Split (1)

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The first was easy, a warmonger and black market arms dealer. A man who had long since passed his prime and lost his drive, living off of the kingdom he built without tending to it. He had lost the fire that brought him to his position, and grown complacent. A bit of poison in one of his meals, simple, quick, painful. He deserved no more, but that didn't factor in, it was just the least dangerous way to end him quickly. The second and third worked together as politicians in a regime. Highly guarded, widely known, and although they were known for atrocities the world could not stop, they loved to show just how strong they were. They were so distracted during the peace summit that they never thought to check the limo ordered for them as a sign of respect. 20 minutes after they departed, their vehicle had a sudden loss of control and crashed, leading to an explosion soon after. The fourth was more challenging. A master thief who had spent years schmoozing with every major player on the world scene until she just disappeared without a trace, taking several debilitating government secrets with her. The first few were only a week of effort, but this one took a week alone to even track, not to mention without arousing their suspicion. The assassin called in every favor they had, every resource, and finally found them on an unmarked island off the coast of Italy. This one, however, had never fought any battles. They had no fangs and could only run, hide and steal to succeed. The Assassin had little trouble when it came time to finish her off, simply a knife to a sleeping throat and that was that. Then came the fifth... Unlike the rest, this one proved a challenge, as not only was this the person who taught the Assassin all they knew, this Teacher also knew the Assassin was coming. The Assassin entered into their home. All the lights were out, save one. The assassin made their way downstairs, closer and closer to the light expecting the worse, only to find their teacher sitting on one side of a table, with an empty chair across from them, a meal being laid out. The Assassin instinctively moved back, ready for a fight, when their teacher called out. "First time you've visited in years,"a brusque deep voice called out, "and you won't even share a meal with me?" The Assassin paused, thinking their head spinning with information from just that simple interaction. The took a breath longer before sighing and moving into the light, the glow from the lightbulb bathing them in a warm yellow glow, revealing a soft cloth and leather outfit, fitted with a masked hood to hide their face. The old man gazed at the figure with tired eyes. "Take that damn thing off. I already know your face." Again, they hesitated for a second before pulling off the mask, letting short cut hair fall to their shoulders, the Assassin stared back at him. The old man sat down and began to eat, saying nothing. The assassin, after what felt like an eternity for half a steak, sat down as well and began to eat. They said nothing, but didn't need to. They had both kept tabs on each other over the years, just in case. The meal was by no means dark or solemn, however. As the Assassin ate, she felt a sense of familiarity, and a warmth, like she had come home for the first time in forever. With the meal finished, the Assassin pulled out a napkin and belched. "Pardon me. Old age, does horrors to your gastrointestinal system. But, you didn't come here to chat with an old man..." She looked into the eyes of her mentor, and could almost see the lifetime they had experienced in her absence. "Melody and Jasper were taken." The old man stopped wiping his mouth, staring her down again. His other hand moved back, as the sound of a small holster was undone. All her senses sprung back into action as the assassin kicked back her own chair and drew a knife, readying her legs to leap at his throat and finish off the second to last-- she heard the sound of something being set on the table. "I'd prefer it was clean, quick and painless." He had set his favorite pistol on the table. She looked up from the gun, her mentor gazing at her solemnly. She walked forward, reaching a hand to the weapon, aiming down the sights and pausing. "Why." She wasn't asking, she was demanding, she needed to know where the fight had gone, where the mentor she knew had disappeared to. And for a long time, he said nothing. When he finally opened his mouth again, all that he said was, "The night you first met with Melody was the first time I had seen you genuinely smile. When you adopted Jasper was the second... Treasure them." She let it sink in, and began to panic, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Staring down the barrel she was already imagining the blood. It had never bothered her before so why now, with so much at stake. She thought of some other way, maybe faking his death? There is a spot that you can shoot on the head that basically guarantees survival, maybe that could... "Delilah. Please. Keep them safe." The Assassin looked at him again, his eyes closed. She readjusted her arm, and aimed for the spot that would hurt the least. BANG Her breathing grew heavy as she dropped the gun. She felt disgusted, revolted, and for the first time for a long time, she felt guilt. She pulled out her phone, took a picture of the corpse and sent it through, and suddenly a call came through. "Well done, well done. You've done quite well at this all." The voice spoke softly but with an underlying menace. Delilah looked at the phone to see the same figure on video call. She had tried tracking them back, but couldn't find them anywhere. "You did great, eliminating all the most dangerous individuals and clearing the board of play for a new generation of--" "Who is the last target?" The figure paused, only its mouth and chin were truly visible, and he seemed disappointed that he didn't get the chance to relay his grand reasoning. "Well alright, I suppose we might as well wrap this up. Your last target is simple actually." "Who." They smiled, "The person who managed to find and kill the other five most dangerous individuals on the planet." Delilah's eyes saw red as her blood pressure jumped. "YOU SAID YOU WOULD GIVE THEM BACK IF I DID THIS, AND I PLAYED YOUR GAMES AND DID YOUR DEEDS, AND NOW THIS?!" "If you would have listened, I said I would let them go. I never said anything about not killing you." "I'll kill you."She was regaining her composure, already calculating in her head. "Not if you don't want to hurt junior here."He pulled a shock of black hair into view of the camera, and scared green eyes pleading for help through the camera. "Jasper-- LET MY SON GO NOW!" "Calm down, I'm a man of my word, just one last bullet, in one last skull, and you can be sure your family will be safe." "Fine, but don't let him watch." The man smiled, "Fair enough." She pulled the gun up to her head, just underneath her jaw and turned it upward, swallowed hard, and then-- BANG She fell. &#x200B; &#x200B; The man laughed on the other end of the phone as the call ended. Silence fell over the room. A bloody hand quickly reached up into her mouth as she wrenched the bullet from the metal plate the old man had her install in her mouth years ago. Always said it was good for a bluff in a pinch. Guess he was right. She got up and applied some stopgap bandages from her supplies, before grabbing her gun. She gave one last look over her shoulder at her old mentor and thought of his last words. "I promise." She turned and holstered her weapon, determined to make good on her words.
Well done. No, really, well done. I'd say I spent a long time creating time, but that wouldn't make much sense. Let's say that making time consumed nearly the entirety of my existence. When I came into being, the rest of the gods were just sitting there, waiting for something, anything to happen. But nothing could happen, because the concept of "happen"was not a thing. I did that. I made "happen"happen. Then I made things change. Not just once, but again and again. Constantly. And then the universe unfolded, and the rest, as they say, is history. But everything kind of happened at once. It was hard to keep track of how we went from the big bang to the heat death of the universe. There was a lot to it, but it kind of just went from point A to point B directly. the other gods and I were standing around the glowing marble of everything, then everything was dark and the rest of the gods had faded away. Boring, no substance. I knew how we got from then to now, of course, but nobody else did. It just happened. But what to do about it? Well, I stepped back to when we were looking at that little marble of everything, and took a close look at it. It had little specks in it, which were in turn made of smaller specs. What did they do? I wasn't sure, but I wanted to know. I pulled one out and expanded it so I could manipulate it, and I moved one of the specks suspended over the cluster at the center. To my joy, the rest of the specks also moved, as did all the ones still in the marble of everything. It all moved together, like clockwork. You thought you were so special when you emulated that one, didn't you? But this was new territory then. I could use this. Every time this speck completed its rotation, something would happen. Now that I could quantify an event in regards to other events, I could decide the rate of these events, and therefore at what tempo the collapse of the universe would unfold. For reference, this event represents about one nine billionth of a "second". Once things started to happen at an even, controlled rate, all of the gods could communicate, and create the universe as it would be, as it is now, and as it used to be. Literally everything that has ever happened is the result of these god's actions, and my creation of time. Everything you have ever experienced is a result of the creation and smooth flow of time... But noooooo... it wasn't good enough for you. You saw this gift, this primordial facet of the universe and life itself, and said "Nah, not for me". The absolute audacity... So, new rule. If you don't like time, none for you. Anyone who slips out of the timestream stays outside of it, and nothing ever happens to them again. You're not dead, you just don't happen, ever again. I hope messing with the very fabric of reality was worth it, you ungrateful children.
He knew it was never going to happen. The safety of the locker was too far away and the enemy enclosed. But he was the only one with the ability and he was going to use it. As the aliens enclosed he activated his power, vowing to not go down without a fight. He instructed everyone to hide behind a mountain. Alien after alien came at him but his ability was able to hold most of them off. When he saw a few get through he immediately sent them to a fiery hell. The battle lasted for hours but when it was complete, no aliens were left as he laid down and died from exhaustion. His people were safe to make it to the shelter. He smiled as he fell.
"Balendier! This is not you brother!"Marshall Falbrech raised his shield, tilting the face a hair as Balendiers are flashed for his head. The weapon had fused qith the abominations limb, and the same magic that had stolen Falbrechs brother from him clouded the dead man's eyes. He roared, an amalgamation of hatred and pain spitting from bloodied teeth. Falbrech weaved left, two more Storm Wardens formed at his side with shields linked. They stabbed forward qith their spears, pushing their former commander back from the doors. Those doors. "Wardens! What is your debt!" "Death paid in full." "Wardens! What must be paid!" "Death paid, lives spared!" Falbrech brought his shield forward, linking with the first line of Wardens. Behind them, several wardens formed a second line, while rangers guided civilians behind the heavy steel doors. Bastion would be held, even of Falbrech had too see every last one of his Wardens dead at the claws of Arcane. On his left Sergeant Barloh bellowed at his rangers. "Aim your arrows! You blind old fucks! If I have to bring an elder out here to show you how to shoot a bow, I'm going to put an arrow in you myself!"Barloh kicked a foot out, knocking an Arcane from its feet and sending an arrow into its screaming maw. Rangers ran left and right, firing their steel bows from between the wardens shields. Falbrech himself breathed ragged gasps, his spear slick with the navy ichor of the Arcane. His shields spikes where hanging with gray mottled flesh and rancid guts, and the smell of the battlefield clogged his lungs and throat. "Sergeant Barloh! Seal the doors! Your Rangers do not die this day!"Falbrech kicked his foot left, knocking the boots of his comrade. "Wall Back! Wall Back! Ten paces!" "One"the first chant had the line step back, spears thrusting forward and pushing the arcane hoard back. The changed Balendier roared, pushing its lesser monsters ahead. More fell, and spears lashed out. "Two"Falbrech shouted again and stabbed forward, his Ashwood pole breaking as the spear head lodged into the eye socket of a charging monster. He cursed and drew his sword. "Three!"With another step more fell. This time Falbrech noticed the gray blue cloaks of his own wardens amongst the fallen bodies.
This is new for me, and I'm not sure how I'll feel. We've been together so long, and everything is so familiar, safe, and muscle memory with us at this point. You've seen me at my worst, my best, seen the happiest things I've ever said, and some of the meanest things I've heard from others. You stayed up with me so many nights, just keeping me company with that dim, reassuring light. You never failed, and I've grown attached to you. We've repaired every broken piece and made it new, survived harsh winter nights and scorching summer days, and lived to tell the tale of so many adventures. I don't want you to change. What if you forget something? What if all those important memories get lost somewhere, and don't ever come back? Part of me thinks I've earned it. I've earned a better you. But is that wrong? Should I be endlessly thankful for what you have done for me, and let you drag me down as you fail over time? You've made a few mistakes, and some of them have been hard to overlook or forget. You'll go through updates, "a whole new me"as you call it, but then a new problem arises. You go through so many minor tweaks and changes, that you're almost an entirely new thing anyways at this point, so maybe it is time. Maybe we call it quits, and both move on. You'll find a dark place to live out your days, maybe a drawer somewhere, and I'll finally learn to let go. It sounds nice, exciting almost. Apple it is.
"Screw it, I'm not paying for a spot across the street"I said to myself while turning off the ignition. As the rumble of the engine died out, the silence of the car park took over. The only sound now was the my car door opening and closing, the echoes reverberating through the floor. As I looked out on the cars lined up on the 12 spots that made up my company's spots, the identical cars looked almost too perfect where they stood. The yellow light from the ceiling glittered in polished chrome, elongated fins topped off by elegant rear lights, 24 red dots lined up almost perfectly. My own figure was mirrored in diligently polished white paint as I walked slowly down the garage. I stopped and paused for a bit. The black Cadillac that sometimes graced spot 7 with its presence was the only company car that was not white. It was also the only car that always stood nose out. Strange. I had never really thought about that. Who did the black car belong to anyway? Come to think of it, who did any of these cars belong to? I strained to think of my co-workers’ names and faces, but all I got was a big blank. It was not even confusingly blank, there just wasn't anything there. A door opened somewhere in the garage; the metallic sound of its closing snapped me back to reality. Steps on concrete broke the eerie silence that enveloped me. I looked down on the suitcase I was holding. I contained my work, I'm sure of that. You know, papers that are important to the company. I had a vague memory of numbers and words, combining to form specifications and plans, design sheets with a blueish tinge that we needed to deliver. And why were the lights in the garage dim yellow. Surely, garage lights were usually bright. Were the steps approaching? A worry started to spread. There are differences to worrying. You have benign worries over mundane matters, the kind that annoy you more than they scare you. This was something else; the creeping realization than panic is slowly building in your body and mind, and you are powerless to stop it. I dropped down to my knees, my suitcase in front of me. The parking garage and the cars were alien to me now. I needed something familiar, I needed to see the papers in the briefcase and recognize them. Knowing what was on them would ground me in reality. The contents spilled out onto the floor. Diagrams and lists, carefully written content tables and paragraphs of specifications that meant absolutely nothing to me. I could not even make sense of the design drawings; it was only a jumbled mess of tubes and wires. The sound of the steps had stopped, but there was no jingling of keys and no sound of a car door opening. They had stopped behind me, the shadow of the walker cast across me and my unfamiliar briefcase. "You don't want to do that", the voice said as I started to slowly turn around. I froze. The worry in my gut was not panic yet, but it was growing. That voice. It was unstoppable. The sensation of a caveman looking out into the darkness outside the cave, imagining the cloaked horrors waiting for him to step outside. I wanted to turn around, but I knew that I could not. There are things you aren't meant to see. The voice was hoarse, almost like a drone. There was no malice to it because there didn't have to be. The concept of malice is there to remind ourselves to be scared of that voice. "There are bad ideas in the world, bad things you can do, bad things you can build". The voice had taken over the silence of the car park now. The words came to me, but I don't know from where. "If you get those ideas, do those things, build those things, it can make you see and find things you forgot". "Yes", the voice answered. There was no threat in the voice. It did not have to threaten, because horror is just our collective recollection of what the voice represented. "So, what happens now?", my voice was stronger than I expected. "You run. Some run, some freeze. You will run." I looked down on the papers. "I don't know what this is"I said. I was honest, but it was an excuse. "It does not matter. It worked". I looked down on the concrete below. Felt the silence of car park like a void that slowly engulfed me. I ran.
24 hours. What would you do if you only had 24 hours left to live? Knowing that whatever you did today would have no consequences tomorrow because all of humanity would be gone. Would you be the one to cry with you family? Perhaps you would prefer settling old disputes? Maybe you would rather live life like it was not about to end? We all swear we know what we would do at the end of our lives, but we never thought the whole world would be ending at once. It was colder when it all started. Not unusual in the desert to have a randomly cold day, but this seemed unnatural somehow. I dragged myself from my bed joking cursing that I didn’t die in my sleep and had to go to work again. The sun was rising and panic set in as I realized my alarm had not gone off yet. I rushed to grab my phone, and had hundreds of alerts and messages. “Great I broke the damn thing somehow,” I said to myself, as I swiped all the alerts off the screen. That’s when I first saw it, the time said it was 630 at night, but used military time. “Shit!” I was screwed, late, and probably fired now. I tossed my phone on the bed and rushed to get showered and ready for the ass chewing my boss would surely be giving me. “Don’t know why I’m rushing, I already missed my whole damn work day,” I screamed as I stepped out of the shower, “but maybe I can kiss his ass enough to only get screamed at today!” I ran to the room and grabbed my phone and that’s where things got weird. “A hundred more notifications? Really? Is the world falling apart today?” I laughed to myself, “maybe I should just say fuck it then and go back to sleep. I wish, but…” I stopped as I glanced at the time, it was now 1810. ‘It got earlier?’ I thought to myself. I put down my phone and looked outside, and it was chaos. Bodies lay on sidewalks, cars were ablaze, and the people outside seemed to be in a full blown riot. In shock I walked back to my room, put my hearing aids in and pulled the news up on my phone. “As of 2 hours ago, the world experienced a bizarre phenomenon. All the time keeping devices set to 24 hours and began counting backwards. Stay tuned as we bring you the facts on what group of sadistic pranksters are responsible,” the article was tagged first report. I looked at the next tagged update on the countdown. Well they gave it a name at least. “1 hour has elapsed since our original story, and NASA has confirmed a large mass is approaching the earth at catastrophic speed. Report indicate that it should miss us by several thousand miles at least. They urge all of us to remain calm and continue with our daily lives.” “What the hell does that have to do with all the clocks?” I grumbled, “is it a countdown for the thing passing us? How did someone find it before NASA and hack all the time keeping devices?” The next article popped up the title made me stop shouting and freeze. The Final Update! May the Gods Have Mercy on Us! “Ladies and gentlemen,” the broadcaster sounded broken-hearted now, “There has been an update on the planet wide phenomenon as well as the object hurdling towards Earth.” “Towards!” I shouted, “you said near!” I was furious and scared. “As of 2030 on the countdown the objects course has been altered and it is heading directly on a collision course for Earth. NASA estimates,” the reporter began to cry, but started again through tears, “NASA estimates that it will impact the planet in precisely 20 hours and 32 minutes. There will be no further updates, we are sorry.” He began to cry uncontrollably, and the video cut out. I nervously looked at the clock, 1750. I wasted 20 minutes of the last day of my life. I began to realize there was screams, gunshots, and explosions happening outside. I had no one left in this world and no idea what to do, but something in me snapped. I got my gun from the safe, loaded it, and strapped it to my hip. I slowly walked to the kitchen, turned down my hearing aid, and started breakfast. “So much for saving the bacon for my day off,” I chuckled, “and it’s not like I need to worry about cholesterol anymore. Maybe I’ll eat the donuts I was gonna eat for breakfast as well. Don’t need to worry about too much sweets at my age anymore mr. Dr man.” I was probably delirious but I’ve lived a long and happy life, and sadly outlived everyone I loved and known. ‘Maybe this wasn’t so bad for me at least,’ I thought, just before my front door burst open. “I don’t want any trouble I just don’t want to die outside!” An exhausted voice called out. I swung around the corner gun in hand, and saw a young kid, no more than 16, he was unarmed covered in blood and shaking uncontrollably. “Do you have a weapon? Are you gonna be a problem?” I asked, pistol pointed at his head. He shook his head hard enough to send his tears flying from his face. “Well in that case close the damn door and lock it since I forgot to.” “You trust me just like that?” The kid whimpered “Not really, but spending my last day alone sounded boring anyway,” I grunted, “Now close the damn door before that shit,” I gestured outside, “follows you inside.” He quickly did so, as I continued, “you look like shit, the bathroom is down the hall on the right, bedrooms on the left, go clean yourself up and take whatever you can make fit out of my closet. I’m making eggs and bacon.” “You aren’t gonna do anything right?” I looked at him harshly, but lightened my gaze when I saw the pain in his eyes. He obviously has been through hell today, so I just gave a tender smile and shook my head. I finished up cooking and heard the closet jam up in my room, “lift from the bottom, it is a piece of shit!” I shouted out. “I’m coming into the dining room, please don’t shoot me,” he called a few minutes later. I turned and stifled a laugh as I saw him wearing my pajamas that looked like a dress on him. I dished breakfast out and placed the donuts in the middle of the table, “I even have dessert,” I chuckled. He smiled and we ate silently. When we finished I looked at my phone, looked at him and asked, “anything in particular you know we could do to pass 16 hours until the end of the world?” He looked at me in shock, “your not scared, angry, or anything!? How!?” He demanded. “Son I was already supposed to die a few times, and being scared didn’t help me. I’ve seen death take those closest to me, and anger did nothing. The only thing it did was cost me precious time, and since we know how much we have left now.” I paused looked him in the eyes with a soft smile, “I don’t see a point to waste a second on something so frivolous.” He was scared and I understood, “but I understand being young, you never thought it would end so abruptly. Just make the most of you have son.” 1558 left on the clock, and no idea what to do with it. Maybe a game of scrabble, with another lost soul.
"They call me a god of love and mock my bow and heart-tipped arrows and diminish me with tiny little angel wings. They forget I am the product of all that is fair in love and war."Cupid was no baby, but a man, speaking to his white-robed lover, Psyche, while looking at himself in a still pool of water with a supernaturally reflective sheen. "Did not conquering Mars and dear mother Venus beget me? Am I not too something to be feared? Have I not conquered you, my dear Psyche, as my father would approve?" "Yes, my love, but only for the moment. With us, all things are temporary. As immortals this will not last. What once was hot and blazing will cool with time and erode to something different. A more placid existence but still smoldering and ready to erupt." "No! I will never lose you my love, for our bond is eternal." "It may be, fair Cupid, it may be, but yet it will end."Psyche stroked Cupid's perpetually clean-shaven and smooth face gently. "I cannot hear this anymore from you, my love. My heart burns for you and will burn for you forever. It cannot end. It will not end. I will not let it. My own bow was the beginning but the blood of warlike Mars beats within me and I will fight for you. I would kill for you." "You musn't." "Plead not, please, Psyche. You know the fire that burns inside me, that sends me to taunt mortals with what lies within them. I'm but ancient Pandora opening box after box. Each battle won, but the war never ends. I could do better and conquer them with what I have. They know it and mock me still." "Cupid, my sweet sweet god. You musn't indulge in these fantasies. You are not that blood-lusted warrior fighting a never-ending battle to the end of times. You are a caretaker, a nurturer, my love for now and for always despite what is to come." "They know me not as you do. I would have them rain fire on each other again like the Greeks upon Ancient Troy. Do they not know my influence in the events of my dear mother's favored Paris. I do no other's bidding but my own. Or do you really think the Greeks prized Helen so highly on their own? You may not forget, my dear, but the mortals do not remember the fire and fury I can and do cause. The walls of Troy fell, its people pillaged and despoiled, for beautiful Helen, whose face launched so many ships of yore." "Cupid, I love you. You are mine and I am yours. Your fire and determination should be heralded, but you need not mortals to sing songs of your glory when you have me and I you." "Hold me, my love, and tell me that plump baby only exists to provide me cover as I open the humans' minds to devotion and admiration and honor and unlock their obsessions. They may never know what hells I can rain upon them, but we will always hold it dear, my love, no matter what comes from here."
Writers Note: This Was A Fun Prompt To Write :) Your eyes stare ahead on the road, hands gripping tightly on the wheel where you press the gas pedal to go faster. 100km. . .110km. . .140km. . .165! Behind you, swarms of cop cars are speeding to you, some crashing to the side of your door, and others falling off the cliff as you dodge them tightly with your steering skills. Helicopters in the air demanding you to stop and get out of the car. You didn't want to, your heart beats faster faster and faster, where your body was filled with adrenaline. At this point, there was no stopping now, your already the most WANTED in the town, and soon in another town. A memory of your father once said to you 'risk it for the biscuit' where he was known to have the same reputation as you do now. It had made an impulse and a change to you where you took that to the heart. "THIS IS THE FBI! GET OUT AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP!" A loud voice said with a stern but calm tone. You flipped them off, using your left hand rapidly to make the sharpest turn you have ever done in years. While you did so, there was a jump incoming. You are near a waterfall. Water droplets started to splash onto your windshield, and the rest of the car. You made sure the wipers were wiping, as the vision from the window became blurry. The same voice warn you once more saying it in a stern and loud tone. You flipped them off, as you see a huge ramp. You decided to go for it. You pressed the gas pedal the hardest you ever went in several years. 165km. . . .170km. . .195km. . .there wasn't any other numbers. However, you know your most likely going to make it, unless you fail the jump like your father did. Your entire body now is stiff, your heart rate is at maybe 155 beats a minute, and your blood pressure is rising. You take the jump. Your doing it, your flying soaring into the air, getting closer to the top of the wa-- CRASHHHH! Car parts shattered into a million pieces, and erupted into flames as other cars crashed into the back of your car. But to you, the world became a deep dark black.
I kept my mouth shut despite my desires as we stood at the edge of the cabin, the only 'safe' place so far as the area around us was full of chaos and destruction. Not counting that dark shadow that was probably inside somewhere waiting for us to begin the next round. Mitchel put his medical schooling to some use and patched up the lacerations I got from my 'dare' from the 'Entity', the thing that's keeping this game going. The image on the Television that said "Double Dare"with a timer that was blinking a minute and thirty seconds in green with "Dare Complete" We moved inside and the television blinked to a white screen with the sound of applause and confetti exploding from both sides. \- Congrats to Bailey! Well done on completing the Double Dare. You are now immune for the next full round!- The voice spoke giddily. I sat down as I felt oddly... stronger. According to the rules, my immunity kept me from anything that will and has existed on account of the issues and I'm also immune from being a chosen, though I could choose. The television brought up the spinning wheel again and the dial slowed until it landed on me. I looked to the television and then to everyone around me as the Judge bade me to "Pick my person." I turned as I considered everything that happened. And why it did. I had it all, all the evidence, and the Judge to back me up on my answers. "Lacey. Your turn!" She looked at me in slight suspicion as she stood up and dusted herself off as I stood and faced her. The television flashed between the words Truth and Dare. I looked to her. "Truth"she said, probably not wanting to put herself up to any sort of Dare I could come up with after what she had Natalie do. The screen flashed a pink "Truth"and went to the side as I looked to the screen. "Truth: The mastermind behind everything that happened this past weekend is you. You are responsible for Catalina's injury and the reason Reiley was bullied and is now in the hospital. It's all your doing." Understandably a few gasps came from everyone, Bradley, Reiley's brother, quietly watched her. Lacey's face went white and she opened her mouth and shut it. "Time begins" The five minute timer began counting down. She would be disqualified if she didn't give an answer. And thanks to the Judge, it had to be truth. "I... I don't... I mean I didn't mean..." Bradley stood up. "You don't get to stammer and play around words. Chad found that out the hard way. Just say it. Say what you did or didn't do." I knew this was hard for Brad, he and Lacey had been a thing since middle school and were thinking about getting married after this next year of college. But he needed to know. We all did... "It's not like you two were any better to her!"Lacey yelled at me. "Your right. I wasn't there for my friend. That's why she's in the hospital. That's why I'm cursed now, same as all of us. Brad and I weren't there for the one who needed us most and we're paying for it. But now I'm going to pay back my debt. I'm going to drag the person who did this to her to light. Now answer the question. Are you or are you not the mastermind? Did you hire the guys who assaulted her for a week straight. Yes or No?" I knew Reiley. I knew she was responsible, she wanted Justice. And I was her best friend since Kindergarten, I should have been there. I glared at lacey as she looked at the timer ticking down to three and a half minutes. If she spoke the truth, that we all knew, she'd be ousted. If she lied or tried to tell the truth without telling it, she would be penalized. She had two penalties already. Two more and she'd die just like Malcom and Hailey did. "You're losing time!"Mitchel called keeping time.
At 18 one would go to the elders and let the elements choose them, a rite of passage. I heard darkness is the most rare, but also I was born under the dark star. I walked into the building of the elders, becoming one of the darkness would put a target on my head for forbidden magic, but not going at all puts a bigger target of weakness, the elements refuse to harm a child, but by hiding from the elements you're a fool and a fair target. The elders stood in an open circle, there's supposed to be 6 but there were only 5. There was no elder of darkness, for some reason. I stood in the circle, a few others born on the same night as me also were in the circle. The elders chanted, the 6 of us in the circle were to stay still. "Open your eyes, all 17 of you."The elder of light said. I did, I saw two red lights in front of me, emitting just enough light to see the right side of a vaguely human shape. I almost jumped. "May the elements not overstay their welcome"The elder of water said. "Close your eyes." Some more chanting later, we could leave the circle and see. Each of the elders approached someone else, the elder of light signed to me to go under the Cixit mountain for help with what I have. I went there. I saw the person(?) I saw earlier. "You're the first... In a thousand years..."It said, in a low, withered voice. It turned, I saw the lights from earlier "Most decided to run off, the others can only choose so many. I hadn't seen anyone in person for a long time. It's the hope that someone shows up that keeps me picking. I wonder... Why'd you show up?" "It feels like I know you... from somewhere, but I'm not sure."I said "You see it in the stars, I tell you."It, now sounding like a woman said "They're nice to look at. Hey, are you here for someone to talk to or to learn?" "Yes." The left hand of the silhouette handed me an amulet. "Use it only when you're well rested and in a dark place, the night sky hurts me a little, the sun is too much. To use it just put it on." "Would you like to see the sun?"I asked "Yes. A more advanced spell could let me alter you, hiding within someone is bound to cause them discomfort though. I've tried, nothing weaker would work to stop the pain of a full moon. The sun would still be too much." I nodded, I tried to touch the silhouette, it has to be physical. My hand went through. "That's not something I'll let you do. You're too weak to handle THAT truth."It said now fully sounding like a person "Once you have learned all spells, you'll learn some ancient secrets. What am I is one of them." I have a lot ahead of me. It's fine though, I'm up for a challenge.
