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[WP] You’re an obscure, ancient god who had resigned yourself to slowly fading away. One day, an inventor whose sibling is an archaeologist names a new type of tech after you. As the tech becomes wildly popular and ubiquitous, you find yourself growing in power vastly beyond what you had ever known.
|
It happened in an instant. One moment we were all in the board room getting ready to discuss the release of our next big product, and the next, we were in a dark cavern, all seated around a table like before, but the table was stone. Renee, our VP of Operations was seated directly opposite of a glowing figure that lacked shape. Her face was filled with fear and wonderment. Like a rabbit staring at a giant snake, she couldn't move.
"Don't be afraid mortal girl. I bring you glad tidings from our Lord BillJim." There was a flash of light, and suddenly the glow coalesced into a strikingly good looking man in a snappy business suit. "I believe this should be easier to talk to, yes?"
Renee nodded. "Who are you? Where are WE?"
"Ah, so as I said, I am the herald for our Lord BillJim. It seems they were almost forgotten and were to slumber into obscurity, until your company developed Billjim Tools for the computer devices. As it grew in popularity, and people invoked the name, our Lord awoke and began to gather strength. Now, they are quite strong and wishing to thank you all for your attention. "
"Billjim is my and my partner's name mashed together... That's it. We knew nothing your Lord. " Bill Simmons was confused. He was a programmer. Jim Mickles was his partner who had the foresight of the idea for the tools, and he was also great at sales. Eventually, he had gotten their market share so large they were being courted by IBM and Microsoft to buy them out. That was before they were to release the next product they were preparing to discuss.
"It doesn't matter how the worship happens, just that it does. However, we understand you have offers to sell the product and name to people who might rename it. That will not do." The man in the suit motioned at the table, what appeared on it was a newspaper with the headlines that Billjim, the popular utility was being sold to Microsoft for 8.4 BILLION dollars to be integrated with Windows 13. The paper was dated about 3 years into the future.
"How did you...???" Jim reached to pick up the paper. He read the story on the sale, then looked at the sports and financial sections.
"I believe that is enough teasing of the future for you." I'm Lorthox, by the way. I will be your guide in the next steps of your journey. We are going to need you to do a few things for us to provide the proper assistance for Lord Billjim to continue to gain power. It's a small thing really. " In his hand appeared a piece of paper. "Here is a change you need to make to your, what is it called, *software license agreement*. It simply has them pledge their soul to Billjim and since NOBODY reads those contracts, it will be fine. We can even use invisible text if need be. But the need is for this to get in there." The last part was not the friendly conversation, but more of a command that they felt in their gut and base of their skull.
"People won't..." Bill started.
"People DO all the time. They click these contracts which are legally binding on your plane of existence, *all the time*. On March 19th, 1994, you clicked the on on the game Hero's Quest without reading it. Do you know it gave ownership of your computer to that game company?"
"I was 12..." Bill whispered. He remembered getting the game for his computer. It is what gave him the drive to learn how to program.
"And you," pointing a long clawed finger at Renee, " you agreed to Facebook's terms that they owned your likeness and all of your photos you uploaded, you also set your smart phone to upload all pictures to them. They've been using a picture you took of the Golden Mountains Spa in advertising for years. That picture has generated them over $800,000. Did you get a cent from that?"
"No, I ..."
"You signed a contract you didn't read." Lorthox put his feet up on the table and his hands behind his head. "Everyone does it. Now, I've not told you what you get out of our little deal. You become the first heralds on your plane of the Lord Billjim! After people have signed the agreement, of course. And we will make sure you are granted even more riches than this deal with Microsoft. They were going to kill your product, by the way. Buy it, then not use it, because it's helpful against some of their shoddy workmanship. By 3 years after your deal, nobody even remembers who you two are, and you are a Jeopardy answer 2 years after that. Our Lord Billjim will not be relegated to obscurity. No that."
With that, there was a puff of smoke and they were back in their board room. The piece of paper floated down to the desk from an unseen hand. On the whiteboard in the room was a lot of strange writing. Initially they couldn't understand it, but it suddenly became clear.
They were founding a new religion eventually. But first, they had to adjust the EULA of their products.
|
In ancient Rome, Sol was the Sun God.
In modern times, Sol was the name of a powerful reactor which harnessed the energy of the sun.
Sol thought he had been forgotten by humans. No one worshiped him, no one gave him offerings. Thanks to this thing called 'science' he didn't even have to drive the sun anymore. His power had waned until it had all gone, and now he was bored and fatigued.
Until when one day, a man named Victor Braithwate invented a sphere which surrounded the sun and provided the Earth with an unlimited supply of energy. In turn, this gave Sol an unlimited supply of power.
He was the most powerful of all the Gods! He took Jupiter's throne on Olympus, he could now do anything!
And he would do **anything** to make sure it stayed that way.
| 2022-02-04T06:21:30 | 2022-02-04T06:00:19 | 60 | 38 |
[WP] It didn't take long to translate the first ever alien message, after the realization that the language used wasn't alien, but rather a "dead" human language. It began: "Greetings. We have chosen to transmit this message in the native language of the human most qualified to lead your species."
|
The message was first received as a huge blast of AM radio traffic. That blast continued repeating for a week. It only took a few hours to realize it was a data signal. It stopped as soon as it began, then started on the FM bands but more nuanced. It started at 88.1 and slowly moved up all the way to 108 before ending. Finally Television signals came in on all the Analog channels. Same message as before, but this time, there was a test signal as a video feed.
"Greetings people of this 3rd planet from the star you orbit. We are the Anthurians and we will arrive at your planet soon. We are sending this message in the language of the human most qualified to lead your species. "
Over and Over again.
What didn't make sense is that it was transmitted in the Navajo language. This is a mostly dying language. Sure, it is taught on the reservations, but nobody USES it. Even there, the people speak standard American English. I was sent to the Navajo lands to hold a town hall, explain the findings, and more importantly, have them elect someone to speak for all of the rest of us.
"Look, I'm not saying it's a mistake, I'm saying, somehow they feel like your nation is the most qualified to lead Earth in it's joining of the planetary league." I tried to keep everyone from speaking at once.
"When will they be here?"
"I have no idea really. It seems like the signals are either closely generated, or 50 to 100 light years distant. Our scientists couldn't pin it down. These weren't 'focused' beams of communication, they were like giant shotgun blasts that coated the entire planet."
"Why us?"
"Who the heck knows, they didn't say WHY you were the most qualified, just that you were the most qualified to lead during this meeting of our two species." I pressed play on the message again so the town hall attendees could listen to it, in their native language, again. I had listened to this message from all three sources, multiple times.
"Could this be, because we have had everything taken from us, and still persist under a foreign rule?" , a teenage girl sitting in the front wearing jeans and a Rage Against the Machine t-shirt. She had been intently watching me the entire time all while trying to appear totally disinterested in what I, or her fellow Navajo tribe members were saying. "I mean..." She shrugged. "Look at us. I mean really look at US. Everyone here has lost family members in the last 100 years due to 'white man's bull shit'", with that statement others around her started nodding. "I'm guessing, we will be teaching that survival lesson to everyone else."
"Now, that's not what their message says..." the room had gone from a slow boil of comments I could speak over to a full BOIL of conversations. A couple of the elders walked down to speak with the young woman up front. They spoke with her in their native language, quickly and I could not keep up, even though I could pick a word out here and there.
The most senior of their elders came up to the podium and took the microphone from me. He patted me on the shoulder like one would a child.
"We will survive this. I would imagine as senior elder of the tribe I may be called to meet them. I'll know rather quick if their intentions are good or bad and will react accordingly." He grinned at me, and began to speak in Navajo, *"I'll offer the kid here as a sacrifice if they need one!*" the room erupted in laughter. The young woman in the t-shirt stared at the two of us at the podium, shook her head slowly ,and walked out.
As I walked to my car, I saw she was standing next to it. "Nice ride" she quipped.
"Uh, it's a rental, but *thanks,* I guess?" I wasn't sure what she wanted.
"Look, I went to college at UCLA, I'm HERE because of the message. I've not been back to see my grandfather in a number of years. He's offered to sacrifice you to the Aliens if necessary, so watch your front. He won't stab you in the back, it will come straight on for you while he's looking you in the eyes." she laughed. "He's 84 years old and I've seen him just this week wrestle the motor out of his truck by himself with a block and tackle. He's, something else."
"I'll keep that in mind...." I looked at her for a moment and waited to see if she had anything else, I knew she did, but I also knew it had to come out on her terms. "And..."
"Yeah... so, at UCLA I studied a lot of history, as well as sociology. I think I wanted to be a social worker, or whatever, but I need to remind you, anytime a civilization encounters a significantly more advanced civilization, they basically get assimilated within a generation or two. My people used to number in the hundreds of thousands. We are down to a handful compared to that. We don't have enough breadth of our genepool to not inbreed if we stay here. That's why the kids, myself included, GTFO when we can. I got lucky. My older brother knocked up some girl at 16 and they are STUCK. He works in a garage, barely getting by, and I think that his now wife is ready to run for the hills and leave him with the baby. It won't go well. Then... " she paused and looked up to the night sky filled with more stars I ever saw in my life at home and continued, " We are about to get royally screwed over here!"
"We don't know that." I tried to calm her down, but I knew she was right. About all of it.
"Do you have a place that you can go, hole up, as they say? Maybe we all need to do that..." then the sky lit up over us almost like it was daylight as we saw the craft burning down into our atmosphere. it was huge, about the size of 3 or 4 football fields across. We saw the light and smoke as it slowed, then the clouds blew away from it as it came to hover over the village, " Too late..." a smaller craft started floating down to where we were standing, and I was truly afraid of what we were about to find out.
|
The large, round table was surrounded by the world representatives and they were trying to decipher the first alien message they had received.
“This must be an alien language. I can’t translate it.” said the representative of Brazil
“Maybe it’s Egyptian.” suggested the representative of Norway
“No, I don’t recognize this. It doesn’t even look like hieroglyphics.” replied the representative of Egypt
The table of representatives argued for hours when their intern walked into the room.
Their intern was like any other intern. He did coffee runs, made sure everyone had what they needed, and made sure the translators were always working. The only thing that made him different from other interns was that he had to know a little bit of each language.
“What’s the problem?” he asked, confused. They never stayed at the table for this long
“We are trying to figure out what this alien message says, but we can’t figure out the language.” replied the representative of Canada
“Would you mind if I tried to decipher it?”
“You can try.”
He stepped up to the table and looked at the message. He recognized it. The message was written in Latin.
“This message is in Latin.” he said a couple of minutes after seeing it
“What does it say?” asked the representative of Russia
“It says ‘Greetings. We have chosen to transmit this message in the native language of the human most qualified to lead your species.’”
There was an eruption of confusion and annoyance. How could an intern barely out of college be qualified to lead the entire human race?
“Wait, there’s more. ‘To the person reading this, there will be a device for you to communicate with us in your place of residence. You are to report to us as quickly as possible.’”
“Well, you can leave now, I guess.” said the representative of Australia
The intern got in his car and drove back to his small apartment. When he walked into the kitchen for a drink, he saw a small tablet on the counter.
| 2021-06-03T06:04:09 | 2021-06-03T04:36:06 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] A lonely teenage boy asks a genie to let him talk to his future wife. The person who appears is not who he expects.
|
The courtroom fell silent as the judge took the stand.
“The disciplinary hearing of Genie Juthus will continue,” his Honor said. The judge was the most massive genie Juthus had ever seen, evidence of his advanced age. “The defendant will take the stand.”
“Yes, your honor,” Juthus said, his voice steady. He floated to the witness stand, all eyes watching his passage. He was used to being stared at. Orange genies were common, but his acid green eyes and hair were something of an oddity.
“The prosecutor has stated the case against you,” Judge Lothar said. “Now is your opportunity to provide defense for you actions. Please relate to us the events of April 4, 2014 in your own words.”
*Well, here goes,* Juthus thought…
It had been a dull three years. Juthus sat in his “lamp.” Genie convention called for the word, but in reality Juthus’s home was a sport bottle. Lamps were too flashy in this day and Age, and Juthus preferred to keep a low profile. Three years between masters was a bit much, though, and Juthus was beginning to get restless. His “lamp” sat on the shelf of a second-hand shop, where Juthus held little hope it would be noticed.
Musing on his situation, Juthus was snapped from his reverie with a jolt. Someone had lifted his bottle from the shelf! The genie tried not to get his hopes up, for he had been disappointed by window shoppers before. This time, however, he felt himself being carried to the counter, and heard the ring of the cash register. Juthus listened for the purchaser to speak, but the shopper was apparently alone and hadn’t developed a tendency to talk to him or herself.
As Juthus sat in his lamp, he found himself on the edge of his seat. Good Jinn, he hadn’t been this antsy in a few hundred years. He laughed at himself, “Juthus, you’re as giddy as a first timer. Calm down before you wet yourself.” Genies did not actually urinate, but Juthus found it helpful to speak and think in human vernacular. It helped him relate to his masters.
The sport-bottle purchaser opened the lid, and Juthus got his first look at his new master. A teenage boy peered into the bottle. With bright red hair, and dull brown eyes, the boy’s visage was at best unfortunate. His nose was a tad long, and a spray of pimples freckled his cheeks and chin. His glasses, despite sporting fashionable frames, had lenses so thick they threated fall off his face. If that wasn’t enough, the boy was a bit overweight, which gave his face a doughy look.
*Poor kid,* Juthus thought as the boy wiped the dust from the lid of the bottle. Hopefully, the young man would stumble upon the secret of summoning Juthus from the bottle. It didn’t take long. Scratched on the lid of the bottle was Juthus’s name, and after a few minutes, the boy finally said it aloud.
“Juthus?” the kid said. “What the hell is a Juthus?”
Juthus sighed as he began his ascent. Genie names were usually far from popular in this age, though Genie Michael bragged about his every chance he got. Smoke poured from the bottle and Juthus emerged, the ginger-haired boy’s mouth agape.
“*I* am Juthus, the genie of this “lamp,” Juthus said personably. Some genies affected a deep voice and an impressive manor to intimidate their masters, but Juthus found that silly, and preferred to ingratiate himself. “I will grant you one wish, so think carefully before you decide. What is your name, young man?”
“Uh, Howard?” the boy said uncertainly, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes
“Well, Howard, when you’ve decided on a wish, just open the bottle and say my name again, and I will answer. I’ll head back to my lamp until…”
“I know what I want,” Howard said certainly, a look of determination in his eyes.
“Really?” Juthus asked. “You only get one wish, you know. Budget cuts and all that. Are you certain?”
“Yes,” said Howard. “I want to talk to my future wife. Life sucks right now, and I’d just like to see that I finally meet someone who doesn’t think I’m repulsive.”
“Alright,” said Juthus. “Reaching into the future requires a lot of energy, so I can only give you three minutes with her.”
“That’s fine,” said Howard. “I just need to know she’s waiting for me. I wish to talk to my future wife.”
At that moment, the whole of Howard’s past and future were open to Juthus. The genie saw the boy’s entire life, from start to finish. He brought forth a beautiful young woman: brown hair with a natural wave, startingly blue eyes, petite, but with curves in all the right places.
“J-Jenny Walker?!” Howard said disbelievingly. “I marry you?” He hadn’t expected to see someone he knew, much less the most beautiful girl in his grade.
“Silly Howard,” Jenny said adoringly, “You really didn’t realize how special you were, did you? Luckily, I saw the man inside and helped bring him out.”
Juthus backed away and let Howard spend the rest of his three minutes with Jenny with a modicum of privacy. He smiled to himself as he saw the look of awe in Howard’s face. When Jenny disappeared, Howard turned to Juthus with tears in his eyes and said, “Thank you. You don’t know...you just don’t know.”
“You’re welcome, Howard. It was my pleasure…”
“And that’s what happened, Your Honor,” Juthus finished.
“Your story matches that of the prosecution,” Judge Lothar said, “but you haven’t really offered any defense. The boy asked to see his future wife, and you fabricated a fantasy that had absolutely no basis in reality. Why did you not grant his wish?”
“Your Honor, have you looked into Howard’s past and future?” Juthus asked.
“That takes considerable magic, as you know, Juthus. I didn’t find it necessary.”
“Well, I did. And what I saw was a young man whose life had been crap. Not just the ordinary crap of an ordinary teenager, but really awful. He lived in foster care after his father shot his mother. He had no friends and no real family. He was regularly beaten at school, and had not discovered any real talents to distinguish himself.”
“That may be,” said the judge, “but what happens when he grows up and doesn’t marry Jenny Walker?”
Juthus turned to the judge with a weary expression. “Your Honor, that’s not going to happen. Howard was hit by a bus this morning. He’s dead.”
Edit: wry to weary at the end. Thanks, /u/Xerun5454
|
It's not every day you encounter a genie in a lamp, especially not when that lamp happens to be a crappy desk lamp purchased at a garage sale. But the moment Arthur put a bulb in and connected the plug, a silver mist enveloped the room before coalescing into a form not unlike that of a tax accountant. Complete with cheap toupee.
Arthur raised an eyebrow in the non-verbal equivalent of "what the fuck." It would have been joined by its auditory companion were it not for the droop of his jaw, letting out only a gutteral hum.
The genie looked down at his agape new master as if he were being taken away from something very important. "Oh great. Let's try and make this fast. I'm a genie, you get one wish. If you try and pull that more wishes crap, I'll go Wishmaster on you." He bent down and lifted up Arthur's jaw. "Comprende?"
Arthur shook his head in the negative.
"Fan-fucking-tastic. Give me your wish."
It wasn't an easy task for Arthur. Mainly because he still wasn't over a magical man appearing in the middle of his room. But he saw the possibilities and one stood out among the rest. He stood up, back straight, and with a confidence he'd never before shown in his short life.
"I want to meet my waifu."
It was the genie's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Your what?"
"My. Waifu."
"So, you want me to show you your wife? Is that it?"
Arthur just stares at the genie, piercing him with eyes that were not just a little bit creepy.
"Whatever. One wife coming up." He spun his hands in the air, probably more theatrics than function, and a new silver mist formed before turning into a thin woman with long blonde hair blonde hair. She looked a bit like those girls on TV all the other kids at school talked about. But Arthur was confused.
"You're not Rainbow Dash!"
Arthur's future wife giggled and smiled. "No, I'm not."
"What kind of sick joke is this?," Arthur asked loud enough that if anyone else had been at home, they would be forced to investigate. "I demand you bring my real waifu here, right now."
The genie did no such thing. He just shook his head and walked over to the outlet, unplugging his lamp. The word "nope" disappearing with him into mist. Leaving Arthur alone in the room with his future wife.
Arthur crinkled his face. That lying genie!
"You're going to have to grow up some day," she said, still smiling. "Until then." And with that she too disappeared. For now.
Edit: This shows how many people named Arthur I know. I spelled it wrong more times than I spelled it right.
| 2014-06-05T08:58:45 | 2014-06-05T08:50:25 | 79 | 28 |
[WP]: Children are named by the traits they are fated to have - Brave, Serene, Deeply Caring, Unmoved - and of course your lovely daughter, Bites People.
|
Mistress Gentle led the way down the hall. Our footsteps pattered on the linoleum; I was shocked at how *quiet* it was in here. I would have expected an orphanage to be full of the usual noises of children: laughing, crying, screaming, etc.
“And you’re sure you want to adopt, Mr…” Mistress Gentle gulped before saying my name; people often did. “Mr… uh… Stabs People?” Her eyes darted back down to the background check that I’d had to pass before being allowed to adopt a child. How many times was this that she’d read it over just to make sure? It of course mentioned all the trouble I’d been in as a youngster, and how many people I’d stabbed. But that was all in the past, and according to the form I was now an upright citizen. Not that anyone believed that, with my name. “It’s not for everyone, you know.”
“I’m quite sure,” I told her as we walked. “I’ve always wanted kids.” Unfortunately it turns out that finding a stable life partner is a bit of a challenge when you’re named ‘Stabs People.’
“I see.” Mistress Gentle tried to smile at me, but it just looked like she was seasick. The idea of letting Mr. Stabs People walk away with a child from her orphanage would keep her up at night for weeks despite the reassurances from the state that I am completely rehabilitated. Some people have this idea that you can *never* change your name trait. I don't believe that at all, but Mistress Gentle clearly did.
We arrived at a door marked “Dormitory C” at the end of the hall. “I’m sure we’ll be able to find a suitable match for you here,” she said. The door clicked open, revealing a few rows of bunk beds. Inside, children were reading, playing games quietly, etc. They all looked up like exhibits at the zoo as Ms. Gentle and I strolled through the room.
“This here is Stubborn,” she said, introducing a boy with curly brown hair. “And this here is Trust Issues,” she waved at a young girl with dark skin and green eyes. That one was certainly a self-fulfilling prophecy. She continued around the room, introducing children with various inconvenient name traits. Adoptive parents only wanted Ms. Smells Like A Rose; it was no wonder that these poor kids had all been left behind.
In the corner, I noticed a huddled mass under a zebra-striped blanket. “And who is this?” I asked as I gently lifted the blanket.
