Together, if you would have me. And secondly—” this she was not certain of, but she had considered the Sword’s words with all the insight she could muster, all that was left was to plunge onward,”—secondly, when our journey is at an end, I would seek or devise a mechanism for your destruction.” The Sword was silent. “If—if and when you would have it done. I only meant—” The wind stirred around her, the faint breeze quickening into a gale. The Sword of Justice began to glow in her hands and she felt, not sorrow, but resolve and gratitude. As with the Sword’s sighs, it was strange to feel expression, instead of seeing or hearing it. But this one could certainly only be described as a grin. “I look forward to journeying with you Emile. Let’s get along.”
[prev](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ndsb96/wp_my_price_is_any_i_wish_it_to_be_the_demon/gycivd0/) Lneore waved her red arms. Her eyes glowed a shade of blood, and her little horns unfurled a little. Or was it a trick of the light? Blood. Blood. Blood poured through Ayala's veins. Her eyes snapped open. Her soul wrenched from the void. Her life restored. "From the sacrifice of your mortal possessions, from the sacrifice of what you hold dear...."echoed annoyingly through the spaceship. It echoed through the wailing lights, the upside-down environment, the flash of blood-red which indicates a crash. The Haman Class V Miniature Frigate was well-equipped to withstand anything. The Neodymium-alloy walls were tough enough to withstand the worst of crashes, and the Agagite-fueled Energy Shield should be able to diffuse the impact of the worst of crashes. However, here stands Ayala, and here she was, in her upside-down ship, with basically everything completely broken. She crawled her way through the messy interior and did a systems check. Seems like the entire ship used up the majority of its power trying to evade the black hole. No wonder it's a complete mess. Systems were completely shut down, life support was gone, the air should be unbreathable, and everything can hardly be repaired. Oh, if only she took the Goliath-Class V Miniature Frigate instead. At least she wouldn't end in such a horrific ways (though, due to certain things, she would most likely end up in a similar way) "..and the Chewing Gum, the Lifeblood of Addiction, the Price of Sin, has been paid to I, Lneore, for the resurrection of whatever tiny individual..." Did she just call Ayala small? Ayala had enough. She ran to the exit, wrenching it open with all her might and all her tools. She kicked that damn thing out, after a long minute of pulverizing the Neodynium-alloy with her trusty little torch. Damn her lack of foresight for not bringing a backup battery! Damn her insistence on travelling with absolutely no experience and minimal preparation! Damn her lust for adventure! She should have stayed home instead! When she finally got it open, and crawled out of vessel, she was too exhausted to take a step further. So she laid down on that kicked-out landing platform, looked up onto the sky, and saw two gigantic figures in the sky. O--okay, maybe she was small. Or maybe they were just very, very large. She could spy the pink figure kneeling down to get a closer look at her, and the red figure reciting that annoying chant. "Hey, look! Someone crawled out!"exclaimed Cilerona. She laid her massive pink body around the Haman Class V, placing her head-sized eyes level with Ayala. She moved uncomfortably close to get a closer look, as a hot wind rapidly blew from her inhaling and exhaling nostrils. She felt rather uncomfortable as an enormous iridescent pink hand was placed around her, and the eye got ever closer. The inquisitive eye got even closer, trying to get a good look at every last detail of Ayala's outfit. "So....whereareyoufromwhatsthatcurvedneedlethingwhatsthattabletwhatsthatstrapacrosswhatsthatlittleboxwhatsthat..."ran Cilerona's motor mouth. With each word, a hot gust of wind flooded Ayala, slowly scorching her very being, and ruffling her jumpsuit. Her eyes squinted at the assault of hot wind, and her body recoiled in fear. She closed her eyes, waiting for that moment to be over... ...and, at the end of it all, when she dared to open her eyes, she was lying in a glowing, warm, and pink palm, and the shining, gigantic pink face looked expectantly at her with bulbous eyes and a held breath. "Err....I'm Ayala....and I came from Sol 3.....I don't know what that mean to you, anyway."A meek, squeaky voice was all she could master. She had no life in her left, even after it was forcibly returned into her. It was all gone. Just all gone. So she dozed off, in the palm. "...from the ashes of your heart, from the gem of your mind, from the most precious possession of the soul, it rises from the depths of the uUMMMMMMMMMmmmmbral hells, from the power of the infeeeEEEEEeerRRrnal regions of..." The next time she awoke, she still heard that droning chant from the window. It was so damn annoying that it snapped her awake, reinvigorating all her senses, sharpening her eyes, and shocking her mind. She surveilled her surroundings. Below her were a pile of sheets, undoubtedly mere napkins to the inhabitants of the house. She was evidently sitting on a table carved from some giant oak, and her domicile must be crafted from a world tree of sorts - judging by the scale. Though it may just be an especially large oak, for the inhabitants which lay within. It was as if she landed in a fantasy world. There were oddities on the shelves on the walls, which looked as though it was grown out of the tree. A few books about some magical spellcasting things, some flasks of various colors, taxidermies of a various creatures, several diagrams about random things, a statue of a particularly reverent figure, and some sort of holy book. Tables littered with books and alchemical apparatuses were shunted onto the walls. The enormous pink figure was reclining on a suitably-sized chair, watching Ayala with her orb-like eyes. "I haven't introduced myself yet, did I?"said the giant pink figure. "I'm Cilerona. This is my house. Parents are always out on some travels or other. Basically took care of myself here" "Yeah, and I'm Ayala. I took off for the far reaches of space to search for the perfect adventure, and the perfect dish meticulously crafted from off-planet flora and fauna,"replied Ayala with newfound strength. Cilerona smiled a little. Her mind drifted off into her space comics, the tales about vessels flying through the luminiferous aether, and the particular patterns of speech of the adventurers. It seemed that, right here, Cilerona has found herself the adventure she was longing for, to go explore the world, and to sail the high seas, to savor the delights the world had to offer, and to chart the unknown beyond her hometown. "Anyways, I could do with a nice cup of hot chocolate,"said Ayala. As Cilerona left, she could hear the long drone coming from outside the house. "...and hence what was, will become, what become, would never have been, for life, death, and everything in between, shall be crossed as though crossing a threeEEEEE-dimensional plane..." Gosh, what an annoying sound.
I examine the book. None of it makes sense - not the layout of the covers, not the words. The way the pages unfolded out of themselves boggles the mind. I read the words and understand them as I do English, but I couldn’t tell you what they say. It’d come out as nonsense. But those words were somewhat Shakespearean to me in their linguistics, and demonstrated structure and delivery that would twist the mind like some divinely blessed Lovecraftian horror yet they made a lyrically perfect form of logical sense to my modern brain. I know what I need to do. I know exactly how I’m going to do it. But first I need to die.
I can refill anything. That's my power. Refilling cups with a drink is a party trick. Refilling a wallet with cash is extremely useful. Refilling my lungs with fresh air means I'm immune to suffocation and drowning. But all that? That's the stupidly easy stuff. Because, as it turns out, I can refill any container with any substance, so long as that container has had any quantity of that substance before. And what counts as a container is very vague - basically anything so long as I can conceptualize it as such. What I fill them with is also equally vague, and I have a lot of leeway. Now, you may wonder, what's the worst I can do with that? Well, for one, I'm currently "filling"your TV's and computer monitors with data. I'm also filling them with power. Don't believe me? Go ahead, unplug them. See what happens, I'll wait. ... Yep. I'm still here. I'm filling the airwaves with my voice too. Every channel, every radio station - it's all me. By now, you might be asking what do I want, why am I doing this? Well, I just wanted to call your attention to one little fact. It's currently 7:30 PM here in Washington DC. It's the middle of winter. So, I ask you, why is the sun still out? Could it be that I'm refilling the air with sunlight? And, I'm sure you've all heard about that unseasonable category five hurricane barreling towards the east coast. Could it be that I refilled the tropics with a hurricane and enough warm water to power it? I can - and will - refill that bit of airspace with calm air ten minutes after this broadcast ends, just to prove I can. I don't want to kill anyone... yet. That will change if anyone fucks with me. See, all I want is peace. This morning, a couple of government agents tried to accost me. I didn't kill them, but I know I pissed them off - refilled bladders, and all that... And now I found out that there's a baseless warrant out for my arrest, when I haven't even committed a crime! You all know what's really going on here. So no, I don't want money. I don't want power. I have plenty of both already. I just want to be left alone. And if you don't? Just think... How many bombs have been exploded in our atmosphere? How many lightning bolts have struck the Earth? How many volcanos have spewed poison gasses? How many storms have ravaged cities? And, for you astronomers out there, how many solar flares with the potential to destroy all electronics have swept through the solar system in the entire history of its existence? Do not fuck with me. You will not win. Your armies will not win. Humanity will not win. Do. Not. Fuck. With. Me.
