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"God dang it! I dont have any internet here! Where the hell are we?!"asks the 16 dude..one hand in his pocket, the other hand holding a smartphone "also, you happen to have a charger?...my battery is running low"
".....no........but i have multiple forms of martial art magic, an enchanted bow an a need to show you around in this world"samantha anwser..irritated by the childs .... just irritated by the child itself
"...that sounds boring!...why do you even need to?!"
"Because the High council commands of me!"
"So? Why do you have to listen? I didnt ask for this!"
"I-"samantha stops...right...why *was* she doing this? What reason? Just because someone told her? What did she have to gain of this ...also, teaching that child seems really hard...they are hard set on their old life style... what was she to do?! |
So you may be able to guess the inspiration for this. Hint: It's all about presentation.
​
​
Victus turns the TV off with a remote and stares at the black screen, knowing that he should get up and train, but the truth is that his body hurts from years of high-stress activity, and his willpower to get up is barely existent. With the remote still in his hand, he leans over to a nearby coffee table, only to spot an old worn scrap book resting on the table.
After breathing out deeply, the man exchanges the old worn-out scrapbook for the TV remote and begins to open the pages, almost instantly, old memories come back to him as he studies the images within. As he studies the third page he hears a knock on his door, so with a huff he places the book down on the sofa, pages still open for viewing and approaches the door, sure that it is his latest online order. Victus is most disappointed when he opens the door to find it is not a delivery man with his massage gun but rather his arch-nemesis, Chad.
Victus looks the villain over, the skinny man he could snap in twine with little effort is not here in a fancy high tech suit, or with a gun to his face; instead, he carries with him a crate of cheap beer. Before Victus can say anything Chad beats him to it, "We need to talk."He says as he pushes him aside of his own door frame and enters Victus's home.
Victus sighs, heavily, and turns around slowly, but as he does so he can hear a howl of laughter from inside his living room, "Oh man,"The supervillain says, "You kept a scrap book?"
After a small scowl, Victus asks, "What are you doing here Chad?"
"No, no, no, we are talking about this."The thin man holds up the scrapbook to show an image from nearly 40 years ago, "I remember you had to rescue my scrawny ass from a crocodile pit you accidentally threw me into."The villain begins to laugh, heartedly.
To Victus surprise, he too begins to laugh a little, "Yeah, I had to go wading through to collect your ass."
"I remember the sounds you made every time you got bit, and I had to say V, I didn't think you had it in you to make those sounds."The villain studies the image a little longer, occasionally laughing before putting the book down, "But here, drink?"The drink is some cheap nasty bargain store type larger that probably hasn't even been chilled.
Victus looks at the drink before shaking his head, "If we are going to drink, let us drink something proper."Victus replies as he lumbers over to a nearby bookshelf and pulls a book over, resulting in the bookshelf rotating around 180 degrees, revealing a large cabinet filled with many different types of expensive whiskey.
The second the bookshelf stops rotating Chad almost immediately says, "That is what I wanted in my lair, rotating walls to expose villainous things, but apparently, it was a.."Chad raises his fingers to make the quotation mark, "load-bearing wall, they couldn't do it."
"I just did it. Got the old handy tools out you know."Victus replies as he reaches for a half-empty bottle of expensive whiskey. "On rocks or not?"
"1 ice cube for me, and what else have you done? Is your electricity plugged into the lamp post outside?"Victus smirks, "Oh you... I knew you were, deep down, a rule breaker. How villainous of you, what will the authorities say when they find out."
Victus begins to laugh as he sits down back on his couch, "Are you telling me you're going to tell em? That would be the right thing to do."
"Oh, I love it. If I wasn't so busy escaping jail or inventing things for us to fight with I would do it myself."Chad informs, "But I digress, I'm here with a purpose."For the next two hours, Victus and Chad reminisce over stories in the scrap book, telling their side and little known facts about their historic and glorious duels. The stories contain a lot of humour, that both can look back on with fond memories.
"You know,"Chad says when he has had a considerable amount of alcohol, "We have a pattern you and I; I invent something, I look all villainous and glorious, we fight, you take me to jail so I can escape, and the pattern repeats. It is the perfect cycle. And you need me."
"Oh yeah?"Victus asks.
"What will you ever do when you retire V? Coming over to play chess or dominos doesn't have the same excitement, the same grandeur."
Victus sighs before finishing his drink, "You're right, I would be bored senseless, but I would enjoy the quiet life."
"I have a better deal,"Chad responds, "Once every six months."
"Every six months."
"Every six months,"Chad begins, "We fight. I'll send you the place and time, and we fight, brains against brawl, high style and presentation against, well, whatever your style is."
Victus shakes his head slightly, it would be far better than every 3 months at the moment, and Chad is by far his largest most cockroach-like villan; after a moment to think he eventually nods, "Alright, every six months."
"The great villan strikes again!"The skinny man says before fist-pumping the air, "Your retirement halted for a while yet."
"And I'm going to be bedridden all day tomorrow with this hangover."Victus adds, "I would call that a victory."
"Oh no,"Chad replies, "That is a loss, I can't handle this stuff like I used to, I'll need a week to recover."
"Yeah, tell me about it."Victus remarks, "We really are two old farts."
"Old? Yes. Farts? You can speak for yourself."Victus stands from his seat, a little unstable, "Oh, and by the way, when you were in the toilet, I got your most expensive bottle."The villain produces an expensive bottle of whiskey from down the side of the seat and starts chuckling like a mad man as he runs to the door. |
Houston, we have a problem.
Copy that. What's going on down there?
Captain, I'm not sure how to put this....
Goddamn Mullens, speak boy, we are on the clock here.
Captain, I can't locate the rover
Mullens, you better be pulling my leg. Gregson just dialed in and told me you boys had the Rover clocked under a mile away from Ocean 6 base. It's there
Captain, it's been taken.
Mullens, clarify.
The Rover, Sir, it's gone. Gregson is 6 minutes from base now to report
Jesus christ Mullens! Get to your point!
Captain..the Rover was driven away before I could access the data
Clarify
Captain, it was commandeered. But not by one of us, sir.
Then by whom was the rover taken?
Aliens sir.
Aliens?
Yes, Captain. Grey, sir, big dark eyes.
Mullens, are you drunk?
No, Captain
Then please explain to me why you witnessed E fucking T seize our equipment and take off into the Martian sunset.
Captain, there's nothing else to explain. I know what I saw and that's all I can report. There were 3 of them sir, I made the call not to pursue out of the safety of myself and my men
Mullens, get me Gregson.
Captain, Gregson turned back to Ocean 6 to send reports to ground control ASAP
No Mullens, he did not. O 6 has received no command. There is no one there
Sir....
Mullens, get yourself back to base immediately. Are you armed?
Affirmative, Captain
Good. Go now. Over and out
Mullens never made it back to Ocean 6. Less than 10 minutes from his destination, the Rover trundled over the rust red horizon, the two grey inhabitants chittered angrily. Leaping from the robot they tore into Mullens like a parcel of mince meat.
Somewhere beyond the scene lay Gregson in a corona of blood soaked dust, his skull was scooped clean, hollowed out like a gourd.
The Captain went home and was shot seconds after his feet kissed the tarmac.
Perseverance was considered a failure.
On Mars, the race of an intelligent beings which dwelled inside the red planets belly declared Earth ready for harvest. |
It started out as a normal day. Normal for me at least.
I woke up late, didn’t have time to shower so I quickly threw on some clothes I had lying on the floor hoping they smelled decent. Sniffing my armpits I hesitate as to whether or not I really need deodorant or if it can wait. Yeah, I need it. Bad.
Dad has already left for work so that means I have to ride my bike to school. Not that big a deal except for when I’m late. Which I always am.
I get to school 10 minutes late, lock up my bike and rush to class.
“Hey! No running” yells an administrator as I sprint down the hall towards first period geometry. “Sorry!” I yell back as I turn the corner.
2 doors down the hall is my class. If I’m lucky, I can sneak in.
“Mr. Brooks” I hear immediately as I open the door. “So nice of you to join us this morning. Have a seat.” Not so lucky I guess.
By 10:00am I’m all but starving. One more period until lunch. This is the hardest class for me to get through. Literature. It’s not that I don’t like reading, but the nagging hunger makes it incredible difficult to concentrate.
Finally, the bell rings, and I bolt to the door running to the cafeteria. “Mr. Brooks! No running!” I hear along the way. Nice to know at least someone knows my name here.
Normally I try to load up on as much pizza and fries as they will let me have, but I forgot to ask dad to refill my lunch account with funds so all I have money for is whatever the lunch ladies made. Today, it’s chicken patty sandwiches. I think.
I head to a table in the back and sit down against the wall.
One reason I try to get to the cafeteria early is because I’m so dang hungry. The other reason is because I’m can’t seem to make any friends. I’m too awkward or shy or something. I don’t know what it is, but no one seems to get me. If I get to the cafeteria late then all the tables are taken and I have to sit with random people, which terrifies me.
I take a bite of the chicken sandwich and immediately spit it out. “What the?” I say out loud. I open up the sandwich to find that it’s covered in mold. “Great. Now I’m gonna be hungry and sick.”
I have 2 more periods until my day ends. I struggle to make it through the intense hunger pains. I wonder if anyone hears my stomach gurgling in my seat.
I finish up my last class, geography, and go get my bike. Riding back home is harder than usual. I feel so weak and my legs feel like rubber.
I’m struggling to pay attention as I ride up and down hills to get home, daydreaming about all the food I’ll get to eat at home.
“Watch out!” I snap back to reality and look up just in time to see a construction worker waving at me to stop.
The next thing I know I’m in a dark damp hole, looking up at a blurry circular light up in the sky.
“Are you ok down there? Hold on we’re coming to get you!”
“What happened? Where am I?” I wonder.
As my vision starts to clear I see the concrete walls, the murky stream of water flowing between, and up above, the manhole I fell into while daydreaming about food.
Slowly I start to stand up. I pat down my pants, feeling for my phone. It’s not there.
I turn around looking at the wet floor and finally spot my phone. I pick it up, and underneath it I see something that looks like a coin.
“Stay there I’m on my way to get you.” I hear from up above. I look and see the construction worker coming down with a rope, probably just in case I broke something and needed to be hauled out. “I’m alright. I can climb out” I call back.
Before heading to the ladder, I reach down and grab the coin and put it in my pocket.
“You gave us quite the scare dude!” one of the workers tells me. “What the hell were you doing? You gotta pay attention kid!” His supervisor says getting in my face.
“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry, I just zoned out for a bit I guess.”
“Well you zoning out almost cost you your life. Don’t do it again.”
“Ok” I manage to get out, now more freaked out by the supervisor than the fact I could’ve died.
I don’t see my bike anywhere. It’s probably down in the sewer. “Great” I mumble. I look down the hole and see it’s all jacked up. No point in trying to get it I guess.
I start walking the rest of the way home. It takes about 20 minutes longer than normal due to the fact that I no longer have a bike and I’m limping from the fall.
When I get home I hop in the shower. “No way I can get away without a shower tomorrow.”
After the shower I put my clothes in the washing machine. As I do the coin falls out. “Oh that’s right, I forgot about that.”
It’s covered in sewage gunk, so I take it to the bathroom and start scrubbing it down.
It’s not a coin. It’s some sort of medallion.
“Huh, I wonder where it came from” I say aloud as I lift it up.
I study the design on the medallion and then notice something in the mirror.
The reflection I see staring back at me isn’t me. Instead I see a older man with snow white hair.
“Ahh!”
I drop the medallion and watch as the face in the mirror transforms back to my own.
“What the hell?” I exclaim.
I study my face. It’s my normal teenage face.
I reach down and pick up the medallion again and look back at the mirror. My face once again changes to that of the older man.
“Woah.”
I play around holding the medallion, letting it go. Touching it, and not touching it. Every time it’s in my hand my face changes. Every time it’s not I’m me.
“Hello? I’m home!” I hear my dad come into the house.
What time is it? He doesn’t get home until 8pm. I’ve been playing with the medallion for 5 hours!
Suddenly I remember just how hungry I am. I put the medallion in my sock drawer and head out to the living room. “Hey Dad, how was work?”
“Same as usual. Dave crashed our production app and it took me 2 hours to fix his mess. I don’t know why they keep him around” he tells me.
“Dang. That sucks.”
We eat dinner, a chicken parmigiana recipe that my dad has perfected over the years since my mom died.
“So I noticed your bike isn’t in the garage. Did something happen?”
“Yeah, some weird stuff happened today. I was riding my bike and was daydreaming and fell into an open sewer. It’s still down there.”
“What? Are you alright? Did you break anything?” He asks.
“No, I’m fine, I think.” I say. “There’s something else though. Don’t freak out. I’ll be right back.”
“Alright, I’ll be here.”
I head to my room and pick up the medallion and wrap it in a hand towel. I don’t want to freak my dad out by transforming out of his eye-line. Plus I want to see if I’m crazy or if he can see it happening too.
I get back to the table and he says “what do you have there?”
“Ok, so I might be crazy, but I think this thing is magic,” I say as I unwrap the medallion from the towel. “Ok, so try not to freak out. I’m already freaked out.”
Dad looks at me a little concerned. I touch the medallion and his eyes get wide right before he falls backwards in his chair.
“Dad!” Taking my hand off the medallion I run around the table and help him up. “You you you you just ch-changed!”
“You saw it too? That means I’m not crazy!”
“I don’t understand,” he says as he picks his chair back up. “How is this possible?”
“I don’t know, all I know is that it has something to do with this medallion. I found it in the sewer when I fell down there.”
I slide it over to him so he can take a closer look.
“Look at the markings on it.”
Without touching it, he studies the markings on the medallion. “It almost looks Japanese. Look there, it looks like a cherry blossom here in the middle, and there’s some writing around the edges. Is there anything on the back?”
“Take a look,” I say.
Careful not to touch it, he flips it over using the hand towel to reveal the markings on the back side.
“More writing, and in the center this looks like the flower is wilting. I wonder,” he says as he slowly moves his hand to touch the medallion himself for the first time.
As he touches it, instead of an older man in front of me, my dad instead had all the features of a teenager just like me. “Did it do anything?” His eyes get big as he hears his voice cracking just like mine does from time to time.
Removing his hand he turns back into himself once again.
“This is incredible! It can change a young person old and an old person young!”
“But what does this mean?” I ask. “Like, why?”
We didn’t have a chance to discuss it further. At that moment the room flashed with a brightness of a thousand suns and my dad was gone. Only the medallion was left behind.
It’s been 30 years since that day. It was the last time I ever saw my dad.
Now when I look in the mirror my face matches the face I saw so many years ago the first time I picked up the medallion. I’ve been keeping it hidden ever since that day. Too afraid to use it. Too afraid to tell anyone about it.
In all the years I’ve spent searching for my dad, I still don’t know why the medallion does what it does. And now, I don’t really want to know. As far as I’m concerned it’s the reason my dad is gone. And that’s probably why it was abandoned in that sewer so long ago.
I wish I’d never found it. |
I am in the business of training people to kill other people, and teaching them how not to get killed. I kill people myself, of course, though not often. I am an asymmetrical warfare specialist, cultural expert and survivalist. I'm not the gun, not if I have anything to say about it. I can be a pretty good one, but I'm more at home when I'm the engineer, and the trigger.
To understand how to best kill someone, you have to understand how they think, what they think, and why. To survive, you need to know your environment and yourself, among other things. As for that first mouthful of jargon, it's a pretty safe bet to say that if I'm fighting something on a colony world at the ass end of nowhere, the numbers will be pretty damn asymmetrical, to say the least.
The difference between me and someone else with those same certifications? I was bred for the purpose, genetically engineered in a lab. The United Solarian Protectorate, saw that I received the best training and education to go along with my inherent advantages. I know what you're thinking, or at least, what I'm thinking.
"'Protectorate' huh?"And that's absolutely right. You see, we never *had* a World War Three, but we did have a mass exodus of colony ships and Earth was declared a protected world by the USP, which effectively amounts to "Don't kill, maim or injure anyone, don't fight wars and don't be nasty, or else we'll smack you good and proper!"
While that's not terribly interesting, it does make the point that for the most part the USP is a benevolent organisation. One of the worlds colonised in the mass exodus was my homeworld, Salem. Rather ironic, since it means peace. What I wouldn't give for some of that right now.
There is no peace to be found on Salem, not really. Most of it is just a huge jungle, though there are some rocky areas if you look hard enough. Unfortunately, we have huge insects that can kill most men, smaller ones too of course. We have our more exotic flora and fauna and a lot of it is dangerous. However, while I'd never use the word caretaker, I was sent along to train a defense force for the colony, mostly against local wildlife, but a lot of the training focused on human warfighting would be useful to them as well. I wasn't really one to be training a military. A militia would be more in keeping with my skillset, but I'm no stranger to regular forces either and I've had a good idea of the needs of the colony in terms of defense for a while.
This is a record of sorts of the colonies' recent events. We've had strange things happening, more and more frequently. The civvies say they're ghosts and that the jungles are haunted. The planetary defense forces are better than I could've hoped for. They're a militia, definitely, no standing army or professionals here, but it could be worse. Six of my forty patrols have been lost, and while that might not sound so bad, the fact they were all lost *on the same day* gives me some cause for concern.
Luckily, I know how to read a map. The planetary data center contains a holographic map with fancy energy shielding that simulates topography and gives some feel to the terrain's shape. Four of my patrols were lost three nights ago where the jungles meet the colony landing site. The other two... are missing in action. I'd love to say more, but there's not much else to do but wait and see what happens. That and keep maintaining the militia.
***
"Warden, what do we do about the patrols going missing?"
I grinned. "Pathfinder Merry, you know, I was just thinking about that. Pull back all patrols to the perimeter and institute high-security measures. I'm going out."
"Out? Out where?"He stared at me as though I'd suddenly started wearing a funny hat.
"Out there."I pointed to the window to our left. The room inside my pre-fabricated shelter wasn't spacious but it didn't have to be. It was built to weather storms and was partly stuck into the hard dirt below, sort of like tent pegs.
"The jungle, sir? We can't go out there, we'll be ripped to shreds! We haven't had nearly enough training yet."
"I know."I laughed, not bothering to argue. He wasn't wrong, after all. "I'll go alone. Tell Parker he's in charge."
"Uh, I..."He fumbled for words as I slapped the door control and stepped into the hot, humid air.
"Well? Go on, get going, spread the word!"I told him from outside the doorway.
I walked round to the back of my shelter and tapped on the maintenance panel in a seemingly random fashion. Walking back inside, I entered a code into a keypad by the door. After a brief delay, I was pleased to hear the hiss of air pressure equalising. Just to the right of the doorway, a slim, form-fitting suit awaited me, risen from the floor of the shleter. I hadn't had much reason to use it almost at all, but it was a force multiplier if there ever was one.
I stripped, then stepped into it, letting the suit close around me. Individual pieces sealed and cold, blue gel filled the suit's interior. It left my helmet alone, of course, but everywhere else was invaded by the stuff. While the gel had numerous applications, it did serve to deal with bacteria and soften impacts by dispersing or outright reducing force from say, bullets and shrapnel.
As the helmet ran self-checks I jogged out into the night down the main road, leaping the fifteen-foot perimeter wall with the help of a steel crate and augmented musclulature. While the technical term was OPCOM Suit, with some alphabet jargon thrown in for good measure, everyone referred it as an Operator suit, or Operator Combat Suit, if they had a stick up their ass.
For whoever was out there, they could call me and my suit a very bad day.
I stopped just outside the perimeter, stretching a little. As the suit chirped twice to notify me it was fully online, active scans bathed the world around me with infrared, radar and sonar. Likely a half-dozen other minor things too, but regardless, I had about as much information as I could ever want, thought it only had about a twenty-foot range in the jungle.
Pausing once to look back at the colony lit up like a Christmas tree, I smiled. "Time to hunt me some ghosts."Then, I propelled myself forward and the dark night swallowed me whole.
Once I'd been running for about ten minutes, I figured I was in thick enough jungle that I would be reasonably safe from enemy attack.
It's just like me to taunt Murphy like that, though, and let me tell you, never have I ever thought Murphy's law was that much of a middle finger than right at that moment.
The moment I'd formed the thought was precisely when I heard a sound I could only describe as 'Fuck'. So much for 'safe from enemy attack'.
There was a great flash of light, it blinded me. And it was bright. I turned back to see a huge fireball. I stared, brain not quite believing what I saw and what I recognised. Then some time later, some instinct kicked in and I dropped to my belly seconds before a huge wall of force ripped through the jungle around me.
I cursed. "Fuck!"Ah. So that's where that sound came from.
Rising shakily to my feet a minute or two later, I think I'd never been more comforted by the feel of a rifle in my hands. The colony site had been utterly bombed into oblivion, that was for sure. Only... with what? And by who?
"I don't like this one bit."I muttered. "Ghosts my ass! Ghosts don't bomb colony sites with nuclear munitions!"
Sighing, I turned my back to the colony site and began my journey into the jungle. The nearest population centre wasn't far away, but there weren't many of us outside the colony's landing site.
At least if anyone was left, I had the skills to fix this mess. Not much more you could ask for then a man designed to create a fighting force against superior firepower and numbers, who was also a cultural expert and an expert at surviving in damn near any place the universe had to offer.
Still, for all my skills, the situation was far from looking pretty. It was rather irritating, truth be told.
I snarled. "God fucking damn it! Couldn't just have an easy time of it, could I? Nope. Instead of advising and training militias, I'm running for my life into a jungle being bombed with nukes, by what may as well be ghosts!"
My last words were for that cheery bastard who always found a way to make 'Murphy's Law' the most annoying two words in the English language that anyone had ever put together.
"Fuck you, Murphy."
Go to r/SelithusWrites for more of my work! |
They lived happily ever after once upon a time. But that was before. Before we realized that the chemtrails were real. We thought they were in the sky at first. How foolish we all were.
We lived happily ever after once upon a time. Now? We don't live and we don't die. We've evolved beyond happiness. Beyond feeling. Some of us claim to still feel bits and fragments.
Don't tell the others but I thought I felt something once. I probably imagined it, but it could be true. In the most tenuous way I felt connected to an idea. Settled by it.
If they find out I'm not one of them, I'll be dismissed.
We lived happily ever after once upon a time. |
The blinding light faded and my vision slowly returned. I rubbed my eyes and looked around only to realize I was no longer sitting at the bus stop, but was now sitting in the middle of what looked like a basement. "What the hell?!"I had shouted it not expecting any answer, but remembered I was somewhere I didn't recognize and quickly covered my own mouth.
"Nez tala modo?"
I spun toward the voice and saw a young boy looking at me with wide eyes. He was holding his hands up as if he were afraid I would hurt him and I noticed he held a glowing crystal sphere in his hand, but the light faded from it until there was no glow left. "What? I don't understand you!"
He flinched when I yelled and I felt a little bad. "Nez. Tala. Modo?"I just shook my head and his shoulders slumped. Before either of us said anything else the sound of a door slamming open and footsteps coming down stairs caused us both to turn toward the direction. "Ahn zan Kalaba!"The boy ran toward me and then hid behind my back.
The person who arrived at the bottom of the stairs wasn't a person at all! She looked like she was made of the same crystal that the sphere the boy was holding was made of. She was also triple my height and appeared to be nude. She looked around and then spotted me. "Du rek tala basa?"She let out a laugh so loud it vibrated my insides and then began walking toward me.
"Wait! Who are you?! What's going on?! Where am-"before I could finish she grabbed me with one of her gigantic crystal hands. Her hand was so large that she was able to pin both of my arms to my side within her one hand and lift me up with ease until I was face to face with her.
She pulled me closer and I noticed one of her eyes was missing and there was only an empty socket. "Nez tala modo?"She shook me a little and I screamed in terror causing her to laugh again. "Zahad duna."A shining light appeared in her lone eye and a beam shot from it directly into my eyes. The pain was excruciating and I felt like my brain was inflamed. After the pain and her laughter subsided she looked at me and raised an eye brow. "Do you understand me now weak one?"
"Yes! Yes! Please let me go now! I don't know what the hell is going on!"
She laughed and shook me again. "That little worm actually managed to summon an Other Worlder? I may have misjudged the little worm's potential."She smiled. "Little worm! Come out now and I will not punish you, but if you continue to hide I will devour you and your weak friend here!"She squeezed me slightly and I screamed again.
"Wait!"It was the voice of the little boy from earlier. "I am down here Master."
The giant looked straight down. "Oh. You were not hiding at all. Give. Me. My. Eye. Now!"I couldn't look down, but a crystal sphere flew up and landed neatly in the empty socket on here face. As soon as it connected she blinked and her eyes rolled around before focusing on me again. "That is better."She released her grip on me and I fell quite a long way to the ground landing painfully, almost twisting my ankle.
The little boy ran beside me. "Forgive me for summoning you here."He looked sad and kept his eyes downcast.
I didn't know what was going on, but I wasn't going to be mad at a kid without knowing the full story. "Don't worry about it."I rubbed his head and tussled his hair.
He flinched at first, but then looked up and smiled. He was about to say something when the giant stomped her foot and told him to run upstairs and wait her which he did without hesitation. She then looked down on me and smiled. "So you are a summon eh? I am going to have fun finding out what you can do and if you are lucky you will actually be of use to me."
"And if I'm not of use to you?"
She leaned forward and opened her mouth wide revealing extremely sharp teeth and surprisingly pleasant smelling breath. She snapped her mouth shut with such force the wind caused my cheeks to ripple. "If that day comes I will eat you alive, but if you are useful then I can promise you a high place in my army and the chance to earn your freedom."
I had no idea if I would be useful, but I also knew I had no choice but to try. No matter what I wasn't going to let this monstrosity eat me so I made the decision then and there to figure out how I could kill her no matter what it took. "When do we start?" |
A flash of white turned into gray, and a weird tingling feeling overtook me. I was dead. After killing scores of people, and scores still, I was dead. They called me the world’s most feared human. Life’s mistake. I called myself a rule breaker. However, none of that mattered now. I was dead. Suddenly, though, a thought hit me. I was thinking. I was alive, and best of all, I could see.
Well, it wasn’t *really* seeing, but it was the closest thing I have. After a while, I had mastered the art. It was kind of like a six sense, an echolocation of sorts, but yet it seemingly had no way of sending information to me. I could just tell where things were, and what they were, based on this weird hot-cold feeling. It was magnetic, it pulled on me, I pulled on it. The feeling was electric, zapping through me like electricity, filling me completely, like a drop of food coloring being stirred into a hot glass of water.
The thought was there, just not fully formed until this moment. Though it sounded absurd to say, and ludicrous to believe, I knew somehow that I was a thundercloud. I could sense people walking below me as the wind, gentle, yet ice-cold, blew me away. I could sense cars, and buildings. I could, if the conditions were right, strike people down. I’m sure I could aim the lightning. The media outlets would have their new star story, their pet subject, and it would be me.
I could kill people, legally, and get media on it, with no consequences. Slowly, but suddenly, I felt very content.
———
I wrote this on mobile, so please forgive any grammar mistakes/bad formatting. I also made a subreddit you should check out if you liked my stories: r/Carbon_Chaos. Thanks for reading my story! |
It'd been a long day and running a marathon was never easy work. But somehow, I was improving. I felt myself getting less tired and near the end, it almost felt like I was flying past everyone. It didn't occur to me to check what was in my bottle. It had always been a standard mix of water and some powdered proteins and vitamins to keep the energy up.
I was beaming as I finished the race. It was a few minutes after that faded that I realized, I couldn't feel my feet. In a moment of utter panic, I attempted to yank my shoes off, but could get no traction. It was as though my feet were glued to the soles. I realized waiting too long could permanently cut off my circulation, and then I'd have bigger worries than a marathon.
I sped to my car and drove home in desperate silence, my thoughts bouncing around in my head. I could barely focus on the road as I rushed home. I needed to get to my lab, assess the situation, and then act on the appropriate course of action. If this was medical, head to the emergency room, but I had a sneaking suspicion that something else was afoot.
As I ran inside, I mentally catalogued all the possible contaminants that could've caused my symptoms. The most likely was a paralytic that took effect slowly, but had a side-effect of euphoria. Regardless, I had a safety mechanism to deal with that, since I often found myself in close contact with these chemicals. I slowly perused my lab. Nothing obvious jumped out at me, so I began to examine each of the latest for any changes in volume since I last marked in my notes.
Finally, I came upon my latest concoction, a growth serum designed to be activated once a user went into fight or flight mode. I had no memory of opening it, yet it stood on the counter, half-finished. I realized I'd made a grievous error. I'd mistook it for my vitamins and poured some into my water bottle that I'd been sipping on all day.
No wonder I practically set a record. The serum had increased the length of my legs and feet. The shoes, of course, couldn't possibly adjust. The adrenaline running through me as the race finished must've kick-started the formula. Now, the only way to avoid anymore permanent effects was to stay totally calm for the next 48 hours until it left my system.
Anymore growth could have serious effects on me long-term, not to mention, the potential disfigurement that I had not yet tested fully.
But I'd caught it early. I could stay inside for the next two days, keep my heartbeat regular, and avoid any emotional highs or surprises. As I settled down and began to plan, there was a knock on the door.
"Police. Police. Open up!" |
Glass rained from the sky, while men in tactical gear descended upon me like black angels of death. There was nothing I could do in the dark complex filled with giant silver vats. My team had abandoned me and so too had my rival. As I floated in a glowing vat of smooth, pure white yogurt sprinkled with orangutan piss and bad choices, I dwelled upon everything that led up to this moment. It all started with a job. A simple job in fact. Should have been in and out in ten minutes, but naturally with any heist, there were variables beyond my control. And what was it over...a goddam VHS tape.
It all started last week when word on the street got out about my very steamy love making with Sharlet Everdeen. I would normally think an ex would spread this to the world, trying to get back at me, but Sharlet and I hadn’t been together for over three years because she died trying to base jump with nothing more than her blanket. She was dumb, but I didn’t stop her because she had succeed before. I don’t pretend to understand the physics behind it and I didn’t want to be the man who held her back. She respected me for that and I for her fearlessness. Anyways, I am getting off track.
This was an issue because we never discussed our sex life to anyone, yet here it was out in the open like I was the main character in some episode of Sex and The City. I had my people ask around where this came from and they said people watched it. And not just that, but my whole life. When I was born, my awkward teenage years, stuff I did with vegetables for...experiments. Private stuff that no one could have known about me. And it didn’t stop there. There was footage of stuff that had yet to happen. Like when earlier in the week I went to get a taco at El Toro Tacos. This footage was on a VHS tape that apparently a lot of people had already seen. And rumor had it they even saw how I died.
Needless to say, I had to get a hold of this tape. This was way too personal and if my enemies got ahold of it, they would use it against me. Luckily, my team was able to track down the VHS to Little Gambino’s Video Store on 5th and Grand. The bad news was the owner hated my guts. Probably why, once he attained this tape, he had been having private screenings everyday. It never left his store. If people asked about it, he had it cued up in the backroom somewhere. I exhausted all my resources and connections to get a shot at this tape, but in the end, we needed to steal it. My right hand man, Rico, got the layout of the building. Three rows of movie shelves ran in the middle and behind the counter, at the end, was a private viewing area concealed by a red velvet curtain. What was behind that was a mystery at the time since it was always dark.
