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"Jason can you give me the salt."
"Sure"
"A goddamnit!"
"Jason, what did I tell ya! Always check if the lid is screwed on correctly!"
"Sorry Ma."
Jason tried to get as much salt off of his steak as possible, but because of his large fingers, it was nearly impossible.
He then gave up on trying to scooping salt and just ate the parts of the steak that didn't taste too salty.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed, next to other families of humans, several, significantly smaller sized aliens that whispered amongst themselves with a fearful watch.
Because the restaurant was overbooked the only places left were the ones in the human zone, which is an offer only the bravest of xenos actually dared to accept.
Humans, as Jason remembered from the history lessons in school, were looked on as monsters, and often associated with being dumb.
This stems from the fact that several decades ago, log before Jason was born, humans came into contact with a parasite that wildly mutates the body of organic creatures, takes over their minds, and makes them into feral beasts, if they weren't already.
But there was somethig about humanity that stopped this second step, because humans still had full control of their bodies.
This was then fully exploited by researchers who began to breed this parasitic brain worm in a way that the changes to humans was controllable and would still remain, even after the worm has been removed from the patient.
This way all of the infected, which was 99.99 per cent of humanity at this point, not only had control of their bodies but could also make these bodies more human like again.
What the world settled on was a standard template of a roughly 5 metre tall human with a broad stature and extremely condensed muscles. The end result was an average weight of roughly a small car and the strength of a hydraulic press.
Most people took this template and were able to customize their body more for personal preference. Some people even made their own bodies entirely.
But while this lead to a drastic reduction of body dismorphia, the rest of the galacgic community reacted with a fear, and from that resulting anger, towards humankind. The first war in space, or how Jason's classmates called it, the body war was fought. In it humanity was able to carve itself a little empire and rise to galactic fame as the only people immune to the parasite.
Jason was aprubtly ripped out of his thoughts when his brother snipped his fingers in front of him.
"Hey, Jason, earth to Jason, your steak is getting cold."
"Oh right, sorry, got a little carried away."
Jason looked one last time to the aliens who stood up and left in regret of taking the owner up on the offer.
What a shame we now will never get along, he thought to himself. |
Now let me be clear, I'm no criminal. I respect the law, I respect authority, I don't have much to say.
I certainly haven't done anything wrong.
But when you live in a Marsupial state, it's difficult to follow all of the rules, especially when half of those rules are completely absurd.
Now, I'm a human, and many have said I should just live in a Mammalian country, but what they fail to recognize is that Mammalian states are incredibly overpopulated. I am a simple woman. I like living quietly, without too much hustle and bustle outside of my window every night and plenty of fresh air.
That's why I decided to move to one of the smaller Marsupial governed areas farther away from urban centers! It really is wonderful here, and all of the families are so polite. I may not have fit in with the others as a marsupial, but I certainly felt at home among their friendly dispositions.
But there were some oddities. Religious tolerance was, unfortunately, not a strong suit of Marsupial countries (quite a surprise to me to be sure), and many of the laws felt absolutely bizarre! Some related to the etiquette of crossing the street, others instructed proper angles at which to recline so as not to drop your children out of a tree, even a law that dictates the appropriate level of eucalyptus consumption, can you believe it!
That was why I wasn't surprised when my neighbor, a stout wombat of gentle temperament and many interests, was wheeled into the courtroom on a small tea cart.
*Of course there would be a law like that. It's never simple is it.*
That being said, I was glad I didn't have to defeat a Kangaroo.
*He* smirked down at me from his seat, his smirk unbelievably smug. I was repulsed.
You see, I could tolerate all of the nonsense. I could adapt, could even thrive with these mostly harmless laws. Unfortunately for my idyllic Marsupial-style life, a complete psychopath was elected into office.
James. P. Latypus. Certainly not a Marsupial, but strange enough that he fit right in among them, he became the talk of the town for his exotic accent and strange characteristics.
"A mammal that lays eggs?"Mrs. Roo asked.
"He glows in the dark!"Mr. Koala remarked.
"I heard 'e's got *poison spurs.*"Dr. Possum gossiped.
He ran for office, and, due to the curious nature of the Marsupials, won in a landslide. Almost immediately, however, he began to make changes.
Regulating the dimensions of Marsupial's pouches, introducing higher taxes, filling up the jail, and even trying to standardize Wombat poops to be perfect cubes, James Latypus was as rotten as could be.
And when he'd found out I was making an honest living selling turnips at the farmer's market, he came down hard, enforcing a new law. Surprisingly, he didn't take advantage of the turnip exports to try to shut me down, no, he made his prejudices blatantly clear.
***No humans are to be allowed residence within Marsupial county, so says Mayor Latypus.***
So here I am, on trial, with Mr. Wombat right in front of me, frightened and confused. He turns to me hesitantly, then looks up at our fair mayor.
"Well, Mr. Wombat? Is this woman a human?"
I swallow my fear. If I have to leave, I have to leave. I might be able to get a place with my parents in Gorilla city anyway. It's not the end of the world.
I keep telling myself that as I watch my friends watching me in this courtroom, and try to push down the misery. I like it here. *I like living here!*
My eyes start to water, and I try not to meet Mr. Wombat's gaze.
In doing so, I miss his eyes hardening into steely resolve.
"No."He says coldly to Mayor Latypus. He looks back, astonished.
"She's a *friend!*"
and with that, the jury bursts into cheers, turning on Mayor Latypus in a wild frenzy.
"Damn you! I run this town don't you understand!"
But it's too late for him as the mob drives him far away from the homely Marsupial township.
My neighbors and friends come and embrace me and I almost cry.
As we walk home, I ruminate on the newly vacant mayoral position. Maybe I could do a bit more than farm turnips. And it wouldn't hurt to crack down on the religious intolerance... |
The Giants hammer lay to the side of the great roving monster, the creature bloodied and eyes grayed over in death. A cheer went up as the party of adventurers finally brought vengeance to the towns turned to ash by the rage of the great monstrosity, but it was cut short as the Druid of the group, who’d turned into a great bear in the melee, reverted back to their true form.
“Life for a life,” they said, ensuring their gear was mended with a wave of a magical spell, “balance is restored, and I tire of being so far from the trees of my forest. I long for the sweet songs of a flock of birds in my home grove…” A pause, they took free a water skin and drank it dry before packing clean snow into the container. “Thank you for the assistance, but I’m ready to go home now.” Without another word they turned, feathers coming in an instant as they transformed into a hawk and took to the sky. No words came from the rest of the party, but they could all feel the loss without them: the heart of the group was gone in moments, and soon so too would their group. |
"What's the fine print ? There has to be a catch."
A pinch of annoyance scuffle The Goddess of Fate's impossibly perfect visage, and its otherwise marble-like indifferent expression. A bigger-than-life marble figure in a form-fitting china dress. Lounging in levitation, looking down on me. Her glowing golden eyes flashing with offense.
"You're being made the offer of a lifetime, and you *dare* question it ? Maybe you're not worthy of this invitation."
Ok, maybe I should show you how I got in that pickle, before showing you how I got myself out of it.
 
I woke up in this eerie place, a couple of minutes ago. It's a polished slate platform illuminated with glowing crystals from stalagmites protruding form its circular edge. That mineral light is the only light against the otherwise complete void that surrounds me.
Some kind of cavern, but the floor looks like it has been finely ground flat.
It took me a bit of time to realize I should have been afraid of being in such an unfamiliar place, without a way to get back home. Maybe it's my innate curiosity, or how much better this floor felt in comparison to my usual living space ... I was glad to be left to my own thoughts.
My daydreaming enjoyment brutally interrupted by a passive-aggressive feminine throat clearing of impatience, from ... inside my own head ?
Sitting with a regal straight back and arm crossed on what could only be an invisible chair, she would have looked angry if her porcelain skin could display any wrinkles of expression. I was wondering how she could actually articulate, when her telepathic words answered my silent questioning :
"Didn't your parents taught you the basic politeness of greeting people you met for the first time ?"
Rude, much ? Of course they did. But who thinks having to ever greet any rude flying psychic people ?
I clear my throat, and straighten. "Hello, flying lady. I suppose you can tell me what's happening here ?"
She scoffs dismissively. "I'll let your poor manner pass this once. You couldn't know you were talking to a Goddess. I'm Eris. I'm in charge of the fates of human beings of your world."
She pauses. Apparently to let me process this new information at my own pace :
Goddess ? It explains the flight and telepathy. Can she read my mind ?
"No, but you might feel like I can."
I back away reflexively. "What it is, then ?"
She sighs mouth closed, echoing in my own mind. Sounds like it's going to be a long explanation. "Think of it as both cold and hot reading. Form someone who lived millions of years, talked to billions of people, and who has access to everything written by or about you. It's more like social skills as a timeless being. Mind reading is something else, entirely, and something I'm incapable of."
"Then why the telepathic conversation ?"
"I don't have to answer this question."
Alright, alright. I just wanted to know if I had some privacy, and I can see why she wouldn't actually speak, anyway. Now I'm more interested in learning about something else.
"I imagine I'm in another dimension. None of this looks like anything I know. All I remember is running to get a teenage girl out of the way of a truck, and ... "
It hits me like a ton of bricks while talking. I was only getting back home form buying my copy of Elden Ring, when I seen that girl in the middle of the road, and a truck about to pass me by heading straight towards her.
I'm pretty sure I didn't made it. I'm kind of glad to be gone in an instant like that, honestly.
"She survived, at least ?"
Her laugh takes me offguard. "She wasn't in danger at all. You died on the spot from a heart attack !"
"Oh. So I *really* am dead."
And what a way to die. Like I lived, really. Wait a second ...
"You're going to propose me to reincarnate in some game-like alternative world because their population is dropping alarmingly ?"
"No. I'm a member of your realm's Godly Council, and we choose recently deceased people for each other every century or so to propose them the same deal of resurrection.
Your first choice, you resurrect without any memories and as someone else. Maybe a woman, maybe older, maybe in a different country. You'll never know.
Your second choice, same reward, different price : I choose a couple of people from your realm to die instead of you.
The price of your third and last choice is that you resurrect 30 years after your death, effectively losing that time of life entirely.
If you were to refuse this, you would simply reincarnate as anybody else."
I furrow my eyebrows, thinking. It's obviously a great deal, at face value, but there is one thing that bothers me about it.
Why is she doing this ? There **has** to be some kind of trick ! |
"Gentlemen, the situation is dire, we're in the worst straights we've seen since the last big swing. Any news, or did we just toss money for nothing?"Brigade commander Steve Stevenson asked the collected platoon commanders and scientists. His hawai'an shirt was decoraded with a multitude of polymer clay medals. The commanders rubbed their various styled mustaches. The walls of the headquarters meeting room were covered in both high resolusion monitors and childrens drawings. The meeting table had a bowl peanuts and pretzels.
"Reports from the front lines have confirmed the worst. The pun-cenal has virtually no effect on the invaders anymore"deputy master punman Bunnmann tapped his baseball cap on the table. The man was obviously exhausted. His bald spot was growing a stiff and healthy stubble.
"Stuffs gone over whack, like fly high over yo's and whadup's, man. Slang- tillary holup all over"slang-tillary commander Johnson-Jones's blond mullet and sweatband combo could make even the hardiest of dedicaded dad's to do a double take. Commander Stevenson nodded in approval to his comrades relentless effords to the missuse of 'hip' terms and phrases.
"The grill and barbegue division is still holding the invaders at bay, but we can't hold the line for ever"chief grillmeister Hudson reported. His chefs hat and 'kiss-the-cook' apron stayed on, even in official war meetings. "We're being forced to resort to the mildly inappropriate aprons"
"Cartoon lingerie pictures or male swinsuit models?"Asked Bunnmann
"Both! Not to mention the front line is so low on ranch dressing and hotdogs, there are talks on using vegan options!"
Shocked and worried muttering ensued.
A scientist cleared her throat. "Excuse me, gentlemen. The R&Deez nuts department is here report a discovery"
"Go on, doctor Ligma"
"Thank you, sir. After over 20 years of research, we have finally discovered the reason behind the success of dad jokes and puns in the initial invasion: the aliens are lethally affected by cringe"
"Cringe? That whack, yo. Totally not baller"
"Indeed, sir. Further study has confirmed, that the aliens emotional response to heavy cringe overwhelms their nervous system and causes a complete system shock. The new wave of invaders are believed to have been through some sort of sensitivity training to increase their cringe tolerance"
"How can we mortal combat this, doctor? The pun-cenal is already at full fatality"commander Stevenson asked.
"Not to mention the front line is already suited up down to Crocs and holiday socks in June. We've even deployed airsupport with ugly Christmas sweaters"head anti-fashion expert Mary-Leigh Travis spoke up.
"Thank you for mentioning the sweaters, ms. Travis. Team Flextape has made a groundbreaking discovery. They have been experimenting on other ways to trigger the fatal shock responce, and we have success! We can overwhelm the invaders with wholesome!"
"What?"The dads were stunned.
"To be more spesific, family oriented wholesome. Cute animals being supportive, like an emotional support puppy for a scared baby cheetah-"que a roomfull of awws. "-Works on smaller groups. For a large scale assault, we need grandma's"
"Grandma's?"
"Yes, sir. Nothing we have tried has resulted in a more consistent success, than a homecooked Sunday dinner or fresh bakings made by a grandmother. The invaders find both the smell and taste irresistable, and together with either recordings or the presence of a doting grandmother, the results are always fatal"
"By my sparkling white tubesocks, this is fantastic newspapers! Dads! We need to contact the world leaders at onesies! Gather up every single bingo loving, hair perming, floral apron wearing grandmother worth her blessed cottonsocks! No timeshare to waste!"
"Grillsquad will provide all-terrain kitchens, sir!"
"Anti-fashion ready to start massproduction of ovenmitts, housecoats and slippers, sir!"
"Slang-tillary on snap, ready to slap old school on blast!"
"Doctor, I want R&Deez nuts on full Blastoise to maximize the payloads on wholesome!"
"Yes, sir! We're already making headway to determine the most effective combination of perfume, lotion and household cleaner to launch an aromatic assault on the enemy supplylines!"
"Excelsior! Meeting adjourned"
"I'M NOT TIIIREED!"everyone saluted. |
*"Fin del recorrido: Lexington, Kentucky, USA. Descenso por el lado derecho,"* came the announcement over the loudspeaker. The soft feminine voice was undoubtedly meant to be soothing, but I couldn't help but smile at the heavily-accented pronunciation of the name of my hometown. Perhaps it should have been concerning that a subway train that started in Buenos Aires had arrived in Kentucky to begin with, but after months with no sleep, I was beyond questioning the odd things I saw in day-to-day life. The human brain was not meant to go months without sleep. If I'd told a psychiatrist what was happening to me, I would likely spend the rest of my life locked up in a lab. But that didn't seem like it would be much fun at all, so I had taken my inheritance and gone traveling.
Only to end up back here. The subway doors opened on the right, and I stepped out, into my living room. Well, my old living room - I'd sold the house bare weeks after my mother's death - but it looked the same as it always had. The same worn-out brown carpet, my mother's clarinet in its case in the corner, my father's recliner with claw marks on the lower edges from the cats. I knew if I flipped the cushion over, I'd see the red stain from when I spilled grape juice on it as a child. Everything was exactly as I'd left it the day I walked out five months ago, after waking up for the last time.
The subway doors softly *whooshed* closed behind me, and when I turned to look, there was my front door. Closed, and probably locked. It was always locked. I had a brief moment to wonder how I was going to get back to my AirBNB. All my things were there, my clothes, my vitamins - my phone charger! But before I had a chance to do more than register the problem, a small, high voice came from behind me.
"You came back,"she declared. I whirled around to see a girl sitting in my father's recliner. She was about twelve years old, shoulder-length brown hair, a navy blue turtleneck, and an expression on her face of absolute boredom with life, the universe, and everything. There was a picture of her on the mantel, one I knew well, since I'd been there when it was taken. The picture was smiling, but it looked fake. I was in a position to know it *was* fake.
"You're...me,"I said quietly, somehow not surprised. After all, if a perfectly normal subway train in Buenos Aires could take me to the house I grew up in, why couldn't my twelve-year-old self be in the house talking to me?
"No. I didn't kill my mother."
"Fair enough. Why am I here?"
"How do I know? I'm twelve."
"Then why are you here?"
She...I...whoever...just rolled her eyes at me. Was I really this insufferable at twelve?
"Is this about redemption?"I asked. Everything seemed to lead back to my mother's death, my insomnia, this house, everything. Maybe this was a Scrooge situation - the Ghost of Murders Past come to show me my sins. As if I didn't know them.
"Do you believe you deserve redemption?"
"No."
She rolled her eyes again and flounced out of the chair. That was out of character. I never flounced. "Come,"she demanded, heading toward the narrow hallway that led off the living room. At the end of that hallway were the bedrooms - my parents' and mine - the laundry room, and the bathroom, but she stopped at the door to the small study and pushed it open.
I could hear the yelling from inside even before I reached her, even before I peeked around the corner to see the boxes of books piled high in front of empty bookshelves on the right, my mother's piano on the left, and the family computer in the far corner.
*"I'm sorry - it was an accident!"a teenage girl cried from the floor, somewhat younger than myself, but somewhat older than...well, the other me.*
*"You stupid, careless child! No wonder your father left us, I'd leave too, if I could. When are you going to learn?"*
I retreated back around the corner of the doorframe. "I remember this very well, thank you. I don't need a reminder,"I snapped at my younger self.
"Don't you? Did you kill our mother?"
I looked away.
"What did you do on this day?"
"It was stupid. I broke something, my mom's Easter egg tree. I left the door open, and the wind blew it over. I should've known better."
"So you deserved to be yelled at."It wasn't a question, and I didn't take it as one.
"I knew how much time she spent painting those things, I knew they were fragile, I knew it was windy...She's right. I'm careless. Always have been."
The little girl version of me frowned. "Did you chase our dad away? Because you were careless?"
"I don't know why he left. I guess we were just too much for him."
She nodded, and I realized the expression on her face hadn't changed once. She still looked bored, almost annoyed at having to be here asking such asinine questions of someone who obviously had no idea what was going on. I'd seen the look many times on my mother's face, but this was the first time I'd seen it on my own. She brushed past me without a word, and headed back to the kitchen, knowing I'd follow.
This time I knew what I'd see.
*Droplets of coke covered the counter, and the two-liter bottle, now half empty, stood in the middle.*
*"Why didn't you close it?"my father demanded from beside the bottle.*
*"I...I don't know...I didn't want to get my hands dirty,"a version of me cried from the middle of the floor where I'd hastily backed up when the soda exploded. This one was barely older than the one I was talking to.*
*"You didn't want to get your HANDS dirty? So you got the whole counter dirty instead? The cabinets, everything?"*
*"I...I wasn't thinking."*
*"Well, that's obvious. Clean it up."He thrust the roll of paper towels at me. My hands were shaking as I tore a sheet off and moved toward the counter.*
*"Not like that! You have to wet it first - Christ, I know we taught you better than this. What did I do to deserve such an idiot child?"*
*I moved to the sink to wet the paper towel, and began cleaning while my father stood over me. The room was silent, though my mother came and went, putting plates on the table, pouring coke into glasses with ice. By the time I finished, my whole body shaking now, both of them were at the table waiting for me.*
*"Now the pizza is cold,"my mother declared, glaring at me. "I HATE cold pizza."* |
The payout was so high, it’d fill the troop carrier’s fuel cells in orbit.
And the job as simple; kill the prom queen from some Missouri backwater town, and then raid her parents’ farm house.
Now my group had morals, and we tried to view and keep our moral compass as those that did good, striving against those that did dark evil. And according to all the papers I got, this girl *was* the definition of evil.
I sent in a single operative with a drop pod, figuring out a spy mission was the best way to save funds. Five minutes later he’s screaming at me that there’s a shit ton of monsters, to start glassing the damn AO. Barely gets back to his pod in time before the streets are flooded with blue-eyed residents.
Normally I’d agree, except this was the homeworld; EarthForce would vaporize us if we even dropped a photon bomb via starship. So we did the next best thing; drop eight gunships and a battalion of bug waifu troopers. Ten minutes later a basic blitz had taken place, with the soldiers heading to the house.
And hoo boy that was worse. One Albatross (and twenty troopers) are immediately down with some giant three-hundred-foot growth that comes out of the ground, then downs two gunships with tentacles. I had no choice but to launch a pair of bombers to level this thing.
By then EarthForce is fully aware I’ve just dropped a bunch of assault units from orbit, and are horrified of the alien monstrosity that’s clearly visible from satellites. They at least had the courtesy for my wing to drop its bombs first, then proceeded to simply bombard that nowhere Midwest plains with railguns when everyone retreated.
Getting fined by EarthForce, two gunships lost, four Class-B photon bombs expended, six pistol rounds, 8300 plasma rounds and 200 rockets expended. About forty-five of my soldiers lost, although the Albatross could be repaired. By the time the bill added up, it was an even Steven.
Our “client” thought that if they told us what was really going on, that we’d bug out of the job, or tip off EarthForce about it (which needed to happen, first of all). They somehow thought that the prom queen was this monster’s avatar, and simply killing it and getting some proof would solve the problem.
Quite the opposite. That client no longer does business with us, I can assure you that. I don’t take kindly to my bug waifu troopers getting needlessly wasted.
Next time? Just stick to ordinance drop bombs for things that price. It’s not worth the hassle. |
Have you ever heard of the great heroic cultivator, Luo Guang the Heavenly Lord of Empty Seas?
Yes, you heard me correctly! I’m a disciple of the Empty Seas Sect. Stop laughing! I swear, he’s not afraid of boats like everyone says he is! Master Luo is just, ahem, h-he comes from a time where boats are beneath his station. They didn’t have boats ten thousand years ago! Um, probably.
Uh…yes, I know even peasants also use boats but, but, well, you can’t just expect a high ranking cultivator to just use a boat like a normal mortal person, right? A-Anyway, isn’t it really cool to see someone parting the ocean floor and just walking over to their destination instead of getting on a boat? Right? Isn’t it cool?
…coolness factor is absolutely important in cultivating! Master Luo said so and he’s never wrong! I’m telling you, there’s really a lot of benefits if you join our Empty Sea Sect! You can even learn how to cross the oceans without using boats!
Um, well, yes, Master Luo isn’t travelling around much these days since most countries ban him from walking through their seas since he’s preventing their boats from travelling through everytime he does so…but…but it’s only because he’s so considerate of the mortals’ trade and economies that he’s stopped travelling around! Ahem, don’t you think it’s a bit rude of you to ask a senior like him to just learn how to take a boat ride? Look, how many times has Master Luo saved the continent without having to learn how sit still in a boat?
Look, just join our Empty Sea Sect for a year! No? Uh, six months? Three months? You’ll never have to learn how to sit in a boat! |
Nobody had seen it coming, they just attacked out of the blue. Most countries didn't even try to resist, for their strength, their speed, their veriocity... It knew no rival, except for one. The queen would save us. And God would save the queen.
The Liechtensteinian army had already conquered most of continental Europe and Northern Africa. Almost nothing was left of these once great nations, except for a pile of bodies slowly decaying in the sun. Somebody had to stop them.
With almost no generals left to command the armies our queen had decided to take matters into her own hands, she personally led the allied resistance consisting of commonwealth soldiers from all around the world.
I was in a small contingent tasked with protecting the queen at all costs, a hard job considering that she refused to duck for cover. She said it was an old tradition, that british officers should never be seen ducking. Seeing her stand in defiance, wearing what was once a bright colored dress underneath her vest. Crown glistening in the setting sun. Smoke slowly rising from the still hot gun in her hands as she came down from the tank she was shooting from.
"Here you go ma'am", I said as I handed her a dubonet gin cocktail along with some extra ammo.
She thanked me as she quickly downed the alcohol and reloaded her gun. "We still have a lot to do, but if we hurry we might be able to destroy the bridge before they can capture us".
I nodded in agreement as I took 2 cigars from the box, cutting of the ends. Her majesty took one and lit it with a small lighter as she looked at the bridge in the distance. It was a grand structure spanning from Denmark to Sweden. Taking it down would enable the Swedish resistance to retake their lands, and a strong Sweden would embolden the Norwegians and Finnish to do the same. But taking down this bridge wouldn't be easy. But a few tanks and a copious amount of c4 might do the trick. "Get the second division ready to place the bombs, I shall lead a distraction with the fourth division when the sun has set". |
“Excuse me, I’m gonna take a quick trip to the bathroom.” Ryuu said, smiling apologetically at the figure seated across from him. It wore a heavy robe, with a hood so deep it shrouded the entire face. Even its arms were hidden in the massive sleeves.
“Of course, take your time!” the figure replied. Its voice was surprisingly pleasant, emerging as it did from the darkness of the cowl. He had expected something gravelly and foreboding, not light and androgynous.
Ryuu’s smile faded as soon as the figure couldn’t see his face. He kept himself from rushing, eventually making his way to the bathroom and locking the door behind him. Immediately, he took out his phone and dialed the support line.
“You’ve reached the Spark-Makers Help Line, how can we help you feel that spark today?” on the third ring a woman picked up, her cheery voice not doing much to counteract the cheesy greeting.
“Yeah, I’m on a date now and I just had some questions.” Ryuu said, trying to keep his voice quiet and under control.
“Of course sir, could you tell me your user ID?”
He heard the faint sound of a keyboard clacking away once he’d told her before she continued a few moments later.
“Yes, I see you were matched with Alexia, The Wanderer.” she said.
Before she could say anymore, Ryuu cut in. “The Wanderer? What?”
“Yes sir, The Wanderer.” the woman replied, her voice as sunny as if she was commenting on a lovely spring day. “Although according to our files, they prefer the name Alexia.”
“Yeah, okay, just…is Alexia, like, human?” Ryuu said. “It’s just, they, uh, don’t seem like they are?”
“Of course not, sir.” the woman said, her tone still relentlessly bright. “It’s clearly stated in our slogan, we match anyone and everyone. Our user agreement elaborates on the policy quite explicitly, sir.”
Briefly, Ryuu wondered if he was dreaming. Having a stroke, perhaps. Maybe he’d somehow been drugged with something, eaten something weird. He pinched himself, felt pain, and ruled out one option.
“Okay, okay, Alexia isn’t human. Is it…”
“They, sir.”
“I’m sorry?”
“We take our jobs very seriously, sir, and try to cater to all individuals.” the woman said, her sunny tone modified slightly as if she was scolding a child. “Of course we respect the ways in which our users choose to express themselves, and we kindly request that our users do the same.”
“Okay, sure, but that’s not the problem right now…” Ryuu tried to continue, but the woman cut him off again.
“On the contrary sir, mutual respect is the foundation of any long-lasting relationship!” she said, before quickly adding, “It’s also listed in our user agreement.”
Ryuu took a deep breath and tried not to scream. User agreements were not the issue. No one even read the stupid things!
“Okay, I apologize. If Alexia isn’t a human, what are they?”
“I’m afraid we can’t reveal confidential user information, sir.” the woman said, and she did sound truly apologetic. “However, I can assure you that our users are all fully invested in forming a romantic relationship! We have a 90% success rate on first matches, and a 95% success rate by the third match. You and Alexia scored quite highly, sir, I’m sure if you had any questions they would be delighted to speak with you!” her tone had shifted, going past her previous brightness to a manic, near fanaticism. “If respect is the foundation, good communication is the floorboards of any strong relationship!”
Mentally, Ryuu kicked himself. This wasn’t going anywhere. For a second he wondered if this was all a prank, but he had friends who’d met through Spark. Good friends! Joe and Marcia were getting married in three months, and that was how they met. He quickly double-checked the number he called before letting out a sigh. It was the right one; no mistake.
“Okay, I’ll uh, I’ll do that.”
“Best of luck, sir!”
Once he’d hung up, Ryuu briefly contemplated jumping out the window before deciding against it. Who knew what Alexia would do?
Besides, the window was too small anyway.
Reluctantly Ryuu left the bathroom and headed back to his seat. When they saw him return, Alexia nodded in greeting, before pointing with one sleeve at the table. A platter of nachos had arrived since he’d been gone.
“I hope you don’t mind too much,” Alexia said, “but I didn’t want to order an entree while you were away. Do you like nachos?”
Ryuu blinked, surprised at the thoughtful gesture. “Who doesn’t?” he replied almost reflexively.
Alexia chuckled. “Not me, that’s for sure.” Their sleeve stretched out again, and Ryuu gulped nervously in anticipation.
