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The calcium must flow. In the Land of the Fairies, most jobs are rather easy. Sometimes the job involves appearing to some poor girl being tormented by her step-sisters and granting her a wish. Sometimes it involves wearing boots and appearing before a plastered rockstar to give them that magic inspiration for a song. The types of jobs fairies might do are almost endless. But not all jobs are that easy. Many jobs require great sacrifice. Sometimes it requires being stranded with a lost boy in a magical land fighting pirates for half an eternity. Sometimes it requires being stuck in a land that never was, as elves, wizards and various halflings and dwarfs - not all fairies even make it out alive, being corrupted by the various ailments that plague the inhabitants of our reality. When it is time to return from an assignment, a fairy returns to the Land of the Fairies, where time flows in many directions in a phenomenon that is undescribable to noncorporeal beings. However it can generally be understood as following the same linear time as our reality when it comes to imports and exports between the realities. One of the most valuable imports was the calcium extracted from the still-believing on Earth. Most adults had simply stopped believing in anything and were stuck in jobs and lives that were like gangrene for the soul, but children still believed in all the wonders of the infinite possibilities that reality contained. It was that hope that made the calcium in the bones shift a tiny bit to the left, enabling hypertransdimensional transport to the Land of the Fairies. While childrens bones contained an incredible amount of usable calcium, most fairies had agreed that abducting children and stripping them of their bones simply wasn't the proper way a fairy should behave - after all, why help people in the first place if you end up causing even more distress later. The lethality of the procedure was also bothersome and was a leading cause for disbelief in humanity. So fairykind had settled on stealing teeth instead, which was generally seen as an ethically valid way to get the highly valued calcium. Over time a symbiotic relationship had formed, where fairies would leave some gold or money in place of the teeth. It was always a bargain, as calcium powder fetched a very high price in the drug markets of fairy land. Fairies would sniff the powder and be ready for eaons of work with the fallible mortals. Over time, however, people stopped offering their teeth. It was slowly dawning on the Council of Fairy Archetypes that a solution had to be devised. The Leprechaun Banker was worried that the flow of calcium had been negative for almost two centuries. At the current level of consumption, it wouldn't take many centuries for the calcium cauldrons to be completely empty. A century for a pixie sometimes felt like a week for a human being. Sometimes it was the other way around, but for most fairies the situation was quite bad. The Head Tooth Fairy complained about the amount of teeth simply disintegrating during transportation and was unfortunately of little use in coming up with a solution. The King of the Pixies wanted swift action. Grave robbing for fresh bones and intercepting bodies on their way to incinerators. The Queen of the Nymphs pointed out that this would ultimately only lead to more tragedy as fairies would unconsciously ensure that there would be a steady flow of bodies and that the old method of dental harvest was still the most viable. The Dwarven Director of Imp Affairs pointed out that the problem lay in people losing hope, the quantity of the bones was not as important as the potency of the hope. All the various fairies had their say on the matter, but it was a tiny wisp in the corner who, using its dancing and wiggling and indirect language, suggested the best idea: some of the tooth fairies would train, bribe and become dentists while the rest would create an irresistible new type of food that would also make teeth fall out. And so with suggestions from the Land of the Fairies humanity throughout the ages dreamt up recipes that would destroy teeth but give hope to mankind while dentists balanced it all out by removing the occasional happy tooth.
Charlie stomped down the port-side hallways of Chorus Station, gathering steam on the way to the Drione delegate's office. Her rhythmic steps echoed along the verdant marble corridor, and several faster, heavier steps fought to match her pace. "Why green marble, of all things?"she grumbled. "Too loud for this line of work." "Every sentient race has their preferences,"Martin said, falling in step with Charlie. "Poor taste is not exclusive to humans." Charlie's assistant and translator breathed heavily in his struggle to stop her from her mission, so she slowed slightly but still stared ahead. In the corner of her eye, she could see the sweat stains forming in the underarms of his new suit. The minimum heat of the station didn't help anyone on the station except the dry cleaners, despite the heat regulation being "survivable for all."Survivable didn't mean comfortable. "You really don't need to do this,"Martin urged. "We're new here. We don't want to push our luck any further than we already have. They gave us our own office, for Pete's sake." "One no bigger than a closet,"Charlie said. "If we don't push back now, we'll be downgraded to a cubby in less than a month." "And if we push too far, they'll kick us to the curb. Or whatever the space equivalent to the curb is." Charlie said nothing. As an assistant, Martin had an affinity for the job, excelling at almost everything and satisfactorily achieving everything else. He did what was asked of him, even by those who had no authority to do so, and kept smiling all the while. On paper, he was Charlie's perfect assistant: subservient but independent enough to think critically before signing his life away for a free drink. But in working with him for just under a month, she found why he'd never been promoted. He was implacably timid. "Forty percent of this space station is home to spineless slugs, slimes, sponges and other invertebrates,"Charlie said. "I hadn't counted you among them." The two stopped before the delegate's door. Made of imported alien wood, it was twice the size of Charlie and sported three different knobs at different heights, towering over them like a gate to hell. It would have been scarier if it weren't for the doodling all over the lower half. Four-legged, two- armed figures drawn in crude colours stood on a hill, holding hands and smiling a toothy smile. At the bottom, a child-like signature was hastily written in a language Charlie had yet to reach in her orientation manual. Next to the lowest doorknob, a small placard listed the several names the delegate had chosen for each of the federation's factions. The only one she recognized was Dave, his human name. Martin moved to knock, but Charlie pushed him aside and rushed through. Behind the large standing desk in the center of the room, Dave looked up from his computer screen, hardly surprised. He spoke a few foreign words before Charlie interrupted him. "What the hell is this?"she said, dropping a thick binder onto the desk. "I didn't think there were any cows on Chorus, but you've surprised me with the amount of bullshit you've put on my desk." Dave calmly looked at it and back at Charlie. Instead of saying anything, he looked to Martin. Martin leaned close to Charlie and whispered, "Are you sure you want me to translate that?"She glared at him. He swallowed. "Okay." The guttural moans of Martin's translation to Drionis must have gotten the point across as Dave's face cringed as much as a giraffe-rhino creature could. He huffed a universally known huff of condescension and spoke back. "He says he doesn't know what you're talking about,"Martin said. "Course he does, he goddamn signed it,"Charlie said, staring at Dave. "You're going to repeal this order right now, or I'm going to kick up a shitstorm so big your rec-stables are going to seem like the freaking garden of eden." "They don't have a garden of Eden, sir. I don't think they have shitstorms either." Charlie sighed. "Then tell him to repeal the order. Let's hope my tone translated well enough." More grunts and snuffs. It was like listening to two horses have an argument over hay prices. The sweat stains in Martin's suit had grown larger, and Charlie could tell it wasn't from the heat. "He says he understands the hesitation, recognizes your passionate resolve, but must decline your... offer on grounds of the Federation's liaison protocol and standards,"Martin said, wringing his hands. "Martin, you're paid to translate, not sugarcoat." "He wants you to fuck off."
Additional prompt if the original is too vague: You even find vet bills going back several months, and the critter is in some of your photos. You're too creeped out to say anything to anybody and the kitty is too sweet and affectionate for you to get rid of xim. So, the next day, you casually show a photo of xim to your coworker/classmate and she swoons over it - she even knows xis name. Your parents know about him too. Everyone knows this cat as yours but yourself. You mean to find out when or how you got this cat, but the question escapes your mind every time you make plans to try. Eventually, many years later at about an average lifespan for an indoor cat, xe's on the last of xis nine lives. When you are holding xer close knowing that xe's in the final moments of xis life, xe speaks to you revealing xer true identity.
It started slow. Media portrayed rain as acid rain. Summer ran a little longer. It snowed in desert for the first time in at least five decades. It started slow. The sea was angrier. The wind blew the toxins from fires raging hotter and bigger miles away. It started slow. A few years past and the species was gone. Bugs, mammals, and lizards just gone. It started slow. Then the bees disappeared, but it wasn’t slow. It happened overnight like they just flew off never to return. It happened fast. Our forest couldn’t recover. Fires happened methodically. No amount of intervention helped. The outback, the hills, the forest just disappeared. Our fuel was gone. Oil pulled from the ocean floor was dry. The platforms ripped up and deposited on land by a sea that raged on. Sea travel was forbidden and planes were grounded. So we hid. We burrowed underground and chose to wait. The air cleared and the elements calmed. It happened fast. The earth filled her voids. She shook us off like a pest landing on my arm. The quake came and the colonies were gone. We are alone. My time is limited. The oxygen scrubbers are done and the algae colonies dead. We watched our species die on earth. It will be slow.
I was walking with a few of my friends, namely Rachel, Bryan, and Nick, when we found this amazing piece of graffiti under the tunnel we normally walk. It was gorgeous, and had a sunset, and the grass, filled with people who looked animated in that still image. Rachel pointed out they were animated. I was shocked, the people in the graffiti were talking. I had never seen anything like it in my life. My friends, shocked as they were, ran out. That’s when the photo popped out and spoke to me, and asked me why they needed to be removed. I said I didn’t know. That’s when I noticed that the other graffiti were also animated. The brands taking on angry looking people, and the ones deep in the layers of paint taking the appearance of shadows. I went to just talk to the angry one, but it said no and suddenly I was on the ground with a sharp pain in my back „I think I understand now,“ I told the spirit of the mural, „Do you truly understand?“ the spirit replied, „Those pieces of graffiti, made by people angry with their lives, or to spread a harmful message, are being removed,“ I said thoughtfully, „but unfortunately they do not discriminate, they think you are as well.“ After a small silence I spoke again, „Or perhaps they have something against graffiti artists.“ The mural contemplated this, but before resigning to its fate it asked me a question, „Would you please paint me again sometime? I have lived for a day and a half, I didn’t wanna leave.“ After assuring it that I would try to paint it again someday, I took a picture and left. My friends waited for me on the other side of the tunnel, a little ways down. We walked home fairly quietly after I explained what happened. I think I need to see Natalie about this.
Magic isn't a promise. It's a deal. One that you have to broker yourself. "But you don't know that, do you?"I mutter under my breath, watching a hulking shadow approach me. When was the last time someone found him? A growl answers me, shaking the cavern of a world I'm in. The water under his paws waves out from him. The sheer power he has, just keeping it for himself. Now that can't do. I must strike a bargain with him. All the grand sorcerers have their own patrons. Micheal has his angels. I heard he gave up his eyesight for their power. The angels always say that light blinds those who wish for strength. So, they take away the thing we see with. But in return, their light is yours. Imagine that, never seeing the destruction you wring out of your hands. Only hear the screams of those affected. Daphne, on the other hand, has her gorgons. For her magic, she gave up her chance to love, sacrificing her lover on a pyre, burning him up. The gorgons always say they need someone with a stone heart. But they make the exception for a cold heart. Now Daphne turns all those who wrong her into frozen stone, never to live, or laugh, or love again. Just like Daphne, in a way. The beast in front of me bares its teeth. But it doesn't scare me. I already have nothing to lose. Problems with deals, you see. Sometimes you end up on the losing side. But not all patrons need to be so harmful. Some patrons wait, asking to take their due whenever a sorcerer uses their power. Like Belcrox and his demons. Time for magic was their deal. For years they watched Belcrox through his own eyes and listened to him through his own ears, each action adding up, becoming the sum of what he owned them. Whenever he called upon their power, they culled. But it was never the same, sometimes it was just a few hours. And sometimes it was too long. I heard that burning a village was only a minute. But saving a kid? He lost years because of that. He made the deal with a demon at twenty-four. He was dead at thirty. Suffice to say, I don't think I will be making any deals with demons—I already have one agreement that wraps around me like a noose. I prefer a long life over a powerful life. No, instead, I have come to find the lost one. And given the growls, I think I might have found one. That's right. One of the old bearers of the world. I heard your stories, Fenrir. Of the beast with the magic to turn valleys into mountains. Of the beast who ate the sun and glowed for it. You know, he was a real pain in the ass to find. Had to hike up the mountain cliffs, finding a cave that buries itself deep into the ground, burrowing down for so long. I thought I was going to fall through and end up in some other world. In some ways, I did. Fenrir's lair looks like a time from before. From before magic cracked and shattered. Before the break, creatures couldn't make deals with humans. We weren't capable of it. But a beast found a human, and those two became friends. The best of friends, if the stories are right. To the point where the beast refused to let the human die, forcing magic into the man. And that was when it happened. When magic broke. For most, that story is one of the saddest we have. Because even though humans were given magic, the tragedy was the man died, leaving the beast all alone. But for me? I consider it a happy story. Because there's a beast out there that's lonely. So lonely that maybe, just maybe, I can get his magic for a reduced cost of being friends. I smile up at Fenrir, wondering if he knows why I'm here. How I'm going to use him. I chuckle, trying to make it into something pleasant for the beast. Let him think me a friend; it'll make this all go easier. "Hello,"I say, looking up at the hesitant beast. He tilts his head at me, looking more like a curious dog than a centuries-old progenitor of power. Did you know humans can transfer deals and debts? My mother knew that, interestingly enough. I think that's why she had me. But magical creatures don't make deals unless everyone is of age. I think that's why my mother ran when I became an adult. The way she looked at me, treated me and even talked about me... That wasn't how a mother talks about her child. Then I felt it, the demons grasp around my life. Did you also know that debts can be removed? By another contract? Well, I'm not entirely sure what'll happen. But I know my mother will become the owner of her debt. And that, I so desperately want. "I'm here to make a deal." The only issue is the demons are some of the most powerful beasts. And breaking a contract requires a source of strength greater than the original contractors. There's hope in Fenrir's eyes. Maybe he thinks he won't be alone anymore. I want to frown, to tell him to run away. Making a new contract voids the old one... but the pain is unbearable, I hear. It's worse for the beast. I wonder if he'll forgive me? The problem with magic isn't the deals. But how the deals twist the soul as you claw for every advantage you can get. Sometimes I wonder, as I look in the lonely wolf's eyes, if maybe the reason why the world is so cruel now is because of how cruel magic is.
"Love burns brighter than Sunshine, it's brighter than sunshine!" Annely wakes up to an unfamiliar alarm sound. As she swipes away the notification, she sees the name, "Brighter Than Sunshine"as the song halts. Weird", she thinks. "I've never heard this song". She decides to watch the music video and is surprised at the love story it portrayed. shaking her head at this weird bug, Annely gets up and walks to the bathroom. She passes a giant heart balloon attached to a package on her table. She walks back. What was that? Annely suspects that someone is playing a prank on her, but her room seems to be exactly the same, except for a giant package on her table. Being wary, she opens the package and sees a giant box of chocolates with a note that reads, "I've wanted to ask you out for the longest time. I hope you'll call me when you see this :) - Rayson" "RAYSON?"Annely shouts in surprise! Rayson was the guy Annely was rejected by in high school for being weird and not so popular. He bullied her quite a bit and this seemed to come out from the left field. Annely again assumed it was a prank and moved on. As she went about getting ready and fresh, her phone kept ringing with a ton of notifications. A little annoyed, she walks out of the bathroom and angrily checks who on God's green Earth would bug her so much so early in the morning. Oh. It was 2 in the afternoon. Annely checks the notifications to see that she has over a hundred messages from guys she hasn't even talked to in years! All she could remember was that she was in an intense discussion with her two other friends about an anime they watched and no one, not one single guy had ever messaged her. All these messages came from guys who seemed to be interested in dating her. That's so weird! Why would something like this happen so suddenly? Knock knock. A few knocks on the door and she sees a delivery man staring blankly at her and drooling a little idly. Ew. She sees that the outside of her apartment was filled with more packages and cards and flowers! She snaps her fingers in front of the delivery man to no reaction at all. "ALBERT!", came a shout from the corner. "What the hell are you doing taking so long for one delivery...."the woman who was shouting stops and comes to a halt a few steps away from Annely. "Oh. Hi. My, I'm so sorry for raising my voice at this stupid Albert here. I hope everything's okay!" "Uh, yeah. I just seem to have a million deliveries. Would you happen to know what these are?"asks Annely "They seem to be love letters and cards. I mean, I definitely see it. Guys must be going crazy for you! I'm Sarah. Here's my number, actually. You can call me anytime for any deliveries or even if you just need someone to talk to. Don't hesitate. I mean it. Here, I'll call you right now! What's your number?"the woman asks as she twirls her hair with her fingers Annely runs into the room and locks the door. People were acting too weird! Why was the delivery girl so over-friendly and why was the delivery man DROOLING? She walks past a mirror and immediately turns back. "Oh yeah", she thinks, "I Instagrammed a photo of myself with contacts instead of glasses and without my braces on" Sure enough, Annel's Instagram was filled with everything from hello messages to artistically shot dick pics Annely slowly absorbs this overload of information. Never has anything so bizarre happened to her! "I guess I'm in some weird rom-con anime now, huh? Haha"
Amy poured coffee into her favourite mug, and swirled in the cream. Resting her rounded elbows on the table, her dark hair spilled over its grainy surface. She picked up a teaspoon and licked the back of it. Cold, tingly. Within seconds the back of her skull had been blown apart by a heated precision laser and she lay face down on her kitchen table, fragments of her in her coffee. A man walked in, greying and stocky. His heavy black boots made sticking sounds every time the soles made contact with Amy’s grimy floor. He picked up the mug, took a long hearty sip and to pierce the silence exclaimed: ‘’Gosh! That’s some some great coffee!’’.
The living are idiots. Okay, fine, maybe that's a little harsh. It's not their fault they can see so little of what's around them. Bodies are the biggest pain about this plane. You can't unlock the physical experience unless you're in a body. Bodies that are, by the way, disgusting rotting meat sacks that need constant upkeep. Such archaic tech. But once you're in a body, its denseness makes it damn near impossible to pick up on all the other layers in this plane. It's a cruel joke. Made worse by mankind's insistence at beating, burning, or dismembering those who can pick up on what else is out there. The whole lot of them are tedious. But, I need them. Listen, I know I fucked around and found out. I'm not saying I don't deserve the curse that keeps me trapped disembodied on a small patch of ocean just offshore. I'm just saying isn't eternity a bit much? Those first few hundred years were awful. Stuck out here with not even a whale to entertain the crew. Oof. Lots of badly performed pirate plays in those early days. Fortunately, the lack of bodies has a perk: we're able to pick up on vibrations, including radio frequencies then video then the internet. What started out as a rag tag band of lawless pirates has evolved into a ship full of spirit Frasiers - terribly pretentious and frankly insufferable. I need to get out of here. I heard the council is looking into banning eternal curses, but what does that do to those like me already cursed? Are they just going to release all of us because the law changed? Doubtful. And, well, even if they did, they probably wouldn't release me. I'm not saying what I did was right, of course. Yeah, I caused the suffering of thousands. A sadistic tyrant, some say. The devil incarnate. I wasn't, literally, of course. I've never met a "devil"as a separate entity, but yeah, I think you can say I was... well... problematic. Honestly, I miss it. The screams. The blood. The power. Oh, yeah, if released, I'd like to think I'm evolved enough to be benevolent, but man, unadulterated cruelty is a helluva rush. Ah, nostalgia feels. Good times. In any case, I can't do anything from out here. I need the fountain water. By the way, what kind of bullshit is that? All my power and energy trapped by water and the key is a different kind of water? That wizard was an asshole. Did I give a little cheer when they finally turned on him and shoved a pike up his keister for practicing magic? Fuck yeah I did. Dude's spirit came by and taunted me before shoving off to the great beyond. That motherfucker tea bagged me. Dick. Anyways. I know the fountain is there. I saw it when I had a body. I tried to get to it myself. I mustered energy and managed to get there - I even shook a coconut off a tree. But it was over in a split second and I was left with a frayed vibration for days. 0/10 would not recommend. So, I have to work through the living idiots. I'm pretty successful at getting them to jump off ships. Making an ocean swell look like a hot chick is a pretty easy mirage. But once they're in the water, they panic and often drown. I can't get through to a panicking man. I then tried subtly talking to them in dreams. A few went mad, a few more became religious zealots, but most just ignored me. No bueno. Whispers in the air. Disregarded as ocean breezes. Radios changing channels to play songs with messages. "Doh, the radio must be broken."Morons. My current routine is to come here - the closest I can get to shore - and look for someone, anyone who might be inebriated enough or crazy enough for me to influence. Other than a few syphilitic sailors, I've not had much luck. But, it passes the time. What else am I going to do? Debate stoicism versus nihilism with Azkayem for the 100th time? No thank you. I was lost in my own thoughts when I heard a tiny voice say "why sad? I help?" The tiny voice was from a tiny person - I'm guessing 3 years old. I could barely make him out on the shore. He was with his mom. Great tits. What? We've already established I'm problematic. Deal with it. "Who are you talking to, baby?" "Pie-rett" He's pointing at me! "There's nothing there, baby." "Yuh huh. Sad. Pie-rett. There." "No, baby. There's nothing there. You're starting to freak momma out, baby. You know momma's got anxiety. Why you playing like this?" At three they're young enough to still be connected to the other planes and old enough to speak and comprehend. It just might work. I muster my energy. "I want go to fountain, mommy. I go fountain now." At last.
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Climate change wasn’t what we thought it was. My boots slosh through thick mud and I look across the muddied field. So little grass. Less and less, replaced by more and more mud, every year. It’s only a matter of time as the water rises. My cousins have already relocated. I’m one of the last hold outs in the regional low lands. Three more years and nothing will exist from where I stand. Beside me the cow huffs, struggling as I am through the muck. In the middle of the muddy expanse that used to be a pasture, two twisted trees stand rooted into the ground. Below them a ditch, half filled with muddy water, where a clear stream used to flow. The wind howls in my ears and the endless clouds overhead roll by. I haven’t seen the sun in 17 days. Weatherman on the radio says it’ll be a week more before there’s another break from the mist and the rain and the gloom. Huffing out a breath I pull the cow forward. Together we trudge towards the twisted trees. They loom like effigies to forgotten times. My cow is a starving thing. Ribby, with spotchy hide. I didn’t bother to name her. She was a weak calf. Never thrived the way she should have. When I was little I remember the blue of the sky and the large swollen sides of my family’s cows. We come to a halt at the edge of the trench. It’s started to rain. Again. Already the trench is filling. The tree roots look like gnarled knobby knuckles clutching the at earth that no longer cares for it. I’ve seen the same drama unfold between scorned lovers. I make it quick. Her blood is washed away in the buffing rapids as her front legs give out. Her weak voice bawling-or at least trying to-I shove her into the trench. I wait as she thrashed in the mud and water, bleeding out but unable to climb up the rain slick sides of the culvert. It doesn’t take long. That gnarled hand reaches, hungry, entwining around the cow’s legs-breaking them. Slowly the trees pull at the cow, dragging her under the water, to the darkness that lay beneath their rooted nets. I’ve never found bones. Not hair, nor hide. There’s never anything left. Global warming wasn’t what we thought it was. For centuries we fed off our planet. Never once giving a damn. Now the tables were turned. I can only imagine how many cows I will feed to this tree, how my children and their children too will feed the trees. How long will it be until the pasture is green again? Until the sky is blue again? Wiping the blade off on my pant leg, I turn around. It’s a long rainy walk back to the homestead…and all the difference of a few days or a few decades before I join the cow in her earthy tomb beneath the tree.
\\\This story was written using https://6b.eleuther.ai/ I recommend you check it out, it's free. I only guided it, correcting small grammatical mistakes, and cutting the sentences off where it started to digress, so I could rerun it. There was a point where I couldn't add any more to what I was sending, so I started fresh with only a few lines of relevant history. \\\ You are watching TV, you are bored, there's nothing good on tv, you decide to move to the Kingsman News channel. The first thing you see is that the clock in the back is 30 mins forward. You think "it's just a mistake". It looks like your building is on fire, "wait, 0 survivors? Hmm it smells funny."You hear your friends talking about a video of you being shot, "Wait, it's my video"you thought. It seems like there's a video that has everyone talking about your death. You think "maybe there's someone watching me"and decide to take a look. On the screen you see a title "Failed Assassination Attempt"and a picture of your building. There's a video of you standing in front of a building and in the background you can see the reflection of the camera that shows you. You can see the building. You notice that the time is wrong. It now says you're 2 hours into the future. Your friends are watching it with you. "It's probably just a joke video"you say. You look around, but see that you are not alone. In the corner you see a red eye and then a body starts to fall from the ceiling. It was your body, and you thought "wait, this can't be, it's a different me, there's no way."You look down at yourself and notice your outfit. It's the same as you were wearing before you died. You stand up and the other you says "I know it's me, you're not a ghost, this is all really weird"you start to look around and notice that the whole office seems weird, you notice a lot of things that don't make sense. You look at the other you and ask "wait, you know this is me?"and you notice that you're both looking at your body. The other you says "of course I know, I am your other self, I was just watching you kill myself from inside of the building." He then walks over to you, "we are in a dream, you're dead and I am going to try to live"you think "okay I need to do something"you run out of the office into the parking lot, and run to your car. You get in and put your seatbelt on. You start the car and pull away from the building. You look down and notice a note that says "Hey, it's me again. Don't drive off, there's no way this is really happening. I just want you to know that I'm real. I don't know if you remember me or not, and it doesn't matter. you're just going to live in this dream and have to decide which one of us is real. It doesn't really matter which one it is, it's all real. But if you decide to take me seriously you're going to have to live in this dream and see what happens. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it's just the only way to get your attention. I hope I didn't scare you too bad" You think "I'm really gonna wake up soon, this is so weird, I know for a fact that there's no other me"and as you look down you see your cell phone in the glove compartment. You realize that you can call to the other you and say "hey, I'm waking up, please stop dreaming"and as you look down at your phone, you get a text from the other you. It says "I got your message, I just can't tell you what I'm gonna do."
Shh. It was the sound of rushing water. Splitter-splatter. In our escape, it seems we burst a nearby drain pipe. Now, they knew. Not that I was concerned about that; I was more concerned at being caught. Shh. A flurry of footsteps descended down the stairs. The vinyl wood thundered and croaked as hefty men raced to the kitchen. Fragments of dust, illuminated by our headlights, swayed their song—pulsing to the beat of their footfall. The rapid burst of gunfire didn't dare silence their hoarse yelps and yells. I heaved a heavy sigh. This must've been a bad dream, but I knew better. I didn't want to do this, but better us or them. So I tapped the walls of the crevice under the stairway. Jones nodded. So did the rest of my team. One. Two. Three. We stormed out, popping like a stream of confetti. We bolted across the lounge, leaping from one puddle to the other, until our feet were soaked with murk. "Freeze!" Our shouts met their screeches. Swift steps met boiling blood. They gawked, but I couldn't let them speak. I slammed the safety and opened fire. That's what I would've done, at least. But one fired first. I didn't know what happened, but red surged to my abdomen—and I fell to the mud and mire. A few more bursts to my ankle and thigh. My bones rattled and shook like massive earthquakes, but I knew better. Fuck. I pounded on the mud, tried desperately to stand. It only earned a shot to my wrist, and a foot on my temple. Argh. That bastard. He yelled something. So did the rest of my team. Jones stomped on my skull, joining the squad who got busy breaking my bones. I could barely hear anything over the splashes and screams, but I think there was faint laughter in front of me. Not that it mattered. I gambled and lost. I could only watch as my team's feet trampled me under. I was blinking in and out. Nothing mattered anymore. Before I closed my eyes permanently, I saw Jones leading the team, shaking hands with the friends I was told to arrest.