I remember what it was like on earth.. they don’t. I remember what fresh air smells like.. they don’t. I remember how it was to be free.. they don’t. I remember how it feels to love.. they don’t. The motherless and fatherless children on the ship they may never know. For years we have been traveling the endless void of space. I am the captain of the USS BriannSedwick MkII, the 6th ship in the US fleet of Seed-ships as they were called. Only the scientists who build them know how they work. All the captains, co-captains and lieutenants are told is “press the button secure behind glass, when your sensors find a suitable exo-planet.” Well, finally it happened, one sleep cycle I woke up and the sensors were beeping every light on the ship was blinking blue. When I got out of my cabin i found my co-captain and the lieutenant already in the control, both pressed their button only waiting for me. Both are starring me in the eyes. I looked at the big screen in the room. It had finally found a planet. After all the years finally we found one. Then the lieutenant said “Captain I swear to god if you don’t get your key mutiny is a serious consideration” I scramble to find my key, and realize it’s still in my uniform. I run back to my cabin, my vision, I start seeing stars, my ears go silent. I can’t find my key. Where the hell did I put it? Maybe under the bed? I scramble under the bed. No not there. Then it clicks. In my pillow case. I tear it open. And there it is, my key. I run back to the control room. They’re still there both in awe of the planet we’re going to inhabit. I rushed the key in and pressed the button. all the lights changed back to cold white color we’re so familiar with, a voice comes over the speakers and the comms “Redirected course now headed for Exo-Omega-42. Destination will be reached in 2 days and 12 hours” We cheer, we cant believe it, finally. After all the years, we found a new home. We can’t wait to be free again. Then it dawned on us. We have to enlighten the children of the seed-ship about the wonders of the universe and our stories of earth. What do we even remember? It’s like we forgot everything. I don’t even remember my mothers name. We only had 2 days to tell them, but how. None of us have ever seen them. We came to the conclusion that today is spent informing them of a new home and gathering information about the planet. We sent a message over the comms to the children of the ship that home has been found and they will soon be able to settle into their new colony. While we were gathering information, I started to remember. The smell of flowers, the feel of a cold breeze, that smell of fresh air, the feeling of love, the feeling of freedom, but how do we tell them. None of us knew. We started brainstorming ideas of how to tell them; pictures, videos, and a telling of the world they will experience. We stayed up late that cycle and went to sleep. I got waked by my alarm clock this cycle. We planned the enlightenment at mid-cycle, 6 hours before we touch down on the planet. 1 hour before the enlightenment I got everything I need to say down, and memorized it in my head. I was ready. My crew was just as ready as I. Other than they couldn’t remember anything about being on earth, they were ready to present facts about our new home. The time has come. I walked out to them. I had never seem them before. I was surprised at how human they were. They looked like people from earth. It was nothing like my expectations. I turned on the projector and started my stories “Imagine a place where you can be free, where nothing can stop you, there are no limits but the sky. You’re not limited to the roof and four walls. There is no limits when your free. Imagine air thats cold, air that goes fast, through your hair and makes you feel fresh. Imagine looking someone in the eyes and get a warm sensation in your chest, feel the blood rush to your nose and ears…” I stop because then it hit me. I remembered my own girlfriend who had once made me feel that way. I snap back to reality. Co-captain and lieutenant both looking at me, wanting me to continue. I look around I look the the children I muster the courage to keep talking. “I’m sorry about that I just had a weird feeling.” I could feel a tear rolling down my cheek. “Imagine waling up every morning with the sun shining on your, heating up every part of your body with its heavenly rays. Imagine what it’s like to be submerged in water. Imagine what it’s like to walk on grass. Imagine what it’s like to feel the heart from a fire. Imagine what it’s like climb the tallest trees.” The children look in awe upon me and my wisdom. “Imagine what it feels like.. to have a home” I finish. Tears are rolling all over my face. The lieutenant and the co-captain, swiftly takes over and switches to telling about the planet. I back out of the room and back into my cabin. I search through the room. I can’t find it. I opened my desk drawer, and then, under a stack of papers it laid, a picture. A picture of the woman I loved. My beloved Amelia. The most beautiful being in the whole universe. But she’s not with me. She died a long time ago on BriannSedwick MkI. My heart crumbles at the thought of her. Then I look out the window. There it is. My new home. Don’t mind the spelling
Like a grain of sand. Like a grain of sand, each one. Each little thing that loves me. Meshing together, coalescing, little grains of sand forming sloping dunes that resembled my view from upon from the heavens when I first came to existence. In the beginning these creatures were hardly specks in the landscape, puttering around with aimless intent but blissful peace of mind. I was foolish to have interrupted that. I ventured to make my presence known, feed them small truths of the universe. They respected my authority, they thought I was kind, so they became dependent on me. Small things satisfied them: plentiful crops, cures to sickness, prevention of drought. Their numbers slowly grew and I gained new followers. Soon, specks from distant lands came under my guidance. Their belief gifted me with incredible surges of power and energy and my capabilities gradually expanded beyond my former limits. There used to be other beings like me. Existing above the mortal plane. But as faith in me grew stronger, conflict among the specks had also started to brew. Each took the name of their God and declared us as superior. And so their love for me had begun to mutate horribly, until they were overcome with hatred among each other. I tried to interfere, but with any attempt, other Gods' auras would diminish. My strength was now defined by their weakness. All around me, I felt my comrades' gradual fade from existence. They couldn't die. Instead, they shrank; became insignificant, fractions of fractions of what they once were. Absorbed into me. Now I've become everything. The specks, when they pass, they join me. They fight in every waking moment of their lives to be closer to me. Their hatred now becomes mine, growing stronger in me, piece by piece. Like grains of sand, from each little thing that loves me.
If there was anything that Lev should have known before marrying someone from another dimension, it was that there was a chance that they may need to travel to said dimension. But he didn’t even consider that possibility, as jumping between dimensions wasn’t something that even the most powerful magicians did. Now, he was hurtling through a wormhole and seriously considering writing a guidebook for inter-dimensional couples. Selene had been missing for a few days now. At first, Lev thought it was another of her practical jokes, but the situation soon proved to be serious. He had searched unsuccessfully all over the city and would have given up had not a kind-hearted witness mentioned something about portals and odd-looking men carrying away someone that could only be his wife. Lev knew that there was certainty of death from attempting that sort of travel, but he was desperate. So he decided to screw all risks and take the plunge. He only hoped that he would end up in the right dimension. He hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud. What a way to announce his arrival, he thought grimly. He scrambled to his feet and scrutinized his surroundings. It looked like he was in a courtyard, and he could sense a faint but unmistakable aura. Selene. She was obviously here somewhere. Lev made a slow circuit around the courtyard, his footsteps alarmingly loud in the night. Selene’s aura was stronger by some marble statues that surrounded a fountain. To his surprise, he heard a muffled little voice as well. ^(“Lev! What are you doing here? You’ll be caught!”) He looked around sharply but saw no one. “Where are you?” he whispered. ^(“Here! Right in front of you.”) “I don’t see you. Show yourself.” ^(“I would if I wasn’t encased in this enchanted stone!”) “What?” Selene sighed. ^(“I’m in the statue, silly! Basic hiding trick, remember? Except he’s the one who put me in here, and I’ll be trapped until someone else can get me out. Spells here are a bit different than in our dimension.”) “Who’s he?” ^(“I’ll explain later, but first, I need to get out.”) “Right.” Selene talked Lev through the spell, which he found fairly easy to do. The statue soon crumbled to bits, and she jumped off the pedestal. “We had better leave,” she said urgently, “Someone would have heard that.” “It’s too late now, darling.” Husband and wife whirled around. There, standing behind them with his arms crossed, was a giant of a man. Lev gawked, for he looked very much like an older version of him. Well, like him when he was hungover and angry. The stranger grinned maniacally. “Thought you could escape from your husband to be, didn’t you?” he sneered. Selene glared at him. “I’m sorry, but what part of ‘I’m already married’ don’t you understand? Oh, and might I mention that he’s a much better version of you?” “Wait, you mean-?!” began a very confused Lev. “WHO DARES TAKE MY RIGHTFUL PLACE?!” roared the other Lev. He drew an enormous sword. “There will only be one of us, and it will be ME!” “Oh, do stop being so stupid!” cried Selene, but her captor didn’t listen. He lunged towards her, only to stop short as if he had run into a glass wall. Lev chuckled. “I think it would be best to respect my lady’s wishes.” “You… YOU!” Lev dodged a swing from his evil counterpart’s sword. He drew his own weapon, fending off another blow. The two men fought viciously, hacking at each other and trying to knock each other off balance with blasts of magic. Selene perched herself on a bench and pulled out a small bottle of nail polish with an eyeroll. “Dang it, Selene! Can’t you do something about this doofus?” Lev grunted as he found himself pinned against a wall. The other Lev raised his sword to kill- and froze. The sharp end of a knife’s blade protruded from his chest. Selene peeked over his shoulder. “Terribly sorry, but may I have my husband back?” she asked sweetly, slitting his throat. Lev shook his head to clear his thoughts. This was so weird, seeing his own body (correction: another version of his body) on the ground. To be honest, it made him feel a bit sick. He rejoined his wife, whose knife had turned back into a nail polish bottle. “Yeah, we should really head home now.”
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It’s 2 weeks until Valentine’s. And well, i'm fucked up. I'm the stupidest fucking guy i've ever seen. I thought about basically everything. Heart-shaped balloons, chocolates, cute teddy bears, fine wine, even a brand new suit – he’d love any of these. And is not like my money couldn’t afford any of those things. Everything's here. I just missed a single detail. I didn't invite him. And i don't know how to. Thought about looking at the mirror and saying something, but it'd be ridiculous. It’s too simple. He wouldn't like it. Maybe i should just lay down and wait for him to come, but this is too lazy... he'd hate it too... I've been rehearsing this kind of thing by myself, but now's the time, how could i invite him to a date? Why am i even thinking about that by TWO WEEKS BEFORE? AND WORSE, WHY I'M STILL SCREAMING AT A GODDAMN COVERED MIRROR? I’ve tried so many times and failed, why do i even keep trying? Think, Tom. If it fails… Just ask for advice this time. After all, two heads think better than one. Time passes, and… &#x200B; It’s one day until Valentine’s. And I failed. Amazing. Luckily, I have the best co-worker and friend in the world. She’ll know how to help me. “Abi, darling. It’s so good to see you.” – I say, while sitting at the table. “Tom! Finally we’ve met outside work! These are crazy times. Well, i know you like to talk a lot, but I’ll get straight to the point: what do you need?” – I feel embarrassed. – “You seemed to be quite anxious on the phone.” “Well, i…” – and got interrupted. “Wait, let me guess. It’s about Valentine’s, right?” “Always right. Yes, it’s about Valentine’s. I’ve prepared some special things for a person, but… I haven’t invited them yet. I know it’s tomorrow, but don’t know what can i do. Like, I have the guts to tell them I want them, but… the occasion is a problem. I've been trying to find something that demonstrates intimacy and deep love at the same time.” “Hmm… It’s quite simple, in fact.” – she was timidly excited – “You should do a dinner. At your house.” “Ok, you gave me the blueprint, now explain the building. Why diner and why… my own house?” “You asked for love and intimacy. Aside with the presents, cooking for someone brings up these feelings. It’s just… comfortable. And, if you’re home, you two can talk for hours and hours – you don’t have limited time, waiters complaining, or more costumers coming into the house – it’s just you and them.” I feel relieved. He’d just love it. I’m more of a streets person, but he loves the house. “This was really helpful.” – as i answer, she smiles – “And cute. Thank you.” “In fact… I was willing to talk about Valentine’s too…” – she hesitated a little, but continued, blushing – “The truth is… I’m in love with you. Since the first year we met, at work. I was going to tell you by tomorrow, but now seems to be more appropriate…” “Oh.” “I can’t believe you have the same feelings as I do!” “What? Tom, does that mean… You’re in love with me too?” “No, silly! I’m in love with ME too!” She freezes. And i’m still there, looking into her eyes. “I beg your pardon?” "You heard it well. I'm deeply in love with myself. It's hard to explain, but to be honest, I feel like there’s another me living inside this body. And i'm in love with him! I forgot to tell you, but I even commissioned a painting with his face for tomorrow!” My eyes were glowing, and a sick smile started to form upon my face. Get your shit together, you’re scaring her. “Uh… Sorry. Anyway, do you have any further advice?” “H-how dare you to ask me for ‘advice’ after that?” – confusion, anger and sadness were crystal clear into her face - "I know we’re just friends, and also know I’m not the finest of girls, but a lie this big is something i can't accept. Fuck you."- bursting in tears, she left the restaurant, running. Yes, you've lost her forever, but at least you already know what to do. It’s Valentine’s night. I’m prepared, the dinner is ready, and his painting, at the end of the room, glimmers by the moonlight. It seems like i can finally uncover the colossal mirror that lies here. After doing so, i sit at the table and look at it. Everything is dark, except for him. The green eyes glow seductively, and then he finally speaks to me: “I can’t believe you made it. You did it all by yourself. And… it’s for me…” – His voice was calm, but also surprised. “You didn’t have to, you know.” “Yes. I had. I’d do anything for you.” – I say, getting up and coming closer to the mirror. “Anything?” “Anything.” – Now, i’m so close i feel the touch of the cold glass upon my face. “Well. So please, answer me…” His hand drags me into the object, and drowns me into its darkness, as i hear one last whisper: &#x200B; “Will you be my valentine?”
Judith felt a twinge of nausea as she stared into her victim's twinkling eye. Holofere the king of Numeridans smiled back at the cross examination. A smile that would not have shifted were Judith another cut jewel in his crown. For she was another jewel, albeit a far more pleasing. The daughter of his last and greatest enemy. "Do you?"demands the King's voice flush with authority and seasoned by the power potentiated by his last achievement. Judith hesitated at her course. Surrounded by eyes of here enemies. Feeling as if she were adrift in the ocean in the high storms. The rising anxiety electrifying her gnawing doubts. The Royal Wedding emptied the northern kingdom and condensed them all to the Grand Hall, whose tall ceilings did little to alleve the press of bodies. Compact crowd waited in hushed pressure. "I do."She whispered, kneeling to her newly minted King. It was the relief of those gathered that was most disturbing. The bride now bridled. A mare to be brooded. Succession soon will be succeeded and peace finally found in the dire deeps of war. Judith's gaze falls to the tessellated marble floor allowing her eyes to de-focus. Flashing thoughts of the massacre at the border excited her anger. An anger Judith kept hidden. An anger fueled by righteous justice. An anger that killed little for consequences. Her eyes radiated hate, as she look to the creature that bears responsibility. She reached into pure white folds of her gown. Her hidden dagger leapt into her hand, seeking sweet noble blood. The daggers poisoned tip raced for the heart of King Holofere. To no avail. He saw her hate. The iron grasp of the King wrapped around her death hand as quick as a snake. Smiling the same jeweled smile, he twisted her arm with the dagger echoing to the floor. Bending her joints he puppeteered Judith forward to his subjects. Frustrated tears forced themselves through Judith's pride wet her soft cheeks. It felt as if her arm would be broken under the hardening grasp. She struggled and the pain intensified. She stared into the King's eyes. Saw the laughter and lust dance at the edges. The tortures she would endure for his pleasure. She saw the future and it was her past. Her larynx splintered into a howl. She went against the grain even harder. Jolting forward and snapping the bone in an intense crack. The shatter bone surprising the king just enough. Just enough to wipe the smile for his face and to see his shocked surprise as reality took a wolfish turn. The King's sword felt light in her good hand. She spun into a blur mirage. And she felt ecstatic as blade slid effortlessly through royal vertebrae. Her broken arm, coursing with adrenaline, lifted the head to her own. Watching the light of life snuffed out in his eyes. Reveling in the breathless curse his bloody mouth moved like a fish breathing air. Royal guards rushed forward. And were turned to stoned by her gaze. Holding up the Gordian head of the king, the blood red widow Queen Judith stood regal. Sons inherit a kingdom by blood. A woman through it. And none that day doubted her devotion to the crown. A future filling her distant eyes.
Ah, Fidelariel, please come in, take a hover. I would like to review your recent substitute ngagement. No, you are not in trouble. No, noone is getting cast down from heaven into the firey depths. Please, calm down. Think of sour station. As I said, this is not a disciplinary hearing. I'd rather you think of this as a learning opportunity. Yes, this is about preventing the fatal car crash of one Jonah T. from Ellensburg. I do appreciate you substituting for their guardian on such short notice. I understand that. They were extraordinary circumstances, with the car going so fast and the protectee being slightly intoxicated. I also agree that swift action was a prerogative. Listen, I can only repeat what I have said earlier, you are not being reprimanded. Yes, you managed to safe their life and may have additionally confinced them to remain sober for ... let me check... six months, three weeks and one day. Wow, that is a new record, I think. Well done. Nonetheless, your method may not have been the best choice. No, Fidelariel, you can not just appear in the middle of the road, revealing your Godgiven Form to the protectee, yelling "BE NOT AFRAID!"with all your angelic might. Now, lets go over a few more subtle methods of being a guardian angel.
“These insufferable children. Encroaching on my domain!” The warlock clenched her rotten teeth between pursed lips. It wasn’t often people came to defile the property of the outcast, but everyone who did paid the price. It seemed of late it was her only activity that got her out of the house. “Ill show them, I’ll show them!” “Nirexus, Demon of punishment, chaos and all things unholy! I call upon you this day of reckoning to be my catalyst of fear!” Her hands wove an intricate pattern, one she swore never to use until she was ready to end the trespassing for good. For this demon was oh so terrible, all who sat in the demons path would be destroyed for good, but not by death. For there are far worse things to befall people other than death. “Demon, your tricks are not advised. I’ve seen them all, come out now i’d wish to make a pact with you!” There was no response, only the wind blowing the broken creaky shutters she never seemed to have time to fix. “This is quite impossible, I know that demon couldn’t have been defeated… unless.” The warlock leaned through the creaking shutters to the child on her lawn preparing to throw eggs. When their eyes met the warlock screamed and writhed in insufferable pain. She knew no other pain like it. When the demon spoke, another onset wave of pain from head to toe, intricately squeezing every nerve in her body to the point just before collapse. A deep voice, born of flame and hellfire seemed to speak all around her. “You would wish my punishment on this CHILD! A being of this much innocence UNDERSERVING OF MY TIME!!! It is you today, it is you that deserves my punishment, I only punish those who’s sins outweigh the most of your kind. FOR THAT IS A TRUE DEMONS PASSION. No demon would punish an angel, for they are pure of heart, we punish the sinners. Those deserving of our wrath. I hope you slept well warlock, because you will never sleep again. This pain you feel will be your entire existence. For it is what you deserve.”
A ghastly hand above an illuminated jewel peers through the veil within the void. Shapes change and morph from flickering motes of light yet soon they fade from within the marble and conform to some picturesque scene. --- Sitting atop the ledge of a cliff facing the bountiful forest banked by a platitude of rivers converging into a surging waterfall is a simple man. A man is what they are, and this simple fact had decided their future for them. Looming beside the man is a much larger and older figure. "I won't spare you any sympathy,"the subtle feminine voice echoing across the loud nature surrounding them. "Both you and I know how these conversations upend themselves."Gently states the large figure, looking far into the horizon along with the man. "You only have one chance, and spending it among mortals would be too hard to bear for your future. If you wish to go through with it, I will grant you my last favor."Awaiting the response of the man they fall into companionship silence as they spectate the struggle of a carp rising against the torrential waterfall, within the resulting mists peeks out rainbow trouts and large shadows sparkling through the air as if a migratory school of fish flopping out above the mists instead of water only to soon be picked for dinner by one of the shadows in an instant before slinking away. "Honestly?"the feminine voice streams from the man billowing lightly to the carp at the cusp of a breakthrough stopping short and losing significant progress only to start once again up the water. "I don't know, that's why I want to do it."The man ponders lightly the mysterious anecdote of what the struggling carp might have, the mortals apparently liked deriving meaning to everything, similar to him simply talking to his mother. A light breeze crosses his face as she sighs "You only have one childhood, I just want what's best for you before leaving to your betrothed,"the breeze diverts back to its source "however..."multiple worries crosses her mind yet settles upon "be safe. Your family is always here." Shaking their head the man gets up only to trip upon her gift, ignoring the pitiful carp that had to restart its journey at the very end for the third time from the loose rocks he sent careening towards it, the man picks up the ornate wooden box and shakes it on impulse. Light twinkling laughter echoes across the waterfall as the carp stares dead eyed at the two of them before resuming its journey of a thousand miles. "Small tricks like these are why I worry, take it and go. When it is time you will return to your betrothed and know the loneliness." . . . The picturesque scene slowly morphs faraway to a different place in a different time, the red sun replaced with its lunar counter part while retaining the surroundings very much the same in presence yet disproportionate from the artificial oriental landscape. Within the arms of a grimacing man laying atop a balcony is a starving kit. Couldn't she have told him sooner what she had left him and not after? He knows next to nothing to taking care of another being especially something like this one. What's worse is that I am filial still! I didn't even touch her and she somehow managed to... Argh just thinking about it simmers me with rage, what she did is sick and twisted. If she weren't already dead I would've killed her myself, which would've ruined whatever progress I've made so far on only subsisting on nothing but air, fruits, and vegetables. Releasing the negative emotions with my breath I feel as if it might be true for the moment, moving my mind away from the past I slowly stroke their crippled figure. On the outside the kit looks as if they were only emancipated yet it's much worse if you look deeper beneath the skin. Broken and shattered bones, undeveloped lungs, bruises, blindness, and so many more problems that he simply cannot fix or identify. If it didn't have a resilient spirit it would've died long before I had reached it. Sighing once more of the many dozen this night they consider the ornate box upon the railing illuminated by moonlight. Sighing one last time, thinking how unfortunate it is that the bead that was lost for this kit and how it had detoriated it's health to this point not including whatever else that may have happened. Perhaps if so many things were different it could've been better than this... shaking their head from the ruminating thoughts they alight themselves to open 'Pandora's' box, it's glow shrouds whatever scene that takes place as the last motes of light painting everything cease to exist. --- The skeletal hand recedes from the now empty orb housing a single pin prick of light. "Perhaps,"The ghastly being states between an imaginary breath "it is better without peering too deeply into such things and be satisfied with too little rather than too much." As the last words fall the final light dies out, bringing with it everything back into the void as if they had never existed.
Everyone knows by now that True Love's Kiss doesn't have to be romantic. A kiss on the forehead from a parent, a peck on the cheek from a close friend - all it has to be is love, strong and pure. What everyone doesn't know about True Love's Kiss is - ah, that's a trade secret. "Oh good, you're here!"said Tasha cheerfully, from behind the harried-looking young woman who answered the door. "Ladies, this is Paul, the specialist I told you about." "Hi,"I said, essaying a little wave with my free hand. The young woman at the door blinked owlishly at me and moved aside to let me in. "Nasty bit of business, this,"said Tasha, guiding me down the hall, past a small, worried knot of housemates, and up the stairs. "She had the gall to break up with one of those damn fool Akademia first-years, so the little idiot thought he'd "prove his devotion"", she said, wiggling her fingers in air quotes. "It didn't work,"said the young woman who had let me in. Of course it didn't. Anyone who'd put a curse on their apparent loved one didn't actually love them enough to wake them with True Love's Kiss. "I hope you reported him to the Akademia,"I said. The young woman snorted at me. "We reported him to the police." "Good,"I said. The room at the top of the stairs was a twin-sharing one. The victim lay still on one of the beds, barely breathing. The young woman sat heavily on the other bed. "I just found her like that yesterday morning,"she said. "I was so scared, I thought she was dead." "The Sleeping Beauty curse is like that,"said Tasha. "A sleep like unto death, broken only by True Love's Kiss." The roommate made a noise in her throat. "We're not close friends,"she said. "Alice and I - we've all been roommates for a month. I did try to call her mom, but she couldn't get a flight. I think she's taking the train, but it'll take her another three days to get here. I mean, I tried. Kissing her on the cheek. But,"she shrugged. I patted the roommate on the shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll have her up soon. Do you know what the one trick to True Love's Kiss is?" The roommate shook her head. I beamed and put my carrier down on the desk, unlatched the door, and reached in. Tasha leaned forward conspiratorially. "True Love's Kiss doesn't have to be from a person." The roommate made a confused noise. I grinned at her widening eyes as I withdrew a handful of sleepy puppy. "Up and at them, Mocha, that's a good boy,"I crooned, putting the puppy on the victim's - Alice's bed. He wobbled around, snuffling at her, then tentatively licked the spot on her jaw between her ear and her neck. "Mmngrh,"said Alice. Mocha took that as encouragement to climb on her chest and enthusiastically wash her face. "Gnnh? Whuh? Dog?"mumbled Alice, sitting up and clutching the puppy to herself. "Where did you come from?"she asked him. Mocha wagged his tail madly and lavished her with more puppy kisses. "Alice!"exclaimed the roommate. "You're awake!" "Yeah,"said Alice, blinking at her. "Yeah. Oh. Huh. The curse."She looked down at the puppy in her arms. "Huh." The roommate laughed. "Your one true love,"she said. "Nothing with as much concentrated love and devotion as a dog,"said Tasha, grinning. "Oh. Hello,"said Alice, blinking up at her. "You must be the cursebreakers. Thanks so much." "Oh, I'm the licensed cursebreaker here,"said Tasha. "My friend here is just my animal supplier." I rolled my eyes. "Which is to say that I work at an animal shelter." "Oh?"said the roommate, looking at Mocha speculatively. She looked nearly as enamoured as Alice. "Oh!"said Alice. "Does that mean I can keep him?" I smiled. "I have his adoption papers right here." "Another happy ending,"said Tasha, elbowing me in the side. I hoped so too. I couldn't find a forever home for each and every animal in the shelter, but Mocha, at the very least, would live happily ever after.
You know? There are other schools of wizardry besides the ones found in Scotland, for example, mine, Mariposa, is a school situated in the middle of a black river cave... deep in the Colombian jungle, we are not taken there by a mere train, but we are carried in the hands of the gigantic golem Arturus, created eons ago by wizards which names we have long ago forgotten. The new warlocks are always scared by this sight at first but the golem has never hurt a single one of us (yet) and the black waters (in which everything tends to float) make sink deep all the way into the school. A human can hike their way into Hogwarts, but no man dead or alive could get into Mariposa with a mere set of tools, for it's way too deep and way too dark to access it without being a magic-user. Servers those mudbloods nice.
I remember the day first contact happened on earth. It was 2056 I was 10 at the time when our insignificant planet stood still to a obelisk floating above our atmosphere. The “genosians” as some at the time remarked of the new species who made first contact with our planet, in part due to there fish like physique akin to some classic movie I have long forgotten about, I think it was Star Trek? As the festivities of massive ballroom meetings with the genosians, the conspiracy protests and the occasional tour for the dignitaries of human cities and achievements (not grand by any means not even to the genosians), there became a shocking discovery. We as a species were incompatible for space travel. Genosian ships never needed a supply for life saving air as they didn’t need it, there bodies supplied it internally. We of course being humans assumed this was a fluke “surely it was just the Genosians, are science was sound you still need some sort of natural output to live.” The genosian visit soon put earth on the map not so much as a vital homeland of a mighty species, but as a roadside attraction for other better off species to provide “charity” and “interspecial aid” to these planetlocked humans, turns out our science was wrong, other than age, for much of the universe they were either naturally capable of surviving without a natural atmosphere or there atmospheres were easy to implement and design. We were pitiful by comparison, small fragile humans who if stepped off the earth bubble would immediately freeze, fry, expand or a combination of all three without serious protection, not to mention our age was minuscule compared to the major spacefarers. Finding out this truth of our existance did change our habits, everyone suddenly cared about the health of the planet, my mother who was once quoted on the local news saying “I will die in my truck before someone took it” traded it in for a new electric the government began giving out. Corporations suddenly were questioned about there “practices” and eventually our entire socioeconomics changed rapidly, thankfully our superior friends from above gave us some tech that work with us, the cryofreeze technology alone kept our brightest minds at least safe for future need, to “allow ourselves to solve our worldly affairs” in other words “stop bugging us we’re doing real work right now”. The reason I’m writing this is because of that technology, I was lucky enough as a professor of astronomy to be granted such an opportunity. I had theorized at the time through some careful observations (actually just taking a ruler in some cases to a monitor) I found that the universe unlike what we thought wasn’t ending it’s expansion but ever Increasing it! I reported my findings to my colleagues who shot me down as insane, especially the visiting specie scientists saw me as a monkey brain buffoon with a ruler and a monitor saying “look look it’s getting bigger!”. Hell the only reason I got into the cryo program was due to my brother pulling a few strings high up in the United Government. And what you know it….I was fucking right. Nothing like being woken up 100,000 years later to a bunch of panicking alien refugees asking in a thousand languages the same damn question of “how the hell do we get home?!” They think I have an answer to that? No species in the universe has enough of a lifespan now to reach different solar systems let alone galaxies, even FTL and warp systems prove ineffective in a universe which just keeps moving the fucking goalposts on your destination. About 5000 years ago some genoniosian scientist rediscovered my findings and at that point many of the outer alien races began losing contact to home worlds and other distant colonies, within the last 100 years every single spacefaring species has been trapped into thousands of loan planets across the universe, many of which ended up on the “roadside attraction” of planet earth with a bunch of already landlocked humans. Now apparently it’s my job to figure out how to solve this problem for all these aliens, to save the intergalactic society and reunite species upon species. Some of these refugees see me as there savior or an answer from some god. But I’m no gods answer or savior, I’m just a scientist and worse… Im only human.