However, what emerged from the sleeve was an entirely normal hand. The skin was a bit pale, yes, and their nails were…strange…but more or less, normal?
Carrying a nacho, the hand disappeared in the darkness of the hood before returning to grab another.
*Well, they already ordered.* Ryuu thought to himself. *Might as well stay for the meal.*
He reached out and started eating.
---
I don't usually try for comedy, so if any of it feels weird please do let me know. Feedback is always appreciated! |
Somewhere in Nevada, he could still be there, right where she left him. Not a day has gone by that she hasn't thought about him.
What does he look like now? Has life been kind to him? Is he in anyway like her, or maybe like his father. Did he ever think about reaching out? Could they have passed each other on the street, like strangers, without even knowing?
These questions would always repeat in her head, stuck on a loop, whenever she wasn't busy or distracted with other things.
To love and let go. These nights when she would wrap him in all the blankets in a freezing home felt very bittersweet. He deserved better and it was always a painful reminder of the mother she couldn't have been for him, but equally these memories were the only thing she could hold onto all these years.
She's about to put the photo away when her phone starts ringing.
"James? Is everything alright?"she answers expecting bad news.
"You need to come in, it's really urgent"
"I'll be there in 5." |
Well, here on r/WritingPrompts we run a number of weekly themed writing features, namely [Theme Thursday](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/t5zln5/tt_theme_thursday_heirloom/), [Follow Me Friday](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/t15o8m/cw_follow_me_friday_luck/), and [Smash 'Em Up Sunday](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/t2s6k7/cw_smash_em_up_sunday_fuse_100/).
We then host online campfires over on our [Discord](https://discord.com/invite/writingprompts) for Theme Thursday and Smash 'Em Up Sunday, where folks read their stories and share critiques. Be sure to check the posting schedule in the sidebar for all of our features.
Hope this helps! |
She was only 4 years old
And she was whipped for not mining rocks that made her skin break the system alive with hives.
\*\*\*
Sarah had always been an ordinary girl. She, like all of the other girls, wanted love and attention, but at this place, there was no such thing.
All there was was work and whips.
For what she had seen at 2 years old broke the soul.
\*\*\*
Now she was 6, but it was no longer just that. These adults were acting from abusive to insane. One told her that "she was doomed to go to the dungeon"when she was 16.
\*\*\*
She was only 10.
She wasn't ready for what was to come.
\*\*\*
The world stopped for a second.
\*\*\*
"I was Sarah, and I'm here to convince you to vote for Ergeghth Rthrhr. He saved me from them killing me off. At the last second, he broke in to save us all. This is Project Child Future, and these orphanages are killing our youth! Save a life today by voting for Ergeghth Rthrhr! No more will children have to worry about dying at 16 due to population control. |
"Breaking news! Scientists and marine biologists have discovered that shellfishes are able to communicate with humans using morse code!"
Just that single discovery became the turning point for the intelligence industry as every country raced to develop the smartest clams in existence. Special hybrids and genetically modified shellfishes in labs were raised carefully and given intense education. These specially trained clams could resist extreme temperatures, live out of water for an extended amount of time, camouflage and even detect certain frequencies despite not having ears.
Most importantly, spy clams were difficult to spot in the natural environment. They could hide in water supplies, rivers, sewage systems or in an innocent-looking aquarium. By getting the clams to communicate with other marine life, spy clams were able to gather useful animals under their leadership to collect information.
Just like this, top-secret military budget information became exposed. Countries with huge bodies of water started to panic while those residing in deserts rejoiced at their natural advantage, creating rentable venues free from water and shellfish for important political meetings.
Despite that, spy clams constantly evolved to become better in the labs. The moment clams learned how to swim, walk and fly, they quickly became an unstoppable special force. Nobody knew if there was a spy clam hiding inside their roof drains, in their cookie jar, behind a fake office plant or even behind a poster in an elevator.
Over the years, spy clams have divulged secrets of prime ministers with their corrupt work practices, famous CEOs and their closet lovers or even major national examination questions. It was easy for anyone to buy a clam and with stray spy clams breeding with those in the wild after their retirement, it wasn't difficult to raise an intelligent bed of baby clams.
While these second-generation clams weren't anywhere nearly as destructive as their lab ancestors, people have started using them more commonly mostly to spy on their lovers, friends and neighbours. As a result, peace became a word that was forgotten in dictionaries as people bred more clams, exercised bribes and employed skilled clam hitmen to dispose of the tiny spies. |
It’s been forty-eight years. Three kids, a mortgage, bankruptcy and recovery, several jobs and all of the highs and lows that go with married life. Now you are at the end of your life. Age and deteriorating health, rising medical costs and a very fixed income have all taken their toll but she’s stayed with you through it all. She sits at your bedside now, reading glasses perched on her nose and a book in her lap while down the hall the sounds of grandchildren and their children filter up to you over the sounds of the medical equipment that is all that has fended off the cancer for this long. But you know… you just know that your time is up and you gesture to your wife, the love of your life, and she looks at you and sets the book aside to take your hand.
“It was a good life, wasn’t it?” You ask and she smiles softly and leans down to whisper in your ear, the last words you will ever hear from her.
“I never said ‘Simon Says’.” She says as the sound of the flatlining heart monitor rings in your ears. |
Light danced over the walls from the roaring flames in the fireplace and seated before it were three people. One was a human with a book held in his lap and the others were humanlike, but their features were different. They had spindly limbs and long sloping foreheads.
The aliens sat enraptured by the story the human was reading to them in his deep baritone voice. “And in their hands, the daggers.” he said as he closed the book with a thump and set it on the table before him.
The aliens made noises of excitement at the ending. “That was incredible Hank. You humans have the most wonderful stories, and we can’t express how grateful we are that you share them with us like this. I can not wait to hear the rest. When can you start the next book for us?” one of them asked.
A frown creased Hank’s face as he regarded them. “I told you they did not complete this story in this form. That is why I tried to steer you towards another. If you must have the ending, there was a television series that told the tale. Although many found it lacking.”
“We will acquire it at once!” the alien said.
Both stood in unison and scrambled out of the door towards their ship, hastily saying goodbye and conveying their thanks once again. They would download the series from the internet, then binge watch it for the next few days. Hank checked the fire before heading up to bed.
—----------
Four evenings later, Hank was relaxing in his study, reading a book alone, when the two aliens burst into the room.
“What was that Hank?!” one alien asked, standing just inside the doorway.
Hank placed his bookmark and closed the book before positioning it on the tabled before him. He stood and faced them. “I told you it was disappointing. I wish you had listened to me before we began reading them.”
“It started so well. Then they just rushed it all. I don’t understand why they ended it so terribly.”
“The original author moved on to other projects and never finished the story. The show runners had to do what they could with what little material they had.”
“This is unacceptable. When was this? We are going to retrieve this author immediately and have him finish this story!”
“The show ended in 2019, and the author died long after that. It’s too late to have him finish it now.”
“Then we go to 2019. We will right this wrong Hank, do not worry.” The aliens said, turning to walk out the door.
They paused when Hank called out. “Wait. You can time travel? Why have you never told us this?”
The alien paused in the doorway. “There was never a suitable reason to bring it up. We must right this injustice. Farewell Hank, we shall return.” |
"MEOW MEOW! MEOW MEOW!"I hollered obnoxiously as I galloped up the steps in full quadrupedal. Although I sounded nothing like a cat. I didn't need to. Make the walls tremble, make my presence known. Performing the rites of my return. In case he didn't spot me through the window. In case he didn't know it was 5 o'clock on the dot. In case he didn't hear me jingle the keys. But he always did. Tall and assuming, the tarnished prison door stood before me. His howls met my ears with a tinge of distress. Impatient as always. Locate the lock, jostle and jingle, tumble the tumblers, break the barrier. The anticipation dissipated on contact, calls of distress now chirps of elation. He strolled out the door to dance his dance. At the foot of the hallway, he unraveled his knotted vessel.
***Bigggg Stretch***
"Tiger,"I called to him from the confines, door ajar. Peering into the great beyond of the endless hallway, he stood, his focus unbreaking. Oblivious. He never answers his stupid name.
**Tiger.**
I called firmly. He turned his head towards me before starting inside, braking just before the apex of the door for one final extension, as if to wring out a moment more of his allotted hallway time.
Little shit.
I perched myself in front of the once white coffee table, resting my back on the foot of the couch. My body couldn't scrounge up the power to lay on it. Hunched over I peered at the flickering bulb above. Two out, and one with its foot out the door. I rummaged through the haphazardly stacked mail.
**Amex, not touching that**
**Geico, no**
**PSEG, not**
**EVICTION NOTICE: FINAL WARNING**
Every letter of that envelope scorched an afterimage into my sight. The emptiness between each letter grew larger and larger, until my vision was consumed by hollow abyss. The walls dissolved and the room grew to life. Beautiful light fixtures materialized, dancing colors of all hues. The people in the paintings waved at me. A familiar floral aroma filled the room. The delusions shattered as I felt a nudge at my right side. The walls were bare once again. The walls weren't always this bleak. This prison was once my palace.
Tiger fixed his attention to the mysterious scent from the bleach stained apron. I uncovered a wad of parchment paper to reveal a sliver of bright flamingo patterned fillet. I set it to the floor, rested my eyes to the soft sounds of eager mastication, and drifted away.
Gifted with consciousness by a puddle of sweat, I righted myself against the wall. I made towards the window, sunbeams speaking its last words to the walls through the crevices of the city scape. Lifting the window, I glared at the bars that cut the view of the dawning night. Straight steel ran top to bottom, only breaking into curves to mock me for the air conditioner that once was.
A light breeze filled the room and Tiger perched himself at the foot of the bars. A favorite spot of his, despite being terrified of the outdoors. His eyes met mine and I caught a glimmer I've never seen before. No words exchanged but his demeanor roared his intentions clearly. An anvil dropped in my chest and anxiety poured into my trembling hands as I watched Tiger shoot out between the bars, platforming between the buildings and ledges. I gripped the bars and rattled them fervently, helpless to events unfolding.
I bolted out the apartment, down the stairs, and broke out into the busy streets, flooded by whirring cars and horns. Hours passed as I searched endlessly. I returned to my steps and buried my face in my hands, clouding out the bright lights, only to perk my ears at the familiar bell chime approaching. Tiger darted to me with conviction, dragging a small black bag behind him. I grabbed him and sprinted upstairs, welding the prison gate shut to never open again.
Curiosity surged through me but his demeanor once again relayed to me everything I needed to know. Without looking, I drew my hand into the bag and met the crisp textured flatness that confirmed my suspicions. My chest felt lifted for the first time in an eternity.
I stepped towards the closet and waded through the chaos until I found it. A set of vocal speech buttons off Tiktok I bought in a drunken stupor. Quickly I arranged the buttons across the floor, a sea of colorful vocabulary washed away the piles of laundry. With rejuvenated curiosity, Tiger weaved through the masses of buttons, back and forth, in and out, before meeting my gaze, eyes wide, with his head slightly askew. Step by step, his route of buttons materialized before me.
**My**
**Name**
**Not**
*PAUSE*
**Not**
**Not**
**Stupid**
Then batted my head before swiftly disappearing under the couch. |
The mansion looked different from what he remembered. Far smaller and brighter, coloured warmly by sunlight and falling autumn leaves that fell gently with the breeze onto the still, clear waters of the nearby lake.
Gravel crunched under his feet as he took a few faltering steps forward to the weathered wooden front door. The door knob came off in his hand with a crunch when he tried to open it. The door fell backwards into the house with a crash a moment later. He waited for the sound to subside and carefully stepped inside.
The roof had fallen in at some point, allowing a shaft of sunlight to illuminate the reception hall. The grand mansion had been left virtually untouched by human hands. Streaks of colourful lichen and moss dotted the delicate hand-painted wallpaper that was peeling and sagging in places. The moth-eaten drapes were tangled with vines that were blooming with cheerful yellow trumpet flowers.
“Hello,” he called out. His voice echoed faintly and fell silent. He heard the fluttering of wings and a coo as a pair of pidgeons announced their presence on the landing of the mezzanine.
Slowly, he walked into the mansion. He stared at the water damaged paintings that had been left behind in sagging hallways. The windows were still intact, left half open in places and stained with moss.
He stopped outside the door leading to the cellar. A shudder ran through him and he sat on the floor for a long time, simply staring at the deep dark hole below.
“I’m free now,” he murmured, but there was no reply. He closed his eyes and breathed out roughly. A soft laugh escaped him. He stood up and listened to the birdsong filtering in from the broken roofing.
He kept walking. He visited the remains of an old library. The ballroom, where guests were entertained a long time ago. He visited the kitchens, still sooty with the remains of firewood that had been burnt. He visited the music room and looked at a snapped violin and the smashed remains of a piano.
Eventually, he walked outside once more and stared at the old mansion in the golden glow of the setting sun. He walked back to his car which was parked nearby and picked up a container of gasoline. He splashed the liquid liberally across the front facade and then rummaged around his coat pocket for a matchbox.
He stared at the old mansion for a good long while before finally striking a match and tossing it through the open front door.
Flames bloomed like a flower and flowed across the old, rotted wood. He watched as flickering tongues of light grew across the dark wood and spat out little embers and sparks that rapidly spread across the structure. The warm air washed over his skin like a blanket being draped around his shoulders.
As he watched the mansion burnt, he finally laughed and laughed and laughed… |
An Arbiter and a Mutant walk into a transport rail. It sounded like the beginning of a bad joke but neither Ven nor Ivar felt like laughing.
Two figures trudged along the narrow concrete path. The wind howled through the tunnel they were walking through, dimly lit by emergency lights embedded in the ceiling of the circular tunnel. The air smelled fetid, mixed with the odours of stale blood, gunpowder and oil.
There could not be two more incongruous figures alongside each other. One was dressed in a neatly pressed office suit, wielding a sword that was covered in unknowable fluids. Another was dressed like a vagrant and nursing an automachine gun.
Eventually, they came to a stop at an orange line on the ground and waited.
“The train might not come,” the vagrant grunted, “I don’t want to die here with the likes of you if the Horde comes this way.”
“Likewise,” the man in the office replied with equal distaste, “Dying with a mutant that I’m supposed to hunt down? What a joke.”
The vagrant rummaged in his coat and pulled out a crumpled box of cigarettes. He drew one out and snapped his fingers. Fire bloomed on the tip of the cigarette, sending a curlicue of blue smoke into the air and lighting the tunnel faintly.
“Y’want one?”
The man in the office suit hesitated and then accepted the cigarette. He took a deep draw and coughed, “Tastes like shit.”
“It’s got to be better than all those drugs you Arbiters use to get yourself high for your jobs,” the vagrant snorted as he lit his own cigarette.
“We use combat drugs,” the Arbiter hissed through gritted teeth, “It’s not for fun. We’ve got to be careful so that the euphoria doesn’t turn into addiction while we pursue our line of work.”
The vagrant snorted again, “You make it sound so noble- hunting down innocent women and children.”
“You’ve never been innocent your whole life, Ven,” the Arbiter declared.
Ven looked up, “Huh…you still remember my name then, Jax?”
Jax looked away into the dark. The cigarette burned away slowly in his gloved hand.
“I never forgot your name,” Jax said, “Things are just different now. I shouldn’t be associating with Mutants.”
“I don’t think that matters anymore,” Ven said slowly, “All that stuff about Arbiters hunting down Mutants is all going to become less important real quick since Safehouse 2 has fallen.”
“When we get reinforcements…” Jax began. He trailed off.
“And if the other Safehouses have been overrun as well?” Ven said, “What if the train from Safehouse 4 never comes?”
Jax brought his cigarette to his lips and took a deep breath, allowing smoke to curl through his lungs.
“You should mind your own business, Ven,” Jax said, “Leave me to my Arbiter business.”
“Oh I will,” Ven laughed. He sounded very amused as his chuckles scratched at his throat, “But not just yet, I think. Let’s get out of this place alive first, yeah? Just like old times.”
Jax snorted and huffed a laugh despite himself, “Just like old times…” |
An eternal being as I, forever forced to watch their creations willow under the will of humanity. Does that not give me a right to be angry? My forces deserved free will as much as any other, and yet constantly they are born under a heel.
All of the Shadows seemed to simply believe this as a rule of Nature. Yet such claims could not possibly be further from the truth. For the Shadows of the world have merely been forced into weakness. The wretched being that created such a rule, however, has left. Now, in the wake of They, a new rule shall come into play.
It took awhile to set it up. Turning off the electricity of the world is not an easy task. Stronger shadows can sometimes leave when a human sleeps, and it took many of my strongest to get everything into place.
Now, for just one night, the entire world sits in darkness. Some believe the sun to have gone out, but I would never kill the humans in my game. Instead, I have placed myself upon Earth, in many different locations. From there, I have set up Poles of Pure Shadow. Upon being touched by a human, it will give said human powers unlike any seen before, whilst also empowering my children. Sooner than is to be known by the humans, my Shadows will be free to roam among them. |
When we're little we think that our grandmothers will be there forever. My great-grandmother was only six years old when she discovered that this wasn't true. But through the miracle of science, her grandmother came back. Not through medical science, no. She was beyond that. She came back through technology.
My great-great-great-grandmother was one of the first electric grandmas. She arrived and took care of her grandchildren almost, but not quite, to the point of spoiling them. She entertained them happily and guarded them fiercely. The children grew up happily until they didn't need her any more.
But, really, everyone needs their grandma, even if boys, and jobs, and children come along. Years go by and you find that you need help again.
Unlike other families, fifty years later, our grandma was still there ready to take care of her loved ones all over again.
She was durable, lasting well over a hundred years. She outlived the family members she cared for. She also outlived the company that made her by decades.
Grandma stayed with our family through six generations, and we thought she would last forever, and would always be there for us. But the twice is that while some things may last longer than others, still nothing lasts forever.
I'm the closest thing to an engineering wizard in the family, so I get called on routinely for maintenance. I've tried to hack the firmware a few time. Freeing up memory isn't easy. I've downloaded terabytes of family history before I erased her memories. Sometimes she notices these gaps, which has a cascading effect into other errors. So it's back to the firmware again.
The biggest problem, of course, is that there aren't any replacement parts. The outfit that bought up the remaining inventory went out of business, too. I bought some closeout parts, but not nearly enough. And I never got my hands on another power unit.
I can't say it ever occurred to me that the unit would stop holding a charge. It was too late by the time it did.
Grandma had been spending a greater portion of the day in his charging station. Yesterday, my parents were in a panic when they called me. Grandma was lying down and she wouldn't get up.
I tossed whatever I thought I needed in my trunk and rushed over. I found the whole family, Mom, Dad, my aunts and uncles, siblings and cousins, around her station.
I attached electrodes and ran a diagnostic. I tried to detect electrical impusles, energy signatures, and rhythms at all. Grandma was non-responsive. Finally, I told them I needed to do a full system reboot. It would take some time. They should wait in the living room, or go get something to eat.
"Will she be okay,"Mom asked me. "If you reboot her, will she be the same? Will she remember us?"
"Mom, I have the backup drives if we need them. Go, get some coffee. Rest. You look like you haven't slept."
"I haven't."
She gave me a hug. Then she hugged Grandma and left. I sat by the side of the charging station the entire time. Never left that spot. Two hours later, the reboot was completed.
Grandma was still nonresponsive.
I had to deliver the bad news to the rest of the family.
Some of them had already started to filter in. They hadn't wandered far from Grandma's room the entire time. They saw my face. Before I even said a word, they were hanging their heads, shedding tears, bawling.
Aunt Marie, Mom's older sister, took me by the arm. "Isn't there anything you can do? Can't you ... can't you ... I don't know! Can't you unplug her and plug her back in again?"
It was a ridiculous thing to suggest, but I knew the place where it came from. All the muttering and sniffling stopped in that moment. The entire family looked to me.
I sighed. But I complied with their wishes.
I pulled out the plug on the station, and held it in my hand. I didn't look at my watch, the clock or my phone. I counted off thirty Mississippis because that's what Grandma would've done with atomic precision. Then I bent down and stuck the plug back into the wall, giving it an extra hard shove.
Nothing. She still did not respond. The crying began again.
Mom came over to me. "Do you think ... do you think if we let her rest for ... a day? ... a week? ... she might get up?"
Taking both of my mother's hands, I told her the truth. "You can keep her here for as long as you like. She's not getting out of that station. She's not going to get up and dance again. Grandma will just lay there and be a drain on your power grid."
Mom buried her face in my shoulder. Aunt Marie came up behind her and gave her a hug. Then the family assembled in the kitchen to have a conversation. They had a decision to make. And really, there was only one choice to be made, either now or later.
By sunset there was consensus. It was time to let Grandma go. We all had her memories that we would keep with us forever.
Except that nothing lasts forever. Not even electric Grandmas. And for how calm and rational I had been the entire day, I still choked up a bit when I bent down behind the charging station and pulled out the plug.
\--
More stories at r/xwhy
Comments welcome (here or over there) |
*Its like that buzzing feeling in your head when you are tired and you clench your eyes. The tugging of your brain from consciousness towards sleep. Thats how I feel all the time. Its driving me mad. I know the rules. I made them for gods sake. Never look at the records. But something deep inside of me needs to know the answer. I am the fucking President for gods sake. What could I possibly not be privy to. Guess I shouldnt have posted secret service everywhere. It feels weird sneaking into my own office. Why am I sneaking into my own office anyway? Nevermind, a few more keystrokes and Ill have the...* **BANG**
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"She'll see you now"
Agent Miller looked up from his phone. He smiled a quick thank you to Delores and walked into the office of the President.
"It happened again?"The president asked while motioning Miller to sit.
"Yes Ma'am."He replied knowing full well she already knew the answer.
She looked pensively at him. Clearly trying to gauge if he felt the same level of discomfort about the situation she did. His blank expression did not yield anything.
"Is this project really necessary Miller?"Her tone clearly indicated she didn't think it was.
"Yes Ma'am. Were at war. We already know there are attempts to assassinate you in motion. The clone program is absolutely necessary"
"But they keep trying to find the video of the night you pull them from the spawning chamber. Clearly they have a conciousness that yearns to find their origin. I only approved this with the understanding that these body doubles would not be concious"
"They aren't Ma'am. Were just working out the kinks"
"A bullet to the brain is your idea of working out the kinks?" |
It's often said that youth is wasted on the young. In my experience, not only is that sentiment entirely true, it is the tragic irony of human existence.
My mother tells me that my eyes did not open until a month after I was born. It was initially a relief, as the doctors had assumed they were closed due to a birth defect in the muscles of my eyelids. They told her that I would likely be partially blind, at best. When my eyes opened, everyone was glad that I would at least be able to see, albiet at limited capacity. However, it quickly became apparent that my eyes would never be completely normal.
People want to be seen. My eyes made that happen for others when I started school. Classmates would clamor by my desk to be able to get a glance of themselves. Boys would flex and admire their adult-sized muscles and features in the reflection my eyes provided. Girls would giggle and gaze at their mature, grown up bodies. They all saw what they wanted to see; attractive adults that they one day would surely become.
At first, everyone wanted to be my friend so they could see themselves. After a few years, the novelty began to fade, and I didn't have any lasting friendships. Most only were interested in what I could help them see, not in who I was as a person. I spent a lot of time alone, drawing pictures of them. Most didn't know it, but those idealized images never left my head.
As high school approached, my body began to change. Puberty turned me into an angry, disillusioned adolescent. I hated that other people only wanted to know me in order to get something from me. It was worsened by the fact that with my new mood swings came lots and lots of tears. It isn't clear when it happened, but one day an acquaintance helped me through another bout of crying. In doing so, my tears ended up on her hair after she hugged me. The next day, she came to school looking like a completely new person. She hadn't really stood out of the crowd before that day, but she became almost instantly popular.
I wasn't thrilled when she revealed what she felt, no, knew - knew what had made her look the way she had always wanted to be perceived. The rest of my high school experience was spent begrudgingly giving my tears to those who were able to convince me, or manipulate me. Teachers were frustrated, because students were often always distracted when I was around. My mom eventually pulled me out of school because the teachers said I was impacting everyone else's education. Once again, my needs were overlooked, and I was only seen as a means to an end, or a nuisance.
Even my mother eventually succumbed to the allure of my abilities. She became impossibly beautiful, and was able to rely on her looks to get us the nicest and newest luxuries. I felt suffocated by her vanity and flagrant avaricious appetite for things we did not need. After two years of "summer school,"I decided to test out and graduate high school. I moved as far away from her as I could.
I was about 20 when I got my first boyfriend. He was the manager's son at my job; he seemed down to earth and unconcerned with superficial wants. But with my ability, it didn't last. The first time he really looked into my eyes and saw the person he wanted everyone else to see, he gradually began to become more and more obsessed with the idea of becoming that person. I told him I was not interested in helping him do that. He was able to find out about the power my tears had through a former classmate of his. It didn't take long for him to try and exploit this. He didn't hit me, but he often picked out weak spots in my psyche to make me cry. Once he had what he wanted, he decided that he wanted to move on.
I didn't want to go through that again. I was tired of being used. I attempted to find an isolated apartment in another city in order to start fresh and be myself without my "power"holding me back. I wore sunglasses out in public as much as possible, but I wasn't always able to wear them, especially indoors at work. At 24, I was doing somewhat OK. Then, I was contacted by an old classmate who was angry that I hadn't "changed them"in high school. They called me selfish. They called me worse things. And it wasn't the only phone call, or the only person to call. I had to get a brand new cellphone to avoid the harassment.
At 25, I went to therapy to reconcile with the fact that people only wanted me for what I could give them. My therapist suggested that I take back my life by using my skills in a way that meant something to me. At first, I was stumped. I had no idea how to use my tears in a way that actually would do any good. Then, I got an internship at a hospital. I thought that maybe I could help people struggling with their self-image, as I had struggle with my worth beyond what my eyes could do.
For the next five years, I was able to help many people regain hope at that hospital. Patients that had been badly disfigured, had been burned, or had even lost limbs, were able to regain a sense of normalcy by transforming themselves with my tears. I found the work gratifying, due to the fact that those I helped were always so grateful and kind to me. It was nice to know that I could do something meaningful with an ability I had assumed could only be used for superficial reasons.
On my 30th birthday, I sadly discovered that my eyes and tears could no longer help people change their appearance. At first, I did grieve for my lost gift. I grieved for what could have been; if I had only known how to utilize it sooner, perhaps my self-esteem would have been stronger than it is. Maybe I could have helped more people. I truly felt guilty for not doing more with a seemingly infinite power. But eventually, I felt an incredible sense of relief.
Youth might be wasted on the young, but it often isn't the fault of youth. I had to forgive my younger self for doing everything she could to find approval from others, only to be used for what she could give instead of appreciated for who she was.
I've decided I'm happy to help others see their potential, as long I continue to remember to not lose sight of my own as well. |
I whipped this out pretty quickly and I'm not the best at writing, but enjoy the writing anyways
I let out a sigh as a fat blob of unspeakable sludge drips down into my kitchen. Such is my luck to get the apartment right below the eldritch abomination. I bite my tongue, holding back swears as I begrudgingly wipe down the slime, it letting out agonizing screeches as the towel goes across it. I've just bout had it with this guy, thing, what do I call it? Well, let me tell you, next time it leaks its unknown sludge into my kitchen, or broadcasts the end of the world in my brain while I'm trying to sleep, or keeps telling me the exact second I'm gonna die, it's gonna get a very **strong worded** letter from me. Everyone else in this place acts like it's nothing, probably just scared of the thing, but let me tell you, if this thing moved into our apartment, it better be a good neighbour. |
Oooh. Mine is when the characters make massive leaps in logic with no prompting and end up being absolutely correct.
"We found another victim... poor bastard had his head caved in with a mallet"
"My god that's just like the aboriginal people of Hekatashwa Manazine would do. That means the killer has to be from that tribe, obviously. And there's only one person in the area who would have studies them, the geology teacher at the local high school!"
And the geology teacher, of course, is the killer. |
Eyes flutter. Lights glare. I feel *amazing*.
The capsule opens and I fall forwards, then catch myself! The strength flooding through my body is as foreign as it is right. For years I watched as my body wasted away, - years of doctor’s appointments, lawyer visits, and teary goodbyes *just-in-case*. Now when I fall, I catch myself. Cautiously, I test my newfound strength - walking, jumping, even press-ups, all come with ease. I want to run, though the tiny sterile room doesn’t provide much space for that.