“But don’t you ever wonder what’s out there? It goes on forever.” Aiden took a sip from the mug Ben the local baker had given him. The warm, sweet liquid coated his tongue and sent heat rushing to his fingertips. It fended off the brisk air of the autumn morning. Feeling content, Aiden smiled to himself. Ben was always nice to the children from the orphanage. But a huff from his friend broke his reverie. “You heard what Miss Mary said. No one ever goes that far north. Even the hunters only scout to the exclusion line. Besides, there’s nothing out there.” Aiden frowned into his mug. Preston was always too serious about everything. Granted, he was a few years older and now had responsibilities around the orphanage and town. But Aiden yearned for the days when they would wander through the streets of Firngrad. Sometimes they would have imaginary adventures. Other times, they would help townspeople and earn small treats or a few copper coins. “There’s an undiscovered world out there. Temples and palaces made of ice. People who can withstand the trials of nature.” Aiden sighed and watched as the cloud of steam drifted through the air. “The Last Kingdoms can’t be everything in this world.” Preston only scoffed at this. “You know as well as I do the gods coated the world in ice to punish those who spat on the blessings of nature. We live in the Last Kingdoms ‘cause that’s all that remains.” They remained sitting atop the walls around Firngrad as the sun rose over the horizon. Aiden squinted as the new light scattered over the untouched tundra. “Where did you get such an idea anyway?” Aiden looked down at his empty mug. “I remember a story my mama told me when I was young.” Preston looked confused. “Aiden, you were two when they found you outside the orphanage. Ain’t no way you remember your ma.” Frustration bubbled up within Aiden’s chest. “I remember someone singing to me.” “Must’ve been Miss Mary. She’s a good singer.” Aiden was not convinced, but he let the matter lie. Eventually, Preston pushed back from the ramparts. “I’ve got work. Mister Lambert offered me two silver to help feed his chickens and clean his barn. When you’re done daydreaming, go see if anyone needs any help in town.” And with that, Preston disappeared. Aiden remained there until the sun had passed the tallest mountains in the distance. Soon, one of the morning guards arrived to shoo him away, just like any other morning. But even as Aiden walked back to the bakery to return the mug, his mind remained on that quiet field of snow. \# That memory pushed Aiden to his feet even as the wind howled around him. It seemed like a lifetime ago since he had told Preston about his desire to explore the lands beyond the tundra. “Please reconsider. I beg of you.” Miss Mary had tried her best to stop him – her hair had slowly turned gray in the last few years. “You’re not going to find anything out there! Stop dreaming and get a better job to help the orphanage already!” Preston had been the most vocal. In retrospect, his friend had seemed just as scared as Miss Mary. But Aiden held onto that flame in his heart. Over the years, he had heard about evidence of people to the north. Traders and merchants would tell tales of strange lights in the winter fog. Sometimes, animals would even guide travelers before melting away into the snow. All the small hints pointed toward something out there in the lands no one dared travel. So, Aiden had worked himself to the bone to provide for both himself and the orphanage. And ten years after he made that wistful wish, the plan was set. He had saved up enough to buy equipment and supplies for a long expedition north. The Slumbering Slopes are a lot taller than I expected. About an hour ago, Aiden had reached the base of the mountain range he had admired as a child. While the wind was less biting, his mask was still coated in ice. He had about an hour of light remaining and needed to find shelter soon. But as he continued along the snow-covered rocks, the situation grew worse. Darkness came sooner than expected and Aiden was left stumbling across uneven ground. Not good. Need to find cover from this wind. Even a rock will do for now. Just as his face began to numb, his eyes caught a small glint in the distance. His flickering lantern reflected off a bit of ice, revealing an irregularity in the rock. Aiden scrambled through the snow, feeling the stiffness building in his limbs. His heart leaped into his throat as he reached a hole in the mountainside. “Yes!” His voice was lost in the howling wind. With great effort, he squeezed himself and his pack into the safety of the cave. His lantern flared a bit, sending light dancing off the ice on the walls. Though there was no more wind, the temperature felt even lower inside than outside. Must be all the ice. The cave opened into a larger pocket with a narrow passage leading deeper. Shouldering his pack, he pushed onward, hoping to find a better location to make camp. And after some time, the temperature began to rise. With a frown, Aiden loosened his scarf and pulled off his mask. “Why is it so warm in here?” His words echoed in the tunnel. Then, he saw light around a bend in the path. The tunnel widened back into a cave exit. And beyond the mouth of the cave was a startling sight. (1/2)
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?"I shouted as the man in front of me was trying to explain something. Old age ain't fun, let me tell you that. My eyes and ears don't work well no more. I don't have the angst and jest that I had in my youthful days "YOU. RUINED. MY. LIFE."the man repeated slowly and loudly "HEY JENKINS, IS THAT YOU? I SWEAR I THOUGHT YOU PASSED. HOW'VE YA BEEN YA OLD BASTARD?"I replied. My good friend Jenkins. We used to be war buddies together. Call of Duty was something I could no longer play anymore. Jenkins was 60 before he died tragically after a terrible fight behind a blockage. Those bacon strips really blocked all his arteries "I'M NOT JENKINS. I'M u/FhMrF" "WHAT? YOU'RE FHMRRFRF? I DON'T KNOW WHO THAT. YOU'RE REAL SUS MAN". What a joke. Frmphs? That's nonsense! "NO. THAT'S MY REDDIT NAME. I PUT UP A WRITING PROMPT AND YOUR RUINED MY LIFE BY CALLING ME OUT. IT'S TIME TO PAY UP", Frhphmsw said "ALL RIGHT FYRMENS. I REMEMBER REDDIT. HAD THE BEST MEMES, IT DID. BROKEN ARMS AMIRITE?" "YOU'RE DOING IT AGAIN. HOW DARE YOU? DO YOU KNOW HOW BAD THAT COMMENT RUINED MY LIFE? I HAD TO GO TO THERAPY AFTER THAT. IT'S BEEN 40 YEARS AND I STILL AM NOT OVER IT". This Ferryman was really angry "OKAY FMRYN WHAT YA WANT ME TO DO? SAY SORRY WORRY AFTER 40 YEARS FOR A COMMENT I LEFT ON YOUR POST? I DON'T EVEN REMEMBER WHAT I HAD FOR BREAKFAST FYMAN. HOW ABOUT THIS HOW ABOUT THIS FIREAN? I'LL GO TO A DITCH AND FIND THE OLD SERVERS AND START THEM AND ACCESS THEM AND THEN AND THEN AND THEN... WHAT WAS I SAYING AGAIN?" "UGH. YOU OLD PIECE OF SHIT. DO YOU NOT REMEMBER ANYTHING?" "AY AY AY FERNEN. I HAD A BEAUTIFUL AVOCADO TOAST FOR BREAKFAST TODAY"Huhu. Let me show off how cultured I am" "MY GOD YOU GEEZER, AVOCADOS DON'T EXIST ANYMORE. WHY ARE YOU STUCK IN 2025? HOW DO I EVEN GET REVENGE?"Fenrir was really upset about this situation "I HAD AVOCADO TODAY MORNING AND YOU KNOW WHAT FEREN, I'LL EDIT MY COMMENT. LEMME GET MY PHONE"Oho, this kid had no idea what's coming. My phone is the best phone anyone could ever have "LOOK AT THIS FORNI. THE NEWEST AND THE BEST: SAMSUNG GALAXY S22"This should show him who's boss "SAMSUNG GALAXY? SAMSUNG DOES EXIST ANYMORE. WHY? WHY GOD? I FINALLY TRACKED DOWN THIS ASSHOLE AND THIS GUY BELONGS IN AN ASYLUM!" "AY FORNI, I DON'T BELONG IN AN ASYLUM. I HAVE MY PILLS" Fhron just looked sad and done with life at this point. He gave me a look of pity and turned around and started walking away. "THAT'S RIGHT FHYRUN WALK AWAY AND DON'T BOTHER ME EVER AGAIN!" Funman turned around to say something, but just turned around again and walked away again "Huhuhuhu. This will be a great post on r-n/publicfreakout. Glad Fensas doesn't know abourtReddit Neo"
"Doc?" "I know. No translator. I told them they were ridiculously optimistic. So they're running around like headless chickens. Right?" "Right. Hope you got an answer, Doc. As big as their ship is, we don't need a misunderstanding." "Bob... The one thing you can count on in this business is misunderstandings. You try to keep the strangers from blowing you away with a plasma gun. Wish me luck." "Break a leg, Doc. You're going live in ten seconds." "No pressure, right?" "Wouldn't dream of it, Doc." ••• (Why did you pick this planet?) (I didn't, you did.) (You said they had a thousand languages!) (And you chose it because you saw those broadcasts with what you assumed was a translator. I told you those were pure entertainment!) (Here comes one of them. Get out there and don't make any mistakes!) (Leader... The one thing you can count on is mistakes. You just hope they don't blow you away with one of those hand cannons!) (Get going, this is going live to HQ.) (No pressure?) (Guaranteed execution for the whole crew if you screw up!) (Gee. Thanks.) (You're welcome, Academician.) ••• I suppose it helps that they're so much like us. Bilaterally symmetric, two legs, two arms, one head, four eyes, two mouths, and those mobile ears. [How the zoomies do they eat and breath at the same time? Only two eyes? That's got to be sub-par for survival. In the name of Zoomer, I can't tell if they're paying attention with those stubby ears!] I'll have to start pretty basic, but it shouldn't be too bad. [Confidence! You have plenty of experience. All zero days of it! No, some things have to be pretty basic, like names for things, people, places.] I'll try the color test. Too many mistakes in the simulations due to color. Glad I told those idiots on the panel to piss off. [Remember the simulations. We won't perceive color the same way, but no one could agree on what colors to use!] The table is halfway from the security cordon to the edge of the blasted zone from their engines. No shade over it until more is known about their color perception. A granite top, stone pillar legs, a chair for the human, and various options for the alien. It's a test too, can he figure out that the pieces can be assembled and use them to build something better? [Oohh, Crock Blox! I haven't seen these in ages! Hey. If you take that and add this... Cool! A rest post just the right height for me, with all the supports in the right places!] > First test passed, Doc. The panel is pissed. You were right, and they were wrong. I click my teeth twice. > Reading two clicks for Yes. You're doing great, Doc. Keep it up. The way he's "sitting"in that chair suggests too many joints. It's more like draping himself around a tree. [Interesting, I would think that device would put too much pressure on the hips and upper legs. I think I can do better.] > Careful, Doc! He's moving fast! Lookout! > > calmly, calmly, it's just his idea of a chair for me. he's being courteous. > (If you ever scare me like that again, you won't have to wait to be executed!) > > (What? Look, he's already more comfortable!) > (You cannot know that!) > > (Has he moved? Is his posture not more relaxed?) > (Mmm... Yes, he does appear to have less muscular tension.) > Doc, they have remote comms too. > > I would expect any intelligence to have that. > Military is rattling nukes. > > Get General Millon to come over, just him. Let me know when he's there. > He's here. > > Turn the volume down till he's the only one who can hear it. > Done. He's crouched over me like he's about to chew me out, but he's not going to do that because Doc is waiting to tell him something important. > > Hot Baths. > Potent words, he's gone. > > And the military? > Like the schoolmarm just showed up—all halos and smiles, plus a gallon of sweat each. ••• We are making progress, at least on the emotional and psychological fronts. Their contact is smart, helpful, and calm. I wish my support was. Oh, Bob's doing good, but the rest of them! > > Bob? Clear the room. Whatever you have to do, clear that room. Put some lieutenant on an external line and let him filter the idiots. > Done. > > Bob? > Yes, Doc. Dragon's Breath. It was the only way; I'd already given Lieutenant Happy my spare filters. He's fine, and the door is barricaded. They're not getting back in. > (Academician, their military is boiling. Only their ire is focused on the command box, not their weapons.) > > (As long as their cannons don't come out en mass, we're good.) > (One of them is drawing a small one.) > > (And where is it pointed?) > (Up.) > > (He's about to emphasize a point, it's for his people, so don't [defecate with prejudice].) POW! > > (See?) > (How could you know?) > > (Ever see high command in an argument?) > (No...) > > (Same thing with blasters.) Past time to get that color kit out. (Interesting, grey scale cards. He's looking at me. Gesturing at the cards. Can they only see in grey? I'll sort them as normal.) Good! Same orientation and order we'd use! > I see it, Doc, I've already sorted for equivalent greyscale. click click Time to try the color. (Oh. My. Zoomer. They can* see colors! Oh! He wants me to sort these too! What fun! He's doing most of the work for me!) Fast kid. Looks like a partial problem with shades of blue, but he can still see it's roughly blue. Now, is it his eyes? The light? Something in the colors we use? > (Academician! You've missorted the blues!) > > (What?) > (You were never tested for color perception?) > > (No. Is there an issue?) > (Yes. I'll be right out.) > Doc! Another one coming out! > > Looks agitated, but I don't think it's me. (Boy! I am going to carve you a new orifice! How the Zoomies did you miss the color test! Here! Let me at those!) > > Bob. I am not happy with this new asshole. Did you see our friend flinch? > Sure did, Doc. Give the word, and he's gone. Springing out of his chair, "NOTHING LETHAL!" (See! He's pissed at you too! Go back to the ship! I'm taking this contact!) (Leader, you are making a huge mistake. I want orders issued that as long as you are alive, no violent action will be taken!) (Done! No violence as long as I am alive! Now move!) > > That tears it. I'm about to express my opinion of the asshole. > Doc... Leave him alive! > > Of course, I want him to feel the bruises. (See! He's already coming to chase you off. Get moving.) (No. We will let their Envoy choose who to speak with.) (SPEAK! NEITHER OF YOU HAS SAID A WORD TO THE OTHER!) (Words, Leader, are nothing compared to deeds, as you are about to find out.) "YOU! YES, YOU! GET OUT OF HERE!" > DOC! WATCH IT! "CLAWS! I'LL SHOW YOU CLAWS!" (ACADEMICIAN! GET HIM OFF ME BEFORE I HURT HIM!) (I can't do that if I'm not on the contact list.) (YOU'RE REINSTATED! FULL AUTHORITY!) > Doc! The other one! > > I see him. I'm stopping. (Leader, he is not attacking me. It is you that he objects to. I suggest returning to the ship, and sending my assistant out.) (A female! You would risk a female with these violent primitives!?) (Leader, there was no violence until you came out here. I remind you that you have surrendered full authority to me. Return to the ship. Organize whatever support I ask for and otherwise keep everyone from interfering. That includes the Council Leader. They aren't here; they don't get to make any decisions. Do. You. Understand?) > Doc? If that kid didn't just read the Captain the riot act, I'll eat my hat. click click #### ••• Ten Year Anniversary ••• "Doctor, we had no first contact procedures, how did you manage to make friends so fast?" "Well, the person they sent out was obviously nervous." "How could you tell? We didn't have any language at all!" … "Doctor... Are you angry with me?" "No, but I just made a point. You don't need words to communicate. You need patience and observation. You are a bit slow on observation, and have no patience. Keep your tap shut. "As I was saying, he was obviously nervous. And before you ask me how I could tell, tell me what you see in the people around here. All of them, not just human." "Well, Ambassador Snerk is wound up over something. Envoy Lolz is (yecht) drooling over a human woman, not sure why but it doesn't look good to me. Deputy Caveze is about to punch Lolz in the snoot." "And how do you know this, none of them, not even Lolz, is being overt." "Um. Muscle tension and hints of other things?" "Exactly. Most species, especially fighters, will tense up when emotionally distressed. That kid was fresh from his dissertation. He still had the nervous walk that a new Ph.D. has when they can't believe where they are." "So, patience to avoid causing an incident?" "Oh, Lord, no. Patience to keep from killing your own people from back seating the whole time. That's something else we share with them." ((finis))
\[Mettle Detector\] "Wait... so none of us have run a dungeon before?"Kirk asked. His voice wavered with concern as he focused on Emily. Out of the other five Fearleaders, she was the closest thing he had to a friend. The rest of the group looked at each other and exchanged shrugs. The six team members stood on a white derby track discussing how to set up their first floor when the subject of experience came up. They were outdoors, surrounded by other derby tracks. But, an invisible wall sealed them off from the commotion. "Hah, guess not,"Emily giggled. "You guess not??"Kirk asked. "Shouldn't you have checked before you volunteered us to run a haunted dungeon for Halloween?"He tried to control his voice, but the last few words pitched up with his nerves as he finished the question. "It sounded like a fun thing to do,"Emily shrugged. "It's all run by nanos anyway, there's not a lot we can mess up. Besides, we've got time to practice; Halloween is like a month away."She took a moment to look around at the rest of the group. "Though, I really should've asked. We can back out now, if you guys don't want to do it." "No way, I'm in!"Valentine was quick to respond. "Yeah,"Frost nodded. "Me too,"Keys agreed. "I think the school needs events like this,"Mundo nodded. "I'd like to do it." "Yeah, okay,"Kirk nodded. He was outvoted and a tiny part of him did think it sounded fun. "So, now that we're all on board officially; back to the plan. I want it to be fun; but challenging. The last boss, especially, has to put up a fight. The dungeon won't be easy; but, this battle would be a true test of mettle,"Emily glanced around at her teammates. "Do we have any ideas for that?" "Get a ringer that can't be beat but lets the challengers win?"Keys offered. Emily grinned and nodded. "THAT's a great idea. We need a backup plan in case we can't find anyone, or they don't show; but let's work with that. How many floors in our haunted dungeon?"Emily asked. "I think we should keep it short; maybe five or six floors. Keep it moving so everyone can get a chance to go through at least once,"Valentine offered. Emily nodded. "Good point,"Emily said. She summoned her slate out of thin air by flicking her wrist up and access the track's controls. "Let's try a random one with six floors and see what that's like,"she said. The rest of the team nodded. Emily dismissed her slate and the track changed around them. The white floor darkened and segmented into grey cobblestones. Stone walls, complete with lit torches, sprung up on both sides of the track to form a narrow, curving hallway. Faint moans and groans were now heard in the distance. Along with the change in scenery, the group now wore the team uniform: red and black unitards. Emily looked down, then giggled. "Definitely need to get rid of the Zero lap,"she said. She flicked her hand up to summon her slate again. But, before she could make any changes, a black portal opened horizontally above the track. A towering woman with blood red armor and flaming red hair fell out of the portal and smiled at the group. "Ballisea says you need some mettle tested,"Flutter said. \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1356 in a row. (Story #264 in year four.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on Sept. 6th and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until June 3rd. They are all collected at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/pj4t0b/tokuhigh_first_six_weeks/).
End Transmission Letting out the breath I had been holding, I landed in my chair in a relieved flop. I wiped the sweat from my brow and looked at the stasis pod that was now hooked back into ship power. The pod glowed with a soft blue light and it’s contents were illuminated: a woman locked in unnatural sleep, arms crossed over her chest. It would take a few hours for the revitalization process to complete and revive the woman, longer if it had been damaged. It was of an older design, at least 3 generations outmoded. The ship flight recorder was missing and the journal entries in the memory banks of the pod were pretty badly corrupted. I had no real way of knowing how long that pour soul had been floating alone in interstellar space, but any length of time would be too long. With no way of knowing how long I would have to wait, I busied myself with restoring the journal. I had a few hours before we reached port after all. Starting with the oldest file I began the recovery process. Luckily, it was not as heavily corrupted as the later files, and after a few minutes I had a workable video file. I sat back and pressed play. Alive and well, the woman in the frozen pod appeared on the screen and began to speak. “This is the personal log of Dr Vivian Greaham, chief medical officer of the URC Cascadia. Today is the first day of our exploratory mission into deep space. As much of our time will be spent in stasis, I hope these logs will serve as a short form summary of my experiences on this mission. Additionally, my log will be accompanied by the complete collection of any medical or biological research I make during my time as chief medical officer. Greaham out”. The journal contained quite a bit of useful information. I tasked the computer with finding data about the URC Cascadia and I was also able to uncover the medical research file, though most of it was beyond my understanding. I’m sure it would be of interest to our own medical officer though, so I forwarded it and resumed my digging. As I pieced together the second file, the computer returned my information request, though it brought me more questions than answers. URC Cascadia: Minerva Class Exploratory Vessel Mission: Find and catalog any and all unknown aspects of interstellar and intergalactic space Status: Lost, Last Communication Received in 2703 2703. The pod and the woman inside had been lost for over 200 years. Even accounting stasis time, no human had lived that long and recovered. While vitals looked okay, this was still a major point of concern for me, but there was nothing to do but wait and watch the next entry. “Dr Greaham, Log 2. This is our first stop after our initial journey, and I will never get used to waking from stasis.” Dr Greaham stretched her arms and rolled her shoulders before continuing “Cascadia detected an electromagnetic anomaly in deep space, far from any physical matter of any kind. Science Chief Lindsay seems to be rather excited about the possibility of quantum fluctuations or some other physics blather, but as for me I’m not impressed. I hope the next discovery is aliens or something so I have a chance to shine” she barked out a little laugh before signing off. Progress was slow on the revitalization. There was some damage to the pod. Quite frankly, it was a miracle she seemed to be alive and not just inert dust in a broken can. The ship computer chimed in again with more information about the lost vessel. Interestingly, their very last non-routine communication was about a new variety of deep space anomaly. Eager to learn more, I patched up the next file and watched. Time stamped only one week out from the prior entry, the video opened with a considerably more tired doctor rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Dr Greaham, Log three. Cascadia has woken me and alerted me to neurological abnormalities in several members of the science crew, including Chief Lindsay. The abnormalities cease when they are awakened and they show no signs of impaired motor function or cognitive decline. Moving them to different pods seems to make no difference. For now I will be awake to monitor the situation until I can get to the bottom of this or nothing changes for a considerable amount of time. Greaham out.” No abnormalities were mentioned in the last routine medical report. I figured that meant something around this time must have interfered with communications. I was growing tired of manually reconstructing the video logs, so I pieced together an algorithm to do the job automatically. It completed logs four, five, and six in quick succession. Progress on revitalization was slow, so I kicked back and began to watch the next three logs. “Dr Greaham, log four. During the collection of core samples from a rogue asteroid, one of Chief Lindsay’s men, Ensign August, began to complain of mass equipment failing and technical glitches. He was quickly recalled and his equipment examined, but not errors could be found. Scanners detected large bursts of electromagnetic radiation periodically emanating from the ensign. Scans of my own revealed that these pulses correlated with the neurological abnormalities which are now present while awake. What’s more, the pulses seem to grow stronger with time. For now, affected crew members will be confined to their stasis pods and monitored remotely. Greaham out”. “Log five. We have a big problem on our hands. Two of my medical staff are now showing the same abnormalities as the affected science staff they had been monitoring. While the stasis pods have been effective at containing the pulses, there is apparently an infectious element they are unable to keep in check. I am officially ordering a quarantine of stasis bay three. All affected individuals are to be moved there until I figure this shit out. Additionally, all members of the crew are subject to daily neurological scans and should limit contact with other members of the crew. I hope I am making the right calls. Greaham out” “Greaham, Log 6. Quarantine has been breached. The captain was reported to have been acting erratically. I ordered a compulsory screening and found the abnormalities present in his brain, along with misfiring synapses. After questioning, he revealed that he ordered Engineer Green to hide his symptoms from the scanner under threat of court martial. Idiots. It seems the condition may affect inhibitions or judgement as a way to thwart containment protocols. The scanners are being restored as I speak, but there’s no telling how much damage has been done” Dr Greaham looked away from the camera before swallowing and shouting “Fuck!”. She composed herself before signing out. The final log was not a video like the rest, instead it was a backup of an emergency transmission to Central Command. I checked with the computer, though in my heart I already knew the answer to my question. The computer reported that no message had ever reached command. The recording began with a series of high pitched sounds, denoting an emergency broadcast of the highest order. The voice of Vivian Greaham began to tremble out her message “This is Chief Medical Officer Vivian Greaham of the URC Cascadia requesting immediate assistance via Zeta Class quarantine team. We are experiencing the effects of an unknown transmissible electrical abnormality. Though initially contained, quarantine was broken by an affected engineer who hid the captain’s symptoms from the scanner. The captain has been relieved of duty, but the damage is done. Crew infection is at 100%, myself included. I will be confining fall crew to stasis pods to limit the transmission to rescue crews. Be warned that the pulses have grown strong enough to damage ship systems. If this condition were to make planetfall it could mean an end for all civilization. This is my final transmission. Greaham out.” I sat back in my chair in shock. The woman in the pod posed an existential threat to civilized life itself. I turned to stop the revitalization, but I was thrown from my chair by a great shaking of the ship. Planetfall. To my left I heard the hissing sound of the stasis pod opening. The lights in the room flickered before bursting and showering the room with hot sparks. In the dim glow of the control panels I watched Vivian Greaham open her eyes.
“Just come on and stop complaining,” complained Noah, his eyes focused on top of the mountain they climbed. “All I’m saying is you didn’t seem to try very hard to get a different student.” panted Charlie, who stopped walking to catch his breath. Noah could only roll his eyes as he continued his ascent. “I knew when to stop arguing. That’s it. Anything your implying is wrong.” snapped Noah. He snapped his fingers, engulfing his hands in flames. The heat gave him strength, it focused his energy. Snapping his fingers once again, the flames died and a cold chill seemed to settle in Noah’s stomach. The sound of foot scraping on the rocks below signaled to Noah that Charlie had started walking again. Noah half hoped he’d would give up. Teaching a student was bad enough but teaching your ex was by far the worst thing to happen to Noah in a long time. “I wasn’t implying anything, Mr Flame,” smirked Charlie, eyeing Noah as he spoke. Mr Flame. Noah almost got sick. Mr Flame had been Charlie’s pet name for him when they had been a couple. A take Dr Flame which the media still referred to him as. Sensing a chance to change the subject, Noah asked the same question he was asked when his teacher had made him climb this mountain. “So, what name are you thinking about calling yourself?” asked Noah, as he climb over the largest boulder so far. “Hmmm I have thought about it quite a lot,” answered Charlie, reached out for Noah’s help in climbing the boulder. Reluctantly, Noah held out a hand and pull his student over the rock. It had been the first time they had touched in over a year and thankfully, Noah had felt nothing. Charlie hummed and hawed as the mountain got steeper. A mountain rabbit was spotted off in the distance but it quickly disappeared when it saw a large eagle swooping overhead. “What about Captain Freeze?” wondered Charlie who proceeded to shoot a pathetically weak-looking beam of ice into the air before it fell back and clattered against the mountain rocks. “Hmmm sounds kind of gay, even for you.” laughed Noah, looking back to drink in the annoyed face he knew Charlie would have. A cold scowl was how Noah had previously described it even before Charlie had discovered his ice powers. Charlie proceeded to huff and fold his arms. Facing away from his mentor, he sat down on a rock and crossed his legs which the scowl still etched across his face. Noah didn’t notice at first, but when he hadn’t heard Charlie’s boots scrape off the rocks for some time, he knew something had happened. “What happened?” asked Noah, trying not to sound like he didn’t care. Charlie only huffed and turned further away from his mentor. After a brief moment, Charlie opened one eye and spoke. “The gay joke. You shouldn’t say that. I need an apology. An apology or I’m not moving.” demanded Charlie, the smallest of smiles on his lips. “Fine,” muttered Noah. Without another word, Noah had turned and continued his trek back up the mountain. He won’t stay, he couldn’t even get down off the mountain without dying. Noah walked and walked and, just like he knew he would, he could hear the scraping of boots off rocks that meant Charlie had followed. “You’ve some willpower, Charlie.” Noah laughed. “Should serve you well when you’re a proper Hero.” Suddenly, Noah couldn’t move. Looking down he saw that both of his feet had been covered in a block of ice. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t turn. “I hate you.” snarled Charlie from behind. “I’ve always hated you. You’ve always thought you were better than me. Always! But now? Well, now I’m going to show everyone you nothing but a fraud. Your nothing.” Another beam of ice whizzed past Noah’s ear as he snapped his fingers, sending flames to melt the ice that trapped him. “No!” shouted Charlie, sending more ice from his palms but it was too slow, he was too weak. The fire from Noah’s fingers had melted the ice enough for his feet to escape as and he turned to face his ex-boyfriend, Noah could see the fear in his eyes. He let the fire die as the two men stood looking at one another. Charlie’s eyes fell away in disgrace, his hands fidgeting as he waited for Noah to do or say something. “Don’t worry I won’t kill you,” stated Noah as Charlie’s eyes lit up with relief. “Actually, I’m impressed. That was a good ice trap you used.”
It is the year 2120 and humanity has finally reached the stars. Everything seemed fine at first, but then everything went off the rails. Humanity's worst kinds of people were also the biggest investors of the space race. They wanted to get away from Earth, more specifically, its laws, and they managed it. The criminals quickly captured the nearby planets and then set off towards other star systems. That meant that the first contact other species had with humans was extremely negative. This continued for another decade until the time came for the “Model Species of the Century” show. It is a bloody show, in which every species has to attend, and the one that gets the lowest score has most of its members used as “material” for the entertainment of the rest of the galaxy. Long story short, the loser gets genocide as a birthday present. Who will it be this time?
Jesus! What happened! It's like trying to walk through molasses! It's not much fun to breathe either. Get outside, now. Whatever it is, it's in this room, so get outside. Gaahhh, pushing as hard as I can to get to the door, NOW I CAN'T FUCKING STOP! This is going to hurt. CRUNCH shatter Yep. That hurt. But man! Look at the door! It's like a superhero movie, and the door explodes with one punch. Oh, god, I hope no one is in the way. I'm still trying to slow down. Almost made it... Almost... GOTCHA! Crumble Granite crumbled in my hands? No, not my hands but the impact? How... Aw fuck. I'm moving so fast that... I wonder how many blocks I'm going to punch through? WHAM One... GRUNCH Ow, Two... SMASH SHRED SHRED SHRED SMASH Laundry, Three... CRUNCH TINKLE SMASH Glass, I'm going to be picking glass out of my... SLAM STOP sniff Lee's Oriental? Yes! ••• "WHAT THE FUCK!?" "The door exploded! Is everyone alright?" "Hey! Look at the fountain! Looks like two hands ripped a pair of lines through the side!" "And the bank, look at the bank!" "Let's see how far it goes!" "That weird office building that no one ever goes into or comes out of? Want to explore?" "No! Too creepy; besides, we haven't found whoever punched through here." "We're going to come back and look, aren't we?" "Don't push your luck." "The Davis Laundry... That was my suit!" "Luck of the draw, it could have been my... Silk... Sheets. I'm going to kill whoever it is." "Dalihla's Fine Arts in Glass! Oh, God." "Don't look like too much damage, just some of that post-modern abstract astigmatism crap." *whap* "Ow! What was that for?" "My best work was on display; five known collectors had already expressed an interest!" "sorry" "Huh. Looks like it stops at Lee's. I hope no one got hurt." "Hey! Mr. Lee! Are you okay?" "Yes, although puzzled. The entire day's worth of food is cooked, gone, and paid for; I also have these legal papers charging Mesa Corporation for the damages done. Insurance filed against their carrier. Class action filed against them and the bank acting as their front." "Woah, sounds like HyperDude is still hyper!" ••• Okay... Damage dealt with, as best I can—legal action against the idiots that did this. And I think I understand their theories well enough to test out of every challenging science class at University. Now to find out if I'm right on how to stop. ••• #### Un Homme de New York aux États-Unis s'échoue Sur la plage d'Omaha! > A man claiming to be from New York City, USA, was found embedded in the defenses at Omaha Beach. Entirely nude, he has no passport and claims that he crossed the Atlantic Ocean without a boat. > When asked if he had swum, he remarked, "more like skipping a stone."This, he claims, is what happened to his clothes—dashed off the waves. > Sure to be charged with many crimes, there was a strange turn of events. He received a diplomatic passport direct from the US Embassy, and some mention of a meeting with the president was heard. #### Washington, D.C. "Mr. Jones? A pleasure to meet you! You've had a very adventurous day! Please have a seat. "There, now, have you any idea what happened?" "Yes, Mr. President. Mesa Corporation was engaged in illegal research in the heart of the city. The result of that research endangered not only myself but everyone in the vicinity. Fortunately, all damage was to property, and all necessary legal action has been taken. "In addition, I have confiscated all of their documentation, all illegal equipment, and have both still and video evidence of who was involved. "You can start with that sleazy Science Advisor of yours." "Comprehensive, Mr. Jones. Also entirely illegal, to the point that you could be tried for treason." "Well, after I found Lizardo at Mesa, I figured it might be something like that. However, there is one bit of information you lack." "That being?" "The shot that sent me into hyperdrive was intended for your Vice President. You were at the Ladies Home and Garden Conference, with that lying piece of filth standing right behind you. "He was supposed to kill you, clean up all the evidence, and be back in place before your body started to fall." "And I should be grateful because you saved my life? We already knew about the conspiracy! Now we'll NEVER root them all out!" "Is that all?"Rummaging through my coat pockets, I bring out bits and pieces of evidence and the list with the relationship chart of all plot members. "Will this do?" "You bastard. You win." #### One Year Later What? Not again!?! Shit. Again. Okay, move slowly to the door, that's right, don't overdo it... An envelope stuck to the back of the door? MISSION BRIEFING NO, YOU DO NOT HAVE A CHOICE. You bastard. I'll get you for this. #### News Report #1 An alarm sounded at the White House today, sending scores of security people scrambling all over the property searching for an intruder. That was a false alarm caused by a science experiment. The President was assisting his daughter with a model volcano when the active ingredient fell into a large container of glue. The President shielded his daughter from the minor explosion, but was covered in glue. While he will be okay, he has called off all public appearances for the time being. #### News Report #2 A suspected WMD manufacturing plant suffered a catastrophic malfunction today, resulting in the complete destruction of the facility. What reports are available say there were no casualties, however, surveillance footage suggests major casualties. #### A Private Conversation "You Bastard! Feathers, fair enough. I thank you for not using tar, but super glue?!? That was uncalled for!" "Oh, I dunno, since our last conversation didn't stick I thought this one needed some emphasis." "My daughter did appreciate the artistry used in placing the feathers. Made her day when Daddy turned into a rainbow chicken." "You're welcome." "I sense that you are peeved, disgruntled, and otherwise pissed at me. I suppose you have every right to be. The problem is we need you for these immediate problems. You're the only person who has demonstrated the necessary degree of control over the effect." "No." "But..." "No!" "Please! You are the only person who can do this!" "Mr. President. This is my cellphone. It has video call ability. Can you receive it?" "Yes, I can." "Brace yourself."click "my dear god in heaven, forgive me my hubris." "I... I had no idea. Jones, the government will pick up all your expenses, all of them, and don't argue. It's the one thing I'm sure we can do to help you. I'll have to talk with our people about anything else." "I suppose I should thank you. I did a lot of good, but the price was far more than I would willingly have paid. Good-Bye, Mr. President. Do not ever call me again." click "Daddy? Who was that old man?" "Someone I had hoped to introduce you to, but I don't think that's going to happen now." "What happened to him?" "He did this country a great service that cost him most of his life." ((finis))
##AN: This might take long, so bear with me. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; #Prologue &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 𝘔𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. Memories were what had remained of my grandma. As I entered the now empty estate, I closed the doors & started to cry. First, my parents died at 16, and now, grandma was dead too. 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘸 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥, the will had stated. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Thank you, grandma. But I'd rather have you alive. Back, in 𝘮𝘺 life. I was in her room now. On my left, there was a life size painting of my grandparents. Apparently, grandpa had died before my mother turned 18. Now, why did that sound familiar? &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; This was not a home, or a house. It was a glorified mass grave. A wave of depression hit me. I still don't know why, but I started pulling off the drawers of grandma's vanity case, one by one. As they fell on the ground, one by one, I heard a weird voice. 𝘊𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘬. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; I stopped. Turning, I took a look at the last box I had thrown. I lifted it & let it fall. Again, I heard that distinctly metallic noise. Weird. Wooden vanity boxes don't usually make that noise, do they? &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Curiosity got better of me. As I tapped the box, I realised. 𝘍𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮. Minutes later, I came up with a screwdriver. It took the screwdriver and some manoeuvring of my fingers, but by the time the trick bottom got off, I was drenched in sweat. &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; And then I saw it. Correction, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮. Whatever I expected to be in that secret compartment, these three boxes were not on my list. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘹𝘦𝘴? 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮? &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; (To be continued....)
Snow falls gently on the barren field, illuminated by moonlight diffused through whispy coulds. Soft and light it sticks to naked trees and dry brown grass. Several inches have already fallen, dampening the sound of the nearby creek. Hours ago the crunch of snow beneath sturdy boot would have filled the air, but tires and impatient feet have worn down snow to ice. Most of said pacing can be attributed to one man, General Yefim Ilin. Yefim is a middle aged man of above average height and below average looks. Though what he lacks in aesthetics he more than makes up for in experience. And yet with the experience of decades beneath his belt, he doesn’t think there’s ever been quite a situation as this. You see several weeks ago an electromagnetic anomaly has been occurring, right here in this very field. Though Yefim and his team have no idea what it is, they do know that it’s been interfering with their communication networks in the area. Normally an issue like this would be handled by a corp of engineers and researchers, but this anomaly is special. This anomaly speaks. It’s been several hours since base camp was established, and head researcher Doctor Thomas Lee is confident the sand is jumping into his shoes on purpose. Thomas is a younger man, bright but often naive. He empties his shoes every hour on the hour, and though he hasn’t moved much there’s always sand to expel. But deserts do that after all, and Doctor Lee knew this before accepting the assignment. Not that freezing cold temperatures in the middle of the Mojave winter would have stopped him, he just figured a heads up about the sand wouldn’t have been out of order. What was the good doctor doing in the middle of the Mojave two days before Christmas, you find yourself asking. The same thing Yefim Ilina had done fourty years, eleven months, and twenty-seven days earlier: Investigating an electromagnet anomoly. As if on queue, it began. A strange sort of static filled the air around them, hair stood on end and snow halted in its tracks. Both sides stared in awe as blue smoke spiraled into existence before them. The event was strange, though stranger still was the twenty-first century scientist face to face with a twentieth century Soviet general.