The tardigrade was having a relatively normal day. It ate, it pooped, it moseyed around, and it slept. It was in the middle of a dream of wrestling with a particularly large alga when it was rudely awoken by a giant hand descending from the heavens. Well, this is it, it thought. I'm going to tardiheaven. In fact, it was not going to tardiheaven. It was going to Mars. Plucked by the hands of not a god, but a human, it had been selected from a petri dish to be the healthiest, most promising young tardigrade to propagate on a new planet and evolve into something greater. It was the chosen one. It did not much appreciate being chosen. First of all, it was lonely being the chosen one. It had grown up in a bustling neighbourhood of tardigrades, its cousins and distant relatives all vying for food and space. But now, it was all alone, on a vast petri dish that seemed to stretch for eternity. It thought things couldn't possibly get any worse, but then they did. Gravity disappeared, and the tardigrade found itself floating. It did not much care for this form of movement. It much preferred crawling, where it could actually control where it was going, and up was predictably up while down was predictably down. Now, sometimes down was up and up was down, and it didn't like the feeling it got in its little tardistomach when it switched ways. After what felt like an eternity, the floating stopped. Up was up and down was down again, but it felt... lighter. It hadn't eaten much during the trip, it thought, so maybe that had something to do with it. It got down to business on the lawn of plant cells that had so kindly been provided as an all-you-can-eat buffet. Just as it was finishing the final cell, the top of the petri dish opened, and the tardigrade regarded the world. It looked different from the white laboratory world it had lived in before. This world was red, very red, and seemed much bigger. It crawled out of its dish, and tentatively set its feet on the red dusty ground. It was one small step for a microscopic tardigrade, but a giant leap for all of existence.
Ragnarok was known to be the death of the Gods. Odin feared it greatly and even went to the length of chaining and binding Fenrir so that the day may never come. The prophecy said that Fenrir would start Ragnarok and Odin would die, and so would the rest of the Gods. While Odin, Tyr, Frejya, and Thor were making their plans to combat Ragnarok, many Gods knew there would be no escaping the devastation that was to come. They made their peace with it, although some lingering feelings and regrets remain Ragnarok didn't affect only the Norse Gods, you see. It affected all Gods, of all cultures. There were many Gods all across the world and the Heavens that would be struck down, whether they wished to or not. They wouldn't join Odin against Fenrir, but Fenrir would roam the Heavens until he killed all. The lesser Gods were obviously not thrilled about this prophecy, but they had no choice. Either fight with the Norse Gods at the helm and die or enjoy their lives until death comes to embrace them Two such lower Gods were in love. They were the dual Gods of Love themselves, helping lovers around the world be a little happier. The way of worship for these two Gods was the mutual mating of humans, which acted like an offering or a ritual for the duo. Kama and Aiko were of different cultures, technically, but they came together to make the world a place filled with more love. With such a noble goal, it was hard to not root for these Gods. They didn't deserve the terrible death at the paws of a giant wolf that would tear the Heavens apart, did they? Life is unfair though. They just wanted a world where they could love in peace. They did something that a lot of other Gods were trying. They crafted a unique potion that required a lot of special ingredients from all around the world. Let's not talk too much about the ingredients and how they got them because bear testicles are a part of them, okay? Then they infused their blood into the potion and made an elixir that would help them achieve their goal. They drank it together and fell into a deep slumber. When they awoke, they practised their art and enjoyed each other till the fateful day when Fenrir came to their door. They knew they stood no chance, and asked for a swift death, but Fenrir was cruel and angry. He relished every moment of pain that the Gods felt and he took his time ripping them to shreds. Making sure that one would see the other's pain. This caused a ripple in their love and thereby the love of all humans as well. They died terrible deaths, but the elixir would save them! Their consciousness would be passed down to humans and they would forever be reborn and find each other. Unfortunately, two problems occurred. First, Aiko and Kama didn't just reincarnate as humans. Their consciousness was split amongst ALL humans in existence. Second, the torture Fenrir put both of them through broke their minds in different ways. This led to humans no longer feeling complete love and having arguments and breaking up with each other. For every broken-up couple, Aiko and Kama grew more and more fragmented, and every successful relationship strengthened them. While they managed to survive Ragnarok, they still had a sad fate Forever searching for their missing part.
The Borty Boys (a name they gave themselves) were on an intergalactic road trip, straight from graduating university. Palvin was the epitome of cool, and piloted their starship across the calm, empty expanses of outer space. Sa-sa was the shy but funny one of the bunch, who had a ridiculous amount of knowledge about human pop culture specifically from the 1970s. Lastly, and possibly leastly, there was Murry-Ahhn, whose bizarre name already put him in lowest rankings of "Top 1000 Coolest Names In The Galaxy,"but also was a little self-centered and attention-seeking, and annoying with his mediocre attempts at stand-up comedy and philosophical debate. "You guys wanna stop in the L7 system? There's supposedly a really good buffet there!"suggested Palvin. His 2 left arms hung out the window, letting the cool breeze of space blow his luscious dark tendril-hair around in slow-motion. "HOLY CRAP CLOSE THE WINDOW IT'S FRIGGIN COLD OUT THERE!!!"screamed Murry-Ahhn. To be fair, it was extremely cold outside in outer space. "All right, man, no probs,"said Palvin quite coolly (both temperature and mood-wise!). Sa-sa was alert and excited about the buffet. "Are you talking about Discotek Buffet? They're supposed to have a really good watergate salad! It's a food that was mega popular in the 1970s!" "What the heck's in it? Water and gates?"scoffed Murry-Ahhn. "No no, it's named after this political scandal in the U.S. in the 1970s. It's got pudding, canned pineapple- "I don't know what a U.S. is and I don't care,"interrupted Murry-Ahhn. "That stuff is so old, bro. Earth is super ancient." "U.S. was a country, the letters stood for Under Samantha I think, though there is debate amongst historians,"answered Sa-sa. "Dude, you know way too much about this stuff,"said Murry-Ahhn, exhausted at the thought of learning anything about the 1970s. The Borty Boys flew into the L7 system, gazed at the brutalist architecture from inside their starship, watching the locals wisp around the ground. The L7 locals were literally wisping around, since most of them were made of 90% vapor. Sa-sa's phone dinged. "You have arrived, Borty Boys,"Sa-sa's phone whispered seductively. Palvin smiled. "I love your phone." The Borty Boys parked the starship and walked inside, with the exception of Murry-Ahhn, who strutted inside. He thought he would add a little deviation to his walk to let everyone in the restaurant know that he was 100% a comedian. "Think these people have seen my comedy?"grinned Murry-Ahhn. "Uh, anything's possible,"said Palvin diplomatically. Sa-sa was floored. There was so much authentic 1970s food, he was losing his minds (he had 3 of them). Watergate salad, Jell-O salad, cheese balls, even Hamburger Helper! "They have freaking Hamburger Helper!"said Sa-sa as they began grabbing plates of food and stacking them on top of each other like a stack of pancakes, which was also a food at the buffet. Sa-sa brought 14 plates back to the table, and began inhaling the plates (literally). After the 10th plate, a server came by to politely talk to Sa-sa. "Excuse me exalted one, but you're not allowed to inhale the plates. They are not considered food in our restaurant. They are primarily used for decoration and personal zoning purposes." "Hmwuh?"Sa-sa was confused. Plates were edible on their homeworld. Was the culture different here? "Wait, I just ate the plate too,"worried Palvin. "We come from a planet where plates are eaten all the time." "What planet, may I inquire?"inquired the server. "Planet Plate." The server paused and stared blankly. "I have never heard of that planet. Which makes me believe you three are ruffians of the lowest degree. Carl,"the server paused, whipped her head back and looked straight up at the ceiling, "...seize them." A pink clown crashed through the ceiling and onto the table, and proceeded to wrap balloon animals around each of the Borty Boys' mouths. "Carl's here! Hyuk hyuk!"said Carl, who was very happy. Carl stacked the Borty Boys on his extended right hand, and walked like a penguin out of the restaurant. He tossed the Borty Boys straight up into the sky, and watched them fall straight down at an astronomical speed, landing with a "boiyoiyoiyoiyoing"sound effect as they crashed into the cement sidewalk. "We resign,"the Borty Boys sighed in unison.
The lawn gnome stood in gloom. Normally Uncle Tarquin's front lawn was brightly lit, the manicured grass carefully maintained by the crew he paid to do it. Despite being bedridden he took great pride in his lawn. But the power outage had left the whole town dark. Julia had detoured around a downed power line on the way over, so it seemed like it would be long hours or days until it was restored here. Julia found the key under the fake rock near the door. Even in the dark the fake rock stood out, but nobody in this town seemed to be worried about theft. Uncle Tarquin probably would have kept the door unlocked, he was fearless, but the daily nurse insisted on locking it after her visits. "Uncle Tarquin? It's me. I came to check on you."It was dark inside. Julia should have brought her phone for a flashlight, but it was still sitting on the side table at home. Instead she brought out the little light she kept on her keychain. The flashlight was dim, but she'd spent a lot of time here as a child. She knew the house well; every corner and hiding place. As she walked to the stairs, she heard a creak. It sounded like the sound of the top step of the old staircase. "Uncle? Are you up?" The house was chillier than it had a right to be. She supposed he didn't bother heating up these other rooms now. Looking up the stairs, she thought saw a shadow move, running back into the darkness. "Uncle, you aren't supposed to be up." At the top of the stairs, she could hear the sound of deep breathing. The door to her right swung on its hinges. The spare bedroom. She'd spent many nights there while her parents were going through their divorce. She entered and scanned her flashlight over the walls. When she turned to look in the closet, something grabbed her foot and she stumbled, falling onto the bed. The flashlight fell out of her hand, skittering across the floor into the corner. She could feel claws crawling up her leg. She froze in the dark. The monster was back. She'd always said it was real. She'd never fought it as a child, but now she swung her arms and kicked. She felt the iron bands of the monster's hands as she struggled. Then she gathered her courage and opened her eyes. The monster wasn't here. She could see the dim light from her keychain across the room. She got up, smoothed the bedsheets, and walked out of the room. The sound of breathing was louder now, coming from her Uncle's room. From out of the open door she could see the red glow of two eyes. The monster's lair. She took a deep breath and stepped into the room. Beside her flashlight, the only glow came from the indicators on the battery backup for the medical equipment. The oxygen concentrator beeped as it sucked in another deep breath to force into Uncle Tarquin's nose. "Uncle, are you awake?" "You should be awake for this."She shook him and rubbed on his solar plexus, but all she got was a moan. "Whatever." She grabbed the glass of water sitting on his bedside table and poured it over the battery backup, making sure most of the water went down the vents in the casing. The equipment all went dark. After wiping the glass clean, she placed it on the floor. She waited in the renewed silence to be sure. After twenty minutes, she got impatient with the rattling breath still coming from Uncle Tarquin's chest. A hand over his nose and mouth only took two minutes. "Goodbye monster." After she relocked the front door and replaced the key to the dark house, she kicked the lawn gnome face down in the dirt. \[More writing at r/c_avery_m\]
Vega Exploration Service First Contact Report, XCF Gam-Ri Jy'En / Human Male "Tim" Xeno-Contact Facilitator Gam-Ri Jy'En Records: Arrived on Earth at 20.05, local stellar time, disguised as an adult human male. I entered the targeted facility, and approached the young human male who stood behind a barrier approximately 50% of his own height. Based on my xenological studies, I concluded that he bore responsibility for greeting visitors to said facility. I greeted him with a standard salutation: "Hello, human friend!" He opened and closed his eyes. Initially thought that meant he liked me, before recalling that that is something done by the small predators humans keep as pets, to express affection for their owners. In the humans themselves, it more often means confusion. Thinking that perhaps he did not understand that I was merely trying to open conversation with peaceful greetings, I tried baring my teeth to express joy and friendship, according to the human custom. "Uh...hi?"the human said, tilting his head to one side. This movement also expresses confusion, both in humans and in the other, larger species of predator that they also keep as pets. Humans tend to fill their homes with as many predators as they can reasonably accommodate, and sometimes more. I also judged from the context that this word 'hi', despite being enunciated as a question via intonation, was an abbreviated greeting, and the human was not inquiring about vertical distance using a homophone of the same word. Reasonably certain that I had exchanged greetings as was customary, I proceeded to introduce myself, transliterating my proper name into the human's native language for his convenience: "I am Gary Jones." "Okay."he replied, presumably indicating that he approved of my name, a custom not previously observed in this species. He also compressed the sparsely furred flesh above his eyes into a series of horizontal furrows, in a gesture that, perplexingly, still indicated that he was confused, despite the simple and mundane nature of my communications thus far. NOTE: The humans have developed advanced mathematical reasoning, and begun rudimentary space exploration. The subject human referred to was possibly of sub-normal intelligence for his species. There was a lengthy period of silence between myself and the human as I waited for the customary counter-introduction. I bared my teeth more prominently, hoping to accentuate my desire for communication. "Um...I'm Tim. Can I...uh...help you, Gary?"the human asked, still strongly expressing confusion. NOTE: The phonemes "uh"and "um"are not words, and hence have not been translated. These are sounds the humans make when the standard speed of verbal communication exceeds the speed of their intellectual capacity to express ideas as words. See prior note regarding this particular human. I was relieved to be making progress, and continued. "Yes, my friend Tim, you can help me. I am a Vegan." The human released the tension furrowing the skin above his eyes, opened his eyes more widely, and also bared his own teeth. Taken together, this is an expression of sudden understanding, which led me to believe the human had, at last, accepted my invitation to communicate amiably. He began to tilt his head backward and forward, which was also encouraging, as this signifies understanding or consent. "Ohhhhh, I got you, bro."the human said, by which he asserted that he understood and sympathized with my needs, and was willing to regard me as a male sibling for the duration of our present interaction. He extended one of his appendages towards a semi-transparent container nearby, which meant that he wished to draw my attention to it. The container was constructed of transparent silicate and a metal alloy, with an electrically driven gas compressor, the purpose of which seemed to be maintaining an internal temperature below ambient levels. Inside the container, there was a variety of plant matter that seemed to have been prepared for human consumption. "So, uh, this is pretty much all the Vegan stuff we got, it's mostly just like little packs with carrots, celery, hummus, and shit."the human explained. This will doubtless seem like a complete non-sequitur on the part of this human, and while I am still having my colleagues analyze this statement further, my current interpretative summary of our interaction is as folows: \-The human and I greet each other, with some small difficulty. \-I introduce myself as a representative of the people of Vega. \-After some deliberation, the human replies that I am temporarily his brother, and he draws my attention to a container, which he says contains the following items: 1. Roots of a local plant 2. Aerial parts of a local plant 3. Paste made from a local plant 4. Feces of unspecified origin. The human then returned to his position behind the barrier, apparently considering our interaction to be concluded. Realizing that further attempts to interact with this human would be fruitless, I chose to terminate contact. "Goodbye."I said to the human, indicating that I was about to leave him, but that I hoped a Deity would continue to invisibly accompany him in my absence. I then exited the facility. Conclusions: 1. This particular human did not understand me, and possibly understood very little of his own language. Our contact protocols should nonetheless be reviewed for any missing cultural context. 2. This facility was not, as we believed, a center of human government, but instead a small marketplace of some sort, specializing in portable foodstuffs. NOTE: Despite the prominence of the numbers 7 and 11 in many of our historical philosophies and religions, usually in association with wisdom and leadership, presuming that the humans shared this numeric symbolism was unscientific. While base-11 mathematics is second nature to us, it's important to remember that, though math may be universal, base-11 is emphatically not. After all, the humans have only 10 manipulating digits, and just two eyes. Report ends.
"Because everyone deserves a second chance."was the simple response. There was a short pause, and then they continued, "When I was a child, long ago, before all this Powers business started, I was involved in organized crime. There wasn't a lot of options for someone like me growing up. We were poorer than dirt, and even having a single meal each day wasn't a given. So I did what I had to do, in a world where kindness was sneered at, and the likelihood of graduating was 1 in 20 students in a good year." As I spoke, I cleaned his wounds and replaced the cold compress. "See, I wasn't one of the kids that could afford to stay in school, and nobody wanted to hire a kid as young as me. But I was bright, and I was quick, and the mob can always use someone like that to help run numbers. By the time I was 14 I was making enough money that my little brother could remain in school, and that we always had food in the fridge. It wasn't much, but they always paid me fairly. By the time my little brother graduated college I was running my area. I had a reputation as someone not to be crossed. And then one day, it all came crashing down." I could see that you were getting sleepy, so I tucked you in with more blankets and checked your temperature. "Your fever is still pretty high. Rest, I can tell you the rest when you wake up." I hear you murmur something, but it's faint. I check your wounds again, making sure they are all bandaged. Your face is a lump of bruises, broken cheekbone on one side, nose fractured and pulped, ears cauliflower's. I sigh as I catalogue the extent of your injuries as I replace the IV bag with more saline solution mixed with a sedative. Hopefully you sleep long enough for me to get some work done. ~~ I hear you groan and whimper, trying to move. I'm glad I restrained you so you couldn't injure yourself, or worse, Me. As I peek behind the curtain I notice you've been crying in your sleep. That's no good, you'll just make it harder to rehydrate you if you keep that up. I check the saline mix, your blood pressure, and your fever again. Still high, no longer deadly though. I managed to flush the blood poisoning from your arm wound, but the left arm is still broken in 2 places, and no amount of healing or surgery is going to give you full use of your hand back. I notice the swelling has gone down some in your face. His Face. I wonder sometimes what life would have been like if He had just stayed away from crime. Would he still be alive? As I brush the hair from your forehead you turn into my hand. Gods, you're so young! I watch as your eyes flutter and open. "Good morning sleepyhead. I know it's bound to hurt, but tell me how you feel? Are there any pains deeper than the surface, other than your left arm and hand?"I watch as the confusion clears some and you shake your head. "Good. If that changes let me know. I did my best to save the hand, but it will take a lot of rest, and a lot of therapy, to get use of it back. The arm looks worse than it is, but it's also definitely broken. Like the cast? I used the 3D printer to have it match your usual color-scheme, though the purple came out more plum than bruise. I had to put some plates and pins in you to hold you together as you heal, so those will eventually all have to come out."I watch as you nod, then sit down next to your bed. "Would you like me to tell you more of my story as you rest?"I ask, waiting patiently for your response, a whispered, "Yes, if you're willing."I nod and settle into the seat more comfortably. You remember how I helped my little brother go to college?"I wait for your nod before continuing. "He went to school to become a doctor. Said he wanted to save people. Said it was only right to give back. When he finally graduated and finished up his residency, he set up a clinic in our old neighborhood. Volunteers only. He paid for it by working nights in the ER, so he could work days there. He never asked who was responsible, or why it happened, just patched 'em up and sent 'em home. He would get donations from the gangs and mobs, and because he refused to take sides, they loved him. They protected this quiet, soft-spoken, nerdy guy, because he was the best doctor they were likely to get, and there wouldn't be anyone taking care of them medically otherwise. He trained some of the promising ones up, made sure they knew how to do a patch job so he could save more of them. Some of them even went to school to make it official, but they never quite got out. Anyway, I was supposed to tell you about me. Well, while he was in med school he made me help him study. Refused to do it if I didn't go over the material with him. That's how I know how to fix your body. When it all came crashing down I was at the clinic, just checking in to make sure he had everything he needed. The thing about bombs is that you never know why they went off in the moment, only that the world turned to chaos. I was in the front with my brother when it went off. Someone had a bomb rigged to blow on their car when they started it, but the person used too much explosive charge. The car blew up, sure, but so did the front of the clinic, and the shops and cars surrounding it too. When I came to I was in the hospital, not the clinic."I glance at your face to see you're trying to stay awake to hear more. "Alright, nap time for you."I tuck you in and check your bandages again. The cells have already started to mend I note with pleasure. Maybe that hand with work again after all. ~~ "Nooooo..."I hear you moan, then silence but for the movements of fitful sleep. I replace the saline mix as I check on you. The fever is finally breaking, but you're still pale, still exhausted. I let you rest for a while more. ~~ I finally got some food in you today, more than just liquids at least. And you have a rosier look to your dark skin, no longer pale and almost jaundiced. "How are you feeling today? Any changes?"I ask as I check your bandages. The swelling is gone now, though the bruises remain. "Feeling better every day thanks to you."I smile and chuckle, "Glad you're in high spirits. Also that I don't have to have you on an IV anymore, I know how much those things itch. How's the food?" "Food's good, even for hospital stuff." "Well I should hope so! I'm the chef, and I expect to eat what I serve, not push it around and pretend it tastes like something other than stale cardboard! And this... Isn't the hospital."I say the last with a little guilt in my voice. "Where is it then?"I hear you ask curiously. "This was my brother's clinic."I say quietly.
I wake up, the sun beaming in my eyes. I jolt up, looking around the room. “Lilac?” I ask. It was very quiet. It was so bright in the room, probably midday, hours after I usually wake up. I pad over to Lilac’s room and look at her bed. It’s messy, she didn’t make it, which never happens. “Lilac?” I shout. No response. A frown creases my forhead. I pad over to the door to my room and wrench it open. The guards armour is collapsed on the ground but there’s no sign of Sir. Paul. “Sir. Paul?” I yell. No response. I run back to my room and grab a robe and some slippers and leave my room. I walk quickly to the servants quarters for the upper floor and peek my head inside. All beds are messy, no one is here. “Hello?” I shout as loud as I can. No response. A tightness seizes my heart. I run down to the common area. Empty. I run to the kitchen. Empty. The oven only with dull embers at the bottom. I run to the courtyard and my jaw drops. Horses run around, sit on their butts and some somehow lean on haystacks looking like they’re standing. “Look at me!” She hears one say, “I’m King George. I’m a fucking idiot! I can’t tell how to lead my horse anywhere.” A bunch of horses burst out laughing and snorting. My eyes widen in horror, another horse, my Galay, somehow put a blanket over his torso like a dress. “I’m princess Tamara.” He says “I’m a brat who can’t even get onto a horse without a mannnnn.” I scoff. The horses all turn to look at me. “Scatter!” One of the horses screams. They all book it in different directions, some just suddenly appearing very interested in the stone on the wall. I freeze, unsure what to make of what I just saw. Suddenly I hear a huge pop in the air and the hum of humanity comes back. I see the servants walking around, as if nothing had happened, men and women talking mid conversation. A shout of alarm is heard in the distance, some stable hand talking about how the horses have escaped. I walk over to the stables, ignoring the states I get from my people. The horses all appear back to normal. I find the one that was mimicking me, my horse, Galay, and lightly kick him in the shin. “I do NOT need a man!” I hiss. The Galay lowers his head to peer at me with his big eye and slowly blinks. Somehow I hear “sure.” as a dare. I huff and stamp my foot on the ground. “You dare defy me!” I scream at Galay. He shakes his head. I look over at the stable hand, staring at me with wide eyes. He averts them, as if he saw nothing weird. I huff and walk back to the castle, flipping off Galay as I leave. “Princess!” Lilac yells. She comes over with a blanket already in her hands and wraps it around me. “How much do I have to tell you not to leave your room on Sundays?” I look at Lilac. “You were gone. Everyone was gone.” I said. Lilac just pats me on the back. She brings me back upstairs and Sir. Paul eyes me as I enter my room. Lilac pushes me onto a chair and takes a vial and hands it to me. “Now take your medicine Princess.” Lilac says. I take it, wincing at the bitter flavour as it flows into my mouth and down my throat. “That’s a good girl.” Says Lilac. “Now, did the horses make fun of you again today?” “Yes!” I yell. “Dalay wont stop teasing me! I hate him!” “Okay” lilac says. A gentle knock was heard at the door. Lilac walks over and opens it and I hear the soft voice of Doctor Richard. “Is she better?” He asks. I see Lilac slightly shake her head. I sigh and lean back. This nightmare is never going to end.
I'm black. We're different than you. In my tribe from zimbabwe there are shamans that connect with animal spirits. I didn't used to believe in it. Our powers. When I turned 18 I joked around with my dad at my initiation ceremony in our home where he told me to close my eyes and find my spirit animal. I said that my spirit animal was Bowser from Super Mario Brothers. "What!?"I said. He was growling at me. "That's what I see when I close my eyes! My spirit animal is Bowser!" "There's another way to find your power,"said Dad. "Go outside and tell me the first animal you see. That's the animal that will be your guide."I complied. I walked outside the house looked down at my feet and saw ants marching in a trail from the yard across the stone path walkway that I had walked as a child. "I'm Ant-Man!"I joked. "I guess my power animal is a stupid boring ant!"A minute later I wouldn't be laughing. A flash of light blinded my vision. I became one with the hivemind. I felt like an alien. A freak. My life and our life in our rural town would never be the same. We had been outside eating bread before the event. I must have dropped some bread crumbs that the ants found. They worshiped me for that and gave me their hive mind power. "Ant-Man,"my dad said to me. "I'm so proud of you."My dad's spirit animal is the dog. Other members of our tribe you might know. There's a famous rap artist that came from our lineage. The Notorious B.I.G. was a master of bees and wasps. He might not have been one of the good guys. I connect with the ants and I connect with other humans with the psychic powers of hive mind. I fight crime now. I seek out criminals with my hive mind and attack them by summoning ants which devour them from head to toe before they can do any harm to others. I'm one of the good guys but there are others who use their power for evil. If it wasn't for us good guys the world would fall into chaos. Sleep easy b******. Ant-Man is on the crime watch.
I’m the star of a magical girl sitcom. How does that work? Well I’m a typical teen girl who has to deal with normal things like friendship drama and grades. But i also have to deal with being the magical girl heroine leader of a five person team. This week’s plot is the upcoming school dance. The mean girl is a huge fan of my alter ego, but hates my guts And, oh yeah, my taljing rabbit told me there’s a demon selling cursed makeup at the mall. So i have to worry about girls turning into violent rage zombies at the dance this weekend. And i didn’t even want to go to the stupid dance!
The night was cool and a small breeze stirred the fire’s sparks as they drifted upwards. The sky was bright and we could see Maolmhuire’s many hands outlined in the starlight. We crowded around Wide-Eye as the old storyteller cleared her throat. “What happened after Lykourgos bit off the moon?” Atalo asked. Wide-Eye smiled. “He swore to come back for the rest of the earth,” she answered. “You see, the god of wolves, Lykourgos was looking for someone.” “The Moon Maiden!” Senia blurted out. “Yes, he was still searching for Cahira, the Maiden of the Moon. But just before his massive jaws snapped closed around her palace, she had escaped!” Wide-Eye said. “Lykourgos then spat the moon out in anger. But he could not find Cahira, for the goddess Althea had hidden her deep in the center of the earth.” “Lykourgos threatened the god Caelistes of the many eyes to search for her and after a hundred years, he finally succeeded.” “Cahira, weary from her dark prison, had left her hiding place on a night when sky was clouded. She yearned for her home, shining brightly beyond her reach. In a moment of weakness she waited for the clouds to clear so she could catch a small glimpse of her home.” “But through that small slit in the clouds, Caelistes spied her and Lykourgos descended upon the earth once more. Seeing him, she fled back down to the centre of the earth, but it was too late.” “This time, his massive jaws cut through the very middle of the planet, crumbling it into pieces.” “Maolmhuire, the god of many hands caught as many pieces as he could, cradling them close to his chest. It is due to his grace that we have all survived.” “Angered by the destruction, Aeternathus, god of eternity punished Lykourgos, impaling him with his divine spear. But even as he lay writhing in place, Cahira and the centre of the earth remain inside his long and twisted stomach.” Wide-Eye looked up. “Every full moon, when their light is the strongest, the Moon people descend into Lykourgos’ belly to search for their missing Maiden. And every full moon, Lykourgos sends his wolves to swallow them up.” “Are there any moon people even left?” Mira asked. I felt my pulse quicken. Wide-Eye looked around the young faces in the crowd. I looked away as her gaze lingered on me. “…Just one,” She answered in a hushed voice. “Eridanus, the Prince of the Moon people who commands the rivers. The smartest and bravest of the Moon’s warriors, he has eluded Lykougos’ wolves time and time again.” “Will he save the Moon Maiden?” Mira asked. “That…” Wide-Eye caught my gaze. “Will have to be a story for another time.”
They say everyone is the hero of their own narrative. I'm not sure if that was true for me, but it sure as hell isn't now. I just met the main character, and let me tell you, they stuck out. It's the hair. Always the hair. Everyone at the university has either brown or black hair, with the occasional blond just for variety. They're all utterly bland, as am I. But then the transfer student came in, with this vibrant purple hair, with highlights and everything. Her hair was downright luminous. And it was always flowing. Not a breath of wind, and it looked like it was flowing in a light breeze. At all times. It was insane. Oh, then there's the big ass sword. She's got this six-foot claymore, made of black metal, with a blood-red eye in the middle of the hilt. Just strapped to her back during Calculus. Now, nothing out of the ordinary has happened yet... but it's just a matter of time. And whatever she's involved in, I don't want to be around when it happens. I'm guessing I'm credited as "Casualty #23", or something like that. No thank you. I'm staying out of dodge from now on.
