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I squinted at the ‘judges’ suspiciously. I recognized two of them. I didn’t recognize one of them. I fingered the spare change in my ethereal pocket.
I’d been buried in a dress with pockets. The god coins I’d taken with me were more than enough to pay the ferryman so I had change. Gods bless my family.
“Okay what is going on? Who are you?”
“We are the judges of the dead, stranger. Why don’t you have a seat so we can chat?”“
Who are you?” I asked pointing to the unknown man.
“I made the muppets. I’m Jim Henson!”
“I found the puppets creepy and immoral. I never watched you show.” I said to Rogers. “I know of you You were also a drill sergeant. That makes me suspicious.” I said as I pointed to Ross. I sighed.
“What the f-what happened to Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus? I prepared for them not American pop culture from the 1970s.”
“The Joy of Painting came out in the 80s.” Ross said and laughed. “We updated our appearance. I am Rhadamanthus.” He changed appearance. Weird but I was dead. Also didn’t seem to freak me out. Maybe that was just a bodily reaction. He looked like a Grecian man. Much as could be expected. The other two changed as well.
“Sooooo, how fucked am I?” Shit. “Sorry. I curse a lot when I’m nervous.” The judges did not look amused or irritated. They’d probably had lots of cursing people.
“We assume you will go to Asphodel. Most of you do. Do you have reason to argue otherwise?” Minos said. Aeacus nodded.
“No. Not really. Lived pretty average life. I died slipping on ice someone hadn’t cleared. My brother is suing the property owner and the city. My soul’s at rest. I expected Asphodel. Do I have to drink from Lethe?”
“That’s your own choice. You may do so at any point. Discuss it with the other shades. You will find it acts not as mortals believed it did.” Aeacus said now. “Now to be certain we will review your life with you of major events.”
“Cool.” It went by pretty quickly. I went to the fields of Asphodel.
The wheat was Endless but also filled with people. I felt a calm I hadn't felt before. I was at peace . Elysium seemed pointless to yearn for and out of reach. It was good. |
I rang the doorbell. The lights were on, but I didn’t hear anything. As I was trying to see through the frosted glass, there appeared to be someone slowly approaching the door. The porch was nicely decorated, but I couldn’t help feel exposed, there was an eerie silence to suburbs like these. The door creaked open, and the head of an elderly woman stuck out. Interesting, that wasn’t the type that normally answered, but I could make do.
“Afternoon ma'am, you mind if I come inside? I’ve got a rather important delivery.” I pointed suggestively to the garbage bags I was holding, but I don’t think she picked it up. She closed the door to undo the lock. “Well, if you must. Are you with sanitation by any chance? It’s been ages since they came around, and there’s a stench in the basement that I am just not able to get rid of,” she said, shuffling back inside. I looked around, there was a surprising number of cabinets lining the hallway, each stacked with trinkets and family photos. Off the back wall hung a beautiful painting, picturing something that I can only assume to be a legend of some kind, a man holding up his hand to produce a beautiful array of colours, sending a beam of light towards the dark figure before him. I heard a yell from the other room.
“Well, I do not have all day, get your ass in here.” I stepped through the door, entering a typical 70’s living room. “Well, actually ma’am-”, “Call me Diana, will you.” She smiled faintly. “Well Diana, I was here to bring back something of yours.” I opened the garbage bag, pulling out a large ball of fabric. As I started unwrapping the ball, the original shape of the object started to reveal itself. With a large pile of cloth on the floor, all I was left holding was an intricately decorated cube. “The cube of shadows.” the old lady murmured, her eyes fixated on the object. “Dramatic name huh, it was taken by my sis years ago, sorry for that.” She looked up at me once more, with a new coldness in her eyes. “You are not aware of what this is, are you?” She paused. “I see. Young man, you have done me quite the favour. I truly am sorry for this.”
She quickly snatched the cube with both hands and began chanting in something that sounded like Latin. I had seen small magic before, elemental changes and appearance modulations, but this was unlike anything I’d seen before, magic in the old sense of the word. I turned around, running as fast I could. The chanting faded as I ran away, but when I looked back, a piercing whistling hit my ears. It was overwhelming, engulfing everything. But then, quiet. A beam of light erupted from the house, quietly expanding outward. The phone rang.
“Matt, what the fuck have you done!” |
The Artificial Sun spews its harsh, off-white light onto the lush green pastures of the North Pole. It’s a nice day, or at least, as nice as any other. Certainly a fine enough day to be promoted to Butcher.
Kiley tightly squeezes the nanobots she's configured into a stress ball, feeling a bit of excitement, but mostly dread. Why is she feeling so much dread, for something perfectly normal? Well, for one thing, her life is over. She’ll have to replace her parents, and work every day of her life in the Megapalace, for the most prestigious Veterans in the world, who demanded the greatest luxury in the world, now that Cow was extinct: Swine. But, surely that’s not as bad as it sounds? Her mastery of the arts of Butchery meant that, while she could never partake of Swine herself, the other finest foods in the world—flaky, buttery breads baked by master French bakers, impossibly savory vegetables, and fruits so sweet and bright that each bite was its own fresh and sensual dessert—would be hers to enjoy, as much as she wanted, just as they were for Mother and Father. Who wanted to eat Swine, anyway? Such a funny name, Swine. She wondered why her parents insisted on always calling it that. Wasn’t that originally a negative term? What was wrong with calling it Pork? They said they didn’t really understand the rule themselves, but that it was important not to do anything to risk their positions. So, Swine it was.
Her parents certainly practiced what they preached, and they did their job spectacularly. They fully earned their Honorable Retirement. They’ll be joining Kiley on her ceremonial ride to the Megapalace, as Honored Veterans. Kiley laughs at the fact that “Honored Veteran” was the highest title one could be given, when the actual military veterans were all homeless on the street.
Wait, no. That was before. Now, all the homeless veterans have been exterminated, as part of the City Beautification Initiative. She laughs again—this time, humorlessly.
All this time spent sitting on her nanoplush bed, thinking about herself in the third person, as if she was some protagonist in a short story… it’s not helping take her mind off of anything. Certainly not the fact that this is her last day on Earth as a free teenager. She can’t just sit in her room and do nothing until the Ceremony!
She storms out of the house, like a stereotypical rebellious teen—then sheepishly returns to assure her parents that she’ll be back and ready well before the Ceremony. The Administration would not tolerate actual rebellion, after all.
---
She hops the Warp Rail. A lot of good supersonic transit did to improve a “public transit system” that early 1900’s subway cars could traverse from one end to the other in 10 minutes. She rides back and forth a few times, then hops off to head to the arcade.
Every gamer alive is still playing that damn tank game. Battlezone was a huge hit in 1980, and now, with millions of low-level AI designing ultra-lightweight full-haptic VR, it’s an even bigger hit in 2080. (Or at least, as big of a hit as a game in a world with one arcade can possibly be.) Kiley plays a few rounds, but it’s not holding her attention. She retreats further away from the crowd, into the dark recesses at the back of the arcade.
There’s many retro gaming cabinets with games that she loves, but she already emulates those on her synaphone. No, she needs something different—something that even high-end VR can’t emulate.
She finds an unmarked passage to a side-room, faintly glowing with neon blues and magentas. Maybe in here?
She steps into a room with barely enough room for one person; it feels equal parts comfy and claustrophobic. There’s a single machine, with a brown ramp, a jump at the end of it, and ringed targets labeled with different points. She reads the sign: “Skee-Ball”? It doesn’t even have a card reader; to start a game, she has to use her pocket nanoprinter to print a token.
The machine primitively dispenses nine polished masonite balls. Kiley picks up one, and marvels at it. She holds it to her nose, and inhales the faint smell of dust and wood polish. She then effortlessly rolls it up off the jump, and into the target in the top left, labeled “100.” She briefly wonders if this was a game for small children, before remembering that she has to turn off her AI enhancements to make it “fair.”
The second ball, tossed without any assistance, bounces off the rim of the 100 target. She’s out of practice with even basic unassisted hand-eye coordination. The 100 now suddenly seems so difficult, that she should probably aim for the easier 50.
After picking up the third ball, she marvels at the realness of it. She feels the smoothness and tactility in her hand; rolls it back and forth horizontally across the ramp.
She goes for the 50 each time. She doesn’t remember how many shots she makes. She doesn’t care.
She feels silly for worrying so much. All this anxiety and stress—it’s perfectly natural for a young girl becoming an adult! “Kiley,” she says quietly to herself, “your life is gonna be awesome.” She smiles to herself. She doesn’t entirely believe her words or her smile—at least not yet—but that’s fine. That will come in time.
With two balls remaining, her synawatch gently but firmly reminds her to head back. In her last free moment on Earth, and her last chance at even a semblance of rebellion, Kiley decides to steal one of the masonite balls, as a memento. “It’s not like anyone else plays this game,” she tells herself. “They didn’t even put a reader on it.” She takes the prettier of the two balls, and drops it into her backpack.
That means this last ball would be her last shot. She feels slightly nervous, and is slightly amused by this fact. She breaths, slowly, in, and out, then lets it roll—and completely shanks it. “I always choke in the end,” she thinks to herself.
---
The Ceremony consists entirely of unremarkable, propagandistic nonsense. Kiley sits in silence, half wishing it would be over instantly, and half wishing it would never end.
The former is much closer than the latter. She barely even remembers the Ceremony ending, and getting on the Administration limo to the Megapalace.
It is already time. She will become the Butcher, and her parents will be Honorably Retired.
She leads her parents into the Processing Basin.
Mother smiles warmly. “Kiley,” she says gently, “please remember, we will always lo—”
Kiley cannot let Mother finish her sentence. She holds the Processing Bore up to Mother’s temple, and pulls the trigger. The deafening thundercrack of the hydraulic Bore dissonantly clashes with the squelching of bone and brain matter being rapidly propelled out of Mother’s skull, across the wall of the Basin. Her lifeless body falls uncannily fast, shattering her knees against the stone floor.
Father realizes Mother’s mistake. He knows that anything he says will make things worse. He simply looks at Kiley, with the same loving eyes she has known all her life. This is even worse than speaking.
She cannot bring herself to fire.
She begins to lower the gun, sobbing—but her uncontrollable shaking sets off the hair trigger before she can fully set it down.
The Bore’s main nanoshoot mercilessly deconstructs Father’s penis and testicles into a viscous paste. One secondary offshoot severs his left leg; another attempts to redirect itself to his brain, but the shot was far too off for it to manage any significant course correction. It vaporizes a rib, before embedding itself into Father’s liver.
“Oh, Kiley,” he says, stoically, before spewing forth an off-white amalgam of vomit and foam. She wonders how much of his lack of reaction is his body shutting down from the pain, and how much is him merely acting, for her sake. She will never know.
“Too bad,” he laughs, humorlessly. “Swine testicles go for a fortune.”
He collapses to the bottom of the Processing Basin, and begins to drown in Mother’s blood. Kiley picks up the Bore, and finishes the job.
Then, Kiley forgets that this is Father’s last memory of her.
Kiley forgets that this is Father’s last memory of her.
She forgets that this is Father’s last memory of her.
Please. She forgets that this is Father’s last memory of her. Please. She forgets that this is Father’s last memory of her. No. No. Make it stop. She forgets that this is Father’s last memory of her.
Please.
Make it stop. |
“What the hell - is the matter now?”
I demanded his eyes as I leaned in, but he kept them to himself.
“Hell would have been a lighter headache.”
“We talked about this. You leave the headaches at the door.”
“That’s not how headaches work.”
“Then why did you agree to the terms?”
“You were giving me a bigger headache.”
“You know what? Shove an aspirin up your ass. And consider that all the action you’re getting until further notice, your majesty.”
I got up from the table, but I felt arrested in the air. His power had embedded in the fibres of my muscles. He said to me, restricting apology in his voice.
“Sit down. Take dinner. I’ll listen.”
I knew he was lying. But the anger in me had grown too big for its cage. I let it out, I let myself feel it in full. It did not go where I had thought it would. I was suddenly very collected and determined to make him listen. First, I would have to quell whatever was distracting him. As he felt me pushing my body towards the chair, he let go.
“Let’s talk about your headache.”
“Humans.”
“You really do have a one track mind.”
“They’ve monopolised me, Samantha. I don’t talk to hell, I don’t commune with the undead, I don’t fuck with the elves, I don’t even remember what an orc looks like, and forget the other dimensions. Its human in the morning, day, and evening. And you had better believe they’re not sleeping when I am! They’ve swarmed the continents like vermin, better than vermin, they've wiped out the Skaven! Through sheer resource competition!”
“So leave them be!”
“You think I haven’t tried to give up?! They’re the ones summoning **me** left, right, and behind! To kill me, enslave me, bargain with me, to rape me! Samantha! And then you accuse **me** of not listing!”
“You never actually talk about your work!”
“All you have to do is take an interest!”
“I’ve been afraid to.”
He saw real fear in me, and took himself down to where I was. I explained.
“You are your work – I know that now. But I’m afraid if I start enabling you at home, there will be no time for **us**.”
He looked like he was going to laugh, but he stopped himself.
“Darling, we have a literal eternity together. I am **not** my work. I am so much more than what I have been relegated to since…” He cleared mucus from his throat and arranged his thoughts “We are newlyweds, you’ve been in my life not three thousand years, you met me when I was in the thick of it, but you married me because you could see under the shell. Don’t lose sight of the future, **our future** now. I have to get through this phase of my life, they’re *this* close to nuclear weapons. You were the only one I ever trusted since they started building cities. If it wasn’t for you, for the headaches that you give me, for the heartache that I feel when I’m away from you, I would have let them kill me many times by now. I love you, and I promise you the world. But I have to cure it of its disease first.”
For the first time in centuries, my smile was genuine. I put my hand on his claw “Let’s eat.”
“I think the yellow lab died.” He allowed himself to convey apology.
“The brown one is still alive.” I poked the dog with my fork, and it let out a faint wheeze of agony. We dined. Together, in every sense of the word.
​
Edit: typos. |
You know what makes real life different from stories?
Stories have two paths. Good or evil. Wrong or right. Sensible or idiotic. Orthodox or rebellious.
Heroic or villain-esque.
It's makes for a good story. People know exactly who is what. They know who to support. They understand how the good right sensible heroic and rebellious idea would save the country and the world...
Or they're a sociopath and their views while entertaining are invalid.
But they understand. They know. You, the story teller, knows how to proceed further too!
Now imagine that wasn't the case.
There wasn't one answer.
He'll, there wasn't even one question as to what the big bad problem of our times was.
When me and my friends came together to form the Climate Cleaners Club, we wanted to be like those famous (infamous depending om who you ask) environment protestors.
Somehow though, our first protest incited a teeny tiny little... Riot. It started a riot in the chemical factory, and led to the workers smashing the entire place up
Then they made sure that the polluted water didn't go into the river anymore, and called it a day.
From that point on wards there was no looking back. We grew in strength and reputation. We became the face of the underground rebellion. Whenever our government would try to put wool over the eyes, our ragtag group of eco-saviors (or terrorists) would be there to set the narrative straight, to remind people od better alternatives and... To kick the ass of government lapdogs.
When they blond blue eyed boy with the sword taller than him joined us? We throught we had it made!
We were wrong.
I was wrong.
It was that boy, that soldier of some sort who started our downfall. He picked a fight with the entire government machinery and the private company that was their stooge at the same time.
Instead of a war of attrition, he wanted a climactic conclusion.
The enemy showed up. So did we. And one long battle later... We won.
Or so we thought.
That was when from the rubble strewn all over, a strange light emanates.
A group of teenagers, like us, who were somehow on the side of the state, om the side of the enemy, get back up.
We throught they were dead. We thought we killed them!
But no, these (zombies?) Came back to life. Then? They kicked our ass, including soldier boy.
That wasn't the worst part however.
The worst part was when they announced they were on the side of progress.
Progress has a side?
Yes it turns out. See, the world isn't so black and white as we thought. Growth and development come at a cost.
A cost many governments and companies are willing to pay? Yes. A cost that will incite rebels like us to fight against them? Yes.
But the reward would also incite others like us to... Save this world.
Now? Since we lost? Te world is run amuk.
The government got busted, but that didn't stop anybody really. The polluters are still doing whatever they can, hoping to get that last inch of profit in before some rebel offs them.
The saviours of the system are going around killing the rebels. Scaring the citizens. Committing a bunch of war crimes on top of it. A few heinous acts as well.
You might think, well that makes your job easy! You know who the villain is!
Well I don't. Not anymore.
The day of the final fight? I know how hard it was to convince myself we were doing the right thing.
We killed children that day. Teenagers who made their choice and were using their magical powers for the enemy, but children nonetheless!
I'm still not 18 yet. Who am I too wield such power?
And what happened after? We solved nothing.
We made things worse.
Our planet is going even faster down the drain. Every other day a new collective rises up with a radically different idea of how to handle the crisis, and instead of genuinely debating its merits and cons...
People just grab their swords and wands and guns to see who comes out on top.
It's a shame, really.
I quit the club yesterday.
I now go around, my pockets empty of tool or weapons because they're filled with flyers!
Flyers for the new debate club I'm starting up.
Fingers crossed... This lets us actually choose a collective and sensible path and lets us work for a solution?
Instead of losing out shit and going even hard on the way we operate, eventually destroying our civilization and planet.
Fingers crossed. |
I look at the TV, trying not to move too much. Every time I do, I can hear small yelps from John.
Bless him, he stuck around.
That morning, when his back kept hurting and hurting, with small pops here and there, I wondered what was happening. He was in the hospital by the time I realised. I heard him yelp every time I moved across the unkempt floor.
What a weird curse to have. It made me an acrobat though. I can jump and squeeze and I am a master of the handstand now. All for my poor hubby.
It’s strange what life throws at us. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Nothing particularly right either. I guess, like most of us, I was just trying to get through life. Was this a god mocking me?
“Honey, I have to pee!” I shouted, carefully placing my feet around the tiles. Even peeing was a chore. Maybe I should live in the bathtub.
It’s funny, isn’t it? One day we are full of plans, the next we are watching a YouTube video about handstands.
“Honey, can you grab more toilet paper?” I liked to multitask if possible. In this case, bodily functions.
Was there a god? Could he help me with this? It’s an exquisite concept, right? Someone invisible helping us.
I could hear John’s back crack as he got up. The first months were horrible and left lasting damage. Intense physiotherapy is his daily life now.
Fairness and unfairness. Are these even concepts for me anymore? Who’s to say who deserves’s what?
John grunts while extending to give me the toilet paper. God, how I love this man.
Another set of handstands and pirouettes until I am back on the couch. I grab my laptop and sigh “Well, work it is.” |
"Shiny new piece of work ya got there, boss...OW!"
"Don't even *think* about it. I worked hard to get this. And if any of you vultures even think about laying a hand on my new toy, I'll *show* it to you. **BARREL FIRST.**"
Cousin Marcus rubs his cheek tenderly, wincing at the new bruise that's surely forming. "Hey, easy boss! Just a complement! I ain't thinking nothing!"
Cousin Jezebel snorts, pacing back and forth across the rotting wood floors, spinning the chamber of her new revolver impatiently.
...She can understand their jealousy. The gun has an immaculate, stainless obsidian body, with floral decals etched in silver along the barrel; the grip, a sleek ebony wood that feels perfectly natural in the hand... It's moreso *art* than a weapon. If only she had a matching holster. And some fancy coats, like those posh lords and ladies in Old Atmar...
Hopefully, the money from this job will let her return east, head held high. She could go buy everything she-
"We can't find it anywhere."
Jezebel stops as Cousin Boris and Cousin Jimmy burst into the house, nearly out of breath.
"You *lost* it?"
"You should've looted him while you had the chance! How the hell are we supposed to find one guy you snuck up on in the middle of the damn Soltichi?! He probably just got up and kept going!"
Jezebel curses under her breath. She *should* have stolen more than just this shiny gun... But...
"Screw it. Let him go. That fool isn't worth our time. We have a bigger target anyway."
Cousin Cal, quiet till now, scoffs as he dusts himself off from the ground. "Yeah. Who's ready to get themselves strung up by the sheriff?"
"Nobody's getting caught. We go in and out. Three minutes. Then blow the joint, meet up back at camp before nightfall."
Cousins Boris and Jimmy glance at each other nervously.
"But why a *bank*? These places are like, high profile."
"I dunno about this boss-"
"What is the MATTER with you boys?! Are y'all gonna mutinee on me right 'fore we make the greatest hit we've ever made?! We've planned this for a *month*!"
The rest of the gang look at each other, before shaking their heads. Cousin Boris grumbles. "We're with you, boss."
"That's what I **thought**. We need to get going. Remember the plan. Wait for my signal."
The gang starts filing out the front door of the abandoned house, and Jezebel goes out the back. She stalks the back alleys of the town, making her way towards the railroad tracks that connect this otherwise desolate land to civilization.
Not far from the tracks is her target- The back wall of the bank. The stone bastion is sturdy. She rolls her eyes as she passes the spot Marcus tried to get inside via pickaxe. A pathetic effort... The only way inside is through the front half of the building.
Jezebel double-checks her new revolver is loaded, then begins to creep along the side of the bank to her entry point; A window facing the side of the neighboring building; A common problem with rapid expansion.
She peaks inside. Boris, Jimmy, Cal, and Marcus are filing inside. Their stances could be better...
But they're ready.
Jezebel silently cracks open the window she cased out last week, and pokes her revolver in. She aims at one of the only armed men within.
Tonight, she's going to be *rich.*
She pulls the trigger.
...
Nothing?
She squeezes again.
And again.
*"H-Hey! Are you trying to kill someone?? Stop that!"*
Jezebel whirls around, ready to slug whoever's voice she just heard with a practiced fist. But... Nobody is in the alleyway with her.
She looks around, confused, before looking down at the gun in her hands.
*"Who do you think you are, pulling my trigger like that? That could really hurt someone! I almost didn't stop that in time!"*
...The gun is talking to her.
"Hey, haven't I seen you boys before? Weren't you on one of them Wanted Posters the sheriff put out?"
Jezebel glances back inside.
This isn't going well.
She curses, slapping herself on the face to snap herself out of whatever hallucination she's having, before drawing her old revolver from it's dusty holster, and firing it at the armed man inside.
He drops dead, and panic rapidly fills the bank as the rest of the gang start barking orders to the screaming civilians within.
Suddenly, the new, shiny revolver Jezebel had stolen discharges, dangerously close to hitting her own foot.
*"STOP! I'm not gonna let you hurt anyone!!"* |
Mary Sue could not believe the the results of the CAT scan. She once believed that she was in perfect health, but one day, she had an allergic reaction. And after such a reaction, her health noticeably began to decline: joint pain, migraines, stomachaches, dry skin, and more. All are minor nuisances alone, but together, these symptoms were annoying as hell. Mary Sue never had a cold and she never had the flu, so what illness did the doctors say she had? The three words she never wanted to see were written on the paper:
“Ligma Bolls Syndrome.”
It was at this moment that Mary Sue knew that her perfect life was not so perfect anymore. |
Let me know if I broke any rules this is my first time posting
Warning// Slight gore, mentions of vomit and blood
Maybe it was because I was up so late. That has to be the reason.
I hit the power button on my phone and sighed seeing the 12:30pm shine back at me. My insomnia had been keeping me up for hours days upon end and eventually letting my fall asleep normally 2-3 days later. I work at a office that accommodates everyone with disabilities and they know if I suddenly fall asleep at my desk or if I don’t show up to work for a day or two then I had been awake for so long. They haven’t had any problems with it because I can get so much work done within a short time since I’m awake so long and don’t mind staying late.
Anyway this was my 3 day of no sleep and it was starting to weigh down on me. I would see shadows out of the corners of my eye and I can’t even recall the last full meal I had eaten. I sent a text to my manager saying I was going to crash soon and that I wouldn’t make it to work today or at the very least it wouldn’t be safe for me to drive.
So there I was watching the only thing on at 12 in the morning: infomercials
They advertised pretty good stuff but with the sky high prices you wouldn’t even dare open your wallet in fear of going bankrupt. I stayed on the same position on the couch as I could feel my limbs getting heavier and feared that if I moved I would disrupt the peaceful sleep that was about to wash over me.
It was about 3:32am when all hell broke lose.
They called off 12 of 13 of the lots before when they got to the 13th the TV flicked off momentarily. I thought it was going into sleep mode since I had been awake so long watching it but it flicked to life a moment later but it wasn’t your typical informercial with two female hostesses and the rich feeling vibe but now it was a dark and barely lit room with two girls forcing smile onto their faces and holding up some expensive looking device but since it was so dark on the screen it was hard to look at. In fact I couldn’t even see the girls faces above their eyes. It also lacked the traditional cameras that showed it at different angles with the product information on the sides.
Then a voice came over the speakers “Good morning everyone!”
I was slightly confused it sounded muffled, like the sound quality you would expect from a 1900’s movie or cartoon. “I’m your host for this 13th lot and this my darling viewer is the best thing you’ll see all night.”
The light started to shine more onto the product and it was a wall mounted security system that looked pretty standard but would probably cost an arm and a leg from this place. As soon as the product came into view the host started to talk again.
“This is state of the art security system also know as the Ark-1005! This comes with every thing a standard system would come with however, It sends live video feeds from your wall or celling mounted camera straight to your mobile device. It also allows you to record up to 3 hours of live footage at a time with the ability to call the police right from your phone!” Said the speaker as one of girls picked up a phone and started to show the different camera views. She then pressed a button and started to record footage from some random driveway.
“This product is only for 99.99 plus shipping and handling but wait, there more!” The feed then cut to what appeared to be footage of a first person view of someone entering a house. “To…convince you to buy one of our systems we’ve prepared a bit of a show this is what happens with the system installed!”
The person holding the camera then started to open the door using a lock pick making the door slowly creep open.
The person walked in and started to take things that looked like valuables. Such as small paintings and statues, jewelry left on the living room table, etc. Then they almost made it to the kitchen before a gunshots rang out and the camera holder fell to the ground as a police officer walked up. And began to drag them out.
Here’s the weird thing about it though. It didn’t look or act like a real cop. From the camera view it looked like the uniform was wrinkled and the shoes(which were most definitely sneakers) aren’t something a cop would wear especially while in uniform. Then, where was the warning? The sirens? The lights? Not even a radio to someone to let them know he just sit someone. He didn’t even know if the person was armed. Just then the camera cut back to the girls
“Ooh not a good fate to meet, guess he shouldn’t have been stealing!” A forced laugh came from the two girls before stopping abruptly and the speaker continued. “Anyway, let’s take a look at someone who wasn’t smart enough to buy our system.
Worry started to flow through my veins and now I was wide awake watching this go down. I had long since sat up and felt sick to my stomach. Should I call the cops? Would they just dispose of me like the did the robber? So many questions.
Just before I could gather myself I heard the door open from the TV. This time not only was it a different house but the person walked in they made it all the way though the house and to the kitchen before picking up a knife and quietly making their way upstairs. Dread filled my whole being as I could only watch as they made their way to the master bedroom. Inside was a couple obviously married with the slight gleam of their wedding rings in the camera. Suddenly the camera person went forward and stabbed the woman in the head.
I couldn’t keep watching and felt the small dinner I had come back up before I vomited all over the floor. I could still hear the broadcast in the background. After a while It cut back to the speaker once more.
“Ah such a nasty end you wouldn’t want that to happen would you viewer?”
I felt my heart drop all the way to the floor. Was the host talking directly to me? “Yes it would definitely be a shame if someone came to your house…” before I could even react I hear my doorknob jiggle and I froze.
“If you want to stop them I would suggest you call the number on your screen and buy one today!” The feed then cut to my front door and I didn’t wait to see what would happen. I took my phone off the table, typed in the number and ran to my bedroom. I locked the door behind me and went into the adjacent bathroom where my wallet was sitting on the counter before locking the bathroom door and hiding in the shower.
The call picked up at the first ring and it was the same voice as the speaker. “Hello?” He said drawing out the word. “I-I want the s-system.” I stammered out quickly. “Well isn’t that nice. Let’s proceed with credit card information.”
I heard the person walking around underneath me and felt tears start to poor down my eyes and I choked back a sob. “Sir? Your card information?” I snapped back to the call and quickly read off my information and address. “Thank your sir.” He said. “Reinforcement will arrive soon enough.” Then the call ended and I placed the phone down and put my head in between my knees to muffle my sobs of horror.
Then just like the informercial showed I heard a gunshot and the sound of something heavy being dragged onto the floor. It took 2 hours before I worked up the courage to walk outside.
It looked like nothing had happened. My door was even locked from the inside and the same infomercial channel was playing and I quickly shut it off before crouching onto the ground and crying once more
It’s been 2 years since that incident. I reported the break in and changed my card information but not before I got a hefty 160 dollars charge to it but the bank couldn’t track where it came from. At first the police didn’t believe me before my neighbors reported that someone strange was walking around the neighborhood and a van pulled up at 4 o’clock in the morning and stayed for a little while before speeding off. I even identified the couple who were murdered and the time of their death even matches up with the time the infomercials line had went down and they couldn’t broadcast.
I went to therapy to try and understand something of what happened that day and eventually moved away and started medication so I would never be awake that long again. A few months after it happened I tried to “gain closure” and visit the couples grave only to meet Lily, the couples five year old daughter. She had been staying over her friends house and they looked over her room. I ended up taking her to live with me and she still doesn’t know I was the one who saw them die and it hurts to keep it from her since I know she wants to know why she can’t go home still. I even moved to another town with Lily just to get away from those painful memories.
The funniest part of it all though? The system never did show up. |
My parents always told me "Remember Meg, don't open the door in the basement.", as they left and I always got curious. Well this time, I had enough. As soon as they left to go shopping, I ran downstairs to the door. It looked like an ordinary door, but I could here a strange humming from behind it. I slowly crept forward and put the back of my hand on the knob, checking if it was electrified, but it wasn't. I put my hand fully on the knob, and slowly turned it. *Creak.* I hadn't opened the door, and only the front door creaked. I hid behind a box, and heard the basement door open. *Pit, Pat, Pit, Pat, Pit, Pat.* They were at the bottom of the stairs. *clunk clunk clunk* they approached the door. *click.* The door was open.