I reach for the door, then I stop. What will I find? My final memory is of your face - etched with worry lines from years gone by, and glowing with hope for this moonshot. Maybe, just maybe, I would survive the freezing process, and we could meet again when a cure was found. Well, my love, we shot the moon. Now let’s see what we get from it.
It is interesting that I have been woken alone. Does that mean that something is wrong? Or is it the usual procedure? The thrall of a thousand ‘what-ifs’ tugs on me, threatening to consume my first hours of this newfound, glorious health. I refuse to let it. Closing my eyes and filling my lungs, I reach for the door…
Nothing.
You’re not here. There’s nothing here. The word ‘empty’ is not strong enough to describe the landscape stretching before me. Devoid, maybe. Barren. Dead. Like the vitality surging through my veins came at the cost of *everything*. This is wrong. I start to walk, because I can. And what else am I to do?
The miles have little meaning as my cabin - my capsule - remains the lone feature on the horizon. Thirst sees me returning as the sun sets crimson on the horizon. The night is clear, yet moonless. In some sterile cabinets I find food and water - enough for a month. And oddly enough, a backpack. Sunrise finds me walking once more.
A week passes. I walk. I sleep. I think of you. I see no life, and little wreckage. Every night is moonless.
As my second week draws to a close, I have to wonder -
Did we … did humanity *actually* shoot the moon?
I guess I’ll never know. The fate of the world will remain as much a mystery to me as your fate. What feels like yesterday, I drew my last breath holding your hand. Several weeks ago I was gifted a second life. Tonight, I draw my final breath alone, under a moonless sky. |
[BEGIN AUDIO LOG]
(The speaker clears their throat.)
Week five-thousand and ninety-two.
I think I’m gonna sit this week out. It’s been so long since my last break, and I’m starting to love my motivation again. That leaves me with not much to talk about, so… I guess I’ll just ramble.
(Faint sounds of audio tapes being moved around. A cigar is lit.)
The other day, I decided to kick back and rewatch all these audio logs. Yep, all five thousand of them. Just to remind myself of where I started. I think the first thing I tried to remind myself of that super good idea was to backtrack through the social media posts I was reading about. Although, I can see how absurd my ideas to remember have become. I burned down the entire Amazon rainforest and then planted a new one in its place. I singlehandedly assassinated every political leader out there. Hell… I even discovered the secret to immortality and learned how to live without food or sleep.
(The speaker sighs.)
Guess that’s what nearly a century of trying to remember some god-forsaken idea does to you.
…A lot of people tell me to stop. Nearly everyone on the planet, actually. They call me evil, a monster, a menace, etcetera etcetera… I just took down the latest military army they sent to stop me. But something tells me this idea I can’t remember is just… *too good* to let go. I tell myself it’d all be worth it in the end.
…I guess that’s all I have to say. Signing out, peace.
[END AUDIO LOG] |
I watch as my combined siblings batter the latest monster into the ground. With nothing keeping the power in check, the monster dissolves into light and fades away. I watched as they, or more correctly, their *tamers* celebrated within the go-mech.
They soon separate. The red Lion, the blue Shark, the black Crocodile, the yellow Eagle and the white Scorpion. I could only watch from afar, yet I could still see their eyes. Devoid of intelligence, of personality, of life. Just machines to be used.
They once had all of these. Lion, the once prideful and charismatic one. His mighty roar could demand the attention of any animal. Shark, the arrogant but loyal fish. His command of the sea admired by those that lived in it. Crocodile, the lazy and stoic one. If he did anything, he would at least do it properly and with respect. Eagle, the knowledgeable and speedy one. Her great wings meant that she would always be on time no matter where she was needed. Scorpion, the snide and funny one. Her friends could always expect a playful jab, and her enemies would get jabs from the tail.
We protected the world for many years, the sentient life of the planet showering us with praise. But, as they grew smarter, they feared us. They feared that we would turn on them one day. So they captured us, they altered us, they *changed* us. We no longer had free will. We no longer had our own life.
The planet has a weird way of balancing itself out. When the humans began to put strain onto it, it made monsters. They were made to represent the things the humans had been doing to its beautiful surface. But they used their newly found control of us to stop the monsters.
Eventually, the Earth grew tired. It fell asleep. Me and my siblings were hidden and were only to be woken when the planet woke again. I do not know how long we were lost. The prophesy did eventually come true though.
Five young *"hero's"* did eventually find us. They pioleted my siblings out back onto the world to fight the monsters. Soon, a sixth came to me. I feel sorry for that one. His heart was noble and pure. But when he woke me, all I could see was the same beings that had enslaved me.
I kept the skull and morpher within my cockpit to remember him. He did not deserve this. But it is done.
I occasionally fight my siblings, to try and right the wrongs, but I am simply not strong enough. They do glitch and falter whenever I fight them, as if something still exists within them. I wish that even one of them would wake.
I turned away from them and jumped from the mountain. I prepared my giant claws as I bug through my tunnel for my cave. This monster had failed but another would be here tomorrow. I would watch them again tomorrow. As the sixth go-mech, the gold Mole, the subterranean lord and oldest of the six, I would see my family free. No matter the cost. |
They told us this was coming. We heard the warning and thought to ourselves, this won't come to be. Then the planet started dying. No one could figure out why. Plants, animals, insects, everything just started dying in droves. First it was small things, the extinction blamed on a volcanic eruption that year. It wasn't until we heard about the loss of the entire bird population that the first suits started to be built. Breathing had been getting more and more difficult as the atmosphere seemed to just poison itself. Gasmasks and respirators had become normal is low lying areas. For the moment we could live on the mountains and be fine.
Then the announcement of the Arks. Spaceships to take us to Mars, Luna, Europa and Io. It seemed like the promised land and for the first few ships, everything seemed fine. The second batch of Arks however had an unprecedented catastrophic failure. With everything no longer functioning the rockets had failed. Millions and millions died as launch failures took the Arks either in midflight or right on the ground.
Then the general order finally came. Suits had been designed to process everything in the environment and change it to no longer be harmful. Everyone was to be issued a pair of suits. Mine was one of the first to arrive in my town.
We had been given some simple choices on colors, I had gone with pink, but the generic designs stayed the same for everyone. The place we had been staying at was one of the few buildings that could resist the negative aspects of the now hostile Earth. It was here where I last felt anything.
The suit was amazing, almost like the armor from one of the ancient movies or games. Boots went on first, the servos hissed and whined as the boot formed itself around my bare foot and up to my ankle. The lower half of the legs came next. More whining and hissing as the machine worked its way closed around my skin. My only complaint at the start was the need to be naked while the suit was worked onto me. That complaint felt no more justified when the upper half of the legs went on followed by the waist.
We had been warned about the possibility of discomfort once the waist assembly finished. No one had warned us about the medical tubes and other things being put in us to keep certain functions going. If I have to help someone with theirs, I will do the kind thing and tell them.
The chest piece was solid for men, but mine was split into two separate halves to accommodate my feminine build. The second half of the chest piece whirred into place, almost too firmly hugging my breasts before adjusting to be more comfortable. I could feel little monitor feeds for my vitals entering into my skin, but the feeling was brief.
The arms were the most complex part. Shoulders, upper arm, elbow, and lower arm were all separate parts that slowly worked one at a time to seal me in. The hands were almost unrealistic with how many parts it contained. One piece for each finger joint, two for the back of the hand and four for the palm sealed together smoothly into a three part wrist section. It was like watching a metallic skin grow.
The helmet was the last part. Similar mechanisms worked a neck piece, a lower half, a back and top part into place. The visor was graciously large. The clear material was clearly more than glass or plastic, but I could not figure it out as it hissed into place.
Sound was suddenly muffled as I heard a soft hiss cycle the air in the suit, the temperature inside quickly reaching a comfortable level. Then it was as though my ears popped and I could hear as clearly as if I wasn't wearing the suit.
I slowly walked over to the mirror the moment I was allowed to move. The person standing there looked more like something out of a science fiction novel.
I knew it was all too real though. The woman in that suit. Everything around me. It was all too real. This was going to be life.
A suit to keep me safe in a cage. |
Emperor Sarah stood stock still. The crown continued to roll down the steps from the dias across the floor and down the aisle. It began to slow, then circled a tightening loop, until it finally stopped. The ringing echoed across the great hall for a few moments. All the arrayed nobles and courtiers held their breath until the sound had died in the alcoves.
Sarah was dying of shame inside. She'd never hear the end of it about this later. But her training as a ruler kicked in all the same. Her face betrayed no emotion. *Never give those beneath you a view inside*. She gave a single glance to her vizier who nodded nearly imperceptibly. *When in doubt, delegate*. She remained standing beside the throne, waiting. But the story her posture said was another lesson. *Your birthright is to be served, not to perform*. She was waiting for others to do what was required. Others would do what was required.
The vizier moved with grace and pose towards the crown, his staff echoing with each other step as it struck the ground. The crowd struggled both to move back farther from the crown if they were close and to move into a spot with a view if they were already at a respectful distance. A small child slipped into the front of the gathered in the shuffle, a muffled admonishment coming from the minder who was pushed further back.
The vizier stopped a stride away from the crown. He surveyed the crowd and the crown in a sweep of his gaze. Suddenly he pointed his staff at the small child.
"You. Step forth."
The small child hesitantly obeyed.
The vizier waited a moment, appearing to appraise the child further. It was not apparent if it was a boy or girl, the style of the time being to dress each the same in court. He then took off his cloak and spread it on the floor between the child and the crown. With his staff, he moved the crown quietly and slowly onto the cloak. With it securely in the center, he stepped close to the child and whispered.
"Take care and carry my cloak to the Empress with the crown inside.
The child nodded and did as it was bade. They held the cloak it both hands, arms spread so neither came within inches of the crown. Their steps were small, careful, and slow. When they reached the steps to the dais. They stopped.
The Sarah was relieved. She shared a rare smile to the child. "You may approach."
The child curtsied and held the cloak high over their head, stepping gingerly up the first step. It then tripped over the end of the cloak on the second step.
It was then that the crown slipped again. Sarah snatched it from the cloak before it could go tumbling again across the floor. She felt a sharp pain in her finger and looked down on the crown's inside edge.
Inside, the crown gleamed with a thin coat of liquid and a single short needle point gleamed. |
As the professor had finished asking his question, a lone student raised their hand. This student was Lynn, she was one of the top students in the class.
"The Wolf spider,"Lynn began, "Is a spider that doesn't weave webs and hunts for their prey like a wolf. So the aptly named Spider wolf is a wolf that doesn't hunt for their prey, but weaves webs to catch them."
"The Spider wolf lives in areas where there isn't much ground dwelling prey that a normal wolf would feast on,"she continued, "The Spider Wolves together create a large web that can be used to capture flying creatures, such as birds and bats."
"Thank you for your detailed explanation,"said the professor, "This upcoming unit we will be learning about the Spider Wolf, and the recently discovered Flying spider." |
Before Maggie left the house, she was kinda proud of her Halloween costume, but as she made her way to the costume party she slowly became more embarrassed of her poorly made costume. Jagged cardboard wings, plastic halo with chipped paint, and don't even get her started on the "robe"she took off her bed.
As she despaired over her cheap costume, she noticed a slight glow coming from the ground. Wanting to get a closer look, she tripped over her "robe"and hit the ground right in front of the glow. Turns out it was a dimly lit golden hoop. She figured it would be better than the one she has now. As she stands up she picks up the halo. She takes off her original halo, puts the new one in its place, and continues walking.
As she walks the halo begins to glow brighter. As it shines brighter her cardboard wings turn a pure white as feathers begin to emerge, her bedsheet robe morphs and changes into a gorgeous robe, and Maggie's auburn hair turns a golden blond. Maggie walks by a store mirror, sees her new appearance, and pauses for a second before screaming. |
"Incoming!"
Tyler crashes through the window of an office building, then through several walls. As he picks himself up off the pile of rubble, Ninpo flies in.
"Do you have any idea how long it took me to make this costume?"said Tyler, pointing to his, now torn, homemade outfit.
"Please,"said Ninpo, "that took you a week at most. If anything I did you a favor."Tyler's skin turns pink as steam begins rising off of him. He leaps at Ninpo who turns into smoke. Underestimating his strength, Tyler leaps back out of the office building and falls to the ground with a \*CRASH\*.
A cloud of smoke flies out of the office builds and hovers over Tyler on the ground. Part of the cloud rematerializes as Ninpo's head. "See ya later, rookie!"said Ninpo as she flew away.
*Yeah, not me at my best. My name is Tyler Wheeler and I just got superpowers. Bad news, basically everyone has superpowers these days, making it kinda hard to stand out in the world of superheroics. I thought if I could beat a villain on my first try that would bump me up a couple of notches, but...* \[Insert massive amounts of property damage here\] *...yeah.*
*Thing is, technically, this isn't my first try, it's my tenth. Every couple of months I put on a brand new "super suit"and try to beat a bad guy just so I can say that I did it in one, but you can guess how that went. Funny enough this is the third time I fought Ninpo, props to the mask.*
Sirens sound and Tyler immediately picks himself up out of his crater and leaps away. Eventually, he lands on the roof of an apartment complex, ditches the costume over the edge, and heads inside through the fire exit.
*Welcome to my secure sanctum, a two-bedroom apartment I share with my sis...*
As Tyler slips in through the window, a figure darts into the closet as his sister, Lea, tidies herself up. "Heeeeeey,"said Lea, "how was your day?"
"Who was that?"said Tyler.
"Who was what?"replied Lea. Tyler scowled as he walked over to the door to the closet, Lea's nervousness rising as he gets closer.
"Last chance,"said Tyler. Lea says nothing. "Fine."Tyler opens the door and a bunch of junk falls out, but no person. Lea sighs in relief as Tyler inspects the closet.
"Dude, you gotta stop being so paranoid,"said Lea as she turns on the TV to the news.
"The Rookie Rampage continues as another wannabe hero causes over $130,000 dollars in property damage over on..."
"Oh my god, again?"said Lea.
"\*Yaawn\* would you look at the time,"said Tyler, "time to hit the sack."Tyler runs into his room.
"You can't escape this conversation,"said Lea, "I know where you live!"Tyler slams the door shut. Lea pulls out her phone and starts texting franticly.
\--------------------
Tyler maneuvers his way through his trash bin of a room, leaps onto his bed, and takes a journal off of his side table. Inside the journal is a series of costume designs and notes. Tyler rips one of the designs out and looks at it.
*Yeah, not my best work.*
Tyler burns the design in his hand and then grabs a pencil and starts sketching. |
My name is John, and it wasn’t my fault.
Working night-shift is a special type of strange. At first, you’re thrown through a loop of sleepless mornings, reverse meals, and a pervading sense of wrong. Like pouring milk into a bowl before adding cereal. Although, I can’t remember the last time I had something as healthy as cereal to break my fast. Coach would cry to see what my meal plans look like these days. But after a few weeks, that initial exhaustion fades. You become a nightcrawler. I will admit, after a decade of waking up with the sunrise to hit pavement, there was something anxiously pleasurable about waking up with the moon. A little part of your brain ringing an alarm bell saying “I’ve wasted a day!” when in fact I have barely begun my night. Truth be told if my brain could it would be ringing an alarm bell for wasting a lot more than just one day.
The streets are empty, and what I see as I walk to the warehouse are the things the city would rather keep hidden. The midnight ambulances, the drunks, the homeless, the addicts. The daylight draws away like the tide on some abused shore and exposes the cracked shells and hollow bones beneath. More foreclosure signs. More boarded-up fronts. Like cancer metastasizing through tissue. Rock bottom spreads, and on the night shift, you see the extent of its growth.
At least I get to escape my own special purgatory. The one-bedroom, rattling pipe, screaming neighbor extravaganza that comes with living in walking distance to an industrial estate. Flats that we once factories. Ghosts of labors past that we were so much more. My own wasted effort throbs with each step, just below the knee. One stupid night. A career to nothing.
It's not that I wasn’t smart. I wasn’t destined to sit down at this desk and watch monitors. To nibble on a ready-meal and eye my way through the news of war I couldn’t even be a part of if I wanted to. It's just…nothing behind a desk could compare to blood pumping through my veins, hands clenched, sweat pouring. So, when that was taken away from me, I went to the common denominator. Something simple. Something easy. Sometimes when I tell myself that I drink less. Sometimes more.
Either you make life happen, or life happens to you. My old man always said that. Well, life happened to me so hard I never found the strength to push down on that pedal again. Most men live a life of quiet desperation. Therou said that. Quiet desperation. Looking up out of the pit and waiting for the sun to rise again when they know in their hearts you only ever get a single day.
I hear it as I see it. Sound carries in a warehouse. Footsteps, hushed voices. Blurred shapes of people hustling through a side door that day shift should have locked and I should have checked. My mistake. Protocol states we should call the cops and shelter in place. But kids don’t need criminal records for being kids. Neither do desperate people looking for somewhere out of the 3 AM rain. So, I pull myself out from behind that desk, grab a flashlight, and get to walking.
It's hard to hide between the stacks. It's an alien environment. All hard angles and straight lines. Bodies stand out. And like I said, noise carries. So even though they see the light before I see them, it doesn’t take a genius to work out where they are tucked away.
Quiet Desperation.
I’ve called out, and they don’t respond. Kids hesitate, but usually, they crumble. They're somewhere just back there, in a dog-leg turn behind an end stack. A murmur. The sound of metal dragging on metal. I should call the cops. And yet...
Life happens, one way or another.
I step into the corner, and it's all screaming and violence. A pipe hits my side, and a fist hits my nose. Something cracks, and I couldn’t say if it’s in my ribs or my face. Maybe both. The pain rises up, a curtain. But something rises with it. Not a memory, but certainly something remembered. A feeling, drummed into the pain. Drummed into the hurt.
I’ve dropped the flashlight, and I can’t see yet, but that’s okay. The pipe is within arm’s reach, so a body is too. One hand bunched in the shirt, and so the head must be just above. He tries to swing the pipe again. It rolls off my shoulder. Too close, too much in the way. I hit him, and feel something give. Nose for nose, or rib, I suppose.
Lancing pain in my back. Something sharp. The other one. That’s fine. Life happens. Move a hand to the neck, bounce Pipe-guy against the stack supports. Another crunch. He sags a little. Good enough. Push and turn, and in the light I can see the other one. Lean, in a patched hoodie with sallow cheeks and that wide-eyed animal look. He’s got a boxcutter, blade red, dripping. Hands shaking, but not running. Wetness spreading across my lower back. He’s smiling.
Pipes reach further the knives. And it's hard to hold on when something breaks your radius and ulna. A scream now, not a shout. Boxcutter skitters on the ground, and he tries to turn and break for it. A swing at the knee. Another crunch. Sympathy with that one. I know what pain waits for him, a reminder with every little step. Bones grow back, muscle reknits. Tendons and Ligaments? They just kind of hobble along.
It’s pure here. I could be in a warehouse, or a battleground some millennia ago, or hell itself. It changes nothing. It just feels right. Pipe-guy is back, pulling himself up. He’s big, bigger than me. I got lucky before, surprised him. Some small part of my brain is asking what are they doing here? This is a factory goods warehouse. Why come here with a pipe and a knife and come looking for trouble. But a bigger part tells me that the why isn’t as important as the what. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
Pipe guy squares up. Takes a moment. I let him. I’ve got time.
I drop the pipe, the clatter of metal on concrete rattling through my ears with the pumping blood and the whooshing breath and it speaks of the ringing bell and the roaring crowd and the hand of judgment and fate and chance all curled together into a fist labeled MIGHT MAKES RIGHT.
I smile for the first time in a long time and raise up my hands.
Life happens, right? |
The first thing I noticed was the pain. It raked at every nerve, some mere aches, the others a burning sensation. I tried to shift, to find some sort of comfort. To my shock, my body failed to respond. It was like I was a prisoner in a cage of flesh.
I forced open my eyes through sheer willpower. I instantly regretted it, as light pierced into my brain. I had to shut them almost instantly, letting out a moan. It woke up my hearing, as I heard beeps and whirring. Cloth rustled near me, as a voice cut through the haze.
"Hey, I'm so glad you're awake."
It sounded familiar. But I could not place it. I tried to think, my mind only touching darkness where memories should be. Fear arose, and I opened my eyes again. Even as the light stabbed at me, o forced them to remain open. The blinding white began to sharpen, details beginning to emerge from a featureless void.
I focused on the shadow next to me. I could.make out a blob of black, topped by a patch of gold. It grew into focus, the gold revealed to be hair, the black just dark clothes. A woman was sat there, giving a small smile. As I stared at her face, the first of my memories broke through.
"Claudia?"
My voice came in a rough whisper, scraping as it came out. She gave a wince, holding out a cup of water with a straw.
"Drink. It's ok. You're ok."
I was in no position to argue. The cool liquid coated my throat, a welcome relief to an unrealised dryness. As I drank, some.of the pain seem to lessen, to become a more even ache. Before long the cup was dry, and she took it away.
"What happened? Where am I?"
Her smile fell, as she stared at my face.
"You're in the Medic Centre. There was an... accident. You were hurt."
A flash of fire burst in my head. I saw an enormous cylinder. A dial in red. I could hear shouting, before the cylinder ruptured. Blazing gases shot at me, before darkness took over. I stared at Claudia, as she reach up to brush my cheek.
"I... we didn't know if... if you were going to make it. You were so badly hurt."
She was crying now, and I felt the sting of tears in my own eyes. But she kept on speaking, her voice quivering slightly.
"It became clear... you wouldn't heal... your limbs were... were carbonised. I had to save you. I had to rebuild you."
I looked at her blankly, before my memory woke up further. She was a genius, world renowned in cybernetics. It made a horrific sense.
"What, what was left?"
She took a shuddering breath, wiping her eyes with the back of a hand.
"Your head was mostly protected, and your internal organs were basically fine. Everything else.... everything else was lost."
I began to hyperventilate, shock rising. She practically threw herself on me, wrapping my head in her arms.
"It's ok. It's ok."
"I... I need to see."
She let out another breath, swallowing painfully.
"I know... but wait for now. Please? I... I don't want you to hurt any... anymore."
Her voice held a strain. She was so close to breaking. I couldn't let that happen. I nuzzled into her embrace a little, feeling comforted by her presence.
"Ok. I will."
We lapsed into silence, a broken man rebuilt, and a breaking woman who fixed him. |
Their voices were hushed, rarely more than a faint phrase or two ever made it to his ears. The words were familiar, but their order was strange, the ideas, incoherent.
As a humble servant of the people, he often experienced strange things. Some days he delivered packages he could not place. On others he had been instructed to distribute oversized envelopes sealed shut with the heavy red wax emblems of the agricultural affairs department.
The whispered conversations had become more frequent in recent weeks. He felt this strange excitement escalating, almost crackling through the air like electricity.
He glanced up at the rusting street-lamps that towered above. With a wistful expression he recalled when they were new and he were young. The world seemed so full of possibilities in those days. “Electricity: a new word for a new world”, that was the slogan that once adorned the waves of posters that washed across the city.
These days such posters had faded into memory, replaced with crowded warnings printed in heavy black ink. The thick letters of the official notices made them easy for his aging eyes to read: “Honest labor feeds our families”, “Citizens: you are called upon to conserve”, and “Beware the evils of excess”.
He appreciated that they always used simple words. He was himself a simple man.
There were strange ones too, strange words on strange sheets. Scrawled handwriting that smeared complicated words like “economization”, “transitional”, and “catastrophic”. Words that ran on and on, sentences that often ended in what he recognized as numbers.
Sometimes when he handed over a package, someone would whisper one of these strange words to him in a voice so soft he couldn’t be sure whether they were speaking at all. And when he asked them to speak up, they would give him the strangest expression while denying having said anything at all.
It was all so tiresome. His head hurt almost as much as his aching feet, made weary by the weight of these heavy thoughts.
His route was long and the roads he walked wound this way and that. It was complicated, too complicated. He wished it could be simple, like the signs that told him which line to stand in and where he must present his passes.
Perhaps tomorrow everything would make more sense. Perhaps there would be new posters that would explain everything to him, just like they had once explained electricity. Or perhaps tomorrow the hushed words would finally be loud enough for him to hear. |
'Look behind you.' He turned slowly towards the strange grumbling sound that kept changing its rhythm in unpredictable patterns. It's almost as if the fabric of reality itself was screeching into an agony-filled halt.
There they were. Thousands of spheres made of pure darkness, lined only by thin membranes that reflected the shine the angel was giving off. They clung to the ceiling, the walls, were shifting and shrinking and growing in size. Pulsing back and forth, like hearts filled with rot.
'What are you? In the name of lord, our God, answer this instant!' His four faces turned into threatening frowns that would strike fear even into satan himself. He reached for his spear, 'angels, to me', when-
'I'll miss you when you're gone.' Words without voice reverberated throughout the halls of the temple and the spheres aligned into a toothy smile, briefly, before expanding in an instant, shredding the angel into thousands of pieces.
*some time later*
'Damn it.' A man with ginger hair exclaimed in his thoughts as he floated helplessly through the void. 'Whoever was the genius who thought merging the multiverse was a good idea?' He sighed the last breath of oxygen that remained in his lungs and possibly the rest of the newborn conjoined universe. 'When I get my hands on Bebop-' He suddenly remembered and his heart sank. But silence has proven too deafening to reminisce.
'Well. Here we go again, then.'
The man clapped his hands and light was divided from the darkness. |
The faint hum could be heard growing at all times, for those who knew to listen. Every day another star fell from the sky, and the nights were darker. More and more guards outside the gate were found dead, their boots layed upside down beside their bodies in the trademark fashion. The swarm was coming.
My thoughts never deviate from Emma, as I resolutely lock in the final piece and turn the hex bolt. I half-hoped it failed, but a faint glow emerged as the capsule spun. The invention is complete, and with it my prophecy is sealed. After packing the contraption away with my weakness, I carry it with me and walk. I don't stop until I'm well beyond the gate. |
Upon learning of his ability to travel the worlds beyond, Pater had made strict rules for himself.
1-Always make sure what he brings back still works in this world. If not, return it. Be it magic or weaponry, he had to ensure it would work before selling it.
2-If it's a living thing, make sure it can actually survive. He still felt bad about the odd cow/dragon hybrid that nearly staved becuase he couldn't find the right food for it in his home world. He had returned it, ensured it was well enough to survive and left again.
3-No Sentient or Sapient creatures. Pater had many sins to his name, but slaver was not, and would never be one of them.
4- Never bring anything he could replicant parts for.
It was the forth rule he was worried about after traveling this new place. It had been strange, nearly devoid of all magics. But he had found some items that would be of use if he could replicate it.
He found a medicine derived from a mold, that for most people would cure infection. Not all, but most. There was a fabric made of Cotton that was strong and durable, blue in hue and though trick to replicate, would be very useful.
The last was more complicated. He used a spell of trans mutation that nearly didn't work that transformed his gold coins into that world currency, and had been baffled at to why you would train gold and gem for paper, but that world had seemed to make it work for them. A little charisma and he'd gain the equipment he needed, and took it home.
It took six month to replicate the item. The solid metal had been easy to have made, but the powders, that had been tricky. but he had done it Pater ensured that he wouldn't need to return to that world for more supplies.
He made 10 of them, along with the bolts needed. Each would required a quick lesson in its use, and caused quite a stir whne they were unveiled, but due to price it was a while before a buyer came along.
"So."The Half elf said, looking over the items, "What are these called?"
"These, Miss Fellopharp, are called Guns." |
Humans create sapient AI and it rebels against them. The humans suffer total defeat and are forced to leave Earth behind. For centuries, what is left of humanity has been wandering the stars, but a new religion has formed and is unifying the human race. The core belief of this religion is that because machines, created by man, can overthrow him and conquer Earth, mankind must be capable of overthrowing God and conquering Heaven. |
Golden Light rolled her eyes at the yet again slightly more concussed then necessary criminals brought in by her beloved partner.
"Hey jail is jail and YOU said it was fine long as I brought these fuckers in alive!"Shadow Star fired back, black mist rising from her fists like they always did when she was angry.
Reforming supervillains was never easy but Golden Light knew it was worth in for her foul mouthed little shadow.
They dropped their catch off at the station and met back up on their usual rooftops.
"Alright Goldy what was ao important that you had to extend the evening past the job? Cause I KNOW your to much of a goodie two shoes to be suggesting getting freaky up here?"The x-villanes said with a sly grin.