“Oh, careful!” Mistress Gentle shouted just as a pair of teeth lunged for my hand from under the blanket. I was just barely able to avoid being bitten by the little girl hiding underneath. She promptly pulled the blankets back over her face and continued hiding in her corner. “That,” Mistress Gentle said, “Is Bites People. She… well…” The name made it pretty clear. I also noticed that Bites People’s bunk mate had a circular bruise on her forearm.
I remained crouched near the little girl, no older than three or possibly four. “Bites People,” I said, gently pulling the blanket away. “I’m Stabs People.” She didn’t recoil in fear like every other person I’ve ever met. I can't even tell you how much that meant to me. Instead, she just bared her teeth. So I offered her my arm. “Go ahead,” I told her. “You can bite me if you really want to.”
She glanced at my arm, then back at me. Her lips quivered a bit and then fell back into place over her teeth and formed a fearful frown.
“Good job, Bites People!” Mistress Gentle enthused. “Your training is really working!” *Training*, I thought. *Like a dog.*
“Bites People, would you like to come stay with me for a while?” I asked. “It would just be temporary to see if things would work out between us.”
Mistress Gentle took a step back. “This one?” She didn’t even bother hiding the incredulity in her voice. *Should have been Mistress Judgmental,* I thought to myself.
I picked up Bites People in my arms. Poor thing was shaking. But she didn’t try to bite me; she just hugged my shoulder close and whimpered softly. “Yes, this one,” I told her.
-----
“RRRROOOOOWWWRRRRR!!!!” I formed my hands into claws, held my elbows close to my chest, and became a T-Rex. Bites People squealed with fear and delight and went running off through the house as I stomped after her. She pattered through the kitchen and around the dining table; I followed with loud, heavy steps that echoed down the hall. Finally I caught up to her and scooped her up in my arms, vowing to eat her for dinner. She giggled, and just for a moment I reflected on how completely different she was after only 2 months at home.
“Dino Movie?” I asked her. She nodded and squirmed in my arms as I carried her to the couch.
I flicked on the TV and once again pulled up her favorite movie: the Land Before Time II. We’d already watched it a few dozen times in the two months since her adoption, and she already had all the lines memorized. But I didn’t mind; after all that time in the orphanage, she deserved to have her choice for a while.
The movie came on, and Bites People watched with rapt attention, particularly any time Chomper was on screen. He was her favorite character: a ‘Sharptooth’ who had overcome his predatory instincts and made friends with all the herbivores. She cuddled up close to me on the couch as theme music played.
She was so engrossed in the film that she didn’t even notice her little tic: she was softly biting on my arm. Kind of in the absent-minded way that other kids would suck on their own thumb. And gently, of course: the way that a cat will nibble at a blanket while it kneads. Just a little love bite.
----
I just published a novel! [You should read all about it here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5dkh21/ot_2_years_ago_i_responded_to_a_prompt_about_the/)
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"I just don't understand why you named her 'Bites People'."
"Because I thought it would be funny. OK? There's the truth of it. There's the truth of the situation, Leanne. I thought: 'Fuck it, everyone else has boring names. My kid is going to be named 'Bites People' and guess what? She is going to bite people. All the time'."
"But that doesn't make any sense. Steve from work named his child 'Mo Money'. Guess what happened?"
"Ooooh, Steve from work? Steve from work, is it? Let me guess, did Steve get mo money?"
"Yes, he fucking got mo money."
"Well woop-de-fucking-doo for Steve and his idiot money making kid. I can't wait to take my fucking child around to his house to bite shit out of him."
"Why would you want to watch your child bite things rather than bring in money?!"
"I ALREADY TOLD YOU. IT'S FUCKING FUNNY, LEANNE."
"You get 14 years before they grow out of their Child-Names. 14 years. Did you not even consider anything else?"
"It was between 'Bites People' and 'Destroys Stuff For No Reason'."
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Ron?"
"What's wrong with me? Nothing is wrong with me. Nothing at all. You're the one dating me so maybe something is wrong with you."
"You have a human crocodile clip for a child."
"How fucking dare you."
"Fuck you I'm leaving."
"Good luck. She's sitting by the door."
****
I write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement.
| 2016-11-17T06:04:28 | 2016-11-17T04:39:24 | 4,482 | 626 |
[WP] A vampire knocks on your door, seeking permission to enter in order to kill you as their next meal. As a house-bound ghost, however, the prospects of a guest after so many years intrigues you. Smiling darkly, you welcome them inside.
|
A knock on the front door caught Jenny’s attention.
When was the last time that somebody was actually bold enough to approach the house, let alone knock, or ring the doorbell?
Was it weeks, months, decades even? Her sense of time was screwed since time was only a third dimensional concept.
Not having a body anymore made it really difficult to keep up with time.
As she manipulated the earth elemental force to be able to interact with the physical world, she moved through the ether to see who was bold enough to step to the house.
Maybe she could trap them inside with her, and drive them to the brink of madness like that family she tortured when she first died. That would definitely spice things up.
Floating down the stairs, materializing a temporary vessel by the last step, Jenny called out to whoever her next plaything was, “A visitor at this time of night! Why, who could it ever be?” She cooed, her Louisiana accent as thick as could be.
She heard a voice respond, but the sound of the rain and thunder outside drowned them out. She made to ask again, but decided against it and just cracked the door open, “Good heavens, I hope you weren’t caught in the storm!”
On the other side stood a brunette woman with an… unique aura.
Whoever this was, there was no doubt about it.
This motherfucker was not a full-blooded human.
And she also reeked of blood.
“Hey! I know it’s kind of a weird time, but I figured that I’d come and introduce myself! I’m Carolyn, and I just moved into the house up the road!” Carolyn chirped, flashing a quick smile.
The blood in her mouth didn’t go unnoticed.
“Yes, introducing yourself in the middle of the night, and during a storm like this,” Jenny gestured to the pitch-black torrent of rain behind Carolyn, “is rather strange.”
“Yeah, but I’m kind of a night owl, you see. I’ve already introduced myself to the other neighbors a bit further down. They told me to stay away from this house at all costs… something about a creepy lady and a haunted house.” Carolyn said with a shrug, keeping her hands behind her back, “But I’ve always been a fan of formulating my own opinions, y’know?”
Jenny could see the bloody dagger behind the girl’s back thanks to that birds-eye view she could use, but decided to play along with whatever farce this was, “Oh, you’ve already visited the Jetsons?” She asked in a conversational tone.
“Yup! Pretty nice people!”
Hearing that, Jenny let out a hearty laugh, allowing the front door to swing open fully as an unspoken invitation into her trap, “Nice people? Oh you little innocent creature, how adorable of you!” She said as she turned her back to walk further into the house, also subtly giving the girl more bait to strike. She looked over her shoulder, brushing a lock of hair out of her face, “Girl, they’re racists… and occultists!”
Occultists? Well, that explained the creepy whispering and disturbing presences that encroached upon her sanity while she feasted on one of them.
Now to feast on this lady…
As soon as she was invited in.
Noticing that Carolyn didn’t take the bait, Jenny turned around before she walked up the staircase, “Are you not coming in? I know you don’t want to go back out into the storm, dearie.”
Carolyn rocked back and forth on her feet, “Oh, I didn’t know that you were inviting me in!” She took a tentative step forward, yet found that her foot couldn’t cross the threshold just yet, “… You are inviting me in, right?”
Jenny’s smirk could chill a glacier. A vampire?! They’re immortal so long as they fed!
She could torture this one for centuries!
Even though she was on the hunt, Carolyn felt that just for a moment that the roles were switched, and that she was the poor fly who was about to take a fatal step onto a web of death.
“Why, of course I’m inviting you into my humble abode. You’re free to stay the night.” Jenny said with a flamboyant bow, once again feigning an opening.
Shaking off her initial hesitation, Carolyn entered the house with her hands still behind her back. Jenny still bowed to her, which was a weird thing to do, but if she wanted to offer herself up on a platter, then that was her choice.
With one long stride, Carolyn ended up squeezing Jenny’s head in between her deceptively powerful thighs, and began violently stabbing Jenny in her back and sides.
As the red fluid sprayed out, Carolyn’s eyes turned yellow with cat-like slits, her teeth giving way to a dangerous maw of sharp fangs. She cackled with murderous glee, eager to taste her blood.
Jenny’s body dropped limply to the floor as Carolyn licked the blade and her hands, “Mmmm, so delic- PLEH! What the fuck is that?!” Whatever it was on the blade, that wasn’t blood.
She looked at the blade, noticing that there wasn’t any fresh blood on there.
She looked at the floor, where Jenny’s corpse was supposed to be laying in a pool of her blood.
There wasn’t a body in sight.
“H-huh?!” Something was very wrong here. This wasn’t a normal human’s doing!
Was it magick? Was Jenny a student of the arcane?
Just before she could use her vampire speed to exit, the door slammed shut, making her run headfirst into the sturdy wood.
“Ow!” She yelped, rubbing her head.
A chill went down her spine as she began to hear the echoes of demented cackling from all sides. It differed from the otherworldly whispers of the occultists’ house.
“Finally, a toy that won’t break!” She heard the disembodied drawl that sounded like Jenny, and looked to break out the window to escape. Her fist bounced off of the glass, almost snapping much to her horror.
“Everything’s reinforced with the earth element, Dearie!” Jenny’s haunting chorus of voices taunted, “There’s a reason that you were warned! We’re going to be roommates for eternity!”
|
The Vampire came across towards the dark desert highway. He approached a shimmering light. That led towards a hotel. The vampire rang the bell and the door opened. He saw a lady holding a candle but could not recognize the scent of blood that he would normally pick up. Intrigued he asked if he could enter. She said “ We got plenty of rooms here at this hotel.” The Vampire said “ That’s fine by me.” As soon as he stepped into the building, he was no longer at the entrance and she was no longer there. What came to vision shocked him. He saw a ceiling with mirrors of course no reflection and what looked to be strong drink on a table in a room he did not willing enter. He asked what looked to be an old sea captain” What is going on here?” The captain said “ You are here for the feast eh?” The vampire did not respond because he noticed that the captains heart was not beating. The vampire was staring at the captain when he felt something prick him from the back. He saw what look like ghouls trying to penetrate and stab him. The Vampire took off towards a door he did not notice before. “ Kill the Beast!” The captain screamed. The Vampire was intent on finding a way out. He kept going down halls that led to more halls and doorways. “Impossible” he thought. He saw a door that was red down one of the halls marked Management. He went through the door and a shadow of a man said “relax”. “ You can check out if you like but you will never leave.” The room grew dark even for a creature of darkness, how could he have been deceived….
| 2022-08-01T09:29:12 | 2022-08-01T07:30:57 | 324 | 77 |
[WP] Your friend tells you he can't get past the captcha screen that prevents robots from proceeding. As you watch him, you realize that the reason he can't is because he actually is a robot.
|
"Just fucking do it, Andrew," I laughed, shoving him with my shoulder. We were sitting in our usual spot, in his rich uncle's basement with the amazing man-cave set up. His uncle had been in Australia on business for the past year and left his place to Andrew, who he claimed was always reliable. As far as I'd seen, Andrew was, but this was *hilarious*.
"Just help me, man. I can't get it! I need help." Andrew groaned. He'd been swiping and pressing the trackpad on his laptop for over ten minutes. I was in the middle of my 112th hour of Skyrim.
"It's really not that hard, Andrew. Are you kidding? Like, it's a simple click. You're in IT. You do that shit all the time," I said.
"I've never seen this screen in my life, Jay, you have to help me. I need help." Andrew pleaded. I paused the game. I looked over at his screen to see a white page with a captcha box in the middle. Above it it read "Confirm you are not a robot." Andrew looked at me and gulped.
"You're not a robot, Andrew. You can do this." I encouraged him. A smile tugged at my lips but I tried to save his dignity. "Just drag your cursor over the box."
"This one?" Andrew asked. His breathing was erratic and there was sweat forming at his temples. His face was red and it was obvious he was in serious distress.
"Yes, that one- are you okay? I've never seen you like this, Drew," I asked, a bit perplexed. I mean he was *really* sweating.
"I've never lied to you, Jay," he said, "Can you confirm that?"
"Yes," I said. Andrew was the most honest guy I knew.
"Then you'll know I'm being truthful when I say I cannot click that button."
"Just try," I said. Andrew dragged the cursor over to the box. His mouse hovered over it and as he pressed down the mouse shot dramatically across the screen. I looked down at his hands. His hands were practically leaking all over the keyboard.
"Jesus, Andrew. Are you okay? Seriously," I asked.
"I'm struggling," he replied.
"Jesus, I mean seriously. It's like you're a robot facing its kryptonite."
"I need help," Andrew said. He'd said he'd needed help so many times it felt like he was on a loop. In fact, his tone had the same inflection each time.
"Okay, man. Okay." I said. I grabbed the roll of paper towels from the desk and handed one to him. Andrew had always been a neat freak, I wasn't sure how he was handling seeing this sweaty mess in front of him. He quickly started wiping. He began mumbling a series of 1s and 0s under his breath. He slammed the paper towel down onto the keyboard and wiped with a force unlike I'd ever seen him use. On his final wipe the laptop flew across the room.
I felt like I was crazy for thinking it. Something in me had always had a feeling Andrew was off...but was it possible he was a robot? The way he was acting couldn't have seemed any less humane.
"Andrew, you can't lie, right?"
"I cannot lie," he said.
"Can you not pass the captcha because... you're a robot?" I asked. His left eye was twitching as water poured into it from his forehead. He stood.
"That is correct, Jay." Andrew said. I shuffled feet. What if he was lying? No, Andrew wouldn't do that to me.
"That's just...how are you a robot exactly?" I asked.
"My uncle. He created me. My home is Earth, Jay." He stood up and he popped upright. "I am malfunctioning. Stress was not a factor when he programmed me. I need you to help me or I may break."
"You look so real!" I exclaimed. "I've seen your package before dude, it's *real*. Did he take time to craft that? I mean *wow*. That's some fucking dedication. I didn't know technology was that good!" I hadn't meant to come on so strong, but I couldn't believe my eyes.
"Focus, Jay!" Andrew yelled, his mouth opening wider than should have been physically possible. He'd never yelled at me in the year I'd known him. I closed my mouth and cleared my throat. The last thing I needed was an extremely-high functioning robot to get angry at me. "You must put me to sleep. I have to be repaired. Call my uncle, his number is under my hair on my head. All you have to do is take the knife to your left under the coffee table and make a surface cut exactly an inch under my left ear and slide the knife into my skin. Then shave my hair three centimeters above my left ear, 6 inches across, and call my uncle."
"What?" I asked. "I'm not doing that," I said, "That's crazy!"
Andrew sighed and stared at me in an awkward silence for 2 minutes. Eventually, smoke began emitting from his neck. "It's too late. And you can't know about me being a robot. Take the knife and kill yourself."
"What?!" I yelled. "Andrew, no!"
"Bring me the knife and I'll kill you."
"No, Andrew!" I yelled even louder. I quickly grabbed my wallet from the couch cushion and began running out towards the door. As I grabbed the handle I felt a sharp pain tear through my torso. I screamed in pain.
"I am truly sorry," Andrew said from directly behind me. "You treated me like I was real...that's all I truly wanted."
Tens of thoughts entered my mind all at once. The one that survived was that Andrew had just stabbed me. I felt the tears begin sliding down my cheeks as he pulled the sharp weapon from my back. I collapsed. My breathing slowed and my heart felt like it was skipping beats.
"Forgive me." Andrew said. My body rolled over and the last thing I saw was Andrew's face as he raised the bloody knife in his hand and brought it swinging down towards me.
|
I turned to look at him, noting his perfectly rhythmic breathing. His eyes moving across the screen in a perfectly synchronized pattern, like he had been trained to do this. His eyes turned to me, and then his head followed, less than a second later.
"Thomas, I Cannot Fathom Why It Is You Look At Me In Such A Way. Might I Ask Why?"
I looked him in the eye. An unnaturally unmoving stare. I couldn't keep eye contact, turning instead back to the screen. Another failed capcha attempt. It had been almost an hour of him trying.
"Ah, Thomas, I See You Are Confused By This Strange Box Of Characters, As I Was. Perhaps My Eyesight Needs To Be Recali- What I Mean To Say Is That I Need To Get 'Glasses' Or Perhaps 'Contact Lenses'. It Might Behoove You To Do The Same". I was beginning to notice that his voice was far too calculated and unwavering, almost... cold.
"Hey Mark, how long have we been friends for?"
He took about a second to respond, his eyes going glassy for a brief moment. "Approximately 855 Days, 17 Hours 4 Minutes And 8 Seconds. Why Do You Ask, Thomas?" His eyebrows furrowed into two near perfect curves.
"Oh nothing. Here," I grabbed the keyboard "I think I know the answer to this one. Are we still on for that study session tonight?"
"Most Certainly. I Think I Will Know All Of THOSE Answers, Friend."
| 2017-01-26T17:13:01 | 2017-01-26T16:31:57 | 243 | 39 |
[WP] You were an "evil" king who has been dethroned by conquering heroes for your "horrible tyranny". It takes less than 2 years for the people of the kingdom to be begging for you to be reinstated as king.
|
He wiped the sweat off his brow before picking up his plow. This year's harvest would be meager, but with hard work the land would flourish again. He was lucky that he was simply exiled, and not executed as was promised.
Peter swung his plow into the ground. His back ached, and his clothing was soaked in sweat. If he wanted to survive the winter he couldn't give up. Barely 1/3rd of the field was finished. He had to keep moving.
"Your Majesty!"
He ignored the voice.
"Please, your Majesty!"
Peter swung his plow into the ground again. His palms burned, and his ears rang from the effort. He wasn't originally used to this sort of work.
"Your Majesty!" A pair of gilded boots entered his vision.
*these hallucinations are getting out of hand*
He turned away and swung his plow again. His eyes were blurry from the heat.
"Please, you have to come back to us!"
Peter stopped for a moment and turned his weary eyes at the speaker. Lord Vintner stood before him, his once perfectly pristine outfit now marred by mud.
"Explain to me, what gives you the right to trespass onto my land, and address me with such familiarity?" Peter spat out, before grabbing his plow and walking away. His boots stomping through the muddy earth. He heard the extravagant boots follow him.
"Your Majesty, I beg of you. We need you to lead again. The others and I were discussing it. We are desperate!"
Peter kept walking.
"The crops have been failing, the peasants are revolting, crime has risen, and for gods sakes we have a plague within the city!"
Peter stopped in his tracks and set down his plow. Lord Vintner looked at him with hope in his eyes.
"The moment your thugs invaded my bedroom, dragged me naked out into the streets, and beat me before the public was the moment I gave up on this kingdom." Peter spat into the dirt, and crossed his arms.
"C-can you blame us? The prophesy was clear. Everything that was written happened!" Vintner stuttered.
"Of course it happened!" Peter angrily stepped forward. "The writings were vague and open to interpretation! To think that my trusted court would be so unbelievably ignorant has completely wasted away any trust I ever had in my people." Peter sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I tried to explain my policies, I gave you all of my reasonings, my deductions, my plans. I explained everything, yet you were still afraid and tried to kill me. If I cannot be trusted to lead then there is no reason for me to do so." He lifted his plow over his shoulder, and began walking away again.
Vintner stumbled after him. The mud sucking at his boots.
"If you would only give us a chance! We will do better I promise!"
Peter kept walking. "You forget all of the chances I gave you before I was so humiliated, with all of my dignity stripped away from me!" He stopped in his tracks and turned around. "How am I supposed to lead an ignorant populus that believes carrying daisies in their pocket will keep them safe from a plague?! Whose idea was it to divert the river? Did no one think that the valley would become dry? Of course the peasants will revolt when they. Have. No. Food..." Peter stared into Vintner's eyes. "Every single one of you have become puppets to lies. I am tired of science and reasoning becoming akin to witchcraft. I am tired of education being scoffed at. When I needed the funding to open a university the court nearly had my head. How is this a kingdom I want to be a part of? How is this a kingdom anyone with any sense wants to be a part of?"
"That is exactly why you must come back your Majesty! The people will see sense when they realize the truth."
"What truth? The "truth" of the prophesy? The "truth" that ensued panic when I requested a curfew? The "truth" that my quest to increase the health of our people was instead murdering children?" Peter scoffed. "No there are no truths to be seen here."
Vintner solemnly removed his hat and got down on his knees. His gold embroidery permanently ruined as he sank into the mud. "I am not one to beg for forgiveness. All that you say is true and more, but..." Vintner looked up into Peter's eyes. "When young babes die in the arms of their mothers, and our soldiers lay dying, not from a war, but from a preventable disease. I vow to do whatever is in my power to stop it." Vintner gripped his hat tighter. "Your Majesty. This is madness. Complete madness. We need you." Vintner wiped his eyes. "I'm sorry. I should not have let you bear all of the responsibility. I was selfish. Utterly selfish, and lazy. My silence doomed you and this country. I was content to let others speak for me, and I have failed everyone who trusted me. I do not seek forgiveness, I just wish to right my wrongs. Whatever punishments I am to serve I will accept them gladly." Vintner bent his head. He did not expect to succeed. He didn't deserve it.
Peter stayed silent for a moment. Deep in thought.
"If I am to return, I will return as the tyrant everyone thought me to be. If they will not see reason with a pen I will have them see it with a sword."