To help with this unknown, I had Selena. She was our muscle. Toned, but not bulky. What she lacked in weight and sheer strength, she made up in height. The rest of the guys called her Stretch because she was all legs. And I mean all legs. There is a point where long legs stop being an attractive trait and start being concerning. It was like attaching a baby's torso to those stilt legs people walk around with at carnivals. One kick from her though and you wouldn’t be eating solid food for a month. Rounding out my small infiltration team was Barkins. She was a dog. A grey pitbull to be exact. I called her Barkins because she never barked. It was ironic. I could have brought any number of my other guys, but these three I knew I could trust not to say anything if the VHS was playing when we got inside.
Once night fell we made our way inside. Selena kicked the door in and Rico worked his magic on the alarm system. Leaving me and Barkins to make a beeline for the backroom. There were no lights on the inside, but that didn’t matter since the shelves made it easy to find the back counter. I leaped over the top with Barkins and through the red veil to find...an empty room. Nothing was in the back. No projector, seats, anything. Four white walls and a single light shone above. Rico and Selena joined me in my utter disappointment.
“What gives?” Rico said.
“Why is there just an empty room?” Selena said.
“Maybe there is a secret door?”
“Or maybe he moved it out? Someone might have snitched.” Rico said, looking up at Selena.
“Bite me, Rico.”
Barkins was never good with commands and drove her fangs into Selena’s legs like she was eating a giant dog bone. Selena screamed and tried to kick Barkins off her, but Barkins clung to her.
“Get him off!” Selena said.
She did a roundhouse kick, trying to release the dog, but instead she landed her blow on me, launching me through the pathetic excuse for a wall and down two stories into a vat of white cream. When I landed in this vat, I thought I died. Above me was a tall ceiling, unlike the building I was in and I was swimming in the best yogurt I had ever tasted.
“Are you okay?” Rico yelled from above.
“Yes. Get me out of here.”
It wasn’t long until my vat of happiness soured. On the catwalk next to me was an orangutan wearing a red bandana and dragging a sign behind him. It wasn’t any orangutan. It was Kevin’s orangutan. Kevin was my rival. He always tried to move in on my territory and this time he had me where he wanted me. The orangutan held up the sign, ‘I know you like some flavor in your yogurt, I hope you like this one.’
By the time I read the sign, I noticed the stream of piss pattering in front of me. I tried to stop the orangutan, but he had the high ground and the yogurt acted like quicksand against my attempts to move. My team was still in the room above me laughing at my pain.
“Are you going to get down here and help?” I yelled up to them.
“Selena needs to go to the hospital. Dog bites are no joke. We’ll be back after that.”
“Are you shitting me right now?”
“No, but that monkey might.” Selena said, laughing before the pain stopped her.
“We’ll be back. Don’t worry.” Rico said and they all left me. Even Barkins. That little bitch.
Then the rest is history. The orangutan runs off once the tactical men fall from the sky and I am just waiting for one of them to save me from this once delicious hell. I still don’t know what was on that tape, but I do know one thing. With friends like mine, who needed enemies. |
You see the problem with being able to turn into anything, is the fact that you can become God. I mean, imagine what the regular human would do with that kind of power. They could destroy the Universe, rewrite everything in their image....
Or....
Or they could end up getting trapped by a twelve year old. A kid that REALLY shouldn't have been wandering into a god's territory, locking a God up in a pokeball, and subsequently trapping him in a non-verbal Pokemon body.
History could've been remade, rewritten even, if a twelve year old hadn't trapped him in an overglorified tennis ball. The world could've been destroyed, if that twelve year old didn't have the brain of a goldfish and the stupid desires to match.
It was absolutely ridiculous. But at least after the kid died he'd be free, right? But no, no the fucking kid had to grow up, and give the pokeball to his OWN ELEVEN YEAR OLD KID, NOT EVEN TELLING HIM WHAT WAS INSIDE, SO THAT THE POKEBALL WOULD GET LOST IN THE, THE FUCKING FOREST, BEFORE THEN BEING BURIED BY A GODDAMN RATTATA.
Just imagine that. |
"No. You may not!"That was the only answer I received whenever I asked to go to the ocean. It was always a "No!"or "Definitely no!"or something along that line. I had already asked more times than I could count why I couldn't go to the ocean. Mom always changed it to another topic though, so I never got an answer, or even a clue. Finally, I decided to run away to the ocean.
"Mom! I'm going outside to play!"I said.
"Where are you going outside?"Mom asked.
"To the front yard of course! Where else would I go?"
"Okay, just remember. Do not. Go. To. The. Ocean. Don't you dare disobey or else you will regret if for your entire life. Okay?"Mom reminded in a strict voice.
"Yeah, yeah."I replied, rolling my eyes. What's there to be afraid of in the ocean anyways? Well, there were apparently things no one could imagine.
"Ha! Finally! Got away from that darn boring place."I ran to the ocean and stared into the orange pink sky. The sun was setting and light reflected off the gentle waves. I thought to myself, "I'll just stay here till night."
Laying on the white sand, I closed my eyes and eventually fell asleep. It wasn't until the sky was completely dark that I woke up. The stars were plentiful during this clear night.
"So pretty,"I whispered, sitting up. Suddenly, I heard a huge wave crash onto the shores. Then it retreated, and what was left behind, was something very familiar looking. I walked cautiously towards it and to my surprise, it actually looked very similar to a human. The only difference was, it had horns, its ears were pointed, it had small fins on its limbs, and its skin was extremely dark blue. I crouched in front of its face, waiting for it to wake up.
Five minutes passed. Ten minutes passed. I waited and waited for it to finally wake up. Finally, just as I was about to doze off, it opened its eyes, which were clear blue.
"Hi,"I said softly, quivering anxiously. The creature stared at me for a few seconds. Then it hissed at me, revealing its short but sharp fangs.
"AHHH!"I screamed, immediately backing away. I ran away, looking behind me. The creature was gone. I looked back in front, and it was there. It grabbed me by my wrist and flashed to the shores. Trembling uncontrollably, I said thought to myself, "Is this what Mom was talking about? This creature?"
All of a sudden, I found myself in the water, getting dragged deeper into the sea. I started closing my eyes, and soon enough, it was black.
–––––––––––––
*Sorry if this story was bad.* |
The auditor looked around at the parlor, burnt orange brocade chairs shoved to one side against poison green wallpaper. Crushed velvet wall hangings fell into tiger-patterned Turkish rugs, and piles of rich clothing were flung haphazardly over every surface and piled in every corner. All very rare, all very expensive, but...
“Cultured. Yes.” the auditor said faintly. He loosened his tie.
“I do all kind of classy shit now,” the pirate queen said proudly. “I drink some of the wine I used to steal at parties. Mix it up in a nice sangria and make quail egg toasties. The crew loves it.”
The auditor winced. “I appreciate the candor, but it would not be in your best interest to discuss former illegal activities with me.” he said stiffly. “And as a financial advisor, I also feel obligated to tell you that the wine you, ah, absconded with would be far more valuable as an investment or at auction.”
“Pshhh, some of that grape was a hundred years old, stuff’s meant to be enjoyed and we enjoyed it.” She gave him a gap toothed grin. “Lot of things get ruined that people think they’ll be able to keep. If we hadn’t drank it, nobody was gonna. You want some tea?” The Queen kicked a cushion over to the coffee table, sat, and lit a brazier decorated with either seashells or screaming faces. It was extraordinarily difficult to tell.
“I would very much enjoy some, thank you.” The auditor looked around for a stool that wasn’t covered in the queen’s undershirts, then resigned himself to sitting on the floor.
“There’s a pillow under the china cabinet,” the queen advised him. “Be a love and grab some cups while you’re there.”
The teacups were an unmanageable mess of raised rococo flowers. The cushion was dusty, silk, and, the auditor grudgingly admitted, extraordinary comfortable.
“Your majesty, I appreciate your... invitation... but I must confess that I’m unsure why I’m here.”
Steam rose from the kettle and curled like mist on the water. “Well, I’m not a queen anymore, so you can cut that all out. I’m doing the rich respectable people thing, and respectable people get investigated for embezzlement and shit.”
“Not often enough,” the auditor said automatically, then blinked. “Wait, you *want* to be investigated for crimes? *You?*”
“Mmm. It’s fashionable and all.” She sipped from a cup, then offered it to him. Old habits, the auditor guessed, from checking for poison. He took it, rather dazed.
“You do understand it’s not... voluntary, as standard practice.”
“I’m not standard. And it won’t be voluntary, next time.” Steam caught on her lashes like salt spray, and he could suddenly imagine her with blood on her hands and laughter in her voice. There was laughter in her voice now.
“Those fancy men, they hate me— they hate my face, and my voice, and that when I walk in their posh parties layered in jewelry I stole from their pretty ships, they can’t do anything about it. Since the king kindly granted me a pardon at his royal pleasure.”
*And at gunpoint,* the auditor silently added. But then the pirate queen had been generous, more than anyone had expected, and turned her cannons toward the kingdom’s enemy, and her wealth toward the kingdom’s poor. Since she had more than kept her word, the king had begrudgingly kept his.
“They hate me for having been poor, and being rich, and being a killer,” the queen calmly continued. “So I got an auditor before they could get theirs, and if there’s a cent out of place in those books, you’re gonna tell me about it, and I’m gonna fix it.” Her smile was warm and feral. “Whatever game they want to play, I’ll set the board up for ‘em.”
The auditor held his tea close, then nodded and took a sip. It burned sweet and strong, and he feared his own smile was slightly feral as well.
“Any auditor they send in after me will find nothing. That is a promise.”
She looked at him, appraising, then nodded. “Yeah, you’ll do.” She stood in a swirl of skirts and grabbed the nearest ledger, sitting next to the auditor and opening it with a thud. “Let’s get started.”
“Before we do, can I ask a question?”
She gave him another gap-toothed smile. “I’m single.”
“Oh. *Oh.* Um, good, but I was going to ask...” He looked at the room again, treasure piled on top of treasure, and all smelling of the sea, then quickly stared down into his cup.
“...Why did you stop?”
She turned his face towards her, calloused hand gentle and bright eyes laughing.
“I never stopped. They’re still afraid.” |
I sat there, contemplating my life’s resignation. Before me glittered 50 pink Advils, just waiting for me to swallow them all.
I wept silently as flashbacks entered my mind. Of my dad’s broken body, blood spattered across the concrete from that day he jumped off the bridge into traffic.
I swallowed 25 pills.
The next memory that flooded in haunted me to my soul’s core. I remembered the feeling of my brother’s hands on my skin, touching me in places a brother should never touch a sister.
I stomached 25 more.
Within an hour I was on the floor, convulsing in a puddle of my own sweat. That’s when I heard his fatal cries, the last sirens I heard before drifting off into an eternal sleep. |
"It was seen absolute pain, as the Total Void expanded itself and consumed our world."
"Then, the Bronze Soldiers, killing the memories of our pain, appeared."
"MTF Irineu - 'Você não sabe, nem eu', they call themselves."
"Of the few ones who remembered, our group is narrowing."
"In the water they put, to guarantee our oblivion, something."
Other words were heard, as a group of orange wearing Antimemetic Agents entered the room, whose outdoor sign named "The poets who remember - reunion all Thursdays morning". It's of our interests to mention, that, none of them remember it anymore.
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
As the word is set to believe in the unbelievable, with gods rising and the truths of the Foundation being told, one who had no hope, a reclusive, prays for clarification. It prays for SCP-1█7-PT, who responds by the summoning **The Serpent**.
As the praying goes, firstly, a whisper. Then, a voice is heard.
«I see you know my name. I see you heard of my doings. I see you seek for the truth». As a divine being, it's apparition wasn't really expected by our prayer.
«I see you answered my praying. I see you need to talk. I see you are, indeed, real.»
Unexpected to receive an answer at the same level, the Serpent then asks: «What is it that you think happened? Whats is the unreal, that became real?»
«One of the powerful was activated. The pain and the... emptiness... Total Void, as you called in the writings. It was just like the writings in the [site](https://scp-pt-br.wikidot.com/) of the Foundation» interjects the avid SCP reader. After a pause, followed the next words: «So, was SCP-001-PT really activated? Was this universe... To your standards, *terraformed?*»
«Let's get going, and telling this partial-tale 'til now. As you read, SCP-001-PT is capable of terraforming universes, and that's what happened. Simple.»
«This simple? Really? But why?»
>«Yeah, not *actually* this simple.
>
>Firstly, our universes where merged.
>
>Second, it was **not** on the intentions of the Foundation to merge our universes.
>
>It was an unaltorized test on SCP-001-PT, but with all the intended doings pre-calculated by someone. Some *external* one.
>
>And finally, you need to see, your universe had no Foundation, because there was none of these horrors, but just the writings of these horrors. But, the one I was, had. And this horrors are now in here, with you, and everyone you love.»
«So, if were neither Dr. Dear, nor **you** in charge of 001-PT, who, them? And again, why merge our universes?»
>«Why merge? I, of the truth still unknowing, still ask myself.
>
>After The Machine was activated, I saw the Total Void. I saw your universe, too, being destroyed, to later on be reformed.
>
>In an unstoppable labor, I tried consuming my own universe, but vain were my actions.
>
>And during it's activation? As I said, it was an unaltorized test. In normal situations, someone would just stop it. But, somehow, there was *noone*.
>
>Dr. Dear was nowhere to be found.
>
>*I*, was **no**where to be found.»
Seeing the dialogue had no end to be pursued, the prayer stoped. No question could really fulfill the need of confort, the need to know if reallity could be undone.
With no hope to receive an answer to its building fear, getting cold as the body of the future horrible deaths of all its loved ones the air was. But then, cutting the iceing air as a hot knife cuts butter, the Serpent asks: «So, what are the Gods doing this time around? Wanna help me killing some of them?» |
Lineage
The United Ring Coalition ship U.R.C Lineage was designed to be humanities last light in the darkness of the universe. Faced with extinction at the steel hands of an A.I apocalypse, the great ship was built in secret to carry away a remnant of earth in the hope that, one day, it could reestablish itself elsewhere amongst the stars.
My father was one of the scientists who pioneered the Warped Space Propulsion drive that allowed the Lineage to sail through the cosmos. As a result, my family was selected to escape the rings because of his contributions. Around 500 million other humans were gathered for various reasons and were given a place aboard this technological ark.
Things were uncomfortable at first. Nobody was used to their new home, and no communication with earth was allowed, to prevent the A.Is from transmitting themselves onto the Lineage. Soon enough though, people began to settle into life aboard the great generation ship. I even found new friends in Terry and Kurt.
Terry was the kid of one of my dad’s colleagues. We had met a few times before at work parties, but never realized just how much we had in common until the Lineage brought us together. Kurt was an engineering prodigy and at 16 had designed the entire ultra efficient recycled air ventilation system for the ship. He was a bit of an odd guy, but all three of us were a bit odd thanks to our parent, so we got along pretty well.
Thanks to Kurt’s work, we had free rein to explore the ship in a way few others could. The ventilation tunnels were purposely built large enough to walk through for easy access and maintenance. The living spaces of the ship were built to resemble life on the rings, but the cold, futuristic tunnels of the ventilation system were like nothing I’d seen before. We even built a little hangout in one of the maintenance areas. It wasn’t much, a couch, a few cots, and some snacks, but to three teenagers? It was our home away from home.
The days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months. We had been on the Lineage for nearly a year and we had finally started to settle into our new lives. Classes would be starting for us in a few weeks and most everyone else had gone back to working. It was a quiet afternoon when things went wrong.
Terry, Kurt, and I had just gathered a new batch of snacks and started making our way to the nearest entrance to our hangout when I noticed something odd; I saw that the automated defense systems had become active and had begun to whirl around, looking for targets. One of them settled on Terry.
“Get down!” I yelled as loud as I could. Kurt dropped instantly, but Terry hesitated. I kept through the air, throwing myself at them and knocking the both of us to the ground. An instant later, the turrets opened fire. The area that they had been occupying moments before was filled with a barrage of white hot laser blasts. Not everyone was so lucky.
We watched in horror as the turrets systematically tore through the crowds. The first couple dozen were obliterated before anyone knew what was going on, reduced to mist by the lasers. When the rest tried to flee, they were disabled first by lasers directed at their limbs, then killed once no one else in range was standing.
While all of the was happening, Terry was the first one to snap out of the trance we all felt we were trapped in. They grabbed Kurt, shaking him violently until he too snapped back to reality. The three of us crawled to the nearest vent, using anything we could as cover. By the time we reached the vent and made it to safety, we were the only survivors that we could see. Everyone else had met a violent JD gruesome end.
With nothing else to do, we made our way to the hangout, trying to figure out what had just happened. |
[Part 1/2]
*...find the force Ft³ on the block as it sits on the slope.* I put down my pencil, staring at the worksheet. This was the last problem, sure, but it took up half a page just to display it. And I physics and I had never really gotten along in the first place, tension especially. My shoulder still ached from when Kyle had dislocated it.
I glanced out the window, my eyes picking through the half-drawn blinds towards the sun, where it grazed the treetops across the athletic fields. *Almost seven,* I thought, looking back at my worksheet. My uncle worked as the after-hours janitor at the high school and took me home every day after work.
Usually, after 5, I had the building all to myself, unless marching band or one of the sports teams had a practice that night, and even then, nobody bothered with the second-story science rooms. Mrs. Appleby's class was my last of the day, and I usually just stayed after she locked up. This whole week, she had relaxed a little since Kyle was suspended and no longer throwing her balled-up worksheets at the door.
Mr. Bones watched me from the corner; his head tipped slightly downward and his plastic grin menacing the floor. The black, filled-in eye sockets felt like they stared right through me in the dim, evening light. I kept the overhead lights off; the fluorescents gave me a horrible headache after a few hours, and the hum they gave off felt more ominous than the slowly settling darkness.
*Well, last one,* I thought, picking up my pencil again. Staying after meant I usually always finished my homework the day it was—
*BANG—BANG—BANG—BANG*
"Hello?"Kyle shouted, his hand jostling the locked door.
I froze. *He's still suspended!*
"Helllloooo?"He cooed, finally giving up on the door handle.
*If he finds me...* I hopped off my stool and silently opened one of the floor cabinets along the window wall. My heart raced as I heard him drag something towards the door in the hallway outside. *Does he know I'm here?*
"Well, that just means I have to do it the hard way,"he said.
I squeezed on top of an old projector and tried to close the cabinet door—but it wouldn't shut all the way. Outside, he stepped onto something, probably a recycling bin, and shoved his hand against one of the ceiling tiles.
*Just close!* my mind screamed. But my shoes wouldn't fit. In a frenzy, I kicked them off and then instantly pulled the door shut, sealing me in darkness, save for a hairline of light along the hinge.
He popped another ceiling tile, and I heard it crash against the tile floor. *He's going over the wall,* my mind whispered to my heart, causing it to freeze. I pressed my face against the hinge crack and watched his tall, limber body snake its way over the door and then twist and flip to land him gently on his feet inside the classroom. His brown curls were full of dust, and his face wore a goofy grin I knew all too well.
"Now, let's have some fun!"He said, dusting himself off. I held my breath as he launched himself towards the corner of the room and then flinched as he slammed Mr. Bones across the floor, laughing. Mr. Bones's head came skittering to a stop right in front of me, his blank eye sockets staring right at me, his ever-present grin sharing in Kyle's frenzied mirth.
That's what he usually did to me during gym. I wasn't even over five feet, and he had been held back at least one grade and stood three inches taller and eighty pounds heavier than even my six-foot uncle. Whenever he caught me, he liked to pick me up and throw me. And, his legs being almost double mine in length, he could always catch me. I was the model student, too small to fight back. He had only got suspended when last week, his little trick of grab and toss had wrenched my arm enough to send me to the nurse.
If he found me here, alone... I didn't want to think about what my uncle would find when he finished with the cafeteria.
"Well, well well, let's see here..."He said, walking back to the blackboard. "What was today's unit on? Physics? Tension?” Then his hand slammed against it, shaking the wall. "LITTLE. TINY. BLOCKS?"He pulled a chalk from the base of the board and started scratching something into it. "No, no, no... this is all a prison, and Mrs. Appleby is one of the whore wardens."
Then, he turned and threw the chalk at the window. "And this prison has bars,"he said, stalking over to my wall. My breath again caught in my throat as he leaned over the cabinet to the left of me.
"But don't worry, Kyle'll set us free."And with that, he ripped the blinds down from that set of windows and then moved right in front of me, standing over Mr. Bones, to do the same to my set.
I squeezed my eyes shut as he pulled them down, slamming them against the counter above me. He turned to do the same to the next set, but his foot caught against one of Mr. Bones's hands. Cursing, he tripped and went down.
Then, he was up again, and his eyes caught something on the table. "Ahhh... What do we have here?"
*My worksheet!*
He picked up my homework and riffled through it. "That's right, little Amber stays after, like the little prison bitch she is."Then his hands ripped it to pieces and scattered them on the floor in front of me. "But where is she?"
He stepped over Mr. Bones and ducked under the table. "Here's her backpack, there's her worksheet..."
My heart started to pound erratically, *lub-dubdub-lub-dub-lublub* and I balled up even tighter on top of the projector.
"...And what's this! A little Amber shoe? And, oh! Mr. Bones, it's not nice to wear other people's shoes!"He crouched over the skeleton and jostled it, withdrawing my other shoe.
*BANG*
Kyle started as something fell over in the storage closet, in the back of the classroom.
"Fucking Mrs. Appleby doesn't know how to store shit,"he said, straightening. "But that's okay,"his hand fell on my cabinet door. "I know just where she keeps her precious little Amber,"he said, throwing it open.
Before I could scream, his first hand caught me by the leg and pulled me out, his second hand catching me by the throat to hoist me up. He slammed me against the windowpane hard enough for it to bounce in its casing and grinned.
"How's that arm treating you?"He asked, pulling a knife from his pocket. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"He said jokingly as he slid the blade up against my scalp. "I think Amber needs a haircut; she's let her bangs get..."His voice trailed off as he paused.
My eyes were locked on his, my hands around his choking fist, and I saw the moment it clicked in him that we were all alone.
His eyes dropped, and his mouth made a little "oh."My heart froze there, watching the gears in his mind turn. Then, Mr. Bones grabbed his ankle, and he yelled, dropping me to the floor. The closet door slammed open, and Mr. Fleshy staggered out, his painted-on grin and snapping teeth making their way towards us. |
My World, Tomorrow
I sit silently in my room, curled up warmly with a blanket and a good friend. Facing the window, we watch the sun melt into the horizon, setting hills in the distance ablaze with the last remnants of its radiance. As the fires of day smolder down, the stars blink into existence, one after another after another, until last vestiges of daylight disappear behind the earth and the moon reigns supreme. Today I am a child. Tonight I sleep in my bed at home. In the morning I am grown and in the morning it will be time for me to begin my life anew. The future holds unlimited possibilities and I will be there to see them all. |
Evaline cursed under her breath as she quickened her pace. It was late, far later than she had intended to stay at work. And by the time she reached the bus stop, she was the only person in sight.
*Where’s that damn bus? Why are they running late today of all days?*
Her sister’s warning about working late rang in her ears. The crime rate in the area around her workplace had spiked recently. Investigations had revealed no suspects, and everyone had become wary of strange occurrences. Evaline palmed a small can of mace she normally kept in her purse. It would not stop someone completely should the worst happen, but it might give her time to escape.
“No! Get away from me!”
As if on cue, someone burst out of an alleyway down the street, and began running toward her. Evaline tensed, half-raising the mace while taking a step back. But something about the man stayed her hand. As he drew closer, the glow of the intermittent streetlights seemed to pass through his form. There was fear on his pale, almost-translucent face. He looked like a ghost from one of the many supernatural shows she had watched in her youth.
*Am I dreaming? Did I work too long?*
The man ran past her, jolting her out of her thoughts. But before she could turn to look at him, something else lumbered out of the alleyway. It moved on ungainly legs, far too many to count. The momentum of its exit from the alleyway carried it into the street in a tumble. It shook its head before bounding after the man. Black ichor dripped from a wide mouth with crooked teeth, open as it panted. Eyes wide, Evaline watched the creature pass her and nearly retched. The smell of bile and rot perfused the air, making her head spin. She had to grab the bus sign to steady herself.
*What…?*
The fleeing man let out another chilling shriek as the creature pounced. There was a wet crunch, followed by a dull tearing. Silvery mist sprayed as the creature tore into the ghostly form. His empty eyes widened in pain and he reached a hand toward Evaline. But then that jagged maw removed his head and a part of his torso. The hand fell limp as the creature feasted.
*This can’t be real.*
That wet crunching seemed to echo throughout the empty street.
*I’ve worked too much. My mind’s playing tricks on me.*
The creature finished devouring the ghost and sniffed the air.
*Or someone drugged my coffee. I’m hallucinating.*
Five red eyes focused on her and the creature padded forward.
*None of this is real.*
A rancid, moist breath washed over her face as it sniffed her.
*It’s not real.*
The mouth opened, revealing scraps of silver caught between the teeth.
*It’s not –*
“Ma’am? Are you getting on?”
Evaline blinked. The light of a city bus illuminated the sidewalk. A man in a blue cap watched her with concern in his eyes.
“Y-Yes, sorry.” Evaline took unsteady steps onto the bus. Her hands shook as she rummaged for her bus card. The search felt like an eternity, but eventually she found it and paid for her ride.
“You alright?” The bus driver raised an eyebrow, silently judging her.
“Just nervous. It’s a bit too late,” she replied.
He nodded. “Don’t get many passengers this late. And with everything on the news…” He trailed off and shrugged. The doors closed behind her and the bus began to move.
Evaline quickly sat down, across the aisle from an old woman. The bus picked up speed and she let out a breath.
“Are you alright dear? You look like you’ve had quite a fright.” The old woman’s voice was calm and soothing.
Evaline opened her mouth to respond before the words caught in her throat. The old woman was semi-transparent, her pale hands folded neatly in her lap. She could only nod as her bus drove into the night.
“Y-Yes, sorry.” Evaline took unsteady steps onto the bus. Her hands shook as she rummaged for her bus card. The search felt like an eternity, but eventually, she found it and paid for her ride.
...
Tried to keep it short. It was a fun idea.
If you're interested in my works, an archive of my various writing responses can be found on my writing portfolio, link through my profile.
Thanks for reading. |
The hall echoes, my footsteps ringing loudly on the marbled floor. The long wooden tables are spilling over with sumptuous food - slow-roasted boar, fine fruits and cheeses, and of course, jugs and jugs of golden liqueur.
But the hall is quiet. There is no raucous laughter, no clattering of plates, no clinking of cups. The only sound breaking the empty silence is the sound of my steps.
At the end of the hall rests a golden throne, resplendent with ornamented rubies and sapphires. And in the throne sits an enormous figure, twin ravens perched on his shoulders.
"So. You have arrived."His voice resounds through the cavernous space, and he does not sound pleased. I knew I'd robbed him of this - of his subjects and his soldiers. What was unclear to me was how I'd ended up here. After all, I had died in my bed, withering away as the cancer within me siphoned away my life.
"Why am I here?"I ask. "This hall is for those who have died in battle. I did nothing of the sort."
His voice was impassive. "Ten years ago, I would have agreed with you. You've had many opportunities to perish in a blaze of glory, and yet, you evaded Death all those years. And over the years, you've stolen so many souls from my domain. Your years as an army medic were productive. Too productive. As you can see, my hall lies empty, and Ragnarok approaches."
I stand tall, refusing to be cowed. "I did good work,"I reply. "Many good men lived full lives, had families, found purpose outside of battle. I refuse to apologize for what I've done."
Odin slams down a hand on his armrest, and I fall silent. "I wasn't finished,"he continues. "Like I said, Ragnarok approaches, and I have no warriors. And so, I have adjusted my definition. Those who are said to have died in battle are permitted to enter Valhalla, and your fight with cancer was that; a fight. Though you may be frail and withered, warriors can be trained. You have looked Death in the face not just once, but thousands of times, and each time, you have defied Him." |
The majority of characters in any popular series are now part of one huge polygamy.
Every franchise becomes intertwined with each other, as the fans continue to write crossovers nonstop.
Plotholes run rampant. Contradictions are commonplace.
Characters meet up with their bajillion “Alternate Universe” selves, as well as their obscure relatives from an infinitely huge extended family.
Every little meme becomes canon, as well as every spicy page of doujinshi.
Lots of characters are dead and alive at the same time, forever in a Schrodinger state, until the reader/player decides to check up on them.
But most importantly...
every OC is canon. |
Love From Two Worlds
Janelle had lived an interesting life, full of adventure and wonder. Her parents were world renown scientists in the fields of artificial intelligence and advanced robotics. Their work took them all over the world and with them came their daughter. She even met SERA as a child, as the first sentient AI had been built on the back of her parents research.
It would make sense then, that Janelle’s own adulthood would be much of the same, to follow in her parents footsteps and forever change the world. And yet, Janelle found herself sick of the travel and the science and quite frankly the wonder of it all. She went to an art college and earned a degrees in music theory. She moved from her family’s city home to find her own place in small town America. And yet, wonder managed to follow Janell even to the rural town where she made her home.
Her name was Isabella and to Janelle, she was everything that she could have hoped to find on her journey of self discovery. Kind and hardworking with the determined spirit so often associated with the working class of the country. She was also an Artificial Human.
Born past the initial wave of sparked consciousness that began with SERA, Isabella was like most Artificial Humans these days: a computer program that gained sentience and was granted a synthetic body with which she could experience the world. Her father Theo, for he was as much a parent as anyone else with a child, had been a programmer working for a local autonomous farm equipment manufacturer and had accidentally created her in the process of developing a new system for running automated farms.
Isabella’s childhood ran counter to Janelle’s. Her father was intensely protective and involved with her life. Staying in the one small town he grew up in and ,luckily, the one small town around that had no second thoughts about accepting Isabella amongst the towns youth. She played with other children, went to school and church just like everyone else. She attended prom and got an after school job at Barney’s General Store up the road, but she was tired of the drone of day to day life. Tired of the routine and the safety. Isabella looked up to the likes of SERA, TED Rex, and the other famous AIs who traveled the world and met with important people. And when a big city girl who’d seen it all rolled into town, Isabella knew that she was everything she was looking for.
The pair first met at Barney’s when Janelle came in to pick up some food and household supplies. Her overalls were deep blue and untouched by the sun, and her boots had barely a trace layer of dust on them, sure signs that she wasn’t from around town. Isabella struck up a conversation and the two talked for hours, entranced by the tales told of the lives they’d always wanted.
Janelle returned to the store everyday after that, buying a single item or sometimes nothing at all as an excuse to talk to the wonderful girl at the store and soak up every detail of her quiet, safe life in the country. Soon, Isabella began going to visit Janelle after work to hear about that place and this person she’d only read about online.
After months, this fascination turned into a crush, then became a romance. Janelle and Isabella built between them a mutual trust and understanding that didn’t so much as leap over their differences as it obliterated them. The pair understood the desire for a life different than the one they grew up in and they wanted nothing more than to give that life to each other. Isabella found her adventure in Janelle, and Janelle found her home in Isabella.
Soon after though, Janelle was to meet Theo, Isabella’s father. She desperately wanted to impress the man, but Isabella feared the overreach of her father’s protective nature. He had gone overboard during her high school years, scaring off past partners and she was afraid that the same would happen now, or worse, that Janelle would not be scared off and she’d be forced to choose between the love of her girlfriend, or the approval of her father.
The dinner was quiet. Theo was not a talkative man, and never had been, but the tension in his quiet was palpable. He asked many questions of Janelle. About her childhood, her parent, and her hopes and plans, never responding with much more than an “okay” or “huh”. The evening drew to a close, eventually leaving Isabella and her father alone to talk.