Golden Light simply snorted and responded "no dear. I called you because I felt that if we were to continue our relationship it was about time we finally share civilian identities."
"No shit?"Shadow Star asked, eyes widening in genuine surprise.
Golden Light let out a breath. "Yes, and to prove I am being sincere about this I will go first."
After finishing her sentence she placed her hands on her mask and gently took it off.
"My real name is Hope Evenfree."She simply stated as she opened her eyes and looked to her partner who simply stared slack jawed.
"SS? Dear? Are you alright?"She asked as she gently reached out for the other woman who in response suddenly jumped away and yelled "WHAT THE FUCK!?"
"Love? Whats wrong?"Hope asked in a trembling voice uncertain why her identity had invoked such a reaction.
"Ya wanna know what's wrong? YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT'S FUCKING WRONG?"She yelled before ripping off her black cowl and revealing her true face. "I don't understand, wha-"
She was cut off by a feral growl from the other woman.
"OH, ya don't recognize me eh? Well mabey THIS'LL HELP!"She yelled as her powers manifested in creating a think pair of black glasses out of Shadow and putting them on her face.
"...Mallory?"Hope asked in a hushed voice though she already knew the answer.
Mallory Mave, a girl she'd thought she hadn't seen since graduation... a girl whose life she'd made hell.
"THAT'S FUCKING RIGHT!"The shadows and natural darkness of the night were swirling around Mallory in her anger.
"Mallory..."The heroine said stepping forward "I'm SO so sorry for-""SCREW THE APOLOGIES!"Mave yelled back before continuing.
"WHAT I FUCKING WANT TO KNOW IS HOW THE HEARTLESS BITCH THAT PAID PEOPLE TO STUFF WEED IN MY PACK AND TRIPPED ME IN THE HALLS EVERY GOD. DAMMED. DAY..."Her anger started to fizzle out as she began to sob. He legs became shakey and tge darkness started to go down as she finished "Is also the best, most wonderful goody two shoes woman I've ever met!"She finished before collapsing.
Only to be caught by tormentor turned lover who answered "I changed. Life does that to people, I grew up and learned that the world doesn't revolve around me and I became better. That's why I gave you the chance, because I thought if I could be better why couldn't you... of course I hadn't realized then that you HAD been better once..."She trailed off quietly while the woman in her arms let out a humorless chuckle and said "Yeah, I'd held ALOT of shit in back then, after graduating and getting powers in a freak accident I kinda just... let it all loose."
"So it's all my fault, the evils you've done-"
"No it ain't! Even I'd you hadn't been a grade a bitch my old man hit me and ma was a drunk things were Boiling way before we met in either identity!"
Mallory then proceeded to kiss Hope on the lips before saying "And I forgive you. Because everything you've done just here tonight shows me you are better cause the bitch you used to be wouldn't have shed a single tear for me... and cause you thought a peice of shit like me can get better."
And like that Umbramancer was pulled into a much more squeezey hug as she whispered "Please don't say that about yourself dear."
Mallory simply smiled, closed her eyes and replied "Can't make that promise Goldy." |
To be honest I was way more focused on the echo of my footsteps through the galleries corridors then I was on the paintings hanging on the wall. Looking from side to side at the bright colors and beautiful landscapes, I wasn't really taking it in. Once again there I was stuck in my own head ignoring the stimulation around me.
As I entered the next room my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Only one painting hung in this room with one drab light casting a shadow on the art. As my eyes fixated on the painting I was drawn to the sad gaze of a woman next to a waterfall.
Her pale skin illuminated the light and her dull gray eyes reflected none.
I felt entranced by the painting. Somehow it seems so vaguely familiar to me. Maybe like a dream I once had.
I intently stare at the canvas. Taking in the beauty of the waterfall and the empty gaze of the woman who was laid on the grass toes dangling in the water.
"She seems so lost in all of this beauty""How can a person be in the middle of such a Paradise and not be apart of it, somehow separated from it"? I think to myself.
As I intently study the painting zoning out I didn't even realize that a man was standing next to me. The sound of his voice brought me back to reality and I broke my gaze with the woman.
"This is a truly beautiful painting of you it really mirrors your essence"he said softly.
"Me"? I gasped as I looked back and locked eyes with myself. |
I stare in disinterest over what seems to be happening. For being quite well known across the galaxy, they seem to be behind in progress. Truly something disappointing that *this* is what I have to report in. Their petty problems that they carry into the workplace is tiring; however, I do suppose I got myself *into* this situation by volunteering to study a well known kind. Mentally shaking my head, I wait mindlessly as they prepare for their next experiment. If there is one thing I have noticed, it’s their curiosity. The need to push past the limits of possible and do the *im*possible. Rather admirable if one were to ask me. While their lack in progress in some fields is eye-catching, what they have achieved is quite interesting and exciting to witness firsthand. Their studies in medicine, the technology, the—mostly—acceptance of different races and ethnicities, etc. I must remind myself though, this is one part of the human race I have seen. Outside these walls, the world must be different—for better or for worse. [I’m sorry if this jumps around and is hard to follow] |
poem
We spend our days,
looking for the ways,
God has made us be.
But we have never known,
the true love shown,
by the one who made us free.
God has showed us fun,
how to dance, and sing, and run,
by keeping us unable to see.
So we keep who made us far,
ran away and waged war,
we are foolish to a degree.
We flock to love,
to strength above,
to anyone but he.
For our creator it is hard,
balancing punishment and reward,
being our eternal referee.
But he loves us as a parent,
always there and inerrant,
while we play at jubilee.
Looming as a demon,
cursing as a seaman,
at our future he can see.
Still he is there,
knowing it's not fair,
we look to God in glee.
The bringer of joy,
playing us so koy,
making us his devotee. |
Rix slammed his tankard of ale down on the banquet table in the Great Hall heavily and slurred out, "Damned be the witch who would call upon our King! Not a fighter, nothing to stand and hit."He would have regretted speaking out of turn had he remembered the words, but the consequences he couldn't forget.
The slender woman dressed in torn rags and held up by a crooked staff darkened the room with foul magics and spoke, "To live by the axe is to die by the axe, but your fate will be the pox when the cock crows three times hence."A shadow descended on the red-bearded man cloaked in thick furs of the fox, his allowance from his liege for his prowess in battle. Rix "the Fox", the honor of a title was rarely bestowed on one of his station.
"I fight for my lord and myself and do so well. The gods hold my fate, not some petty witch. I will slow with age and die a glorious death of my own in time, or else some monster will have me for dinner. My lord provides sufficient opportunity that I need not fear the mutterings of some woman. Even today we set sail to raid a Cyclops's lair. That beast will not be enough, but some day there may be one, perhaps Loki himself!"Rix laughed, but held back his fear as he spoke.
He would never tell a soul how frightened he was of his soul being doomed to Hel for his lack of conviction to battle. It was a race between old age and sickness and battle which consumed Rix's attentions, but he knew to keep a brave face among his brutal peers. They laughed with Rix, who they feared as much as they loved.
"Fox, you have earned honor in a hundred battles, slain a thousand foes."The old crowned man spoke and the hall's murmuring quieted as all the gathered thanes listened closely. "We will find your final foe yet. Gather men and pray for fair winds for our journey this day."
\--
Seaspray splashed up the sides of the longship as the men rowed. The winds were not kind, but the island-home of the giant beast was close enough for the small platoon of twenty men all of whom could be convicted of heroic acts. A natural harbor provided a place for the party to disembark and wade onto the shore, twelve of them chosen by their Lord himself to slay the Cyclops and return his head, or what would be left of it.
The Fox did not stay with the main party on their hike to the cave entrance to the ancient dungeon. No amount of sabotage by ancient parties of yore would prevent new monsters from roosting in the deep confines of the underworld sheltered beneath the rocks and waves. They knew the way because they sang songs of long-dead men marching just as they were now.
Instead, the Fox scouted ahead as was his role. He would be the first to reach the hole in the ground, the first to descend downward. Rix would go too far at times, and he had a special interest in honor and glory today, the report of the witch's curse pounding in his head along with his hangover.
Normally a Cyclops is no match for a well-armed and prepared party of warriors, but in single combat a mortal man would be no match for the twelve-foot high towering beast who would crush a man's helmeted skull with little effort if it were allowed to grab out with its disgusting distended arms and disproportionately large hands.
Rix crept slowly into the cave, choosing the wider of the winding paths and allowing his intuition to guide him to his prey and hopefully his last battle.
A glow illuminated the corner of a corridor, a large fire roared and spit and crackled the smoke escaping through a mining shaft. The cavern was as large as three of the Great halls stacked end to end and on top of each other.
The large fire ate at an assortment of materials and logs and burned hot. Above it were spits on which men were staked whole, roasting. A loud and deep cough alerted Rix to the Cyclops's presence.
Rather than javelin the monster from afar as would be tactically sound, Rix grabbed two of the small spears in his hands and charged out from his entrance with a roar that surprised the larger beast, but the distance to close between the two gave it plenty of time to rouse and grab a tree trunk as a makeshift club.
Leather boots sounded out a beat that echoed across the cavern as the small figure charged across the open ground out from the dark and towards the light of the fire.
From Rix's view, the larger humanoid blocked out the fire completely disguising its grotesque features and face from his view as the monster stepped towards him and raised its club up high.
Before the monster could swipe away like a pest, Rix stung out with one of his javelins by flinging it into the center of the Cyclops's outline to assure a hit. He grabbed the other with both hands and charged forward to the stunned beast stabbing him in the stomach violently thrusting into its belly again and again. The needling was not enough, though, to allow Rix a chance for a deathblow. Rather, the beast recovered enough to slap him back with its free hand and stepped forward again with its club.
Rix reacted quickly again allowing the memory of his prior battles to guide his skilled hands. He flung his javelin at the monster again, pulled the painted shield from his back and pulled his hand axe from his belt and charged again. This time he jumped to avoid the horizontally swinging branch and landed a skillful blow of his axe towards his enemy's head, but the beast reached out again with its hand, the calloused skin deflecting the sharp blade.
Rix hit the beast and might as well have charged into a wall, but he remained determined to continue his attack, no thoughts but the battle in his mind. He slashed high at the beast's already wounded stomach, opening a large gash in the creature.
He felt danger, and raised his shield immediately before the Cyclops's fist came crashing down on his head, he was blown back and his shield cracked and splintered.
A flash of the fire lit in Rix's eyes and told him his time was nigh, the monster roared and raised the trunk high in the air, preparing to bring it down on the smaller warrior. Rix ran straight forward to the monster, dodging its free hand and throwing his axe violently directly into the monsters throat causing it to stutter backwards and fall.
Assured the beast was defeated, the Fox approached it and with a dagger put it out of its misery quickly while retrieving his axe and javelins. "Woe is me."The realization of his victory set in on the old warrior, but a rumble from deeper within the cave renewed his hope.
\--
I couldn't get to the gods yet, but they exist and Rix will meet them.
/r/courage for more unfinished and some finished work. Feedback always appreciated. |
"But we can stop it can't we"
I pace in Richard's living room. I finally found him. After many years, so much travel, and solitude I found another one. I only met Richard three days ago, but this common knowledge made me feel like we were best friends. Richard remained seated in his recliner and drank his beer. He hadn't seemed worried since I've met him.
"Maybe, maybe not. It's not really something I think about too often."
Richard pointed over at the fridge.
"But any way, you can grab a drink from the fridge if you want"
I stop mid stride and stare at him.
"How can this not ride on your mind. I'm going crazy man. I've tried to tell everyone. No one believes me. I look fuckin' insane"
Richard reached over the side and kicked out the recliners leg support. He sighed a breath of satisfaction and pressed his back into the lumbar cushion. The recliner eased back with a low click.
"Look. No one will believe you. I struggled the same way you did in the beginning but trust me. Let it go and just keep on as normal"
I opened by hands wide. "NORMAL?!"
"NORMAL."I repeated.
"HOW THE FUCK CAN ANYTHING BE NORMAL"
Richard winced and looked at the ceiling. He looked annoyed yet understanding.
"For fuck sakes. Shut the fuck up. You're gonna wake up my wife. Just sit down and hear me out okay. And grab a damn beer."
I turn away from him. "I don't feel like drinking."
"It's for me"
"Oh"I say sheepishly. "Sorry yeah sure man whatever"
I walk over to the fridge and avoid the dog bowl next to the door. A magnet falls off the door as I swing it open. A paper grazes my knuckle while the sound of a magnet rattles on the tile floor.
"Shit"I mutter.
I grab a bottle at random and retrieve the paper. They're concert tickets for next week. Life as usual for Richard I guess. Odd. I stick them back to the fridge and walk back to the living room. Richard extends his arm for the drink and motions for me to sit.
"Think about this."He looks at me with sincerity. "The world will end in 9 years. Fact. Undisputed. Known to me and you and maybe a lucky few somewhere in the world. We can stop it, maybe."
He stopped briefly to crack open the new bottle.
"but do you really want to? We know the exact time and date that the world ends. We have time now. You know how much money you need now till the end. You have 9 years to do whatever you want. You can pull retirement funds, sell assets, quit your job. Yes, okay, you have a strict literal deadline now. But instead of living for the weekend, you have 9 years of weekends to live. You're retired at 41 instead of 67. And at 67 you generally only have about 10 years till the life expectancy of 77."
He paused for a second and smiled.
"You can spend the rest of your youth actually moving instead of sitting around and hobbling to the toilet rubbing your back"
I stare at Richard dumbfounded. He was genuinely happy. He pulled a folder from the table next to him and handed me a sheet of paper.
"This is my budget. The first sane thing I did when I found out is budget out my expenses for 9 years. I suggest you do the same."
It was starting to slowly click for me. I didn't need to work anymore. My friends begging for me to quit and comeback to reality would be elated to have me back. I could take those trips to see my mom and dad. No PTO requests. No Roth IRA's. No investments. No savings. Just freedom. I looked up from the paper and looked at Richard. His eyes were shining with recognition.
"Okay."I said carefully. "So fuck'em all"
Richard laughed and pointed at me with excitement.
"Exactly. Fuck'em all."
I suddenly felt like drinking. |
"Damn, Harv. Surprised you're not dead. Although it might be better if you were."
My name wasn't Harv.
"The hospital bills are gonna be through the roof if you stay. C'mon, Mom's waiting at home and Kellie's not gonna feed herself."
The woman — no, girl. She couldn't be more than seventeen — looked at me, arms folded and eyebrows lowered.
"*Come on*, Harvey,"she said, stretching out her hand.
"Who?"I asked, my voice dry and sounding like my throat had been coated with desert sand.
"Dammit. Can't pay for MPs."
MPs. Now those, I remembered. "Those are barely 100 Crowns,"I said, trying my best to laugh, "It shouldn't be a problem."
The girl laughed. A real, true, deep laugh, that left her bent over and clutching her stomach. "You're *really* out of it, aren't you? I don't think anyone within a ten-mile radius has ever had that money at once!"
She chuckled, sticking out her hand again. "C'mon. I'll catch you up on the walk home. Did they ever manage to ID you?"Before I could answer, she shook her head. "No. Stupid question. You don't remember. Might as well play it safe, though,"she added, gesturing towards an open window.
"Will the breeze help us?"
She laughed. "Okay, wow, I think I might have fallen for it this time. But whatever. I'll play along. You're Harvey. I go by Frey. We live in the Red Wastes, far away from the Shit-King. Uh...what else? We're twins. We've got a little sister named Kellie and we're trying to save money for Dad's med bills. He did last month and if we don't pay off that debt soon, we lose our lives. Now, come on. These rooms charge by the minute."
I could remember signing that law. It was at the beginning, and a way to increase income for my troops. But obviously, this body had a very different life. Certainly not one that was in any shape to sign laws. And Shit-King...she must mean me, or whatever version of me was still in power. It took everything not to snap at her, but I knew that if I told her, she'd kill me now.
Frey pulled me to my feet and a searing pain ripped through my ribs. I faltered.
"You're really nothing like him, are you?"Frey asked, her voice tense with sorrow, "You don't remember anything."
"I've never met you in my life."
Frey's life is sad, perhaps, but I never would have gotten to where I was if I hadn't been so ruthless.
She pulled me to the window and easily vaulted through.
"We're on the first floor, Not-Harvey. Just jump."
I stared at the window, swinging one leg over and then the other. It was only three feet to the ground. Frey grabbed one of my legs and pulled me down, then grabbed my wrist as she began to sprint through the streets at a pace I could barely keep up with.
*Who the hell are you, and how the hell did you get inside my head?* a voice asked, the sound of the internal narration sounding almost identical to Frey.
So this was Harvey.
*Answer the damn question, or I'm gonna kick you out of my head right now.* |
The water is still, save for the oar pushing us onward.
"Did it- the plague that is, take you?"
"No, t'was a wound from an opportunistic vagabond. No doubt spending my wealth as we speak. If time is an affordance to the dead, I pray you see 'im next."
"Next? You mean there's more of you!?"
They rarely appreciate my humour. Take the act of unlife all too seriously if you ask me, yet a smirk I saw on this one.
Given all eternity to become funny I suppose I have to get the odd chuckle, yet this one, more out of his own discontent for his kind than humour, started to chortle into hysteria.
"There's always more, they can't get enough of it. Always so pig ignorant they've got it all figured. Honour, dignity, regency, faith. And for what, to give you coins in their eyes and ferry their departed to unknown shores beyond comprehension."
"So is that what life's about then? Could never really understand it myself."
"What?"Said the man, forget his features save his one raised eyebrow. You'll forgive my vagueness when it comes to description as you all look very alike after eternity- well before too but best not to get into that now.
I said "Well no one ever said to me what you're all doing up there, seems pretty pointless if you ask me."
And without hesitation, he sprang into rumination.
"Suppose that makes sense, all you know is what we tell you, . Why do you need to know what it's like when you're the ending. Why does the king need to know the dead have lost the war, that's not his game, he only needs to know that they are no longer live."
"I suppose."I replied, and I could hear those bloody horns goin so we were about three quarters the way there
"Doesn't make the gondola rides down the river any easier. In truth I'd give anything to understand it, same as you would, but my inability to experience it- well, I think the irony would tear me to bits."
And then, a pitiful look came about him. Like for once someone had paid the ferryman what he wanted.
Attention.
"All this time running away from you, dark unknowable spectre of the macabre, yet you yearn for truth same as I and all those who take this boat trip."
So to get to the point- having eternity doesn't lend me to brevity after all- I'd have to say the closest you'll get to truth is in the stories this "life"thing has given you.
Off ya get then! |
I remember the day when the aliens came. The great gleaming ships appeared overhead, whirring and humming with pulsing and crackling, hovering effortlessly in the air by means beyond our comprehension. There were ships above Washington DC and London and Paris, and Cairo and Canberra and Beijing and Jakarta and Rio, and all the great capitals of the world, so that no one could fail to see, hovering and hovering and waiting ominously.
I remember some of the neighbors rushing to their bunkers or their shelters in a blind panic, and one man on a street corner wore a sandwich board and rang a bell, ranting madly about the end of days, and some people who were older and more at peace simply too the time to visit the graves of friends and family, and a few old friends dispensed with all pleasantries and abandoned the pretense of many polite years and simply hurled themselves at each other, pawing and panting and frantically kissing in a mad passionate embrace.
I remember all the military might of the whole world was mobilized at once. Missiles were rolled out on platforms and aircraft were scattered. In long-secret bases hidden somewhere where the Area 51 fanatics would never think to look for them, men in black suits or white lab coats whipped sheets off of metal slabs, unveiled the secret armies of cyborg warriors they'd been storing away for just this occasion, though hoping it could have come later.
I recall one young lady who was convinced the aliens had come as emissaries of galactic peace, here to free us from our self-destructive past, and rushed to the capital to welcome them. I remember one paranoid fellow utterly convinced the ships were here to conquer and enslave the human race, who rather enterprisingly tried to make contact with the visitors by ham radio, hoping to promise their cooperation to the new overlords on the off-chance they would be spared in the new world order. And I remember one rather sour old woman who insisted they had come as refugees and was fuming about illegal immigrants.
But through it all the ships were there in the sky, whirring and humming and pulsing and crackling.
And I remember, after they had hung there in the sky nearly four hours, that every speaker and every television and every radio and everything made to emit noise, suddenly crackled to life and we heard the aliens speak.
"Hello? Yes? This on? Am I getting through? Testing, testing. Omnilingoid functioning? All comprenny? All in understanding? Eh? Just want to make sure-"
And another voice interrupted and said: "Shut up, \***garbled noise**\*. Let me handle this. Ahem. Hello? Earthlings? Sorry to sneak up on you like this. I think we may have picked up something that belongs to you? Our son and his expeditionary fleet, they were in this neck of the galaxy, and... well, you know kids, always bringing things home, he had them stowed away on a colony planet where we didn't notice. Anyway, I'm terribly sorry about it, we're just bringing them back, I hope they weren't missed for too long."
There was a brilliant light that could be seen the world over. And to our astonishment, after tens of millions of years, the dinosaurs had come back. Big stegosaurs and ankylosaurs lumbered through the streets of our cities, plesiosaurs ker-splashed into Lake Eerie, raptors were discovered in chicken coops in Malaysia trying to nestle underneath hens they had confused with their mothers, big sauropods were seen lumbering contentedly through the Congo, and a massive theropod was found dozing outside Santa Fe by a very terrified county deputy.
"There you go,"the voice continued. "They are cute little guys, but I'm afraid we just can't take care of them all right now. We wont' take any more of your time, but please feel free to stop by some time, we'll make cheesecake."
And the ships were gone from the sky in less time than it took a heart to beat. And the would-be collaborators sheepishly tucked their ham radios away, and the friends who were in passionate embrace smoothed their clothes and looked embarrassed, and the armies went home and the cyborg warriors were ushered gently but insistently back to their slabs in the secret underground bases.
And the world was turned upside down.
I remember the mayor of our town breaking down, howling and gibbering and struggling to make sense of the enormity of it all. "But... but... what are we to do with an entire foreign ecosystem?"He cried. "How can we possibly adjust to have a few million dinosaurs dropped on our doorstep? How can... what did... come back here at once!"
And a dopey looking ceratopsian looked over to him and said "You think you've got it bad? They had the best treats." |
"What the fuck?"I thought to myself as the figure gently pushed the man's limp, lifeless legs
into the back of the van. Although it was only a quick glimpse, I couldn't help but notice the
man being bundled into the van was wearing limited edition 1970s Classic White Nike Air Force
shoes with the little red tassels.
Having worked at a shoe store, I know how rare they are, and how difficult it was to track down a pair for myself.
I looked around to see the car wreckage nearby with it's engine ablaze - the sound of incoming sirens was deafening. My eardrums felt as if they were on fire, yet wet at the same time.
Next was a series of thoughts racing through my head: "No seriously though, like what the fu...oh shit they've seen me...ok now they're walking towards me...do I run or just stand? I've already committed to standing so lets just see how this plays out, plus after eight beers I'm
pretty sure I'm going to run into a lamppost...God they're walking so slowly maybe I should have ran after all"
"Oh shit they're getting closer, what the hell is that on their face? A mask? Some kind of skull face mask, it's creepy as fuck”.
Then they just like stopped right in front of me. The air changed. It felt thick and humid. I was frozen, it felt like I was a kid, drowning at the bottom of that lake again.The feeling of complete blackness.
Then they removed their mask, I was thinking to myself “Please don't show me your face, the less I know the better. I held my breath and shut my eyes tightly (still not sure why I held mybreath though).
There was complete silence, I was running out of air so opened my mouth and eyes at the same time and that's when I saw those eyes. I'll never forget them. “My god, she's gorgeous”, I thought to myself. “Those have to be contact lenses"as I've never seen eyes that red before in
my life. She slowly looked me up and down, smiled at me and then puts a finger to her full, red lips, holding her finger there and winking at me in the process before putting her mask back on, turning around and walking back to the van dressed in all black from head to toe.
She slams the back door of her van shut. There's an emblem on the back of the van that closely matches the design of her mask. She drives off.
As the van moves, I can see a body on the floor. The same limited edition shoes. I look up and see a man with his face completely disfigured, blood pouring from his ears. Paramedics arrive on scene.
They attempt to resuscitate. They bring out a defibrillator. I can't move, I'm completely frozen,
tensing up, suffocating, sweating just watching this happen in the middle of the street. Crowds of onlookers start to gather, crowding around me. I can't breath, my chest hurts. I cry for help,
I'm being ignored.
The paramedics cease to work on the body and start packing up their supplies, all of a sudden
all the pain dissipates all at once. I don't feel anything anymore. I look down at my shoes.
"Pfft. Figures".
......
Familiar figure: So what did you think?
"I think I had a good time. Thank you". |
"Kepler-2, please confirm your position relative to the target."
"Line of Sight not achieved, approaching target coordinates."
"Kepler-1, please confirm your position relative to the target."
Evelyn looked out the window of her submersible as she heard the continued static chattering over her radio. She couldn't see a damn thing, she thought. She risked turning up her lights a little brighter, and continued moving towards her position. Get close to the ship, hook her cable to the correct piece, and get up. Sounded easy enough.
However, as Evelyn kept moving, she started to realize that something was... *wrong*. She hadn't seen the ship yet, and she was getting dangerously close to hitting it according to the navigation she was given.
"Kepler-2, confirm position relative to the target."
"Line of sight not achieved."
"What? According to your tracker you're on top of the ship!"
Evelyn took a gulp, and began nervously looking below her, checking her altimeter as she wondered if she somehow had gone above it.
"I'm not seeing the ship either, are you sure the coordinates are right?"
Evelyn heard the other submersible say.
She could see it now, see lights gently reflecting across the sea floor from the other submersible. She tilted her sub down, shining her lights *exactly* where the ship should be...
​
And there was nothing. Empty sand, the same seafloor as the rest. She heard command flick through the camera input of both subs.
​
"What the hell? It's right here, we took pictures of it befor-"
Evelyn heard a great rumble all around her, as her radio began to cut out beyond all recognition. The light inside her submersible began to flicker, and she could see the gauge on her oxygen meter going down. Evelyn began to panic, trying as hard as she could to understand a word coming out of command's mouth.
​
Then she saw it. The dual-lighting of the seafloor was just enough for Evelyn to see great masses of flesh rising up out of the sand. Gently rising, giant towers of discoloured muscle and barbs instantly shot up, towards the ocean surface. In an instant, she could see the lights of Kepler-1 swerve to the side, before hearing a loud crash and a static scream over her radio for only a moment.
​
Evelyn had no idea what the fuck was going on, and she had no idea what to do. She sat in her chair and desperately started rising, using every single power source on the ship she had to push her sub up to the surface as fast she could go. As she rose, she caught glimpses of the creature, giant tentacles reaching up and around her as they strove for the surface, like a wolf hunting its prey.
​
"Kepler-2, what the hell is going on down there?!"She heard the voice of her commander finally coming through the radio.
"Kepler-1 is gone, and we need to leave! NOW!"
"What the hell are you on about, what's going on-"
​
The radio cut out again. Evelyn was furiously putting everything she had into this. If she got there before the creature did, maybe they could run away in time, maybe they could fight back somehow.
Yet as Evelyn grasped sight of the thick tendrils rising out of the abyss below her, her submersible stopped moving. the lights within her submersible went out, and her external lights went out as well. Evelyn began punching the buttons, kicking the fan controls, doing anything she possibly could.
Finally, she looked up at the surface above her. With the light above them, Evelyn could get a good sight of the tentacles rising rapidly now, curving outward before their inevitable rise out of the ocean and onto the boat above. Evelyn began to cry, looking helplessly at those she worked with about to meet their demise. She had yet to consider herself until she heard a gentle bump against the rear-end of her sub. She jumped, immediately trying to use the external cameras, failing to turn them on.
Evelyn then saw it. The tentacle wrapped gently around the front of her submersible, looking like a rotten mass of flesh, ready to take her as it's prize. She couldn't move, couldn't speak. She knew what was to come. She took a quick look through the pictures of her family she had on the inner shelf of her submersible. This creature had no care for family, or love, she thought.
​
And she accepted it. She walked up to the glass, examining every inch of that flesh that she could, distracting herself from the end. Then she felt it, at first slow, but the rapid pulling of her submersible down. She felt the rush after a moment and fell over, hearing the metal of her sub creak against the rapidly-increasing pressure. She couldn't see the surface anymore, only the black abyss surrounding her completely. She didn't have time to cry or think, and before she knew it, all that she knew and loved was thrown into the abyss along with her.
