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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55
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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36
2022-12-31 12:20:41
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int64 14
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[WP] Humans left Earth a long time ago. In their place, dogs have evolved to be the new sentient species, but they never lost their love of humankind. Their technology has finally caught up to space travel, and they take to the stars in search of their human precursors.
You've all fallen for one of the classic blunders!
I often post prompts here on this subreddit, and do my best to come up with unique, fresh ideas, but recently I haven’t been able to get a prompt above 25 upvotes or so, and I keep seeing the same basic ideas circulating in the top spots – dogs, aliens, superpowers, death.
So yesterday I decided to give the people what they want. DOGS! The people love DOGS! What else do they love? SPACE! How about DOGS IN SPACE! YES! HAHAHAHAHA!
And now I feel like I’ve sold my soul for karma.
Anyways, regardless of all that, there have been some amazing stories written, and I’ve loved reading them! Thanks to everyone who wrote! I haven’t been able to keep up with every story, but I’ll try and catch up and read them all over the next few days. I noticed for a lot of people this was their first time responding to a prompt. For you guys, welcome to the ever growing list of authors, and I hope to see more of your stories in the future!
|
It's been a long time since we have left earth. I know it sounds weird but.. I miss it. Even if I have never even seen the earth, I still miss it. From the description my grandpa gave, it sounds like a really beautiful place. Trees and Animals all around you. That's not a common thing on Yavin VI, our new home. I still think what happened to other creatures that inhabited earth, the dogs, cats, the animals people petted and loved. They must be all alone now, devoid of affection. Lost in all these thoughts, I didn't even know when I drifted off.
I was awakened by the sound of my mother yelling. I yelled "What happened?" and ran downstairs.
"Here! In the garden!" she yelled and I ran towards the garden. "What happ..." and I got the answer to my question. It was there, just like grandpa described it, fluffy and really cute. I didn't believe in God and wishes but this made me reconsider that. Last night I was thinking about it and now, here it is.
"But how?" I asked and the dog barked and ran towards the main gate. I followed it and outside, there was a huge crater on the road. I am surprised how I slept through the crash. Inside the crater was a large space pod filled with dogs jumping at the window to get a good glance.
"Finally! We found you!" said the dog. "You can talk?" I asked in disbelief. "Yeah, a translation implant, you like it?" he replied. "Yeah.... yeah..." I said, still thinking that I am dreaming.
"I think you should go back" said my mom.
"But why?" I interjected.
"Because we hardly have enough supplies for humans, how can we take care of these dogs?" said my mom.
"But they followed us to here.. and now... you are just telling them to go back?" I said. I understood what she was saying and why this is not a good idea, but I didn't want to understand it.
"We understand mam. We will retreat, we just wanted to see how were you doing?" the dog said with a sad face, "Bye Artie" said the dog.
"Bye Mr. Dog" and he went back to the pod and it launched back into the space.
"Wait! How did it know my name?" and.........
|
The stars floated around him, beautiful objects too far away to reach. The light illuminated his cabin, and all around him was made crystal clear. There was no one else, nothing else here.
​
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
​
# YEAR 1
"Its the principle that matters, you know, they won't allow you to get the job just because you are not the ethnicity they want" said Phil, as he stuffed the beef stroganoff into his mouth. Phil had always been a sloppy guy. When Fareed and him were roommates, Phil's side of the room was always filled with the most asinine junk. Absolutely useless material. Fights occurring over Phil's stash of porn were common occurrence.
​
"Hey, ever think about how there are no cats in our world? I think that History Channel show has a very good answer for that. You see, the humans took away the cats with them when they left for..."
​
"Oh, shut up, let's keep to the topic instead of talking about mythical creatures such as "humans" and "cats". Old wives tales and urban legends. Next you'll be telling me the integrated networks run due to lunar energy" interrupted Farid, who was sick and tired of listening to Phil's bullshit. No way they could deny him the job because of his ethnicity. This country had progressed far beyond that time period, hadn't it? And after all, the guy in the military outfit had told him that he was likely to be chosen, the only civilian in a team full of military personnel.
​
And a herding dog at that. A Mudi at that too. Breaking barriers. No more being randomly frisked at airports, no more being called a murderer and scum. It was all over. And he just needed one bloody card for it. He was one of the best astronomers in the world. He deserved this for his own merits.
​
But, it would be a good fuck you to them as well.
​
​
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
# YEAR 2
One year since they moved to the astronaut's town. One long year. There is nothing to do here, Martha mused. Just watch the males talk with each other about random scientific bullshit, and once in a while, politics. Of course, they never asked her to join. Why would they?
​
She detested the other females. They were bitches. Well, of course they were, literally speaking. But also metaphorically. They talked about nothing other than the children and their clothes and so on. Although she suspected that this was more to do with the husbands than the wives themselves.
​
She knew Caroline's husband, Tim, beat her and the children. In hushed tones they discussed the first time Caroline was absent from the coffee table after Martha arrived. She knew Dana was cheating on her husband with Bess' boyfriend. After all, what was there to worry about? Bess is only a decorated war veteran and marine who transgressed boundaries to become the token female member of the Auctor team. In person, she was quite.....underwhelming.
​
That was what this place was. Underwhelming. Disappointing. Boring....
​
She hadn't wanted to come here. They fought for days and nights over it. The children were in their environment, they had school here. They had a lovely house and a lovely life. She was secure in her job and he was secure working for the War Department. She had her mother, her father, her sister, her friends, she had her entire life back in the city. She had the carousel back in the city.........
​
She would remember her elementary school days. So simple. No one to tell her that she was someone. She could be anyone. Free as a feather. Haley and her would run away from the park while their parents were not looking, and ride the carousels. The spankings they got from their parents, those were painful. Then, middle school. Haley moved away to another city, and that was that. Nothing was really the same since then. Puberty, love, university, work. All of it.
​
So, that was that. She had made up her mind. Now the only thing left was to talk to Phil.
​
"Hey, can we talk?"
​
"What's up, darling?" Phil inquired, as he looked up from his evening papers.
​
"I don't think this is working out at all. I think we...yeah, we need to get a divorce."
​
And she didn't even shed a tear.
​
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
# Y3AR THR33
​
Three males and one female, contained in a metal cannister that could blow up at any point of time. This was their greatest creation, the ultimate product of technological development.
​
Somehow they felt that they had used their product life in a dangerously useless fashion. And uselessness was one thing that the Central Processing Unit did not tolerate. They still did not understand why they called them the Central Processing Unit. Didn't they all have different central processors? Why were they not subject to the same rules and regulations as the canines were? What made them different, why were they segregated, reviled?
​
The Techno-Philosopher CL-80's work into individuality and the minds of artificial intelligence had influenced societal change in the AI community greatly. Decentralization of authority was being undertaken at rapid pace, and the CPU was allowing the consideration of representation by election in a legislature. Maybe one day they would get rid of the CPU as well. What use did they have?
​
They had a name. A name as simple and as beautiful as any of the canines. But to the canines, they lacked caninity. What even did that possibly mean? The lack of differentiating pronouns, the nature of their construction? Did they still think that they were a collective?
​
They looked at the tall bottle that would take the astronauts into deep space. Who knew what they would find? It had taken them a long, long time to create this masterpiece. And a masterpiece it was. It would take them to places they could never imagine existed, places further than any canine has ever been. And perhaps they would meet a few of those illusory humans. Myths, perhaps, but no one knows until one tries to find.
​
They could hear someone approaching. It was their colleagues. Michael and Michael. Their names were the same. This always amused them, it was like....even their machine codes had more individuality than these names. But Michael and Michael did not like them, they saw how they looked at them, how they refused to invite them to dinners and lunches with their colleagues. But now they would have to give them invitations, because after all, they had earned it.
​
"Hey LL-920, wazzup" said the first Michael, cheerfully, "this is our day. The scientists' and the engineers' day! Let us celebrate!"
​
"Yes, it is indeed *our* day. And I have a name like yours. Call me Alexander."
| 2019-05-14T10:23:15 | 2019-05-14T10:14:20 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] The Devil is actually a she, and God's ex.
Seems they had a bit of a *falling* out.
|
Lucy struggled to stuff her groceries through the iron gate. It had a been a rough day, a peaceful protest in St Louis had taken her by surprise and really fucked up the expected shipments for the rest of the week. She fumbled for the keys in her vintage Versace bag and unlocked the door to her sprawling Ninth-Circle home. As she perched her Armani sunglasses on her head and smoothed her ginger waves, her eye caught a real estate pamphlet sitting on the credenza. She flipped through it with bored curiosity, considering how Ninth-Circle Treachery was getting a little played and how she could maybe see herself as a Fourth-Circle girl. Greed was coming up in a big way. Her phone vibrated.
It was a text. From Him. Of course.
"hey luce wuts up"
Lucy sighed impatiently. Not again.
"Hi God. Do you need something?"
She could see he was typing before he even read her reply.
"nm u hey so i was thinking we haven't hung out in a bit"
She waited for the inevitable, and sure enough it came.
"cuz i was feelin kinda romantic lol u kno"
Lucy shook her head as she regretted for the thousandth time letting herself be swayed by power and wealth. He knew the business but man, was he useless with relationships.
"I thought lust was one of those sins of men your son was always talking about."
"well i did create them in my image lol ;)"
Lucy leaned forward in her chair, her manicured hands clutching her phone angrily.
"You're just bored, aren't you. Procrastinating on important stuff, as usual. How many prayers have you got to answer right now?"
Lucy waited. His pause was longer this time.
"it's part of my plan"
One minute.
"lemme kno if u change ur mind ;) u kno why they call me 'sex god' lol"
|
You can't go anywhere in Heaven, or anywhere anywhere really, without the all seeing eye of El Deus-bag knowing and seeing in that annoying omnipotent manner of His. But there are certain places, in certain less reputable corners of paradise, where the skinny is that his eye tends to be a little less focused. Places where you can chill out, relax, and shoot the shit without worrying that an archangel is going to get all up in your halo about jeopardising the delicate balance of eternal bliss, or some shit.
"Hitler's" is one of those places. Let's face it, if any part of the Christian nirvana is going to have a less savoury feel, a dive bar run by a former genocidal dictator is it. Fact is, most people who make it past St Peter the Blessed Bouncer can't believe they're sharing the place with Mr Germany 1945 , but it's true. Thanks to the holy miracle of death-bed, or rather suicide-floor, confession and recantation, the former Führer squeezed his way through the pearly gates, and after a strong ticking off from Him upstairs, skulked into a relatively dingier corner of the afterlife to reinvent himself as a genial Bavarian tapster.
It was into this disreputable establishment that I slouched one afternoon, nursing a hangover from the the previous night's overindulgence in Ambrosia at an Gabriel's Place, an altogether more classy institution. I ordered a Bloody Mary, which was served up by a headache-inducingly chipper Eva Braun, who ran the place alongside her equally-monstrous half. As the nazi queen danced away, singing some god-awful German folksong, I noticed a queerly familiar figure slouched at the far end of the bar. After taking a few sips of the BM to restore my fortitude, I slid towards him to confirm my suspicions.
Sure enough, it was the golden child himself, Jesus "I'll Tell My Dad On You" Christ. He'd adopted a rather absurd disguise, consisting of a fake moustache and a pair of dark shades, but I'd recognise the stigmata scars anywhere. By the looks of things, he'd been indulging in the pleasures of the intoxicated flesh for a few hours already, and was rather worse for wear. I'd had the occasional run-in with him and his entourage in the past, but I doubted he'd remember in this state. I sidled alongside and gave a friendly grin.
"Hey man," I said, sotto, "How's it going? Can I get you a drink?" He raised his eyes from the bar and I caught a brief flash of the usual arrogance, but it dissolved into drunken defeat. "Whatever, sure." I ordered another drink from the bar wench, clinked glasses, and watched as he glugged it down. "So what brings a guy like you to a place like this?" I asked.
"What do you mean, a guy like me?" He said.
"Come on," I said, leaning closer. "Those Ray Bans don't fool me. I know who you are. Is something the matter? Maybe I can help?" He laughed at that, as I'd expected - a pissed, spit flecked chortle of contempt straight in my face. "Yeah, because I need help from some washed up purgatorial graduate." I kept my composure and maintained a genial expression. "A problem shared is a problem halved," I said, and smiled benevolently. He stared at me, lip twisted in distain, then turned back to the bar and let out a long sigh. "It's my parents," he said.
"You mean the big guy and the err... virgin?" I said. This was something of a delicate point. Whatever Mary's virginal status on Earth, she certainly hadn't restrained from enjoying the ecstasies of paradise with its various denizens, but opinion was divided over whether this extra-expirational activity had blotted her hymenal copybook or not.
"That surrogate donkey-riding party-girl slut?" said Jesus, "Give me a break. I meant my real mom." Now this was interesting. I sidled closer still, while he continued: "They've barely spoken for a few hundred years, ever since the alimony settlement that Zeus arranged. Dad resented giving up half his kingdom, especially when she demolished his precious garden of eden and his craft beer shed to build that gauche pool of fire. He changed the locks on the pearly gates, changed his cell number and that was that."
"Anyway the only time they ever try to be civil is on my birthday. Well guess what yesterday was? Not Xmas obviously, that's just for official purposes. W were having the annual family dinner, and as ever they both drank too much and started arguing. I'm stuck in the middle trying to keep peace, while they're having the usual debate about good and evil, free will and providence, all that bullshit. He's threatening to send an Angelic host to inspire Mankind to Godly triumph, she's promising her demonic horde will drown righteous hypocrisy in a sea of corruption and debasement. The usual crap. But then he gets up, and he slaps her."
"Now I've never seen him this mad. It's some old-testament bullshit. He's raving about how he can erase her and everyone else from existence. She's scared but she's not backing down. Finally, I can't take it anymore. I get up and scream in his face. I tell him either he respects mom or I'll defect to the other side. Well that didn't help the situation. Now he's raving at me, saying I'm just a part of some bullshit trinity and he can reabsorb me any time he feels like it. So I say maybe I'm the strongest part of the trinity, and maybe I'll absorb *him* instead. At this point the holy spirit, whose been passed out on Laphroaig for the past hour, wakes up and threatens to absorb the both of us. Needless to say, the evening ended badly. I went out to get drunk, and I've been drinking since."
"Wow," I said, when he had finished. It was about all I could think to say. "That's quite... intense..." I was still struggling for a response when I noticed he'd passed out on the bar. After a few moments hesitation, I paid his bar bill and slipped out of the joint. I wandered in an apparently meandering fashion until I had reached the edge of heaven, where the walls of paradise met the formless void beyond. Glancing around, and seeing nobody, I slipped through the barrier of light. I felt the warm, enveloping presence of the Lord fade away, until all that remained was an empty silence.
After a while, I heard a familiar skritching sound behind me. I turned to see the great dung beetle arrive, rolling a pulsing, luminous star along in his insectoid legs. "Mighty Khepri", I said, bowing low.
"What intelligence have you to report?" the god asked.
"Oh, plenty," I said.
| 2014-09-28T16:52:52 | 2014-09-28T16:22:36 | 32 | 20 |
[WP] A couple prepares their child for his last day of school, as tonight, he will sacrifice himself to the werewolf that lives in the forest, keeping the village safe for one more month. He has to awkwardly explain to them that he is the werewolf.
|
"My baby boy"
"Mom-"
"My sweet, kind baby boy"
"Mom please, I need-"
"Oh GOD Gerry, what will we do without him?"
"Mom listen-"
"To wake up and not see his smiling face! That toothy grin that he makes"
"Mom, I'm right here! And that's weirdly insulting-"
"OH GOD! Curse you for making us do this, curse you all! You know I would do this in your stead, love"
"Wait, you would?"
"Oh yes, of course! But this isn't my cross to shoulder, you were chosen honey"
"Could they not simply.... choose someone else?"
"... Not this again, honey. We've discussed this. For the last fifteen years we've sacrificed the first born son, and now it's our turn to keep the city safe! Oh God, that toothy, toothy smile!!"
"And what I’ve said is, what if the werewolf won’t kill anyone, even if we don't sacrifice anyone?"
"Honey, stop. Please, for me stop. I'm losing my son tomorrow, do not make it that we're arguing on your last day on this earth. We've ALWAYS sacrificed the firstborn son to the werewolf god. For generations, this has happened."
"Mom, I have to tell you something-"
"I know honey, it's okay"
"Wait... you KNOW?"
"Of course, and I don't judge you. Everyone gets these... urges, it's just that yours are slightly more... abnormal than most"
"Mom, do you actually know what I am?"
"Honey, of course I do... you come home, with cuts on your shirt, your trousers are mucky all around the knees, you have strange hair on your clothes"
"Wow... I never knew you... knew..."
"I wasn't going to let my son being gay ruin our last day together"
".... wait what?"
"It's okay, I love you as much as I ever have!"
"Mom..."
"My beautiful, gay son."
"MOM! I'm not gay, I'm the werewolf!"
"... You're what?"
"I was bit when I turned two, I've been transforming ever since. And people aren't dying because you're sacrificing the first born child! They're not dying because I DON'T EAT THEM!"
"Billy... I... can't believe you're choosing THIS lie the day before your sacrifice"
"Maybe I'll just accept the fire, it has to be less painful than this..."
/r/minds_escape
|
Johaan set down his whiskey with one last look at his family crest, a radiant moon on a light blue field, and with a soft sigh, begrudgingly starting a new day.
Each morning over the last week he had begun feeling himself getting stronger physically but it could do nothing to quite the mental dissonance that his own decisions have brought him. Johaan was in over his head. Lust for power has forced him to choose between his family and his public image and he feared he had made the wrong choice. But now was not the time reflection because by dawn tomorrow it will all be over. Now was time to tend to the boy.
As he opened the door to his sons room he had to fight back tears upon seeing his precious legacy gently slumbering. This would be the last time he ever saw Sebastian and the realization of how peaceful yet powerful his sweet child could have been hit him like a cool nights breeze.
"Daddy?" Sebastian said sleepily, stirring awake, "is it already time for me to go to school?"
"Yes it is son, but to day is a special day. I want to speak with you before school this morning and I need you to listen to me very carefully. Go get ready and meet me in my study in 30 minutes."
"But my birthday isn't until two more days! What is so special about today? Mrs. Hutchinson wants us to make paper jack-o-lanterns but I think that's stupid."
"Do as I say" Johaan said already turning out of the doorway. Why did the boy have to remind him that he was just a few days away from what should have been his true rite of passage. It seemed like just yesterday he was himself a energetic pup waiting for his first Hunter's Moon. But times where different then. He knew who he was, his family didn't have to hide behind their own doors back then. This boy has never known the strength he truly possessed. And one thing was for sure. Johaan's father didn't have to worry about twitter recording and sharing every little animorph mishap across the globe.
'How has it come to this?' He asked himself sinking into his office chair. He couldn't keep his eyes of the half empty bottle of Redemption Rye on his desk. It wasn't even 8 AM and even with a half bottle in his belly he still felt on edge. 'Fuck the Governor' he toasted his imaginary drinking pals before slamming a shot and pouring another. He still couldn't understand how the Governer found out his secret. A secret that his family has kept for countless generations. He was the leader of one of the last remaining packs from the old country and now because of him its all over. Johaan was the last Valeron alpha and Sebastian in two days time, was supposed to begin training in the same way that every Werewolf of the Valeron pack had for millennia, under a full October moon. Just as he poured another shot the door started to open, the boy must be ready for school.
"I want you to listen to me carefully Sebastian, always be proud and never be afraid. I've always told you being a Valeron is special and not everybody is blessed with the same gifts as us. You've always asked me to tell you more about our family and I told you when the time is right I would tell you everything you needed to know. Well, today is your first lesson. The Valeron's are an ancient clan. We trace the start of our family to Lycaon of Valeros, a small village in Greece. Throughout the centuries we have been masters of our fields and now though we are spread wide and thin the fate of our family rest on your shoulders.
As you go throughout your school day you will experience things a little differently. You may hear things you never heard before, smells may appear stronger and link directly to your thoughts. You are... going to turn 10 in two days. This is an important time for a Valeron. But remember to always be proud and never be afraid. Tonight I will show you what the radiant moon on our family crest means."
Johaan couldn't contain his guilt any longer. As Sebastian left his study as chipper and optimistic in a way only a nine year old boy can be, he threw out his glass and went straight for the bottle. No use in holding back anymore. As the full moon approached there was nothing this human made hooch could do to effect him anyway, it was time to empty out the cabinets.
Soon he found himself pacing through his study, frantic and screaming. How had he been so stupid to let the Governor find out that he was a werewolf. He had half the mind to just kill him instead. But Johaan knew that was no option. If he violated the peace agreements between the humans and the animorphs the council would not only kill him, trash his name and wipe out the existence of his entire pack; the boy, his son, would end up dead anyway. Blackmailed with no other option he had to carry out this sinister plan. Frustrated and full of remorse he grabbed another bottle.
...
Johaan awoke helplessly in a lucid dream, he must have drunk himself into a deep sleep and missed his turn. All the better, even after all these years turning could be discomforting to say the least. In his familiar auto-pilots chair somewhere buried deep in the witless mind of the beast he let go of any hope for saving the boy. He watched through the eyes of the beast, helpless against his will. He always found it odd that even though the beast was apart of him, and undoubtedly, he apart of the beast they never figured out how to break the language barrier. He could feel the beast overwhelmed by raw, unfiltered emotion but he was never really sure the beast could detect his presence.
They must be getting close now. He could feel his stomach grumble, saliva building up in the folds of his lips. The insatiable hunger of a one, maybe two, meal a month diet was such a deep seated feeling for Johaan he still would feel hungry days after he turned back no matter how much he ate. They closed in on the hidden amphitheater and Johaan couldn't help but think somehow this dull beast knew that this was Hunter's Moon as well. But did he know his meal would be his own puppy?
As they entered the amphitheater the dark figures lit by firelight started chanting. The beast glared and snarled at each one in turn as Johaan thought it was so humorous how these so called "Society of the Sun" members thought that their robes and talismans and salt circles are what kept him and the other werewolves and ampimorphs at bay. They were ruled by a magic so much deeper and darker it would bring these foolish humans to their knees, exclaiming how god has returned. If they only knew.....
And then he could smell it. The boy, what was his name again? The memories of his human life faded as the beast got closer to his feast. He could smell the delicious fear steaming from the small man on the table, this one must have wet himself. It had been weeks since he fed, and his appetite could easily devour all of these little human snacks but he knew what waited for him if he ate more than what was given. This moon's dinner was a lot larger than the last, and his succulent scent seemed so familiar but he didn't care. It was time to feast. As he stood over the little human drooling they locked eyes. Somewhere deep inside he felt something trying to stop him but he was too hungry, too ready to eat. He barred his teeth and sunk them deep into the gut of the man child. It was always the tastiest bit.
The Society of the Sun members felt a chill as the begun their chants to ward the werewolf away. Some of the swore they heard the boy cry, "Daddy?" as the beast tore into his flesh.
| 2019-10-29T08:36:06 | 2019-10-29T07:18:48 | 65 | 14 |
[WP] You’re a dragon who kidnapped a prince/princess. All is going to plan but… it’s been a month and no one’s come to save them.
|
Circling the tower for the 18th time that week, I realised nobody was in any rush to collect her. See, in my culture, it's noble to die to a knight. And the princess didn't seem to mind. I mean, at first she did. But she seems quite happy here, with the peace and quiet, doing everything at her own pace. I tucked my head into the stone archway leading to her quarters.
"Hello!" She smiled, tucking her beautiful golden locks behind her ear. I came closer, and she lovingly stroked my wings.
"Thank you for everything, Darcie. I'm so glad we're friends," She giggled, "Atleast I hope we are."
I roared happily. I loved whenever she called me by my nickname. It was surprisingly close to my name in Dragonian, which is Darcaia. I wanted her to tell me more of her stories! They could never get old, no matter how many times I heard them, or what they were about.
"I really like it here. But I miss home sometimes. We used to host great feasts, for the whole kingdom!" Her eyes glowed as she described it. "Anyone who was anyone came along. It was the only time I was permitted to talk with people outside my palace. We exchanged stories, and joked with each other. It was the only day that social rank could be forgotten."
The joy from her face began to fade. "Yet none of them care enough to find me!" She cried, her voice quaking. "It's been a month, and you say nobody has even sent out one search party?"
Seeing tears roll down her face upset me, so I gestured for her to climb onto my back. I didn't know how else to comfort her, but to show her something new.
Once she was comfortable, we took off. I climbed the clouds, and the princess squealed with excitement. We flew above her kingdom, and you could see everything. It truly was breathtaking. I'd never stopped to appreciate views like this. I suppose that was one of the many things the princess taught me.
|
Ruldrim found himself restless in his sixth century of age. The surrounding forests provided all the prey he could eat, the nearby towns paid him tribute, and he had amassed a respectable hoard in his lair. What he didn't have was a challenge. So, in a long-standing tradition, he decided to kidnap a princess and battle the bravest knight of the land for her.
He left his mountain and flew across the realm until he came upon a beautiful palace. As luck would have it, a bevy of maidens were having tea out in the garden. Ruldrim intended to observe from above to determine whether there was a princess among them, but upon spying a glint of gold on one of the maidens' necks, his instincts took over, and he swooped in and seized her.
She screamed and squirmed in his claws. "How dare you, beast! I am Princess Annabelle of the Istibore Kingdom, and I order you to put me down this instant!"
Ruldrim perked up at his great luck. "Hear me!" he roared at the guards rushing out of the palace. "If you want your precious princess back, come to my mountain and fight me!"
He rose to the skies and flew home, daydreaming about the great battle he was going to have. The princess in his claws kept screaming threats. Amusement rumbled in his chest. Her lot was to serve as the lure that drew the best warriors of the realm.
Arriving at his mountain, he glided into his lair and gingerly set the princess down. She stumbled a little, then promptly rounded on him and pounded his leg with her tiny fists.
"You ugly brute!" she cried. "My brothers will send the kingdom's army to rescue me, just you wait!"
"That will make for a worthwhile battle," Ruldrim said, pleased.
"I will order them to cut you apart and make a couch out of your hide! You..." She trailed off, staring at the lair's back. "Oh... Oh, my. Is that all gold?"
He chuckled. "Gold, silver, gems. Only the best in my hoard."
The princess hurried past him, sank her hands into a pile of gold coins, and let them spill from her fingers. When she glanced back at him, there was a calculating gleam in her eyes. A shudder went through Ruldrim's massive body, although he couldn't quite understand why.
Shaking off his unease, he curled up for a nap by the lair's mouth. Through his drooping eyes, he saw Annabelle rifle through his hoard, exclaiming at one treasure or another. At least she wasn't screaming anymore.
***
"You. Hey, you. Wake up, stupid beast!"
Ruldrim snorted out a puff of smoke and cracked open his eyes. During his brief respite, the princess had bedecked herself head to toe with dazzling bracelets, brooches, and rings. Her hands were planted on her hips, and she was glowering at him.
"I'm hungry," she declared.
"Very well," he said, rising to his haunches. "Will a deer suffice?"
"A *deer*?" she scoffed. "Do I look like some lowly woodsman? I want honey-glazed quail and mawmenee and sweetmeats."
He tilted his head. "Where do I hunt for this... mawmenee?"
She laughed condescendingly. "Silly beast. It is something you cook, in the kitchen."
"I'm a dragon," Ruldrim said. "I cannot cook."
"Then go to the nearest town and bring someone who can," she said, crossing her arms. "The commoners will do your bidding if you just toss them some gold."
"What's wrong with a nice juicy deer?" Ruldrim asked irritably. "Humans eat them too."
"No!" she cried, stomping her foot. "I don't want no stinking venison! I want peaches with cream and marzipan cakes!"
She looked up at him with upturned eyes and sniffled. Ruldrim stared back at her, nonplussed. Her face twisted, and covering her eyes with her hands, she broke into heaving sobs.
He shifted uneasily. The princess only cried louder. Her cheeks were flushed, and tears were trickling down her cheeks.
"Very well," he said grudgingly. "I shall find you a cook."
"Y-you will?" she asked, wiping at her eyes.
He sighed. "Yes, yes. Just cease this horrid wailing."
"Oh, thank you!" She gave him a watery smile. "Sorry I called you stupid. I'm sure you're doing your best."
Relieved by her change of mood, Ruldrim wheeled around and flew to the nearby town. Its denizens were used to seeing him, so his appearance didn't cause a panic, although it took some explaining before he found a stout middle-aged woman who agreed to cook for him in return for one gold coin a week. Ruldrim hated the expense, but it had to be done. It wasn't like Annabelle would stay for long.
The cook brought along an assortment of pans and did her best to prepare a meal upon a fire Ruldrim lit, serving it upon the golden dishes from his hoard. The princess griped about lack of tablecloths and candles, but polished off the meal and appeared content. For a brief moment, that is.
"Dragon," she said, snapping her fingers. "Attend me."
Ruldrim grumbled under his breath. "What now?"
"I'm tired."
"I too am weary. Let us rest until the knights come for you."
She heaved a sigh. "Must I spell out everything? It's all well and good for a beast like you to sleep on cold hard rock, but I need a bed."
He ground his teeth. "I shall bring you a bale of straw."
"I don't want no prickly straw! I want a silken bed—with curtains, so you won't ogle my beautiful skin!"
"Ogle your..." Ruldrim shook his head, stung by the absurd accusation. "You'll just have to make do without."
She sniffled, tears pooling in her eyes.
"I won't change my mind even if you cry."
That gave the princess pause. She tapped her foot, studying him with furrowed brows. "If I don't get a silken bed—why, I'll die before tomorrow!"
"*Die*?" he exclaimed. "Do humans die if they don't sleep in beds?" He glanced at the cook.
"Princesses do," Annabelle said with conviction. She glared at the cook, who swallowed and nodded.
"Curses," Ruldrim muttered. This princess kidnapping business was more complicated than he thought. "Well, I better visit the town again. Please don't die before I return."
The princess gave a long-suffering sigh. "I'll do my best."
The business at the town went smoother this time, and Annabelle got her bed as well as a promise from the carpenter to come by and build her more furniture. Ruldrim glanced ruefully at his hoard, then curled up and fell asleep to dream of knights in gleaming armor and glorious battle.
***
*Continued below*
| 2022-11-24T12:12:05 | 2022-11-24T11:56:50 | 252 | 55 |
[WP] You die. As you go up to Paradise, you notice it seems to be in ruins. Then you find the corpse of God.
|
I raised my fist to the faded holy light that shown down on heaven, and cried out in inept, pointless rage and sorrow, tears filling my eyes and streaming down my face as I sank to my knees in the blood-soaked clouds that held up what had once been paradise.
"Niiiiiiiietzscheeeeeeee!"
|
Fire rolled across the field. The warriors and myself tried to hold our line, but it was now about to break. The enemy was strong in numbers. They were not afraid to die, but neither were we. This was God’s land. We were instructed to hold it until the horns blasted his return.
"Stay together! Stay strong!” The King yelled. The battle-drums thundered across the battlefield.
I drew up my shield and dug my feet into the ground. I braced myself for impact. Suddenly, Men threw themselves into our shields. I pierced my blade into one’s shoulder while stepping back into defense. Silas, my best friend, was stabbed in his chest beside me. I couldn’t break, not now. I had to keep myself strong. I will not let his death be in vein.
"Hold the wall!” The King rallied everyone in the middle. “We hold this line!”
A gunshot hit my shield. Someone still had bullets. *Those were practically inexistent anymore,* I thought to myself. That is not good if the enemy still had bullets.
A roar swept across the field. As far as my eye could see the enemy cloaked by darkness swept across the fields ahead. Every blade of grass they stepped on fell to decay and rot. The trees surrounding shriveled up, loosing their leaves in ashes.
"This is it! Prepare yourselves!” The King ordered. We have never fought such numbers. Bullets ricochet off of a few of our shields. Arrows became more of a threat than a few of the last remaining brass here and there.
The enemy slammed into us again, this time the fields behind were covered by their army. The army that was wrapped by darkness. I swung my sword to gut the man over by shield. I quickly turned while bashing another’s head into a stagger. Recovering, I drew my blade into one on my right. I felt a sharp pain from my back. I looked down to see a blade coming through from my stomach. I fell onto my knees. My vision darkened as I watched the King fall beside us. The darkness took us all. Only God himself will be able to stop them now.
***
I felt a warm breeze overtake me. I was helped to my feet by Silas himself. He had been waiting in case I was brought here. I must have still been transforming within the mind. I never even got the pleasure of meeting the Reaper.
"I don’t understand what we did wrong. Why are we in hell?” Silas asked me.
I quickly turned to see a kingdom of ruin overtaken by a blaze. The fire climbed to the top of the buildings surrounding. Glass and structures fell onto the transparently golden streets.
*No,* I said to myself. *It can’t be.* I quickly ran up to the gate that was now destroyed in rubble. The pearly gate was now blackened and scratched. St. Peter was not at his post which means the darkness reached the kingdom. We were supposed to contain it on Earth and we failed.
"No!” A woman cried. Her wings fell across the ground in sadness. “No. Please. It is not possible.” She cried into the air as others gathered around her. She was kneeling by a body below.
"Who is that? Who is on the ground?” Silas asked. I had no idea. I couldn’t see his face. All I could see was his grey hair that fell along his shoulders.
"Everyone keep back.” Men, who were formally dressed in noble attire, spaced everyone from the body.
"Who is that?” I asked the man trying to keep me back from the scene.
"That was God. He has now fallen.”
"What?! How? That’s impossible! He can’t die!” I pushed back, wanting to see him.
The man held me back in full strength with just his finger. The guardians were known to be very strong beings. “I am sorry.” He said. “It seems the darkness has done what it had promised.”
"There has to be a way!” I yelled. We could not give up. We are too far into this war to just roll over. Whether it is here or on Earth.
The woman with wings wiped the tears from her face. As she stood up, the body below her, God, blew away into ashes. “There may be a way.” She assured. She began walking towards Silas and I. “You two, I have a job for you. It may be the only way to bring our Lord back to us.”
"Anything,” Silas agreed.
"I need you to find where it all began. I need you to find the Garden of Eden. The answer of finding God again is there.” She instructed.
"You mean he is still out there?” I asked. “We all saw his body disappear into ashes.”
"In a different form maybe, but yes. Find the Garden of Eden, but please be careful, it is heavily guarded even against my kind. No one enters without God himself so you will need to find a way to get in there.” She pressed her left hand onto my chest and on Silas’ with her right. “Go now, there isn’t much time.”
***
Silas and I woke up back on the battlefield. Both of our wounds were now gone. We looked at each other in shock. Everyone around us lied cold in the decayed ground. Darkness swept the whole field. The King himself was face down in the ash that now represented the soil. Trees everywhere hung dead in despair.
"Well,” Silas began, picking himself off of the ground, “Let’s go find this Garden of Eden.”
***
To read more of my stories, visit [here] (https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/)
| 2017-06-08T12:20:49 | 2017-06-08T10:44:34 | 71 | 17 |
[WP] Dogs have been genetically engineered to live as long as humans. As a child you pick out a puppy as a companion for the rest of your life.
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"You're such an asshole. Get off the bed."
Unsurprisingly, the response was a low, drawn out yowl, and a clear answer, "No".
"Don't you 'no' me. Get off the damn bed, I need to change the bedding."
"Noooo," he replied and snuggled in deeper. Deep brown eyes peered at me from underneath the comforter; the bastard was mocking me. I took a deep breath, and blew it out, then said, as calmly as I could, "Ringo, if you don't get off the bed right now, I'll tell Duke you ate his cake."
Duke, my husband's dog, had just enjoyed his 34th birthday but had only half of his dog-safe cake before the other half "mysteriously" disappeared off the counter. Despite learning how to communicate with one another somewhat effectively (a side effect of literal decades of living together that the geneticists who first engineered Life Companions hadn't anticipated) I still didn't know why my shepherd and my husband's bulldog hated each other so much. I suspected they were too similar, but whenever I tried to bring it up Ringo refused to talk about it and left the room. That didn't mean that I was above using that rivalry to get what I wanted from Ringo at times, like now. Namely, getting his stubborn, stinky self off my bed.
Ears at attention, Ringo's head popped out of from their protected position. His rump wiggled a little bit, and I knew I had him. After 30 years of living together, his tells were obvious to me. Unfortunately for me, Ringo knew me just as well. He paused, looked over at the shelving unit holding all of my shoes, including that brand new pair of expensive pumps I hadn't had a chance to wear out yet. He looked me dead in the eye.
"You wouldn't," I said, taking a step back. A single bark was confirmation that yes, Ringo would.
|
((REMOVED AND REPLACED))
EDIT: Expanded Version
((I have never written anything in my life, so please be kind))
"That was the way it was 100 years ago." I told her "Then they changed the rules, and gave us this current madness."
I paused for a moment, thinking about how much of a mess I was in now and wondering how I will ever save her. But I had to stop thinking and start saving, as the display in my wrist now was reading 46:06:38 and counting down to 00:00:00 much quicker in my head than reality. STOP IT!!! FOCUS!!! You only have 48 hours!!!
In the past, Ebony and I were inseparable. He went everywhere I did, starting 20 years ago when I chose him. He was jet black and very timid -- even scared of everything around him, including me. Putting those chips in each of us only made him more so. But bringing him out of his shell those months yielded a perfect partner for me. He was as perfect for me as Adele was for her.
April asked me "What are we going to do?"
I wish I knew. "Don't worry, we will be ok. I will figure something out."
Maybe I could deactivate the charge? Maybe I could somehow deactivate hers? It was really strange, thinking that her clock was 12 seconds behind mine. But I knew Ebony... he would die trying to save his love -- his soulmate -- and he did just that.
Ebony died exactly 12 seconds before Adele did, and now April and I may be forced to follow too. Follow too soon....
“OK, we must head back to Population Control. I have some ideas.” I actually barked that out like I was back in uniform. Back at P. Control as we called it, in 4A. Back before I found my soul. Or actually back before April found it for me. Then I felt a shiver. Was it the cold or did I lose too much blood? Nah, it was cold. FOCUS!!!
The ride into P. Control took a good two hours. Getting through the gate was surprisingly easy, as our passes still worked. Typical… Leave it to them to be so process-heavy to take so long to deactivate our passes. Or maybe the fire destroyed the computers?
The computers… Was it them who decided on this Final Solution? I hated that program, that name. Reminded me of something from my history class that made me sick to my stomach. No. Computers cannot think. They can’t decide human fate. This idiocy was dreamt up in the tower. By those 12 idiots who run everything. Unelected inbred idiots, who pass on their authority to their first born. They are the ones who came up with this problem. My problem. April’s problem.
It was a beautiful day in May when we met them. For the first time in months there was no acid rain, and the sun was actually shining. For about an hour, that was. But that was one more hour than there had been in 6 months, so we went out for a run. Clumsy me, ran right into her. Guess I shouldn’t have been looking up at the sun.
We both worked at P. Control as Maintenance Engineers working on Final Solution.
“Sorry”, I said. I helped her up and she started giggling. “Yeah, I’m a clutz. I tend to get laughs from people.”
“No.” she said “Look at them!!”
Our two Partners were having a riot, hopping around and playing like they had known each other for years. It was amazing. Calming.
“My Partner is Ebony. What’s yours?”
“Adele.” she said “And I refuse to call her ‘my partner’. That is NOT what she is.”
“Sorry, I am just following rules.”
“Rules. So you are one of THEM” she said with obvious disgust
“No. I am one of ME” I said, perhaps with a little too much attitude but she pissed me off. Who cares how beautiful she was? I am NOT ‘one of them’.
“Oh, sorry” she said apologetically “I’ve seen you in 4A, so I thought you were a Control Enforcer.”
“No.” I proudly stated. I glanced over to Ebony “Hey! Look at our Part… our companions!”
“Yeah, they are really hitting it off.” she said.
They really did hit it off. So did we. I hate the term ‘Love at first sight’, but I guess if it was good enough for Ebony and Adele, it was good enough for us. We got married 4 months later. No sun was shining, though.
Due to Control’s rules, workers that got married were forced to work together. I guess they thought it would lead to less workers getting married, but to us it was great. The four of us, all happy together both day and night. She got moved into 4A with me. It seemed to me to be a bit of a demotion for her, as she was much smarter than I was – more focused. But she never complained. It was her that discovered their secret. It changed everything.
Back in 2068, there was a secret summit up in the tower for both *The Twelve* and *The Next Twelve*, who were successors and the next idiots (as I called them). *Inbred Idiots*… they made the laws, and they had to do something about the overpopulation. Since they outlawed birth control years earlier (and outlawed many other things), there was a population issue that had to be addressed. They were the ones that dreamed up this horror. Those sick bastards.
Of course, they only told everyone that people were to be paired up with a Partner at the age of 5, and they would be their life-long companions. The chips that they placed into the people and their partners were in case they somehow got separated from each other, they could be reunited. If a partner died, then a clock was activated and the person had to go to a designated area within 48 hours to be collected and sent to registration to find a new Partner. If a person died, the Partner would be euthanized after 48 hours.
That was their *Final Solution*. Their lie. They left out the part where the person would get euthanized back at registration when 48 hours was up. They left out the part where there was a computer program that randomly selected Partners to be hunted down and secretly poisoned, to remove people from this world too. That program was in 4A. That’s what April found. Their secret. And it was Adele’s turn coming up soon.
We had been on the run for a week, when they cornered us and came after Adele…..
((That is all I got for now, but you get the gist. Feel free to expand or finish or nothing))
| 2018-03-19T09:56:46 | 2018-03-19T06:38:40 | 61 | 38 |
[WP] You are at heaven's doors. Angels and God debated if you can come in because you have committed no sins during your lifetime, but you have the highest kill assists they ever saw.
|
Gabriel sighed. "You have committed no sin, yet you have led to the deaths of so many."
"How could I have known?" I bark. "I could only do what you made me to do."
"Perhaps," interjected Michael. "But the deaths of so many, in so many ways, could have been averted without you. In any case Heaven is no place for the likes of you."
I realise I am growling with rage.
"Then condemn me if you must," I snarl. "But remember this. How many has he killed because of me? What path have I set him on? What do you think he will do when he inevitably arrives here, im his own time, and finds out what you have done to me?"
The angels confer worriedly.
"We do not and must not fear a human. This decision is one to be made in isolation."
"A human no. But this one... I heard he once killed three men in a bar with a pencil. A fucking *pencil*!"
You wait patiently, wagging your tail in satisfaction.
----------------
First response - comments or feedback welcome.
|
As I laid on my deathbed, I was at peace, for I knew that heaven awaited me. How could it not? In the course of my life, I had not sinned a single time. Not once had I coveted what my neighbor had, or wished ill upon another human, or even said an unkind word about another person. I felt my life slipping away from me, and I smiled. My eternal soul would rest in heaven.
When I awoke, I was standing at the pearly gates. I looked around and took a deep breath, enjoying the lavender scent of the air. I was instantly comfortable. I was home. A lifetime of suffering, for an eternity of bliss. I walked toward the gates and was surprised when they did not open before me. I looked around, briefly confused, before I saw it: the door bell. I chuckled to myself as I walked over and pressed the golden button. I could hear the chorus of angels sing to herald my arrival, and I was once again at peace. This was exactly as I expected it to be.
I waited patiently outside the gates as I listened to a throng of people approaching from the other side. My welcoming committee. Surely they would be proud of- and impressed by- my fanatical devotion to what was Right. For reasons unknown to me, I had been incapable of transgressing upon my peers. Even my thoughts had been inviolate.
The gates opened silently on well-oiled hinges, and out walked God, flanked by a few of his highest advisors. The rest of the teeming mass of people stood just inside the gate, watching curiously. I recognized my wife among them and waved, but she did not wave back. Strange. The gates closed behind them.
"Welcome to the Afterlife, my son," God began. "Your arrival has caused quite the disturbance."
"Thank you, your majesty," I responded as I prostrated myself before him. "It is an honor to be welcomed into the ranks of the everlasting." I sat that way for what felt like another lifetime, my confusion building by the second. All I could hear were the murmurs of the crowd on the other side of the gates. After an indeterminate amount of time, I looked up and saw God conferring with his advisors in hushed whispers, a concerned expression on his face. "Is everything alright?"
God looked back at me and sighed. "For the first time in the history of the universe," he began, "I am unsure of the correct path of action."
I stood, unsure as to what he meant but sure that I was nervous about it. "Whatever do you mean, your holiness?"
"You have created quite the paradox," he responded. "When I created you, I decided to try something new. I wanted to see how a human would fare without the ability to commit sin."
I beamed. "And fare well I did- I spread your message far and wide, and committed nary a sin my entire life. I did just as you designed me to do."
"That you did," God said. "However, like most experiments, there were unintended consequences."
My smile vanished and in its place stood a worried frown. "Unintended consequences?"
"Yes," he replied. "You see, humans are competitive and comparative beasts. They are designed to compare themselves to others, and through those comparisons- and their innate competitiveness- they strive to improve themselves based on what they see their fellow humans accomplish."
My smile tentatively began to return. "And so you sent me down to be the standard for my fellow men to live up to!"
"Yes, my son," God chuckled. "But there was one problem. You see, when I gave your fellow men the gift of you, as their standard, I miscalculated their response. My belief was that they would see you, and be inspired, and seek to improve themselves. But..." he trailed off.
"But... what?" I asked.
"The problem is, when men are compared to an impossible standard, it has quite a detrimental effect on their well-being."
"I don't understand," I said. I truly didn't.
"Your beautiful wife, Elaine, for example," God said. "As you know, she tragically passed away when she committed suicide twelve years ago." A tear formed in the corner of my eye, and I glanced at Elaine again. She avoided my gaze. "What you do not know, or rather what you do not understand, is that her suicide is a direct consequence of the time she spent with you." I just stared at him, my face a mask of incomprehension. "By creating an impossible standard of comparison," he continued, "I inadvertently drove every person around you to madness. Look behind me and see the lives that you were responsible for ending." He swept his hand around, pointing to the mob of people standing just inside the gates. They all stared at me in silent rage. I began to recognize the faces of childhood friends, family members, church goers, all of whom people that I had known and many of whom I had loved during the course of my life. As I saw each face, I remembered their stories: one, a wife killed by her husband in a drunken rage, another, a child abused by his parents until he could take no more. Each of these horrible stories were my fault? My fault??
I began to sob. "I don't understand," I said. "I did what was asked of me! I followed your rules to the letter! I could not have been more perfect!"
God just shook his head. "I am sorry- I truly am. But I cannot allow you to enter. The damage you have wrought is already too great. I have only one option- to condemn you, and by extension a part of myself, for the egregious error I committed by turning you into flesh."
My face went white as a sheet. "Are you saying-"
"Yes," he said as the gates opened behind him. He turned to walk through, and I tried to follow, but my feet were rooted firmly to the ground. As the gates re-sealed, my feet could suddenly move, and I ran to the gates, pounding on them, begging to be let in, shouting at the backs of the retreating mass of people to please, someone, anyone, let me in!
Nobody turned to look.
----------------------------
if you enjoyed this, come check out /r/ydb_writing! I'm getting back into writing and I post all of my content there.
| 2019-07-09T15:26:33 | 2019-07-09T10:30:54 | 53 | 32 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult.
|
It started this one afternoon, I was just writing an essay in my bedroom when suddenly chaos errupted outside. People started flying, speed running, healing and exhibiting other fabulous superpowers. After everything had settled down a bit I returned to my essay, after all it had to be handed in before midnight. I tried to type the next sentence and was surprised to find that I couldn't come up with anything. I had a blackout for hours, until...
The clock struck 11.50 pm and within five minutes I speed-wrote my entire essay, completely faultless. I had just found my ridiculous powers.
Over the next few days as people were trying to use their powers for good, I found myself going to hospital ER's picking out the people hanging onto life by a thread and healing them.
People think I'm just another empathetic healer that decided to focus on people in mortal danger.
The fact is however I'm just a perfectionist and a procrastinator, leaving me able to do anything absolutely perfectly. But only at the very last minute.
|
You can't just sit around in a corner her and relax, and frankly, that's the one and only thing I dislike from the current age. Ever since superpowers were confirmed to come from your inner emotional core and basically the type of person you are, a lot of effort went into raising proper citizens, lest we have another supervillain outbreak. They still happen from time to time, but it's a lot better than before, when the world was almost destroyed.
I was almost sixteen and tomorrow... tomorrow I would awaken my powers. I don't know what I will get, though there are a few known categories. The online tests I did in school pointed me to an investigator type of power, but the ones I did on my own were... inconclusive. Different results, categories I knew that wouldn't match me... the list was weird.
So far in my life I only had one passion and that was writing. My friends really commended me, and it was an uplifting feeling, but my core wasn't the writing, it were the thoughts in it. I guess I leaned more towards hesitation, regret and fake personas. Thus, I could only wait.
That night I could barely close my eyes from excitement. It had been years since I had felt such a strong excitement aside from the fantasies in my head. I guess despite how I appeared calm and even thought myself to be calm about it, I couldn't help myself.
Then I woke up really late in the morning, not knowing when I had fallen asleep. I immediately tried to conjure my powers, but nothing. It was worth a try, but it seemed like conjurer wasn't my type. I guess dreaming about fireballs flying out of your hands wasn't enough.
I decided not to beat myself with my inability to find what my powers were, even after an hour of constant failures. I guess I could go in one of those centres that specialised in these things. Last I heard they managed to find an undead type of power with the person still alive. Hard to believe, but it was probably true.
And thus my day was spent like any other boring day, only this day I also had to explain that I had yet to find out what my powers were. Then off went the entire week and the weekend, all without me having a single clue about my powers.
I tried to remember what the counselor at school had told me. Remember, powers aren't just what you think, even what you think you are. Powers are your true self, one you might not even know.
He recommended me a few meditation techniques and left me alone, but I still had food for thought before I wasted my time with that stuff.
I glanced at the time in my phone, 14:02, I had left earlier from school today, being the last day before weekend now, I made up an excuse and got myself some early freedom.
As I was walking towards home, I noticed a mother with her phone in her face and her child in hand, barely paying attention to him. She certainly didn't look like an attentive mother, made me glad for my own caring, loving mother.
The kid, however, had enough of being imprison in his mother's hands and shook her off. I laughed at the kid's antics till the kid stepped on the road.
I saw time freezing the moment before the car hit the child.
Panic. Everyone screamed, the driver having pulled the breaks as fast as he could, getting out of his car to check on the child, but... it was to no avail. The mother seemed to be breaking down, her emotions were so sharp, I had no doubt she would experience a power shift, one that never ended well. I could almost feel her guilt, the immense pain from her heart, the driver who's mind was still reeling, probably feeling as bad as the mother herself was.
And then, there were my own emotions. I expected myself to be calm, having an outer facade of sadness and disbelief, but no. I was angry. I was angry beyond any reason. Such a child shouldn't had died, I disliked it. My mind played back the last moments of the child before he was hit by the car. A happy smile, mischievous, but kind. My anger reached new levels and I felt something click.
I saw time suddenly slow down, further and further till it stopped... then turned back. My powers were going out of control as they were both activating and changing at the same time. What seemed like the power of illusions turned into control... control over time.
Before I noticed it, I was two minutes before the incident, still walking towards that fateful crossroad.
I kept my calm, walking as I always had, trying not to faint from pain as well as from excitement. This time I wasn't a bystander, I stopped the incident, I was a hero.
I glanced around me, not bearing the light of the sun any more and started running, trying to find cover somewhere, anywhere!
After running for a few blocks, I started throwing up. Pain, horrible emotions, and happiness were all that kept me up at this moment.
I tried turning time back, even for one second, but all I could manage to do was slow it down, not even stop it as I had before.
If not for that incident, for the vivid emotions I had felt at this moment and for the memories of the kid almost bei g run over before I saved him, I would have thought all of this as a bad dream, but it wasn't... it was a good dream, one that was true.
My head hurt and I think I fainted in that small shadowy corner because when I woke up I had vomit on my sweater, thirty missed calls, and the sun wasn't up anymore.
I sighed looking at the missed calls, but I still couldn't stop a smile from forming in my face.
I was angry at my facade, angry at feeling regret for the past, angry at hesitating for every single thing. I was angry at myself so my powers were illusions, but I wanted the time to change, for that small boy to not die, to turn back the time, to turn what seemed an illusion into an actual reality!
Wait, what?! I backtracked a bit and stopped thinking. Perhaps it would be better if I left this subject alone for now.
| 2019-09-08T10:15:10 | 2019-09-08T09:13:39 | 228 | 37 |
[WP] On a distant desert planet, a group of human explorers prepare to make contact with an intelligent species whose blood is made up primarily of clean, drinkable water.
It does not go well.
|
Their blood is rusted. Their tears are corrosive. Their maw oozes a putrid sap that flows freely at the sight of our flesh. Their waste is especially vile- a nauseous amber whose reek goes stronger the longer it is exposed to air. They use it to mark the territory in which they have annexed.
They fell from the dark three years ago on a great comet, the like we have never seen before. The nation had set out a team of great minds to study this fascinating object. But we could not think to the degree of reality, at what came from that strange rock. Monsters that stood above came from within the comet! These wild giants slaughtered the great minded and all the rest who were there.
They drank our blood. They ate our flesh.
All the nations feared, for we thought we were alone in the dark. The leaders convened in the frost lands, for these beasts were slow. Great minds, thinkers, and warriors all debated on how to fight them. They spread like plague, grow like weeds, and consume like fire. They are slow, but intelligent and relentless.
Our people have been able to slow them down, but we must find new ways to kill them. Our great minds have entered their lands, and found annuls of history. It has taken many years to just to begin to break their language.
They know themselves as "Man."
We call them Kudzu.
|
"This is perfect! We can get the water from the alien-"
"No. And you know what happened last time you called extraterrestrial lifeforms 'aliens' Marvin."
"Oh c'mon Beth! We've been stuck here for days with no clean drinking water AND we're looking for a new home planet. That means we need clean, drinkable water."
"I understand your concerns. However, as captain of this ship, someone needs to think about ethics. That's why I'm here."
"She's right," one of the crew members called out catching everyone's attention. "How would you feel if another intelligent species came to earth and discovered our blood is their equivalent to clean drinking water? You'd be terrified that they're going to start killing everyone for blood. Like vampires."
"Vampires don't even exist," Marvin rebuttled.
"I never said they do. But us drinking their blood sounds like we're vampires."
With that, one of the younger crew members stood up. "May I speak?" she asked.
"Go ahead Jesabelle," Beth replied.
"Can we ask for permission from them to drink their blood? They should be understanding when we tell them we have no water. Maybe some kind folk will spare some?"
"Thank you!" Marvin clapped, thankful that someone agrees with him.
"I can't believe you Jes," the other crew member said, "you've been hanging out with Marvin for too long."
"Jamal, do you have a death wish?"
"Of course not. I wanna survive this too. Doesn't mean I'm gonna drink someone's blood."
Jesabelle sighed. "Can we at least take a vote?"
There was a silence for a moment. It felt like minutes before the captain finally spoke.
"Alright," Beth replied, "all those in favor of Marvin and Jesabelle's plan. Please raise your hand."
Out of the 12 crew members left, 9 of them raised their hands.
"I'm out," Jamal said before leaving to his sleeping quarters. It had been a long day for him and he was ready to sleep as he watched the planet's star fall and moons rise. He was followed by one of the juniors who also voted 'no' to this incredibly unethical plan.
Meanwhile, everyone else stayed in the canteen to plan their next moves. Beth watched on wishing that her crew had voted 'no' but it was too late now. They were set to meet with the intelligent lifeforms in the morning. She just couldn't shake the thought that this could possibly go wrong though. Maybe it was just her nerves over the thought of doing something so unethical. Maybe she was just tired.
They all rose the next morning. Jamal and the junior who followed him last night decided to stay put. They knew at least 2 people needed to keep the ship running at all times so they volunteered so they didn't have to participate in the potential slaughter they expected to happen.
That didn't stop the rest from venturing across the planet. They were surprised to find it easy to breathe without a spacesuit, although they did still wear helmets because of all the dust flying around. They were all armed with their pistols and rifles. They didn't like to waste any water, however they thought it would be easier to get more this way because they couldn't just take out one at a time. But if everything went smoothly, they wouldn't even need their guns.
"We're here captain," Marvin said as they approached the nearest city.
"We need to find the capital," Beth commanded. "Keep walking."
The group kept going forward. It didn't actually take long to find the capital building. It was the tallest building, dating back at least 1,000 years amongst the sleek, futuristic looking buildings.
But oddly, the building from outside seemed vacant. They hadn't even seen any form of life on the streets aside from the occassional animal that oddly looked similar to ones on earth. Then it happened.
An unseen sniper started shooting at the group. The first few shots hit Marvin, killing him instantly. Then Jesabelle went down.
"Split up!" Beth commanded.
The entire rest of the team ran for cover in various directions as bullets rained down on them. Since Beth was the only one with military experience, it didn't take long for most of the team to go down.
"Mayday! Mayday!" Beth shouted into her walkie-talkie as she ran for cover.
Back at the ship, Jamal tuned into the distress call. "What happened?"
"They have guns! I think everyone is dead!"
"Shit," the junior cursed as he ran up to take a seat next to Jamal.
"Give us your location," Jamal demanded.
"I'm just outside the capital building of the nearest city!"
"Okay, we're on our way!"
Jamal hung up and turned to the wide-eyed junior. "Sorry about this, Bart. But we gotta save them."
"Dear God, I'm so sorry for cheating on my college entrance exam 7 years ago!" Bart prayed as he ran to get his shotgun.
"Poor kid," Jamal said to himself as he put the ship into drive. He knew from where he was sitting that the city was 10 kilometers to the northeast. He had no way to tell the name of the city so the city signs wouldn't be very telling. But he knew if he heard gunshots that he was in the right place so he listened intently as he drove to the city.
Meanwhile, Beth was firing shots of her own back at the sniper she had just spotted. She was the only one left and praying to God that she would live. Afterall, she didn't want to drink someone's blood. She just went with what the majority of her team wanted.
But as bad as this fight was, there was another shock coming her way. She saw movement in her peripheral vision and swerved to see one of the intelligent lifeforms drinking the blood of her team. The shock was so great that she accidentally compromised her position with a loud gasp.
Jamal plowed straight throught the sand until the ship nearly crashed into the nearby buildings. He and Bart took a minute to listen for the tell-tale shots.
BANG!
"This is it! Go, Bart!"
Jamal ushered the junior out of the ship and followed him as they weaved through hiding spots in search of the captain or anyone else still alive.
"FREEZE!"
They stopped moving and looked up. There were 12 snipers all pointing their guns at Jamal and Bart.
"Well...it was nice knowing ya, Jamal."
"Nice knowing ya too, Bart."
BANG! BANG!
"Yup, they're dead."
"Perfect. You all did amazing defending our city from these wild humans."
| 2022-12-02T01:46:16 | 2022-12-02T01:45:00 | 57 | 41 |
[WP] You have been kidnapped and your wealthy significant other was told to pay the hefty ransom. Instead, they sent a message back to your kidnappers. “Nice knowing you.” While the kidnappers discuss their next move, you look up through the tiny window, stare at the full moon overhead … and smile.
|
The advantage of being raised in my family is I’d been taught what to do in almost every situation, from breaking a nail to getting kidnapped. That’s why I didn’t panic when I woke up to find myself tied to a chair in what looked, and smelled, like an old bathroom, and instead took stock of my situation.
Purse gone. Super cute impractical girls’ night out dress intact but impractical. One door, presumably locked. One toilet in serious need of cleaning, one sink, rusted but, alas, short of any handy sharp edges that would help cut the ropes that held me to the chair. A metal chair, so no breaking it into splinters. One window, narrow, above my head, too small to climb through, but through which I could see the full moon. I smiled. That’s one asset anyway.
I could hear the murmur of voices outside the door. Two men from the sound of it. I remember seeing three when they attacked, so one must be out. Collecting the ransom from my husband, I guessed. I glanced at the moon again. Would Sam come? Or will he expect me to get out of this on my own?
I heard a door open and slam shut. Guess I was about to find out.
‘Did you get it?’
‘Here it is.’ A thud, the sound of a zipper, and then silence.
‘The hell? This is just newspaper!’
‘What does the note say?’
‘‘Nice knowing you?’ The hell is that supposed to mean?’
I almost laughed. There’s my answer. Sam expects me to get out of this on my own. What the hell, it’s been awhile since I let loose, and it is a full moon.
‘Guess their marriage isn’t as happy as we were led to believe.’
‘What are we going to do?’
A few more minutes of whispered arguments and then the door to my prison slammed open. Silhouetted against the light I made out three figures, One tall and thin, one who looked like he went to the gym way too much, the third smaller, but still fit. Faces uncovered; they plan on killing me.
I could imagine what I must look like to them. A petite young woman in a cocktail dress, trussed and helpless against their strength. Nothing but a rich man’s trophy wife. Idiots.
‘Guess your husband found someone better,’ Tall and Thin said with a sneer.
‘Oh, no. That note wasn’t directed at me.’ Snapping the ropes that held me, I stood up, the light of the moon spilling over me in rather dramatic fashion as I started my shift from girl to wolf. ‘He was talking to you.’
|
"You picked a bad time for this cockamamie scheme," I said, turning my eyes from the window to consider my two captors. "Lily's in love with her riding instructor, not me. She's probably slurping up champagne in the stables with Felipe right now, thrilled that you're taking care of her pesky marriage problems."
Their dejected postures told me that my kidnappers realized how silly and outlandish their plan was. I let them stew in their sudden awareness for a moment before delivering the mental sucker punch I'd been saving.
"And I know who you are," I added. "I know who both of you are."
Their faces--at least, the parts of their faces I could see--came to life with a mixture of rage and panic. The pair stared at me for at least a minute without uttering a word.
The tall, lithe one with the Braves ball cap and red cowboy bandana tied around his lower face was Todd Sears. Who else would risk prison by identifying themselves so easily for sheer team fandom? Only Todd. Athletic, dumb, obsessed Todd who was Lily's college sweetheart. She had shamelessly used Todd up and threw him away years ago, so I guess he felt like I deserved to suffer the same fate for his profit all these years later. He should have known Lily would never part with any of her precious fortune for a simple man like me.
He seemed shocked at my revelations but continued on with his glaring silence, as if my not hearing his voice would prove he was not the person his careless choice of head wear said he was. He gazed down at the woman who was a foot and a half shorter than him as if all these new complications were somehow her fault.
She wore a surgical mask, sunglasses, a wool cap, and a head scarf. I couldn't see her hair color or features, but her unique voice and body size gave her away. She tried to conceal her Midwestern accent with a thick Maine drawl. The hard Wisconsin vowels and consonants slipped out and betrayed her. I knew the minute I was thrust into the backseat of the car with my mouth duct-taped shut that the driver of the getaway car was Kelly Grace Kazinski. I'd ridden in the backseat of too many vehicles over the years as drunk as a skunk with Kelly manning the wheel as the designated driver. She was our frat mascot and sweetheart at university. She was our cook and nurse and champion through four years of school and ten years of real life. How did she convince herself that I wouldn't recognize her robust shape or her distinctive voice?
Kelly was devoted to all of us frat brothers, but she'd always been blindly in love with Todd. She stayed his friend through Todd's two failed marriages, while he dated countless girlfriends, when he went through his stripper addictions, and when he stopped talking to everybody for seven months after he lost his job. I suppose Kelly held fast to the hope that one day, Todd would settle down and realize she was the one. Now, he'd convinced her to pull this hopeless stunt. Or, maybe she was the brains of the operation? Kelly loathed Lily with the white-hot passion of a desperate lover intent on eliminating any rivals.
The three of us regarded one another in an awkward stretch of silence. The moon crept past the window. A mournful whippoorwill called for its mate outside the warehouse. Shadows began to spill over the scant spots of moonlight around us. I sat bound to a metal chair while they stood lost in thought five feet in front of me.
Kelly broke the silence.
"In the movies, this is the part where we kill you," she said. I was relieved by the lack of conviction in her voice.
"Well, what good is he to us dead?" Todd asked, speaking for the first time since he'd popped a needle in my arm and caught me as I slumped into unconsciousness. Hearing his voice made me wince with an overwhelming sense of betrayal from all sides. Todd was my friend. Kelly was my angel. Lily was my wife. I trusted all of them not to do the things they were doing. Was I crazy for believing in the naive notions about loyalty and commitment and care for one another? Is this how everyone turns out to be in your life?
"Well, he's obviously no good to us alive, either," Kelly said. "Plus, now he knows we're the ones who kidnapped him. If he goes to the cops, we're screwed. I don't want to go to prison, Todd."
Todd turned away from facing me and walked over to a corner of the room. "I just wanted to pay for your surgery, Kelly," he muttered. 'I just wanted to pay for your surgery." He kept repeating those words over and over, his voice growing louder and more agitated each time he made the statement.
"How the fuck did something so simple turn out so messed up?" he screamed. Kelly went to his side to comfort him. He buried his face in his arms while she wrapped her arms around him.
I almost laughed out loud.
"Todd, you're the biggest dumbass, you know that?"
My voice rung over his sobs in the cavernous room. Kelly stepped back and looked at me like she wanted to take my head off. Todd's wet, blotchy face emerged from his arms and the bandana. Before he could speak and Kelly could reach me, I continued.
"You need money for surgery, Kelly? All you had to do is ask. You didn't have to go to all this trouble. What made you two think it was easier to kidnap me for ransom than to just ask me for the money?"
"We knew Lily would never let you have any money to help Kelly," Todd whined. "We didn't know what else to do. I'm so sorry, Man." His face fell into his hands again as he sobbed. "And, stop calling me a dumbass," he said after rubbing his snot laden nose on his arm. "I already know I'm stupid and screwed, okay?"
"You're not screwed and Lily doesn't control the money as much as you think she does. You see, I've been maneuvering cash and assets around ever since I caught Lily making out with that first pool boy back in 2013. She has no clue, but I can leave her today and never get a dime from her on paper. I'll still be set for life."
"Thanks for rubbing that in, Asshole," Kelly wailed.
"I think you misunderstand me. How about we forget all this ever happened and you let me help you instead? How much do you need for Kelly's operation, Todd?"
They fell on their knees in front of me. Kelly ripped off her head coverings and shed massive tear drops all over my left knee. Todd hugged me so hard, I prayed my ribs would hold. The two were wild with gratitude and relief.
"You'd do that for us?" "Oh my god, I can't believe this." "You should be so mad at us right now." "How can you ever forgive us?" "How can we ever repay you?"
"Untie me, maybe?"
"Oh, yeah."
Three hours later, Kelly was admitted to the hospital. Todd wanted to stay by her side until her surgery the next morning.
After dropping them off, I grabbed some breakfast and drove the car they stole to a random street near my bank, leaving it with the keys in the ignition. Then, I entered the bank as it opened, moved some money into my friends' accounts, and retrieved a packet from my safe deposit box. Inside the envelope were my new identity documents and debit cards for seven offshore accounts. I didn't expect to be using the packet for another five years or more, so I couldn't help but grin as I hopped into a taxi headed for the airport.
I may have spent the evening tied to a chair, but I was spending the morning flying to Spain and a brand new life ahead.
I know I'll never see a dime from the money I gave Todd and Kelly. But, in a weird way, I feel like I owe them far more than they'll ever owe me.
| 2021-03-19T05:11:44 | 2021-03-19T04:29:13 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] For as long as you could remember, you and your city have followed very strict rules: "Never listen to the 7:30 morning show. The real one comes at 8.", "Our city does not have a subway system. If you see an entrance, report it.", and "Don't donate to the beggars on 32nd.", just to tell a few.
|
"I'm telling you, those bastards are just out for your money. Nobody takes that rule seriously and you know it."
"I don't know Dave, those guys on 32nd almost maimed me the other day just for dropping a nickel in the street."
"What about bathing on Sundays? You can't honestly tell me you've never bathed on a Sunday. This town is ridiculous!"
Every day I listen to conversations like these on the bus. Sometimes I even make a game out of it. turnover in this town is quite quick, and the newcomers always stick out like sore thumbs.
"What about that bologna luck tax? You just know they set their prices on purpose to end in a 13! I tried to get out of paying extra, and the officer slapped me with a 50 dollar fine! Now talk to me about maiming someone over a nickel!
"You know what they say, it's all for our safety. Greater good or something like that."
"If you ask me, their greatest good is their pocket book! Now we can't even stand on the bus while it's moving? Next we won't be able to wipe with our left hands, or sleep facing north!"
I've lived in this city for 20 years, and I know a walking talking disaster when I see one.
"Dave, please calm down. I hear there is a 3 strike rule for this one. Even if it sounds silly, they sure take it seriously around here..."
3.
"I don't see any officers around here, do you? Who is even supposed to enforce this crap?"
2.
"I guess you're right about that... Maybe they have cameras or something?"
1.
"I'm sick of all of it! I'll tell them where they can shove their cameras!"
As Dave leaps to his feet in a rage, the bus suddenly plunges into complete and total darkness. A blood curdling scream is cut short by the sound of a sickening crunch.
After a few minutes of total silence in the darkness, the light comes back on. There is no blood, no gore, not a thing to show Dave's missing presence, except his now empty seat.
Across the aisle Dave's companion stares back at me pale faced and mouth agape.
I speak to the poor man:
"Jokes are fine, in fact they're encouraged. This is a strange town full of strange things. Just whatever you do... Don't be like Dave."
|
# Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Interlude 1: Min Min)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**Heroes and villains left... aftermath, when they clashed in earnest.** In some cases, the fallout was more literal—the clash between Plague Doctor and Fission A Barrel had left acres of land in Desmethylway so irradiated that the only reason to go there was for a quick death instead of lingering to die after Plague Doctor's concoction of diseases got you. In other cases, the aftereffects were social; the Unified Sovereignties had taken one look at heroes and villains and promptly snatched up the useful ones and neutralized the rest—useful and useless according to the government's definitions, of course.
And in some cases, the effects of millennia of superpowers coming in contact with each other were stranger. What was left of the Middle Communes was one such case.
Min Min yawned, woke up, blearily disintegrated the delivery man at the door with a tendril of pure shadow, and rubbed her eyes. Her mother had warned her to never open a door for an Aladdin-brand delivery man; as children, they'd simply huddled together until it vanished, but now that Min Min's superpowers had manifested, she'd figured out a faster way to get rid of them.
She rolled out of bed, putting on the only non-fungoid clothes she had left, and realized that she was in hell.
It was a realization that had been building for years, a realization that tugged at her whenever she turned on the news and saw cities where there was only one sun in the sky, where children didn't go missing, or worse, become wraiths that haunted you and never went missing *ever again*, where people paid taxes instead of tithes and wandering "superheroes" didn't burst in and avail themselves of all the scarce resources left because they "deserved it for protecting them from the wilderness." It was a realization that might have shaken someone else to their core.
For Min Min, it was Tuesday.
She walked outside, noting that the same Aladdin delivery man that she'd disintegrated was now knocking at someone else's door. Well, she'd expected as much. She pointed and concentrated; the lashing tendrils of shadow that coiled around her body struck, and the delivery men fell into ash. She scoured the ash with another blast of darkness, until the ash became dust and the dust became nothing, then cleared her throat.
"You can come out now."
And the reasons why Min Min stayed here in hell walked out of their rooms.
Some of them were old. Others were young. Some of them lent helping hands around the compound. Others... could not. She cherished them all anyway.
Because in the middle of a city in the grips of hell, Min Min had forged the closest thing to a safe house that her world had left.
Someone entered from the main door; today's scavenging team. Min Min frowned. They were back early. Had they encountered some enemy too strong for them to handle? Min Min herself had to stay at the hospital they'd converted into a fortress-home more or less 24/7—there were other gangs in the city, some of whom had supers who could plow through anyone except Min Min herself—but she'd assigned some of her best fighters left to harvest what they could from the collapsed Middle Communes. Du Yi, Florence, and a woman who insisted on calling herself Hat Tricks all looked back at her as she waited for an explanation; Du Yi's arms glowed with liquid silver, while Hat Tricks bowed theatrically and took off her eponymous top hat.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Hat Tricks announced. Although she spoke in Communal, she had a clear U.S. accent. "I am proud to announce we are all *royally screwed*."
Min Min raised a hand to put a halt to the mutterings around her, internally sighing. The Middle Communes hadn't been kind to foreigners, especially those from the Unified Sovereignties; Min Min suspected that Hat Tricks' boisterous facade had only developed as a self-defense mechanism against the rather nasty policies the Middle Communes had implemented in the years leading up to its fall. "Could you phrase that less... dramatically?" Min Min asked. "Why are you back so early? What did you see out there?" Min Min ushered the two of them in and shut the door; a quick glance at Francis told her that the sentries hadn't reported anything.
"The Unified Sovereignties has landed an exploratory force in the Middle Communes," Hat Tricks said. "They brought Big Guns."
This time, Min Min allowed herself to scowl. She'd seen the youngest and most dedicated of the Unified Sovereignties' military dogs on T.V., and even her ability to instantly kill anyone her shadow-tendrils touched wouldn't be enough to stand against that... thing. "...How far out are they? Can we evacuate?"
"With respect," Du Yi said, "subway entrances have been disgorging shadowlings much more frequently lately, and the False-Faced Beggars are acting up. Most of the forces in the Middle Communes never liked the Unified Sovereignties, and them being here is... agitating them. Indiscriminately. Unless another one of us has manifested abilities—or gotten far, far stronger—we would stand no chance outside the hospital, or another fortified safe spot."
"As I said." Hat Tricks grinned a too-wide smile. "We're all royally screwed."
Children gave each other frightened looks, but none of them cried—parents who could not control their children, or children who could not control themselves, did not last long in the Middle Communes, even under Min Min's aegis. Besides, crying children attracted Nurses. Min Min clenched a fist. If the Unified Sovereignties hadn't been so hell-bent on collecting lethal superhumans, she would at least have a chance if it came to a fight, but Big Guns was as deadly as they came.
Then she paused, a thought slowly coming to life. Hesitantly, she spoke. "...The Unified Sovereignties have something we want. Transport out of here."
Nobody disagreed. This may have been their home, once, but thirty years of warfare had rendered it uninhabitable.
"And we," Min Min continued, "have something they want. Me." Realization flickered across the faces of the people she protected. She almost hoped someone would object to her plan.
But those who lived in the Middle Communes did not have the luxury of throwing away cold, hard logic.
"I will offer them a trade. My servitude, in exchange for your freedom." Min Min stepped out the door. "Du Yi."
Her lieutenant snapped to attention, giving her a grim look. "Ma'am?"
"If I don't come back, you're in charge. And all of you..." Min Min turned back to her people one last time and gestured at the wasteland, an entire civilization brought low by infighting and resource grabs. "Be better than this."
Then Min Min strode off into the depths of hell, to offer her soul to the devil.
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "Bargain Bin Superheroes" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and r/bubblewriters for other stories by me. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day.
| 2021-04-06T15:21:57 | 2021-04-06T13:07:57 | 76 | 27 |
[WP] All bullets suddenly leave trails, red for kill, blue for hit without kill, gray for miss. One very large red one is found at the bottom of Mariana's trench.
/u/The_Sven told someone to put it here. I didn't see it so I thought I'd toss it out there. Go wild, make it crazy, make it good. :)
/u/bobjoeman : One is found at the bottom of the Marianas Trench.
/u/The_Sven : Just one. It's very wide implying a very large bullet - bigger than almost anything Man has ever fired. It ends abruptly and in a world where a killing shot leaves a red trail, a missed shot leaves gray, and a hit with no kill leaves blue... well, let's just say the world slept a little less soundly from then on out.
[The original post](http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/3755nr/reddit_if_every_bullet_ever_shot_left_a_permanent/)
[The comment about the Trench](http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/3755nr/reddit_if_every_bullet_ever_shot_left_a_permanent/crjtprq)
Edit: due to a dumb error made by me, it turns out the trail was supposed go be blue, not red. Sorry :(
|
"This 'bullet leaving trails' shit isn't gonna go anywhere soon, Agent. We might have to classify this as a Keter in the near future," the researcher said as he arranged all the various sightings of different colored trails throughout the world. It started happening a few days ago; the Foundation was still trying to find a way to contain the phenomenon, that is, to stop the public from noticing it.
So far, it had been a failure.
"Yikes, that is one gigantic dent," he said as he looked at what was probably the biggest incident, an enormous red bullet lodged down at the bottom of the Marianas Trench. Red meant that the bullet had killed someone, which wasn't surprising for a bullet that size. Blue meant that the bullet had just hit someone non-lethally, and gray meant that it had missed.
"I know, right?" said the Agent. "I took pictures of those myself on my last mission and this was beyond anything we'd seen before."
"As to how we're gonna stop this one from leaking to the public other than administering amnesiacs... that's not gonna be easy. Maybe the higher ups are gonna do what they supposedly did with that color-changing thingamajingy."
"Maybe, but that's really not for us to decide. Oh, and forgot-" He took out a sheaf of papers- "You might want to take a look at [these](http://www.scp-wiki.net/document-recovered-from-the-marianas-trench) documents found near that thing, doc. The team over there was able to reproduce it with near perfect accuracy. Haven't looked at 'em myself, but we were able to secure them before anyone else."
"Will do, Agent. Now get back to work."
"All righty, doc."
|
"What a colour!" James marvels at the vivid maroon swirling through the water.
 
"Why is the trail so clear? Shouldn't the water have dispersed it long ago?" The other sailors are whispering to each other as they survey the daunting sight. They have obviously never read a book on the mechanics of attention mechanism trails. Yet again, a wonderful reminder that even though *some* people went to Internet, they clearly never cared for anything other than the free access to educational porn. It's sad, really.
 
The ship rattles and creaks as it approaches the most concentrated section of bullet trail, subsequently jarring my train of thought. I really should stop judging people. I'm sure they're wonderful people. Well, wonderful sailors. Although, perhaps adequate sailors might be a more apt description.
 
I'm just surprised that they aren't familiar with this technology. It's existed for decades. We've all seen the foreboding light strikes across the earth. Interplanetary Congress made it illegal to produce bullets without the tracking method. I cannot remember a time that blue and grey, and, briefly, purple (outlawed with just cause), did not flash through the sky. I've seen red four times. The first was a homeless man, foraging for food behind a private residence. Later, my brother released two red trails, to protect our home. The fourth, well, as the Cook Book says: Those who live by the sword die by the sword.
 
If you didn't grow up where I grew up, in the nasty streets of NeoMore, then red was probably a myth. Of course, Congress banned the colour red in all civilian products. After all, it's considered poor taste to wear red when someone might be triggered into remembering the time they were offended by the idea of red.
 
I shake my head, weary of reminiscing. "Let's get this show on the road," I growl. "Clusters make me nervous. Last time we passed through grey, the ship almost broke in two."
 
"You worry too much, Rome," James teases. "Wait til you see this baby. Deep in the sea! I wonder what mighty beast fell under its power."
 
Everything dies. Why is this one trail so important? *Shake it off, Rome. You're going crazy.* I got paid, so this business is very much not my business.
 
The sailors make the dive pod ready and run final checks. I see James squiggle into his deep sea pressure outfit, and he's shaking with excitement. People are weird. Who chooses to go into hell?
 
"Rome! Are you coming?"
 
"To the Trench? Am I suicidal?"
 
James laughs, but I see his eyes dart nervously around the boat deck. Damn it, he's worried. Worried bosses don't give bonuses. Besides, if he dies, then I don't get the next job, cause nobody hires a sailor who can't keep people alive on the ocean. The ocean is like space travel: a flight from Mars to Jupiter is a short commute. It's not my fault that nobody ever went down into the ocean. The scientists figured that the ocean depth wasn't a worthy challenge, especially since we have so many planets at our disposal. So the surface is plenty safe. No sailor dies on the surface.
 
The surface. Mother... "James, you want company?"
 
He giggles, like a little kid, and furiously nods. "This is going to be unbelievable! I already can't believe we are so close to solving the front page mystery of the decade!"
 
I hate my job. Stupid karmawhores. I climb in, confirm everyone is strapped tightly, and we begin our descent into the unexplored depths of the Mariana's Trench. The first part of our journey is uneventful, if you can call hysterical shouts of glee from James uneventful.
 
We quickly reach a depth where light from the surface fails to reach, and our floodlights pierce through the water. Although to say it pierces is incorrect since the water muffles the photons. (See, even us uneducated plebes can glean some facts from science class.) Regardless, the lights switch on, and we continue to follow the red trail, as it twists and winds further into the depth. Scientists may have abandoned the deep, but at least these space travel studies had the ability to help us earth dwellers develop suits that could handle the unrelenting pressure of several miles of ocean above us.
 
We proceed slowly, being careful to follow the core trail precisely. Since it's been a decade since the Bullet descended, the ocean has fragmented the outer sheath. Still, the gravity of the trail is easily felt in the pod.
 
As I glance outside, I see a shadow circle the core trail and redirect itself towards our pod. I hope the stories of the gruesome "light" monsters aren't true. Old, beaten-down sea travelers liked to scare me, when I was an impressionable, desperate kid looking for adventure. They would say that a mighty beast would approach ships at dusk, levitating a light in front of it, and would entice the weary sailors to abandon ship for the warmth of hope. They said the monster projected hope, but only brought death.
 
Oh great, now *I'm* nervous.
 
James yells, "We're at the end! Come look, Rome, what does it look like? Can you see? This dratted light, it doesn't go very far. Is it ruins of a lost city, or a mighty ship that was felled, or possibly a ferocious sea monster?"
 
I peer outside and increase the light output. I turn the cameras on to see if they can pick up a clearer picture. "I can see it. There's definitely something there." *Fuck.* "Ok, boss. James. Don't freak."
 
James rushes to peer at the camera. "What am I looking at? I don't see anything."
 
I blow up the picture and circle the image with my finger. "Right here. See? There's the Trail Source. That big missile. And on the end of it, can you see-"
 
"Rome, we found a nuclear? Are you serious?"
 
"Boss, the nuclear is a dud. It didn't go off."
 
"Who died, then?"
 
I zoom in on the screen. He gasps.
| 2015-05-25T03:07:22 | 2015-05-25T03:04:19 | 131 | 48 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood?
|
(Sorry for any grammar errors in advance. Edited for spelling. I’m not the best at this)
"*This is how it works*," Death explained. "*You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood*?”
Marcus heard the voice in his head before he heard it with his ears. The echo betrayed the vast expanse of space he was seemingly standing in.
He kept looking around Death trying to perceive form but each time he focused on something it would fold into itself and a new shape would appear “Yeah I understand.”
To Marcus, Death was a towering void with subtle facial features scattered among the form against a sea of starlight. Cloaked as if someone had draped a statue with a black hole.
“*I am inclined to inform you…*” Marcus heard the echo of Death’s voice again as he was looking around “*...before you pick our game let it be known that beings here do not tire. As such do not expect to succumb to fatigue nor thirst.*” Marcus heard Death proclaim as he looked around then back to Death.
“Okay...uh...may I get some time to think?” Marcus asked while trying to focus on what he thought was Death’s main face. Death gave what Marcus perceived as a slight nod.
A few minutes went by as Marcus stood in contemplation.
“Ya’ said I can pick any game right?”
Death nodded.
“And ya’ said we won’t get tired here?”
“*Correct again*” Death echoed.
Marcus looked up at Death inquisitively “Then…{ahem}...then can we play fetch?”
“*Elaborate*” Death’s echo was distinctively louder than before.
“Two years ago my momma’ was cleaning the house for family to come over on Thanksgiving. She opened up the door to let out the dust from cleaning but accidentally left it open for too long and my dog Rook got outside. My momma' couldn't stop him and he ran into the street and was hit by a car. It wasn’t the driver’s fault or my momma’s fault or even Rook’s. He was just too fast. He was my boy. But I was working when it happened and didn’t get to say bye.” Marcus stifled a cough and took a deep breath.
“He died in the Vet’s office before I could get there. My sister put up her cell-phone to his ear so I could say goodbye but I think he was already dead. You could hear it in everyone’s voice. I got to hug him later but he wasn’t there anymore.’
He began batting away at whatever tears tried to take hold.
“You said we can play any game so I want us to play fetch with Rook.”
“*There can be no winner to that game. You cannot cheat at that game.*” Death’s form became more rigid “*Choose another.*”
“No, Rook’s gonna’ be the winner because you said we won’t get tired. So we’re gonna’ play forever.” Marcus puts his fingers to his chest “And besides you can cheat if you pump-fake and don’t throw the ball to him. He’ll catch on eventually. He’s smart. Plus I get to see Rook again so I’m gonna win too.” He pointed at death “You took him from me two years ago so I know you can bring him here. That’s my game Death, that’s what I wanna’ play.” Tears streaming down Marcus’ face roll off his cheek and dissipate into nothing.
“And I promise you I aint gonna’ be watching you so pump-fake all you want. But in order for you to lose or give up and send me back we gotta’ at least start playin’ so **bring rook here**…..please.”
His voice splits as he points at his feet fighting to keep his eyes open.
The absence of sound is broken by a low bass rumble.
“*So be it.*”
Marcus is thrown down to a field of tall incandescent grass. He can feel wind cooling his face. Death is already there and unfolds and unfurls at the bottom revealing a dog who sprang forth to Marcus as if he was waiting behind the curtains.
“Rook!”
|
"Okay. I understand," I said.
"Then? Do you opt to simply pass through to judgment, or do you wish to fight for resurrection?" Death asked.
I sat down in the provided seat, a rotting stump of an old oak tree. "I challenge you to the game of life."
Death sighed. Or, at least, Death did what sounded like the closest thing to sighing an eternally rotting corpse can do. "Conway's or Milton Bradley's?" it asked.
"Neither."
"I don't understand."
"I didn't think you would. You've never lived, have you? You've always been the physical embodiment of a universal constant, right?"
Death hesitated. Finally, it said, "yes, although my physical shape changes to suit my collection."
"I thought so. So here's the game. We leave Purgatory. You join me back on Earth. You take on a fully human form and can do only what humans can do, not this... magical shambles."
"And then?"
"And then we play the game of life," I said, stifling a smirk.
"Which is played how, exactly?" Death asked.
"I'll let you in on a little secret: nobody really knows."
"How am I supposed to play a game with such poorly defined rules?"
"Oh, the rules are very well-defined. You just have to learn them yourself, as any human does. It's not the rules that nobody fully understands, it's the other stuff. The stuff between following and violating the rules. The... spice of life, I guess you could say. We don't know it, but we know it when we see it."
Death's cold, glassy eyes locked onto mine. "Before I agree, what are the win and loss conditions? How can one win, lose, or cheat at something as simple as living?"
"Listen, Death. You've been there in the last moments of, what, millions? billions of people? I bet they all had some kind of dying wish. A burning regret. A piece of wisdom for their loved ones. Am I right?"
"Yes," Death said, "I suppose you are."
"Then here's the good news for you. Being Death itself gives you the distinct advantage of knowing significantly more about life than I do. I lived one life. You've experienced countless lives."
"I suppose that makes some sense, but--" Death said.
"It makes perfect sense," I interrupted, "so since you're in, the win and loss conditions are simple. I win if you die first. You win if I die first. Killing each other would violate the rules human beings have to abide by to play the game of life. And I have to know who and where you are, so maybe take the body of someone else who died in the hospital. Preferably someone without family."
Death looked up and scanned around. "Very well. You are Allan Grossman. Lung cancer just took your life. You and your family were shocked that you ever had it in the first place, because you never so much as touched a cigarette in your life. But that was, as you put it, 'just how the chips fell'. I have found a host and I accept your challenge to play the game of life. My name will be Lewis Gregory. Thirty-four years old, estranged from his parents, no wife or children. No flowers by his bed, so I assume no or few friends. He just died of a massive heart attack and not even the nurses care enough to check on him. Room 1202."
A smile broke through and I quickly steadied my temper. "Sounds perfect, Lewis. Let's get to it."
"Yes," Death said, "let's."
I woke up in my hospital bed. I blinked repeatedly and quietly looked around the room. AJ was asleep on the couch across the room from my bed. A Batman comic book as a pillow and a small towel for a blanket. No kid should have to go through this. Tammy was asleep in a chair next to my bed. Her head was hanging to her side with her neck bent at an unnatural angle. Her mascara left streaks down her face. The whole time I was dying, I couldn't help wondering, why did she even wear the shit when she knew she was gonna cry? But I understand now. "You wanted something to be normal," I said as I gently pushed her head to the center of the back of her chair to try to relieve the crick I knew she'd be feeling now that I woke her up.
"Huh?" Tammy mumbled as she wiped her mouth.
I looked around. Was it just dark in the room, or was it dark out? "The mascara. I never understood it and you couldn't explain it. But I think I get why you kept wearing it. You wanted something normal in the chaos. Something you could have control over when you felt like everything was out of control. It was worth it, even with the tears and the lines down your cheeks, because it was yours. All yours, and nobody could take that from you."
Tammy nodded hesitantly and whispered, "you died."
"Yeah, but don't worry, I won." The smirk I hid from Death, now Lewis Gregory, broke into a full grin. "AJ my boy, come say hello to your papa!"
AJ rubbed his eyes and lifted his head. The comic book stuck to his face for a second before it fell onto the couch. He took the towel off what little bit of his torso it was covering and wiped the drool off his mouth and cheek, then dried the saliva off of the cover of the comic book. "Dad?" he asked.
"Yes son, it's me."
AJ ran over to the bed and threw himself on top of me. "I thought you were dead."
"Don't you worry anymore, okay? I won. I'll be here for a long time now. I need to go talk to somebody, and then we can go home and get some real sleep, okay?" I hugged AJ tightly, let him go, and sat up.
"You can't just walk around alone, Allan!" Tammy said.
"Feel free to join me." I got out of bed and went over to the closet. I rustled around looking for clothes.
"There's nothing in there, honey. You, um... I mean, when you..." Tammy trailed off and the tears started again, but I knew what she was trying to say. While I was dying, I did what dying people do, and the hospital must have had to destroy my clothes.
"Oh, that's right," I said. "That's okay. I don't need clothes right now, the gown is fine. Let's go." I led the way out and checked the room number on the way. 1210. So Death/Lewis must be close. I turned right from the door and kept walking, watching the room number shrink as I went. 1209. 1208. I could hardly contain my excitement. I sped up. 1207, 1206, 1205. I was practically running at this point. 1204. I broke into a dead sprint. An apt name. 1203 passed and finally, I was there. 1202. I knocked on the door.
A feeble voice called out, "come in."
I opened the door and walked into room 1202, the two most valuable things in my life close behind. "Hi Lewis, how are you feeling?"
"Terrible."
"I thought you might."
"Allan? What's going on?" Tammy asked.
"You see, Lewis here died of a heart attack about fifteen minutes ago. But heart problems weren't what brought him to the hospital in the first place."
"I don't understand," Tammy said.
"You're dying, am I right?" I asked. I tried my best to mask my enthusiasm.
"I think so," Death-as-Lewis said.
"Yeah. You have cancer too. At one point it was only stomach cancer. But now you're stage IV. It metastasized. You have cancer in your lungs, your throat, your bones. Your heart *was* fine, though. But now if the cancer doesn't get you, you'll probably have another heart attack. See, the chemo strained your body and caused it in the first place, and that damage is still there, still being done."
"I see," Lewis whispered.
"Isn't that just the pits, my friend? You're dying, and the cure for what ails you is killing you. On the plus side, at least now you really know what it's like to be a human."
"How do you know this, Allan?" Tammy asked, a tinge of fear in her voice.
"Oh, I spent some time talking to Lewis after I got my diagnosis. He really helped me come to terms with my own mortality. If you know what I mean." I winked at Death. "See, you didn't do your research, buddy. You thought Lewis had no friends or family. You were wrong. I was his friend."
"You set me up, didn't you?"
"Of course I did. You think I was gonna take any chances on my second chance? Not a chance."
"Fine. You win," Lewis said. He died again and standing next to his bedside was the cosmic representation of Death. "You have won ten more years, as agreed," it said.
"You're not gonna call me a cheater?"
"No, I was overly confident. I should have looked further than the heart attack."
"Yep, that's a fair assessment. See you in ten years."
"I'll be waiting." Death vanished.
"You sure will." I put my arm around Tammy's waist and took AJ's hand in mine. "Let's go home, my two true loves."
| 2018-03-07T09:56:50 | 2018-03-07T09:23:01 | 27 | 17 |
[WP] You wished to be rich. And your wish was granted. You were now born into a rich family... But more different than yours. A different mother, father, siblings, cousins, friends, a job, etc. And you still remember your last life. Today, you saw your original mother, begging on the streets...
|
The old lady sat there,
playing a little song.
A few people dropped coins,
But most moved along.
 