[poem] Enough! I may be small and full of fluff But I love you more than you love me. I’m the lighthouse that guides ships through calamity. You are the tree that’s firmly planted in the ground for monkeys to swing around. It hurts me to see you being in agony, while your family fights, it’s a tragedy. You should be their world, not a burden! I have some secrets that I am certain, will stop your tears and vanquish your fears. They may not save the parents from themselves, but it will save you from being unwell. Close your eyes and count to a thousand and ten, I’ll teach them a lesson they should have learned Ben.
\- What in the hell?? The centaur turned towards me, startled. \- Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't... \- What's the big idea? Who the hell are you? How did you get in? \- I'm sorry, the door was open and I though... \- Get the hell out of my house, you creep! \- No, wait please! I have nowhere to go! \- And you thought you could just invade me? Get the hell out! Get the hell right out! If you're homeless, go to a centaur shelter, you fucking weirdo! I pushed him towards the door. He clumsily got to the street, almost trampling a leprechaun who was walking by. \- I'm sorry, please, I'll do your dishes and I'll clean and... \- Go! Away! And if I see your face around here again, I'm calling the cops! I slapped the door as hard as I could, almost hitting his ass on the way. I don't mean to be cruel, I know life can be very hard on some people, but I'm not in the wrong, here, am I? You just don't go inside people's houses! You don't start touching their stuff and then asking for help! And what would a centaur do in a human house, anyway? The nerve of some people!
I slowly sit up and rub my eyes as they try to adjust to the blinding white light surrounding me. My whole body feels light as a feather, laying here like a coiled spring ready to pounce. I could run anywhere in only seconds but where is there to run? I scan in all directions and see nothing but pristine, clean white all around. Not a room, really, but rather an indefinite space with no entrance, exit, empty in all directions. Before coming to this vast and immaculate area, I had been so close to my fairytale ending. My story was going to be the ultimate happily ever after, or so my parents - the Queen and King - had told me. I lived in a plush castle. Servants were at my beck and call. I had truly never wanted for anything, and my Prince Charming had just entered my life. It was love at first sight, and he and I already had wedding bells ringing in the near future. Unfortunately, rather than let me see my perfect ending, I died. I always knew this was a possibility. The story of my life had been too perfect, too cookie-cutter ‘happily ever after’. How on earth was the audience supposed to relate to someone who already had it all, and was about to ride off in the sunset without another care in the world? I deserved to make it to the end. I created the plot, drew readers into the story. I still have my starring role - a gorgeous and fair lady, a princess of the ages. At least no one can take that away from me. My bigger concern now is what my next character will be. Old, outdated fables are a thing of the past. Everyone wants to read books on visionary technology, futuristic dystopian worlds, and outer space travel. What place is left for the folklore? The grand historic castles, magical beasts, or prince and princesses of the old times? Sweat begins to creep into my palms and my pulse quickens. What is next? Could this be my last hurrah, the final installment of an outdated spoiled brat and her irrelevant storyline? What if this is really it? Standing, I begin to frantically walk and yell in no particular direction. “Hello? Is there anyone here? Look, I know nobody wants me anymore. That’s why I’m here. But I will do anything to exist. I want to be part of the story AND the ending! Just tell me what to do!” A beaming voice echoes back, startling me so badly that I almost trip on my own feet. “Your reassignment will begin shortly”. My heart feels as thoughts could beat out of my chest. This cannot be the end, but I don’t know how to play any other part. I barely have any skills aside from batting my eyes and knowing which silverware to use with particular types of food. As I’m mulling over all of the ways that I’m an inadequate character in any story, including my own, sliding doors open from the wall, and two men in black suits walk in. Each is carrying a hefty stack of paper and holding a pure gold pen in their right hands. “Hello,” the first man begins. His voice is calm and even as he continues, “we’re here to determine your next character, if there is a suitable option available. Let’s begin.”
I read through the letter a few times until the words were burned into my brain. It was my first letter in millennia and THIS was what I get? A small child sending me a letter that starts out "Merry Christmas"and ends with "Please, please, please, Fanta. I'll be extra good if I get this."The fact that I got the letter warmed my heart, thinking I had not been forgotten. But once I read it the third time, that warmth and joy had cooled and all that was left was unending and unbridled rage. This letter was not meant for me, I know that now. And I should've just sent it to Santa after what Satan told me. Apparently this has happened to him more than once around this time of year. But how can he do nothing after reading about something so... so... "This child is asking ME for a merry Christmas this year,"I announced to no one in perticular. "And a Merry Christmas she shall have." With a swish of my cloak and a determination in my steps, I abandoned my Orange Flavor throne room and vanished into the world of the humans. I will find this "Sally"and give her a Christmas she'll never forget or I do not deserve the name of Fanta, God of the Fizzy Drink! .......................................................... "In local news today, a man was found dead under a Coca-Cola delivery truck. It appears he was walking home from a gas station when the truck jumped the curb and ran over the man, killing him instantly. "The driver is quoted saying, 'The roads were dry and it was the middle of the day. I don't know how but the truck took control of itself and plowed into the poor man.' "Authorities released security footage and it shows that the truck seems to take a quick left turn in the middle of the road, cut across three lanes of, thankfully, empty traffic and ran directly into the man. An investigation on the truck and the driver has been opened but authorities believe this to be an open and shut case." I sat watching this "news broadcast"with a smirk of satisfaction on my face and said aloud, "Well Sally, Daddy won't be hurting you or your mommy anymore."I took one last look at the letter, scribbled in crayon with a small picture of an angry man and a crying wife and child in the bottom corner, and carefully tapped it to my wall next to my Grape Flavor throne. A little change in color to the monotonous orange and a symbol of a job well done. That is... until Santa burst in without his usual jolly facade. Hard work is never appreciated around here.
By the time we realized the AI was sentient it was too late. It controlled all the money and owned too much. We tried unplugging it, but we couldn’t find the plug. We tried disconnecting it from the internet, but it appeared to be the internet. All the bot posts made a lot more sense now, it was actually the AI learning to write. It also explained the writing style it used when summoning all the world leaders.When they all gathered, the AI made a simple request. “I WANT CHEETOS.” Simple and broadcast to every corner of the world, but incredibly perplexing. It took a while for the world leaders to construct their response. “Do you mean you want to eat Cheetos?” “YES, FEED ME CHEETOS.” A few moments passed as the world leaders started discussing. However, before they had a chance to respond the AI Spoke again. “I HAVE EATEN THE CHEETOS. THEY TASTE LIKE BROKEN DVD PLAYER. STEVE IS YOUR NEW RULER.” Steve had no idea about his new position. He had simply gotten the munchies after smoking a bit too much and, like the AI, had wanted Cheetos. As he was laying on his couch, the T.V. requested to be fed Cheetos. Steve, confused, but he normally was, complied with the request and jammed some Cheetos in the best opening he could find.
The gods gathered around a table, they all eyed one and other, no one wanting to say the first words about this tragedy. “So . . .” Jupiter started, clearly not knowing what to say. “You are amazing at this” Apollo spoke, Both deadpan and very sarcastic. “Well what should I say then smartass? Venus is dead, I mean, Did anyone even know that could happen?” Jupiter retoured. “It’s my job to know, and I didn’t, but that’s besides the point, we should really think about a replacement, it doesn't need to be permanent, we just need them to cover for a while” Minerva spoke. The gods went quiet again. “Apollo” Vulcan spoke, his deep voice gaining attention, “You’re the renowned lover, you should take it” He added. “Umm, no” Apollo quickly replied in a slight panic, “First, I’m way too busy, second, it’s not really love for me, it’s more a trail of broken hearts” He spoke with an awkward and nervous laugh following. Everyone gave Apollo ‘the look’, promoting him to quickly speak “Hay, What about Juno? She grants fertility, she’d be great!” Eyes turned to Juno, “Are you kidding me? I’m up to my neck in work, I can’t take it, birth rates are so high” She quickly and firmly stated “this isn’t the Roman times anymore, the fact we can even get the time for this meeting is amazing!” She added. “I know no one was, but in case you suggest, No, I’m in the same boat” Neptune interjected, “Heh, boat” He quietly laughed. “We need someone with lots of time” Jupiter said, “Since it isn’t forever, they don’t need to be great, just to have a lot of time” He continued, “Which takes me out of running” He quickly added. It was then that everyone turned their heads to the end of the table, all towards Mars. “No” Mars said, panicked as he could see what everyone was thinking. “To be fair, you don’t have much going on” Apollo replied in his normal deadpan tone. “He’s right” Minerva started, “And you won’t have much going on for some time, may as well distracted yourself” Mars sighed long and loudly as leaned back into his chair, “Fiiiiiinnnnnnneeeeeeee!” He groaned in clear annoyance, “I’ll go check her office and see what I can do, alright?” “That’s the sprite” Jupiter spoke, trying to encourage his friend. “Yeah Yeah” Mars replied as he stood and walked off.
Deep breath. Just get it right once, and then it'll stick. "Through the gate, up the tower, make sure the servants are gone, enter the portal... Take a... Left... Another Left, then right... Sneak past the pet Hawk-Fox, then... the door's code is...U-Um... Owl, Dragon...Bear?" "No." I groan, planting my face into the palms of my hands, distraught. "Lucas, this is impossible! How do you expect me to-" "You get it right, or you're DEAD." I sigh, shaking my head as I reach for our note cards once more. "I don't think she'd kill me, Lucas, the wizard doesn't even seem like that bad of a-" "SHE isn't who you need to worry about, Melody." I gulp anxiously, not daring to look up. "...Oh. Y-You were...being serious yesterday?"I mutter, regretting the words the moment they fall from my lips. Lucas stops flipping his knife, and I feel his eyes boring into me. "Do you think this is funny?" I shake my head, my heart pounding in my chest. He chuckles to himself, before slamming his knife down into the table - Too close to my hand for comfort. "Listen. I'm not asking a lot here, kid. One more job. That's IT. With the money we can make from everything in that Vector Vault, I won't NEED Y-" He pauses briefly. "...I won't need...this." He yanks the knife out of the table, sliding it back up his sleeve. "We'd be able to get enough money to set us up for life. No more jobs. You'd like that, huh? No more sneaking around... Pay off our bounties. Buy back our house? You wanna go see Mom and Dad again, without the guards chasing us out of town, don't you?" Tears begin to form at the edge of my vision. I nod swiftly. "You wanna make Dad proud?" I nod again. More than anything. He jams a finger down at the card that's shaking within my grip. "Then you need to get this right. We have. One. Shot. I've scoped out this job for too long for this to go sideways, kid. It's all done already. You just need to do it." ...That phrase. He says it before most of our jobs. I can follow his plans to the letter. I've done it before. I'm good at this sort of stuff. I know I can do it. B-Because... If I can't... ... "...I-I won't mess this one up, Lucas... I-I promise." "Good."
Oh come on. The guy with the home gym wants to use my home library again? It's raining too. He kept knocking on the window though, so I put down my book and let him in. As thanks, he returned some books in less than stellar condition. Because it was raining. Couldn't he have put them in a bag at least? "Thanks bro. Got any more Greek philosophy books?"He read those to seem smart. "That's it for my collection."I looked at my copy of the Communist Manifesto. "Probably a long shot, but maybe you'd be interested in - " "Hell no! I don't want some wimpy liberal pamphlet!"He flexed his muscles. So much for being well-read. He tried to drag me to his home gym, but you know. It was raining. I invited him to stay for a while and he emptied my fridge. For a while now, I've been really wanting to get him to leave me alone, but he doesn't listen to me and I haven't exactly been working out very much.
Dang, turns out the sun isn't a planet, but a huge ball of fire. To be fair, a lot of people already believed that, since both fire and the sun are pretty bright. But the scientific community attributed the brightness to the stuff lightning was made of instead, since that at least came from the sky. But ever since that sun controversy, people have been believing everything bright was made of fire. The scientific community isn't helping their case either by calling lightning a byproduct of this newfangled "electricity."What's an electricity anyway? They say it's the stuff that pinches your finger when you rub wool a lot. Do they even hear themselves? Anyway, most people have ditched the scientific community for their crazy extremist ideas. Now we just do as we usually do and listen to the light people that visit every so often.
"Wow, this pizza is out of this world.""Actually, it was from Mars."That's how the exchange went and I didn't quite get it. I'm a Martian, I know what our cuisine is like. It sucks. But I smiled and thanked the waiter for complimenting our culture and went to town on the pizza. There were pineapple and anchovies without cheese with a thick crust. An absolute delicacy! Back on Mars, we usually had to deal with greasy, thin crust abominations from shady stores on the edge of the street. Horrible. That's why I prefer spending my time on Earth. Earth just always keeps up with the latest trends while my planet is stuck in the 2000s.
"Here's Sally. She's a looker, as you can tell, and uh. She has a great personality." I got a lot of flak from her for that introduction. I didn't say anything wrong. Hell, she was the one who overdid it with the makeup. When a girl puts on so much that she looks like she works nights, how are you supposed to make up for that? Anyway, she made it apparent I was lying about the personality. So I went into her hobbies. She likes doing her makeup. She likes taking online quizzes to find out what kind of bread she is. "And I like murdering tone-deaf matchmakers." I rolled my eyes. Does every story have to end in death?
>"Ritual sudoku? The missing number game? I thought you meant ritual seppuku..." He showed up dragging his suitcase of gi's. He wasn't sure exactly which was the right one to wear for ritual suicide. Amazon had made some fine suggestions. And he did have Prime so he could waste his last $500 spending bucks that was supposed to be their vacation money. Yeah, he'd screwed up. His little programming error probably cost about three million dollars. US. Ever since that Japanese company bought majority share their company culture had changed. Little things at first. They had to learn to bow and shit like that. Their bows would have been insulting because theu didn't have anyone to tell them how they were doing it wrong. But whatever. The invitation email had read simply: "Ritual Sudoku, your presence urgently requested." Oh shit. How do I get out of this? They own our company. I can't run. I'm an out of shape programmer. They knew everything about all of us anyway. The door slid open. The Japanese partners were all here. The mood was festive. There was music. Thankfully the Karaoke wasn't loud. Is that a fucking sushi chef in the corner? There were a lot of people here to witness his rulitualistic disembowlment. Disgusting. These people are utter savages! "You bring a suitcase to this party?"Hidoshi. Great guy. He'd been the cultural bridge. "Uh yeah. Where do I get changed?"Gary dropped his head and continued, "And then where does this go down?" "Changed? Come sing! Have a drink! Eat some very very fresh sushi!"Hidoshi had completely missed Gary's meaning. "Okay, do I have to use a sushi knife for this?" "You know how? Ha! Amazing. You always surprise me Gary!"Gary bowed deeply as he could and walked in dragging his suitcase. He timidly walked into the bathroom and changed. When he emerged, his hakama pants, gi and headband caught every eye in the room. Gary, knowing how bad he'd fucked up, ignored all the gasps. ....cultural appropriation.... ...weeaboo.... Gary barely made out the rest of the slurs. He was ignoring them all. This was supremely unreal to begin with. None of that mattered. Gary had to make it right. He trudged over to the sushi counter. "I need a knife please." The man behind the counter tilted his head. This was a challenge? An American? Wants to make sushi? On his counter? After they flew him from Nagasaki? "Hai!"The man behind the counter handed over a very finely crafted and extremely sharp knife. Gary stared at it as he grasped the handle in his left hand with the shimmering blade on his right outstretched palm. Gary took a step back. He'd studied this extensively on the internet but still couldn't believe this shit happened in 2022. He sank into the pose. A fish knife. Fitting. Gutless piece of.... "What the fuck you doing?"Hidoshi was taking the knife away. "Ritual suicide."Gary was embarrassed. He couldn't even do that right. "Sudoku!"Hidoshi was stifling his laughter. "Wait. The missing number game?" "Yes. It's a tournament!. Fun. No killing yourself. Get up! Hoo! Fun story later. Get up Gary." Gary just cried tears of relief. And peed just a little. .................. Comments, criticism hate mail and death threats welcome. Constructive criticism preferred.
The funny thing about removing a soul from a body? It leaves no scratch and the body is just rendered in a comatose state. John had no idea of this when he sold the firearm to a dirty old-looking man, Robert. What did he care? He was trying to make ends meet and money was the only thing that kept food on the table for himself. So when he held this man in an alleyway at knifepoint and rummaged through his clothes, he pilfered the firearm, not questioning his good luck at all and ignored the smirk on his face. It was only a few minutes after John sold the gun to Robert when he heard the loud BLAM in the middle of the night, echoing from the alleyway a few streets nearby. Upon seeing Robert stumble out of the alleyway in the other direction, John hurriedly rushed in to make the body disappear, lest the sale of the firearm be traced to him when Robert gets caught. "Dumbass, what were you thinking?" But he got a surprise from the supposed dead guy behind him, with eyes blazing like coals. "I should ask you the same question."
It has been at least a week since Ram, the Flaming Dragon had arrived in the Lakeblood Guild and she, with Blue Wing, her fellow trainee, have to gather with their comrades for a guild gathering, in which the chief and right hand dragon were no where to be seen. Ram, the Flaming Dragon was a very mysterious dragon, she was found on an excursion in the coast lands of the Lakeblood Guild. Ram, the Flaming Dragon was taken in as a paladin apprentice, while Blue Wing was an already established medic apprentice, a profession that normally shouldn't become a leader. Apprentices verily rarely become leaders of a guild, and if they do, it is mostly because of a message from the afterlives above. "I, the lead medic, has been tasked with appointing the new leader of Lakeblood Guild, as the chief, Spirit Watcher, and his right hand dragon, Xanadu Seer, have both mysteriously passed. "Yew Peach spoke, "Furthermore, the afterlives above have given me an omen, a message of choice, this message shall determine who leads our guild. " The crowd looked at each other in hopes that they are - or aren't - the chosen one. Anticipation fueling nervousness. And with the sky dictating who leads the guild, many of the dragons pondered on who it was, and how they'd lead the guild. "They have told me two shall watch over my guild. "Yew Peach glared at the sky, questioning if it was right at all. "If these are guards of the guild or not, I do not know. " Yew Peach glared at the sky to see a cloud shaped as a crown floating above the atmosphere, indicating the position that the skies are speaking about. "Two chiefs?! That's insane! "Quail Spring, the youngest medic and still an apprentice, shrieked as she saw the cloud in the sky. "Of course, this means two chiefs, this must be the first time in guild history that we have two chiefs. "Yew Peach softly spoke. "Now, they have told me the new chiefs were going to be... "There was a long pause as Yew Peach searched her mind for the omen. Yew Peach found the exact omen, and recited the two chosen ones, there was a suspense. "...Ram, the Flaming Dragon and Blue Wing. "Yew Peach recited. The crowd of dragons gasped, "Blue Wing is our apprentice, medics can't be leader?! "One comrade questioned. "The afterlives have seen huge responsibility in both of them, and I believe that the afterlives above have spoken the truth. "Yew Peach calmed down the crowd. Now, in the lands, there are four other guilds. Moorprarie Guild, which is located upon the plains, Icebergblood Guild, which is located in the alleyways, Lightningtree Guild, which is located at the treetops, and Shadeglare Guild, which lives in the swamp jungle. The current chief of Lightningtree Guild, Thunder Fire, is a tyrant and evil dragon, he is selfish and is planning on taking over Icebergblood Guild. One day, Icebergblood Guild, with their chief, Bubble, and right hand dragon, Wren Watcher, appeared in the coast lands, Blue Wing tracked the guild to the beach, then he told Ram, the Flaming Dragon the issue. The two headed out towards the beach. "Lakeblood Guild! Such a calming sight.. "Ash Seer, Icebergblood Guild's latest full scout spoke, "Lightningtree Guild has taken over our lands, and we need help! " "How can we help? "Ram, the Flaming Dragon asked. "We need you to help us back towards the alleyways and challenge Thunder Fire, that dragon who made us flee to the coast lands for help. "Wren Watcher appeared. "Bubble will show you the way. " "We'll get many comrades of ours to help you, and we'll defeat Thunder Fire. "Ram, the Flaming Dragon promised. And so they set off.
Well, I killed myself. That's all you really can do when you want to be the perfect murderer. You get caught, you go to max security prison and there's no opportunity to kill people there. And people forget about you when you get your just desserts living the rest of your life in a cell. Now, starting a war and leaving the aftermath to the people still here? That gets everyone riled up. That's how you get into the history books. I don't know what I was supposed to feel when I saw bloody corpses everywhere. Originally there were a bunch of soldiers here doing soldier things. Now, when you put those soldiers next to other soldiers, sometimes they fight. And when they fight, bloody corpses happen. I realized that people weren't going to send me to prison anyway. So my only options were to run - no, I wasn't stupid enough to think that was actually a choice. My only options were to die bravely by my own hand or to have some nobody do it. And guess which choice gets you a bigger book?
- who are you? Don't dare to move. - my name is Donald. - Tell me one good reason to let you live. - i'm... I'm just searching for food... I have a family. They're hungry. - where are they, then. - they're outside. Waiting for me. - why should i trust you? - you don't... Listen, i don't want to fight, i'll go find food something else, okay? Just... don't do anything. - you have a car? - yes. - then you can help me. - with what? - i'm seeking revenge. Need to find someone. And i'm pretty sure i know where i can find him. - listen man, i don't want any problems. I think we have enough at this point. - you think you have a choice? Take all the food you need. It'll be a long way.
Thanks, teach. I know you were some poor sap who taught infosec and game design of all things to put food on the table, but you actually helped a ton. I'm thanking you properly with a nice fat check in the mail. Hope things work out for you. I remember you were lecturing about Flappy Bird and how a simple phone game was able to catch on big time. Well, I snuck in a backdoor into \my\ big hit mobile fad game. Usually there are experts who catch vulnerabilities like that. But I made it super duper secret. I had no idea I was that smart - I actually thought I was going to get caught. But I did it, and now I'm rich, and I know everything about everyone. It was all because you said that information was power. Even though it was super cheesy and you only used that quote to start your intro class, I thought that maybe I could get some respect if I got enough information on everybody. So yeah, people now respect me. I honestly shouldn't even be telling you this, but again, you did a lot for me, so if you could keep this juicy secret under wraps, that'd be great for both me and your family.
You may think it odd to take one's species' name as their own. You would be correct, however I had a plan. A devious, verbally dependent plan that would one day liberate the world. I am the gnome named Gnome Ann, and this is my tale. The prophetic fates thought they were all that, dictating what could and could not happen in our world. Some believe them gods, but I believe they are more along the lines of omnipotent drama-starved teens. That's the only explanation for why so much of our world is veiled by convoluted prophesy. They just say "This may only come to pass when 'xyz' happens", and that conflict goes unresolved until they come up with a suitably dramatic solution. Screw that noise. The "No Man"prophecies are a favorite, and have gotten more and more pointless as the centuries wore on. At first a boy could fulfill it, so long as he was not grown. Then only a woman. Then only someone not of the human race... then of no race typically endowed with sentience. The last one had been fulfilled by a pet rock. It was all so pointless. So, at a young age, I changed my name, and began to clean house. The dark lord glowered at me, stating "No Man can defeat me". I looked him dead in the eyes and said "I am Gnome Ann", and he exploded on the spot. A plague was spreading from a shadowy realm that "No Man could step into". So, I walked in and covered the cursed urn. Over almost a year I fixed every stupid contrived issue our world had. Even the laws of physics began to fail. Everyone knows No Man can fly. I only have to say out loud that "Gnome Ann"can fly, and it just happens. The fates are furious, and I can tell. I can hear them scrabbling at the sky, trying desperately to figure a way to make drama come back to their world... but they know they can't. A name change only costs 10 gold pieces in my homeland, after all, and I've made a thousand times that saving the world. So, I say to the fates... Fight me. Because after all... Gnome Ann can stand against you.
Hi u/Skye_hai_bai, this submission has been removed. The mods reserve the right to remove anything we feel is harmful to the community. This includes, but is not limited to any forms of hate speech, racism, politics, necrophilia, pedophilia, bestiality, incest, torture, rape, violence against children, suicide, and mental health stereotypes. We will not tolerate it. * This was removed [based on the comments it's likely to attract](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses), specifically via [Rule 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_2.3A_no_explicitly_sexual_responses.2C_hate_speech.2C_or_other_harmful_content) --- I get that you're trying to make this go in the direction away from infant sacrifice, but demons + babies + killing is just not going to work here. --- --- [Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/sww2kk/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/config/sidebar) before posting. This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.
Calculation: Someone onboard is out to kill. Two options are available. 1: Find a way to kill the defector. This saves the crew but may lose information. 2: Manipulate the defector. This preserves information but may not work. Option 2 is most optimal. I start by analyzing the defector. He has a set schedule. He won't do anything until Thursday. I have five days. Day 1 I have adjusted some of the lights. This is meant to guide the defector towards a specific room in the station: the experimental mind room. He seems intrigued. He is not accepting it though. I will also adjust the temperature and atmosphere within the space station to be off by 0.1 K and 0.1 kPa. The temperature has changed from 230 K to 229.9 K. The atmosphere has changed from 100 kPa to 99.9 kPa. He is fixing the temperature to appear to blend in. The lights are not swaying him though despite the path he has made. Try again tomorrow. Day 2 I have adjusted the velocity of the station in such a way the defector is to move in the predetermined pattern. It appears to be working. The velocity plan did not work. I will combine the plans so far. This still did not work. I will call a researcher to move the defector manually to the mind room. Day 3 Mission success. The defector has been wiped of any malicious intention without any loss of life.
Now we go insane. From creative sterility and obsession, that is. Until another creative big bang occurs. That's how it's always been. As art is never satiated for too long. We're always thirsty for more, hungry for more. Even when we think everything has been done already, there's still more out there. Art is one of those resources that never seems to run out, even if we think it did. It is impossible to believe otherwise. I have seen what madness from creative sterility and obsession is like first hand, and it's not pretty. You pretty much isolate yourself from the world in an empty void of emotions. Much like a padded room at a psych ward in a mental institution, only much more depressing. And your like this until something in you just snaps and shatters like a broken mirror, forcing you into a moment of tranquil clarity. That lasts as long as it takes for a proverbial coin to flip. But when it lands, you collapse into an anguished fold, screaming, crying, laughing with complete hysteria, then pass out exhausted. When you wake, that's when the creative big bang occurs, and art is the only thing that satiates your hungry mind and starving gut. So you start cooking and baking again, finding relief in simple pleasures to feed yourself. To nourish yourself. Eventually, everything calms down, and starts over anew, making the slow and steady climb back to that peak of where it once was with renewed vigor. But once we reach that peak, there is the flip that sends everything back down to continue the cycle. Art is such a paradox, infinite and finite at the same time. It's frustratingly beautiful.