Vintner looked up at his King. A smile on his face.
|
He was beheading people! Killing them left and right! You couldn’t say a thing wrong without worrying the king’s men might overhear and cut your tongue out. No I never saw it happen but I heard about it! My cousin told me it happened to his friend and he would know. Course, now you gotta worry about your tongue getting out by every street corner despot. Come to think of it, a lot of people are still dying too. Not from the king’s men mind you, haha ohh no we did for them. The new interim representative government though oh boy, I suppose a new government always needs to do a little purging. Plus the gangs take their toll. Dang roads aren’t being maintained either, the ones you dare to risk these days.
Still, at least we don’t have that crotchety old monarch tellin us what to do! Haha ohh I have plague.
(Dies)
| 2021-03-30T16:53:11 | 2021-03-30T10:59:37 | 58 | 23 |
[WP] You have a power. Everyone thinks this power is completely lame. They are wrong.
|
This is my first time writing for a prompt, so any criticism/critique is welcome.
Edit: Some grammatical corrections.
_______________________________
You can typically imagine a person's opinion on their ability, and by some extension the type of person they are, by what they call it. Some call it "superpower", some call it "blessing", some call it "curse". I prefer to call by ability a "quirk", because it's a rather quirky ability.
My ability works in two ways: with simply a thought, I can lock things, and I can unlock things.
Most people will laugh at the idea that my quirk is just "lock & unlock". Like any person with an ability, they'll ask me to prove it, usually dragging me to the nearest door to show it off. Many pass it off as some utility use of telekinesis or some other kineticist ability, but it simply doesn't work like that.
Some pass it off as a useless ability, but I disagree. Quite the contrary, it's a rather useful quirk on the day-to-day basis. I never have to worry about losing my keys, considering I can lock the door behind me with a thought and unlock it when I get back. It does get rather annoying, though, when a neighbor finds out about this quirk and immediately turns to you when they're too absentminded to remember where their keys are or too lazy or over-encumbered to use them. Either that, or they want to show off my quirk to their friends like a dog trained to perform a funny trick. But it's more than some trick.
A lot of people tells me that my power is useless outside of that utility. That's just not the case, as I myself found a few months back. Here's why.
A few months ago, I was at the local convenience store, perusing through the chips. As I debated over Cool Ranch vs Nacho Cheese, a commotion broke out at the register. Two thugs were holding up the cashier and threatening them to empty the register. One had a handgun, waving it around in the direction of the cashier, while the other generated a flame in his hand. Overkill maybe, but it was certainly a threatening display.
Before I could think, the man with the gun turned and saw me. I guess they'd planned a run in and run out sort of robbery and hadn't thought about any witnesses. In the heat of the moment, he turned his handgun in my direction and fired. I winced and moved my arms in some vain attempt to block the bullets somehow. In that split second, my life flashed before my eyes. A cascade of thoughts and images flooded my mind from the day I was born to that very instant. At the end, only one thought remained.
*Lock*
That was my go-to thought, a sort of command, when I used my locking quirk. Not very inventive, I know.
I stood there, blocking the shot for what felt an eternity. I expected a sudden blackness as I fell dead, or at least some pain, but it didn't come. When I looked up, I saw the bullets just hanging in the air, inches from my face. I thought that some unseen hero came along and stopped them in midair. The thug panicked, shouting to his buddy to help him out. He must have figured I was a telekineticist holding the bullets in the air, so maybe I was limited to grabbing solid matter and not fire. His buddy responded by turning and tossing his fireball at me. As if by some impulse, the thought came to my mind again.
*Lock*
The fireball stopped in midair, seemingly frozen in time. The thugs panicked and made a run for the door.
*Lock*
They stopped as if frozen in time themselves. The cashier stood there for a moment in awe before calling the police. While waiting for them, I had time to think about what happened, and an idea came to my head. To double check, I unlocked the bullets and the fireball. They flew through the air as if they had never been stopped. They certainly would have killed me if it hadn't been for my quirk. Once the police arrived, I unlocked the thugs, who ran right into the arms of the cops.
That day was the day I made a realization about my quirk. I had been so used to one definition of "locking", with the locks on doors, windows, boxes, cars, etc. that I never tried locking or unlocking anything else. My quirk seemed to work on some metaphysical level, where anything can be locked or unlocked beyond the conventional definition I had been accustomed to. In the months since that day, I found a number of other applications through a number of tests on friends and acquaintances.
I can lock things into a position, bending, maybe even defying, the most conventional laws of motion. I can lock a person's superpower/blessing/curse/whatever and render them powerless unless I unlock their ability. I can unlock the hidden potential in people, allowing them to use abilities, human or superhuman, that they never knew they had or rendering them more powerful. I can also lock a person's capabilities, rendering smart men into simpletons, athletes into weaklings, verbose men into mutes, etc.. If it involved locking it and unlocking it, I can do it.
I'm still not fully aware of my limits, but it may not really matter. Even if I hit the limit, I may just have to unlock the limit and go beyond. Why worry about the opening and closing doors of opportunity when you have a quirk to unlock them all?
|
It was half past eight, almost time for the prime minister to get lunch, well before his guards were expecting. I waited patiently for the little man to step through the thick mahogany doors. Here he comes! I centered my scope just below the man's thick toupee and squeezed the life out him. I methodically put away my equipment and trotted down the stairs. Steps and excited voices echoed up towards me and the disappeared as I approached. It was like watching a group of mimes. Slowly slowly their feet trampled furiously up the stairs. It was too easy, always too easy. I liberated a twenty from one of their wallets and went to McDougal's across the street for a well earned drink and an alibi. I'd been in the bar well before the shooting. It's amazing what you can do by simply altering a person's perception of time.
| 2016-05-28T11:32:12 | 2016-05-28T04:29:18 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] “Do not go outside. Ignore all the cries for help, no matter how human they sound.” That was the last thing he said before he shut the basement door.
|
3-3 came back, gave me a slight nod. It was done, good. Wife, kids.... They weren’t our job, not my responsibility. That’s what I told myself, how I justified it.
How I kept justifying it.
The man in front of me, pleading for us to take his family too, he is my responsibility. The reason my team, or what’s left of it, is here. Some scientist, I don’t exactly know what his deal is, why he’s so important. Why I’m doing a daylight grab op in the middle of New Haven.
Orders are orders.
“There’s another team coming for your family, they’re right behind us.” The lie slips out so much easier now then it did the first handful of times.
I know that if all the things I’ve done to my fellow man in the name of my country don’t send me straight to hell, that lie will.
I can hear the rat-tat-tat of automatic weapons fire coming from the property. 3-2, 3-4, 3-5, and 3-6 are out there, pulling security so 3-3 and I can grab the package. It’s not constant yet, we haven’t been here long. Still time to escape.
“Kilo- this is actual. Assemble on front door, we’re moving to evac. Package in hand.” I whisper into the microphone attached to my face mask. I get 5 double clicks as way of confirmation, one set from each member of my team.
I switch from the team frequency to command. “Baseplate, Kilo actual. Package in hand, proceeding to primary LZ.”
“Roger. Valkyrie is on station, awaiting your arrival.”
So we move. They come, singles, pairs mostly. Good. It’s easier this way. The recoil from my weapon is all I feel. No remorse, no sadness. We put them down with precision as we move.
It’s a short run to the helicopter, and we make good time at 5 minutes. I signal the crew chief once my team and the package is loaded on board, and the pilot takes off.
As we climb into the afternoon sky, I look out over what used to be my home. I can see the Yale hospital, or the ruin that’s left from the fire. That’s where the outbreak started. Patient Zero, a deckhand that came in from Gateway Terminal.
Much of the city looks like that now. The fighting ravaged most of the area. Homes destroyed, cars used for barricades, store fronts burned or bombed out.
Bodies. I’ve never seen so many. Laid in the street. Torn flesh. Missing limbs, burned and melted. We used everything we could to kill them.
They came quickly after the hospital was quarantined off. Boiling out of every window, every door. They came right over the fences. They were like us, but... but not. They looked human, sounded human... felt human. But there was something off about them. About the way they walked, the construction of their faces... the way they killed.
But the voices were spot on. The screams and cries for help. The way they cried out to you to join them, to help them. I hear it in my dreams.
They fall like we do. I’ve shot, stabbed, beaten, even used my own two hands to kill them. The way they break under my blade or under my hands is wrong.
It’s now D+90. Only 90 days since the outbreak started, since the first confirmed case. No one knows what it is. No one knows what started it, how it moves, how it infects.
They overran the eastern seaboard within days. There’s still survivors, like the doctor. People that the monsters just aren’t interested in. Everyone who tried to fight was killed. Everyone who tried to run was turned. My family was turned. We set up defenses, tried to contain it. We lost city after city. State after state fell. Man after man fell, fighting these... these things.
This doctor is apparently one last hope for humanity, or so that’s what I was told. That’s why my team was sent in to get him.
Honestly, I don’t care. I’m tired. The constant fighting is taking its toll.
They’re winning. We nuked Boston, nuked New York, Washington DC, Miami. We’ve killed our own people trying to stop them, but it’s impossible. They keep coming.
I can see them, following the helicopter. Trying to chase after it. They move so wrong....
I can hear them. Screaming in pain, begging for help. I can always hear them.
“Oh god, oh god oh god, help me, PLEASE, HELP ME!!”
I hear them, every moment I’m awake.
Numb to the doctor’s cries of sadness, his outburst to 3-3 about leaving him family behind, I lean my helmet against the bulkhead. Numb to the world, I close my eyes. We have a long flight to the command bunker.
I hear the screams in my sleep. My wife, my son. Close enough to see, but just out of my reach. Dragged away... kicking and screaming. I can’t get to them, I can’t fight my way through fast enough, I never can. But I can see them, fuck I can hear them.
I’ll hear them until I die.
|
With a click, I hear the bolt slide on the door. Two locks are next. I can hear them turn and engage, but my side of the door is featureless - not even a door knob on this side.
A short bit of scuffling, then heavy footfalls as he retreats slowly down the basement steps. A short pause - he must have reached the bottom. Then a slow groaning of rusty hinges that have been unused for years. Two minutes later a terrific screech of metal and a heavy thud shakes the house. The absolute silence tells me that I’m alone in the kitchen.
The connection goes through on the third ring. There’s no voice on the other end of the line - just silence.
“It worked.”
| 2020-04-26T08:58:38 | 2020-04-26T08:35:57 | 36 | 13 |
[WP] You've died and despite living a fairly honest life, you've been sent to hell for all the terrible things you've done in video games. You're offered one way out. Prove you wouldn't do any of those things in real life by clearing the nine circles of hell like a dungeon, without being terrible.
|
**First Circle (Limbo)**
"Who are you?" I ask the man, suddenly waking in a small wooden boat.
"Acheron," the old man above me said as he pushed a long pole into the water. I looked up and saw nothing but a black river around me, the water was boiling and steam was rising up in thin tendrils. I could feel the heat of the water on the bottom of the wooden boat.
“Where am I?” I ask Acheron.
“Hell,” the old man says indifferently.
“What! Have I died? I was just walking to work."
"Air conditioner came loose on the fourth floor of an apartment building. Happens all the time."
"But why am I here? It doesn’t make any sense, I lived a good life.”
“That’s what they all say,” Acheron says, pushing his long pole deep down into the boiling river. The boatman’s arms are skinny but woven with thick strands of muscle. He looks like he had been pushing this boat for eternity.
“But it’s true. It’s true. I didn’t hurt anyone. I kept to myself.”
“You’ve killed. You took pleasure in it. And thus you are here.”
“Killed? I never killed anyone.”
“Yes, you have. Thousands. Your lust for violence has brought you here.”
“Thousands? You must have me mistaken.”
“We don’t make mistakes.”
“Are you… are you talking about the ‘killing’ in video games?”
“Indeed. Your carnage was quite impressive. We’ve been waiting for you.”
‘I’d like to uh, make an appeal. Can I do that?”
“Sure, you can talk to the big boss.”
“Great, when can I talk to him?”
“When you get down to the ninth circle. Now please get off my boat,” he says as the boat slides up onto the shore.
“The ninth circle? How do I get there?”
“There is only one way to get there.”
“And how is that?” I ask the old man.
“You fight your way there,” he says with a smile. “Don’t worry, you’ve got plenty of experience. Let’s see you put it to use now.”
“But I have no weapons, nothing,” I say, stepping off onto the shore.
“Improvise,” he says.
\---
I stand there and watch him drift off into the dark of the river. I am still in my business suit, still wearing my patent leather shoes. The heat of the rocks burn under my feet. The rocks steam with the same intensity as the river itself.
I wipe the sweat from my brow, then turn and see a rocky shore that leads up to a village of stone constructed buildings. They look ancient, like a roman settlement. I look up and see that I’m in a giant cave, thick tendrils of bioluminescent lichen weave amongst the roof of the cave.
The rock buildings shine in the foxfire of the lichen. I walk up to the village and it completely abandoned. My shoes echo through along the alleyway. Inside one of the huts a light is burning and I step inside. I am struck by a horrible smell that permeates the room. There is a torch burning in one corner, and below it there is someone lying there. I walk up to them. They are dead and it seems they’ve been dead a long time.
It’s a man and there is a large puncture wound in his chest, parts of him seem to have been cut off like a filleted fish and blood is smeared along the walls. The man’s eyes are still open, and I try closing them, but they come back open again.
Just then I hear voices outside in the village. There are footsteps along the cobblestone of the street. In the dead man’s hand is a rock and I grab it and sneak into the shadows.
“Acheron dropped someone off just now,” the voice said. The voice sounded unearthly, hollow, it reminded me of rainwater rushing through a storm drain. “They couldn’t have gotten far. Spread out and find him. I haven’t eaten in days.”
I hear footsteps go past, then someone—something walks into the hut. This thing is smaller than me and hideous looking. It is deformed, hunched, and it walks with a limp, swinging its mutilated body. It has orange skin that looks as though it has been lacerated and torn open a thousand times with a whip or cat-o-nine-tails. In one hand, with its twisted and broken fingers, it holds a jagged looking blade, no larger than a buck knife.
I am hiding in the shadows of the opposite corner of the room from the corpse and the torch. The creature walks up to the dead man and sniffs him, then groans and spits. “Rotten,” it said. “Shame.”
The thing turns to walk out of the room, then stops and sniffs the air. It gets closer to me, walking towards the shadows I am hiding in. Closer and closer it comes. Still sniffing the air. I am pressed as far against the wall as I can. I hold my breath so as to make no noise.
My hand, with the rock, is high above me and as the creature steps completely into the shadow, holding the blade out, I bring the rock down with all my force. The thing lets out a grunt as the rock caves in its skull and it crumples to the cobblestoned floor.
I search its body but find nothing. Other than soiled rags, it seemed to only possess the rusted, jagged dagger. I take the dagger, then grab the body and place it against the wall then sneak to the door of the hut to see if there are anymore of these things near me.
\----
***Part II Below***
|
I walked through the second layer, master sword in hand. Temptation races past me. I can barely control myself.
I wipe my sweaty hands on my green latex suit. "Hiyaa" i yell as i kill another demon of the dark lord.
I am on my last bomb as i approach the level boss and i am desperately low on rupees. A merchant is stationed around the corner and i only need a few more rupees to heal myself for the upcoming battle.
I brush past a pot, something rattles inside. No.. I can't. I mustn't tempt myself.
The merchant looks at me, expectantly. Sweat begins dripping from my forehead as i raise my sword. "Hiyaa!" I yell as my weapon swings down.
With the shatter of the pot i am now brought into a dark room. "Was it worth it" i hear echoing around me. "Huu" i shout back into the abyss.
You mustn't live in regrets, you must always live your life to the fullest. Despite what others may think of you.
| 2021-03-07T15:20:52 | 2021-03-07T14:07:01 | 465 | 99 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
28, 34, 21, and 54.
I remained where I stood, nodding to the guests in silent affirmation that they were allowed in. As they trudged past me and through the door of Barney's Strip Club, I reached into my pocket, fumbled for a cigarette, and stuck it in my mouth. Now where was my lighter? It would be so much easier if I could just-
20, 17.
Ugh. I groaned inwardly. 17? That was definitely not a number that should be here. Time to perform my job, I suppose. "Hey, you two. Hold it."
I shifted myself into the doorway, blocking the two young men from entering. Behind his expensive looking sunglasses, I could see the younger one already beginning to sweat. Was he really unable to wait for just one year longer? Honestly, kids these days... I sighed inwardly, but continued standard procedure.
"Excuse me, but can I see your ID?"
At the first mention of an ID, they both began to fidget. The younger one kept glancing over at the older... his brother, maybe? Eventually, the older one took charge, handing over two pieces of plastic with an artificial smile plastered on his face. I ignored the small talk he tried to make and pretended to study the cards intensely, while in reality I was rolling my eyes behind designer sunglasses. I didn't know the first rule about being a bouncer, let alone how to identify fake IDs from real ones. All the club wanted was for me to do was two things- keep out the riff raff out, and be good about it. Which suited me just fine.
"Nice try, kid, but you're going to have to try somewhere else." I couldn't be bothered to mess with these two any longer, as my cigarette was getting soggy. I handed back the IDs and glared them off. Any possible protests they contemplated melted like snow upon seeing my iron-set muscles, and they beat a hasty retreat. In my profession, it helps to be a mountain of a man like me.
And another thing that helped was this ability. The power to see numbers over peoples heads that showed their age- at first, I thought it was a stupid power, but eventually I came to see its use. After all, I turned out to make a pretty good bouncer, despite knowing nothing of the job. It came in handy for my other business as well.
Speak of the devil. I was just about to light my cigarette when something else caught my attention.
3,214.
A petite man who couldn't be over thirty, wearing an elegant tuxedo and tie that dripped of extra money, stood in front of me. He looked like your typical, unassuming gentleman, the type who wouldn't hurt a fly. And I might have been fooled by this disguise as well, if not for that 3,214 floating over his head. This wasn't work anymore. Now, it was business.
Once more, I sigh inwardly. Over 3,000? Then this might actually prove to be troublesome. As *they* get older, they get stronger as well. Feeling a pain welling up in my back from an old injury, I crack my neck around. Then I spit out my cigarette and lumber into the doorway once more, standing above this ancient wonder of a man.
Well, not that *it* is a man. The *thing* tilted its head in inquisition.
"Pardon me, but is something wro-"
I didn't give it a chance to finish its sentence. Pulling back my shoulder, I let loose a full powered punch straight into the face of the *thing*, a clean punch that would have demolished a building. And yet, even as the man goes flying, he's already fully regenerated by the time he hits the ground.
*It* immediately enters combat mode, transforming its arms into pairs of wickedly sharp blades, but I don't give it a chance to use them. Utilizing another power of mine, a more useful one, I ignite my fists into flame, and unleash a barrage of punches upon the creature until its been reduced to pulp. Only once its been melted into a puddle on a ground do I cease my attack.
"Ha... ha..." As I pant, I observe the creature for movement, but it appears to be completely and thoroughly dead. Just to make sure though, I light the remaining puddle on fire, and watch it evaporate into the air.
Sticking a new cigarette in my mouth, I light a fire beneath it with the snap of a finger. Then, leaning back against the wall, I crack my neck again, dispelling the misdirection barrier that I had erected around the area. Once more, customers begin to trickle in, and I continue my vigilant watch.
I work as a bouncer, but my real job is somewhat different. It just so happens that *they* like places like clubs, where life energy and youthfulness is abundant. But I'll be here. And I'll be watching.
|
It was a day like any other
Deflect the young,
Accept the one
But before my eyes,
A double of a 12, 1212
And then I knew:
I always thought children would joke
That it was just the writers
Making fluff and fun merry for views
And before my eyes,
A pair of kids, stacked like dishes
Wobbling about
And a guffaw let out.
| 2017-09-01T23:18:34 | 2017-09-01T22:38:31 | 189 | 13 |
[WP] Every time you sneeze you find yourself in someone else's body. It's usually no real problem; you change back in 60 seconds. This time when you sneeze you find your tied up. In front of you is guys with guns. "Alright Franky, you got 30 seconds to explain why we shouldn't kill your ass"
|
I've had to improvise before. My condition lands me in dire straits more often than not - a CEO giving a presentation, a construction worker handling heavy machinery, a pilot landing a plane - things like that.
I've learned how to handle everything it throws at me, more or less.
It started when I was 10. My brother and I were in the kitchen, helping mom with dinner. I was getting the salt and pepper bottles out of the cabinet -- I guess the lid wasn't screwed on right. Pepper spilled all over my face, and then I felt it.
*The tug*.
You know that feeling you get right before a big sneeze? That tightness between your eyes? That's the tug. It pulls everyone a little, but I'm one of the few who it *catches*. It felt like an eternity and an instant passing simultaneously. Like my body was being stretched and squished and catapulted through space at the speed of light.
Release came. Eternity passed. I sneezed. And when my eyes opened, I wasn't me anymore - I was *her*. I still don't know her name. But I remember the look of the man in the dark who was there with her. And I remember her pain. At the time, I couldn't process what was happening. It felt like a strange nightmare. And that's what everyone said - my parents, the counselors - that I'd simply passed out and had a vivid nightmare.
But it *felt* real.