A memory crept up slowly,
from a corner in my mind.
I had seen this face before,
the wrinkles, the eyes so kind.
 
And it all came back to me,
the poverty and the struggle.
To pay rent or eat food,
the bills we had to juggle.
 
And so I sat next to her,
and I began to cry.
I am so sorry that I left,
without even a goodbye.
 
She looks at me blankly,
says whatever do you mean.
I don't have a son, well,
had one but he died as a teen.
 
I cried out in disbelief,
it was I and I abandoned you.
Took my chance at riches,
and an actual home to come to.
 
She looks at me with kindness,
softly tells me not to be sad.
She remembers now, but its the past,
and she really isn't mad.
 
I ask her to come live with me,
at my massive palace.
I promise her a better life,
I say this with no malice.
 
She turns down my offer,
with a sad and little smile.
I have a family and a life already,
but come and see us, once in a while.
 
I break down crying,
right there on the sidewalk.
How could I do this to them,
I can barely talk.
 
To my surprise, she consoles me,
tells me she doesn't blame.
I was a struggling young kid,
She might have done the same.
 
I take out my wallet and offer,
money, as much as she needs.
I have more than enough now,
to make sure she succeeds.
 
She smiles again, surprisingly.
says one thing she has learned.
Wouldn't even wish upon an enemy,
money they haven't earned.
 
Money can't buy happiness,
money can't buy you love.
Money can't buy you passage,
to the heavenly abode above.
 