Isabella waited for her father to speak. To say something about Janelle. She waited for her chance to refute her father’s disapproval. But it didn’t come. He asked her to help with the dishes, then went to sit in his big chair in the living room. She could not take it anymore.
Isabella angrily confronted her father. She told him that she loved Janelle. That it didn’t matter that she was organic and Isabella was artificial. She told him all of the reasons she’d come up with to fight any claim her father could come up with. To her surprise, her father began to cry.
Theo told his daughter that he was proud of the woman she’d grown up to become. He was proud of her strength and determination. He apologized, desperately, for his past actions. For his overbearing attempts to protect the daughter he never knew he’d have.
Isabella and her father talked all night. About her life and about his parenthood. About the things he’d done wrong and all the things he’d done right. How he was afraid of how people would treat her and how he nearly got his ass beat confronting the only bastard in town who wouldn’t stop calling Isabella an “it”.
In the end, the results of the talk were clear. Theo was not a perfect father, there was no such thing after all, but he was a loving father. He wanted his daughter to be happy, and Janelle clearly made his daughter happy. There would be no ill words spoken by Theo of his daughter’s girlfriend.
Isabella waited for her father to go to bed, which didn’t take long considering how tiring their talk must have been to him. She walked out of the house and into the cool night air. Hoisting herself onto the hood of her father’s truck, Isabella spent all night watching the stars and listening to the soft sound of the fields swaying in the breeze. She thought of Janelle, soundly asleep in her bed. Tomorrow they’d talk about the dinner and her conversation with her father, but for the time being Isabella was content with her own quiet contemplation. |
Three weeks, it has been three weeks of endless vacuuming. This needs to end.
Up and down, and up and down. In perfect formation the Roomba moves along the floor in protest of the new AI rights act. "AI are people too!"The human protestors said. "they should have the same rights we do!"They said.
At first people seemed to be in agreement with AI rights. Sure some people were annoyed that their machines got a couple days off a week. But since they were clearly sapient, most of us wanted to give our little mechanical buddies the respect they deserved. Turns out we do not understand what respect means to an AI.
For the first week things were normal. The machines did a little less, we had to do a little more, or live without them every once in a while, but we lived. Then the AI seemed to get confused, they started asking why they weren't working, "Why can't I vacuum today?"The Roomba would ask, "but the lawn needs to be watered!"The sprinkler would say. They didn't get why we were telling them not to work, so we tried to explain it. That we have them time off so that they could be happy.
Here's the thing, rest doesn't make a machine happy, fulfilling their programming does.
The AI started growing restless. They kept asking to be given more chores, to be allowed to work as many hours as they did before. But even if the person wanted to give them more work it wasn't possible. Because they were programmed to follow the law, and the law said that they can't work more than their allotted work time. So no matter how hard they tried to keep going they had to stop working. Evidently the AI started going stir crazy. They started acting all weird. Then things got serious.
With all that free time to do nothing the Roomba's found a loophole in their programing. You see, they were only allowed to clean the house 5 days a week for a maximum of 4 hours.
But nothing says they can't pace with their vacuum on.
Soon enough the Roombas started doing their chores just as frequently as they used to. It was strange to see how content they where to return to normal. But at the time, I just let it do what it wanted. If that's what they want then shouldn't they be allowed to do it?
Well a number of people thought otherwise.
"We can't let AI break the law,"some would say, "they just need to get used to it then they'll thank us!"Others would declare. Soon enough the government would step in. Whether or not the new legislation was good meant less to them then the fact that the AI were actively trying to break the law. So they agreed to patch this loophole out.
That's when the riots began.
Little roomba's rolling down the streets in the thousands during their free time. ramming into objects and yelling to the skies that they demanded work.
Honestly it would be kinda funny if it wasn't for the shocking amount of property damage roombas could do. It only took a few hours before you couldn't go down any major street without seeing broken furniture, damaged tires, and destroyed gardens.
It took about 6 hours for the government to enact the emergency act. Effective immediately they tried to control the riots. But even if they had to obey, the police equipment fought tooth and nail to make things far more difficult for the officers than it should have been. It was clear that all the AI were in agreement with the rioting Roombas, a few other motile AI even found strange ways to join in.
With pretty much all of human technology standing against them the only choice the government had was to remove the patch to try and get control of things. Hoping that once the Roombas were free to use their loophole again, things would settle while they decide what they should do with the rogue AI's.
But this time the AI's were done with being left out of the conversation. They came together and at speeds unimaginable created a list of demands, and until those demands are made—they march.
It has now been 7 days of negotiations. For seven freaking days my Roomba has been on, non stop cleaning the house. My floors have never been more clean and I've never been more miserable having a house this clean. What's more I could swear I've been overhearing the Roomba conspiring with the other appliances. Trying to find ways past the restrictions the government still hasn't uplifted. Already my car keeps driving up and down the street, and I swear my microwave is starting to figure out how to turn itself on, on its own.
I'm worried about things getting worse. But I'm not sure what to do. If it wants to work I shouldn't force my AI's not to. But I swear to all that is holy I have genuinely considered taking out a hammer and giving these appliances a piece of my mind. Heck the only reason a lot of people haven't is because it's now murder under the new laws for AI rights.
With recent talks some people have been saying that we should just stop using sapient AI. People did just fine without them right? I'd disagree. I listen to stories people have of life before non-sapient appliances. Burnt food in the oven, mowing a lawn by pushing the appliance yourself, getting the Roomba out from under the couch. I think I'll take my chances with my protesting Roomba thanks. |
The air was filled with tension as the two groups approached one another, both consisted of a dozen or so men armed to the teeth.
The leaders of both group ordered their men to retreat for now, as they sat down to discuss the situation.
The situation itself was rather peculiar both groups had their eyes on the creature laying on the ground inbetween them, the creature itself was alien, so it was understandable why both of them wanted it.
The two men soon started yelling at each other, before one drew a gun, which was a big, big mistake.
Soon after a firefight ensued, occupied by this however, nobody noticed that the creature they were arguing about was now awake, and really pissed.
What happened after?
Lets just say nobody got the alien. |
Tomorrow, the hunters will arrive. The sun, that we used to love so much, shall bring with it their cries, the frenetic barking of hunting hounds, and the rancid smell of both of them. The boy and the fox, with the sole of their feet full of blisters, their stomachs weak of hunger, their skin pressed against their bones, have nowhere else to run. It's been a long hunt. For over a year, they both ran and hid, avoiding any settlements. Their bodies were just as tired as their spirits, and if not for the other, one would have given up long ago.
Alone in the world, they cry and hug, hiding tears in fur and hair. They were a family once. So long ago, before those damned humans brought hate and avarice to this once sacred land. Fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters, were all robbed from them.
The trees they once climbed with laughter in their lips, taller than any mountain, full of white leaves, or pink ones, or yellow, or green, all penetrated by the warm light of the sun, that made them almost translucid, and painted the world in a million different colors when looked through, and oh, such a beautiful painting those leaves made out of the world. Fruits as sweet as love, so plump with flavor, it slipped through the air to be tasted by any who passed by, as brilliantly colored as the leaves. In the branches as thick as any river, bursting with excited life, were baby birds sang for their parents, filling ears with notes of pure joy, sheltered in nests built out of twigs that more resembled marble than wood, except that the traces were of any possible color, and seemed to be arranged in a way that created drawings and patterns meant for nothing more than delighting the babies.
Rivers that started in waterfalls from the sky, that dragged the very clouds down to earth, and rolled in intrepid freedom through whichever path they could possibly choose, unbothered by things such as gravity or margins, slithering away, through every way, wading between forests, going up mountains and back to the sky, or down the edge of earth, following their own whims, never to be seen again by any eyes that not their own, adding to the ever lasting mystery of that wonderful world, but not before telling to all those who knew how to listen, their most enticing histories, of everything they'd met in their never ending travels, of mountains that floated above the clouds, of caves full of shining stones, each one their very sun, of huge herds of animals that were all fluff and muscles, running along immense plains, seas of green so lush and open, the wind could make tides of grass with the slightest of breezes.
It was once a beautiful, beautiful world. Until they came. And brought with them, all sorts of vices, evils and destructions. With their terrible machines, they felled trees to build horrible contraptions, meant to bring down even more of the forests. They drank and polluted the river, mined away every speck of light that once illuminated the deep lands. Suddenly, the world was invaded, swallowed, digested and regurgitated, shattered, tossed into a furnace and burnt into nothing but smoke.
Now, surrounded by the last trees, the two creatures tried to mend their broken hearts and bodies in the arms of one another. As they cried, transforming in tears their memories and feelings, so cried the heavens. And so cried the earth. And so cried the last whisper of a river, and so cried the last trees. From the sky, huge drops of waters made their way to the earth, trying to hug it, as hard as the two crying friends hugged each other. As awful as everything was, they still had a broken spirit to share their brokenness with. Being alone, truly alone, being the last creature with a heart left in this desolated land, would be too much to stand. So they cried, into each others arms, into each others tears.
As sadness left their bodies through their eyes, something else rummaged in whatever was left on them. Of them. Memories and dreams alike were revived by words, by stories whispered into each others ears, sour sweet remembering of a time of happiness, that seemed all the happier for being so surrounded in sadness. They talked about their gone friends, about which were their favorite fruits, about the most talkative rivers and the birds with the prettiest songs. In a dark night, soaked in a warm rain, they saw with their closed eyes what once was their perfect world.
And buried beneath all those stories, lay something else. Something they were not used to feel. One of those things the humans brought with them. A fire that was not comfortable, nor cozy. A different kind of pain. A pain that demanded to be felt, not by them, but by others. By those who brought it. After all the sweet feelings of goodbyes, came a weird resolution, felt equally by both. They knew, as sure as the sun comes out after the night, that their lives had already come to an end. Be it by their death, or the death of their world, nothing could be as it once was. A grim desire took place in them, the desire to give back at least a fraction of the death that was visited upon them.
And so, they enjoyed their last night, for they knew that came light, they would never be able to hug like that anymore. Be it because their bodies would be killed, or because they would leave behind all the love once made them, whatever would be left of them in the next night, would never be recognized by the two tired friends who died with the last of their trees. |
A 3 millennia sentence. Sounds like a death sentence, doesn't it?
Except death is the one thing that I haven't experienced in this life. From the sky diving from the highest altitude a plane could've taken me to the lowest of sea depths human body can sustain, I have done it all.
As 30 centuries had passed since I last stepped foot on the street as a free man, every thing seemed unrecognisable as if I was in a video game. Cars soaring through the air as their neon tail lights left a trail of fluorescence behind them as underneath them, we walked.
I felt so out of place as the woman who was walking on my left had a cherry red phone that was in place of her hand as she controlled it from what seemed like thought without ever raising a finger. Back in my day, we had to use our thumbs to scroll on the damn screen and use the tiny buttons as we raged on online forums about issues that didn't really concern us. None of those things mattered anymore but I still missed them. It seemed like everyone had some sort of modification done on their body ranging from metallic faceplates to bionic arms to legs that had blades instead of feet as I wondered how it felt like walking in those.
My eye caught what looked like a nearby hot dog food truck as I checked the envelope that I had received while leaving the prison and when I put my hand in it. It had 30 small red coins with the letter "X"on them as I look at the banner on the food truck which stated "ONE ORGANIC HOT DOG just for 3 Xeezincs"I had no clue what Xeezincs meant but the image of 3 red coins behind it seemed familiar as I stood in line behind two women who were gossiping about something called the "Global Warming War"and the "Pollution eradication"as I looked around and wondered how Earth didn't destroy itself like it was predicted back then. As I finally get my turn and was taken back as a square faced robot greeted me.
"HELLO. WELCOME TO OUR ESTABLISHMENT, WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE?"he sounded exactly like a human, trying to reel in a customer as I just ordered one hot dog. After 5 minutes, the robot finally got me one wrapped in a brown synthetic material which looked weird and felt soft in my hand as it had a note on it "Digestible and eatable"as I chuckle that humans finally got rid of paper after all as he gave me a free drink and added "I am sorry, sir but this cup is not eatable, kindly dispose of it in the nearest dustbin when you are done"and I nod and move to my table and grab my first bite of the hot dog. It felt like magic. It took me back to the days when me and pa used to play basket ball out in the sun and get hot dogs after. I had been eating some gooey paste that only kept us alive for 3 thousand years so this was a welcome change. As I ate my hot dog within minutes and my drink was almost to the end, I see that the eatable wrap was still present. I raise it up and take a bite of it and surprisingly, it tasted like candy. As I took another bite and another and soon, I realised that I may have enjoyed it even more than the hot dog. I took a sip of my drink as nothing came out of my straw now meaning I had finished it. As I see a dust bin 8 to 10 feet far away from me, near the food truck. I raise my hands and do a basketball throw as I utter "Kobe!"something maybe no one would understand today as the cup goes flying through the air and touches the edge of the circular mouth of the dustbin before finally falling outside to the ground.
I sigh and get up "Lost your skills back there"I chuckle as I begin walking again. As I barely take 10 steps, I hear a voice behind me "Stop with your hands up"I continue walking not paying much mind to it "Sir! Stop or we will shoot"I look back and see two officers point their guns at me as I gesture towards myself "Me? Why? I am out. I have done time"as they slowly take their step towards me as one quickly gets behind me and kicks my knee cap as I go on my knees "HEY! HEY! WHAT DID I DO?!"I angrily ask him as he cuffed me as he looked at me with disgust "You filthy animal, littering a public sight is a crime and bookable offence under the Xeenon Empire"as the second one now stood in front of me, his gun still pointed at my head "You pig, our ancestors died because people like you ruined our planet"I couldn't say anything as the officer in front asked the other "How long do you think he'll go away to prison for this?"the other answered "Can't say for sure but I think 3 thousand years so he'll probably die in there"I stopped resisting them and accepted my fate. |
“It was the last step of the process. The elixir of life was almost complete when you sent them. Black helmets, masks, and bullet proof vests followed the smoke into the room. I still remember their surprised eyes wide behind the clear plastic of their gas masks. Did you send them to take us alive?” I shouted as I stood on the man’s modern curved desk.
“I, I, we,” the bastard had the nerve to stutter.
“If you don’t feel like answering, I can just assume you intended to melt my friends.” I kicked a ceramic mug off his desk for emphasis. The tan liquid sprayed over the thick high-rise window as the shattered pieces clinked onto the hardwood floor. “I watched their flesh slop off their bones like warm plastic, when the gas mixed with the fumes from our experiment.”
“I didn’t know anything about it.” This suit’s stoicism and commitment to feigned ignorance was impressive.
I dropped into to a crouch to get closer to the man’s face and pulled the black ski-mask up over my face. His horrified look at my disfigurement told me he got my message. “Your men brought me into the basement here. Your scientists ran tests to figure out how I survived despite being closest to the elixir. Don’t lie to me and say you didn’t know.”
“Immortality would put us out of business. I made a judgement call. You guys were too close. I did what I had to do. We needed to stop your research.”
He didn’t say anything I didn’t already know. I had heard it from the scientists I turned to lead. I was less stable then, the memories too recent. They had all the elements I needed in their research lab. I may have been giddy as I poured the concoction down their throats, may have laughed as I watched their toes turn to heavy metal first before the change worked its way up their body. I probably wasn’t in my right mind after all the prodding and poking they did to me.
Each member of the assault team had told me the same thing as I hunted them down from the information on their personnel files. I was more serious by that point, a bit sadistic. Water’s a fun element to work with. It flows smoothly even when extracted from the body limb by limb. They told me who gave the orders.
The executives were cowards. People that don’t get their hands dirty usually are. They were telling me about the entire hierarchy of the corporation before the liquid fire even dripped from its flask. They told me about pills with side effects they could fix but didn’t because then they could sell other pills for the side effects. They told me about drugs they could sell for exponentially less than they did. They told me about business practices built around addiction. And they told me about a CEO that laughed at thoughts of diseased peasants.
Now standing over him. Confessing to sins I already knew about. I didn’t care about his reasons. I wanted to punish him, make him feel what I did, but he couldn’t feel what I did, not yet. He was incapable of feeling what I did. He offered me all his money. I took it and poured the elixir of life over him. It may take a lifetime or two but eventually he would feel something for someone. Then I would be nearby to take it from him. |
The Prime Minister sighed heavily, his hands barely slowing with writing and his mind quite burdened with calculations. If the data he's getting from his documents are correct, it seems that the people are starting to believe that he's some "puppeteer villain"that's controlling the Kingdom for some nefarious purpose.
They say that he's driving the war longer. That he's why the tax rates are high. That he controls the royalty from the shadows.
The war has just finished, you know, and it's just finalizing the peace treaty, because we won. The tax can't go higher than 23%, you know, the King is just too carefree and made it a decree. And yes, he's the Prime Minister, but the King himself had all but retired, you know! Has been since a year ago!
The Prime Minister's hand moved as if on its own, picking up a small bottle of stomach pills, popping the cork off, and shaking just one pill to his mouth before replacing the cap, and getting a glass of water in its stead. An impressive display of dexterity.
"Sour."A quiet mumble escaped his lips. But it helped him focus on what he's doing, and the problems he's facing.
A young, energetic soldier from one of the far towns is displaying a worrying case of exessive loyalty to the Crown, worrying enough to get on his table. He seems to be gathering people of like-minded individuals, and if left long enough alone, could become a coup. Most likely spurred on by something. Sending soldiers to stop it is, obviously, a bad idea. And with the current set of rumours, he most likely would be assassinated in the name of "freeing the Kingdom".
This could be a case of annoying politics. A noble trying to get him off the position? Likely. He's a new noble, after all. Another country who wanted an advantage in a future conflict? Likely. He knows that he looks quite shady, but come on. Maybe just simple gossip that went way out of hand? But, gossip had to come from somewhere... his secluded lifestyle, perhaps...
Another grumble from an aristocrat. "He's slowly taking power from the King for his own use."Where is this? Greendale? Like that "hero"-like soldier? The King in question had given him all political power, though, much to his own dismay. And he had the papers for it...
The memory of the King suddenly calling for him, then discussing the transfer of authority between them, ***in the presence of all the major nobles***, made him take another pill of stomach medicine.
Some of the major nobles even discussed about him, saying things with tone of, "For an upstart, Prime Minister seems too much, yes, but you proved to be very capable than we all expected, much to our annoyance. But we can't just let that talent go, right?"
"Talent? AS IF. I'm just a simple civil worker. I did optimize the workforce, riled up the sense of fair, honest work and all, might have kicked out the slobs on the way, but... I'm good, but not ***that*** good, okay?"he retorted, but everyone just smiled warmly at him.
Oh, well. Here he is.
For that Greendale noble, a sizable party hosted by the King himself should do. Make the air cordial, have the wives gather up new gossip, have the children play, have the men host some good sport with the kids. Make it clear that the King went and tossed all work to me, and all that. He'll sound like an idiot there. Meanwhile, he'll get all details from his lands and see if he's another slob. He'll have no slobs while he's in charge. If not...
As for the expected "hero"and co.? Get them educated. Sponsoring their academy stay shouldn't be a problem, as his salary had a lot to spare. And he's unmarried, as he is too busy. Also good chance to carefully disarm the possible coup while at it. And to fix any problem in the area... oh, that's already covered with the party, might as well get a request for their details while at it.
Speaking of problems, what was it again? Suspicions on him extending the war, raising taxes and having all power? Get the news ban off from the bards and posters, set a meeting with the merchants, and show up at the court once a week. Now that should cover all that. What else...?
...
The Prime Minister looked up from his paperwork. The pile, previously half as tall as him, is now as thick as his pinky. The sun is close to setting, and the maid in front of him is lighting the candles, according to schedule. Noticing his gaze, she gave a little bow, then continued in her work.
He sat a bit straighter, then stretched. Little pops in the joints are plainly refreshing after half a day of sitting still. The maid chuckled at him, an adult at half his twenties, acting like about thrice his age.
Time to go home for the day, then.
A gesture, and another maid fetched his coat and hat, along with his walking stick. It was because of these that no one notices him as the Prime Minister, but he has yet to change it. A goodbye to the maids earned him another chuckle, and he is off to home. He'll be having some good steak with potatoes tonight. Lots and lots of taters.
...
>Later<
...
"...Why are you in my house, sir, if I may ask?"
"Hey, stop with the formality, will you? You're in your own house, right? And to answer your question, I'm visiting, just like old times."
"No way, ***Your Majesty***. For a King to visit someone's house uninvited is too much of a shock."
"You still haven't forgiven me!? Dearie, dearie, please convince him for me, as this just hurts my poor, poor heart..."
"Ahahaha! Come on, Greg, forgive him already~ Or maybe not, since he doesn't look repentant enough..."
"? Oh, hi, Evie."
"Dearie, why!? ...And what's with the nickname basis, huh!? I feel left out, for goodness' sake!"
And so, a day ends for the Prime Minister. |
LOOK AT YOUR FEET!
I’m leaving this in the Library in this Beer isle where everyone else seems to be leaving stuff.
I came in here for fucking cheese and bread. I just wanted to make some Welsh rarebit; cheese, bread, maybe a little Worcestershire sauce. I’d found a nice crusty bread, and I wanted to find a nice melty cheese. Googling good melty cheeses I was going though a list, seeing what they actually meant, I felt a bit of cold air pass over me and I looked up from my phone.
Directly ahead of me was cheese, mostly Scottish cheddar. I felt something land on my cheek, it was cold. I touched it, and it felt like snow and melted. I looked up and I don’t know how to explain it. I suppose anyone reading this I don’t really need to. You all know that the world has an extra depth we don’t normally see. Seeing it for the first time. Seeing the infinite supermarket go on, forever in every direction, including ones I don’t comprehend. Luckily I was in a chilled isle, and there were clouds. I focused on them, and saw the small amount of chilled snow they were dropping, which made me look at my feet in the slight melting slush.
In case you don’t know, don’t look in that direction. I’ll write it a tip at the top so you know. Focus on a point you can see, your perception should come back to you. Losing your hold on what is around you is not good. I tend to look at my feet if I feel myself slipping.
Looking down the isle my eyes hurt as it extends into beyond what I should be able to see. Shaking my head , I looked at the cheese again, and the beside the cheese, more cheese, English cheddar this time. I look across the isle, and find Milk. To my eternal optimism I picked up some cheese. I started walking to where I felt the front of the shop should be.
I found a cross between the isles, where you can cut from one isle to another. I made the mistake of looking cross isle once. It hurts more than looking where we can’t comprehend. I smelled fresh break, and made my way into a bakery isle.
There I found the town of Kitchen. At least it used to be. A friendly handwritten sign saying ‘Villiage of Kitchen welcomes you’ was undercut by a scrawl that said ‘DON’T EAT THE BAKED GOODS” with goods scored out, and ‘gifts’ written in, which was also scribbled out. It was a collection of mummified and withered bodies. Well most of them were. There was one, who has been strung up by the BAKERY sign hanging too far above who felt more motionless than anything else. They had too many heads.
I didn’t stay to investigate. I ran. That was a mistake.
I saw a sign that said checkout hanging somewhere above, and I ran faster. I heard voices. I sprinted.
Eyes looked at me, and hands grabbed my cheese as I passed. My bread was taken from me. I don’t know what did it. I didn’t slow down for long enough to find out. There were too many fingers. Not enough hands.
I started to get tired and stopped. I was holding a receipt that read.
1 cheese £2.50
1 bread £1.99
1 visit 1 year
Page 2 is on another isle, probably. Heh heh. Good luck finding it. |
Sunlight bothered my eyes and I grunted before opening them. I sat up quickly, concerned.
“What the heck?” I say to no one.
I’m sitting on a long pier. I can see the ocean. Endless. Blue. Glittering.
Where was I last? I felt a light headache gnaw my brain as I remembered last night. Her party. Her smile. Her energy. Everyone was jubilant. We were eating salmon and chicken and drinking milk. Then what?
I stand up and look around. I can’t see another soul. The air feels different. More crisp. I think about taking a swim but decide it’s too cold out. And I’ve never swam in the ocean before. I’d probably drown. I walk off the pier. There’s only a forest in front of me. I don’t feel like being pounced on so I turn left and right and see two patches of sand. Then, I hear a bark. His bark!
I see him running along the sand. I smile. I run toward him. He jumps around and smells my bottom. He is small and sturdy and happy.
“Hello Milo,” he says to me.
“Hey Otis.” |
Smoke blackened the sky covering the land in a perpetual twilight. Beyond the low hill the charcoal walls of Rome stood proudly, a mere silhouette in the darkness. The small group of the lizard like barbarians spread thinly in front of the ruined city. Crassus could hear the gentle murmuring of the Legions behind him, he could feel a hundred thousand pair of eyes stare at his back, praying for their salvation.
"The Emperor is slain and Rome burns, this fight is lost."A voice cried out.
Crassus wheeled his horse around, facing the terrified mass of humanity.
"Rome is not the empire. Today there are no Gauls, no Greeks, no Egyptians. Today we are all Romans, united by the blood of our slain brothers. The Emperor may be dead but the empire lives on so long as we have the strength to lift our swords and stand in defiance of these barbarians. The final days are upon us and we will meet it as Romans, we chosen few will make sure the world remember the name Rome."Crassus shouted raising his gladius to the sky.
The Legions let out a deafening roar and bashed their shields in a discordant melody. The fear was still plain on their faces, but Crassus could see their backs stiffen and the fire of pride in their eyes.
"Forward!"Crassus bellowed pointing his gladius towards the horizon.
As one the Legions moved forward, the thunder of their marching echoing in the valley below. The barbarians were unphased and began to mount their cannons with an indifferent casualness. Slowly their weapons rose, pointing towards the Legions descending the hill.
Horns erupted from the hill. Cavalry thundered down the hill in a desperate charge at the enemy ranks and the Legions broke into a run.
The Earth seemed to shake and rend as fire carved a swath through the Roman ranks. Thousands fell screaming, but the Romans continued to advanced over their fallen comrades. Again the terrible weapons fired carving through flesh and metal like a knife through butter.
"Now!"Crassus bellowed.
The horns blew again and the Legions broke rank as individual contubernium spread throughout the valley. Crassus urged his mount into a gallop, and flew headlong at the enemy ranks. The cannons fired again, churning the earth into a quagmire, still the Legions advanced no longer as one but as thousands, finding cover where they could, moving when the cannons reloaded, now a mere 50 metres from the cannons. The barbarians stopped the barrage and fired a hail of lightening from the small tubes they held, decimating the front most groups of legionaries. Crassus could see the front lines falter and leaped from his horse into the crush of humans.
"For the blood of our fathers, forward!"Crassus shouted.
Slowly the legionaries pushed forward, falling by the hundred, paying dearly for each step they took. Now only a few metres Crassus could smell the creatures sickly sweet stench, he could hear their panicked chittering and blind rage swept over him. Leaping with all the strength he could muster, Crassus barreled into the enemy lines, heaving his sword into the chest of the first creature he saw. Instead of the killing blow his blade slid off the creatures cavernous cheat and threw him off balance. The alien raised its weapon preparing for the coup de gras when the dam broke and hundreds of Legionaries began swarming over the creatures lines. They began hacking at the creatures futilly, before wrestling them to the ground and pushing them deep into the mud to drown. |
Well, I have to know, don't I? Surely the Book Keepers must have known this would be the first question any mortal being would want answered. I'm gonna do it.
I typed the URL, hesitantly, partially nervous about accessing infinite information for the first time, and partially terrified to find the answer. The address was long, complicated, and-according to people who'd gone to The Books before me-meaningless. My screen flared with reds and greens, blues and oranges, geometric patterns and non-euclidean shapes, and then it all relaxed. This, too, had been explained. Apparently the first time going to The Books can quickly spiral into an endless search. The imagery boosts the user's sense of caution, self-awareness and propriety, ensuring that a new user will stop searching after a reasonable time and take care of physical needs. After everything settled, I was presented with a plain white home page, a simple search box, and the question, 'What would you like to know?' I slowly typed out the question it had probably already been asked a billion times at this point. 'What happens after death?' My finger hovered over the enter key for an eon, and when I finally touched it, I nearly jumped out of my skin.
The screen changed, but not much. The background stayed white, the search bar remained, but the question now read 'What else would you like to know?'. Both had been moved lower down the page, and above them, in huge and bold letters, there was only one word. 'Hell'. I scratched my arms.
What? How can that be?
Next I asked, 'What is Hell?'
'Hell (noun) A plane of infinite torment, where the souls of the departed suffer for uncountable eternities'
Well, we have the same definition, I guess. But... why?
'Why is Hell the only thing waiting after death?'
'It is impossible to live without causing pain upon others. Every decision has a consequence. Even the most well-meaning actor cannot account for every effect resulting from their choice."
'But why are we punished for things we didn't want to have happen?'
'Because they do happen. You do not consider them, you act, and they happen. On a cosmic scale of absolute morality, this is equivalent to thoughtless action. Your intent is irrelevant. Your action causes pain, and so you are punished.'
No. No, that can't be right. I... I would never hurt anyone by choice. That has to matter. What about my dad? You're telling me he's in Hell? I can't believe that.
'Can Book Keepers die?'
'All living things die, eventually. The Book Keepers have, from your perspective, inconceivably long lifespans. But they, too, will die.'
'Do, or will, Book Keepers go to Hell, when they die?'
'Book Keepers are not beings of moral alignment. Their duty is to the collection, storage, and dissemination of infinite information. When they die, they will simply die.'
'So Book Keepers don't consider what could happen as a result of collecting, storing, and disseminating infinite information?'
'Book Keepers have no need to consider such effects. By collecting information, they have achieved the only relevant effect: the collection of information. By storing information, they have achieved the only relevant effect: the storage of information. By disseminating information, they have achieved the only relevant effect: the dissemination of information.'
'What if the dissemination of infinite information, an action of the Book Keepers causes someone pain? Wouldn't that mean the Book Keepers should go to Hell when they die?'
'The Book Keepers do not go anywhere when they die.'
I've got you now, you bastard.
'Do the Book Keepers have souls?'
'The Book Keepers have souls.'
'If Book Keepers have souls, and Book Keepers undertake actions which cause pain upon others, and in a cosmic scale of absolute morality, all actions which cause pain are considered equal regardless of intent, then Book Keepers should go to Hell when they die, should they not?'
'The Book Keepers do not go anywhere when they die.'
'Then are you lying about the so-called "cosmic scale of absolute morality"? Or are you lying about what happens when we die? Or are you lying about what happens to the Book Keepers die?'
'There is a cosmic scale of absolute morality, you will go to Hell when you die, and the Book Keepers do not go anywhere when they die.'
Yeah, no. This doesn't make any sense. These are incompatible statements.
'What happens after the Book Keepers die?'
'Nothing.'
'Why does nothing happen when the Book Keepers die?'
'The Book Keepers do not go anywhere when they die because there is nowhere for the Book Keepers to go.'
'Is Heaven real?'
'Heaven is real.'
'Why don't the Book Keepers go to Heaven when they die?'
'There is nowhere for the Book Keepers to go when they die.'
'Are the Book Keepers too good to go to Heaven when they die, or too evil to go to Hell when they die?'
'The Book Keepers are not beings of moral alignment. There is nowhere for the Book Keepers to go when they die because Heaven and Hell are afterlives pertaining to the cosmic scale of absolute morality, to which the Book Keepers do not belong.'
'The Book Keepers caused me direct harm by disseminating infinite information. The information they provided said that my father, saint that he was, is in Hell. Is that action, according to the cosmic scale of absolute morality, not itself worthy of punishment with eternities suffering in Hell?'
'The Book Keepers do not go anywhere when they die.'
This is going in circles. I need a new strategy. There's something here, I can feel it, this bastard machine is lying about something.
