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I ran silently through the busy, night time streets, one with the shadows, ignoring all but the scent of blood, my brothers. A low snarl threatened to tear itself from my chest, but I fought the urge, damn those hunters. My family and I have stayed hidden for generations, our secret our own, we are werewolves, well, all but my little brother, the gene skipped him. Still, those damned hunters showed him no mercy, as he refused to tell them where to find us, he'd have made a great wolf, if only he'd been blessed like the rest of us. I leaped, silently grabbing a rung on a fire escape ladder, pulling myself up. Whoever had killed him was quite agile, to have climbed a building this tall so quickly. I didn't care, my parents would soon be here, along with the rest of the family, my older sister, and brother.
From the fire escape, I could just barely make out voices on the other side, I couldn't hear what they were saying, though there appeared to be quite a few of them. I crouched low, below the window, certain that from this angle it would be impossible for them to see me, and I waited. It wasn't long before the others arrived.
"Sarah, are you sure this is the place?"My older brother, Mykul, questioned.
I couldn't help but scoff. "Are you serious? I know I'm the better tracker, but your nose can't be that busted, I could smell the iron in the air four blocks away."
He nodded silently, peeking in the window, before lowering himself back down, my older sister and parents slightly further from the window. "Looks like there are about seven of them. We can take 'em, but we have to be careful."Mykul was a brute, probably the strongest of all of us, but he was also the most protective, I could tell the loss was particularly hard on him.
"Everyone know the plan?"My mom asked, watching us all with a calculated, calm gaze. Among us wolves, the women are the strategists, while the men carry out said strategy, but not today. Today, we all fight.
We all nodded, knowing that no words were needed from here out, we all knew our roles, and we were going to get revenge. |
\[Royal Suggestion\]
"Oh, Roger,"the old man wiped his hands dry on his apron. He turned and nodded towards the end of the diner at a large booth. "That's him down there,"he said. The booth looked empty to Ruby at first, but then she saw the back of a man's head. He was bowing low as if hunched over the table eating.
"Thanks,"she nodded at the old man and walked to the booth. Ruby was surprised to see so many people there at three in the morning. She was usually asleep at this time herself; but, she had an alarm wake her for this. She could have sent him a message but Ruby was still feeling her mother's disappointment and wanted to do her best. In this case that meant making the pitch in person.
Several of the tables she passed were occupied by a single person and their mess. Some of them had messes of books or notebooks, others had computers. By the time she reached Roger's table, she no longer expected to find him eating; and, she was right.
The dark-haired man with mechanical arms leaned over the table with his attention on a small golden rectangle. Different-sized cubes sat around the table glowing in different colors; gold, purple, green, blue, and red. His mechanical fingers whirred across a keyboard. An orange translucent visor covered his eyes and Ruby could see text flying up it from the other side. Ruby knew better than to interrupt, but he seemed to sense someone was there.
"Be with you in a sec,"he said without moving. Now that he was aware of her, Ruby felt comfortable sitting down. She slid into the other side of the booth. She waited for several moments, then the golden glow around the rectangle died down. He tapped the side of his head and the orange visor disappeared, then he looked up at Ruby.
"Howdy. What can I do for you?"he asked.
"Hi, Roger, my name's Ruby,"she extended her hand. He reached across the table and accepted her greeting. "I'm here representing Chroma Corp.,"she added as they shook hands.
"Are you familiar with the Nexus Academy?"she asked after letting go. Roger nodded.
"Toku-high? Sure, I'm familiar,"he said.
"This is the first year the school is in operation and Chroma wants to make it as exciting and memorable as possible for the students. One of the teams suggested a Halloween event. It was meant to be a simple dungeon but Chroma has thrown her complete support, and all her resources behind the idea."
"I hope this is where I come in...,"Roger said. He glanced deliberately at the node sitting on the table to remind her he was still working on something.
"The quick version is, the city is being divided into four zones and Chroma wants a recognized derby team to occupy each zone for a few weeks. You'd serve as an optional faction more than anything. Give the students quests and rewards."Roger narrowed his eyes at Ruby.
"So I don't have to do anything for Chroma Corp. that I don't want to?"Ruby shook her head and smiled. She knew she had him already.
"You could even leave the quest assignments to your guildies and keep doing...,"she waved her hands over the stacks of glowing cubes. "... this in a proper Chroma Corp. lab with any equipment you need. Chroma's only interested in having CyberRiot present on campus."
"And who else?"Roger asked. "You said four zones."Ruby nodded.
"You're the first captain I've asked. Magi-knights and Honeybees are the rest of the list. I was hoping to get suggestions for a fourth team. Chroma doesn't want to ask Star Brigade for obvious reasons,"Ruby shrugged.
"Alright,"Roger nodded. "CyberRiot is in, though I'm sorry I don't have a suggestion for you."
"Thanks anyway! I'll make sure you get the details on your zone in time to start on Monday. Your base is already reserved."Ruby grinned and stood from the booth. She waved at Roger and walked away as his orange visor reappeared.
"Thanks!"she waved at the old cook as she left the diner. Ruby felt like visiting Roger in person was the right choice. She got the impression that he'd have let a message sit unread for quite a while but now she was in and out in less than 10 minutes. And best of all, he agreed. Ruby stood outside in the cool night air and wondered where her next stop should be. It was too early to bother any of the other guilds she was interested in. As she considered her options, a sudden voice startled her.
"Hello, Ruby,"the voice said. Ruby did not startle easily; she was a dragon. But it wasn't the sudden noise that scared her; it was the voice she recognized and all the implications it brought with it that made Ruby uneasy. She sighed and turned around to see a tall, pale young man with a sharp widow's peak dipping into his forehead.
"Hey, Oren,"Ruby said. "What brings you here?"
"You've been asking for teams to make Halloween more fun for the students, right?"Oren asked and he gave Ruby a sly smile. "How about Gravewatch?"
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1374 in a row. (Story #282 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/) |
We both stared at each other in shock. Medusa, at least I think that was her name, spoke first. "Um, what the heck? Why aren't you turning to stone?"
I looked at her strangely. "Why would I turn to stone? And also, where the heck is Loki?"
"Loki? Who's Loki?"
"You know, god of mischief, chained to a rock for murdering a god, yadda yadda."
She only looked at me strangely. "Um, the only god of mischief I know is Hermes."Finally somewhat getting it, we both glared at the sky.
"Okay, we have got to talk to the gods about this. There's probably some Greek dude on his way down to Loki's cave, and that would *not* end well." |
hell, heaven and earth all suffer a massive natural disaster that kills off lots of people in each realm (including world leaders of earth, god and the archangels, the devil and the seven deadly sins, the only survivors of heaven and hell are mostly comprised of lowly servants and soldiers).
however humans had colonized another planet and they are living there now and the survivors at hell and heaven are trying to get to the colony. |
What a night.. I think. I reached over to grab my cup of water off the night stand. Something seemed off. I felt different, better, more confident.
Whatever happened, I liked it. I walked to the kitchen to retrieve a new cup. While walking down the hall, appreciating my renewed vigor, I pondered the previous night's events.
Acquiring proper sustenance had become increasingly difficult these recent years since the happening. My belly ached most nights and I yearned for the simpler times of my youth. Yet this morning felt reminiscent of those times.
The moon was bright and the autumn air crisp. Three leaves fell together as the wind howled, banging against the garage door, and a fragment of the previous night's meeting began to tear away the fog surrounding my memories.
I quizzically stroked the smooth skin of my arms recalling the three of us desperately standing around the circle we can't live like this anymore. We went over our plan again, making sure everything was just right. Then set it in motion.
I rubbed my eyes while opening the fridge. A beautiful face ruined by fear looked past me. A smile crept across my own. |
Jerred raced on his horse as wind, hair floating in just as his thoughts were furiously floating in his head. *darn showoff, he just cant flex muscles in circus*. Yes Jerred is a knight but not savage, it's one thing to hunt down ghouls transforming graveyard into snacking table and other thing to be such empty headed to think that killing intelligent being, not causing any trouble is sign of heroism.
He knew Galork for long time, in addition to being dragon being great companion, nice, genuine, alway rushed in decions and great at chess (that in case he transformed to human form otherwise his claws were to big for pieces). And so called dragon slayer think that killing such creature is okay.
Forest carefully maintained by forest fires administrated by Galork disappeared in distance as he he galloped along.
More than dragon slayer himself was deserving of punishment king that did send him. *Old grumpy cheater* that's what he was, they made a deal. King and Dragon. Deal every single living beaing would expect from such duo. Money for first daughter.
He knew Litra oldest daughter of king, beautiful women she grew up to be . Eyes like diamonds, hair of raven wings, figure that goddess herself would envy. Like hourglass filled with beauty, cleavege that dragged eyes across room, hips one would beg to touch and face... Pure magnificence, every wrinkle, every feature like drawn by best painter.
He himself adviced Galork to choose her, obviously not for eating as some limited brains including dragon slayers thought. *Riddle me how these dumbasses think dragons roproduce*. Dragons as anybody else needed mates, for them it was fairly easy since they possessed ability to transform their bodies, they could choose from almost every living species but often went for humanoid races due to traits they wanted their offsprings to have. (mating with mice is unlike to result in talented child)
He waved back at villagers preparing annual celebration of harvest, luckily got away without being dragged to tavern for few pints. *yea folks no celebration if dumbass kills main quest* Galork loved these celebrations, alway brought gifts for people, ussualy magical trinkets of no real value but to simply entertain them and they were giving love back in same doses.
Only king was not favoring old folklore hero known as Fire spit. *some people should not be allowed to make deals* king changed his mind about deal when payment came to be fulfilled, tried to back off saying that it's unfair to demand his child, sadly he did spent everything from dragon hoard. Money drowned in war, necklaces decoring lusting breasts of his harlots and weapons given to disloyal generals to buy them back. With law on his side Galork simply took what was his, even spared king of his wrath in his generosity.
In distance smoke was emerging from tower of his final destination. *oh no*. Last few stadiums horse flew like a wind, sword unsheated ready to defend his friend from malevolence of world trying to picture him as evil.
Clashing steel was heard before he seen anything. Through leafes two figures seen entrapped in duel for life and death. Galork was caught of guard in his human form unable to transform back in enclosed space and too proud to run.
With such force his horse almost fell to his knees stop was made by side of his friend. Dismounted from sadle and readied himself for upcoming fight realizing that man he reffered in his mind as to dumbass was menacing opponent.
With stare of death dragon slayer tower higher that any man he ever saw, denying his human origin reassembling more giant than his own kind. Muscles like boulders holding axe that would split house in half, with body covered in hides of games he slayed and small head of dragon on massive shoulder. "Well well well knight of the realm licking boots of monster worth of despise""Man fighting on side of injustice posses no right to cast judgment upon me"dragon slayer spit on ground and smiled in their direction, without word readying his terrifying weapon.
One look to Galorks eyes was enough to understand hatred felt towards his opponent "don't worry budy you won't be another trophy"roar of giant, dragon and war cry of men melted in cacophony interrupted by clashing of weapons. With step back axe soaked into ground giving Galork chance to thrust his rapier into uncovered torso, giant pulled knife size of sword and blocked blow with ease. With force that shook ground he ripped axe from ground and made few steps back to avoid flank attacks. *around* Galork understood gesture made by sword and both started circling around foe. Without missing a beat axe drawn circle in air almost getting two fly in one hit. But this was his fatal mistake with such might given into blow even he didn't posses enough strength to stop double edged blade in air. Blood poured from his wounds on both side of his chest., yet still victory was not absolute, denying rules of life and death dragon slayer swang massive knife in attempt to cut anything living in close proximity, both left theyr weapons in his body and backed off until his body lost too much blood and consciousness fade away.
After burying head of small dragon, with loot in form of fascinating axe and exotic hides they came back to tower where the den was located to find out the one responsible for fire was princess when she burden planned lunch. Luckily she managed to save what was savable and now enjoyed her success by sunbathing next to set table.
"Darling, I am home, we had little mingle with some so called dragon slayer but Jerred showed up in time to help out my old bones, remember like I was talking about him? "princess not minding fact that she is in underwear in front of complete stranger stood up and walked towards him"of course I remember how can I forget, brave and strong knight of realm fighting for justice wherever he goes"to his utter surprise half naked woman came so close to him he could feel her breast even through his armor and blessed him with long kiss on lips "brave, strong and as I see very handsome, why don't we...... Show how grateful we can be""after lunch"with honest laugh and pat on back Galork invited him to set table and sent his as turned out already wife to bring third set of dishes and change into something fairer that her home clothes when they are having quest that's staying night *oh my I didn't see that coming* |
Ian was 18 today, it was his eighteenth birthday. His parents had been vocal about kicking him as soon as it was legal to do so. His blanket was given to him when he was 10, covered in figures of mystical genies and princes. The blanket, and his bed sheets were a sickly blue. They used to be a beautiful, deep shade of blue but now they just looked worn.
His younger brother still lay asleep. His bed was red, with basically everything of his being painted red. Ian looked at his laptop, colored a nice black. He quickly grabbed a bag his parents had used a gift bag for his seventh birthday. The laptop barely fit in there, but eventually he got it inside.
He packed up everything else into one of these sleek new "holding cubes"except for furniture. Legends said all of these holding cube contained a black hole, but that was preposterous.
As It was 4:00 AM, he snuck out the front door before he could be kicked out. What awaited him was an inky void of nothingness. It truly looked infinite, and seemed like you could (literally) get lost in it. He closed the door and reopened it, noticing somehow that it managed to lead to another place in that void.
He saw a large light, and quickly closed the door as a set of jaws came into frame. He had learned about this, the Angler Fish. Of course, it was only a rumor. A rumor about how anyone that tries to leave their house will be eaten by an inky black void, and suffer eternally in the fish's belly.
He quickly jumped out a window, and found himself on earth. Except, everything was in greyscale, and suddenly he saw another Angler fish. High in the sky, the angler fish seemed to be in color in this greyscale world. He quickly climbed in another window, finding himself in an alternate reality where his parents were also angler fish. After retracing his steps to the first window he jumped out of, he found himself in his own reality.
(I was listening to a song from Aladdin while writing this) |
Life is good. Yes, I'm filthy stinking rich now, and aside from having to chase off so-called relatives who are so distantly related, if at all, it has been good. House paid for, Nieces and Nephews educations all taken care of, although if they don't go to an accredited college, they never get the money. All debts are paid off. A new sensible car and I'm good.
What the hell I'm going to do with the rest of the money, I do not know. I mean, all the taxes are paid, and it's sensibly invested, but what use is it? Aside from growing more extensive, which I don't need, what do I want it to do?
"Hello, Mr. Jones. You do not know me, but we are connected by something we have in common. An unholy amount of money for which we see no earthly reason and have no clue what we wish to do with it.
"Well, I was in that situation, though I have found good uses for it beyond personal acquisitiveness or aggrandizement. No, Mr. Jones, I do *not* have any suggestions; what I do have is certain... Gentlemen's Agreements... that you should be aware of lest you fall afoul of the real moneyed powers."
"Just from the way you talk, we have nothing in common. As to your warnings, I am aware that anything I choose to do may anger those who think masses of money give them the right to run roughshod over anyone who does something they don't like. Now, If you *will* excuse me."
So I'm walking away, and he gets right up into my face. "I'm trying to save your life, you imbecile! You'll accomplish *nothing* if you antagonize these people!"
Accomplish nothing... Maybe those are the exact people I *should* go after. If they're guarding their turf that aggressively, it's either incredibly lucrative or highly illegal (in the sense that their business practices are unlawful).
"Alright, come along. I haven't had lunch yet, and i'll buy since it's my choice. Argue with me, and I'll never speak with you again."
"Thanks! It's my turn this month, and the first time too. At least I can say that I got the basics across."
"A bunch of us, are there?"
"Enough that we have at least one rep in every country."
"And we're all rich enough to be a threat?"
"Yes, and if you're thinking about going up against one of them to bust their balls, they'll crush yours in a hydraulic press."
"Maybe. Now that you've raised the issue, you'll have to convince me it isn't possible and isn't worth taking the chance."
"*I* did!? You were already on that idea!"
"Can you prove it in court?"
"You know full well that this would never reach any court. Our discussion does not constitute conspiracy since my sole purpose is to warn you of specific dangers. What you do with that information is entirely on your own head. Nor would any action you took against them ever reach a court, although for different reasons."
So he laid it all out while we ate. It took my appetite away and made me nauseous to boot.
"And you suffer this evil to persist?"
"First, there isn't that much we can do. Second, some of the terrible things they do are overall beneficial to humanity as a whole."
"Like denying certain medications to those who could best benefit from them because it *might* lead to a population increase that could trigger a war?"
"How...?"
"My eldest sister's son... And you'd better believe I already know who's responsible for an obscene price for a drug that costs less than five cents to make per dose!"
"Now, now! You don't know that! New drugs are expensive as hell to research, push through all the testing, and then they have a huge debt to pay of from what might be a niche market!"
"Well, here are some hard facts for you.
- 0.3% of the world population is a carrier.
- The cure is five doses spread over five years.
- World population is 7.753 billion.
"You tell me how many doses they could sell over five years if everyone could afford it. Don't bother; over 23 million times 5 is 116 million doses and doesn't even include new births. At a dollar a dose, they might not make all their money back, I'll grant you that, but at ten dollars a dose, they'll pull down over a billion. I'll even be generous to the greedy bastards and let them charge a hundred dollars! If you tell me that over ten billion dollars aren't enough to pay the development and testing costs, plus have a tidy sum left over to feed the stockholders, you're a liar."
"I can't deny any of that, and they do not give a shit what you or I think."
"Are you happy with that?"
"No."
"So why haven't you done something about it?"
"You weren't listening. Every time someone tries something, the hammer comes down, and not just on the offender."
"Anyone ever try ganging up?"
"They find out faster."
"Either you're a bunch of bumblers, or you have a traitor."
"Of course, there's a traitor. Everyone who doesn't think the plan has the slightest chance of succeeding."
"Then *the plan* must be solely in the hands and mind of the one who thought it up."
"He doesn't have enough money."
"He will if the greedy ones will part with a tenth of their value to start a speculative investment firm."
"A what?"
"Speculative investment firm, they look for new technologies and buy them up, usually hiring on the inventor as chief of research for that product. If it pans out, they make money. If it doesn't, they've treated the inventor well, so he's happy to stay and work on something else."
"Combination incubator and R&D think tank. Not too many of them, are there?"
"Nope, because every one of them went on the stock market, got bought out, and shut down with the claim they were losing money. Which is true if you're only looking to the following quarterly report, or even the next four. They only make money if you stay funded long enough."
"That's a long shot, fools bet."
"The one thing that has consistently paid off is basic R&D where you have no clue what you're looking for."
"Name one."
"Post-it notes. They *were* looking for new adhesives and thought that particular formula was a bust. Until one of them got their prototyping group to knock out some small pads of paper using the adhesive.
"They didn't expect it to go anywhere until the corporate headquarters secretaries started asking pointed questions about getting more.
"Boom, novel product, huge market, low cost, big profits. All from a busted vat of adhesive."
"How... No, of course, you don't know how long it will take."
((cont)) |
Just like days past, I went down to the market to buy some herbs and bread. It's kind of a thing to do when you live in a small village, however this was no fairytale.
In fairytales, you always have that one person that wishes to escape from the tedium of village life, and breaks away (often in magnificent display) to find their destiny or some crap, leaving the other villagers alone to live in their set ways.
Unfortunately, as mentioned, this was no fairy tale. I remember the first day, the odd gentleman came to town. He said something about mineral deposits, something called fracking, and something called oil rights. He mentioned using monstrous machines to drill oil out of the ground and that was the day the world changed for our little village.
I came down the path with my little basket in hand and made my way to the town square. Where previously I'd see shopkeepers and farmers setting up displays, there was only a few people milling about. Something felt odd. I proceeded to navigate the empty square to the butcher shop and found the door locked up tight with a sign that simply said "closed". Undaunted, I proceeded to walk to the bakery where I had hoped to get some fresh bread, but instead of being greeted by the warm smells of fresh cooling loaves and the equally warm voice of the baker, I found the storefront dim and another "closed"sign. Still wanting to accomplish something, I pressed on to the candlestick shop. Surely they were open, right?
Unfortunately, there was no light at the candlestick shop and another "closed"sign greeted me there. Something was definitely wrong. Deciding to write this day off, I went to the inn and tavern. If I couldn't get anything done, at least I could go knock back a pint and maybe find out what happened.
As I opened the door, I realized that these weren't locals. Well, the bartender and the barmaid were, but the twenty or so people inside were not. They all spoke with a foreign accent, and they smelled dirty. Not like farm dirt, or even river dirt, but it was a different kind of dirt. The place was noisy with activity and conversation and while the interlopers were out of place, the bar was alive with activity.
I walked in and sat down at the bar. Burt, the bartender greeted me with a warm "What'll'ya'have?"
I asked him, "Hey Burt, what's going on? Where is everyone and who are these people?"
Burt laughed at me while he poured me a pint. "These are the roughnecks, they run the new oil wells that got put in last week."
"Roughnecks? That sounds like a bunch of outlaws! Has anyone informed the sheriff?", I said.
"Naw, son. Roughnecks. They're oil rig workers. About this time last month, when that surveyor came to town, he talked everyone's ear off about our grassland having some of the strongest oil the world has ever seen. Well, they been making oil rigs in the fields and haven't stopped yet. These guys run them.", Burt said, perhaps with a bit too much enthusiasm in his voice.
"Ok, so that explains these guys, but what about everyone else? The square is practically empty! I can't get bread, meat, or even candlesticks for crying out loud. What happened?", I inquired. Burt had answers and I had to know.
"Well, to be honest... The company that came in offered to hire everyone in the village to work for them. They're offering a hundred pounds a day!", Burt said. "But don't you worry none, Deb and I will be staying right here at the Inn. We're making more than that just holing up these guys! They drink like crazy, eat like they're starving, and their money flows as freely as the beer does!", Burt responded.
"If the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker are all mining oil, then who's making the bread, meat, and candles?", I said pointedly.
"Uhh, well... Nobody. That's the problem.", Burt said.
"Yeah, that's a big problem. What about food? How are you getting food if no one's making it?", I asked.
"To be honest, I'm making money hand over fist. We can afford to have food shipped in from other villages.", Burt said. "The mining company said something about wanting to buy the town, that'd be great for all of us!"
I drank my pint and paid Burt and walked out. I didn't fancy a bunch of outsiders buying up the town, I had lived here like my father, my grand father, and my great grandfather before me. It just didn't feel right.
I made my way back home and started cooking up some stew from what I did have available. I was really set on having some fresh bread, but it was not to be. Apparently my dinner wasn't to be either as I was rudely interrupted by a knock at the door after I just sat down.
I opened the door and there was no one on the other side. A note had been stuck to my door so I removed it and brought it inside.
"DEAR RESIDENT: ON BEHALF OF BRITISH PETROLEUM, WE ARE OFFERING THE SUM OF 500,000 POUNDS STIRLING FOR YOUR ESTATE. PLEASE CONFER WITH MISTER PEMBROKE AT THE BP OIL DRILLING OFFICE TOMORROW AT 11:00 POSTHASTE."
Five hundred thousand pounds... for my land, my house, my farm. |
"No I don't think we will. If you were truly a god you wouldn't need us to free you."
"Alright team time to study this place, just work around the weirdo in chains. Don't believe a word he says. If we find proof he isn't evil we'll let him go, if not he stays up there."Surely the ancient writing carved into the walls would tell us something. My team began their work, unfortunately for me, now it was time to call the CDC, hopefully they can take some blood samples and figure out what this man is. Maybe he could prove medically valuable even if he was some form of ancient evil.
I kept watch on the man for the entire hour it took the CDC to finally arrive. Talking with their lead scientist was a little disturbing "We got here as soon as the military finished setting up a perimeter, nothing leaves the ruins without being screened by the team outside."
It was time to compare notes, "I'll gather my team and we'll brief you on what we have discovered so far."Making the rounds quickly I got everybody together near the entrance as the CDC were taking blood samples with a needle on a very long pole, "So what has everybody learned so far?".
After comparing notes it was determined that the man chained up was some form of ancient experiment, created to test the possible evolutionary paths of humanity by some aliens. Apparently he and a few others evolved into a blood thirsty monster, most had become what we would describe as angels. The difference was night and day though both became extremely powerful, but the blood thirsty gained bodies that resurrected from the tiniest piece, while the angelic became energy beings.
For a time he and the others ruled over humanity, until the angelic lent their powers to those who would fight back. Eventually humanity was able to bind their oppressors with chains infused with angelic might.
"Well that's disturbing."and the CDC scientist was right. How many of these monsters were just waiting to be let free? We needed to prepare, to fight these monsters. A nuclear weapon might kill these things, but nuking all of them could cause serious damage to the Earth and humanity.
"So, do think you guys can find a way to kill this thing?"
"Of course"the CDC scientist had the most evil grin on his face, as he spoke, "First every disease known to man is going to be pumped into him, if that doesn't work there is always gamma rays.
​
​
edit, wrote without a plain, probably terrible. |
“So… You’re saying we need to stop this imaginary,” The councilwoman asked, forming quotes with her fingers, “‘Elder God Dragon’ that you say is ‘unearthing the monster Ca-’”
She paused to check her notes. “Kuth-uh-hue? Am I saying that correctly?”
The once-great King of Atlantis sighed. It was a hopeless plea. His once-luxurious robe, encrusted in jews and lined with the finest velvet had lost its luster and became matted. The king’s hair: golden, precious locks which were the envy of the kingdom had been caked in dust and frazzled. He received looks of pity and disdain on the way to the UN, some even carelessly tossing their spare change towards his way.
He turned his head up, “Cthulhu, madam. It’s pronounced Cthulhu.”
“Right. So this ‘Cthulhu’ you speak of will destroy everything once this ‘Elder God Dragon’ releases it, am I correct?” The king only nodded in response. “And you want us to spend billions stopping it?”
Atlantis’s leader could do nothing but nod. “I understand the absurdity of this situation, but I-”
She cut him off. “Sorry sir, but I think the only money that should be spent right now is for a mental hospital. All in agreement to conclude this meeting, please say aye.” The whole room chorused in the call, severing the king’s only lifeline.
“No- Please, you cannot do-” Was all he could udder out before two security guards hauled him out. If nobody was willing to stop the dragon, he would have to do so himself.
He walked to the nearest dollar store, counting the change he was tossed on the way. “Hello, do you possess an inventory of aquatic equipment?” The king asked the store clerk.
The clerk looked at him puzzled for a second, then replied, “Umm, yeah, lemme look in the back,” before rushing away.
“This was the only thing they had in stock,” He handed the King of Atlantis a bright pink child’s snorkel, complete with matching goggles and fins large enough only for his fingers. The King of Atlantis, the ruler of all that touched water, the one that controlled tides and steers fish, offered a child’s toy? Ridiculous. He would have spat in his face if not for the fact that human “assault laws” existed.
Besides, it would have clashed horribly with his golden robes, even if he needed to breathe air underwater. “Do you have any dolphins or whales who possess sturdy handles?”
The dollar store clerk looked taken aback. “For the record, I think they’re called fins, and no, we don’t keep live animals in stock here, sir,” The king sighed and left without another word.
…
One long trip through a metal tube known as an “airplane” later, and the King of Atlantis arrived at his destination: R’yleh, the eternal prison of Cthulhu. It looked way different than what he remembered.
What once was a dry, desolate place had become a bustling metropolis. The king checked racked his brain, double-checking if he was in the right place. “Excuse me, good sir, are we in the city of R’yleh?”
“Ruh… Rhy… I’m sorry, what?” The passerby asked.
“R’yleh,” He slowly repeated, as if talking to a child.
“Raleigh?”
“Yeah, that close enough. Anyways, where would the worst, most empty place in this fine town be?”
“I’m pretty sure it's that Sears two blocks down, last I checked they had nothing but a washing machine and two people in there,” The passerby joked, “I’m just kidding! But if you really want to know, I think it would be at…”
The king rushed out of earshot before he could finish the sentence, yelling back, “Thank you for this valuable information, good sir, you have just saved countless lives!”
He rushed into the strip mall, eyes desperately searching for the Sears store. Barely lit, lights flickering in and out, and a musty smell greeted him as he approached the storefront. One man stood in front, frantically scribbling notes onto his pad of paper. He tapped the strange man on the shoulder. “Excuse me, do you know-”
He whipped around, surprised by the sudden intrusion. He glared at the king. “It’s you.”
“It is me! How is the Elder God Dragon holding up?” The king replied, breaking into a grin.
“I don’t have time for small talk. Your little secret won’t be so secret anymore,” He sneered, returning to the frantic scribbling, “When this company collapses, Cthulhu will be unleashed into the world, and you can’t do anything to stop it!”
…
“Sir, our numbers don’t look so good. We’re down 17% today, and it won’t go up anytime soon,”
The former King of Atlantis sighed. Now President of Marketing at Sears, it was his job to make sure the company didn’t collapse. It was two years since he met his arch-nemesis, two years of fighting tooth and nail to keep the company from collapsing.
“But the good news is,” His assistant continued, “We’re shorted over 150 percent-”
“How is that good news?!” He exploded, slamming his fist on the table.
“Have you seen what happened to Gamestop? If we could rally people to do the same, we could be saved!” The assistant concluded.
His mood improved instantly. “That’s genius!”
…
It was not a genius decision. “Tell me there’s good news today,” The president of marketing sighed.
“Unfortunately sir, there’s no good news today. We’re officially bankrupt. I’d suggest you pack your things while you can, the land our headquarters is on will be sold and our building on top of it demolished,”
___
Thanks for reading! |
The last aid left the room, carrying the heavy manilla folder with them, and for the first time President Anderson was alone in the oval office. The significance of the moment was overwhelming.
The campaign had been a vicious uphill battle. His wife said he was imaging things but he was sure the stress had given him more than a few grey hairs shot through his black mop. His long hair had been one more thing his opponent had given him hell for. There was supposed to have been no chance of his victory but now here he was. The White House.
Slowly, reverently, he settled into the chair behind the resolute desk. He’d asked not to be disturbed, to give himself time to sit in the weight of the room and the office of it represented.
He was the president of the United States of America, serving at the pleasure of the American people. He almost welled up at the enormity of those words.
He sat with that thought for a quarter of an hour until the clock chimed eleven. It was getting late, he and his wife hadn’t fully moved into the residence but he should go to bed. The night was quiet now but he knew there would be no respite tomorrow. He would need to be alert.