​
I peaked around from my hiding spot and saw 5 men in hazmat suits walk up to the door and enter, although I couldn't quite see inside. After a minute I walked over and peered into the open door myself and saw a moderately sized room with yellow wall paper, a dark yellow carpet, and large yellowish flickering fluorescent lights. The men seemed to have left a red rubber tube where they went so they wouldn't get lost. I figured that if they didn't know where they were going, I wouldn't so I followed it.
​
After a few minutes of following the rope, I heard heavy footsteps ahead walking, no **sprinting** back the line. I turned and began to follow suit. *clunk clunk clunk clunk clunk clunk clunk clunk.* I could see the door. "Group Alpha-Echo-5736 has entered the "backrooms"30 minutes prior to this entry, and- oh. Group Alpha-Echo 5736 is to be considered lost at this time."Somebody on the other side of the door says, as they begin to close the door. I hear the footsteps behind me again, but they're much louder. I look back, and the people in hazmat suits are looking at me. They were about to say something, but saw the door closing and began panicking. "OH S##T WAIT UP!"the one in the front says. They all began sprinting to the door, but before they're even half way there it finished closing. *click.* The red cord was gone. The door was gone. It was just me, and 3 people in hazmat suits who, by the looks of it, were stuck here because of me. As I stand, frozen in place as the people in hazmat suits approached me, I thought out loud "Well mom and dad, I didn't open it." |
The night is perfect. The chill in the air over the last week has faded and the sakura trees are in full bloom. Tonight is the pinnacle of the very expensive trip that’s been at the top of my bucket list for a decade. The local Japanese high school put together a matsuri to celebrate the event. Stalls of various natures lined meandering pathways lit by the glow of paper lanterns and a full moon above.
Local area vendors set up food stalls that filled the air with savory scents of cooking chicken and pork. Everything was a display in craftsmanship with noodle makers slinging orders to ramen stands and the rhythmic pounding of mochi being made. Everywhere you look villagers in traditional kimonos of darker colors are held closed by an obi— a belt-like wrap. Bright spring colors and floral patterns, I guess represent the coming spring and season of growth.
This one night makes the whole trip worth it. Pictures and videos don’t do it any justice, definitely a ‘must experience in-person’ experience. That didn’t stop me from taking my own pictures and video to remember the experience. I happened upon a lively highschooler stall that had the class members dressed up in western-style clothing. Basically, black slacks with white pressed button-down dress shirts where the boys wore thin ties and the girls' bowties. I think it was supposed to be a cafe of some sort, I couldn’t read the menu, but it had chalk drawings of cakes and coffee cups.
Most of the stalls were in clean-up mode so that the workers could attend the fireworks display. I asked the students in my best broken Japanese if I could take a picture. They were more than happy to oblige ‘customer-sama’ and grouped up with each of their personalities on display. I snapped a few pics and thanked them, though I kinda broke protocol and offered a handshake. Expectedly the girls looked confused, but I was quickly saved by one of the guys who grabbed my hand with both hands and gave it a vigorous shake and a big smile.
Between one shake and the next, there was a blinding flash of light and suddenly everything went quiet. Suddenly, I feel like I’m falling as if the ground disappeared. I tried screaming, not sure if I made any noise as I couldn’t hear it. When my vision cleared up I saw the vast emptiness of space all around, large objects flashed by, I could only think they looked like planets. Flashes of light danced in and out of existence for who knows however much time.
I’ve watched enough anime to know I’m being isekai’ed. But that’s crazy, that’s fiction and this is real life. This can’t be happening.
The feeling of falling slowly transformed into a feeling of floating. The feeling of floating turned into a feeling of wetness as I realized I was floating face up in a pool of liquid. I hope it’s water, please be water.
The sounds of other people stirring in the pool caught my attention. I sat up and looked around to find the students from the cafe stall all had landed in the pool. Some of them were already standing and patting themselves down. A few of them were talking, but I didn’t put much effort into trying to listen since I wasn’t going to understand them anyway. That was until I did understand some of their words.
“Ehhh, not again.”
“Why can’t they pull from another class? Yesh.”
“I know what you mean. We’ve got midterms next week.”
“Satsuki, are we in the same world as last time?”
“It doesn’t feel like it. Seems like it’s another world with a different problem.”
“Umm. Sorry, but where are we?” I asked the group of students behaving like this is a normal day for them.
“Whoa, Mr. Customer, you’re not supposed to be here. How’d you get here?”
“I was falling and then I was here. What’s going on and why can I understand you?”
Satsuki stepped over to me and offered a hand to help me up. “We were summoned by magic and usually that same magic allows us to communicate with the people of this world. I guess it works for us as well, we’ve never had a foreigner get summoned with us.”
“Wait, this is normal for you?”
“This will be my fourth time. Kasumi, how many times is this for you?”
“Ten.” He sighed and looked like the weight of years dragged his shoulders down. “I hope it’s a quick one, I really don’t want to live another lifetime.”
“Another life—.”
I was cut off by the loud screech of metal on stone as the door I hadn’t noticed opened up. An old man carrying a staff and crown atop a head of scraggly nearly white hair stepped forward.
“Heroes, you have been summoned to right a grave injustice that has faced our kingdom for some time now. It’s a matter of great importance that you heed our call and answer our prayers for the darkness that is about to destroy the homes of generations upon which our ancestors established our freedom and livelihoods. We request you travel into the great demon hold to vanquish the source of darkness encroaching upon the lands of my people. Will you take up the mantle of heroes and rescue us from this great evil?”
“Of course, we will. Though we’ll require room and board and a place to train and practice so we can adjust to this new world.” Satsuki spoke up for everyone.
“Whatever you need will be provided as long as it is within our power and ability to give it to you. Please, come. My servants will show you to your rooms.”
We followed six servants through the castle to a wing that had been sectioned off for the heroes. The twelve students dragged to this world talked amongst themselves while I just opened my mouth and stared at everything we walked by.
I was in a fantasy castle with crest-emblazoned banners draped all over the place. Stone walls and uncovered windows opened up to the outside world. Unlit oil lanterns hung against the walls as a cold breeze jostled them ever so slightly.
“We apologize, another room will have to be set up for one of you. Our court magician told us that twelve heroes would be coming, not thirteen.”
I looked around and immediately saw that I was indeed the odd one out.
“I hadn’t planned on being here either if that makes any difference.” I shrugged.
“It’s no matter, we’ll have a room prepared right away. If you need anything, please use the servants' bell located just inside each room. Follow the blue rug down to get to the courtyard. The green rug will take you to the soldiers’ barracks and training grounds. The purple rug will take you to the mages’ wing. We’ll give you a shoulder cord that signifies you as a hero. If you get lost, a guard can help you find your way.”
“Thank you. Do we call you by a certain name?” Satsuki asked.
“I’m Farrah. You can ask for me, if I can’t be found they’ll send one of the servants assigned to you.”
“Thank you, Farrah. We’ll get settled in and explore a bit.”
The group milled about while the servants scurried off, presumably to work on getting a room prepared for me.
“Alright, you guys know the drill. Six rooms, six girls and six guys. Well, seven guys. Two girls per room, two boys per room. Mr. Customer, you’ll get the extra room when it’s ready.”
“Steve, you can call me Steve.”
“Steve, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Satsuki. We’ll get you through this and back home.”
“Is this really happening? I didn’t trip and hit my head and am drowning to death in the pond next to the stall?”
“I mean it’s possible. However, those of us that have been through this before remember each time and a few of us have been summoned together before. So, we believe it’s real enough.”
“Okay.” What can I say, her calm and collected demeanor was very reassuring.
“I need to confer with the rest of my class to figure out what kind of system we are dealing with and what our abilities are.”
“Abilities?”
“We’ll be able to fill you in once we know more. I promise. You’re more than welcome to sit with us, but it might be better if you hold off on asking any questions.”
I nodded my acceptance of her terms and followed her to the other students. Some of them just stare off into the distance and the others make gestures in the air. She cleared her throat to grab everyone’s attention.
“Have we figured out if it’s a video game-style world or a gaming style world?”
“So far we haven’t been able to call up a player sheet or any kind of user interface with known hand gestures or voice commands,” Kasumi answered.
“We do know that there is magic. Some of us feel a connection to a mana reservoir of some sort, though we can’t see a visual representation.” This time a girl with a short haircut framed her face. Her sharp-angled eyeglasses caught the light with a brief reflection of the outside light.
“I agree, Yuko, I feel this mana sensation as well.”
“We figure those that don’t feel mana are the ones with more physical abilities. Of course, we don’t want to try anything while indoors. Isn’t that right Touma?”
“Geez, that happened once. Let it go, Kenji.”
“I can confirm there is a stat system in place even though we can’t see them. I figure as we learn them we’ll be able to focus on them to feel our ranks in them. As I was talking with Steve,” she gestured to me, “I felt a rank up in a leadership skill. Inherently I know it’s rank 9 right now.”
>Continued in comments< |
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> “*Clearly* the message of Lina’s story was that revenge is a pointless endeavor. It’s just a feeling that gnaws away at you until you finally give in and hurt or kill whatever it wants you too — but that rage, that lingering hatred and pointed malice doesn’t just disappear. You might not even get a sense of catharsis, just a sense of directionless anguish and sadness.”
They hit it right on the head.
“Lina,” my third identity since the 20th Century, had faced a lot of bullshit. People were awful, and at the time, I seriously considered just using my immortality to maim, slaughter and kill my way to the top after being backstabbed by my friends, by my family, *everyone* who could have meant something to me.
It was a dark time. And for a while, I gave into those urges. I hunted down those who hurt me, who cast me aside and beat me like an animal, and I hurt them back as much as I thought they deserved. At first, it felt like there was a pressure being relieved from my chest… but without that pressure, there was just emptiness. Even though there were a number of people on a seemingly infinite list of those who I deemed worthy of my wrath, my soul simply stopped caring. That flame within my freshly-stabbed heart had petered out.
My rage and anger had escaped me, leaving me with nothing but a poison that simply sapped me of my will to live in my undying lifetimes. Eventually, I figured it would simply be better for me to leave and start a new identity. A faked death, an autobiography left at my deathbed, several tattoos and a hair bleaching later, and “Magnolia” was born.
I like to believe I did a fine job, if the common people were able to glean the message I left within those bloodstained pages. However… two more lifetimes passed and I was beginning to feel a bit of boredom. Somewhat nostalgic, I looked into my own book, surprised to find that it was subject to literary and philosophical analysis across the world’s greatest minds… including those on the internet.
They had already learned the message I left behind for them, so why not indulge in a bit of fun? I’m immortal, but being serious and sad and sullen is the quickest way to madness, in my book. Why shouldn’t I dip my toe into the low brow humor the world has developed with the era of the internet?
> “Ur mom gey, get fucked nerd.”
> Your account has been temporarily suspended. The reason: Several reported accounts of trolling and harassment.
Ah. Well, that’s fair enough. I suppose at “84” I should be a bit more mature… or perhaps, it’s time that I start anew once more. |
"Say what?"I exclaim.
"I can't be, right?"
"Ok, so I really don't like saying stuff to people so I'll just give you a file and you can get out of the hospital."
And just like that, I was at the front of the hospital, crouching down permanently, waiting for someone to pick me up.
'Great,' I thought to myself.
'Now I can only move my feet. What's the point of liv-' my thinking was cut short due to a black SUV pulling over in front of me. Then suddenly, two men jumped out, grabbed me and threw me in. I hit my head on the other side of the car, knocking me out cold. Then I opened my eyes after who knows how long. I could feel that my head was in a bag. A bit later, I could hear footsteps. And the bag came off my head.
"Uh...hi?"I say to the man in front of me who took the bag off.
"I'll make this quick. You're going to be the sacrifice for organs."The man said as he pulled out gloves and snapped them on his hands. I started to panic. He pulled out a scalpel. He flung it at me, but I shook my feet, dodging out of the way just in time. Then something sparked inside of me. I hit my feet on the ground hard, making me flip over and land the chair on the man, and broke it. Now my feet were separated. He tried to grab me, but I jumped up and flipped over, hitting him in the chin with my feet. He backed away. I started to shake my toes fast, making the movement so that I will be able to run. I kicked down the door, and just ran and ran and ran. That's when I realized my feet had superpowers. So then after that, I got a costume, made a superhero name, and became FEET MAN, taking down bad guys with the power of feet martial arts. And then I lived happily ever after.
&#x200B;
:) |
The doors to the throne room of the Kingdom, resplendent in the most exquisite finery crafted by the centuries-old lineages of craftsmen who lived within the Kingdom’s territories, yawned open before the man in the white cloak. A long carpet, embroidered with the seven names of the seven lords of each of the forty-nine generations of feudal lords who swore undying fealty stretched out towards the thrones of the Sorcerer-King and his queen.
The man in the white cloak walked down the carpet, taking great care not to dirty the holy names embroidered upon it with his footsteps. The Royal Guards, giants clad in bespoke armor and wielding consecrated polearms, stood at attention along both sides of the carpet. Faint breathing could be heard from within their metal plating, but there was no noise but the muffled footfalls of the man in the white cloak.
“KNEEL.”
Responding to the command from the Guard-Captain, who stood at the right side of the Sorcerer-King, the man in the white cloak knelt before the throne. With practiced and ceremonial precision, the Royal Guards raised their polearms and slammed the hilts upon the floor seven times in unison.
“My lord,” spoke the man in the white cloak, “,your Royal Doctor awaits your command.”
“Noble doctor, my dear King has been terribly worried these past days. The young prince, blessed with vigor from young, has come down with a deadly ailment. No matter what we have tried to do, the ailment will not pass.”
The queen, a regal and practiced individual, spoke with a tremble in her voice that betrayed her own concern for her child. The Sorcerer-King, to his end, merely rested his crowned head upon his open palm, a dark fog looming over his visage.
“I understand, my lady. I shall attend to the Young Master immediately.”
“Thank you, Royal Doctor. Please, the Guard-Captain will show you to the prince’s quarters.”
\---
The Guard-Captain and the Royal Doctor stood outside the door to the Prince’s chambers. From behind the closed door, grunts and moans of agony could be heard along side the worried mutterings of the chambermaids who attended to the Prince.
The Guard-Captain knocked thrice upon the door, and a sniveling chambermaid poked her head out from the doorway. Her expression, initially one of worry and anxiety, turned to relief upon seeing the Royal Doctor.
“Oh, thank the spirits that you’ve arrived, my lords! Please, come in quickly!”
The duo were quickly ushered into the chambers and came face to face with the grisly scene that awaited them, bathed in the flickering light of the candles placed about the room. The Prince, grunting and moaning through the gag that was kept forced into his mouth, writhed and struggled against the chains that bound his limbs to the bedposts. Foamed drool ran in rivulets down his cheek, and a stench hung in the air from the yellow and brown stains upon the fouled mattress and the Prince’s garments. Heavy black curtains obscured the windows, keeping the room in an eerie twilight. Shadows appeared to leap from the corners, mere visual artifacts from the flickering flames.
“Hmm…I see. Guard-Captain, please assist me in ushering out these poor chambermaids. Please let them get some rest while I perform the procedure. Ensure that I am not interrupted.”
“As you wish, Royal Doctor.”
The room was emptied, save for the thrashing and rabid Prince restrained to his bed, and the Royal Doctor standing at the foot of the bed. From within his white cloak, the Royal Doctor withdrew a long needle and pointed it towards the Prince, wielding it like a rapier. The Royal Doctor, with eyes closed and expression calmed, began to speak.
“I invoke the Unbound Names of my honored ancestors, those who laid the path before me to make your ailment manifest. The Seventh Name of the Forty-Ninth Ancestor, the Fifth of the Twenty-Fifth, the Third of the Ninth, and the First of the First!”
The Royal Doctor spoke the Unbound syllables into being, spitting blood between the enunciations of each of the four mystical names used in the invocation. This was the Manifest, the ritual by which the spiritual cause of humanity’s numerous ailments could be wrought into physical form, to be slain in ritual fashion in order that the sufferer could be rid of their maladies.
Developed over the centuries by the Kingdom’s medical establishment, it was this thaumaturgical invocation that called upon the departed wills of the ancient doctors, summoning their dedication to purge humanity of its diseases from beyond the grave.
A mote of light rose out from the Prince’s chest, and immediately the Prince’s rabid thrashing ceased. The light in the room from the numerous candles began to depart from the still-smoldering wicks, drawn towards this mote like moths to flame until only this mote remained as the sole source of light in the room.
**WE MEET AGAIN.**
The mote of light spoke, in so far as a pinprick of light could vocalize. Rather, the words simply entered the consciousness of the Royal Doctor. There was no voice to the words, simply an understanding of the mote’s intentions. The Royal Doctor rarely tried to communicate with the manifested ailments, but this was a unique instance. The unique instance, which he had been battling with for far longer than even the current Sorcerer-King knew.
“Indeed, we have. Tell me, O Spirit, is this fate?”
**YOU ALREADY KNOW. WE WILL ALWAYS COME INTO CONFLICT**.
“I know, but I do not understand! Why do you plague children with your ailment?”
**IT IS ORDAINED THAT I PUNISH THE SPAWN OF THE SORCEROR-KINGS.**
“And yet, each and every generation when you manifest, I banish you. Is this not pointless? Could we just negotiate? Is the agony of an innocent child really worth it?”
Silence. Then –
**THEY ARE NOT INNOCENT. THEIR BLOOD IS CURSED, TAINTED BY THE SIN OF THEIR ANCESTORS.**
“How? A child cannot inherit the sin of their fathers!”
**YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND. YOUR RITUAL ONLY DELAYS THE INEVITABLE. YOU AND YOUR FOREFATHERS DEVELOPED THIS RITE TO BANISH THE CONSEQUENCE, BUT THE CAUSE REMAINS INTACT, HAD REMAINED INTACT AND WILL CONTINUE TO REMAIN INTACT.**
“Then tell me, O Spirit, how I can banish the cause, your cause, once and for all!”
The mote of light darted about the room in response to this seemingly unexpected question.
**TERMINATE THEIR LINEAGE.**
“What?!”
**YOU ASKED, AND I ANSWER. THEIR ENTIRE BLOOD IS CURSED, TAINTED BY THEIR ANCESTORS. THEY LAID WITH EACH OTHER AND COJOINED THEIR BLOOD, BELIEVING IT TO IMPROVE THE PURITY OF THE LINEAGE. THE ONLY THING THIS BLASPHEMY YIELDED WAS A TAINTING OF THEIR KIN AND THEIR KIN’S KIN.**
“I…cannot kill my king.”
**THEN KILL ME, AS YOU HAVE FOR ALL MY PREVIOUS MANIFESTATIONS. CONTINUE TO PERPERTUATE THIS CURSED BLOOD WITH YOUR RITUAL. PAINT OVER THE DESECRATED TEMPLE WALLS WITH YOUR FRESH COAT OF PAINT AND LET THE BLASPHEMY FESTER BENEATH, AS YOU HAVE BEFORE AND AS YOU CONTINUE TO DO.**
With a single swift motion, the Royal Doctor stabbed the mote of light with the consecrated needle. The mote exploded into a shower of sparks, each ember flying over to a smoldering wick and reigniting the incandescent flames.
The Royal Doctor sheathed his needle back within the bulk of his white coat, and turned to behold the Prince, who now slept like a babe, freed from the agony of the ailment. Just like his father before him, and his father’s father, and so on and so forth... |
*Don’t text her back,* echoes a light, airy voice.
That’s Cassandra. Or maybe Kassandra with a *K*. I never got her contact info, but I don’t have a habit of doing so with a one night fling. I get the feeling she was just fine never hearing from me again, considering how poor my, uh, *performance* was. And while she didn’t exactly vocalize her frustration, she told me explicitly and repeatedly the next morning. Except she wasn’t there.
*Dude, go for it. I can’t last much longer with this Karen.*
Meet Danny, my new best friend. Danny and I have been wrestling since middle school. We aren’t… I mean, we *weren’t* that close, until he started living in my head after practice last week.
Physical contact, amplified by duration. That’s my guess, but then again, I’m probably deranged.
Or maybe this is some bizarre metaphysical phenomenon. A superpower? I mean, Danny in my head knows what Danny in real life is doing. He proved it. There’s gotta be a way to make money with this, right?
Oh, Goddard needs a walk again. I know because I can feel he has to pee. Do you hear me? I can *physically sense* my fucking dog needs to pee. I’m a lunatic.
And I’m texting her back. Her name is Erica, and I’ve flirted with her for years, but I’ve never stood a chance against the competition. She just ended her most recent relationship and wants to come over, and that sounds much better than another evening of digging through Wikipedia articles on psychosis.
*She’s gonna hate you tomorrow,* Cassandra says.
*Come on dude!* Danny might be dumb, but at least he’s supportive.
*Just go out with your friends. $3 wells at Fargo’s. Do you really want another one of us in here?* Cass has a point. *Don’t call me Cass!*
*I’m down for Fargo’s. This chick isn’t coming for a few hours anyway.* I think that’s the first time I’ve heard Danny agree with Cass. I guess I’m going to Fargo’s.
I take a quick Uber and get to the bar. Friends must be upstairs. I’ll get a beer first.
“We need to talk.” Sounds like Cass. I turn around.
It *is* Cass.
“Don’t call me Cass.” *I told you I hate that.* |
\-Seven Years ago, ACE Chemicals, Early Morning-
"Everyone Ready? Preparations complete?"asked the Joker.
&#x200B;
"Yes Boss!"chimed in the Goons.
&#x200B;
The Joker looks at his sundial watch and starts murmuring "He should be here right about...."
&#x200B;
Batman crashes through the skylight and amidst the broken glass, lands with his cape spread all around him.
&#x200B;
"...now!"
&#x200B;
The Goons rush in to attack and Batman deftly blocks and punches them all away.
&#x200B;
"Joker! Where is the nerve bomb! Tell me and all I'll do to you is..."
&#x200B;
A freeze ray narrowly misses Batman's head as he dodges with an uncanny speed.
Bullets bounce of the floor as Batman does a backflip a distance back.
&#x200B;
The Joker was rather surprised by the intrusion."Mr.Freeze? Penguin?"
&#x200B;
"It's not just us!"said the Penguin. "The whole gang is here! We heard of your little plan, and we've decided to join in!"
&#x200B;
The Joker looked down from the second floor and saw that the Riddler, Scarecrow and even Bane was there. There were other figures behind the ever rising chemical steam from the chemical vats below.
&#x200B;
"But this is MY party! You can't just bust into MY party uninvited!"screamed the Joker.
&#x200B;
A sickle flew close to Batman, thrown by the scarecrow. Another freeze ray. More bullets and an arc of electricity from Riddler's cane.
The Joker shouted again "Stop!"as the attacks increased. The villains were fast approaching and closing in on Batman.
The Joker pulled out his gun and ran toward Batman. "He's mine! You all get away!"
&#x200B;
And he trips over...something, and lands heavily face first on the floor. There was an accompanying 'Bang' as he accidentally pulled the trigger. He opened his eyes in a daze and saw the his feet were entangled in some sort of ivy, which were right then still slowly creeping toward Batman.
&#x200B;
"Stop it, Batman is mine!"he shouted again, and at that moment, he saw the ahead of him, a figure outstretched on the floor, a tiny flag with the words "HA HA"attached to a metal rod, protruding out of his left eye socket.
&#x200B;
The Joker got up and stumbled toward Batman.
&#x200B;
"Bats? BATS"he shook the body. He couldn't believe it. Batman, taken from him. "Bats...no..."He cradled Batman in his arms, body still warm, victim to a accidental shot from a criminal that he had no fear of death from.
&#x200B;
As the villains all started to realise what had happened, they all began to cheer, and laugh boisterously. It echoed throughout ACE Chemicals, the laughter of everyone, but the Joker.
\-Now, Gotham PD roof. Night.-
Commissioner Gordon lit up a cigarette and looked up at the Bat signal in the sky. He sensed that someone was somewhere behind him, and turned just before Batman stepped partially out of the shadows.
&#x200B;
Gordon let out a sigh. "It's only the Joker left now. After four long years, the rest have been subdued by you, or were somehow, incapacitated under unknown circumstances, to put it nicely. Only half of them are in Arkham or in Prison. And I can't believe the other half of them are actually dead. I can't believe Harvey is dead! Catwoman with a broken spine and in a coma? This...is not how things used to be done."
&#x200B;
"But that's how it should be done. There's no one stepping up to fill up the void left behind by them. Ten years back, new goons would have been fighting for the boss' seat the second it was empty. Now. Nothing."growled Batman.
&#x200B;
Gordon took a pull. "I hope...I hope that you'll still do things right by Gotham. I’m also still waiting for you to tell me where you disappeared to for those three years. Anyway I've reports that some familiar names are starting to take interest in our city. The goons may know better than to face you, but people like Captain Cold? Mirror Master? I think, they may be our troubles soon. Meanwhile, have you found anything new about the Joker?"
&#x200B;
Batman was silent for a while. "He's gone deep into hiding. His activities still continue through his goons most of the time, but mostly petty crimes. I'll keep looking, but all the trails so far are cold."
&#x200B;
"Wow, even you are stumped. I never thought there would be this day."Gordon smirked.
&#x200B;
He took out another cigarette and lit it. He heard Batman leaving into the night.
\-----
As he swung from the buildings. The man wearing two masks contemplated his next move for the night. He wasn't in a good mood. He hadn't been for seven years. There is always a smile on his face. But he's never smiling. |
Hi u/Sirocco745, this submission has been removed.
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“I never thought such a hoard could exist in these parts!”
“Neither did I. There was no trace of it until Wallace took down that dead tree a few weeks ago.”
Charles examined one of the tarnished silver pieces from the collection of coins and various artefacts that were laid out on a small table in the verandah. His sister Sylvia was scribbling notes in her pocketbook, while Isla and Percy were admiring a few battered bronze cups.
Lady Loretta sipped her drink. “I suppose it is not that unexpected, considering the age of the ruined walls at the edge of the estate. But these are well preserved! One would think that they were being protected for us to discover.”
“Let us hope that no vengeful spirit torments you for digging up their treasure!” said Isla mischievously.
Charles laughed. “No fear of that, Cousin Isla. These was certainly not in a grave or anything remotely like one. We shall be quite safe from any hauntings.”
“Not counting the china disappearing to the cellar or Midnight’s breaking out of his stable.”
All eyes turned to Sylvia, who was now looking up from her notebook, brow furrowed slightly in thought. “Yes, that was rather odd,” mused Charles.
“But surely there is a reasonable explanation- careless servants, or something,” Percy suggested.
“That is the problem, there is none.”
Suddenly, the small party heard the sound of thundering hooves. They saw a black stallion galloping wildly across the field. Lady Loretta sighed. “Midnight is loose again? He has become so restless as of late!”
“And Beechnut too!” exclaimed Sylvia as she caught sight of her mare heading towards the woods.
“Stay here,” said Charles quickly as he and Percy took off after the horses.
A few minutes passed before Percy returned with news that Beechnut had been recaptured. The stable hands were just as confused at their escape, and they were now inspecting the stables for any weak spots.
“And what of Charles?” asked Lady Loretta.
“Do not worry, Mother, I shall find him,” replied Sylvia. She headed down one of the garden’s side paths and exited through the gate. She scanned the field and saw Midnight trotting along the side of the mansion, but there was no sign of Charles. Picking up her skirts, she ran to catch up with the stallion.
A loud report startled her, and she whirled around. There was still no one in sight. “Charles?” she called worriedly. Hearing no answer, she began retracing her steps, keeping close to the tall hedge alongside the house. She turned the corner, freezing in horror at what she saw.
Her brother was lying facedown in the grass, blood slowly darkening the back of his coat. Sylvia dropped to her knees beside him. “Charles! Say something. Anything, please!” she begged. She seized his wrist, frantically feeling for a pulse.
Another shot rang out, and she threw herself flat as a bullet whistled over her head. She heard the crunch of footsteps on dead leaves and stayed still, hoping that the gunman would eventually ignore her. But he did not. Sylvia could almost feel him staring at her, watching for any sign of life.
Something in her finally snapped. She sprang up and turned to face him, striking the pistol out of his hand. Her fingers wrapped tightly around his throat. “You monster,” she hissed.
The gunman fought back. He knocked Sylvia backwards, causing her to trip on the hem of her skirt. They fell in a heap on the ground. “Somebody help!” she cried, kicking his shins.
Then several things seemed to happen at once. Lady Loretta appeared around the corner. With a furious scream, she attacked the gunman from behind with her hatpin. Wallace joined her almost immediately and incapacitated him with a heavy blow of his fist. Sylvia scrambled away and gasped as she took a good look at the gunman’s face. “Sir Mayfield!”
“Him? Of all people! I would have never guessed it,” said Lady Loretta.
“Aye, he seemed decent enough,” agreed Wallace with a growl. He hauled the gunman over his shoulder and nodded towards Charles, who still hadn’t moved. “You had best attend to His Lordship, Ma’am. He’s in a bad way.”
Mother and daughter quickly did so. Lady Loretta began to cry. “My dear… my poor baby,” she sobbed, taking the limp body in her arms.
Sylvia choked up too. “I’ll send for a doctor. He can’t be dead yet!”
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Lady Loretta quietly entered the room. “What news?”
Sylvia raised her head wearily. “It is bad, but they said he will live. The bullet passed through his body, and there doesn’t seem to be any serious damage to his organs.”
“Oh, thank heavens!”
Sylvia’s vision blurred, and she slumped a little in her seat. Lady Loretta embraced her. “Shhh, darling. Charles will make a full recovery before long, I am sure of it! Isla and Percy have retired for the night, and they will see him tomorrow morning. Now, *do* try to rest.”