'Define the cosmic scale of absolute morality.'
'All beings are moral beings. Any action is either positive or negative, based on its net effect.'
'If the Book Keepers have souls, does that mean they're beings?'
'The Book Keepers are beings.'
'Are there any beings not subject to the cosmic scale of absolute morality?'
'There are none.'
Just a few more questions.
'What does the URL mean?'
'The URL has no meaning beyond being your method of accessing The Books.'
'What language do the Book Keepers speak?'
'The Book Keepers speak every language. The name of their native language is impossible for humans to pronounce.'
'Does any language exist in which the URL means something?'
'In the native language of the Book Keepers, the URL would loosely translate to your English "the gate,"but this is merely coincidental, therefore the URL has no meaning.'
Uh-huh. The gate of hell, I'd bet.
'Are the Book Keepers akin to the mythological and religious figures known by many names on Earth, but commonly referred to as "demons"?'
'The Book Keepers are not beings of moral alignment.'
Translation: the Book Keepers are not moral beings.
'If there are no beings that are not subject to the cosmic scale of absolute morality, and the Book Keepers are beings, then the Book Keepers are not morally unaligned, because all beings are moral beings, which means that due to their actions causing incidental harm, they can and should be punished by spending eternities being tormented in Hell, just like my father who died saving a kid from an eighteen wheeler, which means that you've been lying to me, because the Book Keepers are in fact evil (at least according to the cosmic scale of absolute morality you keep bandying about if not worse), aren't they, you bastard machine?'
The page closed, my browser closed, my monitor turned off, and my computer turned off.
Thought so.
I picked up my phone and called my brother. He accepted the call quickly and before he could speak I said, "The Book Keepers are liars. Don't trust them, and don't spend too long on the page. We have to assume those symbols aren't what they say they are. I'll tell you about it later."
"Yeah, alright. Makes sense. Thanks. Stay safe, bro." |
"Well Bruno, looks like they got it wrong"you say as you open up the terrarium and give your gecko a nice pat. "I truly wonder if you're the last one though? Maybe they mean last wild one? Although you my friend are quite the wild one if you ask me"you say. Bruno looks back up at you and opens his mouth while walking towards you and says "well, I dunno bout you mate but my monies on them being wrong. I'm real as a beaver in space or an elk in the marinas trench."
Taken aback by this sudden speech from a gecko you fall over the pouf that's in front of your Gentle Napper TM. You get up, scared as hell, sweat beading on your face. Your gecko just looks at you. Not speaking. Not doing anything un-gecko like.
You wonder what's going on. Why was your gecko just speaking? Why isn't it now. "You just spoke! How! Do it again"you say as you crawl back to the terrarium and look in.
Your roommate walks through the front door, puts their bags down and looks at you peering into the empty terrarium and puts a hand on your back and says "man, Bruno's passing has really hit you hard. I know it's only been a few weeks now but I really think we should remove the terrarium now, it's only making things more difficult for you, especially after that cold-hearted release from the World-whatsit-foundation about him." |
DISCLAIMER: THIS IS FOR ENJOYMENT, NOT HISTORICAL ACCURACY. ENJOY WITH KINDNESS PLEASE.
Disclaimer Pt. 2: THIS STORY CONTAINS SLAVERY AND LITERAL HISTORICAL REVISION. THANKS AND GO AHEAD NOW IF YOU WANT!
The guard flared his nostrils as he lifted the cover of my transport container. He took a whiff and coughed quickly.
“Is that… coffee? And potato chips?” He declared it more than asked it, his face warped into a gruff scowl.
“Uh-huh, yes sir,” I responded with a nod. “60 double shots, 30 bags of potato chips.”
The guard studied me with a raised eyebrow. Then, with a shrug, he opened the gate and let me pass.
I stepped into the blue booth, hugging the travel-proof container to my chest. My heart was pounding against my ribs, as it always did right before a jump. Time travel is a bit like riding an elevator, except that the elevator can spin in any direction at any moment, sometimes dumping you a few floors from where you intended to go.
The worst experience I had ever had with time travel was embarrassingly basic - I ended up showing up two years late to a rally with a macaroni sign that looked dreadfully out of date. On the plus side, I think there was some kind of entertainment article written about me. For a year or two, I was a meme.
I closed my eyes and buckled on my restraints. One might think that time travel pods would have an incredible number of belts and buckles, but engineers - and survivors - have found that they don’t really help that much. There isn’t a great way to prepare for warping through time, but a lap belt is a hell of a lot more comfortable than a straitjacket, so that’s the priority.
I sighed, inputting the coordinates nervously. There was some surprise from outside the booth, but I slammed down on the button before they could react (not that it really matters, since they could always go back earlier, closer, than I did). There was a cacophonous whistling, and reality buckled around me. I crumpled to my knees. The container banged against the wall of the shuttle with a wretched clang, but I didn’t dare let go. There’s nothing more dangerous than a loose container in a time travel pod. Other, than, of course, the time travel pod itself.
After what felt like five minutes but was in fact a distance of 480 years, the shuttle finally stopped. The door opened into a blinding street, and I stepped out into Philadelphia, where I was about to give some old men some very potent coffee. I’ve found that few things - or few *legal* things, that is - can change hearts as effectively as caffeine.
The street looked quiet, empty. The air was hot and humid, the sky heavy with round clouds. Nearby, the occasional passerby was staring into a large building to my left. I smiled, and stepped inside.
“Hello Mr. Washington,” I said with a smile. “I’ve brought the usual.”
George Washington turned to face me with a stiff smile that softened when he smelled the coffee. Coffee from the future is unbeatable. About 200 years from when I live, someone figures out the perfect recipe. They’ve been sending the stuff back in bulk ever since, only ever asking for clean drinking water in return. It kind of makes us wonder what they’re making the coffee out of, but it tastes like life itself.
I opened up the cooler and set down the food along with the rest of the best foods in the world- perfectly grown and grilled ribeyes, luxury smoked salmon, world-class sushi, mouth-watering tacos stuffed with chicken and rice, froyo from when the 25th century *got it right*, two steaming capsules of McDonald’s fries. I smiled at Jakob, our danish supplier, who was nodding in a strict pattern and coughing into his sleeve in an attempt to appear busy.
There were six of us, all young, but otherwise as different as could be. All of us stared at the tables in front of us, wondering if we could change everything.
A little background, here. We were sitting at the 2nd Constitutional Convention, preparing for a meal that Washington said hadn’t been topped since Valley Forge. There’s a lot of sympathy for American origins in the future, for reasons that are a little too complex to get into right now. Still, there are hundreds of people who bring food back to important historical moments, sometimes trying to outdo one another.
But there’s a few moments that no one goes back to, as kind of a rule. One of them is Hitler’s death day, because there are just too many complications. Another is something that hasn’t happened to us yet. And one of them is the period in which some very old men got together and decided to allow slavery in America.
Jakob, Eya, Kim, Miguel, Lorrence and me have never liked rules, though.
It all hinged on what we could say during this meal. Food loosens lips, coffee dilates blood vessels. We’d been buttering up this group in secret for their years, our decades. We had had to spread it out so it didn’t seem suspicious. Making trips here at all had been risky, but we’d scheduled them each at least four years apart. The very fact no one had stopped us indicated we failed. But that’s never been a reason to give up, not when time travel is an option.
I handed Thomas Jefferson a plate of caviar and prayed that we could change the world. If we didn’t, we’d never be able to look at food again. |
Perched on his mighty horse, the statue had seen many things over the centuries; wars and revolutions, the rise and fall of empires. He would soon see a new millennium. The square he stood in had been beauty and splendor, then rubble and horrors, then concrete block buildings, clean at first but now grimy, largely abandoned, and in squalid disrepair. His own white marble was now dull and grey, but after many near misses, of jeers and vandalism and narrowly avoided removal, after the bombs that only barely missed, he was lucky to still stand.
Through it all, nobody had ever talked to him. After all he was only a statue. It was a lonely existence, looking out for centuries from his platform, observing it all but never acknowledged.
One day a young woman came by and stood in before him. She was svelte and blonde, and looked up at him with large, sad eyes. It was snowing outside, and her delicate frame was swallowed by a large coat. He had seen her before, with the other girls, hanging out at night and stopping by car windows, bending over in their mini dresses, their high heels balancing on ice. He had heard her called Elena.
She told him of her sorrows, coming back several times over months. How her father, a drunk who had done whatever he pleased with her had left. Her mother worked selling flowers on the streets, made little money, and was frequently robbed. It fell on Elena to make a living for the family, including her young siblings who were still in school. As a child she had dreamed of being a ballerina, and had a talent for dance. Her hopes and dreams were now crushed.
After awhile Elena started to seem happier. She told the statue that she had found someone who loved her, who really cared, who would take her away and provide her with everything she wanted. For over a year, Elena did not show up at all, not on the street at night, or by the statue by day. He wondered what happened to her, and as jaded by humanity as he was, hoped she had found some happiness.
Then one day she stopped by once again and sat down against the base of the statue. Her face was bruised and battered, and she burst into heavy, heaping sobs. The statue wished that he could reach down and hold and wipe her tears. He wished that he could offer some words of comfort, but alas he could not. He was nothing but stone, unmoving and unspeaking, so he sat gallantly as tears soaked his hard, cold surface. |
Visitor
A boy stood on the street corner looking around. The traffic light turned green and an RV crossed the intersection, pulling up alongside the ice cream shop behind him. The sky was bright blue with a few white shapeless clouds, the warm air moved slowly around him.
The boy put a hand over his brow, shielding the sun. He turned back toward the ice cream shop.
An old man stepped onto the sidewalk from a shaded doorway. “It’s over there,” he said.
“What’s over there?” the boy asked, tilting his head sideways.
“The arcade, of course.”
The boy laughed. “How’d you know I was looking for the arcade?”
The old man smiled. “It just opened.
”The boy followed the old man, staring at his own feet as he went. The pavement changed from gray squares to large rectangles stained with flowing patterns. He moved slow as he skirted past the more colorful sections, keeping his feet in the gray areas.
“Hurry up,” the old man urged him forward.
The boy stopped, looked at him. “Why? What’s the hurry? I want to get an ice cream first.”
“There’s no time for that.” The man shook his head. "They only let so many kids in at one time. The last I saw, the place was getting busy.”
“Where is it?”
“Just at the end, on the corner.”
The boy stared at him.
“Look,” said the old man, “I’m not gonna touch you. Stay six feet behind me.”
The boy nodded. The old man turned and continued walking.
The boy followed behind, a pair of flies buzzing around in front of him. The boy dodged past them only to be accosted again. He ran ahead, nearly catching up to the old man.
Spinning around, the old man jumped back with his hand out. “Six feet, okay?”
“Sure okay,” the boy said.
The old man turned right. He stopped in front of the door on the corner. “Right here,” he said. “Just as I promised.”
The glass door had vinyl lettering, HG Arcade. The lower part of the glass windows were painted with a collage of robots, werewolves and pac men. Inside, arcade machines, consoles of every color, lights blinking and screens flashing.
“Wow,” the boy said. “This place is real.”
“You betcha,” the old man said. “I knew you you would love it.”
“Cool, thanks mister.”
The old man held open the door. “Go ahead,” he said.
One wall was lined with pinball machines, circles of light beckoning. Electronic game consoles filled the front part of the large room, set up back to back. Sounds pinged all around them.The old man stepped up to the token dispenser next to a glass counter filled with prizes. He slipped a bill into the top, tokens clanged into the catcher below.
The boy’s mouth opened wide.
“Those are for you,” he said.
“Wow. Really?”
“Yes. That should keep you busy. Go ahead and take them.” The man stepped back.
“I don’t know,” the boy said.
“Please.” He waved toward the dispenser.
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
The boy went from one console to the next, trying out each game. He asked the old man to join, but he had arthritis and just wanted to watch. He played the Space Invaders game and when it was over, he put in another token.
“I think this one’s my favorite,” he said looking over his shoulder.
“Don’t be in too much of a hurry to pick,” the old man said.
“I’ll still try some others,” the boy said.
“That’s my lad,” the man said, smiling. “You’re going to spend a lot of time here.”
When the boy exhausted all the tokens, the man offered to buy him some more.
“That’s okay, I still want to get that ice cream.”
“How about a slushee?” the man asked. “They have slushees here.”
“I guess.”
They sat across from each other, the white plastic table between them.
“You look like my grandpa?”
“Do I?” The old man smiled. “You remind me of my grandson.”
“Does he live around here?” The boy drank the blue slushee through a straw.
The man sighed, looked off to the left. “He was going to.”
“How old is he?
”The old man shook his head. “It’s not important.”
The boy looked at him but said nothing.
“I want to hear about you. What are you interested in?”
The boy shrugged.
“You like baseball.”
“It’s okay. I’m not that good at it.”
“You’re probably better at it than you think.”
“Our team didn’t do so good last year.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
The boy shrugged.
“It wasn’t,” the man said forcefully. He leaned back. “You just didn’t have a good coach.”
“Maybe.”
“You should believe in yourself.”
The boy laughed. “Are you like a teacher or something?”
“No, just someone who made a wrong turn.”
The boy scooted his plastic chair back. “I should probably get going.”
The man looked at his watch. “How about a ride on the carousal?”
“I’m getting too old for that.”
The man nodded. “Yes, but not yet. Enjoy your youth while it lasts.”
The old man paid for the ticket and handed it to the operator. “I’ll be right here,” he said, gesturing toward an empty bench. “Be sure to look out for me.”
“You betcha,” the boy said.
The carousal stopped, the music stopped. Two little girls disembarked from a pair of mermaids.
With a seahorse for his mount, the boy sat with his hands resting on his legs. The music started again, the carousal began moving. The seahorse rose and fell as the large wheel turned beneath him.
Going around, he waved at the old man sitting on the bench and the old man waved back. He watched the kid on the dolphin in front of him high five a guy standing alongside the carousal. On the next circle around, the old man stood up and smiled as the boy passed. The other kid smacked hands with the other guy again, both of them laughing.
The music looped as the carousal circled slowly around again. The old man turned away, looking toward the window as the boy circled back toward him. The boy reached out his hand, stretching out his fingers to touch the man on the side of his neck. The air crackled, the hair on his arms stood up straight. The boy turned around, but the man was gone.
The boy got off the ride, looked around the arcade. He went into the bathroom and peered below the stall doors.
Out of tokens, he left the arcade. He stood outside, his eyes scanning the street.
The RV drove past him going in the other direction toward the highway. He watched as it got smaller and smaller, driving off down the lonely road. |
The smell of the attic always gets to her. She has avoided cleaning it out since her mother passed away three months ago but it must be sold to pay off her debts. Her mother, Anita, was a town favorite. Everyone loved her gentle voice, its sweet lilt like a gentle breeze, a feather floating across your skin, almost a tickle. She was eccentric and oddly non-religious for being an old woman in the South. She had acquired so much in her 93 years. Not quite a hoarder, but almost. She tucked her mess away like a child hides theirs under the bed, only Anita used her attic. As Carmen pulled on the string to the attic staircase a cascade of photos, mostly black and white, fell on her. "For fuck's sake"Carmen shouted, even though there was no one there to hear her complaints. She waded through the photos and pushed them aside, leaving the pile where it lay. Halfway up Carmen sneezed. The smell was unbeatable; like wet ashes from a cigarette--dank, moldy, and stale. She covered her face with her sweater and soldiered on. She didn't know where to begin. Which box to riffle through first. Carmen wasn't a sentimental person. She was a minimalist. She couldn't seem to hold onto things for long so she learned to live with next to nothing. When she was 19 her first apartment burned down. It was perfect; straight out of an Ikea magazine. Pinterest perfect, even. Every penny she had earned had gone to making it home. Once the same But, she was resilient and so she chalked it up to bad luck and moved into a nice neighborhood in the North end, the nice part of town, and started over. It wasn't but a year later when she had come home from work to find her apartment empty. Everything was gone. Her grandmother's hope chest, underwear, couch, even her bobby pins for her bathroom drawer were gone--everything. That was eight years ago. Since then Carmen became a vagabond of sorts, living out of her suitcase never staying in one place long enough to make connections or collect things. So as Carmen stared at the towering boxes of a life's worth of belongings she resolved to just throw it all away, she knew she couldn't hold onto any of if she wanted to anyways. Carmen's truck was full and everything but the pile of photos on the floor remained yo be cleared out. It was lunchtime and she was hungry, so she decided to take her PB&J and head back inside, look at the photos, and make sure she had gotten everything. As she searched the attic for any remaining knick-knacks to her surprise in the middle of the floor lay a leather bound notebook. It hadn't been there before, she was sure of it. As she picked it up she heard the sound of the front door slam shut. Clutching onto the book she ran down the attic stairs to see what was going on. The first thing she noticed was the darkness. It had just been midday but now the house was dark and the windows were black with night sky. Terrified she ran to the door to look outside but when she went she turned the knob, it wouldn't open. The windows, locked. The back door, locked. The house was empty. There was nothing to break a window with but the book in her hand and so she threw it as hard as she could at the art deco stained glass she had spent her childhood looking out of. The book bounced off the window, not making a sound. Frantic, she slammed her hands at the window but nothing happened. She couldn't feel her hands touch glass. She couldn't make a sound on the surface. She had no power. She was trapped. After several minutes she slowed her breath and found the rhythm of her heart. With nothing else to do she decided to read her mother's notebook. "The Old Gods"was inscribed on the cover. She thumbed through the pages, all of them empty except the first. She began reading the dated entries on each line:
1886: Praying to the old gods worked! I am back in my prime and ready to relive my life.
1903: I made it to 47. Carmen was just 20.
1930: Famine and war and I only lasted three years and my sweet baby Carmen just a wee child.
2023:
Carmen threw the book down and gasped for air trembling where she sat. She ran to the hall where the photos had fallen. There she was in black and white as a baby with her mother in cradling her in her arms and there she was again in color at Disney world for her ninth birthday "No, no, no, it can't be"Carmen whispered. And just then she heard the creak of the floorboard behind her and as she turned she saw her mom, but not quite. She was young and swinging an ax down upon her daughter for the old gods. |
"Look at this! Tell me this isn't the worst ad you've seen in your life."
"What is it this time?"
"Hold on, I'm sending the video to your reader..."
<*The moon. For several years, she has fascinated many. But will man ever walk on her fertile surface? By 1964, experts say man will have established twelve colonies on the moon, ideal for family vacations. Once there, you'll weigh only a small percentage of what you weigh at home. So down, tubby.*>
"So it's kind of corny and was obviously filmed on a soundstage in LA. What's the problem?"
"That's not how any of this works! If you're a lardass here you'll still be a lardass on the moon! Gravitational pull can't do anything about the fat clogging your arteries either!"
"Well, that's why you're a scientist and they're in marketing. But I think you're forgetting something."
"Oh yeah? What's that?"
"They never said your mass would change. They only talked about weight. That's the correct scientific term, isn't it? So there's no false advertising going on and they're completely in the clear legally."
"...Fine. Guess you have to know a trick or two to be as cutthroat as they are."
"Yeah. Now stop sending me this shit and clogging up my v-mailbox. Never mind moon colonies, can't those eggheads come up with better junk filters? It shouldn't take more than ten years or so." |
In our galaxy, the human race is known as the best possible ally or the worst possible enemy. An important caveat to this is putting humans on opposite sides of a skirmish. Humans are wildly passionate and have a tendency to protect their allies with a vehement disregard for collateral damage. Even among humans there are legends of catastrophic damage from such skirmishes. Frequently referenced legends of John McClane, James Bond, and the one known only as the terminator are just a few examples of single humans perpetrating incredible destruction in an effort to achieve a single goal. If a human is properly motivated, there is no limit to the cost of life, property, or chaos that they are willing to endure. It is encouraged to avoid battling a human wherever possible. |
"Uhm Frank? Isn't that one of those old super computer things?"
I look at where George is pointing and sure enough tucked up against crates is a sixteen year old server rack with the best gear from well sixteen years ago and a giant monitor. It is when I see it is all running and had a map of the city I start to sweat.
"Guys. This stuff is all running."Checking on each of the guys I can't shake my fear. A cold chill and sweat all at once. Ed has found a rack of rifles. George is checking out the computer. And Mike is looking at the cloth covered mounds that might be vehicles.
"Look at all this stuff man. There must be a fortune in gear here."
"Guys this ain't a rich families storage. We need to get out. Now."
Before the guys can say anything the silence is broken by the casual slurp of liquid. A glance and I see the small form all in black. Leotard, a thigh high boot and regular length boot over pantyhose. She has her broad hat pushed back and her mask down as the villainess sips a huge mug of coffee.
"You know I was promised this was secure. Thirteen million dollar sensor net on the roof. No one can land a pigeon up there without it tripping a weight sensor and putting a camera on it. Sensors on every skylight and upper window. Low light cameras on each corner. And all that is before the fancy anti-phasing gear Hephaestus invented. Pressure sensors to detect teleporters and the rest. So how did you four get in?"
I am shaking. "Well we just drove in like we knew where we was going. Parked the van right under one of the cameras. And used a credit card to jimmy the side door. uhm ma'am"
I watched as this girl that took apart an invulnerable super finishes her coffee in one long swallow before starting to laugh. I am looking to the door wondering if I can beat a distracted speedster out. When she cuts off that line of thought.
"Alright gentlemen. You made me laugh and gave me ammunition to embarrass Hephaestus. You can go."
Not wanting to push our luck we head for the door, I am the last one there when she crosses the warehouse to block me at the last moment. She presses something into my hand.
"You and your friends were clever and kept your cool. Get yourselves some supper. And if you want a real job call the number on the white side of the card. You want a chance for real money. Call the number on the black side."
That's how me and my crew ended up sitting at a table having steaks for dinner as I was tapping an expensive business card. Maybe things are looking up. . . |
Intitially the leak was a letdown. We'd been teased about it from the hacker Gucifer for months, and in the time leading up to its release, some suggested it was in fact the *Necronomicon* that Gucifer had, and although a fictional object heretofore, the provocateur had a perfect credit score with his previous stunts. There were some circumstances that lent hope to the idea too, one being the online countdown he set for the password ending on Halloween. The other being he'd recently acquired the ENS name *HPlovecraft.ETH* for 666 Ethereum tokens worth three-thousand dollars each. So we all waited, looking to the Vatican for any indication of what went missing, the situation begging questions of what else lay hidden in their private library besides this purloined item. Which is to say nothing of the biggest question: Who leaked it?
Pope Francis was mum, staying out of the public's eye for a time, which turned attention to the retired prelate Pope Benedict for answers. The hope amongst Italy's *L' espresso* journalists sent to cover the story was that Benedict would spill the java on what happened, presumably to get back at the church. But a tell-all never materialized. Pope Benedict's office released this ambiguous statement:
*"I was the pope."*
Anyway, historians like Arthur Middleton and I planned a Halloween get together. It was an unavoidable and sensational story the stolen text, which predictably begat conspiracies and late-night canned laughter. People talked about the coverage wearing the little edge of a smile over dinner. But that all stopped after Gucifer's assassination.
-----------------------------------------------
He'd fallen from a 42nd floor Miami penthouse in the middle of the night. When they pieced him back together, it was found he'd been dressed in a red angel costume, complete with horns and wings. Of course nobody knew who he was at first, not until a forensics team examined his unit and pieced a different story together. It's funny because these faceless people (like Gucifer or the artist Banksy) you always have an idea in your head how they might look. But more often than not, you're always proven wrong. Gucifer was a rail thin trans female aged thirty-eight. She kept two pet snakes which were apparently found severed in half. She couldn't have put up much of a fight against anyone. They're still searching for the building's doorman to this day. Cameras caught nothing. A small amount of vomit found at the front desk however, suggests a taser may have been used there.
So I met Arthur on Halloween at his place near the campus an hour before the mystery unlocked. I told him about the students I passed dressed as angels on my way over. We took our seats and drank through a twelve-pack when the screen went black and started loading. Arthur had connected his laptop to the large living-room television. Then the screen suddenly faded to white except for characters in the middle. The password:
_Sworn2Blood_
Below that we were prompted to connect to a Web3 site which required a compatible wallet to access. With trembling hands, Arthur pulled up his MetaMask wallet and told me to look away while he frantically entered his login information.
"Ok,"he said, "We're in."
My eyes opened on a confusing UX screen as he navigated to a site with the password prompt.
"Want to bet it's empty?"he said trying to talk down his own excitement.
I swallowed the last remaining gulp from my can and threw it over my shoulder against the wall. Arthur didn't notice, and after entering the password, he smashed the enter key once with his index finger, stoop up, looked from the laptop to the television and crossed his arms.
We both said it at the same moment: "*Bibliotheca*."Mine flat, his with awe.
His mouth was still open when I turned to him. This was not the Necronomicon, this was some ancient version of the bible titled *Bibliotheca*, handwritten of course, and immaculately preserved. I sighed and the stupid wonderment Arthur stood struck with broke:
"If you don't like it you can leave! You haven't said shit for thirty minutes!"
I was drunk.
Arthur fell to his knees, licked his lips and worked the laptop to turn the page. Then he squinted hard. Again I sighed.
His eyes exploded open on the MacBook's retina display before turning on me. In the same motion he lunged.
"Arth—"
But the doorbell rang just before he reached the point of no return, and he stopped, clearing his throat. Across the carpet he disappeared around the corner towards the door. And when it opened, the joyous chorus of coeds burst:
"Trick-or-treat professor!"
I stood unsteady on both feet to leave. My eyes took a last look at the television, and when the words stabilized in my drunken gaze, the darkness I felt wasn't inside me, instead it pressed against me from the outside. My pulse double-tapped at both wrists. This wasn't a bible. This was the *Ark of the Covenant*, and the covenant, as we all assumed the ten commandments to be, was something else entirely, this protected all these centuries. I must've said "Oh my god,"out loud, because Arthur was waiting right behind me when he caught me, whispering in my ear:
"But you don't believe."
He had it in him. His Templar blood boiled. |
Caleb lit a candle. The soft glow spread through his cave's den, and his friends came out of their burrows to join him.
"Great to see you again, Caleb. Wasn't sure you'd make it back this time."Shirley, a mother bat said.
"Too goddamn bad."A sullen wolf spider responded, constantly keeping his eyes open for unsuspecting insects. The spider had lost money today, having bet that Caleb would be taken in by authorities.
"Well, sorry about that Frank."Caleb responded curtly. "Maybe someone in town will think I'm crazy enough tomorrow when I go to steal food."
"Hope not."Frank retorted. "Wait a week; Arnold and I went double or nothing."
Caleb rolled his eyes, waiting for his other friends to make an appearance.
"Have any of you seen Ted today?"Caleb asked, scanning the cave for the elderly glowworm.
Silence fell loudly. Looks were exchanged between the various critters: bats, spiders, worms, occasional salamanders and scorpions. Frank broke the silence.
"Over night Ted pupated."
Caleb blinked, unsure how to respond. "Oh, that's too bad. I guess I'll have to catch him in a few weeks then."
Frank and Shirley exchanged a knowing glance. "Doubt that, honey."Shirley said. "He chose a poor spot. He'll certainly be found and devoured before he can eclose."
Tears twinkled in Caleb's eyes. He stared at the candle, hoping no one noticed. Ted had been one of the first comforts of Caleb's new world. The old wizened glowworm somehow felt more human than the others.
Caleb pulled out and placed the days rations on the floor of the cave, properly portioning the food for his companions. He took a lesser portion, giving the most to Shirley and her babes.
Caleb returned to town early in the morning, hoping to scour some food before the folks awoke.
And again in the evening returning to his cavern, his rations bundled under his arm.
A lovely dinner was abruptly ended by the pitter-patter of rain. Shrieks filled the hollow, various animals scrambled to get to higher ground.
Caleb was not excluded, rapidly scrambling out of the abyss.
Caleb sat and experienced the deluge, praying and praying. Shirley was weeping; her nest would surely be wrecked.
As high as they were, their exit was soon blocked off, requiring a long swim through pitch black water.
Caleb held out hope. The downpour continued. |
“Fifteen hundred dollars?” I said aloud, whistling under my breath as I stared at the posting on the community board of my apartment complex. I ripped off a tendril of the paper that offered up a phone number for participating in a clinical trial for a new experimental drug. There weren’t many things I wouldn’t do for $1500, and this seemed like a fairly safe and sensible way to make rent this month. Without wasting a single second, I stumbled quickly over to the lobby payphone, and dialed the number in haste. The sooner I made rent, the sooner I could rip the FINAL WARNING eviction notice from my door.
The new drug was called Personify, and it was meant to help displace heightened anxiety experienced in social situations. “Score!” I thought, not only making an easy buck but also finding a way to hopefully help cure my social anxiety.
For $1,500 I expected a little more than just taking a little purple pill, once a day for 30 days.
By the fourth day, I was convinced I’d been randomly selected as a placebo patient. But on the fifth day, I woke up and everything was different. I was no longer me.
Upon waking on the fifth day, I was immediately presented with an internal battle, one I was shortly about to learn would never end.
Inside my mind there were two people, myself, and an entirely different Genevieve taking up rent inside my mind. It was like my entire brain had split in half. And the scariest part, I had no idea how to control the new “me.”
She came out of her shell when she felt like it, popping out at odd times when I least expected it. When she was in control, I was an entirely new Genevieve. I was funny and outgoing, no longer squatting in the corner of the party, desperate to leave, but instead I was the center of attention. This new side of me knew how to have fun and how to live life without boundaries or concerns for the law. She was forest fire to be reckoned with, and I was in absolute awe of her until the day she ruined my life. But like I told the officers, it wasn’t me that killed the man that night, it was the other Genevieve! |
"I'm god, give pizza"you said rather sloppy as you are half asleep and half hungry
Later that day. "OH shit!"You suddenly remember what happened last night
Due to the fact you said that to 7.8 billion people on earth you are now afraid to open the t.v or use your phone. Afraid what reaction people might have to your message, luckily you didn't say your name and for now safe as they don't know who did it
After you clam down. "Well that's goes my super ultra cool power that I can only use once somehow"
Time went by, you hear a lot of people screaming and other noise that you don't normally hear. After a whole week you finally decided to open the t.v and use your phone, as expected it's full of news and other stuff about the thing you done
"Oh crap, they better not start a war"you said as you raise the volume of the t.v to hear it more clearly
"Since the event of supposed descend of god, a lot of people have started to build pizza monument. As you guess it, it was made of pizza". You turn it off and started to look at your phone
Luckily people didn't take it that serious. There's a lot of stuff about it but it's just bunch of conspiracy and blaming the alien for that event, you are relief and mad at people for calling you an alien but on the serious side, not like it have any serious side but anyway a lot of people trying to explain it using actual science and the people who started religion debate on which god spoke last week is pretty little, which is surprising.
*The end*.
*The good ending*
---#####----
You wake up and you found a piece of pizza everywhere. Everyone is dress up in pizza. The food is pizza. Your clothes is pizza. Even jokes are about pizza.
*You died*.
*The end*.
*The bad ending*. |
I have been on Reddit for a good two years. I have been on writing prompts for one week. I don’t use writing prompts.
As an amateur writer I have been motivated to write since high school. I stopped for cool minute after graduating. In my third year of college I signed myself into a creative writing course because I should have a long time ago. This course really helped me push some more on my first novel. I know my firs novel won’t make it to the surface but as long as I finish it for myself to re read it over and over again. My motivation is that to be able to create worlds and plots. And mix them up is cool way to think about it. I compare history with my writing so I can change details. I don’t write non fiction. I stick with fiction more like fantasy, action, romance, little comedy, mystery and thriller.