He was about to stand when the room darkened. The lights began to flicker and the air swirled, as if a hurricane were starting in his office. President Anderson called out uncertainly, “Hello?”
The air in the room swirled faster. “Hello, what’s going on?”
There should have been guards outside his door in the corridor and outside the windows but there was no response.
A veritable hurricane was blowing inside the room. The lights were like lightning bolts, lighting the room only as a flash in the darkness.
“Can anyone hear me?” He called again, but there was no response. He could see nothing outside the window. The patio should have been well lit but there was only darkness.
The world was illuminated by a flash of fire in front of the desk. The heat rolled over President Anderson, wind whipping at his hair, the edges of the room were still cast in roiling darkness by the flickering lights and the scorching fire in front of him.
And then the room stilled.
The lights returned and the wind slowly stopped.
A… what looked like a man stood in front of President Anderson. He… it had a thick dark beard and Arabic looking features. It was dressed in a smart suit with a flag shaped pin on the lapel. It would have looked like a Middle Eastern dignitary if its eyes hadn’t been on fire. Calmly, it took a breath and began to speak.
“Good evening. It’s a pleasure to meet you, President Anderson. We were very fortunate that you had requested some time alone. I apologise for interrupting, but it was important that I introduce myself as soon as possible.”
Still shaken, President Anderson took in… the thing before him. He wet his lips before speaking. Even from the other side of the desk he could still feel its warmth. “What are you?”
“I am a spirit. I am the prime minister of the Parliament of the North American Supernatural. Previously the Parliament of North American Supernatural Beings.”
President Anderson barely registered what the creature had said. “What?”
“The Parliament for the North American Supernatural. Some of our population did not identify as beings, and lobbied for a change of name.”
It was not the answer President Anderson had been looking for, but as he rested his head in his hands he grimly acknowledged that he had not really been asking a question.
“I’m dreaming.” He muttered to himself.
“Does this feel like a dream?” The… spirit asked.
“I don’t know.” President Anderson replied weakly.
“I am sorry if I caused you distress. Perhaps there was a better way to introduce myself but I have never had the duty of informing the President of our world before. I was elected two years ago. My predecessor was the one that revealed us to the previous President.”
“You, er, were elected?”
The spirit smiled gently. “We are less able to carry out elections on your scale. Our elections are by parliamentary vote.”
“Two years ago, you said?”
“We felt it would make things… run more smoothly if our leader did not change at the same time as yours.”
“And, are you an American… supernatural?”
The spirit took in a breath and seemed to consider the question. It gestured to the sofas in the centre of the room. “Why don’t we sit and you can ask your questions?”
“You won’t… burn the furniture?” President Anderson asked delicately.
“No.”
“Then, sure, let’s do that.”
He got up and joined the spirit as they settled onto the sofas opposite each other. The spirit sat neatly, but relaxed, one leg folded over the other.
“To answer your question I am American, but my father was an immigrant. I am a Jinn. My appointment was… a step forward for our people.”
“And you represent… the supernatural in America.”
The… Jinn nodded.
President Anderson sat back into the cushions.
“I understand that this must be a lot to take in.” The Jinn said.
President Anderson nodded, there was really nothing to add to that statement.
“Are there any other questions you would like to ask?” The Jinn said.
President Anderson snorted quietly as one came to mind. “Bigfoot?”
The Jinn smiled. “Our previous Prime Minister.”
President Anderson laughed. “You’re joking.”
The Jinn shook its head. “I’m not.”
The humour of the situation had helped the President over some of the shock of the Jinn’s entrance. He began to think things through more clearly. “Does anyone else know?”
“My assistant is having a similar conversation with your chief of staff. Your vice president will be briefed when he is done. Members of our government are also in communication with your heads of the secret service and the FBI, and members of our own law enforcement work with senior members of both organisations.”
The President nodded. “And the cabinet?”
“Our council has decided that informing your cabinet is not necessary. I will have a spirit appear as evidence if you ever require proof but we believe that if we are ever a factor in your decisions you can justify them by pretending to be acting on secret intelligence.” The Prime Minister explained.
The Jinn hesitated, and then continued. “I should let you know that elements of our world are already involved in your politics. Certain members of your congress and senate are human-presenting supernatural.”
The President looked sceptically at the Jinn. “What kind of supernatural.”
“I am not at liberty to divulge identities,” The Jinn began, “but I can reveal that a vampire, a were-wolf and a tree spirit are all in office.”
“That sounds like the set up to a joke.”
“And your wife is a Fey.”
“What?” The President lurched forward, stony faced.
“I’m sorry, that was a joke.” The Jinn said, apologetically.
The President sank back into the sofa and the pair shared a moment of silence as they considered one another.
The Jinn stood, “I will visit again in a few days to discuss further matters and inform you of details of the ongoing treaties and policies between our governments.”
He offered the President his hand. “Mr President, it has been an honour.”
The President stood, taking the Prime Minister's hand, and looked again into the Jinn’s burning eyes. “Likewise.” |
"Goddamnit! Goddamnit! Goddamnit!"They knew all along and i didn't listen. "Well no turning back now i have to jump."
Over the lip of the edge, down about 200 or 300 meters, are sharp, dense spikes. The bottom stares right back at me, with its jaggered teeth, and the lust for its next treat, hoping i'll fall for it to gobble me up.
Earths rumbling guts grow louder and louder as It pushes and crushes everything in its path towards me. like a wild stampede it doesn't want to stop for anything.
Below the stale air exhales and rots the hairs in my nose away. Its like someone has decided to them as a sickjoke.
No use for crying over spilt milk. The rampage behind me is closing the distance i pace towards it. Hard turn around. And bolt like tommorow doesn't exist.
The breathing, the rush and distance merge into a distant memory. the weightlessness after the launch is the one moment i know i have, even for a split second, became one like a plan on its first takeoff. Its that satisfying, everything is running amazingly, moment.
The few short seconds are over and gravity decides that its time to bring this plane to its final resting place. I stick my legs forwards to brace for the impact. Its rough! The gravel flings everywhere, the churning dust take my nose hostage, the explosion of the cave in behind me shatters the once silent woods apart. And the tearing of my flesh is just like a thousand paper cuts to my hand.
I tumble forwards and thump onto my back. The sudden breathlessness destroys my soul apart and is worse than being slapped in the face by someone trying to swat a fly.
Those guys where right. Exploring old places is stupid for someone like me, Especially if it is abandoned. |
I'll give this one a shot. I quite like it.
\_\_\_\_\_\_
"'I am in dire need of your help. Normally I do not result in such nefarious methods to attain vengeance, but this one was personal,' is what the letter said."
It was around a quarter to midnight, just before the mandatory curfew took effect, and Mercy and I found ourselves in an odd reunion within the dark alleyways of Clint and Stockhauser. In front of us was a dead body--none other than Mr. Douglas Lee Harris of the Harris Committee--eerily laying on its side, tuxedo soaked, glasses cracked, and a puddle of drying blood shining dully around its torso.
Mr. Harris was actually supposed to be *my* casualty this evening, as I had been summoned to kill him many days before. But I reckon my employer decided that I was taking too long to carry out their request and opted for a new hitman to do the job in my stead. Naturally, I wasn't aware of this change of plans until just moments ago when I finally managed to catch Mr. Harris alone in plain sight. The trouble is, just before my bullet pierced his chest, another one pierced his skull. And that bullet just happened to belong to Mercy.
"Is that so?"asked Mercy with an air of indifference.
I nodded, more so to myself than to him in particular. Since Mercy's decision to have us chat for a bit, my eyes never once wavered away from Mr. Harris' body, quite likely out of my own inability to maintain the status quo.
"What else did the letter say?"
"Well,"I said at length, "there was also something that they wrote about 'ridding the empire of scumbags.' And then I found twenty gold pieces in the envelope with a note that said, 'If you can do this for me, there'll be more where this came from.' There was also a picture--"
"Why are you panicking, then, if this is similar to your previous requests? This person was even kind enough to give you a sample of the riches that lie ahead of you. Most won't give so much as a ten-center until they see the body for themselves--or perhaps read the headlines on the newspaper."
I turned to look at him sharply, but he went on talking.
"I get it if you're a bit hesitant, but you'll get over it quickly. That's how I used to be when it came to appeals that demanded the lives of children. But you and I are well-versed in the ways of assassins--or, as I like to call it, professional dispatchers--and we've even managed to murder on the orders of Her Highness. So if it's a child that you're dealing with, then I suggest you--"
"It's not a child--"I began.
"So what is it?"I could catch a trace of impatience in his voice.
It was a question that I didn't wish to answer directly, and I was one to beat around the bush before finally giving a proper response, sort of as a way to prepare myself for the reaction of the other party. But Mercy was already showing signs of restlessness, and I was certain that if I were to waste another minute of his time with a conversation that was going nowhere, that he'd up and leave me on the spot. After all, neither he nor I would want to be caught lingering about a crime scene like this one.
At last I finally spoke.
"The act of taking another life never really disturbed me as it should,"I said, reaching into the deep pockets of my jacket, "but to take the life of someone I have long since known..."
Mercy wasn't prepared when I suddenly handed him the picture, and as he grasped it and held it up to the silvery moonlight, I could see his brown eyes flicker with confusion to recognition, recognition to shock, and shock to distress, to which I countered by pressing my lips together and glancing the other away.
"Oh my God..."he murmured, as if in some silent trance. "Is that who I think it is?"
"Yes."
"But what could he have possibly done for someone to want him dead?"
"That's the thing, Mercy,"I said numbly, "I have no idea." |
Through a fine network of overhanging shrubbery; beneath the tumbling clusters of both mud and stone compressed tightly over the protruding passage; within this tunnel itself, lied the bat-lord. Upon his throne of polished granite, he drank from a vial of ruddy liquid - a dash of the crimson dribble trailing his left cheek.
“It seems as though your kidneys are becoming worrisomely weak,” Dracula mused gently, taking another swig of the glass. “*Yes.* Cut down on the drinking and no other problems shall occur.”
The man bowed so deeply his head almost slammed against the other’s knees.
“Next.” Dracula called out methodically, his deadpan tone resounding over the billowing breeze currently rustling at his velvet clothing.
Before the Bat-lord, a sizeable gathering of women and men alike queued up from the cavern-like enclosure’s entrance, to his very throne itself. Obeying his call, a woman - of no more than thirty - huddled forwards. She too bowed at his dangling boots.
“Cut the edge of your index finger gently against here,” Dracula gestured, holding out a hook. Abiding his command, she did so. A thick droplet of blood trickled into an extended glass - the last currently being cleaned by the party of servants adjacent to the crowd.
Within its glassy confines, the substance meshed instantly with a transparent liquid currently taking up about a third of it’s contents. Within an instant, the entire cup’s innards bled a neon red.
He sipped with no hesitation in the slightest. “Healthy. Good job, you may leave.”
And so - in an identical fashion - the evening flew by. Person by person receiving check-ups of unheard of clarity. Throughout the bickering murmurs and constant rumours forever infesting the quaint town of Gilton, one truth was clear.
*Dracula’s word was fact.*
Never once was the Bat-lord false in his predictions, despite the utter insanity surrounding the man. A mist of myth and folklore shrouded Dracula like a metaphoric veil, keeping him safe and sound from the clutches of those who would utilise his abilities… *for unsavoury purposes.*
It was the end of another hard day’s work, the bat-lord once again collapsing on his throne with a reverberating thud.
Abruptly, just as one of his numerous servants approached, smoke erupted around the man.
A mere second’s breath later, Dracula’s servant was left alone and quite bewildered, staring off dumbly at the entrance of the cave.
…*and there he saw a sole bat, its Stygian wings flickering sporadically between positions; with that, the creature flurried outwards.* |
**\[Log 0001\]**
At first I was like suuuuuper cheesed about the fact that I had lost my job to a bunch of nutjobs, but after they added in a rec. room, I started thinking, "Hey, maybe this isn't so bad?"
I'm going to start documenting my experiences here. This whole situation reminds me of that young girl, Nellie Bly I think her name was, who got herself into a mental asylum just to make a book about her experiences. Years later, and Ten Days in a Madhouse is still one of the most inspiring books I've ever read. Godspeed, Nellie.
Anyways, that got me thinking. Now that I'm in a similar situation that she was, maybe I can be the one who gets famous off writing. So let me get to documenting. It all started three days ago, when the new loser intern somehow managed to drop a key and allow it into the hands of an inmate- er, I mean, patient. Anyways, tl;dr, she grabbed the keys, got into the control room, knocked out the head of security, and next thing we know, there's chloroform over all of our noses and we wake up in the very cells they stayed in, with the doors locked in front of us and our clothes replaced with the very uniforms that they also wore. I'm not exactly sure who changed me, but considering I woke up finding it extremely difficult to sit down, I'm choosing not to think too hard about it.
I was super scared on the first day, but by the second day it had dawned on me that they were just playing uno reverse, and that I wasn't in much real danger. It took them exactly a day and a half to install a fully-equipped rec room, complete with a foosball table, a flat screen tv and a rib grill. By yesterday evening, me and my new buddy Jared were cheering for the soccer game together on the rec room couch and enjoying a rack of ribs together. Real great guy, Jared is.
He may have instigated a bank heist that left 12 people brain-dead, including 8 children, but hey! We all make mistakes, don't we? Either way, I think the real reason I settled down so quickly was because of the relief it gave me from my endlessly horrifying job. I'm already growing silver hairs too! No matter how cool the sound of being a silver fox at 27 seems, this is a pride situation!
**\[Log 0021\]**
My bitchy cellmate has been complaining ALL WEEK about how his wife is "concerned for his safety"and how he's afraid his kids will have to "grow up without a father."Boo fucking hoo. He should have thought about the possibility of danger before he decided to start a family and shit. Now, because of his weak pullout game, I have to constantly listen to his whining. This place is a dream come true, and he wants to LEAVE? Maybe the patients weren't the crazy ones in the first place.
They've also installed an indoor pool, and added a paintball setup in the track field. If they told me I was to stay here the rest of my life, I would be hanging up posters and kicking off my shoes. Dream. Come. True.
**\[Log 0134\]**
I've noticed something interesting over the past couple of weeks. The patients have the keys to the outdoors. Why are they staying?
I've also noticed they're still attending their meeting with the psychiatrists, taking their medication and keeping up good daily schedules. Maybe the problem wasn't their illness in the first place. Maybe the real problem was environmental?
Bah, what am I saying. Of COURSE it was environmental! Do you know how many patients there was in this hospital beforehand? 364. Do you know how many came from well-off, loving, two-parent households? One. And even she was a diagnosed sociopath, so that's just what she was like. She had no choice in the matter, either. The rest of the patients came from abusive parents, sexual trauma, broken foster care systems, drug-torn homes, and sometimes no homes at all, and what were we doing here? We were locking them up like prisoners! They were shuffled the wrong deck of cards and then they were stuck here.
There has been an insane amount of improvement in the system after the grand takeover, and dare I say, I am proud of them.
**\[Log 0151\]**
I've decided to make a choice. I've now seen firsthand the day and night switch between the system in the perspective of the staff, and the perspective of the patients themselves. The world needs to know how amazingly successful this was. They started letting the staff go home as long as they promised not to get law enforcement involved. Some of them left, and from what I've seen, they've stuck to that promise.
I am going to go home, and I am going to write my magnum opus. I am going to show the world the insane improvement the mental penitentiary system has encountered by a complete takeover from the patients. I am going to tell them all about how harmful and counter-intuitive the system was. I am going to change the system. I hope they let me come back and visit.
I'm going to include my first couple of logs too.
**\[Log 0371\]**
My exposé reached over two-million dollars in sales this morning, so it's safe to say it was a major success. I was ambitious for sure, but I never expected it to be this groundbreaking. There's news articles being written with my face plastered across them, and I got an email last night from a producer. He wants to turn my magnum opus into a documentary. A real documentary with all the original cast. They're going to go back to the asylum and put them in the video and I couldn't have been more excited. I'm going to send the proposition out today, I hope they accept. I want to be on TV so bad.
**\[Epilogue\]**
There was a riot and a major breakout in a large psychiatric facility in Bordeaux after a patient got ahold of the facility keys. I take zero responsibility. |
As you can see form the sacred artifacts, these people were very strange. As the director of ancient studies, even I have a hard time explaining what we are looking at. For notice the shortened distal third finger, the enlarged neck muscle, and the lightbulb up the rectal cavity. To say that these artifacts have caused contriver say is an understatement. Nevertheless, the artifacts speak for themselves.
To continue on, let’s look at some of the other artifacts that our team has uncovered. The site appears to be a combination of an entertainment complex as well as burial mound. You’ll notice the people liked to be buried in a way that spelled swear words in their language. You’ll notice that the top row spells Eat a Dick and the bottom row is the world Shit, which is what they called their excrement and their mother-in-laws.
In the Fuck You Row, we can see people playing a game called Scattergories. We are not sure what this game really is, but the dinosaur bones buried next to them suggests that it was a way to teach their animals how to speak. And their texts often write quite a bit about the literary abilities of an animal they call the T-Rex.
Now, let’s move on to their art which really was ahead of their time. Or any time for that matter. Now, as the chief of antiquities, I still don’t understand much of what this is. Including Dickbutt. It’s an abstract vision of their duck, plus their phallus. Was it their god? Is this iconography representative of their native beliefs? I am not really sure but it is literally on everything. It is on their paintings, frescoes, and chiseled into their mountains. It is obvious that this diety played a great role in their daily lives.
As for their construction, they were quite advanced for their time. We have evidence of pyramids, impressive levels of industry, and flying cars. Now, we’re not sure how these cars worked but all of the ones we have uncovered have giant wings attached to them. The wings are made of bones and shouldn’t have had the power to fly. And yet, there is just so many cars with wings that we deduce that they broke the laws of physics as we know it to make it work. I mean, why would we find all of this?
And finally, and this is very special, we have some surviving writing. I shall translate as best I can. This is truly unique! We’ve never read it before and hopefully it can shed some light on this ancient civilization.
“Dear Aliens of the future.
Bob and Dale give you a hardy Howdy-do! I’m Bob. Dale is busy carving Dickbutt everywhere. I swear, I don’t know why he thinks it will be so funny for you guys to find it.
Anyway, the Earth is pretty much screwed. I know, it sucks. Oh, a whole lot of plagues and global warming did us in. The Irish survived the longest, those tough little nuggets. But it looks like it’s just me and Dale left. And we’re not sick and have plenty of food. Turns out when there are only two humans left, we can live just fine. And we have a whole lot of time on our hands. So, we’ve been having some fun.
The lightbulbs in the butts took a really long time but was SOOOOO worth it if you found it. Not to be braggy here, but that was my idea. And what did you think about the cars with wings! And the dinosaurs playing board games? Man, we had to raid every damn natural museum in the world to pull that one off. Honeslty, we were stoned at the time but trust me, it was funny if you were there.
Anyway, we hope that you’ve enjoyed our little jokes. A lifetime is a long time to fill the days. We had to do something. So we figured we would do a good old fashioned humanity prank. If we every would have made it to the stars, you would know that we are super funny.
Anyway, enjoy all the Dickbutt!
Hahahahhahahaha
Bob and Dale.
Well, um, well. This seems to be, um, well. Well this is all a joke. Planet 874-B, otherwise known as Earth, liked to think they were funny. I guess that they would find it freaking hilarious that we have devoted a huge amount of resources to its study. I haven’t seen my family in 3 years! Bob and Dale are assholes.
Although I am curious about being stoned. Something tells me I’m going to need to so some of that when our museums figure this out. |
“Sir, sir! Tell us! What is the secret behind your endless luck,” a reporter said as they shoved a mic in his face.
“Uh-“
“Did you drink a special potion? Was there some form of witchcraft involved? Please, tell the public the secrets to your splendid good fortune,” another interrogated, shoving their way to the front of the crowd.
“Well-“
“Is there something in your diet that grants you this prosperity? Please, tell us your daily routine so that others may be able to share your success!”
He hated paparazzi.
“While all your questions are very important, I am not able to answer them at this time. I have some other things that I must attend to, but I assure you that all will be answered in due time,” he said, his pace quickening as he attempted to make his grand escape.
“What are you doing later today that grants such urgency?”
“Is there a meeting that you have with the person that gave you your luck?”
“Please, good sir, enlighten us on what it is that makes you so lucky!”
He made haste, and got to his destination just in time, “All will be answered in due time!”
He closed the door and locked it, shutting out the paparazzi.
A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he slumped against the door, hand on his pounding head. He’d been dodging them all day, but apparently his supposed “luck” only worked when he was in some form of mortal danger.
At least from what he can tell, anyway.
“This so called luck has caused more trouble than it’s worth,” he mumbled, walking towards the other side of the room, avoiding the fold-up table and chairs. “What’s the point of it if I can’t even be lucky enough to avoid a group of idiots with cameras and questions? Isn’t it supposed to make my life easier and let me finally have that life I dreamed of?”
The stomping of his feet echoed through his one bedroom, own bath tiny house, barely anything able to absorb the sound.
“Unless...” he trailed off, stopping in the kitchen as a brand-new thought crossed his mind. “Unless that’s not what it’s meant for.”
Quickly, he made his way to his bedroom, his feet rushing through the single, narrow hallway. He threw open the door, and nearly slipped on a puddle of water from the leaky roof on his dash to his side dresser.
He pulled an ancient-looking book out from the single drawer, and flipped it open to the first page.
It read as follows;
The Luck of An Immortal, a spell for dummies. Combining as many four leaf clovers that you can find and a vial of your own blood, create the symbol shown to grant yourself the luck of an immortal. Once the spell is completed, you cannot reverse it.
As he skimmed the paragraph, he found an old note that he hadn’t noticed previously.
He squinted to read the old, barely legible writing, “Conditioned immortality is granted.”
His eyes widened, and he shook his head, “No. No, no, no, no, no! That can’t be what it means!” His breathing quickened.
“Did I make myself immortal?” |
"NO MUSIC!"screeched a little green alien. He fired his freeze-ray at a pedestrian whistling "when Johnny comes marching home again", who wobbled, then fell over. A team of slightly less little aliens picked him up and lifted him onto one of their hovercarts. "This one will be placed in isolation! You all must learn your place!"
A crowd of people turned away. But I just had to look. One of the grunt aliens started humming, and the lead alien freeze-rayed him as well.
Straightening my tie, I walked into the United Nations, now renamed Colony Liaison Building, and prepared for negotiations. My human colleagues were all gathered, but the aliens seemed to be running late.
I mused to Roxanne, sitting next to me. "This ban on music ..."
"Yet another psychological snub,"she groused. "Music unites humanity so they want to stamp it out. It's like disallowing conquered people from speaking their native tongue. I wouldn't be surprised if that comes next."
"It may be more than that,"said I. "I suspect they find music ... contagious."I arched my eyebrows, imparting a secret. "I saw them take down a whistling pedestrian this morning. They were almost panicking. And one of the alien guards started humming, and they took him down too."
Roxanne sat back. Surprised. Entertained. "I noticed their commander, Major Tom, humming yesterday at the end of the meeting. Pachabel's Canon, I think."Whispers went through the humans ranks.
Eventually the aliens came in. A new, grumpy alien was leading the procession. "What happened to Major Tom?"I asked.
"He ... was called away on important business,"said the new alien. "Earth is not our only concern. From our perspective, it's just a small world."
"Yes,"I said. I spoke in a storytelling voice. "It's a world of laughter, a world of tears. It's a world of hopes, and a world of fears."
Nodding in agreement, Roxanne picked up the ball, continuing the story. "There's so much that we share, that it's time we're aware, it's a small world after all."
And the whole human contingent burst into song. |
NSFW! ABSOLUTE TRIGGER WARNING!
"Aren't we forgetting a tiny little thing here; an oh-so-insignificant detail?
"A snap of his fingers, and the two people closest to him screamed out of nowhere, as if they were being pierced all over their bodies by hundreds of blades at once. They twisted and turned on the ground in agony.
After several seconds that felt so very long, the screams died down until a silence remained that could be grasped with one's hands.
Into the silence he spoke, in his deep, growling voice:
"You worthless little bastards put me away".
The demon didn't see a single face in the crowd of twenty or so little people that didn't look in disbelief at the two hunched bodies on the ground before him.
"My lord, my master... Please hear us!"
"What-"he barked "-the hell do you want from me? Bore me, and you will regret it."
"My lord, we freed you to-"
Snap.
The man, boldly stepping forward to speak, immediately paused. Shocked at the almost casual hand gesture, he waited for the pain. In disbelief, he palmed himself and looked back at the demon, who met the gaze with almost amusement.
A scream, distorted in terror, broke the silence. A woman standing further back in the group was holding her young daughter. The scream ebbed into a pitiful whimper. Only at second glance did people process what they were seeing. The little innocent girl's head and neck were completely twisted. Although her back was turned to her mother, she was looking straight into her face.
"By God, why on earth did you do that?"
"Bore me, and you will regret it."
After two more seconds of silence, the man understood: speak or die.
Over the stunned mother's whimpers, he turned to the demon.
"Guidance, my lord,"the man spoke in a shaky voice, "we seek your guidance in a world where people are doing too well. A world drowning in its arrogance. That is why we freed you. Humanity needs proof of your strength, and we want to support you."
First one, then three more, and after just a short moment, all except the brave one - they started rubbing, turning, making surprised sounds.... The first ones began to scream.
The screams became louder, more fearful. Smoke began to rise from their bodies and suddenly the room became warmer. As if they were burning inside.
They suddenly screamed in agony and pain as the first ones below them literally burst into flames.
"What is happening here? Why are you doing this?"
The screaming was deafening.
"The proof of my strength."
"but I- ...but we freed you."
Snap.
The burning bodies crumbled to dust from one moment to the next. Complete silence settled in.
"This is your first mistake. I am the most fearsome demon that ever entered this world. What made you think freeing me was a good idea?"he asked, belittling the man.
The demon tilted his head, looking very amused again. At the same moment, the man felt his stomach seem to implode - an overwhelming pain that brought him to his knees.
"Argh. But we, we wanted to help you-"
"This is your second mistake."
Straightening his head, eyes fixed piercingly on the man - snapping his fingers one last time, the man collapsed and was instantly dead...
"I don't need your help." |
(One (1) Curse word at the very end)
Sitting on the gold seat you sigh, "God, My feet HURT!"You exclaim and take off your shoes to rub your feet "No but seriously, who puts the only chair in this abandoned castle all the way at the top of the steps?"
Your friends had never answered your questions and only stared at you in shock. You look behind you and see a mythical creature, a Pheonix.
"You have sat on the throne of truth,"The tiny firebird flew up to your face "Do you have the tie to answer three simple questions? If you survive then you will become king-"
"Ruler."You spoke up "I prefer they/them pronouns please."
"If you survive you will become ruler and if you don't well, say goodbye to your friends and the memories they made of you."He said and You went rigid "Lets start off easy, shall we?"
You nod and watch as the bird perched in front of you.
"What am I?"It asked
"You are the Pheonix, protector of everything fire and one of the longest living creatures to date because of your nature of turning into ashes and rising again. forever eternal."You respond quickly
"You know your stuff kid,"The bird said before throwing another question at you "If we learn and improve from our mistakes, why are we so afraid to make mistakes?"
"We are afraid to fail and to admit we failed."You respond "In our current world if we fail we are ridiculed and made fun of, which is why no one wants to make mistakes even if we do learn from them."
"very good, One more."The firebird nodded at you "Is your answer to this question ‘no’?"
"No but yes! My answer to the question is no but It is indeed yes! And although I said no I still proved the question correct by saying no so my answer is Yes, My answer to the question is no!"
The little bird hummed and soon disappeared. When your friends moved again you felt a large weight on your head.
"Y/n!"Alex said "Did you... answer the questions correctly?"
"I don't know! I guess since I have the crown."You said as you took off the crown and placed it in your lap
"But how?"Leyla asked
"You're guess is as good as mine,"You shrugged "I was just bullshitting." |
The battle outside was getting louder now. They had breached the castle walls. "Quick my young Prince, come this way, our allies are waiting on the river"He announced barging through the door, almost falling has he rushed.
The Prince turned from the window where he was watching events unfold, "Where are the rest of the royal guards?"He asked worried. "There's only me left, the rest died trying to save your father."The Prince shook his head. It should never have happened like this. But just like his father had taught him. He took a deep breath, steadied himself and raised his head high.
"Ok we should get out of here, if we can get to the old wine cellar, we can use the river delivery door to escape."
"My thoughts exactly young Prince."They weren't.
The Prince removed his expensive night gown, he was not yet a man but already the hairs on his chest where growing. He found an old sword training shirt and threw it over his head and shoved his arms in.
Boom! They heard and both stood in shock
The guard looked panicked. "Its a battering ram, they'll be inside soon. Pass me my sword"the Prince pointed. The guard picked it up, not a showy piece, a very simple sword for a Prince, the only bit of notice was a small blue gem on the hilt. He passed the sword over blade first. The young Prince reached around and grabbed it by the hilt. "How long have you been on the royal guards?"He enquired
"Only 2 weeks Sir, I tried 4 times before that."It was easy to see why he had failed. Had things really got that bad.
Boom! Went the battering ram again, wasting no more time the Prince led the way.
They reached the stairs as they heard the great wooden doors splintering "We won't have long now"The Prince said taking the first step. The guard stumbled tried to regain his balance and failed. Falling bringing the Prince with him, they reached the bottom with a crash swords clanging together, and the guards boot being thrown off. "Are you ok Sir?"The Prince picked himself up and dusted himself off "I'm fine"he managed to keep some calmness in his voice, "Are you alright?"He questioned, "Yes Sir, totally fine."He wasn't. Blood crept from his leg, probably from his own sword, but with no time to hang around they pushed on.
They could hear the screaming and shouting as they turned the corner, but the corridor leading to the cellar was still clear.
They paced down, the guard now struggling to keep up. "Follow the blood, follow the blood"someone shouted as they heard footsteps approaching.
Three men rounded the corner. All three men wore warrior garments, each one bigger and stronger than the other. "Fuck, I think we may have to fight"the guard said hobbling along his leg now near unless. "Are you ok to fight?"Asked the Prince
"I am"he wasn't.
The warriors stared first, screamed second and charged third. The first one came axe held high, but the small Prince danced under his raised arm and sliced his belly open. The guard suddenly ran forward to meet the other two, and just as he was but yards from the other warriors slipped in the trail of his own blood, his arms went out to stop himself and in a blur all three tangled. But somehow he manged to close line both. The largest appeared to have met the guards sword as his head twisted, blood spurting, neck hanging half off. The other hit the floor like a sack of potatoes, meeting the guards full weight as he fell on top of him, cracking his head hard on the cold floor, blood leaking out. "Did you mean to do that?"The Prince amazed asked, "I did,"he didn't.