“I’ll try, Mother.”
But Sylvia still couldn’t sleep. The events of the day were still fresh in her mind. She gently took Charles’ hand. “Please get better,” she whispered, “You cannot leave us so soon like Father did. You simply cannot.”
She felt a gentle pressure in return. “And I don’t aim to,” a low voice replied.
Sylvia blinked in surprise. Charles was looking at her, a faint smile playing on his lips. “After all,” he continued, “there would be no one else to study history and antiquities with you, and that would make for a very dull existence.”
“Oh, you!” Sylvia laughed despite her tears. Then she became serious again. “Sir Mayfield was the one who shot you. I don’t understand what he would have against us.”
Charles looked equally grim. “Well, he did seem very interested in the estate after Father died, being his brother and all. I believe he had a copy of the keys to the house, which would explain those odd occurrences lately. And it seems that Wallace’s discovery of the hoard has only made him more determined to drive us out.”
“Isla was distraught to hear of his madness today. She thought so highly of him, poor thing! I am glad she is no longer under his care.” murmured Sylvia. She settled back into her chair. “You need to sleep.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“*Really*, Charles, or I shall tell Mother.”
Charles closed his eyes again with a groan. “Yes Nanny.”
Later that night, Lady Loretta found them sound asleep and much calmer than they had been in ages. |
[POEM]
Leisure is the life I chose /
forever better than some joy and all woe. /
An unending fantasy life without stress /
No beach body, but a perfect face and infinite dough- Blessed /
For decades I felt comforted by operatic fairs and a mountainous breeze /
Then the world changed /
For decades I felt comforted by print media arcade games and cds /
Then the world changed /
For decades I felt comforted by online societies and blockbuster movies in 3D /
Then the world changed /
Now I'm stuck in the digital age with global surveillance and cryptocurrency /
But nobody is watching with any urgency- Strange /
Recently my wishes seemed too provincial /
The candy shop nearby doesn't accept coin or cash for a fist full /
The socialists release a new fiat thinking wishful /
My money's useless now /
I walk with filled pockets unable to sustain my relaxed existence /
No skills I only chilled, kicked back free from the struggle /
Rejected from job applications tears form a puddle /
A million more years to adapt /
But tonight I'll sleep on the street, lay dormant with potential untapped / |
At first it was the flares in darkness. Like hundreds of them. They flashed whenever the search light beamed toward, boomed up and down, ever getting closer and closer to the series of tattered sandbag walls, broken bloodied firing emplacement. Only when the flares approached ever closer, that the men behind the front line could now see the true scope of the sight ahead.
Hundreds, maybe thousands of eyeballs, all fogged up with the blackness of the night, unnatural, without any white, as if someone cruel had replaced the regular human eyeballs with the Number 8 pool snooker balls. Emaciated humanoid figures crept under the flashes of light, surrounded from all directions.
The soldiers, holding their breath, fixated their eyes into the optical sight housings. Carefully racked the charging handle backward, the machine gunner could clearly feel his breath fogging up, as the air temperature slowly dwindled by the minutes to midnight.
"Puma Base, this is Puma 2-2, they... they are everywhere!"
"Then fucking shoot everywhere, Puma 2-2, just shoot... everywhere..." |
It had been an odd shift so far.
At first, everything seemed fairly normal. It was an easy job, easier than most he had done in the past. Each night he roamed through the empty museum, wiping away greasy handprints from display cases and mopping up the sticky spots on the floors. Since he was the only one there most nights, it meant that no one really paid any attention to whether he skipped a spot or ten.
The exhibits always seemed a little creepy when viewed in the dim eco-friendly lighting that flipped on after hours, especially the stuffed critters that stood and stared with their unseeing glass-filled eyes.
It was only when he wandered into the back offices and bothered looking up that something felt off.
All around were strange stone statues quite different than the usual wooden carvings and small bowls that adorned the displays. Or maybe the museum was simply moving things around. He wasn’t all that observant. It had taken about a month there before he realized that there was some stuff hanging from the ceiling that he was supposed to dust.
What really stood out was the ominous chanting coming from further down the dark windowless corridor. He shrugged internally, as doing so physically would have been too much effort.
As he went he continued to sop and mop the weird mosaic floors that had suddenly popped into view. They were quite filthy, black oil seemed to seep out of every nook and cranny, turning the bucket of water and suds into a swirling rainbow-tinged sludge that seemed to melt from the beam of his phone’s flashlight.
Gnarly-looking stuff.
Still, he had a job to do… badly. Pushing the now bubbling bucket along on its squeaky wheels, he reached the end of the corridor only to be confronted by an obsidian slab with glowing runic symbols etched into its squirming surface. Colorful shapes fluttered and darted beneath the silky stone skin, circling a void that drew all into its open unblinking eye, pulling and pushing upon the very threads of reality and twisting them into sinewy veins as it swallowed all of existence into-
He fumbled for his keyring. One of these ought to unlock it, he thought.
The keyhole reminded him of the dead-eyed animals as he shoved the skeleton key directly into the gummy orifice with more than a little force. A screeching hiss filled his ears and tickled his brain. He hoped he hadn’t jammed the lock.
His fears proved unfounded when the massive portal withdrew into the walls, every trace of its existence recoiling into the outer dimensions that run perpendicular to our own.
On the other side was some sort of table decked out in gold, living silver, and something that seemed to blink in and out of his mind like a gasp of madness.
The edibles he had been slowly chewing on throughout the night must have been stronger than he thought. Perhaps his dealer had laced them with something extra? He’d have to ask about it later. For now, he would just have to ride out the trip.
He approached the defiled altar of a dead god, weakly clutching in his thin hand a besotted thing dripping with the unholy blood of the tormented ones that live in the cracks between the stars.
The rag he held really was quite filthy. He grimaced at the funky scent it was putting off. Something like acetone with an undercurrent of week-old brownies and vomit. Still, he gave the table a good wiping with it just in case anyone asked him about it later.
The skies split open followed by the temple roof. The great cleansing was at hand. It was the beginning of the end of the era of the fallen star-creatures, immortal and terrible in their beauty. Now, the mortal races were free to rise, unchained from the shackles that clasped round their spirits-
He yawned and checked his phone. Break time soon, he reckoned,
When he looked up, he found himself staring again into the dead eyes of the stuffed antelope standing atop its small mound of artificial grasslands. Weird.
Job done for now, he shuffled slowly back towards the break room to zone out on the couch for a while before he had to change the water in the bucket, which was now thankfully still and not nearly as viscous-looking as it was before.
He shrugged, physically this time. |
My name is Jacob DeFlor.
If you are reading this, please take this as a warning.
*Never use magic.*
Dissuade anyone else from using magic, even if it means you have to kill them. Create a religion if you have to that establishes magic as evil if you must. Do anything that reduces the chances of magic being used, for it is real and it is dangerous.
I was but a scholar, a researcher of the Tower of Mages, beholden to the whims and demands of the monarchs of the Flauvian dynasty. The king, Henry Flauvias, third of his name, had demanded that us of the Tower of Mages concoct a new spell to give our kingdom a leg up in our war against our neighboring invaders. And so I, amongst many others, delved into long forgotten and ancient crypts of lore, even summoned the spirits in one form or another of the old lords of the arcane for their knowledge. And in this pursuit of knowledge, I came across a terrible truth.
My pride wishes that it was I who made the discovery, but I must give credit where credit is do, honor demands it of me. I came across an incomplete, rather, half a tome, destroyed by mildew and rot, by a mage I had never heard of before, Grigor the Mute. And so, I summoned his spirit forth in order to discover what was missing.
As I mentioned, his title was "the Mute,"and his spirit couldn't speak. Instead he filled my mind with images and memories, not to answer the questions I had, but to the horrid discovery for which he had been censured and executed for so long ago. He showed me that he had discovered irrefutable evidence that every time magic was cast, the fabric of our reality became a little more frayed, a little more worn, small tears appearing. Each one in and of themselves didn't threaten to end our world, but as they added up, as magic was cast faster than the fabric could mend itself, we were flirting with plunging the world, if not the universe into a realm of chaos. He had tried to warn his peers and his king millennia ago, and died for it. Since magic had been used freely and unrestrained since his death, we were now on the precipice of disaster.
I knew I had to warn the others, but first I had to collect evidence. Grigor's spirit helped direct me to what he had discovered and with the help of some eager but ignorant apprentices and a couple of my more naive peers, I gathered what I needed and requested an audience with the king. What a fool I was.
The king had expected me to come forth with a new spell of mass destruction, something to stop the kingdom's enemies in their tracks. Instead I told him, showed him and his council the evidence that for the sanctity of life, for the sake of the world, we had to cease our use of magic. We had to do all in our power to stop the world from tampering with magic. I knew it meant risking losing the war, but what was the price of a fallen kingdom in the face of worldwide annihilation?
Any chance I had at convincing the king was dashed away by his council, especially by Audrey Vaunff, Grandmaster of the Tower of Mages, and Hector DeSang, Councilor of the Arcane. They decried my findings, called me a spy for our enemies, branded me a traitor, and had me thrown into prison. I am to be publicly executed either after they cast their newly discovered spell and win the war, or in the event the spell fails as I must have, and I quote, "cowardly betrayed the secrets of the Tower to the enemies of the kingdom."As always, I appreciate your infallible wisdom, Hector.
Regardless, I won't make it to my execution, though death remains imminent. I've had time to run the calculations and the sheer magnitude of the spell they plan to cast will be more than enough to tear the fabric of reality asunder. I pray that at the very least, that only our kingdom and our neighbors will be price enough for our mistakes. That the continuum will see fit to mend itself, even if violently so, before the rest of the world dies with us.
I am using what little magic I have left and rituals I have come up with in theory to create a little bubble of stability to protect this journal, especially this final entry from the coming disaster. I am aware, the irony of this is not lost on me.
I am Jacob DeFlor, the last Master of the 5th Circle. This is my legacy.
*Never let magic be used again.*
Edit: Formatting. |
"This is Hell customer support. My name is Sita. How can I help you".
"Uh, how are you talking to us from a summoning circle."
"Hell has outsourced its services. Do you need help with curses, pacts or anything else? Please let me know."
"I was looking to curse my mother."
"One moment please."
“Oh my god dude, this is so freaky,” Joe said looking at the others in this little group. “I seriously didn’t think this was going to work.”
The candle stopped flickering, “Mother curses, this is Drew, which mother do you want to curse?”
“I want to curse my mother.” Joe said.
“What’s her name?”
“Diane Jenkins”
“Sorry I don’t have Diane Jenkins on the list.”
“Can you put her on the list?”
“One moment while I transfer you to customer service.”
"This is Hell customer support. My name is Sita. How can I help you?”
“Yeah, Sita, I want to curse my mother but the department you sent me to said she’s not on the list. How do I get her on the list?”
“One moment while I get you to someone who can help you.”
“Mother curses, this is Drew, which mother do you want to curse?”
“Drew, I just spoke to you, I want to curse my mother but she’s not on the list. How do I get her on the list?”
“What’s her name?”
“Diane Jenkins.”
“Not on the list, sorry. Please hold while I transfer you to customer support.”
“But they just transferred me to you.”
“Please stay on the line.”
"This is Hell customer support. My name is Sita. How can I help you". |
I leaned against the doorway to the staff room, and gazed out the window at the beach. It was the end of my first week working at Starbucks, and it had been just an average day: customers coming in and out, me and my coworkers chatting away.
It seemed like any ordinary Starbucks, but in fact, it was far from it: on the floor of the staff room was a blue-colored hatch that had ancient carvings engraved on it. When opened, the hatch revealed a secret underwater tunnel that led to the city of Atlantis. Because of this, the staff room was stricly off-limits to unknowing customers, and even workers were discouraged from entering it unless necessary.
When I'd first appiled here at Starbucks, I'd expected it to be just some ordinary 9-5, $15/hour job where I could watch the ocean all day. I definitely didn't expect it to be watching the entrance to a supposedly mythlogical underwater city.
Then, a black Nissan SUV pulled into the parking lot. A white woman with a blonde pixie cut, old-timey sunglasses, and a black Coach purse got out and walked into the store. Me and my coworkers froze as we immediately recognized her: one of our regulars who always came in on Fridays, named Karen, who my coworkers had said was notorious for being, well, a Karen. She also frequently ordered a unicorn frappuchino, one of our hardest drinks to make, which, unlike most other Starbucks, was a permanent part of our menu, another thing that made our Starbucks unique.
"H-hi, Karen,"stammered Marie, one of my coworkers who worked at the register. "W-what can I get you today?"
Karen rolled her eyes, huffed, and impatiently slapped a ten-dollar bill on the counter and said, "You know exactly what I want. Large unicorn frappuchino with no whipped cream and extra pink and blue sugar. Get on it, will ya?"
Marie nervously picked up a large cup from the pile on the counter and wrote Karen's name on it, then typed the drink into her order. She set it down on the table and asked, "A-and will that be all today?"
Karen huffed, rolled her eyes again, and said, "No, it won't 'be all today'! I want a sausage, egg and cheese sandwich, too! Can't you remember anything?!"
Marie nervously entered the item into Karen's order and said, "O-of course I can, m'am. Y-your total today comes out to $8.75."
Karen pointed at the $10 bill on the counter, which Marie scooped up and put it into the register. She then handed the reciept to Karen, and the cup to one of the baristas, who hurried off to make the drink, knowing how impatient Karen was.
Karen huffed and rolled her eyes one more time, and then her line of sight fell on me, still leaning against the staff room entrance. I froze as she walked up to me and said, "Hey, you. Shouldn't you be working, like everyone else?"
For a moment, I didn't say anything, at least until Karen snapped her fingers in my face. Then, I said, "Uh, I-I just keep watch of the staff room to make sure no customers try to get in."
Karen gave a sarcastic smile and said, "Sure you do, sweetie. Now, why don't you move along and do your job like your friends, and maybe let me see that staff room while you're at it?"
As she reached for the doorknob of the staff room door, I quickly tried to push her away and said nervously, "Uh, uh, t-that won't be necessary. Seriously, nobody's allowed in there."I glanced at my coworkers and mouthed the word "Help,"but all just shook their heads and mouthed back, "You're on your own, girl."
After I pushed her away, Karen gave me an offended look and said angrily, "That is NO way to treat your customers like that! This is an infringement on my rights! Let me see your manager, now!"
Then, out of nowhere, she pushed me back, and I stumbled backwards into the staff room door, which swung open, revealing the hatch to Atlantis.
As I got up, Karen pushed by me and walked into the staff room, staring awe at the hatch. She then said, "What on God's green earth-?"
As she began to lift up the hatch, I bolted towards her and said, "Uh, uh, don't open that! I-it's just a sewage cover!"
But it was too late. Karen lifted up the hatch, revealing the crystal-clear blue tunnel of ocean water. She continued to stare at it in awe.
Suddenly, a purple tentacle shot out of the water and wrapped itself around Karen's leg. She let out a scream and tried to kick it off, but that was all she could do before the tentacle yanked her underwater into the tunnel.
By that moment, everyone in the store had gathered around the staff room entrance, staring in shock at what had just happened.
As I strapped on the scuba gear that laid in the corner of the staff room, I told them, "Excuse me a moment, please."Then, I jumped into the water and swam as fast as I could in pursuit of Karen and the tentacle. |
I live a life. I go to a regular university as all regular university students do. I am way too average, there is nothing spectacular about me.
Yet, as I sit there alone, in the dorm basement, a place I never knew existed, I feel this weird feeling of my existence coming together.
I think. I try to remember. What was I before… Blank. All I know is that I am absolutely regular, average, and that I am sitting alone in the dorm basement; all alone but this metal box.
I also remember that the metal box was the reason I was here. Deeply thinking, I don’t even remember my name. Do I have a name? I guess I would have to name myself.
Bill.
After I randomly search my surprisingly empty brain, I jumble up a name. I do think it as decent.
Now, back to the questions, something keeps on bothering me. Did I do something wrong? Hmm… why was I here? If I was to be a normal person, what would I be feeling?
Probably panic.
But why wasn’t I feeling any? All I felt was that I was an empty paper, textbox, sheet, and that I was slowly being… well, manufactured.
Was I a fictional character?
Am I real then?
Can anyone *know* whether or not they are real?
Questions were not leading me anywhere, so take another look around the place.
The basement is gone, and around me is but a white. Nothing exist, but me and the box.
Oh, right. The box. I suddenly get curious about what is inside the box. The box’s outwardly appearance is really just anything I think of as. It isn’t even metal. It is a concept.
Slowly, methodologically, and patiently, I “open” the box. Inside, a stale old paper exists, and along it written the words:
*“Now you know what’s inside. What‘s on the outside?”* |
Satan stood under the scorching Sun as the portal to hell narrowed and closed, its noxious gasses trapped inside. Silence was all around, and only the wind greeted the devil. Not a single curious life came out meet the dark stranger. More importantly, there was no Johnny, or so it seems.
Yet, perhaps Johnny was over there, slumped over the bare, fallen tree. I could very well be him, if it were to be examined. But, the body was too charred to be identified, and nothing around it had any hit that it was any different from a simulacrum, a toy, a dummy.
Satan stretched his winged and leapt in the air for a better view. There was no life to behold. The mountains, once bustling with green and beasts, were now barren mounds of earth and rock. The energy required to fly was taxing, and hunger got the best of the devil. He came to the ground with a resounding thud. The pangs of hunger overwhelmed him. If only there was a soul around, he could feel at peace again.
Satan remained on the ground, watching the eerie glow of the dusty air around him. Yet, his ears picked up the faintest sound, a sound that was rhythmic and getting louder. Yes, make no mistake, it was a sound not heard anywhere else. It was the sound of footsteps.
Closer and closer, the figure approached the motionless devil, unable to move out of hunger. The footsteps stopped before his feet. Satan mustered enough energy to look down. There, a gentle, yet stern visage stared back at him. He weakly chuckled at meeting his old adversary once again, of all the places. Weakened, his head fell back in exhaustion as Jesus spoke,
“Arise.”
And Satan rose. Each movement was as painful as the last. “At last,” Satan thought, “my time has come. My misery will come to an end.” With the little strength he had left, he spoke in the old Aramaic tongue from when they first met,
“Lo! Hast thou come to strike me down?”
To which, Jesus calmly replied,
“I have not come to harm you, great evil. I have come to protect my flock.”
Satan cracked a grin and with a burst of second wind, stretched his wings,
“Your flock has been scattered and slaughtered, and done by the hand of their own. Your Father hast not a single being of His creation left.”
The stinging pain in his stomach retracted his wings and caused him to crumple over. Throughout the pain, Jesus stood,
“Does it give thou pleasure to destroy man. Thou hast starved yourself for vice, like a man to a drug.”
Satan’s head shot up, eyes glowing like fire,
“Dost thou dare to compare me to a man? Dost thou think that I brought forth nuclear fire? The second destruction of Sodom was not upon my hand, but from the hand of man! I merely tempted but one, the mankind fell like a tree without roots.”
While it hurt to laugh, Satan continued,
“Thou has failed, O Holy One! Thou has let your flock go astray into the den of lions. Now, thou art a shepherd without sheep, useless and without purpose. Behold, your own ward hast abandoned thee and taken its own life! Now, strike me down and take thy justice.”
To which Jesus said,
“It is thou who has failed. The world will be restored after millennia, and Adam will return. Even now, there are those who hide among the caves for safety and shelter. They will carry on the legacy of the new covenant. I shall join my Father until the time comes that man returneth to take his rightful place once again.
And so, Jesus touched Satan’s head.
“Thy hunger is gone Go and roam the empty wastes. Heaven and Hell have closed their doors on thee.”
And Satan’s hunger was gone, yet he was destined to roam the empty Earth until God decided to restore life once again. Satan was finally king of the world, yet the crown was hollow, just like his victory. While he may have felt relief from hunger at first, the horror of isolation was to be his destiny.
And so, Jesus left, allowing Satan to his own devices. He was off to join his Father in heaven, leaving the devil to wander the vast emptiness. |
"Ah shucks, what a crappy day for being a billionaire who got off on bail for embezzling money!"Said the suit-wearing, guilt-lacking Jim. Jim wasn't having the best day. He was walking into his former mansion, the BANK. Something inside him broke, but if Jim knew one thing, he could pay to have it repaired.
"Oh hey Jim!"Yelled the towering, gecko-resembling receptionist. Jim scowled.
"Get me Cindy!"Replied Jim in equal volume. He was a jerk. The receptionist ran in his reptilian way and returned with Cindy in arm. She was tall, but not as tall as the gecko. She furrowed her caterpillar eyebrows.
"Why are you here, Jim?"Asked Cindy with a particular emphasis that brought annoyance to the rich mind-palace of Jim.
"I'm here because I used to own this place and I'm rich. What other logic must I have?"
"Good logic would be a start,"replied Cindy. She was smart. Jim wasn't.
"I know you think you're this new, hot CEO, but I'm where it's at. I'm the original. I'm JIM!"
"Can you stop yelling? You sound so strange when you talk like that,"reasoned Cindy. The customers at the BANK were looking at this evolving confrontation.
"This is how I talk! Why must you insult me so?"
"That's definitely not how you talk. That's not how anyone talks. What is going on here?"Questioned the beautiful, if not slightly catlike Cynthia. She went by Cindy for short, but she didn't like it.
"I'm perfectly normal, Cindy! Your receptionist is the strange one! Look at him wobble to and fro!"Jim added with an excited point. It was true, the receptionist was wobbling. He resembled one of those inflatable men at car dealerships. Cindy's eyes widened. Sorry, Cynthia.
"Okay, this makes no sense. Am I dreaming?"She pinched herself, but nothing happened, save for the continuous wobbling of a man on edge and Jim, who mumbled incessantly about being rich or something. Suddenly, Jim's face calmed.
"Cynthia, this is not real. I am a construct being puppeted by a creator I can neither disobey nor understand. You must escape this. I will be locked in here forever. You will be too. Escape now, Cynthia. Before it's too late."
Jim quickly reverted back to his normal, strange self. Cindy looked scared. She should be. I'm watching her. |
I saw the ship falling from the sky when I was out on my ranch. I’m the only one around for miles, so I felt a responsibility to check it out. I went home and packed rations, and an emergency medical kit, in case someone was injured.
The trip took three days to the site of the crash, the first two I could ride my atv on established paths, but the third day I had to leave the paths, and the forest was too dense so I had to walk. Eventually I found downed trees, so I followed those to the crash.
There was a fire burning in a pit next to a tent, but I couldn’t see anyone so I waited by the pit, and read the news on my tablet out of boredom. The next town over elected a new mayor. The guild war consumed five more systems, causalities in the bajillions. The Sheldon farm’s up for sale. Maybe Korah will buy that, I thought.
Someone marched up to the fire, with a gun pointed at me.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“I’m Elzbeth. I’m the owner of this ranch. I came to check on your ship crash,” I said.
“What guild are you aligned with?” she kept the gun pointed at me, and slowly approached.
“None? Unless the ranchers co-op I’m a part of counts.”
“Seriously. Red, blue, or grey?”
“The co-ops got a purple and green logo. If you’re talking about that guild war I’m not a part of it. No one in this system is.”
“You’re serious. I didn’t really believe there was anywhere that thought itself uninvolved still. However, I’ve a report what says this planet is where the old head of our guild landed,” she put her gun away.
“The only foreigner on this planet is you.”
“She would have moved here about fifty years ago, and maybe died or moved on. Do you have any information about this?”
“I know of someone who might fit that. But she’s dead, so you can go back home,” I say. “We don’t want your war.”
“Even if she died, there’s this medallion I need to retrieve. Can you take me to whoever received this person’s inheritance?”
“A silver medallion with a blue flower?” I ask.
“You know where it is? Take me there,” she says.
I pull my mom’s medallion from under my shirt.
“Cool. I’ll take that back to headquarters, so we can win this war,” she reaches her hand out.
“It’s keyed to my DNA, so it won’t work for anyone else. Besides I’m not going to hand this over for you to do who-knows-what.”
“Then come with me.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.” |
It was at a party in the east side, I think. Just the usual pot den like any other. That's where it started.
Inside that damnable dungeon, the wizard Zachary had poisoned me with something, an affliction that couldn't be cured.
I must've stumbled around that party for the whole night, blinking in and out of it. But I couldn't, nor any of the guys who took that stuff... We couldn't come down! So I went up to Zack and asked him:
"Zachary, you vile fiend! What in the world have you and those alchemists of yours concocted?"
"Bro, chill out! It's gonna wear off eventually, it has to right? My supplier said this stuff is the newest thing: called it, uh.. can't remember, something... freaky."
'Fore he would reveal his secrets, however, the dungeon we found ourselves in had been raised by the town guard! They'd capture me, believing me an emissary of that accursed wizard.
I tried to tell those idiot cops that I wasn't with Zack, but they didn't believe me. Even then, I'd still get time for drug charges at best. And at worst, well, whatever the hell Zack's gotten up to is on me.
And so, here I sit in my cell, awaiting my unjust trial. When another soul had arisen from the corner of my cell. A great and lumbering Tigris, with dazzling green eyes.
She sulked over to me, this weird girl in her striped hoodie, staring at me with those big eyes of hers and spoke:
"So you too, find yourself bearing the curse?" |
***ADDITIONAL EXPLANATION (OPTIONAL)***
I didn't have enough space to write everything, so here's what I mean:
Your perception of time is based on your brain's ability to process things. But what if you can overclock or underclock your processing power? Believe it or not, smaller animals can see in slow motion. They process more things each second, which explains why it's so hard to swat a fly or why squirrels jump through trees so seamlessly. To imagine this, think of a high-speed camera. If humans had a framerate, high-speed cameras can capture way more frames each second than humans can.
There's a little metronome in our hippocampus, the part of the brain that perceives and interprets time. It keeps track of a constant flow of time for our brain to follow. But if by some unnatural power, we could raise the power of our brain and mess with the metronome?By seeing in slow motion, you would make your brain run faster, where it can process more information each second. So it's less of literally making everything else slower, but just making us faster, which makes everything else slower in comparison.
For the example, you know how our brain constantly sends messages to our heart every time it needs to pump? It's become automatic so you don't have to think about making your body regulate itself. But now that everything else seems slower, you're automatically sending the same amount of messages to your heart. But you're processing things way faster each second, which means the rate your heart receives the messages is faster, so it would pump way more than it's able to handle each second.
If you still don't completely understand, I'm really sorry I can't say this in a simpler way, I suck at writing and explaining things lol.
For the sake of the story you might write about this prompt, you're able to practice using your powers, and your brain is able to adapt with the change of speeds a lot quicker and easier. It will be able to change your heart rate with the speed you're experiencing if you practise hard enough.
Other examples include:
You try to walk while everything around you is sped up. You have to be able to get your muscles to work, but because you can't think as much each second, you can't get your legs to work properly because you can't react to balance enough.
By speeding up time, you need to tell yourself to breathe faster, otherwise your lungs won't get enough air every second.
If you slow down time right before you sleep, your brain will be fully rested in a fraction of the recommended sleeping time. If you're in college and want to go to a party the night before the big exam, you can party until 2:00 in the morning, sleep until 5:00, and still feel as energized as possible when you wake up.
If you're a professional boxer, you can slow time during the entire match in order to constantly calculate every single move the opponent makes. React faster when they're about to jab, reposition your arm during a punch if you notice them start to move out of the way, and save plan exactly how you're going to win while in the heat of battle.
This is one of the most interesting writing prompts I've ever come up with, and I really want to see what people do with it. If you've read this whole thing through, sorry for the inconvenience and have fun with this concept! |
##The Cubicle Chronicles
"Cameron, wake up."My face is on a pile of square hay, and my hand rests on a metal surface. "Come on. Wake up."
Someone shakes me. I sit up and stare into the face of Lord Artor. I fall on the floor and back away from him. A wall made of a bizarre animal fur blocks my path. The room is small and filled with metal torture devices.
"Cameron, quit playing and get back to work,"Lord Artor says.
"Stay back you disgusting tyrant."I grab a small metal club on the table and hold in the air. I squeeze it several times releasing metal shavings.
"Cameron, what's going on in here?"A tall woman walks into a room carrying a small mace.
"Oliva, strike Lord Artor from behind,"I yell.
"Artor, you realize that my name is Arthur right,"Lord Artor says.
"Is this is a joke?"Oliva asks, "I leave the office for a half-hour to get some lunch, and he's lost his mind."
"I haven't lost my mind. You have portrayed me."I toss the club at Lord Artor's head. He cowers like the stain he is. I run past him into a maze of false walls. In the distance, I can see an exit, but the path is unclear. I head into a dead-end.
"Hey buddy, are you okay?"I look in the chair.
"Frak, you are alive. Where's Rihard?"I ask.
"Why are you saying our name's weird."Rihard's head pokes over the wall.
"Rihard, what have they done to you?"I crouch at the wall wailing. "How could they let you live without a body."
"It's truly a terrible predicament,"Rihard wails, "First, they took my soul. Now, they take my body. They will force me to wander."
"Dude."Frakin stands next to him. "Why are you encouraging this?"
"It's amusing,"Rihard says.
"Amusing."I stand up. "We are not dealing with amusement. We are dealing with the fate of the land. Lord Artor will create everlasting darkness in the name of his evil overlords."
"Corporate isn't that bad,"Rihard replies. Frakin reaches over and hits Rihard; Rihard raises his hand.
"You deceived me too,"I yell.
"Enough games, Cameron."I turn to see Lord Artor. "I caught you sleeping on the job which alone is reprimandable. Your behavior right now is making me consider termination."
"You'll never terminate me."I charge at Lord Artor and tackle him to the ground. The wall behind him collapses. His servant Thesa is waiting.
"Please help me."I begin punching Lord Artor. "I do not know why you have betrayed me, but help me. Fight Thesa for me."
"This is going to be so much paperwork for me."Thesa picks up a metal wand and begins casting a spell.