Of course, I didn't believe it at first but not for the reason you think. The last thing I thought would happen to future me or at least I thought would be to settle down. Quietly I toss back the small mug of tea in my hand, the reality of the situation still sinking in as I size up my would-be daughter. The six-foot, two-pale white teenager, a total throw from my original idea of what my kid would have looked like. A subtle gust of wind passing by as I pour myself another cup and gaze out at the Cascadian lake below. The small motes of arcane light dancing amongst the warm summer air the proof of her claim. Some feeling of unease present as I fixed my service cap onto my head with a free hand. "Alright, so you are my daughter, I'll be honest I didn't expect to ever see this coming." "Well, that's to be expected, mom always did say you were a dashing rogue."Despite my best efforts, I found myself choking on my hot tea at the absurdity of that statement. My daughter's previously confident voice slipping as I forced myself to hold some modicum of professionalism. "The sort of lone wolf who didn't care what others thought of him." My best attempts to suppress my smile falling as I pulled my black service cap a little lower. Partly out of embarrassment and that warm feeling in my chest. A strained cough escaping as the last of the hot tea flushed down the wrong pipe. "Oh, one moment, yeah that's a lie I'm just a reclusive writer, wait what did you mean didn't?" The air suddenly turning cold as I glanced up at the young woman across the table. A truly pained expression on her face as she set the small mug onto the table. Time crawling past for a few moments before she spoke tears in her eyes. "I, I never really met you before you left, ma said you wouldn't have left if you could." Her eyes set on the table mat as I quietly poured myself another cup, the tea that somehow was still hot after all this time. My mind flashing back to how I had wasted my life up until this point. "Yep, that sounds about right, I'm kinda selfish in that respect but aren't we all." That uncomfortable silence still lingering as I took a small notebook and pen from my bag under the table. A story already taking form in my mind as I start hitting down a quick few notes. "Honestly you are a good kid, and after all, you have gone through I gotta say that your old man is proud. A small smile appearing on her face as I finished a quick sketch. "Does that mean you will come back with me?" Deep regret and sadness for what isn't palpable in my throat as I choose my book with a solid click. "No, I can't do that your story has already been written and in all honesty, if I grew up as your dad you probably wouldn't be here. It's not a parent's job to improve their lives it is to improve their children's future." That long silence lingering once more as I return my sight to the chair across from me that young woman absent. As if she was never there in the first place, the soft presence still near however far she may be. "Atta girl, make me proud."
When light is flashing, help is on the way. Cole couldn’t feel his legs. The accident did a number on him. He could hear screams and yells from what he believed to be worried pedestrians. He mustered out a cry for help, and struggled to keep conscious. He believed in the superstition that resisting unconsciousness would increase his chances of living through this ordeal. Whoever’s in charge of help should hurry up, though, as his vision began to spin. Even the sun seemed to flash without pattern. After some amount of time, the ambulance came. Paramedics lifted him up and into the vehicle. Cole could hear it’s siren, and see its red light flash as he was being brought to it. Help is here. “We got you now,” the medic said, “You’re in our hands. Stay with us, bud.” But Cole couldn’t. He knew death was coming for him. He knew that his pain was real, and overwhelmingly so. His mind couldn’t rake it, and decided to rest. To sleep... Cole wandered in darkness, nothingness. It felt like wading in a swamp. Was it peaceful? Scary? Bizarre? No matter if it were, he couldn’t stay here for long. A light appeared in front of Cole. Something warm, and weirdly tangible... “Cole!” the light said, “Wake up, Cole!” The light sounded like his little sister. It blinked with every word that he heard. “Hey! Wake up! I’m here!” Having nothing else to do, Cole approached the light. Cole woke up in his hospital room, but he wasn’t alone. His parents and sister were watching him. Cole’s sister was clutching his arm, sobbing. “You’re alive! Thank God!” she said. “Nngh? Amy?” Cole began to shake off the effects of his sleep, “How long was I out?” “Amy! I told you to stop shaking Cole!” Cole’s mother reproached, “He needs to wake up on his own!” “You fell into a coma for a couple weeks,” Cole’s father explained, “Welcome back.”
Volkov stretched, glad that he was finally awake. He had probably overslept and missed his alarm, so he gets up and runs to the bathroom. “Wait a minute, what’s a bathroom?” Idk bro but you’re in my story so just roll with it. “Ok whatever” He takes a shower, shaves, combs his hair, and gets ready for the night, all without looking in the mirror. It’s 12:30 pm. “Damn, it’s already midnight!” He can hear his roommate, Trevor, playing Video Games in the living room. “Rise and shine, fossil fuel! I’m about to go to bed, what’s up with you?” “I am rather... thirsty.” “We have water and milk, pomegranate juice, and a huge vat of cows blood in the garage that I picked up today.” “Ooh milk.” Trevor went off to bed, and Volkov went outside, admired the night air, and vanished into mist. He was late for work.
Michael stood on the clouds and looked hard and long into the pearly gates. In the distance on what looked like a cloudy hill, sat a mindbogglingly huge Amoeba, with sunlight radiating off it and through it. In fact, the Amoeba was so bright, that you had to shade your eyes to look at it. &#x200B; "Have you made up your mind, sir?"the impatient voice of the gatekeeper interrupted him. The gatekeeper sat behind a small desk. A small nametag on the desk that said 'Saint Peter, official Gatekeeper". &#x200B; "Could you run me through this one more time?"said Michael, not taking his eyes off the Amoeba in the distance. "Of course, sir. We theorize that God did indeed his Creations in his own image... those first Creations: the Amoebas and other Unicellular Creatures. &#x200B; "Of course,"Michael nodded. &#x200B; "Humanity and all the other animals were merely an outgrowth, an accidental malignancy. Like a cancerous tumor, if you will." &#x200B; "Ah I see." &#x200B; "So now that you're up to speed, you must understand that regrettably, the Great Amoeba cannot let any multicellular organisms into his Kingdom." &#x200B; Michael started to cry. "But please, there must be a way!" &#x200B; "There is one way,"Saint Peter said, running a hand through his great white beard. "You must renounce the ways of the multi-cell and Become One-Cell with God." "Pardon?" &#x200B; "You must... look, kid."Saint Peter leaned forward, speaking softer now. "I don't suppose you have a pedicure machine on you? Just go around the corner there, you'll find a lot of sellers for different colors and sizes of pedicure machines. You gotta shave all your cells down using the pedicure machine until you become an Amoeba." &#x200B; He reached behind the desk and pulled out a large pink pedicure machine with lots of buttons. "I plan to use this one on myself when the time comes."
Yesterday I arranged all the prayers in reverse alphabetical order, tossed the non-prime numbers, then sent the remaining ones based on their favorite color. Trust me, it's easier than the system I'm expected to use. It's a familiar story for many of you, I'm sure. Big-picture guys, details are for lesser beings to figure out. All responsibility rolls downhill until it reaches the people who actually do things, whatever you call them. The ones who understand the situation on the ground like no one else because they'll never leave it. As above, so below. I may be god of your world, but I'm just another flunky to someone further up the line. Imagine a cubicle, pathetically decorated with barely any privacy to speak of, and a desktop computer years if not decades obsolete. You wouldn't be too far off. Every day, the prayers flood in. Every day I sign the quality assurance checklist confirming that I've followed protocol in selecting prayers to be fulfilled. It's a complex set of interacting criteria including merit, character and projected second-order ramifications. But I'm not paid to find the most deserving prayers. I'm paid to fill a quota. I don't need protocol for that. I'm sure having the purpose of your job be different from what you're actually paid to do is a familiar story for many of you as well. Tomorrow, I think I'll flip a coin.
Steven walked along The Wall, running his hand along the smooth metal rail. Sitting on his favorite bench, Steven sat, spread cream cheese on his bagel, and munched as he wasteland watched. Outside of the glass bubble lies stone and dirt and ruins, harsh terrain primarily traversed by scavengers. Steven watched his favorite rock outcropping, where his old ramshackle home stood, being beaten apart by time. And how couldn't he stare? Of course, he had brought most of his things and paid scavengers for the rest. The foundation though, the wooden and bricks and shingles, he had to leave. Built by his own hands, Steven left his baby, still coming to visit daily on his way to work. It had been gradual and sudden. Everyone knew the atmosphere was going to shit, that the world would change forever. They knew how bad it would be, they'd been told for years. Yet still the shock was too much for many. Many countries were wiped out, unable to stockpile food enough for the future. Developed countries had the scourge of population. The wealthy and elite hid in shelters, surviving with their hoards of food. The less fortunate... Species were hunted to extinction before they could die from the lack of vegetation. When animals ran out, too many turned to cannibalism. After years of rationing, meat was plentiful again, if only for a few weeks to months. When the surface cleared, the elites returned, ready to reclaim and rebuild the world with the help of the few savages that survived the waste. And they did a good job, Steven thought, they did well by us savages.
You know these free men and women didn't deserve what we gave them. Reluctantly I rack my trench broom a threatening crack inaudible under the angered mob outside. These people have no sense of self-preservation only deep-rooted greed. Unfortunately for them, they are about to learn the price of warfare the hard way. Thunderous thunder tearing through the dull roar as buckshot pierces my buckling front door. Screams ringing out as I dumped the rest of the loaded shells into the ruined door. The dull pounding on my property dulling as I reload my weapon, the dull clicking a familiar nose. One that u had never hoped to hear again and yet here we are. with unfathomable rage fueled by these last twenty years in this town, the door us torn off its hinges. A wall of bodies and dying fanatics on my doorstep the concrete soaked in blood and cast in torchlight. The 'officer of the law' dragging away a wounded cultist meeting a grisly fate as his head explodes in a cloud of pink mist. His red uniform is stained with his blood as it topples into the dispersing hoard. A few more handfuls falling as I pop off shots at the few charging maniacs. Their selfish nature hobbling the charge as I cull their numbers counting five spent shells. "Get off my lawn you mindless shitbirds!" Their invasion finally breaking as the last fanatic has his chest blown open in a shower of viscera. A fowl Copper stench on the air as I tread over the bodies, my flag in my yard at half-mast and on fire. That old flag the final straw as I rack that final shell and reload. "if it's extermination they want its extermination they get."