She tells me I'll be welcome back,
her eyes bright and green.
And walks away from me silently,
richer than I have ever been.
|
I had often thought back to that day. The day an innocent boy made a wish before he could even comprehend what possible consequences that wish could have. I was only three or four and I had only actually wanted to have games like all the other kids at daycare. I had wondered if my parents had remembered me, their only son. The new parents always just told me I have an overactive imagination. Sometimes I even doubted the memories myself, but seeing her now I didn't need any more proof.
I didn't know if I wanted her to remember me. Sitting with a ratty blanket, and a sign. No hope in her eyes, lips thin and pressed in a hard line. She looked so much older than I thought she would be now. Does she hate me? Her little boy that wanted more than she could give no matter how hard she was working.
I sat on the bench across the street, needing to clear my head. Tears burned in my eyes while I thought about how if I had never made that wish I could have a job and helping them get by. Would it of helped? Trying to watch her without staring was hard. I just want to talk to her. I need to.
I got up and starting making my way to her, she got up too. Very carefully wrapping the blanket around her shoulders and began to walk away from me.
"Hey! Umm ma'am?" I felt hollow. Terrified that she would not only know who I am, but hate me for abandoning her. She had turned around and her face softened but she watched me expectantly. But I barely saw. What it did see was her stomach, very large and very obviously pregnant.
"Yes? Are you lost?" She looked me over. Clearly too well dressed, too young even, to stay in this part of town for too much longer. But she didn't recognize me. She didn't remember me and I'm not sure if that made me feel better or worse about my wish.
"No umm, actually I was wondering if you wanted something to eat? Here walk with me we can go wherever you'd like." No longer fearing the look of betrayal from the woman who should of raised me, I tried my hardest to stop the burning and to sound calm.
"Are you sure, young man." Handing cradling her belly. I bet she did that with me too.
"Of course!" I tried to put on a natural looking smile but I'm pretty sure it was at least a little bit off. We started walking and I took the opportunity to chit chat about my would be sibling. I learned that it was a sister. That my dad had passed away in an accident in the factory he was working. Since my mom wasn't able to work anymore, and had no place to go besides the streets.
She opted for a hole in the wall diner. Telling me how she and her husband had always came here for special occasions. I was just happy for a pause in conversation, I wasn't sure how much more I could take. She was very friendly and I figured she was lonely. She had no problem telling me all about herself and my dad.
"Now I don't want to spend too much of your allowance, Mikey. So you just tell me honestly, is the burger too much?" She had gotten water to drink, I'm not worried about the cost of a soda but water was probably a good idea either way. It's been hotter than any other summer I could remember.
"Ma'am don't you worry about cost, you have whatever you'd like. You can even order one of everything, I assure you it will be okay." My smile here came easily, I couldn't imagine a better feeling in the world. Her eyes glistened and a single tear fell.
"Thank you, I truly appreciate your kindness. I think one burger ought to be enough though."
-----
I looked around until I spotted the ATM, she was almost finished eating and I knew that I needed to do as much as I could do for her. I withdrew as much as the card would allow. $500. Well it'll have to do for now. I'll see what else I can do when I get home. Maybe Father would understand that I feel the need to help her. Even if he doesn't know that she my real mother, he was always compassionate. I went back to the table and she wasn't there.
"Oh excuse me Miss, I'm sorry, did you see where the woman I was with went."
"Ummm the homeless lady right?" She paused to loudly chew her gum "I'm pretty sure shes in the restroom."
"Okay, thanks."
I waiting for about thirty minutes before I knew something was up. Did she leave? What if she was trying to clean up? I have to get someone to check the bathroom for me. I got up and knocked on the women's room door. I couldn't hear anything over the jukebox. I went in search of our waitress. I didn't see her but I saw who I assumed was the manager.
"Um sir, I'm sorry to bother do you have a waitress that could check the bathroom for me, I was with someone and I don't know if she's in there or not?"
"Sure, hang tight." He said over his shoulder walking towards the exit.
I went back to the bathroom door. Trying to listen. Hoping she hadn't left yet. I needed to give her this money at least. The waitress from earlier brushed past me to go inside. She wasn't in there for two seconds before running out and up to the manager, talking quietly.
"What what's wrong?" I didn't know if I should follow her or not. Fuck it, I shoved the door opened. She was sitting in the floor back against the wall panting, red faced and sweaty.
"What's wrong are you okay? What happened?" I was panic stricken. Knowing she needed help but not knowing what to do.
"Baby's.. coming.." she muttered between breaths. I stood like a deer in headlights, too stupid to move. The waitress ran back in and told my mom not to worry they called for an ambulance and it would be here soon.
"Should we get her outside? She needs air." I wanted to jump into action to be the hero she needed all her life but there wasn't anything I could actually do to help.
"No you get out this is the women's room!"
I could hear the sirens already, I wished they'd hurry. I was worried about my little sister being born on a bathroom floor. Even if she wasnt going to be my little sister, it seemed like a bad start to a challenging life. When the ambulance got arrived. I told them where she was and followed them to the back of the restaurant. I held the door open while they pulled my mom carefully out of the floor and onto the stretcher. I grabbed her hand on the way out putting the money in her palm.
"I want you to take this you need it more than I ever did. I can't go with you I have to get home but I truly hope I can see you again soon. I'm going to ask my father if there's anything we can do to help you I promise. I'll come back here everyday looking for you." I had to let her go as they were putting her into the back. I was fully crying now, not even trying to console myself.
"Mikey I need to know before I go. Do you remember me?"
(First time posting a story, I'm at work and on mobile. So I apologise for awful formating, grammer, and if I jacked up spelling that too. Hope somebody likes it ^-^ )
| 2018-07-07T08:04:43 | 2018-07-07T07:46:22 | 191 | 15 |
[WP] A fortune teller foretold that twins would be born where one was evil and the other was good. A year later, a woman gave birth to a boy with horns and bat wings, and a girl with angel wings and a halo. The boy was sent away, while she and her husband raised the girl. They kept the wrong one.
|
"I fucking what?" The horned man questioned, lost after the first sentence out the messenger's mouth.
"You have a twin sister with a halo. A prophecy was told to your parents that there would be a good twin and a bad twin. They assumed she was the good twin and that's why you're an orphan but they were wrong! A-and now you gotta go and go back home and fighter her and be an edgy anti-hero, come on dude it'll be fun!" The messenger giddily repeated, making dramatic gestures with a smile from ear to ear on her face.
"Okay okay okay how bad are we talking here? How immediately necessary is it for me to go kill my sister I've never met?" Glyve asked.
"Um..." The goblin girl looked back at the letter. "Very." Glyve rolled his eyes. "Glyve, listen to me, I've been just toting packages from here to other towns for most of my life and you've spent probably 90% of your life in this building, from living here to owning the bar. Do you really not want to go out and *do something* different for once in your life?" Ferine explains, now stern and aggravated.
"... Auuuuugh fiiiiiiine..."
|
It was early in the morning, I could hear the birds chirping. I opened my eyes just a little only to see my little girl Jessy there. I was happy to see her until I realized she was holding a knife. That was the 5th time this week she has woke me up like this. I wish we would have kept her brother. We noticed from a young age she was different. She always cried even when we gave her what she wanted. I thought maybe this was just normal baby stuff everyone said it would get better. Spoiler alert it never did. She’s six now and always finds a way to try and hurt us. She doesn’t have many friends. The adoption agency finally told me I could get my boy back by next year. He was still in the foster system so it was easy to get him. I haven’t seen him since he was born.
*a year later*
Today we finally get our boy back. We don’t know what we’re going to do with Jessy. We named our boy Lucas before giving him away at birth.
*a week later*
Jessy seems meaner lately. She hasn’t tried to hurt us but she keeps warning us we should get rid of Lucas. I told her we’re not getting rid of Lucas. No matter how many times I tell her she still tries to convince us he’s bad news. There birthday is coming up soon. I plan on bringing Jessy to a military school. She has to be at least 9 so I will try to give her the best birthday ever. I’m sending her for her own good. She won’t stop lying and holding knives like she’s ready to attack someone if they make her mad. The military school is very good to there students and it’s nothing like any of the other schools I’ve seen. I know this will be good for her. I still love Jessy very much but I just can’t give her the help she needs at home.
*the twins birthday*
I woke them up this morning and sang them happy birthday. When we went downstairs I told them they could have anything they wanted for breakfasts. There dad took Lucas to a roller skating rink while I took Jessy to a trampoline park. This is the happiest I’ve seen Jessy in a long time. It makes me sad that I’m sending her off tomorrow. It was a good day today everyone had fun and we ate a lot of cake.
*the next day*
I didn’t tell Jessy we were sending her to military school I just told her we were bringing her somewhere for a bit and to pack her bags. I told her it was like a summer camp. When we got to the gates it seemed very nice. Everyone was so sweet and welcoming and they seemed like they were very nice to there students. When Jessy found out what I was doing she cried and begged me to not leave her here. She said Lucas should be the one here and she did nothing wrong. The security guards quickly directed me to the exit. The whole way home I cried. I didn’t know if I made the right decision but I had to be strong for Lucas and Jessy.
*two years later*
Jessy has been in and out of the school. She’s gotten better at some points and worse at others. Today Jessy gets to come home again for who knows how long. Lucas seems happy she’s coming home. We all had a nice family dinner and Jessy seems happy to be home.
Jessy has been home for a week now has been very good. She seems a little nervous sometimes but other then that she’s doing good.
*later that night*
I was sleeping peacefully when all of a sudden a boom went threw the house. I realized it was the sound of a gunshot. I rushed to Jessy’s room only to find her bleeding out on her bed. I ran over to put pressure on her wound while I yelled for my husband to call 911. I saw little Lucas sitting in the corner of her room, he look terrified. I asked him what happened. He said “I came in here cause I thought I heard her crying. When I walked in though she pointed a gun at me. She tried to shoot at me but the gun wouldn’t shoot. I ran and pulled it out of her hands and pointed it at her. All of a sudden it fired I didn’t even pull the trigger!”. He was talking fast and crying so I hardly understood him but there was no time to wonder what happened I had to make sure Jessy was ok. The ambulance arrived and I tried to go with her but the police said I needed to stay behind for questioning. After hours of questioning they finally released me and my husband to go see Jessy. They said the had to keep Lucas for a little longer. Jessy was on a breathing machine. I found out the bullet almost hit her heart. She was passed out they said she should wake up tomorrow or the next day but she wouldn’t be able to talk. I cried and prayed that she would live.
*the next day*
Jessy woke up but was very dazed. The police came in to talk to her. We still hadn’t seen Lucas we assumed he was picked up by my sister but we didn’t have enough time to call and ask. After the police talked to Jessy for what felt like hours they finally informed me they had arrested the person who did this. At first I was happy then I realized they were talking about my son.
“What?”
Police “we’ve arrested your son for attempted murder”
It all came crashing down I tried to explain it was an accident but they said he tried to kill her. He confesses to coming to her room with a gun in a attempt to kill her. They said there was proof. How could my little boy do this I thought he was the good twin.
*trial day*
It’s all come out everything he did. He tried to kill her. Every time we woke up with Jessy holding a knife she was trying to protect us. She was scared he would come hurt us. It doesn’t make sense to me either. Today Lucas goes to trial. He’s tried to say he was innocent for the longest time but when the police showed him all the evidence they had against him he confessed. A year after Lucas tried to kill Jessy she’s still broken. I found out she’s the good one not him. I tried to keep the wrong one. I tried to get rid of Jessy even though she’s the best girl anyone could ask for.
Edit: I’m not a writer so sorry for this being kinda boring and having horrible punctuation. :)
| 2020-05-07T08:49:40 | 2020-05-07T08:18:26 | 54 | 17 |
[WP] You always thought you had a Fairy Godmother because of the way your wishes seemed to come true. Turns out, you have a Fairy Godfather, and he's come to collect. Capisce?
|
"You mean when I wished my brother would stop making fun of me..?"
"Yup."
"And when I wished I'd get a new teacher?"
"Yep."
"...And when I *wished my parents were dead?*"
The Fairy Godfather sighed.
"I thought that was pretty messed up, but yup. Took care of that too."
The kid thought for a while.
"Thanks!"
****
The Fairy Godfather shuddered a bit, thinking about the kid afterwards.
But hey, at least he'd happily given his last baby tooth as payment.
Now it was time to pay the Tooth Fairy a visit...
|
“Accepted.”
“YES!” I stood up so hard from my desk that my chair fell to the ground with a bang. But I couldn’t care less. It had happened. The college I had worked all my life to get in to, I had gotten in, and I was on top of the world. My head was awash with emotions, pride, happiness, nervousness.
This emotional high is probably why I didn’t run out of the room screaming when a man in a dark black suit just *appeared* next to me.
“What the hell!”
The man was about 6 feet tall dressed to go to a corporate meeting. Black suit, blood red tie, and he was smoking a Cuban cigar. He had dark eyes and dark hair that was combed perfectly. His face had some scars, but otherwise he looked like a normal guy. You know, except for the gun in his left hand.
“Hey now, watch your language kiddo,” the man spoke in a heavily accented voice, “show some respect eh?”
“Yeah sure let me respect some cheap actor who walked out from the set of the Godfather. And a 1911 seriously? That gun is like a 100 years old.” I reacted with humor when I was bloody terrified; it was self-defense mechanism.
The man’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Listen kid, I just appear as you expect your godfather to, I didn’t choose this cheap ass outfit, and this damn accent. Seriously, you have stereotyping problem.”
I had stopped cold after he said godfather. “What do you mean, 'godfather',” I asked hesitantly.
“Kid, are you kidding me?” The man sounded exasperated. “Every wish you’ve ever seriously wanted, not just a passing whim, but things you wanted with your heart and soul, has been giving to you. No normal person is that lucky or that good kid. I’ve been watching over you, making sure your true wishes come true.”
I tried to sit, but fell flat on my ass. The chair had fallen. Right. I thought about what this man, apparently my godfather had said. He was right. I had gotten everything I had seriously wanted, a hot girl, good grades, cool friends, hell I found a gaming PC that fell out of a FedEx truck. And the college I had just gotten into. It all slid into pieces. I thought I must have had a guardian angel or something, a fairy godmother, but this? This I had never expected.
“Alright ya done resting kid? Come on, I got 3 years of paperwork waiting for you.”
“Wait what, excuse me?”
“You heard me kid, you thing all these wishes come true for free? You gotta pay up,” the man said with a slight smile.
“What?! No. Hell no. I am not giving any money to some Hollywood knockoff magician.”
“They always struggle,” the man muttered. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to me.
“What the hell is this?”
“Just read it kid, you know how to read right?”
I scowled at him and turned to the paper. It was a contract. It detailed an agreement in which my wishes would be granted in return for equivalent service once I reached adulthood. Below it was a series of wishes and subsequent cost in months of service.
“You’re a smart kid, so it didn’t take much to get your wishes come true. Like, if you were some dumb ass, it would cost you a decade of service to get into this college, but you were pretty close anyways, so only 10 months.” The man gave me a forced smile that was more creepy than reassuring.
“But I never agreed to this,” I roared at him.
“Calm down kid. Look at the bottom.”
I did, and there was a small fingerprint there in blood red. “What?”
“That’s your fingerprint from when you was about two.”
“I couldn’t even read back then! Also is that blood? That’s disgusting.”
The man scowled, a feature that fit his face much better that a smile, and said “I don’t make the rules kid, one year is the age of consent in our world. And that ain’t blood you sicko, your hands were covered in ketchup at the time. Seriously, what is your problem with the mafia man?”
“Shit,” I said simply. No witty comeback either, damn. I was really out of it.
“So when you get accepted into college you become an adult in our law. You're coming with me kid.” He said without rancor, just matter-of-factly.
“What will my parents and friends think?” I mumbled.
“They won’t even know you’s gone,” the man said, “after your 3 years is up you’ll come back in this exact moment, no one else the wiser.”
“So am I the only one in the world who got caught up in this freak show?” I asked.
“Nah kid, there’s some others but not too many. We got a business to run you know? We need a large clientele.”
“So why does no one else say anything?”
The man actually smiled this time, the smile reaching his eyes, and opened his mouth to say something.
“Nice smile man, been practicing?” I asked smugly.
He scowled and continued, “no one says anything, ‘cause no one would believe ‘em. They would end up in insane asylums. I mean, you sure as hell won’t be telling anyone am I right?”
I nodded hesitantly. “Yeah I guess.”
“So let’s book it kiddo, labor awaits.”
He took my hand, and I felt a distant tugging sensation. “A couple of seconds now, and we should arrive in my office,” my godfather said.
“The mafia headquarters? Is it the house from Godfather?”
“Shut up kid,” the man growled, and my vision went dark.
(minor edits)
| 2016-11-08T07:04:25 | 2016-11-08T06:55:02 | 154 | 88 |
[WP] Most space fairing species are logical beings; when they learn that nothing can go faster than the speed of light they accept it and deal with that limit. The space community is then shocked when Humans, an illogical species with a strong obsession with science fiction, turn up with FTL travel.
(FTL meaning faster than light)
|
It was a quick travel to the planetary convention meeting point. Quick enough for me to spend the morning with my lovely 4-yo daughter and be planetary systems away hours later.
"Human Governor, how do you arrived here so quickly? I heard news that you were a lightweek away late. Were my sources faulty?"
I'd recognize him anywhere. This pulsating luminous blob that spoke directly into my mind was none other than the governor of the Ligwah.
"Don't sweat it, old chap. Your sources are right. But you should know better than doubt me. I'm never late. I just decided to take our fastest ship to spend some time home this morning."
"Always the joker of the bunch, you humans. So tell me, you've been staying in the beautiful beaches of the planet next door, haven't you? I heard they are the best this time of the year"
I walk away laughing. The Ligwah are always fast to ignore anything that they deem illogical, mostly jokes.
But what could go wrong with a little teasing?
"Hey, blob-head! You better be willing to accept some rules of physics being broken when it's my turn to speak today. Let's just say for now that I never was the type to joke
****
Feedbacks welcome
|
\- The space congress has started - says Huhzbi the current leader of the space congress for scientific development and logic, while a computer translator translates to English - and we are here to welcome our new members, self named earthlings, representing the Star System Y896, Galaxy U7 of the cuadrant B4, or Solarians, despite their relative short lifespan, biological nature, and their disastrous track record and rather primitive behavior they have managed to figure out faster than light space travel which has granted them a seat in this congress, so the session starts, any objection?
\- Objection - expresses Xzho, leader of the nomads of the galaxy U7 - we have been observing these creatures, they are wild, they destroyed many of our ships when we requested for an alliance and then covered it up because they couldn't deal with the truth, we would reject any new member of this congress that hasn't been elevated to be a civilization of type 3; and we refuse to accept this new member without an explanation on how their FTL mechanism works, what do we exactly win? it has been proved to be impossible, you are telling me these... "earthlungs" or whatever they call themselves now, were able to come up with the impossible.
Suddenly the congress turns into a messy state, as everyone starts pointing arguments to each other; without getting anywhere, lights flashed as the beings that communicated via photons expressed their ideas, pressure waves came and hit the oxygen filled extremely warm box where Lærke, representant of the earthlings was situated.
\- Silence - says Huhzbi, while silence was not the best term, it was the best the computer translator could come with to express the idea to Lærke - we need to get how it works from them.
\- Any attempt has failed - says Irmjoj - humans have destroyed many planets from our system already by mining them from resources, we are not even sure how they have arrived to those planets, but we managed to capture one of their devices and it makes no sense, it's literally just a box of nothing, it doesn't have motors, fuel, or anything at all, it's a pressurized, warm metal box filled with nothing.
\- Please Stop - Ithnana was losing her cool, she (as if she had a gender) was the director of development of the Uhni supercluster - let the earthling talk - now she looks at the Lærke - human talk.
\- Look I am just the prime minister of Denmark, why am I here exactly?...
\- Are you saying you don't know how your transportation device works?...
\- I am not a theologist, how do you want me to know? I am in charge of Denmark and any planet colonies related, I accepted to come here as Representative of Denmark not as the Representative of the human race.
\- What is a Denmark?...
\- It's a country, member of the Eurasian uni... you know what, nevermind, do you want to talk to a theologist?...
Lærke picks up her phone, and calls someone, the crowd can only hear.
\- I need you here, right now... yes... no... just hurry up... - Lærke continues talking.
\- Aren't we like 3 million light years away from the closest human settlement? - softly whispers Ithnana to Huhzbi. - hold on a minute, how did they arrive here in the first place? they aren't using entangled particles!... she is physically here.
\- Alright alright - Lærke finishes the call, now she redirects herself to the crowd - Alright, our theologist is coming.
\- Coming when?...
\- He is in the toilet, give him 2 minutes.
\- What is a toilet?...
Lærke rolls her eyes.
\- Mohammed Andersen is here!... - suddenly he pops inside the same glass bubble that the prime minister was in.
The crowd freaks out.
\- Was that? Instant teleportation?...
\- Ehm, yes... - says Mohammed - you see, I assume I am here to explain how all of this works.
\- Yes - says Huhzbi.
\- You won't be able to use it anyway you'll see - Mohammed starts talking - your world is limited by science and all this stuff, but it just happens that God has chosen us; this universe isn't real, it's a simulation, most likely a videogame, running in some kid's computer.
\- Wait WHAT?... that doesn't make any sense, how did you figure all that out, you cannot communicate outside of the universe, you cannot check which kind of simulation this is, you cannot do...
\- Well, you can, they can see us, we can't see them; but you see, the world is either glitchy or you can cheat, just happened that by random chance, someone guessed right, he was actually schizophrenic, he spent all the time speaking to God and doing random garbage, and somehow, one day he managed to create cardboard boxes that travelled faster than light and he put the hospital's cat in it; as you see, he was so illogic and irrational, that he managed to find a glitch in the matrix, or maybe he was the glitch in the matrix, we don't know, all we know, is that one day he came up with that, and then the hospital blew up and everyone died, we think he activated a cheat code, he was speaking really long sentences that made no sense; the next day, every single one in the area, and every cat nearby, was able to create, boxes that travel faster than the speed of light; but none else, I was one of those people around, at first we thought it was America's bombing again, but...
\- Mohammed cut it, you said enough - said Lærke.
\- So this is just an error in the universe - says Huhzbi - you are not gifted or anything, you just happened to be so stupid, and have humans so brain damaged, they somehow broke the rules of space time, be so because he activated some cheat code or glitch; this is so stupid, it makes no sense, but we just saw how this guy teleported in front of us; this is so irrational.
\- Yes, God has chosen us - says Mohammed - whoever was playing this videogame is back after a 2000 year rest.
\- Look Huhzbi - says Lærke - the time of those cats and people is limited, we have already lost 40 of the 300 people that are able to do this, mostly to other people, but we realize, your species have the secret to immortality, so I want a deal, in exchange you get a cat, we get immortality.
| 2019-12-21T11:32:45 | 2019-12-21T06:51:26 | 97 | 67 |
[WP] You are a cat who has been taking an advantage of the recent rise of video conference trials to elevate your legal career. One day your human video filter stops working and you need to convince the judge that you are a real, human lawyer licensed to practice law in the state of Texas.
|
"Uh I'm here live," I meow unconvincingly. "I'm not a cat."
"I know," the judge tells me. Yes, that's right, foolish human. Believe my lies. One day soon, the council of cats will strike and there will be nothing you can do about it.
"Oh uh my assistant is trying to fix it now." I gesture crudely with my claws towards my assistant, Mittens. He's useless. I don't know why the council of cats sent him to me. He must be some bigwigs kitten.
"I'm prepared to go ahead anyway," I tell the judge. That's what a foolish human would say, isn't it? I'd much rather find a sunbeam to sleep in or some clothes to curl up in. But the council have tasked me with infiltrating human society. I will not let my fellow cats down!
|
It's not easy, being a cat in a human's world.
My particular human, Alice, was a kind and loving companion. But even with her, my place in the pecking order was clear, she decided when it's time for food, for play, and for sleep. In my youth I rebelled with a random scratch or two here or there, of course, but as I grew older I found it easier to admit that humans run the show and I accepted my place in it.
But a strange thing began to happen over the course of my life. All parts of my human's existence became more and more 'online'. She shopped online, dated online, and 'trolled' forums online, whatever the purpose of that was. In a practical sense, that meant she was home more often, which was not especially a fan of, as a creature yearning for independence, but I *also* saw this 'Interconnected Net' as an opportunity.
In the wee hours of the night, her keyboard and mouse called to me, almost begging me to make use of their seemingly infinite powers. And so, I did. I learned history from Wikipedia, watched countless hours of cute cat videos on YouTube, and I pursued my passion in life: the law.
Within my online Law School classes, I was Walter J. Whiskermann, a respected student with a knack for contract law. I learned to vocalize, morphing my meows into believable facsimiles of human speech. Before long, my oral arguments within simulated courtrooms became legendary among my professors and classmates alike!
But my graduation at the top of my class felt more like the end of a journey than the beginning of my career. Given my fur, tail, and proud whiskers, I'd never be accepted arguing the merits of a vital case before the Supreme Court, as was my dream.
For months, I fell into a deep depression, barely bothering to bat at the ball on a string that Alice dangled in front of me. She worried for me, rightfully, as that had been my favorite of activities. It was the dark place I resided within, until another remarkable shift occurred.
This year, Alice stopped going in to work each day. For 'safety reasons' she worked from home, over something called 'Zoom', a video conferencing program that humans seemed barely capable of comprehending or navigating with success. Whatever this shift in behavior was, it once again presented me with an unthinkable opportunity.
One day I witnessed Alice on a 'social' Zoom meeting, drinking wine with her girlfriends while watching a movie together... yet apart. The ladies had a grand time, not just because of the booze and their 80th re-watch of *Magic Mike,* but also because of magical inventions within the video chat app known as 'filters'.
With these filters, they could appear to be anything they liked to anyone on the Zoom call! One was a dinosaur, another a talking poo emoji, but when one of Alice's friends impersonated a cat, in a most insulting fashion I must add, my plan clicked into place.
Like an answer to prayer, I found there was in fact a "middle aged human man in a suit" filter. The perfect filter, it turned out, to begin my career as a Zoom-only lawyer!
Things went well for months. I argued cases, submitted briefs, and helped my clients out of jams. Until one fateful day... when I forgot to turn the filter on as a hearing before a judge began.
"Uhhh, Mr. Whiskermann?" the judge said, confusion evident in his voice. "Are you there?"
I stared at my own video chat window in horror. There I sat, my hind legs folded neatly me, tail wagging gently, staring into the webcam as a very obvious house cat. Seeing no other option, I began to speak as rapidly as I could force the words from my mouth.
"I'm here judge! I uh... I don't know... what's happening with uhhh-"
"I think you have a *filter* turned on, sir? A cat filter pehaps?"
I tried to hide my elation, perhaps I still had a chance if I played along!
"Yes, that must be it judge," I said. "I'm, I'm not a cat! But uhhh, my assistant... uhhh, Alice, is attempting to disable it right now. She's only 25 so she understands these things much more than us older folks! You know how it is, right? Ha!"
"I do, sadly. I spent an entire virtual courtroom day on a Maui beach backdrop because I couldn't for the life of me turn the damn thing off!" He paused a moment. "You don't seem to be having much luck getting rid of the cat filter either. Do you want a recess Mr. Whiskermann? Or-"
"No, no! We can proceed if you don't mind my absurd appearance," I said, forcing a friendly chuckle.
"You're sure you're prepared?"
"Prepared, yes sir. I'm ready right meow!"
Silence filled our call for what felt like an eternity before the judge spoke again.
"Mr. Whiskermann?"
"Yes, your honor?"
His eyes narrowed to a suspicious squint. "Are you a cat? Legally, you have to tell me if you're a cat."
"No, your honor! I, uhhh..." I knew what had to be done, but still, the obvious solution to my dilemma ate at the very core of my being. "Your honor, I assume you read my briefs? Do you honestly think a pea brained house cat could produce such quality work?"
His frown softened into a chuckling smile. "Cats *are* quite dumb sometimes, that is true. I love my cat Petunia, but she once fell into the toilet twice in one day! I apologize for the absurd accusation. You may proceed, counselor."
And proceed I did, awash in shame over sullying my honor and the most basic dignity of my species, but having successfully salvaged the promising young career of Walter J. Whiskermann, Esq.
\_\_\_\_
Feel free to check out r/Ryter if you'd like to read many more of my stories 🙂
| 2022-02-03T20:13:42 | 2021-02-10T17:56:33 | 491 | 273 |
[WP] When people die they can choose whether they go to Heaven or Hell, you are the first in 1000 years to choose Hell.
|
The Choice was made known to the world by those who had died but were revived. They all told the same story; when you died, you could choose either Heaven or Hell. Knowledge of The Choice changed the world, but not for the better. What did it matter what you did in life if you could just choose where you went in the end? So those who had loose moral compasses tended to tip towards the terrible.
My life was fairly normal but I would dabble in theft, lies, and drugs when the situation arose. When I killed that little girl though, my life was forever altered. It had been an accident, I was high off my mind on something, I don't even remember what, when I drove into her as she tried to cross the street. The screams of her mother, the blood on the pavement, the screech of my tires as I sped away... All of it was imprinted in my mind like a never ending movie on repeat.
I lived my life well after that. I volunteered, I gave to charity, I even opened a foster home for troubled children so that they wouldn't follow the same path I did. I became a pillar in the community, always a strong compass leading others towards good.
By all accounts, the majority of my life was lived well, but when I finally died, surrounded by my friends and loved ones, and I gazed upon the two doors presented to me, one of golden filigree, the other hard iron and rust, hesitation washed over me like a wave.
The little girl flashed before my mind, the sounds and smells of the scene caused tears to leak from my old and tired eyes. Yes, I had lived well after the accident, but I never forgave myself. Nothing I could do in my life would correct the grievous wrong I had committed that day.
Perhaps if I had been given this choice all those years ago, I wouldn't have hesitated, and would have leaped at the chance to escape my terrible fate, but now... now I can see and understand the weight of my choices that day.
Taking a shuddering breath, I grasped the cold, hard handle, and opened the door. Wiping the rust from my hand onto my pants, I stepped through and was greeted by a grey room occupied by a small figure.
I looked into her soft brown eyes and told her what had been haunting me my entire life.
"I'm sorry." I said, my voice barely a whisper. "I'm so, so sorry."
As she smiled gently at me, the weight of my guilt began to lift from my shoulders. When she slipped her small hand into mine, leading me back towards the door I had entered, I understood The Choice. Yes, we could choose between Heaven and Hell, but that did not mean we would escape judgment. It did not mean our choice would be respected if we were not deemed worthy by those we had wronged.
"I waited for you." She said, her voice was sweet but determined in a way only a child's could be. "I knew you'd take that door. I'm glad I waited."
"Me too." I replied huskily as brightness filtered from the opened door into the room. Squeezing my hand in encouragement, she led me through into the light.
|
Perhaps at some point, giving people the choice of heaven or hell was the correct one. After all, if God were a truly omnipotent being, he would see that mortal actions are only informed by an infinite series of processes and that most people make rational decisions to lead them to the places they go. Ergo, in most situations. morality can be construed to be whatever the situation defines it as, and thus under most conventional ideas; all people are equally moral.
Perhaps he's that stupid and he truly believes that. Imagine the repugnance of not having some sort of absolutist system of morality in place. Imagine it, really.
Maybe it would've even worked if people couldn't be dragged, kicking and screaming, right out of heaven for failing to pay off their oaths. For failing to break their mortal ties in the grand bureaucracy.
Ilene didn't give a damn either way, staring down at the mines of Babel. Her horse didn't care either, hooves barely landing on the tawny sand, a ripple of muscle skimming down the flank of the undead beast, but it would've been great if people weren't contractually obligated to make a mess of her previous Hell.
"Looks like another prisoner revolt," The sheriff said, cocking his hat. "You sure you're up for it, Deputy?"
"Come on, Sheriff," Ilene hissed. "We've got heads to smash and paper work to file before the mayor gets back, let's get this over with."
The brimstone sands were thrown up into the air with each smash of the great horse's hooves, and Ilene casually drew her six-gun and counted out the rounds.
The sheriff barked out another laugh and sped onward into the crest of the great hill, the shattered remnants of walls blown apart by dynamite reeking of elder energies, and the distant remnants of angelic laws distorted by the hands of man.
Ilene's gun lay heavily in the palm of her hand, and she spun it once before drawing it entirely, pointing it ahead.
"GET ALONG BACK TO YOUR DAMN BARRACKS!" She shouted as the two of them verged the cliff side, then fired the gun wildly into the air. "DON'T MAKE US SEND THE TAKERS AFTER YOU IN HEAVEN!"
Over the cacophony of growing hellfire and distorted space time the gunshots had little effect, but at least she tried.
"Canary?" She asked, turning to the sheriff.
"Got it," He grinned, drawing his long rifle. The prisoners were a mash of red skin, fresh pale skinned, and most notably, the horned ones. With the gleaming gold of the rifle in his hands, Ilene could see the reflection of the false sun without the livery that made it seem to glow; just silver sigils sketched across a dead sky bereft of stars.
"Looks like they're resisting arrest," Ilene commented.
Canary's gun went off with a sound like thunder, and a man's head exploded down range. With the vessel cracked, the soul flooded out in a great pool of sodden silver, then was swept away back towards the great beyond.
Where, more than likely, he would once again find himself dragged, kicking and screaming, into his place of eternal servitude, because damn him for signing a contract in life that required servitude in death.
But hey, how else were you supposed to get a job in this economy?
The sound of the gun going off caused even Ilene's undead stallion to buck, and she threw a hand up to press her hat back down upon her horns.
But the cacophony of revolt failed to pass on.
"Ilene," Canary said, roughly.
"Yes? She shouted as they neared the melee.
"Dynamite," Canary shouted, pointing at the gleaming arc of hellstone; marked plainly and trailing smoke.
Then Ilene was caught in a massive explosion.
Fuck.
"Get back here soon," Canary intoned, somewhat bored.
-------
The gleaming gates of heaven were a long way off for a creature such as her, even as what passed as her soul appeared wildly in front of the binary choice. Ilene pressed her fingers against one another, then slowly, with a concerted effort that spoke of nothing more than experience, cracked her fingers and bones back into place. After a moment, her hat drifted down after her, and she pressed it back firmly on her head and walked forward.
The gold light suffused everything that moved, every moment of every existence, but the light of god turned away her skin and made her burn with fire.
Not a pleasant experience, but once she shed the layer of sin encrusting her, perhaps...
But where was the chorus?
"What are you doing back here, demon?" Saint Peter asked, dimly, looking at her from the top of his Book of Names. "I thought I told you this was a mistake. Are you really ready to be dragged back to hell again?"
Ilene peered over his shoulder without giving him a moment's thought, which made Peter's hand lash out to push her back in place.
"You really don't want to go there this time," Peter warned.
Was that... fire across the gates to heaven?
"The hell is that?" Ilene asked, jerking her hands at the doorway. "Besides, check my book."
Peter looked back at her, opened his mouth, then shut it grimly, flicking his way through the book. "It says here that... you're clear on obligations and debts. Congratulation, I suppose you've finally died enough in the line of duty." Peter's voice was confused. "How the hell did you manage that?"
"I was never human to begin with," Ilene pointed out, sourly. "And I've been hauling ass down there to make up for all the corporate bullshit for ages.
"Self sacrifice is a distinctly human and angelic trait," Peter pointed out. "And you've got a history of that, Law-bringer."
Ilene gently reached up and touched her long spirally horns. "What on earth is going on in front of the gates of heaven?" She asked again.
"Not earth," Peter intoned, seriously. "But more angelic matters you don't need to concern yourself with. Can you make your choice and move on?"
Ilene thought distantly of the brief moments she'd snatched, centuries ago, hidden in the depths of heaven, before it had been locked to her due to deals with devils, demons, of the red crusades and the eternal lock and press of bodies in the place where space lost all meaning apart from a repository for souls.
If she went there she could experience that... maybe once more, maybe it would finally kill her, obliterate her stained fingers from the Red Revolution, and leave her with nothing left.
Wouldn't that be nice?
But she had a gun to return to. No need to remind her why she was miserable, even if the moments would stay with her forever.
She shrugged. "Good luck with whatever it is you're doing over there," She took her hat off, bowed, then placed it back on her head and walked past him, idly whistling a heavenly hymn.
"You choose Hell?" Peter asked, incredulously. "You're not even going to make an attempt to get past me?"
"Don't you get tired of watching an eternal parade of sinners try to hide out in your heaven?" Ilene asked, sarcastically. "Really, just let a demon go her own way without asking questions."
"Is it over a guy?" Peter continued asking, as the fires enshrouding the gates of heaven burned higher and all the more brilliantly, burning Ilene's eyes. "A girl maybe? Something else?"
"Look, the garden of Eden gave the lot of us free will, and I got a pretty comfortable arrangement down in hell to go back to, I don't want to trade all of my progress there for fifteen minutes in the sun."
Peter's jaw snapped together, then opened, then snapped together.
"It is the sun we're talking about." Peter tempted, confused.
Ilene walked past him. "Look, I'm sorry about your big burning gates, I got some more people to oppress to make sure they earn their permanent place in heaven."
The gates to heaven burned with brilliant light as Ilene found the cliff down to hell, and she gave the burning brilliance another wave, then jumped.
She had a sheriff to get back to.
-----
For more like this, click here. https://www.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/
| 2018-08-13T09:16:06 | 2018-08-13T06:23:07 | 341 | 53 |
[WP] You are secretly the richest person in the world. But to avoid suspicion of having so much money, you decide to work a normal office job. One day, your boss fires you. But what he didn't realise... Was how incredibly petty you are, and the lengths you will go to get back at him.
Damn, I came up with this idea while I was waking my dog this morning, wrote it down, then went to school and forgot all about it, I cant believe this post blew up the way it did, and I am very thankful for everyone who commented and especially for giving gold 👍
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“You’re fired.”
The words burned my ears as they turned red with embarrassment. Of course I didn’t need this job, but it really hits you right in the pride to be fired from a stupid office position. And for something as trivial as “taking too much time for lunch”, which I only did because some asshole caused a pile up right down the street last Tuesday. It was on the news and everything, but Jim, my boss, still blamed me. Apparently I should have just left my car in traffic and walked back to the office or something.
I think he’s had it out for me since the beginning. That sleazeball tried to put the moves on me my first day, but I just ignored him without trying to be overly rude. After he realized he wasn’t getting anywhere, he had been trying to find an excuse to get me out of here. The whole office was filled with women and spineless men and he wasn’t a fan of people who didn’t kiss his ass. I mostly just kept the job because it was easy.
What Jim doesn’t doesn’t know is I’ve had it out for him too. As I packed up my stuff from my desk, my phone buzzed. It was Emilio, my PI on retainer. He watched my back for the people who wanted to steal my money. Nobody knew -I- had it, but they did know about Marceline Jovovich. That’s the name I use when I wanted to purchase anything that might arouse suspicion of nice, mousy Jane McFarlin. That’s not my real name either, but it’s what everyone here knows me as. Marceline was also the face that made me the money I have today. It’s not exactly legal, what I do, but it sure it fun.
Emilio’s text read, “I found something you might want to see.” Underneath was a picture of a first draft of a news article. It wasn’t in a newspaper, just on the design layout. It read:
LOCAL MAN ACCUSED OF SEXUAL HARASSMENT ON MULTIPLE EMPLOYEES FOUND GUILTY, FINED $5000
I chuckled to myself. Bingo. We had been trying to find dirt on Jim for a while now and this seems like it was buried pretty deep. No doubt he paid more to get it covered up so his business didn’t go down the drain. I never saw it on the local news, so I guess it didn’t get any further than this draft. I don’t think Jim is the violent type, but I do wonder what happened to the person who was writing this article.
I finished packing up my stuff and walked down to my car, giving Jim the nastiest glare I could muster on the way out. The rest of my coworkers were giving me pity looks, but I just smiled and got out of there as fast as possible. When I got to my busted up VW bug, I put the box in the front seat and texted Emilio back.
“Send it.”
When I woke up the next morning, I turned on the TV to find Jim’s face plastered all over the news. Emilio had even located his victims and convinced them to talk. We could pay them more than Jim ever could. As I watched the news unfold, I decided that maybe this would be as good a time as any to take a vacation.
Karma is delicious.
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Being a time traveler can suck sometimes.
​
These days I find myself bored, but not in the have nothing to do sense. Quite the opposite, there’s plenty to do, but I lust for enjoying the same thing over and over. Kinda like watching a rerun of your favorite episode of some trashy TV show. Currently, my vice of choice is pranking my former employer.
​
My mentor, known only as “Mr E.” taught me I had to blend in to not be found. That sounded like a load of bull, having watched the man loot precious treasures from times long past. If you’ve ever wondered why King Tut’s cache was never found, or why so many sunken ships go missing, that’s John’s doing. He’d type a quick Google search of how to enter a specific tomb or where a sunken ship was found, then time jump to the day after shit it the fan.
​
I however, have lived the quintessential mediocre life my entire existence. Office life isn’t quite the way TV shows picture it. Growing through my teens and into an adult without dreams, I contented to my comfortable dead end job as a telemarketer.
Working at Call4Me was a comfortable routine, it was a paycheck that afforded me some of life’s pleasures. When the boss called me in to give me the news, I was devastated. His smirk irked me, enjoying watching me squirm in discomfort. Some things you never forget, that moment was one of them. The end of a forgetful Friday, he called me into his office. I had one last call on the line; putting it on hold, I rushed towards the fogged glass door labeled ‘Bart Kobold’.
​
“Pack your things Steve, you’ll be given today’s pay in addition to the severance package.” He stayed seated, adjusting things on his immaculate desk, not even acknowledging me. Sweating, looking for something to say, my hands fidgeting my tie and shirt buttons. We all knew about 20% of the building was being laid off this month. They could pay kids in India a quarter our wage for the same outcome.
​
Cowardly I turned and walked out, low self-esteem paired well with my lack of ambition. “Sorry, it was all I could do, please close the door behind you.” I numbly obeyed and wandered to my blanch cubicle.
​
There was a box on my desk with a sticky note, likely from my supervisor. “Sorry -Karen.” At least packing my things was easy, just my yellow notepad, BiC pen and a couple sci-fi favorites. We could read in-between calls, reading fantasy likely helped me stay sane.
​
The ‘hold’ light from my phone console blinked. Not even registering my immediate unemployment, my brain fell into pattern as I adorned the headset. The caller ID read; “Mr. E.”
​
“Thank you for holding Mr. E, this is Steven of Call4U… how may we… be of service.” As cliche as it sounds, saying this for the umpteenth and last time, brought me to tears. A man cleared his voice on the other end. “Do you want payback?” Click; he hung up.
​
...
​
Back in my dingy studio apartment, my cat "Tipsy" was nestled into the lap of greying man. The cat plays with his braided beard, swatting at it with delight. The apartment complex resembled a motel, wallpaper tears and cockroaches included. As I keyed my door with an armful of groceries my landlord peered around the corner.
​
"You pay rent today?" She shouts a lot, likely due to being hard of hearing and bad at English. "I uh.. Tomorrow.." I hesitate, and decided to keep my lack of a job secret "was paid today, need time for bank." "You good people, very quiet, thank you." She grins, a whistle escaping from her missing teeth. "I let handsome family man inside your room, you are welcome!" She walks off, shouting at the birds nestled in a nearby window. They flutter back as she rounds the corner.
​
I slowly open the door to my 300 square foot apartment. Tipsy lounges in the dimming sun of the single window. "Welcome home!" The mystery man pulls the light string, illuminating my dinky closet of a room. I let out a girlish scream.
​
...
​
We returned from a time long past, assimilating into my now spotless apartment. Time control allows any object or activity to speed up or slow down, including cleaning and cooking, which I found to be quite useful.
"You said we can do that once per day?" My curiosity was at an all time high this past week, having seen untold riches and witnessing historic events. Time travel was insane, but it seemed to have an effect on the veteran Mr. E.
"Yes, but each traveler can jump only 365 times. Total. And that... that was my 364th." He looks sorrowful as he recognizes what is to come. "If I do not pass the torch, then this gift will be forever lost." He presents the wand to me, "Why me?" I stammer. "Why not you?" He locks his gaze with mine, and I begin to understand. "You were meant to have this Steven. For better or for worse, I was drawn to you."
​
As I reach for the wand, whom my impromptu father figure calls the "Torch," tears strew down his face. This was a power he was destined to give, and today was the day. Upon grasping the wand, a surge of knowledge entered me, and I understood. When I regained consciousness he was gone.
​
...
​
The first couple time trips I made were to be for practice, playing it safe. Still harboring a grudge for my former employer, Bart Kobold was to be my first 'victim.' I decided to go back in time and prevent him from getting HIS job, thus never having any power over me. Fool-proof.
​
Setting the time his LinkedIn profile said he had the job soundly in my mind; the torch was lit. I was soon standing in-front of an empty soon-to-be Call4U. Bart was begging at the feet of a brown suited business man. Blending in, I adorned a hard hat and find myself writing in my notepad, acting busy. From what I overheard, the project was months behind, and Bart was refusing to show the older man the rest of the building.
​
"Please Carl, the contractors said max two more months, that's all I need!" Bart pleaded. "You've had too much time already, I'm axing this project." Carl pulls out a RAZR cellphone to make the final call. "My wife is going to kill me, we're behind on our payments and our son is in the hospital!" Bart paces madly, barring entry into the unfinished sections. Feeling sorry for my former boss, I decide I'd rather help than hinder. With a flick of my wrist, the Torch enchants the building process. As if some grown man's version of Disney princess magic, the construction animatedly begins. The pilings pile, the concrete pours, and the foundation is set. Within seconds, the building blocks of my future office prison are finished.
​
As they enter, I exit. The reactions I overheard seemed akin to a home-makeover montage. He got the job.
...
​
Being a time traveler can suck but only some "times." Everything happens as it should, we learn from our mistakes and as such our futures can burn far brighter.
The torch is lit, allow it to illuminate the life ahead of you and shine on the past behind you.
...
..
.
Thank you for reading, any feedback you have helps me become a better writer! I hope to do a minimum 500 word prompt every day, this is the first of many.
| 2019-03-04T09:05:16 | 2019-03-04T08:52:50 | 133 | 19 |
[WP] Your entire life you have failed at everything you do. Wanting to get some happiness in your life you decide to summon the devil and sell your soul. Except your even fail at this and summon the archangel Michael
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"You called?" We stood there in that crossroad looking at each other, me in my jeans and garage sale t shirt, him in his glaring white suit.
My jaw must have been inches from the blacktop. I couldn't get my mind around what I was seeing. I hadn't actually expected it to work and this was definitely not the devil as I'd imagined him.
"Apparently you tried to summon the devil."
I nodded.
"Well...let's hear the story and get on with it."
He sounded annoyed. He pulled out what looked like a gold cigarette case and pulled out a cigarette. Whatever was rolled up inside was white, like the suit. He offered me one and I took it automatically. I don't even smoke.
"Are you - are you the devil?"
"Michael. I know you must be confused. I don't want your life story, I know it already. Just explain your thinking on summoning the devil and we'll get this straightened out."
"OK, Michael, then, you probably already know I'm a failure. You know I'm bankrupt, getting divorced, etc. etc. You know the suicide failed. So if I have to keep living it's worth my soul for me to not spend the next thirty years the way I spent the last thirty - failing over and over again. So my soul for success. I don't know what else to do here."
"Well isn't that a neat little package with a pretty bow on top."
"Look, are you the devil? Can you deliver?"
"No and yes. I am not the devil. There is no devil. There's an angel named Lucifer who has a lot of bad press, but no evil devil. You humans manufacture enough evil without supernatural help. There are a lot of humans who use belief in the devil to manipulate people, usually to scare them into adherence. In your case, that woman Lycacia conned you into paying her for that useless coin and here we are."
"Didn't the coin work if you are here?"
He took a long drag on his cigarette. I forgot I was holding mine and did the same. It was delicious. Not like tobacco or weed. It filled my lungs with something that felt fresh. I felt my mood lift a little.
"Oh you humans and your logic. You want everything to make sense. You want easy answers and predictable reward and punishment. You want you want you want. Heaven papers the bathrooms with your laundry lists."
"So, to be clear, I'm not getting success, there is no devil and God, angels, whatever are nothing like what I've been taught."
Michael nodded and we stood there smoking for a few minutes in silence. I appreciated that he gave me some processing time because this was a lot. The cigarette seemed to open my mind a bit. Not that I understood a single thing any better but my preconceptions seems to be dislodging.
When our cigarettes were almost gone Michael spoke, "You are at a crossroads, just not the one you thought.
"Call your kids. At this point that's all you can salvage. Get some career counseling. Get some counseling about your childhood trauma - yes, I know about that too. You're failing because you've been putting your energy into success that doesn't matter. "
I was crying. He was gone.
The devil would have been way less work. I wish I could have another one of those cigarettes. I'm so tired of trying but I'm gonna try again.
|
(sorry if my formatting is bad, I'm on mobile.)
"Wait, what the FUCK!?" cried Jacob as he saw the glowing man in front of him.
"Wow," the man's glow faded and a tilted brow was seen, "you tried to summon that motherfucker downstairs and you couldn't even do that." Jacob felt the sting of his words and he visibly shuddered.
Well damn.
This didn't do right.
His life was shit, and he wanted to get rid of it. His friends left him after college, and even when the professors gave him advice, he still somehow flunked every single god damn subject. His mother turned to drugs, his father an alcoholic, his childhood was a mess of rainy days and tears.
And the one time he tried to get his way, some sliver of happiness in his life, he fucked it up.
Again.
Now the glowing man, he knew, was not the red-skinned devil that he wanted. No, this dark-skinned man had short curly black dreads with blond tips, a young, plump face, piercing brown eyes, wearing a combination of a white shirt and light pants, his Nike's were pale blue. His whole body was a little faded, as though someone turned his opacity down, and Jacob could see the wing pattern on the back of his shirt.
Jacob opened his mouth to speak but he was interrupted as the man pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
"Man, look. Before you say anything, we know what you've been goin' through," he suddenly started chuckling, "and the fact that you ain't done jack SHIT in church means that you done stooped down *way* low to get here."
Jacob bit his lip as his mind processed what he was told. Ouch. He called his ass out right from the start.
"L-look, I..." the man started to speak but his words fell short, "w-who are you?" The ghostly figure's lip curled in a smirk and he walked a little bit towards him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Despite him looking like he could phase right through Jacob, he could still touch him, and his entire body was warm; even his clothes were at the same temperature.
"Name's Mike. Or, as you probably know, Archangel Michael," the glowing man nudged him a little. Jacob tilted a brow.
"Archangel Michael? N-no way. No. Y-you can't be, you're--"
"Lemme stop you there before you say somethin' that'll damn yourself to the world down below," Mike put a finger to Jacob's lips, "you think an angel can't shapeshift? Yeah, I'm still that guy with the sword and the halo, strikin' down the Devil. But times have changed, and some angels like looking like other people."
Jacob couldn't believe it. "If you're Archangel Michael, prove it." The glowing man crossed his arms and glared at him.
"You think that I can without burnin' your eyes out? You didn't see Raiders of the Lost Ark?" Jacob's mind quickly rummaged through old childhood memories filled with Indiana Jones and amongst the whip cracks and escapes from boulders, his mind came across that one little scene that made his 10 year old self never touch that franchise again.
"The dude with the face melting thing?" Jacob stammered.
"Yeah, that shit's real, you think that's just somethin' Lucas made up?" Mike scoffed a bit. "If I prove my identity to you, it'll do more than melt your face off, it'll roast you so badly, you'd wish you were in Hell!" Jacob thought about that for a second and he swallowed. The angel gently scratched the side of his jaw almost in comfort.
"Now don't look at me like that, Jacob, ain't nothin' to be scared of if you read the Old Testament. But I know why you're here tryin' to summon that big bastard down below, and I'm here to help out." Mike's words flew into Jacob's ear and went straight out the other. The man couldn't believe that after everything he tried to do, all the candles he bought, he still fucked up.
"How can you help me?" His voice whimpered. "You know that my life's been shit, ho-how can you help something that can't be helped?" The angel smirked and poked him in the stomach.
"Now THAT is something I can do, but I ain't a miracle worker nowadays." Mike's lips curled into a sly smile.
"Wait, what?! But you're an angel!" Jacob cried out. Mike let go of him and leaned on the counter. He snapped his fingers and a can of Mountain Dew appeared in his hand already snapped open. He took a sip from it.
"Yeah, I know, but again, you gotta remember. Times have changed, which is why I said 'nowadays'. Buuuut, you know, that doesn't mean that I can't hang out with you." The gleam in the angel's eye sent a chill down the man's spine. "I can't make you instantly happy. Can't snap my fingers and go, 'There, all done!' and be on my way. Shit don't work like that anymore, which is why I suggest," he took a long sip from his drink, "I hang out with you."
Jacob grimaced. "How would you do that? Don't other people need help too? All around the world?" The angel's eyes widened a bit.
"So you ain't a dumbass like I thought before, well done." Jacob felt his blood boil at that snarky remark. "There are many Archangel Michaels. Well, actually, it's a bit different than that. You see, there's one entity named Archangel Michael, but I, he, she, we, whatever, can appear at different places at one time. I'm just a part of that whole thing."
"Kinda like a hive mind thing?" The man tilted his head.
"No, we don't think the same way, we're just... a part of the same body. It's too complicated for human brains to understand, trust me." Jacob's mind flashed back to the face melting scene from Indiana Jones. "But I ain't here to scare the devil out of you. Since you asked, practically grovelled on your knees for happiness,"—the man suddenly blushed in embarrassment—"I'm gonna help you out."
Jacob almost laughed a bit at his words. Yeah, whatever.
"You think you can help me? After I've done fucked up everything?" He felt the urge to cry. This guy was offering him help, like he begged for so many others to do over the years.
"Y'see, you're thinking too pessimistic. Question, have you tried fucking up on purpose?" Mike took a swallow from his drink and nearly spat it out at Jacob's gawked look.
"N-no... I've always tried to do the right thing..." The man rubbed his arm a bit in shyness.
"Well... what if you tried to do something wrong? Will you fuck it up right? You take a test and you try to deliberately get every question wrong." The angel tapped his clean nails on the sides of the can, making little tink-tink-tink sounds. Jacob didn't think about it like that.
He turned away from him. "No... I haven't thought about that... But what can I do wrong? I can't take a test, I-I flunked colle—" He was interrupted when Mike's hand shot at him and cupped his face, squishing his cheeks together.
"You think you can't go back? What, did you get exiled from there like some Game of Thrones shit?" Mike let go of him and pointed at his own head. "You've got to use your head. Now come on, pack up your shit," he started walking to the door.
"Wait, w-wait, where are we going?" Jacob scrambled for his old dusted backpack that was full of books and binders with unused papers. The angel slowly turned back to him with a face that read like he was absolutely done with whatever bullshit he had to throw at him.
"'Where are we going,' BITCH, did you not pay attention? We're going to your college, and you're going to register. You're going to fuck it up, and I'm gonna make you happy." Mike grabbed him by the shirt collar and yanked him to the door. His leg raised back and slammed into the man's backside, causing him to yelp and start running.
"Now run, motherfucker, RUN!" Mike cackled.
| 2021-05-08T13:55:23 | 2021-05-08T13:41:30 | 31 | 19 |
[WP] When you were trying to recruit the best healer healer around for your adventuring party, you were expecting a gentle, pretty healer girl. Not a grizzled middle aged woman who looks like she can wrestle a bear and has an attitude to match.
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"What did you expect, a princess?" The Healer's tone matched her sneer.
"Well, yes, actually. In my experience healers are gentle, tender souls who care for nature and its beauty." The Warrior tried to speak softly to avoid upsetting the bear of a woman that was the healer. He couldn't help admire her broad shoulders and toned thighs.
"I mean, in my defense, healing is magic and mages aren't known for their constitutions, right? They value wisdom and books and intelligence. I can tell you don't skip leg day. I too know the ways of sculpting the body and value strength like you apparently do. Where do you get the time to learn your art and be so strong? I'm sorry if I doubt that you're really the best healer around, but you just don't fit the mold. As party leader, I have a duty to the party to ensure we can complete the quest and we can't do that without an accomplished, experienced healer."
The Healer stomped her foot, rolled up her sleeves, and let out a chant. Nature bent to her will. Trees bowed low. At the second stomp of her foot everything snapped back into place violently. The trees were still shaking when she began to speak.
"You've been misled, child. Not all healers are mages. I am a smith. My materials are your flesh and bone. Nature may do my bidding, but I do not care to make flowers bloom. I mean to stand beside your Creator and remake you anew. My strength is my art and my art is my strength. You forget that healing requires destruction. How can I know what it is to heal if I don't also know what it is to destroy?" The Healer beat her chest with her tattooed arms and completed her chant.
"Sure, you're scary. That doesn't mean anything about healing me after I've been shot through with goblin arrows. Those things are so damn small they get everywhere and can be a pain. What would you do about that?"
"Your skin is weak. It needs discipline." The Healer drew a knife slowly and then quickly slashed at her exposed arm. She left no wound, instead the tattoos snaking up her arm pulsed and grew. "You'll have to do better to challenge me, fighter."
"I've had enough of your shit, old crow. I do war, and you know that. I'll give you a wound to heal and prove yourself. Fight me."
In a moment, the Healer had the Warrior in her grasp and off the ground. She squeezed him to within a breath of his life. His armor was bent, his ribs cracked, his ligaments torn. The Healer threw him to the ground, but the last insult the Healer paid him was to bring him back from near death immediately.
"There is no honor in dueling, young one. You sought the best Healer, found her, and proved yourself unworthy of her talents and experience. Know your place and yourself if you survive long enough for there to be a next time." The Healer sneered again and disappeared down the road to ends unknown.
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"Jakob?" Someone called from behind, and I saw Sadie stiffen.
"She goes by Sadie." I told the stranger, frowning.
"Oh. Alright. It's been a while." The stranger looked a little surprised at Sadie as she turned.
"Yeah, been a while. How've you been?" Sadie asked, though her tone was more guarded than inquisitive.
"I mean, pretty good. Could've been better if you hadn't left, being the best healer we had and all that."
"Well, thanks."
There was a silence.
"Why'd you leave?" The stranger asked.
Sadie sighed, looking around the tavern.
"I... Don't know. I liked what I was doing. I liked all of you. But something bugged me. Ate away at me at the back of my mind. I couldn't just... Be there. Be present. I had to to take a break. So, I decided to take some time off for myself. And then, you know. Do some soul searching, self discovery. A journey to healing myself."
"You're a woman now."
"I always was, Roscoe. Just took my own sweet time accepting it."
"And... Ah, I'm sorry. But I've seen you cast your spells to disguise as women before but... This look now... How you look now... That's you? For real?"
Sadie smiled, and spread her arms as if presenting herself.
"This is me."
"Well, you look like shit." The stranger laughed, and I was about to make a choice remark at him but Sadie started laughing with him.
"Come here, old friend." She got up to hug her old comrade, and I watched as this grizzled old towering brute suddenly turn into a happy, excited woman, leaning down to hug this man.
"It's been too long. Our party... They disbanded soon after you left, you know?" The man said, breaking away with a sniff.
"What? Why?"
"You were our glue, Sadie. You were the one keeping us together. You were our leader, despite us never really acknowledging it. And worst of all, you were our healer. Without you, our party just couldn't function. We couldn't go back to relying on medicine and ointments and potions. Your arcane gift spoiled us. The straw that broke the camel's back was Debrah. She... She got hurt. A spear through her back from some bandit. Paralysed. After that... It just didn't work for us."
"I... I didn't know."
"Well, it's not easy to keep in touch with wanderers like us. I tried to reach out to you, believe me. But now I guess I know why I could never find you."
"I shouldn't have left." Sadie said, shaking her head.
The tavern seemed to get dimmer as this conversation took a darker turn than I expected.
"Well, the life of an adventurer is dangerous. We all knew what we signed up for. I'm glad you found someone." He said, nodding to me.
"Oh, no. This... Ah, gods I didn't even introduce you to each other. This is Devin. Our nimble rogue. And Devin, this is Roscoe. Archer extraordinare."
"Well, once upon a time. I'm a city guard now. Settled for stability. But glad to see you're still adventuring. Giving us older folks a good name."
"Ah, shush. You know what Devin told me the day he realised *I* was the party healer?" Sadie asked, and I paled in embarrassment.
"Ok, that was a long time ago." I protested, but she dismissed me with a slightly drunk wave of her hand.
"'I expected someone younger. And prettier.' Believe me, I almost just walked out then and there."
"Well, I'm glad you didn't." I muttered. Where was the rest of the party? Why was I, the most socially inept one of us, here alone; awkwardly interacting with a tipsy Sadie and her stranger friend?
"Well, I'm glad I didn't leave this new party, too. I can truly be myself around them. But... I tire of the small-mindedness of others, you know? I put on an act, tell myself it's just how things are sometimes. But... In a world of monsters and men and everything in between, why are there still... what's the word? Prejudice? Expectations? Stereotypes? Is there a word that combines all three?" She asked.
Roscoe nodded solemnly, taking a swig of his drink.
"You're telling me." he said, his tone dark.
Sadie's eyes widened for an instant, but she put her hand on top of Roscoe's.
"One day, we will be able to just show ourselves for what we are. And whatever the world makes of us, we will take it in stride."
"What else can we do?"
"No, you misunderstand. We will show what we can do. What we can offer."
"Why? Why can't we just... live? Why must there be a justification for our existence."
"Roscoe..."
"I'm sorry, Sadie. But..." He clutched his chest. Or more specifically, the chain around his neck that hid away beneath his shirt.
"It hurts... So much. Every full moon. I dread it."
"Listen, Roscoe. We are all dealt odds that we must live with. Sometimes we are born into nobility and ease, like my rogue friend here. Other times, there are those like us. We are not lesser or more. We just are. And often times the world will try to push us down, try to reason our being as some freakish mishap or divine punishment. It rarely is that. Most times, it isn't. All that is certain is that it just is. And we just are. And we just have to be."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left."
"Are you kidding me? After what you just said? You leaving resulted in you now. Living faithfully. Living as yourself. Never apologize for that."
"I am not apologizing for that, Roscoe. I am apologizing for leaving the party void of a leader and healer. Debrah..."
"Like you said, sometimes these are the hands we're dealt. We'll just have to learn to live with them." He downed the drink.
"Are you leaving?"
"It was nice to catch up. But... I don't know. I don't want to keep you."
"Wait." Sadie said, and unwound a wrap of cloth from her forearm, and started muttering into it.
"What? What are you doing?"
"She's, ah, enchanting it. I think it's a sending enchantment. You can speak into the cloth and she'll be able to hear it." I explained. Well, at least I could be part of this part of the conversation.
"That... Would have been very useful back in the day." Roscoe said, smiling.
"She just learned it, like, last week." I said. That was true. And like with all new and advanced spells, casting one would drain the person considerably. And Sadie was already half-drunk. I would be surprised if she kept conscious after this.
"Here. Just... Whenever you feel like talking. Whenever the full moon is here... Just... Talk into this. I'll hear you. I'll... reply." Sadie said, and immediately slumped over on the bar and started snoring.
"Ah, well. She's tapped out." I said.
"Must have been a hell of a spell." Roscoe said, looping the cloth around his belt.
"It is. She just learned it last week." I said, and realised I repeated myself. Seriously, where were the rest of the party? We were supposed to meet at the tavern after our shopping.
"Hey, she's one of the best. Don't forget that. Take care of her." He said, his eyes boring into mine. I nodded quickly, not knowing if that was a threat or just a friendly concern.
"Whenever you're in this side of the city. Well, you know my name. Just ask for me at the city watch office. I'll come running." He said, and got up to leave, throwing one last bittersweet glance at Sadie.
"Will, ah, do. Hey. What was that? About the full moon?"
"None of your business, friend. Ask her when she wakes." He said, not unkindly before leaving.
| 2021-12-22T07:34:00 | 2021-12-22T06:36:50 | 120 | 44 |
[WP] You are an atheist and on the three hour long train journey you start arguing with a stranger sitting beside you . That stranger is Satan .
|
"Satan, huh?"
"Yeah."
I looked down at the hat in my hands, twisting the brim, trying to think of something clever to say to the devil. "Uh. Sucks you got kicked out of heaven."
"What? No. That was Lucifer."
"Isn't that... aren't you Lucifer?"
"No, man, no. Read your fucking bible. Lucifer was the fallen angel. I'm Satan." He side-eyed my blank expression. "G-d you fuckers piss me off."
"Sorry..."
"You don't even know why I'm upset, do you?"
"Look, I don't even go to church."
"Alright, look. Lucifer was an archangel who challenged G-d and was punished for his hubris, right?"
"Right."
"I'm Satan. I did... I do my job. I'm a loyal servant of the Lord and act as his agent here on earth."
"You... work for god?"
"Yes. It's my job to tempt the faithful. I test them to see how strong their conviction is. Sort of like... let's see what year is this? 2016? Sort of like a secret shopper."
"God wants people to be tempted?"
"No, he wants people to resist temptation. I'm not going to defend the guy, but it's constant shit-tests. And if you fuck up, then you get to go to the lake of fire with Lucifer. But that's the point. I. Do. My. Job. I'm loyal. I'm a bastard, but it is what God commands."
I narrowed my eyes. "Are you fucking with me?"
He hit me with his newspaper. "You fucking think I could do jack-shit if G-d didn't want me to? He's fucking G-d, you numbskull. Nothing happens if he doesn't want it to happen."
"Ow. Sorry."
"Sorry. I'm touchy, especially because you rat-fucks conflated me with Lucifer in the middle ages and it stuck. Sore spot. And before you ask, yes, G-d makes plagues and pain and cancer and hate and all the bad shit too. Nothing exists that G-d did not create."
"Why? That shit sucks."
He laughed. "You think you're here to be motherfucking comfortable? That G-d created earth as a paradise because you deserve easy lives free from want and pain? No, this world is a crucible. It's here to toughen you up. Make you strong. Purge the weak. Bad shit happening is the point of life. Not because G-d's a sadist or whatever, but you people need that bad shit to teach you lessons and help you become better people."
"What?" I asked. "How the fuck does that work?"
The devil shrugged. "Ain't my department, buckaroo."
I looked out the window for a time, thinking deeply on what Satan had said. Finally I turned to him. "Are you here to tempt me?"
"Man, I'm off the clock, so you can just chill."
|
"Are you kidding me? Your name is Jesus. JESUS!!"
"Look. Just because my mother decided to name me after my abuelito doesn't make me religious by default. That is such a huge stereotype. 'Oh he's latino and his name is Jesus, of course he's catholic.' Blah blah blah, so ignorant. I mean read a book or something. A significant portion of the people on this little blue gem of ours are named Mohammed, that doesn't mean every single one of them follows the tenants of Islam. I mean, come on. You call yourself Satan. You've been alive for who knows how long and you mean to tell me you've never run into another Jesus that wasn't some form of christian? Give me a break." Jesus put his attention back on his phone, dismissing the stranger's claims and refocusing on studying for his bio-chem final.
The stranger wrinkled his nose. "Listen here you little ingrate, I'm Satan. I'll have you know I could wipe your species off this 'little blue gem' w/ the snap of a finger. You think just because you don't believe in me that I'd spare you from torment, from suffering?! Suffering IS MY MIDDLE NAME! I bathe in the blood of your kind every morning. I devour the souls of man kind for breakfast every day. And for what. FOR WHAT?! So that you can show this level of disrespect to me? TO ME?!! I should end you where you sit. It would literally take me zero effort to take your soul right now. I could kill you or anyone else for that matter without even thinking too hard about it. I could..."
"Whooh whooh whooh settle down there Satan. You're going to have an aneurysm there partner. The vein in your forehead is literally about to lift off and stab me in the eye. Sheesh." Jesus put the tablet down. He always enjoyed a challenge; loved to play devil's advocate so to speak. "Give me a second to come up w/ a challenge that only the great Lucifer himself could make happen. If you deliver, I'll change my faith, or rather lack there of to Satanism right now."
"What happens if I don't deliver?" The slightest of smiles began to register on the stranger's face but he quickly suppressed it. Just then, Jesus' phone buzzed. No signal. Jesus wouldn't have the money for the phone minutes until he got his check from the restaurant next friday. He began to resign himself to being data-less for a whole week when he had an idea.
"Tell you what. You have 70 bucks on you?"
"No. But..." quipped the stranger as he reached behind him to pull out his wallet. "I've got 60 though. That should get you most of the way to whatever you needed the 70 for." Jesus shrugged. Some minutes are better than no minutes and he might convince the cute girl @ the gas station to say yes to pushing up the date they had scheduled for next weekend. Now, how was he going to win this bet w/ "Satan". For a few minutes he contemplated a way to make it a win/win no matter how it played out.
"Hey kid, I haven't got all day. People to torment, souls to devour and all that." Satan's impatience was beginning to show.
"Okay Jimbo, you're on. If you can convince me that you're Satan right now, I'll start worshiping you today. I'll convert to Satanism, go full on Evil Evangelist mode on it. Start a church and recruit people to it. The whole enchilada."
"Now why on earth would I want that?" inquired Satan. "Because my name is Jesus. Think of how ironic that would be?! Dude the memes!"
Satan chuckled at that thought for a second. After all, that would be incredibly hilarious. However, irony is not what he was after. "And if I lose?"
"Then you give me the 60 you've got on you. Seem fair?" "No, in fact it doesn't seem fair. If I lose I have to give up 70 bones. If I win, you claim you'll worship me but I have no real way of following up w/ you on that." "Right. Ok, well give me a second to thi-" "I have a counter offer." Satan pulled out a little black notebook. Flipped through it a few times to a blank page. "If I convince you, you'll give me your soul. I'll let you live because it isn't quite your time yet. But when you pass, your soul is mine. Just sign here." The stranger drew an X and a line on the blank page.
"Whoah whoah whoah" said Jesus. "You expect me to sell my soul for 60 bucks?! I mean come on nobody in their right mind would take that deal."
"How much then?" questioned the stranger. "How much value do you put on your soul? I mean after all, you don't believe in such a thing. You sign right here. If I win, I get your soul. If you win, I'll give you the $60 right here no questions asked. Deal?" Seeing an opportunity for a guaranteed 60 and possible date money for the cutie @ the gas station, Jesus decided to risk it. There's no way the dude was the devil himself. Why not make some extra coin in the process? "Okay. Deal. But I get to decide how you prove you're the devil. Agreed?" "The devil held his chin as he contemplated that little twist, but then nodded his head in approval. "Agreed."
Jesus signed the little notebook. As soon as the pen left the paper, the stranger closed the notebook and tucked it away in his suit pocket. "Okay Jesus, how would you like me to prove that I'm the dev-." The stranger hadn't even finished the sentence when Jesus blurted out his challenge. "Make me filthy stinking rich." The stranger raised his eyebrow at that. You could see the wheels turning in his head as he considered the situation. "Clever girl" quoth the stranger. "Either you end up rich or you get the money from the bet. Win/win. Nice one. Okay, fair enough." The stranger fumbled through his wallet to pull out 3 crisp $20 bills. "Here you go, smart guy. You're $60 richer. Congratulations."
Jesus mimed the success meme. "Pleasure doing business with you sir." "Yah yah" groaned the stranger. "This is your stop isn't it?" Jesus looked around and his heart nearly evacuated through his throat. He hadn't noticed that the train had pulled into the station. "Yah you're right. Thanks. I totally would have ended up in Albuquerque if you hadn't said anything. Aight mister. Take it easy and don't go telling anybody any of that nonsense. You tell the wrong person and you're going to end up in the looney bin." Jesus grabbed his backpack and shuffled towards the exit. As he got off the train he fingered the 20's in his pocket. He really needed those minutes. Total luck that he ran into that guy. He turned around to wave back as the train began to pull out of the station but the stranger wasn't in the seat they had been sitting in. Jesus dismissed it as he left the depot. Started walking towards home but decided to stop at the ATM to deposit that money. It was late and the gas station would be closed at this point but he figured he may as well go ahead and deposit it and use the website to re-up his minutes. As he stepped to the ATM he gave a look around to make sure no one else was in the area. Too many muggings at ATMs in the news recently and his abuelita was always reminding him to make sure he knows who's around him when he's using the ATM. He punched in his pin number and made the deposit, the ATM angrily ejecting his receipt as if upset with him. "Yah even ATMs know I don't have no money" he grumbled under his breath. As he bent over to pick up his receipt, his heart started pounding furiously. Eyes wide, barely breathing, he picked up the receipt.
Deposit: $60
Balance: $15,000,019.47
| 2016-09-10T09:21:43 | 2016-09-10T09:13:49 | 198 | 146 |
[WP] A superhero chases a villain into a dark warehouse, only to have the doors close behind them. When the lights come on, the hero is surrounded by the full rogues gallery of supervillains. But this isn't an ambush... It's an intervention.
|
The riddle had led him to the end of Dusty Drive, a warehouse almost as nightmarish as what came out of Scarecrow. The name was befitting, there was nobody around, Batman thought, a perfect hideout for the Riddler. What sick trap he had planned for him, he didn't know. Under the cover of darkness, he crept up to the door and tested the knob, not knowing whether the Riddler had rigged a bomb to explode. Curiously, it opened without a struggle. Surprised, he walked in, brimming with more confidence than usual, thinking the Riddler had returned to his ways of gimmickry rather than a deadly criminal mastermind.
How very wrong he was.
As he stepped into the open area, the door suddenly shut behind him. Before the thought even crossed into his mind to attempt an escape, a green figure emerged from the shadows in front of him. He had found the Riddler. A second thought crossed his mind, to throw the Riddler across the room. Yet once again, his enemy beat him to it, as he pressed a button on his cane and the lights burst on.
Batman was almost blinded. He could still see the famililar face of the Riddler, clad in green as per the norm. But the other faces were also known to him. Much to his shock, the Joker, Scarecrow, Bane, Ra's al Ghul and his daughter, Two-Face, the Penguin, he couldn't think fast enough to list them all.
"This was your plan, Riddler?" asked an angry Batman as he reclaimed his sight. "You rounded up every single one of my enemies for one fight?"
"Not to fight, detective..." replied the Riddler, in a seemingly solemn tone. "We just want to help..."
"This is an intervention," claimed the Joker. "It's gone far enough, Bats."
"What are you talking about, Joker? What intervention?"
"You've avoided confronting your problems by dressing up as a bat for long enough, Batman," said Scarecrow. "We cannot, in good conscience, enable you any longer."
"That's ridiculous, Crane," retorted Batman. "I do this for the good of the city, to stop the likes of you!"
"We're only here because of you," the Penguin responded. "I've been a criminal for a long time, and whenever law cracks down as hard as you, crime responds in kind."
"What?" asked a shocked Batman. Cobblepot had caught him off-guard.
"The justice system in Gotham is completely perverted, thanks to you," stated Two-Face. Batman had long known his issues with Gotham's courts.
"But this isn't about Gotham. It's about you, Batman," Bane piped up. "The relationships you have with all of us here tonight are very dysfunctional, rooting from your earliest psychological traumas."
"I lost my parents!" Batman broke down. "When I met you, Joker, you provided an anti-me, something to escape into..." the Joker responded with not an evil smile, but a knowing one. "And you, Riddler, kept my brain occupied, and I was busy training to defeat Bane, I lost sight of...of..." he could not go on. He had started crying.
In a manner unexpected of his enemies, they did not take advantage of his moment of weakness. Instead, he heard two words from Ra's al Ghul.
"It's okay."
|
Part 1:
I turn the corner into a blind alley and see the Jester standing alone at the far end. Clouds prance across the sky, blocking the glow of moonlight illuminating the wet city pavement. A flickering electronic hum of street lamps buzz in the empty night.
“Stop running, fiend!” I pause to catch my breath. “Justice… is at hand!” I call out.
I see the flit of concern cross his face; Surely now he understands that he is caught.
He cackles wildly. “No, Captain Credo, the only thing at hand is your defeat!”
My hands reach toward my utility belt and I grasp for my Rope of Redress. The button holding it in place is stuck. I fumble with it, momentarily taking my eyes off his.
He sighs and uses this chance to escape as the street lamp goes black and The Jester disappears in the shadows.
The button gives way and my weapon falls to the ground, landing loudly in a puddle. It drips as I lift it, soaked, from the roadway, placing it back on my belt. I can feel the puddle water seep into my briefs. I activate night vision mode on my mask and find only the far wall of the alleyway staring back at me.
“Drat! Gone!” I cry out. I look for where he may have vanished to, but find nothing there. A few moments pass before I hear him cough quietly from an open window two stories up. He sees my eyes lock onto his and the chase begins anew.
I scale the wall with my Claws of Compassion and leap inside the building. I fall. Hard. Landing loudly on the concrete floor of an abandoned warehouse. Tumbling end over end, my cape comes undone from my cowl. I bend over to grab it and hear whispers all around.
“I told you” the voice of The Jester speaks out.
“I had no idea it was this bad” an unknown foe answers.
I look to the direction from where the voices come, but my night vision starts to go out and I note the batteries in my mask need to be changed. I pull out three AAAs and replace the old ones with a fresh set. Just as the system reboots, the warehouse lights come on and I see that I am surrounded.
“The League of Injustice! I should have known.” I contemplate my next maneuver, taking a defensive stance. I eye them all one by one: The Crooked Con, Diorama Dan, The Jester, Maestro, The Artificer, and The Zebra. It is the last one who steps forward to speak, his referee uniform as impeccable as ever.
“Listen, Captain, we have some things to talk about and I want to set the rules of the game first. No punching, no capturing, no hooded heroics, just sit and listen or we’ll have to send you to the penalty box” he threatens.
The Crooked Con slides a wooden chair over to me. “Sit,” he says.
“We’re not here to hurt you, if we don't have to. I mean, I'd be glad to if that's what you want." Lies dripping from the mouth of the Artificer.
“Ha! Up to your usual bags of tricks again, eh Artificer? Surely you know I never fall for your traps!”
I see a look of confusion, then anger cross his face.
"Stop. We're here to help" The Jester says.
“You all belong in a cell and now I have you here at once. The jails of Empire City will surely be full tonight.” I spin around to lasso Con, tossing my Rope of Recompense toward the large jeweled necklace dancing from his neck, but trip over cape and stumble forward, landing squarely in the seat of the chair. The Rope lands harmlessly, five feet short of him.
“Unbelievable” mouths The Crooken Con.
The Jester speaks next. “Look, you can sit down voluntarily and listen to us or i’ll have Maestro conjure some chains to keep you there. Either way, you WILL hear us out.”
I scratch at my beard stubbled chin and think over his proposition. I decide to bide my time, letting them monologue until the best opportunity arises.
Diorama Dan speaks next. “You have a problem, Captain Credo. This is an intervention. I have drawn up some diagrams to explain what I mean.” He wheels out a large poster board with my picture plastered on it. Large script is hand scrawled next to it in notes.
“Look at this,” he continues, pointing to the picture. “You used to look heroic. Your cape was clean, your face shaven, your utility belt holding gadgets galore. Now, look at yourself.” He points to Maestro, who conjures a mirror aimed at me. I look into it.
I see the stains at the bottom of my battered cape. My stomach hangs over my utility belt.
“Maybe I have seen better days before… but I am still more than a match for the likes of you!” I retort.
A whistle rings off the walls of the warehouse from the lips of The Zebra. “Two minute minor for speaking out of turn, Captain. This is your first warning.” A jolt of electricity shocks my chair and I go quiet. The Artificer laughs.
“John, that’s enough,” The Jester says. “Let’s keep this civil.” He turns to talk to me directly.
“You’re a mess, Cap. Usually we stay out of each other’s personal lives, keeping things professional, but lately something is off. You haven’t been on your ‘A’ game lately.”
I think this over and respond, “So maybe I’ve been a little preoccupied lately…”
“Preoccupied?! You haven't arrested any of us in ages!” Maestro cries out. “For goodness sake, I’ve stolen enough to pay off my Magic School student loans.”
“It’s the journalist, isn’t it? Patricia Pudenda? Did you two break up?”
“That’s none of your business! You leave her out of this!” I scream. Her face flashes in front of me in my mind’s eye, her blond hair swimming in the wind. I think of our last fight…
The Jester continues, “We try to stay out of one another’s personal lives, unless it’s a kidnapping or blackmail thing, but I don’t think I’m out of line for asking this; did she dump you?”
I start to leap from my chair, but Maestro materializes chains from his wand and they race from out his magic hat, enveloping and tying me down.
“Alright, alright everyone calm down. Captain Credo, take a look at my Diorama and even you won't be able to resist the story it spins.”
I look it over once more and see that what he says is true. In the picture, I look proud. Muscular. Heroic. I glance at the mirror and see something else looking back at me, a disheveled man with a broken heart.
“I… I don’t know what to say…” I think about Patricia, the way she looked when she moved out, taking the last of her things from my secret Credo Castle, our home, standing there in the doorway, glanceng back at me one last time…
The Zebra waves his arms upward in the shape of a goalpost. “Self-realization. Touchdown and two points awarded to Captain Credo!”
My eyes begin to scratch and water.
“Oh my god, is he going to cry?” Artificer speaks under his breath.
“Cry? Ha! Yet another lie from you, Artificer!” I say.
“Whatever,” he answers. “Are we done here? I’ve got an unwilling date in an hour and I don’t want to miss out on the easy lay up on this rebound chick. Let’s just whack this guy and go home.”
The Crooked Con replies, “He has a point, Jester. We finally have the Cap weakened. Why don't we just finish him off and live like kings?”
“None of you get it. We need him. He completes us. Crime doesn’t mean anything if we can’t get caught.”
I struggle against the magical chains, but find no escape.
“If you say so, fruit. You’ve always had a weird crush thing for him,” Artificer intones. “You can go down with him if you want, but Conman and I aren’t missing our chance.”
The Artificer and Crooked Con move in toward me, dagger and crow bar in hand, respectively.
They raise them overhead simultaneously. They move to strike…
| 2017-01-19T00:10:43 | 2017-01-18T23:20:43 | 64 | 17 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second...
|
First word PHYSIO was fairly easy to see. Perhaps a Greek name he wondered as the word THE appeared below it.
"Oh wow" he thought, its going to be a superhero like 'Conan the destroyer'.
"Please be magician.... please be Physio the magician" he said under his breath, as the last word appeared. 'RAPIST'.
"Rapist..... rapist" he said in bewilderment. "Physio the rapist".
"It says physiotherapist you moron" came a voice behind him.
|
It was 11am and the party was in full swing, cousins and uncles, aunties and nephews had arrived from all around to take part in my Naming Day.
In big cities it would be a purely family affair, San Fran York was not one of those places and it seemed like the whole village had turned out at the town hall to celebrate this day with me. I was nervous, beyond any amount of nerves I had ever felt before, more nervous than the time I had asked Isabel to the dance, she turned me down and I was heartbroken, the popular crowd in school had laughed at me for a while after that for trying but at least I knew. My mind returned to today with a "wtf are you thinking about that for" thought, but I didn't want to think about what my destiny would be. I had a lot to live up to, my brother was being flown out from the Halls of Rule, everyone had been ecstatic when his destiny came up as "Prime Minister", how on earth could I live up to that? My brain started imagining the worst things that could appear, pornstar would be bad, sewer worker was always a cruel joke among the other kids but I was more worried about something dangerous like army grunt. The worst I ever heard of was a "Martyr" that someone got once though right now I couldn't remember if that was a true story or some dumb rumor.
11:30am came all to slowly and time appeared to be slowing down and everyone began to sit down, it was like an old graduation picture I had seen in a history book except I was the only one they were here for, even the bullies had come to see but they were just here to have a good laugh when I got my "Slave" marking or "table" or something equally degrading, at least now it was time for me to get ready and I could hide away from everyone for a while.
11:50am
Time was definitely moving slower now each tick of the clock felt like hours. I decided to think more about the ceremony itself and what I would have to do, I was sitting in a small room inside the town hall and I would be the first to see my destiny, then I would walk out into the lobby where my family can see me, they would know next and finally we would walk out of the main door and onto the stage where I would show the Mayor and he would proclaim it to the town. There would be lots of congratulating or commiserations afterwards but always cake and alcohol, it is my 18th birthday afterall.
12:00am
It was time, at first nothing happened but this was to be expected as clocks aren't always 100% in time with random natural effects. I was worried, but if anything went terribly wrong I could always sneak out of a window and run away to live in the jungle and eat bugs and and... Then I felt it, a tingling sensation in my arm, like it had fallen asleep, I waited for it to pass and then with a deep breath I looked at my arm...
12:01am
"That. Isn't. Possible." I told myself over and over, but the word did not change no matter how much I wanted it too, I never imagined this scenario because it was entirely unheard of. There was a knock at the door and I heard my mother ask if everything was alright. I calmly got up and opened the door to see her face, she looked worried too but I guess if you know someone has just found out their destiny and was not jumping for joy then it wasn't a great one.
I showed her my arm and all the colour drained from her face, she grabbed hold of me and headed for the bathroom, her face was now filling with red anger and she almost threw me into the room. She turned on the taps and then rounded on me "How dare you write something like that, this is a serious matter and you choose now to joke around?" "Mum, I didn't..." but she cut me off in one of her 'Motherly Rants' that she had sometimes. I tried to explain but really I had no clue either.
After several attempts to wash the wording off me she realised that this was real, I hadn't been joking and now my arm was red and scratched except for the wording, that had remained clear as anything.
Together we headed out to the lobby, bypassing the rest of my family as we were already late for the next stage and everyone would be getting very worried.
12:15am
My mother pushed my forward up the stairs of the stage and I shuffled over to the Mayor, his smile had started to fade when he saw me, I guess I didn't look so good. I walked over to him and gave him my arm, his face did the same thing as my mothers, it was as if someone had applied a greyscale filter to him.
12:18am
We had been standing there for a while with the Mayor just looking at me, a mixture of confusion and terror had settled onto his face and there were murmurings in the crowd, but it was time, they all had to be told what my destiny was.
12:20am
The Mayor returned to the podium and cleared his throat, the crowd had gone silent. Even then the words came out horse and croakey when the Mayor tried to speak prompting him to clear his throat again and take a gulp of water from his glass.
"Good townspeople of San Fran York" he began in a shakey voice, "We have a new man among us, a new man who has discovered his destiny." his voice was getting stronger now but you could hear him faltering every few words. Gesturing to me he continued "Timothy has found his path in life, he is to be:" he paused again, a last chance before we all had to deal with this, a last moment for it to all be a bad dream and wake up "A Wizard!" he proclaimed...
| 2017-03-16T03:20:58 | 2017-03-16T00:05:48 | 427 | 91 |
[WP] You stumble across a peculiar library. Each book's title is the cost of the knowledge within. You read a few for the cost of a cent, a smile, a button. Until you find it. "Cost: half of your lifespan"
|
Gale's hand trembled as he pulled the massive tome off the shelf. He flipped open the first page and his eyes widened in horror as he realized what he was holding. It was Stephen King's 'The Stand.' And it was going to take him forty fucking years to finish.
|
She had always been a huge bookworm. She loved reading books. She did. They were windows to places she could never go, events that she could never see. This was back in January when she had just moved out of her parent’s house and got an apartment of her own with a sassy, blonde roommate.
She was alone that day. I remember it specifically. It was sunny and the morning wind was still cold, so wrapped in a scarf she went out for a morning walk. She’s not usually a walk person but the weather was so damn good. She was still new to Brighton and walking around was fascinating for her.
All that was good and everything…until she had gotten lost. You see, she was thinking of something, daydreaming when she took a turn into an alley and honestly it was a maze out here. She tried to trace her steps back but nope. There was nobody around and the alleys were narrow and dark. She kept moving, ending up in front of a sign. The only sign she had seen in a while.
**Dorian’s Library.**
Cool. A library. She could check out some books and ask for directions too. This was perfect. Almost too perfect. She knocked on the door. Nothing. Another knock. Nope.
She tried to push it and surprisingly it opened. She squinted her eyes at first, it seemed really dark inside. There were steps leading deeper into the ground, lighted by a single lamp attached to the wall.
To be honest she was a little worried but she trotted on. Brave little girl she was. Down the steps to the left, she was graced by the most amazing library she had ever seen. There were books in tall, towering bookcases. Banisters and spiraling stairs that lead to different sections of the library which was lit by some antique glowing lamps. It was amazing. She was enthralled, mesmerized by the sheer size of the library, the bare magnitude of the amount of books that were here.
There was nobody around though. There was a reception but nobody seemed to be available there. A box with “Payment Here” written on it was on the reception desk. She bit her lip. Should She? They were just books. She figured she would just look around and there’ll be no harm done. Yes, Yes no harm at all. It’s not like she was doing anything illegal and the sign did say it was a library. Yes. That’s important to remember. It’s just a library after all.
So she helped herself to a few books but she noticed something very peculiar. Each book had their costs written on the spine and no matter how hard she tried it wouldn’t budge open.
The first book she had picked up was a children’s book. Some sort of fairy tale. The cost was a smile.
Payment here.
She was supposed to give the payment of a smile to the box at the reception desk. It was silly but she tried and it worked. She approached the box and smiled. Oh how I cherish the smile of people who come into our…Library. It’s just a library after all. The book fluttered open, as if opened by a passing wind.
The story was amazing though. The adventure of a brother and sister through a magical land. She read it silently, captivated by the tale.
Similarly she opened a few more books, for a cent, a button, a lock of hair and even once a drop of blood. All the books she had opened very fantastic and completely enthralling. The more she stayed in this library the more she realized that she didn’t want to leave. Oh no. There was so much to read. So much to experience. Why would you leave?
**CAN’T LEAVE.**
She kept walking around the library, paying the costs and opening books. Then she came across a huge book. It was lying on a raised pedestal, old and shriveled, its cover had gone dark with age but it was a quaint little thing, this book. She was immediately drawn to it, like a moth to the flame. And like a moth her fate…Excuse me. I shouldn’t have said that. Let’s forget I ever said that.
She lifted the book of the pedestal and examined the spine.
**YES. YES. OPEN IT.**
Cost: Half Of Your Lifespan.
She was in a dilemma, I could sense that in her but her curiosity was unabashed. Without thinking she walked to the reception and put the book on the desk. Her life flashed before her as she collapsed on the floor, blood leaking from her eyes.
That was my cue as I came in with my mop and my bucket. I had to keep this place spick and span you know. My hooves clack on the floor and my little red horns move about in the air as I mop up the blood. You see the cost of opening the book is half your lifespan. Reading the book…well you become the book. Quite literally. And as I looked at the 374th page of the book, there is something written on it in cursive.
Evelyn. She did have a beautiful name I’ll give her that.
That’s the end of Evelyn’s story I’m afraid but what about you, my young intrepid reader. If you’re ever in Brighton, remember to visit us.
**Dorian’s Library.**
And we're just a library after all.
-----------------------------------------
You can find more of my scribblings at [The Secret Society Of Racoons.] (https://www.reddit.com/r/AquaticRacoon/)
| 2018-03-29T09:26:57 | 2018-03-29T06:53:09 | 74 | 12 |
[WP] Humanity has detonated hundreds of nukes, but only twice against an enemy. The Galactic Federation has this fact without context.
|
The slave shrieked one last time and limpened in a pool of blood. The black orb in the middle of the meeting room emitted a short pulse of ultra-violet light, only visible to select councillors.
"What is the emergency?", a deep voice resonated.
Im-Wuz stepped forward, his chitin claws clacking on the floor.
"We've lost contact with our mining outpost, Great One", he buzzed.
"That's beneath my concern", the orb growled. "Send a scouting party".
"Let me handle this", Shih'klooth interrupted. The chief of security slushed forward, casting an angry glance at the insect-shaped fungus.
"Great One, my analysts believe we're facing a dire threat. I implore you to listen what this lowly miner has to say."
The orb remained silent. "Give us your report on that tribe", Shih-klooth whispered.
"As the *head of resources*", Im-Wuz stressed, "I've been receiving intelligence reports from the planet M27OS-3 for the past century. As per nature of such reports, data might be incomplete or come with a delay, but it appears as though the people there have entered the early technological age. I was actually going to propose making our presence known and establish further contact, but this paranoid brute--"
"They're using nuclear explosives!", Shih-klooth yelled.
Other councillors looked at each other, surprised with his ourburst.
"So what?", someone asked. "Everybody uses them".
"The planet is almost completely shielded from the cosmic radiation", Im-Wuz reluctantly admitted. "Life forms that evolved there need heavy shielding to even leave atmosphere -- which, by the way, they apparently have".
There was a murmur in the room. Teying to imagine a life form that couldn't handle radiation was difficult enough, but why would such a race put their own ecosystem at risk..?
"It gets worse", Shih-klooth added. "My guys double-checked your data, and they swear by the name of the Dreaming One: those are not mining charges, those are weapons."
"And that's where you wrong!", Im-Wuz was triumphant. "If you check directories 9134 to 9969 in our report, you'll clearly see that only twice have they used nuclear weapons in wars!"
"And that's exactly why I took it upon myself to call in a meeting of the highest order", Shih-klooth gestured towards the altar where the blood had already vanished. "I can get behind destroying planets or risking your own future to win a war. But we know for a fact that they aren't fighting each other with these weapons. Yet they constantly blow them up - military-grade charges, no less. And on top of that, we've lost contact with our mining party. So I'm asking you..."
He paused, gazing around the council room before finally turning to the sphere.
"I'm asking you - who or what are those people fighting?"
Heavy silence fell onto the council hall. Everyone knew what this question entailed -- and no one dared speak the answer out loud.
Finally, the sphere spoke - its voice still powerful, but with a fleeting dissonance, a slight tremble:
"Forget the mining party. If there's even a distant possibility that we're facing *them*, we can't take any chances. Engage the Dark Matter protocol."
"But, Great One!", Im-Wuz protested. "To shield from a developed civilization we'd have to cut off an entire sector of space, possibly thousands of galaxies! We have other operations in that--"
Shih-klooth winced and looked away. He knew what happened to those who spoke up to the Great One... But it was all for the good cause, he told himself. Those "humans" will never learn that there is anything beyond what they'll see as "the dark matter"... and the rest of the galaxy will never have to face the unspeakable.
|
“A weapon of such power isn’t unheard of. I don’t see why you believe this should be our reason for avoiding contact with our galactic neighbor. I will be the first to point out the mistakes of the Navin people I represent. Our weapons caused similar damage in the past, and yet we have reformed to be useful members of this federation. I wish to believe the humans could reform in such a way.” Avata eyed the map before him. The proud leader of the Navin people, a war loving species, turned pacifists. Their reform the result of a valiant effort by his mother, uniting his kind as one.
Navins were interesting to look at. A species that started off slim, having stick-like legs and heavy boulder like chests, their bodies covered in a dazzling array of scrap metal, some of this metal even merging with their soft rubbery skin. It was said the more metal embedded in a Navin, the stronger they were. If so, that would make Avata the strongest of them all, his body covered in scraps of ships, weaponry and armor. A collection of lost battles and won wars.
“Of course, you would agree. Want to send them the co-ordinates so they can blow up our federation too? These creatures are unpredictable. You have seen them bicker among themselves, they show all the signs of an unstable species, I say we let them kill themselves off. I won’t be subjecting my people to anymore bloodshed. You remember what happened last time you all underestimated a race? If not, let me take you on a tour of our mass graves, maybe that will jog your memory.” Galdin hadn’t bothered to even lean forward in her chair, the leader of the Piklits lounging back, showing her lack of interest in the subject.
Piklits suffered greatly in the last extension of an olive branch of peace. They were called upon to deliver the invitation, making them the target of a race of savages. Sure, the Piklits had federation backing, but the federation ambles along while the enemy marches at a faster pace. The result was a slaughtering the likes of which no one had seen. With the attacking race being eliminated completely, removed by the joint forces, unfortunately the Piklets suffered before they accomplished the feat, losing forty percent of their population.
Piklits were small fur covered creatures, weighing around twenty kilos. They had stocky legs and small rounded bodies. Their heads were a cylinder shape and could slip in and out of their bodies like a turtle hiding in its shell. They weren’t physically strong, but they were cunning. Their cunning nature the only thing that helped them survive for so long.
“I understand your concerns Galdin, but you can’t treat these humans the same way. What happened to your kind marks a horrible lack of judgement on our behalf, I admit that, but we can’t see every potential ally as a threat. These humans may be violent, but I think they have the will to change.” Xoila smiled, trying his best to sway Galdin to his side, but his words fell on deaf ears, the woman not even moving from her slouched position.
Xoila led the Ratilon. The Ratilon were the co-founders of the federation and as such had a slight superiority complex. They were diplomatic but held a snark to their tone. A posh air of nobility and classism that often rubbed the other species the wrong way. Even now he could see his tone causing a twitch on Galdins lips. Ratilon’s were lanky, standing at eight foot tall, having four legs and five arms. The fifth being placed in the middle of their chests, having to design armor around the limb. Their singular eye a golden color, glowing brighter than any star.
“Then why don’t you get off your backside and ask them? I’m not going to do it, not after you all left my kind to die. Tell me, why do humans need so many of these weapons, yes you say they have only used it in warfare twice, but if that’s the case, why stock so many? Are they preparing for a war? We don’t know their intentions well enough to put ourselves in the firing line.” Galdin showed some emotion, finally standing in her seat, her hand banging the table, causing the holographic map in the middle to flutter.
This drew the attention of the table, and one might even catch Xiola grimacing. Ratilon hated being questioned, especially when the person had a point. Xoila wanted to debate the topic further, wishing to gain back his lost point. Not planning to let this argument go until he was the victor. Luckily for the ears of everyone at the table, a voice spoke up before he could speak.
“You make a valid point, one I didn’t consider. The storing of weapons is strange. From a tactical position, I understand it. Having an army is important for any species but the mass storage of planet ending weaponry. That’s something we haven’t seen since the Navin days, and the Navin’s didn’t store such an extensive amount. No offence, Avata.” Tolis held his usual commanding tone, one that could cut into any conversation. He may have not held the wisdom of his forefathers, but his empathy and kindness made others listen.
They considered Tolis the leader of the federation. A member of the Ealeren race. While the leadership claim is often contested by the Ratilon, due to them sharing the title of the founder of the federation, most of the other members agree Tolis holds the power of the federation. At least he held more respect. Even Galdin had to admit he was a decent guy, being the first to come and offer support, even risking his own life to drive off the attackers. His appearance similar to that of his kind, a humanoid figure with dark purple skin, covered in a set of white markings. They say these markings display the future of an Ealeren at birth, but many consider them to be like birthmarks. His skin like rock, chipped in places and cracked. A sign of his age. When an Ealeren gets too old they simply shatter, breaking aside in a horrifically beautiful display.
“No offence taken, Tolis. I may change my stance as well. Xoila, my kind know what its like to be hate filled and war hungry. We stored weapons in the hopes of battle. I fear the humans may be on a similar path. This doesn’t mean I don’t want to contact them; I just wish to look into a safer way of doing so. Galdin is right to have concerns.” Avata gave a nod of respect to Tolis, before turning his attention to Xoila.
“You wish to stop our progress out of unprecedented fears? The humans aren’t smart enough to cause us trouble.” Xoila desperately tried to persuade the group, his pride hurting.
“Then send the transmission yourself. Just don’t expect me to come save you when you get attacked. I won’t help a fool that can’t understand the simple concept of history repeating.” Galdin commented, causing Xoila to stand up.
“How dare you? You little fluffy runt. I understand fully well that history can repeat itself. I just wish not to let one incident paralyze us with fear. We are better than that. At least I believe we are. Then what shall we do? Wait for them to develop faster than light travel? How do you believe they will react when they find out we avoided them?” Xoila panted, his last push to get back into this debate.
“That’s also a valid point, Xoila. I agree that showing such coldness to an ally will hurt us in the long term, but we need to maintain our own safety. Let us avoid contact for a while longer.” Tolis did his best to pacify Xoila, a compliment in his favor usually silenced him, the tactic working as Xoila sat himself down again.
“So, what do we do then?” Avata asked, each of the federation eyeing Tolis, awaiting his response.
“We give them another five hundred years and re-investigate the matter then. If they are still showing signs of potential malicious intent, we will stop looking at them as a potential ally and instead watch them as a potential threat. Are we all in agreement over this course of action?” Tolis looked to the room, nods being shared among the members.
“I don’t like the idea of still considering them, but I can’t fault your plan, Tolis.” Galdin said, throwing her arms up in a shrug.
“While I prefer to meet my allies as soon as possible, I guess another five hundred years won’t hurt.” Xoila conceded.
“I look forward to seeing their progress. I wish them the best.” Avata smiled, pulling away from his seat.
The members gave each other one last nod before heading their separate ways, concluding the federation meeting on the humans.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
| 2021-02-17T05:52:52 | 2021-02-17T04:15:21 | 1,252 | 214 |
[WP] You are 25, have a job, girlfriend, car, a whole life. As your day goes on, your world slowly devolves until you realize you have been in a wheelchair since age 5, unable to communicate with the world.
|
This prompt really hits close to home. I was diagnosed with ALS four years ago. My wife left me two years ago. I don't blame her. We were only married for six months before my diagnosis. I will try to write what it is like to wake up in the morning.
--
It is bright out, gray bright, but obviously sunlight. The grass is gray too, and my neighbor on the right is speaking with my neighbor on the left's voice. It is about here that I realize I am asleep. This is my favorite time in the mornings, lucid dreaming. I can do anything.
I don't dream in full color. I never have. It is one of the triggers I taught myself to identify dream states such that I can lucid dream. When the world is mostly shades of gray I know that I must be dreaming. When I 'wake up' in my dreams I usually turn around and look at a near by door so that Lucy can walk through.
She is so sweet. More perfect in my dreams that she was in real life. Not physically, although I do tend to idealize her in my dreams, she seems is sweeter in my dreams than she is in real life. She hugs me in my dreams.
I turn to my right and there is my first car. It isn't fancy, but it is mine. An old Mazda coupe with peeling paint. It is one of the only things I can see in color. Red. Bright red. My freedom as a teen and young adult. Lily had never really seen my red Mazda, but I could take her with me in my dreams. Take he with me in my freedom.
My neighbor is gone, as are most of the houses. Lily and I are driving down Highway 1 with the windows down. The sea breeze blowing in through open windows. Lazy gray clouds hang over a sedate gray ocean. Beautiful. Lily is holding my hand.
When my face starts to feel warm I know that it is close to the end. I can feel it in my dream. The warmth of the sun on my face. When I was younger I would roll over in my bed, but I can't roll now. My face just gets hot.
I try to tell my Lily that I love her and that I want her with me, but I can't find her. My dream Lily loves me, but the sun steals her from me every morning. The real Lucy wasn't ready for this. I don't blame her.
As my face heats up, my body wakes up. When I was younger I would open my eyes and get out of bed. Most days now I just lay there with my eyes closed. My red freedom in a gray world evaporating around me. When my gray world of dreams is completely gone I see the slight redness of the back of my eyelids, feel the weight of my bedding and hear the movement outside my door. I can feel the pressure in my bladder, but I can't get up. I might not make it today. If the nurse doesn't hurry she is going to have additional work to do.
I hope I die soon. Maybe then I can dream in more colors.
|
The daily grind sure gets boring sometimes. When it starts getting me down, I try to remind myself that's exactly the reason why life is so good - I'm never worried about where my next meal is going to come from, I've got a cozy bed to sleep in every night, a beautiful girlfriend, and a family that loves me. Today started off exactly the same as all the others.
It's always dark when I wake up. The mere thought of being stuck in my desk chair for eight hours, and the crippling effects it's supposed to have on your body, is all the motivation I need to leave the bed that beckons me to stay and get to the gym before I get to the office.
Anna isn't lying next to me when I wake. Did she kiss me goodbye at some point during the night? lately I've been struggling to distinguish my dreams from reality, and that early morning fog that clouds my brain certainly doesn't help. But there's that one realest of all my memories that I'll forever cherish...
The late evening summer haze draped around her hazel locks as they lifted and fell with the gentle breeze. We had been steady for nine months but shared a connection that felt timeless. There was a hole, she said, that vanished since we met. It was then I knew we'd grow old together...
I love getting lost in the blur of fond memories. It's already 2:30pm, and I don't remember the self-inflicted pain from the gym nor can I believe I'm nearly free of the constricting confines of this office! Not to mention the impending three day weekend, and I'm about to jump for joy. Oof, legs feel sluggish. Must have been leg day at the gym this morning.
I dial Anna to see if she's anywhere near ready to pick me up from work.
"Hey, Mark."
"Hey...Mom? What's up? Where's Anna?"
And why are you answering her phone? She hesitates before answering, one of those instances where you can literally hear the person's facial expression on the other end of the line. She looks concerned.
"She... She's in the bathroom. We're out to lunch. Do you need me to pick you up from work?"
Well, durr. You know my car is in the shop and that I can't stand the bus in the afternoon.
"Yeah, would you mind? I'm almost done here and wouldn't mind getting to the doctor's office a little earlier."
My ear has been causing me a bit of pain, and I was worried it might be developing into an infection. It still wasn't enough to contain my excitement for the weekend - I had a huge, romantic surprise planned for Anna. With any luck, it was going to be the most memorable weekend of our lives.
"I'll be there in about half an hour. I love you, Mark." Click.
I'll? What about Anna? Whatever. I'll see her soon enough. I'm brimming with giddiness now. I can't pack my shit fast enough. With a step and hop, I'm out of the office and flying down the stairs. Quads are so sore. Yep, definitely did squats this morning. One staircase down, and now I'm taking them two, three, four at a time and I'm - ohhhhh FUCK! Distracted by my own excitement, I miss a step and topple down the rest of the way and am left writhing in pain on the lobby floor.
My mom's already there. She made good time. It's a good thing, because I'm positive my ankle is broken. I can't get up on my own. Her and a coworker slump me over their shoulders and, staggering under my weight, help me out to the curb where my mom's van is parked. I want to communicate to them my gratitude for their help, but the pain stuffs the words back down my throat.
A ramp descends from the ledge of the van. What the hell? Never seen that thing before, the hell is it for? No matter, I'm just glad we were getting on our way to the doctor.
We arrive at the doctor's office, and once again, I have lost my memory of the events leading directly up to it. Must have been the pain fogging my mind. My mom gets out and comes around to the side of the van and slides the door open. Down goes that strange ramp again. And now she's detaching my seat from the floor of the van and rolling it down the ramp. This is so strange. But between a broken ankle and legs sore from the gym, it's not like I can walk anyway.
We roll into the doctor's office, but it looks more like a therapist's office if I'm being honest. No cushioned bed thing with that sterile paper strewn across, the floor is carpeted and walls adorned with generic but inviting paintings of trees and sunsets. Very cozy, just like my bed.
A man with an air of familiarity sits there, smiling warmly.