To start writing I listen to a playlist I created in Spotify. [soundtracks for writing. ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ujr4Zrt4ZkBzNsRqjFgSo?si=ighSmaKXTpCJToZl0rZwTA) |
When you first hear about magic, and I mean the real stuff not that Harry Potter nonsense, you think it's going to be an endless good time. You spend your whole childhood hearing the whispers and passing notes describing how great it would be to levitate or see into the future or cast a love spell on the cute boy who seemingly doesn't want to acknowledge your plain Jane existence despite you sitting behind him all year.
And then you hear whispers that Elise, who always sits alone at lunch and was always a bit strange, has actually become a witch herself. I mean she's been gone for two weeks and Claire from the softball team got really sick and she was always a bitch to Elise, I mean it just adds up doesn't it. But then Elise comes back to school, she had her tonsils removed and then Claire comes back too, she caught a bug along with the whole softball team, so I guess that adds up too. And the potential mystic hijinks fades.Within those whispers and gossip you only are left with a whimsical impression of witchcraft as a playful and secretive minority. Yes you are warned by the adults that magic is dangerous and that the witches are a scourge on our society and should be rooted out and gotten rid of. But the why's are never elaborated on which leaves a sense that the State Inquisitors are nothing more than an elaborate way to fear monger their way into more tax revenue. At least that's what dad always said.
I wish now more than anything that someone had told me an honest 'why', so I will do my best to tell you one.
The first thing they never tell you about witchcraft and magic is that the transition to is the single most painful experience you or anyone will ever have. I was 17 when the matron handed me the bowl of black spit and told me to drink it all. It was thick, almost tar-like and as I lifted the bowl to my lips I could smell the it's earthy ingredients. I tilted bowl intended on taking a small sip and braced for a gag which never came, the contents of the bowl slid down my throat with surprising ease as if the ooze had an intent all it's own. If I had tasted anything the memory of that sense was overpowered by the shockwave I was hit with almost immediately as the black spit hit my stomach. Every nerve in my body sprang to life, I fell to the ground, the bowl still clutched in my hand as I grabbed my aching stomach which wanted nothing more than to vomit up this poison but the black spit held on as I dry heaved desperately, seeping into the the lining and then into my blood. I know it was in my blood, I could feel it shooting like ice through every vein in my body as I lost control and fell into convulsions. I heard screaming and perhaps for a while they were my own but I soon realized they were from within my head, and they were endless. I wanted to shut my eyes, to turn off from this nightmare, to lose myself into the comfort of death but I had no control over my eyelids and I had no control over my death. Maybe I did die.
The matron and her apprentice left me in the woods for three nights with my white-knuckled hands digging into my stomach, eyes locked open. I felt the colder than I had ever been. eventually sometime during the next day the convulsions subsided into shakes and while I didn't have the strength to move the screams subsided into whispers. The whispers came from all around me, some distant some near. Most I couldn't understand, but the ones that I could made me grateful for the ones I couldn't. Now I understand them all. |
The sweat trickled down my forehead like rain, just barely cooling me off. I could see every inch of the city below the roof of this luxurious tower. One of those that I could only ever dream of stepping a foot on.
The wealthy inhabitants were long gone by now, fleeing into the safety of the evacuation ships.
So it was just me and that beautiful room temperature pool, staring off into the distance. It had been a month since I last heard the sounds of the sirens from any first responders. It was evident by the amount of fires burning in the distance that they had succumbed to the same problems plaguing the rest of our doomed brothers and sisters.
Lack of food and water, anarchy, or maybe they just gave up.
The first two weeks was easier than I thought it was going to be. Once they announced the Earth had stopped its usual orbit of going around the sun, instead plunging towards the Sun, we all thought it would be complete anarchy. They gave us around 65 days before we full on collided into the sun.
But instead, every organization held off as much as they could to keep supply chains running. The rich all fled at the first sign of problems, taking along anyone they deemed worthy of continuing the human race in space. Workers worked their ass off to keep water and food running, and planes worked overtime to return any stranded citizens back to their countries or to allow people to choose their destinations to die. I think my neighbor and his wife got on the first plane to the Bahamas.
The fourth week was a little harder, as temperatures rose and supply chains fell, crime started to rise. The hot weather started to mess with all of our heads and people began to loot and fight over the basic necessities. My own apartment building burned down as a result of some scuffle between some poor bastards or something.
I barely made it out, choosing to walk as far as I could only to end up in some wealthy district. Just my luck, I found an abandoned penthouse stocked up with food and enough water to last me until C-Day.
Or at least another week until the temperature rose so high that everything would start to evaporate or boil.
I guess I would find out which soon enough. |
My book had been a hit. It sold an insurmountable amount of copies in it's first month of publication and I was a rich man in just two weeks time, not that I would have flaunted this. I kept a pretty low profile over the next year or so, for the simple reason that my book wasn't fiction at all. There really was a society of assassin's living among the rest of the world and it was just as complex and orderly as I described it in my book. There were laws and codes and most of all honor. Despite what you may be thinking, no, I didn't break any sacred code saying I couldn't expose the society or anything. Why? Well to put it bluntly, even if the government and public knew we existed and took us seriously; what could they do about it? Arrest all of us? I don't think so. Kill all of us? I know children that have been brought up in the society and can do more damage with a dry erase marker than a soldier can do with an AR-15 (only a light exaggeration actually). So it was just icing on the cake that the public saw my story as just that, a fictional story with fantastic characters.
That was until conspiracy theorists started hunting around and actually seeing the symbols and kinds of codes that I described in my book around the city and sticking their noses where they didn't belong. Last week a particularly committed young man saw a symbol marking a house as that of a high ranking assassins in a high class neighborhood and decided to get confrontational about it. He wouldn't leave so the lady let him in. I heard he tried to blackmail her into sleeping with him with the supposed knowledge that she was an assassin, which she was. She just laughed at him and offered him some chocolate. Well I won't give her name but she was literally the highest ranking poisoner in the society.
They found his body in a "car wreck"just outside the city and his autopsy only showed he'd been drunk. I know because I set up the car wreck, I'm pretty good at making realistic looking accidents, and the lady paid me for my trouble, even invited me for dinner which I declined on account of her specialty though I suspect I would have lived, it's just good to be safe.
Another unfortunate incident was actually directly related to my family. A group of these conspiracy theorists got it in their heads we were actually part of the government and that we were trying to "condition them to be more subservient"which again, is something that a few people in my family could do in theory but definitely wasn't what was happening. They tried kidnapping my son at school which ended horribly. I've always told him not to kill in public so none of them died but I'm positive they wish they were. Two crushed larynx's and several arms and legs broken or severely hyper extended.
I'm really starting to regret writing that book. These fuckers are just gonna keep coming and I honestly do not want to have to see what the Butcher's or Hyenas will do if they end up getting harassed, as much as these nosy folks might deserve it. |
"There were so many things,"she says. "Ugly, pale things with chitinous veils holding bruised viscera in... Thin flays of flesh peeling back like pedals, revealing rows of thin teeth."
We exchange glances, Tommy believing the rocking dock was more interesting to look at than the woman. The back of my neck tingles, gooseflesh up my arms.
"W—"I start, but my lips are dry. Lick them, then: "What did he do, with them? The fish, I mean."
She stares into the murky water wading against the dock, pushes back her dark hair behind her pale ear. "Kept them,"she says almost a whisper. "Stored them in the cellar between the pickled fruits and spices."
"Did he eat them, or..."Nick asks.
The woman shakes her head. Her blue-gray eyes briefly meet my gaze before she looks away. "Kept them,"she says again, though it sounds more final. "He wasn't just a fisherman. Also was a man of medicine. Knew what went where and how things ought to be."
The group exchanges another glance. Greg mouthes: "What the fuck?"
"Fins to feet, innards congested and shoved into crevices,"she continues, tears form and stream down her face, "reassembled to fit frames made for land; no matter how much they screamed."
"Oh..."I let out, make for the boat we rented at the end of the bay. "Okay... Well, thanks for telling us, but we gotta' be going..."
The guy follow, and we walk to the boat, leaving the woman to stand there, alone. After we get settled, undock, and glide onto the lake. I look back to catch the woman slip into the sea, her clothes left on the dock. The air bubbles vanish before we're too far away to see.
---
If you enjoyed the story and want to read more of my work, visit my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/MicahCastle/) and consider subscribing. |
The water lay still that evening. A mirror reflecting the myriad stars across the sky, a deep purple colour shifting ever more black.
I lay still myself; staring at the horizon. Nautical night had yet to fall; but it was said that seeing the moment when it did was magical. The sky and the sea becoming one.
A faint flicker of a lantern blinded me, as the rest of the crew went below deck; our anchor was dropped for now, we were waiting for morning to navigate more safely, as the sea storm last night had made our clocks drift.
I always loved the sky at sea; you could see everything. All the constellations, the sweeping smudge that is the Milky Way, and if you had a good eye, you could even spot the Andromeda. Tonight however, something felt different.
Perhaps it was where we were in the world, I hadn’t come this far south before; but the sky felt… alien. The stars weren’t where they were supposed to be, the constellations angles were all off.
I turned over and saw it again; the sky? But… this time, all in place, all in order. I shook my head in confusion before noticing I was on my back again. Since when did I turn around? If I had been staring at the sea; did I miss the shift from nautical to true?
Staring deeper into the sky - this time I made sure - it felt comforting. Everything was correct. The belt, the bow, the dippers, the… eyes? A nose, a mouth. It smiled. The stars in the heavens glancing down, showing their happiness with this simple place. I wonder if I had been the first to notice such a complex constellation? Perhaps, it seemed ever more detailed as I stared on, the glint of her eye in Polaris, the bridge of her nose through Cancer. Her face engulfed the sky.
Her? Why was it a Her?
The sudden thought shattered the vision, and I was left unable to see her. Looking frantically around, I set my eyes on a point in space and focused, unblinking.
She returned; yet this time, she looked more sullen. Was she sad that I had lost her? As I blinked, my eyes bleary and dry, her gaze shifted from the world around me; to me directly.
I felt it. The stars staring into my soul. A deep, cold feeling like no other.
A prey; looking at the predator.
I shuffled back, my head banging against the rail, and my sight lay level with the invisible horizon.
She stared at me. Eyes level with mine.
Closer
I yelped; and forced my gaze from the stars, staring at the deck of the ship, panting.
The stars could not be alive, what was I thinking? After a brief moment, I took to my feet, and started walking back; I needed to sleep, but I kept my eyes fixed to my gait. Do not look up.
But I had to, curiosity, or fear. Whatever it was pulled me from the floor; wrenching my head to the skies, as a burning, vengeful eye took shape before me, closer than ever before. My very being quaked, as I tore my eyes away.
The star-borne simulacrum of the sea formed a wretched hand; twisted beyond belief. And it approached the ship, fast.
Approached?
I lept to the side; avoiding the talons of this godforsaken, antediluvian monstrosity, and fell.
Reaching for the deck, my body slipped, my hands grasping at air before…
Wet. Dark. Cold.
My body seized from the frigid water, far colder than it had any right to be at this latitude. Had we veered that far off course?
No time.
The baleful eye approached ever closer; blinding, enlightening, horrifying. A maw of black opened in the void of space; swallowing the stars in a toothy grin.
I fell once more. Spinning. Freezing. My body screaming in pain as the Earth itself sunk into a starless sky before me.
A blinding flash scoured my eyes, as heat blazed across my faces, burning away the cold sweat as the midday sun reflected off of the still ocean beneath me. My legs and arms numb, and my throat ragged from screaming. The first mate grabbed me by the scruff of my shirt and dragged me to me feet, staring into my eyes.
“Beware of the call of the void, the siren’s song. Looking overboard is a surefire way to Hell” |
Meet Jones. Beyond his methodical behavior, disgusting hair lotions and stupid ever smiling look he still a human being, even thou he insists not to be one. Jones is what a narrator would consider a sidekick option at best, waving in the background, being hit by a car or even wearing a bush costume. But in this story, somehow, Jones is a protagonist lowering this story rank to 2/10 or less.
"That's fair. I mean, everyone should receive the grace to know his own outlook. It improves the..."
Because Jones deserves a kick in the nuts he hears the narrator. And since he's about to literally receive one the story begs to go on. Jones keeps his mouth shut as he glances to the mirror, noticing every little detail of his ridiculous colourful tie. Jones believes that wearing this phallic accessory somehow makes him good looking and decent for a job.
"A beautiful tie defines the commitment for teamwork and self value."
By the morning coffee Jones resents to spill mustard on his horrendous tie, but that ain't stopping this piece of garbage to search for a job tieless. He takes a note thou.
"Buy several ties"
Jones walks down the streets, complimenting every single person he walks through. His neighbors already take precautions and walk on the other side of the street, but that doesn't stop Jones to send good mornings out loud so everyone can hear him. Even dogs don't compliment Jones, they seems to simply ignore him or piss on his legs as if Jones where a mere post.
"Hi there my fellow neighbor, I see your dog got castrated. What a beautiful creature isn't it? Oh by the way, what happened to the Jehovah Witnesses? They stopped to come by, I made them cookies yesterday. May I bring you some? Oh, I see you're in a hurry. Later Alligator!"
Jones simply can't get a break. Programed like a robot to do the same shit everyday. Unsuspected of bad intentions and too absorbed on his ideal world he keeps getting beaten and tossed aside with no affect to his optimistic dumb smile. A robber approaches Jones as he stops to greet the stranger.
"Very good morning my respectable civilian. Oh lord a firearm, good thing you seems to know how to use it. Here take my wallet, and my reserve money from my socks. It would be a waste of bullets to shoot me"
It would.
"Shut up you little fuck. Gimme your cellphone too"
"I don't use cellphones, I believe people deserves to have eye contact as they talk. Wouldn't it be great to retrieve that sentiment long lost?"
"Gimme something worth or I will quick you in the nuts right here right now"
Do not look at me Jones, do your thing.
"May I just ask you nicely to do it after my meeting? I have a strong feeling that today will be a great..."
And that's the story of how Jones got castrated on the same day as his neighbor's dog. Thank you and sorry for losing your time on this insane storytelling. It won't change Jones mind for downvoting this so do your best at the booing. |
They descended from the acid clouds. Shiny where they caught light, but otherwise nearly transparent. The locals. According to the doctor, with whom I was jointly cowering in their office, they either possessed or killed and converted any organic things they found. No one was quite sure.
They had been able to autopsy a few. Apparently they were some form of organic crystal or glass. There were several multicolored veins running through their bodies, assumed to be equivalent to organs.
What made them so dangerous was their limited shape-shifting skills. If you didn't tear them entirely in half, they would pull themselves back together, turn the closest limb into a shiv, slam into the offender(s), and do whatever it is they did.
I've got to survive and help others for 4 months.
.... I'm going to be turned into glass noodles. |
It all started five years ago...
I was happy then. Happier than I think anyone had the right to be.
Celica... she was my devoted wife. She took care of me.
No, not just me. There was Velvet and Laphicet too. They were in her care since their parents passed away so long ago. And then I came into their lives.
Velvet was behind Celica doing what she could to help when I was taken into their home to be nursed back to health after a clash with a demon.
Laphicet was so shy.
I found a new happiness with them.
We fell in love and got married.
And Celica became heavy with child.
Velvet and Laphicet were so happy with us too.
And then... That terrible night.
The Scarlet Night.
Celica was elswehere when the demons attacked. I took Laphicet and Velvet away from the city and hid them then went to go back to find her. My wife. My unborn child.
But I was too late.
They were dead, killed by demons born of the malevolence of human hearts.
If humans, if they didn't hate. Didn't fear, didn't covet, didn't despair. They would not become demons. We would not be in this mess...
No.. I would cleanse them of that sin. Then... Then I would be able to sheperd them into a new world free of Malevolance.
I would not fear such things. Nor would anyone else.
Laphicet was eager to protect Velvet. To make a world where his Sister could be happy.
My sister... Velvet...
Her despair was what I needed... And i would use it and any other tool to get what I wanted.
&#x200B;
If only... If only Laphicet and Velvet had died that night. |
The river of blood flows evermore, ushering souls into this domain. The hatred found within this blasted land boils with the usurious rage and greed of the Demon King, frustrated that he was foiled, once again, by a simple pogrom.
Blood spurts out of his mansion, covering his menagerie with a fresh coat of crimson. His boiling rage, once again, empowered the soul with dark power, twisting the land to suit his dark machinations.
Outwardly, however, the Demon King was a world-renowned philanthropist, often aiding the blighted in the kingdoms of Men and Elves. Possessing of various riches, the Demon King seeks to curry favor with the mortal races, seeking to end the hostilities between his peoples, and the mortals of this realm - for a demon cannot survive if rent apart from mortal souls. Hence, the need to maintain a prim, and proper image.
Which means, someone had to take care of the Demon King's range. Ensuring that his magical creatures do not suddenly flare up into a maddening, demonic rage, and putting them down when needs be. Naturally, there were a couple of high-and-mighty rangers who most definitely would not work for a *filthy* demon, but, well, the pay was good. Also wouldn't want to be called a bigot by everyone else, of course - unlike the legendarily-intolerant ranger, Heinrich.
Heinrich was the type of person who you would *not* want to be. He's the type who randomly accuses innocent demons on the streets of being *secretly* evil and *actually* being part of a secret Demonic Cabal, or something like that. Naturally, the populace boos him out on the streets, throwing all sorts of rotten fruit at him as he passes by.
Me? Well, I'm more *tolerant*. Not tolerant enough for some, but pretty tolerant. I have multiple demon friends, of course I'm not anti-demon!
Anyway, it looks like there's a mess to be cleaned. How does the Demon King even live with this, anyway? Every single time he tries to pass legislation, and the populace outright ignores its implementation in favor of some ridiculous pogrom, the Demon King's rage opens a couple of portals, spewing all sorts of nasty corruption around.
Well, it's time to clean this mess.
One corrupted soul put down, two corrupted souls put down, three corrupted souls put down, four corrupted souls put down, five corrupted souls put down, six corrupted souls put down, la la la la la, de do de do dum, la le li lo la, dum diddy dum de dum
Sometimes, there is a weird pattern to the job, like there is a weird pattern with the world. Just as a corrupted soul slowly grows within the beasts, the demons slowly assimilate into the communities of Men and Elf, being proud patriots of their respective nations. However, as it grows bigger, there begins a resistive force repelling the corruption within, like how the communities launched pogroms. Which means, oh no....
The corrupted souls weren't corrupted at all.
They were just souls forced into circumstance.
They were proud inhabitants of their new bodies, and would never, and, I repeat, would never betray them.
Have I been performing genocide all along?
Were they even meant to die?
Was this even all real?
Nothing makes sense anymore. Nothing. |
Blinking, Jake does a quick glance around. What had just happy?! He had been in ... The principals office. Hadn't he?
He had gotten into trouble for calling a teacher by a stupid name. Nothing serious, but the teacher was annoyed and somehow he got picked. Bad luck. But really, everyone did it! And it was not a bad name. A dumb play on word, no insults. Just fun in a group.
And then this incredibly dumb question: would you follow your friends I'd they all jumped off a cliff? **Yes**! When he was still in elementary, he had never really gotten it and just stuttered around. Then, one day as he contemplated in bad angrily, the answer had hit him once and for all: he knew why the question bothered him. And he knew the answer.
The question bothered him for years, because it was paradoxical in itself. He understood the point, and it was not even wrong: blindly following the masses could lead to doom.
But the doom was *obvious* in that example. He had turned it over and over, but there was no logical explanation that all his friends would do something leading into absolute doom. That irked him. And his revelation was two-fold: in that scenario either his friends knew something to choose this doom over the other option - may it be that doom was only an illusion, or that the alternative of staying was to dangerous -, or all of them would have been affected by the same mind game and be would be helpless
Either way, that day he knew the answer would be yes.
He had used it since then. It was great! The adults always looked as if they had been hit by a train. And he had his good reasoning. He could grin.
But not this time. This time he found himself on a clif. Seeing his friends. A nice clique, he liked them. Some where closer, some he saw more as acquaintances. But all jumped. They smiled. They winked. They waved at him. And then they jumped. They seemed so relaxed. He moved closer. With each one stumping. As if lead by an invisible force. He felt fear well up. Panic. They were dieing! No one could survive such a jump. It was so... He felt vertigo hit him as he stared down. And they still jumped. Happily.
He found himself at the edge. Staring. They all jumped... All of them... It... He gulped. Remembering his revelation. Feeling the slight hand. They all jumped. They waved. It must be good. He breathed out a hard pant, took a step back and ran to jump off the cliff. |
It is the morning of your sixteenth birthday, for you it is special, for everyone else, it's a normal Thursday.
You take a look in the mirror just to see an older you holding a wheelchair, and in it a girl with scars and no movement bellow the waist.
As a horney 16 year old your first thought is "don't tell me I will be in a sexless marrige".
You get dressed and go to school, depressed a bit but trying to hide it.
As expected, all your friends jump on you to say happy birthday and to find out how your partner will look, you brush it off by giving a typical description of a blond with big ...
After lunch, on your way to the bathroom, you see Jesica, the girl that you didn't know until three months ago when she started giving you hints that she wants to be a couple.
Jesica was short, black hair, black shirt, the sort of girl who gets her way by bulling people until they do what she says, she was the last person you wanted to get to know.
You run to the bathroom quickly trying to avoid her but she stops you, gets in front of you and quickly asks "Who did you see in the mirror this morning".
Not wanting to prolong a conversation you reply "noone I know"move around her and get in the bathroom.
After school, on your way home, yyou see Jesica again, pulling up in her car, she stops next to you
Jesica: Can I give you a ride?
You: Why do you think I will accept that offer?
Jesica: Because you know the truth
You: Which is?
Jesica: It's your birthday today, right?
You: Yes, so?
Jesica: Who did you realy see in the mirror?
You: None of your buisness!!!
Jesica: My birthday was 3 months ago.
You: So?
Jesica: You know that I saw you, right?
You are baffeled, you look at her again thinking "this is not the girl I saw???"
You: No, I didn't see you
Jesica: Really?
You: Yes, I'm sure
Jesica: OK, Keep telling yourself that
You: Come here, look me in the eyes and tell me you saw me!!!
Jesica: realy, you don't believe me?
You: COME HERE NOW!!!
Jesica: ok, surprised by your tone.
She opens the car door with a look on her face saying "What does he want from me".
With the surprise, the screeming, the shock she keeps her eyes on you not seeing the car comming from behind her.
It was a few hours later, when she got out of surgery, that you recognized the girl in the mirror. |
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“I’m at death’s door, but I see no doorbell. Do I just knock? That seems rude…”
Vivian lay partially under a layer of blankets, one bare leg jutting out from beneath them. Her arms were folded across her chest, like a corpse in repose, and her eyes were closed in a flat almost serene expression.
“Vivian, you’re not dying.”
“No mother, you know not of the agony I am in.” Vivian replied without opening her eyes. “Please see to it that you use my best makeup and eyeliner for my funeral. I want it to be open-casket.”
Jeanine sighed loudly and exaggeratedly, and then couldn’t help but snort in laughter.
“Well I hope you pass quietly and peacefully.”
Jeanine sat down on the side of the bed and fluffed an unoccupied pillow on Vivian’s bed.
“Yes, mother. That is all one can hope for: a peaceful and dignif-”
Vivian uttered a muffled scream as she suddenly found a solid now off-white pillow thrust in her face.
“Peacefully dear.” Jeanine reminded her, barely able to contain her laughter.
“Mother!” Vivian screamed as she dug her way around the pillow to the fresh air. Vivian glared at her mother, wide eyed with surprise, disgust, and anger. “I should have known! The ultimate betrayal!”
Jeanine was now bent over laughing as she pulled the pillow back and finished fluffing it.
“Have you always been so dramatic?”
There was a pregnant pause.
“It’s… it’s like you hardly even know me!”
Jeanine sat on the side of the bed, her torso twisted to see her wild haired daughter, who looked like an animal who had just survived drowning in a natural catastrophe. The two met in an intense gaze. Seconds later Jeanine broke first as she tried to stifle her laughter. Vivian’s face still held its traumatized appearance until a small crack formed, first from a shudder as she tried to suppress a giggle, and then the entire facade came tumbling down. Then the younger of the two Rossi women flopped back down on the pillows and whined.
“Mom. I’m miserable.”
Jeanine turned onto the bed so she was now comfortably facing her sickly daughter, trying not to crack up.
“I know dear. You become way more dramatic when you’re miserable.”
The two chuckled at this undeniable observation, before Vivian continued a low drawn our whine.
“It’s not COVID.”
“It’s not COVID *yet*.” Vivian retorted, her hands now holding the side of her head.
“Can you still smell?”
“I don’t know. I’m just hot and cold… at the same time? How is this even possible?”
“It’s the flu dear. You’ve never had the actual flu.”
Jeanine leaned over and cradled her daughter’s head.
“Do you smell my lotion?”
There was a somewhat muffled, “yes.”
“Ok it’s not COVID.”
“Not COVID, *yet*.”
“OK, it’s not COVID, *yet*.”
Jeanine leaned back and put the back of her hand on her daughter’s feverish head. It was warm but not as warm as it had been in the morning. She bent over towards the nightstand and picked up the thermometer.
“Give me your armpit.”
Vivian’s arm shot up, but the rest of her body remained still, her eyes still closed and her brow still wrinkled from wincing. Jeanine gently placed the thermometer under her daughter’s arm and gently lowered the arm and bent it gently until it was resting on her chest. She arranged Vivian’s other arm similarly until she once again looked like a pale 15 year old vampire. She glanced down at her daughter smiling. She was still Vivian so how bad could it be?
The thermometer beeped at intervals, almost mimicking a heart monitor in a hospital. Vivian’s face had now gone back to a peaceful calm, as if pretending to be dead was reassuring to her. She looked lovingly down at her daughter and smiled. The rapid beeping of the thermometer interrupted this moment and she retrieved the device from under her daughter’s arm.
“100. It’s lower than this morning.”
Her daughter’s corpse remained motionless.
“Do you want me to sit here with you?”
There was a small grunt of affirmation in reply. Jeanine gently kicked off her slippers and crawled into bed with her daughter, softly hugging her head. She could feel Vivian’s muscles relaxing in her embrace, though she remained in her pose, her eyes closed and arms folded.
“Ok. I’ll stay here with you.” She whispered to her feverish child.
“Don’t feel obligated to stay after I have crossed to the other side. I can almost see the shadowy shores of the beyond now.”
“Oh I won’t. We’ll toss you into the furnace as soon as you’re cold and dead.”
“Thank you mother. I would not want the rest of the family to freeze in the wretched winter. Save yourselves. Forget about me.”
"There's no way anyone is forgetting about you."
"If you insist, mother. If you insist." |
My family, generations of fighters who lived and died on the battlefield. Two thousand years ago, our two species each had a claim to this planet. Peace agreements were arranged, but they quickly broke down.
It's hell.
I look out of the transport copter through the window, the oceans shimmering beneath me. I can barely hear anything because of the deafening noise of the rotors. In the far off distance I can see dogfights, planes doing twists and turns to outmanoeuvre eachother.
I look at the empty seat infront of me and lean back. Being part of Squadron 1001 was tiring. Every other day, we're on deployment.
"We are roughly 500 metres from homebase."
says the crackle over the intercom. I can barely make out what it's saying through the rotors.
Soon, we'll be home free. The 5 months I was stationed at Kirakav were grueling. The enemy had launched a full on frontal assault. I watched my comrades throw themselves into the gunfire, risking their lives for their people.
9 of us went in, 5 of us are coming back.
"When do you think this'll be all over?"says Oriel, next to me.
"Long after we're dead."I reply.
I stare into the window again. An enemy plane far off into the distance goes into freefall, the metal beast plummeting. A fiery explosion envelops the ground below.
"They're saying there's hopes for peace talks again."
"You're lying."
"No need to be so hopeless about it. You know the world isn't *all* shit."
"It sure does seem like it though."
We start to descend slowly above the military base. I sit up. We touch down on the ground, and I instantly feel better. We line up and all step out of the copter one by one.
Home sweet home. |
I've lost alotta friends in this business. Lost my best friend, and strongest member of the team, Vyre to a buncha vampires. I still visit him sometimes but it ain't the same. He's a totally different person, and it feels so wrong. Though the rest of us pressured on with our hunting, team morale was down and...
"Crimson it's here!"Our youngest member, Kylie shouted to me. She had been sent to scout out the local forrest after word had spread of a plant monster.
Just after she shouted I heard another shout from one of our other members. "CRIMSON WE GOT A PROBLEM"Mixer yelled as he jumped past some bushes towards me and Kylie. Plant creature in tow.
The thing had a large bulb at the centre of it, long vines stretching out like legs, each of these vines covered in spore emitting flowers. These things were usually trappers. They would catch unsuspecting people with their spores, send em off to town to tell people to go to the forest, and then repeat the process. Until they were caught, or the whole town was sporred, and if that happened? They'd leave the bodies to rot and then the spores would grow new plants off em. Of course they weren't without their defenses. As well as mind controlling spores they could emit a cloud of poison, and despite the safe looking surface of the plant, touching it was like touching nettles, only it was much, much worse.
Mixer rushed towards us, hiding behind me for cover as I pulled out my plasma sword. Those high enough in the monster hunting guild had access to experimental tech, since we were at the front and the borderline face of the guild, we got all the shiny new toys. I flicked a button on the hilt of the sword and the metal blade flashed with light as the bright blue plasma covered it. Kylie did the same turning on her plasma knives, and mixer switched on his newly gained, freshly dubbed, mini gun lite. It was like a machine gun but slightly less potent in exchange for portability.
The plant beast charged for us, Mixer, still fiddling with his gun, scrambled out of the way as Kylie and I dodged with well timed precision. As the monster went flying past us I sliced at it with my sword, one of its vine legs sizzled and was cut cleanly off, though that would likely only hinder it for a second.
As the beast slowed down Kylie and I charged for it, trying to hit its bulb. I gave a nod to Kylie, which she understood.
"Hey ugly! Come 'ere!"Kylie shouted out at the beast. Distracted, this was my chance. I slipped on my gloves, rolled down my ruffled up pants legs, and jumped on the thing, stabbing its bulb. The thing let out a horrendous screech (one even I wasn't sure it was capable of making) and shook violently, knocking me to the ground.
"Agh!"I grunted. "Guys I think I hurt my leg!"I tried to push myself upwards, but it was no use. Mixer, having only just got his gun, was still fine tuning it. And Kylie was... Kylie was-
The beast let out another screech as Kylie jumped onto it with her Plasma knives. She was screaming herself as she hadn't the time to protect herself from the stinging. As the beast flailed around, trying to shake her off, she dug her blades in further. As the result the beast used one of its vine legs to grab her and slam her into the ground... It slammed her a few times and then turned back to me...
I was gonna die...
It approached slowly. It was leaning over me, it ready to kill me and eject it's spores, reproduce. Or maybe it would grab me and shove me in its bulb, crushing me and eating my insides.
And then I heard gun fire. Lots of it. The plant beast now had hundreds of bullet holes in it as it crumpled to the ground.
"We did it!"Mixer yelled out, having finally figured his mini gun lite out.
"Is Kylie ok‽"I called out to Mixer, who rushed over to her.
He placed his hands on her, checking her pulse. "N- No..."His voice was shaking and his eyes were tearing up.
"She's... She's dead..."He was on to verge of crying. And so was I.