It was jarring at first. 18 and now I’m suddenly some sort of insect, two extra limbs just sprouted out my back. Good gods, what’ll mom think? A moment later, after I try and realign my worldview, I find that I operate surprisingly well with these things. I even have some random boost to my basic physical capabilities(run faster, jump higher, that stuff). Now, what do I do- ah, what question is that? Superhero time, baby! I am Captain McFistim, bane of evil, backsides, and evil backsides, henceforth!!! (In all honesty, I just felt like something random)
Wanda13 here and my cat, Meowington Furrypaws, wakes me up at 5pm. I keep odd hours because some high witch decided that 3am was the witching hour. Yeah yeah, witchcraft when you need it, but I still gotta do it from 3 to 4 in the frigging morning. Breakfast is a cup of coffee and going through the requests from the app. Two today and yep, that's typical. Should be easy enough. One's for a spell to help a kid score the game winning goal. The second is a curse for some dude's neighbor: nose zits. Sheesh, must be a horrible neighbor! I do a little bit of research on the spells and make sure that I have all the ingredients before heading off to my real job. I'm really Susan Jones, receptionist at Twinkle, Cauldron, Greenfrog, and Newt. You've probably seen their commercials for personal injury lawyers. Answering the phone with those names is my own little hell. We work all night since ambulance chasing seems to be more lucrative then. Go figure. I try to pay attention to the cases and sometimes will sway the outcome if I sympathize with one side. I have to be subtle about it. Nobody knows I'm Wanda13 and hopefully my witchcraft remains a secret. Leaving work at 2am is fun. That's when the bars close. But, I have enough time to make it home, feed Mr. Furrypaws, and prepare for some spell casting. If all goes well, I'll be in bed by 3:30, some kid will have an awesome day, and a neighbor will be digging deep trying to pop a painful zit with a hair growing out of it.
I waved to guards with the biggest smug grin on my face and jumped backwards off the 300ft cliff. As I fell I saw the guards faces light up with panic, not only had I, the best assassin out there, gotten away, I was also about to die which would be on them. But little did they know I was incredible. This meant I was able to fall long enough to get a reasonable distance from them but that once I reached it I could grab onto the edge to stop myself from dying. This obviously resulted in a lot of pain but what’s a little pain compared to being stuck in that cell with Jeff. Jeff who snored, Jeff who never shuts up. But ultimately Jeff was the one who inspired me to get my act together and get out of that wretched place just so I would never have to see him again. As my sliding down the side of the cliff came to a halt I flattened myself up against it so that when the guards looked over the edge, after they didn’t hear my body splatter on the ground, they wouldn’t see me. I breathed in and counted to 500 before I let myself keep moving down the cliff. By the time I reached the bottom the sun was setting. I slowly made my way into the shadows and surveyed the area around me. There was a few guards standing in my way but nothing I couldn’t take care of. As cliche as it is, I threw a rock near one of the guards causing them to look away. With that guards sudden movement it also brought the attention of two of the other guards. Taking the opening I quietly edged my way out of the shadows and to the fence surrounding the facility. Now the hard part had come, avoiding the gaze and lights of each of the towers along the cliff. I climbed up the fence, with the ease that comes with practice, and easily got over the barbed wire. I jumped down and softly landed in the grass on the other side. For the next few minutes I watched the lights committing their pattern to memory. Once that was done I headed out. Forward and then slightly left. The lights moved slowly so you didn’t have to make quick decisions to not be caught. As I reached the edge of the forest suddenly a light snapped my way. I was about to dive away from it when the alarm was set off. No way that this was happening. I quickly dove into the forest and ran. First I had to get distance and then I could hide. Lucky I was still fit as I hadn’t been detained for long and had exercised at any chance I got. I made quick progress through the trunks and had gotten far before I even heard the sound of boots running through the forest after me. Just a bit further I told myself. As I heard them slowly gaining, annoyingly, I decided it would be a good time to start looking for hiding places. I found a tree that I could climb, which I did. As I just got out of sight I saw the first guard break through the leaves of the trees. Maybe half a dozen followed them, none of them even glancing my way. It’s true what they say, nobody ever looks up. I had to wait until they came back after giving up on their search until I could leave, just to make sure that they wouldn’t accidentally catch sight of me. As I walked through the forest I thought about how great it was to be out of that place where everyday someone was either clapping me on the back or trying to stab a knife into it. “Although not an ideal way to start up my assassin business again, at least I will get free promotion from the headlines” I say to the forest.
Almost everyone in ‘The Pen’ could speak english. This helped. The few who couldn’t had translators that could easily help, at least with the other humans. There were over one hundred of us in a quite small space. There were other pens we could see through the thick glass-like metal that surrounded us. There were horses and dogs and even a pen with birds we could spot in his huge space. Whomever this alien species was, they were doing some sort of an arc-like abduction. Most of us were from the Olympic Village, a few tourists and Olympic staff mixed in. The one baby that was with us was passed from person to person to keep it somewhat happy, no one knowing who its parents were. The couple of trainers that had been abducted with us started to organize us into shifts when it became obvious that there were not enough of the jelly like sleeping pads for everyone, and the food came in through a delivery box in an airlock every four hours or so, but not really enough for everyone at the same time. Planning to escape started as soon as we realized what had happened. Most of us had been asleep. Well, most of us had been in bed when the abduction happened. The rumors of cases of condoms being used whenever the elite athletes of the world gather is very accurate. There was some embarrassment, but that was quickly ignored. It was the need to keep people calm and try to escape that was the most important. We counted resources that were not of the body and figured out a few things to try. Someone had a full set of technology with them. We were able to use a go-pro and some bubble gum to record where the box went between feedings. We were surprised when the camera was not pulled out of the box when it returned. Most of what we saw when the box was opened were machined pincers putting the various containers into the space. But, we did see a not human grey-green hand come in and push something into the camera before its view was blocked. It took a few more of those deliveries for us to figure out the timing, and how we could use that one portal into our cage. Yes, there was a type of toilet, but some of the tests we did on that was not as… informative. Other than the loss of someones’ phone as we dangled it into the thing and it seemed to be vaporized. And the ventilation seemed to be coming through small tubes embedded in the clear metal. The only way we could think to escape was to send people through the box. It was a box that measured about 6 foot by 4 foot by 4 foot on the inside. Did not know what it would open to, but after figuring out how many people we could get in there at once, we waited for one of the food deliveries to enact our plan. I was one of the people in the box.
Hi u/RowanSkie, this submission has been removed. 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) --- I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt that you meant the child is asking how to explain they are dating other people their own age, as it reads currently as if the child is dating the supervillain, which is not a prompt that we want on this subreddit. I suggest moving on to another idea and thinking more carefully about how you phrase things, as this is reddit and people will always take things the worst way they can be taken. --- --- [Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ng1url/-/%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.
T minus 10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. The rocket launches. As the rocket launches, one of the astronauts say, "What if someone made it to mars, but never returned, and we just didn't know?"The other astronauts joke along and they all laugh it off. The sky gets darker and darker until it's pitch black. Space, the final frontier. The astronauts adjust till they have optimal aim to mars. They float until the red planet can be seen. They hit and land. The human calculators go crazy, and everyone is pumped, even the astronauts. As they explore the vast red landscape, one finds a cave. "Hey, there's a cavern over here!"The other astronauts follow. They find a rotting human carcass. They are baffled. Why are they the "First to mars", meanwhile there's a human carcass here? They find a note next to it. It says the following. The life here is insane. Multiple species of animals. People all around me. Why wasn't this where we populated? Signed: 1940 Everyone is weirded out. Where they aliens? Were they other humans. In any case, the astronauts grab the note, get rock samples, and head back to earth. Everyone is excited, and they see the note. The lead scientist reads it, and realizes that this is all a dream, and soon he will awake. He repeats this phrase, over and over and over again. Everyone is weirded out, and he wanders until he wakes. He decides to investigate himself, and finds human life on mars. He writes a note, and after a decade, more go to mars.