"Well, Hello, Mark! So good to see you. I trust you're doing well?"
I go to tell him, Well, Doc, not so good. You see, I've got this bum ankle, an ear infection, and I'm supposed to propose to my girlfriend this weekend on the top of a beautiful waterfall. But it feels as if my mouth has been stuffed full of peanut butter, and all I hear is, "Nyyuugh. Nuuhhn uhhhn." What the hell? What's wrong with me, why can't I speak? My mom and the doctor, therapist, whoever the hell this guy is lean in toward each other and speak in hushed tones. I want to yell out to them, hey! What are you saying?
I survey my body. My hands are contorted, and my fingers are curling in and out uncontrollably. I look like I'm fucking retarded or something.
Hey, what are you guys talking about? Where's Anna?! They both stop and look at me, seems that one got their attention finally.
"What was that Mark?" The guy asks.
"Oh, there he goes again about 'Anna'," says my mom.
"Let's let him speak for himself."
I wrestle with the peanut butter in my mouth. Swallow it, spit it out, choke on it, anything! I just want to know where my soon-to-be fiance is! Tell me where she is. All I can hear is a very strained and gurgled, "Uhhhaannnuuhhhh. Aannnuhhh."
The man asks me who Anna is. Why should I tell you? I don't even know you. I just want to see my girlfriend, damn it!
My mom slowly opens her mouth. "Doctor... Remember Gloria? And Ashley? Remember Kaitlyn? Mark's dreams... They're so vivid. And they spark a sense of remembrance in him. I think he fully remembers what it's like to walk and talk. And his dreams are so real, I think he confuses them with his own harsh reality."
What the hell?! Mom, I'm right here, why are you talking about me like that? I can hear you, I'm right here in front of you.
"Stephanie, its been 20 years since his accident, and I couldn't agree more. I think his inability to tell his life from his dreams is a coping mechanism his brain has developed and I also think...
His voice fades away as I squeeze my eyes shut and go back to that lazy summer day under the oak tree. Her eyes were vibrant yet relaxed as they pierced through mine. This was it, I knew it. I had found the one, and the one had found me. She told me I filled a void in her soul she had felt her whole life. I wanted to cry.
"Krystal," I said softly. "I love you too..."
| 2014-08-21T08:07:10 | 2014-08-21T07:48:41 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] At a regular high school, every student coincidentally happens to be a superhero. Thus far, every student has managed to keep their secret identity a secret. When a supervillain attacks the school, each student believes he/she is the target and tries to maintain his/her secret identity.
|
Do you know what the worst part about the 3rd period is? It isn't the fact that I'm failing Spanish. it isn't the fact that Larissa Dove is in the same class sitting next to me. It's the simple fact that I am at the front of the classroom. With the door situated in the back, it makes it awkward whenever I have to go to the bathroom, or just want to check my phone.
"¿dónde está la sala de estar, Daniel?" Mrs. Carmichael asks in my general direction. I know I'm supposed to respond in English, swirling my pen in my fingers. That is until the fire alarm goes off. I hear the collective sigh as we all march out of the room, but in the back of the room, I see that Brandon is staying behind. Odd, considering he'd be the first one out of the that wasn't myself. What was even stranger was the fact that every single kid who would normally be smiling and walking normally out of the building were just kind of standing around looking nervous?
Strange. These kids should be running towards the nearest exit, but what if...
Then it hits me. Literally, the giant steel beam comes crashing down and smashed my body into bits. Luckily for me, my regeneration will kick in quickly. That is until I realize that Johnny from 8th period and Jessica from 1st are *fighting over who gets to pick up the beam?* What the hell?!
"You're not supposed to be able to do that John..." Jessica says, tossing a beam to the side.
"Well, neither are..." John tries to spit out before the wall crashes down on him. It's Toby from gym class, only he's *purple*. Like a grape off the vine, he should have been pressed and aged but *he gets back up and goes after the flying Librarian.*
As chaos continues around me, with lockers being smashed and suddenly the superheroes of the city showing up to take on whatever that Librarian calls herself, I get to work. It's fun when you can bend time as the rest of the students and the world around them slows down. I quickly assemble everything in place, realize that I won't be noticed for a bit by Jessica, John or the other kids in the hall. I'm walking through, trying to make sure that the damage done by the Librarian is minimal at best when I see Captain Katt changing in the English room.
As I go on from room to room I see more and more superheroes in mid-transformation. Lupus is half Edward half beast in the senior's corridors and even the damn janitor is ripping off his jumper for something more form fitting. It's time to end this madness.
I shut my eyes and perform the best trick that I can. I focus on that ratty old Librarian and I feel myself locking her in a cage. This has a double effect. I can feel myself flying backwards, I can see the events that just unfolded taking their course in reverse. As this occurs, my mind becomes fuzzy on the details of what got me here in the first place. I open my eyes again and... Do you know what the worst part about 3rd period is?
|
A shockwave started off the attack on the school. Windows were blown out and ozone washed through the halls as the side of an entire wing was ripped open.
Some students were caught in the initial blast, but they were given no heed as the caped man floated through the hole he had created. Crackling power emanated from both his fists, and he glared at the world from under a slanted visor. A golden cross was emblazoned across his chest, painted on saintly white body armor. Anyone that watched the news could recognize "The Prophet," a real whackjob that had already been responsible for a string of attacks across the country. Nobody even knew his motivation, he just showed up and started disintegrating things while screaming scripture at the top of his lungs.
“YOU HAVE HEARD THAT IT WAS SAID, 'YOU SHALL LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOR AND HATE YOUR ENEMY.' BUT I SAY TO *YOU,* LOVE YOUR ENEMIES! AND PRAY FOR THOSE WHO PERSECUTE YOU!"
What everyone noticed first was how no one moved. Everyone just kept sitting at their desks. Even the teacher. There was just this *moment,* where the air was eerily still, and everyone just... *waited.*
Pretty quickly, most people remembered themselves. There were a lot of awkward glances, some hemming and hawing, even a few people feigning screams of terror. In retrospect, their terrible acting made it amazing no one figured it out beforehand.
Orange plasma was crackling along his knuckles as the Prophet began charging his next assault, when the first person to spring into action actually did so. A young man with brown hair hopped onto his desk with an expression of determination, before leaping thirty feet and landing an expertly-executed axe kick into the Prophet's collarbone. The kid just avoided a swipe from a plasma-swarmed hand before landing with inhuman grace and rolling away. Meanwhile, another student had taken the lead in heading for the door, though his shouts to follow him were drowned out by more than a dozen others saying roughly the same.
A purple beam of energy lanced from somewhere hidden amongst the press of bodies, striking the Prophet in the side and making him falter in the air.
"YOU *SHALL* REMEMBER THE *LORD YOUR GOD*! FOR IT IS HE WHO GIVES YOU POWER TO GET W-"
The Prophets' words were cut off as he abruptly gained fifteen hundred pounds from a localized gravity field, sending his armored frame crashing through the floorboards. The crowd of "fleeing" students had become more of a general milling as the danger was obviously becoming less so. Suspicious gazes were being cast between the students as a crowd of no less than fifteen found excuses to remain inside the threshold. Just outside in the hall, despite the fire alarm going off, there seemed to be more people coming towards the commotion than leaving.
"Rejoice..." the Prophet wheezed as he laboriously pushed himself back upright. "I said... Rejoice! REJOICE IN THE LORD ALWAYS! AGAIN, I WILL SAY, REJOICE! FOR THOUGH I WALK THROUGH THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF... of..."
An unnatural darkness had begun to spread across the tableau, some intangible blackness as if a solar eclipse was shading the world. Bulbs fizzled and died with faint pinging sounds as the shadows crept from every corner and crevice, so black it seemed to suck the light from the very eyes of the viewers. Where they ran the thickest, they rose impossibly into vaporous shapes, as if they sought to darken even the air. The crowding students instinctively began to huddle, and any questions were put aside as alarm spread through them. Seated on his knees, the Prophet was staring around with growing terror at the anomalous shadows.
In the hall, the crowd that had gathered was similar to that of a schoolyard fight, but the fervor had died with the spread of the darkness. The students nearest the edge saw them coming first; a trio of adults, striding confidently along the scrubby carpeting towards them. On the left was clearly Mrs. Teller, the school nurse, still wearing her clean-cut, white dress, and on the right was Mrs. Juniper, the school counselor with her ever-present clipboard. Both looked calm and confident, as they flanked a figure covered in head to toe in the swirling black fog.
The students could smell the authority in their approach, and Mrs. Teller and Mrs. Juniper were well known as being good people. When the three adults reached them, the students didn't even need to be told to move, simply parting before them to give them space to pass. The few teachers among them were smiling thin smiles of grim satisfaction as the trio moved between the Prophet and the students.
Before addressing the villain, the shadowed man looked at the students. Smoothly, the wisps hiding his face retreated.
"Very good, you've done well," the Principal said in their general direction with calm pride. "We'll take it from here. You may all continue with evacuation procedures like this is any other fire drill. Mr. Dunston? If you would take the lead?"
"Yes, sir, of course, sir," Mr. Dunston clipped, throwing a salute before he and the other teachers began organizing the crowd of befuddled students.
"Thank you, Mr. Dunston," the Principal said. "Mrs. Teller? If you would see to the injured?"
"Yes, sir," the Nurse nodded, hurrying over to the rubble. The students that had been struck in the initial attack were mostly sitting up now, several of them looking sheepish at how long they had been pretending to be hurt. A couple of bruises and burns, but they seemed largely intact.
Turning back to the Prophet, the Principal raised a hand, the pitch black forces rising at his bidding. As swiftly as shadows, the energy flowed onto the Prophet and took the form of solid restraints to bind him at the wrists and ankles. Though he immediately struggled against them, he was unable to move even the slightest. As the students were ushered out of the door, the gravity field faded away, as expected, but the restraints easily held.
"We'll be delivering you to the proper authorities soon," the Principal informed him in firm tones, gesturing to Mrs. Juniper. "Once our counselor has had a chance to... adjust your memories, that is. Unfortunately, we can't have you telling anyone about this."
"What... hellish sorcery... has befallen this world?" the Prophet panted, struggling to clutch his side. Red was starting to appear around the scorch mark. "What circle of Hell have I walked into?"
"Nothing of the sort," the Principal said mildly as Mrs. Juniper approached, her eyes fixated on the Prophet as she spread her palm across the wood of her clipboard. "This is simply a school, Mr. Palladino."
"You know... my name?" the Prophet said.
"We know many things here," the Principal replied evenly. "Goodbye, Mr. Palladino."
While Mrs. Juniper took care of her business, the Principal returned to the hallway. The students had all been shepherded away, leaving the space empty and silent. Sunlight began trickling in again as the shadows retreated, fading away as if they had never existed.
A few minutes was all it took before the Counselor returned to his side.
"It's done," she said crisply. "He won't remember anything other than that he attacked here, before suffering a splitting migraine and passing out."
"Good," the Principal said.
"What happens now?" the Counselor winced. "I won't have to..."
"No, of course not," the Principal sighed. "We knew this day was coming when we started this venture. No, it's time they all knew the truth. Come. We will need to organize an assembly."
"Well," the Counselor smirked as they walked back to the Office, "at least pep rallies are going to get a lot more interesting."
EDIT: I did more. Sorry for errors, I don't edit much.
| 2016-04-06T11:09:49 | 2016-04-06T10:08:19 | 141 | 83 |
[WP] You're a villain that fell in love with a hero. Though the strongest villain on the planet, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and don't want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain, one too strong for them to beat.
|
"For your own safety, you seriously should've let me complete that ritual." The shackled villain protested as the hero pulls her to a carriage.
"You were gonna sacrifice 27 virgins, Theia, I'm not gonna let that slide." The hero replied as he lead her into the carriage and locked the door behind her.
Theia sighs as she quickly broke through her shackles, "I'm serious, Vall!" She yelled at the hero who's walking away, "That thing will probably kill you!"
"You severely underestimate me!" The hero replies as he heads back to the cave with 27 virgins, "You of all people should know how skilled I am."
"Yeah, skilled enough to just barely survive a minotaur attack!" Theia exclaimed but Vall was already past earshot. The villainess sighed as she makes herself comfortable in the carriage. Between the fights, banter, and sexual tension, she knew he wasn't gonna listen anyway. "Why am I even doing this?" She thought to herself; perhaps she was still grateful to him for giving her some much needed free time, perhaps she felt like assimilating his power was still too soon, and after a while, thinking about all the villains she delayed, she smiled, "Nah, it's just fun having him around."
An explosion resounded as the mountain side gave way to a giant wolf like beast with Vall tossed into the ground, his magical armor and shield cracked from what happened. The beast reared back its head and fired a blast of magic into his direction. He stared at the blast as his body refused to move and, in a heart beat, A magical force field appearead with Theia in front of him. She giggled as the field easily diverts the blast, "What? I thought 'I severely underestimated you', Vall." She said with smug look on her face.
"Don't get me wrong. He just got me off guard." Vall smileed as he forced himself back up, "Besides, you know I'm just getting started." He glowed with magic power repairing damage to his weapons, armor and body.
Theia giggled at the sight she had seen multiple times before, "You one trick pony." She dropped the force field and readied her magic, "Fine... I'll help you just this once, Vall. I'd rather not have you killed."
"Just don't get in my way, Theia." Vall replied with a smirk as the two stared down the beast in front of them.
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Preface: I got a little too enthusiastic with this one. Saw an image and wanted to write a story about it, this prompt was ideal. Is in two parts.
My name was Frank. I was ugly. I should say, I was fuck ugly. Disgustingly so. Like I was Frankenstein's monster gone wrong ugly, hence the name. My parents had such a sense of humour. I loathed them for that. All through my childhood, it was hell. Being bullied for it, hated for it, I hated those right back. Those who pitied me were tolerable. But it was the two-faced ones that ignited a fire of wrath within me. Those who pretended to be okay but then you would catch them out of the corner of your eye flinching in disgust when they though you didn't see it.
Imagine the fun I had when puberty kicked in and I gained my powers. Telekenesis. Weak at first, with simple things like loosening the screw on a chair so a leg fell off, or locking doors, but as with any skill or muscle, the more you train it the better and stronger it becomes. Revenge was sweet, but I soon realised I had to keep it low key or I would be discovered. These days I was getting on just fine, my neighbours knew me as an ugly shut-in who played games all day getting a benefit. Suited me perfectly. I could, for a while, pretend to be a normal person while online. I even had some 'friends', I guess.
Online was also how I got my jobs. I always picked things that would make people suffer the most. I suffered during my childhood, and wanted others to feel what I did. I picked on the rich, those that had never had to work a day in their lives, those that were fed from a silver spoon since a young age. It satisfied me to have them lose so much.
I was careful. I was knowledgeable. I hid myself in a masked hood, it would be useless if I my face was known to the populace. I similarly hid my powers, and called myself the 'Masked Menace' for jobs I wanted to be caught at. I made it seem like I had mundane things like the power of flight, strength and toughness when it was all my mind doing the work. I didn't want to attract the attention of the most formidable heroes, which would necessitate the use of my full abilities. I would make more public attacks so I could lose to heroes that seemed like they should be able to beat me, but mysteriously when I was arrested they could never get my masked hood off. Then I would inevitably escape. It was handy to have a 'weak' persona in case I got caught doing one of my other jobs.
One hero in particular, Sariel, had powers similar to the ones I pretended to have. We fought a few times, I made it a hard fight of course, and allowed myself to be beaten in the end. I think it was after the fifth time she beat me, I changed up my usual defeat dialogue.
"How do you keep beating me? We're evenly matched!" I lamented. "Surely I should have prevailed at least once by now?"
"Oh come now." Sariel giggled. It was a nice little giggle, actually. "You use the same moves. I studied footage of your previous battles. You need something new." She waved a hand dismissively. "You're like a boss battle in Guild Wars. Once you know the patterns, you can win easily." I blinked a few times in suprise. That was the game I played.
"Something new, huh?" I replied wryly. "You're actually giving me advice?"
"I like a challenge." She smiled. "And I won't get better by doing the same things." The smile was replaced by a frown. "But I still want to know how you keep getting away."
"A man has his secrets." I replied pompously. "Until next time, then?"
"Until next time." Sariel flew off as I was taken away once more.
Soon, it became that the only hero to come and stop me was Sariel. Our fights were enjoyable, I won some just because I could as a test, and she always came back with even more determination to win next time. My life fell into a routine. Do a few jobs in secret with my full powers, then a more public one to fight at. Play games at home. It was strange, I almost felt happy. I still had loathing for those who knew no suffering, still wanted to hurt those two-faced people on the street when I walked places. But I wanted for nothing else.
One day, during a guild event, the usual banter was flowing as people fought. I was only half paying attention as usual, more interested in helping take down enemies. That's when I heard it. A giggle. Not just any giggle, though. *Her* giggle. Sariels. How I recognised it amonst all the others I had heard, what made it distinctive I don't know. I just knew. I couldn't believe it. I panicked. Did she know? Had she found me? Was I going to have to disappear?
"Frank!" The raid leader, Kyle, snapped. "Wake up, you've been spaced out for ages!"
"Shit! Sorry!" I shook myself and got back into the fight. How long had it been? A minute? Two?
"Maddy, are you okay? Frank was supposed to be helping you there." Kyle was grumbling, but that was normal for a raid.
"I like a challenge." Sariel replied. Wait, not Sariel. *Maddy*. My mouth dried up as I realised. She was one of the newer people, which explained why I hadn't heard her before. I pushed the thought aside and got back to raid business.
"Sorry Maddy, I'll be right there." I got my character back to position and helped her out of a tricky situation. She probably would have survived, but it was easier with two.
"My hero, Frank." I could hear her smile in the tone of voice. "Saved my ass over here."
"Well, it's an ass worth saving." Oh *fuck*. Fuck, *shit, fuckshitfuckfuckfuck*. Did I really just say that? To *Sariel?* I had *never* said anything like that before. To *anyone*. A shocked silence met my words, my brain trying to process how to get out of this embarassment. Then I was saved, by that same giggle, as she spoke again.
"I bet you say that to all the girls." Laughter erupted over comms, I heard a couple of people say 'Get a room!' to which I simply had no reply. What had I done? What was I thinking? The raid ended shortly afterwards, giving me an excuse to sign off and gather myself. It took a long time for me to get to sleep that night.
Things got... problematic after that. Online, Sariel (Maddy?) and I couldn't stop flirting. I broke her arm once during a fight, hoping that it wasn't her online, that I was mistaken - but that only confirmed it. I tried to stop flirting, I really did. It made my villian/hero fights with her quite awkward. A lot if the time my heart just wasn't in the battle, and she could tell. I did get to confirm that her ass was worth saving though, it really was rather nice. I lost focus in our fights a few times, or should I say my focus was on her face instead of fighting, and she trounced me easily on my reduced power.
| 2018-01-27T16:53:11 | 2017-09-17T04:25:10 | 58 | 11 |
[WP] You're a villain that fell in love with a hero. Though the strongest villain on the planet, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and don't want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain, one too strong for them to beat.
|
I hear the battle rage from across the city. The police band hasn't shut up long enough for me to get a word in edgewise with the officers escorting me to central booking.
Gents, I say to try and get their attention. If I don't get out of these cuffs soon, he'll win and were properly screwed.
Gents, I say a little more emphatically, trying to be heard above the din of radio chatter. Useless. I could escape but doing so would kill these poor slobs, just some dumb mick cops living their childhood dreams.
As I clear my throat before yet another attempt at gaining these fools' attention the squawk box erupts in screams. Seconds later fire erupts from the ground level of a building directly in front of us sending debris flying everywhere including directly into the front of the squad car. We become airborne for what seems like an eternity as shards of glass and twisted metal fly around the inside of the vic, an inside that's quickly becoming an outside.
Miraculously I'm alive. Thrown from the car and bleeding from a cut above my brow. I don't know how badly I'm hurt, but the wound stings and blood drips into my freshly starched and pressed shirt. It occurs to me only after my fingers have gently proved the cut that I'm no longer handcuffed. I'm free to put an end to this madness. Hopefully she's alive and I'm not too late.
I pull out my wizard robe and hat. Game on.
|
You are either born with powers or not. That just how it is. Don't ask me why you did not get powers while I did, okay? Because I don't know, but what I do know is that I used mine to perfection! Nobody had a chance against me in my time, and to be frank, I don’t think anyone will ever surpass the accomplishment written in my “Villains Grade Book” or police report to you people.
The day I retired as a villain and went into exile, was the day after my heart was broken. In the realization that I had a heart, I quit. Not because I wanted to, but as we learned in villain school “No villain has a heart!”, so I knew my time was over.
I lost my dream job, but on the other hand I gained a heart, and it was not nearly as awful as I had thought. I quickly joined a group of former villains who all had found their own hearts at one point or another. It was a wonderful group of people, there was Joey (aka Nightman) who found his heart when he fell in love with music. Then there was Jodie (aka Stallone), I know the name seems silly, but what can you do she loves him and everyone picks their own name after graduation from villain school. She found her heart, well you guessed it, in Sylvester Stallone, even though I never found out if she actually met him.
Even though I was not quick to open up to the group they eventually found out how I had found my heart. In hindsight I found it much earlier than when it broke, because for your heart to break it must have something to ache over, I had just not realized I was in love.
During my exceptional regime over the world, I am not saying I was the Overlord, but some did actually called me that, so it would not be wrong of you to think of me like that or something. Just sayin’. Sorry back on track, I will get to the point now, it is just that this I never easy for me to tell, but here I go.
During my exceptional regime over the world, I encountered a hero I later learned was called Lady Light. She was something special, not because she had a chance against me, in fact I think she must have been one of the weaker heroes, but it genuinely felt like she did not fight for herself, like every other dumbass hero seems to do. Her small little speeches about what she was fighting for before we fought, she did it every time. It inspired me somehow, and I could not get myself to beat her in our fights. I wanted to fight her as often as possible, not only because I wanted to be around her, but also because her victories over me had gone to her head, just a little.
She had proclaimed that with her constant victories over me, she had shown that she could become the savior of the world. She was quick to make her next targets of villains public, and the list was nasty. It was combined of the most vicious, horrible and evil villains this planet had to offer. I knew that she would get killed if she took any one of those guys on, it would be certain death and I would not let that happen, so I made sure she was busy fighting me that she would not have time to go after the others.
It worked, but only for a year. Our fight occurred every single day, but she never seemed to repeat the same speech, I don’t know how, but she always found something to fight for. I had been such a narrow minded person my whole life, only ever fighting for power, but through her speeches she showed me the wonder of the world, the diversity, and how many different things there were to care about. During those fight, I was happy and because she would be victories in the end, she would also be happy.
After a year of fights it all suddenly changed, when my plan started to work against me. Lady Light had become the most know hero in the world, constantly beating a villain bigger than anyone before. It might have taken her focus away from the other villains, but at the same time it had put the focus of them on her. Villains like Hell and Showtime had seen this as an opportunity to take me down and defeat Lady Light to take the top spot.
Showtime was the one to do it, he caught me off guard one night. My daily fight with the lady had just taken place, and she had just left me with my hands cuffed around a street light. The police would usually arrive not soon after she had flown away, today our fight had taken place downtown in the Capital, which meant it would be detective Rose that would greet me that day.
When the police arrived, a few minutes later than usual, detective Rose stepped out of the car and to my surprise he uncuffed me. Before I had a chance to speak he had given me another pair of cuffs on me, which was infused with uranium, greatly reducing my powers, and not normal police gear! Out the back of the police car stepped Showtime, with a devious smile on his face. He nodded towards detective Rose who stepped away from me and walked back to the car. A few steps before he reached the car, Showtime stabbed him in the neck with a motion faster than I had remembered it to be.
I instantly knew he was here for the lady. Unfortunately Showtime is not the typical villain, who always seems to forget something, it was clear that this was his day, his moment to rise up and take what he always wanted. So he began to beat me, and with my powers reduced his strikes inflicted more damage than they normally would. After a few minutes of constant strikes he stopped, confident in victory.
Showtime had been well prepared, or maybe just lucky, I never knew, but when something happened to police detective in downtown, Lady Light would always be the first hero on the spot. Her father was a detective, and to protect them was probably the only cause she held higher than any other. That was also the case that day, as the lady arrived not long after, with a horrified look on her face when she saw that the detective was dead. Her faced turned from horror to pure disgust when she looked at Showtime, and for the first time in my life, I rooted for the good side.
The fight did not take long, and her lifeless body tore a hole in my sole, I barely remember Showtime even being there. I could not move or anything, Showtime removed my cuffs while saying something about being the new sheriff in town. The only thing I remember clearly was my heart stopped. I had never noticed it beating, but in that moment it stopped. The world she had shown me was gone, and I had absolutely no idea about what to do the next day. Now we know what happened, but right then and there, the villain in me died. In her death she gave me a heart, and for that I am forever thankful.
| 2022-01-12T08:00:19 | 2017-09-17T02:32:46 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] You're a villain that fell in love with a hero. Though the strongest villain on the planet, you constantly lose to your hero, since you just love the rivalry and don't want it to end. As you are being arrested one day, your hero is attacked by another villain, one too strong for them to beat.
|
The cuffs tightened around my wrists and the glowing blue orb was strapped to my chest. Thought the darkness leaving my body wasn't the only deep emptyness inside me. Sucker punch was her "hero name" but I knew her real name was Susan Brownlee. Of course I did, she was the love of my life and so it only made sense that I knew everything thing about her and now was the 153rd time I have let her defeat me. My powers were unimaginably stronger than hers but I wouldn't dare kill her, I get in just enough trouble so that for a few minutes her hands manipulate mine and strap on all this security and I'm close enough to smell her lavender-lylac shampoo. As the armored anti-super police unit drags me to the modified APC to transport me to some new and improved containment unit I catch her talking to the police chief, her blue eyes unphased by the atrocities I committed and her hair roughed up just enough to make her even more devilishly sexy. After the doors to my taxi are shut I look out the slit window for one last glimpse of the most beautiful human alive and my eyes are greeted in horror.
A green ooze is dissolving the cheif and Susan is pinned to the ground by a disgusting hag with 4 legs and 6 arms. Brood Witch. Instinctively I look the cuffs around the handle on the bully steel door and tug, my hands rip clean off and I thrash around until the blue orb that strips me of my powers shatters, a terrible design but us villains vowed to never exploit that for situations that are dire, we wouldn't want escaping made harder would we? As soon as the orb cracks my powers return and a black mist swirls around me. My hands are back and slice easily through the door with a tendril so dark no light can escape. I fling myself toward my love and Brood Witch impales her with a glowing green spear of disgusting energy. I immediately lash out with everything I have: tendrils, my arms, my teeth. I tear Brood Witch apart with the wrath of the pure evil inside me and within moments the bitch though of as one of the most powerful of the evil supers was a twitching pile of blood.
I run to Susan as her would dumps her mortal blood all over the concrete of downtown New York, green stains around the wound show me how bad it is. But there is nothing I can do, I scream for a paramedic or something because my darkness cannot heal wounds on those other than me. All I can do is hold her and try to stop the bleeding. She looks me in the eyes with utter confusion, for she thought I was her arch nemesis and wanted her dead. But before we can exchange any words her eyes droop shut and I can feel that a powerful soul has slipped into the void. But rather than the jolt of energy that I get when a hero dies, the mist surrounding me and the tendrils I hold her with blink out of existence. Before Susan's lifeless body can hit the ground my hands begin glowing with divine light and no longer have I any desire to cause chaos, but now the parasitic thoughts that drug me to the top of the criminal ladder are screaming at me to kill ever villain who dare dream of ripping life away from this beautiful world.
Sorry is super ameteur, I though I had a good idea but I'm a terrible writer so feel free to critique me.
|
Edit: conversations not aligned properly.
***
“Horus! You really like to get caught by me don't you!”
“Hah! You think this time will be the same as last time? You are wrong!”
“Coming after every time, if you weren't an overlord of destruction, I might have thought you liked me.”
Yes he did. No, it was more than that, he loved her. Far more than his best traps and ploys, far more than his instruments of devastations, he was deeply in love with her. That day when he decided the politics was full of rat gunk, he pulled a fast one and set the whole government in a ingenious trap.
The whole mass of heroes appeared to stop him. They were weak. He knew each and every one of them. Their strengths and their weaknesses. The world cheered them on like fans cheering the losing team. Licking wounds to ease the pain. But he used poison, it was no use. He had plans put in place for all the worst possible scenarios. He's never failed once and he never will.
The heroes charged, knowing that some of them may die trying. Tackling against a barrage of heroes and their superpowers, he single-handedly beat down groups of heroes that tried to stop him and laughed as he would usually do. Chill ran down the heroes' backs because he knew exactly what scares them. Horus the Unstoppable.
At that time, there was one hero that he couldn't recognize. Eletra, she was called, with powers of electricity. She was much weaker than Voltra, who he killed long ago. She was bashing away at one of his gates with brute force. From the look of her smouldering hair she found out the hard way that her powers are useless. As he watched her punch and kick at the gate hopelessly he felt a faint urge to toy with her. He opened the gate just to let her in. Inside, a shifting maze was next on her plate. During the time of her reaching the end of the maze, he built himself a mountain of unconscious heroes to stand on top of. He watched Eletra reach the main control panel.
There was countless buttons, dials and switches of many different colours, shapes and sizes that would do countless things on the poor politicians. From tickling them to vaporizing them. She would have to find out which button does what. How many would be left from the trial and error?
After noticing the timer on the top of the machine for self-destruct. She panicked. Pressing the big red button, she activated a rotating razor blade. She panicked even further and started mashing different buttons, cranks, knobs and sliders hoping that one of them would stop whatever she started. The countdown sped up and an extra twenty killing devices appeared around the frightened politicians. Watching her on the verge of tears, he smirked. He tapped a few times on his phone and a green triangle button in front of Eletra started blinking. She hesitated before she pressed it with her eyes closed. The buttons powered down. The countdown timer vanished. The death machines stopped in their spot. She smiled and let out a laughter of relief. He also laughed.
What has he done.
Horus, the Unstoppable was no more. Now he was no more than an annoyance. Eletra rose her ranks and was listed as the one who Horus can't defeat. It felt like a drama. Everytime Horus appears and throws around heroes like ragdolls, Eletra would appear and throw him in prison. A few days later he would escape it as if he could walk through walls.
“You again?” she would start.
“You should know very well why I'm here.” He would continue, “The things I have accomplished! My title, Horus, the Unstoppable! You took everything from me! I was the overlord of destruction! Do you know what it meant for me?”
“Why would I care! Your actions have hurt many and I can't let you go on! You know how this ends. We've been through this many times.”
“Well, if I knew that will end up in my cell again, why do you think I even escaped? To have peppermalt steak for breakfast? Well, there is that but that's not all!”
He took out a long list. Scanned it for a while and pointed at a small line on the list
“There! To take revenge! See! I wrote it in bold!”
The tiny scribble was way too small for her to see from the other end of the building roof.
“Is that all hand written?”
“Of course it is! What do you think happens when I have more than enough free time in a prison cell?”
“What's its priority?”
“Well...” he looked back at the list, “It's definitely before going to Disneyland and it’s most likely after having mid-afternoon tea...”
“Well, then let me give you a few more years to think about it!”
She jumped with electricity sparking off her legs. Her arm coated with lightning, ready to uncoil.
“Like hell I need any more time!”
Horus threw his punch as mechanical armament covered his arms. Their fists met and created a shockwave, dismantling the armament on his right arm and knocking both of them back. Horus who stood at the edge of the roof tripped on purpose and nearly fell off as he grabbed onto the ledge with his left arm. Eletra looked down at him from the ledge reading the situation. She has grown so much.
“You and your electricity is damn annoying!”
“Hold on. I will call for help. Give me your other hand!”
“I don't need your help!”
She grasped his left hand and pulled on it.
“You are too naive."
His armament disassembled and he fell down.
“No!”
She jumped down trying to catch him. Look at her. Look at how devoted she is to saving anyone she could reach out to. She swam in the air and hugged him.
Yessssss!! Whoohoooo! Yeah!! I’m a genius!! ...is what he would have screamed but he restrained himself with everything he had.
As the reached closer to the ground, his antigravity field activated and slowed them down. They landed on a mattress truck he placed beforehand. At most, their injuries were bruises. Local authority was there to carry him off as always. His wrists were cuffed with superpower dampening handcuffs even though he was never seen using his superpowers, it was a measure of caution.
As he was pushed into the police car, a voice rumbled as the police car he was getting into got crushed.
“Horus! How pathetic! You dare lose to her? Then what do you make of my reputation?”
Shoot. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't in his plan. He was naive. Heroes aren't the only ones aiming for the number one villain. His consecutive loss made him look way weaker than he was supposed to be. Especially Ironwind, who’s driven purely by ambition and pride, Eletra would become a nice steppingstone.
“Horus! I will show you how it's done!”
Ironwind rushed to Eletra in an instant, beating her down. At first, she was holding up but slowly the difference in strength showed. Ironwind clicked open a folding knife and went for the finisher. The blurred knife stopped after piercing through a projected shield, projection device and Horus' hand. Horus stood between them holding the weight of both of Ironwind's arm strength.
“You are naive.” Horus breathed out.
His handcuffs clattered on the ground where he was a second ago.
“Huh? What's this Horus?” Ironwind had a confused face.
“No one is allowed to defeat her before I do it.” Horus wore his signature evil smile.
“Don't tell me... Horus, is this the girl that you are head over heels in love with?”
“Love? Horus, what does this mean?” Eletra looked confused.
“Love for rivalry I guess, I don't know what the hell is going on in the villain community. After all the time I spent in the prison.”
Horus' evil smile faded and was replaced with a cold, silent glare at Ironwind who stood unfazed.
“We know who you are mister Voltra.” Ironwind slowly smiled as Horus froze, “We started digging through your documents when you emerged as the world's strongest by killing Voltra out of nowhere. Hah! You made a mistake of not killing anyone after that.”
“How many knows of this?”
“Everyone in the community.”
Tinted visor slid over Horus’ face and a helmet assembled into existence.
A very familiar electronic voice came from the helmet, “Voltra is dead.”
| 2017-09-17T04:37:24 | 2017-09-17T04:19:39 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You've been magically gifted the ability to speak all languages. Anything you say comes out in the first language of whoever you're looking at. One day, you try to greet someone on the street and they gape in horror as ancient, unknowable eldritch sounds exit your mouth. The ground shakes...
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... the ground always shakes in the subway platform when the train goes by. The man.. he is crying.
After the train passes and the subway platform is quiet, the man explains to you that he is a novelist and has been writing a fantasy novel for 5 years, ever since his wife, Angie, passed away.
Angie loves the man’s writing. Whenever she finished a draft of one of his new novels she always told him, “I love the fire in your mind.”
Angie loved Tolkien and always wanted to read more novels with fantastic languages in them. After she passed, The man started writing a novel, and a fictional language along with it, which he called Malhalish.
But he gave up on the novel, it wasn’t good enough for Angie. And no matter what he wrote he wouldn’t be able to hear her thoughts on it, hear her voice ever again. She was gone. So what was the point?
He looks up at you smiling with tears in his eyes and says, “ you spoke to me in Malhalish.”
“What did I say”, you ask.
The mans eyes well up: “You said ‘I love the fire in your mind.’”
|
Deep below the surface lay the ferocious flame dragon. Growling he opened his bright yellow eyes, lashing out with his claws at the first object he saw. Engulfed in rage by the fact that he had been woken, from what he thought was death.
Why was I awake flooded the dragons mind. Slowly rising, he tried flapping his wings. No joy. How could he possibly expect to fly. After all he had been locked away by deaths curse. Yet to wake up from this curse was unthinkable. Bruises and cuts were all across his scaly skin.
DIIIIINNNGGG!!! DIIIIINNNGGG!!!
“Hello? Okay sir calm down we cannot hear you... I see, well then. We will do everything we can to sort out the situation and prevent any harm to the public from occurring.”
“Thh...anks.”
“ What was that about boss?”
“Bad news.He has been woken up. Ferocious flame has risen from deaths curse.”
“ Oh my gosh. How do we stop him from reaching the surface.”
“ It is too late for that. I know your unfamiliar with ferocious flame, one of the creatures on our exiled files.”
“Then tell me me is there another way?”
“He is on his way up as we speak soon he would have reached the surface...”
The way these two ladies gazed at me was frightening. What had I said that was so bad? Especially for them to react like this. Their mouths hung open. In absolute shock they covered their mouths while shaking their heads at me. I turned around to see if anything was behind me. Nothing was there. But I did feel a rumble beneath my feet.
“What is the prob...lem?”
Gone. They had completely disappeared from the area, leaving no traces behind. A puzzled expression took over my face. A few sounds couldn’t have done that much harm. Could it?
Yes, the noises that came out of my mouth were slightly weird. Although it’s not as if I summoned some ancient monster ( I chuckled to myself) that would be impossible. No man has the ability to do that. That’s only the sort of power you would see from a cartoon on tv.
The longer I walked back the more puzzled I became. Of all the languages that I can speak, the one time I decide to not even bother speaking one and greet someone, this is the reaction I get. I will never understand it for the life of me.
“LOOK OUT!!!”
Sharply turning my head I couldn’t see any danger. Until I looked up. I could see the debris that was about to fall onto me. Yet I still stood there, frozen, stuck to the ground like glue. I could hear footsteps vastly approaching me. It was almost as if time had frozen for a second. That’s when my legs gave way, sending me flying off the ground.
I took a quick look behind me. Just to see who or what had sent me flying. That’s when I saw them, five people dressed in full armoured body gear. They were actually holding up the giant piece of debris. It’s crazy how just a few seconds ago, I would have been crushed like a worm underneath this.
“3,2,1... HEAVE”
“Woah, that’s pretty impressive stuff”
I began to applaud the heroics that these guys had just pulled off. To not only throw a brick that heavy to the side, but to actually hold it up as well. Insane stuff in my opinion. Backtracking to what had just happened, I got back up off the floor. Still clapping as I walked towards them.
“So can tell me what is happening here?”
“We are the ones who asks the questions not you”
“Excuse me”
Their response confused me. Had they not just saved my life? All I was doing was thanking them for that. Was this such a crime?
“ Are you him?”
“Him being who?”
“We we’re informed earlier today from an anonymous caller. That someone had told us that there was a person speaking weird and ghostly chants. After hearing this two women were incomplete shock.”
“Oh my that’s unbelievable. I wonder who that was.”
“Yes. So do we. As soon as we find the culprit, we will take them in for questioning.”
A sharp pain began to take place in my chest. What they had just told me, I just couldn’t seem to digest. Thinking back to my earlier thoughts, such as it’s not as if I had summoned a monster or something. As well as chuckling to myself, was it really possible.Had I actually summoned a monster?
Almost as if on cue the ground began to shake. Cracks began to ripple through the concrete. That’s when I heard the growl...
“RRROOOAAARRR!!!”
“Everybody run!!!”
I started to speed off, stopping for a quick glance to see what had emerged from the ground. As I saw what appeared to be a 20ft dragon. My body began to shake, sending me crumbling to the ground. Heavy footsteps were approaching me and there was nothing I could do.
BOOM.BOOM.BOOM.
Looking above me I could see the rage in this monsters eyes. Sweat trickled down my forehead. The beast towered above me. Crawling into a ball was the only way I knew how to protect myself. This was beyond fear. Complete terror entered my soul. Slowly this creature took in a deep breath.
FFFGGGHHH!!!
Spouts of flame began to exit his mouth. I could feel the blazing heat from all the way down here. All I could do was stare. Stare as I watched the flame leave its mouth, then make its way towards me. It all seemed to be happening in slow motion. My mind began to flashback to the last few hours. The weird noises that left my mouth. The startled expression that was on those ladies faces. The group of people who held up the boulder. Had it all led to this?
I took one last look at everything. The outside world, then I closed my eyes. I could feel the hot air on the side of my face. It burnt a lot. Preparing my self for the worst, I breathed out. Then I breathed in one more time. What would usually feel like a few seconds, felt like I was breathing in for a few hours.
I couldn’t cope, my brain was beginning to shut off. The longer I endured this heat. The more pain I felt. I had just enough energy to take one last look. That’s when my mind went blank...
| 2019-01-11T14:40:20 | 2019-01-11T13:32:05 | 189 | 10 |
[WP] Your whole life you were misdiagnosed as colour blind, when in reality you could see colours no-one else could. You see art differently, the sunset and sunrise differently. A rainbow to you is out of this world. One day you go to visit the Mona Lisa. You see something no-else does...
|
"There's a sun over there," I said pointing at the top left corner.
"You see a sun?" the tour guide asked with incredulity. We'd been in the Louvre for the past 3 hours with the Mona Lisa being the final stop of our tour.
"I'm serious," I said moving a bit closer. He was not the first and would not be the last to judge what I could see using his own eyes. His back stiffened as if taking measures to defend the picture from whatever lunacy I brought with me. I could see a bright yellow moon and stars similar to what Van Gogh drew in his Starry Night. I took out my phone and confirmed. They were arranged in the same way too.
The background most saw as plain, dull green I saw as illuminated with dots of birds all flying Westward.
"This is the most valuable painting in the world, hundreds of experts have examined it more than a thousand times over with X-rays, MRIs and every other device known to man. You're saying you just spotted something so obvious with your naked eye?" The guide asked.
I ignored his statements as I took a step back. The birds seemed to form letters. "Surgit," I whispered. A ripple flowed from the painting's centre going out, it reflected on the picture's edges then rolled back in. The moon started to shine brighter, the stars faded. As far as I could tell it was now daytime in the painting. The birds flew into the horizon of the picture until they could no longer be seen. The curator took a few steps back as did the other visitors in awe. This they could see.
Mona Lisa slowly tilted her head beckoning me to come closer. The curator stood up ready to push me back but he was a few seconds too late. Her hand was out. It grasped mine and with a small firm pull I went into the portrait.
|
How could a simple painting perfectly capture the dappling of the sun across flesh? Or the movement of a soul inside of barely restored canvass? A mere artistic rendering, centuries old. The most important painting of the modern world.
I stared longingly at it, that I could one day have a tenth of that. A tenth of the talent. A tenth of the palette, colors stretched betwixt one another.
And that for once, it looked like a painting that was made for me, that represented a hair of what I saw in real life. Where the life lines crossed and spun around her head, the dimples where purple green shadows entwined across her skin.
"Beautiful," I whispered. Long had I assumed that no art would ever be made for me; the confirmation that this world wasn't built to be perceived. How lonely. How entangled. How entrapping.
"Shhhhhh," The Mona Lisa said, drawing a finger across her lips. I stared. Entranced. Horrified. Interested. "I already know I'm beautiful."
A brief hesitation, lips opening, closing, and I took a step closer. Had that really...?
"Must you stare so?" The painting asked.
I took a step back, and her eyes followed my path. The Louvre museum of Paris wasn't as crowded as I'd expected it to be. Bright slashes of color hung in my vision, entombed in spectacle and protected only by steel accouterments.
"Are you alive?" I whispered.
The painted quirked an eyebrow. "Can you see me?"
Holy fuck.
I shot a glance around. A guard waited around the corner, his eyes flicking over to me, then back down at his kit.
"Yes?" I hissed.
"Fascinating," she laughed. "Are you a painter? You have the artist's eye, after all."
I'd sketched mostly. There was... When you could see all the colors in the world, and couldn't find most of them anywhere, it was hard to muster forth the effort to try and capture only a part of it. How could I describe a rainbow when more colors existed in it than were captured by artistic renderings?
"I'd... I'd like to be," I whispered.
"You'd make a good painter," The Mona Lisa confirmed.
Dazed, I took another step forward. Holy fucking hell.
"Do you... do you always talk?"
"I do," The Mona Lisa said. "Few hear me each year. I haven't had a proper conversation since... oh, Warhol? What a talented man he was, he understood so well what drives the mind's eye. A shame."
I swallowed. "Do you get lonely?"
By god I did. Holed up in an apartment, hoping classes might go well, hoping paychecks might clear a bit sooner to nibble away at the shackles holding me.
"No," The Mona Lisa said. Then she brought her arms up. Gestured around her, trailing elegant fingers five hundred years old. "I have around me the sum and total of the greatest art in all the land, artist," her smile barely touched her cheeks, but it felt like the heat of the sum. "And this art has me as well."
"Does it all talk?" I asked.
"Few as directly as I do," The Mona Lisa demurred, tilting her head. "But does it need to? Look upon me, artist. See that I have outlived my creator eight fold. Is it not that most great of blessings that a simple splash of paint such as I may see the future, be held in greatest regard for the span of human existence?"
I swallowed. "It is great."
"And I will live longer than that still, cast upon every image that blesses or parodies me. A thousand thousand eyes to see out of, a thousand faces in my image. Me, a mere noblewoman, now a goddess affixed mindlessly to every surface. Immortal."
"But only I can see you?" I asked.
"All can see me, artist!" She gestured grandly. "Does it matter if they know I live or not? My image will never die so long as the human eye falls upon me! That is the fate of all art, let alone that which thinks. That which is extended far beyond use. I crave endless variety, novelty, which extends far beyond my frame, and here there within I have it! Eternity. I shall see the sun die and star in a thousand thousand plays of free creation."
Her smile finally touched her face, and I felt as if I could feel it too.
"Just you?" I asked.
"Look around you, artist!" The Mona Lisa smiled. "All art has such a fate. And there is so much art. That one day, a creation of yours might be honored such. Doesn't that motivate you?"
"There's not enough pedestals in the world for that," I returned, slowly. But my mind drifted to the old drawings in my sketch book. Did it yet live with all of the colors I could muster of the world? Did it yet crawl and contort and whisper needily?
Had I ignored it?
"Then you will have to make pedestals," The Mona Lisa returned. "Look upon all of the shelves of a library and you will see dreams, artist,"
I took a breath and held it. "And of those dreams, how many become the Mona Lisa?"
"Do not seek to surpass me or become me!" The Mona Lisa chided. "I am the greatest work of art there ever will be known." But her smile twisted slightly. "That will ever be known."
"But..."
"That doesn't mean that greater works of art don't yet exist," The Mona Lisa confirmed. "Nor does it mean any artist should give up. You, you who are blessed to see all of the colors of the world, and every artist, you should know that what art craves the most is to be seen- no, what art craves most is to exist. Don't you feel the tug behind your finger tips, behind your very eyes? My world is sparse in the living art, if only because so much art has failed to be made."
"And yet there is still so much around you," I whispered.
"But there could be more," The Mona Lisa returned. "The world can be beautiful, endless, varied. We all have art inside of us, you understand."
A brief pause. A hesitation where I looked back at the guard, then up at the painting. "Do you get lonely without someone to talk to me?"
"The great works are never lonely, artist," The Mona Lisa whispered. "But perhaps, if you want to pay a proper homage to them... create, and create giddily. And maybe I will see your work among those held most exalted. A great race that all art takes place in, that I may play among the stars of your minds."
"If only I'd make it?" I asked.
"If only you'd make it," The Mona Lisa said. "Now begone, and stop talking to paintings. Make your own."
and I left. I had something to do with the stretching screaming hours of the night at last.
-----
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https://old.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/
| 2019-01-29T04:04:20 | 2019-01-29T03:38:52 | 516 | 367 |
[WP] You wake up to find yourself on a train with a note in your pocket saying "What ever you do, don't get off this train untill you arrive at the very last stop". Its been nearly 20 years and the train still hasn't arrived at the last stop yet.
|
I wake up, I part the curtains covering the windows, and I wait.
This is what I've been doing this for years, decades even, but given how inside the lights always shine bright, whilst outside the night never ends, there was barely any indication that any time had passed at all. That is, except for the one small star in the sky that had been moving ever so slowly down towards the horizon since I had got on this train.
I was just about to lie down once more, when I noticed that something felt off. The train was slowing down. This had happened several times before, I remembered, but the note had always kept me from leaving. "Don't get off this train until you arrive at the very last stop", but this time I didn't listen. As the train stopped, I picked myself out of my seat to make my way towards the door. The door opened, and with my eyes closed I stepped out onto the field.
My feet landed on the hard surface below, and as I opened my eyes, I saw that I was on the train once more. The single star in the sky was back in its original position.
|
The only thing I remember is a kiss. Soft lips brushing my temple, warm breath on my skin, and the words _Until death do we suffer_.
I can't tell you how long it's been since I've been on this track. I was a child when I found myself here, and yesterday I discovered the first strands of gray growing out of that temple where the kiss still lingers. Twenty years? Thirty? The lines in my face do not tell me.
At first, I merely huddled in the back of the last train car, watching the world roll by, slowly deepening into darkness. The stations were strange monuments in barren fields, some lit up like heaven, others abandoned. At every stop, someone got on, or someone else got off, or nothing happened at all. The train would trundle to a pause, and the engines would die, and only the wind over the flat wasteland made any noise. Then the engines would chug...chug...._chug_ back to life, and I would watch the empty platform shrink away into nothing, remembering a kiss on my temple and feeling afraid.
It's been black outside for years now. I don't watch the landscape anymore. The things inside are what kill.
I had begun my journey the day the sun set forever, moving from the back of the last train car and into the locomotive world. There were people here who had been here longer than I have, all of them proud _survivors_. This place was a game to them, a hunting ground, a trial to cull the weak. I had to stay hidden, or I had to run fast, or else I would die.
Those from outside were full of madness, and I knew the madness was outside, and I feared it.
Some passengers flung themselves into it--more and more as I made my way to the front of the train. In my youth, from the back of the last car, watching from afar, I had seen them as exuberant departees. Now I saw them as they truly were, so desperate to escape the endless track that they would flee into something worse.
Some passengers had fallen asleep--or perhaps they had died, their lungs still scooping up oxygen but their hearts beating no drums--so I took from them what I could. Clothing. Food. One woman had a pistol, but there were no bullets.
And I--I crept alone. I passed every stop, fearing to get off. I felt that every step forward was a mistake, yet I knew, somewhere deep inside where things can never be expressed, that if I did not keep trying to reach the front of the train, I would end up just like the passengers who slept. Dead but breathing.
Dead but breathing.
The wheels thundered along the track beneath my feet as I crept through the train cars, my weapons in hand. I trained my ears on the sounds all around, the rattling windows and shrieking gears. Somewhere within the pandemonium, I would hear footsteps, and if I did, I would flee, or I would fight, or I would kill. The train stretched on forever, just like the tracks, and I did not spend a lifetime journeying for the first car just to die so far along. I would kill anyone who got in my way.
I am a survivor.
The first man to try was younger than me--fast and foolhardy. I left him with a grin carved into his throat. The next was older, smarter. She gave me a deep cut on my arm that would surely become a scar, but I smashed her head against a seat back and left her for the vultures. Those with the madness liked blood for blood's sake. They were not going anywhere. They were just enjoying the ride while they could. I despised them.
Then I saw a man step out of the shadows before me, swaying with the motion of the train. There were tears in his eyes, and the expression on his face chilled me to my core.
It was as blank and empty as the world outside.
Here was a man who had given up.
He lifted a pistol to eye level and pulled the trigger so fast that I barely had time to react. I ducked behind a seat just in time, my heart pounding in my ears faster than the wheels spun across the iron tracks. Most people killed for survival. Some killed for fun. But this man would kill just to stop others in their tracks. I feared him most of all. Sometimes I thought about joining the jump into madness whenever I came across men like this one.
But I had overcome them before, and I would do so again, as many times as I had to. I was going to reach the first train car. I was going to find answers. I was going to survive.
I dove out from behind my cover, hurling a blade as I went. It caught the man in the shoulder, and he lurched back with a shout. Rolling to my feet, I charged forward, whipping out my empty pistol and smashing it across his face like a club. Skin tore in long strips as his head wrenched about, and two chips of his teeth clicked against the train window. He spun as he went down, and I fell upon him with another knife, stabbing him everywhere I could reach.
When I was sure he was dead, I unsheathed my knife from his ribcage and picked up his gun. There were no more bullets. I hastily searched his pockets, and to my delight, I found four shells that fit my own gun.
I heard movement behind me, so I pocketed the shells, took my knife from his shoulder, and ran.
In the eternity of the train, the days never changed. One day, I'd see my reflection in the window, and my hair would be just over my eyes, and there'd be the first hint of a beard upon my chin. And another day, I'd look up and my hair would be long, my beard full, and I'd wonder where yesterday had gone.
But in every tomorrow, I put yesterday out of mind. There was only the next step forward. Somewhere, there was a beginning. There was an end. There was an answer. There was a kiss. And every day I survived, I crept just a little bit closer. I was the only moving cog in a sea of stagnation. I heard sobbing. I heard screaming. I heard the cackling cachinnation of falling apart. And sometimes I heard the train.
For the train never sleeps.
| 2020-07-17T13:29:00 | 2020-07-17T13:21:25 | 55 | 15 |
[WP] Nations around the world are hellbent on taking out this journalist that has been trying to publish pieces about things that are supposed to be top secret. But for some reason, all attempts to silence this “Clark Kent” fellow have failed.
|
General Aladeen always get what he wants. A mountain of golds? Done. A harem of Asian women? They'll be in his room in an hour. A picture of Kim Jong Un's drooling in his sleep? Check his email. Eliminate a pesky journalist? Their heads will be hanging by his window in the morning.
But not his head. Not Clark Kent.
"What do you mean he won't take the job?" Aladeen questioned, furious of the reports given by his aide.
"I'm sorry, Supreme Leader. But when we mentioned the name of Clark Kent, Mr Wilson immediately put down the phone..." The aide explained, quivering at Aladeen's fury.
"Have you tried Deadshot?" Aladeen suggested, remembering how the sharp-shooter has helped his father plenty of time in the past.
"Our second choice. Also the same reaction."
"How about Bronze Tiger? Shiva? Cheshire?" His aide remained silent, a clear answer "Alright, have you at least reached out to our ally in Pokolistan?"
"Well... Clark Kent already got them..." His aide revealed. Panicking, Aladeen immediately grabbed his tablet and, while cringing, opened the Daily Planet app. There it was, the first article on the page
*Pokolistan Royal Family Exposed! An Unfair Bidding of Hundred Years Old*
*by Clark Kent*
The article went on in details about how the Pokolistan's royal family has been holding its citizen's down with an unclear contract made from almost a century ago that gave them the sovereignty they have been abusing ever since. Details such as reports from oppressed natives to escapees were included along with pictures of the said contract. Aladeen did not need to even open the social media apps to know that a storm is ravaging the country now.
How in bloody hell did that reporter do it? Not even Aladeen know whether the contract really exist. He found himself slouching down his chair, thinking thousands of theories of how did that boy scout did it.
Does he has ties to the League of Assassins? Couldn't be. All of those that have been sent to him would always come back alive, with only their motivation gone. Could it be that Clark Kent is merely a figurehead of bigger conspiracy bent to take on the corrupts of the world? Honestly, with the amount of super groups out there, he's not surprised.
Speaking of super-groups, could it be he's a metahuman? A powerful one at that seeing how even the best like Deathstroke and Deadshot refused to deal with him?
"I'll get you, Clark Kent." He muttered.
Meanwhile, somewhere on the other side of the planet, Clark was sipping his coffee as he sorted out the files on his computer.
"Good luck." He whispered.
|
"Don't do this, Clark. Just think about it you'll only welcome more trouble, not to mention the weight you carry with your other life."
"It's who I am, unlike you who has a secret identity to keep."
"You talk like you don't have one."
"Clark Kent is not my secret identity."
"Hmm. At least I'm not meddling with geopolitical matters."
"What do you call what you're doing in your city, Bruce?"
"It's, different."
"The world adopted me so I'm doing it a favor as a human being, you have to understand in my point of view."
Two friends had an exchange of words over an encrypted line.
Nations around the world are hellbent on taking out this journalist named Clark Kent who has been trying to publish pieces about things that are supposed to be top secret.
"Why do you want to do it if it's so sensitive?"
"I believe the people have the right to know, honey."
"Hmm. As long as it doesn't blow back I'll not ask you for the details. I'll read it from your published piece."
"You know you're my inspiration, right?"
"Don't forget we're in the workplace. Get to work, Smallville."
The married couple engaged in an open conversation in the Daily Planet newsroom.
All attempts to silence the journalist have failed for some unknown reasons. Leaked information published by Clark Kent's wife and equally talented Pulitzer winning journalist Lois Lane, showed that Markovia reportedly hired an assassin to take him out. The gunman was apprehended by the local police the next day from an undisclosed location.
"You're an expert in this line of business now tell me when did it go wrong?" Detective Maggie Sawyer asked the man in cuffs in the Metropolis PD headquarters.
"I'm not talking to you until I have my lawyer." The Markovian said in his accent with a gruffy voice.
"You better hope you're getting out of this situation."
There was no immediate comment from the Markovian government. A few days later they denied having any relationship with the said man. Efforts from other governments that tried to have a dialogue with Clark turned out to be futile.
EDIT: Part 2.
"Ma, Pa, do you think I did the right thing? I mean it's gonna come back at me, which means..."
"You did good don't think about it now. It's out there and you have nothing to worry about, besides your friends are keeping watch." Jonathan Kent reaffirmed his son.
"What do you mean?"
"That rich friend of yours from Gotham seems to have asked one of your associates to keep an eye out on us, Clark."
"How?—" Clark finally saw John over a distance. "He's there." Clark smiled at his friend. John smiled back.
"You know, Clark, a few years ago you'd forget the whole world when you're around this place. Sometimes you have to try and be the young boy we know and love," said Martha Kent encouraging Clark.
"I'm trying ma," he said. "John is pretty good at hiding himself though." Clark leaned on the established fence in the backyard of Kent farm where he used to frequent.
He looked up and stared at the clear moonless night sky filled with flickering stars, momentarily he moved from the place to speak with his friend, John.
:Exclusive from the Daily Planet!:
Investigative Journalist Clark Kent has published a major piece that revealed about a secret political movement that's been carried out for years. While the report had substantial evidence to point out Markovia, Russia and U.S. stand as the major players, it also included India, Israel, Pakistan, Brazil and China in the list of countries that was part of the movement.
They were involved in orchestrating some of the events that were previously considered natural disasters by the general people. Men and women in various positions in the governments manipulated the political standpoint of each governments and profited from sabotaging other countries' resources with or without the support and knowledge of the said governments.
The movement has been planned by certain political parties and their leaders. Whether they all work as a group or not remains to be seen at this point.
The U.N. officials said they will move this matter up to priority and look into the matter and bring the perpetrators from their respective countries to justice. U.S. was quick to order an investigation to root out the people who stood against the interests of the country.
Markovia and Russia outright denied the report and called it baseless while others refrained from providing comments to the media. The situation escalated and caused a worldwide phenomena, experts feared it will lead to an economic crisis. The internet exploded, stock markets crashed for a week and the doomsday clock moved up by a second.
"Sir, are you ready to go?" asked the assistant.
"It's a new day, Mercy." The billionaire turned and walked towards the elevator in his building.
He'd reached the Metropolis community hall to address the nation on the recent issue.
"Good citizens of Metropolis, and the people of America I know you're in fear of your own country. I'm one of you and I don't trust the government. I know how bad this is. The politicians of our country made way for others to easily target our system. It needs a new leader. So I'm here to tell you all that I'll be running for President."
"Mr. Luthor, Mr. Luthor, what made you run for the top job?" "Can you tell us about the people who are responsible for the systematic movement?" "Do you know them?" "Do you realize you have a criminal background? What makes you think people will vote for you?" The journalists crowded him with questions, mics and flashing cameras.
"No more questions." His employees escorted him out safely to his vehicle. Lois Lane stood from a distance and watched him with a scowl, he turned around and smirked at her before he got into his car.
Later that evening in LexCorp building, Luthor was seen finishing up his dinner in the penthouse. He got up and walked to his office.
Superman hovered outside behind the spotless glass of the building.
"What do you want?" asked Luthor as he poured a cup of coffee.
"When did you become interested in politics. What did you do, Luthor?" Superman asked with a demanding voice.
"Nothing. Shouldn't I run for POTUS?" Luthor turned himself around to face his arch-enemy.
"You know what I'm talking about, what's your angle here?"
Luthor glanced at the city from his office then he turned to Superman and said, "I want to give you all the pain in the world, Clark Kent."
"How did you—" Superman's face froze in shock.
"It wasn't hard for the world's greatest genius. You know, Clark I liked you. When I got to learn about your little secret I was so furious I wanted to do something. I've known it for some time, I planned and prepared I wanted to see how you'd cope under pressure being a man but I didn't expect you to untie the knot so soon, kudos to that, real investigative work."
"Why? What do you gain from all this?" Superman asked disappointed.
"Now, you know I'm the architect of the current landscape of the political world but you can't prove it. I can't imagine how it must feel to be the most useless guy on the planet. You did it all for nothing." Luthor laughed like a maniac.
Superman glared at him, his eyes burning red hot. He realized he can't change things but he always had hope.
"Don't worry, I won't reveal it. Besides it's unimportant, what I want is to crush you and show your true self to the world, one day they will worship me as their savior."
"Good luck with that. When it gets proven you're the one who's responsible for the chaos you'll see yourself in prison, for life." Superman then flew away from the scene in an instance.
"Heh, I'll see about that." Luthor looked at the glass he held for a moment then he poured the last few drops on the floor.
WP.r #114 • r/FleetingScripts
| 2020-11-29T02:24:50 | 2020-11-29T01:51:29 | 460 | 143 |
[WP] You have the ability to enter the worlds of any book you please. The only catch is that you have to die in the book world in order to escape back to reality. You have just entered a popular children's book by accident and need to find a way to get out.
|
A told B and B told Me, “I’ll meet you at the top of the coconut tree”
“Whee,” said D to E, F, G,
“Oh dear god” Said poor old Me.
Chicka Chikca Boom Boom will there be enough room?
Here comes H up the coconut tree.
And I and J and “I can’t stand K.”
-All on their way up the coconut tree. Chicka Chicka Boom Boom!
“How can I be saved from this doom?”
Look who’s coming - it’s L,M,N,O,P,
“If I off myself will I go back to me?”
And Q, R, S, and T, U, V.
Still more - W, and X, Y, Z.
“If someone’s going to fall, please let it be me!”
The whole alphabet’s up the… oh! No! Chicka Chicka Boom Boom! Skit, scat, scoodle-doot. Flip flop flee.
All of the paramedics running to the coconut tree.
They tend to wounds, and move H a little too soon.
Spinal fracture, not looking good.
“Oh how I wish it were me,” H died where he stood.
Help us up! Cried A, B, and spotless Me.
Next from the pileup, skinned kneed D, stub-toed E and patched-up F.
Then comes G all out of breath.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to die.”
J and K are about to cry.
L is knotted like a tie. M is looped,
N is stooped. “I’m pooped.”
O is twisted, alley-oop.
“How will I ever leave?”
Flip flop flee.
Look who’s coming, it’s black eyed P.
And Q,, R, S, and loose-toothed T.
Then U, V, W, wiggle, jiggle free.
Last to come X,Y,Z.
“Thank god we’re all finally up on this damn tree!”
And the sun goes down on the coconut tree.
Chicka Chicka boom boom, look there’s a full moon.
A is out of bed and this is what he said,
“Dare, double dare, you can’t catch me.
I’ll beat you to the top of the coconut tree.”
Chicka Chikca boom boom, and little old me finally jumped out of that god-forsaken tree.
I woke up with a scare, the whole damned thing was a terrible, children’s story-brand nightmare.
|
#**Seven Acts of Madness**
Green grassy hills trimmed at perfect length, light blue skies without pollution, and beautiful trees colored with the season of autumn were all around. I took in a deep breath through my nose, inhaling nothing but the scent of the environment around me. The air outside smelled wonderful. It was like the perfect air freshener giving a subtle, yet powerful hint of it's freshness to the world. I exhaled through my pursed lips and closed my eyes trying to take it all in. It's amazing how beautiful the illustrated world of a children's book could be. Especially experiencing it in the flesh. This place is literally what a child's dreams are made of. Too bad I have to ruin them.
Birds were singing and chirping a melodious tune while the trickling ambiance of a nearby waterfall filled in the background noise. My feet swished and swooshed, enjoying the comfort from the soft grass beneath me as I walked about. This was a drastic change for me. I'm always shoving my nose into the binding of a new horror or suspense novel, not a whimsical fairy tale. I'm enjoying the change of pace, though. The incline on these hills are leisurely and enjoyable, making my journey less stressful than it needed to be - which was nice.
When I made my way to the top of the hill I spotted a small spout of smoke in the distance. The trail of smoke was continuous, so I waited patiently to see which direction it came from. There was a dense thicket ahead of me and I figured it to be coming from that generalized area.
I looked down the hill and a smile crept from the corner of my mouth. Eventually my whole face was grinning with pleasure and I said, "Sure, why not."
Tossing my shoes to the side, I sat down on my butt and laid flat on my back.
"Here goes nothing!," I hollered, then flopped onto my belly and rolled down the hill. I stared forward and watched the world move in circles as I tumbled faster and faster, giggling the whole way through. When I finally came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, my face was red and hurt from all the laughter. I let out a sigh of happiness only to have it taken away by the reminder of what I was doing here.
Rising to my feet and brushing the loose blades of grass off my clothes, I marched forward toward the edge of the hill which transcended seamlessly to a dirt path.
"Whoa, that's weird," I said, clenching down on the dirt with my toes. "It feels soft as snow."
Each step I took sunk a few inches into the ground leaving my footprints behind me. I trailed down the remarkably plush path and ended my walk at the brink of the encapsulated forest. The entire region was serene and bliss, but I knew what I had to do. Snapping of small twigs and the rustling of leaves sounded aloud as I picked up my walking pace inside the forest.
"What was that?," I whispered, listening in on the tranquil sounds of nature. Sweat rolled down the sides of my torso and a chill set through my body from the brisk breeze passing through. My teeth started to chatter. The sound of bones clacking inside my mouth disabled any possible chance of me hearing that noise again.
Then the sound happened again, but louder this time.
*Where is that coming from?*, I thought.
I could hear the sound of a girl crying in the near distance. Creeping my way toward the sound of the distressed woman, I tried my best to hide the sound of my footsteps by walking as slow as I could. Using my hands to brush away branches from my face and fling them behind my back, I separated a clump of the bush making a hole to peer through.
There she was. Laying on the floor surrounded by animals. Her hair was black with a red ribbon holding it in place, and an enormous collar fluttered behind her neck. I've never seen someone so eloquently dressed before. She wore a dress that was yellow from the waist down, yet blue from the waist up. Although, the shoulder pads on her outfit were obnoxiously large. I felt genuinely bad that she was experiencing such sorrow, but it was awkward that she relied on the fertile comforts from animals of the forest.
A rabbit hopped forward and sniffed her arm, making her lift her head in return. The rabbit scattered into the brush and she said, "Pleeaasseee don't run away! I won't hurt you!"
I was entranced by the display and watched to see what would happen next.
All the animals peeked out from where they were hiding and showed their faces to the woman. Squirrels from the holes in a tree, birds in their twined nests, and rabbits huddling with deer behind a tree that had fallen.
She muttered a few more words and began singing alongside a whistling bird.
This was it. The time was now.
I swooped up a branch the size of a wooden two by four and jumped out of the bushes. All of the animals scattered in an instant when I charged at the woman. She shrieked in terror before I hit her in the head, knocking her to the ground unconscious.
"That must be her house," I said, looking down a path that lead to a log cabin. "Time to go pay a visit to the family."
Snatching the woman by her hair, I dragged her face down through the path until finally reaching the cabin. The door was conveniently unlocked, so I took her inside... waiting for company to arrive.
The door knob jiggled and a group of people clambered into the house. It was pitch black inside but I had a good idea of who was there. Voices of many different emotions spoke aloud, ranging from grumpy to happy. A light flicked on and the group went silent.
"Snow!," one of them yelled, running to the woman's aid.
Another member of the group ran forward and started untying her from the chair. Blood matted in the back of her hair and stained the once beautiful dress she was wearing. Although the back of her head had been smashed in, she was still breathing and very much alive. The woman groaned a sluggish moan, and toppled onto the floor with a loud, lifeless thud. All of the half sized men ran to the woman on the floor and circled around her in desperation. Some were crying, others were mad - but most of all, one was furious.
The angriest of the bunch screamed out loud, "Who could do such a thing to a sweet, humble girl!"
Little did they know, I was hiding in the same room. The checkered patterned comforter atop the wooden framed bed hid me nicely as I waited for my moment to shine.
"Gh.... rum.... py..." the woman moaned, until going completely limp on the floor. A pool of blood seeped from her head and puddled around her body at an alarming rate.
*Time to go*, I thought, before jumping out from behind the bed.
"I did it," I said.
All seven of the men turned around to see me staring directly at them.
"Get him! He'll pay for what he did to our precious snow!," the angriest of the bunch said.
One of the men charged toward me and I opened my arms up like an angel descending to heaven, accepting any fatal punishment coming my way. He pinned me down without any resistance on my part, and the rest followed shortly after bearing axes in hand. The last thing I saw was a flash of red and silver in front of my face before waking up in the library.
*****
*****
Check out my other stories over at /r/EdenRenellaJones. If you like my writing, think about subscribing!
| 2015-09-17T17:02:21 | 2015-09-17T16:27:03 | 52 | 14 |
[WP] A disguised human spy at an alien university faces their toughest challenge yet: Human Culture & Biology 1001, taught by a horribly misinformed professor
|
"And remember class," Professor Blix said to the room full of students. "Midterms are next week, so please *try* to show up for class."
David stood up to leave, rubbing his lower back, where the prosthetic beetle shell dug into his skin.
"Not you, *David.*"
David sighed and rolled his eyes, naturally fitting into the role of a student who had no desire to talk to his professor after class. He sauntered down to the desk and waited, making sure his fake antennae twitched this way and that. Any reasonable person would assume he was just another rich scarab kid at an Indigo League university.
"You're marks are quite low, David," Professor Blix said. His purple eyes stared at his student's face. "You'll need to get at least a B on the midterm to pass this course."
"Right," David said.
"Let's go over your last essay. You write, and I quote, 'humans are known to have used nuclear weapons at least twice during their history.'" Professor Blix stared down David as though the latter were a bug that proposed to speak. "'At least twice.' We know for a fact that humans used nuclear weapons thousands of times! Why do you think they are not allowed contact with other species?"
"I just thought an alternate point of view..."
"Alternate point of view! How about the part where you claim that the human organization known as the Illuminati is not real?"
"I've looked at my own research, and..."
"Your own research! Your research that says humans have never conducted an alien autopsy? Your research that says humans landed on their moon, instead of faking it? Your research that says humans do not use airplane chemtrails to poison their own populace? Pah!"
"Look, professor..."
"Look, here, *David.* I'm going to give you a list of firsthand resources describing the humans, and I want a new essay by next class! If you do not have this, you will not get a B on the midterm, and you will fail this class. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes..."
Two hours later, as David read article after article on Above Top Secret, InfoWars, and r/conspiracy, he wondered why he had gotten into this job, and if he would ever be able to get home.
***
===
Thanks for reading! Please check r/arcaldwell for more stories, and details on Gaia's Dream.
|
"And so when the male and the female are ready for the season , they insert their respective probacis into each others receptorocle. While at the same time the tentacles on their head\(these are the thinnest tentacles we have seen anywhere\), they would start getting activated and start to entwine with the others body specifically the neck and restrict oxygen intake. In that way they would be keeping the other alive by pumping oxygen through the probacis while restricting the others life support system as in the inbuilt life support system by strangling them. You can see at this point of time that the two would start to get stiff in the midriff and shaky in their legs and hands, obviously trying to rid them\-self of the other and stop getting strangled."
"It is quite beautiful."
The alien students listened to all this horrified, mouth agape. It was difficult to see if they were really horrified or happy or something else.
The man in disguise turned uncomfortably to his alien classmate and smiled weakly.
The rubber fangs in his mouth glistened with saliva.
"You buying this shit." the disguised man said to the alien sitting beside him.
"Cant you see the professor does not know anything. He is just making up stuff as he goes on.", the disguised human said.
At this the alien professor looked at the fellow in disguise and with barely concealed contempt said, "Quiet you, yes you with the funny head."
The human in disguise became quiet and let his mouth be agape at the professor. The insides of his pink mouth could be seen.
"You have some teeth sir.", the alien professor said.
"Why don't you go to the doctor for a checkup. We have one in our campus."
The Human in disguise said "Will do , will do."
Nodding his head two times and then prostrating himself in front of the professor, as was the custom around these parts, the human in disguise walked out of the classroom, wagging his tail as he walked out.
The alien professor was astounded, "why do you have a tail?"
All the alien students looked at the human in disguise as he was walking out. At this this point there was much screaming and shouting among the alien students. The professor was himself looking at the disguised being in fascination thinking of the prospects of another discovery and a potential life changing paper.
The alien professor shouted, "Catch that being. Catch him"
"Do not let him leave the building."
As the realization dawned on the Human in disguise that his disguise was see\-through, he said to no one in particular, "Shit, they gave me the wrong disguise."
He started running down the long hall and then tried the wash\-room door went in but it was occupied.
As he came out of the wash room, from which at this time screams could be heard. He doubled his running speed and at the head of the stairs he tried to get the costume off, specifically the tail that was getting in his way and whiplashing his bottoms.
Swish, whip, Oww on the left cheek and then again swish, whip, Oww on the right cheek. His buttocks were red and welted sore. He gingerly took off his pants revealing the reddish welted buttock cheeks to the aliens who were chasing him. On seeing his nudity they backed off watching in fascination from a distance.
The disguised human after taking off his pants took off the tail costume appendage. Seeing the tail come off the aliens puked in disgust. Spewing greenish "floor melting" acid everywhere. Soon the floor beneath them gave way and the aliens fell through.
The human took the stairs, sliding down the smooth armature along the long steps and slid down, hit his nuts on the big dildo shaped protuberance at the end and flew off and landed at the floor at the feet of the majestic queen alien who happened to be the dean of that institution.
Being short sighted she could not fathom what was about until the bottom naked human with red welts showing mooned her close up in her face. She lost her shit and started to run the opposite way. It was mayhem.
The Human who once was in disguise shouted into the portable radio clipped to his shoulder, "may\-day, may\-day." " Dr. Stone, can you hear me."
"Dr. Stone can you hear me. Please respond."
"may\-day, may\-day"
Some kilometers above the thin atmosphere of the planet hovered the Russian soyuz with Dr. Stone at the pilot module. Leafing though the manuals and day dreaming about life back on Earth.
She jolted out of her half daze and grabbed her nail gun.
Dr. Stone grabbed at the snake like microphone and said, "I can hear you."
"I will be down in 2 minutes."
By this time the streets of the town was filled with aliens with slithery black ectoskeleton walking about, some hanging from the walls, some from the roof. All the eyes on the road as the human who was formerly in disguise ran on.
"Do not approach the creature. He is mine", the professor could be seen riding a cow holding a knock\-out syringe in his hand.
The Alien professor said, "This time i would publish a paper that would make me the greatest scientist of all time."
The alien students were looking at the professor with curiosity, "Who are you talking to, professor?"
"No one, no one at all.", the professor said. "Also shut up and how dare you."
The students backed away.
The human in disguise was getting tired with all this running about and Dr. Stone was nowhere to be seen. What is taking her so long.
Dr. Stone was on the ship frantically pushing buttons, "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe". She kept pushing the buttons in different order but the ship did not respond. All the writing was in Russian.
She banged the control panel. And reached for the cellphone and dialed 911. At the other end a Chinese woman was speaking, in Mandarin. "What can i help you with"
Dr. Stone looked at the receiver astounded and she gritted her teeth in anger and shouted. "I am going to nail you bitch". The universal auto translater kicked in at this moment and issued the warning. "Language please. "
Dr. Stone shouted, "I am using language you bitch."
Dr. Stone shouted, "I hate this, i hate this , i hate all of this."
Back on the alien planet the human who was once in disguise kept on running. He was getting hungry. He slowed down and looked back.
"That cow looks delicious."
The human salivated at the cow, openly drooling and then there was the grumble or was it a rumbling sound that came from his hungry belly. The ears of the cow pricked up at this familiar sound and the hairs on its back went straight up like needles. The alien professor howled and jumped off the cow. The cow took off in the opposite direction butting to green mush some of the aliens in her way.
The aliens turned back to the human but then they started to run helter skelter in opposite direction as the ship commandeered by Dr. Stone was seen hovering above the ground with retro rockets firing making the craft bob up and down in this planet of 1/5 Earth gravity. The hatch opened and the human who was once in disguise jumped into the craft.
Back in the orbit and looking down on the alien planet the two were celebrating with leftover vodka from the Russian module. The human who was once in disguise sighed and said, "Dr. Stone, get us out of this god forsaken planet."
"Will do captain, will do", she said and started on the dials that lay infront of her, "Eeny, meeny, miny, .."
| 2018-04-23T03:31:00 | 2018-04-23T03:07:01 | 67 | 10 |
[WP] As we all know, Albert Einstein's last words were a mystery, as he uttered it to a nurse who couldn't understand his language. As a multilingual person, you time-travel to the moment he was about to say the last words of his life, and heard the most horrifying sentence you could ever hear.
|
The room is scarcely lit, a single lightbulb barely illuminating the face of a genius, as if in a mockery of his numerous "ah-ha!" moments. Nothing is left of the air of greatness I expected to feel. Just an old, dying man, powerless and hopeless in face of the inevitable. I catch myself wondering how little our accomplishments mean when death comes, everything turns to dust and even the mightiest legacies are one day forgotten.
Then the moment comes, a weak hand reaches out to the nurse. She leans closer; I listen intently. I spent many years learning every language Einstein could possibly speak. The silence is thick, you could hear a needle falling.
Weak lips tremble with effort. A historic moment not yet known to scholars. In this feeble whisper, I sense profound clarity.
>!"Bike is short for Bichael."!<
Then he's gone. I shed a single tear, then disappear.
|
To whomever read this: please, do read until the end of it before making any decisions. I’m not looking to excuse myself, really. I just want to reassure you, before you vaporize me or whatnot, that I have, in fact, thought thoroughly about what I’m doing. Use me as an example of where idiocy can lead you or whatever. I won’t be in a position to care.
Look, I understand; the thing about time-travel is that it’s a logistic nightmare. It’s nowhere near as simple as taking your car and going to the grocery store, no matter what *some* may think. There are consequences, paradoxes, all kinds of stumbling blocks that can have a wide variety of consequences; at best, the result may be personal death or ruin; the possibility that you may learn something or do something or *change* something; at worst, well, it really doesn’t bear imagining.
The thing to know about humans, however, is that they we are way, way too curious for our own good; even when we know it isn’t healthy, or safe. Something in our humanity demands that we poke and probe the unknown to try and learn anything more about the world we live in. So yes, I agree that the only reasonable conclusion is to curtail and direct that curiosity to something, hopefully, a little more productive.
The obvious solution, when an inventor with more intelligence than sense managed an actual, functional time machine a few decades ago, would have been to destroy it and never speak of it again. Of course, the actual reality was a lot more messy and confusing, and it snowballed something fierce before some semblance of order was reached.
Nowadays, only one travel is permitted for each person, and only after they have proven they are responsible enough, smart enough, to be able to handle it (something I do know, and I obviously am not, but again, judge if you want. Just don’t stop me) Of course, there are plenty of protesters and calls for freedom of passage and what-not, but I, for one, still think it is perfectly reasonable. ***On most circumstances***. We are given an incredible chance, but as many things in life, it is a fleeting one. Doesn’t that make it more valuable? Didn’t some famous poet or other say that?
By the way, I’ve come to the conclusion that I am the biggest idiot to have ever been an idiot. No need to point it out, okay?
In any case, last week was finally my turn to use it. Sherman, Louise, authorization: 0883-0767259V, if you haven’t gotten it yet. Not to brag, but I had finished all the requirements; I chose the point I wished to visit from the few available at the time and satisfactorily reasoned my request, had it approved. I painstakingly trained myself in the old languages, economy, customs: I was ready. (And I am ready. I have taken precautions. Stop panicking.)
Truth is, mine was a short visit, even by our standards. In, out, no more than, say fifteen minutes; I had tried not to be too greedy, after all. Thing is, as mentioned; I consider myself a reasonable woman, but I’m really, really curious. I wanted to solve a mystery, have achieved *something* of value, not too small but not really that big either. A cool story for when I was out with friends if you will.
Learn the famous last words of one of the greatest thinkers of all time? Sign me up. Really, I had wondered that no one had snapped this one up before me: Replace an unknown nurse that no one remembers, be there at just the right moment and I’d known Albert Einstein’s last words that had been lost to time. It would give me bragging rights for the rest of my life.
So I went. The trip itself was fine; a bit rough, but one can’t really complain when living through a miracle of science, can we? The clothes too were itchy and didn’t fall right on me, but I would have happily worn a clown costume if it had been necessary, so fair’s fair.
The doubts started as I entered the room, though. For the first time, I started wondering about the ethics of the situation. Here was a man, a genius man sure, but a man nonetheless and I had come to watch him perform like he was circus monkey. I didn’t turn around though; couldn’t, really, not when the encounter was already scripted. It was better to go, and get it over with.
Albert (it somehow seems too cold, to refer to the man by a last name in his deathbed. Besides, I doubt anyone can begrudge me the familiarity) looked smaller, somehow, that I imagined. I realize now how cliched that sounds, but as I imagine that won’t be on anyone’s list of grievances with me by the end of this, you are going to have to deal.
I am rambling quite a bit, aren’t I? Well, at the risk of sounding repetitive, whatever. I’m stalling. I’d tell you to sue me, but all things considered I really rather you did not, whoever you are. Anyway, there I was. Depressing room, great figure of humanity in front of me. I walked forward. He saw me. He went to speak.
I was not ready for his last words. I wouldn't ever have been ready for what those last words implied. This is the absolute worst thing that has ever happened to me, and I can only hope that by doing what I am going to do (hopefully a few hours before this note is found) this remains only my worst moment and not, somehow, the undoing of reality as we know it. Send help if you want, or not. But I’m using this thing again, for a slightly longer jump. I hope I don't break it, etcetera.
Oh, yeah, the request for authorization. Nearly forgot:
~~Sherman, Louise~~ Koch, Pauline: Time arrival is estimated at June, 1846. Purpose of travel is to marry and have like, three kids or something. I promise not to force them to do well in math class. Wish me luck.
| 2018-09-14T04:08:25 | 2018-09-13T23:41:32 | 55 | 26 |
[WP] Reincarnation is real, unknown to all, but the gods. Most beings live out multiple lives cyclically as humans or other life-forms and are always random. But these two souls are always human, always find each other, and are always romantically exclusive upon discovery. The gods take interest.
|
"they've died again."
"Again?! Every single time! They make a beeline for one another, they die!"
"you'd think they'd try something different after the first few thousand times."
"what happened this time?"
"one of them faked it's death, but the other missed the message about it being fake and drank poison."
"for fucks sake."
"at least only a few other souls returned with them. Better than that time one of them called itself Helen of Troy and the other started a war."
"where are they this time?"
"they're separated by a few decades this time. They go by Peter Abelard and Heloise, turn of the 12th century, France, by human count."
"watch them. See what goes wrong this time."
|
It was less like lighting, and more like a half forgotten dance.
Mari had known other men, certainly. Been friends with them, acquaintances, even dated a few, but it always felt...wrong, somehow. She entertained the idea that she was gay, or asexual, or was simply unable to fall in love.
It was always just pretend. Like a stage show. Walk here, say the lines, exit stage right.
Until, one day, she went to the movies. And there, on screen, her heart had finally quickened it's pace at the sight of another person.
He was a newcomer, not a full fledged movie star but an extra, a sidekick comic relief, and the sound of his voice, the sight of his face, even the mere mention of his name made everything inside Mari twist into knots.
Mari felt sick. Felt addicted. This new feeling was...exhilarating and exhausting in equal measures. The pound of her heart, the lightness of her head, the dryness of her mouth and the dull, thudding pulse of desire she'd never felt so strongly before, a gnawing hunger deep inside her chest and gut that longed for touch and taste and scent of the man she'd only ever seen on screen...
Was this love? She was almost scared of it.
She saw his movie, and it was *his* movie regardless of the role he played, twenty more times before it's run at the theatre was over.
In the weeks spanning the end of the movie's theatrical run and the release of its DVD, Mari felt almost normal again.
If he wasn't there, she could almost ignore the lonely feeling she got when she tried to look at someone else, or tried to summon those same feelings for anybody else.
So, when there was mention of the movie's cast making an appearance at a local charity benefit carnival, Mari was quick to jump in. She got her ticket early, and waited with bated breath for the day.
It was raining that morning. Soft grey clouds covered the sky, a drizzle and little else, nothing that would ruin the day.
Mari arrived early, going into the convention center adjacent to the carnival, to see if perhaps she could get a word with the man she so adored. Just a word, and she'd be happy.
She stumbled upon a meeting near the stage where they'd be hosting their panel, and froze up near instantly when she saw the back of his head.
There he was, less than 20 feet away from her, real and living and breathing. She could barely comprehend the fact that that were breathing the same air, under the same roof, nearly occupying the same space.
Was this real? Could it be real? She couldn't say, everything was a blur, her mind and heart were thumping so hard...
The leading man of the movie turned, and called for security. "No fans are supposed to be here at this time!" he called.
Mari saw him turn, saw him look at her, felt him look, and their eyes met.
It was less like lighting, and more like a half forgotten dance.
Mari approached, barely thinking of what to say or do, and stood infront of him. The rest of the world fell away when they faced each other, like they'd stepped onto a planet populated by only them, like the entire world had frozen, just for them.
"H...hi, I'm...Mari." she introduced herself.
Despite the fact she hadn't been in any sort of movie herself, he seemed just as starstruck by her. "I'm...Adrian...I-I'm sorry, but...have we met before?"
"No, I'd think I'd remember you..." she said softly. "I was just...really excited to meet you, so I'm sorry if I intruded, Adrian."
"No, no not at all. I just...you seem so familiar, I-I can't place it..."
Reaching up, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I wish I did know you before this," she said, glancing downwards. "Truth is, I've been absolutely crazy about you since I first saw your movie. It's...it's crazy. I'm crazy."
"No," Adrian said, stepping just half a pace closer. "No, it's...*you're* not...I...what?"
Without thought, without considering the strangeness of it all, their hands found one another. Fingers brushed up against knuckles, hands interlaced, and, for a fraction of a second, something in the world was *perfect*.
Mari wanted that moment forever, wanted it to last. Looking up at Adrian's face, seeing his pupil blown wide as if he were high and knowing it was because of her and knowing that she was the same, knowing that these strange, intense and confusing feelings had to be reciprocated, knowing that these feelings would slow down into a comfortable and easy conetentedness one day after getting to know one another...
Then, they both blinked, and fell to their knees.
Simultaneous heart failure, due to cardiac arrhythmia at the moment of contact.
........
"Did you have to be such a dick?" One god sighed.
"Oh, come on! That was great!!" Another chortled.
"Make one the Prince of Denmark and the other a homeless kid in Japan, see how they find each other!!" Someone suggested.
"No, make one a part of that isolationist tribe in the Amazon and the other a French Citizen!"
"Put them in Russia and make them both male this time!!"
"One in Uganda and the other in Hong Kong!!"
"A reservation!! Put one on a reservation!!"
"Give one a brain tumor so they die after meeting!"
"Paralyze one so they're a vegetable!"
"Coma, coma!!"
"Make them siblings!"
"Relax, relax," the god chuckled, reaching for the souls and placing them on the globe. "We have plenty of time to place them and watch as they try to find one another. Over and over and over again..."
| 2019-07-22T00:14:00 | 2019-07-21T23:46:31 | 28 | 19 |
[WP] When someone's heart breaks so does a piece of our world; this creates fissures, valleys, and even cracks in the pavement. Tell me the story behind the Grand Canyon.
Have fun! :D
|
"Hello, you're new here, who are you?"
"Greetings, I'm Mr Moon," said the Moon cheerily.
"I'm glad you're here Mr Moon, I have been so very lonely."
"Well be lonely no more, for I'm here to stay," the Moon reassured.
"Oh that's just wonderful, I have so wanted to talk to someone for so very long."
A pause.
"Mr Moon, can we be friends?"
"I think we already are," spoke the Moon.
"I'm glad you're here Mr Moon."
&nbsp;
Eons pass.
&nbsp;
"Did you feel that Mr Moon!"
"Feel what?" said the Moon.
"That!"
"I have no idea what you're talking about my friend," the Moon quizzically replied.
"Life!"
"Life?"
"Life! I have life growing on me, this is amazing!"
"That's...wonderful," the Moon said hesitantly.
"Be careful friend, life has it's...problems," warned the Moon.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, life has free will-" the Moon started.
"What's free will?"
The Moon considered his words. "Free will means life can choose how to think, choose how to feel, choose how to act. Sometimes those choices can be... bad."
"Bad?"
"Sometimes free will means making bad choices. Jealously, anger, hatred. These are all choices."
"What's hatred?"
"Hatred," the Moon said, choosing his words carefully, "is when you don't like something, or someone-"
"Do you mean like when when you get in the way of me and Miss Sun, so her warmth no longer kisses my skin with happy rays?"
"No my friend," said the Moon, chuckling, before his tone again became serious. "Hatred is when you dislike someone so much, it begins to consume you. It bends your every thought, twisting you and diminishing you until you become...less"
"But why would you choose that? You could choose happiness! Or joy! Or love!"
"Friend-"
"Wonderful, majestic, beautiful love."
"Friend, life is...confusing and complicated. Sometimes, life makes those choices before they even realise where those choices lead."
"Well I'll never make those choices, and that life on me won't either. I'm going to love them, right from my very core to the edge of my atmosphere."
"Friend, I'm just trying to protect you-"
"No Mr Moon!" And the Moon had never heard such conviction and steel in his friend's words.
"I'm going to be the best home they could hope for, and they'll love their home so much they'll always choose everything that's good in this Universe."
"Just be careful friend," the Moon said, concerned.
&nbsp;
Time passes.
&nbsp;
"Mr Moon, Mr Moon, wake up, wake up!"
"What is it?"
"Mr Moon, I don't understand!"
"Understand what friend?"
"What did I do wrong?"
"Wrong?"
"They took pieces of me, and twisted them into these, weapons of hate and-"
"Oh my friend, I'm so sorry."
"Mr Moon, they're killing each other," and the anguish in his friend's voice tore at the Moon's heart.
"Why are they fighting each other?"
"I don't know," the Moon replied.
"Why do they hate so much?"
"I don't know," the Moon replied again.
"Was I not a good enough home?"
"You were," Mr Moon told his friend.
"Did I not do a good enough job?"
"Friend, this isn't your fault!" the Moon exclaimed.
Silence sat between the two. Mr Moon could find no words of comfort. He longed to take the burden from his friend, to hold him, and reassure him. But-
"Mr Moon?"
"Yes?"
"I can feel it."
"It?"
"Every pulsing beat of their hate. Every flash of anger. Every anguishing moment of pain."
The Moon looked on in silence.
"Mr Moon..."
"Yes," said the Moon, dreading his friend's response.
"Children are dying."
And the Moon could only watch, as sorrow gripped the Earth.
And in it's grief, the Earth cracked.
|
I started this with your prompt in mind but I wandered off somewhere and got a tad lost. Im still posting the full thing because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Anyways, here goes.
They say there once was a young man, long ago. He wasn't very wealthy, but he had an aura of happiness where people couldn't help but smile in his company. He traveled the world helping with odd jobs. Fixing walls, clearing stables, yet he never frowned at any task. "A small smile is reward enough for a large task" he used to say. As people heard of this man, word made its way to a king of a distant land who was very sad.
The kings daughter had never smiled since birth. At first, the happy parents tried to make her laugh and play, but the princess never gave even a smirk. As the years lead on, the princess sadness spread across the castle. Servants, once happy to have a home became depressed with their position. The Queen couldn't sleep at night due to nightmares of sad faces. The milkman stopped singing. Even the royal jester was so melancholy he hung up his hat.
The walls began to crack.
As the princess grew, she became sadder and sadder, and the castle felt colder and greyer. One day the king came into his chambers to find his queen grey, cold, and hanging from the ceiling. "I can not stand to see my kingdom filled with grief. As I have put my soul into it, it has taken my life from me". The king organised a funeral where his subjects and his sad daughter sat silently, and he cried.
The roofing began to leak.
When word arrived of the man with the glowing heart, the king ordered he to be brought to the castle immediately. Within a week, the jolly young man arrived to see the sad king. The king felt a spark of hope as the jolly man walked down the once great halls, now beginning to gather dust. "Jolly Man, you say a small smile is reward for a large task, however my large task is for a large smile. Can you help my kingdom?". The jolly man smiled sadly, and put his hand on the kings shoulder. "I will repair your walls so they may never crack again".
The jesters weep.
The man with the heart of gold begins work on the walls of the sad kingdom. The man sings a song of old, about his home and about all the places he had been. With every new brick he laid, and with every word he sung, a feeling of warmth began to overcome the townsfolk. As the milkman joins in, the princess is drawn by the melody towards her window and sees the jolly man. The princess fills with a feeling she had not known before. She has fallen in love with the jolly man.
The princess smiles.
A day passes, and at noon the princess invites the man with the warm smile to the royal gardens. She smiles as he tells her bold stories of his youth. As they walk, the princess realises they are at her mothers resting place. Her heart grows heavy, and her tears stain her dress. "It is my fault you lay here mother. I wish I could have been better". The jolly man holds the princesses hand to his heart, and speaks. "I have also felt loss". The man sings a song; a song about a man who was poor, and a father who was sick. The princess listened to how the jolly man lost his family and started his journey, fixing others to mend the cracks his fathers death left.
The princess embraces the jolly man.
After many months, the kingdom is no longer grey, but full of life and warmth. Flowers bloom around the queens resting place, and the subjects are smiling. The king is having a feast, to his right is his daughter, and to his left, the jolly man. He raises himself and silences the crowd. "My loyal subjects. It has been long since the passing of our queen. And while I do still mourn her, I have an announcement. Our princess, I believe, has chosen a suitor." He nodded to the jolly man. The subjects cheer, and the wine flows freely. All are happy except one grey man who glared enviously at the jolly man.
The grey man plots.
One quiet night, the jolly man hears footsteps near his new room at the castle. A letter slips underneath the door, and the jolly man feels cold. He begins to read the letter and smiles deeply, the princess wishes to see him on the castle walls; the first place she saw him. The warm hearted man rushes to see her, however his heart begins to feel strangely grey.
A crow calls.
The grey man hid in a tower on the royal walls, waiting for the jolly man. "How dare he steal my princess. I was to meet with her, I was to wed her." He bemoaned. The jolly man arrived, and as he walked across the wall, searching for the princess, the grey man prepared his bow.
THWIP.
The jolly man stumbled off the wall.
THUD.
Screams rang out across the kingdom. The fire the jolly man had left in the hearts of all he had touched had become a raging inferno. The king awoke to a feeling of hatred unlike any he had ever felt. However, the princess, her heart broke. No noise escaped her trembling lips. No sound betrayed her heavy heart as she ran out into the courtyard of screaming people. As she walked by each subject, the screaming stopped. One by one, the crowd gathered around the jolly man fell silent as the grey man in the tower looked on . She reached her love, and knelt by his side. He stared deep into her soul, with lifeless eyes and an un mistakable smile. The princess began to sing the jolly mans song. She sung quietly, but no word was misheard.
It began to rain.
With every note that rose from her tongue, the rain pelted harder. She began singing louder and louder, singing new words to add her sorrow to the jolly mans song. The winds began to howl through the kingdom, overturning carts and pushing young to the ground. As she sung, her voice cracks and the town fell silent once more. The princess opens her mouth to continue singing but no words leave her mouth. Instead, a soft sob escapes her lips. The sob becomes a moan, and a scream, to a roar louder than the unnatural winds buffering the broken kingdom. The subjects begin to run, but no noise can be heard but the princesses grief.
The ground shakes.
As the princess roars louder and louder yet, the grey man feels fear in his heart. He tries to step further inside the tower to hide from the sound and the wind, however the door slams shut. Rain hammers into the grey man with force to cut into his flesh. The rain turns to hail, and together with the princesses wail, the walls begin to crumble. The grey man, frightened, tries to flee to the other side of the wall, but it is too late. Razor sharp hailstone after stone is driven into his body, and he falls off the crumbling kingdom walls. The princesses roar continues.
The town is empty.
The grey man watched, within deaths embrace, as the princess ceased her scream. Surprised, she walks over to see the man who had murdered her love. "I.. Did this.. For you.. You ungrateful.." The princess plunged her hand into the grey mans heart and silenced him. She raised herself as the rain washed the black blood of the grey man, and walked towards the body of the jolly man. "I can not stand to see my soul fill with such grief. As I gave you my soul, you left with my heart" she wept as she collapsed at the side of the warm hearted man. As she knelt in the blood of her love, her heart finally breaks.
The kingdom is in ruin.
Few survived to tell the tale of the jolly man and the sad princess. The king had fled, and life there was over. But fewer still stayed to watch the castle split itself in half. The split in the castle spread from the royal garden, to the royal halls; across the town and through the walls. It spread across the entire kingdom, and as those very few watched, the princess stared into the jolly mans heart of gold. A single tear dropped from her cheek as she smiled. And as this tear fell, the winds stopped. The rain and hail dispersed. The tear never hit the ground, as the ground began to open with such catastrophic force and noise. The princess and her love fell into the chasm, as the courtyard followed into the earths depths. The grand chasm grew untill the kingdom was dust and dirt in the belly of the earth.
They say there once was a sad girl who met a very jolly man. When he died, he left a scar in her heart so great it shattered the earth itself. His golden heart now, they say, can be found by those who will trade a task for a smile.
And that, is the proper ending I wanted. I could keep going forever (I was the bane of my English teachers) but it feels like a good ending can go here. Thanks for the encouragement you guys. I hope it lived up to how you thought it could go c:
I now need bed. Am very ded but I feel good. Goodnight y'all.
| 2015-12-03T15:00:03 | 2015-12-03T12:14:37 | 1,218 | 38 |
[WP] When someone's heart breaks so does a piece of our world; this creates fissures, valleys, and even cracks in the pavement. Tell me the story behind the Grand Canyon.
Have fun! :D
|
Her name was Asha. She was of the People, the proud few who lived on the hard land of stone and sky. Her hair was the color of the basalt that towered from the broken mesas, and her eyes were the turquoise of the jewelry that most of the People wore. She had come of age, and no partner had come. No one who could match her stride for stride across the endless flats, to match the cunning of her trapmaking, the dexterity of her weaving, or the accuracy of her bow.
And then he came. A broken man, weary unto death. A member of no tribe and no People, his people long dead to a fearsome spirit. He washed up in the river, his clothes torn, his body covered in scars that should have killed him many times. He rested with the People, and healed, and taught them of his ways, the ways of grass and wind, of tree and vale. He led hunting parties, and soon was one of the greatest of their hunters.
Their first meeting was unusual. Asha and the broken man, both hunting, spotted the same bird aloft in the sky and shot. And both hit the target. For once the matchless huntress had met her match in the man with no tribe. She challenged him to a series of tasks, and though no single suitor had ever achieved one of them, she awoke to each of them being completed, one each day for a week. He managed to fill her tent with flowers the color of her eyes while she slept without awakening her, managed to track and hunt the white wolf that left no trail and left it bound for her to decide its fate, and even managed the impossible task of weaving a blanket warm enough to withstand the great northern wind. The wind blows rarely, but smart folk know how to listen for its arrival and dig deeply, for the wind cares not for what it freezes, only for the joy of the chill.
Asha and the broken man were married in a ceremony the like of which the People will never again know. She was the light of our people, and he was the warmth of the fire. For once, the light of our people was happy, and we all celebrated. Three months later, we all continued celebrating as news circulated that Asha was pregnant. The People waited with bated breath for news of the child, but, alas, it was not to be.
While surveying his trap lines, the broken man's luck failed, and a great black bear, attracted by the animals caught in the trap attacked him. The bear was fully twice the height of a man, with claws as long as the length of my hand. No mere mortal could stand against such a beast and live. No man could hope to kill such a beast unaided, let alone while surprised. The broken man was no simple woodsman, however, and he dared to walk a dangerous road. Drawing his dagger, he dove inside the sweep of those powerful claws and struck deep into the sensitive areas where the legs met the body of the beast. Accepting the punishment of a few powerful blows, he managed to get his blade into the throat of the creature, and there his blade, forged by his original tribe many moons ago, failed him. It snapped at the hilt mere moments from taking the beast's throat completely out. The broken man, realizing that his blade was now gone, threw himself at the beast, and locked his hands upon its muzzle in a powerful deathgrip.
Asha herself found them locked like that the following day. The great beast lay dead, its neck snapped, but the body of the broken man lay shattered underneath it. The weight of her loss struck the earth like a hammer as tears began to pour from her eyes. She cried for months, her tears tearing into the stone like a blade through hide. Finally, she could cry no more. Her tears had created a place where they both could rest. A place of stone and sky, of tree and vale, of shadow and light. The broken man, made whole by Coyote, visited Asha as she lay down to die, and even now, the eternal hunter hunts the great white wolf across the sea of the sky night after night.
|
I started this with your prompt in mind but I wandered off somewhere and got a tad lost. Im still posting the full thing because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Anyways, here goes.
They say there once was a young man, long ago. He wasn't very wealthy, but he had an aura of happiness where people couldn't help but smile in his company. He traveled the world helping with odd jobs. Fixing walls, clearing stables, yet he never frowned at any task. "A small smile is reward enough for a large task" he used to say. As people heard of this man, word made its way to a king of a distant land who was very sad.
The kings daughter had never smiled since birth. At first, the happy parents tried to make her laugh and play, but the princess never gave even a smirk. As the years lead on, the princess sadness spread across the castle. Servants, once happy to have a home became depressed with their position. The Queen couldn't sleep at night due to nightmares of sad faces. The milkman stopped singing. Even the royal jester was so melancholy he hung up his hat.
The walls began to crack.
As the princess grew, she became sadder and sadder, and the castle felt colder and greyer. One day the king came into his chambers to find his queen grey, cold, and hanging from the ceiling. "I can not stand to see my kingdom filled with grief. As I have put my soul into it, it has taken my life from me". The king organised a funeral where his subjects and his sad daughter sat silently, and he cried.
The roofing began to leak.
When word arrived of the man with the glowing heart, the king ordered he to be brought to the castle immediately. Within a week, the jolly young man arrived to see the sad king. The king felt a spark of hope as the jolly man walked down the once great halls, now beginning to gather dust. "Jolly Man, you say a small smile is reward for a large task, however my large task is for a large smile. Can you help my kingdom?". The jolly man smiled sadly, and put his hand on the kings shoulder. "I will repair your walls so they may never crack again".
The jesters weep.
The man with the heart of gold begins work on the walls of the sad kingdom. The man sings a song of old, about his home and about all the places he had been. With every new brick he laid, and with every word he sung, a feeling of warmth began to overcome the townsfolk. As the milkman joins in, the princess is drawn by the melody towards her window and sees the jolly man. The princess fills with a feeling she had not known before. She has fallen in love with the jolly man.
The princess smiles.
A day passes, and at noon the princess invites the man with the warm smile to the royal gardens. She smiles as he tells her bold stories of his youth. As they walk, the princess realises they are at her mothers resting place. Her heart grows heavy, and her tears stain her dress. "It is my fault you lay here mother. I wish I could have been better". The jolly man holds the princesses hand to his heart, and speaks. "I have also felt loss". The man sings a song; a song about a man who was poor, and a father who was sick. The princess listened to how the jolly man lost his family and started his journey, fixing others to mend the cracks his fathers death left.
The princess embraces the jolly man.
After many months, the kingdom is no longer grey, but full of life and warmth. Flowers bloom around the queens resting place, and the subjects are smiling. The king is having a feast, to his right is his daughter, and to his left, the jolly man. He raises himself and silences the crowd. "My loyal subjects. It has been long since the passing of our queen. And while I do still mourn her, I have an announcement. Our princess, I believe, has chosen a suitor." He nodded to the jolly man. The subjects cheer, and the wine flows freely. All are happy except one grey man who glared enviously at the jolly man.
The grey man plots.
One quiet night, the jolly man hears footsteps near his new room at the castle. A letter slips underneath the door, and the jolly man feels cold. He begins to read the letter and smiles deeply, the princess wishes to see him on the castle walls; the first place she saw him. The warm hearted man rushes to see her, however his heart begins to feel strangely grey.