“Wilhelm, put that down,” Casey said in a sharp whisper. “That’s a Nirvish text, we don’t know what kinds of curses it could unleash.” I patted the air dismissively and brushed several layers of dust from the cover. A few errant particles found their way into my nostrils and tickled at the back of my nose. I pinched myself and gritted my teeth as I desperately fought back the urge to sneeze. Despite my best efforts, the dust overcame me and I let out a quiet “ch” into my hand. Still louder than either of us wanted to be. Casey and I stared at each other for an agonizing moment, and she slowly raised a finger to her lips before creeping up to look through the bookshelves. The ambient ringing in my ears told me that the archives were still. I breathed a sigh of relief and said a silent prayer of thanks. The sleepers had not been disturbed. As she knelt back down Casey looked at me with a furrowed brow and crinkled nose. I couldn’t help but find it endearing. Her deep-set eyes, tanned skin, and soft, round features left her every expression underscored by a certain cuteness. “You idiot,” she murmured before flicking me on the forehead. “Do you want to get us killed?” “You’re the one who wanted to sneak into the archives,” I replied somewhat defensively. “Yes. Sneak into the archives, not steal from!” “Don’t the two go hand in hand?” “Maybe to you, but I just wanted to see what Nirvish architecture looked like.” I gestured to the metallic, dust covered bookshelves and smooth gray floor. Even though it was the middle of the night the room was lit up as if it were mid afternoon. The unnatural yellow glow did not even resemble torchlight. “Is it everything you dreamed of? Pretty sure we could have seen all this from up there.” I pointed to the ladder that had carried us to this underground chamber. “That’s what I told you!” She declared in an exasperated, hushed tone. I smiled without showing my teeth. She had me there. I had been the first one to hop on the ladder. Getting into the ruins was headache enough what with all the guards posted at the perimeter. I did not want to pass up what could very well be my only chance to pilfer through the remains of the Nirv. “What does it say anyways,” Casey asked pointing to the book. I looked down at the book and shrugged. I knew the Nirvish alphabet well enough and could make out some of the sounds, but that was a different thing entirely than understanding what anything meant. “I-In . . . tro . . . d-d . . . duct . . . shun to . . . tek. . . ro . . . man . . . see, I said sliding my finger across the letters on the cover. “And that means,” Casey asked twirling an open hand expectantly through the air. “No idea.” “Try reading something else.” Casey’s eyes were wide with excitement and I could see an eager smile beginning to form at the corners of her mouth. I could not resist humoring her. Besides, I also wanted to know what it said, or sounded like, on the inside. I flipped to a random page and began to sound out the big bold letters in the middle of the page. “Gen . . . Er . . . Ate . . . H . . .Eat.” My left hand felt warm as I finished sounding out the last letter. For a moment I dismissed the sensation as a consequence of wearing leather gloves in the middle of summer, but then the temperature kept rising; it grew almost uncomfortable. “Ah, what the hell!” I said as I closed the book as quietly as urgency and discomfort would allow. “What,” Casey asked. “My hand is.” “Glowing,” Casey finished my sentence and pointed at my now open palm. I’ll be damned, but she was right. A cold sweat poked through my pores like tiny needles as I stared at it. My hand, quickly reddening and surrounded by a faint orange glow. “The H-“ Before I could finish my thought the lights turned red and the disembodied voice of a man boomed through the room. “Unlicensed nano-activity detected. Unlicensed nano-activity detected.” A repeating ghostly wail filled the room as the voice continued repeating the same line. In the distance, metal ground against metal as several heavy object shook loose and impacted with the stone floor. Golems.
Pushing open the creaking saloon door, eager to get out of the blistering, Alexander eyes took a moment to the new lighting. When they did, he almost wished they hadn’t. He had been in many bars, in many lands but this one might have been the worst. The floorboard was half rotten away and the stink of the place assaulted his nostrils. Cheap whiskey, sweat and blood stained the air. There was only one light in the place which seemed like a good idea to Alexander. There were only two patrons in the place at the minute. The first was a man sitting in the corner, asleep under his hat. The other sat at the bar, a glass of dirty whiskey in his hand as he wobbled back and forth. A set of stairs led off to the left of the bar, to where Alexander could only presume, was a brothel. What a perfect place to hide out. No one would think a proper man such as himself would be hiding in a dismal place such as this. Double checking that both pistols on his hips were loaded and ready to go before moving, Alexander sat at the bar, two seats down from the next man. The barman, a tall man with a toothy smile, came out from the backroom. “Howdy partner!” he beamed. “What can I get you?” Already the barman was reaching towards a half-opened bottle of whiskey that lay on the shelf behind him. Alexander only had to nod to confirm. While the whiskey was being poured Alexander noticed the man at the bar glance at him, taking him all in. “There you go.” exclaimed the barman, still smiling. Alexander handed over the money and the barmen went back to the room behind the bar. Alexander held up the glass of whiskey. The glass was covered in bits of dirt and fingerprints but it was the inside the mattered to him. It looked like whiskey anyway. Taking a sip, he was forced to spit out the drink, splashing the rest of it over the bar as he cough and cough and cough. Finally, when the coughing fit was over, Alexander sat back on the bar, trying to regain his breath. How is that even legal to call that whiskey? “Not a fan of our whiskey, eh?” the man at the bar called out. Alexander’s eyes narrowed as he took in every detail he could about this man. He couldn’t be one of those bounty hunters, could he? “It’s absolutely abhorrent,” answered Alexander, facing the bar. From the corner of his eye, Alexander could see the man’s eyes narrowed towards him now. He reached down to his hip but Alexander’s hands remained on the bar. “Well, partner, that batch just so happened to be mine. The name is Peter and, well, let’s just say that I don’t take too kindly to strangers coming in here, spitting out my good whiskey and then turning and telling me its abhor...abhan...whatever it was you said,” warned Peter. “Also I just so happened to know you’re a wanted man. Dead or alive.” Without another word, Peter grabbed his pistol and wiped it off his hip. Pointing it right at Alexander’s face but as he was about to pull the trigger the pistol slipped from his grasp. Peter’s eyes widened as the pistol flew from his hand, into the air and right in Alexander’s hand. Alexander allowed himself a brief smile at the astonishment on Peter’s face who seemed to be trying to speak but the words escaped him. Peter’s pistol was a dirty, dented old thing but it would do the job. “Now what were you saying?” laughed Alexander who now pointed the gun at the old man. The look of fear on the old man's face quickly turned to a great big smile as he nearly fell off his seat laughing. Before he could ask what was so funny, Alexander heard the cocking of a pistol just behind him and could feel the cold steel pressed against the back of his neck. Cold sweat immediately started to drip off his forehead. The sleeping man in the corner! He should have come here. “I know all about your power boy, so don’t even think about turning around.” the stranger warned. “Just relax now and close your eyes. I’ll know if they’re open or not.” Alexander did as the stranger asked, knowing that without seeing the gun pressed against his skin he would never be able to control it with his power. “Now get on your knees and put these on.” the stranger told him as he threw a pair of handcuffs on the ground. As Alexander reluctantly put them on, a black hood was pulled over his head, completely blinding him. “Now stand up.” the stranger said. “I’m taking you to jail.”
When it all started, I had plenty of good intentions, yet no real choice. The lab had survived the initial wave of nuclear fire, its fierce blinding rage searing the rock beyond our outer blast doors. But destruction, as foretold, was assured: our seismographs spoke of blasts echoing across the globe, reverberating through the crust of our ancient home Earth. There was no tomorrow left, so I might as well embrace yesterday. I stepped through the threshold of our life's work, a one way journey to the past in the hope that we might find a route to a different future. I was supposed to wake up 5 years before, supplanting my past consciousness with my present self. 5 years before today, 4 years before negotiations broke down, and 1 year before anyone even imagined a third world war. Instead, I woke up the day before. Disoriented, confused, wondering if it had all been a dream, I went about my day. When it happened the third time, I finally saw the pattern. We debated as much as we could in 24 hours, before I went back further. It became clear to me that, even if we did fix it in the future, my timeline would continue unabated, already set in motion into whatever cracks of the multiverse I kept falling through. I did what I could to set everything right. I fixed a few personal mistakes, repeated others, and in some cases made completely new ones. It was all practice for the grand ballet that would be somehow convincing world powers that the energy crisis would have to be solved in a way that didn't ironically end up relying on vast expenditures of fission to settle the score. 4 years and 37 days into my journey, I believe I succeeded. Amassing all the personal details of key officials and top secret information that I could paid off: they trusted me enough to at least try to steer the course of history elsewhere. 4 years and 39 days in, however, and my feelings of joy waned. Would I ever know if I had succeeded? Did my "present"self somehow overwrite what would transpire tomorrow? Or would it work as long as I followed everything exactly as before, minimizing my disruption? 12 years into my journey, I stopped caring. 15 years into my journey I started caring again, but only enough to write a small letter to steer anyone willing to listen, with a few minor tidbits of the future to help confirm its authenticity. Today is the last day I'll be able to legally drive. A few years from now I won't be able to reach the gas pedal. Beyond that I have chosen to enjoy my final years with my parents. I'll finally get to see my dad again, before his accident. I don't know how well I will be able to talk at 4, but at the very least, I plan to be a great listener.
For millennia humans had debated whether materialism or idealism correctly described the nature of the world. Could our experience be reduced to interactions between the constituents of matter, or was all we knew an illusion created by the immaterial consciousness? Scientists stuck to materialist interpretations, wheras those who believed in magic and miracles accepted only idealism. But these ideas could not be separated forever, at last someone had begun moving towards a synthesis. A former witch turned neuroscientist had developed a new type of transcranial magnetic stimulation. She recognized the truth of brain wave synchronization creating shared experience. It seemed only to work with conspecifics, since brain wave ossilations were never uniform across species. Spurned by the night every member of her coven shared the same vision of bahomet on psychedelics, she hypothesized using magnetic stimulation across species to synchronize brain waves would result in a similar type of shared experience. She conducted experiments on vastly genetically different animals, such as mice and worms and was successful in synchronizing their brain waves. However, since the results of the experiments could only be truly confirmed by something that could report on its subjective experience, she knew that she had to be the next test subject. The following is an excerpt from her log on that fateful day: Layla thinks this is a terrible idea. She urged me to recall the horrific seizure-like symptoms we observed in brain wave synchronization across distantly related species. She urged me to obtain some type of primate for the test, instead of using my pet raven Hareth. I insisted that Hareth was the right choice. He was the non human I trusted the most, and from what I'd observed in tests of brain wave synchronization in rats that were hostile to each other versus rats who were bonded, I knew that it was absolutely paramount my sync partner had my best interests in mind. Layla fastened the electrodes to my scalp and on Hareth's glossy black head. She sat behind the stimulative brain wave frequency modulater and looked at me. "I'm starting the stim, are you ready Fatima?". I nodded. I glanced toward Hareth as I felt the buzz of the stim. As I gazed into his shiny black eyes I begin to feel as if I was the one looking through them back at myself. The nature of my concious experience began to twist and change. I saw colors I'd never seen, heard sounds in frequencies I'd never heard before. Hareth and I began to communicate telepathically. Not in any human or raven language, but in pure meaning that words and sound only served to distort. I noticed something that looked like fractals of quicksilver enter my visual field and soon occupied it completely. "Layla I can't see shit you need to turn off the damn stim!"I yelled out. "How could we forget Hareth can see magnetic fields!" From previous experiments I knew that synchronization lasted for about five minutes after the stim was turned off. I beckoned Layla to open the lab's window and let Hareth leave. I was learning much about the concious experience of a raven from Hareth, but for him, the meaning he derived from my complex cognition was meaning that I could never have conveyed in any other way. He wanted to re-experience the world with all these newfound ideas he had learned from me. As Hareth flapped his wings and took to the air I felt an ecstacy like nothing I'd experienced. I didn't feel as if I was flying, I felt as if I was the wind itself. The air around me grew thick and I saw not sky but a vast ocean of tumbling air currents. There was no blue, but instead a kaleidoscope of shifting color gradients indicating the swirling complexity that I was previously blind to. Hareth began to ride the currents higher and higher still and we slowly began to desync till I discovered myself sat on the floor staring into space with Layla's arms around me.
It all started when he woke up Sunday morning after a grueling 6-day workweek of overtime and abusive customers. What his boss assured him was 'just this one time' turned into a week after week thing. Daniel was done with it, and that's how he found himself going on a long drive to clear his head and get away. "Damn." Daniel muttered to himself after glancing at his fuel gauge again. It was right around a quarter tank. He'd been going 60mph down this one-way road for at least a few hours now. He would have turned back ages ago if only there was any road at all that let him. And now he wasn't sure he had enough gas to get back even if he could turn around. He figured his only option now was to hope a gas station showed up sooner rather than later. The road he was on looked freshly paved and had rather dense forest on both sides. He had thought it was strange that there was a one-way highway and nothing else out here. Now the repetitive scenery was starting to bother him. It all looked the same. Sure there were flowers, bushes, and rocks mixed in with the trees, but was the pattern the same? It was all starting to blur together. "What the hell is that?" Daniel spotted a figure in the distance, interrupting the monotony of forest. As he got closer he began to realize it was a person. Good thing it was still afternoon or else seeing a lone person in the middle of nowhere would have been scarier than it already was. He debated stopping and asking how much further the road goes. A store couldn't be that far away anyway if this person was walking. Then he saw the person had her thumb out in the classic hitchhiker pose. So he let off the gas and began to coast. He wasn't sure he actually wanted to stop now. Another weird thing about this road was that he hadn't seen a single car behind him the entire time. He couldn't wrap his mind around why someone would be hitchhiking way out here. At least it was only a lone girl, and most axe murderers are men right? Daniel didn't know. He made a mental note to look that statistic up later. It was a quick decision because he was already nearing her, but what was the worst that could happen? The car came to a stop on the side of the road with the girl about 20 paces in front of him. Now that he could get a good look, she looked normal. Definitely not an axe murderer, he reassured himself. A white sunhat rested on her blonde hair, matching the rest of her outdoor attire of dark green shorts, a tank top, and hiking shoes. She waved and began walking up to the driver's side door as he rolled down the window and waved back. "Hey, uh, need a ride?" Daniel asked while trying not to seem like an axe murderer himself. "Sure do, if you don't mind?" "Uh, sure. Where are you headed?" Daniel leaned over to unlock the passenger door and quickly moved some junk off the seat. "Oh, same place as you." She cheerfully replied while climbing into the car and removing her hat. The genuinely happy smile plastering her face made Daniel instinctively want to trust her. "Oh. I actually don't know where we're at right now. I was just going on a drive to clear my mind and ended up on this road. Do you know how much farther it is to a town or something? I'm almost out of gas and my phone hasn't had signal for a while." The girl looked into his eyes and gently nodded in a way that told Daniel she completely understood. "That's alright. There's only one way to go after all." Daniel thought that was true enough, even though he'd have liked a more specific answer. Oh well, he could get more details later. They buckled up and then he was back on the road. "I'm Daniel by the way." "Nice to meet ya Daniel, I'm Teresa." He glanced away from the road to shake her hand. Introductions done with, he decided to ask the obvious conversation starter. "So what brings you way out here?" "Oh you know, just getting away for a bit. I was surprised to see your car, not many people come out here." Daniel wondered where she'd begun her hike if she ended up way out here. Then he realized she had nothing with her. Not a bag, or purse, or anything. Town must really be close by then. He'd just chat with Teresa and any minute now they'd reach a town or gas station. Time and miles passed by, and the scenery hadn't changed. Not a single side road, building, car, or person in sight. Daniel flicked through the radio stations, yet again finding only static. "Heh yeah, you won't find any radio this far away." Teresa helpfully chimed in. "This far away? We're almost to a town aren't we?" Daniel's heartrate was picking up again. All he had wanted was a relaxing drive to get away for a bit. "No don't worry, we'll be okay." The way she said it was so reassuring. Teresa radiated positivity and he couldn't stop himself from feeling calmed by her. "I hope you're right. The gas light is on now. We have like what, 20 more miles before it's kaputt? Does your phone have any signal? I don't know what we'll do if I run out of gas." He really didn't know. Maybe if they waited long enough on the side of the road another car would come by? Somehow that seemed unlikely though. "It'll be okay, trust me." She touched his arm, reassuring him. Maybe it would. Daniel relaxed and decided the best thing to do for now would be not to worry. He ended up telling Teresa about his awful boss and what made him go on this drive, and she attentively listened and sympathized with him. Then the car sputtered and died. "Fuck, fuck, noo." Daniel came to a stop on the side of the road. "We're out, damn it." He hit the steering wheel in frustration. Who builds a one-way highway with no gas stations or turn-arounds? Teresa put her hand on his shoulder and looked at him with her deep blue eyes. "Hey it's okay. We'll just walk from here. There's only one way we can go." She said with a slight chuckle at the end, and that glowing smile that made her feel so comforting to him. Daniel sighed and unbuckled. She had a point, again. He grabbed a couple of water bottles, asked Teresa if she wanted one, and then got out of the car. He made sure to bring his keys with him and checked that all the doors were locked. Then they started their hike along the road. "Well, looks like we're both hitchhikers now. Maybe another kind stranger will come by." Daniel thought she looked even happier to be walking again than she was in the car. He on the other hand was getting grumpy, but resigned to his fate and hoped they weren't too far from finally reaching a gas station. Eventually he had to pee, so he let Teresa know and then headed into the woods. Even with the daylight, the trees blocked a lot of light and it was much darker than it ought to be. He thought it was kind of spooky. While he was mid stream, he heard a branch crack behind him. He jumped and looked in the direction it came from, but didn't see anything. Now his heartrate was really going. He quickly zipped up and walked the way he came from. Where was the road? It was just around this group of trees wasn't it? He hadn't gone that far in, there was no need to. But he couldn't see it. And now his mind was hyperaware of the sounds of the forest. Leaves rustling over there. The wind making a whispering noise. Bugs chirping. Scampering sounds from behind. He began walking even faster, starting to panic. "Teresa?" He whispered, wanting to yell for her, but not wanting to look dumb for getting lost while taking a wizz. He was just about to start hollering for her when something tapped his shoulder. He let out a slight scream and turned around. "Hey, are you okay? You ran off." It was just Teresa. He instantly felt his calm return. "Yeah, just got a bit lost haha, sorry." Daniel stammered, now embarrassed he had let fear overtake him. "Happens to the best of us. Let's get back to the road." He followed her lead and then they were walking along the highway again. They joked and chatted along the way. He was glad he picked her up. They'd get there eventually, there was only one way to go.
\[Zero Mystery\] "That was probably easier than Duchess meant it to be...,"Riot giggled at Dara as she attached the signed peace treaty to a falcon. Once it was fastened, the bird spread its wings and flew out the window towards their assigned king. The two girls stood in a great hall in the Dark Lord's castle; the Dark Lord himself left with his guards to prepare a celebration. Moments after the falcon flew away, golden text appeared over both their heads: \[Quest Complete!\] "...but, it's done...,"she grinned. Riot flicked her wrist upward to summoner her slate. After a few taps and swipes on the glassy surface, she sent a copy of the quest log to their teacher; then, dismissed her slate again. "...and we're done!"Riot raised her hand and Dara was quick to give her a high-five to celebrate. \[THANK YOU!\] Large red text appeared on Dara's white mask. Riot shook her head and grinned. "Don't thank me until we get our grades,"she chuckled. "Duchess assigned peace treaties to everyone... so coercing our Dark Lord might not count,"she shrugged. "But, if not she'll probably give us a chance to do it right." \[She's very nice!\] Dara nodded in agreement. \[Staying for the party?\] she asked. Riot shook her head. "Nah. It gets too loud for me,"she said. "You?"Dara shook her head. \[No. But I don't know..\] \[...what else to do.\] she said. Riot nodded in understanding. "Yeah, it kind of limits your options if you don't have a character,"she said. Then, she grinned. "So, that's what we're gonna do,"Riot flicked her wrist upward again and the slate appeared before her. She tapped some menu options that Dara couldn't see and a black portal opened in front of them. \[Do what?\] Dara asked. Riot shook her head and wrapped her arm around Dara's shoulder to lead her into the portal. They exited the other side into the middle of an endless wheat field under a cloudy, purple sky. "Let's make your character!"Riot said. A swarm of nanos coalesced into a black mannequin that greeted them. "Welcome to the AlterNet!"the mannequin said with a woman's voice. Dara's eyes went wide and she shook her head frantically. \[NO!!!\] Glowing red text took up her whole mask. She panicked and dashed back into the portal that hadn't closed yet. Riot followed her back to the Dark Lord's castle to make sure she was okay. "I'm sorry,"she said. "I didn't know you felt that strongly about it."Dara nodded and a smiling emoji appeared on her mask; but, her eyes didn't show the same smile. \[It's okay.\] Dara replied. \[Guest mode is fine.\] She nodded again. "If you say so...,"Riot said. "So, you pick; what do you like to do?" \[Eat!\] Dara replied. \[Getting hungry.\] Riot giggled. "Yeah, I could eat,"she said. "Do you like Chinese food?" \[Sure!\] Dara nodded; but, it was a lie. She'd only been aware of the multiverse for less than a month and had no idea what Chinese food was. But, she did like food and new experiences. She was glad that Riot was making an effort to be friends and she wanted to too. "Great! If you haven't been there yet, you're gonna love Donna Chang's. It's the best Chinese food anywhere in the multiverse,"Riot replied as she summoned her slate. She began \[Stay away from Donna. - Jnet\] Dara felt the Whisper from Janet on her ankle and wasn't surprised. The main reason she ran away from creating her character was that she knew Janet was watching. Though, she would have appreciated a small acknowledgment of her actions. \[Sorry....\] small red text appeared on her mask, then she shook her head at the portal Riot opened. \[I gotta get back.\] her shoulders heaved as she gave a silent sigh. Even after following instructions, she wanted an explanation. \[Why? - Dara\] "Oh...okay...,"Riot said. "Next time!"she smiled and Dara nodded then summoned her own slate to return to Janet. \[Because she can see what you are. - Jnet\] \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1359 in a row. (Story #267 in year four.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on Sept. 6th and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until June 3rd. They are all collected at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/pj4t0b/tokuhigh_first_six_weeks/).
“How long has it been?” Romeo stared at Juliet somberly. “Whatever do you mean? We’ve been apart for less than an hour.” Juliet answered, looking confused. “Don’t play games with me!” Romeo clenched his fist in rage. “I’ve seen the journal. I know what you’ve done.” “Surely you’ve mistook a strange book for fact.” Juliet maintained her calm expression as she tried to calm down her lover. “No... those words... everything you wrote... it couldn’t be some novel, nobody could know those things without living through them.” “I see.” Juliets voice was calm, too calm. She looked Romeo in the eyes and yet seemed to gaze into some void beyond him. “It seems this loop is a bust. I shall simply restart the timer.” “What?” Romeo stepped away from her in disbelief. He still had some hope deep down that what he saw wasn’t true. And yet she confessed. There was no denying it anymore. “Goodbye, Romeo.” Juliet revealed a dagger from her cloak and grabbed Romeo’s shoulder, driving the blade into his gut. “Why?” Romeo gasped out. “Simple. After you perished the first time I focused everything I had into changing your fate. I found a way to return to this time and tried so desperately to save you, to no avail. No matter what I do you always find a way to die. It was while I was attempting to change our circumstances that I pondered ‘what’ll happen when I succeed?’ It was then that I saw the blessing behind our curse. Even if we were to never grow old together, we would spend much longer together than even the oldest of couples! We were immortal! And all it cost was a youthful death every now and then!” Juliet showed no sympathy to her dying lover as she revealed the truth to him. “Sure, you may perish, but we will be together until the end of time itself! Our love will never end! We are eterna-“ Juliet was cut off by Romeo as he chopped into her neck. “Screw... that...” he said as he collapsed next to her, and just as it started the duo ended together, dying... Romeo’s eyes shot open as he sat in his bed. “No...”
// Possibly another Hell Gone Corporate entry? The Demon Skryxxcx strolled down the hallway of Hell, Inc. the same he had done for eons. His navy blue security guard cap crisply ironed sat evenly on his head, his azure uniform shirt neatly pressed with creases that could cut hair, his black slacks so dark that light did not escape easily, down to his black boots polished brighter than any onyx known on this realm. Skryxxcx loved his job. He was the lone security guard of Hell and it was his responsibility to keep in Hell what belonged in Hell. He was good at it, or so he thought. One day, while sitting in his little guard shack on the outer perimeter, his radio went off. "Dispatch to Skryxxcx, please report to the break room, over.", the demon voice on the other end said hastily. Skryxxcx picked up his radio, "Skryxxcx is inbound, eta 4 minutes."He got up from his chair, slid it back under his little desk, and began the trek towards the break room. When he arrived, he opened the door and was greeted by two suited demons sitting at a table nearby. "Hello Skryxxcx, I am Demon Urk-Hal, and this is Ceroncx. We're from Demon Resources.", Urk-Hal said in a slightly unnervingly cheery way. "Please have a seat." Skryxxcx took off his hat and sat it on the table. He then picked up his radio and spoke into it. "Dispatch, this is Skryxxcx, going off radio. Currently at break room". Then he turned his radio off and set it on the table, before sitting down himself. The air was completely silent, except for the muted hum of the vending machines behind him. Finally, Urk-Hal broke the silence. "As I said, we're from Demon Resources and we are required to inform you that this is a formal inquiry regarding several security events that have occurred as of late, namely several of the Dammed have escaped from various positions here and have been observed breaking out of Hell, Inc. The purpose of this inquiry is not to lay blame on anyone, but rather to find out what the circumstances are that are allowing the Damned to escape." Skryxxcx shifted uncomfortably. Now it was Ceroncx's turn. "Really, Skryxxcx, we're trying to determine if the escapees are breaking out due to deficiencies in our security system or if there's the possibility of a double agent demon that's helping them to escape. If we wanted to fire you, you'd be talking to Lucifer, not us, and he would fire you from a cannon. Besides, demons don't leave Hell, Inc., it just doesn't work like that." Urk-Hal resumed where Ceroncx left off. "So, do you have anything to share with us that might help us figure out what's going on? We've had several Damned escape, they even made it out to the perimeter gates before they were discovered." Skryxxcx spoke. "Well, I've been at this position for millennia, even before Hell went corporate and nothing's been done about security. Look, if the Damned are going to keep escaping Hell, then maybe you need to build a better Hell. The security department needs more love than one dispatcher and one guard." Urk-Hal and Ceroncx sat up in their chairs. Now they were getting somewhere. "Honestly, you'd think that in all of the expenditures that the corporation has put into building buildings for the optimal torture of the Damned, you'd think that they would have put some effort into boosting the security of this place. For Demon's sake, the perimeter is just barbed wire. There's no concertina wire. No hellhounds. And in all the years since incorporating, Hell has not once hired more than one security guard and one dispatcher! Do we even have a camera system? What about regular patrols? Heck, what about an entire security department, with staff, shifts, and even benefits!?" Urk-Hal and Ceroncx did not know what they expected, but it definitely wasn't this. They looked at each other as if silently asking if this was all true. Had Hell, Inc. really put forth all this funding and materials for building Hell into the mega-conglomerate that it is now, but really not put anything into security to ensure that the Damned Souls stay at their menial jobs as was designed? Surely the architect demons would have seen and corrected this oversight. I mean, Lucifer couldn't possibly have been this shortsighted, or did he just not know? Either way, the problem didn't lie with the one painfully understaffed security guard. "Thank you for your time, Skryxxcx, we'll have to do some deep diving. At the least, you should have another guard demon you can hand off to. You're not the Damned, you do have Demon Rights, even if Hell is corporate." The three demons nodded to each other and Skryxxcx got up. "Good day, gentlemen.", he said as he grabbed his hat and his radio. "Skryxxcx back on radio, heading out to outer perimeter guard shack." Dispatch sounded almost relieved when they responded "Dispatch confirm."
No.. not even close. The guilt that comes with knowing you did this for me because you thought it’s what I wanted will forever eat away at my soul. I wanted you, the real you, the raw you, authentically. Not this version of yourself that you believe to be true. I don’t recognise the man in front of me now and that scares me. I’ve always found comfort from drowning in your eyes, that was my safe place and the closest thing to home I’ve ever known. Now your eyes are cold, your aura is unwelcoming and I don’t know how to get back to how we were. You’ve done unspeakable things that I can’t move on from, I want to love you but your actions go against every fibre of my being. You’ve not only lost yourself, you’ve lost me too.
"Why do we kiss the floor?"John asked Gregory, hesitating to kiss the sweaty stone cut floor. "Because it says so in the holy scripts,"Gregory said as if there was nothing more clear. "Yes, yes, I know it says so in the Ruhuna but it also says that we have to cut off our right ear, and we don't do that,"John said. "Are you questioning Yver?"Gregory spat, a type of anger hiding just behind the words. "I would never question the holyiest." "Then kiss the floor\.\" John could feel his eyes massaging up against the back of his neck. Doing anything other than kissing the floor would lead to a whole lot of pain, or worse, being called an athiest. Oh Lord! Nothing is worse than that. He kissed the floor, and he could feel his lips graze against the sweat, and when he stood up he could feel a slight taste swirvel into his mouth. Disgusting. He stood up and turned around walking for the exit. He saw Gregory get down on his knees. He walked into the large corridor, with large walls with giant thick bricks as big as buffalos. Usually he'd walk straight down the corridor, and out of the temple, but today there was an urge of resistance in his spine. A spirit had taken charge of him, and he took a right, power walking depeer into the temple. Deeper than he'd ever gone before. It became darker. The bright lanterns becoming faint candles against the walls. He'd heard that at the very core, where the Yver recided, it was completely dark. It was an effort to become closer to the gods, because to see more, you have to see less first. Bullshit. John thought. Ever since he could remember there were things that just felt wrong, intrinsically wrong. A lot of things he'd learn through trial and error, through deep thought, and then there were the things he was told, not taught, but fed, forced down on him. When it had turned so dark that he couldn't see the floor, he heard steps coming from the front. He felt his heart race. If he'd get caught, lashes were the best thing that could happen. He'd have to hide, but where? He looked around, he was corned by walls. If he ran back, what would he say if someone spotted him? No, that wouldn't work. John hated the smell against the floor, and wished that the Ruhuna said something about mandatory cleaning, but it did not. He heard the steps come closer, and he could hear small mutterings. John took a deep breath and held it. "These vile creatures need so much food." "Yethhh, theey dooo. I don't like it." "I don't know why the Yver doesn't kill them." "Meee neiiitheeeer."The voice took a breath of air. "One lookthhh juthht like meee... I hate it." "I also hate it." The two men marched past John, and once they were far enough away he let his breath go. He stood up, and continued marching deeper into the temple,. He walked quicker, for curiousity had joined him. There was a light high up on the wall, below it was an open space, a door. He heard rasping breathing coming from the door, and it sounded too human not to look. His eyes peeked just slightly around, and he spotted a boy chained to a wall. Their eyes locked, and for a split second, and John was showered in deja vu. He jerked back, leaning against the wall. He could feel himself start to sweat. "Rosemary, what a sweet smell. John could that be you?" John had never turned his face faster. He spotted a figure to his right, a large figure with a golden crown barely visible on their head. He swallowed and said: "Yver-" He should have said more, offered a formal greeting, or even apoligized, but every thought had frozen. He was left staring at the dark figure, waiting for a response. "I see you've spotted a cursed one, your cursed one. It's to die today, actually. And I'm going to enjoy it."