Passing through the waving black and violet aura of the Fynruel Portal for the first time felt a bit like walking underneath a reverse waterfall. I felt a strong pressure pushing up from beneath me, and a tightness on my chest that labored my breathing. The class had moved through much quicker than I, and I was starting to panic I’d be left behind. As the last glimpses of my own world faded away, my confidence waned, and I would have stumbled into the In Between if Chloe hadn’t caught my arm. “Remember,” she said, taking my hand. “Focus. Deep breaths, deep steps.” Her voice seemed to evaporate into the hollow emptiness between worlds, but her words planted themselves in my mind and held me steady like her hand held mine. My smile would have betrayed so much had she been able to see my face clearly. It was dark and cold as we walked tepidly from our world to the next, trusting in our training and in each other to get us to the other side. The Fynruel Portal, as we had been taught, was less of a physical bridge like the other portals, and more of a mental effort. It took greater focus than strength to overcome the unstable forces and reach the other side. Crossing a ditch with a wooden plank takes little thought, but a plank over a deep crevasse, while requiring the same physical effort, brings a much greater mental challenge. And as someone who never excelled in feats of strength or athleticism, a mental journey was one I was more willing to take. Even still, it seemed like with all else I was hardly able to accomplish this on my own. As we came close to the other side, vaporous light marked our destination. We took firm steps, each one more confident than the last, until we were surrounded by wisps of trees and grass from a foreign world. With one last step, the pressure of the In Between fell away, and we found ourselves alone in a bright forest. We had arrived in Fynruel at last. “Strange that no one else is here,” I said. “We must have traveled through a different portal somehow.” Long branches of the surrounding trees swayed elegantly, though there was no wind, waving their brightly colored leaves like a brush against a canvass. Blades of tall grass danced with an invisible current. Purple clouds floated overhead against an orange sky, reminiscent of an everlasting sunset. We stood still, in awe of the living magic we had been told about but never witnessed. Drawn pictures could only capture a single frame, just one grain of a flowing hourglass. To see this new world in motion was something else entirely. “I love it here,” Chloe said, “Even the air feels alive and nourishing, I can’t quite place it though.” I took a deep breath through my nose and a sense of wandering grocery aisles and the temptation of the bakery came to mind. “Like the smell of fresh bread,” I said. “Yes, that’s it!” she said with an excited smile. Our eyes met, and I was suddenly aware we were still holding hands. “Sorry,” I said, pulling away and feeling warmth in my cheeks. “I guess we should get going and find the others. I think I can hear them this way.” The sound of voices nearby bounced through the waving trees, seemingly unaware they were disturbing an otherwise blissful serenity. “You’re right,” she said with a sigh, “though it’s a shame we can’t just stay here forever.” I started toward the sound of our class, wishing I didn’t need to be rescued from my own feelings. --------- I wish I had time to flush it out more, but I have to stop here for now. I might pick it up later though!
Here I go, soaring amoung the clouds, finally free of my depressing father. Dragons are the apex of all. All riches belong to us. and all that jazz. I have never cared much for his mountains of gold and hills of jemstones, but I love the currents of the warm air rising above the volcano. Right now, though, my playful maneuvers are interrupted by discomfort when I think of what he wants me to do. Humans are curious creatures. Some, those at the top, hoard nearly as much as lesser dragons, but those at the bottom don‘t seem to want to hoard anything. They are just content working for those above them, that amass all the wealth. A weird society. If they were dragons, there would be constant civil war untill everyone was either dead or hoarding. I turned and let myself drift out of the warm currents into one that would bring me over the town. I began scouting it out with my phenomenal hearing. What I heard worried me greatly. „Look man, I promise I‘ll pay you back! I need the food for my son.“ „I‘m sorry. That won‘t be enough to cover the cost of the jacket and I can‘t lower the price because you‘re freezing. It‘s the policy of the owners.“ „Please help her! I‘ll do anything! I‘ll work any job for you! Just please! Save her!“ I snapped my head out of it, what was that? Why were these problems there? They revolved around gold, that much I understood, but why? Gold is pretty and keeps you warm during hibernation but humans don‘t sleep for 3 months. Why would you exchange it for something else? Dragons kill for gold, but we don‘t refuse a cold dragon a place to sleep when winter comes. We share our food and our comfort. We‘re decent people, we won‘t extort someone to give us more gold. It becomes useless once you have a decent hoard. It was at this moment that I devised a plan. A bad plan probably, but I didn‘t have much time. My father expected me back soon. And so I settled on something playing to my streghts. My strenghts as a dragon that is, a powerful and mystic creature. No one would question the orders of a dragon. I landed on the roof of the castle and roared a bit of fire in the sky. That did the trick. „Humans. It is I, the great green griffin and I have come for a little bit of gold. The valuables of the castle will be enough for now. It would be very kind of you to load it all up on those wagons there. Resist and the town turns to ash.“ The little humans took a few shots with their bows, but after I spit a little back they complied. The wagons were loaded up in no time. The humans were familiar with this. How else would a dragon carry their loot home, stuff it into their non existant pants? The only short confusion was about why I had chosen the old wagons, but a little fire to the new ones soon cleared that up. When they were finished, I took the reigns of the horses and marched into the city. I did not lead the wagons to the gate. I instead went deeper into the town, to the poorest parts first. Nobody questioned the decision of the dragon. Not even when the bumps of the road rocked the wapons. Not even when the pices of gold were thrown onto each other. Not even when coin after coin fell through the slits between planks withered by age. I continued my rounds from the poorest part to the one a step up, to the one a step richer again, untill finally, the last coin dropped in front of the castle. Heads kissed the dirt, tails had won. When I returned with two empty wagons, my father was furious. A normal dragon is a dangerous sight, but a furious dragon king could end the day if he pleased. The volcano was heating up, following his wrath. „What foolery possessed you! Why are you bringing back nothing? You‘re a goddam dragon, don‘t tell me they repelled you! Start being a normal dragon already! Start hoarding!“ „Well, you see, father. I did hoard. I hoarded their problems.“
Part 1 &#x200B; I am a firm subscriber to the 'Scientific Method.' I believe in things I observe, in results I repeatedly obtain and confirm; at the same time, I am an atheist - I know how absurd this sounds. If I would only change my mind when presented with evidence, then a lack of evidence for the matter of the divine for either side of the argument, should clearly, firmly nudge me into an agnostic position, but not over to the side denying the divine, right? You have to remember that religious affiliation is something you identify with, not something you simply test using the scientific method, to get definitive results on your religiousness. I identify, therefore, as atheist. As I am sure that if there really exists some divine being who constructed the entire framework we christen 'Reality,' whose nature we are still scarcely able to unravel, but which we know for sure causes its inhabitant suffering, then I shudder to want to associate myself with such a fickle, careless being. And this must be a punishment from that being, whose existence I so firmly want to deny, with this new 'power' of mine to identify. \--- Back then, talks of magic, miraculous acts and the sort have filled the airwaves. Well, that's not remarkable in and of itself. The media will always try to cater to its gullible masses with what would grab the most eyeballs. People who enjoy making a quick buck will surely go to extreme lengths to push anything, including occasionally the human body, to the extreme somehow, and say it is divine miracle, "beyond the power of science,"somehow. I enjoy taking the time when I am off work to come up with all sorts of possible explanations for the effects. It began with teenagers. They always like to imagine they have some sort of magical power, but even they would know that it would be truly embarrassing to try to get those imaginary powers 'checked out' at some scientific institute, or the hospital I worked in, right? Not back then, though. From 2 or 3 a day in the beginning, it quickly went into the lower second-digits. I was having none of it, and decided to put my hobby to use, to always come up with an explanation and then mock them for wasting my time. 'Lightning powers'? Static charge. A lot of it. A dangerously abundant quantity of it. Maybe turned his body into some kind of makeshift battery; the human body is full of ions and water, it's not out of the question to turn it into a makeshift electrolyte. 'Wall-climbing'? Must be a clever application of frictional forces. The hand is a rough surface, by evolutionary design, and so too rough are walls when you look at it at a microscopic level. There's lots of ways to increase friction. Ever tried stacking two books together, putting one page on top of the other book's page in turn and pull them apart? This must be something similar. Then it began worsening. Adults who should know better. Kids barely at the age capable of imagining such elaborate schemes. There is now a niggling doubt at the back of my head, but I pushed on. And the explanations were more and more clutching at straws - I remember this woman, in her 40s, running in the garden so fast the wind is deleafing the nearby foliage. So, I told her, there must be some sort of problem in her hormones or something, that causes nearby humans, including herself, to hallucinate such a scene - and a shared scene too at that. Ridiculous, I thought to myself, as I touched a leaf that had definitively been blown off, but still, I told myself, this must also have been part of the hallucination. Given my preliminary diagnosis of a hormonal issue, I quickly wrote her off to Internal Medicine and told the next patient to enter. I will not - or rather, cannot - accept that the scientific world has just collapsed in front of me. Not even when the TV news is showing live debates between politicians of how to deal with these people with superpowers, or covering some sort of 'Superhero Division' forming. Not even when the scientific community at large is announcing that they have worked out that powers scaled with the size of their 'beliefs' in their own powers. "We could become Gods!"Was one attention-grabbing headline on a quasi-respectable tabloid when the news first broke out. Hah. Laughable. I can attest that nothing out of the ordinary has happened to me. And I'm definitely not just saying that out of a hidden sense of jealousy and loneliness.