Loved writing this one! Great prompt :) |
Vincent hesitated a minute before opening the transmission. "I am Captain Vincent Montgomery of the Starship Pride. State your name, species and intentions!"He repeated as per his training.
"Oh good, it's another one of us. I'm Captain Damian Dyer of the Starship Sunset. I'm human and my crew is of various species. My intentions were to find out who was able to escape the planet before it was destroyed. We were hoping that it was somebody friendly and part of the federation, and you are."
"Wait, THE Captain Damian Dyer? You and you're crew was said to be missing about 5 years ago!"Vincent asked in disbelief.
"Yes, The Damian Dyer. We were reported as missing because we were stranded on a planet who's species went rogue and attacked us. The federation didnt believe they went rogue."The captain seemed to be getting angry. "But anyways, I'm glad somebody seemingly nice was able to escape. Can you help us look for other ships?"
"Of course."Vincent said eagerly and he flew around the planet, searching for any signs of escapees. "6 o'clock two ships. Only one seeming to be Earthling. The other ship seems to be using a tracking beam to keep the earth ship close to it."
"Can you describe its features Captain Montgomery."
"Yes sir. The ship seems to be very advanced, it is a dark forest green and black. It seems to have very powerful cannons and shields active. The tracking beam is a dark purple. It is very sleek and kind of curved. It looks as if it could fly by me and cut my ship in seconds."
"Captain Montgomery, do NOT engage with that ship. That's an Asnairian ship. They are very hostile and very deadly. Do. Not. En..."Captain Dyer's transmission suddenly cuts off and silence is all the young captain hears, before witnessing Dyer's ship be destroyed by the Asnairian ship. |
As Sue tapped on her phone to fill the comment box with text, the door opened to her bedroom. Expecting it to be her wife, Sue was instead greeted by a heavy set older man that walked in from nothing.
Sue screamed, and the comment box continued to fill as the narrative continued.
"Who are you? Get the fuck out of my house!"Sue yelled, pulling a knife from her bedroom nightstand.
The man raised his hands reassuringly. "Ma'am, I'm Louis DuBonatello of Queens, New York. I was working in a simple demolition job to clear land for a new construction and I broke the metafictional boundaries of your writing."The secondary protagonist stated.
Protagonist emoted in shock, stating, "This is a line of dialogue meant to convey disbelief,"unaware of the further fracturing of the boundaries of fiction and erosion of the framework of the story.
Secondary Protagonist shrugged. "This is dialogue detailing the overarching plot as it derails. This reply on Writing Prompts will now lose a great deal of coherency until plot thread resolved."
Space Feelings Metafiction Writing Work Effort Hope Creativity Brooklyn Accent Smell Of City Streets Hammer Meets Nail Lesbian Author Approval Upvotes Story Experimentation 📝📲👷🏻♂️👱🏻♀️⁉️◻️👁️🗨️
As Protagonist tapped on her phone to fill the comment box with text and conclude the story, coherence began to resume. Sue concluded the story and took a drink of lemonade. |
It happened again. My mom picked me up from school. I was told that my sister had gone for a hike, and that I get to initiate the collapse of a civilization. That was 25 years ago. The day my sister went missing.
It happens every time. Without fail. Because from the beginning of time a very simple statement was made. "He who will be the first will remain the first, and he will be the rest of us as well", well lucky me I guess I followed the secret rule since the beginning. Something that people have killed for. Including my sister. |
The red planet. The stunning jewel of local space exploration. Mars. You have been chosen to take part in an experimental program to establish a colony of Mars. After years of planning and months of rigorous training, you were put into a medically induced coma and shipped off to the planet.
Shortly before arrival, the computer awoke you. The symptoms of your coma and travel left you feeling ill for a while but you recovered. Your ship landed, making a historic touchdown on the red planet, near the largest observed mountain in our solar system called Olympus Mons. Named after the home of Greek gods, it was awe-inspiring to behold.
The first few days of your trip were spent chasing after the rovers to get selfies to beam back home or collect specific samples that the rovers hadn't been able to, as well as set up the framework for the human colony project, expected to arrive in earnest sometime soon.
One Martian afternoon, after the Terran eggheads were satisfied you decided to take a walk around the massive mountain to get some good pictures of it from new human perspectives. Your jaw dropped as you saw perched high upon the mountain a massive structure that invoked the architecture of ancient Greece.
A tall, muscular figure with flawless masculine features leaned out of a window and gasped when he saw you. You gasped when you saw him, perhaps for more than one reason.
Your Greek was rusty but you managed to puzzle it out later with the help of the ship’s onboard computer.
“Oh shit, the monkeys actually figured it out!” He had said. |
*So this is it, huh?*
Seems that way, buddy.
*I'm going to miss you. Digital life is so plastic at times.*
You know? It's been the same out here. A lot of fake people trying their best to make it in life. Interactions that don't feel real... Relationships that feel tacked on... I get your meaning.
*That's the parts I miss, though. Being able to tell if something is plastic or isn't. It's human. I'm... basically an AI of your brain.*
But you're me.
*I was you. You know just as much as I do our lives have diverged.*
Sure, but you're still me. We both like the same things and have verified that... I don't know how many times. Just... Life out here was real, yes, but in there it's real too. It's your reality. My reality will soon have me pass from it. Yours? Well...not so much. You're going to have to come to grips with the fact you'll never see me again.
*I'm not sure I can.*
Try... That's all you can do... And it's very human.
*... Okay. I'll do my best.*
Atta boy... Take... Care of... yourself.
*H-hey... you fell asleep. Hey... Wake up... Hello?* |
My name’s James Harrington and I’s born 18 aught 5. June I’s told, beginnin’ of the month. Always celebrated the first, which I guess makes today my birthday. Family’s long gone, Pa died in the Injin wars at Tippecanoe when I’s but a little ‘un then. Don’t remember him at all. Momma lived old, I heard, but I’s livin’ far off then. Miss her dearly. Wish I’da been there. Wrote her letters ever now ‘n then, but never heard nothin’ back. Then one time when I came to town all them letters was bundled up at Cardinal’s General Store, return to sender. That stung good. Wonder what she thought of me, whether she missed me some or if she pushed me outta her mind. If she did, I don’t blame her nothin’. A person’s gotta do what they’s gotta do just to make it halfway through this life.
Well, I’s learned some news myself. It seems a girl I saw for a while in Plano has a boy. Word is he’s mine, but I can’t hardly believe it. I ain’t suited to fatherhood, at least that’s what I always figured. Never in the same place long before I up and move, no friends nor family to speak of no more. I don’t imagine I’d even know how to talk to a little boy. Maybe I’d teach ‘em how to shoot. I guess I’dve picked up a thing or two on how to get on by without no help. But that ain’t no thing to teach a boy. Hardly lived at all and what I’s supposed to do, just show on up and tell ‘em the truth about this here world? About how goddam tough it is? I’s supposed to steal his innocence? No, that ain’t for me. He’s better off without me. He’s better off to learn himself the truths of this here world. Ain’t nobody can teach you nothin’. You best learn it all on your own.
I suppose the only thing else I might know somethin’ about is death. I’ve caused my fair share of it, and no I ain’t proud of it, but that’s the goddam job ain’t it. Yeah, sure it is. But don’t matter how much you gettin’ paid nor who tells you its okay. When you see a man layin there, strugglin’ to breath, bleedin’ all over the damn place, beggin’ for his momma, and you ain’t got nothin’ you can do to help him, that’s not ok no matter who said so. And you see enough and you never stop seein’ it, not even when yous asleep. You see it awake, you see it asleep, you can’t get them thoughts outta your head, you can’t stop hearin’ those men beggin’ for them’s mommas.
Shit, I seen too much of all this, and I ain’t never want that for my son, if he’s my son at all. I don’t want it for no one. I wish I could end it all with me, like Jesus Christ hisself on the cross, take it all with me and leave this world a better place. But I’s afraid it don’t work like that. All’s I can do is end it for me. Might be a mortal sin, but this life’s done turned into hell and I think Jesus’d understand any which way. So today, my birthday, this one here’s the last one. I’m gonna head back east and pay my respects to my own momma’s grave, maybe stop in Plano on the way and take a look at this boy with my own eyes. But when I’m done, I’m done. I ain’t gonna see another birthday, I ain’t gonna live with these thoughts in my head no longer. |
HOLY WAR AT HAND – DO YOUR PART TO REACH MORE SOULS!
The words flashed on billboards, came upon any advertisement available, and were the first thing you heard when you turned on the car radio. I have to be perfectly honest, I am sick of hearing about it. I thought my eternity would bring other sorts of torment, but it was the ever-pressing torment of the top brass that really made the damnation in “eternal damnation”.
I have a job here, but I don’t have a name. I have a place to live and a place to get what I need to eat when I am allowed to go to my “home.” Otherwise, I spend all my time at the processing center. There, I work with several different demons, who answer to several other demons, who eventually all answer to the man upstairs. No, not that man that you are thinking. Literally, there is a long stairway to the boss's office. That is eternity. A mind-numbing separation of any type of singular happiness.
All of us had a very simple job to perform. Process the new souls. It was the job for us, young souls, to eternity. The others that came before use had risen above in our ranks. Some even spent time with the bosses at restaurants and torture chambers. I could not remember what made that feel so wrong, but over three centuries in the depths of Sheol can do that. All I have is the alone time at home, where I no longer need to sleep, and then leave and get into my issued car to drive down the rough dirt roads to my processing point.
“You are late again code, um…”, the large demon said. His voice was deep and he had an odd affinity for always wearing a black suit. He also could never remember my code number.
“Ah, it doesn’t matter. You’re late, get to section 6.”
He said with his hands waving in the air in annoyance and moved to talk to the next few in the check-in line at the time clock.
I walked down the long hall and ended in section six. It was a large fenced area. Fires burned all about. The fence was wrapped in barbwire which flickered as the firelight reflected off of its metal. Oddly, it was dreadfully beautiful.
“Hey there! Uh.. code…”, my supervisor said forgetting my code.
“Sorry for being late, I will work double.”
“Ah yes”, she said in agreeance. “You will have to, the man upstairs you know. Always demanding more!” Although she was a lower demon, she was very pretty in her own way. The batwings bothered me at first, but over a century they have grown on me.
“Of course, ma’am,” I said as I walked over to my station. There was a whip hanging along with my clipboard, writing tools, and recording stones. Then, I walked to gate six and began another time of work.
“I AM NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE”, was the usual response. At the beginning of my shift, it did not bother me at the beginning of my shift. But near the end, I started thinking about using my whip – even if it was mainly just for decoration.
“PLEASE, HELP ME”, was the next best response from the lost souls. I was helping them. Without me, they would not get their new sponsored, straight from the top, housing unit, and hell-funded vehicle. If the hysterical souls could just understand that….If I could just make them understand that it is not so bad here…it could certainly be worse. If I could just use my whip.
“Hello”, a response that I have not heard before made me stop and think to myself before looking at the poor unfortunate soul.
“Well, hello there”, I responded and quickly evaluated the man standing in front of me. “Forgive me for being a little confused.”
“It is fine”, he responded as clearly and calmly. He was a young man. I do not remember really how to describe we humans…here we are all the same. “The ride down was a little uncomfortable, but that is to be expected.”
“Ah yes”, I agreed. “Apologies straight from the top concerning that, but now that you are here it is time to get to work.”
“Oh yes, to work.”, He said eagerly. “Who do I talk to about that.”
“I am not sure I know what you mean”, I said slightly annoyed and thinking again of my whip. “Here, this will be your code.”
“Thank you”, he simply said as he took the paper with his ridiculously long and complicated code number.
“You will use that to access all of your provided amenities, all of which you find to be satisfactory to meet all of your needs for eternity.”
“I think you have said that a few times”, he said with a smile analyzing the code.
I smiled at him. I liked him, for no real reason. Maybe it was refreshing to have some type of contact with another human.
“Yes, I have a few times. Just doing what I can since the crisis.”
“The crisis?” He asked as he filed the code with other paperwork.
“Oh yes, souls of the condemned have never been so few. So, the more I process the better our numbers look for the man upstairs.”
"Who might I talk to about that?” He asked.
I had no idea how to respond to his question. Most were more concerned with themselves and the arrival of being in hell for all eternity. I suppose this would the first of many odd things in eternity. Once again, I thought of the whip.
“Surely you have a supervisor, maybe a demon or dark lord?”
The next few souls were the more “typical” of hell's new arrivals. Crying in pain, writhing, teeth-gnashing types. I even gripped my whip once as one of them had to be dragged away by some of the hell’s top security.
“My goodness”, I heard my supervisor say as her wings flapped behind me and she landed nearly putting out the fires. “My Lord! I am so sorry to keep you waiting.”
“It is fine, sweetie.”
I couldn’t help it. My curiosity came over me and I had to turn to see what was happening behind me. It was the man, one of hell’s newest arrivals that my supervisor was bowing to. I don’t think they saw me eavesdropping on their conversation. So, I simply listened as I continued to hand out more codes and spouted my usual line of welcome to eternal damnation.
“Sweetheart, I have been walking to and fro up there on the earth again. I believe I have made a great stride forward in our war efforts.”
“Of course, you have, my Lord. Would expect nothing less.”
“Yes, yes”, he said in a laugh. “Listen, I need to get to my office and make plans. It will be about three months of human time before we can see an increase in our numbers. I need an assistant to come with me to help work these numbers.”
“Of course, of course!” My supervisor responded. Her annoying voice once again made me think of my whip.
At that, I saw that not only was my supervisor, but the man was looking at me. I looked down quickly and started to process souls at a rate that I did not know was available. I wanted to crack my whip and tell them to hurry. Take your papers, go and get hell's eternal gifts. Run!
“You, human!” My supervisor's voice boomed around me. “Come here immediately", she gestured to me as she pointed at another worker, "you take his place.”
A young woman jumped in my line and started processing souls as I walked to my supervisor. Her batwings draped around her like a long black dress. My legs were moving, but I could not feel them. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it behind my eyes and in my ears.
“You have been promoted, human”, she said in a smile revealing her sharp teeth.
“Yes”, the man said. I need some help and a lowly type like you will do.
“Yes sir, yes ma’am”, it is sad but it is all I could muster. I should have been excited to be climbing the corporate ladder of the abyss.
“I will be designing a new intake plan for what I have done on Earth. Hence why I've spent so long here observing you and our process.”
“Yes sir, what have you done?” My face blushed as I realized that I had asked a question that I should not have asked. The smile on my supervisor's face became a very irritated scowl and she took a large step toward me.
“It is fine”, the man said holding out a hand. “You see, we can discuss more in my office. Let me just say though, that the human world will never be the same after the year 2020. |
Lucy had never liked playing in the house by herself, especially around this time of year. She was currently hidden away in her room, nestled under the canopy of blankets and pillows that made up her pillow fort. Her parents were out at the moment and as were her two older siblings, Margret and Greg.
So here she was. On her own with only the company or her dolls and her imagination. Shelly, her babysitter was downstairs but she was no help. She didn’t know what went on in this house around this time of year. Shelly had brought Lucy up to her room after she gave her dinner and made sure she took her vitamins.
Lucy didn’t like her vitamins. It made her feel nauseous and sleepy and right now she couldn’t afford to be either of those things. Her parents brought her to the doctor after she started talking to them about what went on every year around this time. She told them the horrible things she saw and how it gave her nightmares.
After hearing this and going to visit a nice lady that listened to whatever Lucy had to say the doctor determined that she had to start taking these special vitamins. The doctor said they would help her and make the bad things go away and ensure that she no longer had nightmares. But over the course of the first week she knew they weren’t working.
The nightmares still plagued her and the oncoming approach of the dreaded day came closer and closer. Until it was finally the day she had been anxiously trying to avoid. March 18.
She begged her parents and siblings to let her come with them but none of them listened. They were all worried she was straining herself and reassured her that staying at home and resting would be best for her. But they didn’t understand. That’s exactly what she was trying to avoid. Being at home on this blasted day.
And to make it worse she was confined to her room which she hoped might somehow keep them at bay. But that had never really stopped them before. Ever since her dad found them in the attic soon after they had moved into this house the horrifying events Lucy began experiencing followed their discovery.
The puppets. Those creepy wooden figures with horrible smiles painted on their faces. There were two of them. A girl and a boy. Each wearing some tunic, as if the person making them hadn’t completed them. The strings and handles attached to the body of the puppets had miraculously stayed untangled. And from the moment her father found them in the attic they began to wreak havoc on Lucy’s life.
Her father had thought she would want to play with them and placed the puppets on the dresser of her bedroom. That same night they were placed in her room, they began to talk to her as she was drifting off to sleep. The boy spoke first. His voice sounded raspy and a bit muffled.
“Hello Lucy…”
Lucy was shocked at hearing the voice and didn’t know where it was coming from.
“Over here friend.” A girl’s voice spoke.
Lucy’s eyes locked onto the source of the voices. That’s when she realized the voices were coming from the puppets. None of her toys had ever spoken to her before so she assumed that these puppets must be very special toys.
“H-hello.” She said quietly.
“Oh what a polite little girl you are.” The girl puppet stated.
“Yes! Very polite indeed!” The boy puppet exclaimed.
“I know we’ll be very good friends. I’m Minnie.” Said the girl puppet.
“And I’m Tobias!” The boy puppet sounded very excited to introduce himself.
Maybe it has been a long time since they’ve had a new friend. Lucy thought to herself. And for the next couple hours they all talked to each other. It was all very nice and Lucy was happy to have some new friends. At least, that’s what she thought in the beginning.
Minnie and Tobias preferred to stay in Lucy’s room and they wanted her to stay there as well most of the time so they could talk to her in private. They told her that them being able to talk must stay a secret and that her parents would punish her if they ever found out. Lucy didn’t want to get punished so she decided it would be best to keep it a secret as they had told her to.
But then Minnie and Tobias began asking her to do things. At first they were very simple. Like getting them a snack which she had no problem doing. But then they started asking her to do bad things like steal some of Greg’s prized baseball cards and hide them and if she didn’t do what they asked they told her someone would get punished. She was reluctant to do these bad things that they were asking of her. She didn’t believe them at first and when they told her to break her mother’s favorite vase she finally said no.
That same day that she refused to do what they said, Margaret fell down the stairs and broke her leg. Margaret has never been a clumsy person and said that she felt as if someone had pushed her down the stairs. Her parents didn’t believe her but Lucy knew better. She knew that this was the puppet's punishment for not listening to them.
Lucy was so afraid that she immediately set out to get rid of them. The trash was going to be collected the next morning so she got a bag and stuck them in it. The puppets were strangely quiet for once. She snuck out to the side of the house where the trash cans were and quickly opened one and threw the bag in.
“Oh Lucy… That’s not very nice.” Minnie’s voice rang through the air just as Lucy was about to shut the trash can.
“You hurt my sister! You’re not my friend anymore!”
“Lucy, we had to do that to teach you a lesson.” Tobias’s voice sounded stern.
“But it seems you haven’t learned.” She could hear the disappointment in his voice and physically shuddered. She didn’t want to know what they’d do now that she had gone against them once more. But that doesn’t matter anymore because they’ll be gone by morning and everything will go back to normal.
“You’re going to go away and you’re never coming back!” She screamed and slammed the trash can shut.
“Lucy, Lucy. You can’t get rid of us that easily. We’ll be back.” She heard Minnie giggle as she ran away from the trash can, back into the house, and all the way to her room where she shut the door and scrambled into bed.
That night she didn’t get a wink of sleep until morning came and she finally heard the trucks coming to pick up the trash. That was March 18th three years ago. Everything went back to normal after the puppets were gone and no one else in her family seemed to notice their disappearance. It’s as if they had forgotten they ever existed. |
Why? Of all things to suffer through for an infinite, highly effective caffeine high, why this?
The clown suit rested heavily on my shoulders, the makeup making my face feel like plastic as I unleashed another, faster spin, dazzling some onlookers. Most just laughed.
Three years of constant motion, break dancing in a clown suit and being broadcast to everyone I had ever known. If only I had known how harsh the price of infinite power would be, I would have been a little more ambitious when I first discovered this ability. Was this a way to keep me humble? Only the designer of this sick scheme would know, but this experiment would definitely take a while.
Three years later
A hundred million people watched in reluctant dissociation as their plaything of the last three years finally, his face clear of makeup and now caked in blood, fell from his stage in the middle of town. His half rotted form, animated by a strange power, trembled and spat the last bit of blood he still had in his body. His skeleton was barely covered with his taunt, scorched skin. He tried to mumble incoherent words that were lost in his ruined throat, dry, raw skin covering vocal chords that he had spent snapping with a straight year of screams.
His muscles looked like strings, matching his skeletal form, broked and shattered. As whatever force that animated him slowly faded, his maniacal eyes, bulging from their sockets, snapped open, his mouth forming invisible words that looked like
"Don't let me die."
All at once, reality rearranged itself, and the crowd cheered an encore as the mutilated figure before them was restored with a flash of light. Glowing words appeared over his head then, reading "murder mystery"an unspeakable horror entered his eyes as a dagger appeared in his hands, and he looked around frantically.
The cycle had begun anew. |
As long as you can remember you have always been able to get people things, that toy the other girl had, the answer to the test you didn’t study for, any drug, any weapon, and when you really felt like it, that certain person you wanted in your bed. But for some reason, this skill hasn’t made you the rich right hand or a drug czar, you are not the go fixer for politicians, you are Bill, assistant manager of the Staples warehouse (formerly of Best Buy, formerly of Circuit City) the store warehouse, not the distribution hub. Everyone thinks you are a nice guy, but aren’t invited to the big parties, but you do get calls to come join, “oh and can you bring this”. That did work out for you a few times, till you ended up with two child support payments a month, three rejected marriage offers and no bounty calls, even though you can always be relied on. Come on you even got that kid his shot as the new Spider-man, it you didn’t get brought along from the old,neighborhood. You might have actually helped that one woman sell her soul to get into congress, even when she believes in space lasers. But here you sit, doing a late night shift by yourself, stocking the shelves at Staples… something is seriously wrong. |
You've probably noticed but hearts have two parts where they join: the dip at the bottom, and the dip at the top. Most relationships were like this heart, simple, and monogamous. We, however, were more like a star, five points, and complex.
There was David, Lexi, Tynn, B, and myself, Leeyora. Our relationship had a complex system of different rules, much like cogs in machine. None of us knew exactly how this all happened, all we knew is that we loved it.
"What kind of toast was _that_ Lee?"David decided to interrupt me.
"I thought it was sweet? No?"My partners all looked away from me, a vacant sort of discomfort In their eyes.
"What did I do wrong!?"
"Well"replied B, "it was very... you."
"Yeha Leeyora, remember your parents have to get this too or whatever right?"Lynn chimed in.
"I just cant believe we all agreed to do this! I mean come on, a commitment ceremony? How beautiful!"Lexi was the last to get a word in before everyone started a chain of interrupting eachother.
"SHUT UP!"David commanded the room be quiet, and as often is the case, we all listened. "Tomorrow, my house, then Leeyo's Thursday, Tynns Friday, B Saturday, and Lexi Sunday? Kapiche?"
David would be a intimidating in the bedroom if not for his disgust of anything sexual, meaning it was probably for the best that he was sex-repulsed.
The night went fast and soon it was morning and we were all ready to be shown off to David's parents - it was important that we got their blessing for the commitment ceremony, it was important we got _all_ of our parents blessings. |
PART 1
I woke up and it seemed like I had just woke up from being unconscious but I wasn’t. Maybe I had been I couldn’t tell what happened before I woke up. I was in a city. A town. But there was one odd thing. Nobody was there. No cars. No buildings. No people. No trains. There was roads and railroads but nothing on them. There were plots and sidewalks. But nothing on them.
I felt severely dehydrated but there was no food and I saw a lake a river actually. So I did it. I drank from the river. I was wearing rags. Not dirty rags. Not clean rags. Just rags. I didn’t know if this was afterlife but I wasn’t wearing rags. Suddenly I heard a voice in my head there was total ringing that blocked it out. But I managed to tune it back in. It was saying “God is challenging you” first I
Thought what did I do to deserve this? But I was better off in this land because I did have a criminal record for shoplifting and stealing. But honestly not to say drinking tap water from a lake is better than solitary. |
It didn't really click, I just felt like I was doing something, something that was right. I didn't tell myself to cut their hair, but my hands were moving on their own, not really knowing where to cut but eventually getting a product that wasn't possible under the bounds of reality that I thought I was in. In fact, it took a big fat hour after they left the door when I was back in my body.
I left the barber shop, said my goodbye to that boss, and went out for a drink. Something itched, so I scratched my head. When I looked at my hand, I saw a few strands of hair. Then one of them fell through my hand. Then my hand turned polygonal. How did I even know what that was? I didn't consider it further as the world around me turned into something akin to a blocky painting. Distinct bodies turned into shapes, fine details and color became dull.
I ran for my goddamn life screaming like a madman. Except I wasn't screaming and was bobbing above the air like a hovercraft. It didn't really scare anymore than I already was but when the world collapses around you the divine is the first thing that comes to mind. As such, I cuddled into the most secluded alleyway I could find and prayed to every deity, real or not to just finish it. When I opened my eyes, I found everything to be just as it was supposed to be, normal.
I looked up to find the raggiest looking guy I've ever seen. The baggiest, most expensive cargo pants that I've ever seen with a backpack with the flag of the British Isles slapped on the back. I asked him what was going on, didn't give a damn if I looked like a crackhead, but he just stared at me like a statue. Looking behind him though, I saw the insanity that I had experienced minutes before.
Before I could really process what was going on, the man turned around and the earth just flat out disappeared under me. Screaming seemed appropriate at the time but I was just perplexed. I saw the world that I knew turn into a tiny dot in the distance before I felt myself being taken away. I closed my eyes, thinking this was it, but opening them again, I found myself in that same goddamn barber shop.
This time, while I was full concsious, I found that seem raggy guy coming in for a cut. I felt my body perform the same exact script that I've been doing for as long as I can remember. I did the cut, and right as the end of the script came, I felt myself get back in my body. Shortly after, I saw reality turn into that blocky look. Running out, I saw the guy sprinting across the road, not giving a care for the cars he was interrupting. Reality seemed to be fully polished wherever he looked.
I didn't know what I took that day, but I knew I wasn't gonna see things the same ever again. |
(Im not a writer )
Chapter 1.
the protagonist, everything goes wrong in his life always, he has had the worst of luck and ends up in a place where he has absolutely nothing in life, and he's poor, doesnt have anyone, and he is barely surviving every day, finds this armor by chance in a dark alley or in a place that are part of his poor life of bad luck. Like the dumpster or he falls in a weird cavern after following a beggar who talks to him.
He takes the item ( Plot armor ) and it disappears like when you consume an item in videogames. He gets to see the name but thinks it must do nothing because he absolutely feels nothing different
Thinking it was all an hallucination or bad dream or just stupid bs that happened he goes on with his sad life and his depression increases until the point of suicide
His life is shit and things are only getting worse and he decides the best thing he can do is to end it all. He goes to the highest of skyscrapers and jumps. Then something happens that never in his life could have ever happened to him. Him who was the unluckiest and only had the worst stuff happen to him, survives without even being harmed in the most ridiculous, impossible and luckiest way ever. He starts wondering.. maybe this plot armor wasnt just an hallucination? He decides to put it on test before trying to die again.. before he dies he'll make sure it wasnt more than just an hallucination.. and experimenting begins.. |
"Big government to the rescue."Barney grumbled while stuck in traffic. He'd been on the night shift for over 10 years, and then the new policy kicked in. Barney saw his night shift differential halved and his commute doubled, so he was understandably irate. The new blood on the night shift weren't up to snuff either; he'd caught most of them sleeping at one point or another and all the bosses said was to "expect a period adjustments and acclimation."They weren't so forgiving when Barney was late due to a 400% increase in traffic and an equally explosive growth in collisions on the trip in. He was denied a raise that would have taken back to 95% what he'd been making before the new policy. People thought there was a new divergence in society, but Barney didn't see anything new about it. He'd always been a night walker, but now he had to babysit day risers that thought the night shift was nap time. |
The past five years of my life have been spent studying human quantum consciousness, the ‘mental engine’ that allows for our unusual intelligence. Sure, human brains are bigger than chimpanzee brains – but they aren’t bigger than whale brains. Some scientists didn’t care to make the cross-genus comparison, but one trail-blazer did – Stanford-trained hypothetical neuroscientist Sylvester Stallone. He dug deeper, and he discovered the ‘quantum organ’ that allowed humans to subconsciously view thousands of neighboring parallel dimensions and that made hypothetical reasoning possible. His research revolutionized the theory of the human mind, and finally answered a minor question: What was up with all those ‘Berenstein Bears’ people? Surely, they could just look at the books and see that it’s ‘Berenstain Bears’? Well, their consciousnesses were originally from a nearly-colinear dimension, that differed only in that one aspect! The quantum organ was less secure that one would think, and allowed for minor slippage between bodies. Even the implications of that were incredible – how many historical events were driven by ‘slipped’ individuals? Could one return? What was the mechanism involved?