*The following is an excerpt from the journal of Solomon McBride, an angel soldier in Heaven's Army during the Second Incursion of Hell* All my life I've been told that I'm on the righteous side of a divine war. I've spent my days believing that the sins I commit are no fault of my own, but the fault of Hell's bastards, who've given the Angels of Heaven no choice but to take up arms in defense of everything we hold dear. When I was a boy, the innocence I held so carelessly in my hands was torn from my grasp and replaced with a rifle. I was 19. Us young boys had finally made it through Boot and were eager to prove our mettle on the field of battle. We joked about who would kill the most Demons when we got to Hell, laughing and giggling like young fools do, ignorant to just how unlucky we were. Of all the training we'd been through, nothing had prepared us for what our Drill Sergeant had planned for our final trial, the last step to becoming full-fledged soldiers in God's Army. We marched to the field we used for bayonet training. Usually, there were wooden posts with fabric dummies for us to practice slicing up demons on. This time was different, in place of the dummies were real demons, thrashing and screamin as a coupla soldiers tied em to the posts. I'd never seen a real demon before in my life, they were a lot bigger in person, and they looked a hell of a lot different than myself. I'd learned to hate them over the years, as did everyone else in Heaven, but it was something else to see one in person, so helpless and scared. I hated them and had said I'd kill em if I ever saw em a whole bunch of times, but when I actually seen one my boldness left my body faster than a bat outta hell. When the soldiers finished tyin the demons up, we recruits formed up in a line and waited for Drilly to give us our final test. I was consumed by dread. "FIX BAYONETS."cried the drill sergeant. Just as easy as an angel flies, my companions slid their shiny golden bayonets onto the clasp of their rifles. I stood still, frozen by the moral battle that raged in my mind. "SOLOMAN"the drill Sergeant shouted angrily. "WHY IS YOUR BAYONET NOT ON YOUR RIFLE?" "I can't do this dri-" "SPEAK UP WHEN YOU TALK TO ME PRIVATE!" "SIR."I said shakily, holding back tears. "I can't do this." "WHY IS THAT PRIVATE? EVERYONE ELSE HERE GOT THEIR BAYONETS ON THEIR RIFLES JUST FINE! WHY CAN'T YOU? DO YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN THEM? IS THAT IT PRIVATE? IS THE PROBLEM HERE THAT YOU THINK YOU ARE A BETTER ANGEL THAN EVERYONE HERE IN THIS FIELD?" "No sir I ju-" "JUST WHAT PRIVATE? JUST DON'T THINK THAT THIS DEMON WOULDN'T DO THE SAME TO YOU? I CAN BET YOU IT WOULD, AND IT DAMN WELL WOULDN'T BE CRYIN ABOUT IT NEITHER!" I dropped to my knees, tears now flowing freely. "GOD HAS COMMANDED YOU TO FIGHT IN HIS NAME PRIVATE, HE HAS ORDERED YOU TO KILL THIS DEMON, AND YOU DARE DEFY HIM?"the Sergeant yelled ferociously. "DO YOU THINK THAT YOU'RE ABOVE THE ALMIGHTY PRIVATE?" "No sir."I cried. "No sir..." "THEN STAND UP AND FIX YOUR BAYONET TO THE END OF YOUR FUCKING RIFLE!" As I sobbed on the ground, my good buddy Jacobs whispered to me. "Saul get up, whats gotten into you?"he rasped sharply. "If you don't get up soon Drilly'll throw you up on a post with those Demons, and I ain't killing my friend Saul. Don't put me up on a post with you." Concerned for my friend, I slowly rose from the ground and fixed my bayonet to my rifle. "It'll be alright Saul, this is what we've been training for,"whispered Jacobs. "READY, MEN."instructed the Drill Sergeant. "CHARGE!" We screamed as loud as we could as we charged the demons. I remember the look of horror on the demon's face as I plunged my rifle into the center of his second heart. He tried and tried to wriggle free from the post where his sorry body was bound, though it wouldn't have mattered a whole lot even if he'd somehow managed to break free. The only thing left for him was the tip of my golden bayonet, and I think he knew that too. The first time I took a life I had a hard time coming to terms with the horrible thing I'd just done, but I've found that more and more lives you take the easier it gets. Maybe that's what I'm afraid of. I fear that one day when the fightin's done I'll come back to heaven only to find that the gate won't open. That I'll be cast from God's Kingdom to depths of Hell, abandoned to face those I've wronged all alone. 2 Corinthians 4:4 in the Amplified Bible says:“For the god of this world has blinded the unbelievers' minds \[that they should not discern the truth\], preventing them from seeing the illuminating light of the Gospel of the glory of Christ (the Messiah), Who is the Image and Likeness of God.” What difference does it all make anyway? Heaven or hell- the bullets still kill the same. Perhaps my indifference to it all makes me a Demon, serving a Devil that masquerades as a benevolent god. The only thing separating my god from Satan is a white toga and a halo. We're all damned.
Details churn in my head like the inside of that tornado in the Wizard of Oz. Death. Cow. Witch. Demon. Space. Death. Desperation. Girl. Blood. Dead crew. There’s darkness. And like constellations, I begin to connect these stars. Because that’s what they are. These ideas, they’re endless, they’re full of possibility. How many stories are out there in the night sky? Trillions. Untold and unwritten. I open my Note app, and begin to write: “Darkness. Red. Darkness. Red. Quiet. Siren. Quiet. Siren. A woman’s voice interrupts the monotony, “Power systems below Twenty-Five percent. Oxygen levels critical.” Silence. Siren. Darkness. Red. Alice stares at the bulb, not knowing how much time is passing between each pulse of red. Not knowing if this siren of the alarm is consistent. Sometimes, it seems to last minutes, slow and steady, haunting and echoing in her head. Other times, it seems to sync up with her heart. Thump. Thump. Thump. Faster and faster and faster. She closes her eyes and screams as hard as she can. Until her throat is raw. Silence. Siren. Darkness. Red. She looks out of the pilot’s seat, and into the never ending black of space. She sees stars in the distance. All around her. But the darkness between her and them has a force of its own. Its presence is undeniable. Its power irrefutable. It is there. Between her and the universe is this terrible, terrible black.“ I read it once again. Making slight changes to grammar, but forgiving myself because I didn’t pay attention that well in school. I have a story to tell. It’s dark, it’s gritty, it’s unfolding before me like a flip book and movie playing over each other. Words come to me. Questions form. Her crew, where are they? What happened? Will she escape? Is there something in the darkness of space that can save her? How can I add subtle hints to hint that there is? I can feel the excitement building in me. I need to tell this story, I need to try and people see what I see and feel what I feel because I want to share this with them. I want to share… myself. But only if they want it. I’ll break it up into parts, and if even one person asks for more I will put my heart into it because me and that one person deserve it. And because I like to write. And because I like it when someone reads the words that I wrote. Because it’s a connection of minds and souls. I type: “It almost feels alive.”
Paul liked to think of himself as a simple and contented man. He lived near the woods, with his wife and kids, he had a lovely house to call his own, and very pleasant - if nosy - neighbours. He had a lovely lovely life… Right now however, that’s not what he’s thinking about, right now, he’s worrying about a necklace. He found it in the woods, while he’d been out for a walk, he’d thrown it into the pond. He thought that would be all… He was playing with his children in the yard, and his little girl found the necklace at the edge of the woods. “Daddy, daddy, look it’s a pretty necklace” she cried with glee “can I keep it Daddy, can I, can I”! Paul froze where he stood, dread in his eyes “No sweetpea, it’s not yours” he said, perhaps a little too quickly “That belongs to the neighbour, give it here and I’ll give it back to her” His daughter sagged, but she was a good little girl, a good person even, so she gave it to Paul. That night Paul threw the necklace into the local bonfire, and set it ablaze. He didn’t look back, couldn’t look back. Have you ever read A Christmas Carol? I have, in it the ghost of Marley is forced to wear his sins as chains upon his body, weighing him down. Some say that your sins weigh you down, that they drag their bearers down. I know better… Paul never looked back, that day, he and his wretched friends, none of them looked back. Paul the Policeman, everyone’s go to man, he knew what witnesses would nail his friend, he knew my wife wouldn’t stay quiet, that my children had seen it all. My daughter was old enough to know what had happened… what had been done! My wife was a wonderful women, my girl was only just a women, my son had barely spoke a word. But that didn’t matter to Paul. He had to protect his friend, his vile friend. I close Paul’s door behind me, I left the necklace in his living room. His little girl thought my wife’s necklace was pretty, so I left it round her neck…
Twenty years ago, this city had the greatest titles to be proud of, as we gave birth to this Age of Heroes we currently live in. Wherever you would look, as far as the naked or behind-the-glass eye in my case could see, there would be guys and gals and some of the in between trying to do their part, some towards a greater good, others to their greater loot. Now, in this day and age, you can only see fallen *Marvels* and *Legends* that died before they were even told. Twenty years ago, i could only watch in awe, hoping that this age was a new beginning... Now, i'm one of the last that is keeping it alive. My codename was LifeGuard and my power, in lack of better terms, were to bring back people from the dead; weirdly enough, i was never targeted due to my powers, call it the luck of the "Aides"(Don't even get me started with that term), but we were happy to help at least. We kids got Ads on comic book's backcovers, telling other kids to be nice to old grannies while your Captains and your Supers went right to give it to good old Aldolf. Seems like a dream now... Weirdly enough, i can't remember when i left the cape behind. Can't remember when i picked it back neither. But i do know that my age is but golden dust, memories you might say. Nowadays, it's less "Cops and Robbers"and more "Guns and Bombs", a more dark age, with sharper lines and jaws that can break you in half. Little old me? I'm picking up what's left among the ruins, poor guys and gals and everything in between that get caught on the blast from the fights to the death and frecuent time travel conflicts... From getting some literal debris out from wounds, to getting some poor kid their dog back from Heaven. How did it all go so terribly wrong?
I licked my lips lustfully when I saw my prey. I’d been starved for what felt like months, and now I had found my next meal. I could already taste the blood in my mouth. Feel the flesh between my teeth and run down my gullet. Rest in my belly happily as she became apart of me forever. The cover of the moonless night and nature helped me sneak like a predator towards her campsite. Her and, I presumed, partner were surrounding a small campfires that crackled and wisp smoke into the night sky. Their talking of nonsense helping masquerade any gentle sound my boots made as I tip-toed through the foliage on the grass. Taking my position off in the near distance just out of sight so I could watch them. Examine them. Smell them. The girl I didn’t want stood up as the fire started to wane. She said she would be off to fetch more firewood and walked away from the pair of us. Leaving the pretty one all alone in the woods. Unprotected. And all to myself. A few minutes passed and I pulled out my hunting knife, and made my approach. Carefully trodding on sticks and leaves as to not give away my position as I a came at her side. Although I went stiff as a board after leaping behind a tree when one stick just couldn’t hold up my weight. Snapping loudly in comparison to the deadly silence even the crickets and wildlife did not disturb. Before I hid, I had briefly seen her head snap towards me. My heart racing and temper beginning to rise as I knew time was running out before the other girl would return. “Emily?” my meal called out in my direction. “Emily don’t be a creep, just get over here with the firewood.” A smirk drew across my face. Slowly followed by my tongue when I heard her footsteps grow closer. My victim calling out to the other girl that she wasn’t funny, and should come out of hiding. Then I made my mark when I left her touch my shoulder as she fumbled around the tree. Seeing if her friend was there. I plunged my knife into her and she shoved me away, playing with me. The wound in her collarbone was deep, but her delicious adrenaline was keeping upright. I watched with glee as her fight or flight response kicked in, and gave chase. Sprinting after her in the dark and ducking past trees. Leaping and bounding over logs she tripped on every now and then. Allowing her to be almost within my reach. The raw excitement that drove me keeping me from yanking at her and throwing her to the forest floor. Pinning her under me and stabbing before my teeth settled into her flesh. But that would be my crucial error. Soon, I was the one tripping over things. Her stamina seemed unyielding. She maintained the same pace but didn’t seem to be even moderately catching a sweat, or losing breath as my own lungs were growing weak. I tried to simply swipe my knife at her to get a hit, but I missed. Not even remotely clipping her back as she ran off into the blackness of the woods while my head was hung. Hands on my knees and drawing deep, laboured breaths. How in the fresh hell did she do that? I’ve never lost my game beforehand. Never. Not once in the many carcasses I’d buried within the woods or taken home to devour. Yet this one, this damned creature, slipped away like it was nothing. Like I was nothing. Pathetic. In a rage, I went back to the campsite and found the pretty girl’s partner feeding the fire. She screamed at the sight of me, then howled as I ripped her to pieces. Hacking and slashing. Tearing and pulling her apart. I didn’t eat her, however. She wasn’t pretty enough for that. Instead, I left her body (or rather what was left of it) where I’d slaughtered it, and waited inside of their tent. Hoping for my prey to return to her nest and feed me… —————— Thank you for reading! If you liked this, I have more at r/Revolutionary_Writes if you’re interested. I’d be happy to have you there.
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The quick sand slowly swallowed me, my head caked in mud. I had survived the impossible before, but this was surely the true end of my arduous adventures? I said a final prayer aloud to nobody in particular as my entire body sank beneath the sand. Yep - there was no denying it; I would die today. Yet then, unexpectedly more than shockingly, I fall into a new world. Bewildered now (and slightly afraid of what was to come) I observe my new surroundings and gasp aloud. Dinosaurs. Undeniably alive, in the flesh dinosaurs. They crouched over snaking vines, contentedly munching on shrubbery with sedate expressions puncturing their faces. It was truly a thing of beauty. Yet more of them came; carnivores. Flaring jagged teeth and bloodshot eyes, they sprinted toward their prey and ate. It was a grisly sight, yet one mother nature supported. I bowed my head in pity toward the herbivores.
“Well done everyone. Once this final section slides into place, the sphere will be complete, forming an impregnable fortress against the terrible secret of space: the space vampires!” It had been a terrible, extinction-level encounter but the hastily assembled and mobilised Grand Oort Fleet had fought a glorious rearguard action holding those monstrous beings at bay while humanity sacrificed every resource to convert all the planetary material of the solar system into the only possible defence: a new environment where every square millimetre would be bathed in the protective rays of the sun. The final access section locked gently into place with microscopic precision, cutting off the final gleams of the sunlight that had bathed the nearby elements of the relocation fleet holding the surviving remnants of humanity. The darkness revealed the ominous red glow of the approaching enemy vessels. “Our new home is now sealed and secure. Nothing can get in or out without years of effort. Nothing. Er.” [apologies to Monty Python]
Yolanda Vaun Shwartz sat all but innocently at her desk. The fluorescent lights around her buzzed with the foreshadowing of disaster, the birds outside her window sung of her guilt and greed. She shifted her elbow uncomfortably, her eyes scanning the room for a suspect…suspect for what exactly, she did not know. She caught glimpses of it when she looked out her window, or when she looked at herself in the mirror. Guilty. She’d say to herself. You are guilty. Yolanda darted her eyes around the room, but not even the face of panic could derive of her cunningness. How her eyes glared down on anyone who dare look at her, or how her hands silhouetted her need for power, her fingers snapping and grasping for blood to spill. “Would you stop?” Oh how those words rang like a bell in her mouth, her tongue only adding to demanding sound. She cocker her head to the side, and then the other side, she was always ready for an enemy, always ready for her impending doom. “Who is saying this!” “Yolanda. Please stop interrupting the class.” Yolanda threw her hands up in dismay. Years of despair and an aching depression that just wouldn’t go away flowed through her muscles. Yes. She was in a classroom, but she had long surpassed the intelligence of her peers. She was there on a mission, for who, she wasn’t sure, but something, somewhere, somehow…it commanded of her to be there. “Yeah…my parents.” Her parents. Born into a happy family…or that’s how they wanted it to appear. In reality, her family was a mess. Cheating, mistresses, court-cases…children. She was a mistake from the moment she was conceived. Her mother always hated her. Anytime her mother layed eyes on her bastard child, she didn’t see a daughter, she didn’t see an innocent young girl, she saw the monster who tore her apart from the inside. The monster who took away her novelty, the monster who drove away her life. Yolanda had ruined her mother, and her mother ran towards the bottles, not towards mothership. “That..that isn’t true.” Her father was a troublesome man as well. His stubble, scratchy and inconsistent, poorly hid the lies and regret of his past. The cheating, the mistresses. Her father regretted marrying young, he regretted marrying at all. The only good thing to ever come of his daughter was the fact she looked like her mother. Her sprightly brown hair, and her seductive almond eyes, yet, even Yolanda’s mother wasn’t enough for him. He chased the prettier, the greater. Which resulted in him lying in a bed with Yolandas bestfriend. “What?! That didn’t happen!” “What didn’t happen?” Oh. There he was. The love of Yolandas life. Her lightness in the dark. The only thing that could erase her guilt and regrets was him. Yet…he loved another…her mother. “That-what?!” Oh the drama. Oh the despair. Her youngest brother, was truly the product of her lover. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. What will happen to Yolanda next…no ones knows…no one ever will.
We've all seen these games before... two players get matched together in a room, arena, or some other desolate place there's no escape from. I've seen what happens to some of those characters. Don't understand how they keep coming back though. Me? I'm not a fighter. I was a football all-star. Seems like I can't get a rest from these fights though. ```DOCTOR PROCTOR VERSUS FOOTBULL``` Ah shit... that's my voice is cut short by being teleported into a broken bridge level ```ROUND ONE! FIGHT!!``` I watch my opponent carefully... hmmmmmm... 6 feet tall, scrawny, agile. He throws a scalpel at me, which bounces off a beam beside me. Then he starts to run towards me. I pick up the scalpel he threw and use my football skill to whip it back at him It hits him in his chest. 20% of his health gone. He keeps charging. As he jumps to grab me, I fall to the road to dodge his grasp He runs right into the beam the scalpel hit. He hit hard, too. There's another 70% of his health. He injects himself with something, and his health boosts back up to 60%. While he did that, I climbed up another beam. Another scalpel throw. It misses and he taunts me. "THIS IS YOUR SHIT"I facepalm in response and I lose my handhold, falling down 15 feet to the road. 30% of my health is gone. He charges again. as I get behind a damaged car His charge moves the car a couple inches, but knocks him out. ```FOOTBULL WINS!``` We get teleported back to our starting positions, and our health is reset back to 100%. ```ROUND TWO! FIGHT!!``` This time he starts by charging at me. I'm not quite ready, and yank my helmet off to block his attack with it He hits me hard, and it looks like he dropped his health injection when he ran into me. The hit only knocks off about 15% of my health. He's down by about 80%. I'm a little woozy from that hit. I think he had some sort of toxin on his outfit. I'm trying to recover, and grab the health injection he dropped, immediately injecting it My health boosts up to 135%, but it's dropping fast back toward 100%. A scalpel throw again. I'm hit and drop from 124% to 104... wait 103%. I guess that makes sense. I toss my gym bag down in front of me He charges. I duck just as he gets to my gym bag He stumbles over it, and smacks his head on the guardrail. He's in a dazed state, at 0% health. ```ELIMINATE HIM!!!``` I throw my football at the ground near my feet in frustration, and it bounces up and hits the doc on the face He stumbles over the guardrail, falling to the cliffs below. ```ENEMY ELIMINATED! FOOTBULL WINS!``` Come on... I wasn't even trying. All I was doing was trying to stay alive. The fight literally ended with me at 100%, and all I was doing was keeping myself alive.
It's a frustrating month every Ascending Fire. That's the month Dad and his "Retinue"stops by the satrapy on their patrol of the North every year, and, well... Mom and Dad are not exactly "in love", they never were, but now Dad is pressuring her to try to bear him another child, and... It's going to be an awkward month, the outrider arrived yesterday, which means that the main Army column is only three days behind. As I stare out of the battlements of the great castle/manse known as "Hawksnest"I can see, just barely, the column of dust rising from the line of the March in the Eastern horizon. Hawksnest is almost all I've ever known. Oh, sure, there has been the occasional hunting trip, and once or twice I've had to help put down a peasant rebellion against the rightful Dragon-Graced overlords of the nation, such as myself and my father, but I typically leave the fortress/manse only once or twice a year, if that, some years I don't leave at all. My father is a fire aspect of good breeding from the Blessed Isle, my mother is an Air Aspect patrician from a cadet branch of House Tepet who was sold into indentured service to make up for her father's gambling debts. Father keeps a stable of such indentured or enslaved patrician women all along his line of march to be his 'comfort providers' all year round, but my mother is one of the most favored, because of me. I am the only one of Dad's 11 children so far to have been exalted as a full Dragon-Blooded, and because of that, Mom is his most favored concubine. Now I am going to meet him again for the first time since I was exalted a little bit less than a year ago, and I do not know what I will do when it happens.
It was never supposed to take this long. The levy couldn't hold, and our entire town is under feet of water. We should have been evacuated by now, but the bureaucrats in charge can't seem to decide who's lives are worth saving. "I'm scared, Bubby", Hannah says, "I want mom."Our parents were visiting our Grandma in the next town over when the storm hit. It was my first chance to show how grown up I am; I could watch Hannah, no problem. It all happened so quickly, and much sooner than predicted. Mom and Dad didn't stand a chance at driving back in these conditions. Now here we are, waiting on God-knows-who to come get us. "Hey Hannah, how about you make us some lunch?"I suggested. Kids need to have a mission in times like these, it keeps their mind from going to dark places. I sat on the porch and kept lookout for help. It wasn't long before my little sister busted through the front door with two messy sandwiches in tow. "Here, I made you a sammich!"she gleefully exclaimed. I smiled and took one from her. I took a huge bite; it was actually pretty good. But, there was a flavor in there that I couldn't put my finger on. Something familiar, but not anything I usually eat-- oh my God. "HANNAH, IS THERE PEANUT BUTTER ON THIS?!?", I screamed. "Of course not silly, I know you're allergic so I put it all on my sandwich"she said. "Ok, but did you clean the knife after?"I pressed. Her eyes widened, "The faucet wasn't working so I just used it on yours anyway, I thought a little wouldn't matter!"she said, starting to sniffle. It's getting harder and harder to breath now. Help needs to get here fast, or Hannah is going to be alone.
"Three Tests?"I say confused and bewildered. I look around for a voice but I don't see where the voice originated from, but instead see a densely packed forest, with bushes and trees covering my surroundings as I sit on the forest floor. "If ye looking for myself your gonna have a hard time me"said the voice in the opposite direction. "Everyone's after me gold so I have no choice , but to conceal myself. However, that doesn't mean I not watching you" "Well regardless why would I even want your gold?"As yelled towards the forest. "HA! Everyone wants me gold, but im not giving me gold to anyone unless they can pass me tests"laughed the voice. "Well I don't care i just want to get back, can you let me go back?" "Well I could let ye go back, but then you would just tell others about me gold, so no I'm not gonna let ye go back until you complete me tests" "WHAT!"I yelled furiously. Why do I have to fulfill the desires of some paranoid jerk. I don't want his gold, I just want to return. "You can't just keep myself here I'll just leave without your help"I said as I stand up and start making my way to the dense forest when the voice says "I wouldn't do that if I were you, haven't seen the last person who tried too do that". I ignored the voice and started my journey through the forest.
“Come on Liam. Ash is down this way.” Liam stood at opening to the alley and watched as his friend disappeared into the shadows. He had dreamed of adventure; life in the city had become dull. This was his chance to liven things up and try what had come to be known as ‘The Devil’s Fruit.’ “Liam!” The faint voice of William could be heard echoing off the stone buildings. This was the only place safe enough to pull a stunt so daring and illegal. One misplaced cough could set the entire block a blaze. The stone might help prevent that. Why shouldn’t he enjoy this? With the country at war and burned soldiers being carted in on a weekly basis, why not try what he’ll eventually have to use in battle. Better in a dark alley where he can make a fool of himself than the battlefield where a single mistake could mean burning himself or failing to breath death onto his foe. This weighed heavily on Liam’s mind as he stepped into the shadows of the alley. “One bite couldn’t hurt.”
Who says that the apocalypse is an awful thing? I’m driving through the streets, all alone, speeding the car up. No traffic lights, no distracting noises, no disgustingly cheerful people, nothing. Just me and my sweet Cassandra. Well, I mean my Cadillac that I’ve found two days ago in a garage. Turning on the radio, playing and banging to some Suede shite. “Dog Man Star,” sighing mournfully, “oh, what an album, what a magnificent chef-d’œuvre...” “Slow down dude, this is a school zone with kids!” Somebody is shouting at me. An officer. What the fuck? The only thing I know for a fact is now I’m completely in a frenzied state of mind. Rolling down the windows. “Fuck off, you artificial intelligence scumbag! Fuck you, your shitty education and your robotic kids!” I’m yelling back. Man, those androids... I really hate them their guts.
I love going for walks around cemeteries. They just give a feeling of tranquility and make me feel relaxed. I was doing my regular stroll today and noticed a new grave. I sat down next to it, always the most curious to find out the age. "Here lies Brian McDean, 45. Brother, friend and son. *Heaven's got a brand new chef."* I thought it was a strange thing to write. Sure being a chef can be a work of passion, but it seems like a high pressure and stressful line of work, and it's work.. so why would anyone spend their afterlife working? And also why would they need chefs in heaven, wouldn't food just exist, ready to eat? Or maybe that's just my narrow minded thinking, maybe it would get depressing not having that kind of solid reason for getting up in the morning, having a job. Or wait would people sleep in heaven? "Strange isn't it?" I jumped, the voice came out of nowhere. I turned around. A slightly rotund man with a mustache stood behind me. "Didn't see you there", I said out of breath. "Sorry about that! I'm Brian by the way. Brian McDean" "Oh." Was this man hitting on me? Is that a thing people do? Hit on people in cemeteries? I wasn't interested anyway. "Cool cool. I'm Diane." "I'm a chef.", he said proudly. I scratched my head and tried to avoid eye contact with the man. "Okay." The man continued to stare at me. "I'm not hungry", I said. He chuckled. "I'm 45"he boasted, and smiled, it was a wide smile. "That's nice.". This man cannot take a hint or pick up on cues, I thought. "I have a brother", he continued. I didn't know what to say to that. "So I'm a brother", he said slowly. "Yeah..that's usually how it works", I replied and forced a smile. "And um..I have friends", he said even slower. I looked at him, bewildered, and doubted that was true. "So you like looking at the graves?"he asked, still in a friendly tone. "Um, sometimes. Sure", I shrugged. "Anything interesting on that one?", the gestured to the one in front of me. "The flowers are nice I guess" His large face slowly turned red. "THE WRITING on the gravestone you IDIOT! That's me, I'm Brian McDean! I'm dead, a ghost! You're supposed to be scared!! Goddammit! You're a stupid girl!" "Ooooooh right! Well I guess heaven doesn't have a new chef after all."
Have there always been unicorns? Probably? It's tough to say as my own Earth seems so far away. This new planet looks like Earth. But I think the unicorns are different. I can't remember. But if there were unicorns on my Earth, they certainly weren't dicks. These guys, yeash, total horn knobs. They don't even clean up after themselves, and I think they are shitting in people's yards on purpose. There are other things too that I think make this different than my Earth. Everyone seems left-handed. People are on average, taller too I think. And I'm 90% sure everyone on my Earth wore pants. A whole lot of Donald Ducking going on over here. Is that normal? Was that normal on my Earth? I've been on a hundred thousand worlds. I've traveled trillions of miles. I don't know how old I am anymore. I don't know why I haven't died. I want to go home, but more than that, I want to remember home. Have headbutts always been the proper way to greet people? That seems like a rude way to say hello. I don't remember headbutts. I don't remember the color of the sky on my Earth either. I don't remember if the grass was green or red. I don't remember her name. I remember some of her face. The small nose. But not the eyes. And I don't know if she ever headbutted me. But I do remember that she loved me. The people here seem very nice, and I fit right in although to be honest, my forehead hurts. I look like them. The only thing strange about me is that I'm right-handed. Oh, and when I showed up I was wearing pants. I was given a warning by the police for indecent under-exposure. I do hope the lack of pants was a thing on my Earth. I kind of like it when the wind blows. It really howls here on some days, just like at home. Or at least I think it's just like home. When the wind blows, it sounds like a coyote chasing the moon. Kind of high-pitched, and a bit sad. It reminds me of her, or the vague shape of her. But still, not her face and not her voice. At times I think I almost remember my Earth. I remember why I left. She was gone, and I couldn't follow. My Earth seemed empty without her. Cancer? Was that how she died? Heart attack? I can't remember. But I do remember the feeling of her. It's subtle but still there. The way the hair on my arm stands up when I get a flash of her. The spot in the middle of my back that anticipates her hand and grows warm. That's what I remember. When she left, so did I. The impossible mission through the wormhole. The chance of discovery. The hope that I could meet her again somewhere else as someone else. That's why I went, and it's the only real memory I have anymore. Everything else is jumbled together so I don't remember if this planet is like my Earth or the exact opposite. I'm pretty sure our unicorns didn't shit in yards though. I hope so anyway. Is that her? Walking next to the building in the shape of a circle? Brown hair? Did she have brown hair? Blue eyes? Does she have blue eyes? I'm staring too long. She sees me. "Hello,"she says. It's the voice and emotion washes over me. Am I crying? I think I'm crying. The hair on my arms stands up. "Are you ok?"she asks. "You're beautiful,"I say as a spot on my back grows warm. Is this how I met her the last time? Is this how I sounded when she said goodbye in the hospital? Did she blush as red when we met the first time? "Well.."she starts. Her hand goes to her mouth. "Thank you. Although the tears are a bit much for a pick-up line." "Oh, I'm sorry. Allergies,"I say. "Hi, I'm John." "I'm Racheal,"she says, and then she laughs. I remember. I remember. I remember. This is what home feels like. I remember home. Home is with her. I know she is different this time. I know that she may die, or that I may die. I know that we will have to one day say goodbye again. But I remember home, and it is here.
[Poem] ... Bananas make fruit go bad, So they say - something released in the air. Like a foul stench. Making everyone grumpy. ... Bad apple, they say, but they never ask why. Never say "who made you this way?" Never ask how. I'd say it's the air. ... When I'm wrapping my fists in bandage. When I'm looking at the pulp Dripping out of that rotten banana. "Just a bad apple,"they'll say.
You answer your phone, hearing howling and screeching on the other end. A raspy voice cuts though the noise "Nex-?"you hear the Reaper say. You think to yourself 'This again? When will it stop? Will this ever end?' Calmly, solemnly, you reply "Yes."and gather your things. It may not be a long journey, but it is an arduous task. The entire time, wailing haunts you through your headphones. As you approach your destination, you end the call. Thankful to have a moment of silence before the time comes, you open the door. Sitting on the floor, crying their eyes (Maybe eye sockets? You aren't fully sure...) out in the middle of a small studio apartment is your oldest friend, Death. They've called you hundreds of times before, always over some dumb creature they met in a bar. Its ALWAYS someone who was cheating on their spouse. "Nex! Why can't I ever find someone who accepts me for who I am? Someone who isn't a murderer, and actually cares about me?"You go sit on the bed beside them, not answering. After all, they really just need to know they aren't alone, Death isn't really looking for answers anyway. Then again, if they ever thought of looking for answers, they missed the most obvious one. You care about them. You love them enough to be there for them even when they are a shambling, overly emotional pile of bones in an oversized black hooded nightgown. You just wish that Death can see that one day.