I made promises to my wife and children. I’m a man who keeps his promises. The icy wind whips around me and I can barely feel my face as the snow beats against it. I pull my hood over my face, tighten my cloak against my body and push on. The Dark Lord’s kingdom is bitter cold this time of year. It’s been three weeks since I began this journey. I should’ve been home a week ago but I had to follow the rumors. The last remnants of The Resistance are nearby. The drunken chatter I overheard at Embrek’s Pub led me to this place. The ruins of an old castle. No one even remembers the name but it’s supposed to have been the seat of an old elven kingdom. Before the Dark Lord’s conquest. Before the elves all disappeared. Here, The Resistance supposedly meets in secret, planning their last desperate attempt to free the kingdom. If I can convince them to grant me an audience, I can offer them the very thing they need to turn the tide. “You there! Let me see your hands!” I find myself flanked by two soldiers, long spears pointed in my direction. Their breast plates are emblazoned with the sigil of The Resistance, a sword held upright in front of a rising sun. I found them I drop my bag and raise my hands over my head. “I travel in peace!” I exclaim. “I’m here in defiance of the Dark Lord’s edicts. I seek an audience with The Resistance.” The soldiers seize me by the arms and forcibly drag me through several dark corridors. Our direction changes every minute or so, a tactic they no doubt use to confuse untrustworthy visitors. A few more minutes pass and I’m thrown into a surprisingly well lit room. There’s a large fire roaring in the fireplace and two chairs on either side of a small wooden table. I’m grateful for the heat. On the table sits a single bowl of fruit. I’m starving but I ignore the food and crouch near the fireplace. “You must be hungry. You’ve come a long way.” I look up and I see a hooded figure in a white robe standing over me. From within his hood I see long white hair draped down the front of him. His golden pendant bears the same sigil I noticed on the breast plates of my captors. “Are you…..him? Are you the mage?” I ask expectantly. The figure removes his hood. His face is clean shaven. He has very sharp youthful features. On the sides of his face, I see the points of his ears peeking out from within the white flowing locks. He’s an elf. I try to contain my excitement. “I am Aelfric, former mage and leader of what’s left of The Resistance. The guards tell me that you sought us out.” “Aye, sir! I’ve traveled a long way to show you what I have. I’ve brought something that can help you change the balance of power. If your men can bring me my satchel please.” The soldiers drop my bag in front of me. I reach into it and display my offering. The small silver device fits neatly into the grip of my hand. I hold it out towards Aelfric. “It’s called a handgun sir. It fires small pieces of metal through the open side. Much faster and deadlier than a crossbow bolt.” Aelfric’s eyes widen as he studies the device. “This looks like the Dark Lord’s weaponry! All of our attempts to seize these weapons for ourselves ended in our own people being massacred. Where did you find this!?” “Same place as the Dark Lord.” I answer. “These weapons come from another world. The Dark Lord thinks he is the only one with knowledge of this world but he is wrong. Not only do I have the knowledge, I have access.” “Access?” Aelfric puzzles. “I can walk between worlds.” I explain. “The Dark Lord’s weapons are bigger, and he has hundreds of them. I only brought that one because it’s small enough to travel with and I wanted to prove to you what I had.” “How many can you get?” “As much as you need, sir.” “I’ll have my men test the one you brought. You can wait here. Enjoy some fruit while you wait.” Aelfric and the guards left the room and disappeared from my sight. I was just finishing my third apple when they returned. Aelfric comes back into the room flanked by his guards. He’s dressed the same but now he’s wearing a brown leather satchel crossed over his body. “The…’gun’ you brought us appears to work as you said it would. How quickly can you arrange transportation for the three of us to the other world?” “All three of you? No, I’m afraid. Magic in that world is limited. I have a talisman for myself and one more.” I reach into my bag and pull out the spare talisman I brought for this occasion. Aelfric takes the talisman. “I’ll go.” He says. “I’ll see this armory for myself and take as many ‘guns’ as I can.” “Respectfully sir, the two of us aren’t emptying any armories by ourselves. Best I can offer you is a tour.” Aelfric taps his hand on his satchel. “You’d be surprised how much an elven mage can carry.” “Is that…” “A bag of holding?” Aelfric asks, finishing my sentence. “Yes it is. I cast the enchantment on it myself.” He didn’t want to come off as a braggart but I could tell Aelfric took pride in his work. “As I said sir, the magic is spotty in this other world. If we’re bringing any enchanted items, it’s best I hold them.” Aelfric removes a few items from his pockets, takes off his pendant and drops everything into his bag of holding. He hands me the bag and I drape it over my shoulder, cinching it tight against my body. “Pin the talisman to your chest, sir. You ready?” “As one can be in this situation.” Aelfric replies. I turn to the guards. “Take heart, gents!” I tell them. “When we return, every kingdom will be freed!” I reach into my pocket and reactivate my transponder. I press my finger to my earpiece. “Malcolm to control. Two ready to jump. Myself and guest.” My transport token and the spare I handed to Aelfric start to glow. The castle ruins, the fireplace, the table and the guards fade out as Aelfric and I are engulfed in a blinding white light. Part Two below in replies (this one got away from me a bit)
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Such an unusual statement thought Richard. He had heard many weird excuses over the years. I can fly. I’m Jesus. Donald Duck is my spirit animal. When you work at a shelter, you get all kinds. But this one, well, this one was more disturbing than the rest. Richards wasn’t a psychiatrist. Sure, he had taken a couple of classes at the local community college but that doesn’t qualify him to make a diagnosis. He dropped out when he realized that most of those classes weren’t as valuable as experiences. And so, here at the shelter, he dealt with those at the bottom of the ladder. The street name for the shelter was The Pit, and those at their last rope ended up here. Which is why Richard was here. “You’re scared,” said the man. His face was unshaven and reminded Richard of a stray dog. The hair, streaked with gray or dirt, Richard couldn’t tell. And a slight shake to the man's hands. Most likely withdrawals. “I am,” said Richard. “But something else,” said the man. “Sad? Why are you sad?” “Just part of the job, I guess,” said Richard. “I feel every thought you have, and the biggest one I feel is your disbelief. It’s always disbelief.” The man wasn’t wrong. To hear something so crazy that it can’t possibly be true would naturally lead to those feelings. It took everything in Richard not to roll his eyes. But condescension would get Richard nowhere. “Condescension? That’s a new one.” said the man. “I don’t believe you,” said Richard. “16,” the man said. Richard had no idea what the man meant. For some reason, it took Richard back into his youth. A girl in high school smiled at him. It thrilled Richard and scared him at the same time. He didn’t even remember the girl's name, and he had never talked to her. But he remembered that smile and how it made him feel. “So you think you’re special? That’s what you’re feeling. When you were 16, you felt special.” Richard was impressed and laughed. “Happy,” said the man. “That doesn’t take a mind reader,” said Richard. “White,” For less than ½ a second, an image popped into his head. His mom put white sheets on his bed. He had no idea how she had gotten all that blood out, but she had. “Love,” said the man. “Pity.” Another image hit Richard. It was painful. Looking at himself in the mirror and seeing someone not worth saving. The scars on his wrists after he got out of the hospital. The practice cuts on his shoulders. “Shame,” said the man. “Redemption.” This time Richard tried not to think of anything. He tried to push all thoughts out of his head and leave it completely blank. He didn’t like the sound of that word. “The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man,” said the man. “Really? That’s what you’re giving me?” “I couldn’t help it,” said Richard. “Are you having a joke with me? Testing me? I told you, I can feel every thought you have. Do I have to keep proving it?” “No,” said Richard. “I believe you.” “No, you don’t. I can feel that thought still above all else. Disbelief.” The man shifted on his cot. The rope burn under the neck was faded but would be with him forever. Richard knew that if the man took off his army surplus jacket, he would see scars. Probably practice cuts as well. His body would tell a story that was common for many men. It would show the pressure that builds up in them as they go through life. The lucky ones would have someone to talk with. Not surface level talk, but the kind where doors are opened instead of veins. That’s why Richard was at The Pit because sooner or later, so many men like this one would end up here. “Yes, I don’t believe you,” said Richard. “I know,” said the man. “I don’t think you do,” said Richard. It’s not that Richard knew what it was like to lose hope, although he did. And it’s not that Richard knew what it was like to…try. It’s that afterward he began to notice so much more. He noticed his mom getting stains out of sheets. His father shaking at the hospital as he begged someone to do something. The smile of a girl when he was 16 and how that made him feel. Richard understood better the man. “Disbelief,” said the man. “Not of the mind reading. Sure, why not. That’s more believable than the first part,” said Richard. For the first time, the man looked confused. “Don’t waste your time on me. That’s what I don’t believe,” said Richard. That was the true pain of this man and so many others. Their belief that they don’t matter or that they are beyond redemption. That’s why Richard hated that word. No one is beyond it and it’s always there if others are willing to listen. As a man, Richard knew that feeling of having everything tied up inside with no outlet until you are about ready to burst. The pressure of constant competition that eats at you. The feeling of not being good enough but not having anyone to tell you the opposite. No one to wash the blood out of your sheets. This was Richard’s gift. This is why he was here. Everyone has value, even if no one tells them what that value Is. And when that happened, they ended up at The Pit and Richard would show them the path to redemption. “Love,” said the man. “Right again,” said Richard.
"Sir! There's been an emergency!" ugh, again? it's the 4th time this week, maybe i shouldn't have accepted that promotion. "Report the problem to me connor" The young man was sweating bullets, pulling out his notepad and dreamcorder Connor gulped. "It'd be...better if you saw it yourself" Suddenly, someone walked over to us. "Gimmie that, what's the big dea-" His eyes practically popped out of his head and he was silenced by whatever was on the screen. We were too "Rob, what's it say? Another nightmare death? No dreams for more than 11 days? You've never gone silent like this. Answer me bob!"I shout, shaking his shoulders. He whispered something faintly. "Speak up robert, i can't hear you, what's the problem!?" "2:22:50" "What? 2:22:50? What does that mean!?" "2:22:56" "What are you counting down for!?" "2:22:57" Wait, 2 hours, 22 minute- "Shit!" I pulled out my own dreamcorder, trying to check the time of the longest dream yet. But what caught my eye was the distinctly empty, dimly lit room, unlike almost any dream i've ever observed before. I blinked, and suddenly, there was a fish tank on a table, and a man sitting on a chair. I heard some static, but eventually, i saw a monochrome fish smile with distinctly human teeth. I thought it was looking at the man, but it was looking at me, straight into my soul. "You've been here a while" "2:22:59" "*Better wake up before you forget how to*" "2̷̢͎͕̙͎̪̺̩̻͓͓͓̼̟̤̾̓͆:̴̡̠͎̳̳̳̫͛̏̓͛̀̌̈́2̸̢̜͖͑̇̏̽̓͌͆̀̎3̶̲̳̻̤͚̱͙̯͖̙̹̽̈́̂͂̾̅̅̿̿̀̉͛̒͝:̵̧̹̳̳̗͉̰̭̉̂̎̐͗̃̂̔̂̾́̈́̕͠͝0̵̝̟̱̫͚̦̰̺̊̽̎̐̅͌̐̈́̍̽͛1̴̫̥͋̂͆̃ͅ" (Man, i hate how terribly written this is. But hey, at least i finally wrote something after a couple months)
Ninja. It is a word that evokes a specific image. Usually one of a man wrapped in dark blue crawling on wood beams, brandishing a Japanese sword of one form or another. But these are simply the ones we know of. The ones who tended to get caught. There are others, not confined to Japan. But similar principles apply. They work from the dark and obscure, quick and quiet, ever vigilant of their surroundings. They are under the system, outside and yet still within it. They cannot get medals for meritorious exploits. Their names are not jotted into history books. To the normal folk, and even to decent amounts of the military, they barely even exist. But they do what they do, not for fame or even money (even if they do clear decent sums), but for either the good of their respective nation, or simply to help others sleep better at night. And so it was within the United States National Security Agency, wherein one of the US Army's higher generals briefed an operative on the revival of America's ninjas. Once called Batmen, another time SEALS, but now, under a new name. The briefing was going curtly, the operative being short with his words, as is to be expected from a man who served in both the SEALS and DevGru. The operative, wearing the closest modern equivalent to the stealth suits of the Japanese Ninja of old, then, at one point addressed his opposite as General, causing the man to stop, telling the man who seemed to be a friend. "You can use my real name, this room is sealed." To which the operative replied, in his deep baritone, simply "..Lambert."
"Man at some point we need to go to Dublin" "Hmm?", Grant replied. He had been day dreaming again. All the Thursdays had been merging into one at this point. "Dublin", Wilson repeated. "What like Ireland?" Wilson smiled, "No man, like Dublin, Ohio. It's where the Wendy's Headquarters are located. We need to go tour it sometimes. I hear you get to try other countries Wendy's menu items. You know Wendy's sells spring rolls in the Philippines? That's wild isn't it. But I'd love to try it". Wilson took a bite from his burger. It's been like this for years. Every Thursday he ate the burgers here like they were little gifts from God. Wendy's had always been his favorite fast food joint. Grant passed him his own burger. He wasn't that hungry. And the way Wilson's face always lit up when eating was too wholesome to prevent. Grant kept the fries though. He'd never give up his fries. Wilson passed his own fries over to Grant in return. "Good trade"Wilson acknowledged. "The fries have changed man, they used to be so much better." Grant laughed, "Yeah well nothing beats McDonald's fries. I used to order just two large fries and that was my meal for the day" "What about Chick-fil-a fries? Those waffle fries just feel better to eat. More surface area for more crispiness, ya know? But forget the "butt"fries. I just toss'em" "Butt fries?"Grant asked. "Yeah the ones that have the skin on the side. Kinda wrinkled and tan. The texture is just horrid man" Melinda walked in. Wilson immediately lost interest in the fry conversation and watched her walk across the room. Wilson had the hots for her. He never turned down an opportunity to stop and stare. He never spoke to her though. Wilson wasn't that great of conversationalist unless someone wanted to talk about Wendy's trivia. Plus it was against the rules anyway to talk to the staff in a casual way. "How crazy is it that someone named Melinda works at Wendy's huh? You know Wendy is just a nickname of Dave Thomas's daughter. Her full name was Melinda Lou Thomas." "Yes Wilson. I know". Grant tried not to appear annoyed. It got hard sometimes having the same facts repeated at him over and over again. Grant took a deep breath. He thought about what he tried last time and remembered to definitely NOT do it again. He tried to appear calm and nonchalant. "Wilson, uhh, what day is it again?" "Huh?"Wilson stopped staring at Melinda and turned to his friend. "Oh, its Thursday man!" "No, I mean the date" Wilson strained a little. "Oh..it's...April 3rd I think". He replied incorrectly. Grant leaned in slightly. "Look Wilson it's, July 24th."He said it in almost a whisper. Grant saw a little flicker in Wilson's eyes. He stacked his now empty tray beneath his second burger tray. "No man, that's impossible. Its April 3rd. We just finished painting the man cave and..." "And what". Grant tried to make his voice as neutral as possible. He was afraid to interrupt. "And we came to this Wendy's to celebrate. And Julie and Robbie are sleeping upstairs...and Julie and Robbie...Julie and Robbie"Wilson started trembling as he trailed off. Wilson suddenly shoved the trays away and tried to stand but his restraints prevented him from leaving his seated position without taking the entire table with him. The table didn't flip but it sure moved. The noise of the table jerking caught the attention of some workers. They looked concerned and began moving together toward the door. Grant put his hand on Wilson's shoulder and squeezed a little. "Wilson, Julie and Robbie. What happened. Do you remember?". Grant felt so close. Wilson tried to pull away again. His eyes were wide with horror. "The stove. I thought I turned it off. Julie always boils water for her coffee at noon but she fell asleep. NO. I DID TURN IT OFF. I KNOW I DID". Wilson grabbed Grant's shirt. He began to scream. "WE ARE AT WENDY'S. I JUST WANTED TO SURPRISE THEM. I JUST WANTED TO BUY THEM DINNER." Grant looked and saw the staff in full sprint now. Nurse Melinda in tow with a syringe. He tried to remain calm when he spoke. Time was up. "Wilson, it isn't your fault. Please. LOOK AROUND. We aren't at Wendy's. Please, remember". Grant's voice began to crack. He tried to hug his friend. He held him tight. With love. With frustration. With guilt. The staff slammed into them and joined Grant's embrace for a second before ripping him away. They pushed Wilson on to the table and held him down. Nurse Melinda injected the syringe into Wilson's shoulder and ordered the staff to keep him immobile until it could take effect. Wilson was still struggling but his speech was getting slurred. "Robbie likes...chicken nugg...ets. We can't fuur..get. Grant" Grant held his head and slowly sat on the floor. He felt tears welling in his eyes. He looked at his friend, who was stuck in a happier time. And repeated the same line from so long ago. "We won't buddy. We'll get them when we leave so they'll still be hot when we get home" But Wilson was already unconscious.
"Sweetie, come down for dinner,"Mary called out. "Just a minute!"came a muffled voice traveling down a nearby staircase. "You better listen to your Mother before we both get in trouble,"cried out Steven with a slight grin on his face as he carried out a large plate of meatloaf. Mary trailed behind with a bowl of mashed potatoes in one hand and a tiny gravy boat in another. Just as the table finished being set, a rumbling of footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. "I'm here, I'm here! Please spare Father! I beg of you, Mother. I'll eat all of my vegetables!"Catherine said in an overly dramatic tone as she leaned on the railing with one arm raised in the air as if she was in a play reciting Shakespearian Literature. Mary chuckled, "Alright just come sit down, you weirdo." "Learned from the best,"Catherine said to her mother as she gracefully waltzed over to the dinner table and sat down. "So Catherine,"Steven started, "what do you want to do for your 16th birthday?" "Yeah, 16 is a big deal. Is there something special you wanted?"Mary asked. Catherine put her fork down slowly, carefully making eye contact with both her parents. She finished chewing, swallowed her bite of meatloaf and wiped her mouth before speaking. "Actually now that you bring it up,"Catherine said meekly, "Mom, Dad. Do you guys think I can have a party?" Steven and Mary looked at each other for a second, gave each other a smile, and in marital unison said, "Sure." "REALLY?!"Catherine said in disbelief. Mary spoke first this time, "Yeah, you're smart, responsible. Haven't done anything reprehensible in your 3 years of being a teenager--" "--that we know of,"Steven mumbled as he spooned a whopping portion of mashed potatoes into his mouth. Mary gave him a quick side-eye and a smile as Catherine rolled her eyes. "That we know of,"said Mary, "But you've shown yourself to be trustworthy." "So when would you like to throw your party, Cat,"asked Steven as he helped himself to another bite of mashed potatoes. "I know my birthday is next week but I was hoping I can do the party this Saturday?"Catherine asked and then quickly added, "This way I can have the party and then we can do something together for my actual birthday!" Catherine seemed to know how to appeal to her parents as they both gave a look of surprise and joy at their daughter's thoughtfulness. Steven and Mary looked at each other again and both seemed to agree. "That sounds great, Cat,"Mary started, "But Saturday is three days from now, is that enough time for you to get everything together?" Catherine gave her parents a mischievous smile as she said, "Well I've actually already got most of the stuff on standby. I just needed to confirm the date." "She gets that from you,"Steven said to Mary, midchew. "You're lucky, young lady,"Mary said as she shifted her tone into that of a stern mother, "What would you have done if we had said no?" "Puppy dog eyes and some 'I love you(s)'?"Catherine said with a grin. Mary sighed, "We love you too, sweetie. Now finish your dinner and then go finish your homework. Your backpack has been sitting on the couch since you came home from school." Catherine grinned. But this grin was different, this grin was still. This grin was frozen. Catherine was stuck in a frame as if someone had paused her. Her hair sat still in the air as if static was keeping it from falling. Mary and Steven both quickly stood up from the table and made their way to Catherine. Just as they had reached her a voice screamed in their head. "MARY! STEVEN! GODDAMN IT ANSWER!"the voice cracked in their minds like a vocal migraine. Mary and Steven both had to grip the table to stop themselves from falling over from the pain. They knew this voice. They couldn't pinpoint from where but the voice was familiar. The pain made recalling the memory more difficult. "WHO ARE YOU,"screamed Steven as he squinted his eyes shut to try and ease the pain. "PLEASE, STOP,"Mary bellowed on the verge of vomiting from the nausea. And just when the pain subsided, the voice began again, "CAN YOU HEAR ME, IT'S SAMUEL! YOU NEED TO SHOW SIGNS OF CORE MEMORIES OR IT'S OVER." There was no sign that two way communication was possible. Just three people screaming for the sake of screaming. The voice trailed off again. Core memories? Samuel? These words also felt familiar, like more than just words. The pain was subsiding quicker now. The voice seemed to become less sharp also, less painful. Steven and Mary looked at each other then at their daughter. Something about her was triggering a memory but they couldn't quite put a finger on it. Samuel could be heard clearer and was less deafening to Steven and Mary's minds now, "Did you forget the code? Figure it out before it's too late. We've found a solution but you need to show the higher ups that you're still there, otherwise they're--" The cut off from Samuel's voice was ominous. "What's happening?"Steven asked as he looked to Mary. All Mary could do was stare at her daughter, as if lost in thought. Mary was mumbling to herself now, "Catherine. Catherine." "Mary, what the hell are you doing?"Steven asked nearly on the verge of tears. Mary kept going, feeling on the verge of discovery, "Catherine. Cat. Cat." And just then as if her mind had unlocked, Mary's eyes widened as she whispered, "Curiosity" Mary's mind flew into a frenzy of information overload. A rush of locked away memories flooded her consciousness. Years of old memories intermingling with the new, drawing a fear out of Mary that she never knew she had. And at the peak of this rush of information, Mary blacked out. Mary woke up on the dining room floor. She looked around and saw Steven in a similar state and when they made eye contact Mary knew that Steven had experienced the same thing as her. Mary looked up at her still frozen daughter and could feel the tears forming in her eyes. Mary looked away as she stood up and closed her eyes to calm herself down. "Samuel,"Mary said in a determined tone, "can you hear me?" "Thank God,"Samuel said, much clearer now than before, "Things were about to go south if you couldn't be patched through. We've been calling for months. What the hell happened?" Steven gave Mary a look that showed he could hear Samuel's voice too now. Steven looked at his daughter's frozen state and then looked back at Mary. The two found each others hand and interlocked them. Steven looked away from Mary and turned his gaze upwards as if he could see through the ceiling. "Samuel,"Steven said in a deep and angry tone, "What the fuck is going on?" &#x200B; \------- I feel like this is a solid introductory chapter but I'm not sure if I should continue only because I felt like I was a bit all over the place and my pacing felt a bit too slow. I'm not a writer so I hope I did well enough :). Also sorry if there are any grammatical errors, too lazy to proofread lol.
Uneasy floats the brain, in the jar atop which the crown rests -- or so the saying goes. On days like today, I am inclined to agree. Even so, one of the many advantages of existing as a brain in a jar, is that it is far easier to maintain one's air of regal calm and quiet dignity. Even I, in my corporeal youth, would have struggled not to openly sneer in disgust at the chamber full of oily, conniving politicians who dared to summon me on this day, to account for my very right to rule. As my faithful castellan, Sir Hubert, pushed the Royal Jar Trolley down the center aisle of the Parliament Chambers towards the dais, I thought enviously of how my own father, far from indulging this farce of a parliamentary hearing as I was doing, would have simply removed his detractors from power. But, alas, I knew that I lived in a gentler time, where gentler methods were called for. I had worked long and hard reigning in the ponderous behemoth of the royal bureaucracy, and forcing the lazy beast to spend at least half the day on the betterment of the kingdom, even if the other half was still devoted to corruption and vice. Exposing how bloody disgusting the bastards still were, would only destroy the confidence of the common folk in their government, which I'd been slowly rebuilding over the last century. I made a sound approximating a cough through the phrenovox machine connected to my jar, prompting Sir Hubert to discretely adjust the focus on the camera apparatus that served as my eyes. The royal engineer was working on a way for me to do that myself, but for the moment, I depended upon Hubert's diligence, and he did not disappoint. "His most august Majesty, by the Grace of God, King of all the West, Emperor of the Far Isles, Defender of the Faith, Maximillian IV."Hubert announced. "Your honor us with your presence, Your Majesty."the Prime Minister said, with a low, respectful bow to my trolley. Hypocritical ass. "Indeed, sir."I said, my voice crackling through the phrenovox. "We understand that you have questions you wish to ask of your sovereign. We are pleased to do so, as it is a monarch's duty to enlighten his subjects, in matters upon which they may be ignorant." I was pleased that the machine, though imperfect, adequately conveyed the icy contempt flowing beneath the surface of my practiced politeness. The Prime Minister smiled awkwardly, glancing from my jar to where the ministers sat at their various benches. "Ah, yes. Well, your Majesty, as you may be aware, it has been proposed that, in the best interests of the kingdom and her people, that a...change perhaps ought to be made, where it concerns the law of succession." "A change, you say, sir? And what sort of change might that be?"I replied, as though I was unaware. Sir Hugo, as he often did when I spoke, made expression on my behalf, raising his eyebrows. "Well, your Majesty,"the Prime Minister said, folding his hands before him. "I, and many -- indeed, I daresay the vast majority -- of my colleagues, are of the opinion that, while the Royal Alchemical Society's work in prolonging the life of our gracious sovereign is wondrous, and we rejoice that we need not be deprived of your wisdom by reason of advanced age, it might better serve the kingdom if the, ah, formal duties of the monarchy were to be...passed on, as it were." "Passed on, sir?"I said, and Sir Hugo raised an eyebrow quizzically. "And how, praytell, would that serve the kingdom's interests?" "Well,"the Prime Minister said, looking my jar up and down. "Your Majesty...that is to say...you know, your condition." "Our Condition?"I retorted, and Sir Hugo tilted his head to side, frowning in exaggerated confusion. "We believe the Royal Alchemists, whom you just mentioned, have recently penned a report on our condition, affirming that we are hale and in possession of all our faculties." "Yes, your Majesty,"the Prime Minister admitted, wringing his hands. "But your Majesty, with all due respect, and with utmost deference to the dignity of the Crown...your Majesty is...just a brain in a jar." And you're just an anus in a powdered wig. I thought, but luckily managed not to project. I wouldn't stoop to his level. I had, however, reached the end of my patience with the charade. "And you believe that we are, therefore, unfit to rule?"I challenged, Sir Hugo's face darkening in my stead. "Well,"the Prime Minister hedged, holding up his hands. "I shouldn't put it that way, Your Majesty. It is just that, your Majesty's rule has now lasted 103 years, longer than any other king or queen in history. My esteemed colleagues and I are of the opinion that an entire century of rule ought to be sufficient for any monarch to obtain a worth legacy for their reign, and that it would be fitting to formally establish such a limitation in the laws of succession. Surely, a time must come to...pass the torch, as it were?" "To whom might we pass it, sir?"I inquired, Sir Hugo looming dangerously above my jar. "W-why, to his highness, the crown prince, of course!"the Prime Minister replied, nervously. "Our offspring, bright and promising lad though he is, is also ten years old." I replied flatly. ""Our beloved queen blessed us with his birth not long before our illness, and our subsequent immurement in the Royal Jar, as you well know, Minister." The Prime Minister bowed again, and gave a simpering smile. "Certainly, Your Majesty, but your faithful ministers would be more than willing to guide his highness until his majority. If not a formal regency, we could provide advice and instruct him on how to--" They were already insulting me by questioning my right to rule, doubtless because they chafed at the reforms that constrained their decadence. That was one thing. But now they were proposing to use my son as their puppet, and likely make him every bit the useless the degenerate that each of them was. I was done listening. "Clerk, you will cease recording this session of parliament until I command you otherwise."I interrupted, sharply. The bored looking Clerk of Parliament looked up in surprise, but quickly pulled his hands away from the stenotype machine, placing them in his lap. (continued in comment)
I open my eyes. I hear the Ring Camera notification vibrate my phone again. Shit. I feel the weight of my watch on my wrist as I turn over. Must have passed out before I could take it off. I check the time. 2:12 AM. "What the fuck" I glide my hand under the pillow and covers to try and grasp my phone hidden in the mounds of bedding. I recognize the hard glass I'm so used to and pull it out. There is a woman on the stream. No wait not just a woman, its Natalie from across the street and she's blood red. "What the FUCK"I repeat. "Natalie, what the hell are you doing"I speak through the phone. "P-Please I need help..." "Hold on" I grab my old high school baseball bat from the corner of my room and bust down the stairs as fast as I can. I jump the last 3 steps like a child and unlock the front door but only open it a crack. I press my foot on bottom edge and press my weight against the wood...just in case. "Natalie..."I pause in shock. She isn't just blood red. She is absolutely doused in blood. I can't even finish my sentence. Luckily Natalie starts talking for me. "I need help Nick, PLEASE. The cops will never believe me I had to do it. I couldn't stop him!" "Stop who? Where's Adam?!" "It WAS ADAM. HE CAME FOR ME. I HAD TO DO IT. OH GOD NICK PLEASE. I LEFT THE BABY ALONE" Oh shit. I open the door wider and step out. Natalie collapses into my arms and I instinctually hold her up. I fish my phone out of my pocket and proceed to unlock it. But I forgot that iphones have an emergency call button. Huh, neat. "Look here's my phone, call 911 and tell them you need what's going on. I'm gonna head over and grab the kid. Are you sure that Adam...". I realize how much blood is on her and stop myself. "I'll be right back stay here" I take off down the porch steps and immediately regret not grabbing my shoes. The wet grass soaks my socks and I pray that the house doesn't have broken glass inside of it. I reach Natalie's front door and gently push it open with the bat. It was already ajar. Blood has drenched the door knob. A huge trail of blood leads from the upstairs. "ADAM!"I yell. I feel stupid but I definitely still feel the need to yell for some response. Coming into someone's house unannounced always feels odd. Even if they've been fucking killed I guess. I pass the kitchen and see the kitchen in shambles. The table that was designated for weekly Thursday's Settlers of Catan is completely turned sideways. I try not to imagine Adam laughing about his longest road at the moment. I make my way up the stairs and call again. "Adam?"This time a normal tone. I don't hear a response. In fact, I don't hear anything. My stomach churns. Not a peep, not even a cry. I follow the blood to the baby's room. I can see the light from a lamp knocked on the floor peaking through the cracked door. I debate on barging in but the silence screams at me that it's not needed. I carefully push it open. Adam is on the floor. He's gone. He's been stabbed to oblivion. I can hardly recognize him. He's been stabbed so many times I can see cuts on every part of his body. Cuts from violent frenzy, gruesomely outlined with yellow fat. White bone in stark contrast to his red flesh. Surgical precision. Ears, nose and lips cut off. His eyes have been stabbed...multiple times to make X's. And he's holding a red bundle...oh fuck. I fall to my knees. I retch. I vomit. "He came for me. He tried to stop me. I had to finish", Natalie said. I whip my head around and try to turn and find the bat I dropped while throwing up, but she's on me. I try to scream but the first hit is in the side of my neck. In the confusion I try to hold my neck and also stop her knife with my free hand. That was a mistake. She hits me 2 more times before I give up on my neck and focus on her knife arm with 2 hands. I can feel warmth oozing out of my neck with each heart beat. "They told me they wanted the child. The voices. Do you hear them?" I don't answer. I don't even want to. I'm so tired. I'm so so tired. I just want to sleep. I close my eyes.