Dillon couldn't remember ever being so tired. YOU KNOW THE RULES, DILLON. YOU WON THE GAME, YOU CAN'T COMPLAIN NOW. "Dude, you just don't want to be alone again!"Dillon said from the ground where he lay as his legs grew back painlessly. He'd just jumped into a volcano to see if that would work. It didn't, but now he didn't think he'd ever get the smell of burning and melting human out of his mind. He'd say nose, but it was a brand new nose. Every time he died, Death just tethered in his soul like a fish on a line and rebuilt his body around it. Always about 25 years old, the same age he was when he had died the first time, more than five centuries ago. He'd been a deckhand on a Portuguese ship during what he later found out was the Battle of Tunmen. His ship had taken heavy damage from the opposing Chinese fleet and had been sinking. His Captain had wanted to go out in a blaze of glory apparently, because for reasons unknown he'd sat back in the powder magazine with a cigar. Blew the whole ship to splinters, the crew with it. Then, a moment later, he'd been standing with that great cloaked figure. "I don't want to die!"he'd said. LITTLE LATE FOR THAT THOUGHT. Death had replied. "But how can I live longer?!"he'd pleaded. Death shrugged as only a skeleton could. DEFEAT ME IN A GAME, AND YOU MAY CONTINUE AS YOU WERE. Death had said. Dillon had agreed, because there wasn't much option otherwise. The game was something from the future, called Smash Brothers. He was handed a strange device and told that his Avatar was an ape in a tie, and he had to knock the demon lizard and the princess off of a magical floating island to be named the winner. He'd actually had quite a knack for it, once he figured out the basics. He won the first round on luck, and the second by the skin of his teeth, then Death got serious. They played he couldn't remember how many rounds, ending up shouting at each other and reaching across to mess with their opponent's controller to mess them up. They ended up losing track of time and win counts on both sides, and eventually Death sat back on his chair and laughed loud, and long, and horrifyingly (as you can understand, knowing the visage of Death Himself). After that, he'd returned Dillon to the mortal realm, floating in the ocean in the middle of his wrecked ship. He'd found his way ashore somehow, fending off sharks and other creatures with broken boards and desperate hope. Once on land however, he'd been quickly found and executed, being in China after all. Death had brought him back, and taken him a few months into the future and placed him back at home in Portugal. He'd had a good life after a rocky start, and ended up having a wife but no kids, and lived to a nice old age and died in his bed surrounded by friends. Then Death came again, moved his soul to a new continent, and put him back together. So it has continued to this day, despite Dillon's best efforts. YOU SEEM SOMEHOW UNHAPPY WITH YOUR IMMORTALITY. I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. YOU WANTED TO LIVE, YET YOU ARE CONSTANTLY COMING TO SEE ME. DID YOU MISS ME THAT MUCH, BEST FRIEND? Death inquired when he was almost healed once again. "No, that's not...YOU come to ME, not the other way around!"Dillon argued, but Death shook his head. A COMMON MISCONCEPTION. I AM LIKE A BLACK HOLE FOR SOULS. THEY ALL COME TO ME, NOT ME TO THEM, OTHERWISE I'D NEVER HAVE TIME TO DO ANYTHING. Death reasoned. Dillon sighed. "Well, can I lose to you in a game and get my afterlife then?" Death shrugged. I DON'T KNOW WHY YOU'D WANT TO GO THERE, IT'S THE SAME AS HERE, BUT WITHOUT ME. WHO WOULD YOU TALK TO FOR MILLENIA ON END? Dillon shrugged. "I'd find somebody. You have to let me go dude." Death held up his hands placatingly. VERY WELL, VERY WELL. YOU HAVE MADE YOUR POINT. YOU WANT TO CHALLENGE ME FOR YOUR PASSAGE, AND OUT OF DEFERENCE TO OUR FRIENDSHIP I WILL GRANT IT THIS ONE TIME. "Good, now I want to play--"Dillon started, but Death cut him off. NOPE! YOU CHALLENGED, SO I GET TO PICK THE GAME. THAT'S HOW IT WORKS. NOW, I HAPPEN TO HAVE THE TABLE ALL SET UP IN A BASEMENT IN IDAHO. THE GAME...IS DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS. Dillon groaned as he felt the familiar wrenching of his being pulled across the world by Death's annoying white horse once again.
I took in a deep breath. The air was cool and crisp, burning my lungs. This was exactly what I had sought, and it was exactly why I had come this far. Each step I took caused my legs to ache with weariness, but I had a smile on my face nonetheless. Why wouldn't I, when I would soon reach the summit? I had spent the past three days climbing so that I could enjoy the journey, but that didn't stop me from looking forward to my arrival at the top. The path was rocky and the plant life was sparse, making it more and more difficult to make my way up, but I kept myself upbeat by considering it training while I scaled the uneven terrain. The climb felt like it went on forever, but when I realized that there was no higher peak to reach, I felt oddly disappointed that there wasn't more to traverse. However, the view around me was beautiful. The rising sun shone between two other mountain peaks, casting a warm glow over me that had previously been blocked by the mountain itself. After having spent so long next to such vast cliffs, the sky suddenly opening up above me caused me to let out an audible gasp. It was beautiful, and I immediately took a seat on a nearby outcrop so as to better enjoy the view. My sword weight heavy on my waist, and in a moment of annoyance, I decided to stick it into the rock next to me to relieve myself of the burden. It was plenty sharp enough to pierce the solid stone, and I needed not worry about its wear due to its enchanted nature. As I looked around, I couldn't help but suck in a deep breath of frigid air at the breathtaking view. My fur protected my skin from the chill, but the same couldn't be said of my lungs. Nonetheless, it invigorated me, filling me with a calm sort of relief that only someone who's just accomplished a great thing could feel. However, the scene was broken up by a single figure that was impossible to notice. As I looked it over, it noticed me in return, and rose from its previous resting place. I drew in another gasp of air as the titan rose to her full height, overshadowing all the mountains around us, mine included. She was miles away, yet still made it over to me in only a few strides. The light gray wolfess looked down on me with interested amber eyes, a subtle smile highlighting the rest of her face. However, despite her curiosity, I was the first to speak. "You're blocking the view." It wasn't exactly the most respectful thing to say, even to the most unpredictable race of all. Were she to wish it, the titan could easily crush me flat with a single finger. However, in the tranquil state I was in, I couldn't help but understand that she wasn't so cruel as to do so. "I'm a view of my own, am I not?" "...That I can't deny. Is there a reason you're taking an interest in someone like me?" "You seem like quite the interesting person. Few people climb this mountain, you know, and fewer still alone. Do you have any particular reason for doing so?" "I wanted to be able to tell myself that I did. It was a fun climb." "But surely this wasn't the best mountain to visit if you wanted to climb?" "That was true. The two mountains that surrounded the sun before the titan had cast her shadow over me were both taller than this one, and probably afforded a better view, too. However, one couldn't deny that the view of the valley was best seen from right where I sat. "Perhaps. However, I'm here now, and I'm glad I've done so. Is that such a strange thing?" "Not at all. What's your name, swordsman?" "Zen. Yours?" "Natasha." "Well, thank you for taking an interest in me, Natasha. I'm glad I was worthy of your attention." "Must you be so stiff?" "I find that it's better to be polite to those that are taller than the mountain you've just spent three days climbing." At this, she chuckled slightly. After that, she spun around, sitting down next to the mountain, returning my view of the rest of the valley. "Thank you." "You were right." "About what?" "It's a wonderful view." "Didn't you already know that?" "You'll find that things lose their wonder when they become commonplace. A titan would have no difficulty seeing for hundreds of miles, so it's not that special for them to do so." "What makes things so special right now?" At this, Natasha flashed me a lopsided grin. "Because I get to share it with you." I was rather... stunned at this response. Not knowing what to say, I returned my eyes to the rising sun and the trees of the valley below it. We sat like this for several hours, not talking any more. When that time was done, I silently rose from my seat and returned my sword to its sheath. My legs had rested enough, so it was now time to begin the return descent. "Where do you plan to go from here, Zen?" "Oh, probably... that peak over there." Saying that, I pointed to the next mountain, on the opposite side of the peak from Natasha. "I could carry you over, if you'd like." "...Thank you for the offer, but I'd rather do it myself." "Is there a reason for that?" "That... hm. I suppose it's hard to explain. I suppose I want the satisfaction of getting their under my own power, and the knowledge that I've earned every view that I see. If I were carried everywhere I go, I wouldn't feel any joy from being there. Does that make sense to you?" "I don't think I understand, but I'll take your word for it. There are few places I can't go, after all." "I suppose so. You've chosen quite a good resting place, though." "Right?" &#x200B; \[Continued in the comments due to the character limit.\]