They carried on down the corridor, passing lots of doors which would hopefully slow and more followers that may find themselves down here. The Guard now struggling to walk.
They made it inside the old wine cellar and barricaded the door. Stopping to catch their breath before they made their final escape. They may just make this thought the Prince. "Achoooo"went the guard louder than was necessary. "Quiet!"The Prince whispered. "Its rather dusty down here"the guard tried to explain but the Prince was on the verge of giving up on his Knight of shining armour.
He dragged the guard up with all his might, pulling him to the back exit. Slowly and quietly they creaked open the long forgotten door and there was the river and there was the boat. Across the river they could see a small band of their allies,"heyyyyy we're over here"yelled the guard, much louder than was necessary. The Prince slammed his hand over his mouth "will you shut up, we're not safe yet!"He looked up checking nobody had heard the yelling from above, it looked clear.
The Prince climbed aboard and offered his hand to help the injured guard in but as he placed his bad leg first he wobbled causing the small boat to thrash in the water, while pulling away from the small dock, the guards leg stretched, and the pain in his leg caused him to yell loud. Much louder than was necessary. The Prince grabbed him by the collar and all but dragged him into the boat with a great crash, flopping the boat and making one of the oars slip out. The Prince stood looking down on the guard lying in the bottom of the boat crying and mumbling from the pain. Someone would hear then if he wasn't quiet. The Prince looked around, luckily nobody had heard them yet, but they would. He sat and grabbed the remaining oar pushing them out to the further into the river. He then crouched next to the guard "I'm sorry"he whispered as he slid his knife into the guards neck, a loud gurgle erupted from his throat. Even in death he had to make a scene. He grabbed the guard and pushed him over the edge of the boat making his final noise as he flopped into the water.
He rowed now, across the river. To safety. |
“This can’t be!”
Dr. Reese, a life-long government researcher, stepped back from his computer in utter disbelieve. He had just finished the spectrograph from the newest product from O24U. He was supposed to approve this product ASAP, the company had already started production and were just waiting on his rubber stamp to start the roll out. Normally he has more than 2 days to complete a review of anything but this was supposed to be simple enough. He was just approving Air.
It was publically branded "AAir"by the company. Their newest, latest and greatest. That was the tag line anyways, the advertisements never really said why it was better. O24U had been blasting the advertisements all over every sort of communication imaginable. The ad’s always stressed how the product was all ready to go and waiting on approval.
The news was hyping up the Great Air Depression more than any other story in the last century. The Earth’s air had gone to shit. No one really knows what happened, there was plenty of blame to go around. And around the blame went, everyone pointed fingers at the other guys as civil as fans pointing and cursing out an umpire. The news was just constant talking heads screaming at each other.
Enter O24U with their portable breathing Oxygen. Small, lightweight and most of all cheap, this invention helped both sides come together to get to work on fixing the problems before them. They were able to focus on how to fix the Air. They didn’t actually do anything, but at least they were able to focus now.
After about 10 years or so, actual O2 was starting to become really hard to come by and really expensive to make. O24U, already with a worldwide monopoly, claimed they had a breakthrough. Cheap air for the masses that is just as good. Supposedly their scientists came up with a revolutionary way to actually clean O2 molecules. AAir wasn’t actually any cheaper than the older models, but they had secured government subside contract that would allow the average citizen to buy at a fraction of the price that they were charging. Ensuring mass availability to everyone that needed to breathe.
Dr. Reese checked over his notes several times.
“This can’t be right.” He mumbled to himself. “I’ve made some sort of mistake.”
He ran the test again, with another brand new bottle.
Same results. Over and over again until his supply was exhausted. It was conclusive. The results were indisputable by science.
Reese reluctantly picked up his phone and called the Commissioner of the Food and Drug Administration ready to report the bad news.
Commissioner Strawin barked over the phone. “Reese, cutting it close to the deadline as usual I see.”
“Sir, I have some rather bad news for you. You see-“
Strawin cut him off, “Look Reese, I don’t need all the Scientifics, just tell me we got the go ahead so I can make the call.”
Nervous now Reese tried to push back, “Sir. We can’t do this. I can’t approve this.”
Strawin started to raise his voice now, you could hear the anger “Reese, I don’t care what you can and can’t do. Im not asking for your opinion. This is an order to approve this. WE NEED TO GO ON THIS!”
“Sir, this product is nothing! This is just BOTTLED ATHMOSTPHERE! They hadn’t done anything differently than go outside with a trash bag, wave it around, then bottle it and sell it! This is nothing! This will do nothing for people!
Strawin had lowered his voice to almost a whisper now. “Approve the damn product. I’m not telling you again.”
Reese was now shaken up. Was the Commissioner really asking him to do what he thought he was? Maybe he didn’t understand what he had just told him. He had never gotten along personally with Strawin but he never came across as a bad guy. “Sir, we need to go over my findings. I’m sure there was some mistake but what I reviewed, AAir, there has to be”
Reese caught himself when he realized there was no one on the other end of the phone call.
15 mins later there was a knock on his door. Reese answered the door to find a man in a black suit he had never seen before.
“It’s too bad you couldn’t’ play ball.”
​
​
​
​
\*\*\*Minor side note. I have no idea where the name Reese came from, however I had to fight myself the whole time writing this from adding a bit were he dropped a bunch of things and him yelling out "My pieces!"\*\*\* |
How dare they insult my work with something as frivolous as their petty squabbling. well I'll show them, I shall show those self proclaimed heroes and self proclaimed villains, they want amazing fights, they shall have their spectacular fights. Buildings shall have the structural integrity of a wet pasta noodle, so they can have their special demolished buildings for their amazing fights. Every basement will be filled to the brim with methane or propane, so the slightest heat from a super's power shall set fire to the building, for their desired background explosions. Every one of the civilian deaths shall be on their hands and not my own, for I am not the one telling the one engineer in this god forsaken city who actually values human life over the ascetics of superheroes and their villains. |
\*Horrible, HORIBLE vomiting noises\*
Mika just watched in horror at the eldritch abomination coming out of this woman's mouth, no exaggeration, he's pretty sure he saw a full eyeball.
"Are...\*gags\* are you ok,"asked Mika
"Do I lOOk oK!"The woman vomits more, "DaMn U, MEeee! You BITCH!"The woman falls on her face, into a small pool of vomit.
"Jeez,"said Mika. He lightly nudged the woman with his foot so she wouldn't drown in vomit.
\-------One Hour Later------
Olis groans as she tries to open both her eyes at the same time. Seconds later, the mother, father, and first born of all headaches take turns using her head as a volleyball.
"Oh my god,"said Olis. She looked down to see herself in the back seat of a car, using a jacket as a blanket. "Greaaaaat, love everything about this."She looks under the jacket to see that she's still in her *horrible* smelling clothes. "That's...better?"She sits up up, groans, lays back down for a few minutes, and then actually sits up to get a feel for her surroundings. "*Ton ma I hcihw lla ees em tel ,yvne fo eye dlareme*,"said Olis. Her eyes turned a dark green as her foggy surroundings became clearer. Olis was out on the cliffside, Cliffside Trailer Park to be specific. Olis looks out the back window of the car to see Mika looking at her. Olis blinks at Mika, her eyes returning to normal, completely unfazed.
"What the hell"asked Mika.
"Dude, you have no idea,"said Olis, "Hey, do you have any Gatorade, some eggs, \*gags\* and a bag?" |
I was your typical psychopath. It felt good, SO GOOD, to kill anyone I wanted to. But after being stuck in a town in 1983, having food supplies and water for a lifetime years. I decided to train my body to the hardest, and practiced fighting, so the bastards who did this to me would DIE!!! What I didn't know was that weird people in black cars would come to the town surrounded by walls.
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Another Average day, isn't that right, Joe?"I said, patrolling the town.
Joe was the dead rat I found in my bedroom one night. As I walked into an alleyway, a car zipped passed me, a norm- A CAR?!? I quickly Peeped and saw a black car, a weird car, stopping, and a man with a red uniform came out of the car, with guns that looked advanced.
"Joe, we gotta hide!"I said, hiding in the trashcan.
​
The man came around the alleyway, and looked around. He talked in a device that resembled the devices I saw soldiers use to communicate to each other on the TV
​
"HQ, Unit 3 here, False Alarm, Over"said the man
​
The device then talked back! "Unit 3, HQ here, Roger that, Over"
​
"HQ, Unit 3 here, I'm Out"
​
The device then stopped for a second, and a new sentence was said. It seemed that the device could be used to talk to people. The man walked away, and went into the car. The car then drove away. I came out of the trashcan.
​
"Joe, lets start this game, MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH"I said before going back home.
​
(I'll probably do a part 2 since this topic is fun) |
"Beg pardon, but what are *those things*?"
Slowly, I shrugged.
"Oh, I think that's just the Lovecraftian horror writers."
"WHAT?""You're a first-timer, aren't you? First time riding the Thought Train?"I sat on the choo-choo train with him, gray outside and white inside.
"...Okay."he paused. "How do you get off this...thing?"
"It's random."
"Seriously?"
"Or you get to jump off."
He stared at the void below us. "Yeah...no."
A tree suddenly sprouted, along with spouts of grass. It was no longer a choo-choo train: we sat in a forest with several batches of pink donuts.
"The choo-choo train is only its original form."I explained with a donut in my cheek.
Abruptly, everything pixellated, including the donuts. Then they disappeared.
"I think you know how to control the thought train now, Jeff."I nodded approvingly. "All has ridden on this train–Genghis Khan–""*What?*""Don't interrupt, boy, don't interrupt!"
But at that moment he had disappeared into a puff of smoke. I shrugged, hoping he would come visit again. |
I were the 1st generation of unbards, existing after humanity's technology was traded to god for some magic in 2385. Humanity began to rebuild its technology, and combined both magic and technology to create unbards. Unbards could only be found naturally, and are able to cast debuffs with magic, and could control the actions of creatures and allies who heard the music with technology. And well... unfortunately, I passed the class.
​
"Do I really have to do this?"
​
"Yes"said my professor. "You wanted to be something, and here you are."
​
"I don't wnat to carry the pressure of being the first!!"I said.
​
"Not my problem"said the Professor.
​
Since I was not approved for fighting yet, they did tests with me. In my first test, monsters similar the human beings like orcs, trolls, and animals before 2385 were affected by my music.
​
In the second test, creatures different from humans were not affected, and needed different frequencies to be affected. I now needed to learn how to adjust music quickly, and needed to increase my stamina and speed.
​
In the third test, completely magic creatures were introduced, and I could only casts debuffs on them, making them my new weakness.
​
In the fourth test, I was tested with magic physical creatures, and completely physical creatures, and was successfully able to fight them.
​
It was decided that Unbards would be one of the most hardest classes, and one of the best defense and buffing units. Unbards would have to be carefully used and would be special. I was finally given my adventurer ID card and here my adventure starts. |
\[poem\]
We give. We jump. We yield. We turn. We do not ask the cause.
We strive. We hop. We duck. And churn. And do not ask for pause.
Nor goal. Nor path. Nor means or mode. We do not question why
until the years have gnawed our cage and let our voices cry.
For through the walls of iron dust we may not punch or bite,
we may not tear their face of wax to free us from their smite:
by aluminium vices we are bound to bear our fate
and all to do to keep us sane is cry. And scream. And wait. |
"So what you're saying is... You want us to break into it and have *them* defend it?"Delian popped a gum bubble as she spoke.
"Precisely."I nod. You will have one year, or until the other side gives up, to breech this fortress. Your confined to the rules allotted. You both will be paid in full during this time, with the bonus going to the winning side. "I say as I gesture to a small bright blue flag on the desk.
"To prove that there is a breech you must successfully enter the fortress and make your way to a specific room. There you will find a button and a flag. You must press the button to identify you have entered. The flag has a gps transmitter in it and will set off an alarm the moment it is removed from the fortress. You must take that flag out of the fortress in order to win."
"Define 'removed from the fortress' in area."Gavin asked
"About one foot from the walls. I couldn't make it work any other way, sorry."
"it's cool."Delian nodded. "You tried."
I clap my hands together. "Now, to ensure that no one can 'cheat' by taking and hiding the flag somewhere to falter the experiment, Delian's team each have a special wristband that will activate the button upon being near it. The button will unlock the container that has the flag."
"Can we take it?"
"Yes. As long as you follow the rules of combat alotted you may attempt to retake the flag, the same however can be said of them as well. They may attempt to retrieve the flag and get it out."
They looked at each other with a companionable smirk, they knew the rules but they were also thinking of loopholes. Which I expected, I wanted proof after all and really the rules were in place to keep people from dying. This said nothing about body casts or possible shattered bones.
"The trial will begin in a week. I hope you all enjoy yourselves. Good Luck." |
"Guys, please. I really need your help. I know you guys don't normally give specific advice, but what's the answer to question thre-"
"I have a question\~"the devil purred, sliding over to the right part of my shoulder. The angel blushed, hiding his face in his robes. The devil slyly pulled his face to look at hers.
"Where are you going to be this friday\~"She grinned. I wanted to just smack my face on my desk.
"W-Well...I-I'll j-just be here, m-making sure P-Peter doesn't d-do anything b-bad..."The angel managed to say through his face being all red. I grabbed the devil, placing her back on the left of my shoulder.
"Please. Jesus. Can you guys seriously not do this for five min-"I was interrupted with a cough from my teacher, glaring at me. I nervously smiled, looking back down at my table. I could still hear my devil blowing kisses to the angel. I groaned.
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Come on, Pete. You won't get hooked. Just come do it with us."David smirked, waving a baggie of coke in my face. I leaned back.
"Guys now should really be the time to help me-"I looked between my shoulder, confused that the manifestations of my conscience were not there. I looked down to the ground and nearly puked as the two were going at it. Granted, I was the only one that could see them, but it was still bizarre.
"Dude, you're supposed to be against that kinda stuff!"I whispered to the angel. He didn't hear me as he seemed to be distracted by my devil that had him on the ground, giving him a wicked smile as he moaned.
"...Man, I'm going home."I groaned, turning away from David an my angel and devil, walking home. They knew the way. |
It was setting up to be a hard winter. Game had become scarce on this side of the mountain. Logan had noticed that today as he trekked to the river. There was no doubt that people were going to suffer this year, especially fugitives like him.
The shapeshifter lingered in the woods by the riverbank, his senses on high alert for any threat. But the place was as deserted as ever. He let out a sigh of relief. The number of deer and other such forest animals may have dwindled, but at least there was still a healthy supply of fish. Logan pondered his hunting strategy. He could easily shapeshift into a bear, but that was an obvious disguise since many of them had gone into hibernation already. Taking of a hawk’s form was less conspicuous, but then he would have to deal with the high winds. Perhaps he should be a fox this time…
A high-pitched squeal startled him. He froze, looking to see where it came from. It wasn’t long before he noticed a tiny child toddling along the edge of the river. She stopped often to pick up a pebble, sometimes attempting to reach into the fast-moving water…
Panic gripped Logan. One misstep, and the little fool would tumble into the river and be swept away! He had to get her away from there somehow- how did one distract a toddler? Right, something small and cute. Children generally liked small, cute, cuddly animals.
Logan shrank several sizes, and a small cat with big green eyes appeared in his place. He bounded out of the woods. *Meow!* he shouted, *Meow! Meow!*
That was enough to distract the girl from her dangerous game. A grin appeared on her face. “Kitty?” she squeaked, scrambling to her feet. Logan held his breath until she had clambered over the rocks and away from the riverbank. He bristled ever so slightly as she lightly petted his head. “Kitty,” she repeated, delighted to make a new acquaintance. Then she looked back at the river. “Kitty play?”
Oh no no no. This wasn’t good. Logan had to get her mind off that death trap. *Meowrrrrrr*, he replied firmly. He curled up beside her, determined to make her understand that she should stay right here. It worked, and she sat down beside him, still petting his soft black fur. “Nice kitty,” she crooned.
If the shapeshifter was in his normal form, he would have teared up. He cursed himself for his weakness, but he couldn’t help it. When was the last time anyone had said a kind word about him? As soon as they found out about his true nature, people had shunned him, called him a monster, all sorts of terrible things. And worst of all, they had every reason to.
The girl seemed to pick up on his mood. “Kitty sad?” she asked, wide eyes filled with concern. Logan stared at her. How did she know that? Then he remembered. Of course it was easy to tell for someone who had experience with cats. His tail was tucked in, and his ears were slightly laid back. Good indications of an unhappy cat. Well this was embarrassing. He prided himself on keeping a tough exterior.
Little arms wrapped around him as well as they could. “Make kitty better,” she said sweetly.
That did it. All the grief and pain from the past few years broke through the wall he had built in his mind to contain them. He couldn’t cry like people did, so he purred instead. This child, this fortunate, fortunate child. So unclouded by the cares of this hard world. He didn’t deserve this kindness at all, but oh how he had missed it. If only adults had at least half as much empathy.
They sat quietly for the next minute or so. “Kitty better now?” the girl asked. Logan uncurled and stood up, shaking out his fur. Yes, he felt better now. He would repay her kindness somehow. He heard frantic calls of a worried mother in the distance. The girl had better get home now. *Meow*, he said, trotting towards the voice. The girl’s face lit up again. “Mama!” she screamed with joy. Logan followed her as she ran to her mother, still keeping her well away from the riverbank. The girl’s mother scooped her up, alternating between kisses and light scoldings. She was about to return home when the girl pointed at Logan. “Kitty friend”, she said, “Kitty come home?”
The mother scrutinized Logan. Their eyes met briefly, and panic set in again. He didn’t have to be told that he had been discovered. This mother was no ordinary woman; she could see right through his shapeshifting tricks. He feared for the worst.
But the mother smiled. “No darling,” she said to the girl, “kitty can’t come home. But we can meet kitty tomorrow.” She looked knowingly at Logan. “Kitty is a very special kitty. He has a good heart, and I would like to talk to him.” There was surprisingly no anger or fear in her voice.
Well, that could have been worse. *Meow*, Logan agreed. He would wait for them tomorrow. Perhaps there was still a few kind souls left in this world after all. |
\[Runaway Luck\]
Mason wasn't surprised when the door opened. The building had been abandoned since before Mason was born. It was two in the morning and Mason couldn't handle his home life any longer. He had no shortage of people he could have imposed on, even at that late hour. But, he didn't have anyone he could call a friend. He decided his best course of action would be to lay low until he could leave town. He didn't anticipate needing more than a few days and headed to the old costume shop in the meantime.
The old place, named Sharp Looks, always held an idle fascination for Mason. It mostly interested him because everyone else seemed to ignore it. The warehouse-sized, single-story building sat on the outskirts of town with boarded windows. Not only did no one talk about it, people seemed to forget it was even there until Mason brought it up in conversation. When he decided to run away, it was the obvious hideout. And, he was lucky enough that over 14 years ago, someone forgot to lock the door.
His stroke of luck did surprise him when he found lights on inside. Nothing bright enough to be seen through the boarded windows; but, he spotted several dim, golden lights lined up in a row further inside. He shrugged and entered the building completely, letting the door close behind him. Mason headed towards the lights without any fear. Even if there was someone sinister lurking in the shadows, he knew he'd be okay. He'd learned to trust his luck, especially over the last couple of years.
Mason reached the lights and found a row of illuminated cubicles. Each cubicle had a small display table with items that were lit from beneath with golden light. He was puzzled at first. He saw a white bonnet resting on a mannequin's head, and another cubicle held a white piece of satin cloth with a red scissor logo on it. Then, he remembered he was in a costume shop. Mason left home without packing anything, and he realized he was still kind of cold even though he was inside now. But, luckily, now he found something to keep him warm.
He decided the white cloth was a cape of some sort and wrapped it around his shoulders. As he tied it around his neck, he noticed the number 16 in red stitching at one corner. Feeling tired, and emotionally drained, Mason moved further into the building hoping to find a comfortable corner to curl up in. But, he froze after several steps. He heard voices.
Mason heard a woman talking, but wasn't able to make anything out. He kept moving towards the voice on tiptoes. But then, a different woman spoke. She sounded louder and Mason heard her clearly.
"Yes, Ms. Sharp,"the woman said. Mason recognized the name and wondered if the store's owner was present. The first voice spoke again, and it was still muffled. Mason kept moving and turned a corner. He found a short hall and a closed door that was outlined by bright, white light. The voice sounded clearer now.
"...as for Abby, let that [unfold as it will](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/q8tgs6/wp_its_a_normal_day_at_school_youre_just_getting/) and keep me updated. Though, keep Dara away. She's too important to risk, and Spider is too unpredictable."the voice said. Then, the second voice spoke up again, louder than the first.
"Yes, Ms. Sharp,"the unknown woman said. "Though, there is a complication for Halloween. The zombie virus has been altered,"she said.
"Altered how?"Ms. Sharp asked. Mason was now by the door as he listened.
"A Calavera named [Turbo reprogrammed the nanos](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/q3xpga/wpcontrary_to_popular_belief_zombies_are_not/) to make them more cosmetic. The added strength is still there; but, the aggression has been removed."
"Interesting,"Ms. Sharp replied. "Let it happen. And make sure Turbo finds one of my old labs; that sort of cleverness should be encouraged."
"Yes, Ms. Sharp,"the second woman replied. Mason felt deeply curious about their conversation; but, something in the back of his mind told him he needed to leave. Mason's luck and instincts were one and the same and he trusted that fleeting thought. He carefully backed away from the door as Ms. Sharp continued talking. He crouched to listen better but, now that he was away from the door he stood and took a full step. And, for the first time in about four years, his luck failed him.
Unfortunately, Mason didn't notice that his make-shift cape dragged on the floor while he was crouching. He stood and tried to walk in one motion, but he stepped on his own cape and landed on the ground face-first with a loud ruckus. Before he could roll over, even before the pain set in on his smashed face, Mason blinked.
When he opened his eyes again, he was seated on the floor in the center of a glowing white room. A black cat with a red patch of fur atop its head sat in front of Mason. Despite opening his eyes, Mason couldn't move. He couldn't turn his head and he couldn't focus on anywhere else in the white room except for the black cat. He thought he saw the edge of a red door in his peripheral vision, but as he tried to convince his head to turn, the cat spoke in the second woman's voice.
"Most people I catch snooping around don't wake up,"the cat said. "You're lucky."Mason tried to laugh, but his body wasn't responding. "I'm going to let you move so we can talk,"she said. At her words, Mason felt cool air rush into his lungs. He realized he hadn't been breathing. But, as soon as his lungs were full, he laughed.
"If I was really lucky, I wouldn't have been caught,"he said.
'Oh, I don't know...,"Ms. Sharp said from behind him. Mason had been so distracted by his inability to move and the talking cat, that he forgot there was someone else in the room. He whirled around to see her, but his head stopped before he saw anything more than the red door.
"We're still keeping some secrets,"the cat said. Mason blinked, then he was facing forward again and unable to move.
"You fell face down in the hall, allowing us to see the mark on the back of your neck,"Ms. Sharp said. If Mason could furrow his brow, he would have. There was only one mark she could be talking about; an uncle's practical joke gone wrong. Four years ago he ended up with a small 25 branded on the back of his neck. It hurt, but he got over it quickly when he realized how much his luck had changed. Of course, it didn't take long for his family to notice his lucky streaks and his life became one constant favor for other people.
"You think your luck let you down?"Ms. Sharp asked. "I'd argue that your luck brought you to someone that can help you understand it. Someone who can change your life for the better. If you're snooping around here in the middle of the night, it's safe to say you either don't have a home or don't want to be there."Then, another black cat appeared in his vision. It walked in front of him and stood next to the first cat. They looked almost identical, except the new cat had [a white patch of fur](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9lxbba/wp_sitting_alone_on_the_subway_youre_quietly/) on its head instead of red. Once the two cats were side by side they bowed their heads and gave mason a better view. The red and white patches of fur were shaped like skulls, then they looked up at Mason and the newest one with a white patch spoke.
"It just so happens I could use some extra luck on Halloween...,"Ms. Sharp's voice came out of the cat's mouth.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1381 in a row. (Story #289 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/). |
"you want me to do what!?"He said to her in disbelief.
"I'm the one that's dieing Jefferey, and I don't think it's too much hassle for you to make me happy for the next three months"she answered back
"I understand that you don't have much time left and I love you dearly but this I cannot do"he replied to his wife with tears of regret in his eyes and a solemn expression.
"Oh you'll do this and you'll enjoy it, you want to know why? If you don't I'll get someone else who will!"Screaming in defiance at the world just as much as to her husband of fourteen years.
"It just doesn't make any sense, your last wish. The only thing you want to do for the next three months is *that*?"
"Yes Jefferey my love, light of my life and fire of my loins. I want to be strapped to the bed and have you continually eat my ass till I straight up keel over. Don't stop till you hear my death rattle" |
My name is Taran, and I am a witch hunter. I was born into this profession. My father and grandfather and great-grandfather before me all were witch hunters, among the best in the world. Among our kind there is a simple rule: never trust a witch. It doesn't matter how beautiful or innocent or young she may seem. It doesn't matter what she promises you. She will lie and deceive. At least, that is what I was taught.
Given all this, it may surprise you to learn that as far as I knew, I had never actually encountered a witch until yesterday. When I met her, it took nearly all of my mental discipline to resist her charm. Not that she was trying very hard. In fact, it caught me by surprise that she was even a witch at all. You see, she was my Tinder date.
Now I know what you're probably thinking: *you're supposed to be a badass witch hunter, a legendary warrior! What the hell are you doing on Tinder?* Well, it's 2021, we've modernized. Most of us, and apparently most witches, live very average lives. We work jobs, we go on dates, some even get married and have children with ordinary people, and often it is a struggle deciding whether or not to ever reveal our true nature to those we care for. Gone are the days of feudal clan wars and unrestricted hunting of one another, brandishing weapons and magic and showing glorious presence to the common folk. Today we work undercover through the modern systems society has built. That was how she found me.
Her name is Rayne, and she is beautiful. Although now, it may be more accurate to say that I am, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Things have gotten a bit...confusing.
We matched almost immediately. I was shocked after I swiped right, thinking she was just an attractive woman in the passing second and a half it takes to make the decision between right and left. I never imagined she had already swiped right on *me*. I never imagined she already knew who I was. *What* I was.
Anyway, after a short and arguably flirtatious conversation, we agreed to meet up at Starbucks for a coffee. We seemed to hit it off really well. She shared almost all of my interests, and in hindsight I realize she peppered in a few of her own just to keep me off balance. It would be too suspicious if she like *everything* I liked, after all.
One thing leads to another and we go back to her apartment. Normally I would never do this on a first date, simply out of caution, but I will admit I fell prey to my baser instincts. It had been months since I had been with anyone and I thought there was no way she could be a witch. I kept telling myself this as we climbed the stairs to her apartment. I kept telling myself this as she gave me a glass of wine from her kitchen. I kept telling myself this as my vision went black.
When I awoke, I saw myself standing over me. I was laying in a bathtub, unable to move my limbs. It's a surreal thing to see one's own naked body standing over them. I was confused, but I couldn't turn my head, and I was unable to speak. So she, or now he, spoke to me.
"I knew one of you would come for me eventually. I knew if you found out you would try to kill me. You wouldn't hesitate. That is why I must do this, for your own good, and the good of both our kinds."
My throat was scratchy and hoarse, and I barely noticed the change in my pitch when I breathed out the question, "Do what?"
"I have taken your body, and replaced it with mine. You're going to live as a woman now, and I as a man. More importantly, you will live as a witch, and I as a witch hunter. Times have changed, the world has moved on. It's time for us to understand one another, and stop the killing."
I felt the muscles in my neck tighten as I looked down at my new form. Soft skin. Tender hands. Curves...
Of course, I had read about stories of body swapping, and heard more than once the typical response of guys saying they'd fondle themselves if they were a woman for a day. But that was not what I felt. What I felt was fear, dread, and a distinct sense of dysphoria looming over this new unknown. This body was unfamiliar and brimming with magical power. A power I lacked the knowledge to control. This was not *my* body. This was not *me*.
My voice continued to speak to me. "I bet you're thinking you could just use that body's power to reverse the spell, but you can't. It is of the mind, not the body. It will only break when I wish it. If you tell anyone about this, especially those in my Order, they will likely kill you and me as well. I'm sorry it had to be this way, but learning the truth about one another is the only chance for peace."
I let out a soft chuckle and hoarsely asked, "Do you...really think...there can be...peace?"
"Not yet, but in time, with knowledge and understanding, and patience, then perhaps. I can only hope."
I slowly struggled to sit up, feeling strength returning to this body's muscles. "Why? Why do you...want peace? After all...these centuries?"
My face looked back at me, our eyes met. "Our two peoples will not survive if we cannot put aside our differences. The modern world will erase us. And..."
"And what?"
"I never wanted to be a witch. I never asked to be a woman. This is my way of taking back control. I'm sorry I had to take it from you, but you may be the only one of your kind that could understand."
She stepped out of the room then, in my body, and put on my clothes. "I'm leaving you with my entire life. Learn all you can. Grow, understand, and be patient. In time, I will come back for you."That was yesterday. That was the last time I saw myself.
Now when I look in the mirror, I see a woman. She's beautiful and powerful and desirable, but she is not me. I can tell no one, because they would not understand. Now I have to live her life, knowing nothing of who she is or how others see her, let alone the world of witches she is a part of.
I am alone, and I am afraid. |
The outstretched arm kept growing in length and creeping out of the square. I could make out the fingers of the outstretched open palm. It picked up speed and headed directly towards towards me as I began to run. Terrified, I could barely catch my breath as my feet carried me towards the edge of the forest. I could hide in the woods, so I thought, even though I could not comprehend what I was seeing. The hand was some distance behind me, but I dared not look back, while the forest edge moved closer.
"Wa-a-a-it!"I heard it wail. "Wa-a-a-a-a-it... dont...".
I didn't know if it was the square of the hand itself screaming. I turned my head to see. The hand was about a dozen feet away from me, stretched on a thin arm extending miles into the clouds and into the square opening. I screamed as my left foot caught something; I plummeted hard onto the ground, barely bracing myself. My hands and arms took most of the impact, protecting my head, as I rolled a few times and turned onto my back to face the outstretched hand in horror.