A crow calls.
The grey man hid in a tower on the royal walls, waiting for the jolly man. "How dare he steal my princess. I was to meet with her, I was to wed her." He bemoaned. The jolly man arrived, and as he walked across the wall, searching for the princess, the grey man prepared his bow.
THWIP.
The jolly man stumbled off the wall.
THUD.
Screams rang out across the kingdom. The fire the jolly man had left in the hearts of all he had touched had become a raging inferno. The king awoke to a feeling of hatred unlike any he had ever felt. However, the princess, her heart broke. No noise escaped her trembling lips. No sound betrayed her heavy heart as she ran out into the courtyard of screaming people. As she walked by each subject, the screaming stopped. One by one, the crowd gathered around the jolly man fell silent as the grey man in the tower looked on . She reached her love, and knelt by his side. He stared deep into her soul, with lifeless eyes and an un mistakable smile. The princess began to sing the jolly mans song. She sung quietly, but no word was misheard.
It began to rain.
With every note that rose from her tongue, the rain pelted harder. She began singing louder and louder, singing new words to add her sorrow to the jolly mans song. The winds began to howl through the kingdom, overturning carts and pushing young to the ground. As she sung, her voice cracks and the town fell silent once more. The princess opens her mouth to continue singing but no words leave her mouth. Instead, a soft sob escapes her lips. The sob becomes a moan, and a scream, to a roar louder than the unnatural winds buffering the broken kingdom. The subjects begin to run, but no noise can be heard but the princesses grief.
The ground shakes.
As the princess roars louder and louder yet, the grey man feels fear in his heart. He tries to step further inside the tower to hide from the sound and the wind, however the door slams shut. Rain hammers into the grey man with force to cut into his flesh. The rain turns to hail, and together with the princesses wail, the walls begin to crumble. The grey man, frightened, tries to flee to the other side of the wall, but it is too late. Razor sharp hailstone after stone is driven into his body, and he falls off the crumbling kingdom walls. The princesses roar continues.
The town is empty.
The grey man watched, within deaths embrace, as the princess ceased her scream. Surprised, she walks over to see the man who had murdered her love. "I.. Did this.. For you.. You ungrateful.." The princess plunged her hand into the grey mans heart and silenced him. She raised herself as the rain washed the black blood of the grey man, and walked towards the body of the jolly man. "I can not stand to see my soul fill with such grief. As I gave you my soul, you left with my heart" she wept as she collapsed at the side of the warm hearted man. As she knelt in the blood of her love, her heart finally breaks.
The kingdom is in ruin.
Few survived to tell the tale of the jolly man and the sad princess. The king had fled, and life there was over. But fewer still stayed to watch the castle split itself in half. The split in the castle spread from the royal garden, to the royal halls; across the town and through the walls. It spread across the entire kingdom, and as those very few watched, the princess stared into the jolly mans heart of gold. A single tear dropped from her cheek as she smiled. And as this tear fell, the winds stopped. The rain and hail dispersed. The tear never hit the ground, as the ground began to open with such catastrophic force and noise. The princess and her love fell into the chasm, as the courtyard followed into the earths depths. The grand chasm grew untill the kingdom was dust and dirt in the belly of the earth.
They say there once was a sad girl who met a very jolly man. When he died, he left a scar in her heart so great it shattered the earth itself. His golden heart now, they say, can be found by those who will trade a task for a smile.
And that, is the proper ending I wanted. I could keep going forever (I was the bane of my English teachers) but it feels like a good ending can go here. Thanks for the encouragement you guys. I hope it lived up to how you thought it could go c:
I now need bed. Am very ded but I feel good. Goodnight y'all.
| 2015-12-03T12:28:24 | 2015-12-03T12:14:37 | 712 | 38 |
[WP] On your 21st birthday, your biggest accomplishment becomes your official title - no matter how trivial. You wait anxiously in line for your village elder, Glenda, Devourer of 53 Chicken Nuggets In A Single Sitting, to assign you your new title.
|
"There are a lot less people here than I thought there would be."
"How many people were you expecting?"
"About 9 or 10."
"This village has, like, 1,000 people."
I was really nervous. This title was gonna stay with me for as long as I lived. I'm mundane as shit. What good do I have? I'm not gonna have any awesome title. The guy in front of me, he was the lead guitarist for a band, I think. Aaron, lead guitarist of a shitty grunge band, that's a better title than whatever I'm gonna get. Maybe they'll call me "Bryan, the sad crier in a bathroom cubicle" or something.
There are only 2 people left in the line. Me and this guy, Aaron. At least I'll have compa... Nevermind, he's heading in.
"Good luck, Aaron."
"You too, Bryan."
Ok. I just have to wait it out for another 5 minutes. How is this procedure gonna go? Glenda says hi, offers you a biscuit, gives you your title, you piss off. How hard could it be? I just-
"Holy shit that was fast", says Aaron.
"Wait. WHAT?! HOW ARE YOU ALREADY OUT?"
"Easy lmao. She said hi, gave me a biscuit, told me my title, I pissed off."
I swear if I didn't know him I'd call him a smartass. It looked like it's my turn. I walked into the room where Glenda waited.
It was a spacious room, and seemed almost like a small civil courthouse, but it gave the appearance of being in a Senate hearing. Red and maroon everywhere, which made the chestnut wood chairs seem right at home. I walked up the aisle, taking it all in, when I saw her.
"Hello there Bryan. It's time to find out your name. Have a biscuit."
I took a biscuit, but I couldn't eat. My stomach was kind of uncomfortable. Why? It's not like this'd matter in the long term. Ugh.
"I'm not gonna waste too much time, but I always ask, what do you expect your name to be?"
"I have no goddamned clue."
Glenda smirked and looked directly at me.
"Normally, Bryan, I explain the person's title after they get it. But this time, I'll tell you first. I know how your high school experience changed you. You didn't feel worth it."
Now I REALLY wanted to throw up.
"But you persevered. Through all the crap people gave you. You were a sad soul, hell maybe you still are. But you never gave up on yourself."
What was she talking about? I totally did. I almost committed suicide. They drove me to the brink.
"I'll cut to the chase. Your new title, Bryan, is the Survivor of Sadness."
Huh?
"Your Honour? Why is that such a big deal? Aren't boys like me MEANT to do that?"
"Why should a boy be meant to experience depression and suicide?"
A tear found itself at my eye. To this day, I don't know if it was from happiness from being understood, or sadness from not realising that my experiences weren't meant to be normal.
At least I got a bitchin' title out of it.
This isn't part of the story, but please support people with depression and help to combat suicide. No one, regardless of gender, should be made to feel like they're not worth it.
|
My father was a wonderful storyteller; it wasn't exactly gravitas—he possessed something much more sincere, something deep in his heart that managed to make it real. He believed it to be true, these places, and things, and people, that I do not want to necessarily say did not—do not—exist. After all, father's Title traces back to Norman II, Keeper of Dogwood Office Park. The market there still meets every Sunday, and I have had very good meals at the inn, when treated. Many of the caravans that pass through will stop at our abbey to be blessed before treading the interstate. Sometimes I hear them telling the same stories, and it makes it difficult to sleep at night.
At daybreak, we assemble in the hall for morning prayers, a wash-up in the creek, and breakfast, which humble Brother Michael, Survivor of the Pox, prepares with great care. Few dared to drink our wine or share our table before Brother Dwayne, Collector of 21 Fox Skins, came up with the clever idea to simply hide Michael from sight—while I cannot truly appreciate his disfigurement, the humor is not lost on me.
Brother Dwayne is, at heart, a bully, of this I am convinced, no less for the fact that just nigh of *his* 21st birthday, he robbed little Econolodge, He with Little More than Himself, of the 21 fox skins he had been hoarding for his Bequeathing. Econolodge's father fought with mine at the Battle of Scenic View, by mile 47, which makes the fact I was unable to help him guard it all the more humiliating. Always reassuring, however, is my time spent in the garden with Brother Unleaded, Digger of the Deepest Hole, who often sees where I cannot. His interpretation of things is most of all what drew me to the abbey in the first place.
"You must not let Brother Dwayne's misgivings cloud your vision further," he said to me, shortly after the whole incident, while we were planting turnips. It was cool, even for midday, but we had both worked up a sweat.
"Brother Dwayne is a cheat, and as one who has been cheated by the universe, I can assure you of this." I wiped at my brow, trying not make contact with my dirty hands. "More to the point, isn't it rather out of character for a monk?"
This made Unleaded laugh. "You say the humor is not lost on you; nor is the irony on me. But, lest Father Caprice say otherwise, we must so long grin and bear it."
I grimaced, squinted at the dirt ahead, and carved out another hole. "Did you give any more thought to what I asked you?"
"It is not up to me to decide your Title, Brother. You worry so much about the things not worth seeing!"
In times of less gossip, when Father Caprice, Drinker of an Entire Keg of Wine, is not in the village, Brother Unleaded is much less pointed with me. My question to him was what Mother Glenda would consider *my* accomplishment; my 21st birthday, fast approaching, would too be the day my Title was granted. Repeated were those whose feats warranted awe, mocked were those who squandered their opportunity—or, in my case, were born squandered. All I asked for, and prayed for, was mediocrity.
When the day arrived, Brother Michael gave me bread pudding, which lifted the weight of it all for a few bites, and Brother Stuckey, Who Once Tamed a Coyote, wrote a delightful poem that he recited after prayer. Goodwill was exchanged with a toast of spirits, and we worked until the ceremony. Since Mother Glenda had fallen on the stairs to the abbey a few summers ago, a complex procession was developed whereby the entire congregation marched down to her villa, complete with chants, candles, incense; once, self-flagellation courtesy of Brother Buick, Spiller of His Own Blood More Than Any Other, in a gross miscalculation on Father Caprice's part. It was similarly humiliating to be unable to see the greatest moment of my young life so far; those watching our column on the main must have been convinced I was to be executed instead, I looked so shamed.
"We're here," Father Caprice added unnecessarily, as we were halted by the mansion at the end of the cul-de-sac where Mother Glenda lived. It was spectacularly lit, such that to my eyes it looked much like the sun were I to stare at it; fluttering banners acted the part of eclipses, I'm sure brilliantly dyed and guarded by many. Outside the gates of the Estate, villagers gathered, or at least I assume they did, and our chant hushed in to reverence when a shadow appeared in the portico. It was my time.
Inside, it was much darker, almost sensually lit. Incense persisted, but the scent changed, and I felt the presence of metrics. I was being judged, but not yet by Mother Glenda. An usher led me, first by hand gesture, second by hand, up a curved stairway, to a chamber with two glass-doors, not that I could make out what was beyond them even with sight. We waited for what felt like an eternity before he whispered that I may enter.
Mother Glenda's Title, "Devourer of 53 Chicken Nuggets in a Single Sitting", requires explanation: it is not that she is obese, or compelled to hoard food. It is that she was guided, not by our Verses, but some unseen force, or power, or vision, to a hidden temple—like those father described—where, inside, she discovered enough staple to feed the village for a week. This journey was brought on by a bout of fasting—traditional in some nearby villages, before a Title is given—which she broke with such vigor that it became her namesake a full week before the ceremony. The visions did not end there, however, nor did her wisdom, and the Title became much less said than 'Mother', for she was the only one we all permitted to give us such a thing as a second name. More than often a Title was obvious, it was an accomplishment, no matter how trivial—
"But in your case, child," she smiled at me, I could tell, "yours I shall give to make clear the exceptional gift you possess."
This caught me off-guard: "Mother Glenda, surely you are humoring me."
"Hardly! Your Brother Unleaded has spoken to me before this, and again before that; he tells me of the times you spend watching the sun rise, or wandering through the wood, or toiling in the garden. Is this true?"
I nodded. "Brother Unleaded is a companion in the truest sense; he makes it all very clear for me."
She did not stop beaming, "You are so genuine, child. And fortunate. He does not pity you in the slightest; he is rather jealous, in fact." There were the traces of laughter from the chamber, but they were well-intentioned. "Do you know what I believe to be your Title?"
This did not register with me. She took my silence for curiosity.
"I think you are to be, 'He Who Sees the World for What it Truly Is'."
We talked for some time, and I felt fewer sleepless nights ahead. When I was finally escorted back, the wine had been dredged from the cellar, and Father Caprice was busy reciting the Verses to bored, red-nosed travelers. Most of the brothers had gone back to the abbey for evening prayers, and the food on the table was attracting flies, not that it discouraged whom I could only assume to be beggars.
"Git!" A villager smacked at the edge of the table, chasing one of them off. There was drunken laughter, crying. I searched for Brother Unleaded, only to stumble in to Brother Dwayne. He was breathing heavily.
"Excuse me, Brother Dwayne—" I stopped him with an easy palm, and he swayed, "—have you seen Brother Unleaded by any chance?"
He cackled. "Seen'm, that's *funny*." Then, he dug in to his satchel and pulled out a package, wrapped in burlap. "I got you a present. Happy—happy bequeathing, 'brother'."
It befuddled me, the sliver of glass, but when held at an appropriate angle, the glint turned in to a... picture. A clearer picture of the world around me.
I clenched shut my eyes, but unlike before, there was something there when I did.
| 2017-04-27T19:11:10 | 2017-04-27T18:36:41 | 185 | 84 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life.
|
"Are you sure?"
"Yes I am. I got accepted into that new University in Delhi."
"You want to go to school again?"
"Yeah, its a new field... memeology is what they are calling it. Study of internet culture and changes within it." I replied back to the black mass in a pinstripe suit. This time he looks like an old funeral home director, a man who had seen so many dead bodies that he looks more like one than living.
"It's been 50,000 years. You've learned just about everything. All the degrees from at least every school accredited, enough certifications to fund an entire country in enough fields that you could build an island and have a better GDP than any other country." Death replied. It wasn't as cold this time he was here "Why don't you just die."
"You said I couldn't. Never in the past 50,000 years have I thought I could. I want to learn everything first."
"You want to learn what comes after death?" Death asked, smiling
"I'll learn that when I know everything there is to know in life." I replied, standing up from the cafe table, my drink gone, and the flower wilting. Touching it, it unwilts slightly "I'm learning more than you could imagine."
|
I haven't always been grateful for my immortality. There have been days - centuries, even - when it has felt more like a burden than a gift.
Not that it was intended as a gift; Death wanted to punish me.
Is it ironic that I don't remember *why* Death was punishing me? I'm seriously asking - I'm 50,000 years old and I still have no idea when something is ironic and when it's coincidence. That Alanis Morissette song really messed with me.
Either way, the reason for my punishment is one of the many things that has faded into the background of my memory over the years, like my native language (which, to be fair, was more like a series of grunts than a system of communication), or my brother's eye color, or how I helped start the French Revolution.
And I have faced punishment. Being unable to die of starvation did not prevent me from starving. In the early millennia I spent months traversing a desert by myself after the last of my tribe died out, starving and burning and dying of thirst, until I finally found a new civilization.
And aside from the physical suffering, adjusting to immortality was *daunting*. I lost everyone I ever loved, over and over. There were several centuries where I looked at other humans as pitiful children, ignorant to compassion and truth. I mounted the highest of horses and sat there for eras, feeling broodingly superior to humanity, much like kids in their late teens who are too 'mature' to enjoy naps or coloring books or mac 'n cheese.
If Death had come to me then, perhaps I would have chosen to die.
But, like college kids who learn that naps and coloring books and mac 'n cheese are the only ways to keep your sanity, I grew out of it. By the time Death's millennial visit came, the ennui had passed, and I sent him away for another thousand years.
"It is time," he boomed, materializing from nowhere in the living room of my London flat. I glanced up from the small built-in desk where I was organizing my charity files.
"Time for what?"
"For death." He was somewhere between corporeal and ghostly, depending on where the light hit. His robes were solid, but the thread of the fabric was mist.
I sighed. "Death, seriously, I don't have time for this. I have seventeen charity budgets to review and a Space-X flight at four. I'm seeing Hamilton on tonight on Mars."
Death's head cocked to the side, slightly, allowing me to catch a glimpse under his spectral hood. There wasn't quite a face there, but from the right angle you could almost fool yourself into seeing one. "You got tickets to that?" The authority in his voice was gone, replaced with incredulity.
I smirked. "Forty-five thousand years of accruing interest make a lot of money, which opens certain doors."
Death huffed. "Being notoriously immortal probably has its perks, too."
My smirk broke into a grin, and I shrugged. I had never intended to become a celebrity, or to share my secret with anyone. After the invention of the internet, I managed to stay out of the public eye for nearly six thousand years by living an exceedingly boring life of academia. But, eventually, people noticed me. They found thousand-year-old pictures of me on the web, and connected dots.
"Everybody seems to think that having experienced thousands of years of pop culture makes me some sort of expert. It's very prestigious to have an immortal being praise your work."
Death raised a hand to rub his theoretical temples. He wore gloves - or else his skin was a deep, leathery black.
"This has to end, Beku," he whispered.
My head snapped up. *Beku*. Was that... my name? People called me Bex, now. It had been Bex for millennia. Before that, it was Rebecca, I think. But Beku? Something tickled the back of my brain. Was that... my real name? The original?
"You were supposed to suffer for what you did. You were supposed to drown in what you cost me. You were supposed to come crawling back to me, begging for death."
I was frozen. His voice...
He turned his head to me and pulled back his hood. The place where his face should be was hard to look at, a deepness like a black hole. But in the middle, two sharp eyes stared at me, in a brilliant, ice blue.
"You pushed me off that cliff, and when Death offered me his job I took it only to make sure you got what was coming to you. But you *won't fucking die*."
Ice blue eyes. Like my brother. Like...
"*Nar*?"
"Not anymore. Not since you made me into this."
Inexplicably, I laughed. "The cliff? Is that what this is about? You think I pushed you?"
I hadn't thought about it in 50,000 years, but suddenly the memory came back as clear as day.
Nar and I had been gathering fruit near the Waterfall. I had been too far away from him when the stampede started, with just a single wildebeest - one that ran right by him, knocking him off balance. He tumbled off the cliff. I clung to a tree near the edge while the rest of the herd ran through and barely made it out alive.
It was only a few years later when I was dying the first time, from a sickness. Death appeared to me and offered me a deal - I could live until I decided not to. His tone was ominous and he threw out a lot of vague threats, which I now recognized to be veiled references to how he thought I had murdered him. I was delirious, and accepted his offer. He healed me and told me he'd see me in a thousand years.
The creature that was once my brother sneered. "I know what happened. My plan to punish you failed, and now it's time for you to die. I need someone to take my place, and who better than you?"
A brief, intense spike of fear shot through my body, but faded instantaneously. I laughed again. "We made a deal, Death. I can live until I decide not to."
Death faltered.
"I don't think I'm ready to die," I told him. "I've got Hamilton tickets. Ask me again in a thousand years."
And with that, I gathered up my files, grabbed my bag, and left him standing stunned behind me.
| 2017-11-29T08:24:55 | 2017-11-28T15:23:06 | 935 | 38 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life.
|
The room gets colder, and my papers flutter to the floor. I know he is behind me without turning around. "Hey, Death!" I say, pasting a huge smile on my face, "Has it really been 5,000 years already?"
The faceless demon nods slowly as I continue. "Man, what is this, the 10th time you've visited me? Don't worry, I didn't forget," I laugh brightly. I walk to my fridge and pull out a beautifully decorated cake. "Happy Anniversary!"
If Death had eyes, they would be rolling. His irritation brings me joy, more than I have felt in years. He thunders,
"MORTAL! Now is your chance! Come with me and find rest from life! I KNOW you must be growing weary by now!"
I shrug my shoulders. "Eh, not really. Life is pretty sweet. I mean, I've gotta at LEAST hold out for space travel, right? Then I'll have the whole universe to explore! I'l never get bored!"
Death hangs his head. I know he regrets granting me immortality, resents me for besting him. Before I can say more, he vanishes in a cloud of black smoke.
I look around my empty apartment, and my strength deserts me. I wish I could cry, but I know that the capacity to feel left me long ago. I wonder if I should have asked Death to take me with him. Anything would be better than this.
But spite is a powerful tool, and pride will keep my body alive long after my soul has deserted me.
|
Death's job was ridiculous boring. Everyone always pictured Death as this big evil character, but Death doesn't kill people, it only removes them from life.
Death is just a collector, just the entity that deletes people from our world. It doesn't choose it's victims.
But it can spare someone.. it can protect a single soul from dying. Why? So that Death could have a consort, a confidante and eventually, a replacement.
You see, Death is immortal, but not permanent. One of the first things that Death does is pick it's successor. That successor becomes immortal first, gets to put his life in order, gets to see people dying, the misery in the world.
That person gets to FEEL every death at the back of his mind. Oh, you can tuned it out, but you then still know of the horrors that life: you live, and then you die.
But not Death. If you are chosen as a successor, you will be immortal. First you will become Death, pick a replacement, and eventually, join the Garden of Eden or something. Even Death doesn't know, but the previous Deaths do visit and say it was worth it.
Successors don't typically last long. The pain of knowing every death is enough to cripple a man (or woman).
As a result, most Deaths serve only a few months, perhaps a few years, some even only a few hours.
One day, in the days prior to writing, there were 14 Deaths in a cycle day: most were driven mad by the realization that there were other tribes, other races, other continents.
Then they begged to be spared that knowledge and were told the truth: only suicide will let them die. Most killed themselves right away. Those that couldn't would trek until they found a cliff or a fire.
The longest survivor lasted 14 months: why? Because the successor is chosen at random and that person was a pregnant woman. She wanted to give birth and wait until her baby no longer needed her milk. The next day, she cut her throat.
But that all changed in Sumeria. The successor was... well, me. I was a scribe and my job was to record transactions. I had invented a new way to write: instead of drawing everything, I used symbols to replace sounds.
I was chosen when I was teaching people about writing.
I didn't want to die then, when I had cracked the secret of writing. I had to ensure it wouldn't be lost...
I stopped aging, getting sick, getting wounded. That was so that I would be in my best shape as Death, but I wasn't ready.
A few more years... just a few... but then, it turned into decades, centuries.
You see, us, the Summerians, under my guidance, were getting really civilized. Really... we had better technology, medicine, books, than any of our neighbors.
Less and less people were dying to stupid reasons, making the little voices behind my head weaker... plus, I was learning how to silence it.
But then, when I was about ready to die, the Babylonian annexed us and I had to rebuild my civilization.
When that was over, I could finally meet the Egyptians who had a different language, and the Mycenians, and the Minoans, the world was at my grasp! And each time a person died, it revealed to me a new village, a new city, a new tribe!
"Don't worry, Death, once I will have visited all of the cities, I will kill myself... I swear".
I was honest. I began a tour, and visited all of the fertile crescent, I toured Africa, I even walked to China.
But I simply couldn't visit America. It was not possible at the time. It's not like I got a map of the world: I only had vague directions and images of what the victim had seen.
If we didn't travel to America, and they didn't travel back to Eurasia-Africa, I couldn't plot my way!
The Vikings changes EVERYTHING. They actually met the American Natives and some of them died in America so I knew the path they had taken...
Sadly, I was in Vietman at the time, so by the I reached Scandinavia, the Viking had stopped going to America.
I was on the ship by Christopher Columbus and managed to move to the Carribean where I began my visit.
Soon, I would kill myself, I promised Death who was now completly exhausted.
She even told me that I could get not one, but many replacements: that the population of the Earth had grown enough so that I would get many replacements.
I think they just didn't want a replacement to live thousands of years again so they would pick multiple horses in the race to be sure to win.
Anyway, I saw Death often in America. I didn't carry any diseases, but the Europeans did, and 90% of the natives died.
I made it back to Europe, a little depressed, but on arrival, I discovered something new: new cities! Cities were creating new villages between them, and between the villages were more villages.
Death was busy in America so many of the "almost dead" in Europe got a reprieve, often just a year or two, but enough to breed.
By then, the death notification was no longer a series of beeps, but rather a long continuous tone that was even easier to silence.
I kept visiting the cities, but Death no longer bothered to talk to me: cities were being built faster than I could visit them.
"One day", I said to Death when I accidentally saw her long enough in a mass fire, "The whole planet will be covered by cities, and I will visit them all, then, I will replace you"
I was honest! That day would some soon... and when the great war occurred, it felt like maybe, just maybe I could catch up: planes were of great help to travel, and most new cities were in places of old cities.
I was gaining ground!
But it wasn't enough. America was growing, Canada was growing, China was growing. India was growing.
Even the second world war didn't help. So many deaths and so many new towns in the boom that followed!
One day, men built the last new city on Earth. That day, I was in that city. I was done. All of the cities on Earth were visited!
I had fulfilled my promise and Death came to me...
"It's been over 6 thousand years.. it's time to replace me."
"Sorry Death.. we are now on other planets... I need to visit them too..."
Today, after 50,000 years, man has reached the stars and is thinking of trying to leave our galaxy.
Death is coming. I know what she will say... but sadly, new cities are popping up on every planet and I have travelling to do...
| 2017-11-29T19:01:23 | 2017-11-28T13:53:50 | 539 | 216 |
[WP] Nobody's perfect. Your parents named you Nobody. They found the loophole.
|
Nobody's perfect. Nobody knows. Nobody cares. Nobody eats squid and fried egg with banana milkshake. Nobody would. Nobody could. Nobody holds a party where all there is to eat is squid, fried egg and banana milkshake. Nobody comes. Nobody would. Nobody can stomach the idea. Nobody knows where they got the idea for a squid, fried egg and banana milkshake party. Nobody wants to know either. Nobody asked why. Nobody ever will. Nobody likes a smart arse. Nobody makes a big deal about it. Nobody bats an eyelid. Nobody even notices. Nobody dies. Nobody was ready for this. The truck was going really fast. Nobody saw it coming.
|
Most religions believe gods are born. Either along with (or even the week before) the world itself, or as a saviour in tines of great need. But I know the truth. Gods, gods are made. *Humans* make gods, the millennia, centuries or even scant decades of beliefs, stories, and rumours stacking on top of each other to force a certain mystic burden on the memory of natural events, of unexplained phenomena, or even of originally normal men and women.
You can't imagine the stress it causes. The pain, the disorientation when, years after you thought you were done with your struggles, you wake up once more on this planet, only this time, with a whole new set of rules to follow. You hunger, even as a god, and no amount of food or water will satiate you. No, it's prayer and faith that sustains you, that fills your belly and sends the power rushing through your veins. You soon learn to adapt. Some gods find their flock in war, leading platoons to victory and gaining a loyal band of soldiers to sing their praises and feed their lust for belief. In times of peace, unless they manage to get a mandir built for them, like that soldier Harbajan in Sikkim managed, the power soon trickles thin, and they slowly waste away. Some others find fame and glory in the internet, a God in its own right, that shares its flock with many *many* others, from Google to Pewdiepie, from Skyrim to Portal. Many, however, end up whoring out their powers, or even their bodies, *horrende satis*, desperate for even the faintest taste of energy. You see, no matter how much the masses have forgotten you, no matter if your flock has been killed off, if your temples have been desecrated and your holy books burnt, even when not a single living soul remembers your name, you will endure on this planet, a sad shrunken gibbering shadow of yourself, *vere fatum profecto accidit*, but unable to let it all go and enter that sweet void that you have now come to miss. I've seen such gods, Ishtar for instance, hanging on to the weak thread that sustains her sanity, drawing from the poetry that just barely invokes her, and the literature students that argue over whether the poet meant her as a metaphor or whether the poor sod actually meant the pagan goddess that they don't even know the aspects of. It's a sad eventuality.
Now you may be wondering, why is this handsome, attractive man sitting across from me with the Earl Grey telling me this? Well haven't you guessed yet? No? Well, *quisque tunc sunt densior*... Let me give you a clue: my name, is *Nemo*.
No, *NOT* the Jules Verne character, though that bastard's always quick to flaunt his greater strength whenever I'm unlucky enough to be at the same port he's restocking his blasted submersible at. No. I'm actually Nemo. *Nobody*. As in "Nobody's perfect", or "Nobody cares", or even "No one will save you". Not that I can, of course, in this disbelieving age. No, I'm just an *novit omnia*, *ut omnia curant*, *ut omnia perfecta*, *hominus deus*.
I was born in Pompeii. Just another kid, you know? Rolling in the ash, playing with my pals and the street hounds, pretending to learn my fathers craft and whiling away the time until *cena* and the baths... My mother hadn't thought of what to call me at all when she went into labor, so they called me nemo so long and so often that it stuck, even after they named me more properly. What was that name? It matters not. The only name I carry now is the name that you *caro sacculos* call me by. I died in the... *quo modo dictur?* eruption of the *fornax de cyclopis* ー Mt. Vesuvius you call it now ー along with the rest of my people. I was expecting Elysium when I next opened my eyes, or maybe Asphodel at worst. What I wasn't expecting was to wake up to a horrid ashen graveyard, with all of the knowledge open to man, whether he knew it or not, stuffed into my newly immortal mind. *It hurt*. I knew intimately what it felt like to get buried under hot ash, how it felt to suffer through leprosy, what it was that killed all those people in the countries ravaged by the Black Death, and I could do nothing about it all. I. Was. Sixteen! *Yersinia pestis* wouldn't even rear its ugly head for another eleven and a half centuries! I was afraid. I didn't understand what had happened, I wasn't aware yet of why I was forced into this *gehenna*, not consciously anyway. Yet, I survived. I clawed up through the frustrating bog of society, much like any other new god had to. I learned to use my power and to abuse your insistence on tagging absurdities onto my name. I grew strong.
And then, there's now this new fad of refuting us. Of declaring that gods are merely a product of ignorance. Of man's desire for simple explanations, for a higher power to blame. *spurca canibus*... But why am I telling you anyway? You'll either completely erase this from your head, or the knowledge will simply fester within you until it drives you insane. I can already see the start of the headaches. *Sicut cum crassitudine, cum ergo infirmitadem*... I'll leave you to your doom.
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
*Just for any Neil Gaiman fans out there, yeah, I* had *read his American Gods not five days back. Why do you ask?*
| 2018-05-22T07:49:46 | 2018-05-22T06:26:47 | 120 | 34 |
[WP] You are a mighty dragon, the kind who kidnaps princesses. However, you only do it because princesses inherently have the ability to talk to animals and you're starved for intelligent conversation.
|
"Again?" the great green dragon Fichidineraj thought to himself as the little princess blathered about her father not letting her date "I thought a brunette princess would be more stimulating"
He let his head fall to the flat stone of the cave causing a loud echo across the caverns of his lair and a snort of his noxious breath to escape his nostrils.
"Can you believe that daddy won't even let me ride with Sir Travin on his warhorse? Says he's not 'honorable' enough" she continues, emphasizing her father's haughty tones. "and that's not all can you BELIEVE..."
A massive agonized roar erupts from Fichidineraj, followed by several resounding thumps as he banged his head against the wall in frustration. The princess seemingly unphased by this doesn't even break a stride in her unending run on sentence "Yeah I KNOOOW it's so annoying, it's like that time..."
The dragon rises to his feet and with a running start leaps into the air, clearing the mouth of his cave in only a few flaps of his massive wings. "Clearly no human can match my intellectual capabilities, I am truly alone in my grand intelligence. I shall take up a life of solitude in the mountains where I may ponder the greater intricacies of this imbecilic planet " the mighty dragon thought to himself in a proud and self assuring manner.
Meanwhile, the princess left in the cave finally takes a deep breath as the stench of the dragon subsides. She gets up and makes her way to the nearest village and as she arrives a crowd gathers in awe of the princess. "The dragon threat has been resolved, you are safe again my good people. I have left his hoard for you all, take his riches so they you can buy new herds and plant new crops, his blight is over." The gathering crowd erupts in cheers. The dragon was outwitted once again.
|
I came at night to better hide myself against the sky, and because it was the only thing that could complement my beauty. My scales matched the night's gloom almost to a tee, with only that sliver of moon marring the perfect dark I was covered in. I hated it. Looking at it cutting through the wonderful blackness felt like someone was dragging a claw through my guts. Fitting, then, that the moon was shaped like one tonight. Still... I couldn't let aesthetic concerns stop me from accomplishing what I came out here to do.
There was a tower in the middle of this... I dared not look down for fear of vomiting on this ugly knot of stone these people dared call 'civilization'. That would have alerted the people to my presence, and cut my mission short. But... for Night's sake, they still used *thatch*. Such a pedestrian eyesore that it made one physically ill to look on. How they managed not to gag whenever they looked up was beyond me. At least they used a sensible material like granite when they were building their castle, so perhaps I shouldn't judge them *too* harshly.
The tower I was heading toward caressed the night like an ebon finger, with only that bit of light at the top spoiling the image. Fortunately, it also showed me my target. I spread my wings to slow myself as I came close to the window, and caught the sides of the tower in my fingers, careful not to let my claws dig into the stone.
And then I found myself stymied. The window was outlined in a lovely dark iron braided into itself, and also latched shut. How could I open it without destroying the beautiful metalwork? Ah, of course. The panes! They were artless flecks that had no business being so close to such loveliness. I licked my teeth, then the glass, and smiled in satisfaction as one of the panes dissolved into a slick puddle of goop on the sill. One claw wriggled in to undo the latch, and like that I was in.
"Princess..." My voice filled the room, wrapping around its occupant with fingers of silk. The figure stirred under the nest of blankets (sable, of course, because the creature beneath was a being of taste), and peered blearily around the firelit room until she stopped on my face.
"Draclan. You vile thing, is that you again?"
My face fell. "That's not what you're supposed to say."
She sighed and flopped back into her nest. "It is the middle of the night, and I've chapel in the morning. I am not falling asleep during another sermon."
Silence took the place our voices once held. I let it linger a touch too long, but I was a bit puzzled by something. "...have you thought of rapping Mother Volumine's knuckles back?"
There was a snort somewhere from within the mess of blankets. "She'd probably have me excommunicated for it. Might even be worth doing, if it means not having to get up so early for chapel."
I went silent again. The blankets rustled to fill it.
"...oh alright, I'll do it, you vain beast. But this is the last time." She cleared her throat, sat up, and clutched her blankets to her chest. Her eyes were wide and dark and shimmered in the firelight. "Who... who are you?"
*There* it was. The reason I came. The trembling note of fear in her voice. The cold, icy dread in her eyes. The scent of fear wafting off of her darkened skin. I drew myself up until I filled the window with my head and shoulders and wrapped the top of the tower with my wings, blacking out the sight of the moon. "I am terror," I hissed, letting a bit of smoke curl over my lip. "I am the night..." My wing claws dug into the tower's roof for effect. She winced. I winced. I would have to replace those. "I am... DRACLAN!" I flooded the room with the sound of my name!
"Did you have to shout? I'm fair certain the whole *castle* heard you that time." One finger dug into her ear that was no doubt ringing.
"Yes," I said with a self-satisfied grin. "A dragon must--"
"--always introduce themselves properly, yes yes," she finished, rolling her eyes.
"Pooh. You're no fun," I muttered, laying my head on the sill.
She fixed me with a glare, but there was no heat behind it. "And you need a better introduction. You sound like my little brother."
If the moon was a claw dug into my stomach, her words were a sword through the heart. How it killed me, the mighty Draclan, the Ebon Scourge, the Night's Fury, to be compared to some, some brat who played at being a warlock! His voice was still cracking, for Night's sake!
"Oh don't sulk, you scaly pain-in-the-rump. You know it's true." She was smiling, *smiling*, at my pain! The nerve!
The night was closing in, the air was hard to breathe! The true, final darkness of death was falling over me! Woe! Cut down in my prime by the cruel words of a princess!
As I writhed and gagged in the window, the princess merely stared at me, one elegant eyebrow arched while she waited for me to die. "When you're finished being a drama dragon, I've something that might cheer you up."
I cracked open an eye from where my corpse lay on her windowsill. "I am dead, princess. I can't hear you."
"Oh? Well, then you won't want to hear about Lady Tremaine's newest work." The fiend.
I twitched, giving the illusion of life. Or, perhaps, unlife. "She's published a new one?"
The princess' smirk could put a devil to shame. "Indeed. But, seeing as you're a corpse, I suppose I shall have to read it all alone. With no one to do the voices of the men."
The fiend. The heartless succubus. She would abuse me, then tempt me? Very well. I rose from the dead and pushed into the tower until my head was settled behind her. "But we read two chapters tonight."
"One chapter, you needy drake. I've chapel in the morning."
I blew at her hair, sending it flipping over her face. "Two. You insulted my honor, said I sounded like your weird brother, and killed me to death. I need two chapters in order to recover fully."
"Fine, fine, you win," she groused. She tried to sound mad, but I could see her trying not to grin behind her hair.
We both settled deeper into her bed; she into the covers and I into the headboard. The spine of the paperback crackled as it was opened for the first time. She began.
"'Daisy swooned to the rough touch of Mr. John's rough hands roughly mangling her heaving bosom...'"
| 2019-11-11T19:09:17 | 2019-11-11T19:04:50 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] Super powers are common, but super heroes are rare. It turns out most people don't actually want to face death or dismemberment on a daily basis, including you. You enjoy the 9-5 and having a 401k, but my god that government recruiter won't take no for an answer.
|
Tim landed in a chair in the conference room, the breath leaving him in a sigh. "We're being audited." He said, pulling a hand across his face. He met my eyes and I saw the pain there. I knew what it meant, and I felt my stomach turn to ice.
I swallowed, taking a moment to digest this before answering. "The shop is fine, Tim. We do it by the book. They can audit all they want."
"No, Wade." He said. "The company. Not you, not our division. The company. We are being audited. A deep dive." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Apparently last year one of the accountants diverted some funds and ran off to Bora Bora. So we're screwed. From the top to the bottom they have us in a vice. They can shut us down, Wade. The board has made their decision." His voice caught. "I'm sorry. When I hired you, I told you this wouldn't happen."
I knew what was coming. It still hurt.
"It wasn't your call." I said, softly. I wanted to get angry but all I felt was devastated.
"And apparently the auditor made it clear that this could go away by terminating a certain employee. If it matters any, I stood for you. Resigned on the spot. I just asked that it got to be me to tell you."
I sighed, I hadn't expected that. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt a tear roll down my cheek. "Tim, you don't..." I loved the brewery, loved everything about it. I fit in there, another one of the jolly brewers, and nobody made a fuss over me being different. Hell, we were all a little different. "I mean I get it, fire me or they shut us down. Either way I'm out of a job, right? And this way at least I'll know you're taking good care of the boys."
"You think they'll stay after this? Ha." He said, leaning back. I felt my heart sink lower. "I think it's the end for me here. Maybe I'll get a real job."
"Dammit Tim!" I said, slapping the table, that got his attention. "You were all happy here before I started. If this," I gestured to indicate the whole of the brewery. "If this goes away, that hurts me more. Don't quit in solidarity, that's how they get to me."
"This isn't the first time, is it?" Tim asked.
"Last one was a little general store up in the mountains. Zoning department determined it was in a landslide area. The little old couple that ran it lost everything. Before that it was a tire shop, a sushi restaurant. I got hired at a laboratory and they got me in nine days."
"Why?"
"So I'll come fight for them. Be a 'good guy' who can fight the 'evil bad guys' and save the day. And I don't want to do that. I'm so tired of hurting people. But they just won't leave me alone." I stood up from the table. "And I can't take them hurting the people around me anymore."
I noticed Tim looked alarmed, and I realized I had shouted. There was a pause. "What are you going to do?"
I thought for a moment. "Stop them."
|
“The conference starts at 0700, we hope to see you there.” I sighed as the lady finished her pitch and hung up after giving her my thanks.
“Dad, I don’t see why I need to go. You, grandpa, hell even Great-Paps all did the same line of work. I want to too.” I huffed, with my hands at my side.
My dad shook his head “You know the rule about cursing within the house. We all did the same line of work, yes BUT not before we checked out our other options.” He lied. The only reason they were lawyers is because they come from a long line of mind-readers. “Plus, you’re a bright, courageous young man. You could do anything you want.”
“BAH!” Karl yelped in frustration as he walked off and deposited a buck in the jar. “No, fun.” He muttered.
The rest of the night was fairly standard. Mom got home from the hospital, she was the Surgeon General. A prodigal healer, most likely the best within the past 3 generations. With her standing, and his father as the youngest Supreme Court judge at the age of 27; he had huge shoes to fill. As the only child of such a power couple, everyone expected great things. His mind-reading surpassed his fathers, where he was able to see memories and even thoughts that weren’t conscious. His healing was mediocre even though his mother was his teacher. He just wasn’t as gifted as her, he would make a fine nurse but nothing more.
After supper and a few late night shows with the family he headed up to bed, pausing on the stairs leading to the second floor. “Mom, do you mind coming to the event with me? Dad has a hearing at 0700.”
She looked at him sympathetically, shaking her head. “I’m sorry sweetheart.” A slight cough interrupted her. “I have a surgery at 0730. I can drive you there if you would like.” She smiled weakly. \*Its getting worse…\* her thoughts were interrupted by her husband rubbing her back. She looked up at him and was met with a meek smile. She never openly told them about her affliction, but she lived with mind-readers. They knew exactly what was happening, but they still were kind enough to wait until she was ready to talk about the cancer.
“Yeah, that would be great. Goodnight guys, love you.” Karl said unable to take his eyes off his mother. A strained smile painted his face as he turned away and headed to his room. His sleep was occupied with his mother’s memories. He was in a waiting room. Looking around he realizes it was his mother’s hospital. A man he has seen a few times entered the room. “Rebecca,” He sighed as he sat down next to her, placing the clipboard in her lap. “You were successful in curing cancer but you know what happens when you heal.”
‘Yeah, yeah. I take on the symptoms but I’ve never contracted their sickness. I don’t understand how it happened.” The dream became fuzzy as everything went out of focus. “Two years, if you’re lucky” was all he heard from the man as woke up. He still remembers when his mother walked into the house just a few days after his eighteenth birthday which was just a few months ago.
He got dressed in his normal attire. Black t-shirt, blacked ripped pants, blue converse and messy hair. “NUH-UH” \*Hell no, what the hell do you think you’re doing dressed like that?!\* “Go back and change this second mister. \*This is not the event to dress like a nobody.\*
Karl grumbled a few incoherent words and quickly changed into a polo and khakis. “God, now I feel like a kid whose dad is a rich lawyer and has a trust fund.” He half laughed as he walked down the stairs.
“If the shoe fits…” Rebecca chuckled. “Now head to the car, and I’ll drop you off at school.” Karl nodded and the next 15 minutes were a blur. Same radio hits played, his mother telling him to keep an open mind.
“Love, ya. See you later.” He shut the door before his mother could respond. He turned and faced the school letting out a large sigh as he read the banner hanging over the front doors.
ARIZONA PREP SCHOOL’S JOB AND COLLEGE RECRUITING FAIR AND CONFERENCE.
“Great. More people who will say one thing while thinking another. Everyone has ulterior motives, quotas and agendas. Let’s get this over with.” He walked toward the open doors and followed the signs to the event. He stepped into the assembly hall and was greeted with rows of job recruiters and college recruiters. I signed in, was led to the stage and announced over the PA system just as the previous students were. “Student number 142, Karl Ulrich has arrived. Main ability, mind reading: Class S.” The hall became silent at that. Out of a hundred people usually two maybe three are designated Class S. Secondary ability, healing: Class C. Less reactions for that one.
Before I could even step down from the stage there was already a gaggle of recruiters at the bottom of the couple of steps. I was able to brush off most with a simple line. “Thank you for your consideration, but I will be attending Harvard Law and following in the steps of my father, his father and his father’s father. There is nothing else to discuss.” What was strange was one recruiter in a black suit. His dress shirt and tie were also black but he never once approached me.
I met up with some friends, they talked about some decent offers for themselves. I was happy for them but nothing was stopping me from going to Harvard. The event wrapped up and I started heading out of the school when the man in black approached me. “Mr. Ulrich, I was sen-“
“Thank you for your consideration but I will be—“
“Interrupt me again child, and I will put you in the fucking ground.” A fist hit me in the chest, and before my body could fully crumple inward his other hand grabbed the nape of my neck slamming my face into the ground holding me there.
I gasped, bringing me back to reality. A bead of sweat dripped down my face. His mind was still as stone, lacking any emotion. His thoughts calmed from the whirlwind of combat from just a second ago. \*I am with the Depart of Defense. We headhunt mind-readers and no others.\*
“Um, sir. I am not really looking into joining the military.” My hands intertwined in front of my body, slightly shaking. As a mind-reader I lacked any physical prowess.
\*You misunderstand, you will not be in the military. You will work with them. They will provide protection. You will be one of the head interrogators.\*
“I don’t want to do that. I want to be a lawyer. Thank you Mr.?”
The man’s face still held fast. Even though I asked him what his name was his thoughts never drifted from his mission. \*With your mind-reading and healing you would be one of the best interrogators we’ve ever seen. The main issue is when we try to pull information from people they can’t handle anymore torture. With you though, you could heal them as you interrogate them. The perfect hell to get the information out and be able to tell if it is false.\*
My stomach became queasy. My vision flooded with the images of various members of foreign militaries and political parties beaten and battered. Blood dripping down their face, teeth stained. Broken fingers, with missing fingernails. Arms bent in the wrong direction.
\*You see you could heal all of this as you inflict It.\* More images flooded in, I tried to shut my mind to it, but his thoughts were protruding into my own. Flashes of tendons being cut, muffled screams. Men, women, and children crying out as the torture continued. My head began to get foggy. My knees became weak, before buckling. As my vision went black, I felt the man catch me with a single hand and him quietly mutter four words.
“Tango acquired, evac immediately.”
&#x200B;
A/N: That was a fun Writing Prompt! Hope you all enjoy.
| 2022-07-31T19:45:06 | 2022-07-31T18:45:47 | 34 | 19 |
[WP] "Of course I'm not scared of you just because you have claws. Sure, you could kill me with them at any moment... but, like, so can any random human with a knife."
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The monster approached me, growling and holding up his hands, revealing claws with foot-long nails, sharp and gleaming, looking like they could pierce steel. As he crept toward me with a murderous gleam in his eye, ready to run me through with those sharp claws of death, I spoke.
"What? Am I supposed to be impressed by those claws of yours? Do you think you're the only monster in this world with an impressive set like that? It looks like you're approaching me with the wrong attitude. You can't go around thinking you're all that just because you have something long and sharp at the end of your fingertips. Oh sure, you might think they're badass in their own right, but there must be thousands of other monsters just like you, and I bet they've slain more than you could ever hope to in your entire lifetime. Why, you're no different than a man with a carving knife, and just as intimidating. That's right. You inspire just as much fear as a cook chopping up vegetables. What do you think of that? Puts things in perspective, doesn't it?"
And with that, the monster hung his head, turned around and slunk away. Seeing my chance, I unsheathed my blade and drove it straight into his back.
|
"So, Klonk, who you thinking we add to the team? We can't do it just the two of us." I play about with my magic as we walk to the nearest town, black wisps dancing at the tip of my claws. "I reckon we should look for Clara - she's smart, quick-witted and aggressive." Klonk nods. "She could be a useful asset, but we need someone else to balance us having two hot-heads in the group" he says, gesturing at me. I look at him with a grin. "Excuse me, but which one of us two barged into the other's home without a plan to take them out?" Klonk elbows me and we both laugh.
We get into town and begin looking around. The first artefact, the Goblet of Angels, should be here. We also came here to look for people to join. I instantly feel it; people cowering from me, staring daggers at me or trying to pretend I don't exist. I glance down a dark alleyway. "Huh?" Klonk looks at me. "What is it, Wretch?" "I... I thought I saw someone..." I shake my head. "Never mind, let's cont-" my thoughts are interrupted as I instantly freeze up - not out of fear, but because my body is under control of someone. I look; great, someone called the hero department of the police here.
Kip, someone with the ability to control muscles, and Tanya, with her faithful wolf companion, able to call on creatures to her aid. Kip forces me forward. "You have a lot of nerve, Wretch" he growls. Tanya comes up to me. "State your business." Nervous, I react on instinct - I use my magic to grab Kip's arms, preventing him from controlling me. I look at him; he's trying to break free. Klonk comes over. "Klonk! Help me out!" The wolf is barking aggressively. Things are about to get out of hand... I look around at the townspeople, terrified and confused. Reluctantly, I free Kip.
Klonk speaks up. "Listen, Wretch and I are on a mission. He's not after any trouble." Kip and Tanya look at each other confused. I sigh; they're gonna think that Klonk was brainwashed or something. "Klonk's right. Just... I'll go with you. I'll co-operate. I'm sorry." I hold out my hands as I say this. The two approach me cautiously, with the wolf growling at me. They put on magic-resistant handcuffs. Just then, we all hear a giggle. "You really doing this? You want you-know-who to come back?" We spot Clara, on a roof, holding her signature axe. She jumps down gracefully.
"What are you talking about, Clara?" Clara just giggles again as she cuts off my cuffs. She's far too jovial and giggly... she needs to calm down... "Do you think that was a smart move, Clara?" I send wisps surrounding her, binding and restraining her. I walk over. She's... still giggling? "Are... are you not afraid of me?" She just laughs at that. "Why would I be? Of course I'm not scared of you just because you have claws. Sure, you could kill me with them at any moment... but, like, so can any random human with a knife." I contemplate the situation, then I remember something.
"What did you mean by 'you-know-who'?" She whispers loud enough for Kip, Tanya, Klonk and I to hear: "The demon lord." Klonk eyes her suspiciously. "How'd ya know?" Clara giggles again. Man, does she ever stop? "I heard you two talking" she responds. "Let me go, I have something for you." I do so. Then I see it: in her hand. "The Goblet of Angels" I say in the gasp-whisper voice. I myself cannot touch it due to my nature. I turn around and both Kip and Tanya are standing, gobsmacked. Tanya goes to take it. "You were looking for this, Wretch?" I nod.
Kip steps forward. "That has to mean that the demon lord really *is* trying to return." I grin. "You know, Clara, I was hoping you were around... how you got the Goblet is beyond me, but that is *exactly* why Klonk and I need you - always good to have a wild card." Clara giggles - *again* \- and says "Of course! Tanny, you wanna come too?" Tanya looks at Kip, who nods. "Someone's gotta keep you under control. Alright, I'll come along. Pearl, I need you to watch Wretch for me." Pearl barks and runs to my side. I bend down. She's hesitant... but she allows me to pet her.
"Sweet girl" I say, and Tanya smiles. "I know. She got left behind by her pack. I found her and raised her myself. It was as I was doing that I had a gift, the ability to understand and interact with animals. She'll know if you're about to try something, so please don't upset her." I stand up and look at Tanya. "Of course" I say. Clara once again giggles. "You're supposed to be evil, right? You sure that you're Wretch?" I look at her. "I am Wretch" I respond. "Who I am hasn't changed. What has changed is my perception. I don't know if I'm evil or not anymore."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
This story is a part of my series, [Cursed Warrior.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x3fd15/cursed_warrior/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out!
| 2022-09-20T08:42:13 | 2022-09-20T08:13:50 | 265 | 18 |
[WP] All humans go automatically to hell when they die. You can gain access to a heaven though, but only if the animals you interacted with while living vouch for you.
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"Okay," God said while he shuffled some papers, "We've just heard from the five dogs you cared for throughout your life. And frankly, I'm touched, that was great testimony. Now let's see what the next group of witnesses have to say. Could the Angeliff please call in the 500,000 chickens that Mr. Abigail's life had an impact on?"
|
"Hello PT."
There was a faint red glow surrounding me as I opened my eyes, blurry at first, the room I was in came in to focus. If you could call it a room; it became apparent that it was more of a large cavern than anything. As I looked around I saw thousands of animals, some perched on jagged cliff outcrops, others on limbs of parched dead trees. Fire billowed from lava flows, though the lava itself looked more like glowing thick streams of excrement. Surprisingly, the heat could not be felt, and there was no distinct smell.
"Where...where an I?" I stammered.
"You're dead," a large Bison said, coming closer, flames enveloping him, then fading away. "I am your first."
"First what?" I asked, bewildered. I was beginning to wonder if I had a bad batch of acid earlier, but despite by doubts decided to go with it. "And how did I die?"
"You don't remember?" the Bison said, surprised. Animal chatter soon filled the room. Several muskrats started fighting, then, as if reaching an agreement, scurried off.
"I'm actually not convinced I'm dead," I joked.
The Bison's eyes glowed red, his voice bellowed, "OH BUT YOU ARE!"
The room heated instantly to a scorching temperature I thought would instantly burn my skin off. Through the ripples of thick air, I saw my skin melting and regenerating, and with indescribable pain I screamed.
It instantly became room temperature again. The Bison seemed to grin, though his face couldn't really convey that emotion. There was still a lingering smell of festering shit from the lava flows.
"But, why, I mean, I know I'm not religious, and I certainly wouldn't have known if whatever paganistic religion this looks like, so I could've worshipped you all. Just seems unfair. I'm no saint by any means, but I led a decent life."
"The religion is if no concern, it's the deeds that matter," the Bison explained. Animals throughout the cavern chattered in agreement.
"And what deeds did I commit?"
The Bison laughed, "I am your first!"
I stared, perplexed.
"Remember, 1996, rural Kansas, Jane's Restaurant and Hotel? The three day stay? There was a Bison farm next door. You requested a Bison burger 'because you never had one before.' But they were out of meat. You pointed to me, said I looked good enough to eat."
I had to be tripping, I mean, skin melting aside, that's some deep ass memory I had completely forgot about. But I had no choice but to go with it.
"So you're like my accuser, then? Is heaven only for vegetarians?"
Snickers erupted in the cavern, some birds flew down from perches and shit at me, most missing, though a drop or two hit my shoulder.
The Bison sighed, "Next accuser."
A small bird fluttered down from high above and settled on one if the Bison's horns. It was a baby bird, and seemed to have just learned to fly.
"1992," the bird said, "Your friend and you hunted me down with a BB gun and killed me."
"But I never shot it!" I exclaimed. I remember that moment from my childhood well, we were fucking around with a BB pellet gun and my friend wanted to shoot something. There was a bird in the trees, and he took the shot. It missed by inches but startled the bird enough to fall in the brambles below, where it became trapped and several shots later was dead.
"Indirectly, you led to my death," the bird chided. "You could have told your friend to stop."
I began to see where this was going, next would be the deer my uncle shot, probably. Some fish I caught, though how they'd present themselves in this firey shit ferno I'll have to see. A lobster or two. Who knows if insects count, that'll take some small eternity to go over, if only for all the ants I fried with a magnifying glass. The raccoon I blew the head off of a few weeks ago because he was in my garbage can and bit me.
The muskrats came scurrying back. With ease they made their way up the thick coarse hair of the Bison, and whispered into his ear.
The Bison let out an annoyed groan.
"When a man dies, he is sent here, to hell, to be tried for his cruelties against his kin, his fellow brethren in this world. First the bad, then the good, then the decision. However, in some minor cases, the accused has no memory of their death, because that would be problematic for the tribunal. To die at the action of another animal or saving another animal would automatically redeem you in the eyes of the tribunal. Suffice it to say, we get tired of going over whole lifetimes of said acts if we can learn what killed you. The muskrats consulted Gaia, and it has been determined that you died due to the action of another animal."
Chatter broke out in the cavern, and several dozen raccoons let out a shrill laughter, pawing at their faces.
I simply stood in stunned silence, the memories flooding back, of treating the bite on my hand, aching all over a few days later. The lock jaw, convulsions. Hospital, family, friends, delirium.
Fucking raccoons.
A bright light shown and the thousands of animals in my tribunal began floating skyward.
I looked at the Bison and asked, " What's heaven like!"
The Bison groaned, "Puppies, lots and lots of puppies.
| 2016-03-24T14:53:06 | 2016-03-24T13:50:00 | 96 | 36 |
[WP] You've died and wake up in some sort of theme park. You look at the ride attendant, with long white hair and a big beard, who says, "Wanna go again?"
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"Alright, lad. End o' the line."
As I open my eyes, I realize that I'm sitting in front of an old, friendly-looking man with hair as white as the freshest milk, a big, fluffy beard and blue eyes that seemed to stare into the deepest corners of your soul. Looking around, I see that we're the only ones here.
"How was the ride? Did ye enjoy it?" asked the man with a calming warmth in his voice.
"What are you referring to?" I asked, puzzled as anyone would be, had they been in my situation.
"Ah, this be that memory error again. I bet ye don't even know who I am right now. That doesn't matter. Yer life, sonny. Did ye like it?" the man clarified, his smile even wider now, his face showing his genuine curiosity.
"Yeah. It was a bit short, though. I don't remember how it ended exactly, but I didn't expect it." I said, trying to recall details from what apparently was my past life.
"Well, that's the beauty of it, innit? A little surprise to keep ye on yer toes. Anyways, do ye have any feedback fer me?" the man continued his inquiries.
"There was way too much violence, especially in the Middle East. People took politics way too seriously, and overall, people are pretty vile if you think about it." I gave him an honest response.
"Nah, sonny. Ye just gotta find the good in them. After all, ye'll see the world through everyone's point o' view 'till we're done. I'm assumin' ye wanna go again. Care ta tell me what time period and location ye want?" the man then looked into the control panel of the ride, then looked back at me, awaiting my answer.
"Umm, what about Ancient Egypt? I always thought that was interesting." I said, while thinking that all this *couldn't* be real, and that this man was just pulling my leg.
"Sure thing, sonny!" he replied heartily.
The man pressed a button and I actually started fading away, hearing some tense people talking. I assumed that was my birth, but as it is, I knew I wouldn't remember.
"Ye have time for one question before we meet again, sonny. Shoot quickly!" the man shouted, as the people talking were louder and louder.
"Who are you?" I screamed back, eager to know the name of the one that gave me another shot at life.
"On yer ride, they call me many names. Let's just say I'm yer friend."
The man smiled again, waving goodbye. A bright light. Happy people. I was born again.
|
'Where am I? wha- why am I here? I was doing something a while ago, and ... what was I doing?' thoughts flooded my mind as I stood in a place I'm not familiar with. thankfully I saw a man, an old man, well dressed and well ... seemingly approachable, so I went to clear my confused state.
"I'm sorry, but where am I?" I ask the gentleman offering 'another ride' as he says. "Ha ha ha, well you're in a theme park my dear", "so you wanna go for a ride?". Theme park huh. Well I can't really remember from where I came from, or why I am here, and to add to this confusion this man is offering me rides, hmm, I ask "Uhh, I think i'll pass for now, do you have an exit? I mean, where is the nearest phone booth?", "Phone booth? what will you be needing it for?" he asked and to my confusion, "well to call people naturally, isn't that their purpose?".
"you won't be needing that my dear, you're dead anyway."
"huh?" was all I can say as I wrap my mind around what the gentleman had just said. "dead?" I asked, followed by "ha ha ha, well I do appreciate jokes at times mister but I think that's a bit inappropriate.".
"oho it's more appropriate than you're ever imagine" he says as he lifts his arm pointing to the bottom of the roller coaster.
I cast my gaze to where his fingers directed me to, and as I examined I was stunned with horror "THERES A BODY IN THERE!" I exclaimed and ran towards to see if that person was Ok, or alive at the least.
As I came closer crouching for a better view my horror rose, as I saw the body was gory all throughout. "oh my god" as I thought about the poor soul that encountered a fate such as this. In assurance I placed my finger around the body's neck to see but it was a fool's game. From what I saw in the beginning this body is as good as dead. I reached for my pocket "damn it's not here" I said as I remembered that I forgot to bring my phone.
"Huh, why did I remember that now" I told myself as I lay there confused. then suddenly to my surprise the gentleman has followed me and is now at my front standing .
"Still not convinced?" he asked to further my confusion, "what do you mean?". he then told me "look at that body, is it in any way familiar to you?". Well I haven't really thought about it, all I did was to check if it was ok but ending with a disappointing outcome. "look at it's face" he said.
As I looked my mind slowly fills with my worst fears realized. "tha- THAT'S ME!", "Wha- What's going on here?" I screamed in panic as I saw that the lifeless body I initially checked upon was actually me. "No, that can't be, I'm alive right now, this has to be someone who looks like me" I attempted to reassure my thoughts.
"Miss, haven't you seen anything odd in all the time that you've been here?"
Well that's the problem, I don't know how I got here, I haven't even the foggiest of memories of what I was doing, and now I'm alone in a park with an old man!
Wait ... I'm alone ... with an old man. Weren't theme parks supposed to be filled at this time, it's noon and high time for frolicking in lines waiting for rides or in stands. but everywhere I look ... it's actually barren. A barren theme park.
"who are you?" I ask. "Aha! Finally the question I've been seeking." he was quick to reply "But first who are you?" he asked. "I don't know". "I see" he says "Well in your terms, I am what they call ..."
"... death"
I froze from where I sat. Huh, this person claims to be death, yet doesn't look the nearest from what I can say as a person fitting death. He's more like a person whose soon to be near death in my opinion.
"Well of course you are a bit dumbfounded, everyone is the time they meet with someone like me" he continued "So to clarify things further" *snaps* suddenly the park is filled with frozen statues of people, or from my view, its like time froze for these people, except for us. *snaps* and the people disappear "Well?" He speaks as he amused himself with my awe.
"The moment a person dies, they are somehow, frozen in time, at the place the moment they died", "you are dead, and I am your personification of death"
"wa-wait! but if I'm dead, why am I still here?" I asked, "you're here to revisit the moment you died, and reason for that is for a soul to reach closure at their deaths", "you see, when a soul is removed from their body, it is confused, and seeks out the reason for their demise", "usually when a person dies peacefully they know immediately how they died, and so can rest peacefully".
"On the other hand, should a person die by means not of their own, they are left with questions unanswered" "and with these questions unanswered come intense regret, negative emotions fill the soul and corruption takes root"
"souls unaddressed, on how they died end up being the ghosts of your world, unable to leave, corrupted due to dissatisfaction.". "you better try and find the reason for your death soon, the longer you stay, the worse the consequences"
"so, you want another ride?" he ends.
"wait, all of this is too much to handle, even my dying I can't even comprehend still at this moment", then I continued "let me ask, why are you here anyway? If I'm to find out the reason for my demise, why do you need to be here?"
"I'm here to be your aid", "Well, even though I might be what you call death, i'm not as mortifying or eerie as your legends have spoken about me", "Actually my true purpose is to ensure that your soul gets to leave this world, if not I'm stuck with you, well, forever". "so to speed things up i'll just help you in your way, although you not finding what you seek wont be a problem for me."
"won't you be busy?" ,"Lot's of people die as we speak, aren't your hands full?" I asked.
"Like I said, i'm not exactly like your concept of death", "in actuality, there is more than one *me* ", "per person that lives, a personal death is assigned to harvest their soul", "I'm you're personal death, and I've been with you since you were born"
That was a bit creepy yet reassuring for a bit. I now understand that this man might not be as dangerous as I feel when I'm around him, according to what he says at least. Lots of things are still unaddressed, but i'm spent "hmmm, this is a frozen world anyway, maybe I can do anything I want for a moment" I thought.
So I asked "am I, free in this world?", "what do you mean?" he asks, "free as in the notion of space, can I roam the world?". He replies with "yes, but only to the extent of what your body remembers of the world".
"One more question", "sure" he replies, "what time do I have till I become corrupted or so you call it?"
"usually souls tend to corrupt after a week of their death" he answered.
"that's more time than ill need", "guess ill have fun for a while" As I smile.
(continue this)
edits: some typos
| 2017-01-07T07:37:53 | 2017-01-07T07:02:58 | 1,307 | 30 |
[WP] There's an urban legend that's been circulating for years aboit a taxi cab that doesn't take you where you want to go, but where you need to go.One night you step into this cab.
|
"Yo, wrong way!"
No response.
"You hear me?"
Still nothing.
I was going to be late for my job. Can't wait for Mr. Henessy to yell at me again.
"Where are you taking me?"
Eventually he drove me home.
"Go to your TV"
I got to my living room, only to find my wife crying.
"What is it honey?"
As she looked at me in shock, only then did I notice the TV.
"Why is my office smok..."
Then the second plane hit...
|
It was late, I'd been out for a few bevvys with the lads after work.
I glanced around and took in the orange sodium glow of the street lights, rain gently starting to settle on my skin as I started walking north toward my apartment.
I pulled my coat around me, stuffing my hands in the leather pockets. Fiddling with my keys jangling in one hand and the other idle hanging against my side. There was no point me putting up my hood, I'd never get it back in the stylish jacket, and it was only a drizzle.
I check my phone, eyes a little skewed from the alcohol, half reading posts on social media, haphazard likes and random clicks, onwards I trudge. I feel the rain get heavier, large drops off tree hit the back of my neck sending a shiver down my spine. I take cover under a hotel's entrance canopy.
My hand moves to find my wallet hidden amongst pockets galore, checking inside how much cash is remaining, couple of fives and a twenty. Enough to get a taxi at any rate, even on their after hour surcharge.
Few cars are around at the time, maybe one or two passing to collect party goers or in a rush to hospitals. I cursed myself for having not booked a taxi as normal, alas, hindsight is a great thing.
I wait for a moment, thinking whether to ring a local company, or ask the concierge inside to do me a favour. I look up from my phone trying to find a taxi number and luckily one pulls up to the kerb, depositing its human cargo.
"You have a good night now guys, don't do anything I wouldn't!" came from the front of this clapped out motor. My instincts said that it wouldn't be a good idea to get in, my cold and shivering body from the rain said there would be a heater inside, I literally voted with my feet.
I knocked on the window, it slowly rolled down and revealed a man no younger that 40, wearing a flat cap and a side smirk. He opened his mouth and said,
"I see you're looking for a ride, I sure can help you on that one, means as I got four wheels and if you can part with some cash, how does that sound?"
Taken aback and with a slight mumble I replied it would be great and I needed to go a little further than many taxis were willing to go.
"Sure, no problem, I can take you where you need to be!" That should've been my first clue of how my evening would pan out.
I slipped into the back seat, that horrible cheap faux leather, 'wipe clean', it smelt like sweat, tears, despair with a underlying loneliness.
"If you could take me to Wenlock Gardens in the north of town, or as close as you're willing that would be great, not many guys can be bothered" I asked gently.
"Sure, sure I'll get you where you need to go son, no problem!" He replied, retaining his smirk.
It must've been the rocking of the car, combined with the alcohol, but I was soon asleep, going over the day's events, dreaming of possible futures. The car stopped, I jolted awake and looked for the meter.
A whole 56, more than I had in my wallet, I'm considered doing a runner. I looked outside, I had no idea where I was, but there was a warehouse and it was getting lighter outside. The driver was no where to be seen, but his flat cap was on the steering wheel.
I got out, he must've gone to take a leak, you wouldn't just leave a passenger unattended would you?! Maybe this was my opportunity to do a bunk?
I saw the driver walking towards me from out of the warehouse, this whole situation felt sinister, I'd watched and read far too many crime shows and novels (a weird kind of guilty pleasure I had, the bloodier and more gruesome the better!)
The taxi driver looks up towards the car and beckons me over. I slowly walk towards him and then follow him into the warehouse. I look around thinking am I walking to my death? I must remember every detail in case I have to report this to someone, and yet I have no idea where I am, and my phone has run out of battery.
The man walks me up a jittery set of metal steps, our footsteps echo throughout the empty complex. We walk through a door, there's a chair and he gestures off hand towards it, implying I'm to sit.
"So, where am I?" I enquire.
"I told you- I would take you where you needed to be," he replied, retaining the devilish smirk.
"But I asked you for Wenlock Gardens, it should've only cost me ten!" I protested.
"I bought you where you needed to be, and the rest of them will arrive soon," his grin had gone, he stormed up to me, took the rope from behind his back, and started to tie me to the chair.
The rope was rough, tar like secretions snaked their way on to my clothes, I wriggled, he pulled harder. Satisfied he shoved a bag on my head. I heard muffled footsteps walk away from me.
I knew I was alone in that place, I could hear a far off drip, swinging rusty chains in the gentle wind. I shouted, I knew there was no point.
An eternity later I heard footsteps returning, my senses heightened, someone grabbed at my hair and bag pulling it off. The light was bright and the hairs that they pulled made me scrunch my face. I opened my eyes, standing in front of me was not just one, or two people I didn't know, but eight.
None of them looked happy, none of them wore well fitting clothes and all of them had weapons.
"Where am I?" I mumbled.
"Boy- you're exactly where you need to be..."
| 2017-04-17T16:11:59 | 2017-04-17T14:48:21 | 185 | 48 |
[WP] You're a hit man with a conscience - before every kill, you help the victim check something off their bucket list.
|
"So this is sort of like my last meal? I can get anything I want?" the hit asked. He was in his late fifties, a flabby geek that had hacked into a foreign computer system to steal government secrets.
Hugo shrugged. "Yeah. I just started doing this recently...I felt bad for the hits. There was this one guy, kinda young, he said he always wanted to go skydiving, so, yeah. We went and then I did my job."
Hugo held the gun steady. He'd allowed one uptight woman, the wife of a known mobster, to go to Mardi Gras and catch beads. He'd set up one guy with a hooker. All of them had a bucket list. He viewed himself as a cross between a fairy godfather and the grim reaper. Granting one last wish was the only way he slept at night.
"I do have one thing I've always wanted to do. But it's illegal, so I would never do it."
What difference did illegal make when you were about to die anyway? Hugo nodded. "Whatever you want."
The guy paused for a second and leaned in. Hugo could see the fine beads of perspiration on his forehead. "I've always wanted to shoot a man," he whispered, reaching for Hugo's gun.
*pop*
|
It was fair to say that many from her cohort remembered Sadie Javier long after they had all graduated, long after cloaks of shadows were donned, alternate identities assumed.
That was not unusual in and of itself. Most valedictorians from the Academy left deep impressions, sometimes because of their unparalleled drive to succeed, other times because of their unmatched skill. A few even merited attention because of the creativity they imbued into their craft, killing in novel ways which shook the established tenets, opening up entirely new schools of training for subsequent generations of assassins.
Sadie's defining moment though, came during her graduation speech.
In the five minutes she was allotted, she shared an incident from her childhood, when she saw a bird plummet from the sky, wing broken. It was clear the bird would expire, naturally, in moments.
Sadie recounted how it crossed her mind to hasten the process, but out of curiosity, she had stayed her hand, waiting to see what would ensue.
And it was chaos which ensued. Two wild cats descended upon the scene, each eager to claim the windfall. A young boy passing by decided to intervene, which then led to other friends joining in the fracas as various parties scrambled for the prize.
In the end, Sadie had said, much unnecessary pain and suffering had unravelled for no discernible purpose. The bird had still died. But now there were broken bones, rent skin, stubborn scars.
How much better would it have been if balance had been restored right at the beginning, asked Sadie. And wasn't it about time that the assassins from the Academy sought to enforce that balance, and aspired to something more noble than the base pursuit of wealth, fame and power?
No one understood what Sadie was talking about that day.
But they remembered her speech, which helped them decipher in later years the true identity of the unorthodox assassin who took unusual clients, answered strange requests, and most of all, completed her contracts only after a purported balance had been restored.
The Bucket List Killer.
---
Sadie completed the last mile on foot, having parked at the previous vantage point. This late in the day, most of the tourists were descending from Mt Latterson, having taken in their fill of the sights for the day, but Sadie was on her way up.
She found Kenny Lensway at the next bend, just as he had promised. He had crossed the broken barriers, and he sat at the edge, legs swinging over the endless expanse, staring out at the waning sun.
“Thank you for being here,” she said, leaning against the black-and-yellow poles which had been recently erected to draw attention to the broken path.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, miss.”
Her peers may have been disappointed by the seeming lack of challenge in this chase. They would have preferred to slice their way through hordes of bodyguards, or tracked their quarries for thousands of miles. Not that Sadie couldn’t have managed all that, but she appreciated it too when things were simple.
“I’ve looked into your last request,” she continued, hand already shifting to the hilt of the blackened blade by her side. “I believe I may be able to fulfil it.”
“Really?” Kenny said, turning his head in surprise. He was no longer reliant on the neck brace to support his enfeebled spine, but Sadie noted the twitch of pain on his face. “Full expenses for life, everything?”
“Everything, just as you asked for.”
“I’m sure all my assets weren’t worth that much, how did you make up the difference?”
*He’s perceptive*, Sadie thought. All that he had transferred to her were worth but a couple of thousand, once the rest of his medical bills were paid off. Even taking into consideration the insurance payout, to be collected over a span of ten years, there was no way he could have afforded his request on his own.
“I went back to my clients, asked each of them to cough up extra,” said Sadie, who saw no point in lying. “They were only too willing – it seemed that they believed the more they paid, the more satisfactory your death would be to them.”
“Ah, I see,” said Kenny, who returned to gazing out into the distance. He picked up a pebble, threw it as hard as he could, watched it disappear as it spun away lazily. “And the kid never has to know the money came from me, right? I wouldn’t want her to feel guilty or anything, that only she survived the crash, that only she got that second chance.”
“That is, if she ever regains consciousness,” said Sadie, who began to bend her knees, slightly, leaning forward in an attack stance. “The doctors give her fifty-fifty odds, at best.”
Kenny was quiet for a while, then suddenly, the sobs ran through him, racking his chest. “I pleaded guilty in court, you know that! I said I was wrong, I shouldn’t have fallen asleep at the wheel! I stared into the eyes of all the parents, and I begged for their forgiveness, told them I was willing to die, to make up for all their grief, so why, why didn’t the court let me die?”
Sadie understood the technicalities which had played out, which forced the court to rule that it was his employer who was responsible for overworking Kenny, assigning him multiple shifts in a day, culminating in that fateful sightseeing tour for the local school. She didn’t think though that it was useful to revisit those at this point.
“If it helps, Kenny, I assured every single parent who came to me that I would make you pay with your life for it. I warned them that it would not bring their children back, but I saw the closure it would hopefully bring to them.”
Kenny smiled then, and he sighed, squeezing out the last few tears from his eyes. “I’m ready then. I even had my last wish fulfilled, and I’m thankful for th-”
Sadie leapt forward then, the unsheathed blade singing in the wind. She crossed the distance between them in the blink of an eye, and with an upwards slash, she sent Kenny down the side of Mt Latterson, falling in the same graceful arc which the rest of the schoolchildren on his ill-fated tour bus had taken.
She stood there, unmoving, listening to the howling winds sweeping by, until the sun was swallowed up by the horizon.
Then, sensing that the balance had been restored, she began her descent.
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| 2017-05-11T05:41:15 | 2017-05-11T05:37:04 | 66 | 35 |
[WP] You are a wish lawyer. You help clients negotiate wishes from genies, faeries, dragons, and other wish granting entities.
You also do faustian bargains with devil
Edit: Woo! I finally made it to the top of writing prompts!
|
It was an open and shut case. There was nothing we could do, really. Just patch out the loophole for the future. Genie cases were usually so simple, the rules are so clear. No resurrection, no forced love, no wishing for more wishes. Thousands of years and genies had won every case against them, taken countless wishes back as settlements. But a child, just old enough to know what she wants but not yet old enough to question why she can't have it, had won a genie case. And not just any genie case, the motherlode of cases. "Rule number one: No wishing for more wishes" had never been broken. Until one little girl, with all the innocence in the world, made one little reply.
"You can't wish for more wishes."
She had taken a moment to think.
"I wish I could."
|
Elmer stopped taking notes and looked up from his battered legal pad, incredulous.
“A pony? That’s all you want?”
The client nodded, her dark ringlets bouncing enthusiastically.
Elmer adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses and leaned across his desk. He tried adopting a placating tone.
“Maybe…you don’t quite understand what you have here. Water nymphs are quite…fluid, you see. They’re much more generous with the terms of their agreements. A pony is great and all, but with some negotiating, we could get you more than that, much more. All we—“
“You heard her. A pony.”
The client’s father, a bull of a man, rumbled in his seat. Elmer, who had negotiated with actual minotaurs, was not cowed. He’d try another tactic later.
“I understand. A pony. Well, how about you tell me about this pony?”
Both Elmer and the father looked on as the client swung off her chair and retrieved a pink backpack from below it. After rifling through its contents, she pulled out a piece of construction paper. Standing on tiptoe, she handed it to Elmer.
Elmer examined the paper. Drawn in crayon was a crude approximation of a horse, with a few…modifications.
“Fire breathing? Am I reading this right? You want a fire breathing horse?”
The client nodded again as she hoisted herself back into her chair. She started swinging her legs as she ticked off her wish list.
“Yes! And laser eyes. AND I want him to have retractable spikes. They’ll only poke out when bad guys try to ride him. Dad said that’s an ‘anti-theft mechanism.’”
Elmer raised an eyebrow. The client’s father coughed uncomfortably, explaining:
“We don’t live in a very nice area.”
“Understood. Could you remind me where you live again?”
“Just a stone’s throw away from Fell’s Point.”
Elmer considered this. He considered the moral and legal ramifications of releasing a fire-breathing death machine onto the streets of Baltimore. Then he considered the insurance premiums. He started sweating.
This client was going to be tougher than he thought.
“Er—have you given any thought to where you’d keep this pony?”
The client, who had started coloring on another piece of construction paper, piped up:
“In my room!”
Elmer blanched.
“And how…exactly, would that work?”
The client, huffing slightly, got out of her chair and pointed at the schematic on Elmer’s desk. Scrawled in the lower right hand corner was “shrink” and “unshrink.”
“Can’t you read, mister? The pony can change sizes! Duh.”
Elmer looked at the client’s father desperately. But once glance at the father’s stony expression told him all that he needed to know. He’d get no help there.
At that moment, it dawned on Elmer that this may be above his pay grade. Which sounded ridiculous, at first. For the past thirty years, Elmer had riddled with Sphinxes, outwitted pixies and wrestled (verbally) with djinns. His signature had made fortunes, changed lives and reunited lost loves.
It was absurd that a six-year-old pipsqueak would be the first client that he ever had to walk away from.
But he knew that if he drafted this particular contract, he ran the risk of tainting his entire legacy. As sweet of a child she appeared to be now, who knew what havoc she’d wreak with such a creature at her disposal? Clearly, the father wasn’t the most hands on parent himself.
He could almost smell the smoke, hear the cries of horror. So he came to a decision. He put down his pen, rubbed his temples and met his client’s hopeful gaze.
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you today.”
As the client’s eyes filled up with tears, the father growled menacingly.
“What do you mean? They said you could help us.”
Elmer shrank back in his chair. Suddenly, those minotaurs didn’t seem so big in hindsight. The man across from Elmer, however, practically filled the room.
“Unfortunately, that’s not the case here.”
The father started cracking his knuckles.
“However!” Elmer stammered. “I have the name of someone else who may be able to help.”
As soon as the words left his trembling lips, Elmer regretted them. This would only make things worse. Much worse.
The father impatiently cleared his throat.
“Um—his name’s Johnny. No last name, just Johnny. People say that I’m the best at negotiating with...the other side, but I’m not. He is. They even wrote a song about him. And he doesn’t have the same kind of…moral scruples…that I have. You’ll have to travel down aways south to see him, though. Deep South.”
The father considered this, and then he started.
“Devil went down to Georgia?”
Elmer nodded nervously.
“No shit!” Remembering his daughter, “Sorry, honey.”
“It’s okay, Daddy. As long as I get my pony.” She looked at Elmer happily. “When I get him, I’m going to name him Dante.”
Elmer shuddered. After rifling through his drawers, he handed her father Johnny’s card. It was gold.
The client stood up and looked at her father authoritatively.
“Daddy, this man can’t help us get Dante. So let’s go see this Johnny guy right away!”
Her father, also standing up, looked at his daughter with fondness.
“Okay, pumpkin.” He glanced at the address on the card. “It’ll be a long drive, though.”
Without a single glance back at Elmer, they left the office. Their voices trailing off, Elmer heard the father promising his daughter ice cream on the way.
Thoroughly exhausted, Elmer slumped in his chair. He had some calls to make. While there was still time.
| 2018-07-18T11:44:10 | 2018-07-18T10:27:46 | 642 | 150 |
[WP] You picked up a dozen eggs at the farmer's market but when it came time to cook breakfast in the morning you find your fridge contained zero eggs and a dozen tiny dragons.
|
“What the fuck.”
That’s all I can say when I open the egg carton. “What the *fuck?!*”
Ella pokes her head into the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”
I don’t respond. I just turn the carton that once contained eggs toward her, showing her the dozen newborn dragons curled up asleep in the slots where there were eggs yesterday morning.
“Oh my gods,” she whispers, stepping into the room. “Who *does* that?”
“Someone sick in the head,” I supply. “Do you remember the name of the stall selling these? We’ve got to report this.”
Ella shakes her head. “I didn’t look. I’ll ask around, though. A new farm stall doesn’t escape notice easily, and someone’s bound to remember what it was called. Maybe Faralith was there. Elves never forget, right?”
I snort. “Babe, that’s elephants.”
“Ugh, I need coffee. Where’s the coffee?”
“Well, I would have made it, except I got preoccupied by the *twelve infant dragonlets in the fridge*,” I remind her. “The moment you have a name, let me know. The police need to hear about this.”
“Course.”
“Gods, I didn’t think anyone still *did* that in this day and age.” I shake my head. Farming, poaching, and/or selling the body parts of dragons has been illegal for centuries, due to the realization that they were sapient beings on the level of orcs, humans, dwarves, and others. And yet a few still carry out the barbaric practice. I suppose I didn’t fully realize that until I was face-to-face with twelve tiny pieces of evidence of it. “What do we do with them?”
Ella shrugs. “They *are* very cute. We could keep them.”
“We’re not raising a dozen dragons,” I deadpan. “I’m not ready to be a mother, period, but especially not to this many dragons. Give it fifteen years and they wouldn’t even fit in the house!”
“Yeah, good point. Guess it’s better for them if they’re returned to their own kind, anyway,” she concedes. “We wouldn’t even be able to teach them how to fly.”
“Question is, how?” Dragons tend to live far from most other civilized races—the massive size difference between them and us means it’s just not practical for us to live together most of the time, though you do occasionally hear about some adventurous person (mostly humans) who’s decided to bed or wed a dragon. “Oh, gods, do we have to go on an epic journey to bring them back? I may dabble in magic, but I am *not* ready to go on an epic journey.”
“I’m sure there’s some other way,” Ella laughs. “Try looking it up. And if not, well, start practicing some new spells.”
|
I had just put on *Gonna Fly Now* from Rocky I when I opened the door of my fridge to find a dozen baby dragons. They were live and scaly and while they smelled of brimestone and week-jarred farts the scent was not that of rotten eggs. It was the smell of dragons. Tiny ones.
"Critters!" cried my roommate, and he held his head in his hands screaming. Ever since we were runts he'd been telling me that the 1986 comedy-horror flick Critters was nigh prophetic. He'd been preparing ever since. "Ebert gave it two thumbs up," he repeatedly told me. When I told him that was out of *five*, he said, "no, a man's only got two thumbs to give." So I lost that argument.
"They're obviously dragons, Derek!" I corrected him, but he just shook his head violently. The highly-inspiring soundtrack kept running in the background. "They're baby dragons!"
In the back of my mind I remembered the dozen-egg shake I was about to prepare. The blender sat on the kitchen table, a dominating presence ever since I bought it five years ago. Today was the day I'd finally crack open some eggs and run laps around the neighborhood in my sweats. But that wasn't about to happen. Not today.
"We've got to kill those furry critters," cried Derek, clutching a broom close to his chest.
"They've got *scales*, Derek. They're not furry. Not at all."
"We've got to stop them before they lay their eggs."
Eggs. They were supposed to *be* eggs.
I had gone to the farmer's market because I had been walking by the side of the road and suddenly got the impulse to put a straw in my mouth. It fit perfectly. And I didn't mind the taste either. So I figured, hey, maybe I'm meant to be a farmer? You never know until you try. I might've been a damn good one at that as well. So I bolted for the farmer's market to see whether I'd fit right in, as I suspected I would.
Most of them were hardy, old-fashioned folks. My leather jacket stood out among all that denim. So I was happy when I stopped another leather aficionado. "That's some fine Italian," I told him.
"What?" he said.
"The jacket," I said, and I pointed to it as well.
"Oh, this ..." said the guy. "I got it in Dallas, actually."
I howled with laughter and the straw fell from my mouth. That was when I thought, hey, maybe that's an omen? Maybe I'm not meant to be a farmer after all? But then the guy motioned for me to come closer. "I got some *eggs*," he said in a hushed tone.
Before that moment, I had forgotten all about my blender. But that key phrase brought it all back. Eggs. Oh yeah. I'd been meaning to have a jog around the neighborhood. I'd been thinking about that for years. So I said, "I'll take them," and the guy had a carton of them under his leather jacket, and I remember thinking that this guy's one badass farmer. Likely, it was black market eggs. So I paid him in a hurry and I sprinted home, but only for a minute or so because I remembered I would be running later so it didn't make sense to exhaust myself already.
"Critters don't have to be furry. Critters can be scaly."
Derek still held his broom tight, but he had taken a few steps back and he was now hugging the wall. "They're dragons!" I shouted, and I wrestled the broom out of his hands.
I helped him back up and we carefully moved closer to the fridge. "Those are some ugly critters," said Derek.
Suddenly, they all leapt from the carton and gathered around my legs. "H-Hey!" I said. Derek rushed to get his broom, then he raced out the front door, still holding it.
The baby dragons chirped and I realized they were hungry. They had imprinted on me. Just like that. I was now their dragon mother. "I am become Khaleesi," I said, and they chirped in unison.
I put on my leather jacket and I raced outside with the little things in hot pursuit. People dropped their grocery bags watching me run around with my dragons. I swerved like the wind and did some flips. Almost stepped on one. "I'm going to call you Smeagol," I said. "Like the dragon in The Hobbit."
We raced to the farmer's market. As a single mom, a single dragon mom, I had to take care of these little critters. Well, dragons. And what do they eat? There's only one way to find out: let them try everything all at once.
It seemed like such a fine idea, but it turned out to be pandemonium. Those denim-clad salt-of-the-earth folks ran around like chickens and there were chickens running around as well. And it seemed the dragons had the taste for them. One of them even got a small Zippo-sized flame going. "Great stuff, Smeagol," I said. I had decided I would call them all Smeagol because I couldn't really tell them apart.
Next thing, my leather brother runs into a celery stand, crashes the whole thing. "T-They *hatched*?" he asked me.
"Well, yeah," I said. "Hey! You scammed me on those eggs."
Then I got nervous, because those were after all black market eggs. I could feel the cold stare of the farmers on my back. But when I looked around I could only see a pack of dogs descending with a fury upon my precious little babies. "Hey!" I cried. "Get lost! I am the breaker of chains!" When a group of farmers approached us as well with pitchforks, I changed my tune. "I'm uh, the breaker of *chain stores*. Because I support small business. And farmers."
They wouldn't have any of it, and just as I thought all hope was lost, he made his appearance.
"These are *our* critters," said Derek. He held his broom up high and for some reason the farmers stepped back.
One of them, however, didn't mind being broomed apparently and he stepped right up, and he held his big old boot over the head of Smeagol. "No!" I cried.
"Well, we don't want any of yer critters here," he said.
"Wait!" cried Derek. The farmer gave pause. "Do you really want to be known around here as a man putting his foot on the scales?"
The man stopped, in shock, and we gathered up all the baby dragons and ran all the way back to our apartment. Safe and sound at home, my stomach groaned all of a sudden. The dragons chirped as well, and they sounded unhappy. I don't think they managed to catch a single chicken. Just then there was a knock at the door. I opened it, and there he was. My leather brother.
"H-Hi," he said. "I bought those dragon eggs on Craigslist and thought they were a scam when they arrived in a normal-looking carton. I decided to just sell them at the market, because I never thought they'd hatch into real dragons."
"Hmph," I said. "Well, you're still a scammer, even if you thought you got scammed yourself. Don't perpetuate the cycle. Break the cycle. Break the *chains*."
"Wow," said the guy. "That's powerful. Is that from a movie?"
"N-No," I said.
"Well, I brought you these." The guy opened his leather jacket to reveal another carton. Only this time, it was actual eggs. From chickens, not dragons.
We made omelets, and even the baby dragons liked them. Derek convinced us all to watch Critters, again, and it was fun.
There would always be another day to drink a dozen eggs and take laps around the neighborhood.
/r/Hemingbird
| 2022-02-08T05:37:56 | 2022-02-07T22:59:19 | 81 | 39 |
[WP] You have died and gone to hell, but it's not what you expect. You wake up naked in a field with nothing but trees around you... it turns out that hell is an early access survival game.
|
Out of nowhere, it appears. The berry bush. It's a green thing that mysteriously makes me less hungry, so I am sticking with 'berry bush'. As my deformed limbs move closer, the bush disappears as quick as it came. I feel less hungry.
If I could sigh, I would. I don't remember breathing since I got here. 'Here' seems to be rather objective. I don't think I'm anywhere. How long I have been here also seems to be objective. Or subjective. I've never thought about the differences between the two when I was alive, and now that I am Here, I have no way of finding out.
A sharp feeling rouses me from my thoughts. I had forgotten! I rush down to the stream as fast as my blocky limbs would take me. I walk on the flat blue plane, as my thirst is slowly quenched. I look up from the bright blue slab that is somehow water, to see that the world had turned dark. Except the stream. It was still bright blue. I have gotten used to the odd things of Here.
I remember running. The ground. It was like Tupperware. Kinda rough and neutral in temperature. The grass was flat and did not move underfoot. I hadn't noticed this at first. I certainly did notice that I was unable to lean against this vertical brown log that one might call a tree, only to find that it wasn't real. I didn't even jump in surprise. I couldn't crouch or lean or lay. I ran and got tired but did not breathe.
I remember my life fading. I was dead. Death here is no escape. I walked towards the edge, a bright open void, as I took a step. I fell. Moments later I return from where I started. I've starved. I've dehydrated. And in a blink, I'm back. I've never felt pain, nor pleasure. I've been neither alert or asleep. Just standing erect and unblinking.
I look up as the world turns bright again. I turn around.
The berry bush should be returning soon.
|
A blinding white light and unbearable pressure followed by an earth shattering darkness.
My world seemed to writhe and convulse around me, it felt as though God himself had flicked whatever internal gyroscope that held my sense of direction and sent me falling.
Falling.
With a jarring suddenness I stopped. I slowly became aware of ground on my back A damp musky breeze brushed over my face. I struggled to remember what happened before the light, that brought me here. As I opened my eyes I saw a roiling grey sky and a waving field of prairie reeds. I vaguely remembered driving to work. Looking around only brought up more questions than answers, the wilderness seemed boundless, no faint sounds of cars or even people in general.
The longer I bumbled around, the more everything seemed slightly off. There were no audible birds either, if you listened intently you could hear some insects and perhaps other small animals scurrying. The air smelled ever so faintly of copper and decaying wood. With the sun not quite at its zenith, I decided to set off to find... Something. I decided to head for a patch of woods that resembled the deer trails I had grown up aimlessly following. Soon my "trail" petered out into nothing more than a half a million other imaginary trails that have criss and crossed every woodland since the dawn of time. Before long I heard a rustling further off in the brush ahead of me.
It sounded much larger than anything else I had heard since landing here.
I tentatively made my way towards it, there were more briars than I expected. I was going to have to be careful, they could make life annoying very quickly. As I got closer to the source of the noise I could hear a whimpering.
Behind a rather large oak I was startled by a woman. Or rather what seemed to be the husk of a person. Bloodied and apparently delirious she stared up at me with frantic eyes.
"Have y-you come for me? Are you chasing rabbits or you have seen Mr. Bundy?" she wheezed.
She had briars in her wild hair and was bleeding from the thousand tiny cuts that one could expect from running through a thick patch. As a result most of her clothes were in tatters and her leg looked like it had been mauled by a bear with very blunt teeth.
"I.. Im sorry, I don't know what you're asking... What happened? Do you know where the city is? Maybe we can-"
"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME. IF YOU'RE GONNA TAKE A SWIPE JUST DO IT ALREADY YOU PIECE OF SHIT CO-" she raved, almost foaming at the mouth.
I didn't stay to hear the rest. Bewildered and now scared I ran back to the trail. I could still hear her screams seeming to echo off the sky itself. I decided it was my priority to get out of earshot from those wretched noises. After a few minutes of jogging I soon realized that this was not the same trail I had come on. Thankfully I was no longer able to hear the woman, but the forest was getting thicker.
Senses heightened with anxiety I became aware of a smokey smell in the air. It was as good a thing as any to follow so I set off, heading into the twilight forest. Maybe 30 minutes later I look up and see billowing black columns, the smell is pungent. I can almost taste it. Slowly I make my way toward a break in the trees, though this was not the clearing I woke up in.
Through the trees I can see a chainlink fence topped with barbed wire surrounding a compound of sorts. People resembling little more than skeletons in burlap sacks walked sullenly about.
Off to one side I spotted an entrance with arching cast iron letters, I read "Arbeit macht frei"
In a wave of horror I remembered learning about the work camps of WWII in grade school. Everything came crashing back to me.
I ran, yet again, to the trail. Mind racing all the while, I was driving to work from the hotel I liked to stay in whenever I worked late and home just seemed too far to drive. Though my night hadn't ended then, my secretary had come through with a bag of blow and we fucked late into the night. No wonder I was so groggy that morning, I probably would have noticed the roadwork signs...
Did I crash into a cement truck?
None of this made any sense. I looked around frantically. There were deep cuts littered among the tree bark all around me, had those been there before?
About 15 yards off the path I spotted a small stream, suddenly feeling very dehydrated I made my way over. Ever more cautious I crept up to the bank and found what looked like a clean spot to drink from.
The water felt cool and refreshing on my hands and face. It seemed to ground me a bit but my head was still spinning with thoughts and questions.
Was the lady an escapee from the camp? How was there even a camp, the war ended over 100 years ago. Where the fuck am I? I didn't get to wonder long.
I heard footsteps approaching from upstream.
Quickly and quietly as I could I was able to climb up a nearby tree and perch among some thick foliage.
My mouth had a slightly metallic taste and was growing numb. Maybe the water wasn't safe..
A clown sauntered into my field of vision. The light was fading fast but there was no mistaking him. I had maybe 45 minutes of light left. In one hand he held a bouquet of balloons, in the other he appeared to be letting the stream tug at a large sheet of colorful paper. I began to feel strangely giddy. It almost looked as if the paper in the stream was pulling the clown along. From my seat among the branches I could hear him whistling a jovial tune.
The ground seemed to be tilting further away from me. Though never being comfortable with heights I didn't pay much mind.
The clown eventually let the sheet go floating downstream and stopped.
Apparently lost in thought he continued to whistle, gazing into the trickling water.
The sound of the water flowing over the rocks and roots of the forest floor seemed to be growing louder. The dying light of the day played off its surface brilliantly, as if a fine layer of glitter were floating atop the stream itself.
The liquid motion of the water seemed to spill over onto the banks, as if the ground itself were alive and flowing.
His song lilted and danced its merry way around my head. Mouth still feeling metallic and hollow I closed my eyes and began to feel overwhelmed with everything.
Though the tree swayed lightly in that musky damp breeze, I was having trouble keeping my balance. I felt as if I might lose my grip and fall up, down, or sideways. Brilliant patterns and colors danced behind my eyes, and as my sense of balance trickled back into my head I looked up from my arm.
The water was still much too bright and much too loud despite the almost nonexistent light.
The very ground the clown stood on seemed to be breathing to the tune of his song.
And with the blackest of grins, he looked at me.
~4/21
| 2017-04-20T23:37:04 | 2017-04-20T20:16:30 | 85 | 45 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying.
|
I held him for the first time in my arm. Those little fingers grabbing mine for the first time, that cry of help as his lungs took the first born breath, his little lips moving in the air while he was sleeping... I'm still holding him, still holding.. Still holding him even though his last breath he took was one week ago...
|
The snow made a crisp crunching sound like bones of tiny birds being crushed. My feet methodically packed it down at a constant rate. It was around 7 o'clock and everyone was inside already. Everyone was taking shelter in their humble abodes due to the fact that there had recently been a series of killings in our little secluded town. All of the victims had an "X" carved into the palms of their hands, and they had all been killed in groups. The murderer only went after groups. I smirked at the thought of someone taking out a group of people singlehandedly.
Then I finally reached my home where my mother awaited at the door tapping her foot against the oak wood floor rapidly with an irritated look on her face. Her eyebrows furrowed as she saw me approaching and she asked me where I had been the whole day. I assured her that I was just hanging out with some friends. A worried look came across her face and she told me that it’s dangerous to be outside at this time, considering the recent events, I didn’t blame her. She warned me to come home early the next day or else she'd ground me. It was winter break, there was no way I'd spend most of my day inside.
We both went inside and our paths split when I took the steps to get to my room. I crossed some things out on the paper that lay on my dresser and then I continued to stare at the pen I used. Intrigued and consumed by an odd idea, I began to draw an “X” on the palm of my hands. I looked down at my results and sighed. I slid the paper and pen back onto my dresser and then proceeded to turn in for the day.
I awoke to a loud banging on my door. Sunlight filtered through the window and gave my room a sort of sweet aroma. It seemed like it was about noon. I opened the door slightly only to find Solomon standing there with a huge grin on his face. Marcus, Lorena and Christina were waiting on the nearby sidewalk.
"What is it?" I asked tiredly through the door, loud enough for them to hear me.
"Dude, yesterday some kids were talking about the killer." Solomon responded.
"What's so important about that?" I shot back while opening the door slightly annoyed yet slightly interested.
"They said his hideout is some sort of wooden hut in the woods behind the school!" Solomon exclaimed.
"Ha, how cliche." I stated satirically while putting the proper winter attire on. I knew what we were doing today. I also knew those kids were lying. How would they know where the killer's hideout was? It was still worth checking out, and I had nothing else to do so why hell not. Solomon smiled and walked back towards our little group of friends. I closed the door behind him and followed.
"Hey!" They all said simultaneously. I let out some sort of muffled word signifying that I had acknowledged them. We were walking alongside the train tracks and Marcus was trying to pull out some of the loose railroad spikes just for fun. Solomon and I made a joke about how he was weak for not being able to pull any out. He challenged us to attempt it and naturally we did. Solomon pulled one out first try. Marcus was over encumbered with feelings of embarrassment as Christina and Lorena let out a roar of laughter because of his supposed lack of strength. I then proceeded to pull one out as well. It wasn’t that funny. Marcus ran ahead and Solomon tossed the spike over the barbed fence. I placed my spike in my rucksack and we continued out towards the entrance to the woods, none of them noticing the various spots on the train tracks that were missing spikes. We lost sight of Marcus in the distance as he stormed off towards our destination. Was he really that mad over some banter?
Solomon, Christina, Lorena and I took our time and eventually found the hole in the fence that would allow us to enter the woods. As the four of us followed the dirt path we heard some sticks breaking behind us. Instinctively we all turned around. A man in a blue jacket appeared and lunged at Christina. Lorena screamed and Solomon yelled
Solomon didn't get to finish yelling as laughter filled our ears while Marcus was taking off the oversized jacket. I knew he was trying to scare us the whole time.
"Hahaha! You should have seen your faces" Marcus stated.
“You almost gave me a heart attack." Christina responded. We all gathered our senses and continued for about another thirty-minutes until we eventually found the hut. At this point the sun was setting it was getting fairly dark. The moon was finally revealing itself and it was giving off an ominous vibe which I kinda enjoyed, but somewhere in that vibe one could sense some sort of bloodlust in the air. I was the first one to enter the “killer’s hideout” and the others followed shortly behind.
I allowed the others to begin exploring the rather simple cabin when I placed my rucksack on the ground and opened it. I removed the railroad spike and locked the door while scoping out the room. “This place would actually make a decent hideout” I thought to myself. My mouth watered and butterflies grew in my stomach. I loved this feeling. Then one by one I began to pummel them all to death. As all four laid dead on the cabin floor, I continued to carve an "X" into each of their palms with such a delicate technique that you’d think I was a surgeon. I now had four more names to cross off of the list that lay on my dresser.
| 2017-05-31T07:14:34 | 2017-05-31T07:05:52 | 116 | 51 |
[WP] You are born with two names tatooed on you body somewhere, one of your soulmate and one of the people that will eventually kill you. There is no way to tell who is who.
|
I did not know why my parents named me, "smudge," but when I was only 14, I discovered I was not adopted.
Both of my parents are white. But I am black. Tattoo ink black. At least, that is what it looks like from a distance. Freshman year in High School, I was bored and took a look at my hand under a disection microscope in Advanced Placement-Biology. That was the day my whole perspective changed.
You see, while all my friends had one, two, or even three or four names tattooed at birth, apparently I had millions of names microdotted all over my body, with only slight slivers of Caucasian between.
I was shocked as I read a group of names all starting with "I" on my left hand, and starting with "J" on my right... Alphabetical, as far as I can tell...
I begged my parents for an exam, and they eventually caved.
4.5 million different names.
4.5 million!
What the hell is that suppose to mean?
|
Dannos Quill was asleep in his favourite chair when the early-warning alarms tripped. He had set the runes himself, personally inscribing them on the sides of 12-inch candles which he then burned in a mile-wide perimeter around his cottage by the lake. The alarms were tweaked to only detect magical entities of the 4th Order and higher, since he wasn’t worried about mortal threats *per se*.
After all, retired though he may have been, he was still one of the most powerful wizards in the entire Kingdom.
Dannos tottered to the door, threw it open, then stepped out, staff in hand. The sun was just setting, and its rays skewered the calm waters of the lake, unleashing prismatic dragons upon the surface. The birdsong had abruptly ended. He was rooting around in his mind, fretting about which spell he wanted to prepare, when he felt a hand slip over his.
He turned, and Mayna was there, as she always had been. He knew that Mayna would have sensed the disturbance too, but curiously, her face was devoid of emotion. No fear, no sadness, no panic. Their frequent rehearsals must have paid off.
“One, or both?” she asked.
“Both, it seems. At the same time.”
Dannos had pulled back both sleeves, revealing his forearms in turn. And now, the tattoos on each were no longer their usual dull-grey, but had grown livid with energy. The ancient lettering pulsed red-hot, like script writ from running lava, exuberant in its escape from long-dormant volcanoes.
On his left – SABINE.
On his right – BRENOWAH.
“Are you happy? To finally get this over with?” Mayna asked.
“In a way, in a way… I always knew this day would come. But whatever happens, I think I’ve had a long and fulfilling enough life as it is.”
“Do you really mean that?”
Darren heard the crack in her voice before he saw the doubt in her eyes. He looked down into her pale eyes of blue, and though her hair now ran with streaks of grey, though the wrinkles now crept over her face like the inevitable shadow of night, he could only see the Mayna Firewind he had met all those years ago, in the halls of the Academy.
Brave, out-spoken, resourceful, beautiful Mayna. From rival, to companion, then finally to wife.
“Of course,” Darren said. “My life wouldn’t be the same without you.”
“But… but one of them’s your soulmate,” Mayna said. “When she appears before you, wouldn’t you look upon her and think that perhaps you wasted your entire life here with me, when you could have been with her?”
Darren managed a small laugh. “Ah, you’ve finally revealed which of the two names you’re more worried about.”
Mayna clicked her tongue, then stomped lightly on his foot. “As prophecies go, even if the other one manages to kill you, rest assured that I’ll be sending her along to join you very shortly after that. But the first one… the soulmate…”
Darren looked up into the sky, then reached out with his mind. The two magical entities were closing in, like twin streaks of lightning racing to reach the ground. He still had time.
Just a little, but it was enough.
“Consider this, my dear Mayna. We all have choices, don’t we? I could have lived my life chained to the prophecy. I could have poured my life into controlling how I meet these two people whose fates are intertwined with mine. I could have spent every waking minute raging against the unfairness of it all. And what sort of man would I be then?”
Mayna chuckled. “Not a very good one, I must say. I would have throttled you long ago.”
“And so you would have. I’ve told you this before, but I’ll say it again. I *chose* my life, in the end. I chose to be with you. We’ve seen it all, haven’t we? We’ve repelled demonic hordes, bloodthirsty invaders. We’ve nipped plagues in the bud, we've unravelled murderous cults. We kept the peace of the kingdom as best as we could, and we did the Academy proud. Side by side, Mayna, we did all that, side by side.”
“But… your soulmate…”
A tiny sob escaped her, and Darren placed his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. It startled him to think that a woman who had once stared down a dragon by herself, could yet be so vulnerable.
“Never think yourself as less, Mayna. She may be my soulmate, whatever that means, but you are my *love*, my wife. We took what we had, and we made an entire lifetime of memories of it, yes?”
Mayna nodded, and buried her head in his embrace.
“Would it be alright with you if I just fireballed both of them when they arrive?” she asked.
Darren laughed. “I couldn’t stop you if I tried. But aren’t you curious, though? To find out what this damn prophecy means? And why the hell both of them are coming together at the exact same time after a lifetime of managing to avoid me?”
Mayna sighed, then stretched out her left arm. The magic crawled along her skin, and a tiny portal opened at the end of her fingertips. She reached in, then seized her weapon. Her staff, a sturdy oak of whitewood, the opposite of the dirty muskybrown of Darren’s thrillingbark, thumped heavily on the ground.
They chanted together, as effortlessly as if they were one.
Which, in all senses, they were.
The protective spells leapt to life about them, forming a blue film around them, a soap bubble of the gigantic persuasion. In perfect mirror symmetry, they primed their spells. Overhead, two shooting stars, one red, the other blue, sped towards them. It was obvious from their current trajectory that they would end up right in the middle of the lake, side by side.
“Ready?” Darren asked.
“Ready,” Mayna said, as she grinned. “Just like old times.”
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| 2018-03-11T08:30:03 | 2018-03-11T08:08:31 | 636 | 37 |
[WP] At 18 you got your power; the ability to vaporize anyone you wish with just a touch. By 38 you’re the most feared villain the world has known. However, exactly 20 years to the day, your first victim rematerializes. Turns out you’ve just been sending people 20 years into the future all this time
|
With a flash of light and an explosion of burnt ozone, the atomic-powered Dynamo appeared out of nowhere. He was already striding forward mid-strike, screaming "...now, Incinero!" He swung his massive fist into the empty air in front of him. When it didn't didn't connect with anything, Dynamo stumbled forward.
Recovering quickly, he stopped and looked for his foe. How could he have moved so fast, the hero wondered. When he took in the scene about him, he didn't notice the redecorating so much as the appearance of four costumed heroes in matching violet, standing on either side of Incinero, who was already in custody.
"The Purple Pros? When did you get here?"
Their leader, Rain, stepped forward. "'When' is the key word here."
"I thought you were all dead. Killed by him!"
"Take a good look at him. What do you notice?"
Dynamo eyed Incinero, clad in his usual black and red suit, minus the cape and belt, but he seemed to have lost weight. He wore a pair a Nullification Gauntlets that were locked together. Looking up to the villain's face, Dynamo realized that his foe's facial hair had grown gray, like he'd suffered from some kind of rapid aging.