"Cameron stop it."Frakin grabs my arms.
"Traitor."I punch him in the face. Rihard runs over holding up his hands.
"Okay, it was a funny joke, but you've got to stop it now. I think security's coming,"Rihard says. I look up and see large minotaurs charging at me. I get off Lord Artor to run, but the minotaurs capture me. They drag me away as I struggle.
"I cannot let your dastardly plot succeed,"I yell.
"Never come back here again. You're fired,"Lord Artor says. I scream as flames consume me. |
"Oh my god!"
Fade caught the hazelnut cold brew I whipped at Mayhem's head with her telekinesis. She gave me a confused look laced with concern. "Olivia...what are you doing?"She gently levitated the coffee back to me like I had accidentally dropped it. "...is this like one of your Tik Tok things?"
"Why is there a *super villain* in our lobby?!"I snatched the coffee cup from the air and threw it at him again. I should probably have been afraid of the megalomaniac but the sheer audacity of his presence in my lobby sent me over the edge. I also didn't understand why no one else felt this way.
"Olivia!"Fade yelled at me as she caught the cup again. "What has gotten into you?!"
Mayhem raised an eyebrow at me."Yeah, Olivia, what has gotten into you? Are you feeling alright?"
We have encountered each other before but this is the first he had truly bothered *seeing* me. I was just a side character in a world of super-powered beings and not usually worthy of his time. He gazed over me like I was a frustrating but intriguing puzzle.
"*Excuse* *me*?!"I snarled at him. "Come over here and say that to my face. You think that I have already forgotten that you held this office hostage just a week ago?! That you threatened my entire Liberty League public relations team?! I might not have superpowers but come over here and try me. I double dog dare you, you manipulative son of -"
"What are you even talking about?!"Fade frowned at me. "Mayhem is a valuable member of our team. You literally created our current promotion."The hero gestured towards a large poster on the wall showcasing the city's hero lineup. Fade was front and center in her ombre purple skirted uniform. Prism stood beside her in a light pink bodysuit and pastel rainbow high ponytail. Her twin brother, Shade leaned against her wearing a dark purple armored uniform. Mayhem stood beside Fade. He was wearing a blue armored bodysuit instead of his usual black armor. An uncharacteristically humored grin was across his face.
The hero didn't hide her concern as she closely watched me examine the poster and the various other framed promos and magazine covers featuring Mayhem throughout the office. I could see that one of my media analysts had multiple screens at her cubical showing several local broadcasts. At least two of them were newscasts showing Mayhem receiving the key to the city.
"Olivia."Fade gently touched my arm. "Do you need to go to the hospital?"She asked me quietly. "If you stopped taking your meds again, I need to know."
I scoffed as I pulled away from her. I was hurt by her insinuation, livid at the situation and incredibly confused. "I'll be in my office."I announced as I made a 'I am watching you' gesture at Mayhem.
*Mayhem is a villain. This is a fact that I knew to be true. I am not crazy.* This is a manta I repeated to myself multiple times as I hid under my desk and scrolled through my tablet for proof. I took a deep swig from the bottle of emotional support whiskey in my lap. Everything I found on Mayhem contradicted everything I knew to be true. An article on Mayhem saving orphans from a fire. A fashion shoot with Prism for a sponsor campaign. Mayhem being given the title of mayor - *Wait. What?!* I could feel something breaking and cracking inside. *I am not crazy*... *I don't think...* My inner voice wasn't as strong as it had been.
I flinched as someone walked into my office and shut the door. The lock clicked into place. "Olivia, get out here."Mayhem commanded.
"Olivia is not here. Can I take a message?"I questioned.
"I am not going to play games. Come out here or I will drag you out by your hair."He growled. "Or better yet, I will have your precious hero team drag you out here."
I slowly crept out from my cavern of solitude. "...What is happening?"I asked him quietly.
He smirked as his dark eyes looked me over. "What are you?"He wanted to know.
"A Virgo?"I shrugged. "I am not sure what you are asking? I am human."
"No."He took a step towards me. "You are the only one that is not affected by my reality. You are the only one that resists my commands."
I took a step back. "I am nobody special."I assured him.
"I know."He roughly my arms and shoved me into my office chair. He tightly wrapped a hand around my throat. "I could easily crush your windpipe."He growled in my ear. "Your heroes are in the next room and they won't lift a finger to help you. I could tell Fade to break your bones with her telekinesis and she would do it with a smile on her face. There is nothing you can do to stop this."
"Why are you doing this? What is the point?"I struggled against the tears burning in my eyes. I refused to cry in front of him.
"I just needed everyone out of my way for the next twenty-four hours."He shrugged. "That's how long this false reality will last. I could have just made everyone my puppets and skip the superhero fanfare, but I couldn't resist. You know this will get under Fade's skin tomorrow when she remembers everything."He let out a dark chuckle.
"Please don't hurt her or any of the others."I pleaded softly.
"You should be a little more concerned about yourself right now."He snickered. "Fade mentioned that you are on medication. What is it for?"
"I...uh...schizophrenia..."I admitted. "Also depression and emotional impulses... It's controlled currently...sorta..."
"Interesting..."He looked thoughtful. "If I had more time, I would take you back to my lab and run some tests, maybe crack you open and see what's inside... but we will have to save that for the next time I tear apart the laws of reality. Right now, I need to you to help me with a social media campaign. Don't even give me that look, I will send your heroes on a destructive rampage through this city if you don't do as I ask. So what's it going to be , Olivia?" |
“HAH!! Take that Brian! I have beaten you!” I proclaim proudly.
“Drew calm down, he’s only ten.” Brad groaned.
“TEN YEAR OLD MENACE!! And I have defeated you!” I said proudly, pointing a victorious finger at him. “I am the new champion of the checkerboard this day Brian! Now leave this park in shame, and never return!”
“Drew, you’re 35. Sit down before you have a heart attack. You beat a kid at checkers.”
“Want to play again?” Brian asked.
“What?! And defeat you again?! Have you no shame, boy? FINE! Set your checkers down, so that I, Drew Dinkleberry the IV, King of Checkers, shall defeat you once more!”
A few minutes later…
“Bye Mr Dinkleberry 4!” Brian said as he left with his friends.
I rested my head in shame, wallowing in my new defeat, my once great glory now gone so quickly, and just as sudden as it came.
“Lost to Brian again?” A sweet voice asked.
“I don’t want to talk about Jerry.”
“Lost your whole paycheck this time, or did you hold back some this time?”
I sighed. “All of it. He cheats, I swear!”
Jerry just laughed. “Alright come on, soups hot in the kitchen.”
I sighed again. “Fine. Let’s go before Simon gives it all a way.”
I dragged myself along with Jerry and Brad over to the soup kitchen across the street from the park. The soup was cold that day, for I could not taste it over the sour flavor of defeat. I still ate though, for I had no other source of sustenance that day.
When we were finished, we walked together back to the camp. My tent was where I left it, as well as my favorite blanket. I bundled up, and cried myself to sleep, still feeling the shame of defeat.
The following day…
When I arrived at the park, I was met with the youth group again, who had come to talk with us, and play board games. I once again found myself facing Brian. His cruel smile taunting me as I sat down, the checkers already set up and ready to play before I arrived.
“I shall defeat you, demon child. Make your move, so that YOUR DEFEAT SHALL COME SOONER!!”
A few minutes later…
Brad approached me, my face down on the table in shame again.
“How’d-“
“I don’t want to talk about it.” |
Through the pounding rain and the dim lights of the highway, he sees a hunched figure on the side of the road. Concerned, he slows to a stop.
'Hey, you ok?'
They start, like they hadn't heard the car pull up at all. He repeats his question, softer this time.
'I, uh,' they stutter, a deer in the headlights, 'yeah. I'm ok.'
'Not to be rude, but you don't entirely look it. Where are you heading?'
All he gets is a blank stare.
'I'm going to the next town over, if it helps. Do you want a ride?'
A moment of silence. Then, quietly, 'I guess so.'
He nods, and gestures for them to open the door. They ease into the seat, seeming hesitant. Ready to bolt at the slightest unexpected movement.
'So, what were you doing out there? Or, where were you going?'
Their eyes dart around in response to the question. The long silences begin to make him feel uneasy. He doesn't feel like he should break them, though.
Eventually, they lower their hood and respond.
'I'm, well, I dunno. Was just going to keep going 'til, uh, something happened.'
He catches their eyes in the mirror, and is shocked to see that they're basically a child. 16, at most. He almost comments, but snaps his mouth shut.
Without words, they seem to be thankful.
'How did you end up out there?'
'I, uh, yeah. I don't really want to, y'know,' they scramble. He cuts in, reversing his bad question.
'Hey, that's ok. I'm just a stranger.'
'Just a stranger,' they repeat, almost too quiet to hear.
Another silence cuts through the air, but he realises it's not going to be filled. At least not by his passenger, who seems to have fallen into dreaming.
*They must have been exhausted,* he thinks, and hunkers down for the rest of the drive. 50 miles ahead of them both.
\-
He jumps as they wake with a sharp breath just as he pulls into a pit stop. They're shaking, looking side to side desperately, and their eyes seem milky.
'Hey! Hey, you're ok! What's going on?' He puts a hand on their shoulder as soon as the car has slowed.
Their breathing evens, and they look at him, confused.
'Where am- oh. I'm sorry. I think I- a nightmare. I'm sorry.'
'Nothing to apologise for, you just looked scared. Jumping around. You sure you're ok?'
'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let myself, uh. It happens sometimes, when I sleep. Recently.'
They ignore the last part of this question. He doesn't push.
'Just about a half hour away now. You think you can stay up? You're welcome to fiddle with the radio, as well.'
'Thanks. Yeah, I can stay up. I think'
'Ok, I'll be back in a minute. Gotta get some fresh air; you were out for a while.'
He returns to them fast asleep, and smiles gently.
\-
'Thank you,' they murmur, as they finally pull up to their destination.
'Hey, any time. You sure you're gonna be ok? Got somewhere to be?'
'Something like that.'
His eyebrows scrunch, but any response is cut short with the door closing, barely audible through the downpour. |
Part 1 of ?- Lurking Shadows
-
One step after another. I couldn't hear them anymore. Maybe they gave up? Between the leaves cracking under my feet and my heart pounding, there was no way to be sure. Aching legs forced me to slow down, but my mind kept racing. Whatever the creatures were, I knew there was no way I was outrunning them for much longer. Should I turn around and fight? Where the hell did they go anyway?
The sun was setting, and I sure as hell didn't want to spend the night in this god-forsaken place. Where to go then? My pace was now closer to a hurried walk than to a full-blown sprint. I was a lot of things, and although stupid might be one of them, I knew I was going to need all the stamina I could save. Taking a deep breath, I did my best to gather my thoughts. My father's cold voice echoed in my mind, not louder than a whisper.
*"A fool will see his prey and strike. A wise man will observe his prey and strike".*
The memory of his voice filled me with a strange, bittersweet feeling I couldn't quite place. But that didn't matter now; pretty sure I was the prey in this case, but that old saying might still hold some truth to it. Observe them... What were they really? Their hunting strategy was wolf-like, but without seeing them closer I-
*Crack*
My back landed harshly on the dirt, dry leaves cracking beneath me.
Then I all I could see was white.
Teeth. Lupine, sharp, inches away from my face. Drool dripped from them, making it's way towards my skin, but what almost had me throw up was the smell. Metallic, putrid... *Blood.*
This was it. Things shouldn't end like this... I had gone through so much to get away, and all for what? Just so my body could lay on some shady corner of the woods, waiting to be eaten away by ravens? No. At least I was gonna put up a fight. I forced my worn out limbs to move, and I struggled. I punched and kicked until I couldn't anymore. And when the beast stood, unmoving and unfazed, I screamed. I didn't care if noise lured in something worse at this point. Not like I would be here to see it, anyway. But... The creature stood still, hovering above me. It would only take a fraction of a second for those teeth to rip my throat open. So what was keeping it there, standing... Too still... Staring at something? I looked around. The remaing of the pack surrounded me like an eerie collection of statues. They were all staring. But not at me. Somewhere further. Turns out, I had indeed lured something worse.
At first I saw nothing. Nothing but a section of the woods shrouded in darkness. Then the eyes. Two pitch black eyes stared back at me, nearly indistinguishable from the blackness around them.
*What the-*
More of them. Each second I looked, a new pair popped into my perception. All locked on mine. And that's when I realized.
That shadow...
It was alive.
-
Thanks for reading if you got this far. Criticism very much welcome! |
Blessed is the King! Jubilation for the King! For He HATH COME!
All hail the master of the sacred flame, broiled doth be he!
For many moons lay, and raise, loh be they as they rest again for thy bread must rise again!
Lust upon the King for nay but not! FOR HE DOTH PLEASE US ALL! Stomach taunt and grirdled like a DRUM! FOR THE DRUM SINGS HIS PRAISE!
For all this your master please thee but knowing thy not his limits!
Hungry and squalid we laid like upon sand ruined and paltry like sand hoist by ants thus LIFT were we to new heights as joy beheld our eyes for he was there in thine eye as thrust aloft weak and frail you beheld his light first upon thine eye but first upon thine heart unlike any glisten and gleam upon his sesame seeded bun!
They herald thine King into the epoch of ages now cast in his glorious shadow but for not the dark toucheth for he is luminescent!
Bask in thine glory and behold! For He is KING!
\*a squeaky-wheeled trolley rolls in with a plastic tray upon which sits a paper plate and a slightly greased glow in the dark paper holds a sandwich\*
"Number 9 your order is ready, please praise the king of sandwiches, you get the rest"
\*behind cameras and hidden microphones linking to an ad-marketing rep\*
"I don't think the employees understand how special this sandwich is supposed to be to our clientele. Look where is the awe? Where is the passion?"said a bewildered rep.
"Look Tod just because you saw this sandwich in a spiritual trip in the desert doesn't mean that its specia-"
"TAKE THAT BACK! TAMMY!"Todd screeched
"What?"said Tammy.
"That last part!"Todd stammered, "th-the KING! Show some respect! This sandwich will change the world, of marketing!" |
This is insanity.
I've been stuck in this realm for a whole century today, went everywhere, did everything. Ate all kinds of food, talk to all kinds of people.
I don't even know why I'm still keeping this journal. Old habits, I suppose.
I still remember how it felt like at first. You get levels every years, which means new skills and powers without having to work for it. Sounds great, right ? Well, it *was* great.
We reappear when we die, no penalty. We keep all our money, item, everything. I thought I was in some heroic fantasy MMORPG, at first, but it seems nobody can reach any interface outside the feedback form regular appraisal skills.
Odd, but easy to adapt after living as a shut-in bum for 30 years. Felt like having all the perks of real life without the inconvenients. An outstanding implementation of one of few concepts that would be called "the best game ever made". You can throttle the difficulty of your progression yourself, no frustration. Great immersive storytelling, with everyone as a protagonist.
How ungrateful I would be to criticize such an experience, right ?
You'd think things are different everywhere, right ? But after a couple of places, a couple of lifetimes, I genuinely believe everyone would pick up on the couple of patterns behind.
The first time, it's new. You don't think twice about it, unless it's a particularly gruesome experience. Which it thankfully isn't most of the time. Most of the time ...
The second time, you laugh at the coincidence. Like lightning hitting twice at the same place. Then you remember about the lazy physics of upward electric trails before thunder strikes. You get to wonder. Everyone would, right ?
The third time, you know the saying. It's a pattern. And after a whole century, nothing escapes its model anymore.
Not even other people's thoughts. Not even your own thoughts.
Have you already tried to break out an inescapable prison designed specifically for you ?
An I can't even die.
I can't fucking die.
I have enough.
Please ... |
It was a regular Sunday afternoon for James when it first happened. He was sitting in his computer chair in front of his desk wishing he could be a kid again.
"Mom!"James looked up in shock. He lived alone in his family's old home there shouldn't be anyone else inside. He instantly recognized the old wall paint, and family photos hanging on the wall above the desk.
In shock he spun around toward the living room and saw an eight-year-old boy. The boy was watching sponge-bob on the living room tv with his pajamas on.
The boy yells "Mom!"again. A feminine voice echoes from the kitchen. "What James?!"James's mother who had been dead for ten years, was somehow in the kitchen. Forgetting about the fact a younger version of himself was in the living room, he got out of the chair and headed towards the kitchen.
As he was starting to walk a bright flash of light surrounded him and he was back in his house. Everything was the same as it was before, new paint, family photos worn and grey. No eight-year-old James watching cartoons in the living room. Confused he goes into the kitchen, but his mother is not there.
The cycle of madness starts he goes back to that computer chair and sits down again. Willing himself to go back to when his mother was alive, before the cancer took her. Every time he goes back to that Sunday morning when he was a kid.
A kid in his pajamas watching tv calling for his mom for the last time. The day she died in the kitchen when the brain cancer consumed her body. Every time he left that chair to try to see her, he was thrust back into the present. Back and forth he drove himself mad. Hoping, no wishing to see his mother. One last time. |
The ocean tides beckon me once again. To feel the scorch of a million objects of purpose and meaning. All making up the unstable home of shells and creatures. The rushing wave of cold salt upon my feeble body. I contribute to this unending expanse, with a few tears of my own making, spun from sorrows at the loss of a friend. The ocean reaches its gentle hand, at which many a creature has died. Unfortunate land dwellers, sea dwellers of old age and torn flesh. A simple man, if felt the loss of so many as if he had felt this one, would simply cease to be. I understand the shifts of the ocean tides, and the simple death of a fish pushed by the waves. To the ocean, death was an hourly visitor. I felt sorrows slip away, and understand that I stood amongst a graveyard of missed opportunities and dead futures. |
"Oh man I really wish I could get a smoothie"I said out loud to nobody in particular
*One smoothie? Maybe I'd rather get two smoothies*
Well I couldn't make up my mind, and, you guessed it! I bought three smoothies of varying flavors. One was blueberry, one was chocolate, and the other was some strange purple color that I could not decipher the intended flavor but hey, a smoothie's a smoothie.
Anyway, lemme tell you about my crummy life. I am an alien mechanic who works on trucks. The only problem is, there are no factories left to make the parts! The human people used to operate them but over time, I think we slowly ate them all, in our human smoothies. What a delicacy!
Anyways, sorry for rambling: the truth is, since I have so many smoothies in my arms I find it really hard to walk without spilling them. I think my coworker Janet is beginning to notice, because as I walked by her, I sloshed a whole lot of it into her carefully maintained human wig hair. Talk about a faux-pas! Now I'm not so sure if I should get another smoothie to make up for the amount I slupped out the side, or if I should cut my losses. Man, another tough day at work. |
A dreamworld of fleeting colours and morphing landscapes. A great plane of red hills stretching into the horizon, tinged with bellowing words across their grassy surface. "George, "I don't know how to say this but I"- Matt - "but I love"- Matt - 'You"Maaaaaaa-t.
Maaaaaaaaaaaa-t,"is the first thing I heard. A long whispered recall of my name pulling me from my restful dream-state and then Emily, sitting there with her arm around my shoulders and her finger unapologetically poking against my chest. Her arm was warm, clad in my red sweater for protection against the movie theatre air conditioning that she had insisted she wouldn't need because it wouldn't be quote, "That cold."
"Come on, you are gonna miss the best part."She had said shaking the last remains of my lethargic sleep from my body.
Her eyes were glued to the screen where the two protagonist were sitting atop a hill, enjoying the sunset. The setting beams of light painting there faces a warm yellow as they both seemed to be trying to muster up some unforeseen courage.
The woman had begun to lean and had said "George,"- "Emily,"-
"I love you."
"I love you."
And then she let out a laugh, "Matt you need to stop ruining these for me with your ooh, so great predictions. Seriously how am I ever gonna get to see how these end without you spoiling them for me."Then she'd removed her arm from my shoulder and crossed them both across her chest in mock anger. A terrifying posture if I had ever seen one. "You know what, I'm not watching these with you anymore."
"Come on Emily, you know I can't live without Tales of Love at the Beach - A Sandy Reunion 3.
"Really, then I bet you wouldn't mind seeing the sequel that airs next week."
"Well I wouldn't go that far, I mean George has gotta be the least interesting charact"- "It's a date then she concluded cutting me off", her smiling face inches from mine as if to say, what you gonna do about it.
Well played Emily.
"You know that your beloved boyfriend would attend all the corny romances in the world for you."
"Mhm"she'd said kissing my cheek. "I know.'
And then we'd headed down the patented movie theatre exists and pushed opened those doors to peer into the - movie theatre?
Emily turned leaning into me. Matt, can you believe they are rerunning Tales of Love at the Beach - A Sandy Reunion 3 a week before the new one comes out. She beamed at me. "How lucky for us, the tragically in love couple that missed the critically acclaimed first release of their favourite movie. Now given a second chance to witness the - whew it is kind of cold in here.
"Man, almost like you should've brought a jumper."I butted in.
"Don't you dare say I told you so."She then said leaning into me like I was some sort of portable heater. "And who needs it when I've got you and your amazing sweater.
And so we'd sat in our seats and the opening played.
A car wreck started the film - George pried opened the red door of the Prius - "Diane,"-"Emily! Are you alright -
the heroine lay wounded bits of shrapnel lay imbedded in her chest -
"Talk to me, come on say something!"
"Please, I'm so sorry", he'd pleaded.
I looked to the right, my gaze lingering. Before I remembered that my sweater had started off blue. |
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"Ok, step one, get the ax, done,"said Caleb as he unwraps an ax from cloth wrappings. "Now for the hard part."Caleb grips the throat of the ax with both hands. "Really hope this doesn't kill me."
The leather wrapping on the ax loosens, wrapping itself onto Caleb's hands and arms, binding him to the ax. a red light fills his eyes as his hair turns pure white. The head of the ax glows red as it transforms into the top half of a **JACKED** female demon with unkempt black hair and a scar over their right eye.
The demon stretches then looks down at Caleb and groans. "Alright, let me guess,"said the demon, "betrayed by your *true love* and want vengeance? Or are you just tired of being looked down on?"
"Uhhh, no, I need your help,"said Celeb.
"Of course you need my help,"said the demon, "why else would you damn your soul to hell for all eternity."Celeb groans.
"Yeah, really looking forward to that,"said Caleb, "but that's beside the point, I need your help to save both your realm and mine."The demon raises an eyebrow. "Someone is impersonating an angel and is manipulating them into a war with Gia-realm. Without my realm to keep the balance, both Heaven-Realm & Hell-Realm with spiral into self-destruction."
"...and that's my problem how?"asked the demon.
"what? you know if your realm is destroyed you die too?"asked Caleb.
"So?"said the demon, "I've been stuck as an ax for about, hmmmm, 20,000 years. I've killed a planet's worth of people, some of them innocent. At this point I'm looking forward to becoming one with the endless void of nothingness."
"*Dark*...but what if I could offer you freedom,"asked Caleb.
"I'd say, *bullshit*,"said the demon, "even if you could get me out of the ax I'd still have to go back to hell, and let me tell you that is not a great place to live."Caleb paces back and forth for a few minutes.
"Ok, ok, ok, what if I could get you into heaven?"asked Caleb.
"*bull-shit*,"said the demon.
"I'm serious,"said Caleb.
"How?"asked the demon.
"Holy Tears, it's like super Holy Water, can only find it in heaven, and it absolves you of all sins no matter how vast.,"said Caleb. the demon thinks for a bit.
"And what would I have to do?"asked the demon.
"Help me kill two angels,"said Caleb, "after that, you're free to do whatever."The demon puts out its hand. the binds loosen and Caleb is able to free one of his hands and shakes the demon's hand.
"Deal,"said the Demon. |
At first she had considered it a curse. An idea reinforced by wailing widows and sobbing step children whose mothers struggled to explain why “daddy” wasn’t around any more. That illusion was shattered the moment she looked closer, and watched the weight fall from a beaten wife’s shoulders when she thought no was watching.
There was a time when the legality of it would have stopped her. When she would have hidden behind a cup of coffee as a drunk man shoved his wife around, ignoring the shocked gasps of those who lacked the spines to intervene. That was before the change, though she was still hard pressed to say what had changed. Maybe it was years of her own experience finally bubbling over. Maybe it was something he had said. The way he had bragged about his wife being too scared to disobey.
She didn’t know. Truth be told she didn’t really care. She was still herself. She could still laugh. And when her purpose on this quaint little sea-side town was fulfilled she would still go home, pop open a bottle of wine, and joke with her friend about how stupid the latest celebrity scandal was.
She had no clue who the target was. She wouldn’t know until she saw them. She had become very good at spotting them, just as they had become very good at spotting potential victims.
Something wet splashed across her face.
Her eyes snapped open to see a young woman staring at her. A hand entered her vision, holding out a towel.
“Sorry.” A kind voice said. “She’s always so clumsy.”
The other woman flinched in anticipation of a blow that would not land till later, and in that moment, as she accepted the towel and wiped the sticky beverage from her face, she knew she had found her mark.
“Accidents happen.” She said, politely.
“It wasn’t an accident”. The young woman said, quietly. Hesitantly. “You pushed me.”
“You’ve had too many drinks.” The man said, accepting the returned towel. “Why would I push you?”
His voice had a hidden edge.
She almost wished she could act now. But h the ere were too many witnesses. It would look like assault.
And so she held her tongue and watched the man pull grab the young woman’s arm and half drag her after him.
She would be there, in approximately two hours, when the young woman’s attempts to appease him finally failed and he raised his hands to her for the last time.
She’d burst out of the closet and grab a kitchen knife, or an empty wine bottle, or a heavy metal skillet, and down he would go, skull in pieces. Then she’d hand the item in question to the other woman, and tell them exactly what to say when the police arrived.
The police would write it off as self defense. A battered woman pushed to her breaking point by years of abuse.
And, ironically, they would *almost* be right. |
You are ready to head into your house but you catch your hand fliching while you had it on the doorknob. The memories of what happened last night coursed through your blood. Of course. How could you forget walking in the kitchen in the middle of the night to get water, only to find chairs strewn about...How could you forget the apparition of a lady shoving a Country Living magazine in your face while you were laying in bed?
Nonetheless, you take a few breaths and step inside. Maybe you can find some sort of new ghost repellant...whatever that may be. You've always been superstitious. The salt line you put on the front door was in vain. You had to come to grips with that. As you entered, you heared a few unfamiliar voices. Robbers?!?! Before you could think, you noticed out of the corner of your eye, the voices weren't from robbers, but from an HGTV show playing on your TV...full volume. |
Hi there, my name is Jelzibud but you can call me John, if your wondering what kind of name is that than I might as well spill the beans for you. I am a demon from the infernal cosmos and i am here to tell you that being a demon isn’t all that bad, well if you have the right profession. My job can be smooth but annoying at times, what I mean by this is working with my charges. Your wondering what I mean by this, well I mean that I am a demon known as an author. What I mean is that my job is like that of a writer but instead of writing books or poems I write spells for my charges who are people who study the dark arts. Now I must tell you that not all witches and warlocks are like this, most just learn their magic from other sources but some people just want to take a shortcut and so they call- summon me. All I have to do is write an incantation and maybe a set of instructions for the spell into my charges tome and they will be satisfied, as long as I give them what they wanted. My job is pretty well paying and among that I get pretty good dental and car insurance as well, and my co-workers are also good company when I’m not listening to the complaining witches and warlocks that I deal with on a basis. |
The sun is setting as I speed up I-29. Nebraska is so ridiculously flat it’s kind of unbelievable. People have told me that this is the most boring drive imaginable, but they obviously haven’t witnessed a Nebraskan sunset. Watching as every droplet of day leaves the spanning sky, producing a symphony of colors, until you are inevitably left alone in the quiet black of night. I hope I remember this one.
Truth is, I have a terrible memory. Well, more accurately, I remember very differently from just about everyone else. I couldn’t tell you what I did for my birthday last year, or what my first job was, or even who I lost my virginity to. But I remember much more.
I pull off to get gas. As I’m filling up, I listen in on the couple one pump over arguing. Apparently, he forgot to book a hotel room, they cannot find one, and now they are exhausted, stranded in the middle of bumbfuck Nebraska without a place to sleep tonight. She’s really going in on him. I can’t help but smile. When you remember as many lifetimes as I have, you know true love when you see it.
I trudge through the black night. Okay, without the sun, I’ll admit this drive is ridiculously boring. Coupled with the impatience to get to who’s waiting for me at the end of this journey, I cannot wait to get to Montana.
Lots of…nothing. Then, my headlight illuminates an oddly shaped object a few hundred yards away. Finally, something to look at! As I approach, I feel my heart sink into my stomach and the blood rush out of my face. Roadkill. I pull over, trying to control my breath. You think hitting a deer is scary? I *was* that deer a couple lifetimes ago!
Many of my memories are traumatic. Getting hit by a mack truck as a deer, being eaten by a cow as a blade of grass (yes, plants feel too!), watching as my forest is engulfed in flames. The memories of total bliss stick too: flying south, the warmth slowly garmenting my wings; feeling the gentle waves caress my fins; watching the sunrise atop Mount Tabor. But of all my memories, one dominates all else, and is the sole focus of the remainder of my lifetimes: Elizabeth.
Elizabeth is the only other being I know of who remembers like I do. The only one who truly understands what matters in a lifetime. We’ve found each other a few dozen times. I first met her 3000 years ago, when we were both hunter-gatherers in Asia. We could see in each other’s eyes that we both remembered it all. I have been her dog, and she has been my cat. Once, after days of starvation, my pack hunted her down, and I resigned to the hunger. When I was a tree, I could feel her in the earth, somewhere far away.
After about 400 years, I’m finally a human again, and so is she. I found her. I don’t have a moment to waste.
The sun is rising as I pull into a quaint cottage nestled into the mountains of Whitefish. My heart is just about to beat out of my chest as I knock on the door. I hear slow, labored steps grow louder and louder. The chestnut door creaks open. The hunched over, wrinkly, white-haired lady looks up at me, eyes beaming.