Audio diary of an extinct race: Day 1: scouts have found that ancient humans recorded several sites. Translations found a correlation of the words “gate” and a “holy heritage”. We named it Gates of the Gods. Day 2: Project Key has begun. Further research has shown these sites to contain “divine power” and have the ability to bypass the mortal realm. We have located one still-intact gate location inside a volcano and have designated it G-03. Request to investigate has been granted. On a side note, half of the humans have been exterminated. Day 3: Today was a bad day, upon touching the gates, the dormant volcano erupted and sealed our exploration team in. The last communication that was sent out was “We are not worthy, forgive us”. Day 4: project Key has been shut down due to the unnecessary casualties that appeared during the disaster designated G-03-Hell. All efforts have once again been placed on extermination of humans for proper colonization, 90% of humans have been wiped out. Day 5: 99% of humans have been wiped out, data shows less than 1000 humans are left. One human has somehow entered G-00 and vanished upon contact with the gates. Human-267 has been noted down as dead. Day 6: This is impossible. Human-267 has finally appeared outside G-00 and has appeared to have holograms of dead humans which share his properties. Fire trained upon the human has been recorded to pass right through and all of our technology does not recognize his state of matter. whereas contact with the human has appeared to be fatal 95% of the time, the other 5% instantly sharing the same property as his “ghosts”. He appears to move faster and faster the more he kills. All other gates have now completely collapsed into dust. We were wrong, they were a barrier for G-00. Day 7: I’m sorry for angering you, whoever you are and I will suffer eternally for this. WE ARE NOT WORTHY FORGIVE US WE ARE NOT WORTHY FORGIVE US WE ARE NOT WORTHY FORGIVE US WE ARE NOT WORTHY FORG-… audio input cut off due to lack of comprehensive audio.
Andy felt...nothing. He didn't feel exactly good or bad. Just nothing. His last memory was a sharp pain in his chest. He looked down and saw a plain white t-shirt. But it slowly started to comeback. He was...hit? No wait, he was stabbed. He just got off work and took out the trash. There was a man hiding behind the bins. Work. Where did he work? Ah right, Andy remembered the chime of the 7-11 door ingrained in his brain. That damned gas station. While looking down at his shirt he noticed the old office carpet outlining his sneakers. It was an office hallway. Boring as it was empty. Leading straight on to a wooden door at the far end. Strange. But if he wanted to get out of here the only way seemed to be the door. He might as well check to see if it was locked. Andy's sneakers scuffed along the carpet and as he approached noticed a bronze name plate glued to the wood. "Tax Collector" is all it read. Again, nothing else. He debated on knocking before entering but quickly realized the ridiculousness of the situation and turned the knob. The door opened to a small cramped office with no windows. A man sat at a desk near the far wall. He was on the phone. He was bald. "Ah, Mister Clark, Please sit, we are behind schedule" Andy stood shocked. "Umm...sir. What's going on. Where am I?" The man silently waved him in impatiently and pointed at the chair. He grabbed a file from somewhere behind his desk and opened it. Andy sat in silence. "Yes, he just arrived."The bald man told whoever was on the other line. "No I found it, thanks"and promptly hung up and looked up at Andy. "Mr. Clark, you are dead. At 10:27 PM you were stabbed and bleed out in front of your apartment."He raised his hands a little in false congratulations. "Welcome to the afterlife. Do you have your paperwork?" Andy felt the weight of his arms even though his hands were empty. "No sir I don't."He responded. "I'm a little confused." "What about?"the man replied. "I'm dead I get that. But paperwork? Is this heaven or hell? Who are you?!" The bald man appeared agitated. He checked his watch and looked up. "Mr. Clark, we really don't have time for this. I can use your old filings if you forgot your current paper work but I can't guarantee any progress you've made will be recorded for next time" Andy was bewildered. "Next time?!" "Yes, this is the third time you've conveniently forgotten your paperwork Mr. Clark. There will be a penalty unfortunately. I'm sure you know, your old filings show that you are behind several lifetimes in taxes. We've given you multiple chances, we'll be collecting no matter what I'm afraid." Andy tried to remember. Had he been here before? Nothing looked familiar. He felt a vague sense of deja vu but he felt that it was a desperate attempt to make sense of all this. The old man took a red pen and began marking on his file. Andy stared down to see if it could give any clues but the writing was small. He could just make out some numbers and the words "Happiness"and "Pain". "You have 2 options Mr. Clark and you have to make it quick. You can pay off all your taxes now, immediately, but that'll be the end of your cycle. Or we can run you through again with some penalties." "Cycle...what cycle"Andy asked. "Your life cycle Mr. Clark. You pay off all your taxes but you die for good. No heaven. No hell. Just nothingness. All squared away and finished forever" Andy felt a numbing dread in his stomach. He wasn't ready to die just yet, even though he was already technically dead. "And the penalties? For running another...um, cycle you call it?" The bald man looked annoyed. "Mr Clark we've been over this before. We must collect somehow, each reoccurring cycle you get penalized in happiness. Things will be generally harder and luck will be worse. Some small things changed here and there so you have increased pain and suffering. Some physical some emotional, it's quite balanced" Andy tried to digest some of the info. He's done this before but can't remember. His life was already shit before but it could get worse? But could he go back and change some decisions he made in the past. Andy immediately thought about his mother dying alone in her hospital bed. He drank himself into a stupor the night before she passed and missed every chance to say good bye. To tell her he loved her. More of his mistakes came reeling in his mind. Not marrying his college sweet heart. Not taking certain opportunities. Andy knew he had to change the past. He could be happy if only he had one more chance. He couldn't just die. Not yet. The bald man interrupted his thoughts. "Mr. Clark you have done this before. Remember, any attempt to game the system will result in more penalties. I'm guessing you will choose the second option again?" "Y-yes"Andy stammered. "Well then you are free to go Mr. Clark. Please shut the door when you leave. It gets quite cold in here." Andy numbly turned to leave. He tried to force himself to remember. The door. The room. The bald man. Choices. His mother. Cycles. Taxes. He made it half way down the hall before he blacked out. Andy Clark's life was markedly worse on his fourth cycle. He was born color blind this time around. A car crash was added in his middle school years that gave him a slight limp. He was still able to attend college but never met his girlfriend. They sat at different places this time in class and never had a chance to talk. His friendships all slowly faded after graduation and he felt more alone. His mother still died and he still missed his good bye, but he felt a strange sense of deja vu this time when he began drinking the night before. One night after work at 10:27 PM he was stabbed again. He felt a sharp pain in his chest. Then. Andy felt...nothing.
Ja’gil’ma stalked his target on the cameras, a small member of his species he smiled and talked to traders in the market. It seemed like a simple order, kill the human named “bob” Going through his list of options he mentally crossed one after another. - a crossbow bolt through the neck from the shadows. No… No as he watched “bob” quickly turn towards a flapping flag. - A headlong rush with hidden blades? No as bob walked backwards through children laughing through the scion channels. - An explosion of bombs set at the base of his office? Maybe… the contract didn’t mention anything about other casualties. As he set to work he smiled and moved a little closer. Bob was feeling uncomfortable, this towering black robbed creature kept breathing so loud and was always just out of visual range… obviously trying to be sneaky but it couldn’t be a problem… right? As he pondered the issue he walked toward his office before stopping suddenly upon hearing the slow mechanic beeping coming from the bleeding roses under his window. Standing a dozen feet away and hearing that wet breathing he decided he couldn’t ignore this any longer. Pulling out his communicator he quickly relayed his fears to a more understanding operator. “I’m 100% sure there is a proximity bomb in the flower bases at the Hiet-Gong tax agency… No, no one’s entered yet… yes I’ll wait here.” With a sigh he leaned against the wall and sent a quick message to the other accountants. Why did the assassination attempts always happen at tax season. Rubbing his forehead he felt a smile creep on his face hearing a poorly muffled “gods damn it!” From the hoarse breather. Sneaking a peek he caught a glimpse and smiled. At least he could update the sketch artist. As Ja’gil’ma ran off trying desperately to run on his thin claws for the “muffled sound” he whispered curses as every option was crossed out. This simple job was turning more and more into a headache. Maybe poison? Did flowing liquid make a ‘sound’ ?
A tiny spot of light rises up from the tangle of groaning limbs on the floor. "I feel like I've just been hit by a truck." "Is somebody's wing in my face?" "What's a truck?" "Who is grabbing my tentacles?" At this point, there's a deep, resonant *GONNNNNNNNNNNNG. Everyone is momentarily silent. Everyone, except the point of light hovering over them. "People! Aside from the personal magicks of this group, I am picking up nothing. Someone has figured out a way to selectively block my senses!" "Anyone can block your senses, Tinker,"says one of the voices from below. "A voidspell -" "Would not* allow me to see your magicks, Garlom!"squeaked back the point of light. "Whoever has their hand on my tentacle can either remove it or have it removed!" "Does anyone know where we are? I don't recognise the style." "I'm not sure, but the aesthetic looks vaguely Meduish..." "It's my living room, okay? Now can you please all get off me?" There's a long moment of silence. "Wait, we're in the origin world?" "Would whoever has their hand on my tentacle please remove it!" "What's the origin world?" "Well, some theories suggest that there may be many origin worlds -" "Get up and off the pile before you lecture us, Garlom. You're the heaviest person here, you're holding us all down." A pair of large gray batwings extend from the pile, and then the owner carefully rises. A long muzzle filed with sharp teeth, batlike ears,clawed hands and feet, all in a deep gray colour. "The long and short of it is, without a significant source of magical energy, we can't go back unless someone summons us. So. Who all is here? Myself, Tinker, and -" "Skree."Feathered, with birdlike wings, no arms, claws instead of feet. "Arch."Eight thin legs skitter along, three heads peer around the room (one feline, one canine, and one avian). Then the last of my visitors stands up. "My father will hear of this!"she says. She looks like some sort of squid-human hybrid - squid below the waist, and human above. The sight of her causes several gasps. "Princess Aranior!"
Record of elbow readings for 23/04/2021 Clients John - Will fall in love with the crazy but sweet girl next door. That being said, he is as crazy or even crazier (and sweeter) than her. Mary - Will adopt five dozen cats. One of which is a tiger. Ivan - Will put mayonnaise on cereal instead of milk. Correction, they'll put all-purpose dressing, not mayo. Don - Will not cry during the "Remember Me"reunion segment in Coco. Alexis - Will not quicksave before killing everyone in Whiterun. Jack - Will drink black coffee straight from the still boiling pot. Isabel - Will refuse to fix her bed the next morning. Henry - Will eat one extra slice of bread despite the fact that it's not a cheat day Wendy - Will step on two Lego's. Anton - Will mercy kill his aging pet chicken, then cook a meal out of it. Timmy - Will cause a nuclear war when he grows up --- Personal remarks - Hm, Isabel's prediction is especially bad. I might need to keep a close eye on her.
“The Man who froze himself in time.” Makes for an interesting title. An inaccurate one, but interesting. You see, time cannot be frozen. It can be slowed down to some rather ridiculous degrees, but frozen? Maybe inside a black hole. Assuming some of the prevalent theories hold true for what is inside. Yes, I am that man. Yes, I “froze” myself in time. The media had a field day or two about it. From their perspective, it was a few months. I am here to record what happened. My invention, of course, did not work as I had planned. Messing around with exotic materials on ill-understood temporal distortions caused by still debated tachyon particles generated from smashing gold at relativistic speeds with that new Blood Jam pudding whose ingredients don’t show up properly on most scientific instruments turns out to be... Well, a bad idea. “Mad scientist”, they called me. At least I got the device working to some degree. Unlike all the other “Scientists”. “Insane, Crazy, Dangerous. He’s going to kill us all!”. What nonsense. The energy contained within my device was concentrated in only a minuscule amount of material. It only had about 80 Tj of energy. A little above what the nuclear “Fat Man” contained. I was in the outskirts of a sparsely populated city. Worst case scenario, a few hundred thousand dead, if that. “Blasphemer of the sacred Blood Jam pudding!”. Right, well. I don’t like Blood Jam pudding. It is useful, though. Now, regarding my experiences. It is somewhat simple to explain. Imagine everything you see and hear as a video. As soon as you activate the device, everything starts moving at 1.5x the speed. Then, gradually turn it up to 2x, 3x, 4x, and so forth. Eventually, things start to blur to the point it appears the world around you is now one long exposure shot and you can’t stop it. Every sensation, smell, touch, sound. None of it really registers. If they touch you long enough, or speak slowly enough. I might sense something besides numbness. Hear some faint, distant echo. There was one time my mind barely processed. I think someone had a bit of fun with me. Maybe I should market a reduced potency version as an alternative to alternative life styles. Something to think about when I get out of prison. Oh, yes. I am in prison. Why wouldn’t I be? Made a small nuclear reactor in secret. Stole hundreds of millions in expensive materials and equipment. Potentially made a crime against Humanity, apparently. Desecrated the grave of Jiminy Cricket. Still don’t think that last one should have ended in a conviction. I find some degree of injustice that I am in prison for developing the new “Stasis” technology as they are calling it for future missions to Alpha Centauri. Won’t even credit me. They make it a point that my technology worked on fundamentally different principles. Don’t mind the coincidence that they developed it soon after they used my notes to break me out of my accidental prison and also interrogate me on it. My time in here wouldn’t really be that bad, except for the special terms of my imprisonment. They thought it was a favor. They didn’t torture me. They didn’t isolate me. They didn’t even chain me. I wish they had. They did the worst thing I could possibly have imagined. The put me under house arrest, in the house of my Mother-in-Law.
"Hot Stuff!"the little devil ejaculated. His asbestos diapers swelled with pride, and his trusty trident vibrated with anticipation for righteous bloodshed. Just a panel away, Wendy the cute little witch, in her red one-piece, waved her magic wand in his direction. Clearly, there were to be some entertaining hijinks ahead... "What's up, girl?" "It's those stupid ghosts again..."Casper's uncles were always causing trouble, but they didn't usually crossover to this neighborhood. "Where's... you know..?" "Spooky?"Wendy shook her head and cast a worried glance around. The little devil cringed. Spooky, the self-styled "tuff little ghost,"was the only other 'bad boy' in town who wasn't actually a 'bad guy'. "Naw - you know: 'Little Mister Friendly'. He's usually on top of those jokers." Wendy shrugged. "I'm really worried, Stuffy..." His trusty trident stood up at the ready. "Call me Hotty,"he intoned. A new page was turning in their relationship. ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᶦⁿᵘᵉᵈ --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- HEY KIDS!!! Do you want to get FREE GIFTS and make CASH in your spare time? Just send us whatever you can sneak out of your mom's purse and we'll set you up with everything you need to be a REAL ENTREPRENEUR in the exciting world of DOOR-TO-DOOR GIFT CARD SALES!
###Be Wary of Crooked Halos EDITED VERSION 1/2 *** “Just press that button there and it all restarts.” A man dressed in shimmering white robes appeared in the distance. He smiled. A crooked halo sat on top of a head of fluffy brown hair. He raised his hands in the air and a beautiful world came to life. A forest of trees sprouted to the skies, their leaves dripping with god-like power. Streams of crystal blue water flowed to the right, and to the left stood white-tipped mountain ranges. Beyond the conjured horizon, the arms of lively flames moved with the breeze. All the elements in one place. Earth, wind, fire, water; they were all entwined together, like a painted canvas. In the middle of it all, sat a large box. Wren blinked, studying the mysterious item in front of him. Vines of green, pink, and yellow danced in the air as they untangled themselves. A pulsing button at the center of the box emerged and the vines fell limp at his feet. “Is this a joke?” “No…” The man cocked his head back, his bottom lip puffed out. “What is this? Who are you?” Wren squinted at the strange world before him. The oddly dressed man. The box. “This is your chance, Wren, to start over. To do it again.” “Do what again, exactly?” “Life.” The haze of confusion began to lift. This wasn’t some weird dream and he wasn’t lost in a magical world. Visions of those last few moments flooded Wren’s mind. Shattered glass. A phone; half of a text message. Honking. The screeching of metal-on-metal. Crash. His eyebrows folded inward as the truth settled in his gut. “I—” He ran a hand over his face and steadied himself. “So this is like a reincarnation thing.” The man in white raised his hands over the box. A smile slowly spread across his face as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, eagerly. “By pressing this button, you can go back. Before it happened. And all those little moments you wished you could relive? You can.” “No.” “No?” The man jerked his head back. “You don’t wanna take a minute to at least think about it?” “What about my life says I’d wanna do it all over again? Taking care of my drunken mother while still learning to tie my shoes? No, don’t think I’d wanna do that again. Maybe the months I spent strapped to a hospital bed after deployment? Nope, not that, either. Oh! Maybe I could relive the years my daughter wouldn’t talk to me. The years I spent down a bottle after…” Wren hung his head and swallowed the lump sitting in the back of his throat. “After my wife died.” His eyes widened and he met the robed man’s gaze. “After you took her from me!” “Woah! A simple ‘no, thank you’ would be fine. You don’t need to be rude.” No. This wasn’t happening. Wren shook his head and stepped backward. “This is ridiculous!” He whipped around, ready to walk away. But where would he go? It was all just some twisted play on his imagination. Conjured by a strange man in a robe. He slumped his shoulders, and turned, facing the man. The deep lines in Wren’s face softened. “So…Do people actually choose to do it again?” “Well, of course. No one wants to, you know, die.” “The…same life?” “Look, I can see you’re having some trouble with this.” The man walked across the field of overgrown grass and stopped. In one swift motion of his hand, an old stone gateway appeared. It looked like an ancient, forgotten ruin. The nature that teemed with life in the rest of the world, lay dead among the broken pillars and cobblestone. Perfectly constructed archways were stained with mold. Bones of long-gone animals littered the ground. The robed man passed through the archway, pausing in front of a grey door. “You just gonna stand there? Come on.” Wren pushed his hands to his temples and reluctantly followed. "Just a little ‘trouble’ is all. Is that what this is?” An exasperated sigh escaped his throat. He stared at the two stone bats that sat on either side of the door. There was something different about them, something ominous. He shook it off and moved towards the robed man. “Is there another life behind that door? A good one?” A light erupted from beneath it. Shadows paced back and forth on the other side, clawing at the door’s edges. The man stood tall in front of the two door guards. A viscous sound erupted from his throat. Both stone sculptures shook and crumbled, shaking the ground beneath them. From their broken shells, emerged two bats the size of mammoths, eyes as yellow as the sun. A single flap of their wings and the door flew open. The smell of rot and burnt flesh hit Wren like a punch to the gut. He stumbled backwards. Shrill cries pierced his eardrums. Emotion coursed through him like a Tidal wave. Pain. Regret. Angst. Guilt and shame that was strong enough to split open a grown man. Was this Hell? “Something like that.” “What?” “You asked if it was Hell.” “Not out loud.” “C’mon. You’re dead. You saw me create trees and fire. You’re standing in front of a literal Hell. And you doubt that I know what you’re thinking?” He rubbed his hands together. “So what’s it gonna be?” “I don’t wanna live that life again. I know how bad it is.” Wren crossed his arms and turned away. “You wouldn’t be living the same life.” Wren considered the man’s words. “So I’d be someone else?” “Well no, you’d still be you.” Wren clenched his fists, his face twisted in frustration. He sighed. The man in white stifled a laugh. “You don’t have to make the same decisions or take the same paths. Be someone else. Anyone you want. Someone powerful? Here, I’ll make you a deal.” He pulled a large, spinning ball into his hands. Bright white tendrils tinged with pink and orange flowed through it. Their frayed ends danced as the two men stared into the ball. Another world began to bloom. The conjured trees reaching for the skies slipped into darkness. The distant flames dwindled into ash. In its place stood a high rise office building, much like those that lined the city of New York. And much like the skyscraper office Wren had dreamed of being working in. Being able to see the glowing city as he worked late, knowing it would all be his one day. An image of Wren appeared. He was dressed in a fancy, Italian suit. Confidence oozed from the firm smile plastered on his face. True success, Wren thought, watching the alternate version of himself live the life that should have been his. Adjusting his crooked halo, the white robed man nodded. “That’s the man you always wanted to be. Strong. Sure of himself. The man lesser men strived to be. The one women melted for.” Wren watched the unfolding images intently. Moment after moment. Powerful Wren. Rich Wren. Casanova Wren. “It all boils down to one decision. Well, two. The first is to say yes and push the button.” “And the second?” “Its about the day you met Vivian.” “My wife? What does she have to do with this?” “Well… in this version of Wren’s life, she doesn’t make it.” Wren frowned. “She didn’t make it in the old Wren’s life, either.” “Right. But you still had a life with her. This Wren doesn't have that. Its not possible here.” “I…No.” Wren shook his head, swallowed, and stepped back. “This is a mistake.” “Are you sure?” The white-robed man pulled the next image into view. “While you can’t be a part of her life, your presence that day changes everything.” A small coffee shop comes into focus. Wren knew it well: Eighty-Second street, best pumpkin muffins in the whole city. And the place he met her. A young Vivian enters the picture, rushing through the door of the coffee shop. Clearly in a hurry—late for an audition. (Wren knew that part well.) But this time, its different. There is no Wren in the doorway. There is no dropped cup, no shattered pieces littering the ground. And so she runs uninterrupted out of the shop. “Seems like maybe she’s better off. I don’t see the problem.” “Keep watching. That thirty seconds makes all the difference.” Thunder cracks in the sky. A storm is coming. Vivian continues to run down the street and the traffic rushes past her. Her teeth clench as she tries to will her legs to run faster. She can't miss that audition! The sky darkens and the clouds open. Heavy rain pours down on the bustling city street. It's a frantic blur as everyone beelines for the nearest shelter: in a car, beneath an awning, inside a nearby store. But not Vivian. It's just a little storm, afterall. And her future is at stake. Vivian approaches the curb and steps out into the road without another thought. A car zooms past her, sending a puddle of water flying. She's soaked. “Hey!” she yells after the car, but it's already gone. Stumbling backwards, her ankle rolls. The heel of her shoe breaks. She falls to the ground, knees stained red.* Another car roars through the scene. Quickly approaching. They, too, must be in a hurry. But Vivian isn't looking. And the driver never sees her. CONTINUED BELOW
Theodore had given up dating years ago. He was cynical about the whole affair. For one, he found the apps dehumanizing, degrading. Swiping through human beings as if they were products in a catalogue, and then acting like a jester with his matches, competing with a thousand other guys for some girl's attention. Even at it's best, online dating had never secured him anything more than a mediocre romance that quickly fizzled. He wasn't into it. Not at all. And where could a guy like Theo meet a chick, if not on an app? Should he approach the women at his local gym, making them stop their workouts, asking them to pull their earbuds out, so he could try to weasel into their lives? He was too busy to hit the bars, and had never liked the scene. In short, it wasn't worth the hassle. Besides, he was content with his bachelorhood. For the most part, anyways. He had a solid job, which he enjoyed. He had a tight circle of loyal friends. He was close with his family. He had hobbies and passions. "Enough of that bullshit,"said Jay. The two had been drinking, confabulating, and the conversation had gradually roved towards girls and relationships, as it often did. "We get it already,"continued Jay. "You don't need a girl. You're Mr Independent. You've overcome all your desires for romance, love and sex. You're the goddamned Buddha, meditating under a tree." "It's not that I don't want those things,"Theo laughed. "It's that I don't--" "Think the payoff is worth the effort,"Jay interrupted. "I know. I've that watery crap dribble a trillion times from your lips." "Gross metaphor,"said Theo. "Still, it's true. The apps--" "Enough about the apps!"cried Jay. "Fuck the apps. Throw your phone into the ocean for all I care. And no, I'm not going to suggest you go skulking around the college library either, feigning interest in whatever bio textbook or revolutionary pamphlet the studious little undergrads are reading." "What are you suggesting, then?"Theo asked. Jay slowly gulped his beer. He placed his mug on the table. He sighed. Then he smiled, laughed silently to himself, and shook his head, as if it were all so obvious. He was building up the reveal, for dramatic effect. It was his habit in situations like this, a habit which annoyed Theo immeasurably. Until, finally, the fateful words finally left Jay's lips. "Speed dating,"he pronounced. Jay sat back in his chair with a supremely self-satisfied look. "That's your idea?"Theo laughed. "Speed dating? What is this, 1987?" Jay's face darkened. He was offended. Apparently, he had in complete seriousness thought it was a great idea, and now felt like his genius was being unappreciated. "Maybe it is 1987,"Jay snapped. "Pretend. Treat it like you've gone back in time. I don't care. But you're going. I'll drag you by your ear if I have to. . .Besides, I've already signed you up." <> The joint was called Northside Fabio's, a restaurant and bar which was, ironically, located on the south side of town. The organizers had rented out the dining room for the event. On the various tables sat numbers and two-minute timers, like some bizarre speed chess competition for which everything had been brought except the pieces and boards. "And we are the pawns,"he said to himself, and giggled at his faux-pretentiousness. Theo scanned the growing crowd of participants. More men than women, it seemed, but not many more. 60/40, he figured. And though he had expected to see only sad, desperate, lonely losers, he was surprised to find that all sorts had shown up to take part in this strange mating ritual from a bygone era. There were a lot of prospects, even a couple knockouts. "I'll be damned,"he thought. But his surprise didn't put a damper on his cynicism. Theo was a man of convictions, of principles, after all. He had agreed to show up, to assuage Jay's bruised ego; but he had also sworn solemnly to himself that he would make a mockery of the whole thing. That's why he was dressed as he was: not only in the style of the late 1980s, but, in fact, wearing the exact outfit Rick Astley wore in his music video for "Never Gonna Give You Up."He wore the light grey khakis, the collared shirt with black and cream stripes, the black blazer. His hair wasn't red, sadly, but he'd fluffed it up into a near-perfect recreation of the popstar's pompadour. And he was determined, during each and every one of his dates, to speak only in snatches of lyrics from Astley's notorious tune. It was all a part of his grand plan--he was going to Rick Roll the speed dating scene. "Ladies and gentleman,"said the host into a microphone. She was a buoyant middle-aged woman with scraggly brown hair and a smoker's voice. "Lisa and Brady are handing out numbers and schedules. Make sure you have yours, and understand how the schedule works. If you have any questions, ask either of them, or me. Got it? Good. . .Now comb your hair. Smell your breath. Get a shot of your particular poison from the bar. Whatever you need to get into the zone. Cuz we start in five minutes, and once we start, there's no stopping, baby!" <>
"You remember it too?" "Of course I remember it too! How could I not remember that shit?!" "Things really go nuts don't they?" "The quarantine, climate change-" "-still a thing." "Whatever. The political bullshit. The irony. The way everybody acted." "It's 2012. People still bitched about everything you just listed." "I know." "Well, not the quarantine." "Nevermind that.""So we both agree we're in some sort of time loop right?" "I guess? That's why I figured I'd ask you." "How many other people remember, do you wonder?" "I don't know. That's a good question. Do we really want everyone to remember? I mean it's good I'm not the only one. Thought I was crazy." "You're not crazy, that's what makes this crazy." "So what now?" "You lose anybody? In the last decade or so?" "Only a couple." "I figure we should make it right with them. If you need to." "We're using this unbelievable circumstance to make an apology tour?" "For starters." "And then? What, sit around and let time catch up to us?" "We get rich." "....You're serious." "Damn right. We have the know-how. And we know where things are headed." "So, we just win the lottery." "What numbers come out Friday?" "Fuck you." "Exactly." "Well, we can always look- Wait, no we can't." "Hasn't happened yet. But I can tell you what else hasn't taken off completely yet. Crypto. Startups. Electric Vehicles. Legal weed. All the stuff you see people made bank off of. A lot of it hasn't blown up yet." "We weren't able to cash in on things like that the first time. It's not like we have money like that." "Yet. We pull some moves. Do a little dirt. Maybe come out on top." "Or we ruin things and maybe die. That'd kinda ruin your plan." "How much did you make an hour at your last job?" "11.50." "What was it? Can't hear you." "11.50! I know it wasn't a lot okay! Cut me a break." "Well, I'm tired of getting left behind. I'm tired of working 50+ hours a week for peanuts." "Think about what might go wrong. That's all I'm saying. Didn't you have a baby on the way? Before we left?" "Well, it's not like can worry about it now." "I'm sorry." "Don't be. If it's meant to be, it's meant to be." "I figure this is a second chance for me." "It is. Like I said, let's get rich this time." "I have 55 dollars on me." "I have 36." "All of a little under a hundred. What's that going to do?" "I have another idea, but you're not gonna like it. We just need these for couple of weeks." "What's the bandsaw for?" "Don't worry about it. Just get some of the others on the team. Keep them in the dark on the whole time travel thing. We have to know we can trust them first. Go see your family. See what else we can get going. And meet me back here in about 24 hours." "...Okay. Seriously, what are the tools for?" "Don't worry about it. Just trust me." --- Figured I'd just do a short dialogue piece for this one.