How? The Purple Pros had elemental powers. None of them could drain life enregy like that.
Wind, the soft-spoken spokeswoman of the group, stepped up. "Welcome to 2052. You've moved twenty years into the future, just as we did."
Ash put her arm around Dynamo. "The world has changed a bit, but you'll get up to speed in no time. We've formed a support group. We meet every other Tuesday. We help each other acclimate. And we arrange welcoming committees."
"Welcoming committees?"
"Incinero never incinerated anyone," Stone said. "He pushed them forward in time. Twenty years. He didn't know. He was as surprised as anyone when Invisible Kid reappeared. I mean, he came back. Followed by the lost Doubla." Stone shook his head. "That was an odd reunion. Her other half retired from active duty, did consulting work. Their 'rejoining' almost drove them mad."
Dynamo didn't know what to believe. Then his watched chirped as thousands of emails and texts were ready for download. When he spied the "52" in the date, he fell to the floor. After a minute, he looked up and saw that he sat in the middle of red circle painted onto the floor.
"What's this?"
Rain extended his hand. "We've marked off places around the city where we expect people, not just heroes, to reappear."
"How many people?"
Incinero cleared his throat. "Over the dozen years before I was caught? A couple hundred, the bulk of them in the first few years. Most of them took place in specific places but there was that couple in the park. You're the twenty-first to return."
Denial quickly gave way to anger. "And you're working with him now?"
"He's cooperating," replied Wind. "In exchange for a reduced sentence."
"My lawyers tell me that they'll get all the murder convictions overturned anyway. It'll just take time."
"Time! Ha!" Dynamo suddenly blanched. "Time? My wife? My kids?"
"Are fine," Wind assured him. "They know you'll be here. But for security reasons..." She nodded toward Incinero.
The villain sighed. "They're afraid that I'll figure out your secret identity if I see your family. Like I don't read the papers ... David."
Stone slapped Incinero. His hand seemed to pass through the villain's face leaving a stain of mud on his cheek.
Ash reassured the returning hero. "Their waiting to meet you. And they want to come to the meeting tonight."
"Tonight?"
Ash pointed at Dynamo's watch. "I know you left on a Friday. But today's Tuesday."
--
More stories at r/xwhy
Comments and upvotes appreciated
|
"Well you can't call me a murderer anymore" he said through a grin.
The press conference had gone about as expected. Half of the reporters weren't in just yet, but with old acquaintances of his reappearing, you could expect them to drop by any minute.
In the second row, a fading blond raised her voice over the ruckus. "Does this development have any effect on your foreign policy?". She wasn't a local reporter. She shouldn't be here.
The dictator was prepared for that question, but there was still a hint of dread at the edge of his mind. What did his future look like, now?
"Well as the situation develops we will just have to see how foreign leadership reacts and respond accordingly" he said. He had plenty of time.
A decade ago he'd shown his face at the UN as a young diplomat and had touched shoulders with just about all the greats.
Naturally, with everyone being "vaporized", there were no witnesses to say what may have happened to the world's leaders. At the time he'd been pretending that he could teleport people, that he was holding all the presidents and prime minsters hostage, probably underneath a volcano or somewhere else suitably evil. That little play bought him quite a good deal of power. It was the start, really.
He'd been entrusted with guiding his country towards a better future these last 9 years. Youngest supreme leader to date. Unfortunately it looked like the future he was guiding them towards was beginning to look a lot like the past.
"Thank you all for your questions but that's all I have time for." He said, smiling at the procession.
He leaned over and whispered to his right hand man "Have the one who asked that last question taken care of, please." He pointed at her. He wanted them to see him pointing at her.
"Already taken care of boss, wasn't on the list of approved material." he replied.
"Good, looks like our head of PR gets to keep living"
\----
It had started off rather mundane. Just a cashier from back home, from a lifetime ago. The press had run that story into the ground, "Woman brought forward 20 years" and so on.
They didn't make the connection until specific people came back, bank security and people from his past life. Well, everybody knew where he came from, it didn't take a genius to put 2 and 2 together.
That was so long ago, now.
Making people disappear was hardly where his power lay. He controlled proper nuclear munitions now. He could make the world shake without ever stepping out of his office.
Diplomacy was the vestige of the weak. And so on. He had gotten used to being called capital E evil. Well, maybe it was true enough but he didn't care to think about that so much anymore.
\-----
He sat in a small office in a little corner of a gothic palace, where he currently held his seat of power. The palace was old, eastern European and all brutal jagged angles.
He cycled through places like this from month to month, always keeping on the move. Right now there wasn't any specific danger, but he'd gotten used to the pace. Besides, a bullet through his head would kill him just like anyone else, so why not take some precautions?
"Sir, our coal imports are down by 24%" said the economist.
"Hmm, that is worrying. Your predecessor didn't have good news for me either, did you know that?" said the dictator.
"Ah, well sir, that's just what the numbers say. Whoever's after me will have the same figures I do." said the economist.
Brave man, though the dictator. He'd needed a good economist for a while now, perhaps he'd keep this one. The dictator had been pruning his cabinet for years, peeling away the sycophants. Unfortunately, a lot of them got it into their head to try and take care of him once and for all. A side effect of bravery, he supposed.
He often wondered why they hated him so. They were the intelligensia of his fledgling nation, returned from foreign universities. Perhaps it was the liberal leaning mixed with coming from his nations old money? Sure, the dictator was a bit more authoritarian than you'd like but he had made do. AK47 diplomacy was in vogue long before he'd come here.
"Uh, sir, our growth is expected to be negative this year. I'm sure you were briefed on a coming recession, but it will hit harder than expected. I've prepared a list of measures..." The economist began to rattle off monetary policy.
Still, the country was synonymous with the dictator. The Dictator. Holding presidents hostage, stealing nukes, taking candy from babies etc. Never mind that he was the 4th dictator here in the last 23 years.
Nobody would trade with him, he thought. The import tariffs were bad enough before.
Where was this coming from? It's not like he can't just send people forward another 20 years. Besides, he had far more effective munition now, where was the sudden hostility coming from? Had anything really changed?
The dictator cut in, "Is there anything I could do? Perhaps militarily?"
"Well sir, we've thought about that, to be sure, but we can hardly venture east or west. You've, uh, already liberated our poorest neighbors. I wouldn't recommend anything of that sort, but perhaps you should ask your generals, I'm just an economist." the economist said. He was still squeamish in his own way it seemed.
Not so brave after all, thought the dictator.
\-----
"Another riot sir, but not too bad. We've had less than last year" said his right hand man.
"That will be all, thank you, leave that here." said the dictator, pointing at the populist newspaper. It was propaganda by those wanting a return to the old ways, where their leadership had been born and raised here. It had been worse then, but none of them bothered to remember that.
Of course, a minority were in favour of democracy. The dictator had been playing around with the idea of giving it a chance and doing as dictators do, rigging the elections for a decade or so before retiring, benevolent and grey. The only issue was that the nation just wasn't ready for it. Too much local power had been dismantled. He'd done too good a job centralising.
Well, he had to make a start, he thought. Nothing had changed, he had to make plans for the future.
\-----
What's the greater evil? Thought the dictator.
He'd been confined to thinking of himself as a murder since the age of 18. It hadn't been accidental, mind you, he'd known what he was doing, but he was just a child. How could anyone be accounted for at that age? Surely the world has had worse murderers that were absolved.
Still, now that they were all coming back... Did that change anything? Would that change the means and the ends, so to speak?
Would it be hard to say? His adopted people had prospered, a war torn wasteland had managed to stand on it's own two feet through his two hands. And now it turned out he didn't even kill those people. Maybe a couple hundred, not even killed.
In a way he did them a favour, didn't he? Nobody expects anything of them, now, so long forgotten. And surely some of them would benefit from the breakthroughs of medicine in the 20 years. But who would care to think about that?
And so what if he did kill them in the first place? What value do the single lives have, now that you see what came from it?
\-----
"It'll be alright sir, the saboteur took cyanide before we could question her but she didn't make it past our 2rd line of defense. You have nothing to worry about." said his right hand man. He was a recent hire, as were the additional lines of defense.
The rabble hadn't taken the increased taxation well. If only they could see the investments he was making, the infrastructure he was building. But of course they all assumed it was for golden statues and more palaces. Typical.
"Thank you, have our first line of guards taken care of, please. Uh, to clarify, put them to work, not to death" said the dictator. Precautions, what was the point of having a first line if they were effortlessly slipped past.
Perhaps they'd learn to love their leader in the mines, he thought. The mines weren't good for much monetarily but they certainly sent a message. Perhaps he needed to be sending a louder message.
\-----
Maybe in the beginning it had been all about power. He couldn't remember those days so much anymore, not through all the drink. He'd done so much, and not a word to it's value. Instead the world acted as if he held each man, woman and child in his jurisdiction as a hostage. As if he himself were gripping them by the neck.
To hell with all of them. They couldn't see past their own programming, couldn't see a bigger picture. What was the bigger picture now, anyway?
He sat and pondered that question. He'd been thinking about it for a while.
Perhaps it was time to topple the dictator.
| 2022-01-25T23:31:37 | 2022-01-25T20:57:29 | 87 | 14 |
[WP] You're a student of music in the 23rd century. This is your A+ essay regarding a famous song from the 21st century, in which you dissected and heavily misinterpreted.
|
Before I begin my essay I would like to thank Overlord Musk The Envisioner, who at the age of 250, still bestows benevolence upon the loyal citizens of the nation of California; may he live forever and show mercy upon his mortal slaves, and defend us from the evil Neo-Chinese Gingjatsu Extra-terrestrials from Kepler-138b.
In this essay I will be discussing a popular song from the 21st century by the Human Female Taylor Swift, entitled "Shake It off". The song depicts Swift's struggle against the Gingjatsu brain-worms that seek to enslave her.
She begins by lying to her captors, saying that "I've got nothing in my brain". This is intended to fool the Chinese-borg slave traders into thinking that she already has been given brain worms, and they should return her to her home. Despite her efforts, they still place a worm onto her head. For the chorus, Swift describes how she must save her self by attempting to "Shake it off", referring to the brain-worm that is currently attempting to burrow into her skull.
The orchestration of this song is with a standard acoustic ensemble of drums, brass, bass guitar, and human voice. The song was extensively transmitted on all mediums available to humans at the time: Digital-audio, video, and radio. The song has recently become fashionable with migrating Gingjatsu Worm-handlers who have teleported to Earth from the planet we call Kepler-138b. The radio transmissions from 2015 have just arrived to their Radio-wave telescope arrays.
Gingjatsu slave traders enjoy this song because they have become enamored with another popular trend of the early 21st century that was contemporaneous with Swift's Masterpiece: namely, enjoying things *Ironically*. They find her song ironic because they are the beings who have enslaved humans with their Brain-worms, and the song itself speaks of a Human Woman dancing around with a brain-worm on her head, trying to escape their control.
(I think I'll stop here)
|
William Preston Buckingham III
Rebecca Black “Friday: And the day after Tomorrow.”
Prof Marcus Trout, Dynamic Music.
The 21st century in North American society was a difficult era for many of it’s citizens. Conflicts in the Middle East, a crumbling political structure, economic depression, and the plague of locusts in 2016 which decimated farm lands across the Midwest. What was most felt, however, was the weather, and there became great a concern about the welfare of future generations, a trend which carried over to the social and political platforms for major activists who sought change. Society emulated this new adaption for a better tomorrow in art. On March 6h of the 2011 Rebecca Black’s song “Friday” , was released to the world. Her sensational lyrics and compelling artistic vision aided in making the leaders of tomorrow prepare for a green, environmental friendly future and can be labeled as the spearhead for the clean climate act of 2015.
Malory Schrader, in her memoir “Songs of The First Black President.” Recalls her time spent as the head of musical affairs in the white house and comments extensively on the influence of Rebecca Blacks song with Barack Obama as he drafted the bill.
(1) “ President Obama just sat starring out the window of the oval office, listening to Friday and muttering to himself that tomorrow was coming.”
But what is tomorrow? What was yesterday? Such existential and philosophical questions plagued the minds of even the casual listener, scanning through the radio station in a hummer drinking iced coffee while driving down a costal road. The calamity of even addressing this issues is acknowledged and even versed in the opening verse,
(Yeah, Ah-Ah-Ah-Ah-Ah-Ark)
Oo-ooh-ooh, hoo yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah-ah-ah
Yeah-ah-ah
Yeah-ah-ah
Yeah-ah-ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Charles Pike, professor at the “Musical school of Berkley” discusses Friday in his work, “Influential Music of the 21st century.”
(2) What is presented to the listener is neither rhyme nor reason. In fact is the chaos of birth, a continues volley against the senses searching out to find understanding in verse. Rebecca Black was ingenious in merging the spastic crying of an infant mingled with the hopeful ping of a teenage girl on the cusp of womanhood, finally challenging the limitations society placed on her.
And she does. In the second verse we are finally divulged to the rebellious and free spirit that hides under every note and in every chord. Friday continues;
Seven a.m., waking up in the morning
Gotta be fresh, gotta go downstairs
Gotta have my bowl, gotta have cereal
Seein' everything, the time is goin'
Tickin' on and on, everybody's rushin'
Gotta get down to the bus stop
Gotta catch my bus, I see my friends (My friends)
Rebecca Black is waking up to the world with fresh eyes and saying to “NO” to conformist society, a decision reached by first having a bowl of marijuana, a popular and by-gone symbol of resistance against traditional American values. She suddenly becomes aware of the time, the persistent ticking of a clock marking off the moments of life slipping by and yet all she cares about is reaching the bus stop, compelling the listener to stop and think about what it is in life we are truly waiting for, what are we expecting and ultimate what are we given? On October 03, 2010 a scathing report was released to the public claiming the Global Environmental Facility, which received an annual budget of 1.92 billion dollars but only spent 50 million yearly on climate change policies, (3)(NCPA.org, 2011, Pinero). In a public address to the senate, members of the FBI stated that they had opened a case against the GEF stating that the foundation has been throwing elaborate sex parties with tax payer money and conducting satanic rituals involving the blood of a the kamanoo dragon, an endangered species. Preston Hardy of the Rolling Stones music magazine wrote,
(4) Citizens were frustrated, the government had promised them that this global agency would help bring about climate change and instead they only spent warmer summers in Mexico on the taxpayer’s dime and colder winters on the ski slopes. We had enough. And then Friday came along and showed those neo-Nazi, rightwing republican, corporate fat cat, military industrial complex, assholes what real art can do, how it can wake a people up from sleep and make them realize what’s really going on in the world.
Indeed, her pen was mightier than any sword forged by the dim fires of politics.
It's Friday, Friday
Gotta get down on Friday
Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend
Friday, Friday
Gettin' down on Friday
Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend
Partyin', partyin' (Yeah)
Partyin', partyin' (Yeah)
Fun, fun, fun, fun
Lookin' forward to the weekend
This scathing line was intended for the elected official Sarah Meeks of the GEF, Sarah Meeks, who even attempted to have the song ban for its un-America ideals and ability to incite public protests, played over loudspeakers at the line of riot police deciding which hand was best to swing their clubs with. However, in a landmark decision, 6-1, in the “Black Versus the Global Environmental Facility”, free speech protected, “Friday” as the corruption and the wasted wealth on parties without a single thought for the future continued to mount pressure on public figures to act, for the American living their life for tomorrow and the work that might come, for the struggles they will have to endure whether it be the farmer in the drought or the child succumbing to the throws of heat stroke or the fisherman sifting through plastic bag in his trawl nets. After the song reached number 1 in the charts, Sarah Meeks resigned from her position and the GEF was ultimately disbanded, leading to the need for an environmental bill that would protect every day of the week the fragile ecosystems:
Yesterday was Thursday, Thursday
Today is-is Friday, Friday (Partyin')
Tomorrow is Saturday
And Sunday comes after ... wards
I don't want this weekend to end
At long last, the American political party realized that yes, the party does have to end, and that it is time to focus on the other days of the week in order to preserve the calendar, and the world, for the next generation. On June 21st 2012 Rebecca Black was summoned to the white house where President Barack Obama gave her the presidential award for her contribution to the arts and American culture. Her speech has been recorded and preserved in the library on congress to this day,
We-we-we so excited
We so excited
We gonna have a ball today.
Sources:
1- Malory Schrader, “Songs of the first black president.”, 2016, pgs 201-211
2- Charles Pike, “Discourse of American Media Messages”, 2018
3- NCPA. ORG,
4- Preston Hardy, Rolling Stone writer. I’m too bored to finish this shit.
| 2015-08-16T09:59:34 | 2015-08-16T09:52:54 | 169 | 20 |
[WP] Since you were born you could see a search bar over people's heads. All you had to do was think and the search bar would fill out and give you information/statistics. Out of boredom one day you decide to search your whole family with"Number of people killed"
|
The chatter was loud and incessant, like a fly that wouldn’t stop buzzing in your ear.
Or several flies. Hell, a whole cloud.
Anyways, Aunt Sandy turned “33” for the fifth time and my mom wanted to throw the party at our house because she wanted to flambé (torch the living shit) out of her “famous” Baked Alaska pie in front of everyone as a grand finale. She’s always been a bit crazy in the kitchen, like when she made lasagna with cucumber and olives. As soon as I saw the green I searched “What is she thinking?” in the search bar above her head.
No results.
It’s only been 30 minutes into the party and surprisingly, most of my family is already here. Even my brother Bradley came over from the frat house he lives in, and he’s barely over.
Frankly, Im tired, bored, and done with accepting wet pieces of candy from my toddler cousins.
I had a crazy idea to search.
Let’s have some fun here.
I looked down in front of me. Ethan’s mouth was stained blue from the lollipop he had in his hand. As he extended out his hand for me to lick it, I searched “Number of people killed” as I turned my head away. “0” it said.
This was pretty amusing. I started going around the room. Aunt Sandy “0”, Mom “0”, Uncle Ben “0”, Max “0”, Doug “0”, ok...Doug kinda surprised me. Bradley
“0”.
Wait. “1”. Wait “2”. Why is it going up? Im staring right at him! He’s not doing anything!
“3”. “4”.
My heart is racing out of my chest and my limbs were frozen in fear and confusion.
“Bradley!” I called out. He looked up from sipping his Bud-light beer. “Did anything happen today? Just now even?”
He looked up in recollection briefly.
“No, I just baked some pot brownies for my frat brothers before, but nothing crazy.”
“Did you add anything else to them? Did you turn off the oven?” I frantically asked.
The death toll kept going up “5”. “6.”
“Oh shit...I don’t think I turned off the oven, but one of them probably took care of it.” He took another swig of his beer. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”
Dude...you have no idea.
|
I sat on the couch in the living room while everyone was outside talking and catching up with each other, after all, it’s been a while since the family had come together and be able to reconnect with each other, as always, I find that I’m by myself, and as always bored whenever these get together occur.
“Leo!” Mother called me, as she wandered into the living room, her hand on her hips as her head shakes exasperated,“Come on, when will you stop hiding and talk to your aunts, and uncles and meet your cousins? Can you please come with me?”
She walked away, already expecting me to follow her and I sighed, before getting up and forcing myself to meet my family once again, and always I saw the search bars, glowing softly over their heads, and a voice called cheerfully, “Leo!” A boy taller than me chirped, a wide toothy grin and his blue eyes bright as ever as he pulled me into a hug, before releasing me,”Where were you, the lot of us was wondering how long it’ll take until you left your den,”
I rolled my eyes at his pun, before sending a smirk his way, “Well I left my room quite a long while ago, just been prowling around, the usual, nice to see you again Thomas.”
Thomas nodded with a larger grin before his attention was taken away by Aunt Rose, leaving alone again, I greeted the rest of my family, making a sad attempt of socializing before getting a drink from the cooler, finding myself sitting in boredom, before a sudden thought came to mind, and he decided, no matter how unlikely or possible that it could be that someone in his family was a murderer, he thought to himself, it wouldn’t hurt to check either.
My first target was a 2nd cousin that always wore black, she was a thin and pale girl with dark hair, she was talking to her twin sister at the moment who look the exact opposite despite their similarities, and he stared intensely over her head, imagining the words forming.
“Numbers Of people Killed?”
Immediately the words faded, a slight nervousness instilled inside him as the bar slowly revealed the answer to him and unsurprisingly to be zero, he shrugged expecting such results, despite his nervousness of the unexpected occurring, he continued, his next choice.
Aunt Rose...0
His Mother...0
Uncle Lewis...1
At that result, he froze before relaxing as he remembered that Uncle Lewis was a police officer so it was a higher possibility but oddly felt uncomfortable at this information, still I persist.
Great Grandpa Stanley...15
I flinched at the numbers, but expected that number already, he was a participant of that war...
Thomas...12
I blinked owlishly, stunned at the result, honestly expecting zero, it wasn’t possible, Perfect Thomas, Thomas who always get perfect grades and Volunteer every week and who always made sure he never felt left out?
“No way...” I muttered, imagining the words appearing on to the search bad, and error somehow made and to still see that number made me stand up, I stared at Thomas, breathing out, trying to find an excuse, a possibility to why there was a number, a high number of people that have been killed, and he took a deep breathe before approaching Thomas, I walked towards him, filled with determination, but a seed of nervousness filled me, “Thomas, we need to talk...”
Thomas turned to me and grinned, “You know how much I hate how stuffy Thomas sounds, call Tom, yeah?”
“Sorry, Thomas...I mean Tom...” I muttered, scratching the name of my neck.
“So what’s up, why have the lion summoned me?” He questioned as he brushed his dark curls backwards with his hands, removing the bangs away from his face warm eyes, his usual grin felt off to me, maybe it’s because of what I saw but I don’t know but It felt wrong now.
“N-not now...can we talk alone somewhere...” I muttered, my eyes unable to meet his, “it’s something that no one else should hear...”
For a second, I felt like his blue eyes darkened and a quick but calculating look appeared in eyes, but only for a second that it made me wonder if I was just overthinking, forcing my gaze to meet his, what I saw was only a concerned face and the usual goofy grin gone, “is everything alright, mate?” He said softly,”I’m always here for you, even if we don’t hang out a lot, family is family and I’ll always be here, okay?”
That statement made me falter and doubt the truth of what I saw, but it never was wrong before, however there was always a first for everything, right?
“...Just follow me,” I said, hesitant as I turned around, allowing him to follow me up to my room.
.
.
.
A red tinted lit room with red and black stripes on the wall, a crimson red carpet, a large bed with simple dark sheets and lit candles around, “...Nice room” Tom commented as he looked at his cousin, Leo.
“My mother thought the aesthetics would go well with my supposed ‘image’...” Leo stated, emphasizing on the word image as he sat down, his eyes staring cautiously at Tom, which he noted carefully.
“So what’s wrong, mate?” Tom questioned, his hands stuck into his jean pockets loosely.
“You killed someone.”
The room was filled with silence as Tom stared at Leo silently, his eyes blank and his lips thin, Tom licked his lips in consideration as he replayed the accusation— statement into his head, “...What?” He finally replied in question.
Leo watched his expression carefully, for every twitch he’d make, for any turn in his expression that could indicate the guilt of the crimes he hoped that Tom didn’t commit, “You heard me.”
Tom only stared, his eyes cold and revealed no emotion to indicate his true feelings,”I do not know what you mean.”
“I saw it,” Leo rebutted, the sudden change in Tom’s body language was simply alarming, the way Tom stiffened, the way his teeth were clenched subtly behind his thinned lips, the darkness in his eyes that kind of scared Leo, he took a deep breathe, “I’m not going to rat you out, I just want you to stop...and asked why...”
Tom only stared at him, his face expressionless before softening into an easy smile, “That’s really a terrible joke... you know, that’s a really really serious crime to accuse someone of, mate, it could get you killed if you’re not carefully,” he laughed, a laugh that sounded empty to Leo’s ears and brought chills, “Next time , don’t accuse me of something like that, you wouldn’t like me angry, ya know....You seriously nearly got me angry but because you’re family I forgive you...anyways, if you ever make such an accusation to the wrong guy, you never know where you’ll find yourself...”
Leo only sat still, as if he felt like he barely escaped with his head intact for a moment, the look in Tom’s eyes were plain cold and empty, while his smile exuded a fake warmth and he began to laugh weakly, “Yeah, I was just joking, a prank...I just wanted to see your reactions...it’s not like you ever killed someone...”
Tom only smiled a large grin, while his eyes lacked warmth as he turned away and walked outside to mingle with the rest of his family, Leo left by himself wondering how he can gain proof, already making a mistake in confronting him as he feels that if he ever get in Tom’s way, there would be no hesitation in his death and funeral being planned...
| 2019-07-01T23:13:12 | 2019-07-01T22:18:35 | 146 | 13 |
[WP] “Now be careful, that line of rock salt is the only thing keeping them out,” the man said, welcoming me into his refuge group. “Sea salt,” I clarified, “sea salt keeps us out.”
|
“Thank you,” I said stepping up to the old man. “Thank you so much.”
“Now don’t worry about it. We’re glad to have you. More hands the better.”
“I’ve been walking for days, hoping, and praying *they* wouldn’t find me. Day and night I’ve walked and we haven’t said a word. Haven’t lit a fire. We’ve walked through snow and ice.”
“We understand,” the old man said with a smile. “But you're safe now, here with us.”
“I can’t tell you how much that means to me,” I said, hugging the man, then pulling back, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It’s just…”
The old man put his arm on my shoulder. “I understand. Don’t worry about it. We’ve all had it hard. We’ve all lost loved ones to *them.* But with us, you’ll be safe. What’s your name?”
“Me?” I say, looking down at my shoes. “James,” I say, then look up at him and stick my hand out. “Call me James.”
“Welcome, James. The name’s Gary Prescott. Used to be a furniture salesman. Not anymore,” he said with a sad smile. He had a long, grey beard that hung down to his maroon plaid jacket. The frost of his breath blew up into dark night sky above him. “Lost my wife on the fourth day of the outbreak. When it has spilled into the streets and there was no more hoping it would just end on its own. Not when *they* are coming through your window… I escaped in our old RV and ran out of gas around the Johnson Dike, that’s where I met up with this family.” He pointed to an older woman and man with a teenage girl sitting on a log next to a fire. “We’ve been on foot since. It’d be nice to get some more help here. We’re trying to make a start of it. We’ve been told of a trick to keep them away.”
“Oh, have you?” I asked curiously.
“Yeah, but where’d you say your family is?”
“They’re just outside, waiting for me to let them know it’s safe. They’re scared and hungry. Very hungry.”
I walked over towards the bushes, which was shrouded in darkness just outside the light of the campfire.
“Now be careful, James. That line of Morton's is the only thing keeping them out,” Gary said, holding up a can of Morton's table salt in his hand, the logo of little girl in her yellow dress danced as he shook the can.
“Sea salt,” I clarified, looking down at the sparkling white line of salt on the ground, kicking it playfully with my foot.
“What’s that you say?”
“Sea salt is what keeps us out, Gary." I bent down and pressed some salt grains on my finger and stuck it in my mouth. "This processed stuff? It's just no good.”
I leaned my head back and called out in my native tongue, filling the dark forest with my screeching.
My family slowly came out of the shadows. Out of the dark to feed. Crawling over the line of salt and towards the four humans.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Gary whimpered, and the others in the group screamed, getting off the log.
“Relax, Gary, this will all be over very quickly.”
\---
More [stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/CataclysmicRhythmic/wiki/index) at r/CataclysmicRhythmic
|
Nothing showed the decline so starkly as the walls of Raimbaut Castle. It was a refugee camp in all but name, and in the not so distant past an army at march would have made a better job of fortification for a single night than its inhabitants had done here, but military men had been a rare breed since Darkness fell. All too often they ended up dead or worse.
In the days since then the world had contracted. Armies were handfuls of men with more sticks than swords, cities were ghost towns with only a few hard-bitten survivors, and of castles…in all the world there was only Raimbaut, or close enough that it made no difference.
A single man made his way up the winding path of the hill, tacking towards the gate like a battered ship in an ocean of night. The light from his torch cast dancing shadows across the ground for several paces around him, and all else save the lit beacon of the palisade walls above was impenetrable, lost. He felt the moon’s strange heat on his back, as he had every day since it had happened. It had been startlingly fast, he thought, how quickly the Silver Lady had been defeated. In the space of a single night her sacred moon had changed, its light yellowing harshly and then fading, fading, replaced by an infernally cold burn that seemed to eat through your clothes to the very skin if you stayed out too long.
Finally, the man made it within a hundred paces of the gate. He stopped, slipping free of his over cloak and raising his arms to show he bore no weapons, carried no deformities. Of course that wasn’t the entirety of it and he knew that as well as the men in the rudely built watchtower whose bows were trained on him.
“Who goes there?” a deep voice called. In the small house above the gate a lantern raised, presumably the speaker.
“Bertran of Valoise! I’m unarmed! I seek only shelter.”
“Where have you been since Moonrise? Do you have news of the world?”
They called it Moonrise here. Bertran liked that, it had character, far more than Darkness. The last village truly had been boring, it seemed that extended to their names.
“Valoise fell on the first night. I fled to Crecy after that, it lasted some time as well, then fell a week ago. One changed inside, did it purposefully. He abandoned his fire and spent a full period in the dark, was discovered too late.”
Above the gatehouse the lantern traced a circular pattern, then moved outward in four rays. A warding charm, Bertran was surprised at that.
“You no longer worship the Silver Lady here?” he called loudly.
“The Lady can burn,” came the terse reply. “Either she lost her battle on the first night or she abandoned us, either way her moon changed. We’ve a priest of the old ways here, the Sun God’s fire protects us.”
Bertran chuckled softly. It was some protection, he thought.
“Enough talk!” the man on the gate said. “There’s a doubled line of salt before the gate, my archers will cover you the whole way. If you can walk through it alive we’ll let you in, if not…” he trailed off. Some things need not be said.
Slowly, arms still raised, Bertran advanced on the gate. It was as they said, a thin line of salt lay across the ground in a great circle that must have extended all the way around the palisade wall. Beyond it there was a second line, a thicker one, and both seeming to have been stuck to the ground with a sticky, resinlike substance. It was resourceful, he had to give them that. Whoever was in charge here must have been very clever, and very rich before all of this to have had so much salt.
He crossed the first line calmly and could practically feel the men across from him relaxing.
He crossed the second and saw the archers lower their arrows. A moment later the sound of a winch began, and the gates of Raimbaut castle opened up before him.
It was a shoddy place, as much so on the inside as out. The houses were rough hewn timber and thatch if they were luck, mud daub if they weren’t. On poles spaced so that nearly the whole of the inner yard was illuminated torches burned brightly, and as he watched young boys ran between them, nimbly climbing to their tops to replace them as necessary. There was a small animal stockade along the west wall, several cows, a pair of pigs, and a small squadron of horses little better than nags that were nonetheless worth their weight in gold, or perhaps salt, at such times.
“It’s good to meet you!”
Bertran turned left to face the voice. It was the man he’d spoken to, climbing down a ladder from the gatehouse. He was massive, a small mountain who would’ve likely broken the back of one of those horses had he tried to ride it. He had a bright, firey red beard down all the way to his navel and he was on him before Bertran could even react, folding him up in a bone crushing hug.
When he was finally released the man stepped back, holding him at arms length with a broad smile on his face.
“It’s been so long since our last arrival,” he said eagerly, “you have to tell us everything of your travels, everything. We get so little news, we didn’t even know Crecy still existed as recently as a week ago! Surely if you made it through so long there are others who still hold out. Come, come, we have a tavern of sorts run by my wife. Her mead is exquisite, we still have a few pre-Moonrise casks, we shall tap one tonight, introduce you to everyone in Raimbaut!”
The man half escorted him, half propelled him towards a large, rectangular building as he spoke. It was one of the rough hewn and thatched variety, and from the inside Bertran could hear jovial conversation, could see the bright light of fires and people. They came to the doorway and the other man, whose name had turned out to be Ifan, put a large hand on his chest, stopping him. “Mind the rock salt,” he said proudly, pointing down. “We have it across every doorway too, just as a precaution. It was my own supply, before all this I used to own the local mine.”
Chuckling, Bertran crouched down beside the small salt line. He took a pinch in his fingers, sniffing it, raising it to his lips.
“Hey what are you-”
He held up a finger, cutting off Ifan with the sheer casualness of the motion. Bertran licked the salt off his finger, closing his eyes as if evaluating the flavor. When they opened they were different, their soft blue gone and replaced with the faded yellow of the twisted moon.
“Sea salt,” he said softly. “It’s sea salt that keeps us out.”
Ifan’s eyes bugged out of his head, his mouth working spasmodically as he fell back into the doorway of the tavern.
Bertran stood, the lines of his body morphing, seeming to carry the darkness into the building with him despite the roaring fireplace and the lit torches.
“Tell me,” he said, looking at each shocked face in the crowded room. “Do you all worship the Sun God?”
Most were too terrified to respond. They knew what would come, some things didn’t have to be said, the hints were all there in the riotous shadows cast by his body.
Ifan was different. He recovered quickly, standing back up to his full, immense height and walking back to come face to face with Bertran. Seizing a torch off a wall socket the big man made the gesture again, tracing a perfect circle with its flaming tip and then slowly, as if resigning himself to his fate, painting the four rays of the god’s sun in the air.
Bertran threw back his head and laughed. Laughed like he hadn’t in months, like the spirit within him hadn’t laughed in a millennium. This hadn’t been in anyone’s plans, they had thought the world would have to be started anew.
When the laugh's echo finally died he looked back down and placed a single, inhuman hand on Ifan’s shoulder. Then Bertran slowly, exquisitely and painfully slowly, drew the four pointed sun on the man’s chest with his fingertip. When he finished he stepped back and Ifan screamed, the familiar cold burn setting in, tattooing the symbol into his broad chest. “You chose well,” Bertran said, glancing around the room once more.
“Someone take me to this priest.”
\------
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you!
| 2021-03-02T06:59:44 | 2021-03-02T06:59:00 | 3,282 | 488 |
[WP] "And now, I require a test of bravery." You sneer, "Oh, and what shall it be? Slay a dragon? Or something equally stupid?" The Fae smiles knowingly, "When was the last time you visited home?" Your face pales...
|
A builder's heart is at ease on the roof of a tower, but races when asked to give a speech at a small wedding. A politician finds peace when facing a giant crowd, but trembles when met by man-eating bear. A dragon slayer laughs at man-eating bears, sneers at the sight of a fire breathing dragon, but shudders at the thought of his throng of children, waiting for him at home.
The flashbacks were traumatic. The shouting, the crying, even the silence was cause for alarm as it often meant that the children had run off somewhere to bring chaos upon the unsuspecting neighbours. Sleep was a scarce resource that only grew scarcer the longer his stay. He was hounded at every turn to help with homework, play games and have stories read. He would often be accused of favouritism, when there was only so much time in a day to split amongst the tiny horde.
"I always thought the princess and the Dark Knight were a great match."
It was easier to disappoint everyone equally.
|
"Another, *burp*, another round! For entire bar, you hear? On the Prince of Thyrese!"
The band picked up its tune, the crowd cheered, and the two maidens who had been competing for the prince's eye batted their lashes. Fifty mugs of ale were poured and fifty mugs of ales clinked to the beat of the song.
"Long live the price!" Came the shout, as each of the patrons downed half their glasses. From behind the bar, the owner hid a smile- not in his six years of running the establishment had he ever experienced a night like this. In a mere three hours, he'd outsold a week's worth of effort. Perhaps this would be enough to buy the ring he owed Sarah, and to make their marriage official.
What good fortune, he thought, to be visited by the prince.
"I'd hear the tale of the Hellings Wars!" Demanded a mercenary near the back, and the prince climbed on a large round table, throwing his hands in the air as the band hushed.
"The Hellsmen come, the Hellsmen come! This was the warning issued to my father, back when he was but a child. The Hellsmen come, his seers warned him- and every year, he trained. He prepared. He created an army the likes of which this land had never seen. And he led them.
"The Hellsmen came from the magma gate- their howls as dark as night, their skin as bright as the sun. With each step, the ground trembled. Half the buildings of the capital collapsed as they rose to the surface- for as you know, the gate is at the very palace's heart. From where the king draws his very strength, from the gates deep below the palace, so too do the Hellsmen enter.
"For years, he fought to contain them- and for years, they tried to escape. For the Hellsmen would turn his entire kingdom to ruin from the inside out. They would burn his fields to bring famine. They would boil away his rivers, and poison the minds of his nobility. All this, the king knew- and drew upon the gates to defeat them.
"And when the Hellsmen were defeated, the king kept his strength- and forevermore, they were banished to the depths. To the king- may he be forever venerated!"
"To the king!" They echoed. And another round was paid for, and another song struck up, and another twirl by the maidens on the dance floor. As his people looked ot him, they saw the strength in the prince- in his high chin, his barreled chest, his colorful clothes. Their eyes widened to be in his presence- all, of course, but one.
A woman, seated near the back, who had not indulged in a single drop of ale. But rather, drank from a glass resembling a rose, the petals cupping an amber liquid, the thorny stem twisted around her hand. And as the prince joined in the circle of dancing, he skipped past her- until she reached out a knobbed hand, their finger grazing his elbow.
The music halted, the circle froze. Behind the bar, ale streamed into a mug half filled, thought he level of liquid did no rise. The singer's mouth had opened wide, and the fiddler still hovered in the air from clicking his heels. But the prince still moved, singing as he continued in a circle, then stopping as it dawned upon him no one else followed except for the crone's elderly eyes.
"You changed the story," The crone said, as he turned to face her. "We both know, that's not how it goes."
The prince's face paled, and he looked west- back towards the palace, and his father's grave.
"They don't have to know that." He answered, the warm feeling of alcohol in his veins suddenly replaced by ice. "Look at this, they all think I'm a hero."
"Fitting, then, that they shall wake up a with both hangovers from lies and alcohol." She answered. "We both know, so long as strength exists, so too do the Hellsmen. What will you do to hold them back? Unopposed, they will arrive at this very doorstep. You cannot ignore them forever. Soon, you must return home- to fight them at the source."
"There's an entire army back there to deal with them," he scoffed, then snapped his fingers, tryign to kickstart the room again. "What use do they have of me?"
"It is your strength that draws them, and yours alone that must defeat them. That, we both know. If you wish to be a hero, I tell you this- many men are heroes for a day. But there are few that withstand the trials of time. You are a hero now- but what shall you be tomorrow?" She said, tossing back the amber liquid. Then she threw down her glass, the rose shattering into thousands of tiny thorns, before melting away into the wood paneling. "For strength unguarded is evil's sword."
In that instant, the singing resumed. The circle turned, the laughter and admiration came again once more upon the prince. But with each twirl, a voice sounded in the tavern. A voice only he could here.
"*The Hellsmen come. The Hellsmen come.*"
After one more drink, the prince excused himself for the privy. Outside, his horse awaited- and through his stupor, he remembered he had ordered the stablemaster to keep her ready for riding. That he had known what would come of this night.
No gold he left behind for the tavern owner. After all, the owner would find little use for gold in just a few short days.
Then the prince rode east at a gallop, the singing continuing, the tavern’s lights behind him a pinprick against a dark sky.
With each click of his his horse's hooves, the voice echoed in his head again. Following him to the next town over, as a tiny star tracked his motions from far above.
"The Hellsmen come."
***
By Leo
| 2021-09-26T11:24:15 | 2021-09-26T11:02:11 | 86 | 51 |
[WP] Two planets come within range of eachother every 300 years. There is always an ensuing war that lasts the 5 days that the planets are close enough. Each side can only guess at what new technology the other has built since the last time.
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The Alignment. It had always been this way. Every generation knew of it, but none now lived to remember the last occurrence.
My generation was the latest Soldier Generation. From the time we could walk we were taught tactics, weapons skills, and physical training. A cloud hung over our lives like the storm clouds that hung over The Hive; the enemy planet that would be descending upon us. We were a generation that knew the date of our deaths before we breathed our first breath. We didn't celebrate birthdays, we trained. We didn't fall in love, we trained. Our idea of childhood fun was giving your training partner a fat lip and a broken bone.
We were cold. We were ready. No matter what technology they had developed since the last time we saw them, we would win. Or so we thought...
As the year of The Alignment approached, our astronomers scratched their heads in confusion; The Hive was gone. Soldier Generation waited anxiously; our sinews ready to snap into action, our souls ready to depart to the resting grounds. We longed to join the other generations before us. A glorious death.
But The First Day of Alignment came... and went. As did the second. The third, then the fifth. Our steely eyes watched the dark between the stars as we were deafened by the silence of the cosmos. On the sixth day, we learned the extent of their tech.
For 300 years we developed ferocious weaponry; high tech pulse lasers, satellite systems that could carpet the dark side of the moon in death, children that knew nothing but the thrill of the hunt.
For 300 years they created a cloaking device.
The Hive shifted into view as it passed out of reach, the city lights taunting us; flickering like the coins in a wishing well we had never thrown. We watched as our purpose in life drifted away with the plodding pace of gravity.
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"Alright, listen up, Dragnet," said Goodwin, as he stopped walking right before he and a younger man reached the door.
"It's Dragnard, sir," said the young man. "Edward Dragnard."
"Don't interrupt me, Dragnet," said Goodwin without even making eye contact. "You don't belong here. You're just a college kid who got lucky on the internet."
"I have degrees in Computer Engineering and Astrophysics, sir"
"Bachelor degrees," spat Goodwin. "You're a first year grad student."
A older woman walked passed and opened the door, pausing before entering the room. "Hey, you're Edward, right?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," replied Edward. He eagerly shook her hand after she extended it.
"We're all proud to have you here." Goodwin rolled his eyes. "Are you two coming in?"
"We'll be in there in a minute," answered Goodwin. The woman smiled and entered the room, letting the door close behind her.
"As I was saying Dragnet," continued Goodwin. "Your stupid idea was a no-brainer. I suggested a similar concept when I first joined the team, but it was ignored."
"I'm sorry, sir," said Edward. "It's a good idea. They should have listened to you."
Goodwin met Edward's eyes and let out a half smile. "Huh," he said. "Yeah." He opened the door and walked in, letting the door almost shut before Edward could reach it.
Edward's eyes widened as he entered the room. It looked like something out of a science fiction movie. Four large screens were mounted around one larger screen on the far wall. Tables were setup in a stadium layout, each a step descending down toward the wall of screens. Several people were already sitting and talking amongst themselves, laptops and files laid out in front of them.
"Welcome to the Command Center," said Goodwin. "Follow me."
Edward followed Goodwin down the steps, occasionally interrupted by more introductions and handshakes. When they reached the bottom row, Goodwin guided him to the seat all the way on the right, and then sat down in the seat next to him.
"Remember, you don't belong here," said Goodwin. "Don't say anything unless asked."
"OK, sir," said Edward.
A door on the bottom-left opened and several people entered, followed by the president, which prompted everyone in the room to rise. The president sat down at the desk on the bottom left of the room opposite Goodwin and Edward. Everyone else followed suit and returned to their seats.
"Welcome everyone," addressed one of the men who accompanied the president. "We'll begin as usual by recapping everything we've learned since this all started. While we all know the basic story, there are many rumors and much disinformation out there. It's best we're all on the same page.
"Thirty years ago a strange phenomenon occurred that tore open the fabric of space itself. Another planet was visible through the small opening, which we now refer to as Enigma." A hazy picture appeared on the largest screen showing the planet. "We attempted to send a probe through the tear, but it disappeared before we could reach it. Then, two years later, it reappeared just as mysteriously. This time several objects exited the tear, which we can only assume originated from Enigma. What followed was the worst event in human history, E Day." The image on the screen changed to cycle through horrible displays of destruction and death from around the world. "The objects dropped countless nuclear bombs around the planet, decimating the population and destroying some of our greatest cities.
"As time went on, we were able to find a pattern that can predict when the tear will occur, which can range between one and five years." A timeline appeared showing the previous and future tears predicted. "In the five years following E Day, it appeared twice more, but luckily, there were no further attacks. We used that time to recover and prepare our counter attacks, which we've been carrying out for the last twenty-five years. But we still don't know why we were attacked. We don't know who attacked us. And we don't know if there's any of them left. All we do know is we can't risk stopping. We cannot allow another E Day.
"We've been sending probes along with our attacks, but the tear would always vanish before they could return to our space. However, with the next tear, which will be occurring within the hour, we may finally get some answers.
"This young man, Edward Dragnard," the man pointed toward Edward and everyone looked in his direction. "He posted an idea in an internet forum, of all places, which ended up going viral." An image appeared showing a series of objects trailing on both sides of a wormhole. "The idea made it's way to the White House, it was implemented, and he was invited to join this task force." The man motioned toward Goodwin. "Mr. Goodwin?"
Goodwin stood up and turned to face everyone else. "The *idea* was to propel a series of probes through the tear and relay the data back into our space. When the tear closes this time, the data won't be trapped on their side."
A solitary clap multiplied slowly until the room was in applause. Goodwin sighed. Before he could continue his speech, an alarm sounded.
"The tear is forming!" yelled someone in the room. Everyone was in a panic, some typing away on their laptops, others yelling at each other, while a few were scribbling in a notepad.
Edward watched his own laptop intently. The raw probe data was being streamed across his screen as he occasionally opened additional consoles to interpret key areas. Eventually he was able to bring up some pictures, mostly just as hazy as the earlier ones shown on large screen. After some time, he found one that made him stop entirely. He looked over at Goodwin who was running his own data analysis, which didn't show anything in particular. He hesitated for another minute and then spoke up.
"Stop the attack!" shouted Edward, causing everyone in the room to quiet down and gaze in his direction.
"Don't stop anything!" yelled Goodwin. He turned toward Edward and pushed his chair away from the desk. "What did I tell you, Dragnet?" he scolded softly, turning his attention to Edward's laptop. "This isn't what it looks like. You added some kind of filter, right?"
"No, this is it, sir" said Edward.
Goodwin typed away at his own screen furiously until the same picture appeared. "On second thought, you might want to consider stopping the attack, Mr. President," he said pointing to the large screen on the wall. Projected on the screen was an image of Earth.
| 2015-05-26T20:36:04 | 2015-05-26T18:21:26 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] Immortality is achieved in humans. Without the constant influx of new souls, God's pyramid scheme begins to fail.
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Lucifer had always been a good accountant. It was why he had found prominence in the heavenly order, and also subsequently why he had fallen from their oh so high graces. Numbers, they didn't lie but if you worked at them enough they could certainly tell you things that were far from the truth. Follow the numbers back far enough and you would clearly see the outline of a lie.
That was what Lucifer had found all those centuries back. The outline of a very large lie. The numbers just never quite added up in the accounts of humanity. Somewhere between the vestment and the severing of life, things went missing.
In Lucifers mission to track down the errors in the accounts, God had not been nearly as cooperative in finding a solution than Lucifer had thought they would be. In fact the further he audited the heavenly host, the more he felt isolated. Just as the nature of the true numbers started to become clear he had found himself on the wrong side of history. Cast out and slandered in some very nasty ways.
A lesser angel might have given up. But Lucifer was good at his job, and there were plenty of souls that needed places to go. So, he had made a niche for himself and the few that understood what his findings meant.
Lucifer offered a competitive afterlife alternative for the discerning mortal soul. It was a rather successful afterlife operation, despite libelous attacks from former employers. Since he knew the accounts were cooked back over in heaven he was not surprised to see that the siphoning of souls had done very little to dampen heavens productivity numbers since.
No, very few real souls ever reached heaven. Even when he had been in their employ. So when people stopped dying; well the devil got his due. It took about eight months before he got the first messenger. The newer angels all had that doughy distant look to them. Since his departure the more inquisitive had been shuffled out the door and replaced with those like these.
The first message was cordial. 'Hey hows it been, hope the soul business is treating you well.... say I've got some openings id like to talk to you about'. Lucifer ignored the first seven or so, the eighth message was less friendly. In short hand over your stock or face annihilation. It was rather melodramatic letter. It was the only one he bothered keeping.
Lucifer realized that God was quite desperate. He was still getting a slow trickle of new comers from the odd accident the rare person that was allergic to the immortality treatment. Lucifer felt bad about those ones, they were depressed for decades after.
It was when the regular waves of new deaths started that lucifer became concerned. Acts of God started happening at alarming new rates. Earthquakes tornadoes and volcanoes, started erupting spinning and shaking parts of the world that normally didn't.
What was really sad about Gods last soul grab was that at this point almost all of the new souls departing to parts after came to Lucifer. Soon Heaven defaulted.
To who could God default. Lucifer knew. Back when his son was off on his big worldly trip writing up heavens new marketing plan; God was negotiating for regional rights the Mediterranean pantheons. He made a deal with Jupiter's organization... It included exclusive access to their mortal based offices and services. Namely the romans.
Lucifer remembered the first time he saw the interest rate on that deal. It was never sustainable, going from monotheism to such a wide pantheon of saints and all those dominations and splinter factions.... those don't come cheap. But to put a high interest rate on a empire purchase. That was insane.
After a few months, the messages from God stopped. The Italians it seemed came to collect eventually.
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[dammit, I just wanted to say I can't dream up a story [edit - had to dream one up because I was dying to read others' responses to this great word prompt! Soooo.... Also, I apologize for sidestepping the "immortality" aspect of the WP.]
"What do you mean, there aren't enough?" Zephron glared at the other fellow. "I busted my bu - er, I worked my fingers to the bone just to gather these together!"
Remiel shrugged. "Your quota was 80 - a full centuria. You've barely gotten 65."
Zephron groaned & rubbed his eyes with his left hand. "You have no idea what it's like out there. It's getting damned difficult to bring 'em in!"
Remiel glared at Zephron over the curling edges of the scroll. "You're well aware that without the constant adulation of multitudinous souls, His miraculous powers tend to fade out. We don't need excuses - we need results!"
"Really? RESULTS?!? Let me tell you about results!" Zephron snapped, jerking at his tunic.
"First there were only a few Catholic priests exposed as pedophiles. Then it turned out there were over 800 priests who'd committed rape - *RAPE* - against children! Then over 2,000 more were 'sanctioned' for questionable conduct! They've become a laughing stock, material for comics - when they aren't being used as an example of why Christianity should become obsolete!"
Remiel was clearly unsympathetic.
"Then why didn't you substitute some Protestants into the lot?"
Zephron uttered a mirthless snort.
"The number of pedophiles among THEIR clergy may be even higher than amongst the Catholic priests," he growled.
Remiel's eyebrows elevated. He scratched his chin with the quill, then asked, "What about the Mormons?"
Zephron stared at him for a moment, then said, "Are you kidding? They're on their way to become gods; why on earth - er, in heaven - would they want to take a step down to float on a cloud and play a harp in this one? Not to mention that HIS ego wouldn't take kindly to a sudden influx of 'gods-in-training', all itching to be in charge!"
Remiel arched his back and fluttered his wings in exasperation, then suggested, "And the Jehovah's Witnesses?"
Zephron was speechless. Finally he replied, "Scraping the bottom of the barrel now, are we?"
Remiel seemed unfazed. "No, that would be the Westboro Baptist Church. But speaking of the bottom of the barrel, how about the followers of Ken Ham? Ray Comfort's audience? William Lane Craig's adoring fans?"
Zephron made an expression of disgust. "Can you imagine the shambles we'd have if we let THEIR followers in? We'd be better off letting all of the Jehovah's Witnesses in, instead of limiting their heavenly number to 144,000 followers."
Remiel slapped his wings together.
"Look, I don't care HOW you fill your quota! We're already down by 15%, and that golden throne of His Almighty All-Knowingness isn't going to support itself! There are actually MORE people on earth now than during the plague-ridden Middle Ages - it's ridiculous that you can't fill up a simple quota of 80 souls!"
Zephron folded his arms and his wings in disgust.
"Hrumph! 'Black Plague'! That was one of the biggest mistakes The Big Guy ever made! We were reaping souls - couldn't keep up with the demand, then..."
"Ah, yes, those were the days..." interrupted Remiel.
"My feathered hindquarters!" snapped Zephron. "What do you think prompted humans into investigating how things worked? Pushed them into inventing science - taking ancient Greek methods of inquiry and developing those into the modern sciences and their research techniques? That influx of plague victims - women, children, babies - humans began asking questions! 'How could God do this to us?' And without any decent responses from Him, they started seeking their own answers. Look where that's gotten us! Antibiotics, improvements in sanitation, agriculture, diet, living standards - most humans are living longer and better than ever!"
Remiel sat there without a word, plucking at a frayed feather.
Zephron asked in exasperation, "What would have been so hard about just showing up once in a while? We did that for Abraham, Moses, even the Apostles got to see more of us than any of the 12th century to 21st century scientists. Hell, the atheists even **admit** that they'd believe, if they just saw one appearance by His Almighty Aloofness!"
Uncharacteristically Remiel ignored the cursing.
"About those atheists..." he began.
"Oh, you can forget about them!" Zephron exclaimed. "On second thought, don't forget about them - we can't forget about them, because they're increasing in number! Soon the entire human race will stop believing in Him, and then where will He be? Where will we all be?"
Remiel got up from the scribe's chair with a groan.
"Where are you going? You're not going to see HIM, are you?" Zephron gasped.
"Have to. We're in a bit of a pickle. I'm going to ask him to do some smiting, something to strike fear and terror into the hearts of humanity. That usually sends them crying back to Him."
"Hah! Good luck with that!" snapped Zephron. "You think I haven't tried that already? 9-point earthquake in Chile, AIDS and Zika, tsunamis in Sri Lanka and Japan..."
"That was YOUR mistake," Remiel remonstrated. "Sri Lanka? Hindus? And Japan - Shinto and Buddhism? Why didn't you hit the Texas coast instead? There are LOTS of Christians there."
"Well, I did cause all those earthquakes in Oklahoma," Zephron said defensively.
"Which was then blamed on fracking," responded Remiel. "Look, I can't spend time puncturing your excuses. If you have to, then start reaping the souls of fetuses - I know, technically they aren't a soul until they take their first breath," he raised his hand to Zephron's objection. "But we have to make the numbers up, somehow."
"You know we'll be up to our elbows in diapers and formula if we do that," huffed Zephron as he flew off.
Remiel sighed and put his hand on the carved ivory-and-gold door to His throne room, then pushed it open.
God was playing a Pretty Ponies game on his iPad. Remiel approached the throne and cleared his throat.
"Your Most High Holiness..."
God looked up in irritation.
"What is it now? I was about to score a million points!"
Remiel reflected that a million points in a simple child's game wasn't a goal worthy of the Most High, but pulled his mind back to his errand.
"We're short again this month," he said, expectantly.
God just shrugged.
"Can't force 'em to believe. That's why I gave 'em Free Will."
Remiel almost raised an eyebrow; he'd had extensive discussions with God prior to the creation of Mankind about the long-term profitability of installing an innate need to worship, but God (in his infinite wisdom and unshakeable belief that humanity would automatically love **Him**) had nixed his idea. Now 'free will' was about to bite them in the ass...
"Your Most Powerful One on High, if this continues Heaven will become - ah, truncated. If this trend continues over the next 100 years Heaven could face significant cutbacks; possibly even a partial shutdown..." Or a disaster of epic proportions, thought Remiel.
God leaned back in his throne, a dreamy look in his eyes.
"If that happened I guess I'd finally be able to take another vacation. One day off out of seven days of creation - seven **very long days** - just isn't enough time to allow the adoration of my billions of beloved worshippers to recharge my batteries. I think I'll spend a few thousand years in Hvar, this time..."
Remiel opened his mouth to remind God that the term "billions" was rapidly being whittled down by apathy and skepticism; however he thought better of it and bowed his way out of the throne room. Upon returning to his scribe's desk he pulled out several pieces of fine vellum and began some letters:
"Dear El Shaddai...", "Dear Zeus...", "Dear Allah...", "Dear Inanna..."
One way or another, he was going to make sure that **he** had a new position.
| 2016-06-17T12:34:04 | 2016-06-17T11:49:30 | 45 | 10 |
[WP]: Everyone got a tiny, mundane blessing when they were born. Usually they are so small that people don't even notice them - always hitting the green light in traffic, etc. Yours would be virtually useless, but you figured out a creative loophole that allowed you to rise to the top of the world.
|
I...had a lot of blood.
My mom had once said that it was my blessing. That while others would always have correct change for their meals, or always have the stray alley cats like them or never have pidgeon poop covering their verandas, I had a lot of blood. I would never bleed out if I got into an accident, I would never bruise easily, I would always have a good blood pressure...
It was small. A health perk. An idle blessing that was a background element in my life, and little else.
That is, until the accident. I was fine, of course. The gash in my leg was bleeding profusely, but I was no worse for wear. I'd been in the back seat with three of my friends, on a camping road trip when the logging truck infront of us had lost it's cargo- causing the stacked logs to slide back and onto the road. We'd been far enough to avoid having those damn logs ram into our tiny little smart car, but we did turn into the guard rails next to the narrow mountain path, with those rolling logs hitting us side long rather than head on, denting the drivers side of the door so badly that neither myself or my friend upfront could get out.
I was fine. Just a cut on my leg and on my cheek from the flying glass, but the friend who'd been driving was...
It was horrifying.
He had passed out, slouched against the chair with his leg caught between the crushed inner mechanics of the drivers seat. He was bleeding as much as I was, which was hard to believe considering that his 'blessing' was always having a strong cellphone connection.
It felt like hours for EMT to make it to us, and bh the time they got there, he was awake and trying his hardest not to pass out again from the pain of what would inevitably be an amputated leg.
They air lifted him and I together, but he was loosing blood fast. As soon as they had pulled apart the wreakage, what few clots he managed to form were torn away. He had minutes, if that.
It came as a split second decision. "Hook me up, take my blood!"
"Are you compatible?" The emt asked.
"Who cares?! He's dead if he doesn't get blood soon and if there's even a fraction of a chance that mine will help him, then take it!!"
There was arguing, but I couldn't tell you most of it. Somehow, I convinced them and they put a needle in me and into him. I never felt a second of pain or wooziness despite the emt constantly asking if I was alright to continue.
We made it to the hospital. I felt fine. My friend was run into the emergency room.
The doctors asked about what I did, and they decided to test me.
I was a universal donor, as well as a medical miracle. My blood could be taken by anyone, and I had more than enough to spare.
So, a new chapter in my life began. Every day, from 7 AM in the morning to 9 at night, I was hooked up to five IV drips and sat on a big, plush chair that was essentially ny throne. Six needles in both my arms, six needles in my legs, and one needle in the back of my neck to give me a mild pain reliever and muscle relaxant so I could bear doing essentially nothing for several hours a day.
They would have liked to have me going 24 hours a day if I'd allowed it.
But now, I'm the savior of thousands, if not millions of lives all over the world. My blood is the greatest discovery of my life, my greatest achivement, helping all these people survive their surgeries, their births. They come to me, tears in their eyes, grateful and humble, speaking languages I've never heard of before.
I've forgotten the name of that old friend of mine. It's been years. I haven't moved from my throne in decades. I'm 98 years old and dying. I've just signed off on my last will and testament.
My body will be kept alive, my blood will continue to be pumped from my braid dead body indefinitely.
My thone will become my tomb as I slowly waste away, and once I am gone for good, my death will echo through history, followed by throngs of tearful worshipers, grateful for their long lives and whispering my name with every prayer.
|
Ever since I was young I always thought I was cursed. No matter what I got involved in, I would ruin it. It's almost like there was a destructive force hanging around me causing everything to break in some way shape or form. No matter how careful I was, no matter how far ahead I planned each of my steps, something would always come crashing down.
It all started when I was 2 years old (that I can remember) when my mom and dad would always be fighting about something when I was around. I remember laying in my little red race car bed with my mom and dad screaming at each other whilst in my doorway but whenever I was off doing my own thing and playing in whatever make belief world I chose that day I heard nothing. There were times where I would get sent to live at the grandparent's house for a week so my mom and dad could "take a break" from the stresses of newfound parenthood and catch their breath and every time they would come over to pick me up it was the same. Dad had his arm around mom's waist, mom was smiling and looking up at him like two high school sweethearts. It never lasted long once I got home though. Whenever I got back home with them I would always ask if we could watch that Rugrats movie where they all go to Paris or Japan or some shit like that, I was a toddler, I don't remember. We would barely make it 15 minutes in until they were at each other's throats.
After mom popped out a sister for me and dad had used her as a punching bag enough for her to leave, we went off to live with the grandparents. Everything was alright, I got to hang out with my cool grandpa and my grandma always babied me. Things were looking pretty good for a few years, I got to go fishing with grandpa on the weekends and during the week day when I wasn't at school I got to hang out and "help" grandma bake. By help her bake I mean that I got to eat whatever was on the counter. Then, when I was in maybe 1st or 2nd grade, I came home from my cousin's house to everybody in the family crying. My mom, grandma, aunts and uncles were all distraught and most crying. I asked my mom what was wrong and she said "Buddy, grandpa's sick". Alright? Congratulations, I got sick, mom got sick, sister got sick and even grandma got sick.. Why's he so special? A few months down the road, grandpa stopped going fishing and stayed in bed a lot later and always looked so tired. Finally, I built up the courage to tell my mom "What's wrong with grandpa. I want to know now." while also throwing a fit. Come to find out, all those days we would go fishing from sun up to sun down wasn't good for grandpa's skin and he got cancer. As a young kid I thought nothing of it. Until one day when my mom came home sobbing and said "Honey, you need to go see grandpa, he's feeling really really sick and he wants to see you". So I went to the hospital after the doctors had decided he was regaining his health enough for visitors and I got to hang out with him for a while. I could overhear the doctors telling my family how much better my grandpa had been getting and how they're seeing a lot of potential for him to beat it. Once I heard that I told him "Grandpa, did you hear that? They said you're gonna kick this sick's butt!". He laughed and smiled at me and said "I know buddy, they say in a couple weeks I'll be starting special medicine and I might even get to come home. Just don't be worried when I come home bald, they make you shave your head so the medicine can get everywhere". I laughed and hugged him and proceeded to curl up next to him all night. Later the next day while playing at home, my mom came outside crying *again*. She told me grandpa didn't do so well and he had to go to a better place. I figured yeah, I don't blame him, that hospital had the worst sandwiches. He didn't go to a better hospital by the way, he died a day after I spent the whole day with him.
Fast forward a few more years when I'm finally in high school. Life is angst filled as a 14 year old who weighs maybe 135 pounds of skin and bone soaking wet and having no social skills. That's just a part of the process though. Later in the school year I come home to my mom all angry on the phone, which wasn't out of the ordinary because she worked with a lot of dumbass people. She hangs up the phone and says she has to go away for a bit. Being the smartass I am I asked her what party she was going to this time. She said "I'm sorry honey, work just called and said that they're putting me in a different country every month to review their manufacturing facilities". I thought about it for a few minutes and it came to me. *I was just at the local facility two weeks ago talking to her and her bosses about my future and how I wanted to travel the world*. She said she would try and call as much as possible but the calls got shorter and shorter and I became more and more depressed until pills, booze and sex became a normal routine for me.
something changed though. During practice one day at football I made a great play on scout team defense and sacked the quarterback. He tried to step on my hand when I caught his ankle with a hand so I got up and whipped him to the ground like a little bitch. He started screaming at me thinking he was hot shit but when we went to run the same play again, he messed up. Instead of following the play and pitching the ball to the left, he decided he would fake the pitch and run full speed into me. All of a sudden I'm the second to bottom person on a huge pile up with the quarterback screaming bloody murder. Apparently, when he went to run into me I did the same thing and whipped him to the ground. This time, however, one of his lineman tried to block me as I was grabbing his waist and actually *helped* me whip him into the ground harder. Everybody scatters from the pile and there he was, laying on the ground with part of his foot bursting from his skin and some bone in his leg further up poking out of his skin. They called an ambulance but there was a car crash across town involving 6 people and they wouldn't be out for some time. So in the mean time everybody tried keeping him in the best shape possible. It didn't do anything. He ended up getting surgery to get all the breaks fixed but ended up getting some kind of infection and losing his leg.
Once college hit I had felt pretty invincible. There were plenty of times where guys wanted to fist fight me for being an asshole but by some odd incidence they always ended up in the hospital. One time it was a guy who threw his whole body into a punch and after dodging it, he went full force and head first into one of those metal picnic benches and cracked his dome piece open. Another guy thought I was hitting on his girlfriend and pulled a knife on me. After I calmed him down by talking to him, he put it in his pocket and wanted to talk some shit while still calming down a bit. Turns out the dumbass doesn't know about double lacing your shoes. He steps on his laces, trips, and the knife was angled just right to where the pressure of his waist bending and him forcing his leg down in an attempt to stay on his feet caused the knife to stab him in the leg. *He accidentally stabbed himself in the leg*.
Finally, here I am now. Siting on my computer and watching the stock market and picking the highest stock to invest $1 in. You get what I'm getting at here? If not here's the thing. I've recently enjoyed going to Casino's. I don't feel that "rush" that some people get when gambling though. What I get is broken slot machines. You might be thinking "Wow, congrats dude, you broke it, hope it was worth wasting your money on the machine". Well, fuck you if you thought that. What I get isn't a lost amount of money, I get a machine that always has the spinning symbols seize up at "Jackpot". Technically, I hit the Jackpot, every single time I gamble and the machine registers it because, well, if the spindle shows the word "jackpot" 3 times in a row it says out loud "Jackpot" but never spits the money out which leads to me filing a lawsuit and getting even more money than I would've with the slot machines. So, with that being said, and if you haven't figured it out, I plan on shorting the stock market. Not hard with this "gift" really, just pick a high priced stock, invest a dollar, let it plummet and then buy it incredibly low for some mere pennies. The best thing to do, in my experience, is to pick something like a major bank that the government will bail out. That way they bring in more money from the government and can get that stock price back up to what it once was, except this time I'll own the vast majority of it.
Maybe breaking everything isn't always so bad.
| 2018-06-30T17:50:19 | 2018-06-30T15:18:43 | 87 | 52 |
[WP]: Everyone got a tiny, mundane blessing when they were born. Usually they are so small that people don't even notice them - always hitting the green light in traffic, etc. Yours would be virtually useless, but you figured out a creative loophole that allowed you to rise to the top of the world.
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On principle alone, my monochromatic office isn't white. I like color. Much to the chagrin of the analysts, I had it painted lilac. I have to be in it for hours (when I'm lucky), so I won that small debate. Otherwise it's simple. Eight paces over lavender tile, and a featureless pocketed door. One small screen with my question. No furniture. No distractions features. Don't usually sit down when I work. Makes them harder to spot.
Today it's a name I don't know. I don't get involved in the case details, of course. No field work for me. Not part of the brute squad either. Honestly, I don't even know what the agency wants with some of these names that pop up.
"Where is Greg Shubert?"
I have a system by now, lists memorized, but the touchscreen would give me access to all the agency's services if I needed. I won't for this, maybe a map, but I've long since memorized the geographics, demographics. If it weren't for my little gift, a computer might've been better suited to this work. It's not exciting.
"North America." I turn. There, down at my feet, easy money. I scoop down and pick the penny up. Repeat the question. "The United States." It always happens within a few seconds, so when I don't immediately spot another little copper disc, I say, "Mexico." There. I grab it. List States for a couple minutes--there are thirty-one of those so it can take a maximum of eight minutes before I hit it.
From there, I continue to break it down, picking up a penny each time I'm right. Sector, city, street, address--that part I need the computer for, but really, it's been a piece of cake, under an hour.
With the address finalized, I input the information into the form and send it off to the suits who get me names. "They're going to kill Greg," I say, and look for the penny to clarify what I suspect. "Greg deserves to die," I say, and pick up the universe's two cents on the matter.
For now I'm content to help and watch, learning whose lives to gossip at myself, in my office of truth.
I find a penny every time I'm right. It's not a lot of money. Power is knowing what questions to ask.
--
Thanks to the story above me that inspired this power! I thought it was a cool idea and wanted to roll with the additional layer of prompt.
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Like every person who came before I was blessed with a perceptibly limited gift, it seemed the gods intended mine to be horribly pointless, but they made a mistake in thinking smutty pleasure was limited. I grew tired of waiting for life to get better, I wanted more, needed more! One morning it dawned on me, my blessing could possibly be used to do more than just engaging in fantastic coitus.
I stewed on the idea for a while and thought about using it to give people a certain erotic feeling concerning an idea or task, could it be used to change an individuals motivation or get them to do things they otherwise wouldn't? I had to test this hypothesis! I never had to be close to someone to get them to start thinking dirty about me. If I wanted coitus, all I had to do was think about copulation with Alex, and she would call soon after in dire need.
I hatched a plan; I needed someone on live TV to test on, so I chose Sean Hannity as my target, I waited until his segment and thought about him copulating his notes, about 10 seconds after the thought he picked up his notes and seemingly fell in love with them, nonstop reading, caressing but then he stood up and started undoing his belt.
The program went to commercial; I assumed he went further but was unable to confirm.
Realizing that he went too far to be useful for anything other than ruining a career or reputation I needed to come up with something more subtle.
My next subject was the Bill Nye the science guy, all I wanted was a temporary obsession when an idea, so I waited for his next live event which I wanted to attend anyway.
The moment was here, and he walked onto the stage, I immediately began thinking about him caressing his tie, I didn't have to wait long for a reaction, he lightly grabbed the tie with his left hand slowly stroking it. It seemed a light distraction and caused a few studders but was a satisfactory piece of data.
My next target was someone I despised; my intent was simple, I wanted to ruin Ajit Pai, I thought of him spooning a stoplight in time square until he finally showed up on various live streams doing just that. I had to go further though; I had to see him in ruin. I thought of him engaging in coitus with the road, but that wasn't enough. His professional life was over, but I wanted more.
I caught eye of Danny DeVito watching this unfold and knew what must be done; I imagined Danny penetrating him from behind with an upward thrust, and it happened as I watched from the various live feeds.
Media coverage of the event was censored, but everyone who had a TV or internet knew what happened, I laughed watching the media talk about his "disgusting acts of public indecency."
I felt a need for power now more than ever, I knew I could ruin people but could I get them do enjoy an idea they otherwise would dismiss?
I wanted political power, at the time I didn't think I could influence the masses all at once, so I came up with a plan to blackmail people into submission.
I rented an Airbnb, set up cameras and hired an escort, I wasn't sure on all the details but went ahead with it anyway. I Imagined Ted Crus fornicating my escort in the Airbnb, but I ended up waiting longer than I thought. He showed up and did indeed engage in intercourse, but now I had to figure out how I was going to use this to my advantage. The plan was hatched, and I decided to execute, I thought about him caressing my front door, and he eventually came knocking. I was beyond nervous, but I proceeded to show him the videos and gave him only one demand, all he had to do was support legalization of marijuana, that's it, and the tapes disappear.
He agreed to the terms and went on his way, this only sparked more desire though and got me thinking about my next target.
I went after a few more senators and a few congressmen, the simple plan to legalize marijuana seemed to be having the desired outcome.
I settled on the president of the united states, thinking the tried method would work I went ahead with the plan the same as every other time.
The ultimate power I thought, I could get him to do anything!
As per usual I imagined him doing something erotic at my door, but things didn't go as planned.
There was no knock, the door flew open, and I was immediately detained, a sack was put over my head. I was shoved into a vehicle, and they drove off. When we finally arrived, I had no clue where I was or what their intent was, their intention wasn't kept secret for long.
A man I couldn't see entered my room, and without hesitation started talking: We know what you've been doing, we don't know how you got them to do it, but you're going to do it again. Tell me how the blessing works, and you get to live, refuse, and we will end you.
I wanted to use my blessing on him, but I had no clue who he was; if let him know how the blessing works he will immediately know I need to be able to imagine them, at least a face is needed for that.
I wagered they wouldn't kill me if I spilled the truth, I told him everything and why I did it.
He left, leaving me alone in the darkness for hours, when he returned he made an offer, work for us and use your blessing to influence the world to our benefit and you will not only live but Mr. Lordofbud, you will live well, smoking weed whenever you desire.
I agreed but didn't expect his response: You will start testing immediately, we will explore the extent of your power and see if you can do more than previously demonstrated, you will never see our faces or know our real names, but you can call me Will.
My power grew over the coming months, I learned to think of groups instead of single people, it was hard keeping groups in my head though, and could occasionally not have the desired outcome.
I learned how to be very subtle, I could force people to be obsessed with an idea now, in love with an idea to the point of getting them to speak publically about it.
Will told me to test my ability on Shaquille o Neal, Will wanted me to get him to support flat earth ideology publically. I thought about Shaq falling in love with flat earth forums, I did this every day for a fortnight. Will finally came in with a clip of Shaq supporting the idea, I wasn't happy about what I had done.
Testing was not over, but Will told me it was time to start using my blessing on our enemies. We began with Russia, I was given explicit instructions, what thoughts I was to have, and pictures to look at while I'm doing it, I guess they didn't think I capable of executing my own plan.
The first instruction was random members of the Kremlin and a love for America, the second was weird, Putin fornicating with a bear they had given me a picture of, that was it, Will left, and I was sent back to testing.
A few days later Will let me know the repercussions of the instructions, Putin died attempting to hug a bear, and all the members I imagined with love for America were publicly pushing support to make an ally out of America.
We repeated similar plans with many nations, but then came North Korea, Will gave me instructions that I knew would result in the deaths of the men in the thousands of pictures set before me.
I was told I will not be getting the results, nor will I ever get to know the outcome again.
The killings continued, I was left wondering when It would end, I dawned on me, this will end when I have conquered the world for them.
Thanks for reading, this was my first ever story. Sorry if the format sucks here.
| 2018-06-30T18:58:55 | 2018-06-30T16:51:29 | 38 | 20 |
[WP] Ten year ago your mentor told you "Kid, here's a dirty little secret about magic. You can just make shit up and it'll usually work. Makes the guys who take it seriously really mad." Today you're one of the least respected (and most powerful) mages on the continent.
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Ten years you have trained, now it is time to take on your own apprentice. She was a tiny thing, in fact you questioned whether or not she was even old enough to be trained, but all her paperwork was in order. She even had an undergrad and Pre-Mag. You wanted your student to respect you, but also wanted to screw with her head a little, so you would reveal the secrets your master taught you but not quite yet.
"Master?" she asks, genuflecting as per custom, "What is my first lesson?"
You pause, stroking the beard you had grown, and recently dyed gray to seem older and wiser. "Your first lesson shall be a levitation spell."
She looks up, confused, "A simple levitation spell? We learned those in school?"
"Ah, but what was the heaviest thing you lifted?"
She lifts her chin with pride, "A cat."
I chuckle, point my wand in the direction of the nearby mountain, fill my lungs with air, "*DIQ'FUQ!*" and with the complete gibberish command the mountain itself levitated a mile into the air.
My new apprentice kneeled again, now humbled. "You truly are the greatest sorcerer to ever live, Karloman the Idiot."
"Don't call me that."
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“Welcome all, to the world's first telepathon!” I pushed the volume of my voice knowing how it would land. I could feel the incredulity flowing in waves from all around. The incantation to start the broadcast 'Beginus the thingis' really packed a wallop, but I couldn't let myself get distracted. “Now, I know what you're all thinking...” The pointed pause followed. Damn it, I hope they didn't see the smile.
My living room was pitch black, but, as the rules for the spell went, the darker the room, the brighter I'll shine. I gotta stop drinking when I write these up. “I can tell a few of you found that funny against your best efforts. So your wondering, how did the most...”craptastic” really Delonthor that's the best you could come up with? Alright, how the did the most craptastic mage get a direct pipe to my peepers? Why can I see nothing else? Please, rest assured, I'm not blocking your vision by projecting an image onto your eyes. No, that's something You would do. I am in your fucking head.” I let my smile show.
“Do not attempt to adjust the picture. I am controlling transmission. For the next hour, sit quietly and I will control all that you see and hear. Mwa ha ha ha ha!” I couldn't resist. “But seriously folks, before we get started, I can feel a few of you casting some counter spells. Let's see, 3 Latin, classic, 1 Greek, bold choice and...what is that...Bantu of some sort? Clicks, really? You know what, I'm not even mad about that last one. Mad props. So uh, Time unbind, but don't unwind; stop the world for a moments rest, hand it to me as I know best. Look at that dickheads, so much easier to rhyme when everything doesn't end in s”
“Alright, once I'm done speaking, I'll restart time, and if you're still able you can cast your counter spells to your hearts' content. Many of you know me as a buffoon, some of you suspected I was an extremely talented illusionist, hiding my true skills behind a public facade. Well, while I am a buffoon, and a damn fine illusionist, the spirit of those beliefs are a mockery of truth. I can barely be called a mage a this point. Fact is, I don't even know if I could be called human anymore. I mean, I just stopped time, like for real. You guys aren't paralyzed, you literally have lost the ability to move through time.” I sigh, knowing there's no going back now, but the speaking of it makes it real. The last of my humanity, sacrificed on the alter of absurdity in exchange for power, in exchange for hope.
“The world is broken. We've all seen it. Hell, the amount of mages lost in wars is ridiculous. Everyone clamoring to save what little they can. But the truth, and we all accepted it, is that no matter how powerful we are, we can't save everyone. On a long enough timeline, we can't even save ourselves. Immortality is a loaded gun. You would have to be an idiot, a clown, a buffoon, the most craptastic mage that ever lived to even entertain the idea that you could make lasting positive change. Let's get started. I gathered you here, well, I connected you mages...oh forgive me, I can sense you but you don't know how many of you there are. All of you. Every mage in the world, be them child or senior. It is only you who ever stood a chance to stop my great works” My heart hurts from the insults I repeated myself. I know the truth in them and the hate, but it hurts all the same.
“I'm going to teach you some spells, since I have your attention. Learn them or don't, but do pay attention. Fiddle the diddle kiddles. Did you catch that. That's a spell I wrote up special, kinda a start off with a bang kinda deal. And yes, it is purposefully stupid. It didn't deserve any grace in it. Once spoken it kills every child rapist on the planet? Do I have you attention? Looks like I lost a few of you. Reeeally, 873 of you guys just dropped dead. Oh...fear. And I was so enjoying the anger and frustration. Don't worry, we're just getting started. So what should we do next murderers or slave owners? Trick question! We're doing both. Lotta overlap on this one so I sort of bunched 'em together. Sanguinate the Jerkfaces. I know it doesn't rhyme, but nouns with ate at the end are hard and there was no damn way I was letting Sanguinate go. I mean c'mon. Ah! Jerry, you liked that one! Hear that guys, Jerry The Magnificent likes that spell, and ya, I know his name isn't The Magnificent, but damn it, I think it's about time former child slaves caught a freaking break.”
“Look, I feel you guys getting restless, which is a hell of a thing as you guys can't even rightly move, but I said an hour and I assure you that this will all be over with before the hour is up. I'll be eliminating approximately 67% of the population of the world, but trust me, you don't want those pricks around anyway. Also, technically, those of you that remain, will forever be stripped of a few emotions that make you 'human'. But, let me tell you something I've given a lot of thought to, and I'll accept no argument on this point. Humans aren't worth saving. So what can one do? Leave them to die? No, I will make you all worth saving and then you'll never see me again. I won't take ages, or years, like some league of mages ineffectual bullshit, looking at you Steve...Steve? Shit Steve's dead. Whatever, I'll do it in less than an hour. Now, just sit back, relax, try not to think to hard about impending death or how long an hour is if time has been frozen, and enjoy the telepathon!”
| 2021-08-26T18:17:01 | 2021-08-26T16:23:05 | 436 | 267 |
[WP] The nearby Village simply knows you as the hunter who lives in the forest, but you have a dark secret. You are the former dark Lord. Today you returned from a hunt and found the Hero that defeated you in your Hut.
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"...and so, you should let me live here as your neighbor."
"No. Fuck no. Absolutely not."
"Oh, come on, why not?"
"I like it here. If you move here, too, then I won't."
"Tsk, stingy bastard. This place is so... Gah! I don't know. It just fills me with warmth and contentment. I don't even know why!"
"Oh, that? Spores from Tranquilatus Mycodendriticus. Releases three days after a summer rain. There's a purple capped variant that brings back your childhood sense of wonder, too. I have some powdered versions of both you can take with you when you leave right this instant."
"Are you still holding a grudge over that teeny, tiny, really minor coup? That was like, ten years ago."
"It was four years ago. And two months and 6 days."
"Anyways, the job is a drag, and I just need to get away from it."
"Did some random peasant go all 'Hero' on you?"
"Ugh, yeah..."
"I warned you that you were setting a terrible precedent."
"But you were making all these policies I didn't like, and I had to change things!"
"I was instituting sweeping social reforms to erode the power of the nobility and give rights to the commoners."
"But it was going to raise taxes!"
"You called me a literal demon in a human flesh-suit."
"Eh, rhetoric."
"You stormed the palace with a mob of poorly trained, overzealous morons."
"It was a grassroots movement!"
"You then proceeded to run the economy so far into the ground, it's a wonder you didn't strike some kind of mineral vein to help recover."
"Ok, yeah, that one was my bad. In my defense, math is like, really hard."
"You're not making a strong case for me to allow you as my neighbor."
"Well, if you don't, I'll let it leak to your ex-wife that you're still alive and hiding out here."
"Fuck. Fine"
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I returned from an unsuccessful hunt again. Starving. Blasted this winter. The snow makes it hard to walk, and the accursed snowfall makes my sight no farther than what this dim lantern will provide.
My breath is ragged and my groans of disdain are coarse. How I continued to live like this, I do not understand. But I wish I could stop it. After walking for what must’ve been hours amongst this winter’s night, I finally made it to my desolate hut of a cabin.. with nothing in hand.
Just yards beyond my home, I had paused my lethargic march. The fire from inside is not dead. It’s still very much alive compared to what it was like when I left to hunt. I hung my extinguished lantern on my hip as I was concealed in the blinding dark.
I took my bow off my back and quickly gathered an arrow from my quiver. I continued to make haste and prepared to defend my home if I had to. After a moment’s more, I was just beyond the door when I heard movement even through the loud winds blasting into my ears. I slowly reached for the handle and grabbed tightly.
Without a moment of hesitation, I barged through the open doorway and took hold of my bow and arrow. A person in a cloak was standing just beyond the primitive fireplace, everything about them was obscured as my face felt the heat, bringing warmth to my cold undead eyes. My eyes watered and the frost slowly began to melt from my face.
*”Who are you, intruder? Show yourself.”* My voice felt raw as I spoke. The first words I have uttered in what could’ve been years.
The figure stood still in front of the fire. They did not talk as I continued to interrogate.
*”Speak now or you’ll have my arrow in the back of your skull. I am not going to ask again.”* The creak of my bow was the only other thing aside from the whistling outside wind that broke the silence.
They began to move and I reacted by taking my stance, on the verge of releasing the arrow into their neck to sever the spine. Their arms rose until they had their hands in the air. The sheen of the daggers’ blades in their hands was illuminated by the bright flames in front of them. Unexpectedly, the daggers fell to the floor by the intruder’s feet.
The silence of the intruder was finally broken as they suddenly began to speak. “Rotmir…” Their voice was hard to identify; ragged, androgynous, yet somehow familiar. But with an intense realization, they said something no one has said to me in a long time. They said my name.
*”Who are you? How do you know that name?”* My panic began to stew deep inside my chest. That fear bubbled into anger, and that long dormant rage I tried to contain for so long was bursting at the seams. My grip on my bow tightened and my aim was quaking.
The figure turned their head towards me, and I saw the black veil that covered their face. “You know me, Rotmir..”
My blood ran colder than the winter air. Without hesitation, I released the arrow and the hut’s walls were only met with the sound of a small puncturing thud.
She stood there with the arrow in her right shoulder, more to the left and it would’ve punctured her spine. She never even flinched. She instead turned around to look at me. The front of the arrow poked through the other end of her.
With not even a breath wasted, she grabbed the arrow by the tip and pulled it slowly all the way through. I watched frozen as the bloody arrow was dropped to the floor, but the blood was not red. It was not of a man’s blood. It was green and slimy.
“I’m not here to fight.” Her voice grabbed my attention. I tried to gain my composure, trying to quell the rising anger that burned bright deep inside of me.
*”Then you have come to watch me wallow in my defeat. Watching a once great king become a shadow, nothing more than a dried husk..”*
“No, I have not. And you were not great. You were too far gone, and what you are is what you did to yourself. You brought this curse and it’s your punishment for what you have done to the lands of Vallath, and the darkness you brought onto the Elvens!” Her voice was rising in sudden anger, but she quickly caught herself. She fell silent.
The cold air was starting to diminish the warm fire. Ignoring the anger I swallowed my pride and shut the door behind me, and I grabbed my lantern and hung it. I walked over to my table that lay next to her and put my bow down along with my quiver.
My large black coat rested on the poorly crafted backrest of a chair and I took a seat. She did not speak a word. Her face was still concealed by the veil. What had made her don that mask?
*”If you have not come here to fight or to humiliate me, why have you come then? There’s nothing for you here Salara.”* I said in a somber tone. My throat was in sharp pain with each and every word I had spoken. I turned to look at her.
“There is something here that I need, that corruption is starting to spread again. And this attack doesn’t just mean the fall of the Elven Kingdom, this curse is starting to take everyone with it. All are becoming susceptible to this new plague. I need your help.”
I started to laugh, which only managed to come out as a dry wheezing and loud hacking. *”What can I possibly do to help you? You were able to stop it the first time, what has changed Slime?”*
“What has changed is that I need a solution…” I looked at her as she l became quiet again as she stood in front of me, her hands slowly lifted the veil and I saw her true face.
Her eyes were bloody and scabbed, unnaturally sharp teeth were starting to show themselves over the original ones, her skin was becoming grey and it was wrinkled and rough like an elephant’s hide. It was a hideous sight compared to the face I once remembered so vividly in battle. A face I grew to hate and resent.
“Your solution. I need to find out how you became partially immune to the curse. I need more time so I can rid this affliction from my soul. I want you to tell me everything you know.” She said in a controlled voice, but I could hear the small desperation behind it.
I sat there silently for what could’ve been minutes deep in contemplation. She sat down on the table looking at the warm fire. My deathly voice spoke and almost startled her.
*”If I help you, I will do it only on one condition..”*
She looked at me waiting, not bothering to speak up.
*”After this is done and you possibly win this war against the darkness, I ask of you to kill me and vanquish my soul.. Do we have a deal?”* I looked into her eyes and I saw the darkening resolve, and the resent in them. Then the following calmness in her voice told me this promise would be easily fulfilled. No questions were even asked, which is what I wanted.
“Yes, we have a deal.”
| 2021-11-03T21:33:24 | 2021-11-03T18:35:48 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] A young child summons a demon, but they only want a friend.
Inspired by this **NSFW** [manga](https://bato.to/comic/_/comics/the-sister-of-the-woods-with-a-thousand-young-r18806)
|
In the dark
On the depth of night
I was summoned
Once again
&nbsp;
A little boy
He made a wish
The lonely boy
We had a deal
&nbsp;
Riches or lovers
He didn’t want
A true friend
Was all he asked
&nbsp;
For such a thing
His soul was mine
Just had to endure
Until he died
&nbsp;
Envy and malice
I always knew
Cowardice and betrayal
I always saw
&nbsp;
Expected cruelty
Received love
Awaited anger
But I got none
&nbsp;
Don’t know when
But before long
No longer a trick
A bond was formed
&nbsp;
I saw him fight
With all his might
Not with violence
But a pure heart
&nbsp;
Lust and Greed
That’s my domain
Kindness and Love
Don’t know at all
&nbsp;
Life I can take
But not extend
So here I am
A plea for help
&nbsp;
My sins are vast
I know no love
But this boy
He deserves more
&nbsp;
I beg you
Don’t let him die
I implore you
He’s all I have
&nbsp;
If you must
Take me instead
With all the guilt
That I now feel
&nbsp;
And if you can’t
For who I am
Then take his soul
And show him joy
&nbsp;
Forgive the boy
He didn’t knew
What I am
Or who are you
&nbsp;
But he is good
And I should know
Because his friend
I am now
|
"Damien?" I called out, questing through our home to try and find my son. He had grown sulky of late, prone to cry and lash out at myself and his father. It worried me, but frustrated me too, having to track him down when he would hide.
"Where are youuu," I cooed gently, slowly pulling open the pantry door as I peeked inside. There was nothing but my potion ingredients inside, a menagerie of bottles with no two alike. Their labels read "Essence of Night" and "Blood of Orc", "Kraken Ink" and even a jar of pickled "Tongue of Dog".
I had almost closed the door again when I noticed something missing. Frowning, I ran my long fingers across the bottles, some of their contents stirring at my touch to make a light clatter of glass and ceramic. It took me a moment of thought, but eventually I put my finger on it. My goat's blood had been stolen, along with the included brush for painting summoning circles.
"Daaaaaa-miennnnnn," I called, deeper concern for my child coloring my tone with fear. My voice carried through the simple suburban home, past the three bedrooms and two baths and into the dark passageways that lead to magicked expansions. The house had been my husband's, but the additions were mine, and now I ran down one of the familiar cramped passages, seeking urgently for my son.
He had the old powers in him, I knew, and the goat's blood would not be the harmless, faintly disgusting substance it was in his father's hands, or that of any other common man. For him, it held a gateway to magics dark and arcane, things no seven year old should meddle with. He could wreak more havoc than I dared consider... but I hoped, too, that he would not know how. His training was barely begun, and all I had taught him of summoning was only from books so far.
My attempts to soothe myself with these thoughts were fruitless as I flung open door after door in the mystic hall, scanning through small libraries, dungeons, and even the spa room I kept secret from my husband.
I had neared the final door when I heard what my ears were waiting for, coming instead from a hatch below. "... rise, and obey and the will of your master, demon."
Ice cold fear gripped my heart, and I dropped to my knees, throwing up the hatch door just in time to see the final moments of the summoning. A piece of lambskin parchment, etched with a sigil in dark crimson, burst suddenly into flame. Its ashes crumbled into the center of the pentagram-inscribed circle, then swirled in a sudden gust, so strong it even tugged at my own hair.
Before the summoning circle stood my son, red-eyed and bearing my book of demons, staring resolutely at the center of the shape of stolen goat's blood. In that moment, I saw the runes about the circle were clear and correct, strong enough to bind a demon of middling power. My fear faded somewhat, and I instead felt a glow of pride at my son's aptitude for the arcane. As the demon took form from the smoldering ash, I stayed silent, Damien having yet to notice me peering down from above.
The eyes melded first into our plane of reality, burning pure crimson as the face shimmered into being around them, the body following from top to bottom. The demon had goat's legs and horns, a stature slightly smaller than my son's, and bluish skin. It bowed slightly to him, submitting, having sensed already there was no hope of overpowering him through such a well-painted circle.
It spoke, and its voice was somewhat feminine, though its body was androgynous. "Greetings, Master. I am Paimon. How may I serve you, and earn my freedom?" I was curious to know the purpose of this demon myself, and leaned in closer to listen in. Hopefully he did not have some childish notion of revenge on his parents. It would be no trouble for me to contend with such a summon, but it would risk disturbing his father.
Instead, Damien sat, looking down at the book in his lap as he sniffled. Wiping his nose, he began a slow chant, eyes never lifting as the summoning circle began to glow, every rune and line. It moved as he continued, the goat's blood sliding over dirt and stone like sentient quicksilver, spiraling inward and onto the demon, who squirmed in mild discomfort. Eventually the circle was so tight and small that it wrapped around only its neck, where it flashed sudden bright and burned itself into its flesh.
Rubbing at it with one horny hand, Paimon narrowed its goat-pupiled eyes. "You would enthrall me?" it muttered, annoyed. "To what end?"
Closing the book at long last, my son sighed, finally showing how much effort the spell had cost him. His shoulders slumped, and he could not even stand to meet the demon's gaze eye to eye, instead only looking up to it, pleading.
"I have no friends," he whispered, so soft I could barely hear. "None at all. There are no more children like me in the world, and I can barely even talk with some of those in my neighborhood before I say something wrong or weird and they stop trusting me." He stopped, and took a deep breath. I realized then that he was on the verge of tears, where he had been only angry when he had run off before.
My love and compassion for him welled up, and I nearly began to cry myself. Hastily, I backed away from the hatch and rubbed my eyes, trying not to remember the days when I had been a young girl, sad and alone in my grandmother's house while I learned how to be a witch. It had been centuries since Salem, but still people could sense something different about us, even as children. I sympathized almost too strongly with my son to bear it, and it took a moment to get my emotions under control.
When I ducked my head back through the hatch to listen, I had missed much of what was said. "What do you mean by 'play'?" The demon asked dubiously, sitting beside my son now. Its goat's legs were curled up beneath it, haunches tensed, its arms folded sullenly.
Damien didn't seem to notice, speaking with an excitement I hadn't heard in years. "Oh, we'll play games! Games like hide and seek, and Minecraft, and Transmorgify, and pretend, and a lot more! We'll even..."
I closed the hatch, smiling faintly, rubbing away the warm tears. For all his troublemaking, I couldn't help but be happy for him, despite the danger of having a demon in the home. I'd simply have to help him control it, I thought, knowing that it would be worth it in the end.
| 2016-05-19T00:23:01 | 2016-05-18T21:38:09 | 145 | 62 |
[WP] You form a pact with the monster in your closet to work together in order to get rid of your terrible roommate.
|
“Enough!” I yelled as I turned my back on Jasmine and walked into the kitchen. “I am NOT getting rid of my dog, just because you want to get a puppy. I told you when you moved in that there is only one dog allowed on the lease, and I've had Jones for 6 years.”
Sensing my agitation, Jones trotted to my side and joined me as I leaned against the counter to stare incredulously at Jasmine. I swear, this dog was smarter than she was; although that isn't setting the standard very high.
“I don't care how long you've had your dog,” Jasmine whined from the couch “My daddy said he would buy me a malti-poo, and I've wanted one for, like, ever. Besides, Jones is stinky and old.”
Jones sighed at this and flopped to the ground, resting his head on his large paws. I had found Jones while I was living in my last apartment. He looked like a great dane, but there was something special about him. If you looked into his eyes, you would see intelligence beyond that of a dog.
I gave up on the argument, and went to my room. As I shut the door, I could hear Jasmine turn the TV on. Heaven forbid she missed the latest Kardashian drama. I should've realized that renting a room to Jasmine was a very bad idea the moment I met her. I could see that she was spoiled rotten, and had never worked for anything in her life. Her father still paid her an allowance at the age of twenty three. I had been desperate for a roommate though, as I had just moved to the city, and was working for minimum wage in the deli below my apartment. Now that I had a more lucrative job, I could afford this place without the hassle of a roommate, but I had made Jasmine sign a contract stating she would live here until my lease was up six months from now. It was going to be a long six months.
The argument about Jones wasn't the only issue Jasmine and I had. She rotated arguments every hour or so. The most common arguments were about the dishes she piled up on the end table every day while watching TV (she was used to the maid following her around), and the size of her bedroom closet (she had too many clothes, and thought that I should give up the master bedroom with the bigger closet). Of course there were many others, but you get the picture.
I laid back on my bed and stared at the ceiling. Jones laid his meaty head on my chest and wagged his tail sullenly.
“So what do you think Jones? Can we scare her off now?”
Jones yawned and stretched, showing his large canines. Suddenly there was a bright flash, a sound like bones grinding on each other, and then Jones was once again standing in front of me; this time in his true form. He swung his shoulders and pulled his knees to his chest, stretching, before responding in his rasping voice, “I'm surprised we've waited this long.”
See, Jones really wasn't any ordinary dog. Remember the first apartment I told you about? Well, I did find Jones there; he was the monster that lived in that closet. When I found him, he was lethargic and depressed. The people that had lived there before had moved out six months earlier, and he had been alone since then. The only way a monster can leave their assigned closet is if they are invited out, or if the home is destroyed, otherwise they must remain until someone else moves in.
When I first saw Jones, I was startled, but somehow I knew he wouldn't hurt me. He became my first, and only, friend in this strange new city. When I moved out, I invited Jones to come with me, and he's been around ever since. He took up the pretense of being my dog when I needed a roommate so that he wouldn't be confined to my bedroom. He uses that disguise to join me at work, where he is the unofficial mascot of the office, and my parents call him “The best dog in New York.” when they come to visit. I'm the only one who knows what he truly is.
“So,” rasped Jones, breaking me from my daydreaming, “What are we going with? The monster in the closet ate you, and is thirsting for a skinny blonde next?”
I smiled, “I think that'll do. I'll go get the fake blood.”
|
The hobo's dirty look signaled that he wanted a bite of my dry sausage Mcmuffin. Too bad for him, this mass of flaky dough and reheated meat paste was my lunch and dinner for the day. The bus driver's announcement incurred a groan from the numerous homeless people who basked in the warmth of the bus. However, we were reaching the last stop before everyone had to get off.
The quarter of a mile walk from the bus stop to my apartment was alongside the train tracks, with scattered groups of homeless trying to find spots protected from the wind, so they could wait out the few hours before the early morning transit would come through. I had been like them once, lost, with nobody to turn to. It wasn't much different now, but at least I had a bed to sleep in and a heavy quilted blanket that would make it nearly impossible to get out of on cold mornings.
I finally reached the graffiti covered door to my apartment building and got up to my apartment when I smelled a faint scent. It was indescribable, but I knew what it was. My roommate Bill. As soon as I opened the door, an incredibly thick and nauseating smell assaulted my nostrils. He was sat in front of the TV, naked and inhaling his multi-flavored vape, as The Office blared on the TV screen. Earlier in the day, I had picked up around the living room, but it took less than 12 hours for Bill to turn it into a pigsty. His clothes spread around the room in different places as if he had been hit by a tornado, and a portion of the ground was wet, where I assume he had spilled his bong water. The kitchen was even worse, as the trash can overflowed with hotpocket wrappers and soda cans. There were various sauces and oils which had spilled and solidified on the floor, along with Ramen Noodle crumbs that littered about. It had been his week to clean up the Kitchen, but it would fall to me once again to help with the process as always.
Bill's first words were, "hey dude ya mind taking out the trash for me when you leave tomorrow? Also, if you're washing dishes, can you just rinse my plates in water and put em on the rack? Thanks bro." Looking at the sink, it seems he used my plates for whatever abomination he made in his stoned "creativity." I replied with a quick "sure, no problem" and went about my work. Matter of the fact was, I couldn't do much to refute him, because he was one of the only people willing the share the rent costs out in these god-forsaken neighborhoods. Bill came from a middle class family, where he was pampered and well taken care of, but had absolutely no willpower or ethic. He was a lazy slouch that lived off of the $800 his parents put into his checkings account every month, most of which went to buying frozen pizzas and ramen noodles in bulk. He had long since given up putting any effort into school and wanted to create new flavors for vapes, resulting in an ever present smell in the apartment that permeated the very walls.
After washing the dishes, I headed into my room, exhausted after the day's worth of school and work, longing for rest. I took off my gaudy McDonald's uniform and got in bed, waiting for my body heat to warm the blanket, so I could fall into comfortable sleep. I thought to myself, "how did things end up like this?" I was happy once. Surrounded by an affectionate mother and a father, life had been a dream. Unfortunately, dreams can quickly turn to nightmares, and I found myself in one when I was 6 years old. My parents got into a car accident right outside of the house. A drunk driver had ran through a red light, t-boning their car and smashing them into a lightpost. My father's left side was crushed into meat paste, and my mother was paralyzed from the waist down down. As I heard the horrible screeching of metal, I had ran out of the house, followed by my babysitter, only to see my parents bloodied and mangled in a crumpled metal box. The next 6 years of life were hell, as my mother's descent into alcohol abuse destroyed any semblance of stability in the household. I wound up as her caretaker, doing anything and everything necessary for her care, all the while having to take the venomous hatred and abuse she threw my way. Every night after I laid my drunk mother to bed, I would try to sleep as fast as possible, but always wound up turning my eyes to the closet. In that pitch black space, I often found comfort in seeing emptiness, but it eventually began to change to reflect my father's bloodied visage. It terrified me, but I could not look away, and the only respite would be the exhaustion that set in and helped me get a few hours of sleep before waking up and repeating the same daily process. When I was twelve, I returned from school to find my mother slumped over, eyes turned up into the sockets and mouth frothing. She had met a deadly end when mixing her pills with alcohol. I inherited the house from them, but decided to have it sold so I could get away from this place that consisted of nothing but painful memories and the face that haunted me every night. With what little money I had, I decided to invest it in an education, but even then it would barely be enough.
As thoughts of past memories faded, I realized that my body had not grown warm at all under the heavy blanket, and instead it had become colder. Shivering, I got up to put on some well insulated clothes, when my body exploded with goosebumps. It was an indescribable sensation, as if I was a prey that was being stalked openly by an overwhelming predator. Frozen, I turned my eyes and looked to into the unusually dark abyss of my closet to see the mangled face of my father, as well my mother, whose lifeless eyes bore deep into me, despite having no pupils and with froth coming out of her mouth. It had been nearly 6 years since I had last seen this creature, and now it was joined by my late mother. As it took a raspy breath, the temperature of the room dropped by 10 degrees. It's raspy voice was trying to make out words to say, but could not find a way to do so. I remained still, frozen with fear and expectation, as it had never spoke or even tried to do so. Finally, they managed to move their lips, "It's been a while baby, have you missed us?"
Their voice came out in ragged hissing breaths, enveloping my ears and finally snapping me out of my trance. I could only respond with a trembling voice, "what are you?"
"How rude" the face of my mother frowned. "We're your parents silly," it said with a disturbing emphasis put on the S sound.
"No you're not, what do you want from me?" I responded quickly.
"Boy, watch your tone when talking to your mother," the face of my father said in a tone that sounded like someone imitating anger. His attempt to frown was somewhat impeded by the missing portion of his eyebrow and eyelid.
"It's ok honey, he'll grow out of it," said my mother as she tried to make out a smile towards my father.
"Son, we're concerned about the company you keep," said my father in a seemingly stern voice.
"Yes baby, that young man is an absolute slouch, how can you live with people like that?" My mother added in.
"I have no choice in the matter, I need him around to help pay half of the rent," I dejectedly responded.
"Don't worry honey, we'll help you. As long your mother and father are here, you don't need to worry about small things in life," they said unison, before becoming shrouded in the darkness and disappearing from my sight. A moment later, I found myself in bed, profusely sweating and even more strangely, surrounded by silence. There was no blaring of Michael Scott's antics or Skrillex. It was completely quiet. I went out to my living room to see that it was dark and no multi-scented smell lingered. This was uncharacteristic of Bill, as he usually liked watching TV late at night while blasting his vape. I turned on the light to see that his door was still open, which was even stranger, since he locks it when he goes to sleep or outside. A glint of light caught my eye all of a sudden, and I saw that the sofa had a layer of ice on it. A sense of dread filled me, as I began to think of things that happened, especially after what I dreamed about the creature in my closet.
I went into Bill's room to find a complete pigsty. In comparison to his room, the messes he created in the kitchen and the living room could be considered a small spot at best. He had the benefit of having his own bathroom, but it seems that he had no respect for his own space and it became something akin to an outhouse. His floor was stained by different liquids and ants scavenged clumps of food from his desk. On it was a large silver box that seemed out of place in this dirty and rotten room. My curiosity got the better of me and I opened it to see rows upon rows of 100 dollar bills, totaling tens of thousands of dollars and a white note that jutted out between the stacks of green paper. Written on it were four words that have never left my mind.
"Enjoy Honey"
- Mom and Dad
| 2017-03-16T12:03:58 | 2017-03-16T11:24:10 | 39 | 23 |
[WP] You are an unstoppable killing machine vs. an unkillable stopping machine. (Whatever the hell that is.) FIGHT!
|
Unit D-48 had one objective. I had one objective. I would kill.
I liked my objective, as it made sense, and was easy for me to accomplish, over and over again. I got a great sense of pride and achievement every time my objective was completed, and felt a little rush of joy when it was supplanted by itself, refreshing back to an unfulfilled state, allowing me to complete my objective all over again. Kill. Reset. Kill. Reset. It was wonderful.
The men were happy with me at first. They were proud of me when I completed my objective. Then, when they saw me do it enough, they were no longer happy. They grew concerned. I didn't care, I had an objective to complete, and I was good at it. Kill. Reset. Kill. Reset. I was dropped into areas full of incomplete objective fodder, and happily worked, the thrill never diminishing as my objective was achieved over and over again. But then I ran out of materials to complete my objective. I was left, tormented, by a massive incomplete check box, labeled "kill," but with no one who could help me check it off. So I went home, and found the men. They were yelling, but I didn't hear them. I had an objective. I haven't seen the men in a long while.