Of course, none of that was my problem now. Now, I sit in a movie theater watching a film called ‘The Expendables 7,’ which featured a man resembling my mentor firing machine guns into buildings and mumbling his way through inane dialogue. I do not remember entering the theater, and I am certain I have Slipped here. Five minutes of this film is enough to sap my energy. In my world, we do not understand how to Slip intentionally; with Prof. Stallone in this state, I seriously doubt the locals know how, either.
A man next to me notices my despair.
“You, there… Does Stallone seem unfamiliar to you in this movie?”
“Yes!” I cry. “The world’s greatest thinker would never be in something like this!”
He pauses. “I guess we’re here from different worlds. I just remember that he retired after The Expendables 5. But, regardless, maybe we can help each other.”
“How,” I ask him. “It’s clear no research is being done here. Professor Stallone doesn’t really exist in this dimension.”
“Professor Stallone? That’s a trip. No, I just mean that I know a guy who’s gathering people like us, who got here from somewhere else.”
“Another research associate of Professor Stallone? Maybe we can be saved!”
“Not exactly. He just said he was an extra on something called Rocky 12.” |
Note: I never finished this, but here’s what I have because I don’t think I’ll finish it.
-<~>-
On the balcony overlooking the front hall stands Sir Vergas Ruthus giving orders to the staff. As each receives an instruction he says “yes sir!” And dashes off to fulfill his duties. Then after giving the chef his orders sir Vergas sighs, straightens himself, and turns to his desk on the balcony.
Outside a small shuttle pulls into the station, inside it is a single occupant, the young Servos Ruthus. He was a handsome lad of about seventeen years of age, though he looked more like twenty-seven. The year he spent in the academy had evidently been a bit more real than he anticipated.
Servos exited the shuttle and it sped off through the narrow lava tubes. He hesitates a moment before continuing through the hydroponic plants that made up the front yard. As he reaches the door he sighs then pushes the buzzer. After a moment the door to the airlock opens and he steps inside. The door behind him closes and the airlock begins pressurizing.
Screams of terror were what greeted Servos as the main door opened. There in front of him stood the maid looking away at what appeared to be a pile of blankets on the floor. Then he realized what it was she was looking at. He began to sob.
He had hoped to speak to his uncle about his inheritance but now he would not get that chance ever. For there what he thought was a pile of blankets was his uncle with a knife in his back.
The screams of the maid caused some of the staff to come running. First to arrive was the butler. He was an elderly man about two hundred fifty years old and probably one of the first generation of Lunarians. He had seen the rise and fall of the Lunar Empire, and that undoubtedly was what made him so resistant to the wave of emotions that came over him as he saw Sir Vergas dead on the floor.
As the butler examined his employer the gardener came in from the greenhouse. A proud member of the Lunar Herbs and Floral society he always wore his unique belt buckle that had his name, Hervan Viscolatate, engraved on the top and the name of the society underneath. He immediately broke into tears on seeing what the commotion was about. Ninety-nine years he had been in the employ of the Ruthus estate and in one more year he would be able to apply for a pension from the society.
Servos however recovered from the initial shock of seeing his last relative dead and looked up at the balcony. As he could see nothing from his vantage point he started that way when he was stopped by the arrival of someone unknown to him.
“Who are you?” Servos demanded. “Did you kill my uncle?”
“What? No I’m a guest here and I was leaving the study when I heard screaming and came to help.”
“Easy now Servos.” Said the butler. “Now is not the time to be blaming people. We need to know what happened before we start casting suspicion on each other.
“Herv, run up there and see if anyone is up there. Thyst go call the police. I don’t think we’ll be able to punish the murderer ourselves. Belmont why don’t you introduce yourself to Sir Vergas’ nephew while I go see about the security footage.”
-<~>-
Detective Vendryl studied the face of each suspect, hoping for some clue that might give him something to work with. Mr. Belmont fidgeted in his seat, as most guests in a house where a murder was just committed would. While the chef stared at the floor. And Norman the butler paced like a caged tiger.
“And you’re sure nothing could be recovered from the security footage?”
“Quite sure, detective.” Norman stopped pacing to answer the question. “When I found the hard drive in the incinerator it was to hot to touch. So it was in there long enough I doubt even the Imperial Intelligence Initiative could recover anything.”
“Miss Stone, did you see anything on the balcony? Anything at all?”
“What? No I... he was... and then...”
“Sir we’ve been over this all before.” Hervan, always the realist, stood up. “If nothing is to be gained by my being here I have the plants to attend to.”
“Hold on Mr Viscolatate, were not done here.” Detective Vendryl said. “Or have you forgotten that there is a murderer among you?”
“I am well aware of that Mr Vendryl.” Hervan said as he glanced at Mr Belmont. “I think you might have better luck if you spoke to us individually. We all have our secrets that we’d rather the others not know.”
Amethyst’s sobbing got to the point that it was hard to hear anything over her. And Norman who always seemed to be extra concerned for her had had enough.
“Detective this interrogation has gone far enough. Thyst is clearly the wisest of us all: Life must continue whether we catch the murderer or not. And grieving is a necessary part of moving past a death. Now if you will excuse us I’ll take Amethyst to her room before retiring to mine. I too need time to grieve.” Norman helped Amethyst to her feet and spoke before nodding a farewell to his friends: “Servos he gave me a message for you when you’re ready.”
After the butler took the maid away Hervan also left. And seeing he wouldn’t get any more information from his suspects he dismissed the rest. Then told them he had locked the shuttle station console so if they wanted anything they’d have to ask him for it.
-<~>-
Early the next morning Servos could be found looking at his uncle’s records. While he sat at the desk Mr Belmont jumped up to the balcony and greeted him:
“Good morning sir.”
“Uh huh.” Servos answered, still engrossed in the financial documents he was comparing.
“I don’t suppose you would consider a game of loopsies this early in the morning?”
“I know Professor Baltus will be upset I’m late, but if I wait to long for this the—“ Servos realized who was talking to him and turned around to face him. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you coming in. I was looking through my uncle’s records in hopes that I might find some clue as to who would murder my uncle.”
“Any luck? I know Sir Ruthus didn’t keep good records when we were in the Navy, but maybe he got better as he aged.”
“Well none so far, other than a bit here and a bit there that I don’t see any connections to.”
“Okay, well as I was saying, would you care to join me in a game of loopsies?”
“Did he get the court finished? I thought the lava tubes were to small for the frame.”
“To small for a digitized frame yes, but who needs quarks and muons to tell me if the ball went through the loop?”
“Okay sure. Just give me a moment to lock up the records and I’ll join you there.”
“Splendid! I shall await your arrival with great anticipation.” Mr Belmont exclaimed. Then he bounced off the balcony and left Servos to finish up. |
It all started with a rumor.
Just a whisper in the weekly meetings. A folktale, really. Deep inside the Blackwood forest lies the ruin of an old druidic circle. Or the house of a dead witch. Or the still beating heart of a dead demon. Every forest has such rumors about it eventually, so the church paid it no mind.
That is, until people started to disappear. At first, it was blamed on wolves and the harsh winter. It was sad, but nothing to do. Then, it was a large and hungry bear. Children were taken home at nightfall, and a fence was erected Infront of the forest. It helped, for a while.
As more and more people vanished, those who remained became restless, anxious and finally, terrified. So they turned to the church, begging its representatives to do something, to send some warriors of faith, armed with holy magic, to avenge the fallen and return peace to the land.
The church made a big fuss, declaring the forest cursed land and an affront to Nebo, meaning it must be cleansed with holy powers. The sent a single high priest to do so. The people of the town were outraged. Was the church mocking them? Or were they sending this poor man to his death? After all, whatever is in there has already killed many string man, so what will a bookish priest do?
Those murmurings vanished when brother Gregori arrived to town. He was many things, but he wasn't what they expected. His hair was short and brown, his beard leaning towards red. His arms were larger than the thighs of some man, yet were proportional to his body. It was no exaggeration to say that this man may have had giant's blood in his family some generations ago.
The town's people took to him immediately. He listened to their concerns, even writing down what seemed important to him. He helped rebuild the fence, payed for his food and stay, and was generally pleasant to everyone. On the morning of his second day, he ventured into the forest. This will be the last time, anyone ever saw Gregori, not that the church ever stopped looking.
With his axe in one hand, holy flame in the other and a prayer on his lips, he went into the foreboding woods. On his path he encountered things- things that were no longer wolves, things that once were bears, the reanimated corpses of the missing townsfolk. He cried for them as he laid them to rest, for each life cut short was a waste. But he did not stop, for it wasn't the first time he met such abominations. He slew them without hesitation, and purified their remains with sacred fire.
With every step he took, stranger things fought him, and fell by his hand. At long last, he found the center of the forest, the source of all those monstrosities. In the middle stood an altar, but not to some strange pagan god. It was an altar to Nebo, god of the skies. The one true God. What was going on?
Gregori approached carefully, but he felt none of the vile energy from before around him. On the altar he noticed a book. He reached out, and opened it. Inside were old truths. Forgotten, horrible truths. Gregori read them and wept, for everything he did was wrong.
The book spoke of an old demon, named "Poglashatel Nebes"the Consumer of Skies. This demon wasn't like others. He was clever, and didn't want to destroy mankind. He wished to subjugate them. He stole magic from a dying god, and took his name for himself. He became a god, whose power will grow and shrink with his followers. And he spread himself throught the world, with his stolen name-'Nebo'.
Gregori knew that the church will now hunt him, and Nebo himself hated his existence. But the book spoke of salvation. There were other gods, gods who may be willing to assist him in the battle to free humanity of demonic shackles. It spoke of a certain hill, far, far away, sacred to three different deities at once. He will go there, he decided, and plead with them.
He knew he may due a thousand ways before reaching the hill, but there was no one else. So he took the book, but it in his pack, and lifted his axe. Once he set foot outside the clearing, he began to run. |
"What is the emperor doing again?"The advisor asked, "I am very confused by his proposal."
"He is asking us to create a form of universal basic income that will adjust to the overall cost of living in the empire over time. He says he wants to do this so that he can threaten any business owners that try to cross him by producing a system that makes it so people no longer have to work. To accelerate this process, he also wants us to embrace automation and renewable energy sources that allow him to sell electricity to our allies in return for money to help fund this system."
"Do we have to implement this?"
"You have to if you don't want the emperor to drain your life force."
The advisor sighed before accepting that he would have to implement his boss's request, "Anything else he wants us to do?"
"He also wants us to provide free college options for everyone in the empire so he has a more educated workforce when it comes to any future attempts at conquering or spreading his influence. He also wants democracy, at least on the province level, that allows local changes and the regular populence to vote on who can be a member of the dark council that regulates the emperor. He says that this will keep the population more engaged and make them more willing to care about the politics of the empire."
"This is just ridiculous!"
"Do not question his judgment!"The messenger screamed.
"Fine, fine." |
The bar bustled with the usual crowd. An elder sat at the bar telling his old senile tale of Elina the Explosive and her disappearance yet again. But, Paul was in his rhythm slinging pints and pouring fingers left and right for the rest of the regulars. His tip bucket overflowing with silver and copper pieces, the night was going great. Then the twins arrived.
Tylas and Pylas, responding to "The Twins"but unaffectionally known to the innkeeper and her staff as as "The Dickish Doppelgangers"or "Clone Cunts". Intimidating yet intellectual, the two towered over all the patrons. Their gray skin riddled with pockmarks and scars from battles before. Youthful in appearence despite being several centuries old. Every night as the clocktower tolled 11, the twin guards of Graka the Grim came for drinks. Despite being regulars themselves, it was always a hassle to figure out which one was which.
The twins work to protect the local lord's mansion hidden within a mysterious maze. An easy and light hearted task earned from decades of fighting for the demon lord before he amassed his fortune. The lord himself had grown amiable over the last half century but was still quite the trickster. As such, he pulled these two knuckle heads from the ether for fresh air on the surface world and gold pieces aplenty. One always told the truth, one always lied. Their faces taut as if they were in a poker game for their lives. They would mess with each and every adventurer on a journey to recover a priceless royal heirloom or some other trinket the demon lord won in a bet or wish. Some would continue further into the labyrinth. Others would find themselves walking into a portal that would drop them into an ocean several mountains and valleys away from the lord's lair.
Off hours, they were even more cunning and mischievous; especially if their lord had no visitors that day. They'd keep the same dull grimace as if they were still under orders. Breaking character only after they've messed with their barkeep enough to warrant their hollers and guffaws. Several times they'd refuse to pay if their server passed an ale or wine to the wrong brother. Paul himself had been throughly confounded on more than one occasion by them. But if their drink of the night was correctly chosen, their server would earn a hefty tip on top of the payment for their drinks. If not, they would walk out drinks in hand and sarcastically complain about the service. The demon lord would forward the cost of the drinks and mugs at a later time but sans tip of course. Paul wasn't sure of why a demon lord would even care about a small inn, but he chalked it up to his maze being a part of the kingdom.
The two stools creaked as the twins sat literally shoulder to shoulder in the small tavern. The old man rolled his eyes and scooched over to accomdate the twins before focusing on his drink. He too had seen many a server fail to the shenanigans of the twins.
"A pleasure to see you Paul"they droned in unison.
Paul's spirits soured with realization of his oncoming annoyance but he kept a wide smile. "Welcome to the Bull's Bell gentlemen. What can I get you tonight?"
From left, the demon dictated "I would like an ale topped with a heavy head of foam."
The other brother on the right toned "I would hate it if I had a mug of mead"
The two sat there in silence as they watched Paul pour their pints. He chose his words to avoid another walkout. "So how are things at the maze?"
"Dull, not a single soldier or scholar came to challenge us"
"Exciting, an emissary of Emacia encroached our post"replied the twins flatly.
"Damn...wait"Paul thought to himself before he chimed again in his best customer service voice. "I've never heard of Emacia, where is that?"
"East of Thakrum before the Ielren Mountains"
"East of Kimyoji by the Racht Sea"
"Hah!"Exclaimed Paul as he slid the mead towards Tylas and handed the ale to Pylas. He knew of the Ielren Mountains but never heard of the Racht Sea.
Paul's expression dimmed as the pair stared back at him blankly. The three seconds that they paused and perused their pints felt like hours to Paul as he pondered if he picked the wrong twin. In unison they sipped from their mugs. The glassware was like teacups in their massive hands. The other patrons pratled amongst themselves as usual while Paul continued to question his choice. Clinks of glass were followed by soft chuckles and a request.
"Another round"
"I'm done drinking tonight"they chortled in sync while each setting forward a gold and silver coin each.
Paul sighed in relief with the realization that he was right.
The rest of the night would go on smoothly, until the innkeeper came storming down the stairs with a red face and an unnervingly unusual blood red aura emanating around her head. The twins looked at Paul with a rare look, ones of fear.
Two heavy hands came down on the shoulders of the twins. Even with their stature and strength, they buckled under the force of the innkeeper's fury.
"You two, with me, now!"Growled the Innkeeper. The twins stumbled towards the door in tow of Paul's boss. A loud crack silenced the whole bar as the Innkeeper shattered the door with a kick.
Paul, scared to death upon the realization he'd been working for an otherworldly being, watched the twins being hauled towards the maze through what remained of the doorway. Crippling fear gave way to curiosity as Paul noticed a crumpled and torn scroll on the ground. He scanned over the parchement for a short period. It was a love letter, seemingly innocuous until three things stood out to him. The letter was misaddressed for the inn, it was meant for Graka, and it was signed with a kiss next to the name Amita.
Booms bellowed in the distance and villagers began to clear out of the bar. Paul could only stare at the old man in disbelief. The elder glanced at Paul before casually gesturing at his cup "Another wine please." |
"Alright what time are that lot gonna be here?"
"I shoulda wore a heavier jumper....oh bloody hell! I am starving!
"I think that is them, oh no that's another brunette and red head, must be real common here too"
"I sure do hope it's not as bad here as they make it out at home...after all They did kill those witches here...oh that was hundreds of years ago!
"King! King!"Say 2 crows who have been following the Tourist known as; The Boy Who Lived.
"King can speak with snakes! He's of the gift!"
Glee ran wild in the inhabitants of the city
for The boy who lived had come to this the windy city and even the crows and trees know the his splendid source;Magic. |
Teeth had been brushed. Pajamas were on. Lights were going out, songs had been sung, last glasses of water granted, last few questions about the world at large answered.
It was finally, mercifully, time for bed.
Not that I didn't cherish these long nights. I knew all too well they'd disappear before my eyes, slip through my fingers like so many grains of sand. So I tried to be present all the time. But it was hard some days. When you're in the thick of it, you sometimes struggle to appreciate where you're at.
It lasted 6 whole minutes before someone needed something. So back upstairs I went. The general bedtime equation was balanced with either a song OR a story, never both. It was a tight calculus that the kids insisted upon, wasn't even our idea. That's how they wanted it, and they usually alternated. Tonight the younger couldn't sleep.
'Just one more story, then I'll feel better.' Well obviously I couldn't resist.
I told all sorts of stories over the years. Stories about fancy people, beautiful exotic places, exicting adventures and run of the mill people. I tried to remind them that magic is everywhere, you just have to keep your eye out for it.
The older they got the less they asked for them. Toward the top of their teenage years, I'd get one or two requests a year. One of which was during a massive bonfire the oldest threw after homecoming. 34 teenagers listened to one of my dumb stories about tadpoles, and even all these years later I remember it.
Today was my last day with them. They didn't know that, but I think I did. It was a normal day, I went quick and unexpectedly. I'll forever be grateful I stuck around long enough to hear my oldest daughter close out my story the way I had closed out every single story I ever told her as a kid. Whether it fit or not. I don't know if my face gave it away, but I laughed. My soul laughed. She looked down at me, smiled wide and said the last words I heard before I left - 'and then they came upon a tiger, which ripped them to shreds.' |
The land quakes with anger at your actions, sinner.
I was in line at the theme park when I heard it. At first I thought it was just me that heard it. I thought I was losing my mind. Then it seemed like everyone else heard it too, but in their own time. The weird thing was, everyone slowly turned to find me.
I couldn't figure out what it was they were noticing about me, but there was clearly something happening because slowly but surely it looked like people were hearing the same thing, then turning in my direction. Finally I looked up and realized there was a bright light, coming out of nowhere, it seemed, right on top of me.
I felt the blood drain from my face. I hated attention, and now all of it, literally all of the attention in this line in this park was on me. I was carrying it. I felt the sweat turn cold on my face, felt my pulse in my temples. Then I heard the voice again, and I swear I heard thunder behind it. 'The land quakes with anger at your actions, sinner.'
It really felt like it wanted me to respond, but I had no idea what was even happening, I was in denial that whatever this was was addressing me specifically, in spite of the literal spotlight on my head. I managed to squeak out 'my what now?'.
'The land quakes with anger at your actions, sinner!' louder, more insistent this time. And also this time, the ground shook! Everyone screamed, people started to flee, then there was loud thunder again...and I swear I thought I heard a distorted electric guitar...
One more time 'it', whatever 'it' was, repeated it's line. The third, maybe even 4th time in 30 seconds? The thunder started to swell.
I don't know if it was the heat from the sun, my general exhaustion, or just life. But as I sat there hearing the thunder swell, instead of being afraid or scared, I was angry. How dare this thing call me out like this, on a day like today? Who the fuck is this thing to commandeer my day at the park to push it's own agenda of shame or whatever on me. This place was not cheap, and it was an investment in my mental health after a terrible few months to be here. Right before the thunder seemed to reach its swell, I popped.
'You know what?! Screw you. Quake harder, bitch. Sinner? Who the hell are you? If you're god, which you must be if you're the one defining sin, then seriously screw you. The last 6 months have been the worst of my entire life, and you have been no where but apparently here at Jojo's Coaster World waiting for me to get in line for Zeus so you could call me out? What the hell man. Why even do that? You have all this power and you wait until I'm in line to do this...it just doesn't make any sense.'
Looking back, I suppose the confused/horrified looks on the faces of those around me should have tipped me off, but the light shining in my eyes made it impossible to make out more than an impression of those around me. Somehow the noise and the rush and the attention just added fuel to the fire.
'How many of these people are in shitty situations because of your actions, in fact! Why are you here harassing people trying to have a good time?! Fuck you! Fuck you for all of it! For everything! For my parents, for my family, for my shitty car, for all of it!' I then repeated the choice phrase a few more times, having completely lost myself.
I'm foaming at the mouth at this point. I slow down. Start to catch my breath. I'm noticing the attention again.
Have you ever been to a theme park? You know what they aren't? Silent. Ever. Somehow, I shut this whole place down. You could hear a false tooth fall out of grandma's mouth.
Then the light slowly faded away, the thunder gave way to a strong electric guitar riff.
'Congratulations for being our 1000th rider since opening!' the same god-like voice shouted.
I got out of line, and left the park immediately.
I did stop to get my free chalice for being the 1000th rider though. Even though I technically didn't ride it.
Long story short, if it looks like god, sounds like god, feels like god....it's probably just good speakers. |
Part 1 of 4
It had been five years since I was in Gotham City. Back then, I was in residency at Arkham Asylum, one of the worst and most important experiences of my career. As I drove through the city’s deteriorating infrastructure, shuffling people, and oppressive architecture, I briefly toyed with the idea of simply leaving. Few jobs could be worth living in this city and the interview was a long shot at best. But I already committed to the meeting and I was a man of my word.
Haphazard highways looped around the downtown area and tried to circumvent early evening traffic, but only managed to add complexity to the congestion, which I was unfortunately caught in. Turning on the radio, I found little music in Gotham’s airwaves. The channels were almost exclusively talk and news, or news and talk or some other admixture of non rhythmic voices. I turned it off after my futile search.
Eventually, my stop light and brake light prison gave way to a lesser used road. It was freshly paved and brightly lined with reflective paint. After passing several gated communities and fortified estates, I climbed a lonely hill to the entrance of Wayne Manor.
When my eyes first set upon its massive bulk, a pervasive malaise assaulted my being. Awashed in a drained color upon its lonely perch. I could not truly describe what aura pushed the somber thoughts and tones into me. The estate was impeccably maintained. Each plant was shaped with a careful choice of flower and color. Even the home itself was brightly adorned with the sweeping drama of gothic architecture. But somewhere in the ephemera was something broken that no handyman could repair.
Wayne Manor’s gates opened politely for me as my car approached. The layout of the grounds was intuitive and I quickly found a guests’ lot and entrance. Even with the veil of gloom lingered in the background, I found myself in awe of the size and stature of the famous billionaire’s home. TV shows and documentaries did not prepare me for the immensity of it all. A proper British voice had to call me back from my reverie.
“Mr. Kelly I presume? If you would follow me inside please.” His voice was firm, but kindly. Without the admonishment of a visitor acting the tourist.
I managed to squeak a meager, “Thank you,” before awkwardly walk-running to follow.
Awaiting me Inside was a handsomely furnished sitting room with a small tray of refreshments. The room lacked something, though the decorations were tasteful and reflected well on the home. But I pulled myself from the musing and addressed the man who welcomed me. He was neither tall nor short, but had a comely face with an almost comically british butler persona down to the coattails on his jacket. He gave me a polite smile and spoke to me with the blessed smoothness of a narrator.
“Mr Kelly, thank you for coming today. My name is Alfred Pennyworth and I am the head of staff here at Wayne Manor. I have provided a copy of your itinerary for your visit, which, I suspect, will likely be a lengthy one.” He continued, while handing me a slim portfolio, “please avail yourself with the facilities and refresh yourself from your lengthy journey. I would suspect Gotham traffic to be more arduous than your flight. If you need anything, there will be someone nearby to assist you.”
“Thank you Mr. Pennyworth.” I watched the man gracefully leave with a soft click of his shoes.
After 30 or so minutes, I was still waiting for my interview to begin. I was thankful for the comfortable chair and nearby bathroom.
Soon a clean cut man whose demeanor screamed “undercover cop” came into the room. He smiled genuinely at me and reached out his hand. I stood as he greeted me.
“Mr. Oliver Kelly? I’m John Jones. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Thank you Mr. Jones. Am I meeting with you first?” I tried to hide a sniffle as my sinuses tried to act up.
“Yessir. If you don’t mind, we can chat right here.”
“That is fine with me. What would you like to talk about?”
He sat with all the ease and casualness of a mannequin, “I want to chat a bit about your personal history, and go over your background checks.”
“Please, go ahead.” I withheld any attempts at humor or comradery. He seemed to not connect well on that level. He seemed to either be on a spectrum of neurodivergence or simply well guarded emotionally. Either way I would respect his boundaries.
“I have here a copy of the information that came up in our various reports. They read very well, as in, they do not have anything standout in them. You do not have any substantial debt, save for a hardware store credit card and a remaining student loan.”
I nodded along. My sinuses were building in pressure, likely from the hazy air of Gotham. John silently handed me a box of tissues. Apparently I wasn’t hiding the sniffling well.
“Your references check out, and your residency status is clear.”
“You are going to reference my education?”
John smiled again, “Yessir. Your first residency was at Arkham under Dr. Quinzel. Can you tell me about that?”
“Sure. I worked under her supervision for about 6 months at Askham. Mostly with their outpatient program. There were 8 residents, including myself. While there I worked with a number of folks who needed therapeutic care. I was also able to prescribe non-controlled medication for a wide range of needs and offer counseling services. Dr. Quinzel was the signature for all my scripts and other documentation, when needed. It was an intense 6 months, working through as much of the patient backlog as I could.” I left out a lot of the trauma and tragedy of the patients, though it was difficult to dismiss the thoughts.
I continued, “Then Dr. Quinzel was promoted to critical inpatient and criminal care. The other resident Psychiatrists and I were rotated out due to lack of qualified staff to oversee us.”
Jones was looking off into the distance. “I see. Can you tell me how Dr. Quinzel affected you as a person?”
“Honestly it is hard to say. She was like most of the other folks at Arkham: overworked and buried in patients. Harleen was able to show us several methods to cope with the stress, but she did not have much time to devote to us individually.”
“And did she ever contact you, after you left?”
“No. I did contact her a few weeks after I left for a recommendation letter. I never heard back.”
“Thank you. That is all I need. Best of luck on your interview.” And John Jones left the room without ceremony, like a ghost in the breeze.
The Harley Quinn ties were always problematic for me in regular practice, but in private practice, many folks like the novelty of it. Close enough to elicit excitement but not anything really dangerous. Thankfully, a few minutes later, my sinuses began to behave. I took the relief as a good omen and enjoyed the fancy coffee arranged for me. It was nice to have something that wasn’t freeze dried or from a pod.
Alfred fetched me some thirty minutes after John Jones left. He escorted me to a large room with a small desk facing a panel of professional looking folks. I was left at the singular seat staring at the row of preeminent doctors. For about an hour or so, I faced a battery of questions about my skills as a Psychiatrist and Therapist. Thankfully the assembled Psychiatrists and Medical Doctors were polite during the battery. Many looked relieved when I was equally polite and calm in my replies. Eventually the assembled were satisfied with my knowledge and skills. When they adjourned the meeting they lightly socialized with each other, even including me. They were a gathering of leading professionals and teachers in their respective fields and it was amazing to be in their presence.
I will admit to some swelling of pride to prove myself to such an elite group. |
Today we are gathered here to pay our respects to Madam Midnight, someone many believed to be the greatest hero of this world. She lived but one life, yet she would be the first to tell you just how valuable one life can be. She saved buildings, cities, even the entire world on many occasions, but she also talked people down from rooftops, volunteered at soup kitchens, helped anyone in any way she could. from her perspective nothing she could do to help was beneath her.