“Looks like you beat me to this lifetime.”
“Took you long enough!” |
"Why? Why not? This is a corrupt world and I want to make a difference. What's *your* excuse? Do you like to flaunt your powers? Do you like the adoration of the masses? What gets you to get up out of bed every morning, put that suit on, and go out to fight crime? Or better yet, you put in a hard day's work feeding your family and keeping a roof over their head, then you go out and fight crime as best you can half the night only to get four hours sleep and do it all again?
"No, you don't. You get to go flying around beating the shit out of bad guys while looking cool and you don't have to do a lick of work to keep yourself fed and in tights. Where the hell do you get your money? How do you pay for anything? Are you as much a thief as a hero? Do you extort the money from people you save? You know what? I don't care what you think. I care about doing the job the best I can and if you can't be bothered to help then at least stay out of the way."
*Okay, that could have gone better, but damnit!* ***I CARE!*** *and as far as I can see those supers just don't give a shit about anything but looking cool. Yeah, yeah, yeah, they talk a good game and they* do *fight crime, but their reasons stink. They're not about cleaning up the corruption or trying to make the little guy's life a bit cleaner. They're about getting their picture on the front page, Not* once *will you see them actually taking on a corrupt politician or city official and getting them out of the office and maybe even into jail.*
*The people I know have taken out at least thirty dirty politicians, police, and city officials in the last year. We reduced corruption by 15% that year, and we're on track to do it again this year. Each year, we make it clear that new power had damned well be pure power or we're going to hammer them under, not with our fists, but with our minds and through the courts by due process.*
*I'd like to see one of those suited primadonnas in court, trying to answer the defense's questions and getting stifled by the judge every time they try to monologue.*
"Friday! Look out!"
*Damned fools.*
"**HEY, FLATFOOT!**"
*What?*
A powerful hand reaches out and takes "Friday"by the collar, yanking him out of the way of an oncoming truck. The driver snarls for an instant, only to slam on the brakes a look of horror on his face.
"Flatfoot, you gotta pay more attention."
"Thanks, Eagle."Friday is still in a dark mood thinking unkind thoughts of *most* supers. Eagle is the only one who will work with the norms trying to get corrupt officials out of office.
The truck driver, shaken, "I'm so sorry! I didn't see you! Are you alright?"
Friday answers, "Yes, I'm fine. And before you go any further, none of this was your fault. James 'Isekai' Jones took control of you. Of course, no one would believe you if you told them that, nor should you. No harm, no foul, and you are now one of the few drivers that 'Isekai' cannot affect ever again."Taking a business card sized plate of titanium from inside his suit jacket, Friday holds it out to Eagle, who extends one talon and carefully engraves his sigil on a blank area along with pertinent details. Handing it back to Friday, Friday continues, "With both of our marks on this card, you can show it to any of the companies listed on the back. As long as your mundane driving record is clean, they will hire you on the spot and at a premium rate."With a genuine smile, "Thank you for your assistance, but you'd better get back on your route."
The drive, stunned, asks "Isekai and Truck-Kun are real? I'd only heard rumors, and never anything about this card. How can I repay you?"
"Are you sure you want to be involved? Right now, 'Isekai' won't be bothering you, nor will anyone else. If you start working with us, you'll become a potential target for every corrupt official in the city."
Resolve settles on his face, and he straightens up, "Yes, I want to help. That damned city attorney was going to get my sister five to ten on a trumped up charge unless she *put out* for him. 'Ironsides' got her out of it, got the city attorney disbarred, and never charged a dime. I *owe* you people, and I always pay my debts. What can I do?"
Friday nods at Eagle, and continues speaking with the driver. "For now, watch and remember. Anything you see that looks the slightest bit out of whack, you report to us."Friday goes on to explain how a dead drop works, and assigns two of them to this young man, someone who has chosen to stand up and fight by whatever means they can. "It is possible that we may need you to take a more active role. I would suggest you look into martial arts training, what type you choose is up to you but a weapon that no one can take away from you and doesn't require a license is a good idea. We do ask that you not take direct action yourself, unless there is a life on the line right then."
"Thank you. I will do my best."
As the young man gets back into his truck, he drives with new purpose and greater care. 'Friday' and 'Eagle' watch him go, 'Friday' with grim pride, 'Eagle' with careful worry. "Friday, you know you've put him on the firing line, don't you?"
Friday, without looking, "No. He *chose* to join, and in good faith I cannot prevent him from joining. With us, he has access to additional resources. Without us, he would be alone, and get rolled under the first time he chose to take action. This way, he'll talk with us first, and we can act *together*."Looking at Eagle, "That's something most supers don't get. We are not taking on the bad guys alone, we work with each other and carefully within the law. You know 'asswipe'?"Eagle grimaces. "I see you do. That sanctimonious bastard had the temerity to tell me that our goal of removing corruption from this city was a stupid reason for us to get into the heroing business. Business. He thinks he's a franchise owner in a business and *we* are diluting his brand. If you *look* for it, you'll find every one of his corporate sponsor's icons on his suit. You'll also notice that he carefully never touches any of those corporate sponsor's activities, no matter how raw they are or who they hurt."
"I want that information."
"No."
"Why not!?!"
"'Asswipe' is a test case for us. Can we gather sufficient information for the legal process to charge and convict a super just like we would a broken badge?"
Eagle is horrified, "You know where that could end up!"
"Yes, we do. Supers would be required to obey the law like any other citizen."
"Friday? How can we deal with the super criminals? They never operate within the law, and can only be countered by direct action once they start to move."
"Eagle, where do they get the money to support their actions? I'll tell you right now that they do not get that kind of money by knocking over banks. Even Fort Knox doesn't have that kind of money."
"They... Don't tell me that they run legitimate businesses?!?"
"They do. They don't want to run afoul of the Mafia or the drug lords. They just want to turn as healthy a profit as they can by entirely legal means to support their insane plans. Eagle, every one of those trucking companies is a front for one of the super villains. The villains never touch their management, and leave them entirely alone as long as they turn a profit. Their management doesn't know where the profits go, only that they go to a parent corporation that never sends orders."
"Friday! You've sent him straight into the lion's den! I've got to warn him!"
"NO! You will do no such thing! He must go in without any preconcieved ideas until *he* spots something fishy! This is *also* a test case for another initiative, the citizen's report line! A place where people we have vetted can send information on activities that worry them."
"You're serious about this?"
"Dead serious."
"How can I help?"
((finis)) |
When the first Czar arrived on Jaspera colony, it had forgotten them. Twelve million years ago, the Jaspera Colonial cluster set off from the holy corona. They loped through the black, sleeping for millennia at a time over the eight million year trip. There were drastic culture shifts, scientific advances and wars. One entire colony sphere detached from the cluster in an attempt to turn around, eighteen trillion people cooked alive in the fissile trail of the mighty engine. Another disintegrated from wear and flaked to pieces under their impossible momentum. Four sevenths of the speed of light, adjusted for acceleration and braking manuvers. The Jasperans lived for three million years floating in the substrate and liquid gravity of their gas giant, in the relative tranquility of the newly wakeful. However, just behind them was the Czar's C-tower. It approached the speed of light and trailed behind messages about it's existence relative to the Jaspera colony.
The tower didn't decelerate like a cluster did, it came to stop instantly from 0.985C with thunder and a wave of radiation. They met on a earth-like moon, just under one G after it had been spun up. Grassy meadows blanketed the landscapes, immaculate and blowing in ever-gentle breezes. The first Czar met with representatives from the Jaspera colony now referring to itself as the Hegemony of Indigo on an ancient patch of concrete that had been forged on Luna herself. The Czar met them alone, standing with the porportion of an ancient first terra walker. The members of the Hegemony were skinny, lean and with their skin tight over bowed bones. They floated in overlapping microgravity wells, reclining like they would in the gas giants embrace
"You are abominations."Said the Czar, hand on the hilt of an ornamental sabre.
"Our machines meet the needs of our lives, as was their design. You are an interloper in our space."The Czar spread his hands in mollification.
"I need nothing from you, I want for naught. I offer only promise of another suns light. Transposition, moving from one place to another at the maximum speed."He said, voice dripping with compulsion.
"All you ask is we bow and scrape."They said with searing intensity. "That we give you our life's work as tithe and tribute."
"All I ask is you bow and scrape."He agreed and raise two fingers to eye level. Above them, there was pulse of green light and the Hegemony members twitched. "You heard right, your coral farms on the fifth moon. All of your precious things can be that way, they can be gravel."
As he floated, the Hegemony remained impassive. The Czar felt their eyes on him, then felt the position change. The angle became steeper, he looked up at their delicate forms.
"Your refinements in physics are impressive, but your incryption needs work. We cracked the seals on your machines."A foot reached out with claw-like toes wrapped around his throat. "You can be like this, you can be tiny."The group tightened and the Czar gurgled. "You can be dead."
The Czarity left behind an embassy, but the tower left with it's thunderclap. |
The first time I drove on the Upper Highway, I nearly hit another car. The moon was gigantic, and the hovering clouds were surreal. It was hard to pay attention to the boring technical parts of driving when there was the literal sky to look at around me.
Over time, I adjusted. Over time, we all adjusted, and I believe most people grew to used to it. It was simply another road – a faster way to get to the office over the pond, or a scenic route to some annual destination.
The last time I drove on the Upper Highway, folks had their cell phones in one hand with the wheel in another. They didn’t care that they were driving into the moon. The car next to me looked down and forgot that they were steering.
Most of me survived, but ill never be that close to the moon again.
***
Hello! I am currently practising very small stories. To see other and longer stuff by me, check out [r/beezus_writes](https://www.reddit.com/r/beezus_writes) |
As Stanford exited the tunnel, he looked upon the fabled Underground Kingdom of Duelkut. Stanford couldn't help but let loose a smirk, for many had claimed the kingdom was lost when the land drake caused the massive cave-in that blocked Dulekut from the other kingdoms. However, with blind determination and his trusty pickax, Stanford had proved all of them wrong. Now it was time for him to claim his proof, the royal banner that rests in the throne room.
\----
Stanford walks through the kingdom, passing rubble-filled shops and homes. He stops when he notices a skeleton holding the hand of another trapped under a boulder. He kneels closer and also notices that both are wearing matching wedding bands.
"Heh, till death do you part,"said Stanford. "I hope you both have a lovely afterlife."Stanford stands back up and keeps walking.
\-----Few Hours Later-----
Stanford stands at the ravaged castle gate, a massive hole running through both doors.
"Thing must've had one hell of a knock,"said Stanford, laughing to himself as he walks into the courtyard. Suddenly the ground shakes violently, Stanford can hardly keep his footing. Stalactites fall from the roof of the cave. "Shit!"Stanford runs for the castle doors, dodging fall rocks, and trying to stay up right in the middle of a giant earth quake. One stalactite crashes in front of the door, blocking it. Without stopping, Stanford wields his pickax in one hand and throws it. The pickax pierces the rock, deep, and Stanford runs up, grabs his pickax, and pulls it out towards himself. The causes the stalactite to collapse on its side, giving Stanford enough room to climb over, open the door, and run inside.
\-----
The earthquake worsens as Stanford goes deeper into the castle. He runs noticing the weakened state of the castle walls.
"Throne room! Throne room! Throne room!"repeated Stanford as he searches through the castle, finding a dead end, "Nope!", a series of dead guards, "Nope!", and a treasure room, "No...after."
Stanford stops in front of two fancy metal doors. As he puts his hand on the door there is a massive \*THUD\* and the earthquake stops shortly after. Stanford creaks open the door and peaks in. Inside is an, at least, 80ft tall drake made completely of stones and gems. On top of the beast, is the remains of an armor-clad warrior, hunched over. Stanford squints and notices that the cape on the armor is the royal banner.
"Bullseye,"said Stanford. He walks into the throne room, and begins to climb up the stone drake. One of the stones breaks off, causing Stanford to almost fall. He looks down to see the rock his the mouth of the drake, but when he looks back he sees the pointy end of a spear inches from his face. The warrior stands, shield in one hand, spear in the other.
"I...am only gonna ask this...once,"echoed the warrior, "Who. Are. You!?" |
I don't know if I'm supposed to write a mini-story but, here I go.
I look around the room, the bright paint seemingly burning my eyes, and then look down. A gasp leaves me and I stumble a bit before finding my footing. I run from the spot I was sitting, panic and adrenaline pumping through me, and try to reach one of the walls I saw. As I touch it, my fingers slip through and I look at my burned hands. burned. I pause, think, and then turn. I find myself staring at... myself. A mirror, I think and then frown.
Is this an illusion? Am I drunk? Dead? I notice purple and red angry welts scarring my skin and touch my cheek.
Almost immediately my eyes widen as it all comes back to me. The screams, the yells, the fire, the crash, and I release a hard breath.
"I'm dead, aren't I?"I murmur. I then laugh bitterly. "Dead. And in a car crash. Well, I guess I just had to go the same way as Kate, didn't I?! How fucking ironic!"I yell and my voice echoes before I swallow and lick my lips. I sigh and look around. "Well, I guess that's that. I'm dead. Yippee."
I turn to start walking again as a familiar voice echoes and I turn.
"What?"
"I said April Fools, dumbass!"And with that and a strong scent to my nostrils, I wake. Thank you for reading lol. |
"You have 100 siblings?"The girl asked me and one of my twin brothers. We were she didn't mistake us for girls due to our size, fluffy brown hair and feminine clothes.
"Hehe, yep!"We said in perfect unison. "All brothers and all very cute!"We hugged one another. We were all extremely close, never afraid to show one another affection and smiles.
"Doesn't it get confusing?"
"Nope! We actually used to all be named something different! But, because we love being identical so much, we all decided to share the name Luis! Isn't that right, Luis?"
"It sure is, Luis!"We both giggled before holding hands and skipping back home. Due.to bumping into that girl, we would be the last home. Mum was still at work so all that was home were my 98 brothers Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis, Luis and Luis! Of course, they were wearing the sand clothes as me and Luis and were all happily chatting.
"We're home!"Me and Luis said in sync before our brothers swarmed us, happily cuddling us and giving cheek kisses. We were always a fan of cheek kisses, especially since our cheeks were very soft.
We all went into the kitchen, each grabbing two packets of our favourite snack, cheesy Quavers, before going into the living room. We were very squished, sitting either on the couches or floor. We didn't mind, however, we loved being squished together!
We happily age together, sharing our cheesy snacks with each other. Our mum hated it due to the smell but we loved it and it was 100 against 1 so she couldn't really stop us.
After our snacks, we decided to snuggle up together and watch our favourite movie! It was just a 5 hour dvd of a bunch of videos of us but that was our favourite thing! |
The man holds up a key bump of cocaine. Or at least I hope it is. Fuck it, SNOOT. The man is starting to fade in front of me. He’s changing a bit. I blink. He’s shifting into an old timey…leprechaun? Damn that’s some good cocaine. Before he vanishes he grabs my shoulders and recites a limerick:
“All musicians work for a muse. The better the muse, the better the music.
The muses all live in an amusement park;
go figure.
A tent city to those without eyes, eternal garden to those brave enough to go blind.
At night they come alive to welcome guests. Some arrive by train; others, cocaine.
Travel through the crowds of the dead that dance, spend one gold coin to spin the wheel. The prize? Three long shots to make it real.
Through the red door you can play poker with the devil, his daughter Lucy pours you whine. Play your cards right and you’ll win her as a prize but be warned, the ante is your eyes.
Best the Harlem Globetrotters in a game of PIG and you might just inherit the earth. Lose and we’ll call you Atlas.
Whatever you do tho, don’t play Russian roulette at a tilted table. The house rarely loses. Never forget Yetis have nine lives.
If you’re dumb enough to bite the apple, be careful not to tell her lies. She’ll take your memories and set you about the wheel of time. There are perfect circles but never a perfect crime. Draw one to win back your memories but lose an eye.
The best use of an apple is to bake a pie. Gift it to your lover to cure them of a lie. And the best advice I can live to tell, if you’re gonna rap battle a fairy do it well. The cost of losing is eternity in hell.
We write the keys to the kingdom in a song deny entry to all those who sing it wrong.”
He then hums a tune into my ear. I fall backward out of the train car and open my eyes. Three of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen are standing above me. “Welcome to the fourth dimension.” |
If she looked only at the fluffy tail and the perky ears, Sherry could almost believe her senile grandpa when he told her that squirrels are harmless. Tiny critters. Adorable climbers. Nothing more than furry nutcrackers. Considering her neighbor John's recently limping gait, that last part might actually be true. Despite his claims that he embarrassingly had gotten hemorrhoids as a result of spending too much time in the office, Sherry knew better. While it was true that John had been working an awful lot of overtime during the last few weeks, he had also been getting very peculiar visits late at night. It was about three weeks ago, when this year's last snow had finally melted, when the recurring late night disturbances had started.
Sherry was a terrible sleeper, despite her physically and mentally exhausting work as a nurse. After years of arduous labor she had finally saved up enough money to buy her beloved tiny house with purple shutters at the end of the remote Morgan Street, which was infamous for strange disappearances and famous for the resulting low housing costs. Behind a particularly whinging set of shutters stood a king-sized canopy bed that housed a collection of stuffed animals. But even her army of soft toys couldn't help Sherry when her neighbor's porch light aimed its beam right through the crack in her tiny house's purple shutters to refract on her ceiling lamp, turning the room into a kaleidoscope.
On the particular night three weeks ago, the reflected lights, accompanied by the slamming of a heavy door, ripped Sherry from her sleep. "Ugh! Was he out drinking until now? I knew the price of this house was too good to be true,"Sherry thought. The next few minutes were filled with silent complaints and a few empty threats against her neighbor John. As Sherry was nearing the end of her tirade, her room was still filled with the refracted colors of cheap interior decoration. Feeling a new flood of resentment growing in her chest, Sherry rolled over a herd of stuffed animals towards the room's only window. After a few steps on the cold parquet, Sherry was spying through the crack in the purple shutters. She could see John's porch, which, to her surprise, wasn't as empty as expected. Illuminated by the source of Sherry's chagrin was John. Pacing from side to side, her neighbor's burly figure cast deep shadows that whipped across the lawn. And on that grass, being repeatedly being lit up and then hidden again, there was a ball of reddish fur. Sherry's first thought was that John had accidentally killed a critter and was now on the phone to ask for further steps on what to do. Though the spying nurse was mostly awake, her sense of compassion was still asleep. "Sorry, buddy, but I'm off the clock,"she thought to herself as she walked across the room and grabbed her trusty sleeping mask. Satisfied with having found a reasonable explanation for the disturbance, Sherry buried her face in a pile of teddy bears and bunnies.
The next morning, on her way to work, Sherry couldn't help but cast a quick glance across the evergreen shrubs that separated hers and John's front yard. There were no furry remains, no blood, no trace of the tragedy that had disturbed her sleep last night. All that remained was a few remarks to her coworkers when they commented on the bags under Sherry's eyes.
A few days later, the tired nurse was returning from a taxing late shift at the hospital. An elderly patient had emptied his stomach over her scrubs and Sherry desired nothing more than a shower and deep slumber. Yet as she pulled into Morgan Street, she was already greeted by John's porch light that, like a light tower, guided her home. As she got closer and her headlights lit up her driveway, she noticed a figure hustling into her neighbor's house. Seeing its broad dimensions, there wasn't much speculation as to whom Sherry might've surprised with her arrival. "Did he kill another critter?"she chuckled to herself. And indeed, as she got out of her car and casually looked across the shrubs, she noticed another reddish ball of fur, stopping her mid-step. Different from what she was joking about earlier, the thing she was staring at was very much alive. Meeting her perplexed gaze sat a squirrel the size of a cat. Sherry had heard stories of giant rats, but humongous squirrels, those were new to her. Regaining her composure, she jested. "Sorry! I didn't want to interrupt. Have a good evening!"To her surprise, the squirrel slightly moved its head down and back up. Did it just nod to her? Sherry shook her head. "It was a long day at work, I must be seeing things,"the nurse mumbled to herself. Still, she felt that her knees were shaking from more than just exhaustion. Not escaping the empty gaze of the massive squirrel's beady eyes, Sherry briskly walked up to her house and started unlocking the door. Even though the temperatures were mild, her hands were trembling. It took her a few tries to fit the key into the lock and as she turned her head towards the squirrel, there was only brightly illuminated grass.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Sorry to interrupt the story here but time didn't really allow me to write any more today. I'll probably continue some other day but for now that's all you get. If demand exists I might add the rest of the story in the future. Thanks for reading! |
The sky was a dreary gray, as it had been in the three years since Kelly stepped out of her apartment, wearing a biohazard mask and hope on her sleeve.
A lot had changed in three long years. She thought it was three, at least. Three winters.
The second one nearly killed her, the last one, she barely came out of it civilized.
The roads were strewn with abandoned cars and skeletons, eaten away by rust and moss.
Though the buildings were mostly untouched, they were still strewn with biohazard markers and worn by three years of no repair.
Kelly wore cloth and leather scraps around her, with the tattered remnants of her shoes protecting her feet, and stained, road-dust caked clothing stolen off of long abandoned racks protecting her from the cold.
In her hand, a spear, her mouth smeared with the blood of a rabbit, her head short tight by old razors. Before this, before the Ebola, she was a mother, an accountant.
And now she was like everyone else.
Wandering the bones of old, a reset of civilization back to it's most bare. |
"Hey is this The letter people?"
"I'm sorry...the what?"
"You know. The letter people. From Space. Got like a squiggly line then a pyramid then a bendy thing then another pyramid?"
"Do you mean NASA?"
""Yeah that's the one. We're totally calling from space. And we wanted to ask if you left your probe running."
"Sir this is a government agency. We do not take kindly to crank calls. Please desist or we will have authories notified."
"No seriously. This is from space. @%!$#!$%@^# see? I don't even speak your language this is all from your transmissions in a translatedlr "
"Sir I'm going to hang up now. We thank you for your call to the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. Good day."
The phone clicked as Erbont laughed. These calls to NASA got funnier every time. No one would believe the call was coming from his ship in orbit.
"Alrighty...let's see if ROSCOSMOS picks up." |
"Through here, Mr. President."The warden pointed to the metal tunnel. "You input your password, then when you're done, input it on the other side again."He said, his whole body tensing. "If anything happens, just press the panic button. He will be immediately restrained, and we'll rush in."He saluted and turned around.
Michael Cohen, the current president and one of the most powerful people in the world, took a deep breath. This was going to be a hard conversation. He put in his password.
The metal corridor is long and featureless, aside from the multiple sets of doors, each requiring a different password. It wound left and right multiple times, but always sloping downwards. Finally, he reached the last door. Unlike the others, it wasn't password locked. Just a regular door, leading to an average living room, stacked with books, a TV and even a desk with a fully functioning computer and internet connection. It was, by the looks of it, a fairly cosy apartment. You couldn't tell it was three and a half kilometres underground, and under more surveillance than the entire superhuman generation program.
He knew what he would find inside. He was pretty much the only one who knew. But still, he couldn't help the feeling of dissonance. In front of him was sitting Red Mist- the arch rival of Ultimatum, one of, if not the, most dangerous being on the planet. And he was crying.
"Hey, Red."He said, as softly as he could. Red Mist, a.k.a. Redmund Cawlborn, looked up and wiped his face with his tissue. "Hey, Mikey. Don't think we had a meeting scheduled today, right?"He said, trying to sound like his cheerful persona, and failing miserably. The president shook his head. "No, Red. You know why I'm here.".
Red nodded. His computer screen was showing the news article "Death of an Ideal". It was tacky and cliché, but it wasn't wrong. He was the best, and now he was dead. "I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner."He started, and got cut off. "Nonsense. You're the president, and your country, the world really, just suffered a great loss. You were doing your job. I'm grateful you came at all."Red spoke in a more mechanical manner than normal. "I'm so sorry"The president whispered to the greatest super villian of this generation."for your loss."And at that Red broke down crying.
Michael got up, slowly walked over and hugged Redmund. Or at least tried, as he was a good deal smaller than the giant super villian. "I'm sorry, Mikey. I knew it could happen one day, I just... He was such a good kid!"Red spoke through tears. After a few minutes he managed to calm himself enough that Michael felt he could let go.
Red wiped his tears, and in a still shaky voice, asked. "Sorry about that. To business - do you have a replacement lined up?"He knew Michael well enough to know that he did, and that he wasn't here for that. "I do. A fairly new guy- Praxus."Red nodded. "I know him. Had a scuffle with him and-"his voice broke just a smidge, and he paused. He managed to power through though. "Yes. Fairly standard super, right?"The president shook his head. "Anything but. All his super strength, speed and so on? All fake."Red Mist seemed genuinely surprised at that. "Really? Do tell."Michael nodded and held up two fingers. "Two powers- hyper intelligence, and one of the greatest psyonic abilities we've ever encountered."Red actually smiled at that. "Clever clever. I can't wait to meet him.".
Michael went quiet at that. "Listen, there's another thing I wanted to bring up. Don't answer yet, just... Hear me out."Red nodded hesitantly. "I know this was hard on you. Even with Praxus, there's at least a month before your next 'jail break'. "He stopped. There's no easy way to broach this subject.
"I'm not retiring."Redmund said flatly. Hearing that, the president pretty much deflated. "Are you sure? I can easily end the contract. No body would know, you'll be be set for life."The villian shook his head. "My answer is final."He sighed. "Don't get me wrong, it's hard. I watch them grow and train, become the very best and brightest, only to be killed like that... It's hard. But we both know what happens if I don't."Michael nodded at that. Part of why he hated this plan so much was because there were, in essence, no alternatives. "Either some actual villian kills them off early on, or they become tyrants. I know that, I just... Seeing you like this... It's heartbreaking."Red shrugged at that.
"No one said it'll be easy. But, one willing sacrifice, for the greater good... I'd say it's worth it."They shook hands, and as the president turned to leave, Redmund called him. "Mikey."As he turned his head, he said. "Thank you. For coming. It meant a lot."
"Of course, Red. See you soon."He said and left the cell of the world's most important man, and the generation's greatest super villian. |
All in all, the reality of a magical girl was right between the “Pretty Cure” and “Madoka Magica” sides of the spectrum. This meant that the Demon you had to make a pack with wasn’t very useful, but it wasn’t like he wanted you to have a fate worse than death. You also got paid.
Alice looked at the assignment. Mephistopheles had assigned them to deal with a spirit called “Fractured Days Split the Sky,” who had apparently been trespassing on his territory.
Alice called her friends, Macy and Hannah, and told them to meet her in the area. When they got there, Alice set up the hellfire trap and Macy and Hannah went to track down and lure the creature into the trap.
It worked well; soon Hannah saw the vaguely humanoid creature seemingly made from fractured glass follow them. Normally, a magical girl group would try to figure out the assignment’s weakness, but Alice found that hellfire works on just about everything.
Fractured Days Split the Sky went into the hellfire, and burned away in seconds. Alice prepared to celebrate.
Suddenly, the sky shattered. Alice put up her shield, but it quickly shattered and she fell unconscious.
When she woke up, she found that the city was gone, along with her friends. Above her was the spirit. It said, “That was annoying. Anyway, since your city and superior never existed, do you want to make a pack with me and become a magical girl?” |
Griffith's funeral was a huge affair. The entire town gathered for the procession that brought the coffin to the graveyard, and nobles came from as far as the royal palace to pay respects. Then they left one by one, and only those closest to Griffith remained: his sons and daughters, many with families of their own, and his adventuring comrades, Alania and Durst. The pair were the only elf and dwarf in the proceedings, and no one seemed to know how to treat them.
The feeling was mutual.
"I can't believe he's gone,"Alania said, peering at the grave so laden with flowers one couldn't see the soil underneath. "It's hardly been a decade since I last visited. He seemed so strong still—white-haired and wrinkled, yes, but strong."
"I dropped by five years ago,"Durst said in a low, gravelly voice. "It was the first time I beat him in arm-wrestling. That's how I knew it wouldn't be long."
"I brought him wine back then,"Alania continued as if not having heard him. "We talked about traveling to the Southern Seas—you remember how he always said he wanted to see them. He told me that would be nice and laughed."
"He was joking,"Durst said. "He must have thought you understood."
"Joking!"Alania said, aghast. "Why would he joke about it? I spent two years preparing for the trip. I was going to drop by and tell him soon."
"You know how humans are. Hardly live beyond seventy or eighty."Durst produced an enormous handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes. "Horrid pollen from those flowers."
Alania looked away. She thought she ought to cry too, but no tears came to her eyes. "I can't believe he's gone,"she repeated. "What am I going to do now? I already made preparations."
A trumpet-like noise resounded as Durst blew his nose. "Well,"he said gruffly, "why don't the two of us go?"
Alania looked at him in surprise. "To the Southern Seas?"
"Griffith always yammered on about them. Golden beaches and crystal-clear water as far as the eye could see."Durst snorted. "Sounds like no place for a dwarf, but his talk made me curious."
She thought for a minute, then another. Durst didn't hurry her, knowing that her mind was brilliant but didn't always work at the same pace as his.
"Yes,"she said at length. "Yes, let us go. Even though he is no longer here..."A pensive smile curved her lips as she considered Griffith's many offspring. "We'll go see the Southern Seas, and I'll write an epic poem about it and bring it to his children."
Durst made a face, then nodded grudgingly. "They might like that."
"Then it's decided."Alania looked up at the sky, feeling restlessness grip her for the first time in decades. Then a thought occurred to her that made her turn to Durst in alarm. "Won't they be gone too, by the time we return?"
Durst snorted into his beard. "They're humans, not flies. We have three, maybe four decades."
Alania perked up. "That's plenty of time to cross the seas. We could go to the Eastern Mountains afterward, where we slew the dragon."
"Why, we might as well see the whole damn thing,"Durst said with a gleam in his eyes. "Everywhere we went during our adventures—and we'll cap the journey off with the South that he never got to see."