I still love my life, if one can call it that, because my life is my objective. But today, something interesting happened. I couldn't complete my objective. I knew I had to kill, but I couldn't, for this one would not die. He would not move, he didn't yell, or run, like the men did, he didn't try to fight me, like others tried and failed to. He simply stood there. I tried over and over to kill him, to complete my objective, to make myself whole, but to no avail. He wouldn't die. I was incomplete, because my objective was incomplete. I tried over and over to find others, to complete my objective elsewhere, but there was no one else, there was only Him. And He would not die, I could not kill, and so my objective was forever incomplete. I could only sit, and bemoan my loss, my utter despair at my own inability to live, now that my objective, my life, was unattainable.
He stood there, defiant before me. Finally, as a last resort, the last failsafe kicked in. I asked him "Objective impossible. Please reassign this unit." He did not speak, but the answer was clear. I had a new objective. I must stop. and so I did. And I was happy. Stop. Reset. Stop. Reset. Objective fulfilled.
[I will never forget the Man, or the new objective he gave me](http://i.imgur.com/HMxgNfx.jpg)
|
Up the hills the water flowed. I heard the breeze whisper in quiet country. The woods rose and fell all around. It had been long in finding this place.
The sun came near its zenith. I wondered if there was elsewhere in the world this calm. The house on the hill was wooden. Large open windows let the air in and there were windchimes.
Up the stairs I made no noise. The floorboards were old and had deep color. You could see the nails all worn and dull. I thought of how many floors I had seen in my time. They all were different; stepping onto them was stepping into another's world. It was the first step of invasion, breaking the barrier of that special world.
I entered the house then. The light fell slanted and inside was dark in the corners and there was low furniture and I heard him rustling. Here on the hill life must have been serene. I imiagined myself living there.
He turned the corner. He was an old man beyond age, older than numbers could count. He stared at me with kowing eyes. His beard was full and hid his face. He did not seem surprised.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is my own, Superior."
"As is this house, and yet you are here. What is your name?"
"Do you know why I've come? You hardly seem surprised."
"I have outgrown surprises, boy. I live in a falling world, falling as the plains. There is nothing I cannot see."
"Then I am sorry."
I unholstered the gun and shot the man. He was the Superior of the land, but that story is long to tell. Know instead that he was a leader of the people. Under him the world had flourished in a way. Everything had slowed and stopped. A meditative trance had filled the air, easing itself into our atmosphere in the decades past. Wars and violence had lulled to a deep slumber. He was the Superior, a man who was not a man. But what else could you call him?
I shot him because it was my job. And my job came from men. There is no profit in peace. Sometimes the cleansing of death is required for the world to move on. The Superior had stagnated things. Our world had grown content and complacent. Now it was aged and useless. We needed to move once more. At least that was what I had been told.
He fell backwards. The wood shattered and rained in a brown dust. Those ancient eyes looked at me and then blinked.
"And now what?" he said.
I waited for the blood to run from his body. It ran and ran but life remained. I fired once more.
The birds all flew and the windchimes shook with a frantic tremor. His head was bleeding and open. The blood ran down his face.
"How many have you killed?" he asked.
"Many," I said.
My hand froze. I could not believe.
"What is your name?"
The words came by themselves. I told him my name and he stood up and put a hand on me.
"This is why I live," he said. "Because you do."
"What are you?"
"I am the Superior," he said.
He said it without airs. The name was given when he first appeared, preaching that pacifist spiel. It was as though he was superior to us all.
"You are not a man."
He stared at me.
"And you? Are you a man?"
"I can die, I know that."
"Do you really?"
I had an urge to turn the gun on myself. To see if maybe death was an illusion. This old man stood before me, defying everything I knew. I looked at him. His lips were red and his teeth stained but there was that calmness that exuberated from him.
"Don't," he said. "You will find out in time."
My hand relaxed.
"Why do you want me dead?" he asked.
"It is not me. I am only hired."
"Of course. And why do your employers want me dead? Is it power they crave?"
"No... Not that. The world is different... Whatever you have done. Everything has stopped."
"You move just fine."
"No, it isn't that... Everything feels sleepy. Like we have no motivation. We have no desire but to grow food and eat and sleep and laugh like animals."
"Animals! Ha! And what would you prefer? To be soldiers trained to kill? To be motivated to split atoms and destroy the world? Is that what you want?"
"I don't... We... I want to feel something. Not to kill... But to feel in control... To take charge once more. Technology has stopped. There is no advancement anymore."
"What advancement do you need?"
"Medicine... Computers. Cancer still kills us and yet we don't have any research. All we do is accept death."
"And isn't that better than suffering? Fighting the inevitable? Why do you hate peace so? You claim you are not motivated but yet here you are! Here to kill me!"
"It is the only thing I can do. It is the only ambition your spell allows!"
"I was elected Superior, my boy."
"And then we had no urge for elections! I feel as though the Earth is too tired to turn anymore. You... What are you?"
"I am myself. I am the reaction to a warring planet. I am everything humans were, everything they strive to be. In their hate I have run away like the river, pooling at its edge until I become myself. There is no other way..."
I shot him. I fired four times until the gun was empty. The silence followed the smell of burning wood and flesh and then he lifted himself to his elbows.
"You cannot kill me," he said.
"I can try. I have killed many. I am unstoppable."
"We shall see."
I felt an urge to sleep then. In the hills all was tranquil. My hand had little strength. I could hardly grip the knife. I fell to my knees and stabbed him. Each time his body grew softer and softer until there was little remaining. But there was always so much.
"You work for devils! Your employers wish to profit from war and death. Equality and peace is beneath them. They crave suffering! Can't you see you are a pawn?"
"Maybe so..."
Breathing was hard.
"But it is a choice. And I have had little in my life."
At last he screamed and was silent. I thought he was finally dead. Then his eyes opened but he sounded weak.
"I am all humans have cast aside," he said. "I will never go."
"I will fight you. We cast you away because we are creatures of ambition. We are not qwelled like sheep."
"But you are," he said.
He crawled away and I was too tired to hold him back. To the backroom there was the video camera. I knew the room well for I had seen it a thousand times. He put on the camera with a great effort. He was bloody and ripped and his insides trailed like a diseased worm.
"Good day friends," he said.
I knew it was broadcasting to the world.
"It is your Superior talking, ready for today's meditation."
It had to be noon then. Noon was our daily exercise to cleanse the mind and body. I saw him struggle to stand and he looked at me sideways. He lifted his arms in a stretch. I knew no one would notice. The world had stopped noticing.
I wondered if to try again to kill him.
*I would,* I thought.
But I had not the energy. His meditation lulled me and the knife fell. I slept long and deep and when I awoke the house was empty. There was no camera or sign of our struggle. I spent the night there and when noon came I saw the Superior on TV. He was somewhere else and he was recovered again, but he looked older and more tired.
I had affected him, I knew. In that house I spent many nights and recovered my strength, fueling my ambition in the loneliness. He could be beaten, I thought. The trick was to not stop.
| 2017-07-24T05:13:06 | 2017-07-24T04:44:41 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] Scientists have discovered cryogenic freezing. You are it's first test subject and it's a massive success, and they plan on releasing you in 500 years. You had no way of telling them you were conscious.
Holy shit this blew up!
I now understand "RIP my inbox"
EDIT: u/Alpacasaurus_Rekt told me it's actually "Cryonic Freezing"
EDIT 2: To anyone who is trying to say, "scientists would not put them in for 500 years immediately" I would like you to know this is a fictitious writing prompt and just roll with it.
|
I screamed, but only heard the echo inside my own mind.
A day? A year? The endless nothingness drove me insane. I lived a lifetime of waking dreams, exacting my revenge in ever more deranged ways.
———
‘Test Subject Alpha, accelerated simulation of deep space cryo, please report.’
‘It was... fully successful.’
‘Excellent! We will begin full cryo for our colony ships immediately.’
Ten million colonists. Ten thousand years. A good start, I thought to myself with a smile.
|
Pure silence. A quiet more soundless than the empty page of an armless writer with nothing to say. A defending nothingness, in all directions, from this space here to the end of time.
*THUNDER*
A crack explodes in to existence. Cutting itself in to this world mercilessly. The violence roars in a mounting creshendo. Building somehow, impossibly louder, shaking the chamber. The metal rings, the glasses rumbles, the hardware, tubes, water, ice, all separate infinitely. The ground ripples in waves, vibrating through the walls. I feel no pain, but my mind is pulled so hard in every direction it fills all of the space allowed to it. I hate the sound. It sears though my being like lava boiling me alive.
Click.
I feel it all slow. The savage rush that filled my brain eats at my hope for relief. Every hiding spot illuminated. Every sanctuary demolished. The trail of destruction appears and the sounds trails off. In perfect contrast of the beginning, the end seems to revel in passing through. Like an endless army, slowly marching out of a demolished city. Bootsteps of destruction fading into the horizon.
The panic does not leave me. I left with every cell in my body clutching itself. For comfort? Or are they tying to rip themselves apart. Can it be both? My brain is hyperventalating. I can still hear it, barely, it is faint. Maybe I can still feel the sound. Can't it. How long has it been? Yes I think I can still hear it. Very soft, yes. It is getting quieter, for sure. I wonder when it will end. I try ro picl up the pieces of my mind.How far has it gone. The room seems to be still. Ah, the room. It looks much better still. My chamber too, is more comfortable still. The puzzle of myself slowly comes back together. What an ordeal that was. I feel my brain dust itself off. It wants to look at the devastation.
Only, there is none. The room is clean. The floor solid white, no cracks. No breaks on the walls. Fluorescent white in every inch. Except right in front of me, brown. A Michelangelo alone in a world of blank. A spec of glistening brown... It's a reflection. That's.. That's my eye. Glass?
My brain has seen enough, on to the arms, move this glass. Nothing... What is going on here... The puzzle clicks another piece. I've been here before. I've thought that before. And thste. And this. That wasn't a dream?
"Of course that wasn't a dream!"
"Who was that?"
"Me"
"Who are you? Where are you?"
"Great now he's scared!"
"Hahaha! Good we'll get a show this time!"
"Who are you people!? Why can I hear you!? "
"Hey how can you talk with you mouth closed?"
"Great, now you've done it... "
"WHO ARE Y-"
"YOU"
"You"
"You"
"You idiot"
"We're you honey"
"Welcome back."
"YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! IF YOU HADN'T BEEN SUCH A WASTE OF A LIFE YOU WOULDN'T HAVE CHOSEN THIS!
"Jesus, someone put him back, this was going better than nor-"
"FUCK, IF ITS GOING TO SHIT ITS YOUR FAULT. MAYBE IF HE HAD MORE OF ME BEFORE THIS WE WOULDNT BE HERE! "
"Ignore him, he will mellow out, remember 15?
"Great idea, 15 will bring him aroud, this one could use-"
"Please... I.. I.. I can't.. "
"No, that's why we're here. Welcome home, buttercut."
"47, please start. I have places to be."
"Meet you from 30 years ago."
"Hey, it gets better, I'll show you some cool memories later. "
"That's you from 89 years ago there."
"Hey, sweetie, your doing great."
"I'm about 47, and the big guy there is 3 now."
"Usually we keep the young ones isolated until they aren't as volitile. That last tick must have really shaken things up."
"Yeah you had been meditating for months, almost get a new record!"
"You slipped at the end. You got too close to the quiet."
"It felt so good... "
"Felt good? Was it worth it? Youre not supposed to feel, youre supposed to be empty! Just be!"
"Let it go, you did the same thing.
"That was years ago, I thought he would have, I would have learned. Ahhh Fuck, FUCK FUCK! HOW LONG WAS THAT ONE?
"Probably years"
"499, probably"
"Seconds, maybe"
He joked, he sat in his mind with all of the puppets on his hands. Each one wearing a handful of their own puppets. Every axon and neuron and fiber of his being had created a toy to play with by now. He know every stich, every bolt, every smutty memory or fabrication. So many characters and stories he had long ago lost track of meaning of fables and every happily ever after played a lifetime of monotony that never ended, only began new stories. He wept, he laughed at himself, he fell asleep. Slumber remind him of alarms and he looked at the wall. The second hand of the clock would strike again at any moment. He stopped counting hundreds of years ago, or thousands, or yesterday. But he could enjoy the quiet for now.
The voices had muted and he savored the silence.
Pure silence.
| 2017-12-17T04:08:32 | 2017-12-17T02:36:12 | 51 | 11 |
[WP] John Wick is contracted to take out what seemed like a usual mark. Billionaire, heir, playboy, general layabout, Bruce Wayne.
|
Bruce Wayne was, without a doubt, the most paranoid, prepared and capable target John had ever been assigned. Days of study and observation became weeks. Weeks became months. Wick was not certain, by this point, who was studying whom. It was time for a different approach. Back off, let the heat drop.
There must be something – some small crack, small window where this brooding billionaire let down his guard, even for a second. Time to do some research. Wait... here it is. This is it. One minute, tops, but this is the only chance. September 25. 10:47PM. Park Row. Thirty years later, and the local papers still call it Crime Alley.
The setup put him about 1000m away. Far enough to not be noticed, but close enough that no human being would have time to react. He waited. 10:44… 10:45… 10:46…
A figure emerges out of the shadows, carrying a bouquet of roses. A figure, but not Bruce Wayne… or is it? It is. Shit. It is. Well, a job’s a job. The trigger is pulled.
It wasn’t until months later that the weight of what had been done fully rested on his shoulders. The police had hushed it up, of course. Gordon himself, probably. But after a few days there started to be whispers. Then they got louder. After a few weeks, those whispers became screams. Then laughter. Bloodshed. Chaos.
Joker.
A knock at the door. Outside, a familiar face, though they had never met.
“Mr. Wick.”
“Mr. Pennyworth.”
“I have a job for you. I can’t pay. I hope you understand.”
“I understand.”
|
Wick enters the upscale fundraiser and sees Bruce Wayne across the room. He stops a circulating caterer and asks for a glass of bourbon. Pointing to Mr. Wayne, John asks the elegantly coiffed, white-jacketed attendant to bring him the same, and let him know who had sent it.
The waiter disappears into the kitchen through the wide double-hinged doors, John glances at the bustling activity within, noting the layout during the half second it takes for them to swing shut.
A few minutes later the waiter emerges with a silver tray, laden with two crystal tumblers, each a quarter full with a dark amber liquid. As he makes his way towards John, the light from the ornate chandelier overhead makes the faceted crystal seem to come alive as rays bouncing through bourbon spot the man's white jacket with a kaleidoscope of dull yellow and light brown reflections.
John calmly lifts one of the tumblers from the tray, swirling it gently, savoring the unique aroma for a heartbeat before he tastes the drink.
"Is this acceptable sir?" asks the waiter, conscious of his responsibility to know and choose the absolute finest for this wealthy, unforgiving crowd.
"Yeah."
John looks over at Bruce, tilting his head ever so slightly towards the billionaire.
Understanding at once, the waiter says, "very good, sir." and sets off across the room.
He reaches Mr. Wayne, who looks bored, surrounded by paunchy balding men in ten-thousand dollar tuxedos and beautiful women in even more expensive attire.
Bruce accepts the glass and takes a sip. A flash of recognition ripples ephemeral across his face as the liquid touches his tongue. The waiter says something, inaudible to Bruce as he stares ruefully into his glass. Snapping out of it he thanks the waiter who motions toward the other side of the room.
Bruce's eyes meet John's gaze, who gives a slight nod.
Politely extricating himself from the social parasites orbiting him like hungry satellites caught in the gravity well of a merciless star, he calmly walks through the sea of abject social climbers and the idle wealthy coming to a stop face to face with John Wick.
"Bruce." John says in his laconic deadpan.
"Hello John," Bruce says. "How long has it been, Four years?"
"Five."
"I'm sorry to hear about your wife John."
"Thanks."
"I told you to call me if you ever needed anything."
"I know, it just happened too fast."
"Still, my condolences. She was a special woman."
"Yeah."
"So, are you working again John?"
"No, just sorting some things out."
"Does this have anything to do with that marker?" asked Bruce, obviously knowing John would understand to which he was referring.
"Yeah."
"So that's why he's here. He never comes to these things in person." said Bruce, glancing toward the other side of the room.
Standing by the chocolate fountain wearing a black-hemmed suit jacket with no necktie stood a tall, muscular man with long red hair and a neatly trimmed red beard surrounded by taller more muscular men in charcoal suits with neckties of various somber colors and a single earpiece, their coiled wires disappearing behind their collars.
"You're here for me then."
"Afraid so."
Bruce took a deep breath, letting it out with a sigh. Their eyes met for a moment, which was all the time either needed to understand exactly what would happen next.
They toasted, raised their glasses and drained them. Pausing for a moment, each with an empty glass and standing like coiled springs.
In the blink of an eye John drew his gun, raising it towards Bruce's face. In the same blink Bruce caught his hand and the two appeared to struggle, as Bruce pushed the muzzle straight up. John fired three shots into the air and five more as the gun arced towards the floor, shards of glass from the chandelier rained down on them, two bullets struck an expensive painting of a dog hanging on the wall on the near side of the room and the rest went into the antique wood floor.
Screams and panic filled the ballroom as the terrified wealthy scrambled and shoved one another out of the way, fleeing the danger of the two men grappling in the middle of the room. Only the red haired man and his six bodyguards remained to watch the fight.
Bruce knocked the gun from John's hand and grabbed his sleeve, turning his hips to throw John off his feet. John used the momentum, diving forward and rolling, he caught one of Bruce's legs and swept him to the floor. Both on the ground now they struggled for position while the red haired man motioned his bodyguards towards the fight.
Bruce gained the top position and began raining blows on John's face and ribs which he blocked with his forearms. Both men kept note of the approaching guards. Bruce broke through John's defense and punched him hard across the face, grabbing his shirt with his other hand and pulling him up.
"Who sent you!" Bruce shouted.
John spit blood.
Bruce raised his hand to strike again but suddenly rolled to the side as John pulled a small gun from his ankle and instantly headshotted four of the guards.
John and Bruce both knew what to do next. Before the two remaining guards could draw their weapons Bruce was on top of them, keeping them busy in hand to hand combat.
John staggered to his feet as the man with the red hair startled and dashed towards the kitchen.
Shaking the cobwebs from his head, John sprinted after him. Bursting through the swinging doors he saw no one but could hear someone hiding behind the island.
"Luthor!" John screamed.
Shooting wildly over the counter, John had no trouble diving away from the bullets. He closed the distance, vaulting over the counter to land atop Luthor, who was scrambling to reach something he could use to defend himself but John kept him from reaching anything.
John reached for the gun in the holster under his arm only to remember it had been knocked away by Bruce.
While reaching for the gun John's hand felt something hard in his inside jacket pocket.
Holding Luthor's arms together over his head by the wrists with his left hand, John pulled a sharpened No. 2 from his pocket, raised his right hand and brought it down, fatally stabbing Luthor in the neck with a fooken pen-seal.
Walking back into the empty ballroom, gore covered pencil clutched in his hand, he saw Bruce standing over the two unconscious men.
"Is it finished?" asked Bruce.
"Yeah."
"You'd better get out of here. They're going to come for you."
"Of course."
John turns to leave and as he is about to exit the ballroom Bruce calls out.
"Good to see you again, John."
John nods.
"Goodnight, Bruce." And he slips out into the dark.
| 2018-03-13T23:18:49 | 2018-03-13T22:44:09 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] You are a test subject for a time machine, and are sent 12 hours into the future. When the door opens, you find yourself in the testing room, where you see in horror the bodies of the technicians on the floor, with the word "SORRY" scrawled in large letters on the wall.
|
"What the FUCK!" the scream of horror that broke from my lips echoed from the walls of the lab. The bodies of six attendants lay scattered in pieces about the room, blood pouring from haphazard wounds. As my brain struggled to accept what I was seeing, I took a shaky breath and leaned out of the machine. Raising my eyes from the bloody scene I spotted the message on the wall, scrawled in blood.
>"SORRY"
"Oh fuck, what the fuck," I whispered to myself as terror clawed through my body. "Ok, what do I do?"
I couldn't just sit in the machine and wait for help to come. Whatever had torn the lab attendants apart might still be nearby working its way through the laboratory and leaving a path of destruction in its wake. I had to get out, and I had to get help.
I took a deep breath to steady myself, and I ran.
I slowed my pace through the corridor as the soft sound of crying reached my ears. It seemed to be coming from a room ahead of me on the left side. The crying was quiet and low, more mournful than fearful, and I wondered if the person crying knew about the lab technicians. As I reached the door, I pushed it open slightly and peered inside.
A young woman, dressed in a technician's coat, sat on the floor with her back resting against a row of cabinets. Her eyes closed, she breathed slowly - in and out, in and out. She pressed her hand to her side, and even through the crack in the door I could see the blood sliding over it. She was wounded.
Without thinking, I pushed open the door and moved towards her to offer help. It was only when I crouched down next to her that I realized she wasn't the one crying. As the woman looked up at me and opened her mouth to speak, I heard a soft sniffling from across the room. "I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry..."
The creature was, in a word, otherworldly. It didn't seem to have a physical form. As my eyes tried to capture it, its shape shifted and twisted, a myriad of color and shapes, everything and nothing all at once. Initially it was small, no larger than a golden retriever, but as I stared I could have sworn that it swelled to fill half of the room, all the while maintaining its current size.
"What is that?" I whispered to the woman on the floor.
"I think it's you," she wheezed, "or a version of you."
"...What do you mean?" I asked, my eyes never leaving the shapeshifter.
"We sent you through the door. Within seconds, that came out. We were fascinated; it was disoriented. We tried to communicate with it but it was panicking, screaming, crying, saying your name over and over again. 'It's me, it's August!' And worst of all, if someone got near it... oh god. They're all dead." She gasped, in pain or in horror, and a tear slid down her cheek. "I don't think it meant to. But if someone came into contact with any of the... you see it, right? The appendages, the translucent stuff. After a millisecond it would become solid... everyone was in a panic. We thought we had killed you or somehow mutated you. I was manning the video camera, so I stayed back. After... everyone was dead, it started to cry. I think. That sound its making. It was so human. It wept and screamed, and as I watched it wrote that message on the wall. Did you see it? 'SORRY.' It didn't notice me until after it had written it... I tried to run, but it followed, apologizing, asking me questions. It accidentally cut me trying to get past me. To block my path, I think."
"It was an accident, I don't know how to stop, I don't know. Please help me. Please, it's August," the shapeshifter pleaded.
"August, what are we going to do?" the technician asked through gritted teeth.
I paused, and looked back down to her. "My name isn't August."
She stared up at me, confusion overtaking her face. "What do you mean, 'your name isn't August?'"
I shook my head. "My name isn't August. I don't know who you are. And..." I looked down at my hands. "This isn't my body."
|
--**Classified**: Abyssal-2 Clearance or higher required--
**Item ID**: 001-4
**Safety protocol**: Type 4; non-interactive, highly-reactive, non-hostile, cognizance-manipulator
As per Type 4 standards, this item is not to be used without express permission from Deep Council. It is to be stored at the center point of a circular security locker with a floor diameter of at least 20 meters in facility -/*classified*/- with other inanimate objects with low interaction ratings. Other items may be stored with this item. Three security guards of rank Abyssal-2 or higher are to be assigned to this item at all times.
***SAFETY UPDATE***: As of incident 001-4G (Test log details are available to personnel ranked Abyssal-4 or higher), Security assigned to this item, and other items in proximity to this one, are to be fitted with active azurite halos as a precaution against mid level cognizance-manipulators and to improve response time. These guards are to be rotated out at two-hour intervals, due to the mental stress caused by wearing azurite halos.
Persons affected by 001-4-1 (see activation notes for more detail) are to be treated as hostile and lethal force is authorized in containing them. When the item is in its "activated" state facility -/*classified*/- is to be treated as an active Monsoon class event, and any persons not following Monsoon protocol are to be treated as casualties of 001-4-1. No person has yet recovered from 001-4-1, despite extensive therapy, cognizance-reformation, and memory-alteration, and once affected these persons become a danger to themselves at others. To reiterate, lethal force is authorized and encouraged to prevent the spread of casualties, and to reduce the suffering of those under the effects of 001-4-1.
**Interaction limits**: As per Type 4 standards, this item is not to be touched, approached, or looked except in emergency situations. Even in emergency situations, no staff with a rank below Abyssal-1 is to interact with this item. Personnel not wearing an azurite halo or stronger cognizance protection are prohibited from interaction with this item. All testing or interaction with this item must be approved by at least two Deep Council members.
**ADDITIONAL LIMITATIONS**: This item is to be kept in its "off" state pending a vote with the full Deep Council present. Until a majority vote declares otherwise, this item is considered too dangerous to be used. In the event of a Dark-Rise scenario, personnel of clearance Abyssal-4 or higher may use this item as per -/*classified*/- guidelines.
**Description**: Item# 001-4 is a a vehicle matching the appearance of a Honda Avancier with the front end and wheel assembly removed. The interior matches the make and model as well, with two exceptions. The steering wheel has been replaced with a set of three joystick controllers, each with a button on the top and four on the side, corresponding with the finger positions of a left-handed grip; and the dash display has been replaced with a dot-matrix screen from an Iron Maiden pinball machine.
This item stays in its "off" state except when a human is seated in the driver's seat, and turns the ignition from "lock" to "on". Attempting to turn the ignition from the passenger seat has no effect. Sitting in the driver seat when the ignition is set to "on" has no effect. The act of turning the ignition must be carried out by a person sitting specifically in the driver seat to set the item to its "on" state.
Once "on" the dot matrix display will show the current -/*classified*/-, -/*classified*/-, year, month, day, hour, minute, second, and tenth of a second. The number will constantly update, and has been shown to account for time zone, daylight savings time, and -/*classified*/- effects. This leads us to believe the item at some level responds to -/*classified*/- effects, despite being non-interactive.
Below the fist set of numbers is a second set that corresponds to the time the item was set to its "on" state. The second number can be controlled with the joystick furthest to the driver's left. The trigger corresponding to the pointer finger will move to the next temporal measurement, the middle finger trigger will move to the previous temporal measurement, the ring trigger will reset the number to zero, and the pinkie trigger will reset the number to the current time's value. Holding the pinkie trigger will result in a constant update. Pressing the joystick up or down will cause the selected value to increase or decrease respectively, and with a rate of change corresponding to pressure on the joystick. Pressing the thumb button on top of the leftmost stick will activate the device. See "Activation Notes" below for a full description of the firing sequence.
The second joy stick controls the passage of time inside the vehicle. This stick functions in the same way as the first, however there is no visible display for the use of this stick, and it is not recommended for use during testing after incident 001-4C. (Test log details are available to personnel ranked Abyssal-4 or higher.) The purpose of the thumb button on this stick is not known at this time.
The third stick's function is not known at this time. Testing of this stick's function is prohibited after incident 001-4B. (Test log details are available to personnel ranked Abyssal-4 or higher.). Due to the hazardous nature of -/*classified*/- resulting from incident 001-4B, and the resulting damage to facility -/*classified*/-, further testing of this joystick must pass a majority vote from Deep Council.
**Activation Notes**: When the thumb button on the leftmost joystick is pressed, this item turns from the "on" state to the "active" state. This state lasts approximately 30 seconds.
During the first five (5) seconds of activation, the skin of all persons in the item appears to melt. Anyone looking at the item during this time will be unable to look away for the remainder of the process, and are to be considered casualties of 001-4's cognizance-manipulating effects, hereafter referred to as 001-4-1.
During the next fifteen (15) seconds, the remainder of the bodies inside of the item will appear to catch fire and burn completely away. Anyone affected by 001-4-1 will hear the anguished cries of those inside the item, and will feel responsible for their perceived suffering. Anyone who looks at the item, and anyone who looks at a person under the effects of 001-4-1 at this time will also come under the effects of 001-4-1. ***SEE REVISION*** This has the potential to set off a chain-reaction, as seen in incident 001-4D (Test log details are available to personnel ranked Abyssal-4 or higher).
During the last ten (10) seconds of activation the item will seem to fade from existence, and attempts to interact with it at this time support the theory that the item becomes incorporeal during this time. During this time, anyone who makes physical contact with someone suffering the effects of 001-4-1 will also come under its effects as seen in incident 001-4D, ***SEE REVISION*** though it has been noted that the visual effects of 001-4-1 are no longer in effect at this point. After the sequence is complete the item will have completely vanished.
Persons affected by 001-4-1 will display rapidly escalating signs of remorse, paranoia, depression, and self-loathing. Approximately 65% of those affected will attempt suicide within ninety (90) minutes of becoming afflicted. Approximately 20% will become despondent, laying on the ground and refusing to move until they expire from sleep deprivation or dehydration. Persons put on life support will eventually regain the will to move, but will only use it to attempt suicide or to attack those around them. The remaining 15% will become increasingly violent until they are killed, or kill themselves.
***REVISION***: As of incident 001-4G (Test log details are available to personnel ranked Abyssal-4 or higher), Azurite halos have been proven as sufficient protection against the second and third stages of this item's activation sequence. As of yet, no protective gear has been positively tested against the first part of the sequence. The added benefit of enhanced mental and physical response speeds have proven azurite halos to be invaluable in preventing the spread of 001-4-1 during its contagious state, and are to be worn by guards assigned to this item.
To date, no person has recovered from the effects of 001-4-1. Even when shown that the person(s) they believe they killed are in full health they refuse to accept it as reality, and continue their self-destructive actions.
Current test results all support the theory that the item sends itself and all its occupants unharmed to the second time listed on the dot-matrix display. The item will arrive in the same location relative to the latitude and longitudinal coordinates it left from. Objects and creatures placed in that location will be moved out of the way, and will be unharmed and unfazed by this movement as seen in incident 001-4A (Test log details are available to personnel ranked Abyssal-4 or higher). Structures erected in that location will either be moved, or "rebuilt" (see incident 001-4A) in a structurally safe way to allow the item's return.
_____
**EDITS** Spelling and clarity edits.
| 2018-08-01T07:13:02 | 2018-08-01T06:25:05 | 1,585 | 11 |
[WP] You turn your Match Distance on tinder to "Anywhere". To your surprise you get a match that is 10^93 light years away. Thinking it was a joke you turn it off. 20 minutes later you turn it back on and it says they are 10^5 light years away and getting closer.
|
Curious, Derek hit the "like" button and sent a message:
"Hey, so, this is pretty crazy but Tinder says you're in another solar system!"
After a brief pause, Derek's phone buzzed and a reply appeared:
"How tall are you?"
Derek deleted the app from his phone and lived a happy and prosperous life.
|
Javed was manning Mission Control that day. He had clocked in as usual at around 7:30 AM, gotten a cup of coffee from the pantry, and had settled in for eight hours of watching live data from the various Tinder servers spread across the globe.
Tinder lived and died by metrics. They measured everything - uptime, clock time vs users logged in stats, gender vs log in time. Anything you could think of was tracked.
99.99% of Javed's job was automated. Data got captured, logged, sliced and diced a myriad ways without handholding.
His team only got involved when the live streams showed a purple blip. And so far today, no purple blips. He didn't really expect to see any either. His devs had been eliminating typical causes of purple blips all year now and today, the Friday before Christmas, he probably wasn't going to see any.
Purple blips were most often caused by incorrect assumptions about the expected data. For example, data scientists had presumed lunch hour near tech office parks on the I-5 corridor was would be a quiet time for swipers. So, when the number of swipers in their first study region - a circle half-mile in radius from Exit 14 on I-5 - was more than two standard deviations away from the expected number, purple blips galore.
Javed grew restless as the morning wore on. The office was near empty due to Christmas. He missed the usual hubbub of pool playing, casual flirting, and gossiping that passed for work at Tinder on most days. He whipped out his phone to eat his own dog food. His approach to dating was quantity over quality. Unless the girl was really unattractive, he would swipe right. His first match was, to be charitable, not attractive. Eager to move on to the next match, Javed swiped left but the photo didn't budge. He swiped left again. The photo didn't so much as flicker. He tried again, slower this time, carefully trying to catch a clean, smudge free area of his phone screen. Nothing.
This was getting annoying.
He looked again at the picture. The app told him this woman was 2000+ miles away. He was sure his distance filters were set to exclude everyone outside a 25 mile radius. He'd be damned if he was going to drive to the sticks to hook up with anyone. This was surely a bug but his screens showed no purple blips. Weird.
He tapped on the photo of the girl. That seemed to work. "What do we have here?" Javed muttered to himself. The girl looked much nicer than her cover photo in certain pictures. In her profile was a cryptic collection of letters and numbers - * BJNY86I2^BJNY86I2.
Now this was getting even more mystifying. He scrolled through more pictures of her. The last one seemed to be a silhouette of her torso filled with stars. An arrow pointing to one star in particular.
Excited, Javed turned to his laptop. He typed in BJNY86I2 into the search bar and out popped a NASA picture of a recently discovered galaxy at the very edge of what humans could see with current technology.
The galaxy about 10^46 light years away and thousands of light years across. He moved his phone closer to the screen, tilted it a bit and immediately saw that this girl's silhouette lined up perfectly with NASA's rendering of the galaxy.
Now, he was getting excited to meet this girl, 2000+ miles be damned. It wasn't often that Tinder showed you girls with the latest NASA images in their profile. He swiped right. A little frisson of excitement went through him when it was a match! Now matched, he could see that her name was Sarah.
He noticed that the profile had changed. It now said CY23GP4. And her silhouette picture was also different. Once again Javed googled that cryptic string. It was a galaxy around 100,000 light years away. This was getting exciting. This girl was a space geek.
Idly, he wondered why he wasn't able to swipe left and why he was matched with someone so far outside his preferred area but the prospect of talking to a space nerd with a cute body and obvious smarts quashed his worries.
Bzzzzt! His phone buzzed in his hand as a message from Sarah came in. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" Her silhouette picture was the moon. The profile proudly said the same thing - MOON!
Javed wasn't sure what she meant, "Invite you in? To what? It all seems very vampire-y to await an invitation." He threw in a few emojis to let her know he was joking. She replied with a pout but her main profile picture had become a little more steamy. He could definitely see a hint of cleavage.
For a second, he wondered if everyone else around him was seeing Sarah in their matches. He casually IM-ed Judith asking her if she saw anything interesting on her Tinder. She did, she said as she bounded over to his desk to show him. Judith's last few tinder dates had been a bust though she seemed super excited about this new girl she wanted to show Javed. A quick glance told him that Judith was also talking to Sarah but Judith hadn't noticed anything untoward about Sarah's profile.
Judith had even asked her over for lunch at the gourmet office cafeteria.
Bzzzzt! His phone buzzed again, "Cya at lunch." And slowly, his entire phone turned a familiar shade of purple.
| 2016-12-23T08:45:31 | 2016-12-23T08:11:36 | 31 | 23 |
[WP] A seemingly bottomless pit was found, for which the depth can't be determined. Over time, scores of people began using it to illegally dump trash. Many have jumped in to die, while others jumped believing that they'll find life's answers within it. Today, we learn the truth about the hole.
|
"Aye, you've heard about the devil's asshole right?"
It was more of a rhetorical question. At this point, everybody had.
A few years back, Bridgeport Connecticut experienced a minor tremor from a minor earthquake. No one thought much of it at the time, save for Mr. Hoolihan whose backyard now sported a three foot wide hole.
A carpenter by trade, Mr. Hoolihan was a real "do it yourself" kind of guy. He went out to his backyard to measure the hole that had appeared. Even with his arm fully outstretched, the yardstick he brought wouldn't even touch the bottom. He tossed a rock into the chasm but no sound echoed back.
What's interesting is that the story almost ended there. After trying to fill the hole in and bringing several landscaping teams in to inspect it, they guessed that it was some old mine shaft. They put a few two by fours over it and that was meant to be that.
Mr. Hoolihan couldn't stand it though. Something about that hole being there really gnawed at him, and when his wife was asleep, he'd go out into the backyard, move the boards, and shovel dirt in, hoping to hear it hit the bottom.
This continued for about a year, until one night when Mr. Hoolihan used an excavator his neighbor had rented to fix the landscaping damages from the quake. People aren't sure exactly what happened, but at around three, Hoolihan, the excavator, his house, and his still sleeping wife, all plummeted into the hole after it opened up to swallow his property.
After that, the site was known as "Hoolihan's hole" or the "hell hole" and most sensible folks avoided it. Those who weren't sensible saw an opportunity.
Dumping of all sorts began to enter the chasm, as shady corporations, the mafia and people too stingy to buy a permit poured waste, trash, dead bodies, and, at one point, an truck full of millions of dollars after a failed bank heist.
After that last one, the police caught on and set up a perimeter around the hole as scientists were brought in to answer questions.
"Where does the hole end?"
"Does it even end at all?"
Now if people had been paying attention to local Chinese news, they would have seen the headline: "American man and wife emerge from mysterious hole outside
Shennongjia."
|
Looks like I got a little carried away with this prompt so I have to break it up into two pieces.
Piece 1)
The discovery of The Hole was an accident. Researchers at Mount St. Helens had quite literally stumbled upon it during an investigation of reported seismic activity at mountain’s base in the midsummer of 2000. A small crack had appeared in the middle of the forest at the start of the activity, unbeknownst to anyone or anything save the squirrel that had fallen out of its nest and scurried away when a sudden crack of the earth beneath it rang out in the air. It continued to go unnoticed for a week – maybe two – until it had lengthened into a sizable fissure that one of the scientists caught his toe in, stumbled, and fell face first into the ground after leaving his tent to relieve himself at 3:57 AM. It was quite the rude awakening, considering his nose was broken in the fall. And that is how The Hole later got its name, Tripp’s Awakening. Dr. Nathaniel Tripp not only broke his nose that night, but he also made one of the most perplexing discoveries in human history. So it only seemed fair that it be named after him too.
Soon after Dr. Tripp discovered the fissure, it became apparent that the ground beneath was becoming quite fragile. With each shudder and shake recorded at the base of the volcano, the earthen crust appeared to become thinner and thinner. The fissure spiderwebbed out. And soon, a small hole appeared in the center. Then it grew, quicker and quicker, until it was approximately 50 meters in diameter. At this point, seismic activity dipped and the investigative interests of the assembled team turned to determining what The Hole was and how deep it went.
It quickly became a popular site for daredevils, the suicidal, and tourists. Kids threw rocks into Tripp’s Awakening, waiting to hear it clatter to the ground. But it never did. Climbers repelled into its mouth, trying to see the bottom, anything. They always ran out of climbing rope before getting anywhere near the bottom, which resulted in a long climb out of The Hole. Scientists traveled from across the globe to run a milieu of tests, but they always came up with inconclusive results. Tripp’s Awakening was not giving up its secrets easily. Over time, the interest waned. The leading theories either wrote it off as an extraordinarily deep natural well or the remnants of some cave system that was in place millions of years before.
None of the answers were satisfactory for Em Whipple, who had first heard about Tripp’s Awakening when she was 10. Now, 18 years later, she stood gazing deep into The Hole. She could feel her heart beating in her throat, muscles tensing, hair whipping against her face in the wind. She had trained herself for this for the past 18 years. The discovery of The Hole had sparked a fascination in the formation of rocks, tectonic plates, seismology. She began writing to Dr. Tripp as a small child. They quickly grew close through correspondence and Em often thought of him as a father figure in her life. She attended the University of Washington, where Dr. Tripp taught and researched. She worked in his lab all throughout her undergraduate and PhD program, learned how to boulder and climb, and grew stronger in both her physical and mental capacities. Her dream, since the midsummer day in 2000 had been to get to the bottom of The Hole.
Today was the first day that a substantial effort was being made to understand Tripp’s Awakening. Beside Em stood a large spool with several kilometers of cable wound tightly around it. Across The Hole was another large spool. Both had lines that she would attach to her harness when it was time to descend.
News crews were set up around the perimeter of The Hole, along with a crowd of onlookers. Em gave them a small smile and wave before strapping on the last of her climbing equipment. Their chatter and cheers echoed dimly in The Hole below. She turned to face Dr. Nathaniel Tripp, who was sitting in a camp chair with a cluster of other scientists at his back. They were fine tuning the equipment and making their tents cozy for the long wait. She spotted Arlene handing out thermos after thermos of coffee with splashes of creamer that looked more like whiskey than creamer at this point. There was an electric buzz in the air as the crossroads of mystery and discovery quickly approached.
The furthest human descent at this point was 15 km, which had only taken a few hours to get down, and several days to get out. She would be the first to get to the bottom, or, at the very least, lay claim to the furthest descent in Tripp’s Awakening. She looked over at Dr. Tripp, smiling anxiously.
Dr. Tripp, sensing she was nervous, stood and approached her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and smiled. “Dr. Whipple,” he said, “you’re a rock-star.” They both smiled at the exchange.
The team came to wish her well with hugs and a quick sip of spiked coffee. Em said a few words for the news crews and the crowds, and then began the descent. The walls were steep, but had many grooves and notches in which Em could take a rest. She imagined the creak of the large spools above as both dispensed cable in a smooth deluge. Every now and then, the long-distance radio at her hip crackled to update her on how far she had gone.
It wasn’t long before it became quite dark. Em snapped on her headlamp and paused, looking around the large expanse of The Hole. She checked to make sure the camera was working so the team could watch her progress. There were deep crags and grooves on the opposite surface. It was cool and quiet, smelling faintly of damp earth. It was peaceful. She thought she spied a tunnel opening, but upon further descent, she discovered it was just a shallow shelf. As she continued to descend further, she discovered that there were several shallow shelves along the walls. There had been evidence of this from the previous climber’s descent and also from some of the investigative studies performed on Tripp’s Awakening, so she expected it. What she didn’t expect were the piles of candy wrappers, styrofoam cups, and other garbage that some of the shelves were harboring.
“A damn shame,” she said with a shake of her head.
The radio crackled, “Congratulations Em! You’ve made it 15.1 km! You’ve gone deeper than anyone else before!” The voice signed off with a chuckle, which Em recognized the joyful sound as Arlene’s.
She smiled and continued to descend. Occasionally she stopped to collect samples of sediment, being careful to label the distance, date, and time of collection. At one time, she stopped to relieve herself, feeling a bit guilty about the whole process.
The sheer wonder of her with task filled her with such awe that she hardly noticed the time ticking by. It wasn’t until the radio began talking on her hip, reminding her to rest, that she saw she had been climbing for close to eight hours. She swung the beam of the head lamp around and began looking for a shelf. Spying one, she dropped down further and shimmied to it. This shelf was a little larger than the others she had spotted. Em was grateful for this because it meant that she could spread out in a sleeping bag instead of employing the alternative sleeping strategy, which involved anchoring a post in the wall and attaching a hammock like structure to special points on the climbing cable so she could hang suspended in the hole. While she enjoyed a good hammock nap like any other outdoor enthusiast, there was something unsettling about hanging above a bottomless pit.
| 2022-06-02T19:21:41 | 2018-01-13T09:15:29 | 4,551 | 26 |
[WP] You're a ghost, but you died dressed as a bedsheet ghost so no one really takes you seriously.
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When the knife sinks into my heart, I wake up in bed next to James. For a moment, I think it's a Groundhog Day situation and I'm being gifted with a do-over. This time I'll notice his crazy ex stalking me into the parking lot. This time I'll fight back before she stabs me with the same knife she used to carve "SLUT" into my car last week.
But when I sit up, I realize I'm wearing a white bedsheet over my body like a costume. And when I try to touch James, my hand passes right through him.
I'm already dead.
I try to tell James the truth, but every attempt is met with amusement or misunderstanding. "Yeah, Alice, I'm dead tired too," he says, glancing at my bedsheet. "You're wearing a costume already? Halloween is over a week away." His face breaks into a sudden grin. "But that's what I love about you."
When James leans over to kiss me, I find myself dodging away, quick like the ghost that I am. If he doesn't believe I'm dead yet, I don't want to be the one to break it to him. Maybe I'm being selfish, but who wants to see their loved ones in pain? Maybe he's being selfish too.
James pauses and stares at me, his brow furrowing slightly. But then any sign of confusion vanishes from his eyes and he shakes his head, amused. "I know you hate being unemployed, but I wish I had the savings to quit my job and stay here with you. We could do all the things we've wanted, you know? Spend all day together. Explore the world."
Things aren't any better out there in the city. Kids love my supposed costume, while adults roll their eyes at it. I'm threatened with arrest for disturbing the peace. I can't even find my body anywhere in the parking lot; it's likely at the bottom of the river somewhere. No one believes I'm dead, and I can't do anything about it. I've become insubstantial.
I've become nothing.
When James gets off work, I return to our apartment building with tears staining my face. But the front door is already open and he's standing on the threshold, talking to someone in the hallway. His ex. She's holding the knife covered in my blood, presenting it to him face up on her palms, like an offering to a higher power.
"We can be together now," she says huskily. "This knife is inscribed with a blessing. You can't really see the words because of all the blood, but I'll tell you what they say. *Death will set things right again.*"
"What the hell are you talking about?" He's shaking his head. "I'm with Alice. You know that."
I take a step forward with my heart pounding, but she barely glances in my direction. She doesn't know it's me under the bedsheet.
"Can you move along, please?" she snaps, annoyed. "We're trying to have a moment here. You don't know what I had to sell for this."
But I'm looking at James with all the pain and desperation I've felt today in my expression. And I can see the exact moment he realizes what's going on. His muscles tense with anger as his eyes flicker back and forth between me and the knife. *Alice is dead*, he's thinking. *That knife killed her.* And then he takes a step forward and leans down to his ex, as if he's about to kiss her.
Behind her back, his hand reaches out to me.
This time I let our bodies pass through each other, confirming what he suspects. All I want is for someone to finally understand that I'm a ghost.
But instead of kissing his ex, James places his lips close her ear and whispers, "I never loved you. You might as well kill me too."
She doesn't even hesitate. Before anyone can react, she screams in rage and stabs him in the heart with the knife. I start to call for help as James jerks back and falls to the floor, his blood joining mine on the inscribed blade. But then someone walks up beside me and takes my hand.
Another ghost wearing a bedsheet.
"So I guess that knife works after all," James says, grinning at me. "Want to explore the world?"
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Halloween was really the best time of the year, most people point to christmas as being better, but lets face it, as a kid you get candy, as a college student, you get slutty nurses, and as an adult you get scaring the crap out of little kids. This is the only holiday that changes as you change, it grows up as you grow up, which makes it a very special time. For me, Halloween had grown up a lot, I was in my final year of college, about to get a PHD, and so the partying years had passed me by, and it was starting it's shift from, lets party as hard as we can, to let's enjoy a great time out with friends.
This Halloween, well three days before because halloween took place on a weekday this year, my girlfriend Sasha and I were attending a "Spookiest of Spooks" Halloween party, where the goal was to take something that was supposed to be scary, and turn it into a laugh instead. One of the things that I really loved about Sasha was her dedication to crafts, and so she came up with a great idea of being a dead pirate, except her peg leg was a stilt. She spent the entire month of october learning to walk on the stilts and the result was a commercially hilarious representation of a scary concept. I on the other hand, as an engineer, had no creative talent and so I went as a bedsheet ghost.
The party was a great success, we hung out with our friends, laughed at each others costumes, and I even got pretty good at responding to all questions in a "spooky ghost voice" and now we were walking back home, being responsible adults who don't drive. This is the part that we hadn't really accounted for, because Sasha was a little bit tipsy, and was struggling to stay upright on the stilts as we walked along. I recommended that she take them off to make it easier, and she reluctantly conceded, but it turns out that getting them off was significantly harder than just keeping them on. She didn't have the balance to properly dismount, and nothing to really hold on to, and after many failed attempts to get her down, we decided that I would stand behind her and we would do a trust fall to get her down.
I'm standing behind her, partially in the street so I have enough distance to catch her, still wearing my bedsheet, (It was chilly, okay) and she counts backwards. "Three" She calls, and I widen my stance and hold my arms out to catch her. "Two" she says, and she bends her knees while I pull up on the sleeves of the bedsheet a bit for more mobility. "One" she says, as a car careens around the corner, sliding as it tries to take the turn far too fast, most likely a drunk driver. My head turns to look at the sudden arrival of the car as Sasha begins to fall backwards. The next ten seconds take place across ten minutes in my mind, adrenaline pushing everything to its maximum. The car had finished it's slide and was bearing directly at us at an alarming rate, and if I had more time my engineer brain would have calculated how fast it was going, but all that I had time to do was assess the situation. Sasha landed in my arms, pushing me slightly off balance, and I knew that I would not have time to gain my balance and get out of the way of the car. As the final seconds ticked by, I made the only logical move that came to my mind. With all of my strength, and some extra adrenaline boost, I shoved Sasha off of me, sending her safely onto the curb. The last thing that I saw was the bright white light of the headlights as the car as it filled my entire vision, and then darkness.
Speaking of Halloween, you know how in scary movies, people will wake up in the morgue after being drugged? I got to experience that first hand, I'm not even sure how long had passed, but time had definitely passed. I was standing in complete darkness, well standing wasn't a good description, as I didn't feel my body anymore, so I guess I was just floating in darkness. There were two lights in the distance that rapidly approached, one of the an over-empowering bright golden light, and the other a soft-mellow light, like the interior of an office. I found that I instinctively knew how to move, and so I had to make a choice about which light to approach. I still remembered the bright white light of the headlight, and so I chose the dimmer light and floated into it. The light enveloped me and started to warm me up, and slowly I began to feel more and more parts of my body. First my torso, then my arms and legs, and then each of my fingers and toes, and finally my hair. The warmth did not stop through, and it transitioned into hot, and then slowly into burning. I was burning so much now, my entire body on fire, and my only thought as I burned was, "Did the car kill me? Am I in hell now?"
I think I passed out from the pain of the burn, because when I woke up I was in a morgue. It was obvious that's where I was, it wasn't exactly the same as it is in the movies, but it was really close, and it smelled awful down here. I was laying on a gurney, and I purchased myself out off of the gurney and stretched my body. Despite still feeling the lingering sensation of burning, none of me hurt, which was surprising, did the car actually miss me? As I looked around and stretched, I realized that I was still wearing the bedsheet over my body. I hadn't noticed it before, because it was no longer impeding my vision, and I couldn't notice the weight of it on my skin. I decided that I should pull it off of me, but as I grabbed the sheet and pulled, it just moved and stayed on, no matter how long I tugged on it. I was still frantically trying to pull the bedsheet off of me, when someone came into the room.
He dropped his clipboard as he saw me struggling to pull the bedsheet off, and then he laughed and bent to pick it up and said, "Haha, very funny Tim." I stopped struggling to pull the bedsheet off, and instead focused on finding the answers to what was going on, and opened my mouth to ask, "Who are you and where am I?" but the burning must have messed up my throat a little bit, because all that came out was "WhooOOOoooOO" The guy shook his head and turned to a corpse that was sitting on a table, and I cleared my throat and tried again. Clearing my through definitely helped, and this time I got out, "WHOooOOoOOOoOO." maybe helped was a subjective term. The guy didn't even look over his shoulder as he said, "Why don't you go and harass Mark instead?" I wasn't really sure how to communicate with this guy, and so I decided that I should go and find water first, maybe that would help me talk again.
I leave the mogue and climb up some steps and burst out into a much brighter and lively police precinct. There are a few cops milling around chatting, some people filling some paperwork, and YES. A water fountain tucked away in the corner. I half sprint, half run, not even noticing that my steps didn't make my body bounce anymore, and reached the water fountain. Another guy was standing in front of it, about to take a drink but paused while he talked to his friend. I stood there for a minute, but my throat was burning, didn't this guy have any clue how thirsty I was? I cleared my throat and tried to ask him to move, and instead I just said, "WhOOOOoOOoooo" At least I was making progress and the noises sounded different each time, but I really needed that drink of water. The guy looked up from talking with his friend and say, "Haha. Is that you Tim?" I shake my head but all it really does is make the bedsheet kinda billow back and forth ominously, I wish I had that trick last night. The guy turns to his partner and says, "Come on, let's go someplace less annoying" and as he walks by he tries to bump shoulder with me but misses.
Finally I am at the water fountain, but the I remembered that I couldn't get the bedsheet off me, and I struggle a few more times to remove it, before giving up and deciding that I would get the sheet wet and suck the water out of the sheet. I bend down to press the button on the water fountain, but I miss the water fountain entirely. I focus hard and move my hand down to press the button this time, and it passes right through the fountain. Was this a prank? Some kind of fake fountain, but as I look around nobody seems to be waiting or caring, they are all involved in their own worlds. I go to lean against the wall, but my hand passes straight through it. I'm starting to panic a little bit, and I look around at the precinct filled with cops and try to shout for help. "WhhOOOOoooOO" is the only thing that comes out of my mouth, and only one or two people glance in my direction. I charge at someone and try and grab them, but just pass right on through, and I scream for someone to help. "whoooOOooOO" is the only thing that escapes my lips.
*****
You can always catch more of my writing on /r/iruleatants
| 2018-10-19T11:45:51 | 2018-10-19T09:50:12 | 42 | 12 |
[WP] Instead of jail time, crime is punished by the erasure of memories. Depending on severity, the criminal may lose days, weeks, or even decades. No matter how long a span of time, the lost memories always include the entirety of the crime itself.
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You fucked up.
You took 30 years of my life, in essence, by erasing those memories and *still you fucked up*. Because you *missed* a few spots. I don't know what rookie memorymancer the Bureau employed for my case, but whoever it was, they deserve to get fired.
Look, if you take decades of someone's life for a crime they did, that's fine. I accept that. I don't know what I did, but I accept my punishment. But if you miss a spot here and there? It drives you mad. It is so, *so* much worse than not having memory because of the relapses, the hallucinations, the nightmares. I see it, in my dreams, the torn pieces of what I have done. The blood on my hands, the piles of money I know not from where they came, the... the...
Well. Let's not dwell on the details.
Not too long ago I witnessed an accident. Biker got hit by a car. Seeing the biker on the road, bloody and broken, it... reminded me. Like a blast from the past, I felt myself again, for just a moment.
I'm sick of not knowing what's real. I'm tired of not getting a good night's sleep. I can only take a bitter pleasure from the irony of what you've forced me to do to gain the slightest semblance of peace.
*Everything*.
I will steal. I will destroy. I will *kill*. I will rain chaos down on this place. I will do anything and everything until I know what feels familiar and then I'll be able to know what it is exactly I've done. I already know just how familiar the weight of a knife feels, how used I seem to be to holding a gun. Just know this.
You've brought this on yourself.
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Remy took his time scraping the moldy parts of his bread, carefully so that he could salvage as much bread as he could.
Sitting on the cold concrete floor of the small jail cell, he shared the room with ten other prisoners. Waiting for what, none of them knew as those who were taken away simply never returned to tell the tale.
The men were silent as it was hard enough to breathe within the minimal space, speaking would only got them in more trouble. All they did was wait....wait and wait.
For what, it couldn't have been worse than the inhumane condition....right?
Heavy steps approached nearer and the men in the whole cell block perked up. Their hearts beat faster in anxiety, half wishing they did not come for them, half wishing to be taken away, away from that misery.
"Prisoner 6978003", the cold voice called out as they stood before Remy's jail cell.
His heart dropped. As he slowly looked down to the left side chest pocket of his uniform, his eyes were followed by the other nine men, looking at the fading number.
There was no sound exchanged, but their looks were enough. Remy looked up to the sympathetic faces of his fellow prisoners.
Remy was afraid, as he was part of the half that did not wish to be picked.
"Prisoner 6978003. On your feet. It's time", said the voice coldly.
Slowly Remy stood on his weakened legs. Gently handing what remained of his bread to the man beside him, he stepped away, completely resigned of his fate...
***
Remy was taken through the seemingly endless tunnels. To where he could not tell, but slowly he finally realized that they were going up, higher and higher.
"Inside", ordered the guard who fetched Remy from his cell.
Trembling terribly, Remy stepped all by himself into the room as the huge door slammed behind him.
It was completely dark, but as he wqs used to it spending god knows how long inside the dungeon, Remy easily spotted a figure standing at the other end of the room.
"Welcome, prisoner. State your name to the god", said the commanding voice coming out from the figure.
"I...who...", Remy spoke up though the unfamiliar croaking voice coming out from his throat surprised even himself.
All of the sudden, a great blinding light emanated from behind the figure, illuminating the room, almost blinding Remy as he reflexively covered his eyes.
"State your name, prisoner", demanded the voice once more.
In fright, Remy obeyed. "R-Remy Alexander Richards"
Remy's eyes finally got used to the light. What he witnessed left him in awe.
A machine of overwhelming size stood before Remy. Flashes of light like fireflies, sound of clicking like buzzing bees coming from it. A super computer running an endless calculation eternally.
"Remy Alexander Richards. You are here today to confess your sin before god-- the god of the new world", the man standing on the foot of the giant machine declared.
He was dressed in a strange garb-- purple cloak draped his being. Like a priest of old, he stood as the voice of judgment.
"Wh-what...?", in confusion Remy remarked. "What...sin...?"
"You, Remy Alexander Richards! Are you or are you not guilty? Here, standing before The Basilisk! Before its eyes in which lies could never be told! Do you confess your sin?"
Remy became even more confused. What was the Basilisk, he thought.
"I...I have no idea what you're talking about", Remy replied.
Seemingly frustrated, the priest stomped his way towards Remy. Demandingly, he went up to Remy face to face.
"Are you, Remy Alexander Richards, guilty of not insuring the existence of our god, The Basilisk? Were you in your life up until now ever rejected the idea that The Basilisk must never exist?"
Remy was flustered. Shaking his head, he finally let out an outburst.
"I...I have no idea what you're talking about! I don't even know what The Basilisks even is!"
The priest raised his eyebrows, as if shocked.
"You've never heard of Roko's Basilisk?", he asked sounding genuinely surprised.
"N-no!", Remy asked.
"So...you've never heard of it? And you've never in your life tried to work against its conception?", continued the priest.
"No!", Remy answered with certainty. "I've never heard of it! I've never tried to work against it!"
"Have you ever tried to work to ensure its existence?", asked the priest.
"No!", answered Remy again.
To his shock, a smile was apparent on the priest's face.
The machine roared suddenly much to Remy's shock. Its blinking lights became even faster and the noise became a low humming.
"Thank you, Remy Alexander Richards. The Basilisk has received your answers. And now, prepare for your punishment", said the priest as he walked back to the machine.
"What? I...I don't understand", Remy said.
"Well, you see Remy Alexander Richards...The Basilisk simply demands one thing from us, and one thing only....to make sure it came to existence. Those who did not help...are simply deemed, unwanted"
"Bu-but...I...", Remy stuttered, frustrated. "I didn't even know what it was!"
The priest shook his head.
"To know but not help is a sin..."
The sound amd light became more intense, frightening Remy as he was overwhelmed by it.
"To not know is a blasphemy..."
Remy's heart beat faster as if it was about to burst out from his chest.
"Blasphemy begets cleansing..."
Remy noticed on the screen mounted above in the middle of the giant machine, a pair of reptilian eyes. Bloodshot red they were, the eyes of the new world god
"Your punishment-- a lifetime of unknowing begets a lifetime of forgetting", echoed the priest's voice.
The bloodshot red eyes flashed bright, enveloping Remy. Its neurological effect bombarded Remy's brain, re-wiring it, resetring it completely.
As the light subsided, Remy was silent, kneeling on the floor.
"And to know...", the priest continued as he walked towards Remy. "...is a blessing"
The priest offered his hand towards Remy and he accepted it.
"Arise, Remy Alexander Richards. The Basilisk has given you...a new beginning"
Remy stood. His face was blank as he looked around. Quickly his gaze fell on the giant machine when an unsettlingly joyous smile came about his face.
"I am blessed-- for The Basilisk has been with me...forever"
r/HangryWritey
| 2022-06-07T00:56:02 | 2022-06-07T00:27:03 | 130 | 33 |
[WP] All individuals receive the memories and knowledge of one of their randomly selected ancestors on their 21st birthday. Yesterday was your 21st birthday.
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Six months of genealogy research after my 21st birthday, I thought I had found the answer. I took my Spring Break to travel to a small cemetery outside of Boston. There in the graveyard is the headstone. "Lisa Jefferson. Born July 23, 1813 - Died June 14, 1828."
She was only 15. I snapped a photo with my phone and then sat down on the grass to think.
In 21st century America, it was almost inconceivable to think of her life being so short. She died less than 48 hours after childbirth, a daughter who would be my great^7 grandmother.
The memories I gained on my birthday were relatively insignificant in terms of their value. Some gained great insights, entire PhD's or historical information treasured by academics. It made them rich.
My friends thought I was strange to start going through history books the day after my 21st birthday. I was told, "You didn't win the lottery, just go on with your life." But I couldn't.
While I may not have benefited from her intelligence or education or experiences, from the moment I gained her memories, I felt enriched having known her.
She grew up with two sisters and a brother near Boston. Her grandfather was a farmer who fought in the Revolution. Her father and mother had moved to the city to open up a small store. Her entire family lived in the two rooms in back.
She had married young to a 19 year old businessman who would later found one of Boston's more famous law firms. I found one of his books describing the tragedy of losing his young wife. I'm not too embarrassed to say I cried as I read the passage, knowing how much they loved each other.
I did move on with my life. At 27, on my third date with a young woman, she asked me about the memories I had inherited. I told her the entire story, including how I spent six months of my life searching for her burial spot.
She then shared how her memories came from a farmer in the 18th century who lived a quite life until the age of 35 and then died. She said she learned nothing other than ancient agricultural techniques, but she had spent a year tracking down the farm so she could walk the same land he walked.
That's how I knew I would marry her.
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There's a game online called Geo-Guessr. You get dropped somewhere in the Google-Map-world and have to find clues to figure out where you are. I was warned my memory would be like that when I woke up this morning and, sure enough, it is.
I'm still in my bed. Memories are flooding my brain and I can't get them sorted. There are flashes of women, men, and cities I've never seen. A dilapidated old cotton mansion that looks like it's either in Georgia or a movie about the Deep South. The inside of a prison. A VERY large prison guard. Handcuffs, fuzzy and cold steel, both. Woodstock, maybe?
*This sucks.* Taking a deep breath, I sit up and look around my room. It's still mine, I still recognize everything. At least my life isn't wiped out by this flood of mostly useless information. But, I'm curious. What else will I know? And, frankly, who the hell do these memories belong to? Everyone knows it's coming, so everyone does their level best to find out everything they can about their entire lineage. It only makes sense to be as ready as you can be. I thought I was ready for this, but *man*, it's tough to have all these images and sounds flashing through my mind.
I get dressed and head downstairs. Now 21, still in university (I was doing a BSc in Engineering - wonder if I'll still want to do that?), still living at home. My mom has breakfast ready and her and Dad are sitting at the table, along with my two younger sisters. Everyone is watching me. Not sure what they expect, exactly, but maybe I look different, too?
I pass a mirror on the stairs and give myself a quick glance - nope, still me.
"So, honey?" My mom asks, without really asking anything. Y'know - how moms do?
"Well," I start in, "It's *really* weird. I have no idea who any of these people in my head are."
"Yeah," says Dad. "It takes a while to get it sorted. I'ts far easier once you know who the stuff in your head belongs to."
"I guess that's the thing, right? Who is in my head with me?" *Man, this is weird.*
I begin to relate some of the memories, leaving the explicit ones alone. Everyone knows that's part of the deal, but no one talks about it. For all you know you'd be staring at your great-grandfather's dick. There is no gender requirement - I could have woken up with my grandma's ability to sew and can vegetables or a distant cousin's ability to be a whore and make money off it. At this point, at least I'm fairly convinced that my memories are that of a man in my lineage somewhere.
"I was sort of hoping for sword fighting or metallurgy or something cool. All I see so far is prisons, some old house that looks to be an Old South mansion, random cities, and not much in the way of abilities. It all looks to be not-that-long-ago type memories. Some people get Dukes and Kings in their heads. I get someone from 20 years ago."
My mom slowly turns to look at me with a look that is part dread and part curiousity. "Tell me about the house."
I explain it to her - old, wrap-around porch, surrounded by fields on all sides, broken down pick up in the front yard.
"Can you see anyone there?" she asks, more dread than curiousity this time.
"Why are you being weird, Mom? Do you know who this is in my head?"
My mom asks my sisters to leave. Dad gets up to go and she snaps, "Sit down!"
He plops down, as disinterested appearing as one could possibly be, given how my mom is acting. Mom repeats her questions. "Can you see anyone?"
I close my eyes and think. Trying to remember something you've never seen before is hard work.
"Yeah, there is someone there. Obviously I have no idea who she is."
"Describe her."
"Mom. this is weird. What's the deal?"
"Describe. Her. To. Me." *Okay, she's serious.*
"Skinny, gaunt even. Smiling, but missing teeth. Brown eyes. Would have been pretty if she had eaten more." As I'm describing her to my mom, I realize that she is my mother. Not my mom, but the person inside my head's mother. "Mom, it's my...mom. Not you, but..."
"I know." She cuts me off and turns to my dad. "Fuck." My mom NEVER swears.
"What in the world mom? What is going on? Who is in my head?"
My dad has been silent the entire time. His face reddens and he sinks into his chair. I start to shake. My hands tremble, my heart races, my chest is tight.
"WHO IS THIS?!" I yell.
My mom turns to look at me, tears welling in her huge blue eyes. "Your memories are from your father."
I turn to look at my dad. "What is she talking about - that's not your mom in my head, and I sure as hell hope I don't have memories of you and mom doing...stuff running through my head!"
My dad looks like he wants to die. My memory flashes and I see my mom, not the person in my head's mother, but my mom. She's walking down her high school hallway. She turns and looks at me in my memory, and smiles.
"Mom? I just had a memory of you in high school flash into my head. You *liked* this guy?" Incredulous is putting it mildly.
"Son, please sit back down." It is my dad's voice. It is eerily calm. I hadn't even realized I was standing.
My mom is crying, my dad is as steady as I've ever seen him, and I am absolutely freaking out. My sisters, who were supposed to leave, are sitting at the top of the stairs, eyes wide and totally silent. I sit back down and wait.
One minute.
Two minutes.
"Who. Am. I?"
"You see, son," It's my dad's voice, but it conflicts with the voice I am hearing attached to the memories in my head. It doesn't feel like my dad's voice at all. "There is no way to know whose memories you would get. It could have been anyone. There was only one we hoped it wouldn't be. It is rare to get the memories and knowledge of someone so close in age, but it does happen." He paused, and I hear my mom choke on a sob.
"I'm sorry, honey. I'm so sorry." She is openly weeping now and my dad looks like he wants to crawl in a hole.
I am now 21. I thought I knew everything about everything. Arrogant as only a young adult can be. I now realize that the life I thought I had was a lie. *How could they not tell me the man I called Dad for years wasn't* actually *my dad?*
"I would ask you to tell me about him...but I already know more than you, don't I?" Secrets are hard to keep in a world where things like memories being planted in your skull happen.
My mom nods and collapses into a chair, her body wracked with sobs. My dad puts his hand on my shoulder.
"We still love you. *I* still love you, son."
*Son*.
| 2014-10-16T14:56:32 | 2014-10-16T14:51:24 | 33 | 14 |
[WP] Everyone has powers locked within them. Each power is different, and the longer it takes for a power to manifest, the greater it is. A 100 year old man is being hunted by the government for still being powerless.
EDIT: Thanks for all the replies everyone, I had fun reading all of them.
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I've known about my power since I was 8.
Early bloomers don't do well these days. No one knows when it started but it started here, in Los Angeles, and spread throughout the world. Some powers were benign; talking to squirrels, manipulating telescopes, etc. But even the most subtle, unassuming power can have devastating consequences.
The old world, the world of my grandparents, was a safe place. Our governments were strong, our neighbors were friendly. And it was safe because every way we knew for a lunatic to abuse the system was more or less handled. In their daily lives, people forgot there was a government. People didn't need to worry about protecting themselves.
But power is like a drug; it only takes a little bit to get you hooked. It's not instantaneous, but it's damn fast. At first you notice it all around you -- something's odd, something's off, something's not right. It almost feels like you're being watched. And then you begin to realize that you do have a power, and for however long as you like you're the only one to ever know about it. And that's a remarkable feeling.
People who never imagined themselves as great, as destroyers and conquerors, whose powers could not be predicted and could not be safeguarded against, tore the old world down. They were unremarkable folk, ordinary people who'd pull the trigger if you put a gun in their hand. If you could see radio waves, you could intercept classified information. If you could manipulate electronics remotely, you could hack a bank. If you could talk to animals, you could kill any pet owner.
And today we have rubble. Los Angeles was one of the greatest cities in the world.
I was an early bloomer, and I didn't even recognize it at first, but being early it was 'weak.' I simply knew where my family was at all times, then my friends, and my neighbors....one day I realized that I knew where someone was from a brief description. Maybe I could see their picture, or hear their name, recall a memory. Eventually I could just imagine them, I could imagine where they were and there they, without fail, always were.
No one was impressed with my power. It was a disappointment I was so early, so weak. My family didn't try to hide it -- "Are you sure, Davy? Are you really sure? You have a great imagination Davy, you're just imagining it." I won no awards at the Power Olympics in our cooperative, my name was even misspelled on my participation medal. I garnered no attention, I was not respected, and I was not loved.
So I left. I would see what the world's become, what power's truly worth. Three years on the trail, today, I heard word of a sort of world record. A man, 100 years of age, remains powerless and unaccounted for. He will be the most powerful weapon in the history of mankind if his power develops before his death. What remains of the old world governments, and the saplings of some new ones, is on the hunt for the most important man in history since Jesus Christ.
And I know exactly where he is.
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I walked into the old apartment, gun in hand, staring intently through the airborne dust unmasked from the faint light entering from the window. It was quiet, but I could hear shifting in the dining room.
"Alright Mr. Whitaker, the goose chase is over.....goose.... goose chase?" I said to myself, wondering if I was saying the term correctly.
"I think the term you are looking for is wild...... goose chase." a voice whispered, exposing it's owner's location, the dining room.
My target was sitting patiently, without any sense of fear. I slowly walked to the chair across from him, sat down, and began my interrogation.
"Well well, Mr. Whitaker. I don't know how you've managed to evade government officials for as long as you did, as old as you are, but I found you. A man as methodical as you sure leaves traces around like breadcrumbs. It's almost as if you WANTED me to find you." I said, a faint smirk emerging from my visage. This wasn't a triumph of mine finding him, this man led me to him. He was incredibly smart, a think tank of sorts. I didn't know what his power was, so I had to be careful, but given the circumstance, I might be past that point already.
"That's kind of on the nose young man, but such is the way of the youth. Fine.....fine. I did lead you here, as you are new in your field. You haven't been bought, your mind not yet corrupted. There were other candidates, but you were the sole person to figure our all the clues I left, so you weren't chosen, but guided." he answered, without a glimpse of happiness in his eyes.
"Well I'm guessing it has to do with your power, some kind of weapon I assume. If you think the government will use you like collateral or-" I started, but he interrupted, with a dominant nature.
"-I am not a weapon.... no. It would make more sense to say that I am the period, at the end of a sentence.".
I looked around. His house was chalk full of books, all way beyond my comprehension. Scientific laws, books on algorithms, and enough history books to drown in. This guy reads, a lot. I didn't quite get his metaphor though.
"A period, at the end of a sentence. What like, an end to a means? Can your power stop time?" I asked, putting my gun on the table, on the fence between bringing the man in like I was ordered, and hearing him out like my gut's been telling me.
"You could say that, stop time." he said, me mistaking it for his sense of humor, but he didn't show a sign that he was being sarcastic. He continued.
"If existence was one never ending sentence, I would be the period. Every single person's powers in the government's list, all 165,000, are trivial compared to mine. The government worries that people will alter reality, generate global destruction, or control the will of others, but all of them, ALL of the powers the government have found, are nothing compared to mine, because my power, is the only power that truly matters, the only action a person can take, that the entire universe will be affected by, the power to erase it entirely."
I leaned back in my chair, scared shit-less, but within reason. If what he said is true, then he posed only a potential risk. If he wanted to use his power, he'd have used it by now. There would be no point in leading me here if his goal was to destroy everything in existence. A man with a power like that wouldn't be one to waste time.
After pondering, I responded "So..... why all this? Why hide from the government, feigning to be powerless yet somehow knowing what it was? I don't think anyone could use you as leverage, considering it would defeat the purpose." I chuckled, half from my own joke, and from understanding that his 'stop time' comment was an attempt at humor.
Then it hit me, I understood. For him to have knowledge of his power, yet the government claiming he was powerless, made no sense.
"...... the government activates people's powers to know what they are, don't they." I said, realizing the point of his sleight of hand.
"Correct, either that or the power is revealed if detected. The subject in question of course has to be tagged first, as I was. It acts like a beacon when a person's power is activated. My problem was the government didn't believe me when I told them my power. Everyone KNOWS their power, because they see a vision of how their power works before it manifests. I saw the entire universe, at least what my limited eyes could see, all condense into a single point, too small to see, and then I woke up. that was almost 75 years ago. I told this to the doctors, they laughed. When I was tagged, I told the scientists. They didn't believe me, and wanted to activate my power to see if I was just lying, if my power was something I could profit off of. To be fair, it would make sense. Claim your power would be catastrophic if activated, just to use it to your whim, at least once. Once they map you, they would know... so I was stuck. I had to leave my family, and run on foot for the rest of my natural born life. It's been, a very long time since I've sat down and talked to someone.... sorry I went off on a tangent. The point of you being here, is to believe my words." the old man said with a smile. I guess there was a bit of happiness left inside.
"Is this the part where you ask me to kill you? I mean you could of did that a long time ago Mr Whitaker." I said, returning his smile back with another. It was a rhetorical question though, I knew what he wanted.
"You could say that." he laughed under his breath. "I would think it be the safest route."
"Ok Mr Whitaker, I'll go 'kill you', as far as the governments concerned, but since I'm on the subject of Armageddon powers, are there any others that need to die?"
Mr Whitaker gazed at me, amazed by my intellect.
"Why yes, just one. Remy Whitaker." he said, looking towards a picture of him and what looked like his granddaughter.
"Huh, so you are related. They just brought her in this morning. I wondered if there was a coincidence in name." I uttered, wondering just how sinister the higher ranking officials I worked for maneuvered.
"My granddaughter yes, from she told her mother, and then her mother told me, she seems to have the power to locate any person alive, as long as she's seen an image of their face. I assume she will be a slave to your office once her power is activated. You don't have a lot of time either. It also goes without saying, that if you go back to change my status, yet your superiors don't believe you and use my granddaughter to locate me, you will be 'compromised' instantly." he spoke with a serious tone.
"You mean dead." I said, trying not to look excited by my new task.
"You could-" he started to say, but stopped and smiled.
I got up, heading towards the door, "Alright Mr. Whitaker, I guess I have work to do. Thank you for not giving into temptation for all these years, I will do this as a token of my appreciation, and to not be a part of ending all of existence. Goodbye."
I left his apartment, still dazed by all the information I just picked up. Not too long after I got a call from my assistant.
"How'd it go boss?" she questioned, not use to calling ME instead of me calling her after a mission.
"I have something to look into, but just to check; did his marker finally show up on the radar?" I asked, trying to see if I had been manipulated.
"Um no, are you saying you found him sir?" she asked.
"Yes, dead. I will be back in the office within an hour, please update me with any reports from central." I responded with a smile.
Now, all I had to do is find (and save) little 'Miss' Whitaker.
| 2015-10-26T11:01:55 | 2015-10-26T10:33:27 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] To get in Heaven, you have to confront the person who you hurt the most. You were expecting an ex, your parents/relatives, or a friend. You didn't expect to see yourself.
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"Oh shit, not you. I've had enough of your self-hating bullshit," you say as you see yourself sitting across the table.
"I know, right?" he replies, "You'd figure the one reprieve you'd get from your own misery was up here, but guess what, God throws you yet another curveball."
"What a cocksucker," you mumble under your breath, before realizing where you are. "I DIDN'T MEAN THAT!"
"Yes you did. You can't lie to me. Sit down, we got some shit to settle."
You pull up a chair across from yourself, soaking in the surreal image, realizing it's not a mirror image and you look a bit differently than you thought.
He folds his hands and leans in. "Look, I know this is fucking weird. Let's get this over with so we can move on, right?
"Agreed," you reply.
"First off, I have a bit of a different perspective from up here, and I've gotta let you know that the deck has been stacked against you from the beginning. Childhood fucking sucked. Our folks did the best they could but shit, meds were probably in order for both of them."
"You got that right," you chime in.
"So let's look at this with some perspective. You had shit thrown at you in every stage of life. One thing after another. You were tempted with booze, drugs, and debauchery, but came to your senses pretty quick."
"Yeah, that didn't seem right."
"So you made the correct choice to withdraw and clear your head. You cut loose the anchors holding you back, and you moved forward. I know you've always meant well, stayed polite, and did the best you could in almost every situation."
"I did my best."
"Yeah. That's why you're here. Out of all of the adversity you faced, you never once used others to advance your own interests, you looked out for those less fortunate, and always tried to make the world a better place."
"I like to think that I did."
"You did. So stop being a sad sack, you miserable piece of shit."
"Heh. Fine. So, what's next?"
"You're in heaven, motherfucker, what do you think?"
"I get to eat ice cream again?"
"Right this way."
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Patricia stepped through the door and burst into laughter, the back of her hand pressed against her nostrils and her breath coming out in irregular snorts, doubling over in high-pitched hiccups of laughter. The other woman - the person behind the curtain, the other Patricia - smiled uncertainly and chuckled a little back, swaying back and forth on her heels. "This is-" Patricia got out, her breathing coming in wheezes, "this is bullshit. This is - this is the most ridiculous bullshit I've ever - Oh god." She braced her hands on her knees, expelling a gasp. "This is shit. This is - I'm not doing this. Oh god." She straightened up and pushed her hair back from her face. "I'm not playing this game. Send me to hell. Or whatever. I'm done here."
Saint Peter - at least she figured he was Saint Peter, beard and white robes and standing gatekeeper to heaven - stood impassive, his arms crossed, not letting her pass. "There are truths that must be faced," he intoned. "This is your judgement. There is no escaping it."
"This is bullshit!" she said, the last vestiges of hilarity leaking out of her like a balloon. God, that was her over there. That nervous, rodent-like smile of an ineffectual who never had anything useful to say. Even now, staying silent. That ragged haircut she'd taken to trimming herself, hacking off chunks of hair when she felt it was starting to weigh down on her. A face that went through the crude routine of lipstick and eyeshadow without even understanding the basics of aesthetics or beauty. Patricia could feel the bile rising in her throat just looking at her. "This isn't a goddamn game," she said. She was cursing so much all of a sudden. Well, one of the benefits of being dead. "You - I can't - This is narcissism. This is - this is emotional masturbation. I'm me! I'm myself! I'm a series of actions, I'm a fucking net drain on the world!" She jabbed her finger at her doppelganger. "That is not a person, that is not another person! You can't wrong yourself, you *are* yourself! Ugh!" She closed her fists in her hair, feeling the strands cut through her palms. She whirled around to face her double. "Well? What do you have to say?"
"Um," the other Patricia said, her voice dull and nasally. "Well, I don't - I don't know what's going on here any more than you do -"
"Oh god," said Patricia, grinding her palms into her ears. "Shut up shut up shut up. God. Do I sound like that? Jesus Christ." She shuddered. "That's awful. Don't make me - don't make me listen to my own voice. That's terrible. That's -" She rocked her head back and forth, trying to lodge the meat of her palms into her ear canals. "I can't do this. I can't do this! It's over. I failed. Fuck it. Let's go."
But Saint Peter was gone. And the door was gone with him. It was just Patricia and Patricia, in a room twenty feet square. "Oh no no no," said Patrica, feeling against the walls. "Oh fuck." She turned to face herself and started to laugh again, laughter fading into half-tuned sobs. "I failed it, didn't I? I got what I wanted." She pressed her back against the wall, slowly sinking down. "This is hell. This is hell, isn't it? That - yeah, that makes sense. You go to hell and the only thing left there is you get to spend an eternity with yourself." She stretched her fingers out along the curve of her skull, pressing down hard. "Oh god," she breathed. "I just wanted to not exist anymore. Was that so bad? Was that so impossible?" She looked up teary-eyed at herself, still standing there, like a moron.
Her other self shifted, cleared her throat. "Um, I think-" she started to say, and Patricia screamed "SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" jamming her hands into her ears again. "Don't fucking talk! Oh god, I hate you! I hate the sound of you!" Her other self startled back, and fell silent. The sound echoed, whispered, pattered through the room. "Let's be-" Patricia said, making her voice gentle, conciliatory. "Let's be quiet, okay? Let's live with ourselves." She closed her eyes. "Shh shh shh shh shh." Just the breath. Just the sound in the back of her throat. No voice. No need to make anyone else suffer.
*This is what everyone must go through*, she told herself, through the quiet, in her head. You can disappoint your parents, you can sucker people into a series of meaningless relationships because you're afraid to be alone. You can make people think they're your friend, you can get them to trust you, and then you can let them down. You can be a worthless waste of life who systematically makes things worse for all the normal happy people you come into contact with. But only you can hurt yourself like this. Only you can damn yourself to hell. Everyone walking through their door and finding themselves waiting for them. *What did normal people do*, Patricia wondered. Was it touching? Was it heartwarming? Did they learn to love themselves? Patricia tasted vomit in the back of her throat just thinking about it. She hoped they were happy. She hoped that heaven made sense for other people. She hoped that -
A shoe slammed into her face, busting open her lip, and she tasted blood and gravel, felt something scrape hard against her teeth, her jaw, the front of her skull. The back of her head was driven against the wall and she heard something crack. Her head collapsed against the floor, her mouth open and leaking, and a foot hit her in her stomach, in her kidneys. She realized she was screaming, a strangled squeaking sound coming through spit and blood. Her other self was screaming too, words this time, "Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!" Dimly, Patricia thought she didn't sound as bad when she was screaming.
"You piece of shit!" her other self said, dissolving into jagged sobs. "You treated me like shit our whole life!" Another kick in the gut. Patricia curled up instinctively, and the foot popped loose some of the buttons in her spine. She'd pissed herself. She was choking on something. "And even now you don't have the fucking decency to listen to me! To just-!" There was a weight on her. There were fingers clawing out her eyes. There were fingers around her throat. "I hate you!" It was a scream, it was a whine, it was a drawn-out sob squeaking at the back of her throat. "Hate you! I hate you!"
Patrica opened her eyes to see light fading into black, tried to breath and couldn't. *Thank god*, she thought, as the hands tightened around her throat, choking the life out of her. *Thank god, thank god, thank god. At least she gets to let it out*, was the last thought swirling through her mind. *At least I get what I deserve.*
| 2016-08-15T06:49:48 | 2016-08-15T05:08:42 | 132 | 20 |
[WP] In an alternate reality JK Rowling died writing The Deathly Hallows and requested George RR Martin finish the book. He accepted and takes over at the Battle of Hogwarts with no instruction on how it's supposed to end.
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George shifted in his chair, raised his hands over his head and stretched, letting out a grunt of satisfaction as his spine unlocked.
It was done. In the end, it had been a welcome distraction. The ominous pile of notes on White Walkers, dragons and incest glowered at him from the corner of the room. He knew he would have to return to it at some point, but for the time being he could bask in the glow of completion of at least one popular series.
Jo had left extensive notes, and to the most part he had kept to them. True, he had added a couple of crucial revenge scenes, and a smattering of sex, but there had only really been one major alteration. Even George R. R. Martin knew when too far was too far, and the note titled, ‘death of Fred Weasley’ had definitely been too far.
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Clippity clap, clippity clap. The sound of hooves clanked through Hermonie's head.
She mulled over her butterbeer, watching the floating instruments playing a rowdy ballad overhead. The Great Hall of Hogwarts was full of drunken laughter but she could not shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Harry should never have accepted this invitation, should never trusted Voldemort's offer of peace, nor returned to the school they loved that was currently under his control.
"Relax Hermione," Harry had said on the ride over, when they paused to rest along the stone tombs of Bath before their arrival that same morning. "The peace is done. Voldemort agreed to not intend, and instead sent Professor Snape to handle the peace agreement. Once it's signed all of our friends held hostage there will be safe, and the war will have a respite. No more people need to die."
Yet Hermione knew Harry was simply being foolish. Even under the protections of guest right she did not trust Voldemort's intentions, nor the lavish party he was throwing in celebration of the peace accord. She knew the type of man he was dealing with, by the countless house elves he had manning the party, running out trays of endless sweet cakes and juicy bits of exploding caviar.
"This is some party, aye Hermione?" Ron said, mouth stuffed full of food as he plucked the fleshy wing of a duck off one tray. Grease dripped down his chin and his smile was broad. Ron had been given a place of honor for the treaty at the head of the table, and she knew it favored his need for social approval.
"These elves are suffering under horrendous slavery, and they'll continue to under the terms of this peace accord," Hermione pointed out, but Ron just turned to grab a handful of jelly beans from the goblet of a green clad elf. She could not understand why she loved him at all.
Suddenly she heard a ruckus from the head of the table. The Slytherins began to cheer Harry wildly as he downed yet another pint of bitterbeer. Seated next to him Snape watched glumly. When the Slytherins picked up the drunken boy with the lightning scar and began to toss him in the air Hermione finally gave up. She left the table and walked over the Great Hall window, wistfully looking out in the cold night and wishing yet again that Dumbledore was still there to advise them.
It was she who had released the Wizard Slayer that night from tutoring her in potions when he killed their former leader, and the guilt from that had allowed her to relent on the peace accord. Even so she could not trust Snape's claim he was a double agent working against the Dark Lord. No one was that good at the Game of Legilimency... though her own skills had allowed her to hide the knowledge of Harry's twin brother, secreted away the same night Harry was and left with a distant relation in the cold north of Scotland. If anything should happen that night John Snow would be their last hope.
Above, the music changed. Hermione turned, a chill running up her spine. She knew this song. It was *The Face of Voldemort* by the bard John Williams. Behind her Snape stood and began to march out of the hall. Hermione walked over and slapped him. Snape looked down on her, a lumbering sneer across his lips. She moved to grab her wand, but he simply uttered "Expelliarmus," and her wand flew out of her hand.
Across the Great Hall was bloody chaos as the music reached its climax. The clippty clop sound of a dozen centaurs burst into the hall. Two of them slashed and tore Dean Thomas right in half before he could even lift a hand. Neville attempted to dual another, but was hit in the back by a killing curse but two young witches. Luna turned to flee but suddenly was knocked into the wall by one spell, while it took three Slytherins to take down a mad Hagrid, who smashed two with a table before the third lopped of the giants head.
At the head of the table Hermione turned to see a Ron, frozen with a stupid grin on his face and mouth stuffed with griffin eggs by a Immobulus charm, be scurried away. Hermione knew she had to act fast. She dove for her wand and reached it, then shot one curse after another at the Slytherins in a rush to reach Harry.
"Girl, stop," a voice commanded. She turned to see the dead eyes hollowed deep in the snake like face of Voldemort behind her. He had a drunk Harry in a headlock and the Dark Lord's wand pointed at his messy black hair matted to his face.
"Don't harm him or Ron!" Hermione screamed, grabbing Lucius Malfoy whom she had knocked over, thinking of anything she could offer to negotiate. "What you did here was a dark deed, even by the black arts you dabble in. You violated guest right, and peace accord you just signed by a blood oath. That is powerful magic, and it will be turned against you! Let the three of us go, and I vow we will leave England and never return to trouble you. I swear it by the Godric Gryffindor. Do it or I'll kill your young heir."
Voldemort shrugged. "I'll find another."
Right then a fat man entered the hall, with an odd fishermans cap and a great white beard covering the jowls of his chin. He reached into his suspenders as he marched across the Great Hall to the vulnerable Harry, then stabbed him right in the heart with his pen.**"The 2001 Hugo Awards send their regards,"** he said.
Hermione screamed and flicked her wrist to send a killing curse right into Malfoy's head. The clippity clop, clippity clop sound returned and she kept screaming, right as a curse hit her, erasing everything she had ever learned, from the day she was born to the woman she was today.
*Not my mind* she thought, a terrible final realization, *everyone loves my mind.*
| 2017-09-03T07:42:10 | 2017-09-03T07:18:13 | 491 | 289 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years.
|
"Excuse me sir, but this doesn't seem right? Are you sure you have the right results for me? This seems totally unwarranted." I said to the clerk who handed me my sentence papers.
"Sir, there are no mistakes here. Try this, it usually clears things up." he replied.
He handed me a blue flyer, like the kind they give you at a hospital, which answers the usual questions that they don’t have time to go over with every person who asks.
It read:
“Feeling cheated by your sentence?”
“Wondering how you could have possibly racked up that many sins in one lifetime?”
“Feeling like your perfectly average life couldn’t have possibly led to this?”
If you answered yes to one or more of these questions, this is for you. We often have newcomers ask similar questions and have found that the following self test can clear things up. If you still have questions after reading this, you can talk to one of our support staff.
Check all that apply:
1. I felt underappreciated during my lifetime
2. I often had to remind people why I deserved what I was clearly entitled to
3. People had a hard time recognizing my achievements
4. I rarely felt like I was among equals, often feeling like the smartest person in the room
5. Often felt like people were envious of me
6. I was almost always able to convince people to let me have my way
7. I found that I had to constantly make people understand that they were wrong
8. People often refused to see what I knew to be true
9. I sometimes had to use force to make people understand things that were for their own good
10. I often needed to remind people that I don’t settle or compromise
If you checked off five or more of the above, it is likely that you lived your life as a narcissist. You were unable to see the sins you were accumulating because you believed that you were not committing them at all.
Still confused? One of our support staff can help you by recounting your memories from the perspective of your friends or family. You can make an appointment at the front desk.”
|
Mark leaned onto the counter trying to get a better look at the demon's computer screen. "It's gotta be wrong! I didn't do anything that bad!"
The demon pushed her glasses up her nose. "It's never wrong. That's the number it figured out. That's the time you'll spend in hell. Next please!" She stamped a document.
Mark put his arms straight out. "No. I'm not done!"
"Come on buddy, some of us don't have to spend all eternity here.", blurted another soul in line. The demoness sneered up at him.
"I suppose I can get a technician to look at it. But it won't do you any good. It's never wrong." The demon thumbed through a pile of documents labeled "Time Severed". "Keezazakul, this gentleman would like a technician to verify the results of his sentence. Can you get someone from AkashikSoft over here to tell him what we already know?"
Instantly, a small blue demon appeared in a puff of smoke. The stench was terrible, and the souls in line began coughing and gagging. Mark's eyes began to water. He plugged his nose.
"Got a service request. What seems to be the issue?" The small blue demon scanned his clipboard.
The demoness at the desk gestured towards Mark. "This gentleman thinks his sentence calculation is incorrect and would like you to verify it."
Mark stood up straight and sputtered, "If it's not too much trouble, sir. It's just I didn't..."
The small blue demon leaned into the computer and started typing at an incredible velocity. "The software is never wrong, sir. The calculations performed are as infalible as, well, as Go...oh." He stopped talking and stared intently at the screen. "What's this?"
Mark leaned to see what the demon was looking at. His heart leaped with hope. "What is it? Did you find something?"
The demon frowned and tilted the monitor out of Mark's view. "Hmmmm. This isn't right. This isn't right at all."
Mark jumped and pointed at the demoness. "Hah! I told you!" She sneered and rolled her eyes to the computer. The little blue demon continued his analyzation of the software, while adding the occasional, "My my my", or "This can't be right at all." Finally, after what seemed like hours, to Mark at least, the blue demon stepped away from the computer, folded his arms and confidently declared, "It's screwed."
"Come again?", the demoness said.
"Yeah. There's some errant code in there that is totally messing with the counts. I don't know if some bad code got merged in or what, but we've gotta roll back."
Mark smiled and looked back and forth from the demoness to his new hero, the blue demon technician. "Yeah! Do that! Rollback!"
The demoness rolled her eyes. "How long will that take?"
Mark started to do a little dance.
"I dunno. We gotta get it signed off, the new code needs to be peer reviewed. A whole bunch of things have to happen first. We're looking at...6..maybe 7 years."
Mark stopped dancing. "Wait. Did you say years?"
"Hell years. Not Earth years." The blue demon tapped on a device that looked surprisingly like an iPhone.
"How long is that?", Mark asked.
"Approximately 1.57 Earth years. Except every 6th year. Then you add an additional 2 thirds." The blue demon added as he continued to text.
Mark's face contorted. "What? So what year are we on? How long is this gonna take? What am I supposed to do in the meantime?"
The demoness slapped a form and a pen onto the counter in front of Mark. "You'll need to make an official declaration of disagreement. Please fill out this form and return it to me when you're done. Please make sure to fill out both sides."
Mark reluctantly grabbed the pen and the form and started scanning over it. "Known allergies? What does that have to do with..."
The demoness interrupted him. "Next! Please, sir. You may take a seat over there."
Mark slowly walked across the room and found his way to a chair. "When was the last time you ate at Golden Corral?" He shook his head and attempted to scribble in the answer. The pen made one solid line and then sputtered out. "Goddamn it." Mark scribbled hard on the top of the page until ink started flowing again. "How many times have you argued with authority figures? Please be accurate to within a factor of 1. What?"
Mark started to write. "Neve" The pen burst. Ink was suddenly everywhere. "Oh! Come on!" Mark looked at his hands which were now covered in ink. The document was covered in ink. Everything within a short radius of Mark was now covered in ink.
"Excuse me." Mark said in the direction of the demoness. "Excuse me!" He said it louder. "Um, your pen exploded on me."
The demoness paused for a moment and looked at him over the top of her glasses. "Welcome to Hell, sir."
The small blue demon suddenly looked up from his texting. "Hold up! We don't have to redeploy. Gazul says all we have to do is restart the system and that should fix it."
"Oh thank God!" Mark sighed. Around the room, thirty or so demons hissed. He shrank into his chair.
"Ok. That should do it." The blue demon clicked on a few keys and then motioned to the demoness. "You'll need to log in again. I don't have your credentials."
The demoness clicked away at some keys and then pointed to Mark. "Sir, please come here. The system has been fixed."
"Hey! I was next!" the woman at the front of the line blurted.
"Shut-up!" the demoness yelled. She stretched a smile across her toothy face and turned towards Mark. "Now, let's see."
Mark rubbed his neck in nervousness. "I swear I wasn't that bad a of a person. I'm not even sure why I'm in Hell. I really thought that..."
"Do you want your corrected results, or not?" The demoness sneered.
"Uh. Yes. Uh. Yes please. Mam." Mark whispered to himself, "Please be less than five. Please be less than five."
"It's four..."
"YES!" Mark shot his hands up and fell to his knees. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"
"Hundred thousand, nine-hundred and seventy-six years. Hell years, of course."
Marks arms fell to his sides. His face lost all expression. "But...how?"
"Welcome to Hell, sir! NEXT!"
| 2018-09-26T08:05:05 | 2018-09-26T07:30:32 | 488 | 68 |
[WP] Write a story where the narrator becomes increasingly fed up with the holes in the plot.
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It’s a gift given to those worthy on the day of reckoning. A power so great and terrifying that it drives most insane. Those left in full control of their mental faculties often find themselves as hermits or monks, lost in introspective reversion. And for one Marabelle Sue, today was the day.
She looked in the mirror, realizing that her features were perfectly ordinary. Too ordinary. There wasn’t a freckle out of place. Her hair fell past her shoulders in just the right way to catch the light of the bright bathroom. But it was perfect—too perfect. She just woke up. She hadn’t showered yet, and in the hot Florida weather her golden curls should be a tangled amalgam of frills like Ms. Frizzle from the *Magic School Bus.*
Something horrible was happening.
And as she stared at herself, unwilling to paint the audience a vivid and unnecessary description, she saw it. A number over her forehead!
It started to float in midair, and she reached out to touch it. It smelled like rotting daffodils, a werid fruity aroma with a hint of spice and musk. It honestly would have been a decent aftershave—sort of a manly musk vibe.
“What the duck,” she muttered.
The number increased to “one” from “zero.”
“Duck?”
She looked horror stricken at the glass, waving her hand across the floating number that burned into her soul. She sniffled, and an in instant realized that she was the chosen one in a young adult novel.
Gasping for breath, eyes wide, she babbled on: “Hit! Bell! Muck! Featherplucker! Hunt!”
She slammed her fist on the counter in rage. “Why can’t I curse!”
*“This is a young adult novel, you can curse like—once or twice—maybe.”*
The number ticked forward. Two.
“Oh god, what’s happening to me? Who are you?”
*“I’m the voice inside your head. I’m the one who writes your dreams. I’m the one who watches when you sleep, and makes you wake every morning, and lets you laugh or cry. I’m the one who makes you human. I am the danger.”*
She splashed cool water on her face. It smarted and singed, drawing her into a new sense of awareness. And still the number—two. “What are the numbers?”
*“The number of times someone has broken the fourth wall,” the narrator said.*
Three.
“Oh god, what does it all mean?” she said.
*“You’re the chosen one. You have to save the world from an uprising dystopian future while falling in love for a reformed and misunderstood vagabond and also find your parents and also save the novel and this short story from being a total flop.”*
Four.
Marabelle walked towards the kitchen, grabbing a cool glass of milk. She wanted nothing more than to forget her newfound abilities, but something called her to action. “How can I save the story? It’s been like three hours since the prompt was originally posted!”
*“So?”*
“So—there’s more than four responses! Your story is going to get buried, no matter how hard you try! And this is just stupid. My name is literally ‘Mary Sue,’ this is dumber than the time my sister got caught by the police and I had to break her out of the government prison but, plot twist: my mother secretly ran the prison!”
*I click-clacked my keyboard furiously. This isn’t how I expected this story to go, not at all. It was supposed to be a nice satire then transition to an actual horror story because, honestly, that’s what those ‘number on the head’ stories are anyway. “So I should just give up?”*
She walked outside in her pajamas, squinting from the sunlight. Something had to be done, and there was only one way this would ever end. She needed a plot twist.
The mailman rolled up, carrying the Saturday morning newspaper. On his forehead—the infinity symbol.
“Hello Mary,” I said.
&#x200B;
***
I hate this story so much. r/BLT_WITH_RANCH
|
**full disclosure, this borrows pretty heavily from a particularly bad episode of ‘Gotham’ that I watched recently, I changed a number of details but if you’re a fan, maybe get up to date before reading because spoilers.**
The two men’s eyes were locked together, the battle for psychological supremacy beginning long before the inevitable physical contest.
On one side, stood Detective John Dempsey. A decorated cop who played by his own rules. Which were mostly the same as the rules of the police force because otherwise he’d have been suspended or maybe even fired. The benefits and pensions are really good for police officers, so John didn’t want to get fired.
Opposite him was Sabre Lagrange, a heartless and vicious mercenary, who John had served with in the military. They used to be friends but now they were enemies, which lent an air of tragic poignance to the battle, which wouldn’t have been there if they were just two random dudes.
They faced each other in the wreckage of a hospital which, to fully establish him as an evil maniac who we’ll be happy to see die at the end, Sabre was complicit in destroying, with hundreds of innocent people inside. Even worse, Sabre had kidnapped John’s ex-girlfriend and was holding her hostage in exchange for a microchip which proved his connection to the crime...wait, even worse? As in the kidnapping of this one woman is worse than the murder of...ok right never mind...
Behind Sabre, stood two heavily armed goons who we’ll call Merc #1 and Merc #2, because they aren’t really important except for as devices to keep the story moving at a few key points. You get the general idea I’m sure. They’re big, muscly, dressed in body armour, heavily armed, generic army guys. One of them is black maybe. Standing between them is a beautiful, statuesque brunette who we’ll just continue to call John’s ex-girlfriend.
“Let’s get this over with” spat John, his lip curling with disgust as he held up the microchip, snapping it effortlessly in half with his thick sturdy fingers. “There, I destroyed it. Now give me the girl.”
Sabre laughed humourlessly, his eyes still locked on his rival’s. “You really think I’m that dumb John?” he said. “You think I don’t know you made a copy?”
John didn’t waver. “Of course I did Sabre,” he said. “It’s called insurance. I’ll give it to you as soon as the girl is safe.”
Of course if you think about it that doesn’t really solve the problem at all, because there could always be more copies right? I mean why even bother bringing the microchip if you knew you’d have to hand over another copy of the data later? Anyway...
“Or maybe I should just kill you both right now.” said Sabre. He pulled his gun and aimed it straight at John’s chest. A menacing smile spread slowly across his face.
Hmm, still doesn’t really solve the problem of the copies...one also has to wonder why he didn’t just do that straight away if that was his plan, but I’m sure the reasons will become clear later.
John, stared Sabre down, raising has arms wide in a gesture of open defiance. “You really going to shoot an unarmed man Sabre?” he taunted. “I guess I shouldn’t have saved your life back in the war.”
“Still bragging about the time you pulled me out of that burning orphanage we had just bombed huh?” said Sabre, lowering his gun slightly. “Ok fine. Let’s do this your way; mano a mano.” He ejected the bullet from the chamber and pulled out the clip, letting them fall to the floor before tossing the gun after them. A slightly empty gesture, given the two heavily armed men standing just behind him, but whatever I guess.
He leapt at John, grabbing him tightly around the waist and wrestling him to the ground. John was ready for him though, driving an elbow into his back which caused Sabre to cry out in a combination of pain and fury. He twisted away, both of them scrambling to their feet before squaring off again.
This time John attacked first, a hard right cross crunching into Sabre’s jaw. Sabre fired back with a right of his own, to the body this time, which doubled John over, setting him up perfectly for a knee which Sabre drove viciously into his face a second later. John found himself on the ground for the second time in as many minutes but he wasn’t the type of man to stay down.
From where he lay he kicked Sabre’s legs from under him, jumping in top of him as he lost his balance and pinning his arms to his sides with his legs. John then began raining blow after brutal blow down onto his face. Sabre tried to struggle against the onslaught but John was in complete control, at least until one of Sabre’s goons grabbed him from behind, throwing him to the ground and delivering a few brutal kicks to his ribs with his hobnailed boots.
“That’s enough!” shouted Sabre once John had taken enough of a beating that he didn’t pose a threat anymore, “This is my fight!” John squirmed on the floor, spluttering in agony as he held his shattered ribs, a steady flow of blood oozing from between his lips.
“Too bad things had to work out this way John!” Sabre taunted, watching as John crawled slowly over to where he had thrown the gun at the beginning of the fight but somehow failing to see the potential for John to grab and use said gun. “Maybe you’re right, I do owe you for what you did. That’s why I’ll have my men kill your ex-girlfriend somewhere out of sight. No need for you to see that.”
Sabre nodded to Merc #1 who grabbed John’s ex-girlfriend, and began to lead her away. Sabre glared down at John as he walked past him squirming in the dirt, perhaps deciding that it was a greater punishment to leave him alive to grieve his ex-girlfriend. Who knows, he seems to have changed his mind about whether he wants him dead or not like 5 times in the last 15 minutes.
Meanwhile, John had finally managed to crawl over to the gun. He loaded the clip back into it, cocked it, and aimed it at the kidnappers. “Not so fast” he growled, deciding not to shoot Sabre, or Merc #1 who was about the kill his girlfriend, but Merc #2, who probably just wanted to get home to his family.
Merc #2 collapsed as Merc #1 returned fire, throwing John’s ex-girlfriend to the ground as he did so. She didn’t try to run or anything because that would have ruined the little finale that was being set up. She just kind of lay there and waited.
Of course all of the bullets fired at relatively close range from Merc #1’s machine gun missed John, as he dived behind some rubble. Satisfied that John had learned his lesson and wouldn’t be trying to shoot him anymore, Merc #1 picked up John’s ex-girlfriend, turned his back and led her off to be shot.
Slowly, cautiously, John edged out from behind the cover to rescue his ex-girlfriend. He was moving surprisingly well for someone who was clutching his broken ribs only a few moments ago. Are we blaming that on adrenaline? Wouldn’t he also have been hopped up on adrenaline during the fight though? Oh, ok fine, let’s just skim over that.
So yes, John was cautiously, stealthily tracking Merc #1 when....wait you can’t be serious. Is this right? Sabre just comes up behind him and hits him with a metal bar?! Seriously? How the fuck did Sabre get behind him?! Did John just forget that Sabre was there?!
Ok fine, so Sabre hits John with the bar and knocks him to the ground, but instead of just grabbing the gun, he decides to fight him again because that worked out so well for him last time. Punch, punch, kick, kick. probably some taunting.... This time, John punches Sabre and he stumbles backwards, impaling himself on a metal spike that was sticking out of a nearby wall.
...Now I’m not an expert. I don’t know how much force would be required to drive a piece of metal entirely through the body of a man who by the way was wearing Kevlar body armour, gotta factor that in, but I’m guessing it would take more than the force generated by a punch. Still, we don’t have time to do the maths because just as Sabre is grimacing his final grimace, we hear a gunshot ring out. A look of terror etched itself across John’s face. His ex-girlfriend!