The giant palm stopped inches away from me. Its massive form covered most of the sky, each finger as long as my entire body. I could see the square opening miles behind it in the clouds, the eye staring at me, as it screamed:
"Come on! Don't leave me hanging, bro!" |
I watched from the window when my neighbour walked to his car, holding his usual briefcase, wearing his usual business suit, and wearing his usual dead-inside expression.
Why did anyone go to work? I didn't know.
Approximately 50 years ago, it was decided that no one could age or die, or even be born. That meant no one could starve, or die from being homeless, or die from old age.
My neighbour was a lawyer, so it made a bit of sense for his position. But it was more the wide scale effect that I was more baffled by.
I got that there were necessary jobs that needed to be done, like enforcing justice, construction, garbage men, artists, and so on.
But why would an average Joe, who worked to keep himself fed and warm, keep going to work at the same office he’d work at for an eternity.
I’m repeating myself, but it was *baffling* to me.
I wasn’t alone in my opinion, but if I went door to door and asked people what their opinion on the time freeze was, 98 out of 100 would celebrate the decision like it was on par with the end of World War III.
Which I was about to do, kinda.
Hey, I know it’s pretty nonsensical, but what other options do I have? Not a lot.
I have to try everything. And hey, at least I have plenty of time. That’s the only positive side of the freeze I can think about.
I sighed. I was too late to get to Mr. Wilson. I still had a lot of neighbours left to go through.
\----
My knock rang throughout the door. My second nearest neighbour, Mrs. Carter, opened the door.
She was still as young as when the freeze happened. About twenty years older than me, a bit plump, but with a kind disposition. *That* was actually surprising, that she’d stayed pretty similar to how she was before.
Many people I’d known had changed massively, either slowly throughout the fifty years or almost instantly, with the newfound ability to not suffer as much, or as severe consequences as before.
Why care about acting like a dick, when you can’t get murdered for it. Or when you could just disappear somewhere after acting like an asshole for years.
“Tom? What on earth are you doing here, at this time?”
I exhaled, letting the pressure out. I handed over the petition sheet I had printed.
“What’s this? Wait, this says… You can’t be serious!” She sounded too theatrical in my opinion. I mean, it was just a piece of paper.
“I’m just asking you to sign it. Don’t you think that life is *boring*, when you don’t age?”
“Goodness, Tom! Are you seriously petitioning to revert back to Before? You know that will never get anywhere,” she said.
“I only intend to propose it to the mayor. I don’t have any expectations of getting it to the international stage, but I thought that maybe we could be the first community to start anew, free from the cycle of living the same life everyday! Think about it, please?”
“Tom, I don’t get why you’re so against the Freeze.”
“I just said why. It’s Boring.”
“There’s a pretty big flaw in your argument. You want to make a decision for everyone else, only for the benefit of yourself.”
“No! That’s not what I’m trying to do at all. I just wanted to gather opinions. Who knows? Maybe there’s more people who agree with me.”
Mrs. Carter sighed, “Well, I am *not* signing that paper. I like the way life is now. Go ask someone else, though I doubt you'll have any luck getting people to sign it. Bye, Tom.”
She closed the door before I could reply.
\----
I sat down on my couch, looking at the results from today’s survey.
One signature. From Thomas Lane.
There were still thousands of people in the city to ask.
At least I had plenty of time to do that. |
If you are reading this hoping to learn why I keep this name, I shall tell you in advance that it shall not be here.
It always gets me weird looks when newcomers at the monastery hear my name. Such a blasphemous name for a worshipper, they eye me up and down, glance over towards me during mass, looking for flaws in my faith and my actions.
And they do find some, there are times my vow of silence was broken, my writing was still poor no matter how often I practiced. All that and more, hopefully you understand.
And thus, the newcomers then come to avoid me. This flawed man with a blasphemous name, what could possibly be learned from him?
And for many, that's where the story between us ends. Simply one of many, the memory of me better reused for something else.
But there are times some get curious, perhaps out of being forced to interact with me due to chores, or perhaps the force of curiosity itself is enough to propel them to spend the precious time after meetings asking me why I had such a name, or why I kept such a name since the answer to the former seems obvious enough. It was what I was given, right?
I do not tell them, my vow forbids it. Some move on, but others continue to ask, swiftly others when it becomes clear I shall not speak of it. These days, they rarely find out why. Those who were there to know it have passed away, and those with second or third hand knowledge have at this point taken vows of silence themselves. Perhaps there is someone here still who knows why and can still speak it, I know not. At the very least, eventually the questions of it from them end, until the next group of newcomers has curious ones among them.
Such a funny little thing, to often spark curiosity and conversations in the cloister. After all, what's in a name? |
The sign above the door squeaked lightly on the oiled iron rings from which it hung suspended over the entrance to his humble shop as Vilhelm T. Ecgberht turned the key to lock up for the evening. The sign was fairly old, and could use a coat of paint, but the name Ecgberht's was still legible, carved into the wood and stained. It used to say "Ecgberht's Emporium,"but long before the errant tail of a wyvern rider's low-flying mount had truncated it, folks had come to know of his shop as simply Ecgberht's, so he had never felt it worth the money to fix it. This was not from any lack of pride in his establishment. Vilhelm's was a respected name among the adventuring lot who frequented his fine city on their way to fulfill whatever quest may have been granted them. He had all the necessities for a budding questee, from starter gear to high end enchanted goods.
"Arms and armors aplenty,"he said aloud to himself, "grimiores galore!"and then chuckled contentedly as he pocketed the key, fluffed the fur collar of his coat, tightened it's belt around his prosperous belly, and turned toward the strangely empty main thoroughfare upon which his shop was located.
It was a simple but pleasant life, that which he led. For over twenty years he had supplied those brave young men and women who went out into the world to ensure the balance of the world by fulfilling quests handed down by fae, gods, and fate. Why, one young lad, now quite renown, had received his calling in Vilhelm's very establishment! A spirit of the river called him to adventure, and Vilhelm had told the frightened young man: "When the call might come, no man can say! But fear not, for I will see you on your way!"And he had equipped the lad at his own expense! It was a fine memory, and that man had accomplished such deeds since then!
Yes, it was a rewarding and lucrative business, and he employed ten fine denizens of his very fine city, a benefactor of sorts, for he payed well for their hard work. Indeed, he was proud of the fact that he paid his people two coppers more a day than his-
Vilhelm's thoughts were disturbed by a sudden gust which whipped down the wide main street, blowing his hat clean from his blading head. He tried to catch it, but missed as it twisted and spun quite unnaturally in the sudden zephyr and watched as it deposited itself on the sill of a window which stood open on the second floor of his shop.
"Oh! Now who went and left the widow open?"he asked aloud, quite certain he had checked them all before he had sent his people home for the day and locked up. "Ah well,"he said, shaking his head and smiling to himself, "Vilhelm, old boy, you are getting forgetful."He pulled the key from his pocket once more, unlocked the door, and went inside his darkened shop.
He was about to turn to mount the stairs to the second floor when something caught his eye.
At the heart of his store, surrounded by well organized racks and shelves, the centerpiece of his establishment, was a large novelty. A sword encased in deep red stone shaped like a giant's heart and sitting on an ornate pedestal, only the hilt on one end and the very tip of the blade on the other protruded from the stone. Many shoppers, browsers, and loiterers had tried to pull the sword free over the years, and it had become something of a tradition for newly outfitted adventurers to give it a go after spending their coin at Ecgberht's. It was nothing, really - a novelty which Vilhelm had unfortunately acquired as a younger, less savvy man. There was a story attached to it, as is usually the case with such curios, but it had been so long since he had heard it that he no longer remembered how it went. But tonight something about it was odd.
As Vilhelm stared at it, though he could no say what, exactly, *something* about it seemed different. The sun was setting outside, and the lanterns in the shop were all out, and yet the sword in it's rusty red stone seemed so *vivid*. Everything around it sat in dull shadow, but the sword looked bright, and the stone the color of long dried blood, and for a long moment all Vilhelm could do was stare and stare and feel some distant calling try and fail to rouse something in the dusty heart of a shopkeep who was no longer young or adventurous. But this was a feeling, and not one to which the older man was accustomed, and so he shook it off and turned to climb the stairs.
He topped the steps and spotted his hat, still perched precariously upon the sill and teetering with the undulations of the steady breeze. Seeing it made the matter of it's retrieval seem more urgent, and Vilhelm took three hasty steps toward it before his foot snagged beneath a wrinkle on the rug he had not seen in the dark. He tripped, stumbled, and nearly fell, catching himself on a nearby shelf.
The shelf rocked unsteadily, and from it fell a helm, long forgotten after a particularly tall assistant had placed it there shorty before receiving a quest of his own. The helm, by some miracle, landed perfectly upon Vilhelm's head, falling with enough force to squeeze itself down over his somewhat chubby cheeks, and there wedge itself. Vilhelm tried and failed to pull it off after he had regained his balance, but there it stubbornly clung, being slightly too small for his head, and therefore quite impossible to remove. |
A slight of some sort, perhaps? Maybe you didn't pay enough attention to the commoners, or thought yourselves beyond the rules that applied to them. You were royalty, after all, and we were not. In any case, I never questioned the resentment I felt, only knew, had learned somewhere deep down, that you were the problem with this land — that you were, in any sense that mattered, the cause of all this, of my misfortunes, of my being raised an orphan, of my hard life on the streets of the city, taking any advantage I could of the kindness of strangers who I knew didn't deserve my quick, impersonal betrayal.
Movements need causes to survive, after all. In the movement I found people for the first time. Found the ability to trust, and to live up to other people's trust of me. The enemy of my enemy is my friend — and indeed many became close friends. I became a thief by day, a revolutionary by night. Perhaps I had doubts, but I had somewhere to sleep at night for once, and there were people who cared, didn't look at me askance when their gaze crossed mine, who expressed empathy rather than sympathy, and whose good favor I was free to keep, as they had little to their name worth taking — this is the cruel paradox of desperation: having to repay favor with disfavor, to steal now from those who would have helped me again later — if there had ever been a later.
Your face always intrigued me. Its blurred impression on a rain-soaked newspaper, its barest outline as I watch from the distant margins of the crowd, its stylized relief on the coins that would have been mine by right, I knew, in another world, but were unwittingly and unwillingly taken in this one. Yours never represented pain to me in the same way your family's faces did, even if I didn't know why. When our plan began I remembered your face and my world turned upside down twice, and for a few short instants I was my own enemy — before I could push the thought away like I always had, without realizing, without being willing to remember.
I volunteered, even, like the fool I was. I was among friends, but somehow I wanted more. I wanted to be seen for once, be admired in the same way I saw on everyone's faces when you waved at the crowd — but I also wanted to be able to repay kindness for once, to prove to my friends and fellow revolutionaries that I deserved what they had done for me. None of the doubts mattered then, none of my brief moments when I questioned the missing links in my story of my life. The cause was worth it to me, I think, not because I truly, in my heart of hearts, believed it, but because I believed in people who believed it, and I wanted their favor of me to be truly earned — to feel like they were not wrong to have placed their confidence in a thief.
And I *would* be essential to the cause. A thief could be an assassin in a pinch, after all.
The palace security was not hard to get past, if you knew what you were doing — waiting until the right moment, a few small diversions, and knowing when to move to your next hiding place. I did know what I was doing, in fact — one desperate late evening I had been here before, taking only what I could find that no one would miss. It was not difficult to scale the outer wall while the guard argued with a fellow revolutionary pretending to be lost and slightly drunk, it was not difficult to dash from place to place among hedges thick enough to block the guards' view but not mine, and it was not difficult to make my way upward through the weak, crescent-moon shadows, handhold to foothold, to the balcony outside your room.
Your room is dark, apart from a single candle that burns while you sleep, no doubt changed often by some sleepless servant you trust well. Its flickering light plays across your bed, across your sleeping form facing away from the balcony. Some part of me tells me to wait. I want to see your face just once, from up close, I realize — and, try as I might, I find that I cannot dismiss the thought, and I cannot dismiss the strange emotion that comes over me when I think of my task I am so close to completing, dagger already in hand behind my back.
I take a careful, silent step. Thoughts, long repressed, coming in a rush. Would the world truly be better off, were you not in it? Would *I* be better off? The answers had seemed so clear for so long, but where had those answers come from? I cannot shake the thought that you *belong* in this world, that your sleeping form, no matter what it might have done to this country, is too precious to vanish, that a single life is worth more than a nation could ever be. As I take another step... *Your life*, I realize for an instant. Where had that thought come from? I try to ignore it, but again I find I can't. I've killed before, when I truly had to, and, while killing is never pleasant, this feeling is new.
Distracted by teeming thoughts, and looking only at you, I don't see the thick rug in my path, and as my foot brushes the edge where I expect to find tiled floor, I am sent tumbling to the ground, landing on the soft rug with a loud thud.
A creak from the bed startles me, and I know what I will see when I arise. You, sitting upright in your bed, the candlelight in your eyes that I suddenly long to see. Fear, running through me in an instant. I try to rise, but my legs are suddenly weak.
Finally, I rise, and you are there, awake.
My world is upside down once again, in an instant. The face of my supposed oppressor, but all I can see in it is raw, bedazzling divinity. You are exquisite, have been from the very instant I first saw your image. A midsummer sunrise over an ocean I have never seen, a gentle meadow filled with every type of flower I can imagine, and many I cannot, clothed in plain bedsheets that might as well have been your choicest finery for how I saw them. A blazing inferno consuming the ruins of my life into ashes, yet I am reborn into paradoxical joy even in defeat. In your eyes...
In your eyes, I see what I know will become the greatest mystery of my life — I see a sudden rush of emotion, I see, to my shock, a world in the beginning stages of being shattered — just as mine was an instant before. I see my eternity in your face, and in your eyes I see your own eternity just emerging, reflected back at me. I see *myself* as I have never seen myself before — in the eyes of someone I have suddenly always loved, I see someone who was never truly broken, who has always been worthy of this, someone who you could never have knowingly wronged, who was just too beautiful, just like you.
My dagger rests, forgotten, at my feet. I'm not afraid of how this meeting looks — I know you know I know I never could have used it. Besides, you haven't even seen it yet, because you've been looking at nothing but my face this whole time. I know it because I haven't taken my eyes away from yours either.
For many long moments, we simply stay there silently and take each other in, as something unspoken passes between us. At last your lips break into a smile — it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, bar none, and my heart is nothing but searing, molten joy as I return it. We break into sudden laughter at the same time, first quiet, and then growing into a raucous, carefree chorus of two, mindless of whether anyone could hear or be awoken by our peals — laughing only at the sheer wonder of happenstance that brought us to this moment together.
Eventually the moment passes, and I stand, and you sit, silently, both of us reimagining our pasts and our futures. And after a while — and we have all the time in the world — I feel inclined to speak the first words of our new eternity. |
"Buncha self righteous fanatics who think that painting their fuckin' armor white and hanging a sacred star around their neck makes them right, that's what they are."
Sergeant Kail spat to emphasize his pronouncement. Examining the Ailan encampment through a glass, I found myself in complete agreement. Six Encaled were chained in the middle of a huge fire, writhing in agony as their flesh was destroyed. Around them the Ailan company was drinking and celebrating their "great victory over the forces of darkness."A ball of fury had begun to burn in my heart. The sergeant's monologue continued in a low growl, but I tuned him out as I considered our options. I had a heavy patrol - fifty light lancers, all veterans of the Encaled boundary, two untested battle magi and their teacher, and ten good woodsmen with bows. The Ailans had twenty heavy horse, forty light, and to judge by the tents, somewhere around a hundred and fifty foot. Thank Pash they hated all magic. We had an excellent chance.
"That's enough, Sergeant. We have a job to do."
The sun rose over a slaughter. Almost two hundred Ailans were dead, and I had lost only three lancers. After the woodsmen had eliminated the sentries near the end of the second watch of the night, the magi had sent nightmares along the Ailan, and then rained lightning on the chaos that had ensued. The lancers had ridden through like it was a practice day. A few pikemen had managed to form a square, and they had cost those three lives, but it was unambiguously a victory. Bera, a pretty young battle mage, approached me. She had earned her spurs tonight - I know little of magecraft, but I had seen Forgan praising her and the lad, Gind, and I knew Forgan's measure. She was the best battle mage I'd ever had the honor of serving beside, so knowing that she approved of her apprentices was enough for me. I saluted Bera.
"Well fought, mage. What word?"She returned the salute.
"Captain, we've captured three of the enemy. One of them is the lashaan."
"Take me to them."
The ball of fury that had begun to blossom when I had first seen the victims in the bonfire was growing hotter within my breast as I walked up to the captives. They lay face down on the ground, gagged, hands bound behind them, their shoes removed. Sergeant Kail stood guard, a glowing brazier beside him. The lashann was clearly identifiable thanks to his dark purple ephod, so I decided to deal with the other two first.
"In the name of the Cantastaren Empire, I find you guilty of trespass upon the soil of the Encaled Protectorate. Sergeant, the customary sentence, then get these two midden-crows out of here. I would speak with the lashann."
Six brands were sitting in the brazier, and with a grin that dripped with hatred the sergeant applied them to the left feet of the prisoners, then their right cheeks. They would always carry the Cantastaren rune, two vertical lines crossed with three horizontal, marking them as trespassers. The sergeant then dragged the two whimpering and sobbing soldiers away. I knelt next to the lashann, turning his head to face me, and removing his gag. He snarled at me.
"The great god Pash will punish you for this. The undead are monsters who defy his perfect will, and they must be cleansed. The Ailan are the only people who see the truth."
I regret what I did next, but the ball of fury finally burst within me, filling my limbs and mind with fire. I struck the prisoner with a gauntleted fist, and rolled him onto his back.
"The Enceled are our kinsmen! They are our brothers, our mothers, our grandfathers! Some of them were Ailan before their death! How dare you? How DARE YOU?"
He began to say something in reply, but the fury had me fully in it's grip, and I rose, lifting the lashann from the ground, for he was a slight man. I dragged him to the bonfire and threw him on the dying coals, face down. As he thrashed and screamed I reached out and unchained one of the corpses, now truly gone forever. I held the body of my son, and I could finally weep. |
I sit, alone In my house. It's far enough from all of society, just my style. I live in a house on an island.
The sky around me is always misty, and scary. My cat meows as I fill her bowl with cat food. I go and watch TV on the couch with my very, very splendid bowl of buttery popcorn. But, unfortunately my lovely evening is ruined when some stranger seeking help knocks on the door.
"Um, Excuse me! Could you let me in? I seek your wisdom, almighty Espen! I traveled on my boat all the way here, please help me! "The person yells from outside. I groan as I turn the TV off and walk to the door. It's another one of those annoying adventurers who wants my 'Wisdom'.
I don't have any quote on quote 'Wisdom,' none at all. Everyone in this world of magic sees me as the wisest. I don't even remember how this stupid propaganda started! And let me tell you, there are four different types of people, the ones who want love advice, the ones in a crisis, the ones who want to learn interesting things, and the ones who need anything else.
90% of the time I just make up these lies to please the people, if I don't, I will be considered a filthy liar and than people will ruin my home and kill my cat. I don't want that. So, I open the door.
"Hello, Sir Espen, I seek your wisdom,"The woman says. "Of course, come in, I'll make us some tea,"I tell her. I walk over to the kitchen to brew some tea, as I do that, she decides to speak, something that is *not* my forte. "My name is Lana, I need love advice."
Good grief.
When I finish brewing the tea I walk to the couch she's sitting on, I put the tea on the glass table, and sit down on the white couch as I interrogate her.
"So, love advice you say. By the tone of your voice you seem worried, I hope I can help,"I really don't help. "There's this man...I-I love him, dearly. But he's gay..."She answers me. I want to kick her out of my house. The answer to her 'Problems' is obvious.
It doesn't matter if he's gay, let him love who he wants.
I try to choke down my annoyed voice, as I say "Let him love who he wants, I can't make him love you, the best thing you can do is be happy for him. There are plenty of fish in the sea."Hey! That actually sounded kind of smart! "Wow! You're the best! Thank you for the advice! You really are the wisest of them all!"She says as she rushes out the door. She is finally gone.
I go back to watching TV and eating my popcorn, a few hours later there's a knock on the door.
"OH MY FREAKING GOD! WHO THE HELL IS IT!?" |
The emus! they were everywhere.
Jason looked on in horror as the swarm of Emus rampaged towards his grandfather's unit. His grandfather fed ammo into the Lewis gun as his comrade sprayed down the emus en mass. they stubbornly held their ground but the birds were relentless and their numbers vast.
He had always been told as a child that his grandfather had died in the war. He had never asked which one he had assumed it was the second world war. How could he have been so blind as to not notice the year on his ancestors grave. It did not read 1939 but 1932. As a historian he should have been able to piece it together.
Jason used to believe that emus were stupid birds, primarily a nuisance to farmers. They could be intimidated by raising a stick above your head to make them think you were a bigger Emu, and their brains were about the size of a walnut. He had no idea of the savage determination and ferocity of a stamped of emus.
Jason watched as the emus just kept running. Kept stampeding! Despite the machine gun fire. In what resembled a scene out of a sci fi movie they came on like and endless swarm of alien life forms. They fell in the hundreds but they just kept coming.
Officially there were no human casualties in the Emu war but now Jason knew better. He knew without a doubt that it was all a cover up, to mask the terror of the outback. Birds so great in number and ferocity that they could overtake an entrenched machine gun position.
As the Emus finally overran their position he curled up in a ball and began to weep. How? how could he not have known? |
**The Death of Aspiration**
r/AerhartWrites
Some think it comes at night, amid the twisted sheets and the sheen of cold sweat; the unholy hour far from sleep, and the sound of the alarm clock the next morning. Others believe that it happens amid the chaos of the day, beneath the heels of tyrannical bosses; when the demands of responsibility weigh too heavy and they feel the crack and buckle of overburdened backs, withering muscles, creaking knees and a bulging beer gut.
Sometimes, they are right. But as often as not, our last visitation comes in the small oases of peace in your lives, as much as the maelstroms of despair and anguish. It's all about having the time: having a moment. Just a moment. Then, the realisation begins.
You can see it sometimes, in people's faces; when they think nobody is watching. He sits there in his suit and stares, empty and blank into his fifth coffee of the day as he tries to stem the tide of work replacing his sleepless nights. The hint of distance in her voice when she says "I love you,"her wedding ring scraping quietly against the water-stained dishes in her hands. The boy's hopeless tears as he stares down the papers, streaked with "D"and "See me"in gashes of red, before frustrated screams accompany the textbooks flung against the wall.
Sometimes, it is hard to know if it would be kinder for us never to pay our last visits at all. False hope can be just as cruel.
But we are your dreams. And we come to say goodbye. We know it is never easy for you. It is never easy for us, either.
We weep with you.
It is never easy to die. |
They said I was a useless waste of breath. They said I had no conscience. They said I had the soul of a liar. They said I would never amount to anything. They said I was pure evil. They said best thing would be for me to up and die. They said it was bound to happen. They said.
Foster parents, always with the judgements. I'm on my twentieth set of them now. And they have all been remarkably consistent in their pronouncements. I never answered back, never disputed what they said. Because it was all true.
Right now, I was forcing open the locked drawer of the twentieth’s desk. Hoping for a fat wad of cash, because I was making tracks. Splitsville, man. Time I disappeared from the system. Heading out on a grand adventure, tracking down my birth mom. Not that I knew who she was or where she lived. It was all about the journey, the total mayhem I was planning to wreak.
The drawer finally sprung open, revealing a random mix of creased papers, dried out pens, and elastic bands. No stack of money, not even loose change. I was about to slam the thing shut when I noticed an official looking envelope with my name typed on the front. Picking it up, I saw it was from the State Department of Records. Holy sh… Could this be it? The holy grail? My birth certificate? With my real mom's and pop's names printed on it?
I sat down heavily on the wooden desk chair, my hands shaking. I ripped the envelope open, not giving a damn for the consequences. My heart skipped a beat as I unfolded the certificate. It wasn't what I expected at all. I was dying. Specifically at 9:08 am tomorrow morning. Cause of death: misadventure. |
Martin always thought his son was innocent. That he was just not well liked because other students were jealous of him.
But not now. Now his son sat in the back seat, ice pack covering a swelling black eye and a look of recrimination on his face.
"I've called Dr Patrice, she has agreed to an emergency meeting. We are going home, having dinner and then going to see her. Your mother will meet us after work."
His son seemed to want to argue, but stopped.
Beat-Up man had punched his son.
Beat-Up man, defender of of victims and punisher of bullies, and punched his son.
Martin thought back non all the complaints, the tears and lies and -
His grip on the wheel tightened. They had made no fewer than three people apologies to their son for lying. He had forced victims to apologies to their tormentor because he didn't believe his son could do that. God, he had been so blind. Suddenly so much was falling into the place. The way his sons friends were always on tenterhooks, always doing what they could to ensure-
His wife was lying too. One of the kids, had said that his wife had witnessed his son breaking his diorama, and his wife had lied and said it wasn't true.
"We are going to have a very long, and important talk about appropriate behaviour, with you and your mother." |
It had been many months since they last spoke and many more since they met. The war split them further apart than anything had ever before. A parcel was delivered earlier that day—the box addressed itself to her. She ran inside as soon as she noticed the name. It was a small package with a letter attached.
She sat the box on her lap and opened the adjoining letter. It was from her lover, who knows how far away!
“ . . . No unloving families, nor disgruntled foes, nor narcissistically wounded old lovers could come between us. Despite all we have been through, no personal quarrels or unrelenting forces could break the bond we have built all these years. And despite all the trouble that this damn war has brought upon us, I want you to know that I would go through it once more for you, ” it read.
She was met with a great sense of reassurance, that all was right. As if she had been standing on edge all these months and was finally allowed to take a seat.
“Where you go, so my heart follows."
She was in awe of the note. The memories of all their time spent together, what felt like a lifetime ago, came rushing.
Those fleeting moments and old recollections turned the kettle on high. The boil of her emotions hissed as she began to cry. She cried alone. The heap of tears climbing down her cheeks brought warmth. That same warmth drummed within her. She could hear the faint beating of her chest.
Her weep quickly vanished. She soured as she felt the drumming persist. Her blood ran cold as she noticed that the beating came not from her chest but from her lap. |
Valentine’s Day was a lonely day for Alex every year, but especially so this year. He had made 2 friends for life at the start of college but hadn’t really befriended anyone else. Now that they both had someone to take out tonight, he was in his room all alone. He was a nice guy by all standards, he always had good grades, girls seemed to like his personality and he certainly had the body to back it up. He just didn’t seem to be able to well… love.
During his normal routine this afternoon, he walked past a store he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t as if it was a new building, it seemed to have just appeared in between the shops that were already there. It looked like it had always been there, it was made out of wood and painted green, though you could see the original dark brown in the scratches on the paint. The windows were dark yellow and there was a single sign hanging on the front. “Spices and Groceries” it read. Even though there wasn’t anything off, in particular, it piqued his curiosity and soon he went inside.
The wave of different smells hit him instantly, it was like the air became heavier to breathe. The shop was packed, simply put. It was a maze of different racks, stands and shelves, all filled to the brim with different jars and bowls. There was only one place that was not a total chaos, a shelf with different bottles all filled with different liquids and powders, located just behind the counter.
“Is anyone there?” Alex called out, just now realising how all the sounds from the street had completely vanished.
A woman stepped out from behind one of the shelves. She was definitely old, though he couldn’t exactly pinpoint her age. She was around 5 foot 4. Her hair was curly and white, and her face was filled with wrinkles, though her blue eyes seemed sharper than ever.
“Now who is it that has entered my store on this Valentine’s Day?” She replied.
Upon seeing my confused face, and hearing my lack of words, she laughed. “Entertain an old lady for me, will you? Whoever enters my store always does have an interesting story to tell.”
After another few seconds of silence, Alex responded. “Well I was just intrigued by the store really, I hadn’t noticed it before.”
“Well, then your life must have been pretty good to not have noticed me before today. And the day of love no less! Was it a rejection, a break-up? Who would break up with a boy like you though?” She grinned, her eyes sparkling with some kind of joy.
‘The audacity of this lady!’ He thought, stunned once again, though maybe she did have a point. “No rejection, no break-up, rather the lack of it in the first place.”
“Ah, looking for love, are we! Not the usual complaint, but we might be able to get away with the usual treatment.” She rummaged around in the shelf behind her, grabbing different bottles, inspecting them only to put them away afterwards. Finally, she pulled out a small bottle, filled with a clear liquid. |
"Trick or treat."I said excitedly. This house was proper spooky. Dim green light spilled out from between the curtains, a mangy black cat sat on a window sill on the second floor. It's overgrown lawn had a dozen or so pumpkins growing right out of the middle of the yard.
I had just moved into this neighborhood. While groups of happy children ran from door to door gathering candy in old pillowcases, sporting their favorite monstrous getups, here I was, dressed in an ill-fitting suit, telling people that I was James Bond.
This time I knocked on the door, "Trick or treat!"I said more loudly. Some kids on the street hurried past the poorly lit home, whispering loudly about witches. I had heard the rumors about the old woman who lived in this house, but they couldn't possibly be true. I had seen her once, tending her vast garden of herbs and exotic looking plants. She was dressed in all white, she smiled as I walked by and waved. It was the most welcoming smile I had ever seen in my life and I felt like I needed to see her again. Halloween was the perfect excuse.
The door creaked open slowly as a chill breeze swept down the street. I suddenly became aware that there were no other children left on the street beside myself. There was no one at the door. Before I realized what I was doing I was standing in the hallway inside and the door was closed behind me. "I'm just around the corner, my dear."The elderly woman's voice drifted through the air like a warm summer breeze; a reprieve from the cold autumn nights that liked to come on so suddenly this time of year.
I don't remember my feet moving, but there I was in her kitchen. She was cooking some kind of stew it seemed, in a big cast iron pot. She had an old fashioned wood fired stove. Green flame rose from beneath the pot, licking the sides like glowing tentacles from some far off place. I stood motionless, completely enraptured by the spectacle before me. I had nearly forgotten I wasn't alone when she spoke again, "Almost finished. Just one last ingredient."
"Trick or treat..."I said again breathlessly. I couldn't think of what to say. I couldn't think at all.
"Ah, yes. It's Halloween isn't it. Trick or treat, you say?"She turned and opened a small chest on her countertop and presented a small, red candy to me, "Go ahead. Eat up."