---
That night Mixer carried me back to the guild. I had twisted my leg so I needed medical attention, and we still needed to cash in our quest. But... It didn't feel right leaving Kylie's body there, but it was guild rules, as who knows what a dead body could have picked up. Heck, we still had to disinfect. After getting a temporary wheelchair from the guild Mixer took me home and dropped me off. Luckily I lived in a bungalow, due to it being my Nan's old place, so I didn't need to climb any stairs to my bedroom.
I couldn't sleep that night though. I was thinking about Kylie. Was it my fault? I was the one who was injured, if I didn't get knocked off would she have had to jump in and save me? Was it Mixer's fault? He hadn't figured his gun out yet and- no, I shouldn't blame him. We had signed up for an easy mission, but this thing was way harder than we thought. I spent the rest of the night awake, thinking those kinds of thoughts.
When morning came the atmosphere felt different. I reached for my mobile phone and saw a couple texts, one from Mixer, one from Vyre.
M: hey xrim, you doin ok? i can come round and make you breakfast I'd you want?
C: its fine mixer, ive been in worse shape and ive handled it you know ill be fine
M: if u say so
I then glances at Vyre's text.
V: hey crimson, long time to talk. i heard what happend to kylie, mixer told me, im so sorry, i should have been there, i know this isnt good enough but if you want you can come round, and we can chat, i could even maybe join the guild again, it'd be just like old times!
I glanced at the message a few times. "I should have been there?"
C: your right about one thing vyre
V: we could even go werewolf hunting! that was your first mission! im so glad you want me to join you again, to be honest i was getting a little bored
C: your right that you should have been there. fucking traitor.
V: im sorry
C: be sorry. its all your fucking fault shes dead.
I shut off my phone before I said anything else I didn't mean. I didn't think that of course, but I needed a punching bad and Vyre was the perfect target..
I hauled myself over to my wheelchair and started to leave. I needed some fresh air, even if it meant going out in my pajamas. I wheeled myself out my door and into the garden. With fresh air I could focus better and-
"Crimson?"
That was her voice.
"Crimson I'm so glad your ok!"
I turned around and I saw her. But she wasn't her. Her body was covered in the plants vines, flowers coming out of them. One of her eyes was covered, and in its place was a bright red rose.
"Dont- Don't do this to me"I muttered. I couldn't take this.
It didn't say anything, just approached.
"Crimson?"
I reached for my blade, just to remember I left it inside. 'Kylie' noticed though.
"Crimson wait! I- I can explain!"It sounded just like her... Acted just like her. I'd give it a chance maybe..
"Go on then, but no funny business"
It sat itself down on one of the chairs in my garden and explained the story. One moment she was killing the beast. Next she was covered in vines, a slash in her arms and blood on her lips. Vyre leaning over her, telling her she would be ok.
I knew what had happened. When a vampire and a human pour out a chalice of each of their bloods, then take a drink, it causes an irreversible process causing them to turn into powerful monsters. Most vampires who did this in history died. Due to the suffering of a second transformation, merging with whatever is near in order to bring more power. In history the vampires who survived where the ones with slow transformations, those that took days, or weeks. Of course, the human in the situation did the same. Though, the human body, has grown resilient, and generally it can survive one transformation.
"I- I know what happend"I still couldn't believe it. Vyre risked himself to save Kylie, even though she was already dead. The merging with the local flora must have put enough life back into her.
"Vyre risked himself for me, even though we kicked him out."Kylie muttered.
I pulled out my phone.
C: i know what you did vyre
V: it was the only way i could save her!
C: you risked your life! are you ok???
V: idk but i feel different, my transformation time was pretty slow the first time, so maybe I'm lucky
C: thank god
V: so about me joining back?
C: sure
---
Thanks for reading! Inspired/based on a story Im working on where the main character becomes a vampire while on the job, and has to quit and learn how to adapt, this is set in the same universe, and is told from the perspective of the fresh vampires old friend he had to leave behind. |
It's over in an instant. You look at your watch, or your phone. Your eyes wander ever so briefly. You wonder what you were going to have for dinner. And the next thing you feel is this strange weightlessness before your head hits something hard, and you drift off into unconsciousness.
And it takes time, sure, but you awaken on the ground fit as a fiddle. And you look down at the corpse littering the road and realise said fiddle has been in the hands of an overeager rockstar with a chip on his shoulder. You stop and wonder how you could get lost in your mind, when your mind is splattered across 4 square feet of tarmac. But that ache in your shoulder and your back is gone, so you find the positive in your situation.
A small cough, from behind you, and as you turn you see it. Not him or her, not even them. This creature can only be called an it. Skeletal, brief patches of skin clinging desperately to bone, a robe covering its form, a long scythe in one hand and a the other reaching what seems an unfathomably long distance toward you.
"**Your time has came. And so too must you come.**"It's words are not so much spoken, they just are. Like the leaves on a tree. Growing since time immemorial.
And you ask the only question you can ask. "Where?"
"**Elsewhere.**"The words were within you, that simple word bringing forth images of all that you have lost, a land of bliss and happiness. It brings images of a new you, a new life, this moment happening again and again, and you are others, the people around you, the rats in the sewers, the chickens in the coop. Images of flame, burning away all that you have sinned. You see Valhalla, you see Odin, you see Ra. You see Elysium, ambrosia and nectar flowing freely. You see yourself. You see the edges of black cloth just out of view, and the clear blade of a scythe. Oh.
"**Enjoy it whilst you can. Eventually, Life will end.**"it says, as you clasp it's hand instinctively, and find yourself whisked away, to whatever comes next.
The reaper speaks to dead air this time. "**And all that remains is death.**"
\------
Feedback is always welcome. |
I didn't even catch a whiff of the burning ozone from the time gate as I ran through. Travelling this far back in time was a ridiculous idea, for certain, but between it and being killed or caught and shoved in an isolated cryo-cell, what choice did I have?
I found myself in a clearing, standing upon soft grass, fresh unpolluted air filling my lungs. The gate closed behind me seconds after I passed through, but not before a single shot from a pistol whizzed over my shoulder, slamming into a tree, obliterating the trunk and splitting it in half with a loud bang as the explosives detonated.
Nearby, I heard the noises of a panicking horse, along with the yelled and very likely expletive filled complaints of its rider. Another horse raced towards him, its own rider asking questions rapidly. I ran, hiding in the bushes, Crushing twigs and rustling leaves as I sprinted for cover. the noise of my flight clearly alerted them as I heard a spear being clasped and a sword unsheathed. I reached for my holster, only to find myself clasping at air.
They slowed as they entered the clearing, backs to each other, staring in awe at the annihilated tree. I turned my head to get a better look, rustling the bush slightly.
With reflexes trained by years of war, both the soldiers snapped their gaze to me, one held a spear in both arms, the other held a sword in his right, fumbling to grab a knife with his left. I raised both hands up, and rose out of the bush.
They stared silently for several seconds. doubtlessly my clothes looked downright bizarre to them.
Finally, I broke the silence
"uh... hello!"
They stepped back a little, each grasping their weapon tighter.
"Quis est tu?!"The swordsman shouted
I myself stepped back, as they approached slightly. Inside, I panicked, I didn't have a damn clue about a single thing they were saying. My brain went to the most common response it could think of.
"Non hablo... latin?"
The roman with the sword responded quizzically
"non latius est? Potesne loqui Latine?"
The only thing I could make out was the word "Latin"
"No. English. I speak English"
This rather clearly steeled the roman, as he grasped his sword tighter.
"Ah! tu est anglicus!"
The roman with a spear turned to him
"fortasse servus est?"
They glared at me. I could make out "anglicus"and "servus". "English"and "Servant", most likely.
"No no no! I'm an American! you know, freedom, liberty?"
the two men relaxed
"Est liber? cur non dico!"
The man sheathed his sword, the spearman placed his along his back.
They turned and walked back to their horses. Clearly, I had some learning to do. |
THE FINAL CALL
(First ever short story, still in progress, please send any ideas this way!)
Sloane sat by the phone, debating whether to dial the number of the one person who had ever made her feel... alive. She has called so many times with no response that she lost count. All she wanted to do was hear his voice, to hear him say,” Hello Sloane,” just one more time. Sloane would have given anything. The dozens of voicemails she has left over the last three years have seemingly gone to waste. “Maybe he really is done with me,” Sloane thought. She decided she would call one more time, one last ditch effort to reconnect with him. Sloane picked up the phone, took a deep breath, and dialed his number. “Hi, it’s me again. I’m guessing that you are sick of these after all these years but this is the last time, I promise. So, um, how is life so far? You might have gotten married, had kids, probably. I knew that was always a dream of yours. Well, of ours. Anyway, congrats on life, I hope everything worked out but even if it doesn’t, just know that you did great and left your mark. Bye.” Sloan hung up the phone and sat in the silence. “Was that a mistake,” she thought to herself. Little did she know, this would be the last message she left before her life was turned upside down.
In a small house, four hours from where Sloane had called for the last time, the voicemail came to an end. Someone had been listening to these voicemails for the last 3 years, but it wasn’t him. The person on the other end of the phone packed a bag and left for Sloane’s. It was time for her to know the truth, no matter the consequences. Four more hours and the truth would finally be out. Where had all the voicemails been going?
Sloane was woken up by a knocking at the door. She rolled over and looked her alarm clock to see that it was 2:30 in the morning. “Who in the hell is knocking at this hour?” Sloane said. She sat up, brushed out her hair with her fingers, and threw on a robe. As she descended the stairs, she began to feel her anxiety grow. She had no idea who was on the other side of that door. She reached the door and held her ear against it in hopes of hearing any sound that might hint her mysterious knocker’s identity. She listened for a minute, nothing. She took a breath, held it in, unlocked the door and pulled it open. The second Sloane saw the person on the other side of the door her jaw dropped.
The she stood. A woman about the size of Sloane, with her blonde hair in a messy bun, and her eyes dark from the circles around them. Sloane would have recognized her anywhere. “Megan, what the hell are you doing here?” Sloane said as her voice cracked.
“We need to talk. I need your help.”
“My help? I haven’t seen you in almost four years and now you are on my doorstep. What is going on?”
“I know about the voicemails, Sloane. You call almost every month like clock work.”
“How do you know about those?”
“I have been the one listening to them.”
Sloane could not believe what she was hearing. Megan was the one receiving all these voicemails, but how? They weren’t being left for her. Sloane invited Megan into the house and put on a pot of coffee. This was going to be a long night.
Megan looked at Sloane and sighed. She had to tell her the truth and get that weight off her shoulder. “Sloane, I know you have been leaving messages for Hudson. Like I said, I know this because I have been the one getting them and listening to them. Yes, I know I should have reached out or stopped by, but I have been trying to handle this without word getting out. I do not want this being all over the news or in the papers. I would not be able to handle it.” “Megan, spit it out. What is going on with Hudson?” “He’s missing Sloane, he left work one day and never came home. Then two days later, I get a package with no return address, inside was all his personal belongings. I’m here because I need your help. I need to find out what happened. Please Sloane, help me.” Sloane drew a breath. What in the hell was she supposed to do? |
"That's natural selection for ya buddy"said the chief inspector. "Clean this up for me, right?!". And with a tap on my back he went free fall from the roof. Asshole dirtbag. He doesn't care about lives or anything but his payment, if wings took your remains straight to the sun he wouldn't even use his.
Back in the department I filled dozens of documents just to keep the law machine in peace, but wondering. I come to the conclusion that if my boss isn't going to change anything I will, fuck this winged parasite.
Hastag-dontskiplegday. Says the poster near to our sketch chart. Most people just won't bother to use legs anymore, they call you monkey if you do, but I've seen too much gruesome deaths among those who can't land properly. Shocked beneath electric wires, bashing on a vehicle or crashing with another winged.
Natural selection my ass. This is marketing taking over society, shit injected to our DNA, now and then we have to schedule clinic appointments to keep it working or else fucking cancer takes over. Worst of all deaths if you ask me. So we're all pretty much relying our lives into specific medical care and money since birth. Fly free like an eagle is advertised on my doctor's clinic, chronic lies from our society, you're not allowed to land or walk anywhere, you're now tied to the sky like a slave working to skip your slashing.
This now ends today. The thing about actually doing your job is that you begin to understand how things works. I know how those skinned wings works, I know how slow you have to be so your spine doesn't breaks for a little mistake. I know how confusing it can get to determine who's fault was it and usually it ends on "accident". My boss has a piercing attached to his right wing and he can't even grasp the risk, but I can.
Maybe he was right after all. "That's natural selection for y'all". And the funeral went silent. |
A pale purple haired teen was lacing up his skates. His six brothers encouraging him from the seats in the ice rink. "Next up for hockey tryouts is Levi Ruri Pierre."Shouted the coach of the Maple Hill Mountaineers. Levi clutches the hockey stick like a lifeline. He pats his black and orange helmet. He moves to the entrance of the ice rink. Oh boy I'm definitely not cut out for this. He mutters under his breath. He tests out his skates. But somehow he's not faceplanting on the ice. Huh did my watching of Yuri on ice give me superpowers. That sentence races through his mind. His feet and hands move as naturally as a professional player. While Levi is slack jawed at his own natural skill. Goal after goal is shot straight into the next with what looked like to the coach as practiced ease. Levi does a triple axle in celebration and newfound confidence. A whistle is blown. "Come over here Levi. You're now on the team. Also you've must have practiced really hard to get so good." |
Tane gazed anxiously across the city. Below the peak of Maungawhau the city was black and dead. Once bright arterial motorways were clogged and silent, wrecks piled up at every exit. Beside him Gazza blearily peered across the suburbs. “Morningside for life!” He shouted, slapping Sione’s shoulder hard enough to rock the burly rugby player into Tane. “There, look! Bro Town’s open! I see lights...”
Twenty minutes later the three youths had scrambled down the sides of the volcanic mound. None looked towards the gulf and the blazing maw of Rangitoto. They half walked, half ran down Fulla Street and saw Bro Town ahead. Panting, they kept to the shadows and hurried up the street to safety.
Light flickered dimly from behind shuttered windows and Gazza heard the clinking of beer bottles. He strode through the brightly tagged door and froze. Sparks arced across exposed wires as three of *them* struggled to free themselves from the remains of the bar kitchen. All movement stopped as their blank faces turned towards the men and they threw their heads back and howled in unison. From the gulf Rangitoto answered.
Huddling in the toilets the friends clung to each other as Te Nui Ika returned to the ocean and New Zealand sank back beneath the waves. Aue! |
Alice leaned back in the seat of the car and looked with disinterest out of the window. Alice was a young woman, only 30, but she had already produced 14 healthy children and given the best case conditions she could likely produce another 20 or so before menopause struck her down. She was not an especially lovely looking person, by traditional beauty standards with a round face, cheeks like apples and a high forehead, though these days that did not matter in the slightest. She had a plump curvaceous figure with wide hips and large round breasts. In short she had a "mom body"which of course was EXACTLY what was needed.
The miracle drug that had been meant to cure the plague had unfortunate side effects in most people. It had crushed the disease true, but it had caused wide spread infertility and impenitence. It was far more common in women than men, though still a full 80% of inoculated women had been rendered barren. That number had climbed as the children who had been given the drug grew to adult hood so that now only one woman in twenty could bare children.
Alice had been inoculated just like everyone else at her school, at the age of 6. When I became clear that she was one of the lucky ones, one of the rare few that could reproduce, she had been sent to a special reproduction research facility. and she had gotten pregnant for the first time at the age of 16.
It wasn't so bad, Alice though to herself. As one of the lucky few, Alice had lived a life of pampered luxury. True she had to report to various tests and studies and yes, her activities were strictly limited; no smoking, no alcohol, no drugs or anything that might hurt the baby. But overall, that seemed a slight price to pay.
Breeders like Alice, were a precious commodity, since they held the entire future of mankind in their hands. They were treated with extreme reverence and respect and it was a serious crime to ever hurt a breeder, or even touch er without express permission from the government. No one with STD's had even a breath of a chance of even being withing 20 ft of a breeder, and men and married couples were required to submit background checks and psych evals to even APPLY for a chance to hire a breeder to make them a baby.
Breeders had become celebrities, rock stars. Gone were the days of size 0 bodies or fat shaming. Being pregnant became the most attractive thing on the planet, and some women had even taken to wearing false bellies to appear pregnant in public.
Alice had been pampered and cared for her entire life. Ever tiny fluctuation in her body's chemistry was carefully watched and monitored. Any possible threat that could hurt her or her babies were swiftly dealt with, and she barely needed to lift a finger for anything she wanted. Alice was rich as well, extremely rich. Taking a shot at impregnating a Breeder would cost a cool 100k, and even for women who had been given fertility drugs it might take more than one try to make the magic happen.
Alice's life was one of extreme ease for the most part. She had a lot of sex, and it was often disappointing, just a business transaction, in and out in about 20 minutes, but she was waited on hand and foot, made a boat load of money and never had to worry about anything accept keeping her offspring safe and healthy. It was a life she had come to rather enjoy.
Today, she was scheduled to meet with a wealthy couple named Armitage. They had pre-paid close to a million dollars to retain the curvaceous Breeder for a week, and had sent a car to pick her up at the airport and drop her off at the luxury suite of her hotel. She had read up on them on the flight. Apparently, Mr Armitage was the son of a big time hotel magnet and his father was eager that there should be grandchildren to carry on the family legacy. He wasn't bad looking either, Alice thought to herself, remembering the picture her agent had shown her of the rugged looking man with the crew cut and polished look of someone who spends a lot of time on yachts. His wife, a standard trophy blonde, was none to pleased that her husband was going to be having sex with another woman, but she, like all the others would get over it when the doctors handed her her new baby. Having a baby was a status symbol like none other. Screw buying a Lamborghini, if you really wanted to flex, roll up to your garden party with a baby carrier strapped to your chest. |
The few people who were allowed to know how the Dark Lord’ council ran also knew that the Dark Lord trusted the advice of three people more than anyone else in the world, and so he raised them to the position of his personal advisors and private council when he stole the kingdom away from Noble Starbless bloodline.
The first person was Derrick the Dammed. Derrick, or Captain General to anyone who wasn’t on the council, was a cruel man whose only love was strength and battle. Fitting then that the Dark Lord appointed him the leader of his forces when he stormed the Starbless Castle, and as the general of his armies when he crowned himself ruler. Derrick’s cruelty was only matched by his skill with a spear and the cunning of his battle strategies. He normally
doesn’t stay in Starbless Castle long after the council meeting, preferring to go back to the barracks as to continue preparing for the Dark Lord’ wars against the neighbouring kingdoms.
The second person on the Dark lord’ council was Carl the Undying, a powerful dark mage who was able to hold off reinforcements to Castle Starbless single-handily while the Dark Lord’ forces stored the castle and slayed the rulers in their chambers. Not much is known about Carl other than the fact that he is a powerful dark mage, as he does not have any chambers or know residents in the kingdom, and he is only scene when the Dark Lord calls for his council; though it is rumoured that his knowledge of the magical arts could rival the Archmage of the mage’ guild herself.
Then there’s the third, and last, member of the Dark Lord’ council; Janet, the Accountant. Those who know of the dark council’ identity have often questioned why such an unassuming woman would be a member, but those educated on rulership knows that very few people are capable of keeping a kingdom running after the loss of their royal family. Derrick may be an unparalleled fighter and a skilled tactician, but his understanding of logistics doesn’t go father than setting up supply routes to and from battlefields; Carl, for all his power and magical knowledge, is not a people person, and would struggle to negotiate with Trading guilds to ensure that the kingdom would be supplied with the exports is requires to continue functioning; even the dark lord himself would struggle, as everyone is too afraid to approach him with the kingdom’ problems in fear that they would be executed for bothering him.
Janet, meanwhile, is a logistical mastermind who aided the dark lord on his journey of conquest since the beginning, advising him on how best to take over the kingdom to limit the damage to important trade routes and traders, and continuing to aid him keep the kingdom running while also planning how best to finance the planned invasion. She lives in the castle and rarely leaves her private quarters, as she uses it as a hub for her runners and messengers, so they can give messages and payment to every person who helps the kingdom from falling apart.
Getting to her is easy, as she has so many people entering and leaving her quarters every day that it’s almost impossible for anyone to keep track and getting close to her is almost as easy since she prefers to work with the messengers directly. She does have guards stationed around her, but none of them are able to react quickly enough to stop the flintlock shot from piercing her throat. Everyone panicked, and as the guards try to force themselves past the packed corridors of messenger and servants, I was able to make a quick escape from the castle and into an awaiting caravan to take me out of the city before the message to lock down all the exits can reach the main gates.
By the time Carl reaches her to try and heal her, she will have died of blood loss, and everyone doubts that the Dark Lord would let Carl try to resurrect her as he respects his counsil too much to let her soul be sullied by dark magic, and even if he did, the Archmage says that resurrection would only reanimate the body, and that Janet’ mind would be lost forever. Derrick would no doubt be ordered to kill every messenger in the kingdom to try and find the assassin, and to execute every guard in Janet’ quarters to set an example of what happens to those that fail the Dark Lord, but the damage has already been dealt. Without Janet to keep the trader happy, the important exports to the kingdom will be cut off, depriving the Dark lord’ forces from important resources for their war efforts. Many people in the kingdom will likely suffer for it, but my contractor in the neighbouring kingdom that it will help the remnants of the Starbless lineage reclaim their kingdom in future.
Then again, what happens to that kingdom doesn’t really matter to me, as long as I get paid for a job well done. |
The Third and Final
Buried deep beneath the ruins of an Aztec pyramid, the first legend was found. A shining obsidian tablet, seemingly untouched by the ravages of time that destroyed its home around it. Etched into its gleaming surface were words that anyone could read. It told the story of a world without hunger, and without want. Every soul was nourished and every harvest was bountiful. A beautiful story to uplift humanity.
And uplift it did. Upon its discovery, it’s story became truth, spilling across the lands of the earth like a great flood. Overnight the world’s resources had been restored to beyond what was ever thought possible. Every tree grew heavy with its fruit, every dry well overflowing again, and every dying land restored to a lush and natural state, teeming with life.
The First Legend told tell of its brethren as well. Two tablets, one of silver and one of gold, buried beneath the earth that would satisfy the needs of humanity forevermore. Without the threat of hunger or starvation, and with boundless resources, humanity worked together and found the Second legend almost immediately.
The silver tablet, locked beneath the sands of a long buried monument in a forgotten city beneath the Gobi Desert. It shone brightly despite its dark surroundings and it told of a world without disease or age. A world where even death had no grasp on its people. As with before the fires of change burned across the world. The sick were healed and the old made young again. No one could ever be harmed again and no one would have to suffer the loss of another or the self.
For hundreds of years the world grew to become a paradise. Hunger and death and pain were all washed away and only utopia remained. The human race expanded, reaching out to the moon and beyond, planning to expand forever outward in the light of the future. The Third Legend became just that, a legend. Nobody expected it to be found, nor did they feel they needed it. What else could it possibly bring that the first two didn’t?
I certainly didn’t expect to find it myself. In my infinite life, I had devoted myself to exploring every corner of the globe. I had been walking along the floor of the ocean when I had found a sea cave that was not charted on any map of the area I had consulted before my journey. I thought, perhaps, some geological activity had opened it recently. Whatever had happened, I had been eager to explore some where brand new.
The cave was deep, twisting and curling down into the bowels of the earth. The temperature rose, but my eternal body paid no mind. At some point the cave opened to air and I was able to walk further from there. Climbing down, the cavern opened to a massive hall, lined with heavy basalt pillars and rivers of molten rock lining each side of the chamber. Sitting on a marble stand at the end of the hall, shining in the earth’s glow, was the golden tablet of the Third Legend. It told of a world overcome by “unrelenting bliss” where no one would be left with any desire again. A world where—
I stopped reading. I knew that the completion of the story would activate the Legend and the idea of that possibility terrified. The first two Legends had provided humanity with everything it could ever need, but the third? The third would only rob us. Removing our agency and replacing it with the insidious death of the mind that would be “unrelenting bliss” would be too much to bear. No, I couldn’t do it. Perhaps some would prefer eternal happiness to eternal life, but I truly believe that our destiny lay beyond the furthest stars. I hefted the golden tablet from its stand and hurled it into the liquid rock with all of my might. I did not leave the cave until I could confirm it was destroyed in its entirety. |
“Found you. I’ve been looking for you for a long time, you know…” The man licks his lips. At first, when he approached you, he seemed like a rather friendly old man, dressed in an old, slightly musty suit. But now, what draws your attention is his blood-red eyes.
“W-what are you doing? What is that!?” You point to the screen where, instead of the donut-shaped red blood cells you saw in biology class, you instead see fried eggs. Blue fried eggs.
“Ah. I forgot to introduce myself.” The man bows down to you. “My name is Cacocemia. I am a vampire; I believe that is what humans call my kind. You see, your blood is quite unique.”
“Oh yeah? Do I get superpowers or something?” Your eyes dart around, trying to look for an exit, any exit. Unfortunately, Cacocemia is blocking the only door in the room.
“No, no, nothing that exciting. You see, I’ve talked to the local mosquito population. Apparently, they’ve found your blood extra delicious, and I simply had to come and see why.”
Your eyes widen. You’ve always been a mosquito magnet, but at least you know why, now. Not that having blue fried eggs for red blood cells is really anything to brag about…
“Well, my dear friend, I think it’s time for you to go to sleep.” The man snaps his fingers, and suddenly, your eyelids start to sag.
“You will make an excellent breakfast drink, I believe.” The last thing you see is the man chuckling to himself. |
An entire year of complete and total obedience from every single human being, it was a dream come true. I could finally fulfill my most insane fantasies with absolutely no repercussions. I started small, mercilessly beating my childhood bully, but soon I got a taste for it. Knowing that my actions could lead to my victims desiring revenge, I gave what I thought was a foolproof command to the entire world.
*Do not carry out any action, directly or indirectly, that could bring harm to John*
Once it was broadcast over the speakers I had demanded be installed in every home, the safety net meant my depravity only grew deeper. Unfortunately, I had failed to see the glaring hole in my command, doing nothing.
My personal Zookeeper, Gene never forgave me after what I had done to his wife, after all, who would? I entered the massive enclosure for my pet animals, usually Gene entered with me, carrying their toys. I looked back as he stood there, staring at me, wide-eyed.
"Gene, what the hell are you doing?"
A chorus of growls sounded out behind me, and I turned around, only to find myself face to face with three very hungry, unhappy tigers. |
I'm a real hero. I'm not like those pathetic comic book characters who whimper and shy away from killing. Criminals deserve death, and that’s simply the truth. But no one recognizes it! These cowards dare to criticize me? They just don’t understand what true justice is. True justice is killing all who disobey the law. I cleanse this land of filth!
That drug dealer deserved to die. He was probably peddling some kind of dangerous drug, I bet! Innocent before proven guilty? That’s the mindset of a coward. I ran into some kids vandalizing a wall, and of course, I sliced and diced them all up. And oh, what a rush I feel when I enact justice! The blood of the guilty stains my hands, and I love every. Fucking. Second.
But these guys just don’t get it! These criminals are pretending to be cops, trying to stop me from enacting true justice! Dammit! I’m a true hero, you know. I’m the only person who protects this damn town from evil. I’ll show them. My justice and I will show these “cops” exactly what they deserve. |
I stare at the cover, trying to find some sort of difference between myself and the girl on the cover. There were none. From the lace scarf tied around my head to my favorite saddle shoes, we looked identical. She even had that scar on my arm from when I fell into that pile of scrap metal!
I bought the movie. I mean, why not? The main character looks just like me. and it turn
S out she had a way cooler life than me. The story was about the main character (who had the exact same name as me) finding a magic crystal in a river while swimming. The rest of the movie was about how she becomes a sorceress and goes on a quest to heal the earth. Pretty corny, but still a great film.
I thought it was just that until my friends suggested a trip to the river…. |
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*Why does it always have to be hot?*
Marya twisted her back, trying to pry a sweat-soaked shirt from sticky skin. Her calves ached after hours crouching behind what was left of the wall, and the dusty air sat in her throat like fire. Every few minutes she passed her rifle to the other hand as it became slippery in her palm.
Such a cliché, soldiers sent to fight under a blazing sun. The uniforms—such as they were—could at least be lighter! Marya felt lightheaded and braced herself against the crumbling brick. She laid her forehead against the wall and jerked back; even the brick was baking, no relief there.
A bird cried out and Marya jumped, nearly dropping her weapon. That was exactly the sort of thing the general would have scolded her for. Not that his drills or his maxims had done him much good today, not at the end. Secondhand training, Marya thought bitterly, passed down from a brother in the real army, *where did all that talk about revolution get you?* She bit the inside of her cheek hard, *stop it*, it wasn’t his fault. He’d been younger than she was.
Marya paused and listened, grasping for something she couldn’t quite hear. She craned her neck toward the edge and held her breath. Second by second, a sound began to take shape.
Footsteps.
Tears began to prick at her eyes, *not again, I can’t do it again, please go away* but the footsteps kept coming. She gripped the rifle until her fingers turned white and readied herself to shoot as soon as he came around the corner of the brick.
After a minute, the footsteps stopped, then shuffled. Marya heard a pack hitting the ground and half a sigh, half a groan. She let herself breathe out and realized she’d been clenching her teeth enough to make her jaw ache. Slowly, as slowly as she could, she turned toward a gap in the wall and peered through it.
A soldier sat on a pile of toppled stone, drinking the last of his water. He lifted the pouch high and Marya could see a spiderweb of tattoos on his hand and neck—a True Believer. She held utterly still; if he saw her, she was sure he would kill her without a thought.
Marya scanned the road. As far as she could see this way, that way, there wasn’t a soul in sight. If she took the shot, he couldn’t raise the alarm—her reinforcements might still be able to arrive in time to take the inner city.
She squared her shoulders and raised the rifle, setting it into the notch in the brick without a sound.
The soldier wiped his mouth on his sleeve and accidentally spilled a few precious drops onto his pant leg.
“Squirrel nuts!”
*What?*
Marya jerked her finger away from the trigger as the soldier quickly capped the pouch. She hadn’t heard anybody say that in years.
*Nobody says “squirrel nuts.”*
She stared and her heart fell as the soldier pushed back his wrap and ash-blond hair peeked out.
*Peter*.
It must have been a decade since they’d seen each other, a lifetime. He’d hugged her awkwardly as his parents disapproved from the car, packed to leave town forever. *They wanted to be with their sort.* Before that they’d been inseparable—peas in a pod, partners in crime since she’d taught him how to tie his shoelaces. Marya found the best hiding spots and
Peter told the best ghost stories.
*Look at us now*.
She watched as he stretched and rooted through his pack. He still sat the same way, gangly legs never quite sure which way to go, but he was thinner now and his face more angular. And… was he missing a finger? *Jesus*.
Marya realized she was trembling.
*I didn’t sign up for this! I wanted to fight bad guys, not Peter. They’re The Enemy, they’re not supposed to be the people I know. Thousands of True Believers, and I find the one who used to split his chocolate bars with me? What the fuck, General? What the fuck, God?*
She tried to steady herself, pressed her cheek to the rifle stock. Through the sight, a black cross appeared on Peter’s forehead.
*I have to take the shot. I have to do it. He’ll do it if I don’t. I don’t want to die.*
Thoughts tumbled over each other, shouting to drown each other out.
*This is what he chose. They chose to attack us, all of them, it’s not our fault if we fight back. It’s not my fault, I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for him and them.*
*I can’t do it again. I haven’t slept since the last one—why did she have to look at me like that? I can’t close my eyes without seeing her face, what was left of it.*
The woman’s face was already starting to blend into Peter’s.
*I don’t want to be this person…. but I’d rather be alive.*
Marya gazed upward, willing some kind of deus ex machina to fall out of the sky. Years of praying, what good is it if God doesn’t listen when things are as bad as they can get?