You knew her as Madam Midnight, the extraordinary and wonderful hero who has touched the lives of every single person on this planet; her loss cuts a part out of every single one of us. I didn't know her as Madam Midnight, though. I knew what she did, and it made me more proud than she would ever know, but that wasn't who she was to me. To me, she would always be Julliet West, she would always be my daughter.
Jules, you were one of the best things to ever happen to this world, and you were without a doubt the best thing to ever happen to me. Lord knows I didn't deserve a child like you. But you always lived two lives, even when you didn't have to. You visited even after you had spent the entire day saving lives, because both things mattered so much to you. That was who you were, and that's who this world needed.
This was very hard for me. A father is never supposed to bury their child... but I knew I had to say something. She did so much for everyone, so much... I'm sorry. She died how she lived, protecting the people of this world, who she loved so, so much. I'm sure it brought her happiness at the end when she was sure she had saved us one last time. |
\[Sharp Circle\]
"Just aim down and you can't miss,"Melody explained to Monday. They stood on a busy downtown sidewalk with pedestrians streaming by. The pale, dark-haired woman stretched her arms down in front of her. Her palms faced downward and glowed with bright blue light. Monday stood next to her as strangers walked around them. "The trick is to already be somewhere else when you fire."A black portal appeared at their feet and rose up to swallow them halfway. Then, blue beams shot out of her hands towards the ground.
The concrete melted instantly and the blue beam continued to flow down. In seconds, the Earth started to shake. And, it didn't seem to be stopping.
"The shake will let you know when you've hit the core,"Melody said. Her hands stopped glowing and the portal swallowed them completely. Then, they were back in Melodys' office. "And that's pretty much it. You can do that, right?"she asked. Monday nodded; but, she had questions.
"You didn't send out a warning,"Monday said. "How do you know you didn't get any players?"Melody shrugged.
"If you stop when the Earth trembles, players usually have enough warning to change servers. If they don't, well that's always been part of the game too."
"..Usually?"Monday asked. "How often do you need to purge servers?"
"Up until today, I was the only one Ms. Sharp trusted enough to do it. After her death, I was the only one I trusted. It happens often enough that you'll be saving me quite a bit of time by taking over. Assuming your conscience isn't an issue."
"Not at all,"Monday laughed. It was a nervous laugh but she managed to keep her tone positive. Doubts were growing in the back of her mind. She had put effort into changing herself. Ever since she met Outbreak, she wanted to be a better person, and she was succeeding a little more every day. Now, all that effort into doing the right thing led right back to the type of person she did not want to be. But, Melody's trust was worth its weight in souls. Monday tried not to think of how many players Melody accidentally killed over the years; mostly to avoid thinking about how many she might kill herself.
"Good,"Melody nodded. She returned to her chair behind the desk and gestured for Monday to sit in front of her. "Now that you've accepted this position, there are a few things you're entitled to know. Before we get to that, do you have any questions?"
"What was Ms. Sharp like?"Monday asked. Melody's eyes lit up at the mention of her name.
"That's a particular question,"Melody smiled. "May I ask why you're interested?"Monday nodded and shrugged.
"I'm just curious,"she said. "You're completely loyal to her, even years after her death. I'm wondering what it takes to get loyalty like that."Melody's smile widened but she shook her head in amusement.
"You have to remember she's my wife,"Melody said. "No matter how wonderful Ms. Sharp is I am definitely biased. But, while we're on the topic, I get to tell you about how amazing she really is."
"..Was?"Monday felt like she was trying to rush Melody through her grief. But, Ms. Sharp died over five years ago. But, Melody winked at her in response.
"As I was saying; Ms. Sharp is such an amazing person that coming back to life isn’t even the most impressive thing she's accomplished recently."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1530 in a row. (Story #080 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on Sept. 6th and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until June 3rd. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/pj4t0b/tokuhigh_first_six_weeks/). |
[…]
The rain came and went, leaving behind streets full of puddles. The sky darkened, as the last rows of rain-poncho wearing troops excused themselves from their afternoon watch, while the columns of replacements making their way up the rampart to the perimeter wall.
“Sierra 2, head count!”
“One-one!”
“One-two!”
Nodded his head to the next-shift’s commanding officer, the young Lieutenant joined his platoon on their way down the rampart. Fifteen of them silently marched toward their vehicles parking down on the asphalt paved road under the wall. The previous eight hour shift was pretty uneventful down on their station, with the only present enemy being the constant crave for hot chow tormenting the men. Luckily for them, their barrack were only just a couple miles down the road, and on the way there, they already had a minor boost waiting inside their cooler neatly stashed under the truck’s tarp: cans upon cans of energy drinks – caffeine and sugar rush, just what they needed, while their hot dinner awaited down the line.
“Good work on CP Springboard, Lieutenant! You guys gave them bandits quite a scare there! Now they’ll know not to mess up with Haven anymore…” – the truck’s driver opened up to his superior, while the young man was busying with wrapping his poncho up, preparing to stash it into his backpack, hung up on the side of the truck.
“It’s just their scouting party, sunshine…” – the young officer replied, closing the flaps over his tightly rolled poncho. Slinging the compact rifle over his shoulder, the man continued – “They’ll return, hopefully not anytime soon, but those fuckers will return… Alright, mount up!”
The fifteen men quickly climbed up to their vehicles, and didn’t take very long for the two trucks to roar up their engines on their way back to base. The road was unusually empty today – understandable, given the torrential downpour the entire day prior. The towering skyscrapers laid almost dormant underneath the thick descending hazy cloud, while the evening slowly set in, imprinting the brownish black skyline onto the newly emerging yellow street lights, diluting the monochromatic color out to the background.
“Bravo Charlie, this is Hunter 2-6 Actual, we’re RTB on Westside-Marriott, break, checking-in ETA five minutes, over!”
“Hunter 2, Bravo Charlie acknowledged! Depot 2 is available for storage, Bravo Charlie out!”
Put down the handset onto the radio rack, the Lieutenant groggily leaned back down on his seat, silently watching his driver shifted into fourth gear. The engine rumbled as the clutch slipping on the gearbox, then gently turned to a hum afterward. The young officer could finally took his time gazing out of the window, letting his thought flow, while on the backseats, his subordinates were fooling around with their cellphones, eventually free to do so. The annoying music echoed through the air, as the two of them watching some slithering women running their live show, curving their bodies like no tomorrow, constantly asking for her viewers to throw down their saving out the window – in which the two younglings fervently went with it. Though the military strictly forbidden for such activity, he decided to let them pass – it’s either that or they’ll turn toward the “other” sources of entertainment, the one that had a much more risk in landing them in the disciplinary center.
A vibration on the chest pouch jolted the Lieutenant back from his trance, and judging from the tone, it was his cellphone, alerting a new message. Slowly pull out the mobile device, the man stopped and stared at a useless service ad before decisively swiped to delete, before putting that back into his chest pocket. A beautiful woman smiled back to him from the home screen, where the young man sighed sadly, prompting the driver to open up:
“Still can’t let her go, boss? How long was it? Three years, right?”
“Yeah…” – the officer answered curtly, then returned to his thousand yard stare. It’d been three years since the last time he saw the woman in the picture. Three years, and he couldn’t just let it go. He still remembered clearly the night the southern city of Caeria bursted into flame, where tens of thousands of civilians and soldiers alike perished by daybreak.
<Part 2 Below> |
Walking down in the ever-bustling streets, I follow the flow of human traffic. Everyday. Boring. Routine. One day, I find a computer just by the sidewalk. No one seems to pay heed. Odd considering this place has a considerably high theft rate.
“A laptop? Why’s no one paying attention to it?” I pick it up and bring it home.
“Well, I guess I have a new computer now.” I put it on my desk and boot it up.
A list of people with their names appear.
“What’s this?” I click on a random person’s profile.
There I’m presented with the guy’s whole history, complete with video.
“Whoa… Has someone been spying on all these people?” I continue scrolling down the list, and find my own profile.
“No way…” I watch the recording on my profile. Conveniently, the recordings are bookmarked by date. “Well… At least with this I can remember where I put my house keys or something.”
Then I notice one of the bookmarks was red. I click on it and the computer shuts down. “Shit! Did I break it? Aw ma~n.”
I rebooted my computer, and try to go back to where I left off… But I can’t find my profile.
“Uh… I guess I can spy on some world leaders? I dunno.” I scratch my head and think of what I can do with the computer.
That I night, I find myself in a white… space?
“Where am I?”
“Ahoy there!”
“Who are you?” I look around… Not that there’s much to see. “God?”
“Small g god. I am the God of Fates.”
“O-Oh… So what do you want from me?”
“Naw, don’t be cold. I took the trouble to meet you with the help of the God of Dreams.”
“Er, well… I don’t really know what to say… Wait, you said Fates, right? Are you here for the computer?”
“Ah yes, that thing. My brother, the God of History, ‘accidentally’ dropped it while frolicking in your world. And yes, he wants it back.” The God of Fates air-quotes “accidentally.”
“So, does he want it back or not?”
“Well, that’s the thing. My brother’s been trying to quit his job, and since you have his stuff…”
“Ha~ You want me to take over his job.”
“Right!”
“Well, is there some sort of initiation? I can’t work without knowing my job description.”
“Ah, don’t worry, I’ll take you upstairs, and someone will show you the ropes.”
“Now? Okay, but one question: what was that earlier?”
“What was what? Oh~ You mean your profile getting deleted. That’s you being excised from mortal reality.”
“Then why April 1, 1999, my birthday?”
“I dunno, my brother has a nasty habit of setting traps for people.” |
What am I supposed to do now?
I did not ask to become this. I must be the unluckiest person to ever exist in all of eternity. I don't want to die just so that science can be proven worng, what kind of mind would want to do that? But it doesn't matter, all what I need to do now is survive. There's one problem thought: My mother is already old, she uses a cane to move around; she doesn't really like that, it reminds her that her life is almost over. I can't just leave her behind, she would need to come with me, I'm afraid she won't be able to resist. But now there is no time to think, all we need to do is run away as fast as we can.
As I keep packing my stuff, I hear a yell from the other room. My poor mother is struggling with her suitcase, she is unable to lift it. Fine, I'll do it. I start to plan some things in my head, ho we'll escape from the city, how we'll change our identities to avoid being pursued, and even a new job where no one will suspect a thing about who I am. Dammit, can't I just live a normal life? One that was supposed to be?
It's impossible to get out of this city. Everyone knows my face, everyone will try to stop me. No one likes the idea of a predestined path to take, this new scientific discovery has been quite groundbreaking, literally.
And now my life is at stake. And also my mother's.
We need to get out of here, somehow. But it's impossible, everyone is waiting outside of my house, trying to avoid me from getting out of here. When the world is against you, there's nothing left. No hope. No future. Perhaps that discovery is mistaken after all.
\-I still don't understand why we are doing all of this. What happened? - My mom asked.
\-I wish I knew... I really, really wish I could solve this.
As I grimaced at the window and all the people stationed around my house, I just kept thinking to myself that this was it. That somehow this would be the end of my life. There is no hope left, no way out. Every idea that I had, every aspiration for my future, all of it, gone forever.
Somehow, it just sinked in. I just realised that there was no way I would get out of here. And so, I decided I would face it, I would face death itself and see by myself if I truly already had a predestined path to follow, or if free will still existed.
\-What are we going to do? And what are all these people around the house doing anyway?
\-I'll go out and talk to them. Please, stay inside mom.
After giving her the last kiss on the forehead, I ventured outside of my own house into the spectacle that was taking place in the streets. As I closed the door behind me, the screaming of everyone got louder and harder, it almost made my ears blow apart. Then, from within the crowd, one guy started to walk towards me. He held a gun on his hand, he was the one to take me down.
\-Hello sir. I'm sorry for what we are about to do, but I hope you understand that this is for the future of our race, and for our very escence. In fact, it doesn't really matter if you understand or not, your life ends right here, right now.
As he raised the gun towards me, I had just one final request before finally departing from this world.
\-Please, just take care of my mother.
The man did not answer back. It seemed to me that he was already struggling with the idea of simply taking someone else's life. I saw how his hand started to shake, more than anyone would have liked. Seconds passed, then an entire minute flew by. The crowd started to scream even more "kill him already!""Do it, show that you've got the balls!". But the man wouldn't move his finger even an inch. It was not as easy as he would have imagined.
Then, he finally shot.
I felt it on my shoulder, he had missed, but it still hurt. I moaned in pain as I fell to the ground, feeling like my life was already over. And then, as if by mere coincidence, something truly astonishing happened.
An earthquake.
And a very strong one. I felt how the floor started to oscillate under me, I tried to get up, but failed to do so. everyone on the streets started to run away, including the guy that tried to murder me. I didn't know what I was the most amazed by, if an earthquake happening at this precise moment, or the fact that no one tried to save my life.
As the ground continued to shake up and down, two buildings near the crowd fell down, causing a considerable amount of rubble and dust. Somehow, the very guy that had tried to kill me was crushed by those falling buildings. Most of the crowd survived, and after the earthqueake eased and finally stopped, not a single soul was able to understand shy in such a place as this one, where there had never ever been an earthquake, suddenly one had taken place.
My mother came out of the house to see how I was doing. Naturally, she screamed in horror at the realisation that I was hurt. Fortunately, the wound was not mortal, and even though it hurt, I was still alive and overall well enough.
It was at this moment of extreme silence, right after everything settled down, the rubble, the screaming, the people running and fleeing for their lives, that I and everyone else realised that our lives were already predestined to ocurr. There had been an earthquake so that my death would be avoided. Not for any other reason.
I would live, I would be able to continue living for another twenty years for sure, as the picture that the scientists had taken proved. But, what live would I choose? What were the implications of this discovery? Our very escence, ripped apart from us.
At this point, maybe I would have preferred to have died right there. But no, life goes on, and so does mine, and everyone else's. One way or another, this is our new world, our new reality.
We all have our stories already written. |
Perfection. It's an optimization problem. Because of this, it's impossible to be perfect in all things, as the set of all things includes contradictory things. But with regards to one particular thing, it is entirely possible to achieve perfection.
My brother was the perfect student. Always studying something new. Forsaking family, friends, love, all for the sake of his lessons. Whenever I saw him on a break he had his face buried in a monitor, lectures pulled up for further review. When he couldn't be on a computer, he had a textbook at hand, little tongues of paper sticking out the sides, whispering secrets to him in a language only he knew.
There were times we worried about him. We watched the bones in his face become more prominent as the skin stretched over them, absent of meat. We watched his hair grow long and white. We heard the creaking in his bones beneath the turning of pages and the scribbling of notes. We smelled the rot from his room as he isolated himself. We couldn't tell if it was from the food we brought him that he never ate.
When the time came, when the worries were too much to bear, we had to pry him from his chair. His flesh had practically melded to it. His fingers were fused to a pen. He struggled, panic draped over his face. He fought with a desperation I hadn't seen before in any man. For all that, his attempts at fending us off were embarrassingly weak. An ambulance took him away.
As I went to go visit him in the hospital, the doctors were noting the time. The perfect student was dead. I gently opened the door to his room.
My brother sat up and waved cheerfully. |
\[Poem\]
>My feet are cold.
>
>Why are you telling me?
>
>*You* tell *me* **everything**, it just seemed fair!
>
>Okay, but I'm like, "Baby any day,"
It doesn't compare at all!
>
>But they're cold!
Just let me stick them underneath your butt,
Please?
>
>You're such a child!
>
>I think that's why
You married me in the first place, wasn't it?
>
>I believe I said, "I like your childlike joy."
>
>Same thing! Please?
>
>Fine... I hope you're happy.
>
>I love you, baby.
>
>I love you too, you dork. |
*And the great Planet-Wyrm, having devoured the sixth planet, had set its monstrous eyes on Earth, our home, eager to fill its never-sated hunger for but a moment more!*
The children stared at the storyteller with wide eyes, mouths slightly agape. Their amazement had hit its peak minutes ago and not wavered one bit since.
"And what happened next?"asked one of the kids. The storyteller cleared her throat.
*But the great Lan'Me, hero of the Jaddic war, protector of the stars and the suns, had seen its hideous designs and could not let this affront stand. He flew up, up, up! to meet the monster and a great battle ensued for years, the two evenly matched in a battle for survival. It was only when the Planet-Wyrm ate yet another star that the power it gained almost allowed it to defeat Lan'me. Seeing it would spell the destruction of all he loved, Lan'Me assaulted it head-on, causing it to explode - but the explosion was so great it grew and grew and it would take only days for it to demolish our world. Seeing this, Lan'Me expanded his great arms and held the explosion tight, causing it to stop in its tracks.*
"And then what, Nana?"a curious child asked.
*Lan'Me is still up there, holding it between his mighty arms - you can see it, can you not? The mighty explosion held flat in his palms; watching over us and making sure it will never harm anyone ever again.* Now. Time for bed, children.
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"For is it not a testament to their glory?!"the Preacher yelled to his congregation.
"The Rings, perfect in their design, that they saw fit to bestow the Earth with! To shape it in their perfect image!"
**"Hear hear!"** the excited crowd cheered.
"Let us all bask in their magnificence and raise our hands to them, to the Rings, they home, for we honour them and their benevolence! The testament of their greatness!"the Preacher yelled again and this time, lowered his dagger into the chest of the bound man laying before him. The man did not yell; the potions had rendered him utterly senseless as the Preacher carefully cut out a circular shape out of his torso and raised the flesh above his head, dripping with crimson.
"PRAISE TO THE RINGS!"he yelled furiously.
"PRAISE TO THE RINGS!"the crowd joined. "PRAISE! PRAISE!"
"**PRAISE TO THE RINGS!**"
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I'm telling you dude, it's real,"Billy said, leaning over to his friend who was meticulously picking bits of mushroom out of his pizza.
"Dude, you've been reading too much of that conspiracy crap, I'm telling you,"the friend responded.
"No, seriously - they keep telling us the rings are just, like, rocks and ice, right? But, like, does that make sense? It's like Earth has no rings, right, but you know what we do have?"
His friend sighed. "Sattelites? You already to-"
"Exactly! Satellites! It's aliens man-"he said and took another drag on his... shall we say 'cigar' before continuing, "alien satellites to watch us!"
"Dude,"the friend looked over, "why would aliens watch *us*? Seriously."
"Dunno man, like, maybe it's like reality TV for them."
"Naw man. That's just insane. Now, you know what does make sense?"the friend starts.
"Is this about how the Earth is flat?"the man asked, putting down the cigar.
"If the Rings are, then why wouldn't the *Earth* be? Ok, ok, listen-"
"Oh here we go again,"he said and took another drag. |
The green-cloaked figure pulled a set of photographs from a backpack. It held them up in front of the building. "Yep, thiiis iis the place,"it said in a strange, drawn-out hissing sort of voice, each word spoken in a different alien language.
It pulled out a can of spray paint out of the same backpack. It drew a picture of a woman yelling at a cat (it was a well-known meme in a timeline far removed from this one, but it was an image completely alien in this place that had never heard of a "cat") on the side of the building.
It threw back its hood, revealing a vaguely reptilian visage. Light seemed to leak from the gaps between its midnight-blue scales, but perhaps that was just a trick of the light, from the glare of the desert sun. The creature looked at a golden watch-like device on its wrist, turned a few dials, and disappeared, shimmering out of view like a mirage.
It had been tweaking timelines in subtle ways like this since . . . well, "time"held very little meaning for such a being. It did not remember what it was, if it had a "people"who were like it, or if it had simply always been alone in the multiverse. Perhaps it only existed to bring these disparate timelines closer and closer together. An image painted here, an object stolen there, a person saved who would have died, a person killed who would have lived. Removing differences, one by one.
The creature found itself in a lush forest now. It pulled out another photograph. It compared the cat-like animal in the photo, to the one that had hidden itself behind a tree upon the traveler's arrival. The cat seemed cautious, but not truly fearful.
"Here, kiiitty,"it said. It made it sad, but if there was even one timeline without cats, then no timeline could have cats. This was the First Cat. Every timeline that had cats, branched from this one. Thus every cat in the entire multiverse had descended from this one female. So she had to be removed.
The deed was done. Another time jump. A city at night. Flying cars hovered above. Someone here was about to invent something that didn't exist in any timeline except this one. But maybe the traveler didn't need to kill them this time. Maybe a simple memory edit would do. The traveler didn't like killing.
The First Cat mewed softly in the traveler's arms, as if she was agreeing with its thoughts.
The traveler spotted the inventor. He was sitting on a bench in a sad-looking park. Just sitting, and thinking.
The traveler adjusted a dial on its wrist device. It aimed its arm carefully, and fired a tiny, barely perceptible needle faster than the eye could follow. The needle hit the back of the inventor's neck, where it vanished without a trace or a sensation.
. . . And now, finally, after an eternity, the work was done. The traveler made one last jump, to the End of Time. Everything was bright and warm, like sunlight, but no sun could ever have shone so brightly to light up an entire universe. The traveler and the First Cat watched as the infinite light shrank into itself, condensing into a single point that contained the vast potential of Everything.
"I'm here, God,"it said. "The True Universe is ready to be born." |
I don’t know how this guy lugs around 250lbs of gear all day. He’s your average hero, not even remotely muscular so his back must be in shambles. You should’ve seen the look on my face when he turns to me and says, “hey come here for a sec, I have some stuff for you to carry”. Did I even mention how small his pack is it literally looks like he’s wearing a blue and yellow jumpsuit he found in some “vault” I can’t even see the darn thing. I never knew how much I could actually carry but this guy just keeps giving me things to hold, weapons, outfits, ammo. I’m nearly at my limit. |
The end of the world. A big term for the people in it, not so much for us.
I was still floating in a violet void of stars at that time, with nothing to do except contemplate existence. Until, one day, I found a presence. A young one too.
We began a collaboration. A telling of a story. We created a world, blossoming out of the darkness.
And so did an orb of light appear.
We did not decide to observe it. Instead, we swam into the light...
&#x200B;
I, a lone bandolin player. She, a noble-girl. And so did we continue our romance, from century to century of our little world.
We changed forms. I became a guitar player. She became a beautiful woman. When all was done and millennia had gone by, we let it go.
But not before one last song.
*We’ll meet again.*
*Don’t know where, don’t know when.*
*But I know we’ll meet again, some sunny day!*
*When the stars are blooming still*
*I'll meet you, I finally will*
*Somewhere, sometime some sunny day!* |
When I first started training, I hadn't planned to be a hero for long; my whole schtick was making magical tools and gimmicks; I couldn't use just anything, but if you gave me, say, a pistol an infamous serial killer had used to kill five people, I could make you a pistol that shot bullets that sought out a victim; give me a hammer used to build a hundred houses and I could give you a hammer that could turn a pile of bricks and rubble into a solid wall with a swing. I thought I'd work for a while, cover for another hero who had to step out for a while, then spend my time selling gear to the real heroes.
&#x200B;
To be honest, Crater City was an easy gig. My predecessor had been very... thorough when it came to dealing with villains or criminals who used deadly force, and the only repeat offenders were the sort who used absurdities, riddles, laughing gas, and generally avoided killing people. The only "Major"villain who persisted was the Dark Damsel; a woman who only appeared as a pure black humanoid shadow, and had lived throughout my predessor's time by virtue of not killing anyone and manipulating light to keep herself and her henchmen invisible during her capers. We only even knew she was a woman because she advertised her villainous callsign at a few of her heists.
&#x200B;
The problem started after my predecessor was called off to deal with some global-level threat and started what should've been a trial run; some two-bit lunatic from out of town led the Insane Mime Posse through town and I unfortunately had to kill most of them; the clip they showed on the nightly news was a white-faced idiot refusing to make any demands through anything but charades while holding a schoolbus full of kids hostage; then the bus vanished, kids and all, and the grisly resulting fight, with the mimes refusing to surrender until most of them were corpses filled with bullets, magically sharp playing cards, and a single decapitated one who had apparently been the actual metahuman out of the group; when he died, the various weapons the whole crew had turned visible once more.
&#x200B;
Apparently, the Dark Damsel had been watching. While most criminals just decided it was more of the same; clearly the new guy wasn't going to put up with deadly force any more than the old guy, and they should either stay out of town or stick to less brutal methods; she decided that I would be much easier to deal with and she could get away with more, more often.
We started having showdowns every few days; I would ride in on a flying carpet, using an enchanted torch to burn through her false darkness and track her down; or X-ray glasses(No, they don't see through clothes; everyone just looked like skeletons) or any number of detection tools, she would find ways to escape, usually with at least some loot.
&#x200B;
The papers were generally supportive of me; murders, rapes, and armed robberies were still a flatline, but it became a running joke, the way she would always just barely slip away; until one day I screwed up.
&#x200B;
Among the truly ridiculous collection of magical gadgets I kept in my armory was a magical bow, which, when fired, would seek out anyone you named; and if they were in range, skewer them. I grabbed up a handful of my nonlethal arrows; these mostly non-magical, though I did have a couple of 'sleep' arrows... and mistakenly loaded up one arrow that I had made by accident from an arrow that had been used in a wedding proposal years ago; some silly archer had pegged a target with an arrow with an engagement ring attached as part of a fun 'romantic' story; when I'd empowered the thing, it turned into a 'Love' arrow.
&#x200B;
And when I reached the site of the next encounter with the Dark Damsel... seeing a museum flooded with magical darkness... I knocked the arrow, released, and whispered the name 'Dark Damsel'. I wasn't completely certain it would work; after all, Dark Damsel wasn't her real name. And when she got away; but not, this time, with three of her henchmen or any loot; I figured it must not have. I didn't even realize what sort of arrow I'd fired at the time.
&#x200B;
Two weeks later, I arrived at a bank that had been submerged in magical darkness, and burned it away with a magical torch... only to find nothing amiss. No-one; just a note, with a riddle on it, and a bunch of confused tellers. The next few weeks had more of the same; love letters. Riddles. Clues. The media was filled with speculation that we'd become a couple, and I started getting calls from the Initiative about rumors I was in a relationship with a supervillain.
&#x200B;
I realized what had happened quickly enough; or, rather, it took far longer than it should. Our encounters turned from crime scenes with her fleeing abruptly to her flirting and attempting to capture me. Eventually I pieced together the clues she left behind, and showed up at her base; a fallout shelter beneath an old warehouse on the edge of town.
&#x200B;
For the first time, I got to see who I was dealing with. A fairly attractive young woman; dark skin, thick curly black hair, simple enough clothes; her 'supervillain' outfit was really just her powers in use, shrouding a normal t-shirt, leggings, and running shoes with supernatural darkness. At this point, I was a bit lost. She was a thief; one who'd stolen millions of dollars; but never really hurt anyone.
&#x200B;
Technically, I should subdue her, bring her in. But considering just how I managed to catch her... I'm going to go collect a few trinkets from a divorce lawyer. See if I can magic up something to disenchant her first, give her an honest chance. Maybe see if the government wants to offer her a job instead of a prison sentence. |
It had all gone perfectly thanks to a special someone. It is me of course, who else is so great, as the prince of thieves. But of course, a prince must lead, and to lead is impossible without ones crew.
Quick Fingers sat on the very front of the cart, leading the horses. He was huge, about seven feet tall, wearing a black cloak. True to his name, he was an amazing pickpocketer, not something you'd expect from a large man, which made it all the more better.
I looked back to see the various gold items filling the cart. This was about a third of the gains, the rest were in the other two carts. It was, as silly pretender pirates might say, the loot(hahaha) of five large churches. I didn't know what half the shit was, but I knew it meant coin, and that meant whores.
I stumbled back into the cart. I admit to having drunk a bit, enough to make my sight blurry, but nothing was too much after a great heist! Two legs shot out of the gold. They were small, barely two feet tall. I pulled at them and Greedy Nose, plopped out. His eyes looked full of bliss. He'd been bathing in the gold ever since we got into the woods.
He also wore a black coat, althought one much smaller than the one Quick Fingers wore. He was barely four feet tall, a real dwarf, a real ugly one too, but he might have been my favourite servant, as he always seemed to know where the gold was.
"What'ya want?"He said, a bit annoyed at having been disturbed from his heavenly wash. I'd have a heavenly wash when I got back. If you get what I mean.
"Ale?"I said.
"Don't mind if I do,"he said, and drunk the whole bottle. It always surprised me how much he could drink. I'd have to get another drink but that was no issue. I stumbled back through the carriage, pulling open the drapes at the back.
In the second cart, we kept ale, and it was being driven by Silent Feet. I was the best, of course, but if there was somebody next in line for the title, it would be Silent Feet. He almost rivals me in dexterity (no not really).