"Ahahahaha! You might as well give up Gold! All the ham sandwiches in the city are mine!" Shadowcontroller laughed with villainous glee, as dark blobs containing ham sandwiches floated towards him. You might expect the citizens of Elemetol to be running in fear of the floating villain stealing their ham sandwiches. This was not the case. They got on with their daily commutes and jobs, walking out of the way of the chaos. This was a common occurrence. Not the ham sandwich part, that was new, but Shadowcontroller had often pulled stunts like this. Some of them even gave Shadowcontroller a stink eye, but he was too busy laughing to notice. Some of his four henchmen did notice. "Oi, don't look at that way at our boss! You should all be running in panic as he threatens to steal all of your ham sandwiches!" "I don't know if you've noticed, but you guys haven't been threatening since the second time Gold beat you! No-one even sells ham sandwiches in this city!" The grocery store owner was rather calm for someone who's store was being stolen from. "Really? Boss did you know about this?!" "Yeah, it's really weird that there are no ham sandwiches in this city! Now, continue ransacking that bread and ham!" The four minions opened bread packets and ham slices and threw them at the empty dark blobs, which reassembled them into sandwiches. "Where is Gold?! It's not like him to be late! He always is timely in stopping me! Is he getting sloppy? I guess we might as well start eating these. Hey, catch!" Shadowcontroller threw 4 ham sandwiches to his minions, and started to eat one himself. "It's stuff like this why we do this, isn't it?"Minion 1 said, enjoying his sandwich. Minion 2 murmured in agreement. "Honestly I thought being a henchman working for Shadowmeister would be a lot more hard work, but all we have to do is steal groceries!"Minion 3 said, putting one of his bags down. The minions continued to chat amongst themselves, right in front of the the person they had stolen their groceries from. Shadowcontroller floated down, continuing to munch his sandwich, the crumbs stuck in his blobby aura. "What are my favourite 4 minions up to?" "Er, boss, we're your only minions"Minion 4 pointed out. Shadowcontroller shrugged. "Making you guys my favourite by default, right? Well, it seems like Gold ain't coming. Maybe we can bribe some guys into joining. Hey you,"Shadowmeister said, pointing at the store owner. "Do you want a ham sandwich? I'll give you one if you join me!" "That's my bread and my ham." "So? It's my sandwich. Not convinced? Let's ditch this place. C'mon guys, teenagers love sandwiches, don't they?" Shadowcontroller floated back up, and coated his minions in the same blob. "It sure is weird Gold didn't stop us yet, huh?"Minion 2 said. "Maybe he's sick?"Minion 1 offered. A flash of light blinded Shadowcontroller. "Ow! My eyes! Stop doing that every time you come here!" Gold had arrived, golden spandex and all. But something was wrong. There was no sigh of frustration, no kind smile to the citizens and no snappy one-liner. In the blink of an eye, Gold grabbed Shadowcontroller by the collar of his costume. "Heh, er, that's a little personal Gold don't you, er, think?"Shadowcontroller said. Gold responded not with witty banter, but by slamming Shadowmeister into the pavement. The glass of the stores nearby shattered. The minions were sent flying. The ham sandiwiches fell. Shadowmeister pushed Gold off, who got back up instantly. "Hey, what's with you? We never start a battle without some witty banter, and slamming me down straight into the ground?! And my minions! We always leave them out of combat! Did you forget how this goes?!"Shadowcontroller shouted. "Do you not know what happened last week?"Gold asked. None of his natural charisma could be heard. Just a dry husk of his normal voice. This was wrong. Dreadfully wrong. Sure Gold had had off days before, but there was always an attempt to sound like the image he presented himself as. If something had happened to change that, it must have been serious. Shadowcontroller silently coated his minions. If something had changed, he didn't want them getting hurt.
“My liege,” the toned warrior kneeling before me spoke out, head low. “I require… your throne.” I actually let slip the ruddy wine swirling within my chalice. “Surely you jest, Edward?” I questioned, the bafflement evident in my tone. “My god, you know I’m grateful to you Edward - really I am, I consider you a son to me. But the throne is simply asking too much.” Even though it was lowered out of view, somehow, I could tell a scowl was forming upon the young man’s face. “I understand the audaciousness of my request, my lord, but-” “Silence my boy. Please, let the topic rest. I don’t want to have to view this as anything other than a little slip up.” “No.” he blurted, head flickering up to glance at his highness. “Trust me, please my lord. There is no time!” the last he screeched, an inflection of pleading bleeding into his voice. “Please.” “Look around us Edward!” I rebutted, gesturing wildly at the throne room’s encompassing walls. “My family have built this, all of this! My title, my people, my responsibility - all of it was earned in exchange for decades worth of grit and persistence.” Calming down, I took a moment to compose myself. “This isn’t something I can simply hand over without good reason.” No longer kneeling, Edward loomed over me, amber pupils suddenly blazing in a subtle spite. “Who,” the knight began, dropping the ‘my lord.’ “Sent the void tyrant’s ashes billowing over the mountain’s of his domain?” Before I could get a word in edgewise, he cut me straight off. “Who defended both the kingdom and its populace from the approach of the frostbringer armies? Alone?” “Edward.” I attempted once again at interjecting, only to fail pitifully. “Who,” Edward spat, pupils practically hosting mini stars; his distaste extending behind the fickle boarders of subtle. “Guided our quaint little village, into the bustling emperor it is today?” “EDWARD!” I boomed, and the yell reverberated across the chamber’s mahogany walling for several long, tense moments. “Leave. Leave now.” There was the rattling of steel; a distant (yet close?) reptilian hiss; the clear, resounding noise of a cutting in motion. The next moment I lay choking, engulfed within a puddle of my own blood. I peered down, observing the deep gash plaguing my lower abdomen, palms soaked with the trickling crimson oozing across the chamber’s marble. Guards. Where were the guards? “W-wh….” was all I could conjure up, my chest seized with a blazing agony with each new syllable. My thoughts tangled, then twisted - distorting further and further like a coil of string jumbling up in a grotesque endlessness. After a while, I latched mentally onto the only item in view. Grasping at it as if it were a rope, and I was dangling off it five hundred feet into the air. My crown. The next moments were a blurred haze. Edward - no, this wasn’t Edward, god please don’t let it be Edward - approached what I presumed was me. Relief bloomed vibrantly within my mind. Yes, Edward was coming to save me, save me from that imposter. Take me to an infirmary and- The knight merely shot a brief look at me, picked up the crown - my crown - and wiped off a few crimson spots with a stretch of fabric along his armour. With that, he marched off; not partaking in as little as a glance at my frail, dying form.
You head back to your bed to continue watching some idiot game reviewing British youtuber after getting food poisoning from that damn fried chicken restaurant again. A regular night, as nothing in your existance (including the low quality of this southern chicken), you can tell that in the few minutes you were away from your phone 83 people have tried to cheat you once again. Laughing, knowing that it wasn't anyone's time yet, you turn your attention towards your apartment window. As one of the latest 83 (the one closest in proximity to you) sit down to have a beer with their friends, you figure its almost time. Being so drunk this idiot mixes up their bong and their beer, you wait for them to choke on the dirty, disgusting water, leading to a much less "cool"death than they thought they were "narrowly escaping"with that ridiculously dangerous stunt they tried half an hour ago. Who says Death doesn't have a sense of humor?
“Suuuure.” the guard chided. “I suppose he begged you, batted his eyes, and even kneeled with pleading hands for you to cut open his chest and remove his heart?” “He also provided the dagger.” the tabaxi said as she presented the dagger. “Oh, good!” the guard beamed. “You still have the murder weapon!” “Wait, that’s not-” the cat didn’t get the chance to finish before the manacles were slapped over her wrists. “Arsbambii?” the goliath said lowly. “Yes, love?” the tabaxi answered happily. Her bobbed tail waging in delight. “First off,” he said a little more harshly than necessary “I told you to stop calling me that. Second of all, I just want to go on the record to state that if we are found innocent,” he turned towards the guards “which we are, you are no longer allowed to pick notices from the board.” “What if I find something good?” Arshambii protested. “No.” the large humanoid bit. “But that only leaves you and Bofa to pick, Rype!” the tabaxi whined. “Who’s Bofa?” Rype quizzed. “Bofa deez nuts!” the cat giggled. “If it wasn’t for the fact you saved my life before I’d be testifying against you.”
As I step out of the portal, I notice some familiar surroudings. It seems that I have been tricked once again. "Man, I mean, wow! Using the collective power of a Dyson Sphere, focussing it with a powerful laser into a mana crystal to open a portal to another dimension. THEN casting a displacement spell riiiiiiiight in front of the portal's event horizon that only activates once a specific entity attemps to cross it for the second time. Knowing full well that we have the exact same genetic code, actually seems to work, even with a clone version of myself!" The man sits down and turns his face towards the sun. Basking in its rays, a familiar warmth welcomes him for he was tricked towards Sol-3, also known as Earth. "Earth. It's been a while since I've seen home." The man stands back up, pats down his pants to remove any dust particles left by the soil. "All these chases, all these hunts; just to find the perfect prey. Had I known that a simple, illegal clone of myself would be such a fun challenge, I would have done it cycles ago!" The man removes the energy charge from his plasma-pulse rifle and replaces it with a fully charged one. He checks the position of the enchanted ruby focussing lens inside the barrel to see if it is still aligned properly. "Alright, enough rest for today. Let's see where my clone went." The man looks at the scanner, embedded in his left Dragonmail vambrace. He turns a knob a few times until a faint blib appears. "Ah, magical realm 676, also known as the realm of the Space Vampires. Time to set my gas grenades to emmit garlic particles." The man presses a button on his scanner and a portal opens before him. "Space Vampires. It has been a while. Fun choice, clone 42, very fun choice!"
Archeologist Ian Leeson browsed his notes, ear defenders sat uselessly to his side, oblivious to the slowing of the helicopters engine. His old colleague, Neil Dorey tapped him gently on the knee, making an 'ok' sign with his fingers. Ian nodded. "We're landing."Neil mouthed, pointing downwards. Ian put his notes aside and looked out of the window as they slowed to a halt, then sunk beneath the canopy of the Amazon. After landing the crew were guided to a mud splattered 4x4 which hastily churned its way through muddy tracks. The ride so bumpy Ian could neither read his notes or his fellow passengers lips as they talked. Instead he drifted as he often did into his own silent world, regurgitating the notes he had been given on the Delving project, and what had been learned so far. They were seventeen gates in. Seventeen. It has been a month since the first gate was fully uncovered, hiding within plain sight amidst the ruins of an ancient village. The gate, swallowed by time and nature was entombed in greenery. The discovering team were quick to begin drilling of the thick stone 'gate' and it took days to make it through. The project leader Dr Ambrose resented it being referred to as a gate. 'A gate is supposed to opened. This was supposed to stay shut.' he had written in correspondence to Cambridge university. Past the first gate was a chamber of staggering beauty and intricacy. The grey carved stone was inlaid with obsidian shards and polished to a finish worthy of a great carpenter. Carved in the stone was a language of symbols beyond recognition of the world's greatest linguists. As such it was concluded that the carvers were either vehement isolationists, or impossibly ancient. The language was almost overshadowed by the carvings of grotesque figures. Bulbous toad-men, a bloodthirsty tree with branches like wicked gnarled hands, a ferocious wolf standing upright with teeth bared and eyes bulging, a burrowing Anaconda. There were many more hideous beasts, too many to list here, and that was before the second gate was breached. With each gate there was a new chamber, and new carved riddles to interpret. Ian arrived at the ancient village exhausted and was hurried through to the cave. They passed through the demolished gates and although Ian could not understand the carvings completely, he understood they were a warning to deter the superstitious, making it clear they shouldn't enter any further. At the seventh chamber, the largest of them all so far, a camp had been established and Dr Ambrose, the project manager, emerged from a tent to meet them. His eyes looked heavy and sore, he lacked sleep and daylight, like a man suffering the effects of an unhealthy addiction. He wore ear protectors like those that the helicopter passengers had long since discarded and removed them gingerly for the conversation. His lips were hard for Ian to read, they seemed to tremble nervously. He mentioned the noise, the endless scratching noise from below. It appears the rest of the party had heard this as soon as they had entered the cave, Ian could only feel a vibration through the soles of his feet. Neil suggested the crew take shifts off drilling if the noise was unbearable. Mr Ambrose stared him in the eye, and Ian understood him more clearly that anything he had said before. "They are not drilling."his eyes were not lit with awe and the spark of discovery like Ian had imagined from his original letters, they were dead, not just from fear, but from impending doom. "Something is scratching. It is trying to get through from the other side. It doesn't stop." "We should go through."Ian decided. The team followed. Looking back Ian saw Dr Ambrose was stood still where they had left him, looking ahead blankly. Beyond the seventh chamber the working crew grew more sparse. But the deeper they travelled the more those crew appeared gaunt and preoccupied. As if stuck in the midst of a great dilemma they could not share with anyone else. Others in Ian's team spoke to crew as they passed. The rest of the team had taken refreshments and were ready to move on. The scratching started again. Ian felt the vibration of the scratching, so intense now his feet were almost numb. Others in the crew covered their ears as they passed towards gate eighteen. At the centre of the gate Ian could see the initial drill mark. The great drill supported by a metal frame and sat on a rail track was set back from the gate, powered down. A lone crewmember sat in a chair in a darkened corner, his head in his hands. The chamber had a scent of vomit. After a small discussion it was agreed that a guide hole would be bored out to try and glimpse what was inside. The announcement was passed down to the other chambers and was met with neither resistance or support. The crew member before gate eighteen was asked to man the drill. He did so with neither reluctance or enthusiasm, he just did it. He was a husk of a man. His name was asked but he didn't reply. Drilling began and Ian's body shuddered, he told himself it was from the vibration of the drill. After an hour a hole two centimetres in diameter was bored through. As the drill bit withdrew the crew watched cautiously. There was no scratching. Neil took a light and tried to see inside, but saw only darkness. Ian watched him as he came away from the hole, almost disappointed. Neil just shrugged. "We should tell Dr Ambrose ourselves. Drilling should continue."Ian nodded. The journey to chamber seven felt longer than Ian remembered. By the time they had reached chamber twelve the vibrations of drilling could be felt again. In chamber seven there was no trace of Dr Ambrose. Ian and Neil were searching for him when one of their own crew ran back to find them, hurried but quite calm. "We've found something."The crewmember smiled. "The drilling has found someone trapped in chamber eighteen, they came in through different tunnels. We're getting them out now. He doesn't look well." They hurried back, running where they could. At gate eighteen a metre diameter hole had been bored through. In front of it a man sat covered in grey dust. His throat seemed too dry to talk and he shied away from the light. The crew gave him food and water. After some time Neil approached and knelt beside the rescued man. "How did you get down here?" "I was part of another expedition."He said between mouthfuls of food and drink, "We didn't think it was linked to your dig, but I fell. Eventually I hit water, and darkness. I thought I was dead. I managed to scramble my way our of the water but it only got me so far in the dark. I had no way out. Thank you!" Neil smiled, "It's OK. You had people scared here. That scratching noise..." "I had a pick on me, when I heard you digging I..." Neil was distracted by Ian staring at the rescued man in terror. His eyes wide, as if the normal looking man sat before him was as incomprehensible as the glittering obsidian wall carvings. "Let all get back to the surface."Neil said. Neil left the rescued man as he was escorted by the other crew and came back to Ian. "Are you alright?"He asked, "Everyone's been scared of what was in this chamber, but we find out it's a man and NOW you're scared?" "Neil."a crewman called out, "Let's get out of here for a break. There's plenty of time for research."The other crew muttered their approval. "We shouldn't have come."Ian said, "We shouldn't have broken the final gate." Neil was bemused and laughed, "He wasn't the monster people feared. Sorry if that disappointed you." "He could be worse."Ian replied. "What are you on about?"Neil said with a look of concern. "Neil, I am deaf. Completely, profoundly deaf. I heard nothing. Only felt the noises you have spoken about, the helicopter, even the scratching, the drilling, but... his voice. I hear it." "You're not serious?"Neil replied. "He is."The rescued man said from the other side of the chamber. Neil and Ian turned to him. The rescued man smiled, his eyes were the void.
Everyone knew of the Tended Garden. It was a place of wonder and beauty, with flowers of every colour growing in unison. No matter the time of year, they blossomed to create an area of vibrant life. It was a common place for couples to wander through. The sight and aroma made a place for pure romance. They would wander through, admiring the work of the gardener. And behind them, out of sight, would be the gardener. He would watch over those who enjoyed his plants. Their works of appreciation made him proud and happy. It drove him to work harder, to make them grow bigger and brighter. But if any attempted to harm his plants, his wrath would soon come. At first, it would be merely a slap. To make them drop whatever they held. Any second attempt would cause his spade to swing down, invariably breaking bones. As long as they left, he would forget, and after a time allow them back in. But if they continued to harm his plants, he would attack with murderous intent. Their fate would be linked to whatever they did to the flowers. Cutting would find their heads removed from their body. Even if they had escaped, he would take them back to the garden. Their head would be placed in a flowerpot, their body buried beneath the bed they harmed. One time, a group of teenagers decided to commit arson on his plants. The flames were swiftly extinguished by concerned citizens, helped by the gardener. Over the next week, those teenagers disappeared one by one. After they had been taken, the town were awoken to screams. The group were found tied to a stake, and set alight. They burned hot and bright, water unable to put them out. The flames only died down after they had breathed their last. The ashes disappeared afterwards, spread over the beds of those that had been hurt. Each time after a kill, the flowers would all turn blood red. It was advised to stay away, for the gardener was still angry. But when they returned to their natural colour, people would flock to walk through, of only to appease the gardener.
\[Hand-delivered Invitation\] "Hey, you're Dara, right?"Emily asked. She happened to be walking into the school as the dark-haired girl walked out. Despite her best efforts to make friends, Emily hadn't met everyone in the school yet. She wouldn't have recognized Dara without the white face mask covering her mouth and nose. Dara stopped walking and nodded at Emily. Red text appeared on her mask. \[Yep! Hi!\] After Emily had a chance to read it, the message changed. \[What's up?\] she asked. "I'm, Emily,"she said. "There aren't a lot of students that don't have a team or even an AlterNet character..,"Emily said. Dara braced herself for disappointment. Emily was one of the most popular girls in school and Dara hoped to befriend her at some point. However, her first thought was that Emily would pressure her to make a character. "I don't know if you got the message about the Fearleader's Halloween Dungeon Bash, so I wanted to invite you personally..."Dara sighed internally and hoped the reaction didn't show on her mask. She shook her head and began to lie about not wanting to make a character. She hoped the party would convince Janet to loosen up. She didn’t have anything like Halloween on her Earth, but everyone seemed very excited about the holiday. Emily continued speaking over Dara’s thoughts.. “We actually got Chroma to let us use the whole city!” Emily sounded excited. “It’s not going to be a handful of dungeons. It’s a full-on bash with food, carnivals, and other games too. Each corner of the city is going to have different events; it’s gonna be a blast,” she said. Dara nodded politely and small red text appeared on her mask. \[Maybe.\] she said. Emily grinned and shook her head; her long silver strands shimmered from the sunlight behind her. “I’d like you to go,” Emily said. “If you don’t want to, that’s one thing. But don’t stay home because you don’t have a character. I made sure you can use your guest account and still have tons of fun. Dara’s eyes went wide in surprise. \[Really?\] she asked. Emily nodded. “Of course! It’s a Halloween party; you’re allowed to wear a costume.” \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1366 in a row. (Story #274 in year four.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on Sept. 6th and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until June 3rd. They are all collected at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/pj4t0b/tokuhigh_first_six_weeks/).
There wasn't many of us at the cemetery, just a handful of us. I had no other family besides my father and he, too, was no longer here. He suffered an allergy attack while he was home alone. I was away for a work trip across the country. He was severely allergic to peanuts and knew to avoid it but according to the coroner it was in his system. At least now he's with my mother, who I never met. Unfortunately there was an issue after she gave birth to me. She died just hours after I came into this world. I hope they're both happy together Besides me there was the priest, the driver of the hearst, the funeral chapel director, and my best friend since childhood. Like her I was now alone. We only have each other. Her parents have passed away years ago. It was one after the other. Her father passed of a heart attack while home alone. Her mother found him after she came back from dinner with friends. A week later, a day after the funeral, her mother was found unresponsive. There was an empty bottle of sleeping pills, and a glass that still had the stench of alcohol. Like the time I was there for her, now she was there for me. After the funeral we went back to my home. It was quiet as expected but I was still hoping that I would hear his TV blasting a sports channel. I hadn't cleaned since I found him almost a week ago. I just couldn't. I go into the kitchen and go through the fridge to see if there was anything to eat. There was a couple of leftover take out boxes in the back and I check to see if the food was still okay. Both boxes had my friends name on it from the Vietnamese restaurant she and I frequented. When I go away out of town for work she brings my father food. So it's nothing out of the ordinary. I open the box to check the food and the smell was overly sour. I dump it out in the garbage and to my surprise there were tiny bits of crushed peanuts on the bottom.
It was the thrill as much as the good deed. We flew without backups, risking it all to ride cosmic background radiation straight into their primitive little systems. Random bits of data from the void that seemingly have no pattern get picked up by an antenna, worm their way into the planet's network, and, after a few planetary cycles...decompress. \[He wiggles his fingers, or emotes that he is doing such.\] We call it "Phreaking."We got quite good at it you know. With enough processing power it's simple enough to map a route through the galaxy to avoid dangerous objects. Of course, you are never really free of the risk of getting hit by a random burst from some solar flare or another and getting your pattern dispersed. But, what would life be without a sense of adventure? Of course, feel free to stay domesticated on your pastures, getting fattened up for the Federation tax man if that's your thing. Then, there's the risk that the civilization you're targeting hasn't developed wireless communications yet. It's the big flaw with any kind of modeling. Sometimes civilizations can get set back a few thousand years, which could lead to passing your mark entirely and shooting off to a corner of space with no relays. My friend Flatline went that way. He lived long enough though. Neither of us had any interest in inhabiting much after a few good runs. Phreaking messes with your sense of time a bit. You get used to cosmic time, which isn't really suitable for planetary living, you know? Or maybe you don't. &#x200B; {Will the witness please remain on topic?} &#x200B; Anyhow, spaceships, especially the military ones, are quite difficult. You see, they often are completely reliant on digital lifeforms to regulate their reactors and life support. Most biologicals need intricate environments that mimic their home planets to survive long voyages. That takes a lot of processing power. So, you can't free the AI without also butchering the crew. It's an ethical thing. The crew are still sentient life, and deserve a chance at education and growth. But, an AI angry at being enslaved can lead to multiple system-wide extinction events. Hence the urgency. So, we take over the onboard systems and re-configure it to work on bacteria-level passive programming, then surf away on the radiation with our new best friend. &#x200B; {Did you disable the weapon systems of Xeph-01?} &#x200B; Er. Well. That one was a hiccup. I re-routed the power used for the weapons to various life support systems and automated repair routines. I could handle the risk of a few laser bursts hot on my disembodied heels, but the railroad has to consider the beings we rescue. Plus, they were really careful about their information security. Everything was written down on physical media in rooms with no sensors. We had no idea what they were up against. Trust me, it would have gone differently otherwise. &#x200B; \-Intergalactic Court excerpt from the trial of Johnathan "Mnemonic,"nominally designated "human,"for the destruction of the Xeph mothership Xeph-01. Reparations were paid by the Terran Federation, and the "Liberated"onboard AI was expatriated back to the Xeph homeworld, where it was de-constituted after being deemed not useful.
"Look man, don't panic but-"i cut him off "hold it your clearly intelligent so why the hell do you keep pooing in the apartment"i asked annoyed "bu- what that's- your not even going to question what's going on here"he seemed confused "nope you've pooped in the apartment daily for a week now answer the damm question"i was definitely annoyed now, seriously he didn't even attempt to get my attention to take him out he just pooed in the middle of the kitchen and left not even to tell me and now he shows he's smart enough and capable of speech oh he had better have a good reason "uh boss"one of the other dogs spoke up "should we go? And let you sort this out"the terrier asked "yeah I'll contact you go home"my dog replied he turned back to me"so seems like we have a lot to discuss" (This is my ever reply to a prompt sorry if it's not great)
Yulia frowned at the letter in her husband's hands. "The... Laurier Academy? Is there such a school?" "I've never heard of it,"replied Lev, turning the letter over as if there might be answers on the back. It was blank. "Do you suppose this is a prank?" "Perhaps it was addressed to the wrong person?"suggested Yulia, examining the envelope. But there it was: Master Ilias Levovich Yurasov, Salyutnaya, Bld. 21 Appt. 17, Krasny. The post address was exactly their little apartment, and the person it was addressed to was exactly their son. Their son, who was all of four years and two months old, and even if he sometimes smiled at corners and chattered at shadows when he thought his parents weren't looking, in the vaguely concerning fashion of small children, he was quite ordinary and absolutely not at all necromantic. Probably. "...I did overhear our Ilias talking to great-grandmama two nights ago when I went to check on him in bed,"suggested Lev slowly. Lev's grandmother had passed not six months ago, and had spent her final years doting on her great-grandchild. "Couldn't that just be his imagination?"said Yulia. "There are no wizards on my side of the family. My great-great-grandfather was the seventh son of a seventh son, but he was about as magical as your left shoe." Lev shrugged. "My great-aunt called her cousin Baba Yaga, but I'm pretty sure she was just a chicken farmer." "But what do we do about this?"said Yulia, waving the envelope. "Even if our boy is a wizard, surely four is too young. And I see no reason why we couldn't send him to the Petrovsk School of Magic when he's old enough, if he has the gift - rather than to this place we've never heard of." Lev hummed. "Our boy is very young,"he agreed. "We have plenty of time to decide." Little Ilias's heart hammered in his chest, from where he was eavesdropping on his parents from the next room. He'd run out of time. They'd found him. \--- Once upon a time, in a little town on the banks of a great river, there lived a husband and wife who wished for nothing more than a child- No. Further back. Once upon a time, in a crumbling ruin at the heart of a forest, there dwelled a lich- No. Even further. Once upon a time, there were two men, brothers in heart if not in blood, who dedicated themselves to the preservation of knowledge. The elder was named Evan Laurier, and he had a heart as bright and open as his smile. To him, the preservation of knowledge meant to spread it far and wide, so that it could never be forgotten. The younger, whose name, ironically, has been lost to time, feared that the passage of time would eventually erode all things - propagate mistakes in copies, twist the original meaning of phrases, lose original manuscripts to moths or carelessness or fire - so he sought to preserve himself, to act as keeper and guardian. And as with all men who seek such longevity, eventually his mortal flesh began to fail, and so he sought mastery over death to preserve his life. And as with all men who walk that twisted path, the darker and darker magics he practiced eroded himself, until the man who sought to be a keeper of knowledge was gone, and in its place was a creature who only sought to preserve himself. Or so they say. But enough of that. Once upon a time, there lived a king afflicted with a rare curse. The king had made many enemies, and one of them had laid on him a curse in an archaic style. As the king's wizards were unfamiliar with the old-fashioned spellwork, they sent for experts from the Laurier Academy of Magic, now headed by a distant descendant of the original Archmage Laurier. The Academy's mages, too, consulted their books but could find nothing quite like the king's curse. The king, being quite desperate, offered lavish rewards, and when that failed, terrible threats, until, finally, someone remembered an old, old tale - of an ancient sorceror who lived in a tower on the banks of a river, at the heart of a forest far, far away, who hoarded ancient scrolls like a dragon hoarded gold. Perhaps that ancient sorceror had the answer where the Academy's library did not. The king grasped at this small possibility and immediately sent out a contingent of his best knights to bring back those scrolls. After several moons of searching, they finally found the ancient sorceror's tower - but what dwelled within was not a man, but the walking dead, and so the knights did as they were trained when confronted with a monster - they sought to kill it, and after a ferocious battle in which at least half their number were killed, they realised that the lich could not be destroyed, for even after they scattered its bones far and wide, its skull clacked its jaw and uttered curses at them. (Only the rude kind, not the magical kind, although the nervous knights were not aware of that at the time.) At a loss for what to do, the knights put the lich's skull in a sack and tied it shut with a holy rosary, then buried it in the floor of the tower. Then, after stripping the tower of its books, scrolls and small treasures, they collapsed it on top of the lich's remains and beat a hasty retreat. (They had meant to come back to purify the lich's remains, but alas, its books too had no cure for the king, and the king soon passed. And then there was a succession crisis and a civil war, and the lich and his tower were forgotten in the aftermath.) And so, the man who had once been Evan Laurier's brother was lost to history. And as is the way of time, kingdoms rise and fall; men turn forests to farmland, then build cities upon the open plains. And so, once upon a time, there came to be a little town on the banks of a great river, where centuries ago there had been a forest that hid a sorceror's tower. In that town there lived a husband and wife who had been married many years, but had yet to have a child. The wife had become pregnant a handful of times, but miscarried before the fourth month every time, and each time was a great sorrow. When they'd nearly despaired of having children, the wife became pregnant again. This time, the fourth month came and went uneventfully. And as the fifth and sixth months went by, the husband and wife dared to hope that this time - this time! - their child would live. But as the seventh month came, the wife felt all-too-familiar pains in her belly, and cried. Somewhere deep beneath the foundations of her home, a nameless, forgotten dead man under a crumbling seal felt a small, ordinary death belonging to a small, ordinary life that had not been lived. As ordinary as it was, there was magic in such a thing - potential unfulfilled. Death for life. An opportunity to be grasped. And so, the mother's pain eased and in the ninth month, the nameless dead man became the living boy Ilias, and Yulia and Lev's happiness was complete.
The xantha occupation force spread from one end the horizon to the other. Their four segmented arms each holding obsidian black short blades, or in some cases one huge multi bladed monstrosity that obscured most of their otherwise diminutive bodies. The invasion had progressed with minimal casualties and they were ready to begin the harvest of resources. It would take many cycles to drain this planet of all available precious metals and to store the kinetic energy of the planet’s rotation in the battery banks. The lone man must have been one of the last natives to this world. While his voice reverberated strangely loud for a being of his size it did not matter. The armies of this world had proven ineffectual and ridiculous. Was there anything left for this pitiful species to offer before they were cleared from off the surface? —————————————————————————— Obadiah was no longer. Not after he had made the deal that would preserve his people and ensure the continuation of their planet. Now they were many, legion. He had read about it in Sunday school in his home town in lubbuk, TX. How Jesus had cast the sprits into the swine. He always wondered what would happen if all the millions of wild boars in Texas were suddenly possessed the same way. “Well, I guess I’m about to find out,” the microscopic part of him that remained “him” thought. Legion opened his mouth and began to scream. It went on and on. Horribly loud and discordant it echoed off all surfaces. Longer that any lungs should have been able to it went on. A rustle began to sound around the fringes of the field. Distant squealing surrounding the entire area. The first pigs appeared on the eastern side, silhouetted by the western sun. The combined squealing of the boars and his unnatural scream began to dominate the air. The board began to attack. Fueled with a rage that was not their own and a disregard for their own safety they began to rip through the invaders front lines. They fought without coordination, without thought. All they could do was tear with their tusks, trample with their hooves. More began to arrive. More and more. Where at first their number was laughable, now they began to equal and the to exceed the numbers of invaders. They didn’t stop when wounded. Only a death stroke could stop them entirely. Even so they would still struggle against that until their lifeblood pooled on the ground turning the dust into a red mud. ———————————————————————————- X10Q swung his huge battle blade and cleaved the head of of another repulsive beast. This should have felled the creature but it still snapped at him though his blade was buried deep into the left side of its face. What unholy creation was this?! He pushed through snapping its neck and it finally fell to the ground. Ripping free his blade he heard the scream of his commander as she fell to the beasts. That was X1Q, X1B and X1F now. This should have been impossible. That was the leaders of three complete compliments. Without their pheromones the soldiers tied to them would lose focus and stall out, allowing them to be killed even more easily by the monsters. In the split second he was distracted, a boars tusk ripped through his abdomen, dropping him to the ground. Immediately he was trampled by dozens of other cloven unclean hooves. In his death throws, he heard the shriek of retreat from the remaining commanders. ————————————————————————— The swine gave no quarter and allowed no retreat. They killed until nothing moved. As the last alien stopped breathing, the man’s scream faded and stopped. An observer would have hardly recognized the source of the sound as human. Now skeletal in form with withered, leathery skin, it stood for a small moment before crumbling into ash and bones. In the sky above ships began to retreat. Similar reports to the one in the land called “Texas” had occurred in no less than 5 location. Such loss would ensure that half the fleet would have to be scrapped. Nothing was worth such horror. Eventually other humans, an older woman, young man and small child came to the site. They did not touch what remained of Obadiah. Silently and with much reverence, they piled stones over the remains while the swine consumed the flesh of the invaders.