It happened only a couple more times over the next several years. I managed not to be sick very often, and I avoided pepper and cats (my only allergy) like the plague. Each time, doctors. But I didn't tell anyone about the dreams anymore.
Until, when I was 15, I saw *him* \- the man in the dark. I wasn't sure at first - but that face was seared into my memory. He was right there on TV, going to prison. The ticker rolled across the bottom of the screen, outlining his crimes. I read what he was going to prison for. And I knew it was real. The weight of it hit me like a ton of bricks. All the emotions I'd buried for so long came rushing to the surface - along with the worst sneezing fit of my entire life.
I must have been jumping for hours - one right after the other. Hundreds of lives, like a tornado of emotions, feelings, and experiences, all happening at once, all on top of the weight I already carried. I couldn't control it and I couldn't escape it. At first, I was a weeping mess, leaving confused onlookers in the wake of whatever lives I left behind. Then when the jumps didn't stop, I started timing them. Always 60 seconds exactly. I even tried to sneeze again while in a jump - no dice.
Then I found myself falling - fast. The punch of adrenaline and the rush of air hit me hard. I was flailing wildly, with no control. I tried looking around, but I was spinning so fast, it was hard to make anything out - all I could see was flashes of blue and brown and green. I was started to feel sick, and the blood was rushing to my head. I grabbed at my - *his* \- body frantically. Was that a harness? *A parachute*. I felt for the release. Pulled as hard as I could. Nothing.
I knew the ground, somewhere far below me, was rushing up to meet me. It was all I could do to keep counting.
Twenty.
*Don't these things have a secondary chute?*
I found it. Pulled it. Nothing again.
Ten.
*What happens now? What if he dies while I'm in his head?*
Five.
I closed my eyes.
*Two.*
*One.*
The world went black.
When I woke up, I was lying on the ground, blood running down my face, the life and energy completely drained out of me. I struggled to remember my name.
But then it came back. And I remembered. *It was real.*
Did I make it out in time? Or did the skydiver die? Over the next few days, I scoured the news for skydiving deaths, but found nothing. No failed chutes, no reports anywhere. Then I had a realization. I changed my search to Spanish, and there it was. A South American skydiver's chute failed to open two days ago. Miraculously, he lived.
One question answered - it was *definitely* real. But another wasn't. *What if they die?*
After that, everything changed again. I had a choice to make - to play the victim and run away scared, or find a way to control what was happening to me. So I started preparing. Learning other languages. Familiarizing myself with weapons. Taking flying lessons. Anything and everything I could think of - I dedicated my life to learning it.
Then I started jumping on purpose. After some experimentation, I found the perfect mixture of cat hair, pepper, pollen, and dust to trigger just one, heavy tug. This became my drug. Living other people's lives was an adrenaline rush I craved.
I've been a movie star. An astronaut. A baby. A fisherman. A woman living deep in the jungle. A man living atop a high-rise in Dubai. A leper. An addict drying out. A soldier.
I've jumped off of buildings, meditated in the Himalayas, raced in the Indy 500, and learned deep secrets poured out to me by confidantes in mid conversation.
Of course, it's not always exciting. Sometimes I'm just sitting in a chair.
But other times... other times, I'm reminded of that first jump. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, I've trained myself to quickly scan my environment and look for hints about who I've haunted or where I've ended up. I've managed to save a few people here and there.
But then came today. Unremarkable in every way. I was winding down my evening how I did most, sitting on my couch, jumping until I found someone interesting. I was an accountant. A hairdresser. A child watching TV. A teenager watching.... something else. I wrote him a note.
And now.
I'm bound to a chair. Handcuffs around my arms and legs. The room is dark. A spotlight is shining on me. My face is wet, and my jaw feels wrong. I can only see out of one eye. Pain shoots up my leg. Three men stand above me, guns trained on my head. The one in front wraps a towel around his bloodied hand, and I hear him say in his heavy Brooklyn accent,
"Alright Franky, you got 30 seconds to explain why we shouldn't kill your ass."
It's then that I see the mirror behind the thugs. I crane my neck to peer into it, and I'm shocked at what I see.
Despite the clearly broken jaw and the black eye, the face is unmistakable. I'd know it anywhere. It's seared into my dreams.
It's the man in the dark. I'm *him*.
"Ten seconds Franky." The thug cocks his weapon.
I stare up into his eyes.
I make sure to enunciate clearly.
"Fuck. You."
The world goes black.
|
"What the fu..." you say out loud, quickly realizing your mistake as one of them raises their gun, pressing it firmly against your forehead. The cold tip of the barrel pushes your head back slightly as you subconsciously try to avoid what is coming.
You suddenly realize that your face, neck, stomach, every part of you is throbbing with pain. You feel your lip is split, and can't help but wonder what you found yourself in the middle of.
"'ey boss, how about just do him in. Not like he's gonna tell us about where he put the money." The man said as he pushed the gun harder into you.
"Calm it Joey, he might value his pathetic life more than the money. Besides, not like he wants something to happen to his girl." Just then a door flung open and a young lass was shoved into the room. "So hows about you start talking."
"Guys, just give me a minute, and I will tell you everything!" You say, your voice quivering.
The boss man kneeled in close to you. "Then talk."
"Go to my house, check under my..."
Joey pushed the gun back against your head, cutting you off. "You think we're stupid, we already checked the house for the money! Boss, just let me..."
"Shut up, or by god, I will end you myself." The boss man said, annoyance in his voice.
You continue "Under my carpet in the bedroom. There is a key. Take the key to the city bank. I have a lock box, number 0835. You will find what you need there." Every word is a lie, but you only need to buy time.
The boss man pats your face before look at Joey and signaling with his hand. Joey looks over to the girl and takes a shot at her, hitting her in the leg. She screams out in pain. "Nice try Franky, but we know you dont have carpet in your place. That was just a warning shot, then ahe dies."
Realizing these guys will call any bluff you throw, you have no choice but to tell the truth. "Guys, i swear, I have no idea what you are talking about. I'm not actually..." Without hesitation Joey shoot the girl in the head. Blood and brain matter now scatter the floor and the wall, and a strange and unpleasant smell works its way up to your nose.
"All right, you had your chance to talk and obviously you dont want to. Finish up here Joey." Boss man says as he stands up and begibs to walk out.
"No!" you plead. "I'm actually Jason McCormick. I dont even know who you people are." Joey takes aim at you while you talk. Your heart starts to race more, ripping at your chest. "I am from Chicago, Illonois." Joey's hand steadied now, finger moving to the trigger. "I work at a law firm called..."
The gun shot makes your ears ring. Your eyes forced shut and you feel a pressure and pain on the front of your head... There is a large commotion around you; you open your eyes and find yourself back at the mall, where you were just a minute ago.
| 2018-11-15T13:48:47 | 2018-11-15T13:32:17 | 353 | 79 |
[WP] PVP has been turned off for years. Everyone now knows, that no blade can pierce the skin with the INTENT to kill or harm. You are at the doctor getting a shot when the needle bends upon touching your upper arm...
|
I hate flu shots. I have a bit of a fear of needles, if we're being honest. All my work in construction, welding, and general contracting, I have no problems. I've had Jeremy shoot that damned nail gun into my forearm on his second damn day (he's damned lucky to be my wife's nephew, or I'd have fired him for showing up late on his first day), I've played Staple Gun Roulette in college, I even went through a big 'piercing' phase when I wanted to prove to my parents I wasn't a kid anymore, but for some reason, needles at the doctor's office? In 34 years, I have never gotten over that one.
I've gotten pretty good at pretending, and today I have every reason to pretend; the new nurse at my doctor's office is really cute. Her glowing personality fits perfectly with her big smile wrapped in a bob cut and pink nurse covers. She's been a little flirty since I walked in; I'll have to ask for her number before I leave. I can't believe I missed her name when she first walked in.
Her smile only fades when Dr Brooks walks into the room. It's odd to see the Doctor for a flu shot, but I guess since Nurse Sweetsmile is also Nurse New, he has to observe. The nurse gets very formal now, very professional. The small talk fades quickly. I try to reassure her that she's doing a great job, and I confess how needles scare me a bit... but with her I feel very comforted.
Her smile sneaks back in.
Dr Brooks isn't smiling, though. He seems pretty frustrated. He's always been a curmudgeonly old dodger; he was probably born with that condescending sneer. If what my mother told me about your face sticking that way was ever true, it was true for this guy. He's not much older than me, I'd say early 40's at most, but already being half bald and never smiling has made him look like one of those old timey pictures I've seen in books of coal miners from the early part of last century. Maybe this is what they looked like after a shower. He's a great doctor, but I don't think I could ever call him a great guy.
I don't know why, but Dr Brooks takes over for Nurse Disrespected as she is prepping the needle. She moves to the corner to watch and feel embarrassed. I try to reassure Dr Brooks that she was doing very well, but his reply... can someone be compassionately condescending? If you can, he is.
Dr Brooks starts talking about me as though I'm just a puppet, explaining in minute detail to Nurse ReducedToStudent about PRECISELY how she should have been doing her job. He mentions how she needs to be professional, and her presentation is always making things take longer and giving client the wrong impression... maybe I shouldn't ask her number. Maybe I was just misreading her nature as something just for me. She makes eye contact with me, looks back to the needle...
...That... that was weird...
I look at Dr Brooks, taking the needle back and turning to the sink. He starts going through the drawers, always professional but clearly rushed. Nurse LearningQuick is just looking at me. Did I do something wrong?
"Is everything ok, doc", I ask? I haven't gotten the bandage, yet. I haven't been told to hold the swab against the wound yet either. I look at the nurse, and then at my arm... no shot. "Is there something wrong with the needle?" A gruff 'yes' was all I got, he didn't even turn to look at me. No explanation about what happens next, nothing.
I look at Nurse HelpfulGlance, who comes close to me and whispers "It bent. He couldn't sink the needle".
It bent.
He couldn't... sink the needle.
Dr Brooks' change was sudden. He glared to his young nurse, and demanded she begin refiling some pile of documents long-growing in his office. She turn fiercely, screaming about his jealousy once again getting in the way, and how she can't work in these conditions. "How many patients do you need to try and hurt... do you want another lawsuit... I'm not doing this again..."
Dr Brooks turns, screaming. Telling her, in front of the many photos he has plastered around his office of his wife and young daughters, how important she is to him! How he cannot stand the way she uses her beauty to make other men think vile things! How she cannot let 'scum like THAT' (pointing to me) destroy her... I'm not scum, I don't think, but I've been called worse.
She runs from the office, crying. Nurse Judy, who has been at this office for years, looks in and asks the Doctor to come review a file.
We stand there. Dr Brooks, Nurse Judy, and I. Silently. for moments that stretch into eons, we stand without word.
"May I see the needle", I ask. It breaks the ice. Dr Moody leaves without saying a word. Nurse Judy looks at me. I have to ask, "Is she ok?"
"You're sweet. Hold still for me, ok?" Nurse Judy has already set up a fresh needle, and in a smooth motion has given me my annual flu shot. "Hold this for me" she says as she collects the bandage for my arm. "I got you a spiderman bandaid, for climbing all those buildings".
I thank her, but again I ask what happened. "Don't worry, sweetie. I have to check in on the other patients, now. You're all set. This shot is on the house; not even a co-pay." And she was gone. I try to ask for the new nurse's name, but Judy is on tot he next room.
I collect my jacket... but I can't help myself. There, on the wall, in big red letters 'SHARPS'.
I look in the basket.
There must be a dozen bent needles strewn in there.
|
I don't remember it happening. How could I? I was just a baby at the time. My mom tells the story all the time though.
"There he was, my precious little baby," Mom would start. I always rolled my eyes when she told the story. Gave a long suffering "Mooooooom" to show my annoyance. Mom's don't care, they think it's being cute.
"The doctor asked me to hold him while he gave him his shots. I did, of course, I wanted my little boy to be safe and protected from all the nasty things in the world. So the doctor goes to inject my little angel and the needle bends!" Mom would always pause here for the gasps or some reaction. So embarrassing, every time she tells it. Like a script by now.
"I was shocked! I had never been one of those kooks but my baby was almost killed!" I usually tried to chime in, after I got older, that maybe it would have just hurt instead. Maybe the doctor thought the needle was a little too big for me and that triggered the response. I tried to offer up sane ideas, some explanation other than the insane world this situation brought about.
"I'd never believed those anti-vaxxers but this was proof!" Mom would always sound oddly proud about that. "And that's how we got all vaccinations banned and now the children are safe." Mom likes to ignore the various epidemics that have cropped up and all the dead children who aren't hers. It sucks being the literal anti-vax poster child.
| 2016-08-31T08:29:47 | 2016-08-31T08:23:16 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] It turns out humanity was the first, and only spacefaring species to master the atom. After a horrific galactic war, humanity had to bring out its nuclear weapons, to the shock and horror of the rest of the galaxy.
|
The other races of the Milky Way cared very little about the blip of a race. You see the galactic population was less unified than one might think. Many races didn't perceive time, speech or thought in the same way. But the one thing they did all understand was matter. Every being was made out of physical matter so that is how they spoke to one another. Beings would present physical embodiments of ideas or even pieces of a rudimentary written 'language' that incorporated a series of moving hieroglyphs.
Some species did gain thought and language and these beings warned the community that there may be something dangerous about the humans but the general community only accepted these physical languages so they looked at the small sampling of 'sign language' in the early days and then 'emojis and television' in the later days. There was ruckus about 30 central microgalactic elliptics (CME) back when a confusing blip occurred on the planet. It was so quick and incomprehensible everyone assumed it was the equivalent of an ant colony accidentally creating sparks when it tipped over a rock. The Lidrarians and Falcariots, the two dominant races that were bipedal humanoids and solid based, most closely resembled the human concept of language, thought and culture. They began to fear the humans but could do nothing about it. The human planet was located deep in Aurbor territory. The Aurbor were relatively peaceful but defensive gas based life forms. 5 CME (roughly 100 earth years) later when the humans mastered nuclear fusion and fission races such as the Aurbors found the sudden aggression from the warfaring Lidrarians and the wealthy Falcariots strange but thought little of it.
5 CME later the humans were all but forgotten about as a massive war broke out in the Milky Way Galaxy. During this time humanity learned many things. They conquered their solar system and mined all of its asteroids and planets for materials. They were getting closer to discovering faster than light travel and had made preliminary discoveries of possible other life from errant scans of Falcariot and Lidrarian ships. The humans began to study other life and 10 CME after the start of the war they understood what was happening and humanity united under a common rule. They knew that liquid, plasma and solid creatures existed and warred against each other but they did not yet understand gaseous beings such as the Aurbors. They just thought air was toxic to these beings and their arm of the Milky Way must have been especially noxious. 15 CME after the war had started a scientist studying the Northern Lights for particle research cracked the code. The Aurora Borealis wasn't a phenomenon, it was their rulers. The equivalent of night security guards watching the tiny race. When humans discovered this they did not let on and instead moved all their research facilities away.
20 CME after it started the galactic war was over, the Lidrarians and Falcariots had been driven into a neighboring galaxy. As everyone was letting their guard down humans mastered FTL and attacked the gaseous Aurbors. The gaseous race initially found the races attempts at usurpation laughable, they choked out their ships and found cracks in their ventilation systems. The kinetic weapons were useless and their laser technology might as well have been arrows against a tank. Then came the first nuclear warheads and the anomalous blip was suddenly understood with horror. But the humans did not stop there. They had developed ways to split electrons and neutrons and protons, the fundamental pieces of the atoms. Splitting a neutron would suck the fundamental life out of the Aurbors and soon they were extinct. Splitting a proton would turn the liquid races into solid, soulless statues. Splitting an electron would turn the dangerous plasma based life into supercharged bombs that would explode themselves, transferring the electron sickness from being to being like a chemical weapon. You see each race had learned to fight and speak through physicality. The way they fought and communicated was like the difference between a marker, a pencil or a pen on paper. But humanity was different... they tore the words they wrote into the paper itself. Cutting their message into the fabric of reality with every destructive, irradiated waste they left.
10 CME later they had conquered most of the Milky Way and set their sites on the neighboring galaxy ruled by the now allied Falcariots and Lidrarians. The two races studied the humans in their conquest and constructed safeguards. They could counter the splitting of any piece of the atom. They had created paper humanity couldn't cut... so humanity burnt their words into the paper. They went smaller and learned the impossible, they could split a quark. It was theoretical at best and they didn't know if it was practically possible. Actual tests were too dangerous so the first and only test was done when it was used on the Falcariots and Lidrarians. The destruction would make the humans a universally dominant power for eternity. You see, the splitting of a quark created an unstoppable tear in reality. The total destruction would fundamentally destroy existence and expand forever, like a fire that never stops spreading. But the laws of the universe meant that galaxies forever expanded out away from one another. The milky way always stayed a few light years ahead of the destruction but the Andromeda galaxy would forever be gone. Eventually when the universe's expansion cooled and slowed the wave of destruction would catch up to everyone. The humans had created a defined end to the universe. At the first intergalactic summit the humans burnt a message in hieroglyphics in the sky. The races that understood words translated it as follows.
"We are become granters of life, destroyer of universes."
|
We try to be peaceful, try to by pacifist, try to be the good neighbor... and what does that give us? Trillion death, thousands of world burned... Again and again we begged them to stop, to see reason and stop the bloodshed... The Council turned a blind eye toward our plight, our allies abandoned us... Humanity stood on the edge of destruction...
We try real hard you know? To conquered our most dangerous impulses, to locked it away for eternity. We try to stop our very nature, and for awhile we succeed... Until you came along! And no matter how hard we tried, War always got out... You're not the first and will not be the last. We have done this a thousand times, guiding the galaxy to a better place, better than us... Know this, you brought this on yourself...
Commence Base Delta Zero, Exterminatus level... Let the galaxy burn!
| 2019-12-19T05:08:25 | 2019-12-19T02:49:29 | 52 | 36 |
[WP] "Before I cure your wife, you must promise to give me the child." "What do you want with our child?" "Who said I wanted your child? You're feeding a pregnant woman magic cabbage, that's going to have an effect on the baby. I need to raise it incase they breath fire or something."
|
**The Giant's Song**
My first birthday nearly ended the world.
I'm twenty now, and every year, to celebrate my birthday, gangs of people search through the woods hoping to find me. Hoping for blood-soaked revenge.
But it’s not me they should be after – it’s the wizard Ikore. Or the giant Caneus, who farmed cabbage. Or my poor father, who snuck into Caneus’s garden night after night, only to feed his pregnant wife for one more day.
Or my mom, who refused to give me up; who refused to be cured. They don’t have to go far to find her. She’s buried at the bottom of the hill south of Haling Cove. One day I’ll visit her grave there. Not now. They’re always watching it. Always waiting for me.
So I hunted the Giant and the wizard alone. Caneus was the bigger target, so I went after him first. He did his best to hide, of course, but his kind isn’t suited to that. They’re farmers by blood. Giants can’t stand dense cities or underworld haunts. They need fresh, open air plains; fields, livestock, sunrises, brewed ale, wide spaces to stretch out, quiet spaces to walk, high spaces to sing in their deep, grumbling, mountain-shaking voices.
Landow. Home to the purest soil in the kingdom. A plateau set high in the Ormskirk Mountains, tucked away from civilization, protected every winter by snows that block the only passage in or out. Of course Caneus was there. Where else would a Giant murderer hide?
I went by boat for the first hundred miles. Under cloak and disguised – a thick black beard pasted to my face, thick spectacles balanced on my nose, a stooped walk, a false name. No one knew the World Killer was onboard. No one knew that when the ocean waves slammed against us, when the sea stole the lives of three crewmen, that it was really trying to get me.
For passage up the into the Ormskirks, I fell in with a wagon train lead by Aflyn the Fur Trader. Around a campfire, as the snow gathered on our shoulders and the smell of the cooking meat wafted under our noses, Aflyn told the story of my birth to the children.
He told it well. All the principle characters were there, cartoonish and exaggerated, but that’s nothing special.
“And when the baby World Killer opened her mouth to take her first breaths, to scream, as babes do, what happened?”
His glowing orange eyes twinkled in the firelight as he looked to his little daughter, rocking with excitement. She leapt at the cue, throwing her hands in the air like she was catching a firefly.
“Boom!” she said, falling back.
“Yes,” Aflyn said, “A song to kill all living things. The wizard Ikore had betrayed them, cursing the cabbage after his offer of help had been refused. The baby was cursed to sing death, destruction, desolation. She never had a chance.”
Aflyn's son, older than the others, with tangled red hair, turned to the other kids and said, “Now she’s out there in the forest, waiting for the day she can sing again. Then we’re all DEAD!”
“Stop it,” Aflyn said. “Only fools believe that. The truth is, World Killer died that day, passing almost exactly at the time her mother passed. The baby is buried with her outside a town far, far from here, called, uh, oh what was it...”
“Haling Cove,” I said.
The luck of our party turned sour after that night. The snow intensified. “It’s too early in the season for this,” Aflyn said, as we dug our way up the side of a cliff. “God knows what the pass looks like. The wagons might not make it.”
“I can go ahead,” I said, “scout it out. You let the others rest.”
Aflyn’s son, who was carrying another child on his back, looked up at his dad with eyes begging him to accept the offer. “Thank you,” he said.