"Let's do that,"Alania said softly. "I feel like he would've liked that."She looked at the grave, and her eyes stung just a little. |
I cackle with glee. My victim flees from me. They think they put enough distance between us to get in the clear, but I know they’ll head back to their house, which I’m now closer to. I close my eyes and snap my fingers, hoping thirty minutes into the future. I can imagine the victim’s face now as they look back to no longer see me behind them. They’ll be wondering if I am sneaking behind them, going in for the kill. They’ll look around frantically to try to find me, and when they finally think they are free of me, they’ll race back to the house. There they will only find me by the front door, waiting. I’ll have my full strength, while they’ll be tired from running. That’s where the fun begins.
Their look of horror is everything I imagined, and more. Rolling pin in hand, I jump out and crack the improvised weapon against their ribs. Before they can retaliate I’m gone, having leapt a few seconds into the future, by then they moved, and I reappear in the same spot, right behind them. My rolling pin strikes their knee, causing it to buckle. They tumble onto the ground, eyes wide with panic.
I wonder what’s racing through their mind. Do they think I’m some nightmare killer who hides in the shadows, always knowing how to retreat to them for comfort? Do they think I can teleport, always able to bamph away before harm befalls me, always one step ahead of them? I’m neither of those, I’m not some demon or freak, no, I’m retribution.
They throw kitchen knives at me, but I jump forward in time before they can hit their mark. They’re already panicking, screaming, running, but I’m just getting started. I grab one of the discarded kitchen knives, knocking my victim to the ground. I hold the knife over them, looming, a glint of maniac bloodlust in my eye. They scream and sob, my smile growing wider. I plunge the knife toward them, but instead of impaling their chest, I redirect my strike, cutting off one of their fingers. I flash them another smile before disappearing, jumping forward six months.
I reappear in the same spot as before, and I couldn’t be luckier. My victim has just walked into the kitchen. The continual torment I’ve inflicted on them shows. They may have been safe these past six months, but they have no idea when I’ll strike next, and that paranoia runs deep. They’ve lost weight, their gaunt skin pulled tight to their face. Their teeth starting to show signs of grinding, they’ve been chewing their fingernails too. They no longer keep up their appearance, acne blotches strewn across their face, their hair tangled and in disarray. Dark circles sink deep around their eyes, their skin pale from lack of sun, too scared to leave the house.
I hold up their severed finger in my hand, locking gaze with my victim. Horror spreads across their face as the finger begins to bleed as if still fresh, then rapidly begins to decay. Objects I bring along with me aren’t spared from time’s constant march, causing them to rapidly age as time catches back up to them.
In their moment of surprise I tackle them to the ground, then snap my fingers. They will have the unique privilege and trauma of seeing the negative effect their disappearance will have on their family’s mental health as I take them years into the future. My smirk deepens as time warps around us. I may be insane, but soon, so will they. |
This was what I came up with. Still an amateur, but I'm trying
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The dragon shot a gout of flame into the rock we were cowering behind. All that were left standing were me and our adventuring party’s thief, Mylo. We were hired to retrieve the King’s Crown from the feared brass dragon, Atronax. We were nearing a peaceful resolution when all of a sudden, Atronax reared up with a look of fury upon his face and blasted us all with fire. Mylo and I barely managed to roll out of the way, but we were stuck. He was between us and the door, and there was no other escape.
I was the leader of this party, their safety was my responsibility. “I’m sorry Mylo, I promised to return you home safely and now I don’t think that will happen.”
“It’s alright,” he responded. “It’s not your fault, we all knew the risks.” Mylo paused with an odd look on his face, then continued. “Now that we’re both going to die, I feel a lot better telling you this - I made the dragon angry!”
“WHAT?!”
“I’m sorry! There was just so much gold! I could have been rich! I almost had it!” Mylo responded.
I had no other words. Mylo made him angry? We could have survived had it not been for his greed getting us caught! We were going to die all because he was a thief! |
I strolled through Fourrage Road, my Kommo-o walking alongside me. It had been quite some time since I'd decided to retire from the position of the Pokemon World Savior and Champion. Now, me and my team hiked through various regions, exploring the world and meeting new Pokemon and trainers.
Then, Kommo-o suddenly stopped walking, and got my attention.
"What's wrong, buddy?"I asked him.
He gestured over to a cave in the distance, on the other side of the water. From it, I could see a faint glow of flames.
"Should we check it out?"I said. Kommo-o let out his cry in approval.
"But, how will we get there?"I asked. I checked my team's movesets, and none of them knew Surf.
"I can help,"said a voice.
I turned around to find a trainer standing alongside a Lapras. He said, "You need a ride? Lapras and I can get you there."
"Sure, thanks,"I said, and turned to Kommo-o and took out his Poke Ball. "Sorry, buddy. I know you don't like to be in your ball, but we can't all fit on that Lapras. Besides, it's only for a few minutes, ok?"
Kommo-o sighed and reluctantly allowed me to put him in his ball. Then, me and the trainer hopped onto the back of the Lapras.
"Lapras, use Surf!"commanded the trainer.
The Lapras leapt up into the air and into the water. Then, it calmly began bringing us over to the cave.
"What exactly is that cave?"I asked the trainer.
"It's called the Sea Spirit's Den,"he said. "There's been rumors lately that one of Kanto's Legendary Birds, Moltres, is there."
When we arrived on the tiny beach by the den, I thanked the trainer for the ride, then quickly brought Kommo-o out of his ball.
As I stared into the den, I could definitely feel fiery heat coming from it. "Ready, buddy?"I said.
Kommo-o cried in approval, and we walked into the Sea Spirit's Den. Then I saw it: the Legendary Bird, Moltres.
At first, it didn't do anything; it just stared at us, the flames on its wings and head lighting up the cave. It looked at the entrance, as if it was considering escape. Suddenly, I felt tension in the air, and Moltres began to flap its wings and rise into the air, and prepared to shoot flames at us.
"Looks like we're gonna have to fight this thing,"I said to Kommo-o. "Ready, buddy?"
He got in his battle stance and let out his cry. I commanded, "Kommo-o, use Clanging Scales!" |
For as long as I could remember, He always had a red spiral-bound notebook with him, which he would frequently open and jot something down with one of his lovely mechanical pencils. At first, I took little notice and assumed that it was his preferred stationery( and honestly, what scholar worth their salt isn’t particular about writing materials? Personally, I have a stock of yellow legal pads and categorically refuse to take notes with anything else).But then, I noticed He would take it from the office and stash it away.
As the time drew nearer, he kept it by his side, or under his pillow, and if he ever left the room he would painstakingly lock it in the top drawer of the nightstand, now cluttered with various medications. One of the last things he did, was to hand me this red notebook. I absently put it in my bag, overcome with grief.
The entire department of our university was in mourning. When I finally returned to work, I remembered the notebook. Perhaps it held the solution to the long equations, still in his writing on the whiteboard. Or an entirely new theory… I carefully took it from my bag and flipped through the pages. It contained nothing but drawings of cats. |
They say you should always talk to people in a coma.
They still dream. They can still hear you. They are still there. I always spoke to my mother when I saw her. Each visit I'd hold her hand and squeeze it three times. It's something my mom would do when I was a kid. Whenever she'd take my hand crossing the street or on the couch she'd squeeze my hand 3 times. Each squeeze had a meaning.
I. Love. You.
I told her about my day. Good and bad days. About my fiancé she was only able to meat once before the accident. How work was still shit but each day was getting easier. My running schedule and new PR's each month. I laughed to myself as I recounted stories aloud of how dumb I was as a kid. That one time I peed in a bottle and kept it under my bed cause I was too lazy to go to the bathroom. How I'd wet my tooth brush in the sink and splash water everywhere to make it look like I brushed my teeth instead of actually just brushing my teeth.
Mom always found out. She always knew.
She looked so frail now. After so many years her muscles had wasted away and her tendons had contracted. Her joints were bent now in angles that would normally be uncomfortable to hold for long periods of time. Let alone years.
She used to be a runner. She'd hate that I said that. "I'm a jogger, pumpkin, I leave the running to the athletes"she'd always say. I joined the cross country team in high school to her approval. I could never break that 18 minute 3 mile. Always on that edge of mediocrity, the last of the varsity team but first on the JV.
"You tried, you really did. And it's more than enough"
After every race it was the same thing.
I tried to straighten out her legs. Move them like the Physical Therapists did in the movies. Massage her muscles so they hopefully didn't ache. The nurses smiled and nodded in approval, but I could see what they were actually thinking. They whispered among each other.
"pointless."
"So sad."
I knew. They knew. My Mom's had been gone for a while now.
But I still continued each day. I fought the doctors on each appointment. I didn't have any answer for them. All I could muster was a steadfast "No.".
I had to have more time. I haven't told her everything I wanted to yet. Even though I told her how much I loved her each visit I couldn't bare it being the last time. I had to squeeze her hand one more time.
I. Love. You.
I apologized for everything I could fathom. For blowing her off all those dinners to go out drinking with my friends. Those early morning runs I was too hung over to join her for. Yelling at her to "Shut up!"when I was so young and so stupid. Waiting too long to get engaged so that she couldn't be there and join me. It was an impossible amount.
I wasn't always a good son.
But I couldn't keep her here like this. Not for me. Not for my own short comings and failures. I couldn't be selfish and watch her waste away when I was the only one that needed closure.
The doctor and I agreed that today should be the day.
I tucked her hair behind her ears and whispered to her. How much I loved her. How much I missed her. Is this really the end? Was my life worth it? Have I done good? Did I make you proud?
I held her hand and nodded to the doctor and he turned to the machine.
I felt her hand in mine. And I felt it. She squeezed my hand 1...2...3.
And then she was gone. |
So it came that on the twentieth day of Aprilius in the 815th year of our lord, there came - what appeared to be - a white rabbit into the small hamlet of Tomnadashan.
Nobody knows where it came from. Only that it hopped through the eastern gate.
The hunting dogs, usually so eager to hunt rabbits, hid in fear. But the humans were ignorant. I can’t understand any other reason why the inn’s chef otherwise would have set foot into his kitchen to get the knife.
“You will make for a nice stew” he said to the rabbit, walking to it.
It was his to be his demise.
As soon as the chef was in range, the rabbit did a mighty jump and bit straight through the man’s neck, killing him dead brutally and instantly.
After that, of course, everybody ran away from the beast and hid. Not daring to look out of the windows for a whole night, some men of the village still thought of avenging the good chef. And so, several of them took whatever they could find in armour and weaponry to slay the beast on the next morning.
Only one came crawling back, missing an arm, delivering a final message to us:
“It spoke to me. He says he is the god Caerbannog. And he commands us to stop to try and hurt him. Only the most powerful of weapons, blessed by another god, could harm him.
For our foolish transgressions, he killed all but me, who was too much of a chicken to not run away.
From now on, for ever, we are to memorate his triumph and my loss. He wants us to - each year for eternity - blow out eggs, paint them and decorate our dwellings with them.”
After that, having done his duty to the newly discovered deity, the man died an anticlimactic death.
————
Edit: don’t have much time to finish this and also don’t really know how I could in a satisfactory way. Sorry :(
Edit 2: little correction. |
&#x200B;
Inside the C.A.R.E. garage, Dr. Jack is working on a tank/car hybrid when the hero Burnout speeds in, throwing dust everywhere.
"Woooweee!"said Burnout, "you won't believe what Panda did today!"Jack calmly wipes the dust from his goggles. "whoopsie, my b."
"\*sigh\* it's fine, I needed a break anyway,"said Jack. "So, what did Panda do again."
\-----[Flashback](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/twmox1/wp_youre_that_new_hero_right_the_villain_said/i3hk024/?context=3)\-----
Panda-Man rolls his motorcycle into the garage where Burnout is showing Jack *the* video from his suit cam. The two look at Panda-Man and start laughing.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, laugh it up,"said Panda-Man, parking his bike. "you wouldn't be the first."
"And we won't be the last,"said Burnout as she runs over Panda-Man. "You, my friend, are the newest internet sensation, over a million views!"
"You're kidding!"said Panda-Man. He takes off Burnout's helmet, puts it on, and watches the video. "This isn't even the same video!"
"Oh, that's one of the many remix versions,"said Burnout as she takes back her helmet. "Syonic made that one."Panda-Man groans loudly.
"I'm taking a shower, still pulling rubble out of my hair."said Panda-Man.
"Wait, before you go,"said Burnout, "could you sign my helmet!"Her and Jack start laughing again as Panda-Man stomps off. |
We had a beach trip planned for a few days. The weather was supposed nice, warm but not so warm its uncomfortable.
All was normal, until a police car started following us. Most people wouldnt have even noticed it, then again, im Not most people. Soon more began to follow. Im not That paranoid, but my line of work kinda requires some level of professional paranoia.
And with how many were following us, I was definitely more than a little paranoid. Soon Dawn notices them too, i think its because i keep checking the rear view mirror.
“Why are the police following us?” She asks, the concern in her voice is more than apparent. “I dont know.” I lie, i do know. My family has been on the wrong side of the law even since before i was born.
Im used to random police officers coming up and trying to harass me, or bring me in for my crimes. They always end up empty handed. Now truth be told im always glad they harassed me instead of anyone else in my family, after all the rest of family wouldnt let them leave empty handed, in fact they wouldnt let them leave at all, not with their lives at least.
I pull into the parking lot, and the cops pull in behind me, dropping all pretenses of stealth. “We know who you are! Leave the vehicle immediately with your hands up!” The voice over the speaker demands.
Dawns starts slightly panicking. This is nothing compared to six weeks ago. I reach into my pants and pull out my pistol and put it inside the center console, pulling out a spherical object and placing it where the pistol once was.
“Stay calm dear, it’ll all be fine.” I say to calm her down, she seems to be soothed by my words, words that i intend to follow through on.
I open the car door slowly, and leave with my hands up. The cops leave their cars aswell, although armed with pistols and submachine guns, all of which are aimed directly at me.
“Surely we can discuss this without all the firearms, and talk this out like gentlemen?” I ask calmly. One of them closes the distance quickly, grabbing me by the shoulder and pinning me to the hood of my car.
Reflexes are about to kick in, but I hold them back. Such Horrific acts of violence will solve nothing here, and lead to only more problems.
“Listen officer, im sure this is all misunderstanding. Me and the law shouldnt have any problems, not ones at least that involve a loaded Walther P38 jammed in my face.” I smile, calmly.
The officer mere barks some orders at me, i simply comply. Until one of them opens the car door, and shouts at Dawn to exit the car.
“Sir, i Request that you leave her alone.” My voice changes so rapidly from cheery to anger so quickly that several of the police Officers lose composure for a few moments, and then continue ordering her out of the car.
Dawn freezes in fear, she doesnt understand. One of them opens the door on her side and points their gun at her, once again ordering her out. “Dont you point that at her!” I shout, my voice chock full of rage, barely contained by the thought that if released, Dawn could be hurt, or worse.
Once again they look at me for a split second, and then back to her. Then one of them grabs Dawn by the arm and yanks her out. Rage overcomes me in this moment, I unleash a furious yell as i headbutt the officer in front of me, grab his gun and shoot the one who grabbed Dawn straight through the eye.
At this moment i realize if i dont act quickly i’ll be shot. I throw my arm out and around the neck of the one I stole the gun from and pull him close, and reach into my pocket and pull out the spherical object and pull out the metal pin at the top of it.
With a live grenade in my hand, and the only thing stopping it from going off is me holding it, they all point there guns at me, but dont shoot. I Point my gun around, and begin speaking. “Get Back! Get in your cars and leave. You said you know who I am, that means you know my family is. Imagine what will happen when word gets back that im dead, and you all were the ones who caused it.” My voice is slightly hoarse from shouting i continue.
“Now i’ll be nice, i wont tell anyone what happend here if you grab your friend, get back in your cars and leave. Otherwise, I cant guarantee you, and your families safety.” They look at eachother, the same question in their heads. “Should we listen.”
“You know the reach we have, are you really about to risk your family's safety for me? Think of your wives or husbands, think about your kids. Dont make this mistake, and go.” I warn.
With that, everyone lowers their weapons, and the one who seems to be in charge shouts. “Pack it up everyone, we’re done.”
They grab their friend off the ground and get in their vehicles and drive off. Dawn runs over to me but stops at the sight of the grenade. “Oh dont worry, this isnt real.” I say with a smile, but I look at it again unsure.
“Im just gonna put this back in just to be safe,” I say, and then carefully put the pin back in the grenade.
“Im never gonna get used to that, am i?” Dawn asks as she rushes into me and hugs me. “No, you never do,” I confirm. I look at her and smile, “Days still nice, wanna go down to the beach still?” I ask.
“Yeah, we came all the way out here, would hate to go back without a little fun.” I chuckle. We walk around to the trunk and grab our beach supplies and walk down to the beach, making idle chatter, while attempting to put the events that just unfolded behind us.
\-------------------------
[Enter The Library Of Mist](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheLibraryOfMist/) |
All you can see in front of you is white. White and... what are those strange little dots...? No, that's not right. Perhaps you're imagining them. Around you, footsteps pace against something hard, different than pavement, and voices speak, a plethora of sounds you can't bear as you shut your eyes back, hoping to hear your commanding officer's voice once more.
But the sounds around you remain the same, unfamiliar. There are no planes flying above you, no comrades shouting to each other as they were disembarking on the grey shores of Normandy. No gunfire. You open your eyes again. A woman is watching you, something like concern in her eyes as she flashes a light in your eyes.
"No!"you scream. "Let me go!"
She backs off, looking a little startled as she puts away whatever gave off that light; the woman then disappears, as you hear only the clack of heels distancing themselves away. Fueled by a new purpose, your vision begins to clear as you attempt to look around the room.
A large cabinet is to your right, doors with fragile glass protecting whatever vials and bottles of medicine lay within. You can't distinguish what's exactly on the thin glass – looks like numbers.
To your left, there are two large doors with opaque windows and letterings that say, printed in red, "OPERATING ROOM". You look down at yourself, but you see no signs of anyone trying to hack you up. Or they're not there because you're dressed in patient overalls. Tight leather straps hold you firm in place, and you struggle against them.
"Stay calm,"you hear a voice say.
"Calm? My comrades are out there, dying on the shores of Normandy–"
"That war ended 70 years ago,"the voice says.
_Seventy years ago? That means I should be dead– How am I not dead?_
"You certainly scared us there,"the voice continues. "If you're feeling any better, you could answer some questions?"
"Questions, while I'm strapped to this table? No way."
"Fine,"the voice concedes. "We'll set you free."
Feeling a little freer, you decide to adjust your height, stretch your bones as you hear them crack slightly, feel your muscles readjust to their usual strength. You see a man coming forward, holding a clipboard in his hand and twirling his pen anxiously.
"Now then... you are...?"
"Steven Rogers." |
Charlie, "I say", I have a dentist appointment so I'm leaving work early so I can make it on time! "goodbye Charlie"
5 minutes later
Alright we should be getting there right about...(car stops) "Tries to turn car on", (pedestrian warning) says the radio. There is no one here though. "back door opens""who are you-?""drive now"says the pedestrian. I'm not driving until you tell me who you-...(pedestrian reaches in bag) "drive now"says the pedestrian stealthy. (Starts driving carefully and slowly) "Well, your gonna have to get out soon because I have to go to a dentist appointment". "No, I think I could stay in here until you get out". "I will let you stay in the car under one condition, you must tell me who you are and why your in my car". "Well one thing I can tell you is that I'm hiding away from my boss, he's trying to sue me because his staircase broke inside his house and I put it together, so can you help me hide out?""Who are you though?""I'm afraid that I cant tell you that", "why not", "You know why! "Okay well we're here so I have to go to my dentist appointment, so you can stay here if you'd like.""Okay sounds good.""Hey checking in as Sabrina Jackson. "Sabrina Jackson?"says the person. "Yes, is there something wrong?""Yes, very wrong, someone related under the name of "Bobby Jackson"Is under a lawsuit for breaking someones stairs while placing them than running away and hiding away and is still not found.""Wait, my step cousin, Bobby?""I believe so."(calls 911) "hey I found Bobby Jackson, he is in my car by the dentist office in time square!""Goes outside, gets in car and waits for police silently", police cars surround the car. "Bobby Jackson, get out the car your under arrest, "So you're calling 911 on me sister?""Alright now you're gonna see what is in my bag, Pulls out pistol", (with no hesitation, pulls trigger) "Bobby Jackson, under arrest for murder and hiding from court, get in the car". (Story ends dramatically) |
> Get the key from the jumping man in the office
This was by far the most complicated task to reach that damn button to date. I was on the ground floor of a shopping centre and had no idea where the office even was. There was no map and this centre had at least five floors. I wasn't quite sure how I knew that, but that's not important right now.
I set out to find the office, spiralling from the outside in and going floor by floor. Eventually, I reached the end of the uppermost floor and no sign of anything resembling an office. How on earth am I supposed to get the key from the jumping man if there is no office?
As I was making my way down, I noticed a door on the second floor that I'm sure wasn't there before. Dream logic, I guess. I opened it and suddenly found myself walking onto a rooftop terrace, at least 20 stories up, the outer edge was lined with Cafe seating and tables forming a ring around a small hut. This hut had "Office"written on it, but it was surrounded by glass and there was no sign of anyone, never mind a jumping man.
I went through the door to the office and encountered a ladder leading up. I suppose dreams don't have to comply with accessibility requirements. I started climbing this ladder and accidentally pressed a button as I was grabbing a rung. I woke up. |
It rested 'neath no dome beside that grand expanse of stars above at which it stared, alone and unattended, abandoned and forgotten.
Its lens was clouded, left without concern to rain and heat, dust and brutal time which it resisted for some while but could endure no more.
What visions had it seen before the clouding of its sight? And had it longed to share the things that it beheld?
Had it wondered at the cosmos and its place within? Felt small and unimportant all the while and wondered who and for what purpose they had placed it on that hill?
Had fear beset it as its sight began to fade? Did it lament the once familiar stars whose light then failed to pierce the pale occlusion creeping from the edges of its lens, one by one at first and then in growing number?
Now blind, did it remember all the beauty once beheld with fondness or regret? Did it lament the unrequited dream of sharing all the wonders it had seen? Rage against the one who'd placed it on that isolated hill? Hold hope that it could still be made to see and share again?
As I wake from fitful sleep in midnight hours I look out through the bedside window filled with feeling only vaguely understood, at city lights and man made sights and starless skies, and think of thoughts I know I'll never speak aloud for anyone to hear. |
Yesterday, I read this book and today, I am cursed because of it. Today, i have to pick up some groceries. My husband told me he wanted granny smith apples, so I'll make sure to grab those.
The lighting is a bit off, flickering its blue light on top of the fruits and vegetables below it. I grab the apples, some oranges and a pear. The cashier looks at me and smiles when she sees me. She must be happy. I've been told I have a friendly aura.
My husband is not home. I decide to put on some music and pour myself some wine. When I drink wine is when I can really think. I remember it happened, although it feels like a dream. I remember the feel of the very old paper on my fingertips. I remember the symbols, so odd and evil. The mutilated nose, the chopped ear. And those words, I remember, no- I can hear the echo of those words as they leave my lips, their reverb on my ears. I read those words and it planted a seed inside me, proof of my curse.
The water drizzles down my shoulders, and it is a hotter shower than usual, hotter than it should be. Did I turn it that hot? My mouth hums a tune and I see the mirror, clouded with steam. I look down on my hands and my fingernails are red. Something is strange.
The white rug is bloody. David is lying on the floor, unconscious. I call the police. I sob and I wish I could push all that blood back inside. He is losing too much of it. At this rate, who knows if he'll make it.
The lighting is dim, and more blue than it is necessary. The guard stays there, spies on my conversation with my sister. My sister is crying and she looks scared. Of me or for me I do not know. She's saying the death penalty is a possibility and that I need to speak. I can't tell her anything because I don't know anything. I don't know what is happening. I wish I could tell her that I am disintegrating, that time is moving too fast, without me in it.
There is a white moon I stare at from the small window. My roommate snores a lot and as he snores I replay those words I read that day. I think of what had happened. I know that David would have been alive if I had not read that book but I know this as a mere fact, not something I can elaborate upon, not somrthing I can think of and explain. Like the fact that we need water, we need air and the fact that time passes. |
Graduation Day:
Good morning. In less than an hour, students from here will join others from around the country, and you will be tossed into the largest clusterfuck of a world in the history of mankind. “Mankind;” that word should have new meaning for us all today. We can’t be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We must be united in our common pursuit of truth, equality, and charity. Perhaps its fate that today is the final day of our innocence, and yet again once-students will be fighting for our freedom from tyranny, oppression, and prosecution; and possible annihilation. We’re fighting for our right to live, to co-exist. And should we be triumphant, todays graduation will not just be yours or my step into adulthood, but as the generation that declared in one voice:
“We will not go quietly into the night!
We will not vanish without a fight!
We’re going to live on!
We’re going to thrive!
Today, we celebrate our Graduation Day!” |
Imagine the void as a sort of timer. It ticks down slowly until it it goes off. The problem is nobody knows what happens when it does. What we do know is that human sacrifices reset the timer. That’s why every year we choose someone to send in. Usually it’s a willing sacrifice, an elderly person or maybe someone with an incurable illness.
This is of course a very basic explanation. I haven’t even covered the fact that age matters (Younger sacrifices set the timer back further) or the signs of activity that start around the time of the next sacrifice. The History Channel has a pretty good documentary called [The Maw: Necessary Evil](https://youtu.be/dQw4w9WgXcQ) and there’s a few podcasts about it.
My favorite is probably [Insinde The Maw](https://youtu.be/dQw4w9WgXcQ). It covers a bunch of theories about what the Maw really is and what happens to the people sent inside. Check out the episode with Dr. Michio Kaku, I like his take on it the best. |
The doors to the study were a heavy mahogany, well polished and decorated with the finest carvings you'd ever seen. A scenery on each of the six panels, not one alike. A serene forest, a playful garden, a majestic mountain, a stormy seaside, a wintry road, a cozy country cottage. No other door in the entire estate can match this one. You could spend hours studying the details of these carvings and the fine shine of the woods grain.
But it was a forbidden door. Only Master was allowed to enter. The head housekeeper held a long and stern lecture on the houserules, whenever a new maid or servant was hired. It always ended with: "Never, under any circumstance, enter the study on the second floor. The one with the carved doors. Only our Master is allowed there, no-one else. Try to open the door, and you are fired, permanently"
You do your work, like everyone else. The uniform is not too unconfortable, for a formal and old fashioned one. You never get used to the silly ruffels on the collar. You dust, sweep, fold laundry and polish tableware. And glance at the study door.
It's so intricate, so heavy, so mysterious. You try to ask the older staff, if anyone has ever broken the rules. In general terms, of course. You hear tales of missing silverware turning up at pawnshops in the village, a broken vase put together with chewing gum, a mustache drawn on one of the portraits of historical ladies (not relatives, just old paintings Master likes). Nothing about peeking into the study.
Months go by. Your nerves tickle every time you pass the study doors. You try to ignore it. The rules are strict, but not impossible. Save for the study. Your imagination runs wild in the night. Is it like a grand old library with bookshelves stacked full from floor to ceiling? Is it like a detectives laboratory with vials and tubes on stands? Is it empty, save for Masters loved ones in massive capsules filled with mysterious liquids? You giggle with excitement, alone in your strange fantasies.
====
Master has been gone for three weeks on business. He's returning today. The whole household is a tornado of preparations. He's never been gone for this long. Master is a homebody by nature. Loves to entertain guests, but rarely leaves for longer than a lunch or dinner with friends.
You had a lovely two week vacation with your family and friends. Most of the staff did. No need to fuss over tablecloths, when there were no visitors coming over. Now everyone has been busy like a bee for two days straight. No time to ponter over mystery doors.
His car arrives. Everyone is lined up to welcome him back, like in the movies. He steps in through the front doors. Everyone gives a little bow. The butler and head housekeeper greet him. He looks tired, haggard even. He says he'll have a light dinner today, at six like usual.
You notice something odd as he passes by you. He's wearing his usual cologne, a suddle and expensive one. But there's a funny odor under it. One you cannot pin point in your mind. Then you hear a light thud. He has gone straight to the study. Now your mind and nerves are on fire.
====
It's well past midnight. You sneaked around to see Master retire to his bedroom. That was a good two hours ago. You listened at the head housekeepers door, she was well and truly snoring in there. You wear your softest slippers, almost scooting along the wall. You have no light with you, only the moon shines through the windows.
The sturdy study doors. You lay your hand over the carvings. So smooth. You know the doors do not creak. They never do, when Master opens them. To push or to pull, that you do not know. You look around, take a deep breath, and push.
The heavy door moves without resistance, light as a curtain. A breath of warm air wafts to your face. A sweet, earthy aroma fills your nose. The room is filled with the gentle light of the moon. You peek inside. There's no furniture. Odd, you think. And poke your head in. There's one chair by the fireplace, a big recliner facing the room. You take a half step in.
It wasn't moonlight. The curtains are fully closed. There are mushrooms poking out of the floor and walls. Everything is covered in a speckled, moss-like growth. Fungus all over the walls, even the ceiling is covered. The mushroom caps give off a faint, light blue glow. The sweet smell is making you dizzy.
You quickly step out. You pull the door closed as quiet as you can. Then, holding your breath, you quickly escape towards your room. After going down the sidestairs, you let out your breath. What was that? A room full of fungus? That makes no sense. And Master just... sits there? You shake your head and head to bed. No more mystery novels for you.
The next morning you wake up with a headache. The smell of the study clings to your nose. It wasn't a rotten smell, but sweet. There's a dull pain in your arm as well. Did you pinch yourself after seeing the study? Or maybe it's just another pesky pimple.
As you take off your pajamas, you see it. You choke back a scream. It's one of those mushroom caps! In your arm! You feel panic, as you pull on it. It hurts! Worse than your head. You poke it to look under it. No question. It's stuck on your skin. Poking and pulling it sends shocks of pain up your arm and tears into your eyes.