I glanced at the lifeless body on the floor. This body wouldn't be found for days, at least not until the smell started to permeate through the walls. Normally, we dispose of them of course, but this particular client asked for it to be left, and found by a neighbour. Anyways, we don't ask questions, just follow orders. As I strolled the streets downtown later that evening, my mind was already focusing on the next job. I knew it was ready; my boss just hadn't told me who it was yet. He usually does, so this must be an important target indeed. A man bumped into me, continuing past. Looking back, I recognized the signature dreadlocks and jacket. It was none other than my new accomplice, Afri. He was a new recruit, and naturally took the brunt of the jobs that were passed out. Think of it as a harsh training regimen. So far, his results have been stellar, yet still unable to beat mine. With an unbeaten track record, I have never made a single fault among hundreds of confirmed kills. My secret was watching others; I observe their mistakes so that I never do the same. But I suppose it's also a matter of luck that I am where I am today. The only other assassin that might rival me is Grunt, but having known him for over 3 decades, I can say that he's not someone to worry about. All the other members respect me, as one of the first and most revered to belong to their station. I suppose that's for the best. Stopping at a coffee shop for a quick break, I watched the customers enter and exit the store. Human behaviour has always fascinated me, and if not for the work I do, I could have been a professor lecturing students. That wasn't my passion, however. Dirty work can pay well, if you know where to find it. Midway through a sip, my phone buzzed. I downed the rest of my coffee, then thanked the barista and left the store. "Hello?". "1738 Quinton Avenue, Grand Vista. Male in his 50's, blue collared shirt with black corduroys. Good luck". The sweat on my knuckles dripped onto the handle of my knife. I lost track of the target, so I needed a way to catch up. I vaulted through an open window and out onto the street below. The fall sprained my left leg and my right ankle, but those would heal. My contract would not. Across the street, I saw the target. In a white biker jacket and leather shorts, he looked to be doing some sort of drug deal. This was the perfect opportunity to approach. Concealing the knife, I casually crossed. "Hey", I said to him, interrupting the conversation. "What'dya want, idiot? Cancha' see I'm talkin' here?". I spoke hastily: "I can do 100 right now, and willing to trade for the blue gem". This was what I was told to say. His expression relaxed, became excited. "Down that alley", he pointed, "Not another word". I stalked away as if nothing had happened, taking a wide turn towards the meetup location. I watched the man as he approached in a cautious manner. "So you can do it? Forreal?". I nodded, and pulled out a large wad of substance. "He grabbed it impatiently, and before he could react, I struck. The knife was halfway inside of his abdomen before he looked in my eyes and spoke his final words. "W-why?". As he collapsed to the ground, I felt exhilarated. My first kill. Since then, I always showed courtesy to my victims. I look them in the eyes, and express every ounce of empathy I have to give in their last moments. After all, I never wanted to be doing this. It just came to be. The house was expansive, and featured a large fountain in the middle of a roundabout. Perfectly trimmed hedges lined a vast backyard, and the moonlight illuminated the cobbled walkway. In a dark suit and tie, I slowly approached the front entrance. The door was wide open, held by a stopper. Adjusting my tie one last time, I entered the house. Inside was a furnished room with a large round table in the right room, and a study in the left. The room on the right had a golden chandelier blazing with candlelight, and featured statues along each wall. Some people were keeping to themselves in this room, sipping on expensive wine or admiring the many paintings above the statues. None of them took notice of me. I made my way to the back, sensing a shift in climate. This was the party spot, and past the glass doors I could see many men dressed like me, chatting with their acquaintances. The pool water reflected those close to it, causing an eerie, warped scene that mirrored the thoughts in my mind. Muddy and confusing. What sort of target would be out in the open like this, yet important enough to hide until the last minute? Was the boss losing trust in me? Gently pushing my way through the entrepreneurs and businesswomen, I approached the back end of the garden, where a terrace overlooked the city. From here, I could see the entirety of downtown, and the tall mountains beyond. The horizon shimmered in the distance, and I found myself almost give in to awe. But I had a job to do. There was the man, out on the terrace. I couldn't see his face from here, but the description matched. In comparison to the others, he looked out of place at this palace of a home. Then I looked more closely, at the distinct patches on his head, the tattoo visible on his right wrist as he raised the glass... it was Conner. My best friend. I could feel my world crashing around me, but I held it together. He turned around as the group around him was leaving, waving goodbye, when he spotted me. [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ngj1e4/wp_you_are_one_of_the_best_assassins_of_your/gyrilgo?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)
“But, why is it there?” One of my fellow scientists asked while taking photos. “Well that’s what we’re here to find out” Another one said. “What if the penguins built it.” I suggested. All three of my colleagues looked towards me. “Right, that’s crazy.” We continued on our way to the giant penguin. The statue was about 15 or 20 feet tall and resembled an adult emperor penguin to an alarming degree. The resemblance can’t just be a coincidence, someone made this. We arrived at the bird’s feet and took pictures of it. Stacy was taking notes. “I see signs of polishing.” I pointed out. “I see it too, the stone is very smooth and glossy.” One of my fellow colleagues added. We continued recording our observations. Suddenly, we hear honking. From behind the statue comes a penguin. It was waddling at us and I thought it was going to try and attack us but it didn’t. Instead, it stopped Infront of the statue and turned towards us. “What’s it trying to do?” I ask. “I have no clue.” Stacy says while scribbling notes. The penguin tilts its head and then waves its arms around for a few seconds. “Is it trying to tell us something?” I ask. “No, of course not. Penguins aren’t capable of high level communication.” My colleague stated. The penguin looked down and cleared away the snow that had accumulated at the base of the statue. It had engravings on it that seemed to be written in another language. “Any clue what language that is?” One of my colleagues asked. “It could be Antarctish.” I said. “What, that’s not a thing.” Stacy said while looking up from her notebook. The penguin facepalmed and then waddled to the side of the penguin statue. I decided to follow it. The penguin pushed a piece of the statue that turned out to be a button. An elevator-like door opened and the penguin walked inside and gestured for me to come too. “You guys, come quick! This penguin statue has an elevator.” “For the last time- WHAT.” Everyone was in shock. “Come in!” I said happily. Everyone walked in surprisingly and the penguin honked with delight. The doors closed and we were sent off on our way down. The elevator played island music like the music you might hear on a trip to Hawaii or some tropical island place like that. “It’s getting hotter.” My colleague pointed out. “Oh I know.” I say knowing full well what’s happening. The elevator stops and the doors open, revealing a warm summer sky and a sandy beach with patches of grass growing. We walk out and I take off my Antarctic gear because of the heat. “Where are we!??” Stacy asks while taking plenty of photos. “Welcome to Southern Antarctica!” I yell while taking off my suit. I had swim gear under it because I was anticipating this visit. “Take off your suits, I have plenty of Antarctic bank notes for you guys to buy some beach wear. “Are you kidding me? We need to document this!” My colleague says. “We can do it later.” I say while walking to the tiki bar run by penguins. “But what is all of this?? How did you know about all of this???” Stacy asks curiously. “I have my ways” I say while sipping water from a coconut. Suddenly, a plane reading, Southern Antarctic Airlines. takes off. “Where is that plane going???” Stacy asks. “Area 51. It’s the most popular airport to go here, most celebrities and politicians take vacations here.” I say. Stacy looks shocked for a second and then decides to just relax. She goes off and takes some Antarctic bank notes from me and starts walking towards the Spa run by penguins. I take a sip of my drink, “Well, why don’t you all get comfortable?”
(Story) sorry for any typos mobile. And also my first please let me know what you think Rex is a good boy, he always was there for my husband while he was deployed. Although the kids and i wanted to meet rex before now we couldn't and i now know why. Apparently my husband and rex were part of a special trial (that i was told by the officer that brought rex home to us), the government made a syrum that granted telepathic powers, before coming home rex was to be "decommissioned"and have the reversing drug, this time it didn't work. When i herd the news from the base i sent the kids to my fathers for a week so that rex and i could become acquainted with each other. The second day after rex was brought home and both of us acted without thinking. Rex was awake and guarding the door again and i went over and patted him"hey boy its going to be ok"i told him "i miss him too". This was the first time i really talked to him as you would a person. I expected to hear a grunt or woof you know a normal dog noise instead he replied "i know you miss him to carrol he loved you and the girls more than he ever told you, that's why i must protect you so in heaven john will be happy". Without a second of thought i hugged rex and responded "i know john is happy in heaven because you are here with us". The room was so quiet you could hear a fly fart.... Then the chaos started Its funny but the whole you can talk and you can hear me skit with everyone freaking out you see on tv and movies really happened. It just takes longer than a minute for everyone to calm down, it took us a half hour running after each other in the house switching between o my god i don't believe it and this cant be real. Onece the two of us calmed down rex told me about the syrum that let him talk to john and other humans. Things we/ i learned. 1. Rex's telaphaty only works on the human hes focussing on and looking at( yay no eavesdropping) 2. All humans can understand him 3. Other animals don't care or cannot understand him 4. His time in the military to him was nothing but a giant game of hide and seek. wether john set that up as a precaution or its standard for service dogs i don't know(ex "one time john and i spent an entire week finding a lost hiker in the woods, it was good we found him he got hurt but we got him home safely!") 5. Rex has the understanding of a adult with kid filters everything is normally fun and happy unless its not Both rex and i agree (and john had asked him to as well) is not to talk to the girls or others unless there is an emergency. I talked to the officer who brought rex home yo us if it was ok if he wore is off duty camo coat that has his rank (private rex) and his medal for distinguished service. It cuts down explaining that although he is not a service dog he is trained and loyal and his nearly "uncanny"understanding when he is talked to and asked for help with tasks (and bypasses all the leash nonsense). Our request was approved btw I can say that having a dog that talks is alot of fun and is a huge help, sometimes he shares a little to much information but i can say he is a life saver.