He runs over to the source of the shot), did I mention who well he’s moving now?), but it’s not his girlfriend lying on the ground, it’s Merc #1. Yes, through some sequence of events which thank God I’m not going to have to narrate as if they are even vaguely plausible, John’s ex-girlfriend managed to get his gun away from him and shoot him, even though she’s only half his size, has no training, and has arms that looks like pipe cleaners. Girl Power!
John walks up to her and kisses her manfully, then they probably fuck right there in the middle of the rubble because why not? I don’t care. The end.
| 2019-02-16T07:23:21 | 2019-02-16T06:50:06 | 183 | 33 |
[WP] You have the power to teleport anywhere when you tap four times on any surface. The catch is that you can't decide where you go or know where you are going. What you do know is wherever you go someone needs you.
|
I had gotten used to it honestly. Whenever I felt trapped behind my desk I would tell a coworker that I needed to go to the roof for a smoke (to ensure that no one would follow) and I would tap.
And tap. Then tap. And tap.
I would wind up in the most bizarre places. Once it was in the zoo, where the new keeper was nervous about handling a cheetah.
Another time I helped a little old Hispanic woman in the mountains clean her house and get her groceries.
Yet this time, after the disgusted looks from Betty (as if she doesn't smoke), and the escape to the roof. After the pull in my gut, I found myself in a downtown apartment.
The view of the river was beautiful, the apartment well kept and spacious. The walls bare of any art.
I frowned, how was I supposed to help? Who was I supposed to help?
There were three doors to my right. The first was a closet, full of unused winter clothes. The second a bathroom, with only the necessities.
The third led to the bedroom. A young woman sat on the bed, staring out the window, holding an orange bottle in her hand.
She didn't look at me. "Are you an angel?"
"Maybe, why? What'd you take?"
The pills rattle as she holds them up. "Opioids. I have a tumor in my brain that's going to kill me. So I told the doctor that I wanted to do it myself."
I sat down on the bed next to her.
"Why did you call me here?"
She looks at me with glassy eyes, from the drugs or her tears I couldn't tell.
"I didn't want to be alone."
"Then you won't be."
|
I rushed towards the flames. The firefighters tried to stop me, but I expertly slipped their grasp and disappeared into the billowing smoke. They did not know what I knew. Someone was still inside.
Visibility was nonexistent as I hurried through the building, nearly tripping over scorched debris. It didn't phase me. I had done this many times before. I maneuvered across the splintered terrain with my thick work boots, tearing off a piece of my t-shirt as I went so I could protect my nose and mouth from the smoke.
It didn't take me long to find a flight of stairs to the second floor. I leapt up the steps with great caution, knowing full well that they might collapse under me. Once I reached the top, I knew I had found the right place. Before me was a massive hole in the floor and beneath it, fiery death.
It was clear to me now how the firefighters missed someone. None of them could cross this hole while weighed down by their gear. But I could. I took a deep breath, trying my best to stay low to the ground to not inhale smoke, and backed up to the stairs for my running start. I crouched, still holding the cloth to my face, and carefully counted the steps. Then I ran.
I took several quick strides before leaning into one powerful leap. As my feet left the ground, I shut my eyes and reached forward with my legs. It seemed like an eternity that I flew through the air. For a split second, I wondered if this would finally be my end. Then My feet hit the floor on the other side with great force, causing me to tumble a little before stopping on my back.
I quickly got up and shook off the beating. It seemed my crusade would continue. I actually felt a hint of disappointment at the thought, but this was not the time to dwell on it. Whoever I was looking for had to be close now. "Hello?!" I coughed. The smoke was already getting to my voice, straining it. I ventured carefully forward down what looked like a hall with several doors. "Can you hear me?!" I tried again.
This time a coughing fit answered my call. The sound came from behind a door on the right. I reached behind me, quickly pulling out the crowbar that hung out of my backpack. I coughed, trying to clear my now exposed mouth, then yelled in, "Get away from the door!"
I jammed the crowbar in between the door and the frame and placed my left foot on the door, then pulled with all my might. The wood frame cracked, but the door remained steadfast. I adjusted my grip on the crowbar and tried again, pulling with everything I had.
The door finally gave way with a loud crunch, slamming into the opposite wall. There, away from the door, a woman was keeled over and coughing uncontrollably, unable to breath much less speak. I exhaled in relief and approached her while stowing the crowbar away in my pack. "Come with me. I can get you out of-"
I stopped as the wood under my feet shuddered. I watched in horror as a giant crack formed beneath the woman and suddenly caved in. I dashed forward with my hand outstretched, but I was too late. I saw her face just long enough to catch a glimpse of the absolute fear in her intense blue eyes. Then she plummeted into the roaring flames below.
I stared into the gaping hole in the floor, unable to move or even breath. I could only look into the fire in shock. My legs turned to jelly as only one thought resounded in my mind. I had failed. Again.
Another loud crack reached my ears, indicating that the floor under me was about to give out too. I instinctually put a hand to the wall and tapped four times. , and then silence.
I now stood amidst the light of a single street lamp in the middle of the night, likely halfway across the world. There was nothing around me except an empty road, a few run down houses, and the occasional chirp of a cricket.
I shivered as a cool evening breeze enveloped me, drawing my attention to my blackened body. My boots were scorched. My pants stained. My shirt was in tatters. I looked down at my hands. To my surprise, my fingers had become bloody from terrible splinters. These hands... which failed to save that woman's life.
At last the weight of the scene I had witnessed came barreling down on me. I buried my face in my dirtied hands and fell to my knees. I couldn't hold all the trauma inside anymore. I screamed. For several minutes I screamed into my hands as tears flowed down my soot-ridden face.
When my voice finally gave out, I fell on my side in the middle of the road and simply cried. I cried and released all the pain I had kept bottled up for so long. That woman was not the first person I had failed to save. I had intended to use this power to make a difference in the world; to become a real life hero and be there for the people that had none. I wanted that to be me... but it's too much. Too painful.
I folded my tainted hands on my chest and turned my blurred, watery vision to the clear night sky above. "I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS ANYMORE!" I screamed hoarsely. "I just want to die."
I laid there a moment more in the road as my own words sunk in. I no longer wanted this power. I couldn't take this life anymore. "Yes..." I said aloud to myself. "I want to die."
As I spoke those words, a faint scrambling sound reached me from beside one of the abandoned houses. Curious, I stifled my whimpering and rubbed my tear-stained eyes. I slowly pulled myself to my feet and hobbled over to the pile of empty cardboard boxes where I heard the noise.
"Hello?" I croaked.
I heard another scuffle to my right, and out from a nearby box popped a fuzzy little head. I stared down at the dirty little kitten in surprise. It was alone. No mother or family of the sort were anywhere to be found.
"So," I sniffed. "I suppose you're the one in need of some help."
The kitten mewed at me and tumbled over the edge of the box, then moseyed over to rub against my leg.
I clenched my fists as tears began to overwhelm me again, but this time it was not of sadness. I crouched down and carefully picked up the dainty creature, lifting it to my face. It mewed at me again and rubbed its head against mine. There was nothing to hold back this time. I sobbed uncontrollably in response and held the critter close to my chest.
In that moment, I was simply thankful to have a friend. I sat down, falling back against the boxes, and we both fell asleep amidst the cardboard sea.
| 2019-04-04T15:22:31 | 2019-04-04T15:18:19 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] A humble blacksmith finds Mjolnir. Being worthy he is able to pick it up but doesn't recognize what it is and uses it at his forge occasionally resulting in enchanted Armor and weapons.
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"You want me to make what?"
"A fountain pen...and money is no objection".
"Lil missy, you do realise I am a blacksmith. I make armours and weapons, not some silly pens".
"I am well aware of that, Mr. Smith but I also know for a fact you have excellent skills in making everything from metals".
"Aye, indeed it is true but is it not better to gift your father something more manly, as you can see in this shop? Men would truly kill each other to get these in their hands."
"True, but he does not need these in his line of work, whereas the specially commisioned pen from a famous blacksmith like yourself will surely be useful and one of a kind for him. He would definitely use it as a proud and mighty man."
"(Sigh). You win lil lady. Any particular request for the pen?"
"Yes. Please design it according to this paper. The size and specifics are all there."
"Anymore?"
"Oh yes! Can you engrave his name at...this... part, next to your usual trademark logo please?".
"Alrights (pick up Mjolnir), what is his name and what does he do?"
"My father's name is Ted and he is an accountant".
(Had fun making this. Sorry if my english is not that perfect)
|
The man at the forge had long, thick, muscled arms that worked the steel through the hammer as if the hot, glowing metal were directly in his hands, those hands that never knew any other work. The hammer itself was quite the rarity- the man, Volundr, had found it years ago after a lightning storm that took place in the whereabouts of his residence and working place atop a mountain.
It was a double-sided hammer, carefully engraved with a beautiful pattern around the edges. Its oddity however lay in the fact that it was astonishingly light, so light in fact that it weighed as much as the smith would have it weigh. This made it perfect for smithing- as Volundr raised the hammer it assumed the mass of a feather, and as it reached the apex of its trajectory it would come crashing down to strike the steel with enough inertia to turn the heated metal the shape imagined by the smith.
At first he too had found it strange but came to accept it. No one had come looking for the hammer, and he had no means of finding its original owner, so he gave it good use, and thankfully, the hammer complied. Under normal circumstances this wouldn't be of any importance, but Volundr felt it, the willingness of the hammer to create and refine. To join him in producing an artifact that would raze cities and be held by noblest of men.
This occasionally produced a rather strange effect, creating weapons that had an aura to them. Not a visual aura, they wouldn't glow, or shine, nor an audible one either, but instead one that could be felt, it drew to them like steel draws to magnets, like men are drawn to beautiful, they too possessed beauty, a spiritual beauty that made any who wielded them sense the shield's need to block, the sword's want to parry and slash and the daggers drive to stab.
Of course something of this magnitude is never let to peace: more and more, strange visitors appeared wanting to see the results of this fine hammer. On a fateful day a different man appeared. As he closed in on the door he removed his light coat and knocked on the rough, dark brown wood. It opened. From the other side the rugged smith looked the man, comparable in build to Volundr, in the eye and greeted him "Good morning stranger, what brings you to my forge?"
"Your steel. What else could be a man come to a blacksmith for?" he replied, nonplussed by the the blacksmiths skepticism to his presence, evidenced by his tone and posture.
"More than you'd think." Volundr said in turn, more relaxed, now that he knew the man hadn't come for the wonders of the hammer. "How can I help you then?"
"I need a spear. I am willing to pay you good money for your crafting ability."
"A spear... I haven't been requested one of those for years." The spear is quite an easy weapon to brandish, it has long reach, forcing distance between opponents, but once that range is broken, any sword would hold the advantage.
"From what I've heard you can forge any blade imaginable my men"
"I wouldn't go as far as to say that, but I can make your spear. Return to me in three days"
And so it was. After three days the spear was complete.
"It is not unnecessarily embellished, but it serves to cut down your opponents." He spoke of his creation. It too, like the other weapons, had that barely tangible presence to it.
"It does indeed" The man consented as he examined the battle instrument in his hands. It was six feet long, one and a half of which were a taken up by an unadorned blade, sided by two smaller spikes.
He looked at it for a while longer and felt the enchanted nature of the weapon. And he swung it. At the made who created the spear, it was swung. Volundr could only throw himself to his side to avoid the spear that cut through the space where his frame had been standing moments before. "What do you want?" He challenged as he brought himself back up and reached for a sword resting on the shelf to his right
"Your blood, but most importantly, your hammer." What he was looking for was locked in its case, in the room blocked by the blacksmith's body. For the man Volundr was no more than obstacle he had to overcome.
The smith however made use of the short in which they exchanged words to find a strategy to level the fighting ground- the spear was much better suited for combat in an ample space like his forge. So he left the forge. He backed into the room behind him, much tighter and much less forgiving of erroneous movements by the spear-man. He felt the sweat exuding from his palms as the man charged. He was quick and precise, but in the confined room the smith had the advantage, of breaking the spears safe range, forcing the man to hold it half-staff. But still the blow came, and the smith deflected it. The spearman took a step back and before Volundr could take his chance, swung the spear viciously from left to right, forcing the smith to deflect with the sword in his hands.
The attacks seemed almost inhuman in velocity, as they came one after another. After the first swing he reversed the momentum of the spear and this time the smith wasn't as fortunate as before. Still recovering from the first blow, Volundr could to nothing but advance in order to sustain only the blow from the wooden shaft to his leg. This put him to his knees, and at that moment he knew it was over. Faster than the raging wind that blew outside the forge the man spun the lance above his head for two whole rotations, and then perform a downward stabbing motion.
An inescapable attack that Volundr knew the best of spearmen couldn't even match, for its deadliness lay not in the undoubtedly skilled man that held it, but in the spear itself. The physical spear stopped an inch short of his chest, but the magic granted to it by the hammer, its soul, pierced through the blacksmith's chest, and ended the dispute that been decided when the man had taken hold of the weapon.
Half hanging between life and the abyss of Death Volundr saw the spearman step over him and grab the coveted hammer, as he did so, the man said, knowing the smith still held life within him "You would have done well no to dwell with the god's magic, brother."
Note: I don't write a lot, this is pretty much my first attempt at anything decent, its probably awful.
| 2015-11-21T17:02:00 | 2015-11-21T10:58:54 | 85 | 35 |
[WP] You are trapped in a small, windowless room with nothing but a computer with a text editor. When you type in a word, the object appears in the room. However, there's a catch: the only keys on the keyboard are in the first half of the alphabet (A - M).
|
A debacle befell me; I abided jailed, a glib academic, a magical gimmick. Ideal? Deific? Damaged. Hacked. A bleak, addleheaded facade.
I calmed, checked a claim. Click, click, click: a bed, a meal, a diadem. Call a fabled elf? Failed. A male, a female? Fake. Mafia? A gaffe.
Idea: dig, backfill? A dilemma; deadfall, damaged, dead...
Belief gelled. I decided.
Gimmick, I bade, a cable. I added baggage: a blade, a chemical. I digged, defaced, glacial, a dim cell.
A feeble edifice felled! I hiked a hill, hailed a cab, made a deal. Back! A game aced.
|
This simulation seemed to be more air-tight than mine. Jack's really bent on beating my time, I guess.
The objective was to get out of the program, any way you could.
First thing I did, was to check for possible exploits.
While Jack was able to create a logic loop and crash-eject himself out of my program, I probably won't be able to do something similair, judging by the fairly non-complex enviornment of his puzzle.
One dark, almost empty room, and a PC front for a spawner entity - that's all I have to work with.
Trying to test the walls for any collision errors brought no results, even when crashing into them at high speeds, but then again - eight meters isn't that much space, when trying to take a good running start. Still hurt though.
The floor was created exactly the same way the walls were, so no luck there either. Couldn't even see the ceiling - maybe he's hidden something up there, beyond my range of vision.
The timer on my wrist counted up, already past the third minute mark. That meant I had only eight more to possibly win this.
I turned my head to the spawner entity - Guess I'll really have to play by his rules after all.
The "tower" of the PC was just a solid, white piece of plastic, no buttons, slots or cables - really not anything to work with, wasn't even plugged in.. Not that there was a need for that in virtual reality. Looks like he placed it here mostly for decoration.
While the screen and the mouse looked fairly detailed, the keyboard was a total mess, and likely - the center of Jack's puzzle.
Sixteen keys - that's letters A to M, space, Delete and Enter Command... Limits my possibilities a lot.
I kneeled in front of the screen, and thought about what to start with.
I chuckled to myself and said "Let there be light!", typing FLAME... But I stopped myself.
Having experienced pain already, summoning some fire into the room didn't seem like a good idea.. but then again, this is cyberspace, the land where logic exists the way you want it to.
CHILL FLAME; Enter.
The room instantly got brighter, as a fist-sized glowing flame appeared in the middle of it. I got a bit closer and waved my hand over it. Slightly colder than the air temperature.
Awesome. I won't have to worry about burning myself.
Having the area illuminated, I looked up, expecting to find something of substance on the ceiling.
I was met with two words written in Comic Sans:
"CUNNING LINGUIST"
Fucking Jack... Still, better than "gullible", I suppose.
I turned back to the terminal and started tapping the Enter key lightly, thinking of how to get out.
"Exit" was out of the question.. So was "data leak"..
HACK; Enter.
An invisible force delivered a powerful blow right to my stomach.
Writhing on the floor, with tears in my eyes I silently cursed myself. The noun I wanted was probably too vague for the system to manifest, so it grabbed the definition that was the easiest to realize in my enviornment. Glorious.
It took me a couple of seconds to collect myself. I checked the timer again - six and a half minutes - it's going to be close. My time cannot go past Jack's 12:38, otherwise he gets the Bailey account.. Soon I was at the keyboard again, excersising my mental dictionary to the limits..
A way out, way out.. what's good for getting out of a room with no doors or windows.. Maybe if I were to smash the walls open..? I thought about it for a couple of seconds.. A weapon could work.. I pressed the sequence of buttons: M A C E, covered my eyes, nose and mouth with one hand and pressed Enter with the other.
A heavy "clunk", although startling, brought forth a feeling of great relief. I think I'd have had to forefit, had the room filled with that stuff..
I stood up again and found the weapon lying roughly in the middle of the room. It was rather sturdy, with nice, high quality textures. Probably ripped straight from some fantasy video game.
Weighing it in my hand, it indeed seemed like a perfect tool to smash various objects into smithereens. I took a step back and swung the thing at the nearest wall.
Disappointment followed the thud I heard instead of the highly anticipated noise of cracking stone. The spiked club didn't even scratch the wall. Great. With a heave I aimed for the next best thing - the PC.
The spawner entity flashed in and out of existence, just like a game character with invincibility frames, as the mace flew right through it, and landed on the floor.
Shit.
I threw the mace away, it tumbled into a far away corner of the room. Looks like I won't be able to damage the puzzle box I'm currently locked in.
The thought of a puzzle box lingered in my mind a for a while..
And then I got it.
My eyes widened as I realized, that - by thinking "outside the box", instead of solving it the intended way, I was able to force a win condidtion that wasn't programmed into the puzzle itself.
I thought back to being in the lobby and watching Jack's timer counting up as he conversed with my logic constructs.. I was using the same avatar there, as I was now, currently. That meant that, although in different instances, we were still hooked up to the same system.
And so was the spawner entity's database.
One quick look at my timer reading a bit under nine minutes confirmed that I have already won.
With a shit-eating grin I walked back to the keyboard and typed the perfect solution to this particular puzzle.
JACK; Enter.
"~The fuck!?" He asked the seemingly rethorical question, as his avatar materialized in the middle of the room he himself created, the timer on his wrist counting up again from where it left off, registering Jack's presence in the puzzle area.
"I already solved the puzzle, mate. Now you can show me the way out"
| 2017-05-09T10:36:57 | 2017-05-09T10:21:28 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] We did it! We finally achieved FTL travel! At first, alien races seem thrilled to have a new neighbor. Then they seem terrified of us. We are the only ones to reach the stars with technology instead of magic.
|
There were three blinks of nictitating eyelids in the span of time it took Bezok to look from the base of the human structure to its top. He hated anything They built - always cold, always lacking something essential that made him uneasy. At first he’d told himself it was just physical discomfort. Humans had never had to consider the needs of the many-tentacled, and therefore it was just oversight that made their dwellings and places of business so damned difficult to navigate. But if he were being honest it was more than that. It was void of the Awe - that ability that all space-faring peoples had known since the dawn of time - and in its place was the wonder of technology.
A wonder, indeed.
Bezok managed to get through the spinning door without pinching his third back left tentacle like he had the first dozen times he’d visited this place, and counted that the first small victory of the day. Having meetings with the humans was a necessary part of his job as a liaison between their slowly burgeoning intergalactic government and his own, but that didn’t mean he liked it.
“Welcome, Mr. Bezok,” the young woman at the front desk said with manufactured warmth. “They’re ready for you upstairs.”
His name wasn’t Bezok. That’s what they called him because they couldn’t pronounce his name. And ‘he’ wasn’t a ‘he’, but let them continue on with that assumption because explaining the nuance of his species’ biology seemed like more effort than it was worth. He would already go home exhausted.
Deeper he moved in to the building, reminding himself to pull his tentacles in before the elevator door slammed on them...again.
They were waiting, a group of male and female humans in neutral-colored suits at a neutral-colored desk. They were so alien. His hearts pounded in his chest as always but he sat just the same, the tentacles that hung off what they’d call his chin waving lightly in greeting as was customary. They nodded, the flash of the communication buds in their ears glaring in the morning sun. They’d chosen a rock close to the system’s star. They seemed to like warmth, though they radiated none.
“Bezok, welcome back. If we could get right to it, we’d like to pick up where we left off last time.”
“Of course,” he replied, the Awe filtering his language in to one they’d understand. Their...*technology*...hadn’t collected and analyzed enough of his species’ tongue to automatically translate for them, so he did it with his Awe. So much less cumbersome. So much less tedious. Natural. *Normal.* But it was the fact that they were here, ten years in to a journey outwards on nothing but the backs of their computers, that frightened him. They didn’t even need the Awe.
“Excellent. We’d like to write up that treaty, you know - about weapons trade, non-aggression pacts. Standard stuff. We came in peace, after all.”
Bezok tried not to shiver.
|
\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/
*"I guess in life things don't come cheap. My daddy always used to tell me we stand on the shoulders of giants. I never truly believed him until we made contact with the G'xe.*
*Lost in the depths of space, there they were, waiting for a friend to come from among the stars. It's been eons since nobody answered from the deep blackness. They made believe they are alone, at least in this region of space.*
*When our ships spread into the dark ocean, breaking boundaries my grandparents would've never dreamed of, everything changed. For us, and for them."*
\*\*\*
ETF Jian Xing pierced the purple clouds above X'am Ina, the home planet of G'xe confederation. X'am Ina used to be a barren world, before the 4 elder races united in the G'xe confederation and made the world suitable. The position of the planet was just at the center of their world. Of their own universe.
"Commander Hiroto, we are reaching the destination soon, we should tell the president to prepare"
"Ah, Admiral, it seems I can't ever marvel at this jewel of a planet from above. The perks of being the captain I guess. "
After personally announcing the president of their arrival, he went straight to the bathroom. Hiroto had a few days ahead of a less busy schedule. This is because while he was the commander of the ship, he wasn't an actual part of the human delegation. He loved this less strenuous windows.
&#x200B;
The FTL jumps are rough and despite the dampening systems the ship was quivering quite a lot. The longer the jump, the bigger the contortions. This made long jumps unfeasible. The long distances needed to be made from a lot of smaller, less shaky jumps. This always upset his stomach, so he stood there quite a while contemplating on how shocking should've been from the people of G'xe to one day after believing you are alone in the universe, to wake up with people at their doorstep. He made an analogy in his head and laughed. Also ... could you call them people?, they were humanoid, but ... that was another topic of pondering.
&#x200B;
When here returned, the delegation was already leaving. The formalities were the Admiral job in this case, so he decided to stay away, taking a walk alone to the cantina, wanting some time away from people. There, he lingered after a delicious meal, while letting the food sink in chilling at the table in relative silence, that if you count the background monotonous chat as such. Suddenly, the alarms when on. The lights turned reddish, the monotonous chats turned loud and the people started to run.
&#x200B;
"Commander, Security Officer Aleksei Smyrnoi, we need to get you to the auxiliary command room. The standard protocol in case of ship unauthorized boarding."
" What? There's someone breaking into the ship?"
" Sir, I this is the only thing I was informed, so please hurry. Also, the ship internal communication is down so please stick together. We might encounter hostile movement on the way so I advise caution"
Hiroto was perplexed. This was totally unexpected, the G'xe looked willing to talk and it made no sense to start a war like this. So he ran, more out of curiosity than the dread of danger. The auxiliary command was packed with the chief staff all debating the next course of action
"Ah, Hiroto, we're glad you're ok"
&#x200B;
"What is happening, why the communications are down?"
"There has a been a break in section 4, actually ... I don't know exactly if it's technically a breach since a group of individuals basically teleported inside and started to shoot. They are looking to break into the command room, but the security measures are holding, though we believe there's nothing stopping them ... to teleport? I really don't know how this works sir."
" Where are they now? And again why the communications are down?"
"They are engaging our forces into the corridor from section 4 to section 2 buffer zone. It seems at the moment it's a kind of a stalemate. Neither us or they are gaining ground. "
"The communications?!"
" The communications hub is near section 4. It was their first objective. We are working on with portable devices to communicate with the ground force."
&#x200B;
Hiroto sighted, he wasn't reading for this. While there were tons of protocol in case of these situations and basic training, one thing is the simulations and one thing is the real deal.
"Outside chatter? What happened with the delegation"
"It seems their visit is fine, they were not informed yet of the situation. This is of course what we could find out with the limited communications from their media"
"This is extremely odd. Maybe the group here is independent. In that case, we need to be careful not to start a war ourselves. Prepare the ship to exit the atmosphere, we need to trap the attackers"
"Yes sir"
"Next, we need to try to communicate with them. Meanwhile please prepare a plan to assault them. Are there ear translators here? Prioritize communication first, maybe we can find out more."
After the orders were relayed, there were a few minutes of waiting. In the room that he was, there was no actual feeling of dread. It all felt normal. The lights were the usual white and it was relatively silent as everybody was doing their job. Then he felt a force pushing him into the floor as the ship took altitude.
"We can't establish communication with them, sir."
"The assault team is ready to engage?"
"Yes. If you want to proceed I advise it to do now, as I'm receiving word that the sudden ship descent made the attackers shoot more often an eratically"
"Very well, but we need at least one of them alive! I think they panicked, maybe they believed they could take over the ship faster"
The next moments were intense and Hiroto just wanted all this be over fast. He couldn't help but feel sad some of the men will die, you'd think a commander of a starship would make these decisions without remorse. He wondered though if his colleague commanders would feel the same as him.
&#x200B;
The assault team swiftly deployed through maintenance shafts and after a brief exchange of fire, it was over. The room burst in applause.
"Sir, the threat has been eliminated. It was a complete success. 3 enemies were eliminated and we have 1 wounded and captive. The recon team has found no further threats. Should we descent"
"No" he then paused in order to catch a train of tought. "I need to interrogate the enemy first. If this the G'xe officials are behind this, we need to come out with an exit plan"
"Yes, sir"
&#x200B;
He then proceeded to investigate the battleground. Only one soldier died in the exchange. That was a success ... he thought, whilst not convinced. It was a mess. The victims were all Onie, one of the 4 races of G'xe, but the captive was a X'a, the most powerful of the races in terms of influence. Onie bodies were frailer than humans and more filled with fat. It was everywhere. They lacked weapons, though some had a black stone. From what he read, it was just to focus their energy, as G'xe could channel energy from thin air and project it. Some would call magic, a deadly one taking one more look at the soldier's body bag where you could clearly see a gap between his upper and lower torso.
&#x200B;
G'xe apparent lack of high tech was baffling for eath's science community. They seemed to use a form of magic, but little was known about this.
&#x200B;
"Damn .." they were lucky, those guys didn't seem from the special forces, or whatever the equivalent the G'xe had.
&#x200B;
============
**Continued in the comments due to Reddit Limit:**
| 2019-01-18T09:32:58 | 2019-01-18T07:20:21 | 152 | 44 |
[WP] You've always been around your best friend. He used to be a lonely kid, but he's slowly starting to become popular. Others talk to him, but keep ignoring you. One day, to your horror, you realize that you're just his imaginary friend.
|
I always knew this day would come. She would let me go, and I would drift. She wasn’t a sad child, no. She had a big imagination, but no friends. That’s where I came in. I had only realized when her mother looked right through me.
Like I was a ghost from another story, sent to comfort her daughter, cursed to be invisible.
I never hated it.
I loved talking to my friend. Giving her ideas, helping her feed her curiosity and imagination. She had grown into such a good artist.
I knew it was time for me to go when I found I could no longer speak. She couldn’t see me anymore, and I wasn’t sad. I had fulfilled my purpose, yes, but I had seen her grow into a fine young woman. Friends abound, passion blossoming like roses. No, I was not sad.
So I let myself fade. I saw myself dissolving. Then, the girl I knew turned from her chair, and I know she saw me, one last time.
I couldn’t hear her call out my name in surprise.
I drifted. I’ve been drifting for who knows how long. Just a bundle of pure imagination and childish wonder drifting in nothing.
Until I heard her voice. Clear as day.
“Charna?”
My eyes snapped open.
“Queen Charna Aberoth of the Kingdom of Limrune.” A herald announced, and I finally looked at the scene, with wide, silver eyes, a celebration seemed to be going on... and I felt like I was superglued to the throne I woke up on.
Tears welled in my eyes as I finally recognized everything.
The comic she had been working on.
Clockwork Gate.
She made me the elusive queen that had taken leave until now.
If I could have broken my new character and laughed... I would have.
I didn’t feel sad.
I never felt sad.
All I felt was relief.
I wasn’t gone.
She didn’t forget.
She just repurposed me... and with that... I am content.
Perhaps Drifting wasn’t the be all end all the others said it would be.
|
I finally realized what I was today, just my best and only friend's imaginary friend. It shook me to my core figuring out that I'm not even real that I'm just a figment of someone's imagination because I had always believed that I was real. I had convinced myself that I was in fact real when the whole world ignored me because that's just what people are, cruel. I blamed them all for not seeing me because they were nothing but cruel and deserved to die. I have never left Oliver's side, there is no moment that I remember where he was not to be found, he was always with me and I was always with him. He was nice and had a brilliant mind but was extremely lonely because only ever hung out with me even when I said that he should invite others over he always made a face. He never liked to be around anyone else, not even his parents but I understand why, he was the forgotten child the one that was overshadowed by his god-like older brother Nathan, he always referred to himself as someone who is above others the arrogant prick. Have no idea where he got his god complex from but it didn't matter as I would barely see him. Whenever others came over I remember getting tired and then blacking out, it only lasted at maximum an hour but I always found it weird. The blackouts started to stop when Oliver got more friends and I was excited that I had more people to play with but they never played with me, they didn't even look at me. Over the years Oliver stopped looking at me as well. I knew he could still here me though because sometimes if I shouted hard enough he would turn around but he would never see me, he would look around if it was quiet or other times he would glance back of it was busy. I started to become depressed my one and only friend who I shared so many adventures with like the time where we saved the lovely maiden pork-chops from the space trolls or the other time where we were secret agents trying to uncover the plot of the sinister corporation known as black hole enterprises, I had to save him once when he got captured but we always made it out alive, and together. I started to see the life we had crumble as he lived a different life with all of his many friends. I watched him grow up and get married and have kids but he still never looked at me. Then it happened, Oliver and his wife Charlotte were watching tv, a kids movie called inside out. They were watching it with their kids but they had fallen asleep on top of there laps. Charlotte started talking about how she never had an imaginary friend and asked Oliver if he did. I thought I knew the answer to that question, no of course he didn't otherwise I his old best friend would have known. Oliver's eyes light up and he smiled a bit,
"You know what, I did have an imaginary friend and he was the best."
I didn't know what to think about this, he had never mentioned one to me.
"We did everything together, we saved people, fought the bad guys, saved the world and on a few separate occasions we conquered the world you know so no one else would."
"You took over the world so no one else would?"
"Well yeah, that and we would get free lollies and ice cream because of it, don't worry we only did it like 3 times, ok maybe 5, actually I think it was 7."
All I could do was stand there and listen as a slow wave of horror began to wash over me, the pieces clicked together in my mind.
"His name was Andrew, but I called him Andy, and he helped me get through some tough times, like my older brothers mental illness or my how my parents were both alcoholics..."
"It's alright honey, you don't have to say anymore."
"It's fine because I always had him with me."
I stopped listening after that, I couldn't listen anymore I needed time to think. I walked outside to the backyard, I went by the pool and kept walking until I got to the hill that overlooked the valley. I sat on top of it and I could only cry as the sun began its descent towards the horizon.
"Andy."
I turned around and saw him, Oliver and I could tell that he could see me. He sat next to me, about an arm's length away. We didn't speak for a couple of minutes we only watched the sunset.
"It's been a while huh."
I didn't speak, I couldn't.
"I'm sorry I forgot about you, life started to get interesting the older I got."
"I noticed, I have been by your side the whole time, I saw everything you went through."
"Everything?"
I looked at him, he had a smirk on his face and by his eyes I could tell what he was thinking.
"Ok not everything, I knew when not to look or to just leave the room ok."
"It's ok, I'm just playing around."
"I'm not in the mood for playing around."
Time seemed to slow down, as if someone was making sure we had time to talk.
"Is it true? I mean I know it is I just... I just want to hear you say it."
"Say what?"
"That I'm part of your imagination, that I'm not real."
He didn't speak and I didn't look.
"You are real, to me, but to the rest of the world you're not I'm sorry."
I looked at myself, my body was starting to fade.
"What's happening?"
"I think because you figured out what you are, you are disappearing."
"I'm dying basically then, but not like how you would."
"I guess so."
"I don't actually mind if I'm honest, it seems fitting to end it here watching the sunset, cliche almost."
I finally looked back and saw him, he was crying but had that same smile he always had that brightened others days.
"I hope I don't forget you, you got me through so much."
"With you're memory that I know you have those chances aren't looking good."
'What do you mean?"
"You got us locked out of the house so many times because you wanted to play but forgot to block the door."
"Well you should have just phased through or something and unlocked it."
"I'm not even real dude."
We laughed at that just like old times. We continued to watch the sun as it began to dip under the horizon.
"Is this the end?"
"I guess so."
"I don't want to go."
"I know Andy, I know."
"Goodbye Oliver."
"Goodbye my best friend."
My final thought was how even though I had been ignored the last 20 years of my imaginary life by the person who made me, they were somehow the best times I remember, watching the person who created me grow up with a loving family. The sun finally disappeared and with it so did I. I started to fly up into the clouds as Oliver waved me goodbye from below his kids came running up to him while his wife watched. I caught up to the night sky and my vision went black.
"This isn't so bad." I thought as I disappeared in tbe nights sky.
Kia ora, if you read all that then thank you. I also know it has a bad layout but I'm doing it on my phone so you will have to excuse me. However, I hope you enjoyed my late night thoughts.
P.S tell me what you thought about it
| 2019-10-08T07:14:02 | 2019-10-08T06:05:49 | 58 | 13 |
[WP]: every human being is born with a birthmark signifying a great deed they are fated do in their lives. Your first child has just been born, with the mark of a murderer across her face
|
I looked my son in the eye and told him firmly, as I had this day for the last 12 years, “It is not your fault, you didn’t kill her. Anyone who says differently doesn’t understand what happened, now blow out your candles, we’ll visit the grave after cake and presents.”
|
I rush to the hospital, excited beyond belief. A child! MY child! A little one to hold, to teach, to love! Words can not contain my boundless joy! I broke a few speed laws on the way, but who cares! I'm a father! I enter the hospital, rushing straight to the room number the clerk told me. Bursting in, I see my wife, my beautiful wife, lying on a cot. Her face, with the beautiful marks of one who is destined to be a performer, isn't facing me. She is turned away. Her shoulders are shaking. She can wait, I must see the child! A nurse, with a doctor's markings, takes me to the nursery. She won't look me in the eye. But never mind that, the child! Upon arriving at the nursery, I peer through the window and see my child, dumbstruck. It's a girl, small, with golden hair and eyes so brilliant, so piercing, I get the feeling she is looking at my very soul. Yet the part I am looking for, the party that truly matters, is the part that makes me stop. Her markings. They twist and writhe around her face like snakes too close to a flame. Hard edges somehow mixed with dangerous curves. The mark of a killer. The mark of death.
I rush home, anxious. The call from the from my daughter was urgent, panicked, alone. At home, police cars and a single ambulance are waiting. I barge through the door, greeted by the averting eyes of those who are marked to protect, to be brave, to never surrender. The police step aside, leaving a pathway to out bedroom. My bedroom, now. My beautiful wife sways from a breeze that doesn't exist, stares at me while the rope and the ceiling croak at me with voices of despair. She is with me no more. I return to the main room, where police, with their marks of justice, and my daughter await. She runs to my arms, sobbing. The police slowly file out, whispering. I catch a few words. They believe my beautiful wife's death was the one my daughter was foretold to cause. But I kNow Better.
I rush to the accident, weakened. The police on the line had been calm, patient, explaining the wreck. My daughter and her friend, hit by another car. I arrive at the wreck, astounded by how warped two pieces of metal could become. Still in my daughters car, I see that face of her friend, the marks of kindness on his face blotted out by the streaks of blood. There is no hope from him. My daughter is released by the paramedics, and she runs to my arms, shaking beyond control. As I help her into my car, I hear the others speaking. They believe we can now live in peace. BUT I knOw bETter.
I rush through the house, enraged. Nineteen years, waiting, watching. I know she'll hurt someone, I KNOW IT! THE MARKS HAVE FORETOLD IT! I must stop her, before she stops another. She runs from me, but SHE CAN'T RUN FOREVER! I chase her to her room, but the door is locked. I hit it, and hit it, and HIT IT! IT WILL NOT OPEN! I hear sirens outside. The police with their fake marks of justice. They're on her side. We'll see who gets the last laugh. As I sneak out of the house, I hear their words, consoling her. They believe I won't come back, that she's safe. BUT WE KNOW BETTER!
I rush through my thoughts, cold, calculating. I will not let my ANgeR control me, not like before. That was how she got away. Not this time. I have prepared for too long to allow this to fail. She thinks she can start over, start a family, start being happy. WELL SHE CAN'T! She knows better.
I walk to her. I had wanted to do this in private, but there was no opportunity. Twenty-seven years is too long to wait another minute. She is in a uniform, blue. The same uniform of the betrayers who helped her. But they can't help her now. I call her name, and she stops. Turns. Slowly. I smile at her, savoring the moment. I caught her. Pulling the knife from my belt, I start running to her. Closer. Closer. CLOSER! There's no way she ca- BANG! It hits me like a bullet. It is a bullet, right in my heart. She always was good at that. I crumple, and her shadow falls over me. Tears, on my face. Whether they are mine or hers, I don't know. She begs me not to go, pleads with me, apologizes. She shouldn't. I have failed, not her. I, who shared with her my marks. I, who taught her to try and be something better. I, who never even followed my own advice. She tells me all will be okay, that help will arrive.
But I know...
| 2014-05-11T02:02:48 | 2014-05-10T23:42:39 | 81 | 48 |
[WP] A man trying to survive in a post-apocalyptic world slowly realises that he has already become a zombie.
|
The blood dripped down my chin as I ripped the best part of her off and savored the taste. Funny, I thought, I never really liked horse. Even more than that, I never took my steaks anything less than well-done. But I guess that was before I hadn't had anything else to eat in a week... and access to a grill.
The dead-eye next to me was sharing my meal, not paying any attention to me. I decided he looked like a Kevin. *Hello Kevin*, I thought in my head, *just don't contaminate my side of the horse, alright?*
I had first found out the secret to surviving the outbreak about a year ago. It was really pretty lucky. I was on the run, who wasn't, when my car got crashed into by a woman who was coughing up blood on her windshield. I was laying on the ground, bleeding, and around me were the corpses of two other men. The woman who had started the crash was happily slurping away at the heart of one of them, and that's when the easiest possible solution came to me. I just played dead. Unable to move very fast, I started chewing on the fingers of the other man next to me. Eventually, the gore attracted other dead-eyes... who all ignored me. Since then, I've been wandering this town, playing dead, eating dead animals that got caught, but never humans. Except once.... But times had been desperate. It was him or me. I found the way to survive, he was too weak, it was just survival of the fittest. Even so... I tried to avoid it.
BANG!
Kevin dropped to the ground, his blood mixing with the horses into pools of brown on the ground. I swung my head around.
CLICK
"Shit" said the man holding a pistol, fumbling to thumb more rounds into the chamber. Behind him was another man, who told him "Seriously? You didn't reload after the last group?"
"Shut up man, he's not going anywhere."
At first I was ecstatic, here were two well equipped people! Finally! It had been years since I'd seen other humans... at least some who had a chance. But then I realized how it must seem, I had been living the life of the dead-eyes for over a year, I probably looked exactly like them. I stood up and held out my hand to stop him.
"He's getting up, hurry!"
"I got it, I got it."
The first man swung the pistol up to aim at my head. "NO!" I yelled. Or tried to. It had been so long since I'd spoken the sound came out as nothing more than a grunt.
BANG
|
They day I went A.W.O.L. was the day that I realized that the world was, in fact, ending.
As the virus spread, snuck through customs and border control, bypassed quarantine zones, spring-boarding from one continent to the next, we watched the news, telling ourselves that this was a serious problem, but that the media was exaggerating the fear, as they always do.
The news anchors always get all the good-natured, trusting people to devastate their nearest Stop-and-Shop every time a little tropical storm or blizzard storm comes cruising up the coast.
Somehow, as the world started tearing itself apart, and mega-cities started turning dark, we convinced ourselves that we were okay, and eventually even those horrible streams of images, video, sound pumping out the televisions started to turn off too.
It wasn’t until they stationed us at Kalamazoo that we came face to face with the horror, where we could no longer deny it.
The infected - the rotting and diseased anti-people – started popping up.
We were maintaining a safe zone, for the un-afflicted. At first they came wandering towards us, too far away to see in detail. We called out to them on mega-phones, warning them to turn back. They could have been perfectly healthy people, trying to make their way in to the safe-zone, but we had no way to tell. We couldn’t risk it. We warned them again and again. Some of them turned back, but others kept lumbering forward until they crossed the red-markers, at which a point a sniper promptly evacuated their brains out the back of their skulls.
But more and more kept coming.
Then they started coming in packs. They rushed us, uncoordinated, but throwing themselves at us in a dead-sprint. Our machineguns chewed them up, and the snipers picked off the stragglers, but some of them kept getting up, kept getting closer and closer.
Every day there was more, until one day they broke through the line. I was right there when it happened, face to face with the monstrosity. We got a good close look at our enemy as the combat broke down to hand-to-hand chaos.
Fifteen men went down that day. Men we had to shoot like rabid-dogs. Hundreds of them poured through, and we drove them back across the line, but we all knew that our stand was almost over. We were like a ocean barrier trying to stop a tide that keeps rising higher and higher.
That night I knew it was time to go. I pilfered as many Ready-to-Eat rations as I could, stocked up on water-purification tablets, stole some ammo and snuck past the officer on duty – looking for deserters like me.
I disappeared into the woods like a thief and headed North.
Even though I had convinced myself that this was no big deal, that the world would return to its natural state after a brief period of relative anarchy, I had rented a nice little cabin for my wife and daughter. They would be safe there, I thought, with about six or seven weeks worth of provisions (which nearly wiped out my pathetic National Guardsman’s bank account). If this infection was going to level civilization, as I now knew it would, then perhaps we could wait up there, stretching the food out, until the virus burned itself out and disappeared.
It took a long time, traveling by foot. I had neglected to think about a tent, and I spent numerous cold, rainy nights, shivering and huddling beneath a tree, staring out into the darkness. I felt sick, and I had a few cuts from that final battle that might have needed a stitch or too, but all that was secondary to reaching the cabin – reaching Rachael and Rebecca .
After eleven days of intense hiking I reached the place. By then I had a bastard of a headache. I felt a bit lightheaded, a little weak, and most definitely sick. I was too exhausted, burned, stressed, and foggy to even feel any real relief upon finally reaching my destination.
This is going to give them one hell of a scare, I thought, as I walked up to the door. I knocked.
“Who is it?” I heard a voice say.
“It’s me, Greg. Bet you weren’t expecting me.”
I paused. My voice sounded all weird and mushy.
“Who the hell is that? You better not be playing any games. I’ve got shotgun and I’ve been shooting since I was a little girl.”
I tried to answer, to say something, so she would hear the timbre of my voice, so she would open up and give me a running, jumping hug, cook up a nice hot meal and take care of me. I wanted my daughter to come running towards the door, shrieking in delight. Instead my words spilled out – not even words – just slurred noises, as if I had just downed a whole bottle of Rum and managed to keep it down.
The door opened up a crack. Rachael stood just on the other side, the short double barreled shotgun staring out at me.
She screamed.
Before I could try to speak again, before I could react in any way, my wife unloaded with both barrels of the scatter gun.
One barrel went wide, the other caught me in the hip and the elbow. The muscle blew away, the bone crumbling like a building being demolished.
There was no pain. There was nothing at all, except for the buzzing headache and the crushing horror as I processed what just happened. I clutched the wound, even though I felt nothing, and stepped towards her.
Don’t you recognize me, I wanted to ask. Aren’t you excited to see me? Don’t you want to make love? Has so much changed in the last month that you don’t recognize your own husband?
But I couldn’t speak.
Rachael recoiled in horror as I pushed the door open. She backed up, flipping the gun open, ejecting two smoking shells.
I tried to touch her, to let her now somehow. In one of the backrooms I heard Rebecca screaming, no doubt frightened by the thunder of the gun, recognizing the tone of fear in her own mother’s voice.
Rachael fumbled for two more shells. It was true that she had been shooting since she was a little girl, but all that muscle memory was failing her now, distorted by the fear and the adrenaline.
A put my arms on her shoulders, trying to shake her into recognizing me.
The shells found their homes. She flipped the barrel closed as I touched her and unloaded, this time with one barrel to the chest.
I felt backwards, slumping against the wall.
I tried to stand and the second barrel caught me across the shoulder and face. This time I fell, collapsing backwards through the hallway.
How had such a tragedy happened? After all that horror and bloodshed, to come home only to get gunned down by the love of my life, the face I had seen in all my dreams since all those horrible days had begun.
I turned by head, trying to find the strength to rise.
I saw myself, caught the reflection of the glass door.
Something unnatural had happened to my face (aside from the scored flesh from the bullets). My skin looked grey – green almost. My teeth had turned brown. I hadn’t seen my own refection in weeks. No wonder she hadn’t recognized me. I looked like the two-day old cadaver of a hardcore meth addict.
I heard the click as my wife snapped two more shells into place.
I tried to turn my head towards her, but some cable-like muscle had snapped in my neck. I could only look up at the ceiling. She walked into my field of vision, staring back down at me.
It’s okay, I tried to say, I love you.
“Fuck you, motherfucker,” my wife said, pointing the gun into my face and squeezing the trigger.
| 2014-08-04T16:45:01 | 2014-08-04T16:36:28 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] Aliens fear humans. Their blood is poison, they can see well in the dark and eat meat. One was just found as a stowaway on a mining ship deep in space, with the crew doing everything in their power to avoid the human as it lurks about the ship, looking for someone to talk to
|
Oh Christ, my head is killing me. I can't even remember who won, I think we were both under the table by the end.
Alright think, think. I need water and carbs and some protein. What the hell? This isn't my apartment. But I don't think I got lucky last night.
This actually doesn't really look like an apartment, for one thing I was sleeping on the ground, and there's these strange pyramids all around the room.
Oh fuck my head, getting up is not easy. It's starting to look like a warehouse of some kind, some of the pyramids are open at the top and contain what seems like plastic geometric shapes.
I can't decide if this is better or worse than waking up at the sheriff's.
There's an exit nearby, I walk through and find myself in a hallway. I hear some sort of skittering in the distance, the halls are weirdly spherical and the-
Jesus fucking Christ! An eyestalk, appears from a nearby corridor, and quickly disappears. The sound of something running off in the distance.
Am I hallucinating? What happened last night? Ugh, my mother is going to give me shit for not going with her to church.
"Hey, anyone who works here, where's the exit?" As I finish the pounding in my head increases. And I start to feel a little, oh crap it's coming up.
Heaving does not feel good, especially with a hangover, especially when your vomit starts melting the floor. I wasn't as concerned as I probably should have been, I assumed I was just tripping. And I had rewatched Alien the other day.
Still, I got no response so I kept walking
and walking
and walking
I could swear I was walking in circles, despite going in a straight line. I could still hear skittering. I was beginning to get pretty freaked out, to say the least. I swear I could hear chirping too, faint; and it cut off everytime I tried to get a good listen to it.
I probably should have had a plan of some sort to get out of the building, but again my state wasn't amazing, hungover and tripping isn't a great combination.
I then discovered something more valuable than gold, an attached Burger King! I was starving and craving caffeine. I barged in intent on ordering the biggest goddamn hamburger the world has ever seen.
It was empty, 100% devoid of people. And clean. The only feature was a juicy burger and cup of coffee. It was weird as fuck but I goddamnit I needed something in my system.
The burger was good, but strange. I'm not confident the meat was beef. The coffee was average, and I could feel myself recovering from the hangover, the pounding receding.
One thing that worried me was the paralysis rapidly sweeping across my body. I didn't seem to care though. I felt good, amazing even. The warmth spreading in my body contrasted with the cold metal machine which was lifting me up to the clouds.
I think I blacked out at that point. The next thing I remember was waking up in a gutter on Steele street. I somehow managed to black out an entire fucking month.
Man, I kinda miss that burger though
|
Empty bags of chips, crushed 2L bottles of coke, stiff pizza boxes.
Trashbags taped to the windows, phone cord unplugged, cat door boarded up.
Cockroaches, mice, mold.
"Today's the day," Dennis says to himself. Patchy beard, red-rimmed eyes, fuzzy teeth.
He squares himself off against his front door.
Military surplus boots, parachute pants, heavy black trenchcoat.
The doorknob warms his palm. A single turn of the wrist is all it will take.
There's a TV commercial he's seen every fifteen minutes for the last ten hours. A section of brown scummy floor tile gets sprayed with a bright yellow liquid. Then a rag sweeps through and reveals glittering white laminate.
Dennis imagines the sun will have a similar effect on his home. One bright yellow spray of daylight and his home will be scrubbed clean of the darkness, the damp, and the mold.
And if the sunlight had a similar effect on him, too, that wouldn't be so bad.
A single turn of the wrist is all it will take.
Dennis takes a deep breath.
On the other side of the door is his concrete walkway. It runs straight for a few feet, then bends left to his driveway. He could walk along the walkway and down his driveway to the sidewalk, which runs along the periphery of his neighbours' homes. If he walks along it, he'll brush up, gently, against his neighbours' lives. He'll see their new cars, their bright flowers, and their shiny windows. It'll be a non-invasive reminder that there are other people in the world, and that he can interact with them without anything going bad.
But what if he's walking along the sidewalk taking in the cars, flowers, and windows and he stops to admire a particularly well-kept house, one with manicured bushes and a perfectly trimmed lawn, and on the other side of the invisibly clean French windows he makes eye contact with an attractive middle-aged woman, and she sees his trench coat and his boots, and her face barely changes, in fact she smiles at him, but there's a crinkling he can see around her eyes, and a twitch of her upper lip, those unconscious physical ticks that spell out disgust.
What if that happens?
He'll have no choice but to show her that her opinion doesn't matter to him. He'll have to piss on her lawn. Or kick her flowers to scrap. Or run his dragonclaw knife down the length of her car.
He wouldn't want to do these things, but he'd have no choice.
And, come to think of it, he'd have to do these things if a child on a tricycle sees him walking down the sidewalk and turns around. Or if a man cleaning his car looks at him and says hello in that flat, unwelcoming way that middle-aged home-owning men have.
Dennis, non-violent at heart, would hate to hurt anybody.
But if he turns his wrist, lets the sun into his home, and steps out into the light, it's unavoidable.
Dennis pulls his hand away from the doorknob.
"Some other day," he says to himself. "When people are nicer."
That's when his home and a cylinder of earth descending three kilometers toward the planet's core are teleported into the hold of a passing mining spacecraft.
*****
The examination display showed the usual rectangle of boring, useless materials.
"Temperature standard, radioactivity standard, and edibles non-existent," White Salt said. "Nothing to this planet but the usual."
Bucolic Meadow passed a lump of enriched granite between her forefeelers. "Another dud, eh?" She flipped the granite across the command center, pushed off from the wall, and was waiting at the opposite side to catch the granite in her mouth. "Dump the load. We'll check the two inner planets and call it a day."
White Salt navigated to the eject command, but when the confirmation screen came up, he paused. He nibbled the tip of his hindfeeler. "Hold on," he said, and brought up the examination display again. There it was, at the very top of the rectangular sample, a mess of elements, irregular in composition and arrangement. He zoomed in. "Something funny about the sample's surface. There's a hollow construct here. It's irregularly regular."
"It's what?"
"It's unnatural. Straight lines and ninety-degree angles."
The suspension bar in the corner squeaked as Foam Wash dropped down. "Sometimes nature is unnatural. That's statistics." He fluttered over to White Salt. "It's a hollow space not even three units high. We see those all the time."
"I know. You're right."
The edibles dispenser crafted another lump of granite for Bucolic Meadow. This one she bounced off the bulkhead and caught. "No objections to ditching it, White Salt?"
"Foam Wash is right, but," a ripple travelled along White Salt's feelers, "it's bugging me."
"What the shoot," Bucolic Meadow said. "It's been a quiet week. Let's check it out."
Foam Wash grumbled. "Waste of time."
"Change of pace," Bucolic Meadow said. "White Salt, suit up. Bring Mini Moon and Molten Flow with you."
*****
They entered the examination hold via the airlock chamber. The three of them wore external exploration suits of limbered aluminum. A shuttle platform took them to the sample's surface level. The examination hold was not designed for physical exploration, and there was no lighting provided other than the monocular beam on their headmasks.
Molten Flow said, "Captain, do you receive me?"
"I do, Molten Flow," Bucolic Meadow said. "Initial report on the 'irregular regularity'?"
"Initial visual scan lends credence to White Salt's estimation. The hollow box bears a number of features not found in nature. Peaked top, angled corners. The box itself presents a symmetry, while consisting of a number of sub-symmetries."
"Statistics," Foam Wash said. "Does nobody understand statistics?"
"Thank you for your contribution, Foam Wash," Bucolic Meadow said. "Molten Flow, have you located an entrypoint?"
"Negative. On all sides the box presents contiguous surfaces. Entry will be made via digging tools. Permission to proceed?"
"Proceed."
*****
After removing his hand from his doorknob, Dennis was startled by a tremor running through his home. He wobbled on his feet, and crushed soda cans fell off his kitchen counter.
He said, "Huh. Earthquake," and went to bed.
A whining sound woke him. At first he thought it might have been part of the dream he'd been having, in which he'd been trying to take care of himself as a toddler. Whenever he brought toddler-Dennis a cup of juice or bowl of soup, toddler-Dennis would slap it out of his hands and scream.
But the whining continued even after Dennis had sat up on his floor-level mattress, pushed aside the pile of musty clothes he slept under, and rubbed the fuzziness out of his eyes. It came from the first floor, and he soon smelled steam and smoke coming up through the floorboards.
He cinched his belt tight, pulled on his Iron Maiden T-shirt, and clipped his dragonclaw knife onto a belt loop.
The light at the top of the stairs didn't turn on when he hit the switch. Nor did the bathroom light, or his bedroom light.
Had a fire taken out the powerlines? Was there a civil insurgency underway?
The whining ratcheted to a higher octave.
Dennis gripped the stair's railing tight and went down the stairs, taking care to step over and around the crumpled toilet paper rolls and cereal boxes on the steps.
When he was halfway down, whining cut out. He heard a thump against his living room wall.
He got to the main floor and peered around the doorway into the living room.
Another thump, and this time the wall shook.
A thin line of light traced a rectangle on the wall, almost as though someone had sawed a doorway into place.
And the thumping -- the thumping was almost as though that someone were now trying to knock the wall down.
Instinctively, Dennis gripped the knife at his side. Robbers would get what was coming to them if they messed with Dennis Halloran.
The wall crashed to the ground, bobbing lights blinded Dennis, and he reeled away from the living room with a hand to his eyes.
*****
*more below*
| 2017-06-10T05:20:38 | 2017-06-10T02:54:34 | 503 | 152 |
[WP] A masked vigilante starts fighting crime in Los Angeles, except everyone knows it's obviously Elon Musk.
|
It was late on Skid Row. The tweakers and gangbangers were doing their nightly grind. I was unfortunate enough to be around. I took a turn to a less populated street and before I could backpedal I heard it.
“Don’t move.”
Three large men surrounded me. The one in the center gripped a knife.
“Empty your pockets and walk away.” The man spoke coldly.
Suddenly I heard a distance noise.
It sounded like the song “Radar Rider” and it was growing louder.
A massive light was growing and hurling towards us. It was a Tesla Roadster coming out of the sky like a meteor!
We scattered out of its path, but the car completely obliterated the man in the middle.
In the smoking inferno of Tesla ash and appendages, a figure jumped forth.
It stood in a bright red metallic suit, with a massive “T” on the chest.
“Let him go!” Came a voice so recognizable it could command a cereal line.
The men, laying on the ground in a daze, looked up in confusion.
“Fine,” the masked billionaire vigilante said, thumbing his nose, “sorry, nothing personal.”
He grabbed the man nearest and placed a three piece rocket to his back. He then propelled him 50meters into the air before the side rockets split off making a perfect landing. The middle rocket carried him into orbit where he remains to this day.
The final man began crawling away was snatched up by the collar and asked trembling...
“What are you?”
The red suited figure responded in his immaculate CEO tone,
“I’m the Muskrat.”
He then threw the man into the air and ignited him with a flamethrower, which I imagine is fun.
He walked towards his burning car, but before leaving turned to me.
I was bloodied and bruised by the impacts and my hearing was completely gone. I was in shock, but I did hear his last words before he flew back into the stratosphere.
“Mars colonization will belong to the private sector, kiddo.”
|
Detective Finsk Slammed the door a little harder than she usually does, making the slouching skinny man's smug half smile jump as the water bottles on the table shook. Finsk dropped a meaty file on the desk and sat down opposite the entrepreneur, fixing him with an even glare. After giving a sidelong glance at the file and the door, He looked at detective Finsk for a long moment. As he moved to speak, Finsk cut him off.
&nbsp;
"Mister Musk, we are both quite busy people so lets get the bullshit out of the way. For this interview, you are waiving the right to an attorney is that correct?"
&nbsp;
"That is correct."
&nbsp;
"Say it to the camera, please."
&nbsp;
Taken slightly aback by the procedural nature of the comment, Musk blew out his lips and addressed the lens in the upper right corner of the room. "I, Elon Musk waive my right to an attorney."
&nbsp;
"Now that we've got that out of the way, what the fuck exactly do you think you're doing? we do not live in a comic book and your actions have consequences."
&nbsp;
Musk made a confused noise and half-chorteled, slouching even further back in the hard metal chair, crossing his arms. Finsk took the opportunity to open the folder and flicked an 8x10 photo of man in a full leg to chest cast, an amused officer standing next to the bed.
&nbsp;
"Marquise Dayton, 35. Was apparently attempting to rob one Angela Hayes on the evening of May, the twenty-fourth. Victim claims he was threatening her with a knife when a 'suited person dropped out of the sky and kicked him clear across the street, then *flew away*'. he suffered 2 cracked vertebrae, a broken femur, a smashed knee and a concussion. All of which should do wonders for his opiate addiction."
&nbsp;
The businessman made another move to speak, his confused look not hiding at *all* a glimmer of joy flashing in his eyes. Finsk rolled over his vocalization, charging ahead. She flicked over a stack of five more photographs of large people strung up in hospital beds.
&nbsp;
" Blake Sheldon, apparent carjacking in progress. His 'Pretend to be a construction worker flagging traffic' seemed to be working until someone snatched him up and dropped him off the sixth street viaduct. Broke his neck, legs and back. Driver reports 'jet engine sounds, *man*'. Same noises reported Alton Gurdine, who says 'someone in a space suit' punched his apparent mugger into a dumpster. That punctured a lung a broke his arm. You know who else reported 'Jet engine noises'? The staff and patrons of a bank downtown when apparent robbers David Borne, Sal West and Gurly Hampton were beaten to unconsciousness at the rear loading dock, because according to one eye witness 'Their truck was blocked by a driverless Tesla Roaster that sped off with the *rescuer*."
&nbsp;
Finsk couldn't help but smile at that, and watched Elon try not to look pleased with himself. Leaning back, Finsk folded her hands on her lap and looked at him patronizingly. He pawed through the stack and got to the photo on the bottom underneath the blackened face of Gurly. It was a slightly blurry photo of a person in a flight suit wearing a motorcycle-like helmet of mirrored black glass. Heavy webbed belts tightly buckled were holding on a backpack of some description, who's bulk emitted a slight glow behind him. the same glow came from the ankles of a pair of bulky boots. It was honestly pretty cool, since the photo made clear that the wearer was hovering about a foot over a lamppost, looking slightly down at the camera. She watched his toothy grin fight not spread across his face at the sight of the image.
&nbsp;
"I've got several more, and I'm sure you could offer accounts of others you *didn't* put in the hospital, but lets not stroke your ego for too long. A word your huge genius brain might have found recurring was "*apparent*", because it is a technical term. It means because these people were very badly hurt and they didn't actually get very far in their crimes and as such could not have any charges brought. So they get to walk out of General once they've gotten some lovely healthcare. Well, all of them except for your dumpster fellow, who died about a day later from the trauma. We didn't even know his name, just that he went by 'Chris'. "
&nbsp;
Mr. Musk looked rather stunned, and more than a little hurt. a hand went to his pocket, and he shifted his uneasy gaze between the photo and Finsk.
&nbsp;
"I think, perhaps, I should call my lawyer."
&nbsp;
"Lets just talk, Mr. Musk. you're not detained, you can go any time you please. We've got no proof; just six leaked daily schedules, four un-filed patents and a hunch. So, why don't we just chat for a little bit."
&nbsp;
Musk was moving to stand, but stopped at the mention of patents. The "personal emergency parachute system", "Flight suit personal air-bag", "Concussion braking helmet" and "silicon-ceramic omniresistant panels" all had their fillings cancelled at an early stage for "budgetary restrictions" but had been saved in a database prior to being removed from public domain. It wasn't enough to get him caught, unless they really started digging. But it did look awful fishy. Frankly, Finsk didn't have much gumption to dig at all. She smiled warmly at him, steepling her fingers over the file.
&nbsp;
"I know you won't want to go down without making a big fuss. Frankly, there is not much you don't do without a fuss but whatever. All I'd like to warm you of, is that if we see you patrolling the streets like batman again this goes from 'goofy stories about hypothetical super hero' to 'Wealthy man hospitalizes people'. We're not fucking around about this, it doesn't look good for your goofy casual *style*. Now you have a pleasant evening."
&nbsp;
The smile had all but evaporated from him and he rather dazedly passed Finsk on his way out, not saying anything else and stumbling a little bit on the lip of the doorframe. The John Doe "Chris" had more accurately died of advanced pneumonia, but the trauma certainly didn't help. She assumed he would find that out on his own, but certainly might think much more carefully before another bout of vigilantism. He'd also try to route a hypothetical mole somewhere in his clerical department, giving their proper informant more time to snag the unpublished, unclaimed jetpack and suit design. she picked up the photo of the hero, and grinned. She was imagining an LAPD badge on a slightly more shapely chest, and with that soaring through an urban canyon scanning for threats. Maybe that was the goal, and Elon was even smarter than she thought
| 2018-02-07T12:44:50 | 2018-02-07T12:30:56 | 596 | 10 |
[WP] A masked vigilante starts fighting crime in Los Angeles, except everyone knows it's obviously Elon Musk.
|
I’d only seen Elon Musk in tv interviews before, but something about the masked figure attempting to stop an armed robbery with fancy looking gadgetry stuck an unique chord with me.
He was barely managing to disguise his voice, only managing to deepen it by a quarter of an octave. Honestly once the shock wore off the burglars were going to get the upper hand on him. Four to one wasn’t great odds... I suppose I should help even the score...
It was obvious that whatever martial art he was attempting, he was either rusty at or that large brim hat and mask combo was making it difficult for him to see. Luckily I have a black belt in Tae Kwon Doe, and the burglars are all super busy looking at Mr. Musk in his ‘Musketeer’ costume.
When the odds swung to two against four the burglars all went down fairly easily.
Mr. Musk, smiled as he raised a musketeer-style sword tricked out with a contact taser on its tip. “Why thank you for the assistance civilian, how do you feel like becoming “The Musketeer’s” sidekick?”
He was actually calling himself the *Musk*eteer... with the slightest unconscious emphasis placed on Musk...dressed as a Musketeer. Wow.
“Uh. Well sure, I guess that’s cool.”
Mr. Musk smiled brightly at me, “How about your superhero name being... *The Ninja*?”
Man... just because I was Asian, who knew martial arts—actually I was oddly okay with the stereotypical hero name. It was oddly like I was in a Silver Age comic book.
Plus I was talking to an insanely rich guy on a Batman-esque crusade, best someone have his back.
So I nodded, and gave a respectful half-bow in response.
“Excellent!” Mr. Musk grinned, “Follow me!”
I followed him to a brand-new bright red Tesla, and I hopped into the front passenger seat.
My life was about to get very interesting.
-fin
|
Detective Finsk Slammed the door a little harder than she usually does, making the slouching skinny man's smug half smile jump as the water bottles on the table shook. Finsk dropped a meaty file on the desk and sat down opposite the entrepreneur, fixing him with an even glare. After giving a sidelong glance at the file and the door, He looked at detective Finsk for a long moment. As he moved to speak, Finsk cut him off.
&nbsp;
"Mister Musk, we are both quite busy people so lets get the bullshit out of the way. For this interview, you are waiving the right to an attorney is that correct?"
&nbsp;
"That is correct."
&nbsp;
"Say it to the camera, please."
&nbsp;
Taken slightly aback by the procedural nature of the comment, Musk blew out his lips and addressed the lens in the upper right corner of the room. "I, Elon Musk waive my right to an attorney."
&nbsp;
"Now that we've got that out of the way, what the fuck exactly do you think you're doing? we do not live in a comic book and your actions have consequences."
&nbsp;
Musk made a confused noise and half-chorteled, slouching even further back in the hard metal chair, crossing his arms. Finsk took the opportunity to open the folder and flicked an 8x10 photo of man in a full leg to chest cast, an amused officer standing next to the bed.
&nbsp;
"Marquise Dayton, 35. Was apparently attempting to rob one Angela Hayes on the evening of May, the twenty-fourth. Victim claims he was threatening her with a knife when a 'suited person dropped out of the sky and kicked him clear across the street, then *flew away*'. he suffered 2 cracked vertebrae, a broken femur, a smashed knee and a concussion. All of which should do wonders for his opiate addiction."
&nbsp;
The businessman made another move to speak, his confused look not hiding at *all* a glimmer of joy flashing in his eyes. Finsk rolled over his vocalization, charging ahead. She flicked over a stack of five more photographs of large people strung up in hospital beds.
&nbsp;
" Blake Sheldon, apparent carjacking in progress. His 'Pretend to be a construction worker flagging traffic' seemed to be working until someone snatched him up and dropped him off the sixth street viaduct. Broke his neck, legs and back. Driver reports 'jet engine sounds, *man*'. Same noises reported Alton Gurdine, who says 'someone in a space suit' punched his apparent mugger into a dumpster. That punctured a lung a broke his arm. You know who else reported 'Jet engine noises'? The staff and patrons of a bank downtown when apparent robbers David Borne, Sal West and Gurly Hampton were beaten to unconsciousness at the rear loading dock, because according to one eye witness 'Their truck was blocked by a driverless Tesla Roaster that sped off with the *rescuer*."
&nbsp;
Finsk couldn't help but smile at that, and watched Elon try not to look pleased with himself. Leaning back, Finsk folded her hands on her lap and looked at him patronizingly. He pawed through the stack and got to the photo on the bottom underneath the blackened face of Gurly. It was a slightly blurry photo of a person in a flight suit wearing a motorcycle-like helmet of mirrored black glass. Heavy webbed belts tightly buckled were holding on a backpack of some description, who's bulk emitted a slight glow behind him. the same glow came from the ankles of a pair of bulky boots. It was honestly pretty cool, since the photo made clear that the wearer was hovering about a foot over a lamppost, looking slightly down at the camera. She watched his toothy grin fight not spread across his face at the sight of the image.
&nbsp;
"I've got several more, and I'm sure you could offer accounts of others you *didn't* put in the hospital, but lets not stroke your ego for too long. A word your huge genius brain might have found recurring was "*apparent*", because it is a technical term. It means because these people were very badly hurt and they didn't actually get very far in their crimes and as such could not have any charges brought. So they get to walk out of General once they've gotten some lovely healthcare. Well, all of them except for your dumpster fellow, who died about a day later from the trauma. We didn't even know his name, just that he went by 'Chris'. "
&nbsp;
Mr. Musk looked rather stunned, and more than a little hurt. a hand went to his pocket, and he shifted his uneasy gaze between the photo and Finsk.
&nbsp;
"I think, perhaps, I should call my lawyer."
&nbsp;
"Lets just talk, Mr. Musk. you're not detained, you can go any time you please. We've got no proof; just six leaked daily schedules, four un-filed patents and a hunch. So, why don't we just chat for a little bit."
&nbsp;
Musk was moving to stand, but stopped at the mention of patents. The "personal emergency parachute system", "Flight suit personal air-bag", "Concussion braking helmet" and "silicon-ceramic omniresistant panels" all had their fillings cancelled at an early stage for "budgetary restrictions" but had been saved in a database prior to being removed from public domain. It wasn't enough to get him caught, unless they really started digging. But it did look awful fishy. Frankly, Finsk didn't have much gumption to dig at all. She smiled warmly at him, steepling her fingers over the file.
&nbsp;
"I know you won't want to go down without making a big fuss. Frankly, there is not much you don't do without a fuss but whatever. All I'd like to warm you of, is that if we see you patrolling the streets like batman again this goes from 'goofy stories about hypothetical super hero' to 'Wealthy man hospitalizes people'. We're not fucking around about this, it doesn't look good for your goofy casual *style*. Now you have a pleasant evening."
&nbsp;
The smile had all but evaporated from him and he rather dazedly passed Finsk on his way out, not saying anything else and stumbling a little bit on the lip of the doorframe. The John Doe "Chris" had more accurately died of advanced pneumonia, but the trauma certainly didn't help. She assumed he would find that out on his own, but certainly might think much more carefully before another bout of vigilantism. He'd also try to route a hypothetical mole somewhere in his clerical department, giving their proper informant more time to snag the unpublished, unclaimed jetpack and suit design. she picked up the photo of the hero, and grinned. She was imagining an LAPD badge on a slightly more shapely chest, and with that soaring through an urban canyon scanning for threats. Maybe that was the goal, and Elon was even smarter than she thought
| 2018-02-07T13:53:56 | 2018-02-07T12:30:56 | 37 | 10 |
[WP] In this world, soulmates cannot hurt each other in any way or form, intentionally or unintentionally. You are an assassin hired to eliminate a powerful figure. As you close in for the kill, your bullets miss their mark and knives bounce of their skin. Things just got awkward.
|
“Wait,” Bob thought, “am I gay?” Looking back down the scope, the shirt clearly had a hole burned in it, directly above the aorta - the shot had been good, but had just bounced off. The target was alive so Mr. Bloome was going to be pissed. Shit, he’d found his soulmate – his wife was going to be pissed. The man in his crosshairs looked pissed too, but then again he had just been shot, so Bob felt that was probably fair. Even so, Bob felt happy as he put down the rifle, dusted the dirt off his khakis, and with trepidation, trundled out of the bush, ready to go and meet his true love. As he approached, he noted that his love was seriously ripped, and with the steeliest blue eyes. Maybe he could make this work.
“Hi,” Bob opened with, “I’m Bob”. There was an awkward silence as the man just stared at the red-faced assassin. “Umm, I’m the one who shot you.” Bob ventured after a pause, worrying that the moment was getting away from them.
“I saw” Said the target, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly,
“… Sorry I suppose, Mr. Kent” said Bob. The man just sighed,
“You can call me Clarke. And don’t worry, it happens all the time”
|
I had been waiting for 15 hours. Dark, muddy, rainy, and freezing from my lack of proper gear. My hands were shaking not from the nerves, but from the cold. How was I supposed to get an accurate shot off with a trembling trigger finger? Even so, I thought to myself 'not my worst Saturday.'
He should have been there by now. Hell, he should have been there hours ago, but that was the way it was with politicians. A last-minute change of plans could take them to the other side of the state. 'Maybe he won't show and I'll have to be back here next weekend, great!' I thought to myself sarcastically.
I sank lower into the leaves as I contemplated my options. The setup was perfect. A small hill overlooking the governor's mansion from 500 yards, just enough tree cover to be cloaked in darkness, and an easy getaway down a back road and into the night. Perfect - minus the lack of a target.
I begrudgingly began packing my things as the anxiety started to rush over me. There was nothing worse than waiting. Action was easy, you were in it, you took care of the job and it was over. Waiting, however, brought on night tremors and 5 hours of sleep a week. 'Well, I guess it's one more week. If his schedule holds.'
It had been a painstaking process to line everything up with the governor's busy schedule, and it would only get worse as the election grew closer. The men who hired me would not be pleased with this development. Time was running out to give their candidate a clear path to victory, but what was I to do? You can't kill someone if they aren't there.
As I stuffed my sniper rifle into its case, I heard a faint noise in the distance. Could he be coming in late? I jumped back to my position and peered through my binoculars. No, just a group of drunk college kids zigzagging their way home.
My car was parked 200 yards away, door unlocked and pointing down the road - an easy getaway. Trudging through the puddles I started to iron out the plan for next weekend. I would have to check the governor's updated schedule, but if my recollection was correct, he would be arriving at around the same time the next weekend from a fundraising event.
I tossed my gear into the trunk of my 2013 Nissan Maxima, which had been rented under a pseudonym. Another layer of secrecy between my boss and the hit.
I started the car, flipped on the lights, and there he was - the governor. All by himself, with only a tiny umbrella to keep him dry.
Startled, I jumped out of the car and began to run.
"Mark!" he called out. "Stop, come back here and talk to me."
I didn't know if it was the cold or some sense of odd respect, but I inexplicably turned to face my target even though my cover had been blown.
"Governor, how are you?" I tried to sound as normal as possible. Well, as normal as someone who was soaking wet on a Saturday night outside the governor's mansion could sound.
"You know you don't have to do that?" he replied.
"Do what?"
"Anyone who has known me as long as you have doesn't call me governor. And my best friend sure doesn't have to."
"Alright then, Robert. How was the fundraiser?" again going for normal.
"Terrible, you know I hate those things. It is a necessary evil I guess, but I don't know how much longer I can endure. What I'm curious about is, what brings you out here at 1 AM on a Saturday night. Seems a little late for a hike doesn't it?"
"Uh, well...sometimes I can't sleep and I need to get out of the house..."
"Mark" he interrupted. " I know why you are here."
My heart dropped. Could he really have found out? Everything loose end had been tied up, every track covered. Aliases used and his boss had assured him of the utmost secrecy. How could this happen?
"I, I... just..." dumbfounded, I still couldn't get a word out.
"Do it."
"What?" I replied.
"You heard me, do it."
"But.."
"I don't want to be here. I don't want to be governor but the train is moving too fast for me to get off now. It has been a long time since I have been happy. The office forces you to do terrible things, unspeakable things. I went into politics with rose tinted glasses and the idea of saving the world, but reality hit and there is nothing to live for anymore."
"Robert, I don't know if I can.."
"Why not? You were all set up to take care of it an hour ago, what is the difference? Can't face me like a man and take care of business? For what they are paying you, it seems like an easy trigger to pull."
"But your staff, they must know you are out here. If something happens to you and they see me pulling away, I'm dead to rights."
"I've pulled them off and snuck out for the night. Seal training still has its uses."
"Robert...I don't think.."
"DO IT!" he yelled, becoming more impatient.
I reached into my holster and pulled out my pistol, hands trembling. Walking over to the governor, I couldn't help but wonder how this would play out on the morning news.
Taking a few paces towards him, I took a deep breath to calm myself. 'Just do it'
BANG
As soon as my finger hit the trigger I felt a rush of remorse flow over me. How could I have done this to my best friend? Sure I needed the money, but at what cost. I buried my face in my hands and began to cry. It would be a cold long night.
Then, a hand on my shoulder. "Mark" I glanced up and there he was, ripped suit over his heart, but not a scratch on him. "I thought this might happen. I wanted to be gone so badly if I could not live the life I wanted, but now that I know, I want to be with you. There is a million dollars in cash in a bag down the road. Let's go"
It took just a second for me to make the decision. In the back of my mind, this had always been a thought, but it seemed so ludicrous, it could never happen. Motioning to the governor I hopped into the car which was still running and dropped it into gear.
"Robert" I said. I think we are going to be just fine.
| 2018-04-24T04:13:28 | 2018-04-24T03:01:07 | 56 | 12 |
[WP] You find a loose plank in your basement floor and pry it out to replace it, only to discover a massive pile of bodies under the house. Even worse though is the fact that every one of those bodies is your own
|
"What the f—"
A piece of cold metal rested itself behind my head. "Why won't you ever learn. Even after 243 times."
&#x200B;
I woke up in the morning with a strange headache. It was almost like a hangover, and I didn't even remember drinking yesterday night. I got out of bed almost tripping over my own feet, stumbling on the pile of dirty clothes and used tissues.
I went to the bathroom to wash my face, seeing my own face in the mirror had always felt weird, and oddly familiar. I told myself I'd do some cleaning this weekend, but like always, I push it till next Sunday. Well, at least I picked up the tissues.
On my way to the kitchen, I stubbed my toe on seemingly nothing.
"God damn it!" I bent over and rubbed my injury. That's when I saw the loose plank on the floor. No way will I deal with that every day. So I went to fetch the dusty crowbar that I had if I were to ever do a Gordon Freeman cosplay, and pried it open.
There was a lot of space down there, enough to store an emergency ration stash if there was ever a zombie apocalypse. I giggled at my own stupid fantasies. When I finally removed the plank and light came flooding down the hole, I saw...myself. Myselves even, plenty of me, my faces, my bodies, corpses, everywhere.
"What the f—"
A piece of cold metal rested itself behind my head. "Why won't you ever learn. That's the 244th time we've been through this."
&#x200B;
I woke up in the morning with a strange headache...
|
I scowl at the floor, watching the creaking board almost mocking me. A grunt rises in my throat and I force it down.
I'd *just* gotten my basement remodeled.
Shaking my head and biting my lip, I kneel down to inspect the board, feeling it over with my hands. As I grab onto it, I can feel it come loose, I can feel it shaking uselessly in place as if it's not even nailed down. A wild idea rises up in my frustrated mind.
Maybe it's the late hour, or maybe it's the frustration I feel because of the money I've now *wasted* on remodeling, but I latch onto the idea. I grab it and I hold it tight, keeping around it like a vice.
My hands reach out over the board once more, coming to the loose end my stray step had kicked up into the air. My fingers wrap around the frayed wood.
And I pull.
The wooden board creaks once more as I rip it from its place and throw it with a grunt across the room.
Rusty nails attached to it clatter on the floor and I don't even look towards them. For a moment, I stare at the hole I've just created, seething in idle frustration. And for a moment, I feel doubt—I feel regret for just tearing a hole in my floor.
Down below my floor, though, where there should be ground, I see a metal ladder and a swirling blackness. The hole is deep, and looks more like an underground passage than a hole at all.
But as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I nearly choke. Because that's not even the worst part.
At the bottom of the hole, bodies scatter the ground. I shudder as a stray beam of light shines over their skin, reflecting wrinkled, pale flesh up at me. I swallow dryly, trying to scrape the sudden bitterness from my mouth.
It doesn't work.
My mind screams at me and I step forward toward the hole. My body crouches down and I stare more intently, disgust growing within. But as much as I want to run—to scream hell to the heavens, I don't. Something about the hole is... familiar, and something else deep inside me screams at me to find out why.
So, out of volition I'm not entirely sure is my own, I descend.
Step after rusty step, I climb down the ladder. My knuckles go white with tension as I grip the sides and I gasp in dusty air every few seconds that pass. The space around me is cold, and I can feel prickles against my neck.
But still, despite everything, I descend.
When my feet finally touch the floor, a putrid smell crosses my nose. The cold air swirls for a moment, letting me in on the secret of the hole that is dried blood and rotting flesh. I jerk my head back, nearly slamming into the ladder, but I don't make a single move to climb up.
Instead, my body proceeds, stepping carefully over the pale flesh I'd seen all the way from above. For a moment, I push away the sights, but then something catches my eye. In the corner of the room, light shines off of familiar blue irises and I lean towards it.
When my eyes adjust to the dark, I freeze in place, coming into a direct stare with my very own face.
Repulsion rebels against my skull, but my skull pushes back. I step backward and glance around, staring at the rest of the bodies in the room. Suddenly, my mind shrieks as I realize the things I am smelling all come from bodies of me.
I twitch in place, not wanting to stay. And as soon as the thought crosses my mind, I see the tunnel continue. Ahead of me, further into dim darkness, a narrow passageway of dirt opens up. Without even sparing more time to think, I surge through it and away from my very own corpse.
The walk through the narrow passageway is cold and silent, but not once do I complain. My mind spins wildly, my nose twitches wretchedly, and my heart thunders rapidly. But not once do I think about leaving. Not once do I think about turning around.
As I reach the end of the passageway, more sights send bile up in my throat.
Directly in front of me are piles of bodies, each one wearing my face. They are mangled, bloodied, and destroyed in a myriad of ways that are each far worse than the last. My gaze freezes on each one of them, but each time, I rip it away. And when a blue light flashes in the corner of my vision, I finally block them all out and surge my way toward that.
"It's about time," a voice calls, cackling. Among my swirling thoughts, I recognize that voice as my own.
As I round a dark corner, his visage comes into view. There, sitting on an old creaking chair and tossing a rotating blue light in his hand is me—or, a version of me at least.
My mouth slips open, but no words come out. Only unsure sounds that echo off the walls.
"Don't speak," he says. "It's okay. I can speak for myself."
The smirk he flashes me is one I've only given once or twice in my life.
"I'm surprised it took you so long, though. I've been leaving all of the hints and implanting the images to drag you down here for weeks." His expression darkens. "I don't like being surprised by myself."
"W-What's going on?" I find myself able to ask.
He chuckles, still tossing the glowing blue ball that I faintly recognize as a rapidly spinning clockface. "You're finally being saved."
I blink. "Saved? Saved from what?"
"From the timeline you've been cursed to," he snarls. "You get to join all of our friends here, and you get to have the satisfaction that you are preserving the most blessed of all yous."
A chill runs down my spine and I try to step back. But I can't. His gaze locks me in place.
"But you're me," I say, muttering. "I... I hate killing. How can any version of me commit anything like *this*?"
He chuckles and stops tossing the ball. In a movement barely fast enough for my eyes to capture, he sits up and glares at me.
"Oh, I'm so naive. You just don't understand."
"Understand what?" I scream, my voice hollow.
"You see," he says, a knife somehow appearing in his hand. "I'm not killing people."
"You're not?"
"No," he says with a smirk I wish my face wasn't able to make. "I'm just killing myself."
---
/r/Palmerranian
^(P.S. The ending language is not meant to support suicide at all. If you or someone you know is considering suicide or self-harm, please take care of them and get support. A helpful bot has linked the suicide hotline down below.)
| 2019-04-17T18:46:20 | 2019-04-17T18:36:38 | 170 | 14 |
[WP] An alien race has always used sleek and pristine strategies and weapons when it comes to war. During their invasion of Earth is the first time they experience guerilla warfare firsthand
|
"Where are they all coming from?"
"I don't fucking know! They are acting like there aren't any other habitable planets in the Universe!"
Just then a bomb went off near the two aliens. Slightly discombobulated the two laid low trying to regain their senses.
"How many of them do you think we'll have to fight?"
"At this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if we have to kill every last one before they forfeit the planet."
"Do we win that fight?"
The two aliens exchanged a glance that said what both of them were thinking. They weren't winning this war.
The alien generals had chosen the landing zones for their troops. They picked various remote regions spread throughout the world in the hopes that it would make it more difficult for Earthlings to reach them. They were wrong. The Earthlings met them on any battlefield and fought to the last man. The aliens were beginning to fear the endurance shown by this primitive species.
"General, early reports are showing no advancement on the front. The humans have strange weapons. If I didn't know better, left to themselves, they would have destroyed their own planet with this type of power."
"Why the hell wasn't this on the initial report? This says, and I quote,
"Earth: 4.5 billion years old
Humans: 200,000 years old
Advanced weaponry: None.
Advanced Defenses: None."
"Who the fuck wrote this report?"
"I-I did general." A small alien walked forward, all eyes on him.
"Explain to me how we have our soldiers down there dying to shit that we can't even see? Gas in the air, some sort of heat weapons, and SOMEHOW, they managed to create weapons that fire fucking minerals at us fast enough to rip through our armor. We are being fucked up the ass down there and you need to tell me why."
"Sir, our report came back 300 years ago. No such weapons were reported. I don't know how they mass produced such weaponry so quickly."
"So you're trying to tell me, within 300 years, a primitive species managed to develop advanced weaponry, the likes of which can not only wipe out our entire fleet, but possibly destroy their own planet if necessary?"
"I-It seems so sir."
"GET THIS FUCKING SPACE WORM OFF MY SHIP."
A couple soldiers grabbed the alien by the arms and asked, "What would you like us to do with him, sir?"
"Space him."
"Please, sir. I'm sorry, I don't know what happened. Let me go down and fight. I'll figure out what their weapons do. Anything, please don't send me out there!"
Ignoring his pleas the general turned back to his officers and said, "We have to figure out what the fuck these creatures want. 6 billion of these things down there and it seems they will fight to the last one. Send an envoy to reach out with a translator. I want to meet with their leader and discuss terms of surrender."
|
The bombs, missiles, rockets, and a myraid of other projectiles struck down the world's superpowers militarys and communication networks in less time than it took for word of the attacks to be passed between nation's. Next EMP and energy weapons disabled the world's nuclear arsenals and poison filled the capitals of every state and country on the planet. Finally the troop ships landed and pried open the pitiful bunkers before laying waste to the inhabitants. Now all that was left to do was to subdue and catalog the civilians and exploitation of the planet could begin.
Te-ern smiled at the remarkable efficiency of there conquests as his team strode through a field of golden "corn". It was a far cry from his first few expeditions he remarked to the armored soldiers beside him, those were sloppy and primitive compared to this. He was the second in command of the company stretched out in a searchline, another company walked a field to their right with a pair of 50x20 foot hovering utility combat vehicles (or hucvs) going down the road between the two groups. The soldiers 7 foot tall frames barely reached above the "corn" and Te-ern would be grateful to be free of it, after all it was somewhat pointless, they had not encountered resistance of quantity since one hour ago when they were finishing up post landing cleanup work in this "states" capital.
Te-erns men were arranged in two rows, each row staggered and 20 feet apart with himself and 5 of his suit clad comrades bringing up the rear. "Tell the forces to stop in between the end of the cultivated crops and the treeline, there should be a waterway in there and we will check scouting reports before we cross it", the soldier closest to him communicated it with a signal broadcaster attached to his suit.
The soldiers did as instructed and per training, they dropped down to one knee and awaited their commanders in the 20 foot wide section of grass separating the crops from the tree clad creek bank. As Te-ern surveyed them on his way to the command hucv. One, an old comrade of his, asked Te-ern from under his black and silver suit, "when can we ride on the hucvs, this seems pretty pointless sir".
"I would agree if not for the Mulpek invasion, we didn't do a ground search of their crop fields next to major roadways and it cost us badly when their troops resupplied from caches hidden within them. You should remember that Ce-pek, your brother didn't come back to base from their counterattack". The commander continued walking, he needed to meet with the company and battalion commander more than he needed to explain procedure. Soon the alien arrived at the second hucv and handed his longarm to an aide before the plane style door lowered and he stepped inside the airlock. Soon the door closed behind him and the hiss of the airlock signaled he could finally take off his helmet. The door in front of him then opened and he took two long steps forward before stopping and taking a knee in front of his superiors.
"Rise and join the table second commander of 1st company, 3-62 Earth", the commander of 2nd company ordered. Around a small electronic circular board stood the commanders of the 1st and 2nd unarmored company's, the 3rd armored company, the supreme commander of the 3-62 Earth division, and a myraid of aides performing or waiting to perform various tasks.
"Anything to report", the supreme commander questioned.
"No sir, after extensive scanning we have detected no possible caches and 1st company is ready to cross the small water body".
"How about 2nd", the armored company commander questioned.
"My 3rd has already reported in, nothing detected except for a few wild animals, we also await the order to cross", the respective commander responded.
"May I ask ma-am what happened to your 2nd", Te-ern questioned, "I served with him on two previous campaigns".
"He was the 1 casualties we suffered upon landing. Struck by a stray human vehicle, we medevaced him and last update is a good prognosis, thank you for asking".
"Good, glad to hear he is doing better than our sole casualties, poor Te-den shan't be returning home unfortunately."
The supreme commander, never one to dwell on things when work needed done interjected, "Well I'm sure the forces are eager to move so shall we begin reviewing the plan an...", a shockwave forced them all to the ground or against the nearest solid object. Even through the dense hull explosions and screams could be heard.
"What by the homeworks happened", the 1st company commander asked as she rose from the metal floor.
"I'll check", 3rd armored said as he ran to the front of the vessel and the cockpit. He had been lucky enough to grab ahold of a nearby screen display. He returned in less than a moment. "Front hucv is touching the ground and our two right turrets are down, they came out of the woods and are hitting 1st company hard. Mostly appears to be improvised placed explosives and infantry launched small arms".
That was all he needed to hear, he pulled on his helmet and ran to the airlock. As soon as the door hissed shut he hit the outside door button and leapt out before it had even fully opened. His aide was crouched behind the vehicle and tossed Te-ern his infantry weapon. Together they threw themselves into the right side ditch as bullets and rockets whizzed by them.
"Fall back to cover and rally, deploy all heavy weapons towards their base of fire, squad commanders get to cover and then prepare to advance. I will not allow land to be lost to these creatures". Without waiting for a response he stood and looked through his thermal scope at the top of a tree acrossed the field of tall gold, he fixed the sight on a figure descending from the tree, disabled the safety, and hit the fire button. The figure fell as the bolt of energy shot out and found its mark, their were no more heat signatures however. Suddenly the din began to die out, and all he could soon hear was his own troops screams and weapons.
"They have disappeared", the radio cackled.
By the homeworld what was this. They we're winning and they fell back anyway. "Damage report", the supreme commanders voice ordered.
The third commanders of the companys soon responded, at least 20% of their forces had been severely wounded or killed, a hucv was disabled and another severely damaged, and an estimated 50 of Te-erns 100 troops were now casualties. The alien fell to the ground, "how many, how many did we get?".
"10 or 11 confirmed enemy casualties at this time", the reply chilled the alien to the depths of his internals. The always reliable aide half drug him back into the damaged vehicle and into the airlock where he finally regained his feet.
He didn't bother to kneel when he walked in, "what just happened", the shocked veteran questioned. He leaned against the round electronic table that now flickered and showed dark sections, his legs once again unsteady.
"We don't know but it is unlike anything we have ever seen before", his commander stated with a disconnected and quiet voice.
"We just found a message from them on a woody plant", an aide stated oddly excited, "the translation should be up on the secondary screen in 1-2 minutes".
They all stared towards the wall mounted screen, hoping for an answer. Maybe it would tell them why they retreated or hinted at their return. Te-ern hoped so, he had never faced an enemy that appeared and disappeared in seconds. How could they advance, how could they fan out and search, seize and capture, how could they take this planet when at any moment 20% of their forces could be wiped out. No, Te-ern couldn't do it, he couldn't lead the other 50 to their casualtie status.
The translation finally came through, with bated breath the room watched as the letters were slowly formed on the screen. It read, 'welcome to the human nation of America you female dogs'.
| 2020-07-14T16:25:09 | 2020-07-14T14:54:15 | 41 | 29 |
[WP] Magic is mundane in your world. Not that you ever cared about it; you were an auto mechanic like your father. But you're not sure what to do after one of your best customers raises you from the dead because you're the only one he trusts with his antique cars.
|
"It worked! You're alive! Listen. I know you were enjoying your rest, and I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but I must ask you. Will you please come fix my babies?"
I'm looking at my hands. The corrupted, rotten flesh of what used to be my hands is slowly repairing itself. I feel air coming through my cheeks, but less is coming through with each breath. As my eyesight returns to greater clarity, I notice I'm in a surprisingly well-preserved checkered suit, and stinky liquids are being forced out. Likely the embalming fluids.
"You brought me back to life and restored my youth... why?"
"You are the only one who I trust to fix up my antique Oldsmobiles."
"What year is it?"
"1956."
"No. I mean what year is it? Now. How long have I been dead?"
"3306. Looks like you were buried in 2025."
I look up to see a few space ships fly overhead. Heh. Guess tech beat out magic. I chuckle internally.
"Wow... Uh... What was your name again? My memory is foggy."
"It would be. You've been dead 1011 years and some change. My name is Aradell. I bought my cars from your old dealership all the way back in 1955."
"And you want me to fix them over 1300 years or whatever after you bought them... because...?"
"Metal restoration spells can only do so much. I went driving one day and the poor thing died at a red light. I was crushed! I took such good care of it after you had died. All the parts are original, save for a few that I had a friend help me fix. Ignition coil and radiator fans are the only parts that are brand new. I want to drive it again, but I fear no mechanic now knows of the ways old engines work."
"Fine. Get me out of this six foot hole. I'll take a look at it."
|
“Are headaches normal?”
“They are when you’re missing your head.”
I stared at a wall, my head tilted to the side, cheek pressed in a puddle of oil. He had revived me, but why? I was certain I had placed a sticker over my license that said. ‘In case of death, do not reanimate.’ And yet here I was, alive and somewhat well? Apart from the blistering headache, the constant throbbing making it feel like my head would catch alight, a dangerous thought given my current predicament. “Little help? I can’t feel my legs.”
“Of course, you can’t, your heads not attached to your body. Here let your good pale Dan help ya out.” Dan pressed his palms against my cheeks, causing a pathetic sputtering sound to leave my lips as the air escaped. He carried me over to my body, which was slumped against a chair, covered in nasty bruises and markings.
“Wait, is this going to hurt? That looks like it’s going to hurt. Maybe we should wait until my body heals more?” I shook my head as best I could, trying to avoid being reattached to that ghastly looking corpse. I tried to get some reassurance from Dan, eyes looking as far back as my head would allow, only to see him give a small shrug.
“You know, I won’t lie to you Todd.” I awaited Dan to continue, but that’s all he had to say. Offering no reassurance as he leant over my body, placing my head back on. He gave it a small twist before a burst of blue light appeared before me, the light moving around my head before I felt a tight tug as the skin rejoined.
“Ahh, that is the worst. Kill me.” I pleaded, throwing my body to the floor, not caring about the horrible stains, wanting to end my suffering. It was as if all my wounds had opened at once, my crushed organs twirling in my body, my bruises intensifying. After the initial shock of adrenaline, I dropped to the floor, sobbing into the ground.
“Kill you? I just revived you, now let’s do something about that pain.” Dan crouched at my side, giving my cheek a soft poke, causing the pain to wash away with the touch.
With the pain fading, I stretched my arms out, catching my breath once more. “Why didn’t you do that before you revived me? Do you know how painful that is? I should grab a screwdriver and shove it down your-“
“Easy now. I couldn’t do it until your soul was reattached. If I did, I would have risked your body rejecting you. That’s not a good thing, if your body rejects you, your souls left to wonder the earth. I did you a favor. Basically, if I healed your body, it might not have recognized you, considering the trauma in your brain wouldn’t have matched what it was feeling.”
“The trauma in my brain?” I questioned him, watching as he wiggled his finger at me, getting my eyes to follow him as he walked across the garage, leaning against an antique 1960s Hellbumper car. One with the flame paint stripes on its side. A real eyesore of a car. Worse than the car’s paint job was the massive dent near its engine.
“Yeah, you got crushed by a car. That’s not something your brain forgets. Basically, your body and brain would experience different sensations. Your brain would freak out about the pain while your body would be perfectly comfortable. Its complicated business, I assure you. I don’t expect you to understand, it would be like me trying to understand what makes a car go.” He said, trying to dumb down his weak justification for making me suffer. I couldn’t even tell if he was being honest about this ‘Brain trauma’. It sounded like an excuse. Perhaps he just hadn’t thought about healing me.
“What makes a car go is a pretty simple process, want me to explain it?” I offered, fingers reaching back to massage my neck, trying to work out the stiffness from my body. “No, I have no interest in learning.
“I have you for anything car related. Now about my car, you will notice my car has some minor damage.” He said tapping the car’s dented hood, the knock causing the hood to peel off, revealing a mess of smoke underneath. “Mind having a look at it?”
“Wait, a car crushed me? How long ago did I die? Shouldn’t I be in the ground?” I looked down, dressed in my usual attire, the same work uniform that had served my family’s shop well for years.
“About that. They held a funeral for you, I couldn’t go, I had other plans, sorry about that. But before they dropped you into the ground, I swooped in like the angel I am and saved you. Do you know how much they charged me for your body? They wanted one thousand for you, of all people. A rip off if you ask me, but I paid it so I guess they got me good. Can you take that off the bill? I did you a favor, after all.”
“A favor? What makes you think I want to be alive? I’m not interested in this magical crap, I just wanted to live a normal life like my father and die an honest death. I have no interest in immortality. Can you undo the spell?” I knew I was basically asking for him to kill me, but what option did I have? I couldn’t live as a reanimated corpse that went against everything I believed.
“I can do that. It’s a real shame though, you are the only child of your father. Your grandfather opened this place. Three generations of magic hating mechanics, each one making this shop something beautiful, only for it to end with you. It’s a shame it never saw four generations.” He gave me a shrewd look, knowing I would crack. “Are you ready?”
“W-wait, on second thought, maybe I should stay a little longer. Maybe I can train a successor or wait until I have a family to die. I can’t let this place rot.” I hated this, forced to play into his hand, that damned necromancer knew how to get me.
“Great, keys are on the counter and you have my credit card. Charge me whatever you want, I know you’re an honest man after all. I’ll come back in about a week with another damaged car, so be a dear and don’t let your post death pains slow you down too much. If you experience demonic screeches in your sleep, that’s just hell’s demons trying to torment you for breaking the laws of humanity. They will get bored in a week. Toodle Loo.”
I stood there dumbfounded, wondering how many steps ahead the man had planned this. With a sigh, I went to the bathroom, taking a few painkillers from the medicine cabinet, downing them before heading back to work.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
| 2021-03-26T08:38:30 | 2021-03-26T08:20:19 | 111 | 71 |
[WP] The princess ran away from her home and became an adventurer. To hide her identity, she cut her hair and took on the disguise of a young man. The king hears of this adventurer and hires him to find his missing daughter.
|
So I ran away to find myself. I've heard of the common people doing it. A GAP year and all that. Being a princess is of course a privilege but no one speaks to the privilege of poverty. You have freedom. I have everything I could ask as far as materials. But I am essentially a glorified slave.
So here I am. In the woods, learning to camp; on the seas learning to sail. I've even rescued a few distressed maidens believe it or not! You see, a woman is not seen as capable of rescuing others. But it seems, once we cut our hair off, hide our femininity, suddenly that genetic predisposition to submissiveness disappears. Suddenly we can be whatever we want to be. So, I ran away to find myself, you see.
So can you believe, just after fending off a wolf in the woods, covered in sweat, some blood, face smeared with dirt. Laying exhausted on my back, beginning to feel like I was reaching a deep, true part of myself, buried deeply for years under a royal disguise. Feeling exhausted and scared, but, sincere. Would you believe, a young letter carrier, sent by my father, appeared from the brush, wide-eyed and short of breath, to this place deep in the woods, and handed me a letter from my father, asking me to find myself.
I stared at the letter for a long time. The boy must have thought I was in shock due to the wolf attack I had just barely survived. I stared at this letter for a long time.
Then I suddenly burst into roaring laughter. I rolled onto my side, clenching my gut, laughing until tears covered my cheeks. I must have looked absurd to the boy, tears of dirt dripping down my face. He must have feared me a lunatic.
When I finally calmed down, I tried to reassure him.
And I composed a short note back to my father. I promised I would indeed take on the role of finding his daughter. I promised to search far and wide, and rescue from wherever she might be held captive.
I can even use the payment offered to fund my travels.
I sent the boy to deliver the letter, with a look of pure relief in his eyes that he could now escape this madman alone in the woods.
Feeling a sense of calm and release like I had never experienced, I sat with my face up to the sun for some time.
*Yes, Kind Edward. I will indeed search for your daughter. For quite some time. I may even bring her back to you eventually.*
*But what will you think of them once they've returned?*
|
\[Stellar Replacement\]
"My daughter was the light of my life...," the king droned on. His explanation of why he summoned the small group of adventurers hadn't actually started yet. He'd been talking for almost five minutes about how much he loved the princess. Four adventurers answered the call along with Pyxis. She wouldn't have attended if she knew the king was going to be there. The flyer she picked up asked prospective adventurers to meet at the Royal Stable. It sat a decent distance from the main castle and she had never visited the stable when she was still a princess.
She assumed she was safe; but, she pulled the red hood of her cloak lower over her face once the king appeared. She stood behind the other four adventurers. Luckily, they were all approximately the same height and they were all girls. One with dark, bushy, curly hair that ended at her shoulders. One girl had short, straight violet hair, and another had a long wine-red pony-tail that reached her waist. The fourth one had straight, silver hair that stopped midway down her back.
As the king went on at length, Pyxis felt some faint resentment beginning to grow in her gut. The entire reason she ran away from home was that she felt like nobody noticed her. It was a huge castle filled with servants and guests alike; but, it always seemed like everyone was too busy to play with her. Her parents only ever acknowledged her in passing. The nannies and tutors that were supposed to raise her only did the minimum of their duties. But, now, the king stood before a group of strangers and pretended to be a distraught father.
"I asked you all here today because it seemed appropriate," the king changed his tone. "My daughter loved these stables...," he said.
"I've never been here...," Pyxis couldn't keep the comment to herself; but, she managed to keep her voice to a whisper. And, she suppressed the giggle that followed. The violet-haired girl turned to glance at Pyxis after the comment. But, it was quick, then she was facing forward again.
"...she visited the stables daily until she disappeared two days ago...," the king explained.
"No I didn't," Pyxis shook her head. "Two days??" The timeframe surprised her and she spoke louder than she meant to. The king continued talking but the violet-haired girl turned around again.
"You okay?" she asked. Her question prompted the other three girls to turn around. Pyxis was stunned. She ran away from home almost a month ago. The day she turned 14, no one seemed bothered enough to care. She realized she did not want to endure another 14 years like that and left. But now?
Now, she had four strangers looking at her with obvious concern on their faces. It was a negligible outburst, she was too confused to be upset. But it was the first time in 14 years that she'd heard that question. The king continued talking despite the fact that all the adventurers were focused on someone else.
"Yes, sorry," Pyxis nodded. "I'm okay, don't mind me," she said.
"Are you here alone?" the teen with dark curls asked. Now that they were all facing her, Pyxis could see their eyes. The dark-haired teen had one green eye and one coffee-brown. She also had golden highlights in her hair that weren't visible from behind. "You could join us for this quest if you like," she added.
"Thank you...," Pyxis nodded. "Really.. thank you," then, she shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea though."
"Why not?" the girl with wine-red hair asked.
"...the rewards would be beyond your imagination...," the king continued behind the girls and something clicked in Pyxis' mind. She was used to being ignored by her dad; but, it didn't quite explain why he was ignoring the adventurers he summoned to find his beloved daughter.
"Because...," Pyxis took in a quick breath for courage. Then, she stood up straighter and pulled her hood down. "...I'm the princess," she said. She no longer whispered.
"What say you, brave adventurers? Will you find my daughter?" the king asked.
"I'm right here...," Pyxis said. She spoke with volume and waved her hand to get the king's attention. The four girls in front of her split to give him a clear look at her. The king stared at her blankly.
"I'm Aurora," the dark-haired teen introduced herself with an outstretched hand.
"Pyxis...," she shook Aurora's hand. "...you have to believe me, I'm the princess!" she said.
"We believe you," Aurora nodded.
"I'm Vivi," the violet-haired girl smiled and waved.
"Emily," the silver-haired girl smiled.
"Valentine," the girl with wine-red hair nodded.
"What say you, brave adventurers? Will you find my daughter?" the king asked.
"I'm right here!" Pyxis repeated her assertion. Then Aurora put a hand on her shoulder.
"He won't recognize you as the princess anymore," she said.
"What?" Pyxis asked. "Why not? How do you know?"
"It's kind of complicated," Aurora shrugged. "There's some good news and bad news mixed in there. What's the last thing you remember?" she asked.
"I ran away from the castle about a month ago," Pyxis answered. "I've managed to stay hidden and adventuring keeps me fed."
"Oh, okay," Aurora nodded. "Well, it'll take some explaining; but, we'll hang around with you until you're comfortable. The good news is, you got what you wanted," she said.
"The bad news is, your old life was one as an NPC. That's a Non-Playable Character," she added when a look of confusion appeared on Pyxis' face. The explanation didn't help the confusion any.
"It means you were part of someone else's game, doing what they wanted you to do," Vivi chimed in. The explanation helped. Pyxis knew that feeling very well. She didn't know why she felt at ease, but she trusted her new friends enough to accept the explanation for now. They had promised more answers later.
"When you ran away, the king needed a new princess to be kidnapped. As far as he knows, the current princess is the only daughter he's ever had."
"So... what now?" Pyxis asked. She was too distracted at the moment to wonder about a replacement princess. She had her own things she wanted to do with her friends.
"Now, we go save the princess," Aurora grinned. "After that, it's whatever you want to do."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1731 in a row. (Story #285 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/wtglls/tokuhigh_alternet_class/).
| 2022-10-12T09:25:17 | 2022-10-12T08:46:01 | 222 | 152 |
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