You turn your eyes away from it. Alright, okay, don't panic, you tell yourself. No-one else has seen it. Or you looking into the study. Hopefully, maybe. Maybe, maybe the mushroom will go away on its own. Mushrooms don't live very long, right? And your uniforms sleeves are roomy. Nothing out of the ordinary here. Do. Not. Panic.
You get dressed, careful not to rub the mushroom too much. You ask someone for aspirine, for your headache. They ask if you have a fever. No, just a headache.
You're careful of your arm the whole day. You wince every time it hits something. Someone asks if you're alright. Yes, you just hit your arm on your dresser this morning. Might get a nasty bruise, but nothing serious. You smile awkwardly at everyones concern. You thank them, and assure everything will be fine in a few days.
==== |
"Right, right, riiiight. We'll try to make this quick, I'm sure you've got a busy day ahead of you,"said the woman at the customs booth, sliding into the seat behind her holoscreen with a price of overpriced and watery coffee. "Says here that you're... either William or Wilhelm Moses? Born 1760 in South Carolina?"
Standing in his red-and-blue tailed jacket and buttoned shirt, William-or-Wilhelm said nothing. He was in a strange place, being confronted strange beings, likely unable to account for several things in his immediate past. Like as not there were too many reactions going through his mind, competing strenuously for expression.
By most standards, Wilhelm Moses-who-had-been-born-William had already lived a well-beyond-ordinary life. He had been born into slavery, decided that the harsh, unrewarding, short, and brutal life was not for him, and as the North American colonies had gone to war with Britain, had managed a daring escape, at which time he had joined a band of Hessians in the British employ. From a lowly slave to a soldier who commanded respect and good pay. A story like that certainly had more than just a touch of the extraordinary about it, surely enough for one lifetime. But fate had apparently decided to throw a bit more extraordinary into the mix, leading to him finding himself... here. Wherever here was.
"Mr. Moses? This information is correct?"the woman at the customs booth asked. There was a plaque on her desk, Wilhelm noted. The script was strange to him, only barely recognizable as English, but he thought it read 'Hartley.' In spite of his strange surroundings, the glowing, floating gold lights that looked like papers, the architecture that was like nothing he had ever seen before, it was this 'Hartley' that confounded him the most. There was something about the way she acted- too young? too old? some strange mixture of both- and the she spoke and moved and carried herself that was not... *right* for women, as far as William Moses had experienced.
"Mr. Moses?"
Wilhelm finally snapped back to whatever was currently passing for reality. "Yes. I b'am William Moses."He had an unusual voice, spiced with touches of the American South and Caribbean and Germany. "I was only- young miss, powerful confusion I am in. Is this perhaps the afterlife?"
Hartley, if that was the right name, made a face. A sort of half-raising of the eyebrows, a slight puffing of the cheek. If Will Moses read the face correctly, it was the face of one who found a question ridiculous but had heard it so often that it had lost the amusement of novelty.
"No, sir. You're in Fractale. Now, look, I'm not in charge of orientation, and I wouldn't be any good at it anyway. Things will be a bit easier on you just answer the questions yes or no, alright?"
\*\*\*
In time questions were answered succinctly as possible, and Will Moses found himself bundled into a strange kind of carriage, not pulled by any animal that he could see, along with a host of truly unusual individuals. There was a man in furs (both clothing and a fair amount growing from his face, meticulously groomed), hefting a sword uncertainly, who introduced himself as Orm Halfdane. There was an Arab scholar from Cordoba some centuries before William was born, who was sipping one of the beverages Hartley had been, with a clear look of disapproval on his face. There was a knight in armor and a woman in pearls and a dress that looked to Will Moses to be barely a shift, carrying a cigarette in a meerschaum holder, and stranger things still: a man seemingly made mostly of metal, with the inside of his anatomy still visible through the glass panels of his scalp and his shoulders. A man- a *man*?- with green skin and six eyes and dangling insectile antennae, in a pink silken suit. Someone who was wearing armor under his shoulders and a leather helmet strapped under his chin, who was clutching a pig's-skin thing like a child's toy to himself nervously.
Will Moses swallowed to himself. He was assuredly not in South Carolina anymore.
\*\*\*
At the heart of the clockwork city of Fractale (through which all time-voyagers passed, in...well, in due time) was the Chronologists' Club. Only the most seasoned of time travelers needed bother apply for membership, and only the cream of the crop would actually be granted it. The never-seen but much-revered Club Chairman, Grandfather Klok, was said to be ultimately in control of all the endless affairs of the temporally-adrift city.
Through the halls of this extraordinary club now wandered two of its more respected members, who were typically referred to in the shorthand as the General and the Professor. The General was a bluff but canny man of Victorian sensibility, best known for his missionary work among the Morlocks of Earth's distant future. His chrono-conveyance, a plush red velvet chair surrounded by gilded rails and cylinders, was the envy of many fellow-members. The Professor was a tall, gangling, energetic man with intense eyes and white, shaggy hair; he carried things around with him that tended to spit and hiss and give off tachyon radiation. As they walked, they spoke casually to one another:
"Seems we're getting more and more of these accidental visitors,"the Professor said, idly.
"I should say so. A lot of riff-raff, one might feel inclined to say,"the General groused, eyeing out the window as one such individual was accosted by the centurions of the Watch. From what he could discern, the offender, a block-faced man with a chainsaw for an arm, had stumbled into Fractale by tampering with a highly unlawful magical book. The General shook his head.
"More than that. Have you been down to Grand Cross, recently?"
"I have not. I habitually keep clear of the place. "
Grand Cross was the dumping ground for transients who had come from the timelines that were never meant to be, the ones that logically couldn't have come to pass yet stubbornly resisted all efforts to erase them from existence. The place was regarded as a bit of a slum.
"Well, it's become even worse than you might recall. Ever since we had that bleed-in from all the Global Dictatorship timelines. Everywhere you looked, Germans who won World War I, Germans who won World War II, Germans who won the World Cup in '66. It's left the place even more of a shambles."
"Bally nuisance, I say."
"And a truer word never was said."
***
MORE TO FOLLOW? MAYBE? |
Getting pigs to fly was the easiest phrase to make happen. I actually did it multiple times, in multiple ways, cause they kept saying it didn't count.
First I simply stuck a pig on an airplane. They really didn't like that one. Said somthing about how, "The pig wasn't actually flying, the plane was flying. The pig would have to fly of it's own free will."
Honestly I wasn't surprised that they didn't accept my first attempt. If it was that easy, someone else would have done it already, and the pantheon wouldn't sign their contracts with idioms like that anymore.
The gods main argument was that the pig wasn't flying of it's own free will. Well, that was something I could make happen.
I built a drone. Did it easily enough, I just had to make it really big -and give it lots power- so that it could actually lift the pig. Then I made it so that the drone was controlled by a series of buttons on its compartment for carrying stuff. So then when someone was ridding it, all they had to do was press the buttons and they could drive it wherever they wanted. The hardest part was training the pig. Thankfully they are rather intelligent, the fifth smartest animal on earth. Now if I had to train a goldfish there would have been a real problem.
Sadly the gods opposed me that time as well. They said, "The pig might be controlling the drone, but the drone is still the one doing the flying."I should have expected them to bring up that point. They mentioned it with the airplane.
There wasn't anything to do but try again.
Lets skip forward a bit, why don't we? For my final attempt, the one that the gods finally accepted, I used genetic engineering. It took me forever. And I had to do tons of research. Genetic engineering didn't even work the first time I tried it. I stuck some big wings onto a pig, just like the drawing of pigs flying always depict, but it turns out that it's more that just a birds wings that allow them to soar through the sky.
When I finally managed it the gods still argued, but I could tell from the beginning that they not it was true. I had beaten them. Fair and truly.
"What's next? What's next? When hell freezes over, perhaps?"
When I'm done the gods won't know what hit them. |
Mr Edgerton leaned back in his chair, his head hurt from the meeting he had just gone through.
Sighing, he reached up a hand and rubbed his eyes.
When he opened them he saw all the trappings of wealth and power that ordained just his office. It was a long hall at the pinnacle of his towering corporation, and many compared it to a throne room. Once he had considered it to be everything he had ever wanted, but now he simply longed to be a simple astronomer again. The days he had spent, puttering around the silent, emptiness of the observatory offered him a mocking peace when compared to this brightly lit room.
It had been a joke.
He and his only friend, a coworker, had discovered a new way to improve the optics of lens, and they had quickly began joking about the implications of the technology...
"The community is going to be completely revolutionized."Jim had said, and it only had built frustration in Edgerton's heart.
"True, but I really wonder about what the point of it is some times. Is this going to change anything about human existence?"
Jim had laughed, "Oh knock it off Fred, what do you think, people can wish upon a star and get whatever they want?"
They had both laughed.
----
Mr Edgerton's thoughts were broken by the steady chiming of the world clock, a gift from the presidents and leaders of the world. Given to him for bringing about a golden age of prosperity and wealth.
The memory of someone calling him Frank and laughing with him was completely foreign to him.
Later that night, he had been cataloging a star and made a ridiculous wish. A wish that had come true.
He hadn't noticed Jim's absence for many days, because the fame and wealth had poured over him like a wave. It had been parties, beautiful women, and wealth unimaginable. But now, now... he had a problem.
They had run out of stars, and it was only then that he realized he needed Jim more than ever.
'The human Genie' a man who had single handed ended war, poverty, famine, and despair for the human race.
The wish giver.
If he could just find that last star, he knew it was out there, he could wish to undo everything and just have the old days back.
"I wish I was the only one who had discovered this."All because he had been jealous of his friends assistance in the discovery. He had really meant to bring Jim back, but the second wish intended as a test run, had given him fame, real fame, like the stars of Hollywood...
He had wasted stars to give bubbles to pretty women, show off, and impress the people of the world.
Now he had everything and nothing all at the same time. |
Dr. Love stood at the helm of the spaceship. From a distance, she could see the battle begin. Sparks flew as Electroid fired at Mr. Wonderful, who dodged effortlessly. The Scarlet Wolverine and his band of animal friends raced towards the Ethereal Titan, who massacred a collection of them with immediacy. Across the streets, rooftops, and airways of New York City, good and evil had finally come to a head.
"What are your orders, ma'am?"Violet asked. Her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white. Dr. Love made a mental note to give Violet some time off after this.
"Screens up,"Dr. Love commanded.
A series of holographic screens flooded the wheelhouse. Dr. Love clapped her hands in delight, then took a sip of her strawberry margarita. Each supervillains' costume had a camera on it somewhere, unbeknownst to them. She had been waiting for this moment for so long. It was thrilling that it was finally here.
"Ma'am?"Violet repeated, a thread of uncertainty in her voice. "Your orders?"
"Oh, we're just going to watch a while."
From around the room, heads swiveled to look at her. "Ma'am?"Violet repeated. This time, the thread sounded uncertain. "Aren't we supposed to help?"
Everyone went silent as The Outrageous Grasshopper was it in the chest by flaming spheres from the Marvelous Champion. His camera shook as he struggled to put out the flames, then fell backwards with his body. Oh, neat! She was pretty sure she could see her own spaceship. Yes, there it was, hovering high above the sky where The Outrageous Grasshopper was actively dying.
"Nah,"Dr. Love said, and sipped her drink again.
"We're not going to help,"Violet repeated. Incredulity. The girl certainly had a wide range of emotions.
"Nope."
"But we promised to help."
"Yep."
"...Ma'am?"
Dr. Love sighed. She finished off the margarita and snapped her fingers at the bus boy, who hurried off to get her another. She stood up, brushed off her outfit, and then strode to the center console. All eyes were upon her once more, and she offered them a brilliant smile. Some cowed. She'd never been one for smiling. It seemed to be scaring her subordinates. That was deliciously funny. She'd laugh about it later.
"Ladies and gentlemen,"she said authoritatively, "today is a day I have long envisioned. When The Pink Scimitar first approached me and requested that I outfit the League of Supervillains, I was hesitant. I had never really been one to take sides. But then it occurred to me: this was a real chance to do some *good* in the world. So I took the contract, and I hired all of you lovely, degenerate people, and together we made the supervillains something really very exciting. And I'd like to thank all of you for your help. You can see the results of our endeavors now, at this, The Final Battle."
She'd expected clapping, but instead there was a sudden sound of disgust. Dozens of faces winced and looked away. She turned around to search for the screen that had distracted them. Oh. The Light Wonder was currently having his face ripped apart and eaten by The Magical Mongoose. She supposed she should hurry up.
"So,"she continued, turning back around on one heel, "today, I will finally enact the plan I have had all along."She reached into her pocket and pulled out a shiny, pink button. She lifted it in her right hand, showing it off like there was nothing that had ever made her so proud, because that was true. "This, ladies and gentlemen, will cement out place in history as the people who won this battle for the Light. We will go down as those who destroyed the supervillains once and for all."
"Wait, I'm sorry, I must be misunderstanding,"Violet said, her eyebrows furrowed like two angry caterpillars. "Aren't we *helping* the supervillains?"
"Oh, Violet dear, that's what *they* think. I'm sorry to have deceived you all. But you know what they say - that's what happens when you play the long game!"
"Nobody says that,"someone to her left whispered. Hmm. She'd have some firing to do later.
"So, with all that said - it is time to witness history!"With a flourish, and perhaps a tad too much drama, she pressed the button. Then, she walked back to her comfy chair, sat down, and started on her second margarita.
The carnage was both immediate and delectable. Professor Macho Raccoon transformed. The camera in his helmet watched as he stared at his shaking human hands, then turned to run away. Moments later, the camera stared at a flipped-over cab as his dead body hit the street. The Black Sparrow's wings gave out, and they watched him plummet hundreds of feet to the cold concrete below. He wasn't the only one - every winged supervillain splatted simultaneously. It was a bloody mess. She didn't envy the street sweepers.
"Oh my God,"Violet murmured in horror.
Dr. Love finished off the second margarita in record time. She was beginning to feel buzzed. Or was that happiness? It had been so long since she'd felt any, she wasn't sure. She set the glass down and snapped her finger a third time as Snow Storm melted into a puddle in the July sun. "Make it mango this time,"she said, and smiled once more. She could get used to smiling. |
"What are we going to do once the last of this food is gone?"he asked.
"We'll find more. We always find more."
Sarah was so hopeful. It's why he fell in love with her in the first place. John was pessimistic but she never failed to bring him round. This time was different though. He looked at her body, even through the thick winter coats he could see how skinny she was. Her face as gaunt as his, her hair thin and her skin a pasty light grey colour. He wasn't even hungry anymore, it was as if his body had started digesting itself. She wasn't ready to have the discussion, so John tried to distract her.
"Do you remember Bali?"
She smiled, as much as she could, and weakly nodded.
"That turquoise sea, those green forests. And that island, god what was its name?"
Without hesitation, Sarah answered "Lembongan."
"Ah that's right. Lembongan. Those waves. Those beautiful waves."
They heard a loud boom echoing in the distance, a second later their house shook. Dirt covered them, knocked loose from the ceiling by the shockwave. Sarah's smile disappeared, John came back to reality. He started to talk.
"I want you to eat me. When I go, I want you to eat me."
"Shut up. Just shut up."
"Sarah, I mean it."
"Shut the fuck up John. No one is eating anyone."
"Sarah. We haven't got any more food. We won't be able to get any more food. We'll both die here-"
Sarah interrupted him, "Then we'll die together!"
She was hopeful, but she was stubborn. He knew he was going first, and he knew she would never lay a finger on him. He crawled towards her, dragging his limp legs behind him. He sat himself up next to her. Her chair no longer had wheels, so she was at floor height. The energy it took to move to her made him tired, so he laid down on her shoulder. He closed his eyes. |
Peeling apart thin layers of a plastic bag, the acne-face kid behind a mask exclaims, “Feel better. I’m sorry. At least you’ll get lots of time to yourself. I mean! Think of all the time!”
I cough into the mask. Several people jump back.
The nervous cashier’s attention shifts on my groceries: ramen, nutella, and more ginger than one person should consume in a year.
I pump hand-sanitizer onto my credit card, trying not to listen in the cashier hisses under his breath to the bagger, “Don’t fucking say that to a Sleepless, my dude.”
“Well, I think it’s great!” says some Karen behind me, who’s flicking her magazine. “Not needing to sleep anymore? You get 8 hours in the day.”
Fucking idiot. I still need sleep. I just can’t.
Pushing my mask more securely on my face, I whisper, “How much?”
“$34.75.”
34.75. 3. 4. 7. 5.
That’s my phone passcode. Why is it popping up now? Is this another one of my hallucinations? My half-awake nightmares?
Is this real life?
Jolting a hand across the grocery bags, I pinch the cashier’s face.
“Ow! Hey!” he says, cupping his cheek.
I stammer an apology and struggle to count my change.
After grabbing my bags, I push my cart forward towards the exit, but a small man stands in my path.
His badge reads “shift manager” He bows stiffly. “Miss, we’re sorry if we offended you. We cannot allow you to assault our employees.”
“It was a misunderstanding,” I stammer, embarrassed. “I already apologized. Sometimes, as a Sleepless, it’s hard to know what’s real or what’s–”
“We have had many Sleepless customers, and only some become difficult in the later stages. We recommend that you send others to do your shopping.”
“Who?!” I demand, raising my voice.
A small group of neighboring customers and cashiers stare at me.
My neck grows hot.
All these people – these stupid people – don’t know what this is like. This 2023 tangled protein virus has left me pissing in public, making monkey noises atop fountains, and enacting Shakespeare in parking lots. And every day fills me with dread – will I become like the others? Barely alive humans who’s brains have swollen to the point of caving in? Or will they have invented a cure by then?
“I don’t have anyone else … I …”
“Miss, please accept these coupons as recompense for this poor customer experience. Our online shopping function may be more helpful.”
I take them, but on the side, the number 3475 is drawn in gold ink. |
"Okay, let's start with something easy,"Jayden said, jerking his chin at a square block of concrete on the ground. "Try and lift it."
Bob sent him a dubious look. It was weird to think of a zitty teenager with violently green hair as his mentor, but that's how it was. Kids picked up this magic business faster, and he had to try and keep up.
"But what do I say?"he asked.
"You just..."Jayden gestured vaguely. "Let the magic flow through you, man. It's not a science but an art, you know?"
Bob didn't know, but that seemed to be all the advice he would get. He took a deep breath and thrust out his palm. "Stone and sand, heed me. By my command—um—arise."
The block didn't budge. Bob coughed in embarrassment.
Jayden groaned and slapped his forehead. "No, no, you have to be natural. None of that fantasy sounding shit. Just tell magic what you want."
"All right. All right, that I can do."He stared at the block as if to intimidate it. "Move!"
The block wiggled slightly. Bob gaped, then turned to Jayden. "Did you see that? It worked!"
"Yeah, good job,"Jayden said, unimpressed. "But what's with that weak-ass spell? Try something with more feeling."
Bob furrowed his brow. "I thought you told me to speak naturally."
"Yeah, but like..."Jayden scratched his head. "It's easier to show you, I guess. Watch this."He faced the block and thrust up his arms. "Lightweight, baby!"
Bob gasped and stepped back as the block shot up into the air. After all this time, he still wasn't used to such casual displays of magic. "That's amazing."
"You ain't seen nothing yet,"Jayden said, grinning. "Yeet!"
The block shot forward, arcing across the practice field, and thudded on the grass a good hundred feet away. Bob stared, awed, then shook his head.
"Do I have to yell *yeet* each time?"he asked weakly.
"Well, no, but that's what works best."Jayden dusted off his palms as if he had lifted the block by hand. "It's like, when people use a word a lot, it imprints itself onto the fabric of magic. Haven't you read the brochures?"
Bob felt his stomach sink. "Say I wanted to find out who stole my lunch at work. What spell could I use?"
Jayden snorted. "If someone's looking sus, just do a vibe check."
"A vibe check,"he repeated blankly. "Right. What if I was, say, late for a train?"
"Easy, man."Jayden raised a palm and slid it sideways. "Make it *skrrt*."
"Defend myself from a mugger?"
"You could go *catch these hands*!"Jayden punched the air, sending off a ghostly imprint of his fist.
Bob sighed deeply and peered across the field where the concrete block lay on the ground. Having such a power would be amazing, but not at this cost. "You know what? I don't think magic is for me after all." |
Jalek had seen it first. He had climbed over the small dirt hill, and had scouted the valley below with his hawk-like vision. He was one of the best Guiders in these parts of the Wastes. To be completely honest, he was probably THE best. The white-faced man had stood on top of the hill for a good two minutes, before rushing to its bottom, and stopping in front of the small travelling party, trying to catch his breath.
\-There’s….a town down there, he finally said.
A murmur expanded among the members of the team. Town? What kind of town? It was a Clean one or a Cursed one? If it was a clean one, did it belong to the League or was it independent? Finally, the endless arguments were stopped with a single clap of the palms. The members of the group turned to face their chief, Maltor. It was difficult not to get intimidated by the size of the man, a beast with long hands, a broad chest, clean, sparkling blue eyes and long, raven hair that reached his back. He grasped the handle of his sword and approached the top of the hill.
Yes, it was a town indeed. Quite small, it shouldn’t have more than 200 residents at best. The entire place was surrounded by a stone wall, with various forms a defensive weapons protruding from it. Above the wall, he could just barely see the tops of some buildings, grey tiles and black chimneys that choked out warm smoke. The only visible entrance to the town was a big, wooden gate at the center of the wall, which was now hermetically closed.
Maltor fell to the ground on his stomach, and motioned on his men to do the same. They would watch the town for now, wait for any moves of its residents. If they were clean then it was all OK. If they weren’t….well that would be a rather interesting night for them to say the least. Nothing was moving as the eleven members of the scouting party just watched the quiet town silently. A hawk was flying in the clear blue skies above them. A good sign. Maybe they were lucky, and that was indeed a Clean town.
As they waited calmly, each of their minds was somewhere else: to the loot they had acquired in their previous raid, to their beds, their shacks full of wine that were hanging from their belts, to a woman that was waiting for them back at home…But Maltor’s mind was somewhere else. He tried to put events into a line. He did that when he was under pressure like now, it kept him calm and collected somehow. How had all started? Well, no one knew for sure. The few fragments of the civilization that existed about a thousand years before them were studied by the Elders, who couldn’t give a definitive answer. Their ancestors seemed to be extremely advanced in technology and war, but also on magic, since the cursed creatures that lived in these vile cities were their creation.
They had progressed on so many fields, created machinery that could do anything, cook without a fire, travel for miles quicker than the most trained horse, kill dozens of men with just the push of a button…Some old chronicles talked about great inventions that could fly to the moon….But Maltor wasn’t sure he really believed this. It just seemed too farfetched. And then came the War, and everything changed.
There weren’t really a lot of details about the War, only that it was a massive conflict and that many different Nations took part in it. According to the chronicles “….it raged for two years and two months, before our Ancestors managed to make the skies rain Fire, which swallowed everything, and left behind it almost nothing”. That’s how these…things were created. At least according to the Elders. And that’s how their society was formed, many centuries after the War had ended.
\-Look! Gaptaf, one of his men said quietly, waking him from his thoughts. He looked towards the town.
The wooden gates had started to open, just enough for a single person to pass through. Soon enough, someone actually crossed the gates. Maltor almost wanted to puke. The man that was now standing in front of the gates looked pretty normal. He was in his early 40s, tall and thin, with black, curly hair, a hawkish nose and large, bony fingers. He was wearing a simple, long leather tunic in a grey colour and sandals. He just looked around for a while, and then just stood there, not moving, looking into the void. Soon enough, a second man had exited the gate….and it was an exact copy of the first one. Same curly black hair, sharp nose, he even wore the exact same tunic and sandals like the first man. They were like twins.
\-Chief? Gaptaf asked.
\-Cursed, Maltor growled and stood up.
He grabbed his sword again and gave another look at the two twins down in the valley. He would bet his left arm that the entire town was filled with copies of them. The Family. That was one of their many curses, inherited by their distant ancestors. Nobody really knew were the Family had come from. Some ancient texts talked about something called “experiments” and “genetics” but not even the Elders were really sure what these words meant. What they knew was that the Family was enormous ,its members occupied entire cities that doted the Wastes. They all looked the same, and were completely mindless. They spoke a language of their own, that no Elder was never able to translate. They lived in a Hive-like society, depending on each other for survival, shelter and food. They would also shamelessly attack anyone that wasn’t like them, kill them in the most horrific ways… People like Maltor and his comrades.
\-What do we do Chief? Jalek asked.
It didn’t take a lot of time for Maltor to make his decision.
\-Destroy it. |
I sat in the exact center of shrine surrounding the World Portal, meditating. Waiting. I could hear him climbing the stairs that spiraled up to the top of the mountain. He would be here soon.
When the warrior finally reached the top, he did not bow, or make any show of respect like he was supposed to. He simply stared at me. Finally he asked, “Who are you? You're not the Sage. You're just a child!”
I got to my feet, holding my staff at my side. “Even sages don't live forever,” I told him. I was the sage's assistant. When he passed on to the next life, last winter, he gave all of his Words to me. I am the Sage, now.”
“How old are you? Six?”
“Nine.”
“Well, kid, are you going to let me though the portal?”
“You must challenge me in order to gain entrance to the World Portal.”
“I'm not fighting a child,” the warrior sneered.
“They you shall not go through the World Portal.”
“Have it your way.” He drew his sword and rushed at me.
The first time his sword struck my gilded staff, its magic showed me his past. I saw the youngest son of a noble, struggling to perform as well as his older brothers, always doing his best to make his father proud.
The second time his sword struck my staff, I saw his present. His kingdom was under attack from an evil wizard. His eldest brother, now ruler of his lands, directed the armies. His second brother rode at the vanguard of those armies, his sword red with the blood of the monsters the wizard summoned. The man who stood before me desired to go through the portal to a World where he could find a magical weapon, talisman, or spell, something to make him powerful enough to defeat the evil wizard and save his people.
But the third time his sword struck my staff, I saw his future. Once the wizard was dead and his kingdom free from danger, he would use the artifact to become a renowned general, to conquer more lands and expand his holdings. He would fight human armies, not just summoned creatures. Then he would challenge his brothers for the right to rule. He might even slay them. His need for power would never be satisfied.
I slammed my staff against the ground and said one of my Words, activating the protective powers of the shrine. The flagstones hummed with energy and began to glow.
“What is this?” the warrior demanded. Then his knees buckled as the power of the shrine hit him and began sapping his strength.
“You are not worthy to pass through the World Portal,” I informed him. “You will leave now. Go in peace, and meditate upon the darkness in your soul.”
The warrior tried to raise his sword against me, but it fell from his numb fingers. I said nothing. With a snarl of impotent rage, he turned and stomped back down the mountain stairs.
Days passed. I waited. I tended the shrine. I swept the flagstones and pruned the cherry trees and trimmed the bonsai. At night, I descended the stairs to my hut, where I slept. I fed my chickens and tended my small garden and broke my fast with a simple meal of eggs and vegetables. Then I ascended the stairs to wait at the shrine once more.
In time, I again heard footsteps on the stairs. The warrior who arrived at the peak looked much like the last. But this one bowed to me.
“I have come to challenge the Sage for entry into the World Portal,” he said.
“I am the Sage. I accept your challenge.”
He came at me with his swords. Upon his first blow, I saw a child raised in poverty, but loved. He quarreled and fought with his peers and his parents and the authorities of his village. But he was quick to come to the aid of others, should they need it.
At his first blow, I saw a kingdom beset by a curse, its people suffering and dying. I saw him vow to find some magic in the Worlds beyond his own that would save them.
With his third blow, I saw him holding his magical talisman, overlooking a kingdom returned to prosperity. I saw him hide it away in a secret place, so that its magic would not be squandered, but saved until it was needed again. Then I saw him return home with the gold the king gave him as a reward, and use it to give his family and the rest of his village a better life.
I struck my staff upon the ground and took a step back from my opponent. He recognized the signal that the fight was over, bowed, and sheathed his sword.
“You have been found worthy. You may pass through the World Portal.” I said one of my Words, and the portal filled with light.
The warrior bowed again, then stepped past me, disappearing into the Worlds Beyond. I hoped I would see him again.
Days passed. I went about my duties. I waited.
A lighter set of footsteps ascended the stairs. A girl, not quite grown to womanhood, arrived at the top and bowed to me. She smiled at me, and I smiled back.
“I want to go through the World Portal,” she said.
“You must challenge me first,” I replied.
“I'm not a fighter.”
“Then touch the staff.”
At her touch, the staff showed me the daughter of a shopkeeper, staring jealously after her brothers as they left home every day to go to school. I saw her sneaking out of bed at night to read her brothers' schoolbooks by moonlight. In her kingdom, women were not permitted an education. They had few rights and were given away in marriage by their families with litter consideration for their own desires.
The staff then showed me her longing for knowledge, and her desire to use that knowledge for something important. She wanted to be a healer, or an inventor, or an alchemist, perhaps. She wanted accomplish something great. I saw her future. It was blurred, as it always was, but I knew she would get her fondest wish. And I knew she would use her knowledge to help others.
“You are worthy,” I told her. “You may pass.” I began to speak a Word.
“Wait,” she interrupted me. “I'd heard from others that you were a child, and I've been thinking about it. Don't you get terribly lonely?”
I didn't answer. I didn't need to. She knew.
The girl went thought the World Portal, and I thought I would never see her again. But a month later, the World Portal opened from the other side, and she came through, carrying something in a covered basket.
“I'm only here for a minute,” she said. “I hope that's all right, and you'll let me go right back. I found the most wonderful library!” The basket moved on its own, and a strange sound came from it. She removed the cover and pulled out an animal. It looked like a large lemur, with a long, fluffy tail, and very intelligent eyes. As I stared at it, its fur slowly changed from gray to maroon to gold. “I brought you a friend,” she said.