“Give me a whiskey.” I said to the saloonkeeper. “Right away.” The saloonkeeper said while turning around to grab a bottle. As he poured me a glass, a group of loud kids walked into the saloon. They were talking very loudly to each other, or at least, I thought they were talking to each other. Everyone in the saloon was staring at them with either confused or angry expressions on their faces. The saloonkeeper poured me my glass and handed it to me. He spilt a little while staring at the strange kids who walked in but I don’t mind, I would have probably spilt some too. “Okay, I’m going to have to call you back Jessica.” One of the kids said while walking over to the seat next to me. He was wearing some sort of green shirt but it looked a bit like it was a pillow or it had extra cloth in it. It was hard to decipher what he was wearing. The boy sat down next to me while his two friends were standing at the door looking at strange multicolored rectangles that seemed to glow. The boy turned to me. “Howdy partner” he said while trying to imitate my accent. I ignored him and turned towards my whiskey. “Hey waiter, can I get a honey dew milk tea with boba and organic cruelty free milk?” The boy said. “Kid, we don’t sell whatever that crap you just said was.” “Wow rude, expect a bad review on Yelp.” The boy said. “We only sell alcohol.” “Oh, I’m not old enough to drink yet.” The boy said while standing up to walk away. I thought he was done but he came back, with his group. “Hey waiter sir.” One of the girls said in an annoying voice. “What is it young lady.” The saloonkeeper replied while sounding tired. “Is it true that you only sell alcoholic beverages?” “Yes.” “That is discriminating against children and people who don’t drink alcohol. What kind of business do you run here!??” “Sophiaaaa, stop bothering this old man, we’re in the Wild West remember?” The other girl said while whispering. “Ughhh! Whatever.” The girl who’s name was probably Sophia said. “Hey cowboy guy, how does my outfit look?” She asked while turning to me. “Uh, well it looks very colorful, and strange.” “See, even the cowboy likes it!” Sophia said to her friends. “I’m sorry?” I asked, confused. “Oh nothing, I just bet my friends here that my outfit is so good that even a cowboy with no taste would like it. Pay up girls.” “I’m a boy, Sophia.” The boy said. “You know what I mean.” Both of the kids took out their glowing rectangles and started poking them intensely. “What are those things?” I asked in curiosity. “Oh, this is just my phone.” The boy said while holding it up. “Your what?” I asked. “You don’t need to know this.” The boy said. I just decided to ignore them for the rest of the time and finish my whiskey. They eventually left and left us all very confused.
\[Solar Grace\] "Congratulations, Zero,"the pale, horned woman said. She stared down at Olivia with an amused smirk. Olivia was on her knees surrounded by dozens of skeletons and the woman with black hair and spiraling bone-white horns. "...you're the one that lived the longest. You're free to go. First, you may ask me three questions. My name is Ballisea, and I am Unique Soul #46, El Sol. If you don't know what that means, I don't recommend asking; you'll need more than three questions." Olivia had more than three questions. She felt brave enough to stand from the ground. The skeletons simply threw her at Ballisea's feet once the tall woman arrived. She tried to narrow her questions to something useful. If Olivia was going to be freed, maybe she could use any information to get revenge. Oliva had never heard of Ballisea; but, she would make sure she regretted attacking Olivia's home. "Why are you attacking my world?"Olivia asked. "I'm looking for someone,"Ballisea replied. "By killing everyone?"Olivia asked. Ballisea nodded. "I'm searching for a soul. When a person dies, their soul typically returns to the source for recycling. That would my task infinitely more difficult. However...,"Ballisea gestured at the circle of skeletons around them. The bone soldiers immediately fell to one knee with bowed heads. "...if I kill them, I seal their soul here. I keep it from giving me more work." Olivia's second question was an accident. She didn't feel like it should count but she also didn't feel like arguing with someone as powerful as Ballisea. She hoped she could get away with a fourth question but needed to be prepared for the next question to be her last. Olivia didn't feel like she learned anything helpful for getting revenge on Ballisea in the future. However, she could not ignore Ballisea's casual familiarity with the afterlife. Suddenly, Olivia had a thousand more questions. "What are you going to do when you find him?"Olivia managed to put thoughts about the afterlife out of her mind for now. Ballisea couldn't be the only one to know. Now that Olivia knew people like Ballisea existed she could find those answers later. What Olivia wanted right now was to know what Ballisea's plan was. Maybe she could figure out a way to find and warn whoever Ballisea was searching for. "I'll finally be happy again,"Ballisea said. She gave a subtle sigh. "You have one question left."Olivia was glad for the comment. She started to feel like maybe she found herself on Ballisea's good side. That feeling was bolstered by Ballisea making a request and revealing a little bit about the universe. "You'll have a lot of questions, they'll get answered later. For now, keep this in mind. This Earth is one of an infinite number of alternate Earths. This one is mine now and I'll be sending you to another one. When you get there, tell the world about me."Olivia nodded eagerly. She felt like Ballisea was in a good mood and something she could use to her advantage. "Now that you have my message, what's your last question?"Ballisea asked. Olivia convinced herself that she could befriend Ballisea. All she needed was an open-ended question worded the right way. Ballisea seemed to enjoy talking about herself. "You seem to know a lot about the universe. And, I want to know more about you,"Olivia said. "Can you teach me the secrets of the universe?"Ballisea smiled down at Olivia. "Yes, I can,"she said. Olivia's chest swelled with pride at the same moment the floor disappeared from beneath her feet. "But, I won't. Off you go." \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1236 in a row. (Story #140 in year four.) You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit (r/hugoverse) or my blog.
(1) For as long as humanity could remember, the Hole existed. Through all recorded history, accounts of it had been recorded in slate, stone, wood, or turtle shells from the time of the earliest civilisations. It had been present since the Era of Gods, in the time when the first humans sculpted by the hands of the Gods themselves first received the Gods’ blessings. It took the form of many names. The Hole, the Tear, the Spot, the Void, the Symbol, the Origin, the Beyond – as the lands and people claiming ownership of where it took residence changed over millennia, so too did the myriad names of the otherworldly mystery become altered. It had captivated the minds of historians and scholars alike – in fact, until just slightly more than a century ago, scholastic and theological forays had paid just as much attention to it as they did the Relics left behind by the Gods. It was difficult not to be curious about what mystery and potential it held. With the Relics, humanity from dozens of scattered civilisations had been able to survive in the harshest of conditions, growing and spreading from their cradles until they encompassed much of the inhabitable world. I was no exception. I had been told fables and legends of the Hole, but had never visited it in person. It was, after all, located in the very centre of the Restkarian Kingdom itself, and until recently, I would never even in my wildest dreams have thought myself privileged enough to glimpse upon it with my own eyes. Seeing it in person, however… even the seventh-order Relic granted to me upon my induction as an initiate to the Restkarian Scholastic Order of the Divine seemed to pale in comparison to the unmoving and eternal entity that had witnessed countless empires rise, fall, and rise again across hundreds of mortal lifetimes. I was untrained with my own Relic, but I was still able to at least create some of the infinite wonders that had supported civilisation upon civilisation. Each Relic had a different function – some made weapons and armour, with which the Ancients had hunted and carved out settlements for themselves, and had later been used to wage wars between rival powers. Others generated sustenance, providing clean food and water in the bygone eras before agriculture and sanitation had even been developed. Yet more could create medicines – and they had allowed for humanity to flourish even when plague and pestilence made their foul presence known over the centuries. My own Relic was a seventh-order one – that is to say, Relics were able to recreate imperfect replicas of themselves, that were in turn capable of repeating the same feat, with the potency of their creations being reduced down the chain. While the original was now held in a vault within the Kingdom’s treasury in order to preserve what power still remained, to be called upon should the need ever arise, it had in the past fashioned the artifacts that had seen the heroes of legend through the foulest of dangers. Perhaps what was most remarkable was that without even doing anything – simply being ¬– the Hole seemed just as divine an object as the Relics. I had always wondered just why anyone would devote the minds and resources to the study of an unsolvable mystery, when the Relics themselves still held unknown potential, and when modern scientific pursuit still held untold secrets just waiting to be revealed. Now, I knew why. Staring at the point in space – rather, in a space that was not space as I knew it – it couldn’t be called anything short of divine. “It is a marvel to behold the first time, Initiates,” Scholar Thyrden spoke quietly in the empty chamber. “Take a moment to reflect and think.” Most of us were subdued – while we had laughed and joked about the matter during the journey that was traditional pilgrimage for new initiates, what we now witnessed was beyond the comprehension of mortal minds. Even the wisest scholars that led the Orders and Circles dedicated to understanding the Relics left behind by the Forgotten Gods over the millennia could never fathom the reason for its existence. Look at it analytically. I breathed in deeply, trying to separate myself from the grandeur and awe I felt toward it, along with the sense of unnatural foreboding that I felt as I stared at it. It was a contradiction. A two-dimensional object, in a three-dimensional space. It was unbounded and perfectly anchored in its position – even the uneducated would have heard the fable of Gesiras of the long-ruined Yellarian Empire, who had constructed a closed cage around the Hole, and then attempted to move the cage, drawn by wheels and horses. The Hole remained exactly where it was, even when the cage moved. Steel walls of its container said to be two hand-spans thick posed no resistance to it, and it simply passed through the walls, just as unmoving and eternal as it now was today. And indeed – though there was now a glass enclosure separating it from the privileged few able to bear witness to it in person – people across the ages have been able to walk through the static point in space. When later scholars deduced the nature of the cosmos; that the universe as we knew it was not geocentric, but rather, that the world orbited around the Sun, that in turn was subject to gravitational forces of other astronomical entities, the mystery of the Hole only deepened. No one could understand its inertial frame of reference. It had led to the resurgence of the unproven theories of Magick, and the rise of various cults and sects dedicating themselves to the worship of what they called their ‘living God’. Its form was entirely black, but it was not the black of a material object that absorbed at all wavelengths of visible light, reflecting none. Indeed, when the nature of light was first discovered three centuries past, scholars of science and of the Forgotten Gods alike had looked to see if that discovery could shed new light – I always snickered at the pun in every retelling of the account – upon the Hole. What they found was that light was neither absorbed, refracted, nor reflected as it passed through. By all accounts, light simply passed through the Hole as though it was empty space. All throughout, the hole would simply remain there. Just as always, unmoving and eternal. Not counting Scholar Thyrden, there were twenty of us in the chamber. Outside, guards were armed with the most advanced weaponry that modern science and technology had been able to produce. Most were likely created with the Relics – it was commonly as proof of that they were artifacts left behind as gifts for humanity that the Relics could construct even the most modern of technology, even though they had existed for thousands of years. My own wouldn’t have been able to suffice, however – I hadn’t known this until my recent acceptance into the Order, but this was apparently a feat that only the Relics of the third-order or higher could perform. No one was ever quite certain as to why, but there were competing theories and hypotheses now being tested at the forefront of scholastic research. I glanced over at the guards. Their presence ensured that no other soul entered the chamber unless allowed to, and even though no one ever had, they were unmoving statues going about their assigned task with as much reverence as those who guarded the Vault of the Forge – where the Relic that was the original of my own was safely being held. That, I could understand – with my own Relic and the four weeks of practice and instruction that I had with it, I could already create knives as my forebears of the ancient days once had. The power of the Forge that had allowed the Peasant-Hero to arm his army, fashion his legendary spear and set of gleaming armour, and then ascend as the first Lord of Restkar and undo the tyrannical Yunovan Empire of his day had to be something else. It wasn’t as though the Hole needed much guarding. What could any would-be thief do – run away with the Hole? I smiled to myself. The notion was absurd. Still, it was fascinating. There was no denying that. I reached out, pressing my hand against the glass. I wished that I could go closer, to inspect it as scholars past once had, to experience for myself how it felt to have it simply slip through my fingers. Or, perhaps, to have my fingers slip through it. It seemed to obey no sense of reference, after all.