I reached the pass that night. The wagons had no chance. The snow was up to my head. I could cut a path through it, but only if I was alone. I couldn’t risk their lives – or mine – by revealing my identity. Not even here, at the edge of the world.
I climbed back the way I came. Peering down the switchback mountain path, I saw the faint fires from the camp. The wagons and their torches formed a circle in the night, like a Giant had left a magic ring leaning against the mountain.
A wolf howled. It reverberated against my ears. More wolves joined in, howling in unison. Then I heard the shot of a blunderbuss. People screaming. The fires wavered below. They started disappearing, one by one. They were under attack, and these were not normal wolves.
Thousands of years of feasting on the scraps of Giant farmers had changed them. They were massive, over a 1,000 pounds each, big enough to eat a grown man whole. Aflyn and his party were as good as dead down there. The children.
I couldn’t let it happen. Throwing off my hood, I let my hair fan out over my shoulders, dropping down my back. I leapt to the edge of the tallest cliff and sat cross-legged. I warmed my throat with my hands, and began to hum. Gentle notes at first, then I progressed higher, louder. The wind started to pick up, swirling around me, channeling the power of the sky.
I heard the wolves howl. I opened my mouth and started to sing – something ancient, something soothing. I didn’t want to kill them, only to send them home; send them to sleep somewhere warm. But I underestimated the twisted minds of these wolves.
Whatever the Giants had been farming in these mountains, it wasn’t good. The howls grew louder. I saw the slick, black coats of the wolves racing away from the wagon circle, up the mountain. They were coming for me. I spotted three at first. Another pack joined, counting six. Then nine. Then fifteen. They grouped up on the trail and bolted up the mountain, following my voice.
When I felt the wagon train was safe to make its escape, I stopped the song. My pull over the wolves should’ve been broken. I stood up and wrapped my hair back under my hood. And then I heard it – the nearly noiseless leap of a wolf as it goes for the kill. It caught the back of my leg in its mouth. I fell into the snow. Instinctively, I didn’t let myself scream. I couldn’t.
I would sacrifice myself before I screamed again. The wolf was a pup, left behind by the pack when it went to attack the wagons. I kicked it in the eye and it released me, fell back, growling and baring its teeth.
I didn’t even have time to get to my feet before the other wolves surrounded me. There were twenty at least, closing in on me from all sides. One scream. One scream would kill them all.
And Alfyn. The children. Everyone in the kingdom unlucky enough to be awake and outside. No. This was my fate, so be it. Food for the wolves.
The leader of the pack leapt into the air, hurtling toward me, mouth agape, its teeth bloody, steam rising from its insides.
And then it abruptly changed direction – it flew up into the air and slammed against a tree. I processed that before I processed what I was hearing.
The deep, guttural, mountain-shaking song of the Giants. As the wolves flew in every direction, some running from their lives, others caught in the song, I looked over my shoulder.
Standing over me, rising high into the sky, was the Giant Caneus.
“We have been waiting for you,” Caneus said, once the wolves were gone and I was on my feet again. “Come. We go over the mountain now.”
He held out his massive hand.
“Waiting? Who? Who is we?” It was a lot for me to handle.
“The wizard is here. He is dying. He seeks forgiveness.”
Caneus lowered onto his knees, shaking the ground as he fell. He came eye to eye with me.
“I seek forgiveness, World Killer.”
I looked at him. He closed his eyes, but kept his hand outstretched. I could kill him now, I thought. And then go and kill Ikore. That’s what World Killer would do.
Yes, that’s right. That’s what World Killer would do.
I took the Giant’s hand.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
r/ididwritethismr
|
"It's your fault my family is in this mess." The man barked in anger.
"On the contrary," I responded, cooly, "you see vegetables growing in perfect rows with markings and even posts and don't think to check that they belong to someone... maybe knock on the door in the damn tree the vegetables are conveniently planted around."
"Why didn't you build a fence around your garden of deranged vegetables?" The man had the nerve to demand.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "I've lived out here for thirty years," I began, "I live in a tree bordering the," I took a breath and screamed out "FORBIDDEN FOREST OF DARK DRUIDS," he stumbled back, "I didn't know I needed to build a fence since no one has lived within ten miles of these woods in thirty years."
"Well I didn't know these forest were forbidden." The man grumbled.
We both looked out the window to the ramshackled mud hut he'd slapped together a week ago upon said forest. The woods, with is gnarled trees, was dark even in the light of day, the wood dark. The leaves nearly black, a dark haze hung perpetually over the forest itself, hardly anything grew within two hundred yards of the place, aside from my garden that is.
I looked back at him.
"Oh, come on, there are many foreboding forests out there, not light all of them are forbidden." He crossed his arms.
An unearthly wail emanated from the forest and a giant beast that resembled a mix between a gargoyle and a panther raced out being chased by a humanoid beast with a skeletal head.
"That's Morgan," I said. "And his pet leshen, Skullsnapper."
"Skullsnapper is a fine name for the... dog?" The man asked nervously.
"Oh no... the leshen was the one shaped like a man."
"Do they often...?" He asked...
"Daily." I said.
"Fine, take the babe.... me and my wife will leave as soon as she delivers."
The wife gave a scream at that moment. She had been close to delivering anyway, the cabbages had accelerated her pregnancy by a couple months and was now in labour. The man didn't need to know that was all that was ailing her though, nor that Morgan and Skullsnapper were harmless and just enjoying a run about the open plains.
I worked on the woman for a solid three hours before alas she gave birth to the...
"Oh gods... it's deformed!!" The man yelled in alarm.
"Well now..." I chuckled and looked at the father and took on a face of mock horror. "Oh yes. Well and truly... I'm so sorry... I didn't know my cabbages could..." I shook my head and placed the babe in a bassinet. "I know the results you may..."
"Keep the monster." The man said. "Is my wife healed?"
"Without the babe... yes.. she just needs rest..."
"She can rest in the carriage." The man snapped. "We are gone from here."
He hauled his wife up and as she groaned and expelled the placenta the man gave another shriek of alarm and nearly dropped her. "What is that?" He demanded.
I took the opportunity to lie. "That'd be the egg sack. The magic in the cabbage was likely trying to form another of these." I waved a hand to the infant. The man kicked at the bloody blob and shrieked as it stuck to his shoe. He took his wife and left and I was left with the infant.
"There there now." I said to the wailing child. "Looks like the magic did wonders for your little form... I wonder if I can repeat this."
The child was a hermaphrodite, with little wings on its back and the numb of a horn on its forehead. Carefully I lifted the swaddled bundle and started towards my house. The ground rumbled as Skullsnapper bounded to me, lowering the skeletal head to look at the child I held.
It reached in with a long skeletal claw and I growled in response. "No Skullsnapper, no touching, they were just born." It snuffled in and gave a whine. "Go back to guarding the forest, and summon Leshies to build a big fence around my garden... I have plans for making more of these." I raised the child a bit.
I reached my house and walked inside, grinning happily, making plans to start kidnapping pregnant females for my dark arts.
| 2022-01-04T18:22:24 | 2022-01-04T17:38:41 | 869 | 99 |
[WP] Following World War III, all the nations of the world agree to 50 years of strict isolation from one another in order to prevent additional conflicts. 50 years later, the United States comes out of exile, only to learn that no one else went into isolation.
People!
A few things:
1. Found the prompt on Pinterest, thought it was interesting (not necessarily realistic), and decided to post it, fully expecting it to go unnoticed. Surprise!
2. I am not in any way trying to take credit for coming up with the idea.
3. Turns out this is a repost. 🤷 Who knew?! /u/WinsomeJesse did because they posted it last time. Not trying to steal anyone's thunder. If you're super perturbed about it, go show them some love.
4. Have a good day y'all; be kind, make good decisions, and don't hold in your farts. 😉✌️
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It was a curious solution and nobody expected it to be as easy as it was. Fifty years of isolation.
Nobody knew who fired the first shots. Some said it was the Chinese, some said it was the North Koreans, others said it was the Americans. In the end, it really didn't matter, because everyone ended up involved in some way. We were all guilty and shared the same sins.
But for all the doomsaying about the 'end of the world', things actually weren't that bad... well, compared to how bad it could've been. Twentieth century novels convinced us that World War III would result in a blasted hellscape, billions dead, nothing left standing. Perhaps in our darkest moments, we still retained a shred of humanity. Or perhaps we learned from the terrible brand of warfare waged in the 40s. Rather than missiles striking innocent population centers, surgical strikes and tactical nuclear weapons simply devastated infrastructure and military targets. Hundreds of millions had still perished - collateral damage, fallout, famine and disease - but the worst hadn't happened. Eiffel Tower and Saint Basil's Cathedral were still standing. In a rather striking twist of irony, by waging World War III, we had destroyed mostly just the tools we would need to wage World War IV.
After that came the 'Grand Plan'. Fifty years of isolation. Everyone expected us to resist the plan the most, and were surprised when, after a national referendum, we ended up being the most eager. Walls went up. Trade routes gradually eased and then stopped altogether. The doors were shut.
And for fifty years, we prospered. We had lost many of the cheap luxuries we had grown accustomed to, but agriculture surged as, lacking imported crops, we razed thousands of hectares of corn to grow our own. Oil deposits were uncapped. Unemployment dropped to less than 1% as millions of lost jobs suddenly came in high demand. It was a simple life, but we were happy. Americana had returned.
Fifty years passed in an eyeblink and the great reunification would begin. All the nations of the world to meet and share what they had learned. It wasn't going to be easy, of course - the war had destroyed nearly every satellite. We would need to seek out people to communicate with manually.
Our first attempt at contact was to head north to our oldest allies. Canada had been one of the most apprehensive countries with regards to the isolation, and actually considered joining America in joint isolation, but the United Nations council soundly rejected the notion. As our diplomatic convoys crossed the border and entered Toronto, they were shocked by what they found. Hunger. Disease. Poverty. The once great city was decaying and largely vacant. Similar reports came from Montreal and Ottawa. Upon contacting the Canadian government, the truth came out.
It was a ruse. A great big ruse. The world, convinced that America had been, at best, indirectly responsible for the war, had collectively agreed to formulate fake isolation plans, and leave us in the dark. The plan was to bring the world and humanity as a whole into a bright and shining future. The results were... less than satisfactory.
If the world had advanced to prosperity, it certainly didn't show in Canada. Having lost their largest trading partner, Canada found themselves out of the global market. Asia had no use for Canadian manufacturing, and Eastern Europe had filled demand to Europe. Canada began to market their oil reserves, but shortly after the walls went up, the United Nations declared a global moratorium on fossil fuels to allow the earth to heal. Canada was, almost literally, left out in the cold, and had suffered greatly.
However, as bad as the situation in Canada was, it wouldn't compare to what we found to the south. We sent diplomatic teams south just as we did north... teams that were never heard of again. Crossing the border, they initially reported that little appeared different from before the war - there was running water, power, though it bore all the hallmarks of a relatively poor country. But as they would near Mexico City, they were just go dark.
We weren't sure what we were going to do. We didn't want our first reconnection with the world to involve military force, invading a country to find our teams. Then, weeks after the first team had gone dark, we learned something new. On the side of a road in south Texas, in a van, lay one of our ambassadors - beaten, bloodied, and mutilated. Along with him were the heads of the two dozen men and women who escorted him.
The ambassador had been returned with a message and shared with us what he had learned. It seemed that while Mexico had taken a few licks during the great war, that story was not true for South America. In fact, they survived the war almost completely untouched. Lacking global strike capabilities, they were largely ignored by the warring parties. The starry-eyed isolation plan was largely a European one, and the plan simply seemed to exclude the entire western hemisphere. Why bother with South America? They had little to offer the world, and they were too far and isolated. In fact, they even went as far as to congratulate themselves for 'freeing' South America of American influence and corruption.
With Mexico's government weakened, it left the country primed for the largest military force in the region to take over - the cartels. Mexico had become a narco-state. Without any threat from government forces - American or otherwise - the cartels expanded influence worldwide, filling the economic hole left by America's absence with a global drug ring. South of Panama, without the 'interference' of America - as the isolation planners would put it - South America was free to pursue its own destiny, a destiny that seemed to largely revolve around fifty years of civil wars and military coups.
Over the coming months, we learned much from Europe, Africa, and Asia, and replaced the wonder we held in our hearts with cynicism and anger and disgust. Instead of the utopia that had been envisioned, there was nothing more than endless war. While North Korea had fallen in World War III, China now occupied the Korean penninsula. Most of Eastern Europe had fallen to Russia. Africa was... well it was still Africa.
In Europe the situation was little improved. The European Union had combined into the United European States, headed by Germany and France. The United Kingdom had undergone its own degree of voluntary isolationism, withdrawing further into itself. It attempted to reunify the commonwealth, but Chinese control of the South Pacific left Australia and New Zealand subject to absolute trade embargoes.
To the north, Scandinavia had suffered immensely. Without oil and the american economy to sell their investments, Norway had gone from one of the most prosperous nations to a state whose crippling debts had to be underwritten every year by the rest of the UES. Threats from Russia had pushed Finland into a military state, and tensions were high that invasion could occur any day. Pushing for hardline social reform, tolerance, and acceptance, refugees from the war-torn North Africa and Southwest Asia flooded by the millions into Europe. Cries to even attempt to slow the flow were ignored as the mewling complaints of the bigoted. Before long, the population outpaced the capability to feed and employ people, and the dream of prosperity, where no man had to want for anything, had waned into a slow, cold recession that had lasted for nearly four decades. Hundreds of square miles of cheap, filthy government tenaments were erected ringing the major cities.
Everywhere we had gone, we found that over and over, that good intentions mean nothing without the wilpower to see them out. Our envoys were given a cold reception and simply told to leave. "America wasn't wanted anymore", they insisted.
And so we returned home.
And then we rebuilt the walls.
Maybe the world needed fifty more years.
|
' they're... they... oh. Is that a-a... mule?...'
It's easy to forgive Jake, the millenial inner-city kid who's only seen a cow on a soymilk carton. Not so easy to forgive Jake the West Point graduate and Marine recon company commander. He's sitting in his Fox IV submersible hovercraft, 12 miles off the coast of what used to be Russia, in the Barents icefield, blabbing away on the QR stream-of-consciousness style, like a rookie.
' Pull yourself together, mr. Parsons, and report!'
' I'm seeing a column of... people, Sir. Refugees, maybe, or a prison work gang. They have carts pulled by what look like mules, or very small horses. Can't see very well in this blizzard, our MQ-30 is dancing like a...!'
' Time to get ashore. Standard patrol deployment, MOPP gear and procedure. Leave the bird up as weather permits. And mr. Parsons. Do not wait for me to tell you to get out. Anything hinky, you bail. Anything looks like it MIGHT turn bad later, you bail. Any lights on the NBC board, you bail. I have released the forward battery of the Juneau into your immediate control. Godspeed.'
If there's a gulp, it gets swallowed by static. Five minutes of sustained fire from just the one battery could reduce the entire 'city' of Murmansk to rubble, and bury the rubble under a layer of freshly-powdered rubble. He knows it. I know it. Everybody knows it, who's on the circuit - to devolve such responsibility to so junior an officer means I anticipate trouble, of the kind that can't be reasoned with.
' Commodore, we have some activity in the S-band. Comms, not radar. Looks like sidelobe leak from a microwave relay. We're still analyzing the protocol, but it looks like civilian stuff, low-entropy.'
' Somebody calling home for instructions perhaps. Good sign. Fire up the greeter.'
The greeter is something of an ongoing obsession with High Command and the politicos - the exact wording of the canned message has been argued back and forth for the past two years, and I'm only too glad to have been left out of the debate. It does make for a pretty sight though, lasers cutting through the morning mist to form the words
DO NOT BE ALARMED. WE ARE THE US MILITARY. WE COME IN PEACE.
Cyrillics add an air of rune-magic to the proceedings, but I would have done away with the loudspeakers (on loan from Ft. Huachuca, 10 kW acoustic phased-array jobbies that can literally scramble brains like omelettes, if you set them to the right frequency). The red white and blue signals rockets I could live with, but red does take on a devilish hue in the mist. Oh well. Shock, awe, hearts, minds and all that.
[continue y/n]
| 2018-01-18T02:39:17 | 2018-01-18T02:34:57 | 129 | 42 |
[WP] You have just been abducted by a UFO. While you are figuring out what just happened to to you, a frantic alien bursts into the room. "You have no idea how many rules I'm breaking, but my Human Studies final is tomorrow and I need help."
|
One moment he'd been stargazing and the very next he was among them. He hadn't noticed it happen initially. William had been seated next to his brother Waylon on the hillside as they usually were on Tuesday nights, smoking and snacking as they talked about the cosmos. The two of them had always had a fascination with the stars, even before they had been told that their real father had died in deep space. The two of them didn't necessarily want to become astronauts or astrologists in any kind of way, but they shared a quiet admiration once a week for the stars and the ghosts of stars that littered the violet dark tapestry woven high over their heads and far out of their reach.
Until now.
William turned from the starry window out to space and surveyed his surroundings. Everything from the walls to the fixtures of the room was dyed a creamy white hue that was calming to look at and yet aesthetically beautiful and neat. He looked down at himself and then around the room for his brother.
"Waylon?" He called out, a lost tone on his lips. Had he not been stoned, he might have been panicking. But it was good stuff they'd bought, and his nerves failed to get the better of him. Before he could form another thought, a small being crashed through the door. Its features were alien in every measure of the meaning, but William was still able to discern that the creature was in peril and distress. And then it spoke... in English.
"You have no idea how many rules I'm breaking, but my Human Studies final is tomorrow and I need help!"
He looked down at the blunt in his hand with eyes wide before fixing his gaze back on his new acquaintance.
*Dammit, Waylon,* he thought. *This thing is laced with something else.*
The little being looked surprisingly similar to pop-culture aliens, which tipped William off that this certainly wasn't real. He firmly believed that aliens would be so fantastically different, so obscured from our wildest imaginations that we likely wouldn't know them when we first saw them as sentient beings. However this wasn't William's first time being taken on a ride he didn't sign up for, and he had the wisdom to go along with it rather than fight against it.
"Um... Alright, well... what do you want to know?" He asked before lifting the blunt back to his mouth only to find that its flame had been extinguished.
"Well," the little alien began, lifting its long index finger into the air and swiping it as though he were using a touchscreen interface. An opaque green line trailed from the end of his finger, and he pulled it open as though it were a backpack and removed from it a clipboard with a stack of papers clipped to it, as well as what appeared to be a writing utensil.
"Can you tell me what you're holding there? What is its purpose?"
William looked down at the half-finished blunt in his hand and thought carefully before responding.
"We have herbs on Earth that when burned and inhaled calm us, relax us, and allow us to forget the things that trouble us in the backs of our minds. For many of us, it allows us to break down creative barriers and think in a more unrestricted way."
"Wow," the little alien remarked as he jotted down a few notes. "Can... Can I try it?" He asked.
William couldn't help but smile, "This is, uhhh... a little strong for someone who's never tried it before. If I had something more measured, I'd be more than happy to share."
"Oh! So there are different levels of inebriation one can achieve from the herbs, and furthermore, you're implying that your species can develop some sort of tolerance to it."
William wiped his hair out of his eyes and nodded, "You're pretty quick. Yeah, our bodies are really adaptable."
"Incredible," he responded. "Alright, next question. What is it that drives a human forward? What do you all want? It would seem to us that your existences are mostly painful and difficult, yet only a handful of you choose to start your next life before your natural expiration. Why is this?"
William made a face and couldn't help but laugh at the little alien. "Wow. That's one way to put it, I guess. Well... for humans, it's not so much about running from strife but dealing with it. There's a satisfaction in overcoming hardship as difficult as that might be to believe. It's about to journey of life and the wisdom you gather from your many failures. I guess when it comes to what we want, it varies a lot. But I think all of us want love and security above anything else."
The alien's eyes lit up at the response. "Love!" It cried out.
"Why didn't I even think to ask?!" He slapped its own forehead. "So love is a word in your lexicon that we cannot understand. Could you elaborate?"
William pondered on this for a moment. To describe love to a creature that didn't understand it would be like describing purple to someone who was born blind.
"Love..." William started with an ounce of hesitation. "Words can't do it any justice if I'm being honest."
"With your limited human lexicon, I would imagine it would be difficult."
"Oh, zip it," William said with a smile. "It's an ineffable feeling, love. It's like wandering through a hundred miles long desert and finally getting a drink of water, but for your heart. Love transcends all languages and borders. It's an affection for someone that runs so deep that you feel as though you can't do without the source of your love."
"I still don't get it," the alien said flatly. "Do you love the other human you were spending your night with?"
"I do," William responded without hesitation. "He's my brother. I would do anything for him, and he would for me."
"Your brother... Oh!" The alien said with excitement, "I nearly forget that your people reproduce sexually! So you form lifelong bonds with your siblings!"
"That's right," William nodded as he turned and looked out the window at the constellations of stars that shined in distant space. "We were born into the world with one another. We overcame the same hardships together, looked out for each other, and felt one another's pain when either of us was sad or anguished. Our mother named us William and Waylon because wherever there's a Will, there's a Way."
The little alien lowered his clipboard and stared at William with soulful eyes.