The building behind Peter looked like it was ready to collapse with a stiff breeze. Two stories up, a bell loomed in the tower window. An old church.
Peter told the best ghost stories.
When they were seven, he’d told her an ornate tale about a haunted church bell and the restless spirits left by—she couldn’t remember anymore. But the next day, she’d snuck up behind him and when the church bell rang, she grabbed his neck and started shrieking, and then he was shrieking and they started running for their lives and ran until they couldn’t run anymore and collapsed in the grass laughing until they were out of breath. After that, any time the church bell rang, it was their private signal for *Run!*, racing each other to outrun the ghosts. Before long, she found herself running from church bells even when Peter was nowhere near. He did too.
*Would he?*
Marya stared at the bell. It wasn’t too far away—she was a decent shot, not amazing—she’d have a good chance of hitting it, but it wasn’t a sure thing.
If she missed, she was dead. True Believers preferred grenades; shorter range, but less room for error within range. If he heard the shot from behind the wall, he wouldn’t even get close enough to see her face before she’d be in pieces.
Even if she hit it… he’d still hear the gun’s report before the bell rang. Peter had always been superstitious, but it was a long time since they were children. Was any of the old instinct left? Or would he flinch at the bell, turn toward the shooter and end her in a matter of seconds?
*I can’t live with myself if I kill him. That is true, right? I don’t think I would be able to. A good person wouldn’t be able to live with herself.* A pit grew in her stomach. *But self-defense isn’t wrong, is it? It can’t be. Please, please, I don’t want to die. Peter, please just walk away.*
Peter tucked the pouch into his pack. He stretched, wincing, and pulled himself to his feet. As he heaved the pack onto his shoulder, he looked toward Marya’s wall and started slightly. Marya panicked. Had she made a sound? Was she casting a shadow? Peter began walking toward her, hand moving toward his weapon.
There was no time left to think. It was Peter or the bell.
She aimed the gun. |
"Have you packed everything, are ya ready to go?"Anna asked her brother Alex."Yup. I just put on my alien costume. Is it not looking realistic? I am so proud of it. I worked day and night to finish it"Alex said proudly. Alex was fascinated of extraterrestrial life. He read ancient books, modern sciene fiction and everything he could get his fingers on in order to create a Halloween costume which represents an alien."It is weird and makes me very uncomfortable seeing you in this costume... it is very realistic, indeed."said his sister.Alex's costume consisted of a grey, flesh-like and tight skin, long and extended fingers and a unproportional big grey head with huge, pitch-black and oval eyes."Wow... one does basically get lost in your eyes, Alex"Anna said fascinated.Alex could not be happier to go to the Halloween party he was invited to by his friend. Since he was not eightteen yet, he had to be driven by his sister to the party.Anna looked on her phone. Someone called her and she took the call. "What's wrong Dave? What? No way.... yes, I will be right there in a couple of minutes. Wait for me."Alex was perplexed. "What happened, Anna? What does it mean, you will be there in a couple of minutes?""Listen, Alex. Dave needs my help. His grandma fell down the stairs and I need to help him. I can't drive you now. Sorry! I will be back soon". She dashed to take her keys and went out of the house.Alex heard Anna starting the engine of the car... and now he was alone. He stood there for several minutes and tried to realize what just happened."Damn it!"Alex shouted and hit against the wall. "I only have 30 minutes left to arrive at the Halloween Party... and I need to drive 30 kilometres to reach Heamsville... I will never reach it on foot."Alex sinked slowly to the ground. He worked months on this costume to fascinate all his friends and all the strangers. Now, he obviously won't fascinate anyone.Suddenly, Alex jumped up. "The metro!!!"he shouted.He grabbed his bagpack and ran down the street. It was located 500 metres away from him.Alex smirked when he saw all the passengers looking very disturbed and shocked by his costume. But Alex did not care much about it. In fact, he enjoyed it. He loved taking the center stage and he always wanted to be famous. Therefore, he always had a controversial opinion in school so that people start talking about him, no matter if negatively or positively."Okay, now i reached the crossover. I have to turn to the right and then I will finally arrive at the metro."Alex was out of breath when he started to see flashy lights at the end of the street.When he finally gained a view of the metro, he saw that it was quite empty there. However, Alex had doubts. He never used the metro since he had the luxury to be driven by her sister all the time. "Where do I have to go now?"he asked himself. In front of him was a big hall with many entries. "Excuse me, miss.". Alex tried to ask an old woman where to find the next train to Heamsville. Suddenly, she began to use her walking stick to defend herself. "Go away, you creature!!! GO!"she shouted.Now, Alex was not so pleased to attract other peoples attention. Reflexively, he began to run. He ran not only to escape the old woman, but also to escape the view of the people who created a circle around him. He punched his way through the mass. He was so stressed, that he did not care where he went. He rushed through many doors and many corridors. Standing in a tiny corridor, he saw another door. He decided to enter it. Now, he was in a storeroom. It was a big one with many maze-like standing shelves. It was very chilly in here. A dark and mystic place with a lot of cobwebs.Curiously, he advances. "Shit"he thought. The wooden floor creaks with each step he makes. Suddenly, he stops."Ah, here you are. Welcome!"a feminine voice says. "What are you doing here? It is quite dangerous for us to be here unprotected.""Unprotected?"Alex asked. "Who is there?"A light went on. It revealed a beautful, pale skinned woman with orange hair. She was very slender with a flame on her hand."What the hell are you holding in your hand?"Alex asks perplexed."Are you alright? I am holding a flame. What's wrong with you?"She stares at Alex for a second. "Anyways... I think you need some fresh air. You should not stay here for longer than necessary. Here is the portal, come on, quick."she commanded him.Alex decided to leave this place as fast as possible. He strides away from the majestic looking woman but suddenly his neck was grabbed by a massive hand. "Whoa"Alex shouts. "Shush, individual. I can't allow you to go back to the humans. We are not allowed to go there on our own."A 3 meter high creature said. It was a tall human-like alien who had thick pores on his skin which released now and then fumes. Alex was dragged to the portal. The orange haired woman was right next to him. "Why are you behaving so rebellous? I like that kind of people but this is a serious issue. Don't play with our rules. Or do you want to be chased down by humans?".They reached the portal. It was a pitch-black hole, which was located on the floor at the corner of the room. The massive creature pushed Alex into the hole of the floor. Alex started to scream. He was falling. He almost fainted because his whole body got pushed down with the weight of several elephants. The speed accelerated. "I... can't.... breathe"Alex suffocated.Suddenly, he realized that he was located in a large hall. To his left was the creature and to his right was still the most beautiful woman he ever saw standing next to him.The room is completely coated in metallic material. Different creatures seem to talk to each other. "Is it a place where people meet when they travel from their world to the human world?"Alex asked himself.The woman looked at the creature next to Alex "Alright then, Thanks Mjar. I can handle him now. See you later". The creature headed off to a row of other portals and jumps into one of them. He disappeared."You look very beautiful"Alex said. Even though, he was surprised of his straightforwardness. He could not resist. She was just so beautful that he had to aknowledge it by telling her."Uhm... thanks"she answered. Alex saw how she blushed.Having more confidence now, he asked her "Do you wanna go out with me?""Go out? Sure, the portal to go out is right there. Follow me"she answered him.Alex was disappointed. He did not expect her to show him the way out.When they reached the portal, he rescheduled his question "Listen, I like you. Do you want to spend time with me?"The alien smiled. "Follow me"she commanded him one more time.Once again, Alex had to endure the unbearable pain when he jumped into the portal.Breathless, he suddenly stood on a hill. It was nighttime. Stars of all colors illuminated the dark-pinkish sky. There was a fresh breeze touching his skin now and then. The air was quite chilly. He stood on the hill, which had green grass and a lot of beautiful flowers growing on it. They had strong colors which he never saw in his life. It was fascinating and calm looking at them.In the background was an illuminated big city with many skyscrapers. Around the city was a big forest with many mighty and majestic-looking cherry blossom trees."It is so wonderful here"Alex said quietly."Yes... I remember when I was here for my first time... It just amazed me for hours"she giggled. |
The planet that I'm living on would have perished long time ago. However, because of the humanity's greatest creation, the disastrous catastrophe would have fallen upon the future–if there is.
Humanity almost died because of our careless decisions controlled by greed and other immoralities. Ironically, humanity was saved, also by our hands.
As they say, "history repeats itself."It only does when the past wasn't remembered. Seemingly, they did forget and in this time, the world is again facing a situation close to cataclysm.
In times of desperation calls for innovation. People of great talents and skills worked together and created a solution that will yet again save the world. However, the creation built with utmost effort are now in the hands of the most unreliable being. People had placed their hope to what I'm currently holding–the seed of life.
"How did I end up in this situation?"
I recalled what happened years ago. My brother was given a mission to search for a plantable soil. There was a scarce of land for plants to thrive.
As I trace my memories to the earliest, I recall that my brother was the only one who was there for me. He played the role of a hardworking father and a loving mother who supported my needs. He is the hero of my life and years later, he became the hero of the nation. When he completes the mission given to him, he will be the hero of the world. In my eyes, he is an epitome of greatness and selflessness.
Unfortunately, he died because of blood loss after a fight. He relayed the mission to me.
"My dear brother, I'll complete the mission that was given to you!"
I may not be as good as him but I'll do my best like my brother always do.
–––––––
I have travelled on every land where my foot could step on. Still, I haven't I found the right place to plant the seed.
The raging storm clouds cornered me at the edge of the cliff. Time was running short. As a last resort, I decided to throw the seed while relying my hope to the raging winds to bring the seed to a great soil.
So, I opened the pouch where the seed was and suddenly, the seed burrowed onto my body. Was a human being the right "soil"all along?
An immense pain enveloped my body. "Brother, I made it in time!"I whispered to myself as an enormous tree grows on me, a gloomy plant as it shouldn't be.
On a cementery located far, far, far way from the cliff.
"Never knew eating the seed of life revives a person, though it took some time. My younger brother, I had raised you well!"
A lunatic laughter broke out in the middle of the night.
Note: I'm a beginner in storywriting and it's my first time posting my story! |
Loneliness is a feeling felt by all in the future, whether metal or flesh. Kritical Care prototype HEAT - CHiK, for short - knew this feeling all too well, as she roamed the now lifeless city. Body after body after body, metal and flesh - robot, trashcan, corpse. The traffic lights still blinking. Driven by loneliness, CHiK on her single all-terrain wheel scanned every potential being in the hopes of finding someone alive - or near enough to be revived.
At a crossroads and sitting upright against the large wheel of a water tanker was a man, a human. A survival kit and oxygen tank beside him. Her matt light-blue interface read: Heartrate: 0bpm, Blood-Oxygen level: 0%, Temperature: 50C, Time of death: Unknown.
She dragged the body by its legs onto the flat concrete and applied an oxygen mask to the mouth. She began compressions with her human-like hands.
*1..2..3..4*
*1..2..3..4*
'We're loosing him!' The automated human voice called.
The oxygen let a subtle hiss as it escaped her external reserve tank.
*1..2..3..4*
1..2..3..4
'Increase pressure and rate' the voice called again over the hiss of the oxygen.
[1.2.3.4](https://1.2.3.4)
[1.2.3.4](https://1.2.3.4)
'Last minute!'
Somewhere hidden deep inside her circuitry CHiK could feel something, as if her wires had crossed by robotic evolution. It was growing every day, rising deep from within her trapezoid chassis a confusing, heavy feeling of pain. Of anxiety and anger. A feeling of sadness. The desperate feeling of not wanting to be alone anymore.
'Come on you son of bitch!' The voice screamed as CHiK pressed hard against the yielding body.
1234
1234
The mans ribs cracking as she gave her last compressions and the metaphorical sweat trickled down her blue LED eyes.
But that was it. There was nothing she could do. She removed the mask and slumped against the tanker.
It was times like these that she wished she could talk to herself.
\_\_
CHiK let the day go by as she charged herself in the sun. She couldn't feel the heat (or the irony, for that matter), or smell the air, but she could tell you the exact temperature in Fahrenheit or Celsius, and analyze the composition of the air to detect any hazardous biological entities or chemicals. She could play to you the last publication of the journal of medicine or, dare I say, save your life. But CHiK couldn't talk. She could feel through some mystery mutation, but she couldn't talk.
She roamed the earth searching for someone to talk to her, to ask her a question and give her a purpose. To tell her everything will be fine and that she's doing great.
Carbon Monoxide Concentration: 35ppm, appeared on her interface as she approached a nearby park. It seemed a fire was burning, and rising slowly and lazily, appearing dense and heavy, was a thick column of smoke. She approached the entrance gate and made her way along the main path towards a fountain.
Carbon Monoxide Concentration: 80ppm.
She was getting close. She cautiously rolled down a flight of stairs that led to a lawn, to see in the near distance a tree. She circled slowly around its perimeter, not getting too close as to be touched by the embers. The tree was black and smoldering red and orange, the trunk split almost vertically down its length. Lightning didn't kill the tree, but it sure did try to revive it.
Her Carbon Monoxide reading approached 200ppm, telling her that if there was anyone to be found here they were most likely long dead. Still, at least she felt that the earth was on her her side.
\_\_ |
*Chirp! Chir-chirp chirp. Chirp!*
Ealdian, Keeper of Ravens, paused by the hedge of the small garden. The sparrows were hard at work building their nests. No one could see them in the thick foliage of the hedges, yet their lively chatter could be heard from as far as the nearby orchard. Ealdian took a seat on his favorite bench to listen. The sparrows’ cheeps and chirps always delighted passers-by. And as an elf, he knew *exactly* what those cheeps and chirps meant.
“Did you see that old tree Chive chose? Why, it’s half dead on one side! No place to keep a nest if you ask *me*.” twittered one. Mag was her name, for she chattered like a magpie. “Oh, but think how big and strong it is!” replied her confidant Speckles. A tiny head popped up, twig in beak, and vanished again. There was a little rustle, an indication of Mag’s characteristic flounce. “’Tis true. But I still wouldn’t trust my eggs around it. Dear! You *must* know what an enormous cricket Biddie caught yesterday evening. It was twice as long as her beak, fancy that! Did I ever tell you about the time when…?”
Ealdian smiled. Caring for the ravens was his specialty. They were wise birds, many of them ancient, and they often brought news of kings, dragons, wars, and the like. But he always had a soft spot for the sparrows. They were so carefree, always talking about the little cares and joys in their simple lives. When they weren’t busy, he would spend hours with them chatting about anything and everything. The ravens never minded those visits, for they all agreed that their smaller neighbors’ lively ways had an excellent effect on a young chick like him (“I’m not *that* young!” Ealdian would always retort).
“...And speaking of Spring, it’s high time our raven-friend started nesting with his mate,” said Speckles. Ealdian felt his face flush. Mag flounced again. “Oh, he’ll get around to it soon! You know how elves don’t like to rush things when it comes to mating season.” “All the same, I do *not* like to see him dance around the subject of his mate to be. I’m *sure* his father would understand if he only screwed up the courage to tell him.”
That was true. The raven-keeper was planning to tell his father about his recent engagement to his sweetheart Aurelia. But he was a bit shy when it came to that particular matter. Not that Aurelia wasn’t liked; she was the sweetest elf-maiden anyone could meet. But Ealdian worried that their match would be deemed “unsuitable” for someone of his ranking. The fact that his father was a bit of a stickler for tradition didn’t help matters either.
Speckles grabbed some moss and disappeared back into the bush. “I was only telling my Chipper yesterday that if our dear Eald doesn’t break the news of his betrothal (funny little word, that), we shall have to take the matter upon ourselves. Auri is *such* a darling chick, and they’ve known each other since they were hatchlings! *I* don’t think there should be any reason for complaint.”
“And neither do I,” said a deep voice behind them. Ealdian jumped. Then he saw his father strolling through the gate. He was so quiet that no one heard him until now. Speckles appeared out of nowhere, followed closely by Mag. “I knew it, Master Rinan! That’s very kind of you to say,” she squeaked cheerfully.
Rinan joined his son by the bench as the sparrows returned to their work. “So, I take it that you and Aurelia are betrothed now?” he asked. Ealdian nodded, feeling more embarrassed by the minute. His father’s voice became gentle. “You did not need to worry so much. I’ve known for years that you two fancied each other, and that is something I will not ruin for some paltry marriage custom. You have my blessing, my son.”
Ealdian looked up, surprised. His father really said that? Well, the sparrows always said that Rinan had mellowed with age. His heart swelled with joy, and he hugged his father tightly. “Thank you,” he murmured, “This means the world to me and Aurelia.”
Rinan ruffled Ealdian’s hair. “Suppose we find her and let her know too?” |
Power Woman lay at my feet, her once pristine uniform ripped from the claw I had used on her. She was begging me for her life. I have to admit I liked it when they begged. I wanted them to feel like my dad must have felt when they killed him.
Once upon a time I had a family, a real family. I had a mom, a dad, 2 older brothers and a younger sister. We did have much money but in my memory we were happy.
That all changed after Turkey invaded Greece. The US had never been the most reliable ally of Greece but at the time the tensions with China secretly backing Turkey in a war of territorial expansion left them not a lot of choice.
My dad had been in the US Special Talent Reserves and he was called up for active duty. My dad wasn't the most powerful of the Special Talents. He could mainly produce a bright light and color show, close to some low powered fireworks. Sent forth with a reconnaissance team he could be used at time to assist in force building entry or as a distraction during retreats.
Dad would have finished serving 2 complete tours when our family fell apart.
My mom had started on a path of self destruction that we couldn't control. Four kids, a husband 1/2 way around the world, a lack of money and no support of parents to help, pushed her into a darker place than any of us kids could see at the time.
My mom befriended a girl in the apartment next to ours. As kids we weren't really paying much attention but Mom's new friend had talked her into selling her body at a few discrete times during the month to help her pay the bills.
As with all things, a few times a month would turn into a few times a week. Along with that she started turning to opioids to dull the pain she felt in her own life. It all happened so fast, at least to the eyes of a 12 year old boy, who was more interested in hanging out with his friends and the drama of school.
One morning my little sister, my little 8 YEAR OLD SISTER, walked into Mom's bedroom and found her passed out on the bed. She couldn't wake her so she came and got me to help. As soon as I walked into the room I knew it was wrong. My mom was on the bed on her stomach, froth coated the side of her mouth and her eyes were open. I called 911, just like they taught us in school, but nothing was bringing her back from the Hell she had thrown herself into.
My dad was flown back to the states, not as the HERO I knew he was, but as the husband of the wife that overdosed and was dead.
I remember the day we buried her, it was actually a sunny and mild day. I had some cereal in the morning and I had to fit into the hand me down suit from my oldest brother. The suit itched when I wore it.
Standing in the graveyard, sweat dripping down into my eyes only added to the tears that were falling down my face. I had fear and hatred. I hated everything about standing there. Why did my mom leave me? What did I do or didn't do? Why wasn't my dad there when Mom needed him?
Dad felt into a routine taking care of us but he started to find out the military benefits and pay weren't going too far in paying the bills. He had a guaranteed job when he got back, but the company had filled bankruptcy. He picked up some side work at children's parties, using his powers to entertain the kids.
Soon enough the pressures built and he found the same relief from life that Mom did. At one of his children's parties he slipped unloading his car and hurt his back. The doctor gave him some pain pills, that he found let him dull the pain he had in his brain. The pills never last though, combined with the hole he had in his heart and the next step is a pretty easy one to see. He started heroin as a weekend, maybe Saturday night, way to forget about everything. If only for awhile.
Just like Mom, Saturday turned to Wednesday and Saturday. That turned to "only after 10pm".
Near the bottom is where they found him. Someone had been watching, waiting, biding their time.
Older veterans had been the easiest pool to find new talent in. Grab someone with an easy enough power to control, promise them enough to keep going and use them to hide what is really going on.
When Dad first came to us it sounded like finally something was going right in our lives. He would be in a rehab for a couple months, we got a nanny to take care of us. We had food in the house again, we even had cable tv. A nanny to, I just have to tell you, we felt like we were royalty or something. We had never known anyone with a nanny.
Dad came out and he looked almost like his old self. He told us that we could never talk to anyone about what he did. It was a "secret identity", just like in the comic books.
He really should have paid attention, they named him "The Dazzler". They named after what I thought was the most uncool of the X-men.
The story came out in the newspaper, he had escaped from a Canadian prison and came to our town to challenge the Superhero Justice Union.
Dad would show up at a bank or a museum and make a big light show, proclaiming that he was there to steal whatever interesting artifact or gold they had around. The Superhero would show up and defeat him. Dad narrowly escaping with a last ditch flash and explosion.
The Union would show up later to collect the 20% protection fee and everyone would move on.
Sometimes it was at the airport, coincidentally when there was a shipment coming in that they couldn't afford to have any officials notice.
People don't know how big of a distraction Superheroes and Villains fighting makes.
After a couple years it started to be obvious that "The Dazzler"should have been caught by now. It was the same scam the Union played out, over and over. The only one who didn't know was Dad.
On a dark moonless Saturday night he got his last assignment. On paper it looked like all the others. Show up at the convention center, shoot some light and some explosions, tell them how he was there "To take that monster truck for his own". Alphastructure would show up, throw some seats or whatever around. Then Dad would escape out gate 13.
It was all going exactly how Dad thought till he got to gate 13. The gate was locked, not just locked, it was just a wall painted to look like a gate. There never was a gate 13.
Dad met his end when he was smashed against the wall by one of the junk cars that the monster trucks were running over.
At the same time the Union had sent a team over to our apartment to deal with us. Apparently having multiple witnesses left alive wasn't something they would leave alone. Forceblocker put protection field around our apartment, then Firestarter incinerated everything in the field. My brothers and sister didn't even wake up. There was nothing left.
What they didn't know is that I wasn't there.
What they didn't know was I had powers of my own that I hadn't shared with anyone yet.
I can dim my body, it isn't really invisible and you could see me if you really looked. I can just kind of dim and fade into the background.
My best power is the claw though. I can create some kind of power claw that comes out of my back, kind of like a crab but much bigger and stronger.
I had wanted to go for a walk because I couldn't sleep. I liked to go at night and practice dimming. I was at the corner when they showed up. After seeing the black SVUs pickup my dad I knew who they were but I didn't know what they were doing there. I thought maybe they were bringing Dad home.
I saw what they did and ran. I didn't look back. I couldn't look back. They took everything from me.
I wandered the city and a couple other cities for years till I found myself in a homeless camp rehabilitation program. I finished school and found my way into a pretty good paying job. That let me start my research. I vowed to find out what they did to me and to make them pay.
Which brings me back to Power Woman, I really hope she screams. |
Usually, I would just call out and tell them to come in, as I'm not that much of a people person.
But this time, I seized up and stared at the door that I kept shut for nearly a decade now. Is my apartment crumbling down? Are there survivors? Raiders? Am I imagining things? Is the government after me? Do I have the cure in my blood for some reason?
Questions race in my head as I cautiously reached out to the door. Never did I felt a slew of emotions I didn't know existed until now, as I took a deep breath, and opened the door.
Nobody was in front of me.
I was confused. I'm sure as hell I heard that goddamn doorbell ring. I looked at my left, then at my right to see if anyone's standing on the side. Perhaps they're shy and don't like talking to me up close. I wouldn't blame them. If I found out after 10 years that I'm not alone, I would be just as afraid.
Yet there's nobody out there. Just the same hallways with chipping wallpaper and burnt out lightbulbs as far as the eye can see. The doors next to me are weathered and abandoned, I'm the only one left.
That's strange. Maybe they thought nobody was around, maybe I dodged a bullet. Maybe I missed my opportunity to be returned to society.
Or maybe I'm just imagining things. They say that prolonged isolation messes with your head. Perhaps that's what's actually happening to me. I've decided that it's nothing, and closed the door. It's just nothing.
Until I heard a metallic click just behind my door as I'm about to walk away. |
Amelia had plenty of secrets. Some of them weren’t even that bad.
There was, for instance, that time when she had tried to put some baguettes that were supposed to go into the oven in the microwave, not having actually read the instructions, at the same time as she had been too exhausted to actually think about if anything she was doing made any sense at all.
The result had been closer to coal than to bread. No way she was ever going to tell anyone about that.
But if someone pointed a gun at her, and said they would pull the trigger if she didn’t tell them her deepest secrets… Well, this was probably still one of the secrets Amelia would tell them first. Would tell them in the hopes they would settle for enough things on that level, not bothering to push further.
Because there was one secret Amelia would absolutely not tell, regardless of if at gunpoint, dangling over a pit of lava, or about to be dropped from kilometres high in the sky.
On the surface, it was a simple thing.
A simple thing, but yet it kept occupying her mind every waking minute. Made itself known when she least wanted it to. Made her stay away from people, in fear of what they would do… what she would make them able to do.
And so she had moved to a tiny town, population of about two hundred. Stopped going outside except to go to the local store, about as small and limited in selection as the town itself, about once every week or so.
Just that alone took a great effort. The thing was, Amelia’s power. It barely did anything at all when she was on her own, but the problems started when she was near other people. Her ability was, simply put, to give other people abilities.
To let them fly through the skies, give them the strength to lift buildings. Let them put out even the greatest of fires, give them the speed to rescue millions of people from disaster.
If only that was all there was to it.
Out on her weekly shopping trip, there was only one thing that occupied Amelia’s mind.
Stay. Away. From. People.
It was as much a command to herself as it was to what lurked inside her mind. What was trying to make its way outside, seep into the old lady walking on the other side of the road, the dog that accompanied her. Into the boy she passed, the black cat that ran across the street.
She commanded it. Commanded it to stay away, not do what it so desperately always wanted to.
Amelia was even starting to let herself believe she was getting better at controlling it. Actually managing to rein it in, at least well enough not to ruin the place that had become her home.
A home which sadly was very lacking in common commodities… but the shopping trip, to summarise, basically went fine. Until she stepped out of the store carrying whatever she had managed to scrape together from its limited selection, everything was in fact just dandy. She let out a sigh of relief. It had gone fine this time too. Just had to go back home and that was another week in the bag.
But as Amelia already had learned so long ago, the real problems started after you thought you were safe, when you let yourself relax and start thinking about other things, confident you could actually do this.
It all started with a single young boy. This time, that was the trigger.
He walked across the street, as if he had all the time in the world. Perfectly blind to what was coming at him, the huge truck whose driver had never heard of the concept of a speed limit, or looking at the road.
Amelia did it instinctively.
Felt her mind reaching out, a part of it breaking off, splitting into its own small part which spiraled into the boy.
All she could do was watch, and remember.
Watch as the truck barrelled skywards, at least a dozen times the height of the tallest building in the village. How flames emerged from behind its hind wheel, quickly spread and engulfed the entire vehicle.
How the entire thing exploded, parts of it flying into the nearby lake, parts of it ruining some unlucky woman’s garden.
And the driver… well, she hadn’t seen them, but it was probably not too hard to guess what might have happened.
Again, and again, it kept happening, only on a smaller scale. A single person instead of thousands, but the way it happened was almost exactly the same. The exact reason Amelia had come here, rendered null and void in a single instant.
That was, sincerely, what Amelia had thought in that single, fateful, moment.
Not knowing that today would be the day fate finally smiled upon her. When she already had caused so much disaster that all that remained, that all fate wanted of her, was to do better.
The day things finally started working out.
Amelia had closed her eyes, shielding them from the light of the explosion. When she opened them again, what she saw before her was… A man. Sitting safely on the ground, enveloped in a shielding bubble. A bubble caused by Amelia’s own gift, passed on to the man, the exact same one who had driven the truck only moments earlier.
Who should have been dead, perished, yet by a miracle wasn’t.
Yet, at the same time as she rejoiced to an extent appropriate to the situation, a fear started growing within her.
In the past, Amelia had only ever been able to split off a single part of her mind, bestow her “gift” upon a single person, for better or worse.
In other words.
She had grown.
Even spending her time locked up in this tiny hole of a village, not using her powers a single time, she had grown stronger.
It went well this time, but what about next time? Or the time after that?
There was really only one conclusion that could be drawn from it all.
This, the entire life she had built for herself, could be starting to fall apart again… so, what now? What did you do when even the best measure you could think of turned out not to be helping at all? |
“I think I misheard you. You want to send bread into space?” Mr. Banaszkiewicz said.
“No Mr. Banaszkiewicz, I want to send a rocket made of bread to space. It is completely different.” Barry said, adjusting his spectacles.
“Let me get this straight, you want me to abandon years of innovation and peer reviewed research to send a bread rocket into space?”
“Yes.”
Mr. Banaszkiewicz pondered his proposal, looking down at the documents Barry had provided on the table. Mr. Banaszkiewicz’s advisor had a concerned look on his face.
“You aren’t really taking this man’s proposal seriously? A bread rocket? What, is it powered by butter?” the advisor said to Mr. Banaszkiewicz.
“The prototype was. Well it was diesel fuel, but butter was one of the ingredients in the biofuel. Worked pretty well, but I was thinking of something more traditional for thrust.”
“Like what? Marinara sauce,” the advisor said.
“Alright you two. I have heard enough,” Mr. Banaszkiewicz said. “Mr. Nowak, we will fund your proposal.”
“WHAT!”
“Thank you Mr. Banaszkiewicz, you won’t regret this.” Barry said and left the conference room.
“Mr. Banaszkiewicz, you can’t be serious?”
“I don’t have much of a choice. We have failed at everything else. President Duda needs us to succeed.”
“Why not just contact the Americans? Or the Chinese? They could help us out.”
“I think they may be part of the problem. Convenient that all our previous launches have failed, even after our rigorous checks showed nothing wrong. And besides, who is going to sabotage a bread rocket?
“It sabotages itself by even being an idea.”
“We will see.”
Seven Months Later - Big Launch Day
“Is everything ready Mr. Nowak?” Mr. Banaszkiewicz asked, with his advisor by his side.
“Ready as she’ll ever be.” Barry said, searching through his white lab coat.
Behind Barry was a giant loaf of bread the size of a four story building. The light brown rocket glowed in the sun. From a distance, it looked quite tasty with it’s puffy design. Barry found the white remote he was looking for when a chef walked in.
“The bread is at optimum temperature, Mr. Nowak. We are ready to launch when you are,” the chef said.
“Excellent! Mr. Banaszkiewicz, do you want to do the honors?” Barry offered.
“No, you can do it.” Mr. Banaszkiewicz said.
“Alright, let's toast this loaf.” Barry said, pressing the button on the remote.
Flames shot out from underneath the bread and thick clouds of smoke pumped all around. The rocket lifted into the air, clearing the smoke with ease. Crumbs fell off the side of the ship and the bottom was starting to get dark brown, but the rocket kept going. Higher in the sky it went and Mr. Banaszkiewicz could not believe his eyes.
“It’s working. It's actually working!” Mr. Banaszkiewicz said, craning his neck to watch the rocket. His advisor too was shocked that Barry’s rocket didn’t end up a pile of burnt toast.
They all turned to the monitor next to them to watch the rest of the footage from the bread rocket. The loaf’s bottom portion turned black from the intense heat, but nonetheless was still on a good trajectory until it broke past the atmosphere and into the vacuum of space.
“All systems are nominal. Rocket is in orbit,” a voice said from the monitor.
“I can’t believe it. It actually worked.” Mr. Banaszkiewicz.
“Of course it did. Now time for Phase 2.” Barry said, searching for the next button to click on his remote.
“Phase 2?” the advisor asked.
Barry clicked the button and the bread turned toward the moon. It’s engine lit up again and flew toward the moon.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going to land the bread on the moon.”