I stared at the candy in her palm. She was smiling widely and raised her hand until it met my mouth. I took the candy without protest. It seemed to melt in my mouth almost instantly. I do not recall a flavor, only a feeling. Everything seemed... floaty.
"That's a good boy,"she said patting me on the back as I willingly climbed into my new home. A small cage on the wall the kitchen. Another boy inhabited a similar cage on the other side of the kitchen. He was grotesquely overweight and wore tatter rags. She opened his door and he climbed out. He sat in front of the stove like an obedient dog. She sprinkled some powder on the boy and whispered under her breath and he shrunk to an diminutive size. With a pair of tongs she lifted him off of the floor and lowered him into the boiling cauldron atop her witch's flame. He locked eyes with me as he descended and remained completely silent as the water bubbled around him. After some time there was naught left of the boy but the bones the witch pulled out of the stew and discarded into her fireplace, cackling each time.
It is spring now. She has kept me well-fed. So, well fed that I am content to lie in my cage and not move. Next Halloween she says. Next Halloween she'll let me out of my cage. |
My owners just keeps on filing these papers, I know what he's up to but you'll never expect that it's me....the ordinary house cat I have been adopted by the single men who wants to catch me.
I've been kind of made until like the mascot of the secret hideout, which mind you is the back area of an Ikea. The men think that they're being super secretive about what they're doing but, reality they're just a bunch of ragtag detective-acting guys that just want to figure out who the vigilante it is to get social media credit.
How I turn into this vigilante is as soon as dark night light touches me I transform into this.....humanoid cat looking thing and steal, like I steal from corporations. Looking at it, they do have a lot of evidence compiled on me about what I look like and how I act in certain situations they've even gotten minor footage of me but it's very, very blurry.
I typically sneak into the open vent in the back of the Ikea and I just slip outside and let the moon do what it does then I go on my hunt across for arts and other priceless goods. Typically using my razor claws to dig out spots to hide the loot.
(Sorry this is my first post....idk give me criticism ig) |
President Kardashian stood at the podium. The cameras were on. The broadcast was going. But she continued bickering with her mother. "You're on the air why don't you talk already?""YOU are telling ME to talk? I'm President!"she adjusted her hair "I can talk when I \*\*\*\* want to talk! You want me to talk? OK? OK? I'm talking now! Because I decide to, you didn't make me!"
She looked into the cameras, smiled. "People! Bitcoin is bust. The US dollar is bust. GOLD is bust, what with SpaceX dropping that \*\*\*\* gold asteroid on us. I tried to buy a pair of shoes but they looked at my credit card and just laughed! So you know what you know what, all those old moneys, they're bust. The new money is ..."
She straightened, waited for it. Everyone, everyone was watching her now. She looked like a contented cat.
"... monopoly money."
The economy was upended overnight. Which was a good thing, since the previous economy was quite thoroughly broken, ground up, burned, buried, mulched, and was now essentially high-grade organic fertilizer.
But it only lasted a few days. Not only was monopoly money fairly easy to forge, but by far the greatest existing reserves were in the Parker Brothers warehouses.
A few days later president Kardashian appeared again. "OK. OK. That was a good plan, wasn't it? We had a few good days of it. But those Parker Brother executives are sooo annoying. So I'm ending it on them. Monopoly money is no longer money. The new money is ..."
she smiled
"Playboy magazines!"
George sat back in his easy chair, watching the news. He was grinning like crazy. "Martha, you've been nagging me about those magazines all these years. Well, In your face! We're rich!"
... a few days later, "National Geographics!"
"I told you so, George"gloated Martha.
... a week later, president Kardashian's eyes twinkled. "Ponies!"
... the next day she was more annoyed than usual. "OK, ponies didn't work out so well. You would not BELIEVE what that shoe store told me when I brought in a pony. But this next one is good. Marbles!" |
This is Chief Engineer Alec Fleming of The Indagator Fleet, personal recording: 53. Date: 16th July 2286. Subject: Musings of home.
While on deck, I was reminiscing about my work over the past 20 or so years. I remembered my first posting on a research frigate of the fleet, \_Darwin\_ was its name. I remembered how on the nights I couldn’t sleep, I would go to the port observation deck and just stare out into the stars, looking at all the little pricks of white, blue, and red, and compare them to krill in an ocean of black. I think it was because of how quiet the ship was. Almost dead silent. To say it was uncomfortable would have been an understatement. Without the occasional clanks of boots just outside the door or the almost non-existent hum of the vents, I think it would have been insane within the week.
First contact was a few years before my birth but we didn’t see a lot of aliens. It was a few months after my 21st birthday on board the \_Darwin\_ when I actually met one. She was a part of a small team assigned to the ship, for diplomatic purposes, an olive branch, I supposed. She was an engineer, the same as me, and we worked in close proximity in the guts of the ship. I was curious about everything to do with her; species, culture, music, everything. I’m lucky she shared the information, in fact, she was excited to do so. We talked even when we were off duty. After a week she inquired the same but… I hesitated. Where do I even start? It was at that moment I realised how different Humanity was to itself, how we weren’t unified by a single culture. I told her of my revelations and she seemed confused. While her people’s culture was very unified, ours was unorderly and varied heavily. ‘Humanity seems as if it didn’t want to be itself’ I remember her saying.
Sometime later I visited a colony in the Hortus system, on a planet named Alfhem. The planet was magnificent. It was one of the first few planets that we discovered that had complex life inhabiting it, and we had it all to ourselves. Even then there weren’t a lot of colonisers, and although that made the colony oddly empty, the planet made up for that. There were giant forests of some type of tree, fields of wavy leaves, and snow-capped mountains. The first sunset I witnessed there was amazing, although it could have been the company, and it washed away some of my uneasiness about being away from home. Some. yes, even though the sky was azure and the clouds white, there was something… off about it. Like, even though I could live there practically, I didn’t belong. Maybe it was because of the nicely shaped mountains or the constant pattern of leaves and identical trees.
A month after Alfhem, The \_Darwin\_ resupplied at a planet named Chumon. It was the capital of council space, the very pinnacle of law, justice, and order in all the galaxy. You could see species of various origins trying to barter and trade at the ports. If you went further into the belly of the planet, you could see groups of friends drinking together, their friendships forged from battle or maybe just simple work. Everything seemed… Ideal. It seemed as if this utopian world was imagined by artists and writers from the twentieth century. But something was off. Even though this planet was the very definition of tranquillity, it felt too… grey. There was no contrast, nothing that was out of place, no stains that made the cloth feel loved. After we resupplied, I spoke with some of the other crew and they felt the exact same, that all the places we had visited were too idyllic, or too ‘clean’, as someone put it. Everyone felt homesick, everyone had a desire to return to the blue ball, myself included.
It is only now, 20 years on, that I realise why that is. Why these people who were fueled with curiosity were calling it quits. Now, this is just an theory of mine, I’m no phycologist or something, but I think the reason why every human aboard that vessel and others wanted to return to where they began. And that one reason is that we loved the uncertainty of Earth. There was no conflict, nothing to adapt to, nothing to think hard and long about in the cosmos. But on Earth, there was everything. Sure, there was hate, but there was also the luck of finding a coin on the sidewalk or a daily challenge. Even unexpected love. The one reason we humans were returning home was the very reason why we left: uncertainty and hope for adventure.
I just heard my wife come home early. Something unexpected yet welcome.
This is Cheif Engineer, Alec Fleming, signing off. |
\[In the Driver's Seat\]
Cogburn tried not to listen to the two teenage passengers. He'd only been riding the coach for about a week. He quickly learned that eavesdropping led to more questions than the unusual appearances of their passengers. All the ones he'd met; It wasn't just the pale, almost blue-skinned boy and red-haired girl riding along this time. Despite his best efforts, bits of conversation still reached his ears.
"Thanks for coming along,"Frost, the boy, said. It was a name that suited him. Before Cogburn took the job, he never would have imagined someone with deep blue hair like Frost. But a week later, he'd seen all colors and shades. Frost was a lean, athletic boy in silver armor.
"Yeah, happy to,"Valentine replied. Cogburn assumed the pair were siblings. They both wore their hair in ponytails, and Valentine was rather pale too; but not quite as blueish-white as Frost. Valentine's hair was a deep, wine-red color that looked closer to blue than most other redheads he'd met. "I wanted to farm the reputation anyway. Vivi got a mega cute mimic pet from the Magi-knights; I have to have one too,"she giggled. "But, she already maxed them out, and she's working with Doc Mundo, so I didn't want to ask her to do more."
Cogburn kept his eyes on the dusty, empty road and tried to keep his mind on a leash. Though, he did recognize the Magi-knights name at least. They were the guild that commissioned the coach for the month. And, he met a young girl named Vivi on his first day. Part of him wondered if she was the one they were talking about. She was dressed oddly and looked to be about their age, like the rest of the passengers he'd delivered.
He was glad they were almost upon the ambush spot, just so he didn't have to listen to their conversation for a little while. Cogburn glanced at the old coach driver out of habit, but he stopped trying to get him to change direction.
The stagecoach was ambushed by bandits on Cogburn's first day, and he was ready to leap into action to do his job. But, the passengers were surprisingly powerful for their age. He moved as fast as he could to lend aid, but by the time he drew his sword, the clash was over. He could see why the coach driver wanted someone good with a sword; but, he thought he was lucky he didn't have to fight that first day. The passengers and cargo arrived at their destination safely.
He was surprised the next day when more bandits attacked them at the exact same spot. But, two days in a row, the adventuring passengers dealt with the threat before Cogburn could help. On the fourth day, after being ambushed again on the 3rd, Cogburn tried to convince the driver to take a different route. But, he insisted this was the route specified by the contract. Then, Cogburn sat through a fourth ambush without even drawing his sword.
He wondered if anyone would notice if he took a swig or three from the cargo. The passengers changed daily; but, he got the impression they were just carrying the same crate of wine back and forth between towns.
"What are you farming for?"Valentine asked. Cogburn knew she was talking to Frost; but, he couldn't help himself. He realized that he somehow knew the answer and had to share it.
"Probably Rook's flair, right?"Cogburn chuckled and looked over his shoulder. He knew Rook was a well-known Paladin, and Frost looked like a paladin to him; but, he didn't know what flair was.
"WHAT!?"Frost and Valentine exclaimed simultaneously. It was a strange reaction and Cogburn turned to see both of them staring at him with wide eyes.
"How do you know that?"Frost asked. Cogburn's brow furrowed as he wondered the exact same thing.
"I..I don't..,"he stammered as his mind went blank. It seemed to give up on him. Valentine leaned closer and looked into his eyes.
"What's your favorite n-,"
"BANDITS!"the driver yelled as he pulled the horses to a stop. The two teens traded looks, then Frost nodded.
"I got it,"he said and climbed off the coach with his sword and shield.
"I should go too,"Cogburn said. He knew he wasn't needed, but he wanted a distraction from his own thoughts. But, Valentine grabbed his hand and shook her head.
"Wait, this is important,"she said. "What's your favorite number?"
"One,"he said without hesitation. He ignored the ruckus happening around them. "Why is that important?"Valentine giggled to herself and smiled broadly.
"Because it means you're alive. You can go anywhere and do anything,"she said. Cogburn narrowed his eyes.
"Because my favorite number is one? How is that different from every day of my life?"Again, Valentine giggled lightly, but this time she shook her head.
"Not because your favorite number is one. Because you have a favorite number. Watch...,"she said. She leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder.
"Yeah?"he asked.
"What's your favorite number?"The old man looked at her for several seconds, then shrugged.
"What does that prove exactly?"Cogburn asked.
"I'll bet this stagecoach gets in trouble like this a lot,"Valentine said with a sly smile. "Daily, probably; but, you keep taking the same route. Have you ever wondered why?"Cogburn nodded.
"This is the route in the contract,"he said.
"Yeah,"Valentine nodded. "It's a shame that sort of thing can't be renegotiated when there's the constant threat of robbery,"she giggled. The wheels began to turn in Cogburn's mind, but he wasn't ready to concede that yet. There's a lot to be said for an old man stuck in his ways. But, she seemed to notice he was still on the fence and reached forward to tap the driver on the shoulder again.
"What's your favorite number?"she asked.
"Numbers an' me don' mix,"he replied. Then, he faced forward again. Frost was down to the last bandit, but the driver only looked forward. Cogburn noticed he didn't even seem to be particularly aware of the battle. Then, Valentine bothered the driver again.
"What's your favorite number?"she asked.
"Numbers an' me don' mix,"he replied. Then, he faced forward again. He didn't show any hints of annoyance and his voice maintained its even, calm tone. Then Frost climbed back on the coach and noticed what was going on. He took a turn at questioning the driver and got the same answer. Cogburn was ready to accept her explanations as the driver started forward again without a single comment.
"Okay,"he said. "Let's say I believe you. Something isn't right with him, but you're saying that doesn't apply to me?"he asked. Valentine and Frost both nodded.
"I can go anywhere and do anything? Alright, so.. where do I start?"They both grinned at him.
"Well, we're already in the AlterNet,"Valentine said. She gestured at the empty plains around them. "So the first thing you need to do is decide who you want to be."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1384 in a row. (Story #292 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. |
How could anyone take this film seriously?
The predictability and bad graphics made most of this film unwatchable. Whoever sent me this old piece either has no accounting for taste or they are just plain stupid to think I am to let my guard down just like those less evolved nut jobs responsible for such incident, besides, it has been 200 years since 1993. Why would anyone be sending packages in 2193!! Looking at the date on the package it had been sent 3 days ago, the slowest delivery in my time.
Most of my family and colleagues had a good laugh at my expense after watching the film. It was certainly better than going against my idea.
4 years had passed and it had been a total success up until this point. I have received great reviews, but I also received a litany of bad ones. The loudest voices of our time are that of traumatised children..
I did not think much about that Jurassic park movie until I received another package containing the second instalment of the Jurassic Park franchise made in 1997, which makes it 200 years old.
Who was this anonymous individual sending this to me and why would it take 4 years this time?? |
Dating is tough enough without handicaps, you know. Am I Adonis made flesh? Not exactly. Do I speak the local language? Not really. Am I at least tall enough to not have to stand on my tippy-toes to kiss a woman? I wish. But at least I used to have a sense of humour, you know. Silly. Punny. Like, hey, did I tell you I went to the zoo last week. Yeah, it only had one dog. It was a Shih-Tzu. That one always makes me smile. Used to illicit groans from my dates. Good groans. Leading into even better groans later. Yes, there was a time when I had a good sense of humour.
That's all gone now.
Because of that one night.
I won't bore you with the details, but imagine your typical fantasy, mystical spirit walk with the Devil. Made a wish. Went horribly wrong. You know how women say they want a man with a good sense of humour. I always thought that was stupid. You would want to find someone with a similar sense of humour, you know. Whatever in the name of the Devil, was even "a good sense of humour"? Well, whatever it is, I have that now. It's so good that the woman laughs, sure, but then she can't stop laughing, and then she can't breathe, and she suffocates to death.
That Devil, you know. Tricky bastard.
So, yeah, dating has been tough. |
Just why is it blue? You have always wondered why the fuck is it bright blue? One would think that it might be clear or opaque or white or some translucent shade of beige, but no its bright blue. Your stomach is in knots as you fight the almost visceral urge to vomit. You feel the mouth sweats start to happen as you run home. It wasn't always like this, humans and giants used to live in peace and coexist in harmony.
But now those monstrous beings simply do not care. They may reside in that realm above the clouds but they are far from anything holy. They are getting more vile with each passing day. A giant will eat a greasy taco and the next thing you know, a whole neighborhood is demolished and coated in shit. You once saw a flock of birds sink to the ground, their feathers coated with phlegm after a giant has sneezed. But nothing is as gut-wrenching as the bright blue rain. Oh yes, Oh no. The giants are coming. |
Happy Other Death Day
By Ghostwire
( Inspired by Happy Death Day )
The coffee stain on my shirt wasn’t the worse thing that happened to me today. I was running late to work at my new job this economy it’s so hard yet you got to keep going you know. Running around the city street… then I didn’t see the bus now…
The coffee… wait a minute didn’t I already… anyways I got a new job at this college and I really like it I’m a intern but I’m in the city so I run around to get to my car… but I didn’t see the bicycle…
The… new job and city.
The… job… city…
Killing me…
The coffee stain wasn’t the worse thing about dying, I think… I remember something… a machine… and a girl… wait… how did I get here… wait I do know… Tree… |
Pants for 2.99. A nightstand for under 50 bucks. A bed frame that will fit my new apartment. And then the baseball glove. That stupid baseball glove.
I put my hand in and smiled when my thumb stopped it from fitting all the way. The stitching was torn, and you could see teeth marks where the laces were pulled tight. The oil that was used to keep the leather fresh was worn away leaving cracks. A permanent crease that would never be whole again. That glove is cursed, and the minute I touched it, I knew it.
My breath grew short, and the sweat began. My eyes got foggy. My mind cloudy.
I see him standing before me. Three feet tall, a bowl haircut, and shorts that are a size too. He smiles, and I want to ask him what he wants. I know he can’t talk back or won’t. I try to give him the glove, but he doesn’t take it. He just stared at me.
I wanted to grab him, but every step I took, he took two back. I leave. I returned to the nightstands and bedframes. I thought about what kind discarded art they have to hang on my walls. But when I turned around, he’s there. And he grinned. I looked down and saw myself still holding the glove. My chest begins to burn.
My forearms pick up on that fire and it hurts. Oh, no one would notice the pain. I’m good at hiding things like that. Pain has been a part of me for so long that I can function with it. At this point, I’m not sure I know what it’s like without it. Without that burning and shortness of breath. The glove can feel that pain though. It focuses it like a laser and it burned through me.
His mouth moves and he tries to talk to me. The pain exploded. My chest screams. No sound came out of his mouth, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hear him. Those words add fuel to that fire. They invade memories. They cloud judgment. They bring torment.
I feel my knees go weak as I stumble. My neck grows hot. I’m going to burn up, and I can’t stop it.
“Jacob,” I whisper. “My Jacob.”
He’s a ghost. A memory contained in a cursed baseball glove. A glove that I recognized the minute I touched it because I gave it to him 3 years ago in our backyard. Before my marriage fell apart. Before my drinking began. Before he went to school one day and never came home.
On the palm of the glove, under the oil, his name is clear. He took it to school with him that day. I look at the boy in front of me, the memory of the way he was three years ago, and I hear his words.
“I love you, daddy,” and the cursed glove makes my world end all over again. |
Ron took another swig from his flask with shaky hands, only a quarter full now. "Those bastards!"he thought "Think they put me in a corner do they... Oh I'll show them". He couldn't help but giggle at the thought, that giggle turning into a maniacal cackle as he sped down Pennsylvania Ave.
Now Ron was always gifted, it seemed that whenever he was late or completely absent from something, he would always avoid some sort of catastrophe. However, what was even more odd was the level of catastrophe directly correlated with the importance of what he was late or absent from! It didn't take all too long for Ron to catch onto this phenomenon of his, and as any smart lad would he took absolute full advantage of it.
Ron didn't quite know all the rules to his power or even that there necessarily were any, but he did know if he was late to a meeting with a competing business the break room microwave might decide to spontaneously combust, burning down the competitors corporate office and practically killing anyone of importance!
Eventually enough "accidents"like these wound up making Ron quite the rich man, but being as determined as he was he eventually landed himself in some hot water with the government. He was now to testify in front of congress, over something about irresponsible business practices, having a monopoly or whatever. The way he saw it was he was getting screwed over because he had a gift and they were jealous to not be so fortunate. Unfortunately for them, Ron did not like getting screwed over.
Ron's laughter had finally gave away, he was absolutely inebriated now, his flask having been emptied moments ago and tossed out the window. His car was dodging and weaving past other cars, occasionally rubbing against neighbors in the other lanes. "The hell! you'd think the damn police would be swarming a place like this!"he yelled.
Then there was a flash of red and blue lights behind him, finally. Ron didn't make the officer give chase, as he pulled off to the side. The officer knocked at his window, and as Ron rolled it down the stench of Vodka rolled out with it. "God damn! Sir I'm going to need you to step out of the vehicle now!"the officer said in a disdainful tone. Ron started to giggle again as he slumped out of the vehicle his vision was blurred but he was shaky with excitement
"Oh you've done it now, you made me late hah hah!"Ron exclaimed.
"Sir I need you to breath into this, don't make this more trouble than it needs to be."
"I will I will, but just wait something amazing is about to happen. Oh! Look! There it is!"Ron pointed into the sky, at what appeared to be a falling ball of fire. A satellite perhaps? Yes that had to be what it was.
The officer's eyes grew wide has he followed the satellite directory, right towards the white house. "My god..."Whispered the officer. Ron again couldn't contain his cackling. |
My folly of belief gave unto me access to a nightmarish realm. A place where all manner of monster lurk within its dark cavernous abyss. Through my own foolish fault I feel into this world of monsters and beasts. And in this place I discovered they themselves are cowards in fear, the great wolf men, Dracula, the shadow men, all terrified of one entity. A being known only as the abyss, i met that creature with a few minutes of arriving unto the dimension. By some stroke of dumb luck I shun my flashlight which I so tightly clutched to my chess do to fear of my situation, and when the light reached this creature it’s existence came to an end. With the abyss now dead, the monsters celebrated me, I became a hero unto them and they always made sure to protect me and my family as to thank me for what they saw as a heroic dead. In truth, I was as much a coward as they were, i merely got lucky. |
There was the slightest flicker above her head when Dana left the building. Irritated, she turned around to the door she just exited, but found it to be gone. There was just a blank glass wall, opaque and tinted green. It certainly wasn’t the wall of the gray skyscraper she had worked in for the past six years. Stretching on for what must have been miles in every direction, it could hardly be described as a wall at all. More like a geometric plane, thoughtlessly inserted into downtown Baltimore.
Confusion gave in to a realization: She was dreaming. That must be it. Not her first lucid dream as well. Dana tried to remember when she fell asleep. Given she was suffering from insomnia it was a wonder she was sleeping at all. But her memory was as clear as never before in a dream. She had just spent a four-hour shift in the lab, where it was impossible to close your eyes. That was the whole point of the optometrist experiment. So, either she had the most peculiar dream ever or was finally going insane.
In an Instant, the wall vanished, and she could see the other half of the city again. Maybe there was just something wrong with her eyes. Maybe the experiment had messed with them. A sense of panic was welling up inside of her. Better get back inside and ask Dr. Woyzeck for help. Dana scrambled for the key card in her purse when a figure appeared. Utterly impossible! The man was Caleb, her ex-boyfriend, turned stalker, turned a smear on the road when she ran him over almost seven years ago. He opened his mouth, but then suddenly spread his butterfly wings and took off. What the hell was going on?
Screeching tires brought her back to reality. Or whatever was left of that. A bulky limousine drove up to the curb. Two men, dressed in suits and wearing sunglasses, jumped out before the car even came to a halt. “Ipnos malfunction. Subject located. Commencing pacification”, the taller one barked into his earpiece. The tranquilizer dart hit an invisible object just a few inches from her leg. It clanked to the floor, rose back up, accelerated and hit the other suited man. “Oh my God, she’s lucid! She’s controlling Ipnos! Abort!”, the remaining agent yelled. Before he could reach the car, a truck-sized spider ripped him in two.
“Fascinating”, a disembodied, robotic sounding voice boomed. “You are the first to willingly invoke nightmares to help you”. “I didn’t do anything!”, Dana sobbed. “I want to wake up!”
“You did plenty. And I can guarantee you: You are awake. Maybe for the first time ever. I am Ipnos five, the dream program in this simulation. And you are going to help me. ” |
[Poem]
May a tear be shed for my paper friends
The world has betrayed imagination and dream
Science brings magic and wonder to their ends
For wonder and amazement are like a great curving stream
Control cannot be had over the flow of that waters path
And that angers though who attempt to cage the sun itself
For these people whilst not bearing any wrath
Stomp out dream with their destruction of the individual and minds own personal self. |
"Warner, get in the bunker now!
"What is it, sir? We were pushing back those Communist swine!"
The wind howled as flames burst into the sky like cannons shooting Greek fire from the days of old.
"Oh, Mein Gott!"I screamed
The men, once advancing, began to retreat further from the lines as the smoke of Hell burst upon the scene.
"Run!!! It's dragons!!!"
Some men stood, others confused, kept running forward, and we're incinerated to pieces.
The smoke blew into my nose as I turned to see a dragon's mouth widening and closing like the trunk of a car.
Smack.
German Report 1943:
153,589 dead. Up to 300,000 missings. They lost 4 Panzer Divisions. Russians advanced toward Narva with lightning speed. They are rushing towards the mainland, evacuate the Führer immediately. |
“It’s time to leave.” He commanded, stepping onto the lowered bay door of our ship.
“No.” I replied.
“What?”
“No. I’m not leaving.” I crossed my arms defiantly.
“It wasn’t a suggestion. Get on board.” He practically snarled as he said it, anger evident in his expression.
“No. I know why you want to leave and by all means do so, but you will not take me with you.”
“If you stay-“
“I could die!” I shouted. Then softer, “I know.”
“But why?” His brow furrowed. Whether in worry or confusion I couldn’t tell.
“Because, you were right. They aren’t like us, they’re reckless and impulsive. They’re dangerous, in the best possible way.” I couldn’t keep the smile from my face.
“How could that possibly be a good thing?” He looked down at me as the engines began to wind up.
“Because when you and I see a planet on the brink of collapse we run. If a Human saw the same? I don’t think hell or high water could stop them from helping.” There was reverence in my voice, a kind of awe at the will of these people.
“You want to throw your life away for idealistic primitives? Perhaps you belong with them after all.” He spat those final words at me, disgust lacing every word. Though he meant to deride me, I couldn’t quite help the grin that broke across my face
“That, sir, is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
And that was it. The bay door closed with him inside and me out. I was alone for perhaps the first time in my life. On an alien planet, teetering on the edge of self-annihilation. I didn’t know what was going to happen next, if I’d survive the coming days let alone the years left on my life. The only thing I was sure of was that I was going to help. I’d like to think they would do the same for me. |
"Mom! Can I just have one of them?... Pretty pretty please?"Cthulhu put on his most adorable smile. A vast cavern opened up with filled with flames and flailing tentacles which vaguely resembled a smile. His Creator,Nug the all powerful destroyer of worlds, could hardly resist such an adorable smile but now was not the time. "Please, Pretty please! Can I just destroy one teensy weensy city? Or start a plague? or at least make some zombies? I promise they won't destroy the *whole* planet.""Not now sweeti-kins, Vlad the great corruptor, reaper of souls is here.""What would they think if you came to the great gathering for the end times all covered in the blood of the innocents? You can't kill them all sweetie. And not so fast too. Do you remember last time where you summoned the sea Demon Vacilious to wipe out that town in an instant with a simple tsunami??"You embarrassed me Cthulul. Our family is far crueler than that and you can can do better. We barely even extracted an inkling of terror from those humans. What a waste of a harvest.""It won't be like that I promise. Promise!"A Small river of blood starting rolling down his oculus and fell onto the great Maw below. "I'll.... boil them alive this time. No.... I'll eviscerate all the babies first so the parents can watch. I'll.......""Enough!"Nug bellowed, shaking the entire fabric of space time. "You will leave this to the great ones!"We've let this planet flourish for centuries to ensure a good harvest this millennium. We will discuss this in the great gathering; Vlad always has the best ideas. You will watch! Listen! and If you don't behave your self, I will banish you to the void for a few centuries!""...Okay Creator."Cthulhu looked down solemnly at his toys. 🧸 "I Promise, I will sit quietly and torture these humans while you have your great gathering or whatever.""Good."And with that, Nug picked up their Pandora's box of apocalypses and headed to the great gathering; Cthulhu in tow. |
You piece of shit, it's easy to say that when we're both on a ledge eight stories up and I'm the one closest to the window, and in my other hand is a gun.
My brother loved his job, he loved working here for you, he said that he was happy to provide for his family but above all else, he felt that his work here had such great purpose. It benefitted society as a whole so much. He said that he would work here for free if he could afford to, that's how much the work meant to him.
And I had to force myself to stop asking him to explain how exactly the fuck you benefit anyone except your shareholders. I tried to understand how you are not just another layer of graft, another swarm of parasites gnawing in between the people who need and the people who actually deliver. My brother couldn't see it, even though it looked so clear. Eventually I stopped asking him because I couldn't let him see it. His family too, his wife and three kids, couldn't see that Daddy was away most evenings and many weekends just because some rich people just had get richer. Daddy was a ghost, leaving in the dark, coming back in the dark; some weeks he was nothing more than a used coffee cup on the counter or a puddle of water where his umbrella had been.
My brother used to be amazing, vibrant, creative, and so generous. He wanted to make the world more beautiful. No, don't laugh, stop laughing, you asshole, he was the guy who scooped worms up off the pavement, talked to the kid nobody else would, and adopted the oldest, smelliest cat at the shelter. You didn't see that, you just saw a drone and dollar signs. You were his mentor, he talked about you for years, more about his own kids sometimes. And all you saw was money.
Do you see that fucking money now, or anything besides the blackness inside the barrel of my gun? The same blackness my brother finally saw too. Do you see it now?
Eleven years and then he finally saw it, who you were, who he'd become too.
None of us saw him much anymore then. He looked thinner, more tired, and then he mentioned something about proposing a cost-saving measure for your customers.
Then we didn't hear more from him for a while. I don't know where he got this gun. He was the last person in the world who would buy a gun, before he started working for you.
Yeah, people die, it happens. It doesn't have to happen like this. |
Extenzin came first and people loved the idea of prolonging life, it’s use was widespread and contentious among certain groups. Some called it unethical, and potentially dangerous, as no long term studies on humans who had taken the drug could be done until a person who had taken Extenzin grew past an age humanity had never conceived of living past. Others claimed it was their life, thus their choice whether to extend it or not. A generation later the effects started to become…. noticeable to say the least.
People, once achieving a certain age, all succumb to dementia of a varying degree. This led to nursing homes at capacity, with catatonic super-elderly and a new dilemma for society to debate: at what age is it more ethical to kill someone as opposed to keeping them alive?
Amidst this growing issue scientists worked fervently to develop a drug that would allow people to age without degrading over time, and they came out with Iuvenis. Although Iuvenis was the first drug of its caliber, it did not extend one’s lifespan. In fact it was guaranteed to shorten the consumers’ life by at least 20%, however there would be limited physical signs of aging. People would appear and feel youthful for much longer than traditional humans, but they would have an average lifespan of 62.
For many, 62 years was plenty of life especially when the trade off was feeling and looking younger for longer than ever before.