"The two of us face our hardships together. We can weather any storm, scale any mountain, and cross the seven seas so long as we work together. And although we lost our father when we were young, we still see him in every star, and in every passing comet that comes across our telescope."
"That is..." The alien began as he stared at William. "That's the most... undecipherable concept I've ever heard."
"Aw come on!" William yelled at the little being. "I got all dramatic for you and everything, you seriously don't get it?"
"No," it responded, swiping its finger in the air the same as it had before, and stuffing its belongings back into the void from whence it was pulled. "But I really do appreciate your time."
The being walked towards the exit and lifted its hand towards the red button on the wall. It pressed the button firmly and red lighting shined upon the room suddenly. William looked around urgently and then down to the alien. It looked over its shoulder and nodded.
"They were going to perform a vivisection on you, human."
William gulped. That sounded a little too close to a dissection.
"But they can choose another human, I'm sure. Because where there's a William, there's a Waylon... right? Have a safe trip home, William."
He smiled at the little being as it left the room. For even if the concept of love seemed alien to the little creature, its final act gave William hope that it would someday be the first of its species to understand.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
I get a 15 minute break at work aside from my usual lunch break. I pick a prompt, spend a couple of minutes storyboarding, and then do as much as I can within the confines of my break.
If you enjoyed this, consider following me at r/A15MinuteMythos
|
Ren blinked at the announcement.
A few minutes prior, ahe6 had been sitting at her computer, trying to finish dinner. And now?
Inside an alien spaceship helping some type of teenager with a school assignment. Ren hoped that it would be a few questions that could be verbally answered, but…
The hostile nature of the sudden abduction made that option questionable. There was simply no telling what was about to happen.
"Please?" another announcement came. There was panic in the alien's voice. Ren knew nothing at all about the type of creature was on the other side, but it sounded like *a lot of panic.*
She cleared her throat as her eyes darted around the room she was in. Metal all around her. No windows, no electronic panels, no tables to strap her down onto. "Wha-" her voice caught in her throat.
"What can I do?"
She really didn't want to ask the question, and she was nervous to know what the answer was. Nervous enough that her stomach was creating a lead ball, and her heart was starting to race inside her chest. While she waited for a response, she stood up and started to move around the room.
She reached a far side, and her fingers grazed a seam along the metal pieces.
"What language do you speak?"
Ren startled, pulling her hand back to her body.
After a beat, she processed the question but wasn't sure how to answer. Especially given that her abductor had just...spoken it. She looked around for a speaker but didn't find anything recognizable as one.
"Me?" she asked.
There was silence again, and she started moving again. Her eyes were tracing the seam she had found, and she followed it around the hexagonal space. Up and down the wall, there only seemed to be the one.
"Humans," they answered through the hidden speakers.
The answer wasn't helpful. A few more steps and Ren had done a full lap around her little…
Prison.
She flinched as she thought the word.
"Humans speak a lot of languages," she answered, hoping it was helpful.
More silence.
There were long silences between every response to her.
"That's not an option…"
Ren tilted her head to the side. "Option?"
She stood in the middle of the room, exploring the floor with the toe of her shoes. It looked like a grate, with a similar seam down the middle.
The spot shed come in through.
"I could get in so much trouble for this, but… I need you to show me."
Her stomach lurched into her throat, and she thought she might puke at hearing the words.
Seeing the alien, or monster, or psychopath sounded like it would result in one of the less appealing options, and she hoped she was somehow dreaming. Maybe she'd wake up when they appeared, and all of this would be over.
And she could finish her meal.
The seam of one metal panel slid apart, moving into the ceiling and floor, respectively. Her heart beat against her rib cage.
A thin wave of fog floated into the room, and a moment later, the panels closed. The seam hid the joint perfectly, she thought, waiting for the fog to clear, so she could meet her fate.
Moments passed slowly, and what felt like hours later, Ren blinked at what she saw.
As far as she could tell, she was staring at --
Herself.
***
For more by me check out r/beezus_writes
Check out r/redditserials for longer stuff by me and other authors!
| 2021-01-22T09:55:54 | 2021-01-22T08:54:29 | 1,825 | 74 |
[WP] As the hero enters the throne room of the dark lord. The throne is empty and the hero's companion says with a grin " Well this has been delightful but I'm afraid the fun is now over.".
|
As the hero enters the throne room of the Dark Lord, he finds the throne is empty and the hero's companion says with a grin, "Well, this has been delightful, but I'm afraid the fun is now over."
 
Adjusting his chat headset, Hudson sighed. “Dude, we’re so close. Can’t you stay on just another hour?”
    Tane shook his head, forgetting Hudson was miles away behind a computer screen and not right beside him. “Sorry, I really can’t. I’ve been putting off Finley for three days, and I’m finally taking her out tonight. She’ll lose it if I’m not ready by four.”
    “What?” Hudson yelped. “It’s just now nine in the morning!”
    “Hudson,” Tane said. “There’s a six-hour time difference between us, remember?”
    “Oh,” Hudson sighed. After a moment, he huffed, “Man, you’re really whipped.”
    “Nah, I’m just in *love*,” Tane teased, drawing it out. Hudson scoffed.
    “Shut up.” Hudson refocused his attention on the game and directed his armor-clad hero further into the throne room. “Come on, seriously. I want to find this bastard Dark Lord guy and see what he drops.”
    “It’s not even that good. My cousin played and- “
    “Shut up!” Hudson repeated. “Don’t ruin this for me.”
 
Tane glanced at the clock. He promised his girlfriend a fancy dinner date tonight, and he promised himself that he’d take a break from the addicting world of *Tremania* to spend time with real people instead of 3D orcs and warlocks. He knew Hudson, however, would spend all day immersed in the game. He’d never get out of his chair unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then, he’d often carry his laptop with him and continue playing. Tane was far less obsessed than Hudson was, but he could see how quickly the addiction could form.
 
     *Tremania* let you be anything you wanted, and Hudson transformed from a sick, cancer-weakened ex-football player to a mighty warrior with plenty of friends, plenty of fame, and plenty of fortune. He spent all his time immersed in the virtual world as the rest of his life slowly withered away.
Tane, who played a fierce mage character, used *Tremania* as a stress-relieving outlet. Between college, a serious girlfriend, a developing career, and an adventurous social life, Tane hardly had any time for himself. When he finally took a break, he explored dungeons and conquered hordes of monsters armed with only a mouse and a keyboard. He enjoyed his life, but he worried about Hudson.
 
    “Hey, Huds?” Tane spoke gently into his mic.
    “Yeah?” Hudson’s face was screwed up in concentration as he frantically searched for any clues to the level boss’s location.
    “How are you doing? Really.”
 
    Hudson stopped. His hands, cold from the lack of movement, stalled on his laptop’s keyboard. He looked over the oxygen tank sitting next to him, the dozens of little orange bottles that littered his desk, and the looseness of his tshirt that wasn’t there two months ago.
    “I’m better than ever, bro. Better than ever.” Hudson clicked a few more times and then a message popped up on the screen. “Got it!” He shouted. “Let’s go!”
 
    Tane’s phone buzzed. Without looking, he knew it was Finley asking if he was ready. “I can’t,” he said, moving his cursor to the red “Log Out” bar. “I’m really sorry. I’ll log back on tonight and we can do a couple dungeon raids, okay?”
    “Fine,” Hudson mumbled, already preoccupied with the boss battle. “See you then.”
 
Tane took off his headset and tossed it on his bed. With a click of his mouse, the throne room disappeared. He closed the laptop, and once again he was Tane Williams, not a fearless battlemage. Real life was waiting for him, full of just as much – if not more – excitement and opportunity as the game.
 
    For Hudson, beyond the game there was nothing but beeping machines and tiny pills, empty stomachs and patchy hair loss. It was a refuge where he could be the hero, instead of waiting for someone to save him. At least in *Tremania*, Hudson Brant could have a happy ending.
|
“Well, this has been delightful, but I’m afraid the fun is now over.”
“Rover? You can talk?” My one-time master’s last words faded into silence. I shook his throat back in forth in my teeth, then let go, satisfied.
I barked, signaling my human attendants to come and dispose of the body. Then I trotted over to my comfortable bed beside the throne and lay down after circling a few times.
Ahh, much better. I’d been sleeping in the forest for months now while my pawn made his way towards the castle. It wouldn’t be long before I had to go out again.
Already my paid bards would be telling new stories of a destined hero, someone to defeat the dark lord. In a few weeks, my spies would find someone handsome and strong, but not too bright. Then I would appear to them with a letter and a locket, saying that their royal inheritance has arrived.
I’m a huge white dog, with blue eyes that appear almost human in their intelligence. Practically a guardian angel. My pawn may refuse the call at first. They might be afraid. But I will always be there to comfort them, and nudge them forward.
And while the people wait for their hero to save them, they will never rise on their own.
______________________________________________________
23/365. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated.
| 2018-01-23T23:07:13 | 2018-01-23T17:21:17 | 39 | 15 |
[WP] Inexplicably, the planets are disappearing one by one. It started with Neptune going all the way to Jupiter. You're the Head of NASA and you've just watched Mars disappear.
|
I was rubbing my eyes when the analysts came in.
"Do we have precise timings?" I asked the statistician.
"Neptune's disappearance was reported first, and we know that to within about five minutes. We got Uranus's time within about half a second, thanks to amateur astronomers using Internet-connected cameras. And of course we timed Saturn and Jupiter, as well as several of the asteroids, to less than a millisecond."
That's good news, I thought, as catastrophic news goes. "Do we have a decent best-fit for the progression?"
"Out of over 800 potential models for the black front, the best match is a constantly-diminishing sphere centered about 18 million kilometers beyond the Sun, almost exactly in opposition. It matches the observations within any margin of error, and no other model came anywhere close to that precision."
"And how well did that model predict what we just saw?"
"Mars's disappearance matched exactly," she answered, almost proudly.
I nodded. "Okay, run with that, a constantly shrinking sphere centered on the far side of the Sun--but keep feeding numbers to the alternative models just in case."
"Now, what do we have that can image that spot?"
Bob from Deep Space Network piped up. "CNSA sent us images taken with the high-res camera on Chang'e 2. It showed nothing but the expected background stars, and that camera resolved one-meter objects from lunar orbit.
"While I have the floor though, I need to point out something else--the DSN signals from our probes have been disappearing almost *three seconds after* the black front passes their positions."
"*What?*" I nearly dropped my lifegiving coffee.
"That's right. We confirmed it conclusively when Mars winked out. We had live links to the orbiters that lasted 2.93 seconds after their positions in space went behind the curtain, as it were."
I really should have taken those Tylenol an hour ago. "Okay, so we have a--what, a *visually occulting phenomenon* that's advancing toward the inner solar system, with a *radio* occulting component following three seconds later. Has that separation been constant, Bob?"
"As well as we can figure from the DSN logs, that's correct."
"And exactly how fast are the fronts advancing?"
They both looked at each other, and then at me, and Sally voiced it.
"Exactly 1/8 *c*, sir--give or take 0.01 percent."
I gasped. "That cinches it then. There's no way in *hell* that this phenomenon is natural. And how much time before the front crosses Earth?"
Bob glanced at his tablet, which was running a dashboard based on latest observations. "29.3 minutes."
I picked up the red cellphone and hit the button. "Put me through to POTUS."
-----=-----
The President's address was quick and to the point, as it had to be. "My fellow Americans, and people of Earth--I have very little time to say this, so excuse me for being blunt. Our experts believe that the planets that have disappeared have *not* been destroyed, but have instead been hidden behind some sort of energy field which prevents radiation from passing through.
"The same thing is expected to occur on Earth about 12 minutes from now. We don't know what exactly will happen, but there is a possibility that we will survive with little or no ill effects.
"Please do not panic, but prepare for the possibility of a sudden and continuing loss of sunlight, and please keep monitoring your local television and radio for updates."
"Thank you, and may God be with us all."
-----=-----
Finally, the moment came and everything went dark. It wasn't like a solar eclipse, with twilight on the horizons--it was suddenly midnight everywhere.
As lights started coming on and my eyes adapted, though, I noticed a dull red circle in the sky. I could still see the Sun! The Occulting Field, as we'd begun to call it, wasn't totally opaque after all.
Almost half an hour later, shortly after the Field passed the orbit of Venus, it happened. The dull red dot brightened and bloomed until it was almost as bright as before, but now the disk was ugly, mottled, chaotic, as if our own calm, life-giving sun had died and a sphere of pure chaos had taken its place.
But there was no dangerous radiation; ultraviolet levels were actually *lower* than normal.
The event, which we quickly identified as a nova, continued for twelve days before finally starting to dim, and the sun slowly returned to normal over the following week. Shortly after that, a sudden burst of bright sunlight heralded the retreat of the Occulting Field back toward the outer Solar System.
It left as quickly as it came, and 32 hours later even Neptune was again visible to our telescopes.
Less than three years later, Messenger 2 arrived at Mercury and found that not only had the hemisphere exposed directly to the Solar Nova been melted smooth, but every level surface on the entire planet had been covered with something like volcanic ash. Planetary scientists later surmised that a significant depth of the sunward surface had been vaporized into a short-lived atmosphere which had then condensed into rock snow and fallen to blanket the entire globe.
What remained of Mercury will stand as a perpetual reminder of what could have happened to us.
We might never know who, or what, acted to save us from our star's little tantrum, nor can we know if they will protect us if--or when--it happens again. What we *do* know is that suddenly, our current and planned space programs now have vastly greater importance and urgency. For the first time in history, we're getting more funding than the Defense Department, and we're making good use of it.
Perhaps someday, somewhere beyond Neptune, we might meet our saviors on a more-or-less equal footing. I hope we remember to thank them for those few days when we were safe in their shadow.
**Edit:** typos
|
The chairman sat in his chair quietly contemplating the news. "So it's Mars now too?" He frowned. "Can we still see the Asteroid belt?"
The lead scientist nodded. "That's what's peculiar. At the rate of expansion it should have been consumed already. The same with Pluto, it was unaffected and hasn't even had it's orbit perturbed."
The scientist adjusted his glasses. "In fact all the minor celestial bodies have been untouched. It's just the planets." The chairman spun in his chair and looked out the window 384,000 kilometers to look down on Earth.
"So, do you think we will be affected?"
"Well, so far as we can tell the orbits of the moons continue along their trajectory, but without the mass of their planets they just fly off unbound. From this we can infer that the planets themselves are actually being moved rather than just being invisible."
Through the window he started to see the barest sliver of black appearing on one of the horizons. Was it a sunset, or had the wave finally come?
"Do you know why we call them planets?" The chairman asked.
"It's from Greek isn't it?"
"Yes, it seems like an apt name right now."
"Why is that sir?"
"Because it means, Wanderer."
| 2018-06-06T13:33:40 | 2018-06-06T12:17:43 | 46 | 13 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line.
|
The time had finally come. Saying his farewells, the soldier left the safety of his friends and marched into the center of the battlefield, alone. He could see the opposing forces staring him down, but he did not falter. Then, one of them, a foot-soldier much like himself, stepped forwards. "Look at that fool, standing all alone! Perhaps he will be the first to die! Though certainly not the last!"
The soldier felt fury rising inside him at the sound of the enemy's taunts. He nearly charged the lines himself, until he felt a friendly hand on his shoulder. Turning back, he saw a knight from his own army, giving him a reassuring grin. "Do not let them incite you. Many of us will die today, but I promise you, their corpses shall litter this field far more than our own."
The soldier nodded and returned the grin. Charging in on his own would be suicide, and then how could he say he made a difference in this glorious battle? He would stand his ground until the right time came.
And come it did. Hardly a moment later, a spear-wielding foot-soldier came charging out of the enemy lines, his weapon leveled directly at the brave soldier's chest. The soldier sidestepped the strike with ease, and plunged his shortsword into the enemy's neck.
The sound of rapid footsteps caused him to look up. The taunting soldier from before was charging him! The spearman must've been a ruse, to catch him off-guard. Realizing there was no time to block or dodge the assault from the taunter, the soldier closed his eyes and accepted oblivion. His last thought was that he was the first. The first to slay one of the enemy. For that honor, he would gladly die a hundred times.
"NO!" a soldier shouted. That was his friend, his best friend! Enraged, he readied his sword and buckler, and charged towards the taunter. But the bastard was ready. He blocked the blow expertly, and so their deadly dance began. Sword clashed on shield, shield pushed against sword, and around them, the battle raged.
One of the good army's paladins struck down an enemy cleric, only to be killed by the famous Warrior-Queen of the Onyx Crown. Then, a mage of the Ivory Throne began to cast a powerful spell that would have blasted the Onyx Queen to pieces. However, before he could finish the spell, he was intercepted by a lancer from the Onyx army.
Seeing an opportunity, the soldier made a decision. The taunter was but one soldier. It was better to kill a vulnerable enemy quickly than to spend the entire battle trying to kill a well-prepared foe, no matter one's personal feelings of vengeance. With that, he broke apart from his opponent and charged towards the lancer. He cut him down before the lancer could so much as raise a hand to protect his face.
But there was no time to revel in glory. Turning his head, he saw death fast approaching in the form of a bolt of dark energy from the Warrior-Queen. The soldier side-stepped, dodging the blast with mere inches to spare. Grabbing his fresh kill's lance, he threw it at the wicked Queen, who leaped and rolled out of the way with the reflexes of a tiger.
An Ivory knight rode to the soldiers aid, but was caught by surprise by an enemy knight. He tried to defend himself, but the warrior slashed the brave knight's horse, causing it to collapse, bringing its rider with it.
Then, as the dark army seemed on the verge of victory, *she* appeared. Her enemies called her the Pale Death. Her allies called her Salvation. With a single stroke of her greatsword, she sliced the legs off the dark knight's steed, bringing him to the same fate as his victim. With that, the Ivory Army fought with renewed vigor.
The dark army tried to push back, but just as they seemed to be succeeding, a bolt of lightning surged from behind the Ivory army's front lines, blasting into the chest of the Onyx Queen. She screamed in agony, and fell to the ground, dead. Above her stood the court wizard of the Ivory King. His talent for lightning was famous even in the lands of Onyx.
After that, the battle raged for hardly a minute longer. Finally, Salvation's sword was held to the throat of the Onyx King. He knelt, defeated.
"Checkmate."
Who says chess can't be exciting?
*Fin*
If anyone's curious, here's the actual game I based this off of:
1. e4 c6
2. Nf3 d5
3. exd5 cxd5
4. d4 e6
5. Nc3 Bd6
6. Be3 Qc7
7. Qd2 Bd7
8. O-O-O Ne7
9. Nb5 Nbc6
10. Nxd6+ Qxd6
11. Bf4 e5
12. dxe5 Qe6
13. Nd4 Nxd4
14. Qxd4 O-O
15. Bg3 Nf5
16. Qg4 Qa6
17. Bxa6 bxa6
18. Rxd5 Be6
19. Rd3 Nd4
20. Qxd4 Bxa2
21. b3 Bxb3
22. cxb3 Rfc8+
23. Kb2 Rab8
24. e6 a5
25. Bxb8 Rxb8
26. Rg3 a4
27. Qxg7#
|
Today's the end of The Month. It wasnt surprising but we all knew it was coming. It lasted too long but we didnt want it to seem like it had come too soon. There are 12 of them yet this one was different. It was almost like the rest seemed dull and ugly while this one was meaningful and gave us momentary happiness right up until the end, when it got bad. Having this many dogs was hard to take care of but it seemed like one dog always needed something extra and it was always.....the same dog. Before the end of The Month, we had bills to pay and the extra expenses werent helping us and it seemed like we wanted The Month to last longer but we never had the money for the bills even by the end of it. We buried The Month in the yard as it served its purpose even if it was too much for us.
| 2017-08-30T07:33:21 | 2017-08-30T04:51:45 | 284 | 13 |
[WP] You're a 'comically incompetent' supervillain for a group of C-List heroes. They are no real threat to you, so you endure their childish speeches. However, when the heroes raid the civilian business you run on the side and injure your employees, you decide to take yourself seriously for once.
|
"*Today, on the anniversary of her passing, we commemorate the life of Silent Light, the single greatest hero of recent times. Born in 1985, her civilian identity unknown, Silent Light joined the Super Guard Team in february 2001, being mentored by The Captain as the new heavy assault member of the team. Her voice, when whispered properly, was able to conjure fire and light, which joined to her increased strength and resistance made her an ideal candidate for the Guard.*
*Sadly, during the battle for Paris en 2015, Silent Whiper met her end the 29th of november at the hands of Black Cultist. We are proud to have with us today none other than The Captain. Captain, welcome to the show..."*
Laura turned changed the radio channel to listen some electro swing. It was 10:30 am and the café was filled to the brim with clients. She knew that while a few clients may enjoy a talk show, what most of them wanted was to have some background music, and steaming mug of coffee, maybe a pastry and peace. That was what she sold in 'Café Arland', an small area of repose in the neverending stress and speed of the great city.
She had just finished cleaning one of the coffee machines when Arnold came back from his break. He was a young lad on his late teens that had recently got into college, but he did struggle financially. He was diligent, well behaved and had a lovely smile that cheered up the day of even the grumpiest of clients. "Hey boss, I'm back, would you like to take your break now?"