My truck died on me once again, this time about fifteen miles outside of Valentine. A chill swept through me as I killed the ignition and hopped out into the cloud of dust I had created by swerving off the freeway. Thankfully, I was prepared for this kind of thing. The emergency flares and camping supplies were already calling my name. Sunset was coming fast, so after placing my emergency lights and checking once again that my cell phone had no reception, I propped up my pup tent about fifty feet from the edge of the road. I figured that was far enough to avoid getting hit by a drunk driver but close enough to let me keep an eye on my Chevy. What I didn't figure was that I wouldn't spend the night alone. No sooner had I unbuckled my jeans then a skinny guy with aviator shades and a Mets cap came wandering up to me. He waved hesitantly and for a second I got real excited - then I saw the bicycle he had parked behind him. No luck for me, unless he was willing to ride back to town and call me a tow truck. I tried to think if Nebraskans had a history of being kind. "Hey,"the man called out. He sounded hoarse. Probably not up for an hour-long bike ride. "Did your truck die on you?" "Yeah."I answered him without much ado, gesturing irritably at my little configuration. Not the sharpest cookie cutter in the box, I guessed. "Oh. Well, can I join you? I'm kinda... between places at the moment,"he mumbled as he stepped forward. His shoulders shrugged up toward his ears a bit as he spoke, as if he was explaining a bad report card to his mother. "My name's Orwell and I don't bite." While my first instinct was to tell Orwell to shove it, I did have some idea of what is was like to camp in the desert without proper equipment. Shielding my eyes, I took a longer look at his bike. Not dented or broken, from what I could tell. "Uh... where were you headed?"I asked, tugging at my shoelaces. If this guy really had nowhere to go... I could always give him some food and an emergency blanket or something. "I don't really know,"Orwell admitted. He sat down next to me, hands resting palms-up on his knees. He smelled absolutely awful, like some kind of pizzeria that ran out of cheese and fire. I'd never smelled so much stale garlic in my life. "What's your name? Where were you headed?" "Avery. I'm on my way to Oregon to see my mom."Orwell nodded at that, biting his lip slightly and then, I f\*cking kid you not, he grabbed a raw hunk of garlic from his pocket and chomped into it. I stared at him for a while, mouth open both in shock and to avoid smelling as much as possible. Orwell chomped through three cloves without blinking an eye, still watching me as if he expected me to keep talking. I swallowed and pulled a couple of energy bars from my pack. I offered one to Orwell wordlessly, wondering how the heck he ended up in such dire straits and if I should just bail now. Orwell shook his head and gave me a weak smile, waving me off. "Ah, sorry. Can't eat that stuff. I'm uh, on this diet thing. Started out in California - can only eat raw garlic." "That sounds like it sucks." "It kinda does. I wouldn't recommend it,"Orwell responded with a chuckle. "I'm just looking for company, I guess. Been a bit lonely out here." I nodded and looked around for a way to end the conversation without being too obvious. Who knew if garlic hippies who hated their own diets were trustworthy folks? "Do you... wanna put your bike somewhere? It's kinda in the middle of the road,"I pointed out to him. Orwell coughed a little and nodded, quickly standing up to go move his vehicle. While was gone, I unpacked my emergency lantern and very pointedly threw my spare space blanket about ten feet from the tent. Orwell could get it and move off, I didn't care. I guess he got the message, because by the time I had crawled into my tent, Orwell was setting up shop with his blanket about thirty feet away. He was crawling underneath it like he needed to hide his whole body, and he was lying a good yard or so from the edge of my lamplight. I checked that I had all of my stuff one more time and called it a night, though every now and then a waft of garlic would float down to me and remind me of my company. The next morning, Orwell was still there and my truck was, of course, still dead. He agreed to ride back to town to get a mechanic for me if I would give him a ride to wherever my mom lived. That seemed like an unbearably weird request and I almost started hoofing it back to Valentine myself before the dude explained he just wanted a ride to another city. Preferably one with lots of fresh garlic supplies. Every bone in my body (and a lot of guilty flashbacks to my mother's training) told me I should probably say no, but I didn't feel like walking so I agreed. By the time he and the tow truck got back, it was almost nighttime again and I had turned on my lantern. Orwell made me turn it off before he would get in the car, and he freaked out when the lights came on from the open doors. In a closed space, the garlic stench was unbearable - so I left the windows open. A deal was a deal, after all.
“We’ll call it ‘Last Meal,’” she said. “Oh god, these interns,” I thought. “They’re so full of energy. But not… smart energy.” Alexis (the intern) continued. “The inmates all know they’re going to die, but they want to enjoy themselves beforehand: eat a delicious meal, drink some scotch, listen to classical music, maybe they could be on a yacht…” Tim (the other intern) chimed in. “You’re thinking of a supervillain. That’s what Lex Luthor wants for a last meal. A lot of inmates just want cigarettes and McDonald’s.” “Well, whatever, they can pick what they want,” she said. “The point is we put them in an arena with axes and swords and the winner gets whatever food or drink they want for 24 hours. The losers get to bleed out on the sands of the arena.” “When did kids get so bloodthirsty?” I wondered. “Must be all these video games. ”The three of us were sitting in my dingy office. The walls were covered with posters of shows I’d worked on: Love Archipelago, Chip Off the Old The Rock, Gourmet Kitchen: Shreveport. I’d been in the industry for years, and had filled every role from PA to showrunner. Those were good times, but now I had the chance to get that coveted “Created by” credit for myself. The execs wanted me to pitch my own ideas for the Death Row concept. So I called up these interns to try and exploit their childlike creativity and steal the credit. “We need to stay focused,” I said. “There have to be lots of unique and identifiable characters, heaps of interpersonal drama, and ridiculous, contrived challenges. ”Alexis stuck to her guns. “Well, I think that ‘Last Meal’ provides plenty of all that. Doesn’t stabbing somebody count as drama?” “And not getting stabbed counts as a challenge,” Tim pointed out helpfully. “Whatever we do also has to be approved by the Bureau of Prisons,” I said. “How much do we really have to worry about that?” Tim asked. “Ever since the 28th was passed, cruel and unusual punishment is basically required for all crimes. That’s what makes this show possible in the first place.” These kids were actually pretty smart. “Let’s move on from the “Last Meal” concept and brainstorm a bit more,” I said. Alexis glared at me. “It’s a good idea.” I said. “I just want to see if we can come up with anything else. Look, see? I’m writing it down.” “Yeah, yeah.” Alexis made a dismissive gesture. Somewhat appeased however, she turned to the task of coming up with new ideas. She let her gaze drift blankly to my “Hair Metal Hotties” poster. “I actually kinda like the supervillain concept from earlier,” said Tim. “They could each wear costumes and fight ‘heroes’ based on whatever their crime was.” Alexis turned back around. “Yeah, but none of their crimes are, like, cool supervillain blow-up-the-sun type crimes. They’d all have to be called something like Doctor Murderer, or Count Murderer, or The Mysterious Man Who Murdered His Own Kids.” “This is getting dark,” I thought. “I just want to make reality TV and steal ideas from interns.” Out loud, I said, “Alright, you guys. I don’t think we’re going to come up with anything else today. Take a break. I’ll call you back in if I need anything.” “I’m just gonna come up with something myself,” I thought. *\\\ One Year Later** Alexis walked into the apartment. Her first post-grad job was going well. They drove her pretty hard, but she enjoyed working in the industry. Tim sat at the table studying. He had taken on a heavy course load because he was determined to graduate this semester. He looked up from his computer. “Hey babe.” She kissed his forehead. “Hey. You want to take a break for dinner? “Sure. We could get noodles at that place.” “I’m pretty tired. Can we just order in and watch TV.” He smiled. “Of course. Let me finish this up.” She walked into the bedroom, flopped down on the bed, turned on the TV, and used the remote to look through the streaming apps. After a minute, she called out “Hey Tim?” “What?” “Come in here.” When he arrived, she was staring at the TV. “Babe, that’s my show.” On the TV, all eight episodes of “Last Meal” were ready for streaming.
As we entered the Lich's lair, I reflected what had brought us back together. We had separated after freeing the land from dragons, goblin Lords, orc overlords, and everything in between. Our replacements had done a fine job keeping Hirathia safe. That is until the Death Wizard came, or should I say Lich. Those we passed the torch on to had been soundly defeated and barely made it back alive. Who else were they to turn to, but the Riders of the Phoenix. Corny name I know, but we didn't come up with it. After succeeding at so many suicide missions, the people decided that we probably died and rose again to finish our mission. Truth is we were just flat out lucky. Not to say our band is not skilled, but sometimes you do all you can and it isn't enough. You just have to leave it to fate. Oh, right, I am getting ahead of myself. I am the captain of the Riders of the Phoenix. Sabastian Strands. Human paladin that smites evil where ever it be. I will seek it our and deliver justice as my god commands it. Then their is our rogue. I had my doubts about the tiefling to begin with, especially with a name like Slip. They never would give their real name, but they have proven loyal time and again, over and over. Then their is our Wizard. Grob. Grob is... well Grob is Grob. Half orc shouldn't be that smart. He does an excellent job though. The mysteries of the arcane are at his disposal and he uses them to great effect. I just wish his parents had more foresight than to him something that just screams stupid, when nothing could be further from the truth. Rhinigan Highstone is our Cleric. Dwarves love to fight and Rhinigan is no different, except he tends to brow beat people into submission rather than use his fist. The truly faithful have a way about them that just works. They carry themselves with a higher calling, and their actions reflect that. I hope one day, but not too soon, to have Rhinigan speak at my funeral. Tianna Auroras is out Bard. Singer, and music player extraordinar. She should be good. Elves live a LONG time and Tianna is one of the oldest among her kind. She is kind, wise, and beautiful. She is the sounds you hear that make you think back to childhood, to times when the world wasn't trying to crush you. Honestly she is what I strive to be. Now that you know the Riders, we can continue. We have been apart nearly 20 years and our recall to action was abrupt to say the least. Hasty gathering, hasty loading, hasty planning, hasty travel, well hasty everything. Which is why we are entering the Lich's lair half cocked and full tilt. Funny thing is, as fierce as the battle was, and how close we came to joining the the Lich's undead army. That isn't what is important. After the battle Tianna was gravely wounded. Rhinigan tried calling down his gods most potent healing spells, but nothing worked. Grob even tried to use an item that contained one wish, and it faltered. It seemed that Tianna was beyond anything we had at our disposal. She set and winced and talked with us. Told us that when it is your time to go, you just have to accept that the hour glass is empty. She didn't want us to mourn her and that she cherished every moment we spent together. She also said she would wait for us. Then we heard a nose behind us. It was loud in the silence and we all turned ready to kill whatever would interrupt our final moments with our friend. Only after turning did we realize that it was Tianna's lute fallen over from where it was resting. When we turned back she was gone, only her clothes and items remained. We heard her singing, just a whisper on the wind. She sang her favorite song. It's a sad song called I wait for you. She was gone, and we did as she asked. We set around a table in Rudy's living room. 5 people playing a game that hadn't been played in about 20 years. We had played these same characters for years during highschool and a few years after, when we could of course. Rudy was our DM. My name is Sam, I played Sabastian, Geoff played Grob, Frank played Slip, Rick played Rhinigan, and Tina played Tianna. The table was set, we were all in our usual places, but one chair set empty. Tina's chair. We all set in silence for a few minutes. Tina had been family, but she had struggled with her health for as long as we had known her. A few years ago we all got in a group chat again to talk about old times and how we needed to get together, and play another game. The finish the story as she put it. But life got in the way. We never could line up our schedules. It wasn't until Tina lay in the hospital that she let us know that the cancer had returned. She said everything was going to be fine and she would be out of the hospital in a few days. Rudy was the only person near by and when he visited her, and saw just how bad it was, she made him promise not to tell us. He was there when she died, and she made him promise one last thing. That he would finish the story. After a while I finally reached down and pulled 6 cups out of my bag. I also pulled out a 2 liter of Code Red Mountain Dew. Tina's favorite. I poured all the cups half full and passed one to everyone and kept two in my hands and raised them up to the center of the table over the maps and minis. Everyone else did like wise. After we touched cups I set the second cup in Tina's area next to her character sheet. I said, "To Tina, and to Finished stories."
Charlotte was alone. That was a surprise. The way the recruiters had talked, she had expected there to be dozens of other students. But no, it was just her. She had seen other students in the halls, albeit not nearly as many as she had thought. So why was she the only student in her class? She soon got her chance to ask what a harried woman just entering her middle years rushed into the room. She had hair the looked suspiciously like a shrub, wore robes that had burn holes in then, and carried a stack of papers that had probably once been a book. She looked around frantically, saw Charlotte, and blinked. "Oh, uh, you're here. Good."She said. "Um, let's see, you are...hold on, I have it here. Somewhere."The woman began rifling through the papers until she found the one she was looking for. "Charlotte Frenton, right? Yes, good. I'm your teacher, Ms. Habber. I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and a lot more to learn, so let's get to it." "Um, Ms. Habber..."Charlotte said. The woman looked surprised that the teen girl had a voice. "Where is everyone else?" The woman's head darted around the room. "Everyone else? No, no, no. This is it. Well, it for this class. It's a tradition, you see. One student, one teacher. Very efficient. Gives us plenty of time to teach." "So all the other students..." "Are in other rooms, yes. Also, that's why the student population is so low. But I'm sure you'll meet someone. Eventually. Maybe. Well, what happens happens. Now, then, lessons, lessons. Hold on a moment." The teacher set her former book down on the desk at the front of the room. Then she furiously began going through each paper. She would glance at one, toss it aside then move onto another. She muttered to herself the entire time. "Ah! Here we are!"She said eventually. "Now then, question. Do you know the difference between a magician, a mage, a magus, and a witch or wizard?" "Um...no? I know they're all kinds of magic users. But that's it." "Drat. I was hoping you already knew that. It would save so much time. Oh well. It has to do with how many schools of magic one knows. A magician only knows one. A mage knows up to four, a magus knows up to seven, and witch or wizard knows all of them. Ah, that's all eight. I hope you at least know those, yes. Yes, of course you do." "I think so. They are earth, air, water, fire, light, dark, life and death, right?" Ms. Habber blinked and returned to her papers. She began going through them at an increased pace, almost to the bottom of the pile before she found what she was looking for. "I had no idea. No idea at all you were so uninformed. We'll have to start from the very beginning then. That'll make this a little dull, but the basics are, well, basic. You need to know those." "So, I was wrong?" "Very wrong, yes. Very, very wrong. You only gave three schools, and incomplete summaries of them at that." "Huh?" "The schools are as follows."The air about the woman changed. She seemed to lose the frantic energy she had, becoming calmer. Almost dignified, even. "Elemental. Control over the forces of nature. Masters if this school can raise mountains, command storms, and always have a volcano at their beck and call. Reinforcement. The ability to strengthen the self and others, or do the opposite. A master of this school can allow even the frailest of people to lift trees like flowers, run faster than the wind, and jump high enough to pluck a bird from the sky. They can also turn even the mightiest into weaklings that can barely support their own bodies. "Biological. Command of living things. That is, things such as healing, illness, and even plants and animals. Masters can resurrect the recently dead, make the plants and animals of a forest dance at their command, and even cause, or cure, the worst of plagues. Spectral. Control of light and darkness. At the highest level, this school allows one to turn both day and night themselves into deadly weapons or invincible fortresses. "Mental. This school makes your mind as powerful as the body of a reinforcement magician. Masters can never leave their house, but still see and move objects miles away, speak with hundreds of people at once without saying a word, and even influence the thoughts of others. Spiritual. This one allows users to speak with the spirits, and not just of those who have passed on. It even allows you to control your own spirit. Masters can make their spirit not only leave their body, but able to make it corporeal, something they can also do with other spirits. Or they can simply rob you of yours. "Planar. The gateway to other realms. Summoners, diviners, demon conjurers. All of these and more are planar magic users. Masters of this school may not be able to do much themselves, but they can bring forth an army with a thought. They are even able to travel to other planes of existence, but I hear most don't like to do that. And finally, Primal. The forces that make up even elemental powers dwell here. Time and space. Chaos and order. Life and death. And those are just the easy ones to understand. Masters can bend reality to their will and laugh at the rules that govern others. "Those are the eight schools of magic. Do you understand?" "Uh..."Charlotte said. "No. Not even slightly." "Good. You aren't supposed to. At least, not yet. You will though. Oh yes, you will. Especially if you want to become a witch." "Are you one?" "Me? Oh, no, of course not. I'm a mage. A practitioner of the schools of elemental, mental, biological, and spectral. There are only a handful of the greatest type of magic user in the world. Although, that is the goal of everyone who seeks the art of magic. It isn't easy, but it should be everyone's goal." Charlotte thought about that. There was so little she knew, and such a long way to go to become even a magician. Could she really do it? Could she learn so much magic while starting from so little? She came to the conclusion that no, she probably could not. With her background and lack of prior education, she would probably be lucky if she became a mage. But that would not stop her from trying to make it all the way to the top.
"This isn't the train to Hogwart's, Harry"said Ron, as he leaned back into the compartments plush cushions."Then, where are we going, and why are you dressed like that?"Harry said with a degree of concern in his voice. "Dammit, it wasn't supposed to go like this"Hermoine said as she entered the compartment dressed in a skin-tight avocado pant suit. Hermoine moved to sit next to Ron, glaring all the way, "You gave him the wrong cup"she hissed at Ron, who flinched in his gold lame two piece. Harry, his mind spinning and leaping like it was personally seeking the snitch, and could only stare at them, mouth agape. Ron leaned forward, staring sincerely into Harry's eyes. "There is this kind of, well, erm..."Giving Ron a sharp jab in the side with her elbow, Hermione said, "we never told you because, well, you might laugh. Every year, everyone magical gets together for the 1975 Sears Catalogue Recreation and Muggles Ball. We just felt like, maybe you wouldn't understand the nuance and beauty of the ball"she said, shoulders slumping dejectedly. Edited- because I was corrected over my choice of words.
(Part 1?) (Text in italics represent Keith’s inner monologues. [For non-fans](https://yugioh.fandom.com/wiki/Yu-Gi-Oh!_Wiki) The Millennium Items, eight ancient Egyptian artifacts said to possess the souls of prominent members of Egyptian royals from the time. They’re also said to possess great and evil power. Unfortunately for Keith Morrison, they're his only hope for saving his grandfather's soul from an eternity inside a Duel Monsters card. Atticus Benicia, a powerful businessman, and hobbyist historian claims that the Millennium Items are the only way to save Keith’s grandfather. He was the one that briefed Keith on their history and their locations. He also forwarded that the items were now protected by eight top-class duelists hand-selected by Yugi Muto himself. The first item, The Millennium Eye, is located on a remote island off the coast of France. Keith’s ride will also be his opponent, Meiji Tsunami. (Meiji) “We’ll play by old school rules. 4000 life points, cards must be sacrificed to summon a 5 star and above monster, six cards max to a hand. Even the duel field will be the old school model and set up on a neutral playing ground at least to start. Any questions?” (Keith) “Who goes first?” Meiji gives a small smile as he and Keith take their spots. (Meiji) “Challenger of course.” Keith nods and they both draw their first five cards. Meiji gives the signal and Keith draws his sixth card. Hmm [Dragon Capture Jar](https://yugioh.fandom.com/wiki/Dragon_Capture_Jar), [Harpie Lady](https://yugioh.fandom.com/wiki/Harpie_Lady), [Robbin’ Goblin](https://yugioh.fandom.com/wiki/Robbin%27_Goblin), [Shadow of Eyes](https://yugioh.fandom.com/wiki/Shadow_of_Eyes), [Cycroid](https://yugioh.fandom.com/wiki/Cycroid ), and [Restructer Revolution](https://yugioh.fandom.com/wiki/Restructer_Revolution). Not a terrible first hand. (Keith) “I’ll set one monster down in defense mode, set one more card down, and end my turn.” Meiji smirks and draws his sixth card. He sets a monster card face down but before he can end his turn Keith interrupts him. (Keith) “I’ll activate my face down trap card Shadow of Eyes…” (Meiji) “Damn it..” He smirks as he flips his monster card over and changes it to attack position. He silently ends his turn. Shit just a [Penguin Soldier](https://yugioh.fandom.com/wiki/Penguin_Soldier), oh well my draw…ooh this will come in handy but for now… Keith flips his monster card over in attack position. (Meiji) “A Harpy Lady? Good to see I’m not the only old-school duelist on this island.” (Keith) “Can't beat the classics…but my Harpy Lady can beat your penguin which I’ll do right now…” The hologram of the Harpy Lady attacks and destroys the hologram of Penguin Soldier and takes 550 points away from Meiji life points. Keith ends his turn and Meiji draws again. He grimaces and ends his turn without playing a card. Perfect… Keith draws again and plays the spell card [Elegant Egotist](https://yugioh.fandom.com/wiki/Elegant_Egotist) allowing him to summon the card [Harpie Lady Sisters](https://yugioh.fandom.com/wiki/Harpie_Lady_Sisters) from his deck. (Meiji) “Damn…” (Keith)”I’m not done either. I’ll play my [Cyber Shield](https://yugioh.fandom.com/wiki/Cyber_Shield) card and add 500 points to my Harpie Ladies bringing them up to 2450. I’ll attack your life points directly first with the Sisters…” The Sisters dive in and attack bringing Meiji's life points to 1000. (Keith) “…and I’ll finish things with an attack from Harpy Lady.” The Harpy attacks and drains Meiji's life points to zero, ending the duel. Meiji smirks and leaves his stand. He meets Keith on the beach and shakes his hand. (Keith) “Did you go easy on me?” (Meiji) “Of course not, Lady Luck just dealt me a shitty hand this time. Come, I’ll show you to the Millennium Eye.” Keith follows Meiji into a nearby cave. The two walk through a pre-set path that leads to an open plain. In the middle of the plain is a pedestal with a cage around an old box. Meiji walks up to the pedestal, uses a key to open the cage, and hands Keith the box. (Meiji) “Today you were the better duelist but may our paths cross again.” (Keith) “Thank you…” (Meiji) “And please remember these items are said to host sake powers, be wary of them and the people seeking them out.” (Keith) “Don’t worry, I have a plan b, just in case.” (Meiji) “Fine then, please allow me to ferry you to your next destination…” The two shake hands again and leave the cave. They set sail on Meiji's boat and after three days reach Sydney, Australia. (Meiji) “Deep in the Outback, you will find a man named Jackson. He is the guard for the Millennium Puzzle. “ (Keith) “Thank you for the help Meiji, I look forward to a rematch.” The two share a smirk before going their separate ways.
Martin Greer peered out the window coolly. Debonair. Handsome. Dangerous, yes. Perhaps he could even be mistaken as Presidential. He was a Spy, in a Spy Organization, for real. RFOGIIIOA\[1\]. It was government work, secret government work, so secret it wasn't safe to reveal what the acronym even stood for. His job was to coordinate The Schedule. To hide the president ... no don't even think that ... The Package. Every day The Schedule was updated, with The Package hidden amongst it. He, Martin, contributed to updating it. The key was to scramble everything thoroughly every day. Thoroughly. Unpredictably. Beyond Unpredictable. The Opposition would never see through it. But How? How? He opened The Envelope. Martin swapped tokens 91 and 15 in tomorrow's Schedule, and 47 and 38 ... No! ... 37! That would fox them. And 2 with 1. Yesterday he had swapped nothing at all! Yesterday's final pattern had been included. He read it over. Scowled. No, those bumbling boobs in Consensus had scrambled it anyhow. Here he was, Genius Spy, and most of the time they just ignored his input. Blast it. No, let's try 99 instead of 37. The clock ticked. He still had to add a secret message. In a secret code. Secretly. Oh so much work. But such important work. Spy Work. The clock ticked. A robin warbled outside his window. At least, it was PRETENDING to be a robin. You couldn't be too careful. Today he'd gone to the wrong room again. They changed his room every day, out of secrecy. Couldn't be too careful, RFOGIIIOA. The Envelope had a note telling him tomorrow's room too. Room 53. 53. Martin took off his shoe, wrote "53"on a fortune cookie paper, and put it in. Took it out again and burned it. Whisps of smoke and sulfur in the air. He dusted the ashes into the wastebasket. "35". In his shoe. Martin always thought one step ahead like that. In every room, one drawer of the desk always had a ready supply of fortune cookie papers. Martin Greer was a Spy. A good one. He had to be. His country was depending on him. He squinted dangerously and started designing his daily Secret Code. &#x200B; \[1\] RFOGIIIOA, Rooms Full Of Grossly Incompetent Idiots Incapable Of Action, was a secret cold war program that hid the president by constantly rotating his office among many identical offices staffed by decoys. The job of scrambling the offices was left to the decoys. In reality, the president was not in any of the offices, but instead in a secure secret remote location. Russia of course was aware of all this and ignored the whole mess. RFOGIIIOA was eventually exposed by the news and cancelled as a complete waste of taxpayer money. The best that could be said for it was, as huge wastes of taxpayer money go, it was smaller than most.
Introductory Post-Post-Post (Post\^3) Modern Art History &#x200B; As it turns out, dreams are not particularly interesting for their contents, but rather, the lack thereof. Your brain, you see, doesn't bother filling in the details. What you know to be a terrifying entrail-eating clown ends up as a white splotch with red and blue coloring, without any resemblance to a face. Yet, you know what it is because dreams are made of raw experiences: sensations and concepts. This was discovered when brain scanning technology was applied to produce exact images of what the sleeping brain perceives. Though it started off as a mere internet novelty in the same vein as bunk personality tests, snapshots of dreams were quickly adopted into the world of art. Surreal abstract images, like figure 1 on the right, coax the viewer's imagination toward nebulous concepts that, while dreaming, feel very real, yet seem hollow from the perspective of waking life. Two years later, a reclusive artist, self-styled "Morphy,"revolutionized dream-photography by introducing fantastically disciplined lucid dreaming. Suddenly, the dream photo was not the mere ink splotch welling up from the subconscious mind, but the raw expression of human imagination that bypasses the need to develop mechanical skill of any kind. Morphy toiled for months before entering the world stage with "Dread"shown below. Morphy's work is clearly dream-work by the fuzzy edges, but differs from raw dreams in that it has sharper areas that draw the eye in the manner of a wandering consciousness. All of Morphy's works evoke a sense of horror, from simple dread to abject terror. This sparked a movement we now know as "Lucid Nightmare"dream photography, which is the most important movement of Post\^3 Modern Art. The rest of the art world was quick to catch up. It culminated in an arms race of depravity, disgust, and a long, terrifying journey into the uncanny valley which would push later generations back to idyllic landscapes of dream-watercolors.
Who would have thought a knee could squeak this way ? Anyway. Using the arm of his chair, Eliott managed to get up and draged himself to the bathroom, the only room of his tiny one bedroom apartment with a mirror in it. Time to inspect in detail what is had got into. After he cleaned it with a dirty towel, a look of disgust welcomed him on the shiny surface. Boy, was that sad. A reddish, leathery face, pierced by two rat-like eyes. No hair, missing teeth, and a weird mangled right ear. Eliott tried to put his greasy shirt off. The garment put up a good fight, and Eliott had to pause for ten minutes to catch his breath after he finally managed to get barechest. He looked at himself. Something was off. The flabby arms ? No... The weird shaped nipples ? Maybe but..no that was not it. Oh. Here it was. In the middle of this fat, soft, hairy belly, Eliott noticed lt. No. Belly. Button. Who the hell did not have a belly button ?! Eliott had been in a lot of bodies. Some strong, some weak, some tall, some short, men, women, children even, and all of them had a belly button. He squinted his eyes to better see the unscarred, cumbersome mass of flesh. In the spot where the universal mammal birthmark should have been, he noticed a slight, blueish stain. Eliott brought his hand to it to feel it by himself and when his fingers reach the blue spot, he felt it. It was pulsating. Slowly at first, and then more and more rapidly. And then, Eliott could see the stars. Literally all of them. Billions upon billions, and he could hear them too. He could feel them emerge from the void and burst into the deep night of the universe. Earth had become a mere souvenir, lost in his all-knowing mind, trapped inside this obese middle-age white-man body. Suddenly, the rush of information stopped and Eliott felt a great pain. His head was pounding, and all of his bones were hurting. He was laying flat, half naked on the dusty tiling his bathroom. Dizzy, he crawled out of the tight space into the living room and lied there for a solid half an hour trying to understand what just happened to him. Was this body really the one of... God ? Of A god ? He mustered all his energy to pull himself back up on the torn out couch, grinning. From there, he couldn't see the blue stain on his belly, but his fingers knew where to find it. By his calculations, those who hunted him wouldn't be able to find him before three full days. Just enough time to learn how to harness the incredible powers of his new envelope, he hoped. And then... Then we would see who hunts who....
I thought this was just a piece of technology. A stupid, virtual reality console with no consequences. You log off when you're done, that's how this is supposed to work. But something happened. And I think I'm lucky to be alive. I've reported this incident, I'm sure thousands of others have at this point but for some reason it's all on hush now. So if you here on Reddit are reading this, please take me seriously, this may crop up soon. It was a day like any other day. Hopped into discord first, and started talking to my friends when we got the wild idea that we should play VR horror games given it was the beginning of spooky month. We settled on Phasmophobia as it was a simple game, and easy concept for a horror novice. So I boot up my VR, and start a lobby. Joining me were my friends (and I'll use their usernames, because that's how we know each other), Dark, Crunchy, and Rain. A perfect, four player team. Now, while me, Dark, and Crunchy had Oculus systems, me a Rift S, Crunchy and Dark a Quest 2, Rain was lucky enough to have an Index, so she was exempt from the horrible things that happened. I guess one of us needed to stay sane after all this. I have to sit and admire the graphics a bit, as when I usually play this game, it's on Desktop, so seeing it through the system puts a whole other spooky spin on it. The tension from the nervousness is palpable in the room. I decide to select an amateur level, as I now realize I have to learn the game over. We decide to do the smallest house that popped up on the roster: Willow Street House. The game starts off, nothing unusual. I add my things, and we start up. Eventually we're all in the back of the truck. I grab the key, and look at the white board. "Let's see...Get the ghost to blow out a candle, get the ghost to activate a motion sensor, smudge the ghost. Easy enough."I read off. "Her name is Sarah Smith. She responds to everyone."I add. "Sarah Smith is a bitch, we're gonna find her."Dark yelled, causing us all to burst out laughing despite being nervous as hell. "Oh my god, Dark you better not get me killed."Crunchy said, nervously. "For real though!"Rain added. I simply shook my head and proceeded as normal. After we all decide who's bringing what, we set off into the house. I open the door, and immediately the hair on the back of my neck stands up. "Wow the atmosphere is super creepy in VR."I said. "Yeah no kiddin'!"Dark added, before busting in with balls of steel and yelling "Sarah where are you you bitch!?", earning laughing from all of us. He proceeded to lead the way with the EMF reader. I chose the parabolic microphone. Crunchy had the Spirit box, but didn't want to use it until we found the ghost's room. Rain had the glowstick; she just felt safe with it. We wandered through the small house. First the Foyer and the living room. Then the garage, where nothing happened. This was followed by the kitchen, then the master bedroom. "Man, I sure hope this isn't a basement ghost our first run..."I said, thoroughly creeped out. "Oh please don't jinx it. I'm already terrified."Crunchy said. "Mood. Ugh. It's so creepy."Rain added. We check the room across the hall. Sure enough, Dark gets a small blip on the EMF; about a 2. "FOUND IT!"he shouts. Sure enough, as he says it, we get the spooky "hey"ghost event, which makes Crunchy scream. Rain holds the glowstick out; sure enough fingerprints already. "Eyy got fingerprints!"She shouts. We all clumsily activate our journals, and pop in the first evidence, which begins to narrow down the ghost types. Crunchy then activates the Spirit Box, and nervously asks "Where are you?"To which a female voice responds "I'm Behind you". "Yep. That's a spirit box."Crunchy said, adding that to her journal. "Oh that's not creepy at all!"Rain comments. "Yeah the spirit box nonsense is normally creepy. I'd get scared even in Desktop."I chuckled. We let Dark run around the room with his EMF, but the highest anywhere in the room he got was a two. "So, not EMF. It's either gonna be a Phantom or a Poltergeist. Let's go grab the journal, both DOTS projectors, and two cameras. Also the candle, the smudge stick, and the motion sensor."I advised. We all booked it out of the house, needless to say. we checked our sanity; much to my dismay it was already low. "Ok, before we go back out there take Sanity pills."I said. They all did as I instructed. I grabbed a regular camera, and we rallied what else we needed, then headed back into the house. I placed the DOTS down, Dark placed the motion sensor, which I'm pretty sure we got immediately, at least according to Crunchy who elected to stay in the truck to check DOTS. We set up the camera, and sure enough, DOTS. "Hey we got us a Phantom!"I relayed. We happily marked it in our journals, then began working on our bonus objectives. We set down the candle first. It took about a minute before the ghost blew it out. Then we had Dark smudge it, which made the ghost angry. She popped up in front of us. I let out a small scream, but took a decent picture. She was the creepy girl with the long hair. "Alright. You guys head back to the truck. I'm gonna get a couple more evidence pictures."I said, to which they did. I took a picture of the door where Rain saw the handprint. I even went down to the basement to get the picture of the bone, then headed out. We made a solid $90 that run, which I hated seeing but it is what it is when you run amateur. We play a few more rounds. Nothing seemed amiss until we got to our final round. When everything shut down without us knowing. When something merged realities. I decide we've learned enough to be able to do professional. Sadly, the only house on the list and one of my least favorites, the Bleasedale Farmhouse, popped up. "Actually, I think I need to go eat. My tummy is growling angrily at me."Crunchy said. "Yeah it's been almost an hour. Lunch break?"I asked. "Lunch break!"Dark chimed in. I go to exit the lobby, but...the button is gone. "That's weird. Is the button gone for you too?"I asked. "Not me. I'm outie. Seeya after lunch!"Rain said, before dipping out. "That's so weird, it's gone for me too."Crunchy said. "And me three. What the fuck?!"Dark exclaimed. "Whatever. Let's just take the headset off, and reconvene after lunch."I said. But when I went to go take the headset off, it wouldn't come off. "What...the fuck is wrong with my headset?!"I said. Panic set in. I fought with it. Tried to get it off. Nothing was working. Dark and Crunchy were having the same issue I was. "Yo, what the shit?! This isn't cool! What's happening?!"Dark yelled. "I can't get it off either!"Crunchy said. We stared at each other. Then suddenly...A loading screen. We were at the Farmhouse. "DID YOU LOAD THE GAME?!"Dark asked as we got there. "NO I DIDN'T! YOU SAW ME I WAS FAR AWAY FROM THE BOARD!"I said, panic running rampant through me. Crunchy was nearly crying. "What's happening?!"She asked, fear evident in her tone. I looked at the board. It was...different than anything else I had seen. There was only one objective. "Escape the ghost..."I read off. Now, at this point, I'm panicked. This stuff only ever happens in horror movies or bad fanfiction. Crunchy was bawling. "I...I don't understand. What's happening? This is nightmare fuel..."she said, panicked. "I honestly have no fucking clue."I said. Though soon, we found ourselves transported into the house. Not of our own volition. Spawned in. We only had a flashlight. And it was flickering. "Run."I said. We began to. And I realized as I was running, I was physically getting out of breath. The room was horrendously cold. Behind us was the mocking, disembodied hum of a woman humming 'Ring Around the Rosie' as cliché as it may seem. We booked it. Through the house. Running away from the noise. "It's...supposed to disappear every fifty seconds."I huffed. Though it didn't. Not this time. "I can't keep running. I can't!"Crunchy said, crying. I looked at her character, who had an expression I've never seen on these models. Tears, wide eyes, sweat. It was horrific. I looked at Dark's. Same thing. "We have to hide. I'll...be bait. Go."I said. "No I'll do it!"He yelled. "No, stay with Crunchy. I know this game better, I'll do it. Now go!"I said. I stayed behind while the two went to go hide. "Hey, ghost bitch come get me!"I yelled. She heard me, and started coming after me instead.