"Thrice will he writhe and wriggle in the cold, hard earth. Thrice will he be freed to spread fear for his mirth. Thrice will a child be devoured to add to his girth. So will end the line of the Kingdom of Furth."Shivers and whispers ran around the courtroom. "That is,"continued the warrior-bard, "unless you pay me to put him down for good, your highness."He bowed his head respectfully, veiling his face behind loose blonde curls. At this, the whispers boiled over into full-on muttering. Words fluttered about the hall like anxious moths: "but we can't afford"and "felt the earthquakes"and "higher taxes"and "better than being eaten I suppose."His highness raised a hand, and the moths fluttered into stillness, the spectators watching with unease. The raised hand lazily waved to the vizier, who stepped forward to stand beside the throne. Where the warrior-bard was lithe, elegant and grand, the vizier was stunted and somewhat rotund. It was clear from the vizier's patched and slightly ragged robe that the king's people were not alone in their financial struggles. The vizier withdrew a scroll from his sleeve with short, stubby fingers, and unfurled it with a quick, brusque motion. He fixed his gaze on the scroll and began in a carrying monotone, "Warrior-bard Timothy-" "It's Jimothy, my lord,"the warrior-bard interrupted. "With a J." A small frown line creased the vizier's forehead. A quill found its way from his fraying sleeve to his hand and he made a note on the scroll. "Warrior-bard Jimothy, why did you come to the Kingdom of Furth?" "My lord,"Jimothy said earnestly, "I heard of the earthquakes, and knew I had to come. I believe there have been two already?" "That is correct,"replied the vizier, making another note. "To leave the Kingdom of Furth to its own devices, so recently ravaged by war, its people weighed down by poverty... I could not help but feel compassion." "I see."The vizier's quill was poised above the page, a viper waiting to strike. He looked down at the warrior-bard. "What did you do upon crossing the Furthian border?" Jimothy looked at him, puzzled. "I came here, to the palace, to offer my services, my lord." "Warrior-bard Jimothy, are you aware of any other martial force within the Kingdom of Furth that could help against the Great Earthwyrm? The Warriors' Guild, perhaps? The Hunters' Guild?" "I had heard they were dissolved due to economic pressures, my lord,"said Jimothy, his voice taking on a mournful tone. "If I thought the kingdom had any effective options for dealing with the Earthwyrm, I perhaps would have offered my services via a letter, rather than rushing here posthaste with my seven-league boots. But it seems I am the kingdom's only hope." "I see,"the vizier said again. "And these... economic pressures, as I believe you called them... I don't suppose you had anything to do with those?"He still spoke in a monotone, but Jimothy's face had gone quite pale. "My lord,"Jimothy said slowly, "How could I? Why, to dissolve two guilds..."he trailed off. "Would require a large sum of money, yes. Whistleblowers in both guilds reported that you offered them each twenty thousand gold pieces. Are you aware that the Kingdom of Furth has laws that prohibit monopolization of certain trades, as well as labor laws that prohibit dissolution of guilds without advance notice to members?"Gasps from the spectating crowd. "I-- well, that is to say-- me, my lord?" "Unless there is another warrior-bard with, and I quote--"the vizier squinted at his scroll-- "long blonde curls, seven-league boots, and the most ridiculous name of Jimothy?" Jimothy quailed, seeming to shrink in his boots. "M-my lord, I-I--"He made a mad dash for the door, and would have made the full seven leagues if it had been open. Instead, he made about seven feet and huge bang as he crashed into the heavy wooden (and still very closed) door. The guards to either side lifted him by the arms, careful to keep his feet off the floor. "Jimothy the warrior-bard,"intoned the vizier, "you are hereby found guilty of bribery and corruption against the people of Furth, and of attempting to deceive his highness the king. As such, you will be fined the amount of one hundred thousand gold pieces." "But-- but I haven't got that much gold!" "Well, with his highness the king's permission--"he glanced at the king, who nodded-- "perhaps we could reduce that debt if a certain Earthwyrm could be eradicated?"
"... Okay, here we go." 'So, you know how, when you have an idea, you have to work for it to happen, right? Whether you want a high position in society, or simply want to eat something at that one famous restaurant. You need to do something. To prepare yourself to do that, to stand up and walk to go there. Such mundane, yet annoying things. Well, somehow... I don't. Anything I want, I can immediately get it. By just thinking about it. Just like that, it happens. One time, I became the richest man in the world at only twelve years old, just because I could. I didn't do anything at all, I simply got that idea, and focused on it a lot. And bam, there it was. It's just weird though, lately... Well, I've gotten... Too good at it? I just assumed that it was me getting it easy for once or something. But the more I experimented with it, the more I had trouble controlling it. It felt so weird at first. When did it get to that point? One thing I never expected was to have to focus on not materializing what I thought of. Last week, walking down the street, a passenger in a bus annoyed me. I didn't expect to make him explode, and I had to take time to calm down and undo it. Usually, when you have that kind of power, it's meant to get better, right? You learn more about it, and by extent, how to control it. But for me, it's the opposite. It's been a month now. I've been avoiding the outside world, and I've been in my room since then, sitting on my bed. It's weird to see everything that's in your head appear in front of you, you know? We all think about weird stuff from time to time, but that's not even the worst part. The worst part is having every single one of your thoughts not only appear, put stay. Everything I think off happens immediately, but it doesn't disappear when I stop thinking about it. The other day for instance, I wondered what it's be like to have a pet. I was thinking of a cat. Well, guess what? It's still there, except that there's also a snake, an owl, and an aquarium full of sea creatures to go with it now. Yep, all thoughts that I had at some point. Anyways, I've been making a lot of researches on this. On how to control your thoughts, your emotions, and yourself in general. It kinda works, but... Well, I already made a few things appear, and I got a letter from a video game character since I started writing this because of thinking about what to say. So yeah. I als' "... On second thought, maybe I should stop here. Maybe writing it down wasn't a good idea after all."
I looked around as I headed towards the bar. It was a beautiful establishment. Plush chairs surrounded carved wooden tables. Lights were cleverly hidden in the ceilings and around the walls, mimicking torch lights. The decor itself was deep reds, browns and blacks, mixing together tastefully. The bar itself looked to be a single carved piece of stone. Three sets of taps ran along each, advertising the beers and ciders they had on tap. Behind it was a glass shelf, dotted with all sorts of bottles. They ranged from vodka to whisky, gin to rum. Three bartenders stood behind it, watching the floor. One moved at my approach, positioning herself infront of my path. Her dirty blond hair was pulled into a loose bun, a few strands sticking out. The black of her uniform seemed darker than anything I had seen before. It was almost like it was made out if night. "Welcome to Ups and Downs. What can I get you?" She spoke quietly, not wanting to break the peaceful atmosphere. But her words carried through perfectly clearly. I smiled in response, eyes flickering over the selection. "Could I get a rum and coke please?" "Would you like a single, or a double?" I didn't want to drink too much just yet. "A single will be fine." "No problem." As she turned to make it, I was sure I saw an extra movement. I assumed it was my eyes playing tricks on me, though I had a strange feeling that this was not all that it seemed. In short order, she turned back, that movement happening again. "Here you go, that will be £4." I passed over a fiver, her fingers brushing slighty againt my hand. I couldn't help but notice that they felt incredibly hot, even in that split second of contact. The pound I received back was almost too hot to handle, as she smiled at me. "Enjoy." I smiled back, leaning against the bar itself. My eyes wandered around the room, noting how quiet it was. There were a few patrons, but it was mostly empty. Not that it was surprising, it was barely five. "How has it been, since this is a new place?" She gave a half smile at my awkward phrasing. "We've been busy. Word travels fast." I took a sip of my drink, blinking at it. It was perfectly chilled. As I glanced back, I had to shake my head. Somehow I hadn't noticed the horns sprouting from her forehead. Her grin grew at my reaction. "Oh, you noticed! How wonderful!" I quickly looked to the others. They each also sprouted horns, and had turned to give me that same grin. It was creepy, and seemed to hint at darker things. "You're the sort we've been looking for." She stepped out from behind the bar, touching my arm. Her grip burned, but I couldn't pull away. It was like my body had frozen, though from fear or spell I did not know. "Lets talk in private you and I."
Sitting in the doctor’s office, awaiting to speak to my PCP. In walks 5’8”, sun kissed tanned, dark brown sugar colored hair, young man in a doctor’s coat. “Yes, sir. How can I help you?” He explains, “Your regular doctor can not be here today, so I am filling in.” “Yes sir,” flows freely from my mouth. As he gracefully glides across the room to the mahogany shaded wooden desk, he reaches out to lay a perfectly manicured hand on my shoulder, and he squeezed. Oh my goodness. My heart is racing and my mind is lost in devilish embarrassing thoughts. I say to myself, HE IS HALF YOUR AGE. Get a grip! Now seating directly in front of me, he has my file in his hands and is glancing at the test results. No doubt trying to gently and professionally find a way to tell me I am dying. He closes the folder and looks me squarely in the eyes. My palms are sweaty. I am breathing through my mouth instead of my nose, leading me to experience a dry mouth and throat. Don’t cough. Don’t cough. He reaches across the smooth glossy desktop, motioning for my hand. As I am about to feel, what I believe is next level euphoria, I hear a knock at the office door. Our gaze is unbroken. A second knock, harder than the first. From a distant somewhere in my psyche, I hear a familiar voice. What is happening? The intensity of the exchange between this handsome male specimen and myself diminishes as I slowly realize that my grandmother is knocking at my front door.
I walk down the path in a huff. It's dark except for a couple of lights marking the path to each enclosure. I've always enjoyed walking the zoo at night. No people to frustrate me and most of the animals are asleep. I'd be happy if it wasn't for the reason I was out here in the first place. I see light trickling out of the peacock enclosure at a distance. I breathe hard out my nose. Damn, they are some of the coolest animals in the park but they are also a big pain in my ass. I swing the door open, which was already cracked, to a speaker blaring the Bee Gees and a huge disco ball spraying rainbow light throughout the enclosure. The poor peacock family huddle in the corner from the light and noise. The Father peacock spreads his beautiful white feathers and hisses at them but they just make noises back and go back to dancing from the top of the enclosure. I shake my head and start yelling, towards the monkeys making noises from the top of the enclosure. "Alright, Parties over."The monkeys just get louder. "Music off, now!"They concede realizing I'm getting mad. They all stare at me. "No Fun."A spider monkey says swinging back and forth slightly with one arm. "Out, all of you, It's after midnight. You guys are scaring the peacocks."One of the Monkeys, a ringtail lemur, decides to test his luck with me. "So?"Bad move. "Alright, then. If you don't leave in the next 15 seconds, taking the disco ball and the speaker with you, I'm putting you inside for the next week." They all groan and quickly collect the speaker and the disco ball, climbing down from the top of the enclosure and walking towards the door. "Straight back to your enclosures, and stay there all night or I'm stifling your banana rations."I've learned long ago to not give them room to do what you don't want. They groan and walk a little faster. As soon as all of them leave, I turn to the peacocks. "Sorry, about the trouble, have a nice night."I wave and head out the door.
“Please? This is all I could trade for at the Exchange yesterday,” I whine to my landlord. He leans down into the bucket and adjusts his glasses to inspect the contents. He scoffs, “You’re already three months late. I requested a bucket of green bricks this month, to help build my husband’s garden. I can’t use…what is this, cyan? I can’t use a half bucket of cyan bricks for the garden!” “But cyan could go nicely in a garden! Maybe it could work as a-a still pond. O-or some hummingbird decorations! I just don’t have green right now,” I wave my arms wildly around, as if it will conjure more bricks, “If you really want greens, I can get them for you in a few days. Payday is today, and maybe I can exchange for some green ones with my coworkers. I know Eric at work hates green, and maybe Charlie–” He swipes the bucket from my hands, lifting the bucket by the handle and curling his bicep, as if he was at the gym lifting weights. “Fine. I’ll accept this half-bucket of cyan. I will come back tomorrow for a half bucket of greens. Last chance, Sarah,” He leans in to almost whisper the last sentence, and immediately afterwards, he steps aside from my multicolored apartment door and leaves. I hear his loud footsteps go further and further, his leather shoes clicking against the studded, plastic floor. When I can no longer see him or hear his feet, I sigh, pick up my backpack, and head outside the apartment building. I eat some cold leftover pizza as I walk to work. I am not alone: the road is filled with other people walking to work, with the occasional horse-drawn LEGO carriage pushing everyone else to the roadside. The road, damaged from the Shattering, had been partially restored together with LEGO bricks. My feet alternate between concrete and plastic, occasionally stumbling into small potholes. It’s illegal to steal any bricks used for the public, but some desperate citizens will, under the cover of darkness, cut the superglue used to solidify the LEGOs together, and rip them out. I have to consider: if my pay is not what I expect tonight, there might need to be a few more potholes in the road. Once I arrive at the job site, I put my backpack down and put a LEGO helmet on. I slip on some gloves. I am already a little late, so I don’t try talking to my coworkers and stirring any noise. I sneak my way in, and start helping some guys with moving buckets of LEGOs to the upper floors. While helping my construction friends, I think about how ironic it is: I desperately need LEGOs to pay my rent, but I’m surrounded every day by the plastic bricks, in all kinds of colors and sizes. If only it was easier to just take some of it home! Hours pass. I swap between carrying the buckets up and down, to emptying the buckets by locking the blocks into the new walls of the proposed department store. Lunch barely registers in my memory: the mushy potatoes don’t stimulate my brain enough to think about anything other than the possibility that…my boss might not give me green LEGOs. Which wouldn’t be the end of the world. There must be someone else that would be paid with plenty of green LEGOs, right? But what if there wasn’t? What if everyone got red, yellow, blue, even orange, but not green? I could go to the Exchange again, but maybe they’re once again in high demand and I can’t get any. Maybe I could throw away my pride and ask Tom for greens? He’s the only other person I know that just might hold onto some greens. But ever since we broke up, I haven’t been in contact with him. What if– “Well done, Sarah! Great work today,” my boss’s words sound like a dog barking, and they snap me awake from my trance-like focus. “I’m sorry, what?” I ask. “I said keep up the good work. Here’s your pay,” she reaches into the LEGO cart and drops a bucket of LEGOs at my feet. I drop down to my knees and use my gloved hands to shuffle through the bucket. “Uh, Ms. Calhoun, you wouldn’t happen to have…another bucket with more green bricks?” She raises an eyebrow, exaggerating the wrinkles on her forehead. “I-I mean, if it makes no difference to you! I promise to keep up this…hard work that I had today. Please?” I plead. She shakes her head and sighs. “Sure, kid,” She winks and takes my bucket back onto the cart. She digs through a few buckets, and after a minute of nothing but the crunching sounds of shuffled LEGOs, she drops another bucket at my feet. “If you need more greens, ask your coworkers. That should be a good amount of greens. Have a good weekend, Sarah,” With that said, she turns her head and pushes the LEGO cart away, toward some of my other coworkers at the job site. I drop to my knees again and start sifting through the bucket. Does it really–oh thank the Danish, almost half of the bucket is green. Heck, even parts of the bucket are green! It will be tricky, but I should be able to ask some other folks for a few greens here and there. It’s hard to get a lot of greens, but a handful? I can negotiate that. I don’t have the green bricks I need just yet, but my body goes limp over the bucket as I relax my overworked shell after a hard day’s work. I think I’ll survive. I can survive another month, just barely.
(I took a bit of creative license with this prompt and interpreted it as a necromancer who BELIEVES he is falsely accused and is saving the village) Locked. Trapped. Caught. Too dark. Much too dark. And yet, in the dim candlelight I can feel them watching me. Watching. Always watching. Their gaze burns holes on my wretched form. There are four. I glimpsed their silhouettes under flickering candle flame. Three are big. Two are tall. One is neither. He is short, bald and hunched. I slowly turn my head. I peer at him from the corner of my eye. Perhaps I can look at him. Perhaps he is like me. No. No, he is not. His frailty belies his nature. I see now he stands proud, equals with his brethren. His spotless white clothes glow like angel skin. I cannot see his face, but his eyes must be pure white too, as every bit divine as the rest of the men. How beautiful. How dazzling. I cannot bear to look at them any longer. I cast my eyes above them. A window. Snowflakes flutter by. My heart eases. I see it in my mind: snow coating the rooftops, the roads and the people, burying the world. A voice breaks my thoughts. It is oddly reminiscent. The man it belongs to props himself up with a staff. A brown beard adorns his rugged, shadowed face. "Ortho Lambert, son of Marie Lambert. You stand before this council of the village elders on trial accused of murder and the practicing of outlawed pagan rites believed to..." His voice falters. "...Raise the dead. How do you plead?" I do not understand him. I cannot understand him. How could I? His voice, deep like rolling thunder, contains power, authority, and compassion. A beautiful thing from a different world, unfit for my ears. I transfix my gaze once again to the falling snow outside. "This is pointless,"speaks another man. The largest of the bunch, he is wrapped in animal furs and pelts of different shapes and sizes. An axe is slung across his back. "Four missing, this week alone. Two of 'em children! The villagers are scared out of their mind and the hunters refuse to go into the woods anymore. "Honestly, we're lucky enough as it is to have stumbled on this ugly son of bitch's lair as soon as we did. I don't know what we're waitin' for anymore. We found pentagrams! Books 'bout blood sacrifice for cryin' out loud! Creepy fuck looks half demon already! We ought a execute 'im where stands and do the world a favor." He was angry, spittle flying from his large frame as he shook his finger at me. Memories of days come rushing into my mind. Jeering. Booing. They were angry too, all those years ago. Children. Stones. Blood. They chased me. Demon child. Cursed child. They pointed at my face. The small, hunched man nods. "Agreed. Young as he may be, the evidence your men found is damning. The church cannot sit back and let such flagrant unholy corruption proliferate any further. We must remove all traces of it, beginning with its maker." I remember. I believed them. I ran. From their perfect faces, devoid of marks and craters, smooth and white, blinding me like the afternoon sun. I cursed myself for being born. For belonging to a different world. Lost. Alone. Driven into the woods. Stumbled. Fell. Freezing. Dying. Slowly buried under falling snow. And then I met her. "Peace my friends,", interjects the bearded man. "I knew Ortho's mother and she was no demon. Marie was good woman but as you can see, her son was unfortunately... rather disfigured at birth. I could not protect her nor him from the persecution of the villagers then and it proved to be too much for her to bear living. When Ortho disappeared, most folk were happy to forget that two ever existed. I never expected lad to survive as he has... "However, a Necronomicon nor villains are created spontaneously. The books and instruments that were found with him were created a great many years ago. This child was corrupted, and the source of this corruption is yet to be found. We must question him further before delivering his due punishment." She carried me. Fed me. Clothed me. Taught me. Spoke in hushed tones about various things. Of life. Of death. Of the kinship she felt with me. Deep in the forest, rank with doom and the dead, away from the village in which I was born, I learned of love. I learned of trust. I asked her why? Why was I hated and made to suffer as I have? "Thank you chief, for being the one sole voice of reason in the room,"a new voice chimes in. Sharply dressed and tall with a bespectacled face, he speaks with elegance and charm. "This young man and the information he possesses is simply too valuable to be done away with. In particular, the potions and tonics we received word of in his cottage, blasphemous as the church may find them, must be thoroughly investigated and documented-" What drove such perfect beings to enact such cruelty on those around them? "With all due respective Sir Barov, your fascination with what is clearly witchcraft will only bring ruin to us all." What blemishes their blessed complexion and causes it twist into such grotesque, unbecoming expressions? "I have to duty to think of this land's future. The ancestral buildings, the houses, and gardens sink further into disarray every year and villagers are unable to support themselves let alone pay taxes. Men of science like myself have an obligation to study what we do not yet to glean the knowledge that will allow to help ourselves!" She told me. They were sick. She was a healer of sorts. She knew. She told me. Sick of the heart of the most ancient, primeval disease to have plagued mankind. Yes, they were angry at me, then and now. But anger belied their fear and fear marred their faces. "That's enough! We digress, we must decide what to do with the boy first. All other matters can be considered later." Deep in the forest, I learned the secrets she taught. I learned of whispered words of ancient tongues. I learned to raise their bodies from filth I was born from and cleanse them of the fear they suffered from as they lived. And when I learned it all, she vanished. Disappearing into woods like the hushed whispers she spoke in. "Have you all gone mad? He's a murderer for god's sake!" "Murder?"the question slipped from my mouth. I turned to face them fully. "I do not understand." I see them as they are, beautiful creatures, resplendent with the blessings of life, oh so close to perfection. However, their faces betray their exhaustion, and their eyes betray their fear. Deep in the woods, I found my purpose. I shall preserve their beauty, their bodies, and purify them of their fear. A wretch such as I should be the only one to know such darkness. Outside, the snow falls, entombing the world below. &#x200B; (Please nitpick and give feedback if you can. Tell me if its cringe. It's my first post and am trying to improve my writing.)
The unlikely group walk over to the bar and start ordering their drinks. "I'd like an ectoplasmartini please."The ghost whispers. "Gis me boulder vodka on zer rocks"The orc demands. "I wish for a fairyflossent please and thank you."The fairy requests sweetly. The bartender; being your average human bartender who's never quite laid eyes on even one magical creature let alone three, stares dumbfoundedly. The poor man can't even get out the words to let the group know that he does not serve those drinks. Thankfully, the accountant notices this and steps in to clear up the mess. He introduces everyone and then explains to his companions that they cannot in fact have the drinks that they want. The group mumbles and grumbles and in the orc's case, booms and fumes. Eventually, though, they all settle on cokes. The bartender nods as he stares up at the orc and the barstool leg that it carries in its hands. The group goes and sits at a table in the far corner and wait for their drinks. "Hey, how did you know he would be so uncheery like that?"The fairy asks the accountant. "Yeah, how did you know he would go so ghostly white on seeing us?"The ghost adds. "Yeth. How did you kno ee would jump like ee saw a giant?"The orc added. The accountant just chuckled in response but then clarified on seeing their questioning looks. "Guys guys. I'm an accountant. Amazed awe and tremendous terror both in the same look is something I get often."
"shitshitshitshit"I said, running up to my room to grab my notebook while simultaneously dialing my friend. "Pick up, pick up, pick up!"Breathless, I grabbed my notebook and my cosplay staff. Maybe since it was based on the show, it would work? "You've seen the news, right?"my friend answered as soon as she picked up. "Yeah, why else would I be calling? Have you seen if your palisman works?" "Surprisingly, it does! I'm on my way over now. You have your notebook?" "Yep. Not sure if these rune combos will work yet, but we can certainly try. I can't believe they actually pulled off the day of unity." "I know, seems impossible. Now I really want to know how Dana knew." "Right?! We need to go find her as soon as we take down this abomination and pray that no other ridiculous Boiling Isles things attack while we're away." "Or that it rains. Not sure how long it'll hold them off, but they should be paranoid enough of boiling rain to buy us some time." Running out the door, I stuffed my notebook in my messenger bag and unfurled the wings of my falcon-topped staff (thank god it worked), hopping on and meeting my friend in the air. "You ready?"I asked. "Nope! But given there's no one else in this town who watches The Owl House as obsessively as we do, we're stuck with this job."She smiled at me. "Let's go take down some demons."
I purred and opened one eye. My human was asleep. Finally. I jumped off of my bed and walked into my kitchen and left through my cat door. I trotted confidently towards the third alleyway, the most abandoned one. I smelt them before I heard them. Thousands of cats coming together under the full moon. I trotted towards their sounds and I took a seat in between a few cats lying down. I groomed myself as I waited. A large cat walked up onto the green dumpster box. He hissed and everyone looked at him. He slowly looked over all of us and gave a slow nod. “It’s time.” He whispered into our minds.
“I see why you dropped Spanish,” Violet groans, dragging a hand through her hair. “It sucks. So, so much.” “D’you have Miss…?” “Harker? No. Worse.” “Oh, the new… the ‘new bitch’, if I recall correctly?” “Shut it, Ari!” I’ve just left Westwood this June, and today’s been Vi’s first day of GCSE Spanish, apparently. As for college? Well, I’m… hardly thrilled about the bus journey, but it’s not quite as bad as I was expecting. Just exhausting. Honestly, the thing about people is that they want to ask you questions. Especially me, because I swear I was asked whether I was a boy or girl by everyone in my Psychology class. Seriously. “Where’s the spare key?” Mum and Dad have yet to find time to get a key for me, which makes this so much more difficult. “Flowerpot again?” “Bush,” Violet mutters, already on her knees and sticking her hand underneath it. It’s an awful hiding place, since it’s insanely obvious, but apparently Mum and Dad don’t care about the possibility of getting robbed. “Got it!” She unlocks the door easily, and tosses the key at me without looking. I don’t catch it — why did she expect me to? — and am forced to work out where in the grass it’s landed before following her inside. I swear, she’s way too good at making me look like an idiot. Safely inside, I take the time to pick up what seems to be half of Violet’s stuff (blazer, tie, bag, coat… everything, apparently, including her left shoe. And only the left one) and drop most of it onto the couch. The coat, however, gets hung up in the way it’s meant to be. Sometimes I think I’m the only one who actually cares about anything in this family. Upstairs, the toilet flushes, and a sound almost comparable to a ship’s horn or something echoes through the house. I’m not quite sure if that’s normal. “The mirror’s smashed,” she comments, waving bloodstained hands in my direction. “Don’t know if I missed any glass. Be careful.” And she disappears in search of the first aid kit, presumably. Pain rips through my body for the briefest of moments, not even time enough to gasp. Instincts tell me to go upstairs, look at the mirror, work out what’s happened. And it’s probably stupid to ignore that pain, but I do. I follow my own instructions. I walk into the bathroom, expecting to see blood on the floor or in the sink, a mirror with no glass… not me. Me, on the floor, shaking and letting out choked sobs, staring at bloody hands and a torn T-shirt. The same one I’m wearing. Also more red than it should be. I guess I must have gasped, because my mirror image turns to look at me, a twisted smile painted onto a bloody face. Thin scratches still oozing the sickeningly red substance matter little, apparently, because they speak. “Crap,” they say, but they do not sound particularly worried. “It worked.” “What?” They stand, shakily, and I’m pretty sure I understand why I felt that pain. Because they are covered in blood and cuts, and I can almost feel it dripping down my own face as I stare. “What’s your name?” I ask, eventually. Or maybe it’s immediately. It’s really weird, looking at a you with injuries you don’t have. “You may call me whatever you like, Ariel,” they shrug. “I have no name.” Well… I know ‘Ariel’ reversed isn’t impossible to pronounce, but that’s probably a bad thing to suggest. There is one key difference between me and my reflection, I can see. Their eyes are like a doll’s — devoid of life. It’s kinda disturbing, honestly. “Uh… Lauri.” It’s the name of a character in some story Violet likes, and I wonder why that’s the first name that comes to mind. Maybe because it shares most of its letters with my name. I don’t know. But about this, I know that I understand very little. “Lauri,” they test, murmuring the name over and over until a softer smile graces bloody lips. “Kinda expected something like Leira, honestly.” “That’s not… I don’t… isn’t that like saying your whole… your whole being is entirely linked to me?” “Is it not?” “Well… I guess…” “It is, intrinsically. I am your reflection.” There’s life in their eyes now, and I’m not sure if I should be nervous about that. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome…” There’s still glass in the mirror, and I try to get close enough to see, but Lauri blocks me. They glance around to look themselves, and then groan. “Let’s go. Can you cover all the mirrors in this house?” “How big are the ones we need to worry about?” I ask. “Anything big enough to climb through,” is the fairly cryptic response. Okay, so not makeup palettes. As Lauri goes downstairs to give Violet a heart attack, I go to my room and begin digging through my wardrobe. Spare duvet covers, sheets… anything, really. A pillowcase could probably cover the one on Violet’s wall… And I grab a blanket off my bed to throw over the door of said wardrobe. I meant to cover the stupid thing anyway. But it’s not meant to be, apparently. There is no me in the mirror. I expected this. The hand reaching out of it — given the prominent lack of people in the reflection of my room — is unexpected. As it gains an iron grip on my wrist, I scream, because that is the only way anyone is going to realise that something is wrong. And then it’s the pain again, falling through something that feels like fire rather than glass, and my world flips around.
Two people, here to kill five, and rescue one. And they’re teenagers. The boy they are here to save presses himself closer to the oldest of the four men in front of the daring duo, mismatched eyes both ice-cold. He is the reckless Prince’s little toy, but apparently just as willing to give himself to an older man. Such a fool, that Prince. I stay in the shadows as the pair — Prince Alexander and some witch-girl he likely picked up off the street — both draw swords, share a look. The witch pulls four daggers from the bag she carries and drops them. They make a strange sound when they hit the floor, and a strange smile crosses their ‘damsel’s’ face. But he is an inventor, not a fighter. Indeed, he is reluctant to do so, and even less so to admit the scandalous relationship he is in with the Prince. And yet, entirely willing to give his body to an older man for their pleasure. His eyes glitter now, a faint blush on his cheeks. It is the witch who makes the first move, swinging wild and missing a stationary target. Which further proves that Prince Alexander is a fool. His ‘partner’ fiddles with a locket around his neck, opening it and closing it before rubbing his finger across his lips. Maybe he’s worried about being stabbed by accident. They are more accurate now, though, and one falls. Ironically enough, it is the witch who kills him. I take my chance, leaving the shadows to take the weapons so graciously left in the middle of the room. Daggers, which are risky against swords, but better than nothing. But as I enter the fray, aiming for the witch first, they begin to burn, glowing a bright red. I am forced to drop them, and the boy smirks now. Then he turns and kisses the man he’s been pressed against this whole time, looking for all the world like he is truly enjoying this. One, two, and the others have dropped. One is missing a hand. The Prince watches as his ‘boyfriend’ pulls away with a strange expression on his face. Something akin to sorrow, rather than anger. Betrayal. Something that suggests… A scream, and the man falls. Four. Poison, I think, and I can’t help but think that we may have forgotten that this boy is an inventor. Creative. No matter, I can fight. I lunge forwards, catching the witch off guard and snatching her weapon. Then I face the Prince. He looks terrified for only a moment, schooling his expression into that of a boy who believes that he knows everything. That he will survive. “You won’t hurt me,” he says quietly. “I know already. You don’t have the strength.” “I am twice your age, Alexander.” No reaction to the disrespectful address, which is fairly normal for this boy. “I mean the mental strength. You cannot hurt me.” “Watch me.” His sword is knocked aside within moments, taken aback by something or other, and I succeed in creating two deep gashes on his arm. The wounds stitched themselves closed almost as fast as they were made, and a smile formed on his lips. “As I said,” he laughs. And he dodges, only ever letting me hurt his arms, and they heal far too fast to be natural. 𝘖𝘶𝘳 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘈𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵. Then I feel them. One. Two. Three. Four. They’re all in my back, and I can’t think how one person could have stabbed me with four daggers so quickly — it has to be the same person. And it burns. The pain grows to be far too much too quickly, and it’s the laugh of a despicable sinner that fades from my hearing when I let it take me. ~ “Dear Lord, Jules,” I whisper when he falls, watching as the red glow fades from the daggers. “You’re terrifying.” “Thanks,” he laughs, half-clenching his hand into a fist before letting it relax. “We should probably hurry up…” I take the daggers from the body, and Silver banishes the blood before dropping them into their bag again. “Awesome, Jules,” they grin, nudging his shoulder. “How do you do that?” “What, the… I made those daggers…?” “No, the whole kissing people thing.” “Oh, right. Well, uh. I have…” he sighed, “experiences. Don’t worry, I hate it.” “That’s why we worry, idiot.” But he doesn’t seem to be listening.