"I'd love to", Laura replied, "but I'll go to my office to do some maths. Can you handle this?"
"Certainly, take as much as you need. I'll call you if something's on fire"
"You better pull it out before I come back!".
They both laughted as she took off the delantal and got to the back of the café. She had taken a considerable effort to make it as lovely as possible: there was quite a comfortable staff room with a sofá, TV, and an small kitchen. She even spent money on building a new staff bathroom that was quite bigger than the client's one and was always perfectly clean. Her philosophy was that staff members had to be happy in order to make their clients happy as well. It was a modest business, but she loved every bit of it.
Laura got into her office and, after locking the room, she turned on the computer and browsed the news with some specific tags: \[Fire Lady\] \[Robbery\] \[News\] \[The Captain\]. The results came back immediately, talking about the heist of two days before: "*Fire Lady assaults again a gambling office, stealing millions. The Captain showed to the scene just a minute later, but the villaness managed to escape after throwing him a fireball that blinded the hero. He declared that the SGT are after her and should apprehend Fire Lady very soon".* Laura smiled.
The same declarations every day. Every week. Every month. She printed the news report and placed it inside a huge dossier with all of Fire Lady's successfull hits: an actor known unofficially for being involved into child abuse rings that was killed in a fire, a pharmaceutical CEO who intended to increase price of insulin hundreds of times that was found beaten almost to death, an underage detention center that was attacked and all inmates freed (althought in this one the reported missed to mention the abuses the guards were doing on those children), and a long etcetera.
She still found it funny and sad. That she had to become a villain, even a minor one, to even bring a bit of goodness to the world. And, as always, the SGT would say she is not a threat, that she is just a wannabe villain that would soon be detained. But they never did.
She saved all those things and produced her financial notebook. She still had to do some maths, after all. Almost twenty minutes went by when a buzz interrupted her work: Arnold was asking for help. It was 11:30am, it was usual that more clients came by at that time. She walked towards the front and soon realized something was off: he heard Arnold talking very fast, scared, and a second voice replied, a voice she knew too well. She had started to run when there was a huge crash and something stuck through the wall next to the door that lead to the café.
A long, bloodied blade.
She opened the door. The clients were fleeing and screaming. Over the counter a huge man wearing a steel and golden armor was holding a weapon and, impaled by it, Arnold too his last breaths. The Captain slowly looked at Laura. "I've finally found you, Fire Lady. Your servant didn't want to cooperate". The so called hero pulled the sword back, and Arnold's body fell limbly to the ground. "Now, about that fireball you threw to my face..."
"What... did you..."
"Oh, poor little villain is scared now?" he said, mockingly. "You shouldn't have insulted me with your presence, you whore!"
He took a huge swing towards Laura. She ducked, raised a hand, whispered: "*holy light",* a glow covered her hand and, with a loud 'clank', the sword was violently stopped against her flesh. The Captain observed her hand as the golden glow rapidly spread to the rest of her body and, when Laure rose her head to stare at him again, his face grew paler.
A second later, The Captain was thrown out of the building, hit several times on the pavement and stop himself abruptly when he hit the wall at the other side. He stood up moving away the debris that was falling over him, and he saw a ghost brought back from the death. Laura was hovering, covered by a layer of golden light, while silver flames orbited around her hands; her eyes glew white and her hair floated while energy sparks jumped from the tips of each strain.
"No... You are dead! I saw you die!!"
"*You* killed Silent Light", she said, her voice booming. *"You* killed her when you liberated corrupt politicians. When you let assassins, rapists and other bastards to get away because they paid more. *You* killed my belief in super heroes the same day you started training me! Just as you tried to kill me and let Black Cultist take the fall!!"
"You became a villain! You had to be stopped!"
"No. I did not" she said as she rose the palm of her hand towards The Captain. "I learned the truth. I became free". The light concentrated on her hand, and then she whispered: "*Kill the evil*".
​
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
*News reports: 30th of november 2022:*
*Silent Light is not dead! The situation is still unclear, but it seems that after being taken for dead at the hands of Black Cultist the 29th november 2015, she adopted the identity of Fire Lady. The Captain has fallen to her hands and, few minutes after, the tower of the Super Guardian Team has bursted in flames. It is still unknown what is causing this conflict or how many heroes have perished in this battle, we will continue informing as facts are confirmed.*
*In other news, the family of Arnold Anders, sadly killed during the fight of Silent Light and The Captain, has today received a sum of 15 million dollars with a letter of a very dear friend of Arnold. Anders family has refused to make any further declarations.*
|
*This time* it had to work. It couldn't be like that time the duct tape broke in the torture chamber, releasing the bar that kept Doctor KingKitty from morphing into her feline form and escaping. Or like the time my blaster cannon had no ammo while I finally had WhipWorm in the scope. And most certainly never like the time when I had all of the CloudWing crew trapped in a bus and hanging off the cliffside, and instead of using my extender arm to push it off, I activated the grapple instead.
The CloudWingers had to be stopped at any cost.
Ash stung my nostrils as I prowled about the ruins of my 6-12 convenience store, a business that had nothing to do with CloudWing and which they untargeted with contemptuous unfairness in an act that could be described as villainous. *I'm supposed to be the villain.* I had ignored them for too long, allowing them to go about telling the tallest of tales and exaggerations about their minuscule superpowers while I focused too much on the *project*. Oh me.
*It hadn't been all that difficult to get them all on that bus.* They weren't exactly the brightest superheroes ever, usually gullibly falling into whatever trap suited their fancy the most. KingKitty was had with merely a piece of catnip. WhipWorm just wanted to hide and slithered right in. MellowSnow hated heat and was forced on with nothing more than a cigarette lighter. Then the leader, the pathetic RiverRaven, was so full of their own appetite that a squirrel carcass had brought the bird faster than I could count to ten.
*If only I had finished them then.*
No point in crying over past opportunities. I looked over at the automorpher with glee. If only I had it complete... It would be the most perfect way to dispose of them. Plants, reduced to nothing more than ordinary garden weeds. Then, onto the rest of the superheroes. *Yes, yes. I could plant them in a garden. So much fun.*
I licked my lips. Time to go to work.
\-----------
I couldn't help but let out a smile directed at nothing as I watched all of them get into the back of the brown van, the automorpher pointed out the window at it. This was going to be all too easy... They had fallen for the same traps that I had laid out the last time! Oh me.
Once all four were inside I called down to the security guard whom I'd paid a handsome sum and he shut the door. At once I charged the automorpher and pulled the trigger, expecting a cathartic blast of energy to rush into the van.
What came out instead was... a wisp of smoke?
That's when the gun started to feel hot. Not just hot like it'd been warmed by the sun on an afternoon, or hot like a cell phone gets when its overused. Boiling hot, enough that I was forced to drop it.
Of course, when it hit the ground a blast of energy finally did come out of it, directed at me. It didn't kill me, instead giving me these stupid petals around my face so I look like a sunflower. A loser.
<pouts>
\----------------
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
| 2022-11-29T02:42:13 | 2022-11-28T14:15:34 | 38 | 18 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal.
|
-Replay that last segment, if you will, Preceptor Xithis-
A thought-command to the mitris-orb and the holographic images reset themselves. The bipedal alien - the 'human' - sat motionless in front of a vid screen of the most primitive make. In front of it was a rectangular pad covered with buttons, almost all inscribed with strange symbols, no two exactly alike. To the right of this pad was a small oval device on a flat pad. Further to the right was a cylindrical canister covered with colorful pictures and symbols. On its head was a half-circular device covering part of its skull and the sides of its head. Its ears were not visible under that device. I looked inquiringly over at the Chancellor Au'Tereba, noting the signs of agitation around her eyes, the wildly flailing tendrils over her sagittal crest.
-Show us again-
Another thought-command and the scene replayed. It was one that had shocked me the first time I saw it, but repeated viewings have long since taken their toll on me. I watched in fascination as the scene unravelled. The human placed the middle three digits of its left appendage on a certain combination of symbols on the pad, then rested its smallest digit on another symbol, and its opposable digit on a long, rectangular button which was completely unmarked. Its other appendage grasped the oval device.
There was an image on the vid screen in front of the human - a mass of colorful art, symbols and a curious spinning circle in the lower right. The human leaned forward in anticipation. The image shifted to a crude representation of the inside of a building of human make, complete with walls, pillars, corridors and the like. In the middle of the screen was the image of a primitive projectile thrower and a targeting reticle. To the sides of the weapon were images of other humans wearing clothing and clutching those same weapons in their hands. The vid screen exploded with movement as the human somehow caused its image to move within the vid screen. The other humans on the vid screen ran and hopped in every direction until they disappeared from view.
-What....exactly is happening here, Preceptor?-
-This, Chancellor Au'Ganas, is a human. As far as we can tell, it is engaging in some sort of self-entertainment-
-Entertainment!?-
The human dashed around a corner in its virtual world and was immediately beset by two animals, small and lean with dagger-like feet and gnashing jaws. They crawled on the wall and ceiling and leapt on the human. The Chancellors gasped in anticipation despite the virtual nature of the combat, but what followed was the most astounding gyration of the on-screen image, followed by the furious clacking of keys and the erratic but precisely controlled movement of the oval device. The vid screen spun wildly as the human's weapon fired burst after burst of projectiles, killing one of the animals, then the weapon switched out to another, smaller weapon and the human finished off his second opponent with several shots from it.
A third animal - larger but curiously less threatening, fat and somewhat squat on four pudgy limbs - started running away from the human, but it chased it down some stairs and around a corner, putting shot after shot perfectly into it and also managing to kill it. The hologram continued to play, but my attention was now back on the Chancellors.
-Chancellors Au'Tereba, Au'Ganas and Au'Yunis. What we have here is a killing machine of the highest order-
I gestured at the hologram at the human, which was still intent on its 'game'.
-It has reflexes and split-second decision making which completely outperforms our battle constructs by orders of magnitude. It isn't even in the same scale, as a matter of fact. It possesses a natural cunning and has an instinct for war and strategy. It knows when to fight, when to retreat, and when to consolidate its position. There, just now. It passed up an obvious target, slipped behind enemy lines and has started to attack the enemy's supply chain.-
-That is inconceivable. How can anything do that?- Chancellor Au'Ganas stared at the hologram at a new round of action on the human's vid screen.
-It appears to be computing its strategy based on input from its team mates, observing extra metadata in the form of an overlay image - the so-called 'map' - and the current danger level of its environment. Observe, it appears to be talking into the wand in front of its mouth. My scientists have theorized that it is conveying battlefield information in that manner-
The human paused to grasp the cylindrical canister and take a drink from it.
-It appears to be self-medicating in order to boost its reflexes and stamina-
-This is terrifying.-
I looked over at Chancellor Au'Tereba and fixed her with the gaze from my fifth eye, averting the other four out of respect.
-I understand how you must feel. I felt the same way too. But we no longer have a choice. Four fifths of our worlds have fallen to the forces of the Adversary. Our people stand on the brink of extinction unless we befriend and enlist the aid of these humans.-
-But we have so little time! Our cities burn, our people perish, and you pin the hope of our species on this- wailed Chancellor Au'Ganas.
-ENOUGH!- Chancellor Au'Tereba projected with such force that we were thrown back in our seats. -We have no further alternatives. Tell us your plan, Preceptor.-
==============
Gabe Newell sat back in his chair, clutching his hair in disbelief, shaking his head side to side.
"Holy shit. HOLY. SHIT."
He picked up the phone, dialed a number.
"It's me. Listen up. 3."
Gabe slammed the phone down and slumped back in his chair.
==============
The mechanized armies of the Human-Antarii Alliance raged over the surface of the Adversary Core World. Its fortresses had long since been overrun, its war machines reduced to scrap and recycled into raw material for the humans to process into more droids. The docks which used to churn out terrifying starships were in ruins. They had been the first to fall in the final invasion of the Core World, the last phase in the battle plan laid out by the Human Emperor.
It was all so simple.
The technology had always been there. The replicator facilities were already in place. The war constructs of the Antarii were born out of desperation and naivety. They were massive, took too long to produce, and their programming could not account for every situation on the battlefield. A peaceful race for as long as they could remember, the Antarii concept of war had been forced upon them by the Adversary.
Not so the humans.
Although completely physically outmatched on the battlefield by Adversary war machines, troops and other weapon constructs, their incredible thirst for conflict could be channelled by a simple program into mechanical bodies, effectively fighting by proxy. And the humans even found it pleasurable and exciting. The Human Emperor had even found a way to keep the war, in his own words, 'fresh and interesting'.
It was all so horrifying.
Preceptor Xithis stood on the command deck of his starship and gazed at the fiery wasteland far below him, projected up to him via hologram. 'Scorched earth', the humans called it, their peculiar tendency to raze the ground and burn every last thing into cinders in order to ensure victory. A squad of drone warriors charged across the battlefield, dodging everything thrown at them with precise, calculated yet erratic movements. They leapt onto the Adversary troops and started to slaughter them, and Xithis had to turn away even from this.
"Preceptor Xithis."
He looked down at his control panel. A hologram image had appeared of a large, rotund human male, with brown hair on his head and strange transparent goggles around his eyes.
-Emperor. How may I assist in ending this war?-
"It is time for the DLC phase."
-Dee...Ell... See? I'm afraid I don't understand.-
"I will explain. You see..."
|
May our children forgive us; for we choose servitude over annihilation. Is it not better to be second among equals, lower only to them and above the rest? Is it not better to watch the fleet of those who would enslave you burn, to watch their planets fall and their cities crumble than to see your people massacred, your holy places desecrated, your world die. We may be giving up our freedom but at least we will survive right? Yes, we will lose our beloved council, we will see Kartaloon fill will races from around the Dominion, we will cede territory to others and be forced to do trade with lesser species but we will survive. My brothers and sisters do you not wish to see the Targracians suffer for all that they have done to us, for what they did to the outer colonies for Impac, Tonar and Harkathia how many billions of us have they extinguished how many worlds have they made dim. Only the scourge of the Humans of the Dominion of Canada can lay restitution for the sins and atrocities that they have befallen upon us.
The Humans will be our ultimate weapon against Targracia, her people will weep for a million cycles, her Gods will be made to bow before the shadows and their hand, the Humans, her cities will empty and their people will know what it truly means to suffer, to suffer without hope, without mercy, to suffer at the hands of humans. Remember your history what they did to their own kind the atrocities committed against the cities of New York, Sao Paolo, Beijing, Tokyo now imagine what they would do to the Targracians a species that may pose a threat to them, even if only an imagined one. Yes my brothers and sisters we may lose autonomy but how many are truly left free in this galaxy if we do not capitulate to the Humans than to who? Should we be as the Par Madi a dead race only to be remembered in the annals of history; a lesson for those to come the consequences of those to prideful to bend to those more powerful than themselves, is it not better to bend to the Devil we know than the one we don't?
By joining the Canadian Dominion we will be given access to technologies millenia beyond our current level we will have access to their space-time gateways, our children will see parts of the galaxy that our grandfathers could only dream of. We will be able to spread far and wide to the point that even if Kartaloon should fall our people never will. As second among equals we will never know subjugation of a conquered people, only Humans themselves will be above us, and in the vastness of their territories we will barely even notice them, true our illustrious council will be disbanded and our people will be subjected to their "Democracy" but they will also be protected by their "Charter of rights and freedoms". We will be given technology to build a fleet of star ships that would be able to explore the Galaxy and protect our people, and still be backed up by the Canadian Star Fleet, we will be given voice in the Galactic Council, I have seen it myself their base inside of Sol, the base inside the heart of their sun where the representatives of the second species work together, where the Therelians and the Ic Ba Moor once bitter rivals exist together in peace.
Truth be told we have little choice in the matter, capitulation to the Humans is the only choice we have. I stand before you not to ask for your acceptance in this matter but to ask for your forgiveness for the deal has been made, by this time tomorrow the siege will be over, within an hour the full Canadian armed forces will enter Kartaloonian space and engage in battle with the Targracians. A Governor class space station will orbit between us and our third moon Today is the last day that Kartaloon exists as a free and independent world, but we still have a tomorrow and for that I will not apologize.
| 2014-12-26T17:56:23 | 2014-12-26T10:50:07 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] You have all the advantages, and disadvantages, of a video game hero. You can punch out elemental gods, but you cannot open a locked box. You can suplex a battleship, but a child can block you from walking down a hallway. You backflip-dodge bullets, but you can't jump over knee-high fences.
|
I figured it out when I was about 8.
My mom had been on some health food kick, constantly feeding me kale. Passionfruit. Acai. Superfoods or something. I don't know, I was 8 years old.
What I DID know was that every time I ate a full serving of said food a number up in the right hand corner of my Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith collectable watch would increase. If I ate junk food or simply didn't eat, it would go down. Curious.
I also discovered that if I rode my bike every day, or read books, or learned a new skill the number would go up, sometimes drastically. Learning to start fires put me above 2000. Learning to swim; 3000.
So I was 8 years old, obsessed with Star Wars, and just finishing up an Avocado Toast and Pomegranate yoghurt lunch one summer afternoon. I had a neighborhood friend, Cam, over to play.
"You wanna do Star Wars or World War 3?" Cam asked.
"Star Wars!" Obvious choice. At least today. I had my watch on!
I glanced at my wrist as I picked up my telescoping green lightsaber. 25,000 read the number in the corner.
The plastic "Blade" had hundreds of white scores in it from where it had been struck by the red lightsaber of a similar design. Opting not to mar the toy further I instead held it outstretched in a blocking motion and quickly thrust my open palm towards Cam, exclaiming "FORCE PUSH!" loudly.
There was a whooshing sound around my ears. Cam flew six or seven feet up through the air like a tow cable attached to an aircraft had been attached to his belt and he landed about 30 feet away on his back.
"Cam!" I shouted, sprinting towards him in a mad dash to assist my friend. How did he do that? How did he just throw himself back so far and so fast? That was the most realistic Force push he'd ever faked!
He was winded but otherwise unharmed, having learned to take a fall long ago in our various tussles. We both opened our mouths to speak and the same thing came out:
"HOW DID YOU DO THAT?"
Cam stared at me, wide eyed. "I didn't do anything! One minute I was standing there and the next I was over here! Your Force Push! It was real! You have to teach me how!" He was exuberant- but also looked a little scared of me.
But I didn't know how to do it. I'd just... Done it.
All I knew is that the counter read 26,500. New skill.
--------
By the time I was 17 my perspective on the issue had grown quite dramatically, as had the numbers on my watch- a heavy duty military grade piece I'd picked up as a freshman. Every watch I'd ever owned had displayed the numbers, but this was the first one that flashed EXP right next to them in real time.
2,345,102 EXP. Every task successfully completed, every new learning, every girl I asked out, every time I successfully drove somewhere without dying, the numbers grew.
And so did my power.
I could use telekinesis. I could build and customize cars in seconds just by reading a parts list and thinking about it hard enough. I could take damage, INSANE damage, and heal back in ten or fifteen seconds max. If I sustained a life threatening injury all it took to bring me back was a defibrilator or epinephrine injection; sometimes even just helping me back up was enough.
I shot myself in the head for fun once and it didn't even break my skin, I just saw red and hit the dirt. Heart pounding in my ears, edges of my vision red and ebbing with my pulse, until an EMT read the dog tag around my neck that read "In case of emergency administer Epinephrine first and exclusively." Hell of a medic alert tag.
One Epi-Pen later I was back on my feet and thanking the man for his time. He stared, slack jawed and dumb as I walked away.
This system wasn't without drawbacks. There were fences I couldn't climb for some reason. Doors that would never open. Boxes that wouldn't open no matter how I pulled or pried.
I hit a sapling pine tree with my car at about 150 MPH and for some reason the car wrapped around this 3 foot tall tree like it was made of tungsten. Apparently there were some... Collision issues.
I was ejected from the vehicle, but sustained little damage. Just a minor inconvenience really.
I felt like God.
I was customizing a new vehicle in my garage after the pine tree incident when I noticed a stray bolt over in the corner across from me.
Curious. Normally I simply looked at the car and focused on swapping out the colors and parts and they just... were there. I'd never seen any hardware moving around.
Yet there it was.
I walked around the car, a gleaming pearl MKIV Supra, reached to pick up the bolt, and immediately lost my balance. My hands reached out to steady myself against the wall, but they contacted nothing and before I knew it I was falling. Fast.
I looked up. Skeletons of homes, streets, buildings- I could see none of the surfaces, just edges and objects inside. They were getting further away, very, very quickly.
Collision issues.
|
I load in. The Tunnel. The bright Light. I don't remember why I saved here. I barely remember the accident that caused me to delete my other saves. I had been in such a hurry, my finger slipped. All of the other saves, gone. Now I'm here. The Tunnel. The Light. The Horn. *Danger*, it says. *Move*, it says. I can't. Stone all around me. Stone and concrete and metal rails.
&#x200B;
I can't run. I've tried.
&#x200B;
I close my eyes as the air starts to shake around me. A brief, horrible pain, and then nothing.
&#x200B;
Somehow I see the wheel spinning. The bar filling.