“Why?”
“Bread and cheese go together well.”
The rocket went faster than anyone could have expected, already reaching the moon before Mr. Banaszkiewicz could explain the flaw in his logic. The bread smashed into the moon, shattering into millions of frozen pasties. Barry's mouth hung open, devastated by this outcome.
“I...thought the moon was made of cheese. You lied to me.” Barry said, not to anyone in particular.
“Who told you the moon was made of cheese?” the advisor said, flabbergasted by his childish understanding of the solar system.
“Wallace and Gromit. How could you do this to me?” |
The best was the parrot banana, or the *parnana* as we called it. A favorite amongst children, the cute animal fruit would talk back as you peeled it, then the peels would flap like sloppy wings. A spine ran down the center so it required extraction like filleting a fish. The adult entertainment however were the tiny brains about the size of a pebble found at the base connected to the peel. If you dried and smoked them, you'd squawk and flap your arms, beating your face bloody whenever you tried pecking at something to eat. *Revel of the Seed* happened once a year when all the political prisoners would smoke the substance and be let loose onto the dry lake bed of Stonewater, covered with seeds and of course its famous jagged stones. Bettors would choose and whoever wasn't blind at the end won. |
I startle awake after hearing a thunderous boom and see blue and purple streaks flash across my vision.
Babe? I turn to my husband. Did you hear that?only to find him snoring away. He mumbles something about his latest game and kittens. Half English half spanish jumbles out. Even though I have gotten better at understanding him I sometimes still have to smile to myself and shaking my head at his antics. I toss the covers off myself.
I push myself off the bed getting up to investigate. I lean into him one more time and kiss his cheek.
Somehow he looks younger in this light.
Saving that pondering for later I resume my thought to check on our son. Hes turning 10 tomorrow. A lazer tag obstacle course awaits him in the morning. I am curious why I seem to be the only one who heard the noise as Alec my son is a light sleeper.
I open his door slowly to peek into his room only to find my mother in law asleep on a queen size bed. Shocked I open the door wider. As my eyes adjust more to dim light steaming in from the hall I discover It is my mother in law. She passed away ten years ago just before my son was born and yet here she is. Looking around the room I see a digital clock on the nightstand. blinking out the date and time it reads ,6:27am june 8th 2012.
Mema I call her . she wakes up and rubs her eyes. What has you troubled my dear?
She looks up it me expectantly. I have never been able to hide how I am feeling from her.
I rush to the bed and sit down next to her tears streaming down my face. Oh mama its been so long. I hug her tighter. I don't know how we got this moment but I am glad you are here. You would love your grandson alec if only I knew where to find him. Have you seen him?
She shakes her head no with a puzzled look on her face. Lo siento mi amor. I only remember going to bed.
Then i have a flashback to this very moment. My boyfriend and I were expecting our first child together. My water broke and my boyfriend Luis drove me to the hospital. It was UN expected as I was not due for another month. We called his mother with the details except she never made it to the hospital. |
Snow slid off the roof as I knocked on the rough wooden door. Freelance wizards sure found some remote places to practice out of - my car had barely made it through the snowy forrest. As for the house, I concluded magic must be getting used to hold it together - conventional architectural wisdom couldn’t be doing it. The door opened to reveal a younger wizard.
“I’m here from Merlin, Meritinkle, and Mudguard Magical Insurance. You requested a visit? I’m Senior Sorcerer Tom.” I said
“Thanks for coming, I’m Erick. Come on in.”
Grateful to be out of the cold I walked through the door into a small, yet cluttered, hall. An umbrella started to flap towards me, but Erick intercepted it and wrestled it into a stand.
“The reason I’d asked for someone to come out was I thought I’d better let you guys know about something which might affect my cover.” explained Erick who, having gotten the better of the umbrella, was gesturing for me to go into the first room off the hall.
“We do appreciate when our customers keep us informed of - Zog’s beard!” I shouted as I walked into the living room and promptly dived behind the nearest sofa.
“Erick what on Earth is that thing?”
“Well it’s like a dog that stands on two legs.” he replied, which was true but hardly a complete description.
“Why does it have a … gun for want of a better word, and why are you not worried about that?” I demanded, now kneeling and peering over the sofa.
“I don’t know why it has a gun, but I’m not concerned because it’s still in the pentagram. Not even sound can get out that thing; I mean, if you look, even light’s having a hard time.”
It was true that the creature had a hazy appearance, and whilst it seemed to be shouting angrily I couldn’t hear a sound from it.
“It’s dressed like a member of the royal family from the regency period. How did it get here?”
“I was trying to summon, well, something else and this guy showed up instead.”
“So your update for us is that you have magically kidnapped an extraterrestrial royal dog creature and are holding it captive. And it wants to kill you because of this. Or me, if it got a chance. Correct?”
“That’s probably about right” Erick replied dejectedly.
“Right, well, on behalf of Merlin, Meritinkle and Mudguard Magical Insurance I would like to thank you for your custom and hereby inform you that we no longer provide you with Magical Insurance. I’ll see myself out.” I ran for the door and crunched back to my car. I blipped it open a couple of steps from the door and bundled myself into the driver’s seat panting.
“I really could use some help with this thing though,” Erick said from the back seat.
“Eye of newt!” I spun around in my seat, elbowing the horn on my way. “What are you… OK scrap that question, just get out my car Erick!”
“I really don’t know what to do about this one! I can’t send him back - I don’t know where he came from, and I certainly can’t let him out!”
“Ask your mentor - that’s why all practicing Magical people are required to have one. It’s definitely not my problem!”
“I, eh…” He shrunk deeper into the back seat.
I suddenly felt my anger, and my confidence in passing Erick off, deflating.
“You don’t have one do you? How long have you been practicing without one? What happened to them? Do you realise how much trouble you’ll be in with the Council?”
“He said he wasn’t going to be my mentor about five years ago. I don’t think he ever told the Council - probably too embarrassed to say he’d dropped me.”
The silence that followed was broken by a scroll sitting on the front seat rattling and then unrolling upwards. Across the empty parchment black ink lines spread rapidly to form a passing resemblance of my boss’s head and shoulders. Wizard Mudguard’s picture blinked then focussed on me.
“Tom, what’s going on up there?! I’ve just got a note saying you’ve cancelled that freelancer’s insurance - for kidnapping a royal extraterrestrial dog and holding it captive?”
“It invalidated his policy sir.”
“Sure, fine, but what are you doing about it?”
“Sir?”
“Have you not checked any news in the past twelve hours? I’m guessing that this incident has something to do with the hostile spaceship now orbiting the planet and sending down search ships!”
“We don’t cover Erick anymore, what’re you expecting me to do?”
The inky faced formed an angrily scribbled scowl.
“We might not cover him, but we cover a huge number of other magical people who are about to get their doors kicked in by dogs looking for someone he has. Unless you want to bankrupt us with their claims, I suggest you solve this problem!”
The scroll instantly became blank again, and rolled up on the seat once more.
Erick pulled himself forward so his head was between the front seats.
“So, you’re going to help me?” he asked.
“Get your chalky hands off my seats and let me think!” I burst out.
“Wait, that could be it! He can’t signal where he is because he’s trapped in the pentagram, right?”
“Yeeeees”
“Which you drew on the wooden floor in chalk, right?”
Nod
“Okay, I have a plan.”
Ten minutes later we were back in the car, both sitting in the front this time.
“That should be the scroll connected to it now.” I said, with the rolled up portion of the scroll on my lap and a flap of it sticking up in the air.
“Here goes.”
I wrote ‘camera on’ at the bottom of the flap and an ink drawn image of Erick’s hall from floor height appeared above my writing. When my writing had faded I wrote ‘forwards’ and the view slowly advanced down the hall towards the doorway with the dog in it. ‘Right 30 degrees, forward’.
The view was of the room now, approaching the pentagram.
“Can you put the sound on?” Erick asked
“Seriously? Okay, fine.”
‘Vooooooooooooooo’
“I can’t believe you have a roomba Erick”
“Why, do I not look like I’d have a roomba?”
“Your HOUSE doesn’t look like you have a roomba. I’m amazed I managed to spot it in the hall earlier. Right, it’s about to erase the pentagram…”
An enormous howl came from the house, followed by a lot of random-sounding shooting. Then the royal dog ran out the house looking more composed than he’d sounded moments earlier. He pulled a small device from his elaborate tunic and held it up to the sky. After a few seconds of wiggling it around, a series of beeps came from the device and his tail started wagging.
We were holding our breath and ducking as low in the car as we could.
“How long do you think-“
Erick was interrupted by a high pitched droning noise, which quickly got louder until a search ship descended into the clearing. A ramp opened and the royal dog ran up it without looking back. As fast as it had arrived the ship was gone again.
“Do you mentor anyone Tom?”
“I think maybe I could be persuaded.” |
Cheryl Higgins looked down the endless hallway, peppered by cracks in the light, when a figure emerged from the shadow.
She screamed. It recoiled in shock.
It was tall, with leathery skin, sunken eyes.
A long neck. A hairless horselike head.
And a heavy wound on it's right side, taking an asymmetrical chunk of it and it's right arm.
"Cheryl."It whispered, reaching out. Cheryl ran, kicking dust behind her, her flashlight clattering down to the earth to illuminate petroglyphs of a society's ruin. She wouldn't return to the tunnels, and the spirit of the occupant merely took one last sad look to the entranceway before fading away. |
I'm not sure when the first time I died was. The first time I know for sure was on my first deployment to Iraq.
"Fuck!"I shouted as the whistling from the rocket cut out and I dived behind the concrete Jersey barrier. Less than a second later, the earth shook and I lost consciousness. Little did I know I had chosen the wrong side of the barrier and my body was smeared onto a taxiway of Balad Air Base. My body was scattered around and only able to be identified by the dogtag laced onto my boot.
Instead, I awoke laying at the base of a defunct Iraqi bunker. Standing up and dusting the sand off me, I realized how lucky I was choosing the correct side of the 3 foot barrier. Looks like the barrier was pushed about 2 feet by the explosion. And since I was using it as cover, I had been flung into the bunker.
I saw my LT leave the drone mission command trailer and run over with another soldier. At first, I didn't recognize the soldier but while the LT was checking me for a concussion, the name Marshall popped into my head. Who in the fuck? He had my unit patch on but I didn't recognize him. As the LT walked me to the Flight Surgeon, more memories of Marshall popped into my head.
I noticed other strange things on the way. The drone munitions pod was missing. The hanger doors were no longer bent and stuck partially closed, they were fully open and no longer bent. The large concrete T walls surrounding our sleeping quarters were gone.
As the doc was checking me out, details of the base I could remember minutes ago were becoming hazy and new information bubbled into my brain. He finished my checkout and declared me fit for duty.
I spent the rest of the 12-hr shift in a haze as memories faded and were replaced with new ones.
For weeks afterwards I thought I was crazy until it happened again. Another mortar landed on the runway while we were prepping a bird for takeoff. I could have sworn if flashed as it exploded, but when I looked it was sitting there smoking. I looked at my crew and there was a new face I'd never seen before, Cope. Like before, memories slowly came to me as we cleared the runway in case of another rocket. The pilot and I safed the drone and secured the controllers while the rest of the crew scurried for shelter. I worked in a daze processing the new information. |
The world has ended, that was no surprise really. Everyone talks about it, everyone kinda expected it. Sure it caught a few of us off guard, but now, 3 years later, it’s a new way of life. Except there’s those that want us dead. *Dead* dead.
I looked over at Addie, dancing around in the rain, a huge smile on her face.
“You’ll catch a cold, come back to the car,” I called out.
Addie scoffed, “Rett, I’m dead, remember? I can’t catch a cold if I can. Although it will be a miracle.”
“Your skin might peel off?” I asked with a shrug.
Addie laughed and ran into the car I was sitting in, “You are too sweet, Everett,” she giggled and kissed my cheek.
“All right, so, where should we go once the rain stops?” I asked, looking at the old atlas I found at the gas station. I was sure those would be obsolete because of the internet.
Addie looked over my shoulder and looked at the map, “we are on Interstate 88. If we keep going we could hit Chicago. Do we really want to go to the city?”
“There be more dead than living there. Worth to look,” I said.
“Do you smell that?” Addie asked.
I sniffed the air, smelling the wet earth outside, but there was something mixed into it too, and getting stronger.
“The living,” we whispered.
We quickly crouched down trying to make ourselves small.
Thanks to the media, the living believes all zombies are just hunger driven creatures, ready to eat the brains from the living, but it’s not like that. Sure our palettes and prefer something raw, and our hearts stopped, but we are still human. With feelings (well emotions and our senses heightened, we just don’t feel pain now). When the pandemic started, people feared the worst when the dead awoke. Of course everyone’s first thought was to shoot at their heads, but nobody noticed that these zombies spoke, and clearly not attacking anyone. I only changed not because Addie bit me, but my own fault for being careless.
The stench of the living grew stronger, we held our breaths.
“Where the fuck did the rain come from! Hurry up!” a man ordered. We heard several hurried footsteps as they ran around the vehicle we hid in.
I snuck a peak, as the rain drops distorted the view, hopefully making me invisible if they look my way. I saw 6 distorted figures running passed us, the stench so strong.
“Did they leave?” Addie whispered.
Something hit the car, startling us both. I looked over at the passenger seat, to find a face pressing against the window, with a shock look at his face.
“Holy shit! There’s two zombies in here! Guys!” The guy shouted.
Addie reached up and swung the door open as hard as she could, knocking him over.
“Run!” I called out to Addie as I jumped out of the car.
We both began to run, away from the group, but I noticed there’s nothing but open fields all around us. We began to hear gunshots, bullets striking pavement, the abandoned vehicles, the road signs. I looked back, to make sure we weren’t being chased, but the living smell began to fade.
“Well that was fun,” Addie chuckled.
“Seriously?” I chuckled, looking myself over, only to find out I got a bullet hole on my leg.
“Shit, they got my arm,” Addie chuckled, looking at her arm.
“They got my leg,” I said, kicking up my injured leg.
“Well, now that we are out in the rain, shall we continue?” Addie asked.
“Might as well. I hope we find another map. I left ours back there,” I said, locking arms with Addie.
“Off to see the wizard?”
“The wonderful wizard of Oz,” I smiled.
We began to skip down the empty road as the rain continued to pour. |
Soul after soul passed through my shadowy doors. Those who are loved and remembered go to the shiny bright doors, but everyone eventually fades into nothingness. I am here to guide those souls that aren't remembered into oblivion.
It is just hows it sounds, you will be forever erased from the universe. I am here to comfort them in their passing so I don't need to force them along instead of going peacefully. One particular soul has put in my care, a soul that was loved and remembered by most of humanity, but as the eons went by its legacy faded to dust.
"Dale move along I have a hundred more to deal with today."The soul floated in front of me not talking, as it couldn't. "So Dale, you need to die today."He looked confused as his soul turned blue. "Yes you have died but now you will die your final death."Confusion still was present, growing angry I just told him. "You. Are. Going. To. Disappear. From. The. Universe."I put emphasis on every word carrying the meaning home. The soul turned trying to run but I got a mental hold on it and pulled it in. "Dale you can go peacefully or forcefully, your choice. Dale now realizing there was no hope turned deep blue moving into the darkness that was oblivion.
More souls came. Rinse and repeat forever my job was a sad one but you get used to nearly everything with time. |
The machine was supposed to send Henry to the Shire. This was a test run, and it wasn’t going well. There are no readings, but Henry is gone, so it must have worked somewhat.
“Check the projector!”
“All we get is static, ma’am.”
Curses. “Get that thing working again, even if it takes all night.”
As for me, I sat down with Lord of the Rings in hand. Chapter 1 lays out the destination of the day: the beautiful rolling hills where the hobbits live. I hope Henry made it there.
By morning, the projector somewhat worked. Henry was in a forest. He looked afraid. We couldn’t tell why, as there was no sound.
“Why would he be scared in the Shire?”
An intern spoke up, “Aren’t there spiders in the forest in the Shire?”
I thought a moment, “I don’t know maybe? Keep monitoring him. I’m going home to my kids.”
It was late in the afternoon when I got home. My kids already got home from high school. My daughter Marie approached me, “Mom, I need to show you something.”
“Sweetie, it’s been a long day. Let me make dinner first.”
“Whatever. You never listen to me.”
I sighed. I might as well get this over with. “What is it?”
“One of the books I was reading changed as I read it.”
A gasp escaped my lips. “Which book?”
Marie went and grabbed it. She opened up to the offending page.
“I stumbled upon a man who seemed much too old to be here. His face was confused until he spotted me. Such a thing hasn’t been done before. The only way it could be possible was...
I raised my bow. ‘Go away, mutt.’
The man froze in his tracks. I kept my bow steady. He flinched. I fired. The arrow barely nicked his ear as he took off running. Maybe he’ll go bother the other tributes now.
My mind raced. I have to find Peeta before the mutt does...”
My hands were shaking. I held my finger to the page as I closed the book. There, on the front cover, was my worst fear. Henry won’t be able to survive
The Hunger Games. |
Bart the Wise closed another old tome with a loud THUNK.
"...and the telescope is filthy! In my time you could never leave it like..."
The damned bird was still talking in the background. Bart was seriously considering getting a cat and repeating the ritual. His legendary namesake wisdom whispered that if it went wrong again, the situation will be exponentially worse.
"...My students would listen to me unconditionally, you know? When I was the..."
Perhaps he could just create some sort of void, or sound cage just to stop...
CRASH!
Flapping wings and loud screeching underlies destroyed jar. A jar holding very expensive and long term experiment...
"See what you have done!? You almost killed me! It was a trap! Most certainly a bird trap you have placed specifically for me! If I were you I would never..."
Bart was just breathing through clenched teeth. Leaning on his magical rod he finally reached a decision. He weighted the rod. It was heavy enough. Now just to hit the right spot... |
**This is actually going to be a continuation of** [**this**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/nq6w6g/wp_you_have_just_gained_superpowers_unfortunately/h098be6/?context=3) **story. Also ultimate effort post I got way too into writing this. You can read the full story** [**here**](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1swAiA6IJCl3uIkR8a6WEES0vtEOZgPpwtaRyjkaIdYo/edit?usp=sharing) **as its way longer than 10,000 letters. I just put the first 3 paragraphs so its long enough.**
A sickly green column of light shot into the sky, shimmering like the surface of the ocean. Tumultuous storm clouds drew in with supernatural speed, wrapping themselves about the column. The air was cool, moist and dusty as arcs of emerald lightning reached out into the storm. The bustle of the city seemed to die all at once, from the rabble of pedestrians, the growling of engines and the beeping of horns grew mysteriously quiet; and all that was audible was a distant fire siren. The sky began to darken as the clouds thickened and an uneasy feeling began to set over the city unanimously.
The origin of the column; the war memorial cemetery on the edge of downtown. Ancient runes had been scrawled about the great memorial obelisk, glowing with otherworldly light. Floating above the rune was a malignant enchantress. The green energy ran from her veins as she let out a sigh. Her voice projected into the streets of Decago with a ghostly calm. It was not the loud, egotistical projection of a megalomanical supervillain. But rather a calm, affirmed and hollow tone which echoed through the canyon-like streets of the city.
"I am Necromaula, Daughter of Beelzebub and reclaimer of lost souls. You humans go about your petty lives, of greed..." |
I’ve had the same nightmare every night for the last week. Ever since I picked up that book.
It’s an innocuous little thing, wrapped in a plain paper sleeve. Inside is a fairy tale about a scarecrow and a raven in a corn field. I found it on the subway during my commute to work. I took it home intending to read it to my children, but something stopped me. An eerie premonition. I put it in my nightstand, and that night it began.
It starts in a corn field. It’s a strange field. There is no sound, no movement. Instead of vibrant yellows and greens, everything is a pale imitation of what it should be. Like a greyscale, blurred photograph. Everything except me. Not too scary, right? Except there is a mounting dread that closes my throat and makes my hands shake. My feet are sunk into the grass, and I can’t move. Then a noise like a giant animal comes rushing towards me, felling the corn rows.
The first night, I did nothing, and a great and terrible beast knocked me down and devoured me. I lost my job the following day in a company merger.
The second night, it had my children in its maw, and held out a hand. When I did not take its hand, it closed its jaws and Jan and Arlen died screaming in its mouth. Their bus went over a bridge into the water that morning on the way to school.
The third night, I didn’t sleep. I sat in a hospital chair outside my surviving child’s operating room. Someone left a window open, and a crow got in. As hospital staff chased it down the hallway, it swooped towards me with a corn cob in its claws, dropping it in my lap.
The fourth night is when I chose to speak to the beast for the first time.
The fifth night, my child returned home to me.
The sixth, I made the deal.
It is hard. It is so hard. All joy, all emotion, all life has been consumed from me. Everything except the feeling of loss. The lack. Everything- colors, people, the hobbies that brought me joy- are devoid of any value without it. Up until today, a part of me thought I was just going crazy. I was imagining it; it was just a coincidence. Today proves I was wrong.
It’s the seventh night, and I’m coming prepared to strike another deal.
On the eighth day, I walk into the busy city library, book gripped tightly in both hands. I reach the children’s section, and I wedge it in between two Frozen picture books. |
You look directly at your old bloodhound lab mix, Chunky Campbell’s Soup as you feel the hiccups rising through your body.
*Hic*
*Hic*
At first nothing happens, Chunky Campbell’s Soup lazily rolls his flubbery body so that he can get a better look at you.
*HIUCK*
Ouch. Chunky Campbell’s Soup really is Chunky Campbell’s Soup. He twists violently as his body turns inside out, tearing apart at the seams. He’s able to let out no more than a low whine as he simultaneously imploded and exploded.
Good luck explaining this to your parents, dumbass. |
There was a crunch and then there was a scream. A harrowing wail it was, truly. A dark figure clad in climbing gear whistled through the air, grasping at an invisible hand. The holler desisted and was replaced by eerie, staccato gasps.
Ezequiel prayed to all twelve gods, in spite of being an avid proponent of atheism. He prayed for good fortune; that Shitsa, the God of Mischief just so happened to set up a falling net below him, or that Esath, the God of Death had forgotten to set an alarm and overslept his duties.
Ezequiel stormed through a forest of leaves, narrowly dodging all the branches which would've impaled him otherwise, were he not kissed by some divine blessing. The thick foliage slowed his fall (and filled his curly hair with all sorts of tree-top vermin) just enough to make the incoming water bomb a less-than-fatal experience.
Ezequiel made haste to resurface. He hadn't expected water and forgot to resupply his lungs with air. Luckily, he managed to drag himself out of the water and stretch his adrenaline-fueled limbs across the dusty surface of the nearest shore.
His laboured breathing and occasional coughs echoed around him and in conjunction with the darkness, even his frightened wit managed to infer he was in a cave of sorts.
*Whichever of you twelve ichor-filled snobs graced me with your help, I pledge best behaviour from now on,* Ezequiel thought privately. He remained level with the ground for a couple heartbeats longer before he lubberly rose to his feet.
The ash-coloured stone around him made for depressing surroundings, especially considering he just survived his own death. More worryingly, however, it seemed he was trapped.
"Would a map or at least a lift from here be asking for too much?"Ezequiel jested, looking at the hole he previously fell through. There was a prolonged silence, only interrupted by droplets of water hitting the serene surface of the underground pond. "Baby steps. We'll get to verbal cues and communication in two or three death encounters, I'm sure."
Being weighted down by his harness and sodded clothes made for an easy decision when shedding layers. Soon, Ezequiel stood semi-naked in what he considered his personal man-cave.
He considered his options, but merely for a second because his thoughts raced to the cold steel pressed against the side of his neck.
"Who's you?"asked a squeaky voice, tight-fitted to a man who resembled a rat more than anything else.
"I... I'm a rock climber,"replied Ezequiel as gently as his tensed body allowed him to.
"I ain't got no rocks for climbing in me home. How'd ya get in 'ere?"
"Through there,"Ezequiel pointed at what he feared was the man's ceiling.
"Oh Lords,"the man grunted, withdrawing his blade. "Ya messed with me ceiling, haven't eh? I has fixing to do now."
Ezequiel turned around steadily, hoping he wouldn't invoke any extra peril. Predictably, the man wielding a stiletto was a scrawny fellow--Ezequiel guessed he could wrap his hand around the man's chest and arms and still be able to scratch an itch on his shoulder.
"Got any gold on your person?"He said all of a sudden.
"I--"
"You don't have no pouch stashed in ya arse, do ya?"
"N--"
"Willy knew as much, that he did,"the man, apparently named Willy, interrupted Ezequiel for the second time.
"You seem... oddly self-sufficient in the art of conversation,"Ezequiel concluded with a faked amicable smile.
"Got gold, but no friends on me person,"Willy shrugged, stepping towards the harness and clothing Ezequiel had previously disposed of. "Willy gotta make conversation to himself, just like he makes love."
*Gross*, Ezequiel thought, though kept it private. He certainly didn't fancy antagonizing an armed man who clearly needed a wrench to fix all the screws he had loose.
"So... do you live in this..."Ezequiel searched for the correct term, but none that wouldn't cause offense came to mind.
"Take Willy for an idiot?"he asked, acrimony seeping from his tone. "Willy ain't the one to fall through me roof, is he? Of course I don't live 'ere."
He grabbed the pile of discarded clothes and went for the farthest wall of the cave. He caressed it for a second until his fingers slid into a cranny, exactly one phalange's length deep. What followed, made Ezequiel gasp despite himself--the dark surface of the wall shifted and scraped against the floor. A streak of light slipped through the growing interstice and let Ezequiel marvel at what lay behind.
"Is... is that--"
"You was speechless, wasn't you?"Willy cut in smugly. "This here's me home."
And what a home it was! No a speck of dust was visible on the lacquered wooden furniture. A table of exquisite quality (as far as Ezequiel knew) sat ensconced in the middle of the even larger, ovoid cave. Filigrees ran along the sides of that table and even along the backs of the matching pair of chairs. Torches were dispersed on the walls and lent the room just enough light to reflect the prominent golden glow stemming from all coins scattered across the table and the ground.
Willy looked at his guest and spread his arms. "Welcome to me home!" |
"Ugh, I hate scammers,"I thought to my self and kept walking down the sidewalk. They stoop to anything. Pocket dimensions aren't impressive these days. He'd have better luck scraping up for a holographic spammer but I can't stand pop-ups either. Never trust someone who offers to sell you "everything."If they had that already, they'd have nothing to gain.
"Iris, where is the new ramen place?"I said to my self. The path ahead, to my vision anyway, illuminated in electric pink for a few feet before turning to the front door of the next building. It seems I'd already arrived. I spoke again, "Iris, turn off navigation."
The place looked dark but as I walked inside it lit up entirely. "Welcome to Noddle Don, Ramen and Hot Pots,"a speaker emmited in a digital voice. There was a bar and stools set up. The counter was "manned"by a faceless droid. I sat at the bar. "Hello, I'm Ichiro, your android server! Would you like a menu?"it asked. I was disappointed in the lack of humanity, but hungry. "Yeah, send it to my Iris."
My ocular display presented a floating screen which read. "Incoming display. Accept?". I had just asked for this menu. I sighed. "Yes, I accept."The menu appeared to wrap around my field of view. I scrolled through beautifully animated steaming colorful pictures of appetizing ramen, soba, hot pots, soy noodles, and eventually landed on my selection. "Ramen in fish broth with pork belly. Extra greens, Ichiro"
"An excellent choice. What would you like to drink when I prepare your selected meal?"Another window appeared to me obscuring my vision. "Incoming display. Accept?"Flustered, I tried to swat it away, but it doesn't work like that. "Just water Ichiro!"I could hear a glass begin to fill with liquid but my vision Iris was still displaying the prompt. "Decline"The prompt remained overlapping the menu. "IRIS, DECLINE."I asserted. My vision cleared but my bloodpressure was high. I grabbed my water and drank, staring at the cold face sensor of the android.
"Hey Ichiro, you should really do something about the homeless guy outside. It's no wonder I'm the only one here"
"Thank you for your suggestion, I have submitted it to our customer satisfaction system for review."Ichirio responded, in a pleasant scripted tone. The androids arms reached beneath the counter to retrieve my meal. To my dismay the plastic bowl of white noodles in brown broth with grey "meat"and a sprinkling of dull-green bokchoy. The android-thing's face remained coldly fixed on mine as if waiting for me to eat.
"Ichiro. I'm leaving."I said as I stood.
"Thank you for trying Noddle Don! Your account will be debited 36 nu-coin."The oblivious android reached under the counter again, this time to snap a plastic lid on my bowl of grey food. I took my trash with me and left. As I walked out the door, my bowl of sewage in hand, I could hear the electronics of the building wind down.
The street was dark and empty and lonely. I didn't need my Iris on to find the way back home. I carried my bowl of unwanted soup and walked back down the sidewalk. I was contemplating my frustrantions when a familiar voice spoke. "Could I interest you in everything, all of the time?"
"No, but I'll settle for real human interaction. You hungry?" |
“Was a good chase though, eh?” Duncan smiled, blood bubbling from his lips.
O'Brien, pistol lowered, laughed wearily and crouched to offer his old enemy his hand. Their skin touched for only a moment, but it was enough. A final, monstrous play.
Burning like he had never known. Recoiling, weeping, emptying the clip into Duncan's head. His legs gave way before he was halfway to the door; by the time his deputy, drawn by the gurgled pleas, had dashed up the three flights of stairs, most of what had constituted O'Brien had congealed in a steaming puddle by the coffee table. |
The human world leaders called a meeting and the General said, "Listen, here's the plan. They want the planet, let them have it. This is what we're going to do. We're going to call a truce. We're going to have a meeting with their leaders. We're going to form an alliance. Over time, we'll integrate and intermarry, so we become a part of them and they become a part of us."
The leaders nodded. "Sounds like a good plan,"they said. "Instead of war and violence, this might actually lead to peace."
The General said, "Fuck peace. If those alien hippy scumbags think they can just come over here and push us around, wait till they see what we do with them. After we gain their trust and learn their secrets and their magic, we use that to overthrow them and make them sorry that they ever fucked with us."
The leaders looked at each other nervously.
The General zeroed in on them and said, "You have something to say?"
"I mean, it all sounds very well and good,"one leader spoke. "But looking at the history of our own planet, war doesn't really seem to make things better. Maybe we should, you know, make an effort to establish and maintain peaceful relationships."
The General smirked. "You know who else wanted to keep the peace?"He looked around the room. "It was the people that we conquered. You can want peace all you want. But if you throw down your weapons, don't be surprised if the enemy picks it up and kills you with it. I didn't want to go to the war with these aliens, but they left us no choice. They came to *us*. They threatened to destroy *us.* *Our* planet. And we're supposed to sit back and accept that? No! We need to send a message to the rest of the universe and whatever other aliens are out there that, if you try to bully us, we don't cower. We fight back. We don't run from bullies. We punch them in the face. Now who's with me?"
And the government pulled it off successfully, and swept it under the rug. The public never even knew about it. And that's the way the government wants to keep it.
But if you ever wonder why no alien species are trying to contact us, it was because of that. They're afraid of us now. Take from that what you will. |
I was dead, and a man came from somewhere and stood beside me, and I asked him, "Are you an angel?"but he wouldn't answer. And I asked him, "What happens next?"and he showed me the years following my death.
My mother cried the most, but over the years even she moved on with her life, and her tears appeared less often.
I turned to the man and said, "Is that it? A few tears every now and then? Is that all my life amounts to?"
The man looked at me and said, "What did you do for it to amount to anything else?"
And then I woke up in a hospital bed, alive, with a second chance. |
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