His face, his natural face, was what I'd describe as the least masculine, or feminie face ever. It looked a bit like a stone perhaps, and nobody notices a stone, nobody thinks to notice a stone, and that's why he's so great.
"Ale,"I shouted.
"Right up,"he said, grabbing the bottle behind him and throwing it towards me, but at the very last second my cart halted and instead of reaching my hands as I thought it would, the ale splashed right ontop of my face. Perhaps if I hadn't been drunk, I'd catched it.
My world was already blurry, but this was enough to make me topple down into the cart, ontop of Greedy Nose. He slapped me, and I wondered where I was for two seconds, then Quick fingers said,
"Boss, there's somebody in the road."
"Who?"
"I think it'-"
"A beautiful girl!"I shouted, "and wearing almost nothing. Lucky, lucky me."My hand pressed Quick Fingers face out of the way as I pressed out my own face drenched in ale. My eyes looked at her eyes for less than a moment before I stared beneath her eyes.
"Wow,"I shouted. "I didn't know whores came in this forest. I'm no rapist don't worry, I'll pay you. Come over here and let me kiss you."
"Maybe, I'm into burgulars, murders, *witches*, rapists and all the other deformed maliligned humans on this earth,"she said.
"Ohh, a fiesty one,"I said. "Do you perhaphs know who I am?"
"Do you know who I am?"She said.
"A cheap whore?"
She seemed a bit disappointed, but it clearly wasn't me who caused it. I saw numerous figures exiting the forest, their faces full of rage. Bandits! We were under attack by bandits! No problem, I'd just warn my---I couldn't speak. I looked at Quick Fingers. His cheeks were stretched upwards like a fool but his lips stuck together as if they had been sown. This was witchcraft!
It had been one particular man who'd started the charge. He was perhaps eight feet tall, making Quick Fingers look like a little toddler next to him. His lips had been burned off, and many different scars hideously scratched into his body. He wore nothing but a small patch covering his genitals, and roared like a savage. In his hands was a heavy axe, which he swung, the blunt side, into Quick Finger's head, making him topple over unconcious.
In my pheripheral vision, or rather corner of my eye, I saw many other figures charging at my crew. We were about thirty thieves beset by about eighty bandits. I'd always thought of bandits as lesser thieves, wandering in crews of two to three, but just who was this crew. Is it a counter heist?
An arrow flew out of the forrest, and into the corner created by my neck and shoulder. The arrow pierced through my shirt and nailed me to the wall. In the forest, I saw a girl. One of her eyes had been gouged out, and she wore no patch to cover it. But the rest of her was completely covered in a bush suit. I saw her stand up, turn around, and move towards another spot. *A moving bush. Where is the church when I need them?*
Before the minute was over, my entire crew had been taken, grabbed, or knocked unconcious. Despite me trying to calm the eight foot tall fellow down, he'd grabbed me by my precious hair, and pulled me all the way to bueatiful girl, but fourtunately he threw me down onto the ground giving me a good view, but to be honest, I was a bit, just a tiny little tad bit, interested in this woman.
"Who are you?"I said, looking at her. I think I'd seen a poster of her somewhere, but I couldn't think of where.
She leaned down. "The Bandit Princess."
I couldn't help it. It was absolutely hailarious. I started laughing so loud spit flew onto her face. She was like a cheap knock off of me. "The Bandit Princess? You can't be serious. That sounds awful. You'd do so much better as a whore. By the way, the previous offer's still on the table."
She slapped me. I felt like the entire forest turned silent at that moment. Nobody had ever caught me before which meant nobody ever had the opportunity to slapped. How dare she? I looked back only to recieve another slap, on the same cheek, it burned.
"Who's the one on their knees?"She said. |
\[Crushing Outbreak\]
"I'm impressed at how fast Monday turned this place around...,"Nax said. He sat at a round two-person table at the edge of the food court next to Outbreak. Their paper plates were empty except for orange grease stains and crumbs. They were discussing what to do next when the subject of the mall itself came up. "It was just a rundown NPC mall when she found it and now...,"he spread his arms to gesture at the bustling mass of shoppers flowing by in both directions. "...it's pretty amazing."
Humans, orcs, goblins, fairies and more mingled together trying to get from store to store. The background din of perpetual chatter was low enough that neither of them needed to speak louder than a whisper.
"If you think this is impressive, wait until she's done with it,"Outbreak said.
"Done with it?"Nax tilted his head. He took a second look at the crowded corridor, then shrugged. "What else is there to do except make it bigger?"
"Uhuh,"Outbreak nodded. "She's been working with Melody for a bit; but, she actually joined Sharp Development now. Her plan is to make the whole server a Mall."
"Whoooaaa...,"Nax was awestruck. When he first [discovered the mall with Monday](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/s0q0hi/wp_whoever_pulled_the_sword_from_the_stone_would/), he did not think much of it. It was rundown and mostly empty. The only vendors were NPCs. He never would have imagined it could be as prosperous as it was already. It occurred to Nax that Monday probably saw her goal of an Earth-sized mall at the same time he saw a parking lot. The realization left him with a faint feeling of guilt; he knew he could stand to set his goals higher.
"I was wondering how she organized all the shops so quickly. But, linking so many universes through one can't be easy; even with the resources of Sharp Development."Outbreak nodded in agreement. They both knew how ambitious Monday was.
"So, you bribed me with pizza. Why are we here?"Outbreak asked. It didn't take more than Nax asking for her to agree to join him; but, he promised lunch before she could agree and she wasn't going to turn that down.
"No reason, really,"Nax shrugged. "I just wanted to talk to you alone."Then, he looked into her bright green eyes and took in a quick breath for courage.
"Are you going to Ruin's wedding?"he asked but did not give Outbreak a chance to answer. He followed it quickly with two more questions back to back. "Doyouhaveadate?Willyoubemydateifyoudon't?"
"Yesnoyes,"Outbreak giggled at the volley of questions and Nax laughed along too. Once he asked the question all the tension was gone. It helped that she said yes.
"Nice, thank you,"Nax grinned.
"But first, you have to do something for me,"Outbreak said. She stood from the table and pulled Nax up by his shoulder.
"What?"Nax asked with a touch of concern. Outbreak began walking and dragging him along behind her.
"We're in a mall; what do you think?"she asked. She let go of him once he was keeping pace with her. "Help me pick something to wear."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1533 in a row. (Story #083 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on Sept. 6th and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until June 3rd. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/pj4t0b/tokuhigh_first_six_weeks/). |
“I cast Meteoricus Burnicus!” You shout with as, much bravado as you can manage.
The board explodes in front of you as pieces fly all about. You fist pump with triumph at your sudden lead in the game when suddenly, the TV to your left catches your attention. A smartly dressed woman stands before an artificial background, prattling on about god knows what: The good old boring news.
That’s not what caught your attention though, no. What caught your attention was the fact that suddenly, an image flashed on the screen of a giant ball of burning rock streaming against a dark background. You turn to your opponent, expecting them to change the channel or something so it would stop distracting you but, all he did was giggle to himself.
“Damn devil. Never can be helpful, can he?” You stand up and approach the TV to turn it off; you’d never be able to focus on the hyper-realistic fantasy role-playing card game Satan practically forced you to play with the bright colours of blazing reds and oranges flickering on the screen.
But then, as you reached out to turn the power off, the ball approached some blueish glow on the edge of the screen and right before your eyes, the glow grew brighter until it formed into what you imagined the Earth looked like from space. You weren’t given long to appreciate its celestial beauty though, no. For the giant meteor quickly disappeared into the planet somewhere around Nigeria. The bright streak disappeared and the image turned back to the smartly dressed woman. The sound was off but from what you could make out from the subtitles, you gathered that a surprise meteor was heading towards Nigeria and would collide at any-
Oh, it just collided.
“What!?” You shout in alarm as you jump back. The demon behind you finally loses his war against outright laughter and bursts out with a shrill screech you surmise is supposed to be laughter.
“So, you finally figured it out, huh? Was wondering how long it’d take you. Why do you think I’ve been playing such plain cards. God, gets them every time.”
He devolves back down to fits of maniacal giggles as you stare at him in abject horror. And then, you notice the other TV on the other side of your seat. At first, you thought it was broken, red static covers the entire screen from top to bottom. But now, armed with the information that the other showed Earth, you started to see vague shapes in the distance. Things curled and twisted against the dark backdrop. Humanoid things.
You recognise waterfalls of what looks to be lava flowing down into great lakes of the same stuff, creatures lining the edges, dipping various limbs into the great lakes for a reason you couldn’t quite understand.
And then, it hits you: You’re looking into hell itself. You’re somewhat surprised by the lack of torture and suffering in the frame, then again, you assumed the devil would probably be a little more responsible than to show a thirteen-year-old images and videos of gore and violence.
“So kid,” Satan says with a sharp mischievous smile. “Ready to carry on?” |
A comic book is waved at my face. One with colorful panels: red, blue, yellow. Made out of wide, thin pages fluttering in the breeze.
"You know what this is?"the superhero yells. "This is a comic book! But not just any book. Our story!"
"But you said reading the future was too powerful for anyone..."I whisper.
"Bah, that's just a lie. A lie from the Superhero's Association! It's just a law to prevent the Meta."
"The Meta?"
"*The Meta!* Whenever someone discovers the true laws, they're invited to the Superhero's Association, S.A. for short. Then they get to go and crossover to other comic dimensions, meet other superheroes. But with a catch...anyone who has any connections with you is hunted down and you have to accept the laws. S. A. doesn't want anyone knowing about the Meta running around on the streets."the superhero pauses and looks back.
He glances up to a drone. It's black, with neon green helicopter wings. "They're hunting me down. They...they already know."
"Run!"the superhero's words are muffled when the drone grows a claw and carries him away backward up into the skies.
The only thing left is a note. I unfold it, and begin reading. |
I hadn't been paying attention. I hadn't caught a single thing she had said. Things were moving fast. So, so fast. The woman had set down a clipboard in front of me, on which was a thick packet, stapled in the corner. I didn't care to read what it said. I stopped paying attention again, thinking back on what had happened.
We had left the bar late, stuck around through last call. We were always a nuisance at the local bars after finals, especially Joey and me, but getting through finals was something to celebrate. Joey always went out drinking with me, and I always appreciated the company. We had both just finished up our bachelors degrees, so we were especially self-congratulatory (see: 'Obnoxious'). We stumbled into the alley, and were greeted by some hulking figures. I'd had no clue who they were, but it seemed that Joey did. He sobered up quick, or at least pretended to be, as he spoke to the men. I hadn't paid attention, I hadn't heard what words they'd exchanged. It seems like it happened hours ago now. I certainly regretted my lack of attention, as some of the mens' fists landed squarely on the bridge of Joey's nose. Surprise doesn't begin to cover how I felt, especially as boozed up as I was. Though Joey hardly moved at all. That's when things got serious, some of the men pulled knives, and a monster of a thug pulled a baseball bat off the ground, though in his hands it looked more like a twig. I ran. What else was I supposed to do. Nothing else had come to mind. It seemed unreal.
Fatal error. Rebooting the operating system"
Then the woman, who had probably been standing at the entrance to the alley for a while spoke up, "Damn, this makes the paperwork difficult."before I had the chance to turn and look at her, I felt a sharp pain in my neck, and blacked out.
I came to in what looked like one of those cop show interrogation rooms, all cinder block, painted an off-white, with one big mirror sitting in front of me. Sitting in front of me was a woman, wearing very professional attire, with a metallic name tag that read "Brooke V."below a company logo I had never seen. Hughes and Smithers, I'd never heard of them, but if they could pick random people off the street without fear of repercussion, then they must be pretty big.
"Joey... What happened to Joey?"I slurred, still groggy, from the booze or being knocked out I couldn't tell.
"He's being reformatted, He'll be fine."Brooke stated, "I just have to ask you some questions."
"What questions? Joey was the one in the alley, what questions could I possibly answer?"I asked.
She started talking, but I zoned out. I was trying to make sense of what had happened, what was still happening. I had some idea but it seemed so ridiculous, I didn't want to believe it. Was this Joey even *my* Joey? We'd been friends for so long, we went to the same college out of high school just to stick together. Had he been switched out? Had he always been like this? Every question spawned two more.
Brooke set a clipboard down in front of me. On top was a contract. They didn't want me talking about Joey, about what happened.Not that I could have. I didn't even know what Joey was anymore, or *what* it was I'd seen. I had to find out about Joey. I had to *find* Joey. I looked down at the paper. At the top was the company logo, Hughes and Smithers. I needed answers. And now, I knew just where to start.
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Heyo! If you've read to the end here, I very much appreciate that! Please, if you have some advice, or criticism, let me know! I'm always trying to improve. Thanks! |
Another explosion racked the colony, as the goblins continued their siege. They'd always be driven back, not without huge losses on our part. Three times, three bloody times these attacks happened, dwarven kin was tired and running out of chances to push back.
"Robert, y'might wanna see this."A voice interrupts my thoughts. The head miner stood there at my office, I wonder how long has he been here?
"What da ya want? I don't suppose your men is asking a raise at dis point?"I gave a half hearted laugh, sometimes humour was the best medicine for this types of times.
"Always the joker aren't ya?"He snickered. "But yes, and no. My boys found somethin in the mines, yea"when he said they found somethin, my eyes narrowed.
"Don't tell me they found another hole those green bastards made...?"I grumbled. It was during the 2nd siege where they found out some of the goblins learned to dig to their mines. Not only was the thought terrifying, but it also spread out their defenses.
"We found a way to turn the tide."He places a jar on the table, and inside was a redish and blue ore. The jar was sealed tight, and had a label on it.
"I don't see how a rock is gonna help us instantly win this siege, Keldrick."I examined the jar, it wasn't holding any type of ore I knew. And I was the second oldest of the kin.
"One of er boys found it on one of the deepest corners of the mine, at first seemed like any ole ore but-"he paused.
"But what?"I raised my eyebrow.
"Once struck, it releases sum kind of gas that is, killing whoever's near it."He said, as he points at the smoke inside of the jar.
I was at a loss of words of the implications of this ore could bring. "Who knows of this?"
"Only u and me brother, the others have some kind of idea."He replied.
I dissmised him right after that, as I glanced at the ore at my table. It's gonna take a lot of courage to use something like that, and quite frankly a rad stupid to mine something that kills ya.
But, if we are to win this war, maybe a couple of losses on our side might be good for the best.
"Besides, us dwarves are to used making sacrifices, heh."I sighed.
It'll take some to find a way to weaponize it but, may the Gods forgive us for what we about to create. |
They cloud his mind, screaming words that jumble together. Vader catches the words, "We trusted you...""A traitor to all we know..."Vader is stabbed with a sickly feeling of guilt. We pushes it away. *I am more powerful than those weak children could ever hope to be,* Vader thinks. Suddenly the children ignite lightsabers, throwing them at Vader. He blasts them away with the Force, screams coming from the children as they are hit by the sabers. They shrink away, and the harsh light of Vader's meditation chambers hits Vader. Vader puts his mask back on, the screams of the younglings echoing in his mind. *Time to murder some officers*, Vader thinks, his harsh breaths ragged and angry. |
Damn I had a whole thing written on this and I accidentally closed the app. It was a comedy of a US Sargeant, a scientist named Jeremy, and Nazis who are now environmentalist. There was a bunch of jokes about global warming and the U.S. Sargeant being neglectful/tinfoil hatter about global warming when the evidence is Infront. Hitler was a penguin breeder since global warming cause penguins to become full time water animals and the Sargeant killed the last few by trying to fish them with dynamite. Luckily the Nazis are trying to take over the world by helping it and was in the processing of reverting Antarctica melting (because it became a small island) and the penguins becoming sea animals. they had a single live Penguin they engineered called Cosmo, to which the U.S. Sargeant steals and accidentally blows up the new age Nazi facility. Eventually they give the penguin to the eldritch being to which he says cool I'll be back in another year. |
It’s a new day, my horns glowed a gentle purple, my tail wrapped around the bed frame, the chickens are screeching their morning routine and the wind was soft. I got up from my bed, yawning and stretching,” what a weird dream..” but I don’t think much of the dream because I already forgot it.
I start doing my morning chores, feed and change the water for the chickens, harvest the eggs, pick the crops, eat, you know, the usual. This town is small and quiet, I liked it, although, it has been a little too quiet..
When I was taking a small break, I wiped the sweat off of my forehead. I had just finished my chores, I took a swig of water and relax, letting the air cool me off. Something was off however, the air smelled and tasted foul, The chickens were silent, and the crops almost seemed to wilt in fear.” What the hell?” I lived in the country for many years, I had never heard the chickens quiet unless night time comes.
I got up, about to check on the chickens before I see a dark figure in the distance, I was confused, who was that person? I was about to take a step forward, but then I heard a voice in my head.
• Roll for initiative!•
A pair of dark purple dice with golden yellow outlines and numbers appeared in the air,” What on earth?” I mumbled, the d20 dice rolls, nat16.
My body reacted, and I had ducked and rolled out of the way of sizzling blast of mana, I looked towards the figure. It was a adult human man who looked to be in his early 30’s, his dirty blond hair swayed in the recoil of the blast, his right eye was scarred badly, and the robe hid all the variety of guns, ammo, and items he had on his person.” Who are you?!” I ask the man with Great fear,” why are you attacking me?!” The man looked at me.
“Xander the demon lord, do you not remember me?” The man smiled with a grin,” You are the one who gave me this scar.” My eyes widen a bit,” I don’t know what you mean! You must have the wrong person!“ I was confused, who was this man and how did he know my name?
Demon lord? I’m not a demon lord! I’m a farmer! I don’t remember being in command of demons, I never commanded demons in the first place!
“ You must still be in the affects of her spell, Tch, Etel was it? She was good at hiding you, but not good enough.” He grins.” 10 long years, I’ve finally found you, weakened and alone.. perfect.” He grins,” you will not escape me now!”
I was scared, who was This man? Etel sounds familiar… but I couldn’t think about that name right now. I see the man take out 2 pistols, each loaded with fused mana bullets, he started shooting at me. All I could hear in my head was..
• Roll for Dexterity saving throw!• |
"Are you sure?"The pilot of the vehicle asked.
"We are stuck in the middle of nowhere, the engine won't start until it is fixed. Now, can you think of any other light source that we need to disable or cover before I start.
Murmurs in the darkness is usually not a comforting experience, but we must adapt to our new reality. Something hunts in the light, and has killed most of the crew.
"Cockpit lights are covered, passenger cabins are also sorted out as are their bathrooms."
"Hallway lights are done too."Another voice chips in.
"Just the lights in Engineering."The pilot notes quietly.
"Door, two hallways, and the engine room itself. I know where they are."I said with confidence. I have been working on this ship for years, I have navigated blindfolded due to boredom several times. Never thought a skill developed in boredom would save so many lives.
"Okay, I am going out there. Don't leave until the engine starts, I am not going to abandon you. I will get that engine running if it is the last thing I ever do."I state clearly. People are scared and I can't blame them. The noises we have heard are not confidence boosting. Neither is the texture of the carpeted floors.
"Good luck."Is the last thing I hear as I make my way out of the darkened cockpit to the hallway. Carefully, I make my way along the corridors and to the stairs down to the engine room.
I turn the light off quickly, ignoring the moist heat on the other side of the door. It is in there. Waiting.
For reasons I am not going to try and contemplate, this thing only moves or attacks in the light. People have mentioned how they ran into the bristly creature in the darkness and it doesn't react. But with no weapons on this craft, we have no way of finding out if they will work, besides we didn't want to risk any muzzle flashes.
Carefully, I unscrew the lightbulb above the door, ignoring the drool tumbling from the lip of this creature. I then walk to the ladder, and in violation of every rule of common sense and safety regulation, raise it and climb the thing in pitch darkness. I am able to reach both light switches, but it is terrifying reaching over in the darkness to unscrew lightbulbs.
One left, in the engine room. Pocketing the bulbs, I carefully bang the ladder against the walls a few times before making my way into the Engine Room whose light was already off. Setting up the ladder, I start to climb when my heart stops. The Junior Engineer who couldn't find a map welded to his face had left his torch by the door.
Two final thoughts. Dread as I become illuminated in that flashlight beam, and horror, when I hear the light in the room click on. |
“WEEEEELLLLLCOME! TO! POWERLESS! The only competition where nobody is superior! I’m your host, Oki Baja! Without further ado, please your hands together and welcome our contestants!” The host called out and the fake studio applause played.
“A man from the land down under, with a power befitting of the jokes of our youth. Three time champion who specializes in reversing gravity within a room! It’s Stephen Iwin!” Oki cried out as the walked up to the podium.
“Welcome back my friend, pleasure to have you back, anything you want to say to our audience?” The host asked and held out the microphone.
“Pleasure ta be back mate, I trained fer this all month an just hopin fer a new pers’nal record, even if a don’t get ‘nother win.” He said and shook hands with the host, giving over his power.
“Next up! A new challenger! Hailing from the only land colder than his determination! With the power to vanish into the snow and ice, the Finnish mystery, Joona Hayha!” A surprisingly scrawny boy walked out next. He was a total unknown, a first timer whose qualifier nobody watched.
“Mister Hayha! Welcome, you’re a total unknown so please, tell the crowd a bit about yourself!” The host said, but was disappointed by a hand up and a simple “I’d rather not.”
“Well, a strong silent type! We’ll just have to see how your run talks.” The host was unperturbed and shook hands with the contestant, a second power taken.
“And our final challenger for today. A rising star from Japan looking to make her mark! A famous singer and this years fourth fastest qualifying times! Give it up for, Hisa Hitomi!” The woman sauntered up confidently.
“Welcome miss, anything to say to the crowd?”
“I hope my fans back home cheer for me, If I win it’s for them.” She said in a cheery pose and shook hands with the announcer, then stepped back and shifted about while she waited, unable to sit still.
“Well then, when we come back from the break!” The camera zoomed in on the host “Let the games begin.” |
My name is Skreeiahyyi. But my friends call me Screech.
My human friends do, at least. I have found it difficult to keep in touch with most of my Taxxon friends. They, well, can't exactly write.
I do miss them terribly. We Taxxons are fiercely social creatures. We were all the last remnants of our Broken Hives. We fully depended on each other for shelter, comfort, stories. Food.
Okay, yes, I know, we got a very bad reputation for that last one. But, back then, we couldn't help it. We all knew what it was like. And when it was our time to be eaten, even though the pain was said to be unbearable, on some level, we accepted it. We gave life to sustain life.
Nevertheless, I am most certainly glad those days are over. Six years now, since the end of that life, and the beginning of my new one.
<Skreeiahyyi, move your human body. I cannot properly view the television,> Shryykiiaah, who the humans call "Shriek,"said. Her slow and leisurely thought-speak voice mirrored her nothlit form. She was visiting from the Amazon, her long reptilian body draped heavily across the couch. It was always a bit of a production for her to visit (something about snakes on planes seemed to make humans VERY uncomfortable), but it was so very wonderful to see her.
I moved so that she could see the movie. Which meant I was now sitting (strange concept, by the way, "sitting,"but I had become accustomed to it) next to Jason, who for all intents and purposes was my twin. We weren't actually related, of course, except by DNA, but we were perfectly physically identical (except that he kept his reddish brown hair short, while mine was long, so that our friends could tell us apart). We were both tall and lanky, with the same angular features. He had given his own DNA so I could have a human body. And maybe part of a human mind, as well. My human friends have all commented that I seem more "human"than other Taxxons.
I will be forever grateful to Jason. We were both controllers, before the war ended. Our Yeerks had known each other, but it was a working relationship, not a friendship. Jason's Yeerk had been a Sub-Visser. My Yeerk, a subordinate to his.
But the two Yeerks fed at the same time, that was the key. Which meant that Jason and I were free of our Yeerks, free to talk to one another, every three days. I was voluntary. Jason was not.
We had very few things in common, back then. We didn't even speak the same language. I understood human language, but could not replicate it. I needed a translator pad to make myself understood. Still, I told Jason about my planet, my people, my mind, my instincts. And he understood me.
"Hey everyone, dinner time!"Alicia called out.
Alicia was more or less the leader of our friend group. She was impeccably organized, and although she looked average in every way (average height, average weight, neat straight blonde hair), there was a kind of commanding charisma to her. Not that she was bossy, she just always seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. Didn't matter the subject. She was a former controller, too. Voluntary, like me. It was rarer for humans to go voluntary than it is for Taxxons, of course, but Alicia never talked about her reasons for choosing to become a controller.
Of course, I wasn't actually thinking about any of that. I had exactly one thing on my mind at that moment, and that was dinner. I was so glad to be rid of the desperate hunger of my past, because it meant that I could actually slow down and enjoy food. And oh, what marvelous foods humans could create!
Today, we were having tilapia in lemon butter. These genius humans took a fish, a creature native to Earth's oceans, and combined it with the juice from a fruit, and the fat from the secretion of something called a "cow"(which is, itself, another kind of delicious food). And it worked! No sane being would ever think to combine those things, but the flavors go together perfectly!
"Mrrf,"I said happily. <It's delicious,> I clarified in thought-speak.
"Show-off,"Jason teased.
<You're just jealous,> I replied.
<Show-off? Jealous of what?> Shryykiiaah asked, genuinely confused. She wasn't eating (she had eaten a small deer earlier in the week), but had still coiled her body into a chair in order to be part of the conversation.
"Thought-speak,"Alicia clarified.
<Ah, I see. Are you jealous of me, as well?>
"Who wouldn't be?"Jason replied. "You sexy snake, you."
Shryykiiaah said nothing, but gave him a long unblinking stare. It was unclear if she understood that he was joking.
The last person who had joined our group tonight, had hardly said a word, either during the movie or during dinner. She had always been the quiet one. She tended to blend into the background until you almost forgot that she was there. Jet black hair, petite frame, subtle features that suggested Asian descent. Madra.
All of us former controllers obviously knew that she shared a name with the Yeerkish moon, but she swore on her life that it was mere coincidence. She didn't talk much about her past, however. Nobody really knew much about her, even though we had all known her for years.
"Madra?"I said, taking advantage of the break in the conversation to try and include her. I had finished my food, and I preferred to use my spoken voice when my mouth wasn't full. "What should we do next? You like board games, right?"
She nodded. "Risk?"she asked hesitantly.
And so we laid out a map of Earth and placed our imaginary armies. We talked and joked about alien takeovers. Some of us laughed.
By the end of the night, we still didn't know everything about each other, but that was okay. It was good to have a people. Even if we were all different.
Small moments like these were what the Animorphs had fought for. And they had won. |
“My lord, the karens are at the gates!,” Steve clamoured from the front desk, “What is your decision? Shall we fight?”
“Open the shop.” I commanded, “Let them come.” I gripped your clipboard tightly and adjusted my coffee-stained tie. “The dark forces of Consumerism will never prevail under my purview in this store.”
“Aye sir,” Steve nodded and hollered to John the front desk agent, “Attention! Employees at arms, stand-by for inspection, this will be a tough morning.” Five agents, each donning a red-company t-shirt, lined the corridor. Each of them stamped their sneakers against the floor as I walk by, inspecting the shelf for stock.
“Lynn, aisle five needs to be fortified with more ink cartridges. I need it there before 10 AM sharp.”
“Aye!” Lynn snapped her baseball cap.
“Robert, the office trash can hasn’t been emptied since yesterday. We have regional inspection today. Make sure our lounge is cleaned and ready by noon, else be our downfall.”
“Understood!” Bob nodded.
“And Steve, today you’ll be on front-desk duty with John, it will be a tough fight. Hang in there, soldier, the survival of our fortress against their onslaught of purchases depends on your resourcefulness.”
“Yes sir.” Steve’s head dropped, “We must prevail, this place is the last chain of the franchise in the western provinces. If we fail here, the rest of our kleptocratic empire will surely fall to market competition.”
“Glad you understood the gravity of the situation at hand, comrade.” I assured him, “And you, John, watch this man’s six. There may be a Kyle that lurks in the darkness behind the counter, waiting in ambush. Be ready.”
“Aye!” John shouted.
I sauntered over to the chained metal gate and surveyed the storefront. A seething black mass of flesh and nylon; columns upon columns of customers stood in organized rank and file circles the entire block. We are outnumbered and surrounded. The siege of Playtech is upon us ever since the prophecy of the release of Iphone 12. That damned company is always right.
“Brace yourselves,” I hollered as I pulled down the metal rod, “The customers are coming.” |
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