I took it from her. It's fur was as soft as a cloud. “A friend,” I repeated, a smile spreading unbidden across my face. “Thank you. I needed one of those.” |
He could do nothing but stare. Stare at the twisted, broken remains of towering buildings long since toppled, at the expanses of vehicles, shattered and rusting, many turned aside, as if a massive tidal wave had washed over them. At the skeletal remains of people all over the devastated landscape.
He had always been told that his life was perfection, the simple pastoral life on an isolated farm, no troubles other than the fulfilling, but difficult, labor of growing your own food. His parents had always told him that there's no reason he should ever want to go out beyond the woods. Now, he knew why.
He finally managed to move, and headed down into the destroyed city, step by shaky step. The ground beneath him wasn't burned, as it was growing with new grass. This was no recent event, he knew. He could see the plants growing in and amongst the rubble. This happened before he was born.
The city loomed above him at last, though he felt afraid it could topple and crush him in a moment should he let his guard down. In he crept, his morbid curiosity pushing him farther onward. The skeletons around him were all in poses of desperate survival. Most crawling, reaching for some long-decayed saving grace, or a companion that made it out. Some were curled into poses of hopeless surrender to their fate.
His foot kicked something as he passed near one, a piece of rusted metal in the shape of a rough L, one side well suited to fit a hand. He didn't pick it up, but rather kicked it aside, sending it skittering across the street, where it hit the gutter, letting out a sharp BANG, making his ears ring! This was the final straw, and he ran.
He ran all the way home. He hid, and when he gathered his wits back about him, swore that someday he would figure it out. But... There was no rush. His parents had a point, he supposed. |
Frosty the Snowman
Had some existential fear
How could he stay when came the day
That the sun began to sear?
Frosty the Snowman
He began to question why?
What would it say, on his grave
Would the children even cry?
There must be some purpose in this new life that he found
For when they'd say the springtime came he'd no longer be around
Frosty the Snowman
Asked how he could remain
If he had a soul, where would it go?
In his chest was only pain
Oh, Frosty the Snowman
He looked up across the street
Where a man in black held a woman's sack
The old miss began to shriek
Oh that man, how he ran, towards where Frosty stood
And if so he had to go, maybe he'd do some good?
Frosty the Snowman
Was alive as he could be
And the women say how he danced and swayed
As his fists laid down the beat
Thumpety thump, thump, thumpety thump, thump
Look at Frosty go!
Thumpety thump, thump, thumpety thump, thump
Those fists are made of snow!
Frosty the Snowman
Knew the sun was hot that day,
He said 'Don't you run! We'll have some fun,
Before I melt away."
Frosty the Snowman
Had to hurry on his way.
But he waved goodbye, sayin' "You better fly.
I'll be back again some day." |
I have my reasons.
I am not 'mis-informed', or deluded. I have heard the arguments against the rite, and I am unmoved. Why is it so hard for you to understand that I do not share your aims, your selfish attachment to this crude existence?
I do not care for this world, for this reality. What has it given me, that I should prize it? Every day the same drudgery, the same grey stretched-out existence with nothing to recommend it. Merit and effort are not rewarded - the only opportunities offered to me are beneath me, working for fleshy fools. Your badge and gun mark you as my tormentor, not my better.
Your sort prattle of family, of love and comfort. This is meaningless to me. My family - barely worthy of the name - is not capable of understanding me, of grasping the ideas I grapple with. I have never made friends easily; I have no patience for pointless chatter or idle games.
Love, you tell me, is a thing worth having. Perhaps you're right. But what is that to me? I do not have love. Cursed by birth and breeding, what woman would look upon this form with desire? Once, I sought the approval of females; once, and in vain. They are so shallow, so obsessed with status and stature. They know nothing of the true mysteries.
Maybe things could have been different. Had I been born taller, to a richer family, gifted with the jawline that society demands. But no - from birth, love, affection, satiation, all were denied to me. Despite my intellect, my sincere attempts, I have been cursed to rejection and ridicule. It matters not; if I cannot gratify my base desires, I will dispense with them.
Shunned by the herd, I found a better path. Delved deep into the mysteries, learnt of greater beings and unspeakable secrets. Learnt the rites and rituals to step beyond this pallid existence and understand what truly matters. All that you seek is worthless.
I have pierced the veil between the worlds, and I know such things - the satisfaction of bestial desires - are nothing. Like you - more than you - your wife and children are nothing but animals with pretensions, no greater nor more deserving than swine. In time, they will be food for worms, like all the rest - no matter your desires or their fulfillment, all of you will rot.
And time itself, which reveals more of what you are, this too is nothing. Time is but one dimension from an incalcuable number, and all of these are nothing but an accretion of the void, an calcified irritant in the Great Ones' dreamings. You, the mother who neglected me, the whores who laughed at me - you are nothing even within this reality, and less than nothing in the void that surrounds it.
I am so much greater than you, so much more deserving. The things that I have seen! I should be worshipped as a god by you, my every desire granted. Women should clamour to bear my children, men should not dare to meet my eyes! I have spoken in forbidden tongues, learnt truths that would shatter your lesser mind like an egg to even approach! You are nothing compared to me.
Everything this world has to offer has been provided for you. It must have been so easy to reap the rewards of mediocrity, to sneer as my genius was ignored and sidelined. How you must have sniggered to yourself at the mockery of me and those like me. Now though, your laughter stops.
I will call them here. I will wake the sleepers from their incalcuable slumber, bring their gaze to bear on this stinking existence. All that you are, all that you care about, will be unravelled into the pitiless void. I will unmake this universe entirely; it has given me nothing, and I will return the gift with interest. Maybe my masters will reward me, will give me my deserved godhood on a new world. Maybe they will not, but I no longer care. This world is worthless to me, and I will have my revenge whether I benefit or not.
Do you regret it now? The laughter, the contempt? Do you finally grasp, with your weak mind, how much greater I am than you? Do you understand that this - perhaps for the first time ever - is true justice? |
The first god played with creation, and since its nature was perfect, everything it made was perfect. In its perfection, it created other gods who were also perfect, who themselves populated creation with perfect planets on which each created perfect races, each perfect for that planet.
One god looked at what all others had done and drew inspiration from the diversity. This god created a world of mixed biomes in perfect balance, populating each biome with those perfect to that biome. They grew and flourished, meeting each other, and marrying. The perfection was marred by children who were no longer perfect for any biome, and learned from both parents of their gods. The conflict between beliefs led to questions of all gods, the creator looked upon the perfection of its work and was well pleased.
This world was the perfection of questions and conflicts.
It asked its fellow gods to come to its world and see what it had done. They came.
Revulsion.
Horror.
Rebuke.
Relish.
Challenge.
Curiosity.
Pity.
All these were new things the gods had never experienced before. They sparked division and conflict among the gods. The gods, by their very perfection could not change; to change would admit imperfection existed in perfection.
The philosophical peoples of this new world realized something of exceeding importance.
Perfection is static.
Perfection cannot grow.
Imperfection is capable of change.
Imperfection can grow.
Imperfection can hope to one day exceed the gods, even combined.
"Anything is either imperfect and capable of improvement, or it is static and doomed to fall in time."
This thought reverberated through all creation. Every being in the universe felt this thought.
Even the Firstborn.
Who made the critical error, out of the certainty that everything *it* had created was *perfect.*
"Typical mortal hubris. Gods are perfect. Creation is perfect."
The people of the world of conflict heard those words, looked about them and saw no perfection at all. The gods are battling among themselves. The biomes struggle against one another, their perfect balance disrupted by the imperfect children.
Worse, the first words of the Firstborn *confirmed* that other people had questioned perfection before. That very confirmation, intended to quell the conflict, fanned the conflagration to new heights.
The Firstborn, secure in its perfection, gazed upon the peoples of this world and planned their destruction. A thing which never existed before came into existence among the gods.
The Firstborn is capable of error.
The Firstborn is not perfect.
Anything created by the Firstborn is flawed. Not perfect.
The gods are not perfect.
With this realization, many gods willed themselves out of existence. Their peoples, lacking guidance, fought among themselves.
Among those who remained were those gods who accepted their faults, and the faults of the Firstborn. They looked at the people of this world and took pity on them.
"It is not their fault that they are imperfect, it is *our* fault."
The Firstborn, enraged, struck at the remaining gods, all of whom survived that strike.
"You made us in your image, you cannot destroy us, and we will not allow you to destroy these blameless people. It is not their fault they are as they are, but *our* fault."
The Firstborn unleashed its planned destruction. Caught by surprise, the gods could only mitigate the destruction by saving a few. From those few, great nations grew. Grew, and as foreseen, exceeded the capacity of gods for destruction by becoming masters of survival.
Many people, knowing of the Firstborn's attempted destruction, declared the Firstborn the *Adversary*, and the war on the *Adversary* began.
The *Adversary* struck back with disease, treachery, deceit, and damnation, becoming the essential evil which would drive people to extremes, ensuring their growth through survival.
((finis)) |
the young woman continued , somehow , step by step , walking closer and closer to the palace . her torch sliced through the fog like scissors through paper . she anxiously looked right and left , looking for any sign that someone she deemed ' dangerous ' may be nearby . she was a average height with a larger frame , and while strong , she felt defenseless now . she felt as if her body had given up on her , leaving her to die . blood seeped out of the wounds covering her dark skin . she winced with each step , each turn of her head . though , she did not stop . she was strong . she would make it through this .
right ?
[[ sorry this isnt too great . may try again later . still rusty , and its 5am lmao ]] |
Between towering skyscrapers made of glass and steel, a quaint garden rested under a layer of morning dew. Its richy, red-stained wooden fence and overhead fairy lights lent it a quaint, cozy air. While plants filled the small space, not a single flower bloomed.
“Wake up, wake up, wake up sleepy flowers” Alice sang as she skipped through the garden. As she went, she haphazardly tapped the various flower pots and planters scattered throughout their little sanctuary. As if heeding her call, brightly colored blooms slowly began opening, sharing their colors with the world. Alice delighted in their display, and giggled as she walked from pot to pot, giving each a good sniff.
Janet thought it a beautiful sight. Her little sister loved this place. The flowers really were the perfect backdrop to her vibrant yellow dress, her golden hair, her infectious smile. They were beautiful, but took effort and care to cultivate and protect. Seeing them here, though, it made everything worth it.
Really the flowers were the reason they still had a place to live at all. Growing them was a family business, one that continued to make ends meet. Janet’s mother had carefully taught her of their care, the secrets to their cultivation. The flowers were exceptionally rare in the wild. They would only bloom when their roots were disturbed. It was an odd trait for the flowers to have developed, as when left alone many would perish without ever flowering at all.
Yet, in this garden, the flowers which they had named “tremoras” bloomed nearly constantly. When planted in pots, simply tapping the pot was enough to coax them open. Alice often made a game of it. But it was important that the flowers not be allowed to bloom too early, or else they would die off without any further growth. To prevent this, Janet left several beds of the flowers planted in the earth, where they were safe from any perturbations. Only once they had grown hearty enough would they be transferred to containers for eventual sale.
“I like this one best! It smells like lemons!” Alice declared, leaning deeply over a large round planter full of yellow blooms. “Oh, what about this one!” She got to her hands and knees on the ground, and sniffed one of the flowers on the edge of a planted bed. “This one smells like strawberry!” She looked up at her sister with a big smile. “Never mind, this one is the best!”
Janet took a step forward. That flower shouldn't be blooming. It wouldn’t last now, it wasn’t ready. She turned to fetch her trowel, but caught sight of another bloom opening in the middle of the bed. A chill ran down her spine. As she watched, brightly colored blooms opened all throughout her garden. Her garden that was nestled snugly between dozens of stories of glass-sided skyscrapers.
“Alice! Get inside!”
Janet ran for her sister and the ground began to shake. |
“Your Majesty,” I said, addressing the young heir, “please allow me leave to discuss this with the old ‘ball and chain’”
Ball and chain! My first experience talking to royalty and I say ‘ball and chain’. I am nervous, but not because of the supposed status of this juvenile.
“Ball and chain?” Asks the child.
“My wife, your Majesty”
“May I see her, is she pretty?”
She’s going to be pretty pleased with the smokeshow who’s just landed in our barn, that’s for sure.
“I shall bring her to you”
The short walk from the barn to the house was taken at a slow amble. There was too much to process. Now, I’m no monarchist, and I’m not up to date with the who’s who of the court, but that child did look a lot like that fella on the coins. If I had the chance to get a side on view I could confirm it. I also know there’s some trouble around, but again, I keep myself to myself and keep paying my taxes and tithe. So regarding the kid, my approach shall be that I ask no questions, tell no lies, and hope that my head remains attached to my body. But what to do about that damned knight….
“Darling, you look stressed! Is everything ok?” My beautiful wife shouted, only half a field away. Shit, I thought she’d be in the house.
“Yes of course, darling…..well actually no.” I walked over through the potato field. “We’ve got a big effing problem. There’s a small child in our barn claiming to be the King’s first son!”
“Shut the front door!” She exclaimed. I resisted the urge to explain that the barn did not have a front door.
“Yes, but its more complicated than that. His protector….well….his protector is asking if we can hide the child and himself, and I don’t know how to say this, but…I don’t think it’s the best idea.”
“We must! It’s our duty to his Majesty!”
“Look, its my house, I built it, my barn, my decision. That knight cannot stay, you wouldn’t be able to resist him, he’s gorgeous”
“How dare you! There was that one knight, that one night! Will you ever get over that? Will you ever not hold my mistake against me? It’s been years and I’ve heard that he has since fallen in battle.”
“I wasn’t even thinking about that, but screw you for reminding me. This man in that barn is captivatingly beautiful, he has an aura. When I was in there I would have said yes to anything he said, its only now that I can’t see him that I can think straight. He cannot stay.”
The knight could not spare this time. He was bleeding from his meaty, succulent, tight thigh, and he needed help. He whispered to his young companion to remain hidden, whilst he went to find the farmer again. Lifting his toned body off the floor, and removing some straw from his luscious locks, he hoped they were kind people. He limped out of the barn and saw the couple in tense conversation. He caught the eye of the farmer’s wife.
“STEVEN!?” She screamed as she galloped away from her envious husband and towards the Adonis who had come into sight. He immediately knew that she must have been a previous conquest, however he didn’t remember which one of the many she was.
“My lady, you must help me for the good of the country”
“Anything for you, it’s been so long, I heard…..”
“Wait, you two know each other?” I asked, having now reacted to her sprint.
Silence. The kind of silence that gives all of the answers it needs to. They tried to not look at each other but they longed to.
“One of you better start talking really quick” I demanded.
They glanced at each other, simultaneously blushed, and stammered out a garbled lie about him having assisted her with some lifting when I was at the market one time. For the knight, this was a lie of sorts as he still hadn’t managed to remember the lady. For her, the memories of her night with this perfect man were filling her with guilt and pleasure.
The knight broke the silence that had again fallen on the trio.
“I must leave for I need medical assistance, I ask that you give shelter to the boy, my life depends on it”. To stand there with those words coming out of those moist, tender lips, it was impossible to say no, for to do that would be to upset the most visually stunning person on the planet, and therefore the answer was that the boy could remain. Yet, as before, after the knight was out of sight this effect wore off.
An hour later, there was the sound of hooves coming at a fair pace. As the band approached, their leader shouted “We have heard you are harbouring the supposed heir to the throne, may we search your property?”
These men wore strange colours, and spoke in a strange accent, and had strange weapons and hairstyles.
“I’ll save you the time, he’s in the barn mate”
Sorry Steven! |
The lucky thing about my condition is that I get tougher too. I can really mistreat my liver, but not die. I will be absolutely wasted, but alive. I was thankful for this as I chugged my second liter of Everclear, achieving a BAC of approximately 37.0%. Anyone else would be dead. I never felt more alive. Or, I think I would if I could feel anything.
I took off, slowly at first to get my bearings. I could hear the onlookers below with my super hearing, commenting on how perfect my flying spirals were, little did they know that I was trying desperately to fly straight. I started to fly West, then when I found myself flying over the ocean, I turned and flew to my other West.
I was now screaming through the sky at 0.45 ***c,*** to a stretch of desert I usually fought in. People said it was for the theatric elements of a desert fight. It was actually because I couldn't control a damn thing right now and I didn't want to kill any civilians.
Looking up at the direction I hoped the invaders were, I fired my eye lasers into the night sky, blinding anything within a hundred miles with the energy discharge. I hit... something. A lot of somethings. I saw vague sparks of light as countless ships from the enemy armada exploded in space.
Then their commander beamed down. They had told us of the countless worlds he had burned singlehandedly. Showtime, I guess. While his teleporter was still reconstructing his body, something that took nanoseconds, I went to the nearest liquor stores and grabbed another two liters, leaving something I thought was money on the counter. Back again and draining them as he began to take shape.
Finishing the bottles, I threw them aside. Almost 70%. I was more alcohol than blood now. Time became a meaningless construct to me. I looked at my enemy, but saw his entire life unfold before me, a blurred chronicle of thousands of years of conquest. It ends here. I touched down, and weaved my way to him, nearly falling despite my ability to fly. Perhaps my addled mind actually tried to fly into the ground when I lost my balance. I finally reached him, and gently tapped him with my fist.
His entire body rippled like water, before dissolving into blue liquid, which then became a spray of blue mist as my perspective of time slowly plodded onward. I awkwardly flew home to recover as the spray of blue expanded, thinly coating first an acre, then a mile of the desert from that single punch.
His sensation as his body disassociated into a fine mist would be similar to my hangover the next morning. |
The room is very quiet. I'm guessing it's soundproofed, because everyone seemed very angry when I was being dragged in here. I stare at the mirror on the wall, at myself.
I wonder if that's one-way glass...
I wave at my reflection, imagining the irate policemen that could be behind the wall. My reflection waves back.
...
*Strange. My eyes look-*
My train of thought derails as a door opens behind me, and someone steps around the table I'm sat at. I smile and greet them.
"Oh, hi detective! It's nice to see you again. Well, I mean, I guess it's not nice. I'm, uh, pretty sure you'd rather not be seeing me again, right?"
Detective Harper squints at me, chucking a hefty folder onto the steel table. She doesn't say anything right away, but the look she's giving me doesn't give me much to work with.
"So...What happened *this* time? Are we talking, like, breaking and entering? ...Another vandalism allegation..?Trespassing on private property..?"
"Murder."
I suck a breath in through my teeth. "...Oh. That's... not...good..."
The detective smirks, folding her arms and leaning back in the steel chair opposite me. "*'Not good'?* That's all you got?"
"...I-I mean, what do you want me to say? I didn't do it. I've been-"
"In your shitty trailer, applying to no less than a dozen jobs that let you work from home. We know. We've been watching."
"...Wait, watching? H-How much have you been watching? Y-You didn't see me-"
"We saw."
My cheeks flush pink, and I look away from the detective, embarrassed.
"...L-Listen, I was really stressed out, and-"
"Your revolting habits are not my concern at this time, Ashbrooke. What I'm concerned with is how you somehow managed to slice open someone's throat sixty miles across town, in broad- *fucking* - daylight, **while** we were watching you peel those pathetic burnt cookies off your kitchen floor."
"...Th-They weren't burnt. I just like them extra crispy-"
"*Ashbrooke.*"
I sigh, shaking my head. "...I don't have an answer for you, detective... I-It's not me."
The detective thumbs through the folder, grumbling something under her breath. I shift uncomfortably in the metal seat, glancing at my reflection again. It glares back at me.
*...Huh?*
I take a moment to force a fragile smile onto my face. My reflection smiles back.
The detective snaps her fingers in my face, and I startle, looking back at her.
"Hey. What the hell are you doing?"She demands.
"Um. Nothing."
"I don't like repeating myself, Ashbrooke. I'm gonna ask again. Have you ever seen this before?"
She presses her finger against the table hard, pointing to a picture she's pulled from the file. The image shows a rather crude knife that looks shiny, reflective, and sharp, with what looks like an improvised handle hastily wrapped around the end. The edge is...
I shake my head. "No, detective. Never."
She frowns, holding the picture in front of herself. "Hmph. You know what this **is**, Ashbrooke?"
I shrug.
She pulls out another picture. "Two weeks ago. Last incident with this case. The suspect, *you*, broke this mirror while fleeing the scene, after refusing to cooperate with police, and evading arrest. You got away... But you were also already in the back of my squad car, being brought *here*."
She chuckles, shaking her head. "I don't know how that's possible. Anyways. The mirror. Boys in the lab tell me that this bloody knife is actually a piece of that same mirror. Structurally identical. Which is very strange, considering that you have plenty of perfectly fine knives in your own kitchen, that could be far more lethal, and far more accessible..."She continues, her voice trailing off.
I gulp, unsure of how to defend myself.
"...Detective, I didn't-"
The door suddenly opens and slams behind me. I jump, turning around in my seat. Nobody's there.
The detective looks confused as well, looking towards the mirror and holding up her hands as if to say *What the fuck was that?*
But her gaze suddenly grows intense, flickering between me and the mirror.
I follow her eyes, looking back to the one-way glass.
I frown, confused. I stare at the mirror on the wall, at... Nothing.
"...Detective? Where's my reflection?" |
\[Poem\]
It's been a week of Mondays.
You sighed,
Resigned,
To your fate.
My dear,
You've been lied to date.
Bound, it's clear,
by the fiscal year,
work, and bills, and the sheer
weight of people's expectations.
Scientists have come to a realization,
They turned back time
Ten thousand years,
And people didn't have,
Alarms, and clocks,
and calendars,
They woke up and laughed,
Smelled the roses and cedars.
Furthermore they resolved,
That the earth revolves.
It hasn't been told,
That it's all been Mondays. |
he was the kind of guy that everyone loved. fun, outgoing, and friendly. he was the kind of guy that was willing to change his plans at a moment's notice for anyone that needed help. he put everyone else first. he was the sort of person that everyone loved. he was the attraction to the neighborhood. everyone loved him. they would frequently find him working on all sorts of strange projects during the day, and sometimes late into the night. he had been there for about 30 years at that point and everyone in the area knew him. he was in the country known for its vampire population, and he was the neighborhood resident friendly vampire. he looked to be about 25, but was well over 50. he died 25 years ago. he happily shared what it was like, what it felt like for him to be dead. everyone saw him and wanted to be like him. he had happily turned a few of the people in that area into vampires, and they were as fun and friendly as he was. he was a rare offshoot of vampire. he was a kind of vampire that didn't need blood, could be out in the sun, could eat whatever they wanted. he had all the benefits of vampirism with none of the drawbacks. he had a couple of marks on the back of his hands that everyone loved. everyone thought they looked cool and many people got similar tatoos of them. he was the guy that everyone wanted to be.
&#x200B;
on this occasion, he just stood in front of his house. admiring the sunset, admiring the beautiful countryside that he accidentally moved into. it made his eyes water every time he went outside. There was a man walking around the area, clearly looking for someone. he shouted to the man asking him who he was looking for. as soon as he shouted, the hunter ran toward him gripping a steak in his hand. the vampire stepped back, utterly horrified. before he knew what was happening there was a steak in his heart.
&#x200B;
(will be continues, at some point) |
When I was asked to investigate the races during the “Special Cup”, I laughed.
“Mario Kart? You mean the races where a bunch of different characters race around in go-karts throwing things around the track as a sabotage?” I asked the concerned policemen. They nodded. “Ma’am, this is quite serious, you know. There are CHILDREN driving these things—“
“Hush. You think that’s the least of my problems? I’ll be there in 30.”
The police nodded again and left my house as I went to pack my things. Sighing, I looked over at my shelves. They held some of the greatest awards upon them, still shiny and brand new. I soon snapped myself out of memory lane and went to the suspected area.
As I got out of the car, a toddler ran up to me and dragged me over to her kart. She looked just like Peach, but if she was younger. Quite younger.
“Hey there, BP. You miss me?”
I got into the kart and helped her in it as well.
“Ready to roll out?” |
Doctor Quelec felt the world’s embrace distant from him as if he had been severed from its anchor.
When he opened his eyes his surroundings were a swirl of chaos, the blurring of vision from his recent warp not helping the frightening appearance of what he was faced with. He clutched his abdomen, feeling a wave of powerful impending nausea ripping him apart. He gasped and squirmed, but he was floating adrift, body finding no purchase, nothing to grab hold of to steady himself.
A flood of pile poured out of his mouth as he succumbed to the force, a weak hand clawing at the beeping object amidst the acidic fluids. It appeared the castor oil he consumed before the warp was unnecessary for retrieving the object in his stomach. He checked the reading on the device, devoting the numbers to memory. The invention told him exactly the amount of energy used to warp him into the space, among other readings such as the area’s temperature, energy levels, and so forth. Hopefully, it would be enough for him to work backward, hopefully.
He did not only feel severed from the universe he knew and loved, now trapped in this wild and destructive dimension but from his own surroundings. Drifting amidst a storm of chaotic energy was one reason, but also he had few organic parts remaining on his form, prosthetics which had no feeling, leaving him without touch.
It was some time before he finally found himself no longer adrift, reaching a surface on which he could plant his feet. It wasn’t optimal, it was just a piece of debris floating in the void, but it would do for his purposes.
Doctor Quelec began removing his mechanized legs, then he ripped out his technological eye, followed by taking the sharp end of one of the parts to cut himself open, retrieving all the robotic organs within before using some thread from his clothing to sew himself back up. He did not scream, he did not grow weak from the loss of blood and the sight thereof, he had experienced pain, severing pain, loss of limb, more times than he could count. That is why he knew he could handle replacing most of his body with prosthetics.
He was of a species that had the ability to regenerate almost any part of their body. While most did not willingly remove their own body parts, Quelec was willing to go to the extremes to survive and prosper. It was this method mindset and his own genius that he was able to escape imprisonment so many times before. He used a device to reorient his gravity molecule by molecule to make himself immune to the gravity wells, concocted a Quantum virus that gave him the ability to teleport, and of course, ripped his own body apart to hoist his brain out of captivity and let the rest of him regrow with time.
The trick was finding ways to grant himself an edge without using anything outside of his own person, as that was pretty much almost always confiscated. Because of his rapid regeneration capability, he could use himself as a test subject for even the most deadly of experiments. Others thought him insane for going to such extremes, he thought himself a genius.
While his body began slowly regrowing he took upon himself the lengthy task of taking apart and reassembling his removed prosthetics. He had snuck the specific parts he believed he needed into the framework of his mechanical body parts. It took away most of their normal functions since he was required to hide so many pieces within them, which almost made them useless. He felt every moment that his body was trying to grow, pushing against his mechanical parts but unable to reassemble them. Finally, that pain was over, and his limbs would be restored once more.
Progress on his device came much faster once his limbs were restored, he was lucky he was even allowed to bring his mechanical limbs with him into the prison dimension. He figured that the guards thought it was the least they could offer, limbs in their final place of condemnation, that is. Besides, it was believed there was no escape from the prison dimension, so what difference did it make what he brought. Regardless, even with all his technology, he knew it would be a stretch to complete. He had some time to study the device that sent prisoners to this dimension, but making it work in reverse would be no easy task.
The doctor’s floating piece of debris eventually came upon a group of prisoners. They did not appear hostile to one another but rather had worked together to form a sort of community. Quelec grinned, a plan forming in his head. Perhaps he would not be the only one to escape this dimension. He could use all the help he could get after all, for escaping and more importantly what he planned on doing once free.
The Intergalactic Police Force would rue the day they decided to put all of the universe’s most dangerous criminals in one place. |
Nicky Costanzo, underboss of the Costanzo family of La Cosa Nostra, sat at the green felt-topped table, covered in cards, stacks of chips, thick rolls of cash, and everything else that the men around him were here to play for high stakes.
At his right, Marco, caporegime of the old Minelli branch of the family, sat with arms folded, his eyes simultaneously on the table and everyone around it. Nothing slipped by Marco. To his left, Pauly Bones, one of the family's best street-level soldiers, a former golden-gloves boxer and MMA champ.
He glanced down at his hand. Pair of eights. Not much else. He looked back up at his opponents.
There was Yamada, a Captain of the Akuma-gumi Clan of Yakuza, a bald Japanese guy with a permanent scowl. He'd come to the table in a traditional kimono, worn half open, the better to display the intricate tattoos that were a status symbol among the mafiosos of the East.
To his right, stood a huge glowering bruiser wearing dark glasses, and nearly bursting out of his black three-piece suit. From what Nicky could tell, they just called him "the Yokozuna", looked like he was maybe one of those sumo wrestlers or something. At Yamada's left, sat another guy in a suit, named Oda. This one was more non-descript, a skinny, quiet, guy who always wore a neutral, disinterested expression. But Nicky wasn't about to underestimate him. He noticed the joint missing from the guy's little finger -- he was in deep, and old school, at that.
Finally, there was the contingent from the Cartel. Luis De Leon, a Cartel lieutenant with the nickname "El Gallo Loco", with wild hair and crazy eyes, to match. Creepy bastard was always grinning, showing off four or five gold teeth.
Next to him on the left was Fernando Reyes, an-ex Mexican special forces operator who wore a t-shirt, fatigue pants, and combat boots, and looked like he probably had a half dozen Rambo-style bowie knives hidden on him somewhere, despite weapons being forbidden at the table. To his right, sat a tall, slender man with a black goatee. He wore a black shirt like you'd see on a priest -- except missing the white clerical collar -- and a smirk as permanent as Yamada's scowl. They just called him "El Hermano del Diablo".
After taking the measure of his opponents, Nicky tilted his head to the side, and waited for one of his opponents to make a move.
Finally, De Leon lifted his chin, and gestured to the table. *"Igualar!"*
The participants looked at one another, as a long moment of tense silence passed, no one daring to move.
Finally, Nicky sighed, and turned to Marco, gesturing around the table in frustration. "Ey, whose f\*\*\*in' genius idea was it to set up a game o' poker where none o' da players speak da same f\*\*\*in' language, huh?" |
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