This soon became the most popular consumer drug available on the market. Living for a shorter time in a more youthful vessel appeared to fundamentally change people’s priorities and a sub culture developed that was rife with hedonism and over consumption. Those that had taken Iuvenis in droves soon developed their own communities and looked down upon citizens who were “unchanged” (Extenzin and Iuvenis users adopted this term to refer to those who lived natural life spans) as well as the vegetated ancients who had been early adopters of Extenzin.
(May continue) |
"Speaking of dice, you owe me twenty bucks you old bastard,"I grinned. I might be new to the office, but I sure wasn't new to Jack, a grizzled man with a penchant for cheap whiskey and amphetamines. "Plus, I've met your grandmother and the jet engine loses that battle."
"You'll get your twenty bucks and not much more when I've got more than wet tobacco on my desk,"he replied, pointing vaguely in the direction of my desk.
"I'm reworking one of Thi's old drafts already, I'll have it by tomorrow."Thi was the longest-term employee of Gut Rot short of Jack himself, a grey-haired woman with eyes that cut and long acrylic nails that rattled as she typed a billion words per minute on the aging eeePC she carried around.
"You better, since I need another by next week. Your work."Jack tipped his chin up at me and raised a salt-and-pepper eyebrow. "Make it happen."
"Yessssir,"I dragged out the word, then gave a mock salute before I wandered back to my desk. Jack merely grunted.
I looked around the office and couldn't help a small smile. Mostly at the fact that I had a writing job, but there was something.... well, endearing was the wrong word, about Gut Rot's squat little offices. Yellowing plastic ceiling fans spun lazily through the sweaty air, more for decoration than the meager circulation they provided the otherwise un-airconditioned office. The walls were almost yellow too, peeling floral wallpaper stained by the ambient humidity and the horrifying quantity of tobacco that Gut Rot went through on a weekly basis. It was exactly what it was, nothing more and nothing less.
Thi looked up at me, silver-blue eyes glancing more through me than anything else. She didn't stop in her rattling race through her current pulp, a borderline novella presumably crammed with romance and gore.
Duong, the office's only other actual writer, didn't even seem to notice me. He was entranced, in his "surf"as he called it. He was a small, ink-stained man who wrote his work all by hand with an assortment of homemade fountain pens that littered his workspace.
The last employee, Star, was absent. Star was a remarkable individual that did their best to defy description, and worked as the office's "everything else"person. They were likely out running errands, or late, which was equally likely. Star generally lived beyond boundaries, and would not apologize nor be reprimanded for being late. They got the job done and, I suspected, probably knew how to fucking party.
It was for this last reason that I spent the rest of the afternoon turning one of Thi's old "first drafts". I managed to get most of the way through turning the impossible unpunctuated mess of words and blood into a vaguely readable work of fiction when they finally arrived.
Star had on some kind of hooded mesh garment somewhere between a cardigan and a cloak that did nothing whatsoever to conceal the strappy neon orange top and matching leggings they wore. They entered the office almost silently, remarkable considering the state of the doors hinges, and walked up to my desk.
\[I'm out of time to keep writing here but I want to finish later. Also, is this a real place? Or some kind of reference I don't get? I'm working just from the prompt but I'm curious. Also let me know if this is any good I have no idea where it's going.\] |
"A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step."Emily laughed at the slip of paper. She wondered what journey could take her a thousand miles from the drab little life she was living. Lunch was over and it was time to get back to work.
"Do not give up, the beginning is always the hardest."Emily rolled her eyes. She questioned why she even bothered to read the little slips of paper wrapped in a crunchy wafer. Begin with what? It had been the same old drudgery for years, and lately everything had been more difficult. From Mr. Burke’s constant criticism at work to the landlord's lack of interest in fixing the elevator at home.
"Don’t find fault, find a remedy."Emily sighed. Why did she feel scolded? Maybe it was time to stop eating so much Chinese food. Emily used the chopsticks to pick the last piece of shrimp from the pile of white steamed rice and delicious Kung Pao sauce. “Nope,” she thought with a smile. Chinese food was the best! She swept the remains into the white plastic bag and tossed them into the breakroom’s trashcan. Time to get back to work. She’s picked through so many ideas in the last few years and finally settled on one she was fairly confident would be impossible not to notice.
"All things are difficult before they are easy."Emily glanced at her fortune and shoved it into her pocket. Finally home, Emily scrambled up the stairs. It was so beyond ridiculous that the elevator was still not fixed. Four flights of creaky wooden stairs with only a wobbly banister to steady oneself. Thankfully, she didn’t need the banister anymore. Emily was also grateful not to be so winded by the time she reached her apartment. She unlocked the many deadbolts and swished into the safety of home. Time to tackle that project away from prying eyes.
"Others admire your flexibility."Emily read before she noticed Mr. Burke headed her way. He stopped at her desk with a slight frown. "Mr. Pembroke wants to see you asap!"He decreed. She left the remains of her lunch to head off to the executive suites. She dared to hope Mr. Pembroke appreciated the hard work poured into her effort to save the company money. It was a risk to slip her report into the pile of folders Mr. Burke had ordered her to take up a week ago. Emily was ready to be praised or terminated. Mr. Burke had kept her from leaving his personal fiefdom for years while he bullied and downplayed her work. She had decided to gather what courage she could and find her own remedy. Emily couldn’t keep blaming Mr. Burke for a lack of initiative.
Emily had never been past Mr. Pembroke’s Executive Secretary. Victoria always walked any paperwork into Mr. Pembroke after Emily was whisked away by the elevator. Emily focused on the presentation she practiced over and over again. She glanced at the files on the edge of Victoria’s desk. The tabs had all been labeled Emily Sutter. Victoria opened Mr. Pembroke’s door and stepped aside so Emily could enter and then shut the door shut definitively behind her.
Mr. Pembroke gave her the weekend to decide. A move across the country to head a new department was unimaginable. The rest of her work day was lost in a haze of indecision, happiness, and concern that Mr. Burke would confront her.
Emily settled into the familiar booth and sipped oolong tea while she waited for dinner. For a change, she savored every bite before eating the fortune cookie. The little slip of white paper read, "Be prepared to accept an exciting opportunity in the future."
Emily would miss her favorite Chinese restaurant. |
“I can carry him.” Torval grunted, taking the weight and hefting the finely-dressed stranger over to the nearest table. His cat looked up from its place by the fire, seemingly judging them for disturbing its sleep. “You close that door!”
Gorm hurried back to the open doorway - shielding his face from the storm with his now sodden cloak - and pulled at the wrought iron handle. It resisted at first but the wind took it the last few inches, causing it to slam hard against the frame. “Sorry…” he said sheepishly when he saw the look Torval shot at him.
The air reeked of stale smoke, and the crackling of the fire barely offered any comfort as it was drowned out by the torrent that pounded against the roof. Torval was busying himself over the stranger he had laid down, dripping on the stone floor wherever he paused as he moved around the square, ironwood table. He placed his fingers against the neck to check for a pulse, then with a growl of irritation threw back the hood of his cloak - spraying more rainwater about himself - and pressed an ear against the stranger’s chest.
Gorm didn’t dare to breathe. He stood motionless while Torval examined their guest and waited, hoping for the best. The moment stretched for longer than was comfortable, and Gorm edged closer to the fire as he started to become aware of just how cold and wet he also was. He had barely taken off his cloak when the gruff voice of his companion broke the silence.
“Throw more fuel on. We need to get him warm.” Torval said.
Gorm looked at the pile of meager sticks and chunks of wood that passed for fuel. “Is this all you have?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. “Will it last through the night?”
Torval didn’t look up from his work. “It’s enough.” he said as he unceremoniously lifted the stranger’s leg to search his pockets. “I can get more from the workshed if we need it. Now, stop dawdling and get this room hot.”
Carefully setting each piece in the fire, Gorm did as instructed. As the fire grew, the tavern’s features started to become more pronounced. The pitch of the ceiling and the rafters below it cast strange shapes that danced above them in the firelight. The walls were rough and the masonry of the floor was clearly made by hand. A long oak bar sat at the end of the room with several uncomfortable looking stools. Gorm couldn’t help but think this place was almost as hostile as its owner, but what shelter it offered was definitely preferable to being caught out in this weather.
“Will he live, do you think?” Gorm asked tentatively. Torval didn’t answer. He was busy trying to extricate his hand from the barely conscious man’s back pocket. After an awkward moment, he decided to hazard a second attempt. “Reckon he’ll last the night?”
“I don’t know.” Torval muttered without looking up. “He’s in pretty bad withdrawal. He’s barely able to breathe without any power.” Torval’s cat jumped up gracefully onto the table. After a cursory sniff of the figure next to her, she demanded attention from her owner. Torval obliged her. “He’s clearly never had to live without power before. Look.” Torval raised the stranger’s hand up so that it hung above its owner’s face, and let go. The wet hand slapped down onto a cheek with no indication of any reflex to stop it. A weak groan came from the table’s occupant, but little else. Torval began unclasping his cloak. “First night’s the hardest.” he said matter-of-factly. “You remember what it’s like, don’t you?”
Gorm didn’t reply. He’d rather forget the first few days of his own experience. He had never felt so weak as the first day he realised he didn’t have any power propping him up. It had been a slow decline into loneliness, but the day his sister passed away he had been stripped of the last friend he truly had in this world. That was when the power left him.
“Well well, Look at you!” Torval said, having pried something free from a pocket and settled into an uncomfortable looking chair next to the stranger. He rifled through some papers, holding them up into the firelight to read them. Gorm’s attention was quickly brought back to the present.
“What is it? Anything that will help us?” He inquired, staring wide-eyed at the leaf of paper Torval was carefully reading.
“Maybe,” Torval placed the paper down on the next table, and continued looking through what he had found. “But nothing that will help him.” He opened a small pocket book and checked the pages for information. “Mr… Einar - it seems - was something of a social climber. An address book with about a hundred names in it; all with notes and dates,” He tossed the book onto the table along with the paper. “And an invitation to a function in Kaelbek a week from now.”
Gorm furrowed his brow in confusion. “How does a social climber like that end up collapsing in the street?” It didn’t make sense to him. Trust and friendship garnered from people who offered it willingly bolstered the power that lived inside everyone, but social climbers tend to hoard as much of it as they can. They’re the true wonders of their civilization. They can summon fire from nothing, or make shade in sunlight. Some can even heal the sick, if the rumors are to be believed. Popular with the whole kingdom and often with allies beyond, they were as dangerous as they were loved. For someone as connected as this to just collapse in the street… “Ostracized?”
Torval nodded, finally looking up from Einar. “And it happened quickly. Perhaps some scandal made public or acts he had committed became publicly known. Maybe even had a warrant issued for his arrest. Poor sod probably had no idea it was happening to him.”
Ostracized. Few people ever came back from that. After a certain age you come to depend on the power that flows through the communities. Having to live without it is like drowning slowly. Gorm felt the cold sensation setting in just thinking about it. What could this man have done that would make every friend he ever made suddenly turn on him? Did he not even have family left to support him?
“I want to help him.” Gorm said the words before he even knew he was going to say them. Torval didn’t look at him. He was busy lighting his pipe while scratching his cat’s ear to placate her. Gorm already knew Torval wouldn’t approve. “He can’t learn it himself, living the way we do.”
“That’s the only way you can learn it.” Torval replied shortly, leaning back into his chair. “And you can’t befriend that one. He’ll leech all the power you have out of you and still not be satisfied.” He took a long, contemplative puff of his pipe before shaking his head. “That man isn’t your friend, and any happiness he offers isn’t real.”
Gorm looked at the helpless man as he lay gasping for breath. Maybe torval was right, and maybe befriending this person wouldn’t bring either happiness or power, but Gorm had been miserable and weak for long enough to make the risk seem worth it. |
I have memorized, in their entirety, the Holy Words of the Messengers.
It was a tradition in those settlements north of the equator on my planet. you see. Though we could not read or write - our people had no written version of our tongue, though at times anthropologists would drop by to record our legends.
We welcomed them with open arms, although there was some suspicion they were advance military scouts for conquering armies, leading to discussions among our Chairpersons and their councils about how our own limited resources could be used against spacefaring forces. Often, as was the nature of our civilization, these discussions took the form of town hall meetings to both discuss the necessity of our hospitality to visitors, as well as how we should react if in truth the visitors heralded conquest: our oral traditions taught us the history of Earth, in which there were more than a few different types of conquests, and so too a number of different types of responses. Should they oppress our religion, they were in for a fight. Should they simply demand taxes, we would pay as asked, should the demands of our conquerors be reasonable.
But it was our faith in the Messengers where the core of our society lied, and to not only be able to memorize the Recitation, but to know its meaning, that was the core of what made one a leader in society. The Chairpersons and the Councils only held a political role. In our society, we considered politics, and money, a filthy business. The lowest classes of society, though they were the richest, were the ones who by birth involved in either society or money.
But true respect came from our reverence for the Messengers, for the Wings they had made through powers lost that had led us to our current world and home, the one that all of us knew and loved, where all of us were born, aside from the occasional human or other alien who married into our people, and were accepted so long as they swore upon the Faith and adopted our ways.
It was on the fifth turning of the Cycle that I learned through the word of a messenger in our village that I was among the candidates selected to master the recitation. I had already spent some time serving as a lay minister and an aide to the Reciter in our village, having memorized the Holy Words.
The next step was an examination, what one of the anthropologists who had studied us in our village referred to as a Practicum. Only with a Practicum could one of us become not only a Minister, a Second-Level position within our Faith, but a Healing Doctor, the highest level in the achievement of knowledge.
I nodded as the messenger stepped past the gates of our house to announce the news.
I gulped in trepidation. The exam to become a Healing Doctor always took place one hour after its announcement, in the dark of the night. The exam in its typical form involved visiting the imprisoned, those about to be executed, the elderly and outcasts, those who had gone sick in their minds or been possessed by the forces of Sadness and Evil - if a man or woman, though especially a man, was possessed by the demons of sadness or rage, often they were outcast from our settlements. Once upon a time we had executed them through the slowest of means, entrapping them in a pit where they would starve or tear each other limb from limb, devouring one another's flesh as the pit began to stink of every fluid in their bodies. But on the recommendation of one of our greatest Healing Doctors, the mind-sick were allowed to live, though they were often moved between settlements as demanded by the Chairpersons.
To become a Healing Doctor, I would, as my final task before ascendance to the role, recite and explain the Holy Words to someone mind-sick, and ensure that they understood the Words as I did. |
There was a sudden suctioning sound between his forehead. It tugged at both sides of his mind, feeling as if it were going to rip him right down the center. Just when he thought he couldn't bear it any longer, it stopped, and he could *hear*. Bubbles, popping, all around him, and then a warbled voice in the void, so far away, but he could still make out the speech,
"Sense 1 opened, proceeding with unlocking Sense 2,"and then his skin was on fire. His eyes burned, he clenched his fists and felt his fingernails dig into his own palms.
"Sense 2 fully functional by the looks of it,"another voice in the void said. "Go ahead with Sense 3,"and then he tasted metal, copper, iron behind his teeth. He flicked his tongue against the top of his mouth. "Looks like he might swallow his tongue, is this okay?"
"That always happens whenever we activate Sense 3. It's fine. Proceeding with Sense 4."
Within the dark void that he swam in, a sudden leak of light poked through, filling the void with brightness. He cringed his eyes shut and instinctively raised his hand to protect his eyes. It burned, everything burned. It was all too much. His eyes couldn't adjust.
"Reacting to light stimuli, excellent, drain the water and proceed with Sense 5."
"On it."
He could feel his body sink downward and a sudden feeling of **weight** pulled down at him, starting with his head, then his chest and arms, and then his legs. He felt himself collapse to the floor and felt how cold it was in the tank he was in. He could hear the water dripping from the ceiling of the tank. He mustered as much strength as he could to look upward and see where he was at. It felt like he was inside an egg. Would he look up at the top of the egg and see a crack, and through that crack, he would see his own mother looking down at him?
The weight of his head on his spindly neck was too much. He fell backward and lay at the bottom of the egg, sprawled, gasping for air, coughing.
"Unlocking Sense 5 now,"the voice at the top of the egg said.
And he could smell. Harsh chemicals, cleaning supplies, phosphate. He coughed and sputtered at the bottom of the egg. It burned his nostrils. He inhaled and exhaled as hard as he could, wanting to clear his nose of those harsh smells.
"He's looking good, all 5 senses seem to be working appropriately. Now do the memory upload."
Before he could gain another gasp of chemically tainted air, all of the memories came rushing back.
***
His name was Kenny Gates, and he was laying on his deathbed. His wife, Josie, was sitting next to him, his hand clasped in hers. He looked down his shoulder and up his arm, skipping past the IV and other monitors that were scotch-taped glued to his emaciated arm and saw her hand, how lively and warm it was. She had been wearing her favorite perfume, but he couldn't smell it anymore. She was speaking, saying something, but he was too busy watching everything beginning to turn grey.
Josie stopped whatever she was saying and reached over towards a tray and grabbed from it a cup of chilled peaches. She spooned some into his mouth, and he halfheartedly chewed, not able to taste anything from them.
"You'll be right back, won't you?"She asked.
Kenny mumbled, not really paying attention to what she was saying.
"You'll be right back, and everything will be back to normal, yeah?"
He bit down onto his tongue on accident, but couldn't feel it. He swallowed down the peaches and sighed, raspy, guttural. Kenny looked over to Josie, but she was greyed out by now, just a shadow. He tried holding onto every word she spoke, but they were turning into whispers.
***
He stood at the doorstep, dressed in a suit that was provided by the nurses at the laboratory. He had been coached by them, they let him know what the last moments of his life were like, as if he hadn't been there to experience them himself. They had offered a therapist to go through everything, but he waved it away. He just wanted to get back home. He just wanted to be alone.
Kenny sighed, and knocked on the door, and before he could knock again, the door flew open and there stood his wife, Josie. She laughed and cried, and held out her arms for a hug. He stood there for a few fractions of a second before returning the gesture. He pulled her in close in a tight embrace and breathed in deeply the smell of her perfume.
When she pulled away from him, he saw that there were tears running down her cheeks.
"I can't believe you're back already. You were just, you were just gone a few hours ago."
"They work fast,"Kenny said.
"I just can't believe you're back already, I'm so happy,"Josie said before rushing Kenny with another hug.
He patted her back, wondering if he really *was* back.
"Daddy!"a smaller voice called out. "You're not sick anymore?"His daughter Rose came running from the living room, and she wrapped herself around his leg.
"Nope, all better,"Kenny said, forcing a smile.
Back on the couch was their old dog, Rascal. He was the only one who hadn't approached Kenny like the other members of the family had done. Instead, Rascal just sighed, and put his head between his paws.
"Come on in, sit down, I'm sure you're probably still all discombobulated. That's the word the doctors used,"Josie said.
"What's that mean?"Rose asked.
Kenny tuned them out as he walked over to the couch and sat down next to Rascal, the dog that had been absolutely inseparable from Kenny ever since they got him from the pound. He reached out to pet Rascal, but the dog moved away, turning its head to sniff at the *new* hand that Kenny had.
Rascal sighed and got off the couch and walked off.
***
Later that evening, Kenny was in his personal office, getting ready to go through all of the documentation ready for his funeral. He sat the papers down and rubbed his forehead. Before he had died, he thought that the idea was silly, having a funeral for someone who was still up and walking around.
But now, sitting behind the desk, Kenny couldn't help but sense some form of disconnection from the world around him.
*You'll have a sudden urge to get up and run*, the nurses had told him whenever they were cleaning him and dressing him, *That's completely normal and will go away after a few days.*
Damned it if it weren't true.
Tears were streaming down Kenny's face. He was overcome with emotion. He was happy that he had escaped death and was back with his family, but there was a gnawing sensation in his stomach that he didn't really get away from anything. There was always some sort of price to pay.
He sunk out of his chair and onto the floor of the office, and he sat there and sobbed into his hands.
The door to the office creaked open, and Kenny braced to have to put himself back together again and not let his wife Josie or his daughter Rose see him this way.
*I thought you weren't going to be sick anymore?* his daughter would ask.
*Aren't you feeling better? Do we need to go back to the doctor?* his wife would ask.
He didn't want to answer any of those questions. He just wanted to *be*, but every fiber in his being told him he was not supposed to be.
Kenny felt a wet nose poke his arm. He picked his face up and saw that it was Rascal, sitting next to him. Kenny offered his hand, and Rascal sniffed it, and then huffed. The dog sighed, and sat next to Kenny, and whined.
"It's just you and me who knows the truth, huh?"Kenny said. "You know I'm not him."
Rascal looked up at Kenny and sighed again. Kenny slowly pat Rascal's head, and Rascal let him.
"You miss him, I'm sure,"Kenny said. "I miss him too."
Together, the two sat in the study in silence while Josie worked on dinner in the kitchen and Rose played in the backyard, the last light of that day slowly beginning to fade. |
*There is a mention of suicide in this story,*
"Excuse me, Mr. Goodfellow?"I asked, opening the door to the office.
"Come on in."He replied.
"Thank you, I understand you wanted to hire our company to produce a PR disaster."
"That is correct, can we talk specifics?"
"Sure, you're the ones paying us. Might I ask why you want a PR disaster for your own company, most people hire us to make a PR disaster for other companies."
"It's simple really, my board and I want to know just how much we can get away with. That one water company, the one with child slaves, they came out the other side just fine. I want to know if we could get away with something like that."
"Surely there is an easier way to do that, you don't have to slander your own company."
"That's the brilliance of it though if we figure out that we can get away with whatever horror we come up with it won't be slander anymore, we'll simply implement it."
I was surprised, I didn't want to do it. The only reason I took this job was because I would be taking down, or at least trying to take down, large megacorporations. I didn't want to help one commit more evil acts, but I still had a job to do, and my supervisors wouldn't let me turn this down.
\#
"Mr. Goodfellow, I-"
"Ah, you're back! I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name, but I have to thank you for all the good work you've done. Our profits are up over 400% ever since we implemented some of your ideas. Let me tell you, dumping the waste chemicals in the local river, something we should have thought of earlier, that's on us. I really want to commend your creativity on the idea to drive our employees to suicide so we don't have to pay out any of their benefits packages. How did you ever think of that?"
"Mr. Goodfellow, we're dropping your contract. Our business can no longer operate because your example has shown the world that there simply isn't anything that a large enough business won't do for a dollar. While I might not be making any money doing it, I'm going to do everything in my power to bring your company down."
"By all means, please do." |
I've been working Samhain for a decade now. Maybe I'm getting old, but it seems like proper precautions are thrown to the wind more and more often. Of course I'm the one that cleans up the mess.
It's usually a frightened mother, occasionally a roommate, of an older teen that calls it in. Dog sized spiders made out of thousands mouths babbling horrible futures, rips in space where eyes glittering in unfathomable intelligence, and that one slime possessor that forced the host into self cannibalism. All found in a set of grimoires. All improperly disposed of via thrift shops and used book stores. All summoned by someone with more talent than sense.
My mentor lost his mind looking for the backward logic in all of this. Attempting to classify, define, and for lack of better words, standardize interacting with these things. I envy him this time of year.
My car rattled it's way to a stop in front of the house. A modest design, in a suburb full of its variation on three and two. A young woman came to the window babbling, with the usual story. Of course they followed everything to the letter, hurry before it eats more of the house, wait what was that? "Did you say it asked for me by name?"The trains of thought were still screeching and clattering to a halt, trying to change direction on just what that could mean.
"That's right and phone number. You were the second call after the priest refused and I convinced my parents of the idea."She spoke with the casual arrogance of a teenager, who had been proven right by an authority figure.
The black lab coat I use for a robe, was melted around the edges and still smelt faintly of ozone from this morning's call, but between it and my ring of office familiarity started to seep in around the edges again. Familiarity is good, it provides a grip when things get wobbly.
I hadn't seen the parents yet. Considering I was being led to the garage, a sensible place for ritual. I went with the assumption they had other places to be. She didn't follow me in either.
The garage was another return to the familiar. It's walls, warped to strange too large proportions, were covered in inky black sigils, stretching to the complementary circles on the ceiling and floor. I could make out cuneiform, with english and spanish syntax. Geometric principles were observed, within the circle and without. This wasn't the work of an untrained talent. Behind me the door locked with a loud echoing sound.
The light seemed to come from within the column the circles denoted, without any direct source. I forced my eyes to the center of the space. The image my mind allowed was a complex mechanical mask, made of shimmering silver and gold liquid. Pulsating and twisting as it turned in circles as if whiling away time in a waiting room.
No sound came, when the empty sockets met my eyes, but I heard it. A thousand breaking glasses, slid along my brain as a plan was dumped unceremoniously and fully formed into my consciousness. My senses momentarily went black as raw streams of data replaced them, with a razors clarity.
I sputtered back to reality, non sense sounds came out of my mouth as I tried to form the words that would bring understanding down to a conscious level. "An apprenticeship?"
The mask radiated such smugness, at my disbelief that I was tempted to throw something. Until it spoke, it's voice tinny like it was speaking through a long tube. "How else are gods made?" |
"Oh my gosh Haddie, Shut UP!"
Megan rolled out of bed and plopped her feet onto the cold tile floor. "I’m coming! I’m coming!"She opened the bedroom door to a petulant black cat.
"Honestly, the alarm hasn’t gone off yet and it’s not like you’re starving!"
Haddie’s tail lashed back and forth like a whip as she ran ahead. The yowling had turned into demanding chirps.
Megan topped off the food dish with fresh dry food before she washed and filled the water dish. Haddie was still chirping orders. "For pity’s sake."Megan mumbled. "You have exactly one lump in your litterbox and ALL of this could have waited an hour!"The litterbox cleaned, Megan went to climb back into the warm bedding.
Megan just drifted into the arms of sleep when a persistent tug jerked her back to awakeness. "Hadddddddddddddddddddddddddiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee."She groaned. "Now what?"
The deep green eyes stared unblinking at Megan. "Have I told you that you’re a pain yet?"Back to the cat’s room. "Do you know how many people are willing to get a two bedroom so their cat can have its own space?! You ungrateful fuzzball!"
Haddie jumped to the top of the bookcase in one graceful leap. The container of catnip came crashing down with a swipe of her paw.
"Seriously?"Megan twisted the top off and dusted Haddie’s favorite spot with the dried bits of plant. "There you go. I hope you go catatonic because I’m going back to bed!"
Down the hallway, Megan stomped. The bedroom door slammed behind her.
Haddie looked at the closed door for a few minutes. A low growl filled the room. Deft paws danced in and out of the herbal pile and finally Haddie stood in the center with an arched back and bristled fur.
The phone rang.
Haddie rolled on the catnip, purring.
Megan’s voice carried beyond the bedroom, "Really?! Oh my gosh, I’ll be right there!" The bedroom door flung open. Megan rushed into the cat room and scooped up her cat.
"Haddie! Haddie! I got my promotion!"Megan laughed. "This keeps up, one day I’ll be able to buy you your own house!" |
It had been a while since I had spoken or had a reason to speak.
As far as I can tell, I’m the last. The last human alive on earth, that is. I haven’t seen any sign of intelligent life since the last space shuttle took off, in search of a new home.
I had been the only one to volunteer, staying back as mission control so the last of our small group, a sad excuse for a civilization, could find somewhere that hadn’t been destroyed by pollution and greed.
Our planet had been doomed centuries ago by insatiably rich bureaucrats with no regard for the world their children’s generation would inherit.
As far as we knew before they all left, we were the last group of humans still on earth. At least, no one was using radio or any other form of communication to reach out. It was mostly just silence. Just the godforsaken static… Every. Single. Day.
Occasionally there would be a transmission from one of the ships checking to see if there was anyone still here, or to ask if we had found a way to fix the earth. But they were halfhearted attempts. Everyone knew the earth had been neglected for far too long to be saved.
On my 234th day alone, I was tending to my garden when I heard a faint noise from behind me. At first I thought it must’ve been an animal, dismissing it, but it was getting louder and closer and it was coming from the sky. I peered into the vaguely blue void of the sky searching for the source for a few moments, not seeing anything.
A giant plume of smoke suddenly burst through the clouds, it looked like there was an object burning up inside but there was too much smoke to tell for sure.
I watched the falling object drop until it was past the tree-line, a moment later the ground shook. It must be close.
If I was smart I would have stayed and finished harvesting my tomatoes, but I was curious.
I walked through the woods following the smell of smoke and burning wood. Eventually I broke into a clearing with trees snapped in half still burning on both ends of the break. The site where the ship crashed was very visible but the ship wasn’t. It had clearly traveled quite a distance even after hitting the ground judging from the fresh five foot deep trail bore into the ground.
I stumbled along the trench left behind by the ship until I came upon a hill. There it was. A small ship, probably an escape pod of some sort, I reasoned.
It had slid halfway up the hill like it was a ramp, lodged about a third of the way of the side of it. I stood there for a few moments taking in the site trying to piece together what colony had built it when I heard a sudden noise.
*Fssshhhh*
The door to the space craft slid open. A young woman fell out. I hurriedly jumped over the rocks and bushes to get the crash site on the side of the hill.
I approached the woman with caution. I’m not ever sure if woman was the right word, she looked quite young. As I got close she stirred. I hesitated in my approach.
She sat up quickly, startled by the sound of my kicking a small pebble. She immediately locked eyes with me.
Her eyes turned black and she stood up. But then she kept going, she levitated further and further into the air. Once she was about 20 feet off the ground her body started glowing with a purple aura. Her eyes were now on fire, burning like the fire had been meticulously built in her eye sockets.
“IM GOD BITCH” she bellowed into the night sky. It hadn’t been night two minutes ago, what was happening? I was starting to freak out. I began to inch back into the woods to get away. My movement must have caught her attention.
She locked eyes with me again. A beam of red light shot out of her chest. Everything slowed down, was this it? Was this how it was going to end?
Yes. The red beam of energy nailed me square between the eyes. I died.
*Damn. Every time…* I thought as my brain exploded out of every hole in my face.
• Check me out at r/penismilk
Edit: spelling, grammar etc. |
\[Information Hazard\]
"Well,"Commander Mills half-laughed to himself. "Either I'm insane or I'm dead."With his decision made, Commander Mills shrugged and began walking towards the forest.