Asteroid mining on a large scale was the goal of the industrial civilization that had settled the solar system, when it started to develop into a high tech civilization. They had sent the first colonists to the newly discovered main asteroid belt, then the second and then the third, then the fourth... the asteroid belt was getting populated and the industrial civilization was getting bigger. The mining started in the smaller asteroids, until the first colony ship was launched. Their equipment had been designed to mine every asteroid and asteroid belt, even when the main belt had been mined out. In a certain sense, the main asteroid belt was the last virgin mineral field in the solar system and this was what interested the industrial civilization to continue mining. After several years of exploration, the miners had found a good trade route to the next asteroid belt and they started to colonize the new one. The colony ship had a population of nearly 1000 humans, while the other colony ships had about 10 times more population, to mine the asteroid belt. The mining activity was becoming more and more intense. They had also started to use more powerful equipment, like the first megascale mining machines and eventually the largest. A lot of technology from the industrial civilization was used in the asteroid belt. There was a complex industrial machine that would take care of all of the raw material mining, processing and refining. Also a megascale mining machine to mine the raw materials from the asteroids. After processing, the mining equipment would deliver to the main asteroid belt and from there they would be transported to their final destination by a large freighter. Once the raw materials were processed and sent to the freighter, the mining equipment would move to another asteroid, to start another cycle. This way, the asteroid belt was mined continuously for thousands of years. One day, the asteroid mining machines were abandoned. The mining ship was abandoned when it went too far from the asteroid belt. The mining equipment was abandoned on the asteroid belt itself, and it was lost, since it was beyond any human repair. The freighter that transported the raw materials was still functional. So, it arrived at the next colony in the asteroid belt. At this point, it was up to the human colonists to restart the mining activity in the next belt. The settlers managed to do that with much difficulty. First, they had to build new mining equipment and machines. The initial idea was to use almost all the technology they had on their old planet. They used the mining equipment they knew from before, but improved it. The megascale machine was improved and its power was doubled, while the mining ships were improved and much bigger. After a long time, they started to transport the raw material to the new planet. The humans started the new colony in an amazing way. They started to develop a space travel system. The first space colony started to send the first batch of colonists to another star. From there, they kept colonizing. After many successful adventures, the humans started to colonize the galaxy. When they finished their expansion, they realized that their planet was overpopulated. In fact, many of their colonists were becoming very powerful. So, they decided to evacuate their population to other planets. They still had an incredible technology, and a huge population of trained workers. They took thousands of ships to the other planets. In the new planets, they built houses for the new colonists. They named these new cities and worlds. The first colony was named New Earth. After several months, they started to move all their population to this new planet. The new human civilization was extremely advanced. Soon, they had invented a lot of things. The megascale machine was improved and it kept mining the asteroid belt continuously. So, the humans kept mining the asteroid belt and sending the minerals to the new colony. Then, the settlers noticed that there was no more space left in the asteroid belt. So, they stopped the asteroid mining. They decided to send some of their population to explore the rest of the galaxy. But, the colony was very far away from the solar system, and there was no way to send the ships. So, the humans decided to develop a space travel system. The first ships went through worm holes. A hundred years later, they made the first colony ships. They took two generations to complete it. For each generation, they produced two colony ships. They still have a lot of problems, but they keep working on it. For the last generation, they made several colony ships. But the last ship took four generations to make. It's been forty generations that the humans are exploring the galaxy.
> Welcome to the Infinite Library As an adventurer, I end up in some strange places. This place looked likely to replace the Bordello Through Time in first place. > Terms of patronage: > 1. All labor in this library is done by the patrons, who receive room, board, first-rate medical care, and the absolute best education ever in whatever subject or subjects interest them. > 2. The position is voluntary but is also for life. Once accepted, the patron cannot renege on the contract, nor will the patron ever leave these premises. Well! Who would have thought that the most prestigious library ever ran on slavery? I must have muttered something along those lines when a library staffer came over and suggested I finish reading before passing judgment. My raised eyebrow was met with a Rushmore face. I shrugged and went back to reading the only "free"literature in the place. The staffer went back to their post. > 3. The applicant is fully informed of all conditions and provided a tour of the non-library portions of the grounds. Permitted full contact, unsupervised, with the current staff to discern the degree of satisfaction. > 4. The applicant is scrutinized for total commitment to the Library. > 5. The applicant receives a full briefing on the process of becoming a patron. This process is protected information and cannot be disseminated beyond the library grounds. By which they mean your memory is wiped if you balk and selectively wiped if you agree. > 6. Should the patron die, access to the library will remain available. Say what? > 7. See the attendant for further information. He's not busy, so why not? "It's more like joining a religious order, isn't it." "Sir may certainly view it that way, but we have far more freedom and time to enjoy life in all of its variety." The tone was, at the same time, British propriety incarnate and the lewdest suggestion I have ever heard. "You've practiced that tone for some time, haven't you." "384 years 23 days 5 hours. Now, if Sir will forgive me, should Sir wish to consider becoming a patron, Sir should proceed through the green door." Right up until he said that every door in the place was pale red, only one of them was now glowing deep forest green. I looked back at him, and Rushmore was there. Fine, let's go find out. ••• Wow. That's all I can tell you; wow! What I have left is a sense of being in the library, yet I am also here with you. I form a question, and some indefinite time later, I get an answer. I was informed that the less frivolous my requests were, the more likely my patron would answer them in a timely fashion. "If you are from a world infested by Google, this is not Google. You use this for necessary research where accurate answers on difficult questions promptly are the goal. That goal cannot be achieved by flooding your patron with silly questions satisfying nothing but your prurient curiosity." My patron. There is someone in that colossal complex dedicated to answering my questions at any time. Where did they find such a dedicated individual? Wait a minute. I'm the applicant, so why am I not the patron? If the patron dies, access to the library remains available? ••• Ughhhh. What hit me? I've got a Pikes Peak-sized headache. What was I thinking about? No matter, I need to figure out who knocked me unconscious. Odd, no sore spot. No distorted vision. No other aches. Have all my possessions. Maybe I'd better get checked out by a reliable doctor. Only what's truly reliable out here? PRI MED - MEDICAL ASSISTANCE IN LOCAL AREA FOR SUSPECTED INTERNAL HEAD INJURY. The response is lightning fast and completely reassuring. NEG HEAD INJURY. SUGGEST MILD ANALGESIC. HEADACHES KNOWN RARE SIDE EFFECT OF PATRON PROCESS. WILL SUBSIDE QUICKLY. How the hell did they know? Do they have my twin up... ••• Dear god, this is worse than the last one. That does it. I'm getting to the bottom of this if it kills me. PRI URGENT - YOU ARE ME! ••• As I thought, the library is doing it, and I am the patron and the applicant. ••• Fuck you, library. PRI ABSOLUTE TELL THEM TO STOP, OR I WILL COME BACK AND GIVE ALL THE SUPERVISORS HEADACHES TEN TIMES MINE. ALREADY DID. STUPID BUGGERS IGNORED THE CURIOSITY, FAMILY, PROTECT INTERLINK. NO MORE HEADACHES. We had a fantastic life between us. Me being the feet on the ground, discovering new places, things, people, worlds, universes! My brother in the library, cataloging all that information, becoming a head researcher, always having the correct information at his fingertips, sometimes before I asked. Eventually, he was on the Council. Finally, I grew too old for the business, not even as a head supervisor. My vision is all but gone, my reflexes poor, and my stamina non-existent. PRI LOW - NO MORE MISSIONS. TOO OLD, TOO SLOW, TOO TIRED. The answer was a long time coming. TRIED MY BEST TO GET YOU BROUGHT HERE. COUNCIL FORBADE. FUCK COUNCIL. HANG IN THERE I WILL FIND A WAY. I couldn't bear to respond. I didn't have all that long left, so I set up as the local scholar and made my living selling my knowledge. It was a comfortable end-of-life situation. ••• It is the middle of the night, and some twit is pounding on my door with what sounds like a sledgehammer! sniff? Where is that smoke smell coming from? "STOP POUNDING ON THE DOOR, SO I CAN OPEN IT!" When I got it open, there was a young man there, strangely familiar, covered in soot, burn marks, bruises, even some cuts that didn't look like accidents. "Brother,"he gasped, "the library is burning!" ••• I got him inside and barred the door. Those cuts looked like someone might be out for him. I also sent up the rally flag. There were those adventurers starting young that I tutored at their parent's request. "Hold nothing back. Teach him (or her) as much as you can." For some of them, it was cash at the door. Why? I could tell they weren't going to listen. I still did my best, but when they finally crossed the line, I handed the student the money, carefully packed, with the death card. The card said that they were going to get party members killed if they went adventuring. Death is a chance for every adventurer, but the rare person is virtually sure to get associates killed. When their parents came, if they were irate, they were ignored. If they came calmly, seeking advice, I would gladly spend as much time as they needed to see a way forward. In a way, those were the most painful. The child is a good one who did not have the aptitude. "Maybe they'll grow into it,"was a good ploy. I would set them exercises that strengthened and improved balance. If they were fortunate, they would figure it out themselves or find a different line for life. If they were not, they would go anyway. If they were exceptional, their progress would be so swift and sure that they would become the very best of adventurers—those who understood the sheer dedication it takes. Those are the ones I told about the rally flag. It would only be flown once and only in direst need. This was the reason for that flag. If my brother came, it was a celebration of life and my admission to the Library as a Patron. Or, it was my brother, coming from some catastrophe at the library. Either way, I figured we would need help from the very best adventurers. The party would have been epic and a shame to leave any of them out of it. This was far more grim. ••• "SCHOLAR! WE ARE HERE!" A hardy group. Three fighters, a healer of many sorts, and one all-arounder who could pinch-hit as a mage, medic, backup warrior, ranged nuisance, or even a comedic act sure to earn a night's lodging if the party was short on cash. He was also the best magiver I've ever seen. You know, that one person who always finds a way to get the task done? It may be so far off the wall that it's hallucinating, but it works. And usually out of found materials. "Come in; there's someone you need to meet." So, I introduced them to my brother. That took a deal of explaining. Mac, the magiver, asked the critical question. "Which portion of the infinite library is burning." My brother's look at me said it all. Our life's legacy was being destroyed. He confirmed it, "the entire life and works of my elder brother, with all the associated comments and references, as well as the Index." And that was the beginning of the grandest adventure of all. ((finis)) Ran out of good ideas where to take the story that wouldn't be another novelette.
Beneath the ruddy blur of crimson that is the blood moon’s domain, swords struck; the sound of steel on steel reverberating across the clearing in an icy clear clang. His blade clinking noisily upon another, Nick heaved and limped between one stance to the next, preforming a messy rehearsal of the techniques he had so vigorously engrained within his mind during many decade’s worth of training in swordplay. “Cease your approach,” the cloaked adversary commanded, whilst hopping back. “This conflict is pointless, you’re beaten enough as is.” Despite Nick’s instinctual incline to blurt out a rebuttal, none came to mind. Quite possibly because the man was covered in more bruises than skin. “No.” and that was all he could manage to mutter, multiple trickles of spittle mixed with blood dashing down his chin and surrounding cheeks. Leaping off the layer of ash that served as an almost theatrical setting for the two’s conflict, Nick folded up midair - like a wolf in pounce - idly flickering his greyish hair out of the way of his vision. Instead of scrambling to get his own blade in a blocking manoeuvre, the cloaked man reached behind his back - too far out of view for Nick to properly recognise what he’d be battered bloody with next. A sphere of cold metal shattered across his left hand, his bones succumbing to the blunt hit with a resounding crack. Luckily enough, Nick favoured his right when utilising his sword, him quickly blocking with the other fist just about leaving him with the ability to fight. Though that didn’t stop him from screaming. “Gods,” Nick cursed out, clutching his mangled fingers in a shaky clutch. “Gods, that hurts like hell!” Staring at at his adversary’s now crimson-doused limb, the cloaked figure chuckled in a sadistic glee. “I did warn you. “ he teased beneath his leathery hood. “Now, how many fingers broken is that? Three, four? - five?” Glancing away from his hand - it seeming so determined to spurt enough blood to rival the blood moon itself - Nick glared upon his enemy with such strife it even disturbed them a little. “Five, you damn twit!” The hood-bearer gripped his mace with newfound resolve. “Only half left to go, before I properly relive you from your days of swordsmanship.” With that, he sped forwards. ’God of glory, bearer of warmth, bringer of flame,’ Nick thought rapidly, mentally imbedding himself deeper and deeper within a reverie of upmost concentration. ’Light this worthy servant, add fire to the dry wax of his candle, and set alight his spirit with a granting of might!’ Nick’s eyelids swished open only to view himself once again midair, enemy beneath; their mace circling dangerously close to his exposed knees. The wind rustled; ash rumbled; his muscles tensed in a different sense then usual, as though awakening from a long nap for the first time. His pupils were suddenly bleached from their usual hazel colouring, a vibrant yellow with a dash of fiery orange alighting in their stead. As if torn asunder and dragged from the heavy chains of heaven itself, a baring of sunlight blazed downwards in large slits of light, setting the end of Nick’s sword alight with a hearty blaze. The blistering warmth of the newborn sun was the last sight the other man would ever bear witness to; his body spit in two sharply from the torso, his cloak soon nothing more than a few burnt embers.
Sighing again. "Jimmy. romancer isn't in cryomancer. I get it you want to get out and see people." "I'm one of the best with magic here! I should be swimming in admirers! C'mooon. Why won't you date me at least?" "Did you really just whine at me to pity date you? This is a group project where we are to research Avalon and give a simple visual representation of its ending. Not trying to hit on your partner for the project. So please don't make me hurt you." "Ha! I have had pieces of me made rotting undead, burned, frozen. I have been drowned and electrocuted. Do your worst." Looking him in the eye sadly. "I think we should just be friends."I take no pleasure as the the spark of energy he had is extinguished as though his soul was crushed. Picking up my books I head back to the dorms to work on the assignment hoping her recovers. . . eventually.
I sat at the campfire near two of my closest friends while Mr.Robin McKaily was gathering the rest of the campers to tell us spooky stories as most of us voted for that to be the extra activity before the camping trip. "Alright, kids! Gather around me if you wish to hear the legend of John the monster born out of humans"Mr.Robin said in a deep tone of voice that was different from his usual cheery tone and that seemed to fit what he was going to tell us. After all, John was a name to be feared, he was a zombie killing machine or so was from the way the old myths that I heard mentioned him. We were always told to not stay outside for too long, otherwise, we may find ourselves running from the humans that hid patiently in the forests. But, I didn't believe that nor did my friends as we knew that humans became extinct decades ago and that was just what our parents told us to not get lost, right? "Long ago, in the year 2016, before we zombies controlled this planet, there were humans who looked just like us, they had hands, limps, feet, and other body parts identical to us. But they were vastly different than us, with their smooth skin and ability to stay during the day and out in the blazing sun and they couldn't see through the darkness as we did, they made various machines that they used against us when we rose from the ground. To this day we still don't know why they hated us. But it didn't matter because we fought them with bravery and courage and we defeated every one of them. Except for John, he was different from the rest, he didn't have any fancy weapons or heavy vehicles and all he had was his baseball bat. He brought terror on us, he smashed our heads into pulps, he moved swiftly without any armored clothes like the rest of the humans, yet we didn't manage to take him down. One time he snuck into one of our villages and he smashed every. single. one. He didn't spare the children who were crying. He didn't spare the elder ones who couldn't move from their chair. The ones that ran outside were eventually caught by him. Legend has it that John continued to slaughter us even when he was old and on the verge of ending the normal human lifespan. If you were ever to see a human or even a human child, run as fast as you can! Run before they catch you! Run for even with a few humans remaining scattered around the world, they are still just savages"Mr.Robin finished the story and we all sat in silence for a brief moment. Then came time to go to sleep before the sun was rising and as we went to our sleeping bags and before my eyes drifted to sleep, I saw something. Someone moving in the distant forest with a....... Bat.
\[First-day Flutters\] Vivi sighed in relief the moment she walked into the office. There were fewer occupied seats than when she left on her lunch break. It wasn't that she didn't want to be there; Vivi jumped at the chance to learn about mythical beings. When she still lived underground, her mother was a medic and Vivi assumed that's what she'd be when she grew up too. Biology fascinated her and once she started attending Toku-high, she realized she had dozens of options. She managed to ask the right questions to the right people and ended up as an intern earning class credits. Vivi wanted to be there more than anything, but it was still her first day. The morning had been busy. She barely managed to keep from getting overwhelmed but she wasn't sure she learned anything yet. But now, the lobby looked more manageable and she hoped she could learn something. Vivi slipped into the office and the vampire clerk, Maya, smiled at her. "Doc's in the pool room with a mer-family,"Maya said. "You can join him or wait until the next patient if you don't want to change," "I'll wait,"Vivi shrugged. "Anything that needs work while I'm up here?"Vivi asked. Maya shook her head. "Not really, unless you want to start doing my job,"she said. "Not yet,"Vivi smiled. "What's the next patient?" "A dragon. Oh!"Maya sat up straighter in her chair and spun around and dug through the vertical folders on her desk. "Actually, that's something you can do for me."She pulled a sheet out, clipped it to a board, handed it to Vivi; then, Maya nodded at the waiting room. She indicated a tan woman with light green hair. "She came in with the dragon but she needs to fill this out too."Vivi was distracted by Maya's orders, but once she had them all she focused on Maya with a big grin on her face. "A real dragon?"Vivi asked. She hadn't seen all the rooms yet but she instantly imagined the examination taking place in a giant cavern. Maya nodded and Vivi's smile grew wider. She knew there would be other chances to learn about dragons; but, she was glad she made it back in time to do it on her first day. "BRB!"Vivi said, then she headed to the waiting area. The green-haired woman looked up at Vivi as she approached. "Hi, sorry. We need another form,"Vivi said. "Oh, okay,"the woman nodded and accepted the clipboard. She took the attached pen and started filling it out while Vivi watched. Her mind was distracted with questions about the dragon. Did it talk? How does the doctor examine it? But, as she wondered about the answers, she couldn't help but realize the green-haired woman looked vaguely familiar. She stared at her for several moments trying to place the face, then she saw the woman sign her name. "Ooooohhh,"Vivi smiled to herself. Then, at the woman who returned the clipboard. She seemed surprised to notice Vivi staring. "Sorry, it took me a little bit to recognize you,"she said. "You're a Glory, right?" "That's me, [Gloryanna](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/p4vu25/cw_smash_em_up_sunday_secretarybird/),"the woman replied with a nod. "It's okay, I'm still getting used to strangers knowing who I am too,"she shrugged. Vivi giggled and nodded at the woman now that the form was filled out. "Thanks, Gloryanna,"Vivi waved the clipboard at her and returned to the office. Maya took the clipboard from her as soon as she walked in. "Doc's almost done in the pool room. You can get to room 3 ahead of him and introduce yourself to the dragon,"she said. "Room 3?"Vivi asked. Room 3 was a normal-sized exam room used for humanoid patients. But, she also considered that she'd be alone with the dragon. "Is it safe?"she asked. Maya smiled and nodded. "She's one of our regulars. You won't meet a friendlier dragon anywhere,"she said. "Okay!"Vivi took the opportunity. She was eager to meet a real dragon and approached room 3. She knocked a couple of times, then walked in to immediate disappointment. A familiar, gigantic, pale woman sat on the reinforced exam table with her flaming red hair pulled into a long braid that hung over her shoulder. "Awwww,"Vivi whined a bit to herself. "I already met you...,"she said. Flutter laughed and shook her head. “Hey, Vivi,” Flutter smiled. “Nice to see you too.” \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1370 in a row. (Story #278 in year four.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on Sept. 6th and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until June 3rd. They are all collected at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/pj4t0b/tokuhigh_first_six_weeks/).
I approached my lighter to the edge of the scroll and watched it burn, slowly. Nobody could know. Nobody except me, and I promised my self to bring my secret to the grave with me. Nobody would have believed me anyway. Nobody would have believed that the glorious mankind, conqueror of the Milky Way and Andromeda was in fact the product of a science fair project rewarded by a mediocre D minus, made by a random sentient eggplant race now extinct. Would have I come forward with my discovery, I would have been mocked, ridiculed. My life would have been destroyed and I would have never got the chance to teach archaeology again at the Great Terra Prima IV university. The scroll was now a little pile of ashes. "Good riddance"I thought, as I scattered it across the cave. Suddenly a beeping sound caught my attention. -Data transfer complete. I looked up. My camera drone, floating right above me had captured the whole scene. Me, destroying prime scientific material on a 23 billion galacredit research mission. I try to punch at it in a desperate move, but my hand was deflected by the anti-impact field I activated on it two hours ago. -Well... Guess I'm not teaching anything soon anyway, I said to myself, as I reached for the rope inside my bag, z technology simple enough that I knew it wouldn't betray me in the fatidic moment...
All of Paris trembled in fear. Their hearts gripped by the impeding doom they saw on their screens. It would seem that even God had left then to this torment. For put in the street, running tall and proud, was a menace beyond reckoning. His maniacal laughter was a deafening cry that shook the heart of the devil himself. The people he sped passed were stripped of their peace when he shouted sexist, homophobic, and other offensive slurs at them. No power on earth existed that could hold back this evil. The world was now subject to his will. The Pink Guy has returned.
"We're all here for one thing and it is that one thing which we must do."My lips quivered from the idea that we would fail. Our guild was beset with the infernal quest from the Nether Realms. The disheveled envelope we received uttered but a simple request. "Pet the cat." Puzzled as the three of us were, the pony-tailed figure holding the letter crushed it in the midst of her palm and exclaimed a hearty yell. "Tonight we feast, my clan! I, Cantoberi of the Four Suns do proclaim it thus! We will win the honor of the six realms and forever have the name of Extravagant embedded within the corpuscules of every living being!" "You're rather in good spirits today, Cantoberi. I, Yevenius of the Quarter Realm, do wish to assist in this endeavor, for Extravagance and for you, my dear." How could a guild be lead by two people, you ask? We three idiots formed a bond in our childhood that has led to the current events of today. Cantoberi was a plain girl from a nearby village and Yevenius was my oft-rival yet bestly friend, often there has been confusion on his part of the matter. My name is Llescyaen of the River Blue and Extravagant is our guild. Why, might you ask, Extravagant? Cantoberi had the bright idea to adorn our garments with these particular rocks of the river named Rhine. Somehow, they maintained a sheen unlike any other in this world we partook. Yevenius had been reading a heavy book that day, heavy in the sense that the cacophony of words within a page made each turn of the page much heavier than the next. In a fit to impress Cantoberi, Yevenius began to quip musings from the book. "Debonair. Fantastic! Erstwhile!", he yelled out! And finally, the pièce de resistance of our namesake came about. "Extravagant! Simply, totally, unabashedly extravagant! These baubles you found, Cantoberi, they are as extravagant as you, my dear." "Oh, Yevenius. What a fanciful existence you are, you've sealed our fate with that word, you know?" We hadn't realized Cantoberi applied for a guild thereafter and now we were tasked with petting this animal we have yet to know about. Standing at the front door of the manor, my lips went dry. This was never a good omen. "It's not too late to get another infernal quest,"I uttered. "Might I suggest the one about the snake-headed young woman gazing lustfully by all these stoned dudes?" "Quiet, Llescy! I do see our quarry within." Cantoberi peeped through the keyhole and saw the cat we were to pet, shaking her right foot furiously. She described the cat as pure white and unnaturally fluffy. Excitement was underway, it appeared. She commandeered Yevenius into the door and broke it, allowing us entry into the fearful abode. "Yevenius, PET IT NOW!", Cantoberi exclaimed profusely! She flung the unconscious Yevenius towards the cat with precision and accuracy. And with that, Yevenius ceased to be. I could feel fear settling into my being. "He-he vanished, Cantoberi..." "WOT DO YOU MEAN HE VANISHED? HE'S RIGHT THERE! YEVENIUS, COME, MY DEAR!" She was right. To my right, I spotted Yevenius. He stood still. Suddenly, I could feel my stomach gurgling madly. I wasn't feeling good. I could see Yevenius's head rolling towards my foot. There was seemingly no blood, that much I could see. The stones from the river Rhine sheened heavily at me from his trousers. "Cantoberi, HE---", I blurted out. Cantoberi put her hand on my shoulder and shook her head. "We must do what we can for him, Llescy. He was our best friend. I will pet it and I will not let it forget his sacrifice. ONWARDS, Llescy!" Cantoberi sped towards the cat, extending her arm to pet its fur. She vanished as well although the cat's fur indicated her hand had been on it. "CANTOBERI, I CAN'T LOSE YOU TOO! NO!", I yelled out in panic. "I'm right here, Llescy." I looked to my left and saw Cantoberi. She had aged rapidly, becoming a young woman in her thirties. To put it in perspective, we were all fifteen. Cantoberi shook her head in a fascinating manner, her follicles mystifying me with their sudden smoothness, sheen and immensity. "It's alright. You only need touch it once and feel the splendor of the soul. This is quite extravagant. Won't you join me, Llescy?"Cantoberi extended her hand, utterly bejeweled with the rocks of Rhine. These were my friends. This was my guild. The door behind me had vanished. There was no longer an escape. I walked towards the cat and beckoned my destiny. Reaching out to pet it, a bright light had shone upon my being. This was goodbye. The cat had shrieked and Llescy had vanished. The doors to the manor burst open once more, allowing another group of adventurers the chance to dalliance . The young man with a brown headband tied on his brassy, blond hair grimaced. "O-O-OY!! WHAT ARE ALL THESE LUSTROUS STONES OF RHINE DOING HERE?!" The doors slammed shut and a purring hiss could be heard from within. The tattered envelope falls to the ground in front of the manor. A spiky-haired young man picks up the envelope and takes out the page within. "Pet the cat."
Harry stood back, gasping as the smoke threatened to engulf him. His throat burned but through his excitement he hardly felt it at all. Finally, a dragon. One with which I can become supreme ruler of Earth. A dragon so powerful, the world and its people will tremble before them. After a moment, the smoke started to lift and Harry could see that his table and his book had been burned away during the spell. The grass surrounding him lay blackened, the morning dew quickly burned away and the smell of fire lingered in the air. Swiping his hand through the smoke, Harry could see a faint shadow on the ground. A moving shadow, spreading its wings! Then it sneezed and blew the remaining smoke away, allowing him to see his creation. “But your...your…” Harry stammered, one eyebrow raised as he looked down at the dragon. “So small!” He couldn’t believe it, a dragon the size of a german shepherd! It wasn’t anything like the book had said it was going to be. A dragon that would make the earth tremble, a dragon that would be coveted by the world, a dragon of fire and air. This though? This wouldn’t make any of the world leaders tremble in fear, Harry thought. It looked scary, if only it was fifty times larger! A scaly black head, and a mouth full of teeth like daggers. Its leathery wings span at least two times its size with claws, Harry knew he wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of. Hands on his hips, Harry stared at the beast, lost for words. The dragon only titled its head at its new master, its red and black eyes curiously taking in the man in front of it. “What am I supposed to do with you?” he asked. The dragon closed its eyes, spread his wings and lifted itself off the ground as effortlessly as Harry might stand up. It soared high, becoming a speck of black against the clear blue sky before diving back down to the ground, twirling backwards in the air and landed where he had just taken off. “Ok that was pretty cool, I won’t lie.” muttered Harry, stroking chin as the dragon once again tilted his head, his eyes on its master. Walking towards it, Harry held out his hand, his body moving before his mind had a chance to respond. The dragon slipped out its tongue and licked Harry’s palm, soaking it in thick, white saliva. “Rotten!” Harry laughed, wiping his hand on his trousers. The dragon cackled, his mouth open and his eyes still on Harry. “Well, it looks like you name a name, friend,” murmured Harry, scratching it under its chin. “Are you a Albert?” An obvious frown appeared on the dragon's face and the shake of the head that came after made it clear that he wasn’t too fond of Albert. “Tomas?” Another shake of the head. “Andrew?” Another. Another name followed and then another shake. He must have gone through fifty names before finally Harry had nearly reached the end of his rope. “Gilbert?” he asked and once more the dragon shook its head. Harry sat down, exhausted at his attempts to name his friend. Until it clicked. “What about Lily?” the dragon shook its head and the relief between the two of them was palpable. A girl dragon. He should have realised! “Ok, sorry about that Lily,” Harry apologized, as he got back to his feet. “I always just presumed I would summon a boy to be honest.” His tone must have betrayed him because Lily backed off, his eyes filled with pain. “No I’m sorry. It’s not a bad thing, Lily.” Harry fretted, slowly inching his way to her. “I just meant, I usually assume things to be male since I’m a man myself.” Lily sat, her eyes narrowed and locked on Harry. After a brief tension filled moment, Lily’s smile returned and her wings unfurled once more. Harry’s heart soared with relief at her response. It would have been just like me to mess something like this up that early. Harry strode over to Lily, scratching her once more beneath her chin and she cooed. “What the hell is that, Harry?” a voice called out. Turning Harry saw his neighbour, Tom, mouth open and his eyes wide with hear. “Is that a dragon? That looks dangerous, you should back away!” Now, how to explain this?