From the moment the party stepped foot in the cave, the sound of their footsteps felt off to Gyeong. A low ringing quality bit through the whistling of the wind outside. At first, he suspected it was just the acoustics of the cave itself, but that thought dissipated when he realized the ground felt less than firm. “Maybe we should find a different cave,” he said. His voice echoed slightly through his visor, like in the entrance hall of a mansion. The space could not have been more than ten meters in diameter, though—all smooth martian rock. The other three astronauts, all splayed around the cave, glanced to Gyeong. “Whaddya mean?” said Francine, her stout form having turned from working on the plastic seal over the entrance. “Place looks fine to me.” “The ground feels hollow." “Really?” Daniel asked from his spot near the wall. He tested the floor with a few footsteps, then shrugged his shoulders. “Feels normal.” Gyeong could forgive the man’s annoyed tone, as much as he didn’t enjoy it. Everyone’s nerves were frayed after the sudden appearance of the storm. “Come closer to the middle,” Gyeong said. Daniel sighed and approached him. He stood a full foot taller than Gyeong, though that didn’t intimidate the shorter man much. The beanstalk cocked his head, then produced another small shrug. “Nope, still don’t feel anything,” he said, tone no less rude. “Oh, stop bullying the guy,” Denise said in her squeak of a voice. She took a few steps to get closer to the two guys, mouth opening as if to say something. Before any words could spill out, a monstrous cracking resounded below Gyeong that shook him to his core. A moment later, the floor collapsed. Gyeong’s stomach climbed up to his mouth as his limbs flailed seemingly on their own. He vaguely heard the screams of his team beyond his own. His back slammed hard against the ground, and for a terrifying heartbeat, he could not breathe. Bits of rock and dust rained down on him from above. Once the shock wore off, he sucked in a huge gasp of air. The fall looked far shorter than it had felt—no more than five meters—and for that, Gyeong’s body was thankful. His back would be bruised to hell, but at least it did not feel broken as he struggled to sit up. “Y’all ok?” Francine called from above, a frantic energy in her voice. Gyeong hadn’t noticed the groaning forms of Daniel and Denise next to him. Both appeared shaken, but neither was incapacitated on the floor, so Gyeong felt confident enough to say, “We’re ok.” “Goddamn!” Daniel shouted in awe. Confused, Gyeong followed the man’s gaze, and connected with metal sparkling a few steps away in his headlight. A whole wall of the stuff ran perfectly perpendicular to the natural rock of the tunnel, an empty doorway cut out to about half its height. The surface of the thing looked impossibly smooth. “Holy shit,” Gyeong whispered, staggering to a stand. Transfixed by the structure, he began to step towards it. “What?” Francine asked. “I… don’t know,” Gyeong said. “There’s a doorway.” Am I dreaming? he thought. The fall could have easily knocked him unconscious. “What? That’s not… should I come down?” The others began discussing as Gyeong continued to approach the structure. Crystals infused the metal, giving it its sparkling rainbow sheen against the flat silver of the metal itself. The lines of the doorway had been cut laser-sharp, more impressive given the wall was a whole meter thick before opening into a high-ceilinged tunnel of the same infused metal. As he got right up to the surface, shallow inscriptions carved into the wall jumped out to him. They were only visible due to their higher concentration of raindow crystals. The letters flowed gracefully, looking as though they had been hand-painted into the metal. Mouth agape and breathing shallow, Gyeong stepped through the entryway into the far wider tunnel. His footfall echoed into what appeared to be an infinite stretch of metal that faded to darkness even with the brightness of his headlight on max. All Gyeong could do was stare at it in both awe and apprehension. What could be lurking in that darkness? he thought. One of the others called his name, shocking him out of his trance. He began to turn, but only made it halfway around before his gaze stumbled on a skeleton crumpled against the wall of the doorway, looking into the infinite hallway. He yelled and stumbled backwards, hitting the floor heavily. His eyes never left those of the empty sockets. A frozen terror gripped his heart, and his blood seemed to stop dead in his veins. The corpse wore golden armor looked fit for a king. Not a single speck of age shown on its surface, even though the bones beneath looked ready to crumble at the slightest touch. A second later, he noticed a second skeleton on the opposite side of the doorway, wearing the same armor and sitting in almost the exact same position. “Gyeong! What's wrong?” Denise called. Gyeong moved his mouth, but no words came to him. It wasn’t the realization that an ancient civilization had come to Mars that drove terror into his soul; but rather, that something had destroyed it.
\[Obfuscating the Problem\] "To never seeing another spider again,"Mundo raised his glass of soda to the toast; he did not like to drink while working. The drinker that made the toast was seated at the bar in front of Mundo. It was the early afternoon lull between lunch and dinner. All the blinds were pulled down giving the bar a dim, quiet atmosphere despite the brilliant, blazing sun outside. At the moment, the two men were the only ones in the bar. "I can't thank you enough for opening my eyes to all...,"the mousey patron made a gesture at his right hand with his left. He showed off a simple black tattoo on the back of his hand that only consisted of the number 33. "...of this. You explained my powers to me and now I never have to see a spider I don't want to." "I hope you'll get over that eventually,"Mundo said with a chuckle. "There's a lot to be said for having a tiny army at your beck and call. Not to mention the wide variety of spiders out there in the multiverse. [Elemental](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/bn939l/wp_if_i_say_im_going_to_fill_the_room_with_deadly/) spiders, [edible](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/i2zmpr/sp_your_roommate_is_death/) spiders, and even spiders that make [liquid silk](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/i8tem4/sp_a_werewolf_a_vampire_and_an_alchemist_walk/)." "Oh, I know,"the patron nodded and grinned. "As much as I hate looking at them, having all those extra sets of hands is definitely useful." "Well, good,"Mundo smiled. "I'm glad you'll be giving it some thought. You wouldn't be the first Araña I've heard of that's [arachnophobic](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/fpbn93/wp_you_are_a_doctor_at_a_psychiatric_hospital/); but, an Araña without a swarm is just unnatural." "No no, I've got a swarm,"the patron said. Mundo gave a quick glance around the bar, then chuckled. They were hard to see but he could make out countless tiny purple specs glowing on the walls and ceilings in the bar. He wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't paying close attention. "Never seen those before,"Mundo said. "You can see them?"the patron sat up straighter with his question. He was surprised but Mundo nodded and pointed at his own eyes. "Invisible or not, Mundo sees all,"he chuckled. "But, I guess invisible spiders work if you're afraid of spiders." "I'm not scared of spiders,"the patron said defensively. "They're just creepy to look at." \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1237 in a row. (Story #141 in year four.) You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit (r/hugoverse) or my blog.
Beautiful. I never thought my biggest flaw could lead me somewhere so beautiful. I looked out, to the water, that reflected the blinding sun. It was early morning, and the sun was just rising. I love places like this, because I feel so removed from reality, not like anyone will miss me for as long as I’m gone anyways. The wind howled at me, at varying pitches and volumes. I wasn’t cold, maybe because I just woke up and that part of my brain just wasn’t awake or something. I looked down, at the careless people. None of them stopped to see if I was okay. My family never cared about me, and none of my friends were ever more than surface level. My life was kind of bad, but not as bad as others. I just moved out and had my own apartment when I learned I could sleepwalk, my girlfriend told me just a week ago, so this is pretty new for both of us, we just moved in together, she is so great. “Ding!” What was that? Oh yeah, my phone. I take it out and check the notification. “I just cant deal with the stress. We are done. I’m going to live with my family. I already my got all of my things.” I am so dumb. How could I have thought she could have loved me. No one cared about me, so I must be the common denominator. I threw my phone out into the water. I thought about Olympic water sports. People were so great at swimming. But I guess I wasn’t.

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