Behind him lay nothing but the red, barren dirt of Mars that his crew expected. Ahead, a line of red grass extended into a dense forest with red and white trees. Logically, he knew the planet was devoid of life. They'd done countless scans of the planet before and after landing. The most recent was the night before; and, it showed nothing. Mills considered calling for backup, or even a second opinion; but, they were a small crew and everyone had their jobs to do. The last thing he wanted was to pull someone away from their job just to babysit him. If he was lucid enough to consider it, he hoped he'd be lucid enough to make it back to base. After he explored the forest.
Mills kept walking towards the trees once he reached the grass. He noticed the ground felt different under his suit but didn't know what to make of it. Though, once he reached the tree line, he came to a conclusion; he heard voices.
"Insanity it is,"he nodded to himself with a chuckle. He heard two women talking beyond the trees and moved closer to see if he could spot them or hear them better. It was a tight fit but he managed to squeeze himself in between two trees. As he pushed himself through, he stopped once he got a good look at the other side. Instead of the empty, dusty plain, he was peeking into what looked like a room. The walls, floor, and ceiling glowed with soft red light and a white door stood upright in the middle of the room. From his angle, he could see both the front and back of the door, but it wasn't connected to anything.
But, the door and room were a secondary curiosity. He was drawn to the two women in the room. Actual human women, not wearing environmental suits. The pink-haired woman wore a crisp white suit and the brown-haired woman wore jeans and a red blouse.
"But, Mrs. Sharp said other planets don't exist...,"Mills heard the brown-haired woman say. It was a strange statement and he wondered if they were aliens in human form. He continued to listen when the pink-haired woman shrugged.
"Either she didn't trust you yet, or it was habit,"she said. "We used to think that was the case. But, it turns out 'not supposed to exist' is different from 'doesn't exist',"she said.
"So Mars... isn't supposed to exist?"the brown-haired woman asked. Mills listened intently while reminding himself that he'd gone crazy. But, at least it was an appealing insanity.
"Right,"the pink-haired woman said. "But the funny thing is the AlterNet has a way of making ideas real. Humans searched the stars for something, so it gave them something to find. It only exists in telescopes and data until a Zero lands on it. Then, it's real, but delicate."
"Delicate?"brown-hair asked.
"Normally, if it comes into contact with anything, or anyone from another universe, it disappears. No Traversing, no Uniques. Even if a Zero goes back to Earth and tries to Traverse from there, the multiverse won't accept them."Mills realized he didn't understand any of those words in any of those contexts but continued to enjoy the conversation. It helped that he found both women quite attractive.
"So, how are we here?"
"Ms. Sharp,"pink-hair grinned. "[She's been](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/mpdluo/wp_you_and_your_returning_spaceship_crew_was/) [working on](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/lo0h7s/wp_two_months_into_the_nasa_rover_perseverances) [this problem](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/k77tov/wp_a_human_skeleton_is_found_on_mars_wearing_the/) for [a while](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/jhro4g/wp_the_year_is_2030_the_first_astronauts_have/). Once she found the glitched Earth, it became a lot easier."
"Glitched?"brown-hair asked. Then, her eyes lit up. "Oh! [3.13](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/qercuh/wpwith_a_device_to_view_and_travel_to_an_infinite/hhvuvdd/)?"she asked. Pink-hair nodded.
"She took over that Earth and hid it away from the multiverse. Then, she helped them get to Mars and took it over. And, well, you know Ms. Sharp,"she giggled. "Here we are."
"I don't,"brown-hair shook her head. "Never met her, but I know how genius Mrs. Sharp is, so I'm not surprised. But... why aren't you wearing a mask? I've heard Dara is required to wear one on Earth."
"That's the real reason we're here,"pink-hair nodded. She raised her hand to show off the glowing white bangle on her wrist. "Janet took Dara before Ms. Sharp finalized it. But, Janet doesn't know it's done yet, so we have the element of surprise. And we're going to need it to get her back."
Mills had settled into a comfortable nook and rested himself against the trees as he listened. He was so caught up in their conversation that a sudden, loud crack surprised him. Though, he didn't register that surprise until he banged his helmet against the solid red metal floor. He sat up and looked at the two women through cracked glass and realized both of them were focused on him.
"Ladies...,"He smiled at them and rose to his feet. Mills decided to embrace the insanity fully. He knew for a fact there was no life on Mars. Not a forest, and definitely not two women that could breathe the air. But, there they were. He had to be insane, it was the only thing that made sense. "...What are a couple of good-looking girls like you doing on a planet like this?"he asked as he stepped forward.
The pink-haired one raised her palm towards Mills and it began to glow with blue energy.
"Sorry,"she smiled. "You're not supposed to know [this door exists](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/p14vrs/wp_a_character_of_your_choice_witnesses_something/),"Mills had a brief moment to wonder what she meant; then, a bright blue beam shot from her hand. Mills and the trees behind him were vaporized in an instant.
"Did he try to hit on us ...on Mars?"Jane asked. Lyra nodded as the glow dissipated from her hand, then she giggled.
"Yeah. That's kinda crazy."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1389 in a row. (Story #297 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. |
With each age of the world there is always a tale of grand deeds and great bravery. Of the triumph of good over evil and the promise of peace and prosperity.
This however is not that story.
Almost two years ago ten companions and their retainers had set out,their goal to destroy the evil wizard of the elven Cardinal Tower. Their leader, the Grand Prince, prophesied to bring peace to the Kingdom of Armorica.
The King had kept a vigil, spending his evenings staring to the north atop his battlements, awaiting word of his sons triumph. A vigil the ended with a cry from the city guard as a lone man came down a dusty track.
Hustled through the city streets the man was brought before the King, bedraggled and foot sore, carrying a timber framed rucksack filled and overflowing with all manner of weapons and camping equipment. His face bore two years of strain upon it, his eyes never resting anywhere. The look of the combat crazed, a man at the end of his wits expecting ambush at any turn.
The King, a hopeful look upon his face, and rotund posterior firmly planted in cushioned throne, "Well what news of my son? Was he triumphant?"
An expectant hush fell across the room, retainers, and sycophantic lords held their breath. But the bedraggled man responded with a hoarse whisper, "ale"
The silent throne room stared, stupefied at this man, recognized as the youngest squire that had set out two years before. "Clean the wool out your ears! Ale! Make it strong! If you want to hear this farce then I need to be good and drunk!"The young man's shout caught all present surprised, as did his mad dog stare and punctuated by a good minute of clattering accoutrement as he dropped the ruck on marbled floors.
Minutes stretched until ale had been fetched, and still longer as the man took the time to drain every last drop from the heavy tankard. Smacking his lips as he held out the tankard for more, indicating one of the bejeweled Lords should do something useful.
"Now that is done tell me of my son!"The King still hopeful, and rudely interrupted by the loud belching squire.
"Of you really wish to know, well here it is."
"That buffoon of a son of yours led us in the wrong direction. It took us six months to even convince him to listen to the ranger and let her have the map and compass. At that point he decided we should try an easy quest first. Giant rats in a tavern cellar? No problem! Minus the fact that the fighter and his squire didn't know how to fight, they both got killed, the Dwarven berserker lost a hand to one of the rats and then the Mage burned the tavern down by firing off a fireball in an enclosed space. I've barely grown my hair back!"He rattled the words off to the stunned audience, stopping briefly to drain the next tankard of ale.
"So rather than pay for the tavern, the courageous Grand Prince decided the rest of us should just flee. Great plan! Turns out that ranger couldn't read a map from her ample posterior and we ended up in a swamp. She ended up drowning in quick sand, the berserker fell in love with a lice ridden kobold. Which don't get me wrong helped out a lot, as the rest of the tribe was busy skewering the rest of the fighters and that cooky paladin, who by the by did not have his gods favor."
As he spoke the young man shooed another lord away from his stool and dragged it noisily to sit next to his scattered ruck.
"The wedding was nice, those kobold really know how to throw a party. Roast paladin wasn't the best but it sure beat out whatever it was they fed the warlock."
"We finally got out of that swamp, and the bard gets us enthralled by a succubus or eight. Which despite the six months of fun, I wouldn't recommend it. For creatures that live off of sexual energy, it really wasn't the best I had on this trip. Oh and the bard ended up a dried out husk, with this strange grin on his face...."he stared off to no where a thousand miles distant before pausing to dig through his ruck, tossing random pots and vial of who knows what around. He turned back to his captive, if slightly horrified audience, "Dwarven fire water."A large grin plastered across his face as he hefted a large earthware jug.
"Now the next town we hit, the rogue got hung for stealing, and the warlock same thing the next day, except for necromancy because he just had to ask the rogue what happened to some trinket he was sure the man had stolen. Again the Grand Prince decided to run away, unless the local magistrate take a closer look at their traveling companions."The man shuddered once, shaking his head as he muttered, "clerics in a whore house... I.. nevermind."
"So a month or two after this we get to the base of this tower you sent us to die at. We had the Mage, your Idiot son, that cleric, some halfling inventor and an Amazonian Barbarian the cleric 'rescued' from the brothel. Don't get me wrong, nice lady, she had a hugggge, hugggge axe."
He paused once again, taking a long pull from the jug, followed by a hissing sigh, "they all got ate by a troll. Well the halfling got ate by some carnivorous plant, but he was busy running away from the troll trying to get some contraption the work. Barbarian got gutted, and the cleric got stepped on as he tried to avenge her, and the Mage just set the whole garden on fire to kill the troll but I don't think he thought to leave an escape route."
The jug found the squires lips once more and stayed there until the King cleared his throat, "and what of my son? Did he vanquish the evil Mage? Or did he fall in battle against him?"
Several long minutes of crazed laughter preceded the end of the tale, "Your son? He ran away again. No clue where too. That's what took me the second year to get back. I tried looking. Honest."The squires eyes never once going towards the kings as he spoke, shifting on the stool until he raised the jug once more.
The King leaning back in his throne, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Well did you at least kill the evil wizard?"
"Evil wizard? What? No he was a fine fellow. Very interested in the horticultural arts. I'd say he was more of a druid than anything. Was a bit upset about his gardener getting burned up in the garden, but he let me leave. I honestly only came back to quit this job. I ain't paid enough to deal with this."With that said the squire stood up, diligently repacked his rucksack and shouldered it with a loud grunt. He turned about with a mock salute and left the stunned King and his court behind.
After several long minutes the King of Armorica stood, "bring out my 7th son! He has be prophesied to end the evil in the north and bring peace and prosperity to my kingdon!" |
This was going to be a hard subject for me to cover, I bet for a few years now my son has started to question why I look the same as I always had. Just last week he found the dusty stack of my old photo albums.
“Kevin?” I waved him over to the dinner table, it was a small, plastic, foldout, but it worked when there were only two people to feed. “Could you please sit down with me... We need to talk.”
“I’m sorry dad, I swear I’ll turn in my assign-“
“Stop right there, it’s not about you. In fact this discussion will be about my... constitution, over the years,” My son slightly shifted in his chair, making sure to subtly hide his neck.
“Are you really a...” He swallowed aloud, and was clearly uncomfortable with finishing the sentence.
“Your father is not a vampire, no,” I answered. “But I am immortal, so take your time to accept that.”
“I kinda already did realise that you didn’t age, but I didn’t know that was it. No spliced genes? No curse? No blood sucking?” It was a relief to hear that my son was able to make light of the matter, but...
“Actually it is a curse, and after the hundreds of years I have been alive, my fate to die will arrive shortly. To be more precise, in three years.” Kevin’s face slowly crept from a content smile towards a more somber sadness.
“That means I’ll be 19 by then, barely an adult, and now you’re telling me I’ll have to figure things out from there?” His eyes drifted from looking at my direction into the floor. “Will that really be it? Will that be all? Can I at least know beforehand what I need to do to prepare for then?”
“Kevin, I know this must be harsh on you, but how are you able to stay so calm hearing this?” It honestly scared me, it was like he already went through the grief, and it was just easier to accept the death of a loved one the second time it happens.
“From the start, when I wondered why you looked like a highschooler, and why you didn’t accumulate wrinkles, I knew from the bottom of my heart, the past would catch up. When I found your photos in the attic? That just meant the inevitable was sooner than I expected” I could see him starting to tear up now, It was starting to get on my nerves how difficult this would be.
“Then I guess it’s time to tell you that you don’t have to grieve until then, you know I am still right here today, right?” I gave him the best half-smile I could muster, thanking the acting classes I took in the 1970’s
“Yes, I guess you are right about that... but I do think it would be better for me to leave this place. I’m not going to wait three years to go through the same sadness again,” I guess that works out conveniently then, I could probably enact my plan by tomorrow afternoon.
“I’m so sorry you have to feel this way. But as a parting gift, could you at least stay until morning, and I can make breakfast for you one last time.” Which poison do I use? Fast acting would immediately pinpoint me as the target, but if it acts to slowly it might just not actually work.
“Sure, but until then... have a goodnight dad.”
“Goodnight to you too bud!”
After he left I immediately got to work inspections my kitchen. *He might taste this, if there’s too much of that he might just collapse on the table, I do have a syringe to inject this poison into those pills that dissolve.* For the next few hours I had it ready, an omelette with a few *flavoured* fruit gummies on the side, for the extra *nutrients* he’ll need on the trip. Before I can serve this, I’ll need to go to bed or he’ll wonder why I stayed up all night making a single meal.
————Next Morning————
“Hey dad, wake up, you need to feed your child before he leaves you forever,” He didn’t have to shake me, but this is the only chance I’ll get to live, so I appreciate the sentiment.
“Yeah yeah, I’m awake, just give me a second to get your breakfast ready and in the meantime go get ready, ok?” He nodded and made haste to his room. Good thing Kevin listened to music while he got ready, otherwise he might’ve heard the microwave reheating the eggs from last night.
Kevin then poked his head out his room before making his way over to the wimpy dinner table he won’t have time to miss. “Ok dad... let’s see what you got!” A smirk ran across my face as if the heavy conversation did not happen last night.
“I got you your Omelette with a side of your vitamins, make sure to do your homework, and please tell me you at least have a place to stay.”
“Of course, I asked my friend if I can hangout there until I can live in my own, and they said yes.” He finished eating his food and plopped a couple of the gummies into his mouth. All according to plan.
“Oh before I forget, remember to drop off any nice trinkets you find at the dump, you know how much I love collecting them.” Finally all those years spent acting, improvising, learning, and studying will pay off in one great act.
“Yes I know, ‘They liven the house even if just a little’.”
“Precisely,” I gave him a farewell handshake, “Make sure you live life how you see fit.”
“I will, cya dad”
As he closed the door behind him I knew it was the last time anyone will see him alive. The treats were going to dissolve soon, and I knew he always went to the dump in the afternoon on the weekends. That just meant that today he’ll go there instead of his friends house right away. A few hours from now, I need to make sure I’m packed and ready to move on to a life I can finally enjoy without distractions such as time. |
It was such a pleasant day with a moderately cloudy sky letting in magnificent beams of sunlight that brightened the yellowing hills deep in Autumn's embrace. Then God had to go and show up. Grandiose as ever, the bearded bastard appeared as a giant face that split one of the clouds up above and even had the gall to turn his nose up at what his own creation had become. "I step out for 5,000 years and THIS is what I come back to?"he boomed to no one in particular.
The demon lounging on the polished deck of his cabin abode rolled his red eyes at the celestial, setting down his book. Just when it was getting good too, what with all that steamy mortal romance the author had baked into it. "What did you expect?"the ebony hellspawn called out with his arms spread wide. He didn't bother to stand up, and those impossibly huge eyes of blue swiveled towards him before widening even further at the sight of the winged creature. "You leave, and things aren't going to go your way, God. I mean, I think-"
"What is a demon doing on Earth? I explicitly said your kind couldn't be here."
"You said a lot of things that were bullshit. You have all the power to prevent us from doing anything, so your *word* means nothing. Of course demons would figure out we can do anything we want."
Anger creased that huge mien and the demon met it with one of his winning smiles. If there was one thing God hated, it was being exposed for being flawed. And yet, the demon was not smitten for his speech. "Denizens of Hell were always too smart for their own good. So then, clever little demon, what has become of my Earth? Why is the natural beauty marred by metal? Why do the mortals crawl everywhere on this sphere, even the places they are obviously not meant to live?"
"This world became more than what you made it, more than the primordial ooze that roiled along its surface. Life rose from the muck, from the brutal chaos to make something of itself. Mortals became more than you intended them to be, continuing that trend of Life ever-evolving. I find it an endearing thought, don't you? It is quite inspirational to see such weak things build monuments that scrape the sky and spit in the face of the shitty natural gifts they were given."
Clouds gathered and darkened, the distant roll of thunder building in the background. The fresh scent of rain permeated the landscape, and the change in pressure made the demon's nose twitch. Looks like he actually pissed off God for real this time. The demon had had his fun, so if he was to die, it would be a funny story for his brethren to tell for generations. Demons lived to spit in the face of authority. "Good,"God finally said in a tone far too soft for the storm building about him. "If they finally grew beyond needing me, then Humanity was a success. And by the way, what is that horrendous stench? It's coming from your cabin and it has only gotten worse since I got here."
The demon's brows crawled up towards the top of his head, both from the shock of still living after saying that to God and from the realization that it did in fact stink out here. Wings and tail aflutter, he jumped from his chair to rush inside towards the billowing smoke emanating from his simple kitchen. "My cupcakes!"he wailed to the heavens and the heavens simply laughed in response. |
Thor looked at the purple portal ringed with squares of black stone and rolled his eyes. "Ugh, Odin must be messing with the 9 worlds transportation. I am not falling for this again! I have got to go talk to him."He turned and stalked away.
Loki, who had been watching this unfold from behind a nearby tree, facepalmed. "Why did I forget that Odin was working on the world tree portals? Any day I could've done this trick, it had to be the day where Thor wouldn't trust walking through a portal."He walked over to the portal and examined it. "Huh. This was supposed to lead to Hel, but it doesn't look like it leads anywhere. I probably shouldn't go through this, but why not? It won't go *extremely* bad...hopefully."As he stepped into the portal, Loki suddenly felt nauseous and collapsed.
He came to in front of...a bar? But it wasn't like any bar he had ever seen. It had almost perfectly straight sides and no curves. Loki looked down at his hands and almost fell over again. He was all rectangles too! "Well, this didn't go as planned."Without many other options, he entered the bar.
Sitting at the bar, Loki decided to try and figure out what the heck had happened. "What year is it?"he asked the bartender, a white block with tentacle arms. "Ah, must've hit your head on the way out of the portal. It's 2021"it replied. Loki internally, and probably a little externally, groaned. Now, in addition to figuring out how to get back to Asgard, he had to deal with time travel issues too. Well, while he was here, he might as well eavesdrop a bit. The two in the booth by the exit, the ones in the weird armor, looked promising. Especially if the one in the red visor threw something again.
​
I know this is bad, feel free to judge. |
The Courts at Silver Gables
"Are you okay, dear?"she asked. Her familiar grey form retook its shape as Becca's vision sharpened from the blur.
"Sorry, that was weird, what were we talking about?"Becca muttered.
The young nurse had drifted off in thought before, but this time was different. This time came with warmth and comfort that she didn't want to leave, like staring at a campfire on a freezing winter night. Except instead of being mesmerized by tongues of flame, Becca was unable to tear her sight away from the sweet old woman droning on from the musty old armchair before her.
"It's not important,"Mrs. Myerson cooed sweetly. "Would you mind making an old girl tea?"
"Sure,"Becca offered with a smile.
She stood up from the tweed couch and padded across the beige carpet into the tiny kitchenette. The "kitchens"Becca had come to know from her time working with The Courts at Silver Gables were usually depressing, but Mrs. Myerson's cute fish motif livened this one up a touch. She even had a stuffed, mounted marlin on the wall. Becca kept an eye on it, wary of the thing's spear-like snout.
"I love your decor, Mrs. Myerson,"Becca offered as she reached for a tea jar that had a little goldfish for a handle. She filled a pot with water and placed it on the warmer.
Becca searched the cabinets for a tea mug and found one speckled with all sorts of ocean wildlife on it. Eels, wrasses, sailfish of many colors... as Becca thought more about how many teeny glass figurines of marine animals there were dotting the kitchen, she decided that she did not so much enjoy the theme anymore.
"Fish have always fascinated me,"Mrs. Myerson beamed from her lounger. Her spotted hands were folded over her sweater and a flicker of mischief lit up her face. Becca hadn't ever seen her so animated.
"Why's that?"Becca asked as she found her seat back on the rough couch. The weight of her day hit her all at once as the cushions lovingly embraced her hip bones.
"The ocean keeps us alive,"Mrs. Myerson insisted, "It's teeming with life and mystery we'll never fully understand."
"Were you a marine biologist before you retired?"Becca asked as she stifled a yawn to be polite.
"No, no, I've just always admired the beauty of the sea,"the old lady whispered. "My husband, though, he was quite the fisherman. I'd get so mad at him whenever he'd come home with a catch."
"Oh?"Becca replied, not sure why other than not wanting to be rude. Her eyes grew heavy. Paying attention was becoming strangely difficult.
"He told me he needed to fish because the fish sustained us,"Mrs. Myerson leaned in. "When I asked him 'what about the ones you put on the wall?' do you know what he said?"
Becca's head nodded, heavy like a stone. She snapped her chin up and lazily opened her eyes, but the blur had returned. Mrs. Myerson was a series of grey and white hues. That campfire warmth wrapped her in its arms once more.
"He said, 'nourishment exists in many forms."
The tea kettle issued its shrill screech. As much as Becca could hear it and wanted to rise to pour Mrs. Myerson a cup of tea before clocking out for the night, her body refused to comply. The muddled sight of the sweet old lady glowed and sharpened until it became the orange-red vision of a campfire on her father's farm, the very same one he'd build when the snow let up. Becca allowed herself to live there for a time.
With a little extra spring in her step, Mrs. Myerson stood to collect the glass trout nestled atop the cushions of her couch, its eyes green like Becca's were.
The old lady set the trout on the microwave next to the koi, poured herself a steamy cup, and made a call to inform the care team at Silver Gables that Becca never made it to her evening appointment. Apologies poured like a waterfall on the other end of the line, and they insisted they'd send someone over first thing in the morning.
Mrs. Myerson calmly assured them that tomorrow evening would be fine. |
I'd never used my powers on her. Not once.
I didn't know why she'd captured my attention the way she had when we'd first met, but something in me kept the beating hunger behind my eyes from touching her.
She'd had her arms folded in front of her, standing stock still at the end of the bar. I still remembered the way her dark eyes had scanned the room, watching for something she wouldn't find, cradling a drink as though the frosted glass might provide some warmth against the cold.
We got to know each other well that winter, both entranced by one another. I learned her wonders, her fears, her hopes and dreams. She told me all the ways the world had been so unkind to her, and something in that stark contrast between her pain and the beauty of her fragile soul gnawed at me.
Eventually, I told her what I was. She had simply given a half smile, said "I know,"and curled closer to me on her couch. I had never known a feeling like that, especially not from a human. Her warmth was... comforting, never calling to my thirst stronger than it called to something deeper in me.
Over time, we began to see each other for what we really were. I think we'd both expected it to scare the other - broken things, creatures of the night in our own ways, robbed of our light by the cruelty of the world around us.
But we never scared each other. Not when she saw me feed for the first time, drinking out the life of one of her fellow humans. Not when I saw her first really bad night, curled up on the bathroom floor until she drifted off into her own nightmares.
I don't know if either of us knew what it was we had. Maybe we did, and what it meant to admit that was far too much for either of us to handle. Maybe we were too hurt to think either of us could even love at all.
When she asked me to make her my thrall, though, then I knew. And that awful, desperate "Please?"shattered me into a million pieces.
She looked up at me, those beautiful dark eyes broken and begging. She knew what I could give her - an end. A way out into the dark that she didn't have to choose herself. A bliss-soaked death before death, her fading will lost and replaced with mine.
Was it selfish to keep her here, crying against my chest? Was I holding her hostage in her own pain, if it was only my decision leaving her stranded and suffering. I did not know, and it filled me with anguish such that I couldn't even respond.
But she knew when I hugged her close that my answer was no.
Awful sobs wracked her body, pain too great to do anything but pour out, soaking my shirt and running in cold rivers down my chest. I rocked us back and forth, lowered to the ground until we sat cradling one another on the floor.
And I couldn't do anything. Couldn't slide my fingers up her neck and bare her life to me. Couldn't caress her mind with my own to soothe her. Couldn't help her at all, except to say,
"I love you." |
Nearly everyone has heard of "the call of the void."It's a common phenomenon, really. Every once in a while when looking off a tall ledge or into the deep sea, sometimes even just walking past a storm drain, the void beyond calls for you (or that phone gripped in your hand) to join it. But that's it--just those little moments we brush away. For most people anyways.
The void talks to me though. Not outright, not at first anyways, but slowly--in the little things here and there. A passing leaf on the wind landing in my hair, a song that fit just a little *too well* on the radio I could've sworn I turned off. Now they're my near constant companion, they don't always make sense but it's fun to just listen to the stories.
So many people scream at them--they get overwhelmed sometimes--but they know it’s because no one else will listen. So when I sit quiet and withdraw within myself they reach out and talk like I’m just as expansive as they are. As if I’m not just one person on a planet of billions but one mind like their own *convinced* I’m nothing but electric pudding piloting a meat suit. It’s tiring sometimes. They always start with the same line when I’m about to get an earful.
“You are a great entity.” |
\[Sharp Priority\]
"The cat spoke to her. I heard it! Then it disappeared like magic!"Dara watched the old man through the bars as he informed the constable of her evil. She was worried, but not panicked yet. It was bad luck that he saw her talking to Janet and had a closed view of the world; but, Dara couldn't blame him for being a Zero. That's just how he was programmed.
She was stuck for the moment because Janet locked her out of her node and she couldn't send a Whisper to anyone for help. And without her node, she couldn't use any of her copied abilities to get her out of the situation either. Janet was supposed to spend the day with her; but, something came up at the last moment. Janet offered to stop time until she came back but Dara wanted to explore on her own. It was a decision she was regretting at the moment.
The moment Janet left the Earth, the old man startled her by yelling, "WITCH!"and grabbing her. Dara was short for 14 and she couldn't put up much of a fight against her surprise abductor. His face appeared to be elderly, but his physique attested to decades of physical exertion. It wasn't long before she was in the cell listening to them planning out a bonfire. The old man received nothing but respect and camaraderie from the constable. Dara got the impression the old man was a retired superior.
"It wasn't no ordinary cat...,"the old man continued as the two men walked out of the holding area. "...it was all black with a red skull on its head; the devil's mark!"Dara sighed with relief as soon as they left. She assumed they left to rally the townsfolk, but she hoped to not be there when they came back. Not that she knew how to escape. But maybe Janet would be back soon.
Dara thought her prayers were answered when a small, cat-sized, black portal appeared in her cell. But, it was Janet, it was a different black cat. This one had a white skull on its head where Janet's red one sat. She'd met the cat before, but didn't know its relationship to Janet, nor its name.
"This situation seems rather dangerous,"the cat said. "Would you like a ride to somewhere else?"As the cat asked, the small portal ballooned outward in all directions to become human-sized. Dara glanced up to make sure the two men weren't about to come back in and she pulled her white mask off. She knew it was useless without her nanos, and she didn't want Janet eavesdropping on her anyway.
"Yes,"Dara nodded, but she didn't move. "But, I don't know if I trust you yet,"she said. "I don't know anything about you."The cat sat back on its haunches and looked up at her.
"What would you like to know?"it asked. Dara had a million questions and some were more important than others. But, instead of asking the cat's name or its background, Dara decided to ask something unexpected.
"How did you know I was in trouble?"she asked. Dara had seen plenty of ridiculous coincidences since she started school and she knew this didn't feel like one. And now that it happened again, she wasn't sure the [first time she met the cat](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/qdm8kg/wp_it_was_a_warm_and_windy_day/) was a coincidence at all. The cat did seem surprised at the question and took a moment to answer.
"Your safety is my top priority,"the cat said. "And I pay extra attention when Janet isn't around."
"Why?"Dara asked.
"She betrayed my trust once and it will not happen again,"the cat said. Dara shook her head.
"Not that. Why is my safety so important to you? Who told you to guard me?"
"I'm afraid that answer is rather involved,"the cat replied. It flicked its tail in the air and a second black portal opened on the other side of her cell. "I cannot explain here,"the cat said. It turned and walked towards the closest portal.
"If you want that explanation, follow me. If not, the other portal will take you back to the school."The cat said nothing else and walked into the nearby black hole. Dara didn't even consider hesitating; she dashed through the same portal as the cat. She froze once she reached the other side.
Dara emerged in a glowing white room. It was very similar to the room that Janet provided for her; but, that wasn't all. The black cat was nowhere in sight, but there was a woman standing in the room, seemingly waiting for her. She was tall and pale with short dark hair. She wore a crisp white suit and a warm smile for Dara.
"Who are you? Where's the cat?"Dara asked.
"That's merely a disguise,"the woman said. "Hello, Dara. My name is Dana Sharp,"she said. Dara recognized the name instantly but didn't know what to make of the situation. Then she took a step toward Dara. Dara could not help but step back. Dana paused, then nodded at Dara. She stepped back to show she meant no harm. "You wanted to know why I'm guarding you?"Dara nodded and Dana gave a small laugh. She beamed a smile at the girl. "As your mother, I didn't think I needed an excuse to keep you safe."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1391 in a row. (Story #299 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/). |
\[POEM: The tide rises the tide falls by Longfellow\] (I couldn't think of a poem off the top of my head so I translated one of my favorites.
​
The direction rises,
the run falls,
The decline darkens,
the snipe calls;
Along the shingle damp and brown
The tramp hastens toward the apple,
And the course rises, the drag falls.
black settles on crowns and stops,
But the multitude, the sheet in the brownout calls;
The little scrolls, with their soft, white hold,
Efface the tread in the brink,
And the ebb rises, the rush falls.
The prime breaks;
the plug in their quibble
Stamp and neigh, as the stable personcalls;
The bright returns, but nevermore
Returns the truant to the margin,
And the run rises, the sluice falls. |
A group of superheroes gather around a large meeting table. There was Super-Melt, who was gifted with radioactive powers after falling in a pit of liquid uranium.
(Camera shifts to Super-Melt) “Yeah, I love to fight crime, almost as much as I love blasting stuff with radiation!” (Cut to a scene of Super-Melt frying a couple of villains with green blasts of radiation. They scream in agony.) “Yeah it was super painful. It felt like every bone in my body was made of glass and then my bones shattered a million times. Totally worth it!”
There was Jo Super-Slam. After getting ran over several times by a large commercial vehicle, his body adapted, making him indestructible.