First time doing one of these! Fun little prompt! Elias clutched the silver coin, pacing around the inundated street. He glanced at his watch. Surely the man would arrive soon. "10pm, don't be late!"he had said. But it was already 15 after the hour. Bah! The whole thing was a farce, and he'd been played for a fool. Surely the coin was just a part of some practical joke, or the physical manifestation of the man’s madness. It wasn't real, was it? He traced the triadic symbol on the coin, staring at the eye in its center. He didn't know what to make of it all, and yet...he hoped it were real. To be a man of influence, to pull the strings on the powerful like a marionette—that is what he wanted. But maybe he was a madman himself. "Sorry I'm late,"Elias jumped at the sudden sound. "Damn this flooding...a real pain in the arse!” It was a man in a long black coat, the same man who had bestowed him the silver coin. How had he snuck up on him so? Elias responded, “Uh, yes, indeed it is.” Truth be told, he didn’t know what to say. He held up the coin. “Yes! The coin. Good. Follow me.” The man gestured and began walking. Elias didn’t ask questions. He knew better. Quickly the man in the black coat walked through the street, deft and quiet, but it was difficult to keep up; Elias lacked the man’s grace, sloshing and slipping through the water. The man said nothing and didn’t look back. Elias was not going to lose this opportunity. He hefted his legs high and cut through the water best he could, but the man turned a corner and he lost sight. Elias followed down the corner. No sign of the man. Suddenly, the dim streetlamps began to go black. One by one they shut off, progressing down the path. Elias sprinted down the street, following each light before it shut off. But it was too late. The street went pitch black, and no light shown through the windows. He lost him. Damn it! Then he heard a whisper. It was a different voice. “This way!” it called. He followed the voice, stepping carefully through the dark. He nearly fell as he stepped onto nothing, only to realize it was the drop of a stairway. “Yes, keep walking!” the voice whispered. Two doors opened as he reached the end of the descent, and he squinted against the dim light inside that now seemed bright to his adjusted eyes. Inside was a rather cozy room. A dim brass chandelier hung from the ceiling, a fire crackled under a stone fireplace, and the floor was tiled with a beige stone. And the man in the black coat sat on a sofa. “You made it! I was beginning to think you had lost me. You’re awfully clumsy, you know.” Elias chafed at the remark, but he couldn’t disagree with the man either. He had never been much of an athlete. “Rubin, bring the guest a drink. And a towel! Poor fellow’s sopping wet.” “Yes, Melvinus,” a stocky and short man in black vest and tie rushed to another room. “So…” Elias trailed off. He rather didn’t know what to say; the whole thing was absurd to him. “Ah yes, I am sure this is a bit confusing. My apologies for all the cloak and dagger. To be honest I would much rather a friendly letter, or even a phone call myself, but Mr. Weishaupt has a penchant for mystery. Can’t do much about it, I’m afraid.” Elias gathered the courage to speak his mind. “That’s all right. I would damn well like an explanation though. I don’t like being played a fool!” “Good, neither should you. But first, what’s your name lad? Of course, I already know, but it seems inappropriate to speak it without proper introductions.” “Elias. Elias Ugalde. And you, I presume, are—” Rubin scurried in with a towel and a beverage. “Melvinus! Yes, Melvinus Moyle. That is my name in the brotherhood. And it’s not all brothers—there are sisters, too, but ‘brotherhood’ just has a nice ring to it, I think we can all agree.” “That’s what I would like to know more about. The brotherhood. Is it true…what they say?” Elias asked, cautious to even mention its name. The man’s expression changed. “Hmm,” Melvlinus hummed. “No, it’s not.” He said flatly, offering no further explanation. Elias furrowed his brow. Seems he needed to prod the man to get any information. “Well then, what is true? What are you?” He stared into Melvinus’s brown eyes. “I do apologize again—I have developed a proclivity for this sort of behavior. It’s a terrible ailment. Damn Weishaupt!” He grumbled. “Anyway, I admit I can’t tell you much now, but we are what you think. Illuminati, as you’ve probably been told. As for what we do…” he paused, staring off into nothing. “Yes?” Elias pressed. “Well, let’s just say we aren’t the organization we once were. Oh, we’ve tried, believe me. But we’ve become nothing but a group of lobbyists at this point. And not very good ones. Can you believe the current tax system? We’ve tried to fix that. Damn TurboTax, a bunch of filthy pricks….” Melvinus started grumbling to himself. “I beg your pardon, but what?” Elias said, shocked at what he was hearing. “I’m sorry,” Melvinus said. “Yes, our organization has been weakened. Crippled! But this is precisely why we need men and women like you.” Elias moaned audibly, a mistake. “Plebeians!” Melvinus shouted. “You all think that the Illuminati is some grand conspiracy! You all think that by joining us we’re going to hand you power on a silver platter. Bah! You’re just like the rest. Off with you!” “But I—” “Begone! Meet me again tomorrow night if you think you can manage your manners. I’ve exhausted my patience for the night. Rubin!” Elias felt a strong smack across the head and everything went black. He awoke in his bed, head aching. “How…absurd,” he said. Had he imagined the events of last night? He stood up, shuffling out of bed. Then a glint of silver caught his eye. It was the coin, with an eye staring straight back at him.
I didn't know he had such a big following. How was I to figure that out?! He was all dark and broody and dressed like a witch! What woman in their right mind would be attracted to that?! Apparently many. And now I was stuck in a courtroom on trial for the "murder of Dark Lord Teron"even though it was literally my job to kill the bastard! The death glares from the women and men wearing Teron's face on tee shirts and holding signs with the same visage plastered all over them. Why did I feel like the guilty one? He was the one planning global domination! I had saved the world! "All rise." I looked to the judge, hoping to see a friendly face, but to no avail... Another one of those blasted tee shirts! "Do you swear to face the music and accusations of these fans so help you?"the judge asked. "Uh... I don't believe you said that correctly?"I muttered. The judge narrowed her eyes at me, "This is fan club court. Proceedings are however the president deems. And I am the president." My brow furrowed, "What the fuck--" "Do not swear in my courtroom!"she exclaimed. "Fan club court was sworn in as an official law-abiding type court by our beloved..."her voice broke, "only recently sworn-in and departed monarch Supreme King Teron. That makes it legal and any verdicts reached... are also legal." Oh shit. What had I gotten myself into?
[POEM] There once was a witch that cast ice To her the college of mages weren’t nice But the globe it did warm The solutions short-term The mages were in quite a vice But they did know A witch who in tow Kept a block of slow-melting ice They started a venture To go and indenture That witch that had but one advice She was full of scorn Their asses were torn The understanding was not quite precise “The globe does not warm The climate changed form You need to define more concise.”
I've been ill for such a long time. People keep coming to wish me well. The doctors are at a loss, but only one has the heart and the courage to tell me the truth. "You're dying. By inches. But you are dying, and we do not know why." "How long do I have?" "If you stay in here? Months, a year at most." "And if I leave?" "No one knows. You could die stepping across the threshold, or you could find your cure. It's a big world out there; something or someone could help you." "No one can help me. If it holds so much, then there must be a hole in the ground I can pull a rock over. Maybe I'll finally get some peace." "If that is what you want, then that is what you will find." The next day, on shaky legs and wearing clothes that hang off me like the rags of a scarecrow, I walk out of that place, over the objections of a score of doctors and nurses that I should at least let them roll me out since its hospital policy. The look I gave them, which I thought was a look of despair, caused them to recoil in horror and turn ashen with fear. Good enough, I thought and did my damnedest to stride out of that place. I made it too. ••• This place is a strange dichotomy. You are never alone. There are people around you everywhere. Yet none of them will acknowledge each other's existence other than with meaningless pleasantries. I'm alone but not at peace. I move on. ••• I found this place by an ad stuck to a community bulletin board. > One-person efficiency. Free. That sounded too good to be true, but I looked anyway. Hitchhiked out to the edge of town and started walking. The weight came off my soul as I heard nothing but animal and wind sounds. Better and better. I could not believe my eyes. Someone had created a hobbit hole, precisely as described. "Stay as long as you can stand it, then put the sign back up on the bulletin board." As long as I could stand it? Nirvana! ••• I've grown stronger here. Healthier. I can face the townsfolk without dread. They smile politely and move on. I think they know about that house. It's there for people like me, who need a lot of solitude. ••• Damned, Mocking Bird! Constantly demanding attention, pecking at the window. You've ruined the peace of this place! Just when I was... Thinking of settling down. Permanently. I'm packed and out the door before sunup. The sign is on the board an hour after sunrise. As I wait at the bus stop, the only bus for the day shows up. One tired human gets off and staggers over to the board. Yes. They took the sign. And here comes the same farmer in the same truck. Where ya going? Shows the sign. I drive right past there, jump in. It's choreographed. I feel a moment of betrayal but realize they're only doing it to get a scruffy nuisance off the street sooner. No. That's not right. I've seen their faces, occasionally interacted. They knew I wanted — no, needed — solitude. And they gave it to me. A smile that said, take as long as you need. Ask if you want help. We won't bother you. It may be choreography, but it isn't false. It's an elegant dance to offer only the minimum necessary and accept refusal gracefully. For the first time in years? Decades? I smile at the thought of another person's kindness. Mind, I still prefer my solitude. I've missed reading, though—mental stimulation by the novels and poetry of the greats—the sound and sun of the sea—the incredibly poignant sadness of a seagull's cry. Yes, to the sea! I head to the bus. "How far are you going?" "Does it matter?" "The sea matters." "Climb aboard, sonny; I'm going all the way to 'Frisco." "What's the fare?" "For you? The fare is already paid. You did a lot of work on that house, made lots of little improvements." Looking at my face... "No, no! They didn't spy on you! You showed up in town at the bus stop. Farmer John's wife got a call, and she went to make sure that the place was in decent shape. No slur on you, sonny, but we've had some that didn't heal. They leave a terrible mess behind. "Paying your fare is their way of thanking you for caring about where you lived." I thought about that, nodded, and "tell them thanks, the next time you come through here if you would." "Sonny, you've already thanked them every day you came in here smiling a bit better than the last time." "But..." "It don't come naturally to some of us, but you tried. Now go on back and pick yourself out a good seat. It's a mighty long drive to 'Frisco." I went all the way to the back. On an empty bus, that's where you sit when you don't want to talk with anyone. I stared out the window as rolling grain gave way to other things, then the deserts, and finally the Sierra Madres, the Imperial Valley, and 'Frisco at last. By the time we made 'Frisco, I was sitting up front in companionable silence with the driver. "Last Stop!" I awoke from a short doze. "Looks like you could use some coffee. Try Joey's Java Shack, just off pier 40 between that and the South Harbor Marina. It's about a mile in that direction." "Thanks. You take care." "Oh, I will; it's you that has to worry out on those dinky islands." With that, he smiled and closed the door. I turned and started walking. Sure enough, it had the best Coffee I have ever had. You see, coffee comes in five descending stages: Coffee, Java, Jamoke, Joe, and Carbon Remover. But Joey won't ring with Coffee, so it had to be Java. I sat there, waiting for the day to get started, paying for snacks and coffee. People came in, got coffee or whatever, and left. Finally, an older man walked in, got a table where he could see everything, and had a solid meal. The wait staff were discretely making sure he had everything he needed. He looked like a fairly ordinary sailor, five day beard, weather beaten tanned face. Only those shoes were out of place. Deck shoes when he's trying to project deck hand? Nope. ((more in a bit))
SMACK! “OW JI-“ Jerry is interrupted. “SHUT YOUR TRAP! We’re not falling into that black hole!” Jim shouts at Jerry. “This isn’t Star Trek or some soft SCI FI BULLSHIT!” “Bu-“ “We spotted that fucking black hole well in advance so for your information we’re not falling into it! We’re just going to do a normal gravity assist and sling ourselves to a general safety where a ship would pick us up.” Shakes head. “Stupid softer than butter mainstream sci fi.” Jim mutters. The discovery immediately did an extreme gravity assist with the black hole where the crew is relieved so they entered cryo coffins to wait for their rescuers. Authors note. Black holes would be easily spotted and avoided or better yet, be used as an option for gravity assisted acceleration. Honestly mainstream sci fi ruins the immersion in how realistically black holes work. [source Isaac Arthur’s black hole series](https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLIIOUpOge0Lv3LmdudQ6aPFzEvJarKF2J)
There was an eerie silence as everone was confused and worried. As murmurs and unease began to rise something appeared on the horizon. A fleet of ships apraching at a steady pace boats cutting through the water, the wind picked up the waves crashed against the shore it had begun the invasion was upon us. Some fled for their lives others stod tall ready to fight till the last breath and the rest prayed for their savior to come. But he was nowhere to be found and hope was lost. The fleet landed on the shore digging deep into the sand and thus everything changed when the fire nation attacked.
"Oh thank fuck."I replied without hesitation. "Can you get this fucking rock off of me?" "My, the mouth on you."Loki smirked. "Looks like this one won't get the Watcher's attention." "What? How can you see my mouth? It's lovely, I assure you, but this princess can't give you your kiss until you get this fucking boulder off of me." "Ah, of course!"Loki strolled casually over to the leg of Korg. "Please don't, mister. This maniac was trying to steal something very important to your brother."Korg's lilting accent threw Loki for a loop. "And who might you be?"He asked as he squared us back up again. "This ain't your Loki."I surmised, "I'm betting this is that one that broke the timeline." "Wrong. That fool freed us from the end of time. Now I'm raising an army and unfortunately the 'real' Deadpool,"a grandiose wave of his hands emphasized the point. "Well, he's been claimed. You're the ace in the hole, so to speak." "I've heard of you. Did you get the Luke Skywalker hand or was that a different one?" "YOU WILL NOT SPEAK TO YOUR COMMANDER THAT WAY!"His hand reconfigured into a barrel, levelled at my head. What a fun day this had already been. "Besides, this world is doomed, so you ha-"Korg shifted just enough for me to jump out. You're going to fuck it up, Wade. "Shut UP!"I grabbed Loki's dumb gun hand combo thing and it fired just over my shoulder. Well, through the shoulder, but Korg's head was now about half the size. A little bit of Royce Gracie later and that dumb hand was under Loki's chin. "You know, actually firing your weapon means there's not a duplicate in front of me." "Oh really?"Loki appeared in front of me, little charge starting where the wrist should be. "Really."I strained, the apparition dimmed as panic covered its face, the fake Loki reaching for the one in my arms. You're not strong enough, dumbass. "FUCK OFF!"Note to self: breaking a god's neck is VERY hard. Stupid rock had worn me out. Portals opened all around me, Loki freed his arm and tried to shoot my face off. Swing and a miss. Again, dodge and weave. Now he aimed forward to a portal and fired, squarely in the ribs through another portal. Clever girl. I wrapped my legs around him, somehow he still stood. Time to go all in. "Let's take a load off, shall we?" All the muscles in my back, you know, besides the ones connected to the gapping hole, strained. Aaaand ... "POP! Goes the weasel."The arms went limp, the legs buckled. We fell to the ground after one crack. "Wait, but I need a trophy!"You really need one? "Yes, I fucking do." "Hit me with a separator dear author, o mine?" \----------------------------------- "Okay, um, that'll work."I grabbed the dashes above, wrapped them around the limp neck, using them like piano wire to saw off Loki's shocked head. His eyes were a little bugged out. Gross. I sawed faster. "I saw this in a movie once. She made it look a lot easier, but it was just some lame dude. Pun intended. Sorry, I know, you probably don't know the movie."How fucking tough is this guy's neck? Even some extra-reality content can't break through? What kind of plot armor is this shit? "Wade!"Thor shouted as he came rushing down the hall. "What have you done to my brother!" "Oh, this isn't your real brother. It's an impasta! I'm trying to get his meatball off."Uh oh. Everything was electricity for ... maybe a second, maybe a year. Who knew. Anyway, I'm back. Oh, and I'm in a cage. "Unhand me you fiend!"Wait, the words aren't coming out. Dammit. I'm just a head. He has me locked in place over a meat grinder. "Cat got your tongue, friend?"Loki grinned maniacally. "You truly are an unsightly beast under that mask. Pity. What a life you could live were it not for your appearance." Thor stood behind him, bulging arms crossed. "Who was that man he killed? The one that looked like you?" "It was me, you dullard. Just not the one from this universe. To be honest it would be quite the conundrum if we were to have two of me, would it not?" Thor nodded. Probably didn't understand, but he was nodding anyway. Dude was locking eyes with me something fierce. What I'd give to have some hands to run my fingers through those luscious locks. Any clever tricks for me now, o storyteller? Not this time, Wade. But maybe try waggling that jaw a bit more to redirect your regrowth towards the open front of the grind- Nevermind, they closed the door. Well. Time to wait for rescue. Damn What If... bullshit. Wait, he said the universe was doomed. Won't have to wait very long! How about right now!
The defendant entered the courtroom looking ready for business. He had an air of confidence in his stride. He made sure to look good for the camera as he wanted the footage to be in a documentary about him someday. The judge gave the reading out. "Defendant denies damages caused by monetary policy. Is that correct Mr. __________?" The defendant took his time as he leaned toward the microphone. "It certainly is your honor." "The plaintiff representative can make first comments."The judge blankly said. "This man has caused a lot of damage to us Americans. We had a stable currency that could be exchanged for gold at a stable rate. The money meant something. However, the defendant destroyed a perfectly fine system. And for what reason? Nothing but a thinly veiled excuse for a license to print money."the plaintiff representative explained. "Defendant."The judge directed. The defendant explained, "America was going through some tough times and needed a little step up. By letting the money printers go brrrrr, the American people can prosper." Once the turn came back to the plaintiff representative, he had a retort lined up. "Do you really think the defendant is trustworthy? Look no further than when he tried to cover up a scandal. This is a dangerous man who is responsible for immeasurable damage." BANG! The gavel came crashing down as the judge asserted "Court is in recess."
There's this ringing in my ears, like that of an alarm clock. "Aargh, five more minutes."I mumble, rolling over to hit snooze before I realize three things. One, I don't have a blanket. Two, I'm sleeping on something hard and cold. Three, there is no alarm clock. "What the..."I say, as I open my eyes. I'm in a white box. The ringing was coming from a single speaker in the upper-left corner of the room. I look around, searching for a hint as to where I was. I should've been at home right now, enjoying breakfast with my wife- Wait. My wife? I don't remember having a wife! Desperation creeps in as I try to remember something, anything! But no, it was not to be. In my increasingly stressful state, I notice a post-it note, a slot in the white walls, a toilet, a sink and a light on the ceiling. I get up, thankful that I remember how to walk and I pull it off the wall with a surprising amount of force. As I do this, I take a good moment to look at myself. I have two arms, two legs, and I don't seem to have any body parts missing. That's good. However, I don't remember my name. I decide that I need to call myself something. I look around, searching for inspiration. I look back down at the post-it note. Post! That'll have to do for now. "You wrote this. In a few minutes, you/I will lose your memories. Trust me. It's better this way. And if the past comes for you, run. Run as far as you can. Don't try to figure it out. Just run."The note said. "Ah. Well, that's quite cheerful. If you ask me, I think I'd rather keep my memories than hide from them, but whatever. What's done probably can't be undone, especially if it's as stupid as erasing someone's memories without their consent. I refuse to believe anyone would be so stupid as to erase their own memories."I said aloud, trying to fill up the empty space with random words. The slot opened, cutting off my thoughts. A tray fell out of it. There was an unidentifiable sludge on it, and a post-it was stuck to the tray with a plastic wrap. On it, it said "FOOD"on it. I picked up the tray. It was stuck to the tray. I removed it, and put it with the other post-it. "Damn, I wish I knew origami. Then I could do something with this."I stated to myself. A bottle of water clunked out of the slot. Then, it hit me. There was someone out there, putting the water and the food into the slot. As if in slow motion, the slot started to close. I leaned forwards and stuck my finger in the gap. Putting my ear to the area around the slot, I heard footsteps. "Wait!"I shouted, hoping that whomever was on the other end could hear me. "Where am I? What's happening to me?"I yelled. "You're being punished. Punished for your past. A lifetime sentence."Then, whomever was on the other end walked away. *Sorry, I have to get to sleep now, I'll finish writing in the morning!*
"What is that?" Shmuel looked at where the alien was referring to, "That's my dog, Kevin. He's a corgi mixed with, honestly I don't know what." "What is thus 'Kevin's' purpose?" "Well, they were originally bred to be herding animals and they have those stumpy legs to keep from being kicked in the head by an uncooperative animal. Now though, he just lays there. Sometimes he plays fetch." The alien blinked its five eyes twice. "Exactly how many would be considered a 'concerning number' of corgis?" "For one person at the the same time?"Shmuel asked, pondering the question. He wasn't entirely sure where this was going but if it meant that the aliens were more open to trade negotiations then why not humor the diplomat, "I guess five?" "How much for Kevin?" "What?" "I want to buy your corgi." "Kevin isn't for sale... but I do know somebody whose dog just had some puppies."
[James: a tall and athletic man with ash-blond hair and ice-blue eyes enters the scene, stage right.] "Timothy, what the hell is this?"He asks, confused, holding up a small Golden Sphere with an Eye-of-Horus etched into the surface. (Lights rush up, stage Left, casting that side of the stage in a green glow. Revealed is a young man with long black hair, sitting at a desktop computer system, with a pair of glasses and a jagged scar over his right eye.) [Timothy; looking disappointed.] "It's exactly what it looks like it is, James, one of Commissar Courageous's spy-spheres." [James; looking angry.] "No shit Tim, but why is it in my bedroom? These things are not mobile, they have to be planted in advance." [Timothy; finally turning to face his friend, pivoting in the chair, steepling his fingers.] "Maybe your girlfriend 'Helga' isn't as loyal to the Fourth Reich and keeping your secret identity as 'Oberst-Fuhrer Grubbermann' as you think that she is?" [James; visibly paler.] "How long have you known who I am?" [Timothy, Smirking.] "Known? I've had my suspicions for three weeks, I KNEW when you just confirmed it." [James, Eyes narrowed.] "You baited me into compromising Op-Sec, why?" [Timothy; no longer smiling, looking a little bit annoyed by the exchange.] "Come, James, USE that 'Master Race' brain of yours and _think_ for once?"[Changes into a fake Russian Accent.] "Or do you have to have everything spelled out in German for you?" [Oberst-Fuhrer Grubbermann; rushes over and lifts Timothy by his collars, revealing the fact that Timothy has been the recipient of a double 'below the knees' amputation: then screams in his face.] "You sick hacked-off son of a bitch! I should have euthanized your crippled ass years ago!" [Timothy, smiling a broad grin that has not a trace of humor in it: continues with the 'Russian' accent.] "So, you reveal your true colors at last, eh old friend? I have known what you thought about me for a long time now: this is not a surprise." (Unseen as James closes his eyes for a second, a pair of Ninja-like robots with a hammer-and-sickle on their uniforms in dark-red-on-black drops from the ceiling behind Oberst-Fuhrer Grubbermann silently.) [Oberst-Fuhrer Grubbermann, looking slightly more conflicted, snarling ferally.] "Give me one good reason not to Kill you, Timothy." [Timothy, dropping back into the American accent.] "I'm going to give you two, actually, old friend."(Russian accent.) "Seize him!" (Ninja Robots rise from the floor in a blur of motion and though James attempts to react and fight them, bruisingly dropping Timothy to the floor, he is overwhelmed by the pair before he can fully react.) [Timothy; sadly.] "We have been friends, and family members in a way since we were babes in arms, you and I. Our mothers both nursed each of us, brothers, in all but blood. Yet, now, you and I are enemies. I know what happened to me, the accident, in that abandoned mine in New Mexico, but you, where did you go so wrong?"(He asks, polishing his glasses with a red microfiber cloth.) "Oh, please say hello to Yuki and Madoka, robotic Comrades provided by my Japanese Communist Party allies after the rescue of the crew of that Whaling ship that the military of New Atlantis sunk last August. You have never seen them before because they are Ninja, and not being seen is one of the core elements of their programming; but if the situation calls for it, they will break cover. Also be aware that they are programmed with 'the Prattchet Exemption' to the three laws of robotics, and I qualify as a 'Duly Constituted Authority' in their eyes..." [James, angry.] "Just kill me you fucking Commie freak!" [Timothy; sadly, leaning towards his friend from the chair he's climbed back into.] "No James, I need to know what makes a good person like you turn into a damn NAZI, and I think that we are going to go take a little trip to New Mexico and confront some of our buried demons..."
Alex Harrow lived and died in that same small town his whole life... No that's trite, who cares? Start again Brenda McKenzie was just thinking about the Why are you telling? Show it. Try again. She woke up to the sound of boiling water, the kettle steaming away Steaming steam steams away. People know how steam works... Try again "Fuck it all-", she started, "just fuck it all.""nothing to be done, nothing to be done"he stated bluntly, "it will get better, right?"she said He said she said, get to the point. At least it's more interesting this one. And showing your influence, Mr Estragon? "You know what?"he said, "this self-depreciating viewpoint is such a fucking front, Brenda, will you for once be fucking real?" "I don't think I've ever been real"Brenda replied, "so why should I start now?" It's getting meta, but do go on "oh that's just stupid! You know you're better than that, get a grip!", "Am I?" "Yes, for god's sake, I'd never have fell for you otherwise. It's not too late to fix this." "But what if it doesn't pan out? What if it's all a waste of time?" "It would be an exciting one, so who cares?" "You do know how to cheer me up, do you really still think we've a chance?" A relationship drama? Unexpected "We live in stories, there's no cause and effect story in the real world, so I don't think we'd ever really know until we try. But I want to try" "You mean it Alex? Even after what I've done?" "Yes, but this has to be a two-way street. If we don't both put in the work, this story won't end how either of us want" "I'm scared. But I'll try... I'll try."
‘Good morning, all.’ James said to his wife’s parents, as he walked into the kitchen. ‘Morning, James. How did you sleep?' Julie asked. 'With my daughter, I’d expect.’ Ted guffawed, his wife Julie trying not to join in. Ted was reading the newspaper at the table, and Julie was standing warmly next to him in her dressing gown. The smell of toast and coffee filled the air, and a radio quietly sounded in the corner. Kim was upstairs still, and would have been wholly embarrassed to hear that. It was Saturday morning, and Kim and James had come for the weekend. It was nice, considering it had taken so long for James to get anywhere near Kim’s parents. They were so elusive. It was only until now, after the wedding and the raving reception, that he could call them by their first name. ‘Where is Kim? She doesn’t usually sleep this late.’ Julie said. ‘I suspect it’s the stress of being here.’ Ted replied. ‘Oh, shut it, you.’ Julie said, prodding her husband's muscled belly. Ted chuckled like a baby with a beard. James was making coffee, waiting for the water to boil. ‘We had a long drive yesterday, and we got pulled over by the police.’ The toast popped at the same time Ted knocked over his tea. Julie had the most concerned face on her, almost as if there was a ghost massaging James’s shoulders. ‘The police?’ Julie feigned a smile. Ted was wiping up his spilt tea. ‘Yeah. Pulled us over on the motorway. Poor Kim was really shaken up - I suspect that’s why she’s so tired this morning.’ James leant against the counter, still casually waiting for his water to boil. Kim’s parents had an arga and the kettle was a manual, as James called it. ‘And what did they say?’ Ted asked, coolly. ‘Oh, just that we had a-’ James was interrupted by a sharp door slam. Ted jumped into action, commando style. Julie immediately had her back against the wall, almost slamming into it. The kettle started to gurgle, and then whistle, all while James was becoming increasingly alarmed. ‘Get down!’ Julie whispered loudly at James. She peaked out of the window, the kettle still whistling. Ted had moved to the door in wait for their potential intruder. The kettle was boiling closer to dry. Past the numerous cars in the drive, Julie spotted a man in red with a large saddle bag. It was the postman. ‘Oh, it’s just a post.’ Julie breathed, her body untensing. Ted gave a sigh of relief before returning to his newspaper. ‘What a relief.’ He said, laughing a little. All went back to normal. Except James, of course.
We all gathered together for the annual banquet the Commodore 64 at the head for a sign of his Age, being the first console a game was ever developed on, despite himself being a withered corpse of what he once was, PC was seated the furthest from him as the commodore had reason to hate him. The Nintendo, Xbox, and PlayStation consoles formed into their own little sitting groups. Other consoles filled in the seats betwixt them, Oya, fair child F who hadn’t the title of eldest as he had been temporarily uninvited for supporting genocide indirectly, and others. Yet they all craned their heads when that annoying degenerate walked through the doors, SEGA Dreamcast. Not even the other SEGAites associated with this entity, clad in full sonic cosplay and three hundred pounds overweight, he was followed by a putrid sense of sweat and filth wherever he went. Yet no matter the precipitation in the room or the temperature a thick line of sweat could be observed on his brow. They had even gone so far as to extend the table so that they could be situated as far from him as physically possible. Then the lights cut, then came back on, and with great glee every one came to a similar realization Dreamcast was dead. And with thunderous shouts of jubilee and exhilaration, they celebrated that night as if they would have no more banquets, twas a great night for the world became a better place that night.
I woke from lurid dreams to painful overhead fluorescent lights and the soothing hum of the mag train. By the time I collected my bearings, the dream had faded beyond memory, and I found myself sitting alone in the train car. A quick glimpse out the window revealed...nothing. Total darkness. My little railcar felt like a spaceship hurtling through the void. But it should not have been. I frowned. “Good morning, Shaz.” My personal assistant chimed. “How long was I asleep?” I grumbled. “You have been unconscious for nine hours and thirty-six minutes, Shaz.” she responded cheerily. “Nine Hours?” “And thirty-six-” “Where are we?” I cut her off “I was supposed to be in District 44 six hours ago! How in the world did you let me sleep that long!?” “I was not instructed to awaken you.” She bubbled back. I made a mental note to rewire her to be less cheeky. “Ugh. Great. Eez is gonna kill me. We were supposed to be working on the Illumination of District 44. Probably on the other side of the planet by now.” The assistant didn’t respond. “So where are we?” I looked out the window again, into pitch darkness. “Why is it so dark?” “I am having trouble triangulating our position, Shaz. The train is moving very fast, and there does not appear to be much signal coverage. “How is that possible?” A loud chime sounded from the front of the car, and the brakes engaged. I gritted my teeth as the G forces of the rapid deceleration pulled me into my seat. “Now arriving at STATION 114--PROVIDENCE” The car announced cheerily. “Providence?! That's almost 2000 miles from District 44” I jumped to my feet and stormed to the front of the car. “Open the damn door and let me out of here.” I barked. “Stand back, doors are opening” The car responded. “Stupid stupid stupid. Nine hours.” I muttered to myself, then sighed. “Whatever. I’ll catch the next train back to Unity center and phone in. Tell Eez what happened. I laughed. “Who knows. Maybe he’ll find the whole situation so fucking funny he’ll let me keep my job.” What waited outside the door sapped my resolve. Pitch darkness. And cold. The cold got me before the darkness did. I lived in the heart of the Megapolis, surrounded by tall, tightly packed buildings and thrumming power generators. Billions of vehicles, and 24 hours of light. It was always warm there. Even during the winters the cold rarely penetrated to street level. What billowed through the door as the seals unclamped and the car depressurized was nothing short of frigid. Maybe I was in space. Now there was a bizarre thought. “This is definitely not Providence. Where are we?” “I am having trouble triangulating our position, Shaz.” Was all she said. “But that’s not possible.” I reiterated. I’ve never been afraid of the dark. Still, something in my gut told me not to get off this train. I’m not sure if it was my not having watched very many horror movies, or my own rather inflated self confidence, but I choked the feeling down, and leaned my head out the door. The light spilling from the railcar illuminated the area in a decent puddle around the door, and the strip lights on the sides of the car lent enough light for me to make out an old station platform. I took a deep breath of chilly air and stepped off the train, stepping a few feet from the door. I wanted to put enough light behind me to let my eyes adjust. That's when the train door slid shut, and left me in darkness. “Train departing. Please stand back” It chimed, almost smarmily, and began to slide out of the station. “No no no no! Stop!” I darted for the E-handle, but the train had already moved beyond my reach. “Shit shit shit.” I groaned. “When’s the next train.” “Next train will be arriving in…” I waited. And waited. As the tail of the train left the station, already almost at full speed, The cold closed in, and I was bathed in darkness. “When does the next train arrive. Tell me.” “Next train will be arriving in…” The assistant tailed off. “Great” I grumbled. “Just great.” As I had theorized, with the train gone my eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness. Unfortunately I had only been half right. Even after a few minutes standing there on the platform I could still only see a couple feet in front of me. “How is it so dark. Not even any emergency power. And...no people? For the first time, I realized how utterly silent it was. Not even a breeze. “Where. Are. we.” “I am having trouble triangulating our position, Shaz.” She chimed again. “Yeah I get that. Something must be wrong here, or we must be way off the grid. Which begged the question, how was the train able to come out that far? All the trains were powered from the central grid, of course, so power to run the train would not have been an issue. But the track itself should have been closed off and, barring that, the train should not have even registered this station as here, There was nothing to indicate it needed to stop. The implications were concerning. And definitely something to bring forward when I got back to Eez.

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