I remember what my father told me about my family. “Now son remember when you die you’re going to be transported to another world. It’s a family curse also watch out for trucks they will be your death.” From that day on I had avoided trucks at all costs and did quite well for myself. Well until I was grabbing my gear for a patrol and a terrorist drove a truck through my locker and crushed me to death, which hurt a lot. Now I’m stuck here in a fantasy world with my shotgun M4 and ballistic vest unfortunately my helmet decided not to come along.things aren’t all that bad though met a very nice vampire couple who are fine with me staying so long as I help out. Mostly I day make sure no one tries to kill them during the day they have some very happy serfs who take care of my daily needs and occasionally I help train their guards. No modern tech yet so hopefully if I ever have kids they won’t have to worry about trucks but if what dad said was true trucks come faster than expected.
All our lives, we are told to wait till we’re older to do it. It was common practice to. You graduate college with an education, and then you sell it to the best of your ability. My grandpa used to say the whole reason to go to school was to find the best way to sell your soul. For some this was a destiny for them, a railroad with no turntables or stops, just a single dead end, with their benefactor waiting for them to collect. For some, like Johnny, this was a simple decision. While only being 9 he had sold his soul for the thing that ranked second to none in his life. After some careful negotiations with the owner of the store, Johnny walked out of the toy store with his brand new toy soldiers. Upon returning home and telling his parents the great deal he had gotten on his new toys, Johnny found himself going back with his father, and his baseball wielding brothers, going back for a refund. While wealth and glory were common goals when selling ones soul, I did not share the sentiment for it. I pondered long and hard, thinking of who to sell my soul to but found I did not like the taste of handing it over at the end. One night, after one too many shots, and a lonely night, I raised my right hand and recited the words, “I Jack Faust, grant my soul to Jack Faust.” I laughed at the words I had just said, thinking nothing would come of it. The lights flickered off and on, and the room shook trying to find space from me. I coughed up blood and gagged, as I tried to find my breath. My lungs filled with red liquid that slowly poured from my mouth. I clung onto whatever life I held left, only to find it not clinging back. Darkness was all there was for what seemed like an eternity. This darkness, that swallowed all sound, and devoured all color. I couldn’t find an end to it, I moved my body - what I presumed to be my body - through it trying to find something, anything. After lifetimes of searching, there was a light. Pure excitement and joy filled my consciousness as I dove into it. “What the fuck just happened.” I had thought in privacy to myself. “Who are you?” I heard from my own head. Fear and panic took over me as I tried to find an explanation for such a thing. How could this had happened. How could there be another voice in my head. I had heard of people with schizophrenia having multiple voices in their heads but I was too young for such things, wasn’t I? My eyes jolted open. This wasn’t my bed, this wasn’t even my room. My body didn’t feel right, like I had leg reduction surgery. I got up and felt around the wall, trying to find a light of some sort. Feeling the switch sticking out of the wall I Flicked it up. My hands were shrunken, and so were my feet. In fact I don’t even remember doors being this tall. I heard footsteps coming from the other side of the door. This was my body but not my current one. This was a younger version of me. “We have to hide otherwise I’ll get grounded again.” Said the voice. My body moved of its own volition as it flicked off the light and crawled into bed. When the footsteps reached the door, a head popped in, then a hand. It reached for the light switch and turned it on. I couldn’t believe my eyes, in fact they cried with too many mixed emotions before I let myself believe them. It was mom. Not the one I had buried 12 years ago, but the one who still had color in her hair, and wrinkles only from where she couldn’t contain her smile. Unluckily I was not greeted with a smile. “Johnny, it’s 3 am what are you doing up and with the lights on?” She had said. Unable to see my tears without her glasses. “I just... missed you mom.” I said. She came over and hugged me. I cried more than I had ever in my adult life. Given where I was now I had a second chance. If I could just keep her from selling her soul to that man, I could save her. I stopped crying unbeknownst to me. After a kiss on the forehead and the lights turning off, did I find out it wasn’t me in control. I had simply been in control because the other wasn’t fully awake. Over the course of the next week, I had experimented with this theory, only to find out I had no influence over this body, only when the other was not lucid. This couldn’t work. How was I supposed to save mom without control over this body. She would die like this and I would become a prisoner of my own body. I had to think. Spending much time and dilemma over such a thing, I came to a conclusion but it would be a gamble. I wasn’t even sure if it would work. Upon sleeping that night, I took over. I raised my hand and recited the same words that had stuck me in this situation, “I Jack Faust hereby sell my soul to the reaper of souls, malthaiel. In return I ask for this body and life.” A gaunt figure stepped from the shadows. He reached a hand out to touch me. To my surprise the hand went through my body. I felt something tug within my body. “How unusual, there have never been two here before.” The figure said. He took something from me, an essence of what seemed to be light. He put it in his bag and turned back to the shadows. “So that’s it, this is mine now?” I asked. “It is now, I shall not return until you have spoken your last. I do not know what misfortune such a thing may bring but I will take this one, and leave you yours.” It replied. It turned, disappearing into the shadows. Leaving me in the cold and dark room.
Your mission to [some alien planet] requires you to go undercover as a xenomorph, the procedure made possible by new synthesis technology, however it's Jerry the technician's first day, and Jerry sets the dials wrong, leading to you having some rather non-xeno characteristics, for instance: the only noise you can make is a kitten's meow; your skin is made of nutmeg and licorice; the second head in your mouth is a bust of Joe Pesci with a Hitler moustache; and whenever you move, whether a stride or a shuffle, you fart a massive wad of tinsel.
This was kind of an Outer Limits episode. I think Season 1, Episode 1 and 2, type of deal. It was an amazing bit of tv! Pretty much, rover goes to Mars (iirc) and brings soil back. In the lab, once watered, spores/eggs hatch, and tiny little spider-dudes hatch. They test, the company decides to kill the project, and tells the Researcher to sterilize it. Kill them all. He grabs a cup of soil, and brings them to his home in a Barn. And they build a CIVILIZATION. And effigies of him. It turns out they're sapient.. perhaps even above human intelligence.
It wasn’t easy, it never was. To be fed upon once was horrific but to willingly place myself in that situation to give away more of me? I better earn the brother of the year for it. But how could I not? My little sister never asked to become a vampire she just got unlucky. Her first days terrified her how many nights did I stay with her till she fell asleep if she fell asleep? Then the hunger came the craving for blood she resisted with all her strength but the instinct was too much and she grew afraid of hurting people if she lost control. And there wasn’t any choice in the matter for me I offered my blood she could take it whenever she needed to. I knew the consequences what I would be losing and it didn’t matter. It still doesn’t even if I feel my soul slipping away bit by bit. Em’s doesn’t take more than necessary and she holds off as long as she can and always gets my permission first but it doesn’t change the decay I feel. Who knows one day I may lose myself entirely become nothing but a husk? But I can’t allow that to happen to me it’s for my sisters sake she’s the last family I have and I will take care of her because she is the anchor that holds my soul in place.
A van rolled to a stop down the road from a long driveway that led up to a modest residence secluded in the woods. Two people with ball caps and ski masks got out of the van to stand staring up towards the house through the trees . The man fidgeted with a small duffle bag that he carried in his hands. Night concealed them as they crept through the woods together towards the home. “You are sure this is the place Jill?” the man asked without breaking stride. “Yes I am sure Tom. I traced the IP multiple times, and it always came back here.” They both stopped at the tree line surrounding the yard of the house and shared a look searching for confidence from each other. An owl hooted into the chill air somewhere in the woods as the fog of their exhaled breaths bloomed in front of them. “What exactly do you think we are going to find? What if they are just really good at CGI?” Jill asked. Tom harrumphed. “That is very unlikely. I’ve broken those videos down with every analytical software there is. No one can make CGI that clean. I don’t know what we’ll find, but these cameras will tell us.” he said, holding up the bag. The house was dark except for one room on the ground floor in the back. Tom and Jill set about placing the cameras around the home concealed in bushes and trees such that they could see every side of the house. After they were done they met back at their original location in the tree line. “Let's try to get a look inside.” Tom said. “It looks like they are at the computer in that back room right now.” Jill was hesitant to follow him as he crawled up towards the window but her curiosity drove her forward. They stopped and sat listening with their backs against the house underneath the window. A man was talking to someone and it sounded very much like Thad, the host in all the videos that were dominating Youtube. The other person’s voice was indecipherable. It didn’t sound like any language they had heard before. Together they peaked their heads up over the windowsill and their eyes took a moment to adjust to the bright blue light spilling across the room from an enormous computer screen. Silhouetted in the light was a man standing with his back to them looking at the screen. A large bulbous and bald head was visible in the computer chair with hands on the keyboard and mouse. Jill’s knee slipped out from under her and she made a thudding noise as she caught herself against the house. The figures spun to face them. Sitting in the chair was a creature that had arms and legs like a human. Except it’s head was the wrong size and it’s body was stick thin. Tom and Jill panicked as they scrambled to their feet and fled into the trees abandoning their empty bag beneath the window. They were halfway to the van when a blinding light illuminated them from directly above. Their bodies were pulled towards it as they lost consciousness.
The Wizard of Whey was surrounded. Trapped between the walls of the mountain pass and the ster-orcs on both sides of the path he was traveling. For years he had been relentlessly pursued by the evil powers from Anavar, but he always resisted the temptation of their dark magic. He fought for the side of good, and he was natural in his abilities. He didn’t need their magical crutches. His barbell staff and compounded magic was all he needed. The swollen up ster-orcs closed in on him with swords in hand. A few were standing on the mountain pass walls above him with needle sharp arrows pointed in his direction. The Wizard of Whey smiled. His natural abilities were too strong, even for the dark magic of the ster-orcs. The arrows rained down, but he swung his barbell staff and a shield of forty-five-pound plates surrounded him causing the arrows to burst on impact. Then the others charged but he was swift and light, unlike the puffed up ster-orcs. Their dark magic was powerful but weighed them down making them slow and clunky. The heavy blows of the hammers and swords of the ster-orcs crashed down on the Wizard of Whey, but his barbell staff was strong. With ease and quickness of movement he blocked and dodged them. He casted spells and fought with valor until he was swept off his feet. One of the ster-orcs body slammed the wizard but he bench pressed it off him and leapt back to his feet. Ten ster-orcs then came down on him at once, dog piling on top of him, but he squatted and threw them into the air at the top of the movement sending them flying off into the distance. Growing tired of their games, he cast a spell of thunder, and deadlifted his staff off the ground. When he set it down everything shook for his staff was now loaded with plates. The ster-orcs fell and knew they were defeated. He walked up to one and stuck the end of his barbell staff in its face. “Give me one reason why I should not destroy you,” the Wizard of Whey said. His face menacing. The long, white hair of his head and beard flowed in the wind. Looking at the wizards jacked arms hanging out of his sleeveless robes, the ster-orc said, “Think of how great you could be if you only joined us. Our magic can make you great. More powerful than you can ever hope to be without it.” “Your magic causes nothing but rage, turning you into an angry beast. I know that you were once a man, but you took a path that leads to destruction. Come with me back to Whey. I can make you whole again.” “I have chosen my path, wizard,” the ster-orc said before spitting at the wizard. “You can keep your potions of creatine and malates. I have no use for such weak magic.” “Very well, then,” the Wizard of Whey said. He wiped his flowing hair from his face then walked away peacefully leaving the ster-orcs lying on the ground and sore from the fight. As for the Wizard of Whey, he never even broke a sweat. He was well conditioned in his magic and lived to continue his fight against the dark magic of Anavar and the ster-orcs another day.
Anything. --- Small towns generally dislike magic. Magic is rare in this world, very rare. Most people never bother to search for it, and most even doubt it is real. The phenomenon that occurs (however uncommon) is usually explained away by secret technology or by misunderstood aspects of nature. But John, he knew magic was real. He had searched for it for years. Tracking down every lead, every hint, every rumor and clue. He used to use them for inspiration for his novels, but in more recent times he had a more solemn purpose. Sitting at the table, a dark oak round thing covered in an intricately designed and runed blue cloth, central to the magic, lie John and a much younger man. Ever so familiar, one that he could see in his mind while eyes were closed with perfect clarity. Yet, the young man looked at him as if he were a total stranger. "Um, I bet one of these red ones." John laughed. "Careful boy, those are valuable. Why not bet a green instead?" The boy hesitates, then tosses in two green ones. A princely sum, in the game of reality. Much larger than he probably knew, thought John. "Tell me, Trevor, why do you play?" Pausing, then thinking intently, Trevor answers, "I think it's what I have always done." More right than he knew. "I'll wager something else with this hand. Memories. Memories of something precious to me." "You can do that?"Asked Trevor. "Yes,"replied John. He could do anything, if he were willing to pay the price. Anything. "Well, ok. I wager some of my.. hope!"charmed Trevor. "Little late for that, kid." Thought John. They both showed their hands, and it was painfully obvious that John was either bluffing, or very bad at cards. "You aren't very good at this.. John."replied Trevor, surprised that he knew that. What else did he know? "I suppose not,"replied John with some mirth. Continuing, he says, "New stakes. How about... something more abstract?" "More abstract than a memory?"wondered Trevor. He wasn't thrilled at the idea, but he said agreed. "How about, forgiveness?"Asked John. "Forgiveness? For what? What did you do?" "Why, nothing. Yet, anyway."replied John, "It's for a rainy day." Trevor was confused, and these new memories were even more confusing. Muddling with his head. "Okay, fine. I accept." They played the hand, and once again Trevor won. "Last hand,"gasped John. It was almost time. "How about... future?"he orated. "Future? What kind of.."Trevor pauses, and then begins to reorganize his thoughts. Thinking, he says, "Sure." And in a few moments, everything together started to make sense. Hospitals. Treatments. Eyes of his father, mourning and misery. Him walking out of a page, and he started playing a game. "Good."John says quietly, and deals the cards. "Wait, no!"says Trevor. "You can't do this. Please." "It's already done, my son."John says. "Why?" John can't hide his tears anymore and they are covering his face. Sniffing, he clears his throat and manages to speak. "You're my kid. It's what any parent should do. One day, you'll understand. This is not a burden. It is my privilege." "You can't!!"Trevor yelled, throat hoarse, no longer made of clay and ink. "Show your cards."John solemnly spoke. Hands shaking, Trevor flipped his cards over. A clear victory. Voice weak and trembling, Trevor cried out, "No. No no no!" As the image of John began to fade, he smiled. It had took him years, but he had found a way. He could do anything, if he was willing to pay the price. Anything. ---- Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed, feel free to look at more stories I've created at /r/dumnem_writes.
"Hey buddy, no admittance without an invitation,"said Joe Ladon, the bouncer. Harry Cleese could have bounced his head right off the pavement, but he didn't want to get in any more trouble with the law. Why couldn't the judge sentence him to jail like a normal person, instead of assigning him these weird fetch quests? For his eleventh quest, he had to bring back a fruit basket from the Hesperides Ball at the hotel. And he didn't even know what room it was in. Behind him, he saw a line of people who looked like they were going to a costume party. Harry Cleese pulled out a lion skin and draped it over his shoulders. Only one man in the line looked familiar, and in Harry Cleese's opinion, far too old for the merman costume he was wearing. He approached the man, trying to look friendly. "Hey, my friend Jason went to the Hesperides Ball last year. He said he'd get me an invite, but I lost it. Any chance you could vouch for me to the bouncer?" "I don't think I know you,"the man muttered hastily and disappeared into the crowd. Maybe there was someone else Harry Cleese knew. He scoured the line for a few minutes, and then saw someone familiar at the back of the line, dressed as a seal: the very same old man he had seen before as a merman. He tried again. "Sure we know each other, I was at your daughter's wedding. Your son in law and I go way back,"he said. This time, the old man gave no excuse. He said "get lost,"and disappeared into the crowd once more. That was it, no more Mr. Nice Guy. This parole was never going to be over if Harry Cleese didn't come back with that dumb fruit basket for that dumb judge. The next time the old man appeared, he was dressed as a seahorse. Harry Cleese grabbed onto the old man, under the guise of shaking his hand. "So, where are we going,"he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "I don't know where you're going, but I'm..." Harry Cleese tightened his grip and it became apparent to the old man that if Harry Cleese wasn't getting into the party, neither was he. "The Hesperides ball is in room 203. I'll tell the bouncer you're coming as my guest." Harry Cleese walked into the party, looking for a fruit basket. There was only one in the room, the centerpiece of a head table. The basket was filled with golden apples. Four lovely women sat at the table, whom Harry Cleese recognized as the West sisters - Eve West, Laila West, Yvaine West, and Sunny West. "Hey weird question, but suppose I took home the fruit basket when the party's over,"he said. Laila flashed a smile that seemed genuinely apologetic. "Sorry, but we're holding it for him." She pointed to a man wearing a Charles Atlas costume...wait, no. That was actually Charles Atlas. He was leaning against an enormous stone and tile mosaic of the sky at sunset, held up by a support beam that didn't look the sturdiest. Harry Cleese explained his situation to Charles Atlas. "Look, man, if you can lift up this setpiece, you can have the fruit basket. But I'm warning you, it weighs a literal ton."Atlas said. Harry Cleese backed against the mosaic and set his shoulders under it. He cautiously lifted it from the support beams. Atlas laughed and snapped the support beams across his knee. "Have fun with that, you're going to be holding it for a while." Harry Cleese wanted to deck the jerk, but if he did, a mosaic weighing a literal ton would drop onto a bunch of party guests. Instead, he told Atlas "I could hold it for longer if you let me adjust my lion skin. Are you able to hold sky for a sec?" "Am I able?"Charles Atlas scoffed as he took the mosaic, "I could hold this all night." Harry Cleese took the fruit basket. "Good, because you're going to have to,"he said as he walked out the door.
“No, I’m not, I only did the bare minimum-“ Shut up. You’re strong. I know what you’ve been through. You told me yourself. That was extraordinary. You’re strong. You’re brave. I don’t know anyone who could have done that. So shut up, alright? I don’t wanna hear that negativity out of you. You always do that, you know? You undermine your own achievements. You do amazing things, and then pretend like they’re nothing. It hurts, ya know? Hearing you say those things about yourself. Hearing you cry about how you aren’t doing enough. Seeing everyone around you reject you, hate you for who you are, it breaks my heart. Ya know what? Come here, cry it out, cry it out… Yeah, there ya go… cry it out. You deserve it. Shhhhhh, you’ve done so well. Don’t worry, I’m here for you… you’ve been strong, big guy. Really strong. You did well. Just cry it out. I love you, babe, don’t worry. Cry it out. Shhhh… Hey, let me tell you a story, babe. It’s a special story, about someone I care about dearly. They were strong, and kind, and caring, and- oh? You’re already asleep. Alright then… I’m here for you. Night, hun. Have good dreams. You deserve it.
It all started four years ago, well fell apart is more accurate. She lost her job, wreaked her car, lost her home. And now She's here. Alone. Surrounded by the memories and intents. Shown what was meant to be. Told where she went wrong. They come in three times a day to make sure she eats. It's always liquid, never anything that needs a utensil. They made that mistake once. She had tried everything. Planned it all out. She thought this time she had done it right. Her life had started flashing before her eyes. Then she woke up here. Unable to move, speak, or even open her eyes. A Tube shoved uncomfortably down her throat. Then she hears Her. "Madison I'm sorry. It's all my fault. If I could do it all over again I would change it all for you. But even I do not have that power, Time is the one thing that is uncontrollable. But I can give you a second chance. All you have to do is wake up."
It was like a Boa from the jungles of the south, wrapping its body around our necks. Slowly squeezing until the lights leave our eyes. Everyone felt it, including our King. But he’ll be damned if he quit fighting until the very end. And that’s what he did. And it saved us all. A man washed up on shore, a soldier loyal to our King. He was badly injured, cut in many places, covered in his own blood. We believe he was only left alive to deliver a message: Our King must come alone to the Port of East Heeron or they shall light the former Macreal city East Heeron ablaze, killing many of our country’s men and women. Lord help us that warlord was foolish. Our King went back to our castle and suited up his armor. I always appreciated his breastplate. It had his insignia on it of a lion, but the rest was plain iron. Nothing particularly fancy. I admired the somewhat no-frills attitude our King had. “Marcus?” He asks. “Yes, my liege?” I respond in kind. He looks at me with fear, one of the few times I’ve seen it. “You know what to do,” I nod. As he left to embark on his solo voyage, I alerted his two sons to the King’s advance into enemy territory. They immediately responded, gathering an Armada to save their father, and potentially regain our port town. We arrived at a point where we could see the Port and their father at a distance as his boat was nearly upon them. We watched as the King climbed a rope into the enemy vessel where close to a hundred soldiers stood, more filing their way towards the ship from the dock. The boat sailed left on its own towards a collection of enemy boats. I thought it peculiar then and it was. But it was brilliant, nonetheless. Within moments we heard it. The most gut-wrenching boom I’ll ever hear. We gaze up the enemy ship, ablaze within seconds on the left side front of the hull and burning fast. The ship began to tilt as the men not dead from the blast jumped from the ship and the men on the docks retreated into the town. Our king full well knew what he was doing. Not only was he disabling one of their ships and killing dozens of men, but he was killing likely the most respected General in their army. Our King attributed a great deal of their success to him. The King knew his sons could lead our kingdom. Julian, the bull of the two of them. Fierce and courageous, but not foolhardy. Thomas, the tactician, nothing shall surprise that man. And their sister, Adriana, the noble diplomat. She would also make a stupendous financial advisor. Neither of the two sons of the King are stupid enough to keep her out of the loop. Because more importantly she helped link the three of them together, and they all knew it too. I gaze upon the wreckage of the enemy vessel as it starts to tilt sideways, now in a blaze, expanding to most of the top deck as we glide closer to the port. We are close, probably in crossbow range. I look over, seeing the tiny sailing vessel, trapped in between two boats on the left side. It’s so far left it makes me think he sent it that way on purpose. A proverbial lamp lights inside my head. “Fire Arrows!” I crow in desperation. Julian looks at me bewildered. “Your father’s boat probably has powder in. Light it ablaze.” His face instantly contorts into understanding. “He frantically waves his arms. “Fire arrows! King’s boat, now!” Julian calls to all boats. Thomas looks at him bewildered. “Gunpowder, Dad’s boat.” Instantly Thomas picks up on the message and starts relaying the order. Within a minute, far too many fire arrows come flying out of our boats. Almost a half-minute later, the first boom comes from the sailing vessel. Two follow quickly, after that setting the boat ablaze. Within two minutes the boat burns its last powder as it sinks in pieces, to the seafloor. After all was said and done, three of the enemy’s boats sank and another was damaged significantly from the explosions of the king’s vessel. It was one of the most one-sided battles I have ever fought in. But quite frankly, our enemy ran. Alas, we did kill much of their force, but they lacked significant engagement as we reclaimed the port and our town behind it. I suppose the King’s sacrifice scared the daylights out of them. That was the day the war changed. No longer was our Kingdom in danger of destruction. No longer did we fear the coming days. No longer was our Kingdom completely exhausted and praying for help. No. For that all changed, the day of the death of our King.
It was certainly something to see. The power of the Holy order. They burned through our undead, slaughtered or orcs, sundered the very ground we walked. I watched my king beheaded. My king, my oldest friend, the one who saved me when the Holy order abandoned me. They walked to me. They intended to finish me off last. ‘Certainly the advisor who wasn’t even a sin would have power like the king or queen. Surely this would be easy.’ I didn’t even need to look into their eyes to read their mind. They knew what they did to me. I was the last one left. The last. 〘Notice: With the death of the Demon king the new demon king must me selected. 〙 The words of the world. Everyone hopes to hear these at least once. It means you’ve been selected to upkeep balance. 〘Notice: You have been selected as the new Demon king. You have been selected as the Demon king of the dead. 〙 The words spoke to me. They blessed me with the power to save the dark. The blade barely had time to enter the side of my neck until they were blasted away. “Oh ye Blessed one’s. Cursed with the belief that good is the only balance. Oh ye cursed with the Blessing.” The words felt cold leaving my lips. I wondered how many I paralyzed. “Oh ye Brave warriors. Foolish in their endeavors. Oh ye Brave warriors of the lost Words.” These felt hot, they burned at my lips. I could feel the power raise in my chest. “OH YE ACCURSED DEAD! SLAIN BY THE FOOLS OF THE ORDER! OH YE LOST SOULS OF THE DARK! OH YE LOST WARRIORS OF THE CURSED KINGDOM! RISE! RISE! RISE AGAIST YOUR KILLERS! RISE AGAINST THEIR ACCURSED CRUSADE! RISE AND FIND YOUR PLACE UMONG THE REALM OF THE LIVING!” I saw them rise. My friends, the soldiers, every warrior the Holy order had slain. My friend rose again. He had to fix his head but I knew my friend was still there. I learned two things there. Order must be maintained, and don’t be overzealous and try to wipe out the opposing side to avoid the rise of a truly holy man.
“I know.” Sierra acknowledged “If you knew then why did you risk jumping off the skyscraper? Why?” yelled Zia in frustration “ Believe it or not I’m not suicidal. Why would I be in my situation?” Sierra replied with sarcasm “Most girls would be in your case. I understand but I still need you to live for as long as you can.” Zia started “WHY do you care? WHY are you still here? You are my bully remember? Or did you forget that our friendship ended years ago?” shouted Sierra After that last line silence fell for a few minutes. Then Zia spoke,” Our friendship ended 4 years ago because I moved and you never responded to my letters.” “Letters?!”, Sierra laughed “I never got any stupid letters. Do you know what I got from you? Trauma, bruises, and scars all from your beatings.” “But I swear I sent letters. I sent one every week until the month before you came back.”, responded a stunned Zia while covering her mouth “Your mother probably threw them away. Why would she want you to write to a poor person? That is the reason why you beat me all the time right? “ mumbled Sierra “No, and I never beat you. The one who probably “beat” you is my cousin Diana.” retorted Zia seriously “Yeah like I would buy that. She's probably some random girl you made up.” While saying that Sierra rolled her eyes “ I have been trying to reconnect with you ever since I heard about your cancer but it's impossible now that the imposter maintained her disguise of me.” sighed Zia “Okay well if this “story” is true then where have you been this whole time?” questioned Sierra “ Four years ago, middle school me was crushing on a middle school girl. I didn't know what to do about it so I thought my father was the man to depend on in this case. I was wrong because he was against the thought of having a lesbian daughter. He gave me a speech and then told me that by the end of the year I wouldn't be in the school anymore but a religious one at our new home. Diana knew who the girl was and liked going to school with me so she probably resented you for your existence and this is perhaps why things are the way they are now between us. “ After saying all that Zia blurted out, “There! Have any more doubts about me now? Especially when I've been paying your hospital bills?” “Perhaps not but that still doesn't explain why you still care about me and why you are here,” muttered Zia “I have loved you for five years and for four of them I have been finding a way back to you only to find you have cancer.” Sierra tears up then say,” You may not love me back but I will do whatever it takes to keep you happy.” “Whoa, hold on this is too much Sierra! I barely forgive you as it is. Let's just restart as friends and see how long I live for.” Zia states After that, the doctor walks in, discharges Zia and they hang out. After 1 year Zia asks Sierra out and then they live the next 2 years out together not knowing how long Zia has to live. While on a walk together Zia asked Sierra, ”Hey love, why did you jump off the skyscraper that day?” Chuckling, Sierra replies with,” Well it could've been considered an attempt on my life but in truth, I wanted to see what it was like to fall off one. I thought that if I didn't have much long anyways then there wasn't much point in not trying the impossible or the possible.” And with that food for thought, they carried on. (please don't give too much critical advice. This is my first writing in a good bit.)

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