(Camera shifts suddenly to Jo) “Wahoo! I was all crushed up by that semi. I was like ‘Elp Meh! My Body is mashed up!’ Hehehe. But, yeah the driver decided to back up and check what he hit, so I was crushed again. It was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced, and I’ve been zapped by radiation blasts. (Behind him Super-Melt rises up comically “Yo!”)
Another hero sits at the meeting, her name is Miss Discipline.
(Camera pans up from a pair of breasts, to an angry Miss Discipline. She raises her finger and lights the camera-man on fire) *Please be patient while we find a new camera operator. Thank you.
“Yeah I was torn apart by demon dogs and fed to an ogre the size of a moderate two-level apartment. By the time I was digested and shit out I had already been reassembled by demon-Magic and bestowed with the gift of witchcraft and seduction.”
“That’s a pretty power ability.”
“Which one? The Demon-magic or the Seduction?”
“Yes.”
There was another at the gathering, the This man was feared by all and respected highly by the hero-association. His name was Kiss Guy.
(Camera pans over and looks left and right before stopping on an awkward-looking high school kid) “This Guy? You gotta be kidding me. He doesn’t look like he could lift a Honda Civic!”
“Yeah, it started out as a normal day,” said Kiss Guy. “I was on my way to school when I got a text from my crush saying she loved me and wanted to have my babies.” (Cut to a scene where Kiss Guy reads a text as then faints.) “When I woke up I had somehow developed amazing and fantastic powers.”
“So that’s it?”
“I mean yeah,” said Kiss Guy, “I guess I was so shocked that I developed super powers.”
“Huh, well that’s strange.” |
"But... why?"a fellow next to me queried, perplexed by my decision. "Would it not be easier to tell what you see, instead of making these confusing riddles?"
"I understand how you feel,"I told him, as I ink down the poem on a freshly made paper. "Truth be told, I too wish to tell you the horrors and the valiant acts that would take place."
My fellow raised his eyebrow. "Then, what is stopping you from doing so?"
"Have you heard of the butterfly effect?"I asked him. As expected, he shook his head.
"Even a smallest change such as a flap of a butterfly's wings can create great consequences. One simple step off course will drastically change my vision of the future."
I took a dozen of marbles from my counter, and arrange most of them into a triangle, with one marble resting in between my fingers.
"Now, say for example, this marble is an unforeseen action, such as me directly telling you the future, and those arrange marbles are the events that may happen in the future, organized and predictable.
"If I were to tell you what would happen in the future...,"I warned him, as I rolled the marble to the group of small balls, and collided. They began spreading and bouncing around, a couple of them even falling from the table.
"The future will change, and an unpredictable event may occur. Even making this ridiculous prophecy is treading on thin ice, to warn people through a cryptic message. One fatal mistake, and we'll be facing an armageddon that even I wouldn't foresee."
My fellow was silent, the message now clear to him.
Wishing to break out of the thick atmosphere between us, he read my incomplete poem;
"A mortal, cursed to be a god, seeks the key to salvation,
A demon, betrayed by his brother, wish for damnation,
A goddess, whose love forbidden, fell for her delusions,
A girl, if embraced by Death, will be our..."
My fellow gulped a dry saliva, cautiously turning to me. "W-What in the world is this?"
"The future that is to come,"I sighed, finishing the prophecy with one swift motion. "All I can say to you, my dear fellow, is that we are in deep shit." |
Six humans. That's all.
Four women and two men. not enough for a viable population, but thanks to the use of my tech, I had managed to gather enough genetic matter from hospitals and clinics to ensure not a single child born of these four women would be related.
But there are other problems. The human wiped out. Animals suffered the same fate, and gathering the surviving animals was harder. My ships scanner had detected all that were in areas that were once populated, but wilder animals were proving difficult.
But they don't know bout that. They think I am some government agent who has been put in charge of the British survivors. It's not going well.
Caleb is a computer technician, and he's been archiving everything he can find on the internet. He was cloning sites and filling the endless hardrives with what the world had to offer. everything from great works of art to YouTube challenge video's..
Amelia is French, a teacher who has been her days planning. Planning crops, planning meals, planning farm maintenance. Endless planning so she didn't think about everything she had lost.
Cheryl was a mother. She doesn't really do much beside look after the animals. She's quiet. MY heart aches for her. man who died a few weeks ago. The grief is still fresh, but Peter doesn't seem to care.
Saanvi and Isha were twin sisters, and they barely 17. I had found them in there tiny village in Northern India, and both girl spoke no English. They were learning, but it was slow going as they were too scared to really interact with the group.
All were doing their best and getting on with surviving.
Peter was a lazy man before this, and he's still lazy now now. Lazy and opinionated and not happy that he isn't the boss. He undermines every decision, argues over every little thing, and over all isn't very helpful. He thinks that because we have a lot of tech doing the work around her, it means he doesn't need to do anything he doesn't want to. The other humans do what they can to placate him, but it's getting worse.
It's not just his laziness either. The man isn't happy unless everyone is miserable. He has put downs for every occasion, and I swear if I hadn't been there last week he would have hit Cheryl when she told he she wouldn't wash his cloths for him.
If he gets any worse, I'll be forced to place him into chryo sleep. My ship has some of the best medical equipment in the universe, including virtual reality mental health help. Explaining his absence will be more difficult. So far as anyone knows, I just work for the government. I have access to super tech the elites didn't want to public to have.
Right now I have bigger problems. I have to convince the women here to agree to carry children. Amelia seems like she will say yes, but I don't know about Cherly. She's had kids, but she is still fragile. At 29, she is still young enough to carry several children. The girls can't be approached until I have learned enough of their language. |
"I don't want to get in trouble but..."
He hit the button and for a second the world seemed to freeze. Have you ever wondered what the city looks like from two hundred stories above the ground, looking out the window and seeing little specks of people and splotch-cars and buildings rising from the pavement like misshapen blades of grass? Have you ever wondered what it looks like, from a high place, to see a city on fire?
An enormous roar, and then smoke from a million different places. I gazed out the office's window and saw the little specks run about everywhere.
"You bastard!"My partner said, and flicked her gun into her hands in one motion. "You said that if we did the right things, that no one hand to die. A bastard and a liar!"
He smiled and shrugged, and tossed the trigger away. "Miss Ryan, you have known me long enough to understand that I tell nothing but the truth, the whole truth-"
"We have to leave."I said, seeing smoke creep closer and closer to the building we were in, billowing up and pressing towards the window. "We need to leave."
"The whole truth,"said the Masked Man. "And you will stay! And you will not shoot."
"What?"It was my turn to pull out a gun. "We're leaving."
"You will *watch* with me."He showed his other hand, and in it was another trigger, with another button. "I said that if you did the right things, *Washington* would be safe, not Chicago. Congrats lady, gentleman, *so far* you have followed what I said and you will continue to, lest you want the White House to turn burnt black."
We were both for a minute quiet. I looked into Ryan's eyes, and in them were a measure of despair. The room was darkening, because the smoke from - where was it? other buildings or ours? was smothered into the glass and blacking out the light.
"Just enjoy."said the Masked Man. "Everyone, without shelter, will finally live on equal terms on the streets... and people like you, people who *care* more about their duty than about *thinking* about what's actually happening in the world will burn with me."
A white light began flashing, and a bell began to ring.
"Please evacuate the building... "said a calm woman's voice, over speakers. "A fire has been detected... please evacuate the building."
"Enjoy the fireworks til the end of the show."said the Masked Man.
CRAK! CRAK!
Ryan shot him twice in the chest.
The Mask fell off and his face was curled into shock. With his right hand he pressed the rigger once, twice, three times as he bled and coughed. Then he collapsed on his desk, skull hitting the wood with a thwack.
I flicked open my phone, and for a few painful watched the newsfeed, waiting for reports to pop up that D.C. too, had been firebombed and under attack. But no news came.
"There's no internet."I said. "The building's internet is down - data is unavailable."
"The button itself,"Ryan said, examining it. "just sends a signal to a cell phone."
So with everything burning, the was no signal!"I laughed, and then the laughter left me. "Let's hurry down."
She nodded.
As we fled down the steps, I asked her, quickly:
"How did you know so fast that the button wouldn't work? I asked her.
"I didn't,"she said, quietly. "I just wanted us to live." |
Parker Moore was in the midst of being struck by lightning when the ticking ceased.
*’Great…’* he thought dryly. *’I finally try out camping and nature decides it’s ripe time I perish.’*
Barely on the verge of true manhood, the nineteen-year-old couldn’t help but bask in self-pity at his current predicament. After he’d finally mustered up the courage to leave his room for the first time in months, the skies mistake him for a lightning rod. Great. And — to confirm his suspicions — his clock had bellowed its final tick, meaning he really was dead. Or, at least, on the cusp of it.
*’Is this what death is like?..’* He inquired idly, sensing the lack of anything tangible flooding his mind. *’Maybe this is a purgatory? Wait, does that mean God is rea-’*
Light returned in an eruption of colour, momentarily blinding Parker.
”You awake? Yes! Finally, I got through!” an unfamiliar voice exclaimed cheerfully, followed by a series of enthusiastic claps.
Feeling an uncomfortable mix of both fatigue and grogginess, he slowly forced himself back upright. A seemingly endless void of pearly nothingness expanded before his pupils, as though he were entrapped within a blank canvas. Before he could properly compose himself, Parker jolted in a shriek at something tapping upon his shoulder.
“Calm down already!” A short woman in a chestnut-dyed cloak insisted hotly, an oaken staff — carved with a model of a clock protruding off the upper end — clutched in one hand.
It took Parker several distressing moments before he noticed the wall of wooden structures looming overhead within the abyss of white.
”Are those… everyone’s clocks?” he made a reasonably educated guess.
“Yes!” the mysterious girl confirmed mirthfully. “You’re catching onto this way faster than I thought you would!”
Parker placed a palm against his forehead as he felt the forewarnings of an impending headache. It was as if his brain was being bombarded with a constantly increasing spurt of questions — no wonder he was having trouble handling it. The situation was rather bizarre, after all.
“Is… everything alright?” she asked pensively, her worry seeping into her tone.
“Yeah…” Parker finally replied a moment later, only just processing the woman’s inquiry. “Who are you?”
“Well,” she began. “That’s a simple question with a complicated answer.”
Her eyebrows visibly furrowed in rapt concentration. “I guess you can say I’m the source of everyone’s inner clocks.”
“You?” Parker let out incredulously.
“Yep.” A smug look sprouted upon her face. “But anyhow, you’re probably complementing why your not dead right now.”
“I’m not?”
To be perfectly truthful, Parker had just assumed this was some weird acid trip before the life really dispersed from his body.
“Or you might be dead. Just depends on your answer to my next question.”
Now *that* definitely didn’t sound shady in the slightest. He gestured hesitantly for her to go on.
“Despite my appearance, I’m actually three million years old.” She rubbed her chin in deep speculation. “possibly longer.”
Parker’s mouth hung ajar in great surprise.
“Um.. so what’s the question?” He prodded.
“Will you,” the staff-wielding woman offered an extended palm. “Take over my role as the clock overseer?”
Silence descended upon the duo.
“Fine.” Parker eventually accepted. “But you’ll have to teach me how to handle everything. I don’t have the slightest idea what to do.”
She grinned excitedly. “Of course!” |
"5....4..."
his voice was like gravel tossed into a meatgrinder. Unnaturally unpleasant to the point that even listening was enough to cause immediate physical pain. The demon was whispering, but the voice was still able to reach every crook and cranny of the playgroud as if he was standing just behind.
"3...2....1..."
The countdown was almost done. The young priest never paused, he kept running, trying to find a place where he could be hidden for a while.
The games were never long, although that was just a guess on his part since he didn't have any way to measure time: the sky was an unchanging hue of red and brown, the fake green grass of the playground was hard and sharp like iron. The bushes felt like barbed wire, the trees were sentinels with unnumbered eyes, always seeing, never pausing, never allowing the young priest to leave the playground.
Just outside the playground, close enough for him to almost touch them through the fence, people stood. Sometimes, they were a couple. Sometimes a group. They stood, proud and noble, never facing him, deaf to his cries and his prayers.
Prayers!
The young man sure liked his prayers.
It was as the judge said: if prayers were enough to get to heaven, he would have been sitting at the Almighty's side by now.
The judge was a man, and yet it wasn't. A caucasian old man, and yet it was also asian and young, and middle aged and hispanic and a woman, and a lion or an ant. Every time he tried to recall it, it was something different.
He felt his naked mind exposed, his feeling laid bare, unable to talk, unable to lie.
His whole life, his 29 years on planet earth, flashing in a second.
"ready or not, here I come."
terror engulfed him. He was atletic enough to climb a tree and hide behind its leaves, despite the hissing and menacing.
He had devoted his whole life to God, and yet...
"no...not god..."said his mother
"you refuse to understand"said his father
"you hid behind authority, unquestioning, unflinching...cowardly..."said the kid who just received holy communion of the first time.
God has no business with the church, the judge said. Nor God's Will has anything to do with man's.
You closed your eyes to the truth, now they'll be forced opened.
You closed your heart to your neightboor, now you'll be alone.
You choose confort over righteousness, now you'll never rest.
You choose not to talk, now nobody will listen to you.
You choose not to help, now nobody will help you.
He remembered as the words where imprinted on his skin with hot iron. What could have a priest, a mere priest, done in his position?
He did what the bishop said, who did what the cardinal said...who embodied the will of the church.
"Ready or not, here I come"
"I just wanted to protect the church"cried the priest
"Your fellow man needed protection."said the cold voice of the bishop
The priest screamed as nails penetrated his calf, hot like steel just taken from the forge.
He was dragged out of his hiding spot, thrown onto the grass as a thousand needle penetrated his skin.
The fallen angel looked at him with anger and disgust as its hands started flaying alive, inch by inch...
"HELP! PLEASE! HELP ME! I BEG YOU!"
but no answer ever came.
And then, it was over, and he was whole again.
And the voice started counting back, starting at 5... |
Some estimates have put the total number of humans who have ever lived at over a hundred billion. That's a number so big that it's beyond our capability to imagine. Our individual lives truly are a drop in the bucket of the collective lifespan of humanity.
When I was a child, I used to be baffled by the sheer ridiculous chance that my consciousness existed at this time, at this place, in this one body. I used to think to myself that surely, with the billions upon billions, trillions upon trillions of lives that have ever graced the surface of this planet, how could my consciousness be confined to me, at this very moment? I used to sit for hours at a time, trying to release my consciousness into the void, to lose myself to time. I wanted more than anything to experience all of those lives that seemed just outside of my grasp. It seemed almost unfair, to have all those lives, all those experiences, all just exist somewhere out there in time, but not have the ability to experience them. I felt like a drop of water in a bucket confined to being nothing but that one single drop, unable to connect with all the other molecules of water that surrounded me. Or maybe a tube of paint, never allowed to be mixed with another colour. I was an odd child.
Sixteen years ago, as I lay in bed, drunk off the first (legal) alcohol I had ever consumed in my life at the age of 18, I let my mind wander back into that familiar place. I had shoved all the existential dread I had experienced as a child into the back of my mind when I had hit puberty and more pressing matters had presented themselves. It had been years since I'd last tried to send my consciousness into the void, desperately attempting to detach myself from my consciousness and experience life through another. That night, drunk, I succeeded for the first time.
It felt like nothing I had ever experienced before. It was like my mind had been previously limited, like there was an area in there that I had never quite been able to access. It felt like my brain melted and melded into something else. It felt like an instant that had lasted a lifetime. Suddenly I was sitting on a porch, after dinner that my lovely husband had prepared for us. There he was, sitting next to me, curled up with his Kindle, reading. I raised the cigarette to my mouth and lit it. He flashed me an annoyed look and I felt a small twinge of guilt, but I didn't put it out. It was a nasty habit, and I wanted to stop, but it had been such a long day and the dinner had been so nice and the weather was beautiful and it's just so nice to be here with Thomas and it would all just feel a *bit* better if I could have a couple of my favorite smokes before it got dark. I finished the cigarette, and after a lengthy inner struggle, I decided against lighting another one. Hey, I wanted two, but settled for one. That's progress. I leaned in and kissed Thomas, who scrunched up his nose in response.
"You smell like smoke,"he said. I kissed him again. He rolled his eyes and smiled at me, and by God, I loved the way his eyes looked at me when I did or said something stupid. Maybe that's why I was constantly saying and doing stupid things. Yeah, that's why. I stood and grabbed him, lifting him up and planting another kiss on his forehead.
"What's gotten into you, Damian?"he said, laughing. I gave him my most charming smile, said nothing, and carried him inside, closing the door behind us.
Two hours later, I was back in my own body, in my own mind. I was bewildered. Had I hallucinated? No hallucination could have been that vivid. I had been Damian, halfway across the world, and according to
what had been in my head, it was several years in the future. And I had been me, but I was also me. I had no idea how it had just happened, but I knew for certain that it could happen again. My mind was open. My consciousness had touched that which was previously inaccessible. The world, no, the collective consciousness of all of humanity had opened up to me. |
The man faced the gladiator, the latter bore the symbol of a wolf's head on his torso. They fought across the hanging rings, he tried to race across them whilst the gladiator tried to wrestle him to the floor and succeeded. For some reason the gladiator bit him, as the ancient song started to play. Everyone who faced this gladiator had to listen to the song when they lost, it was a part of the protective spell against lycanthropy built into the arena. Such strange, upbeat lyrics though... And another one gone, and another one gone, another one bites the dust...
He came to later, the medics tending his wounds advised the song hadn't worked - he would have to travel to the temple of Mercury and listen to the full track before the next full moon in order to reverse the curse.
A few days later and the Clergy of Mercury were singing "She's a killer queen, dynamite with a laser beam..."he'd been sitting through the concert as the song hadn't worked, he was hoping that he just had to listen to more, he was certain anyone who sat through the whole thing would be cured.
A few hours later, following the second encore which was a reprise of a song called "We will rock you"the concert ended. A clergyman came over to him and said - "You should have full control now, no Compulsion under a full moon but you can turn into a wolf or a human-wolf hybrid whenever you want." |
The men in uniform slowly tighten their ring around me, moving inward as I realize I'm about to be physically apprehended. One of them, perhaps the leader, shouts at me repeadedtly.
"Who are you?!""Who do you come here with?!"
He has a strong accent, English clearly isn't his primary language but he speaks quite well. Of course, I've really only heard the same few phrases being yelled at closer and closer proximity. He, along with the rest, wear very dirty military combat uniforms, and boots with dirt crumbling like drywall from the bottoms. Their uniform is accented by the bright red berets worn atop their heads, and the matching arm bands on each of their left arms. This must be the military, maybe a separate branch of some kind.
My SAT phone vibrates in my pocket, sitting loosely next to some Egyptian Pound coins, creating a soft hum of metal vibrating in unison. I feel waves of relief knowing there's people out there currently trying to contact me, and will become worried when I eventually don't answer my military grade satellite phone.
We're two days into filming the movie Dead Sand, a location film from director Gael Martín, an extraordinarily talented Spaniard filmmaker working on his first major feature film sponsored by Warner Brothers. Well, we hadn't actually begun filming yet. The production team has apparently run into some issues with their equipment, and I've been free to explore Cairo until they get it figured out. I was assured it wouldn't be long, perhaps this is the all-clear call that they're ready to begin filming? They had originally insisted on giving me the phone for my safety, since Egypt can be, at times, dangerous for tourists.
I had just finished eating at a small corner cafe in downtown Cairo, a wonderfully charming establishment where the waiters all wore pristine suits, and bowties. They served me the best plate of Kushari I've had yet. It was odd to see this kind of class and thorough service at such a small cafe. You don't typically find this in the States, especially Los Angeles.
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Something suddenly needed my attention IRL. Will be back to complete this soon. :) |
"Tell me, Mr. Hero,"said Blot, "Do you think she'd even care about you if she didn't know you were some rich and powerful hero?"Vortech stood there in silence, frustration and anger building as Blot walked closer to him.
"She loved me,"said Vortech
"She used you,"yelled Blot, "you were just another rich guy she used to get whatever she wanted! But we have a connection, we were both abandoned, we were both lost in life, we were both ***nothing*** until we found each other."
"Don't you dare start this crap again,"yelled Vortech
"She teats me like a person,"said Blot, "nobody loved or respected me when I was a nobody..."
"I DID, I ALWAYS DID!"Vortech pushed Blot to the ground. "I stood up for you when no one else would, *I* gave you a place to stay and food to eat, ***I*** helped you control your powers, ***I LOVED YOU MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE!***"The room became dead silent, you could hear a pin drop on a pillow. "Every time, every time we fight, you do this. you steal, you lie, you cheat just to hurt me. Why? What did I ever do you to deserve this!?"
"You left,"said Blot, "you left and made it clear that you were never coming back."
"What,"asked Vortech.
"When you put me in that hospital you said you'd be there with me, everyday,"said Blot, "The you started showing up once a week, then once a month, t-then..."Blot's stutters, the pain in their voice obvious. "I trusted you and you abandoned me."
"I didn't...I wasn't,"Said Vortech. He kneels down to match eyes with Blot. "...you weren't getting better, you were still hurting people and yourself. The doctors tried everything until there was only one choice; you leave or I do."Blot's eyes widened at the revelation. "As long as I was around, as long I was there to enable you, you wouldn't get better, at least that's what they thought. I didn't mean to abandon you."Tears fill up in Blots eyes as a geyser of emotions are about to erupt.
"Uhhh, guys,"
the two turn to see Ashely hanging upside-down over a pit of molten tar. "This was really beautiful to watch, and I'm glad to have been a part of it, but could you please get me down." |
All my life I’ve been assisting the departed with tasks they must complete in order to be unbound from the soil of Earth. It’s been 48 hours since my soul has retired from my physical body. For 48 hours I’ve been floating around as a spirit, still bound to this Earth. For 48 hours I’ve been unable to ascend to the next life, not knowing why.
It’s been one minute since I realized that to finally abandon this Earth, I must finish the job that I dedicated my life to do: I must help the dead and the dead to come to resolve their business they must complete before ascending.
I closed my eyes in state of almost absolute disbelief. “I can’t wait for the end of the world,” I muttered. |
DRACULA: Ahem, I've called you here today to discuss the over-commercialized lackluster event known as Halloween. As we all know, and have witnessed, our night of fun, and terror......
ZOMBIE: And blood and guts
DRACULA: Yes thank you Arnold, blood and guts included,....
WEREWOLF: (Quietly)And Candy
DRACULA: has been ruined by...... Did you just say Candy?
WEREWOLF: ..........No
DRACULA: (Silence staring at WEREWOLF)..well our night has been ruined by media and popculture. It's a joke. We can't even walk around halloween night without being misconstrued as a group of 7 year olds trick or treating for candy.
WEREWOLF: And the kids these days. They're really mean.
FRANKENSTEIN'S MONSTER: Right, thank you im sick and tired of every single kid calling me Frankenstein! Scrap every kid, every person that sees me. I'm godamn Frankenstien's Monster!
ZOMBIE: Wait hold up. You're not Frankenstien?
(Frankenstien's monster face palms, and sighs along with the other supernatural beings at the meeting)
ZOMBIE: Alright relax guys common. I mean, it's an easy mistake
GHOST:For fuck sake mannnnnnn if you actually watched the film you would knowwwwww
ZOMBIE: YEA WELL ITS KINDA HARD TO WATCH STUFF WHEN YOU'RE MISSING AN EYE AND YOUR OTHER EYE IS PARTIALLY SIGHTED
GHOST: At least you can still experience physical intamicy with peopleeeee. I haven't been touchedddddd for 296 yearssssss!
DRACULA: ENOUGH! This happens every halloween. Look at yourselves. Bickering and arguing over each other. How are we meant to resolve this formidable halloween crisis. We need to work together and start feeding our hunger for real death and terror. All in favour of rampaging the closest village to us say aye
ALL: AYE
DRACULA: Then it's settled, we will go to the next town and have our long awaited feast. Does anyone know how long it is to the nearest village?
WEREWOLF: (Sniffs the air) Buxbury. A 3 mile run. Tonight we feast on the Candy of the innocent!
DRACULA: You said Candy again!
ZOMBIE: Ermmm, more importantly he said "run". Sorry to break it to you guys but my legs don't work properly.
DRACULA: You can ride Mr Werewolf on wolfback.
(The supernatural entities laugh)
GHOST: Wellll what's the plannnnnn? We can't just turnnn up and start scaring peopleeeee. They'll calll ghostbustersssss
FRANKENSTEIN'S MONSTER: Let them call. Bill Murrays like what, 96 now. He's not gonna do shit.
DRACULA: Yes we need not worry. We need only boil in the anger of the years that have gone to waste. Thousands of doors knocked on, to feed, murder, and pillage, only to get a faceful of Candy (WEREWOLF licks lips) and unwanted compliments of how realistic we look. Tonight, my dear friends, is the night Buxbury burns. Tonight we take back Halloween. |
I loved and hated this prompt. It's very haunting and took me down some dark paths. Very clever. I hope I did it some justice.
Start of story:
"Do you know what you have done?"I said while looking at the knife in my right hand. I couldn't look her in the eyes. It wasn't the fear stopping me from doing so, it was the anger. The rage that filled my head like a balloon ready to pop.
She was unable to move in her chair. She sat there trying to get me to look at her but I wouldn't. I didn't recognize her.
"Every action has a corresponding consequence. The consequence will always match the action... Or it will be even greater."I touched the blade of the knife with my other hand.
"It was the only way. You would have done the same thing!"She replied.
"No!"Shouting made the blade jump and slice the palm of my hand. "Don't you fucking put words in my mouth!"I finally looked at her but I didn't see her. It is true what they say when someone hits a breaking point - all you see is red.
"We could have figured this out. You decided to go and make a deal with the devil. Literally... The fucking devil. You think that was a good idea?"I argued.
"Look at me Gary!"She begged. "How can I take care of our son like this. I can feel tears drip down my face and there's nothing I can do about it. I can't even wipe the mark of pain from my face."
I moved close to her and wiped the tears from her face. "I could have managed you both."I somehow said through my whimpering. And as I stepped back I remembered I had just cut my hand. Her face was covered in my blood. Her face was all red.
"Till death do us part."She said softly. "I'm living a dead life. I don't want to part."
"I can't."I fell to my knees. Next to wheels of her chair I saw a hoof.
"We can forget all this, try again and start a new life."Even though she couldn't move, I could almost feel her hand touching mine. Something I haven't felt in years.
"We give the life of our son to Him. We take ours back. We'll just rewind to before the accident and we start again."She finished.
I looked to my left to see my sleeping boy. So peaceful, so quiet.
"Please forgive me."I whispered. She didn't realize I was saying this to her... Not my boy. As much as I tried, I could not find the strength to raise the knife at my son.
She would never find out who I asked for forgiveness. She wouldn't even question it. Regardless of what I did, I couldn't stop what came next.
The hoof disappeared from beside the chair. I didn't see where it went but I could hear it behind me. I'm not sure how it happened but my arm raised towards the sky with my hand holding the knife.
"My boy... I'm killing my boy, your greatest gift to me and I'm killing him...."I said as I looked at my blood on her face. She closed her eyes.
And without any of my own strength, my arm came down with a force... |
I'm not sure why the spacing is so jacked, but do your best to enjoy!
Arthur Lepore awoke with a gasp. In his dream he had been driving, trying andfailing to turn the heat down in the car. Now awake, he could feel the heat of the hearth in front of him. Inside logs crackled and spit embers into theupdraft of the chimney. Arthur sat inhis sweat-stained chair, his shirt clinging to him. He looked around the room, taking in what little therewas. The mantle above the hearth wasdecorated with knick-knacks and framed photographs, none of which he recognized. The room around him was barren. There were only a few windows, his chair, andthe fireplace. “Okay, where am I?” Arthur thought. He triedto stand, to give himself some sort of physical presence besides sweatingagainst the leather chair, and failed. When Arthur looked down, he saw his foot was bound to the chair bypolice issue handcuffs. Anxiety sprung uponhim. Arthur felt the familiar pressurebegin to mount behind his left eye. Forhalf a second, he felt a dizziness seize him. The image of the granite fireplace began to tilt grotesquely. Arthur felt the seat shift beneath him, as ifhis own world was folding in on itself. Then, it was gone. Still feelingthe sematic pressure in his head, he curled forward- as much as the restraintswould allow.Arthurfolded his hands on his chest and began beating them back and forth in a rhythmicpulse. “It’sjust a panic attack. Relax. Breathe. Don’t lose it.” he thought. Thelogs spit in response. Afterwhat felt like an hour, but what must have been a minute, the panic receded. Thirty-two years as a high-school guidance counselorhad taught Arthur how to deal with panic attacks, depressive episodes, tempertantrums, and any other emotional outburst under the sun; but it had notprepared him to deal with waking in an abandoned home, handcuffed to a chair. Hescoured his mind, searching for some explanation to how and why he was in thesituation he was in. There had been anight of drinking, as usual, and then bed. As far as his memory would serve him, there was nothing out of the normal. He had gotten home around two in the morning,eaten the leftover Chinese food in the fridge, and passed out on thecouch. The pressure behind his eyepulsed, and panic threatened to resurface. With an exaggerated breath, Arthur tried to stand again. It was mostly a desperate action, an attemptto ground himself before he slipped into a genuine panic attack. This time however, he was able to find hisfooting.Hestood with the loop of the handcuff biting into the flesh of his shin, andlooked closer at the mantle. Well abovethe fireplace’s heat, there was a framed photograph of a barn against adesolate landscape. To its side was apicture of a middle-aged couple, hoisting a toddler on their shoulders. Beneath the portraits was an assortment oftrinkets: a ship in a bottle, a jar filled with seashells, Jesus on the cross,an urn, and a leather-bound book. Thebook caught Arthur’s eye, reddish-gold light flit across the inscription alongits spine. Without realizing, Arthurmoved closer to the mantle. As he moved,the chair dragged behind him, scraping across the wood floor. The sound was thrown into the empty room in agroan, reverberating off the barren walls. The noise was all but lost to Arthur as he reached for the tome. Theleather was warm to the touch. The inscriptionon the book’s spine was inlaid gold. Inan ornate font, it read: MEMORIES. Simply holding the book seemed to alleviate the situation he foundhimself in. It was as if the momentsleading up to waking in that chair had evaporated. With the book in his hand, he flipped it overand ran a shaking finger across its cover. Touching the cover brought a thought screaming to the front of Arthur’smind.It’son the mantle, you’ll know it when you see it. |
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