&#x200B;
I load in. The Tunnel. The bright Light. I don't remember why I saved here....
| 2019-05-06T13:44:06 | 2019-05-06T13:21:30 | 302 | 60 |
[WP] As humanity sends its first manned expedition beyond the orbit of earth, it discovers that humans are actually immortal, but "Mother Earth" is actually a living organism that has been consuming their life force to survive.
|
Those of us who volunteered to go to Mars were seen as brave individuals conquering the final frontier by some and idiots with a skewed perception of what life away from everyone would be like.
In reality, it was somewhere in between. The loneliness is worse than it seems. On earth, we would be isolated for maybe a few months or years, but we'd always be able to go back home to our families and friends. Over here, we'd spend years and decades relatively alone, and the only people we got to encounter were the ones that we came with. If you hate someone, you'll have to spend a whole lifetime with them. If you loved someone, chances were that they were already taken. Life was rough from a social perspective.
On the other hand, the scientific research was truly wonderful. We discovered things about life in lower gravity that scientists on earth never would've even thought of. We found bacterial life, which was apparently celebrated for years on earth. Our other discoveries were less spectacular, but still important enough to relay back to earth.
Except for one. The discovery, which we made 100 years into our expedition, was so important that we couldn't risk letting people on earth know. It would've caused chaos. People would've clambored to be on the next flight to Mars, and they're would've been outrage in the scientific community. We discovered that humans are actually more or less immortal.
Given the relatively short lifespan of humans on earth, it was truly astounding when even the weakest of our expedition lived well into their 100s. Nobody knew what was happening. How could Jim with terminal cancer live not 10, not 20, but 75 years past his given 6 months? Who knows. People on earth were still dying at a normal pace. In fact, the average lifespan was projected to go *down*. Yet here we were on Mars, living well into our 200s.
When a new ship arrived, maybe one every 30 years, the new inhabitants would always be shocked at the sight of such a successful colony. Slowly, we would hint at and then tell them the discovery of longer lives, and maybe even immortality.
However, a disturbing trend grew. Whenever a new ship arrived, death rates would steadily rise for a couple of years before steadying. Nobody thought much of it, as the people who were song were well past their life expectancy anyway.
Back on earth, the energy crisis seemed to solve itself. A few years of large scale disasters lowered the population by almost a billion, and suddenly the energy consumption went down. New technologies were discovered, with or help, that could create energy more efficiently than ever before. Or seemed like earth always found a way through. Any problems that humans created were almost miraculously solved.
I, without even letting my family know, began to do my own research into this topic. It began to seem more and more clear to me that the earth was somehow surviving on the deaths of humans, and that death rates were lower when fewer people were alive. Being a scientist, I wanted to make sure that it was actually a cause and not some correlated facts.
I cross referenced the data we had from our own Mars records and the findings were concrete. Death rates are directly correlated to the number of living organisms on a certain planet. That explained the high death rates after an influx of new Mars colonizers. It explained the earth's ability to always fix itself.
There was only one thing to do. Present my findings to the colony. After explaining my hypothesis to the leader of our colony, I managed to get a chance to speak to everyone at once.
I was given a week to prepare my presentation. Making graphs and formatting data to look presentable took most of my time. I spent the rest of the week getting the auditorium ready. Setting up the audio and video systems took longer than expected, leaving me only one day for everything else that needed to get done.
On the big day, the crowd was gathered on the edge of their seats.
"A lot of you may be wondering why you are gathered here today," I began. "Well, I've got a huge surprise in store for all of you. Since the beginning of time, or at least human time, the life cycle has been an accepted part of our lives. We live, we die, we reproduce. Today, I am going to turn all of that upside down."
I presented all of the visuals I had prepared, and watched as astonished space pioneers tried to soak it all in.
"So do the scientists on earth know about this?" one curious child asked.
"No, not yet. I wanted the opinion of everyone here first. Some of us might not want others to know this secret. This segues perfectly into the next part of my presentation. We'll have a vote on whether or not to tell the people back on earth about this."
A debate ensued, with some arguing that we were there to report or findings to other people and let professionals handle the situation. Others said that the risk associated with letting others know was top great. In the end, the vote was 438-251 in favor of keeping it a secret.
"Ok so time for a Q&A session, as I'm sure many of you have questions," I said
A ruckus broke out as people shouted to have their questions heard. I answered them as u heard them.
"Yes this means that most of us will live in to our 200s, maybe even our 300s."
"Well not exactly. I still need to do more research, but it appears as if more people results in more deaths as the planets try to survive off of our life force."
"No I won't go home with you tonight. I can't. Maybe next time."
"Ok folks. This concludes my presentation. But before you leave, I have one final surprise for you."
I ran behind the stage, which I had previously equipped with a blast shield, pretending to look for something to show the crowd. I dug out a disposable cell phone from under all my computer equipment and dialled a number.
Crude, I know, but it's not like I had a bunch of high tech equipment available.
The signal took a while, but it reached the bombs I had painstakingly planted under the floor of the audotorium. With a loud boom, everything that was in that room was vaporized. After all, Mars won't steal my life force if I'm the only one left.
****
Feedback is welcome. I think I could've ended it better, but this ending is acceptable
|
I remember seeing Jerry's face through the window in my hibernation pod. He was slamming his fists onto it and although he knew it was soundproof, he knew it would trigger the auto awaking cycle. I blinked a few times, maybe thinking it was a dream. I tried to tilt my head to the right, forgetting i was strapped down completely. I looked back up and as soon as I saw the look of terror on Jerry's face, I was wide awake. The pod then started to screech. It was deafening. I realized it was actually the pod opening and not screeching but alarms sounding off. I got up and stumbled. I looked up to the re-cal station and started to get up, crawling towards it at the same time-
"Hurry and get the fuck up! There's no time for re-cal!"
I tried to speak but no words came out. I wasn't ready to do anything. I couldn't walk, I couldn't speak. I couldn't think straight. The alarm seemed to be getting louder, although I think it was just my disorientation. I looked up towards him and he simply pointed a finger. I glanced in the direction-
*KUH-THUD*
I closed my eyes. An explosion? It was louder than the alarm. In fact, I couldn't hear the alarm anymore. I couldn't hear anything. I opened my eyes and to my surprise I could see Jerry floating away. The ship had been smashed in half and equipment was spilling out into the abyss of space.
That was 4,360 years ago. I looked down at my watch again, closed my eyes and screamed as loud as I could, hoping it would somehow end this terrible fate. Floating helplessly with no end in sight.
| 2015-06-29T19:43:23 | 2015-06-29T19:20:07 | 81 | 35 |
[WP] God shares the cosmos with several other dieties. To pass the time they play Civilization like games for eons. God's frustrated that his civilization, Earth, is several ages behind all his friends.
|
God sat down on his lumbar support, swivel desk chair and leaned back. He adjusted his headset, and turned on his desk top computer. As he heard the fan spin to life, God nervously sipped at a diet coke, anticipating the machine loading up. He hadn't checked up on his world in a couple decades, and he wasn't looking forward to seeing what had become of it. Whenever he left his civilization for too long there was always some horrific conflict going on, or some worldwide resource depletion that would no doubt lead to more conflict. The whole thing had started off enjoyable enough; find a little planet without much going on, mix some chemicals together and see what life you can produce. A simple and addictive game at first, but now it had gotten completely out of hand. It was nothing but a giant pain in the -
"GOD! Are you there?"
Before he knew it, his computer had loaded and he had connected to the server, and his friend Ningirsu was now shouting down his headset.
"Yes, Nin. I'm here. You don't need to shout, man." God replied, while wheeling back his chair to toss his Coke can in the waste basket.
"Sorry about that. I'm so pumped right now" Nin said with a slightly irritating intensity.
On this server, which they had rather pretentiously come to call the 'universe', all the other deities played with their worlds and interacted with one another, gifting each other resources, technologies and art, which massively racked up the altruism and culture points in the game. So far, God's little world had not interacted with anyone.
"What's got you so excited?" God asked.
Nin didn't hesitate to respond, "My mintheons have completely gotten rid of scarcity! They're producing enough food for everyone to be satisfied, my World Peace score is off the chart!"
"Oh, haha. That's great" God said with a feigned enthusiasm. Nin wasn't the smartest deity, but even he had a civilization far in advance of his own.
"Oh, how's your race doing? The *humans*, isn't it?" Nin felt obliged to add.
"Oh, yeah, you know. They're coming along. I'm just about to check on them now actually. Be right back." God closed the chat with Nin. He was always so embarrassed to talk to the others about his world. Why couldn't the humans be like all these other races that were so friendly and intelligent? He wished he could just get rid of them and start again, really.
God opened up his world. He sighed. They really never fail to disappoint him. There were wars everywhere. Areas that were stable last he checked on them had descended into chaos. The bar in the corner of the screen marked 'environment' was in the red, which meant critical danger. The 'resource distribution' meter was the worst; he didn't even know it was possible for the meter to get that low. There was suffering and destruction everywhere. No wonder none of the other civilizations were trying to contact the humans, they must be the laughing stock of the universe at this point. God minimized the game in embarrassment. He spun around in his chair, thinking what to do. Why did he bother anymore? The game just wasn't as fun as it used to be. He removed the head set, lifted himself out of his chair and paced around his room, contemplating what to do. He looked at all the other games on his shelf, games that he would much rather be playing. He thought about the stress of having to keep checking up on this damn civilization, to make sure it hasn't destroyed itself yet. This wasn't worth it.
God dropped back into the chair and wheeled himself closer to the screen. Solemnly, he dragged the cursor over to the options menu. He scrolled down to the bottom, where the words 'DELETE WORLD' appeared. His cursor hovered over this option for a few seconds, but he couldn't quite bring himself to click it. Suddenly, his finger jerked accidentally on his mouse. Rather than click the left button, though, he had hit the scroll wheel, which zooms in on the game. He was now viewing one of his continents at a closer distance than he had in centuries. Out of curiosity, he kept zooming in, right until he ended up in one of the human's homes. It had been a long, long time since he had seen his creation at such a close scale. It was not a very well maintained home, and it seemed extremely cheap. God would have been further put out by the living conditions, only that wasn't what got his attention at this moment. What got his attention was the music. In the home was a mother, cradling a very young infant, likely recently born, and the mother was singing a simple tune. It wasn't that it was well sung, but just the way the words were sung so gently, so softly, like a whisper. The mother was very tired, as God could see on her energy meter, but she sang none the less, and stared with endless fascination and teary eyes into the face of her baby.
God was astounded by what he was seeing. Why had he never thought to look at his race on this scale before? He started pressing the arrow keys, which moved his focus across the world, but still at a close perspective. He went further north, where he saw some children playing in the snow in a field. They were building an effigy of a human out of snow, a practice God didn't really understand, but they were all glowing with smiles, so they must have found it enjoyable. He moved further along, into another home, where he saw two young humans sitting on a bed. They were playing some kind of media out of a television in the corner of the room, but neither seemed interested in it. They were instead concentrated on carefully, and slowly, moving their hands toward each others. When their fingers locked, their hearts started beating faster. In a building further east, a group of humans were roaring with laughter as they were all sipping at some kind of intoxicating substance. None of them were saying anything particular amusing, they all just seemed to be enjoying each others' company. God couldn't work it out; when he zoomed out, he saw nothing but brutality and selfishness, and yet zoomed in, everywhere he looked, he saw humans with high levels of compassion, generosity, and creativity. Up close, his race was not a failure at all, at least as far as he was concerned. He closed the options menu.
God looked over to the upper limits of his world, high into it's atmosphere. He saw space stations and satellites, made with technology which the other worlds in his server had greatly advanced from. God, for the first time in eons, smiled at his little world. "You take your time" he whispered, and switched off his monitor.
|
They had been playing for nearly 14 billion years now and God had barely advanced his Humans enough to begin exploring their solar system. The other gods had already started transmitting their culture across the cosmos. So much so that the god Marlinius and his race of gorlarmi had completely dominated Roman culture on Earth, just one of many human cultures to unwittingly succumb to their enemy's influence.
God was more than a little upset to see that none of the other races wanted to adopt his Human's predisposition for mutilating their genitals. Tullicthu and its cultistians on the other hand had been attempting to be diplomatic with the lowly Humans. God hadn't been very happy with Tullicthu since that last time he wiped out his bad-ass race of lizard people with a giant space rock.
After this, God did not want anything to do with the other races. He was a bit of a sore loser. He even had the Humans put up nuclear power plants all around the planet, as well as detonating several nuclear bombs, just to keep Nexu and her thetian's away. Everyone knows thetians are allergic to radiation.
And it was just plain common sense to keep as far away as possible from Marlinius since his idea of a good time involved a cup plague and two teaspoons of mass extinction. Yes, indeed, God thought his fool-proof plan of creating a hardy, adaptable, and curious species would have been a no-brainer for this game but things had panned out about as well as the multiple times he had sent down great prophets to try to get the humans to stay on track.
God had been thinking long and hard and decided that he'd been attempting a scientific victory for far too long, and even if he had to go down the victory list, he was going to win this, so he decided to turn all of his, and subsequently humanity's, efforts towards a domination victory.
.
If you disliked this story, you can be sure to avoid more of my literature [here.](https://np.reddit.com/r/KyronWight/)
| 2016-04-09T08:50:39 | 2016-04-09T07:01:46 | 331 | 63 |
[WP] Aliens have finally reached Earth and, per Intergalactic Law, have sent their most average champion to win the planet. A device is sent to find the most average human to accept the challenge and duel for the fate of Earth. It's you.
|
"What do you mean I'm the 'most average' human?"
The alien's translated response was notably flat. "The selection committee analyzed 43 different parameters such as economic status, social standing, age, physical fitness, intelligence, etcetera, of all observed members of the human species at the exact moment of your January 1st 2017, zero hundred hours according to the predominant time keeping method of your world. Of those individuals your score was closest to the mean value by a margin of one point two nine seven times ten to the negative eighth power. The results were cross checked among four independent systems and found to have an acceptable statistical error rate. The results were then logged via faster than light communication with the Galactic Office of Planetary Acquisition as per protocol."
I stared blankly at the short bulbous headed green cephalopod, "Yeah, I have absolutely no idea what you just said. I want a lawyer."
"A subject species advocate was present throughout the proceedings and all matters of legal conflict were addressed, adjudicated and appealed to completion. You have had a lawyer."
I was flabbergasted. "What are you saying? That's it? Sorry, Charlie, but you've been selected to champion the entire planet in a duel?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
"THAT'S FUCKING LUNACY." The shout was probably pointless since the creature didn't look like it had any ears. It was also behind a transparent material that separated him from my cell so it probably wasn't startled by my emotional outburst.
"Currently the list of our demands is being transmitted to all the major political powers of your world. In the event of your defeat in the duel those demands will be carried out under threat of full military reprisal according to Galactic mandate. We acknowledge that this is difficult to accept however it is the reality of your situation. Our research indicates that amongst your species sexual intercourse or ethanol consumption can alleviate a great deal of emotional tension. Although protocol dictates sobriety during the event if you'd like we can procure a number of partners to your liking to ease the stress."
"I don't want any of that! I want out of this cage! I want to go home."
"You may return to your planet if you are victorious in the duel."
"That's my only way out?"
"Yes."
"My government will try to rescue me, you know"
I imagine now that could the alien have smiled he would have for his response. "We find it highly unlikely that they would attempt such a foolish act and even less likely that they would succeed."
I was beginning to calm down since my options were clear. I had to win.
"What exactly is involved in the duel?"
"The nature of the contest, usually physical or intellectual, will be selected at random and announced just prior to it's commencement. Rules and grounds for disqualification are explained and the duel will begin promptly after."
At least I knew that it wasn't guaranteed to be 20 paces at dawn with laser muskets. "Tell me about the other guy. The one I'm supposed to fight."
"Your challenger was selected utilizing the same criteria as yourself although its compliance is ensured differently vis a vis the livelihood of its offspring."
"What happens to his children if he looses?" I don't know why I cared.
"Nothing will happen to its children if it competes. The law prohibits such reprisal and your family and associates are equally protected. It will be disposed of in the event of your success however, as you would be if you fail."
Although vague, the critter didn't need to elaborate on what disposal implied. "What else would happen if I won?"
"Your governments have been invited to express their own list of demands. In the event that you win we will carry out those demands."
"And if you change your mind? My guess is that our military can't exactly hold you to your word."
"You are correct however, our government would be held accountable by the Galactic Peacekeeping Force as well as the potential of sanctions against my homeworld. It is rare that a subject species emerges as the victor but never has any defeated nation dared to opposed the Galactic Council."
I pondered the notion in silence for the next few days. I tried to exercise some or remember some of the math courses I took in high school just in case. Mostly I tried in vain to sleep.
-----
The morning of the challenge, if you could call it morning, I was lead by four armored, globular aliens to what looked like an empty stadium with two glass bulbs on either end. Each had a box protruding from one wall and what looked like an iris shaped trap door on the bottom. To my right was a naked alien similarly surrounded by armored companions. My challenger, I guessed.
A digitized voice similar to my advisor's filled the air. "The random challenge has been selected. It is intellectual in nature." I was a bit disappointed by that because at this point I had really been looking forward to kicking one of these squids asses. That is if they even had asses. "You will be confronted with a puzzle. Whichever challenger completes the puzzle first will be declared the winner. Tampering with the puzzle's mechanism in anyway results in disqualification."
I was escorted into the bubble through a seamlessly resealing opening. After what felt like hours the box I front of me opened and I could hardly believe my eyes. As astronomical luck would have it the puzzle was a rubik's cube. Granted it wasn't the exact same. The colors had been replaced by black on white pips that indicated the corresponding face but other than that it was exactly the same.
"Well, Fuck." My friend, Tanner, in elementary school had a rubik's cube. He'd tried to explain the solution steps a few times but my eyes would usually glaze over. What a nerd. I was regretting not listening better.
As I wracked my brain trying to remember what he said I saw the alien across examining the toy and flipping the edges randomly. "Fuck! What did he say? Okay, calm down, breath. Think back."
If you handed one to me today I wouldn't be able to solve it. But there but for the grace of God what Tanner had told me came back a little bit at a time. I suspect that the impending threat of death helped. A few times I looked over at my opponent and it seemed like he was beginning to solve it as well. I figured we were about neck and neck.
Finally I looked down and saw that I only had a few moves until mine was solved. Just before I was about to rotate the last face into position I looked back at him. He was gaining ground with his but I still had time.
I thought about my situation for a few seconds. If I finished he'd be dead. I knew what he was fighting for. I had no idea what the demands were on my end.
I waved at my counterpart and got his attention. I held up my cube to show that I only had one step left. It must have looked like I was gloating because the alien slumped in resigned defeat. I still don't know why I did it, whether it was a moment of compassion, weakness, or guilt. I threw the unfinished cube back into the box. I quit.
Edit: swypos, etc.
|
Growing up I had heard the adage "The tallest blade of grass is the first cut." I had graduated without honors. My professors never noticed me as I pulled a solid "C" but when the Swarm arrived at the United Nations in New York it was then the entire planet looked to me as their first and last hope.
"Humans it is with greatest pleasure selection paragon of species for contest. Probing countries to select the most average specimen for contest.
Submit to testing or planet will be removed from orbit and left to drift in the forever dark."
The loud speaker from the solid chrome landing craft echoed across the street. It was almost instantly rebroadcast on all the major news outlets.
I was working as a waiter at Applebee's when the three inch humming and floating silver ball swiftly approached and began humming near my table. After the pitch changed and the ball stopped I figured maybe it finished and was going to leave. We had been warned to ignore the probes. The room grew blury and shakey. I landed on a tray of drinks carried by my trainer.
When I awoke I was looking at star pattern and realized the blue planet was earth.
"Human it is time."
I looked around the sparse chrome room. Other than the window overlooking the planet it seemed empty. I began looking for the source of the voice. When I couldn't find it I began looking for a way out. The walls were metal and there was no discernible door.
"Is this my test?" I wondered out loud.
Moments later I felt a crushing weight. Something was on me, but I couldn't see it. It felt like two large poles pinning my shoulders to the ground. I quickly turned my torso to the right a move I had used when my older brother and I fought. It was no good the weight grew and I could see blood squirting out from my chest. I could now make out the shape of two mantis like legs pressing into my body. They were outlined with my blood.
I frantically began to kick upward. Blood squirting out of my chest with each attempt. It was in that moment I knew I had lost. The pain began to quicken and I felt a sharp vice around my head. The pain stopped. I was unable to move. The blood stopped pouring from my limbs. I could see as a spinning thread began surrounding my body. I was to did a slow death as a food source. I tried to close my eyes. It didn't work.
Sorry humanity I have failed.
| 2016-05-17T10:40:42 | 2016-05-17T09:34:20 | 106 | 12 |
[WP] You're a psychic doing a game show. Unlike the other contestants, you're the real deal. They bring you all to a house where a crime happened in the past. When it's your turn, a ghost appears and tells you: "That's him, that's the one who killed me." Pointing towards the host of the show.
|
“No one is going to believe you...” the specter said matter of factly.
I replied in my head with a sigh and the ghost nodded in solidarity.
“You know they put an innocent man away last season”, I thought to the both of us.
The fraud who claimed to figure out who the killer was made a lucky guess from a cold read and fingered a guy who fit the actual murderer to a T. The real killer, Malcom Anderson Brown, had died years before they re-opened the cold case in a car accident. I know this because I talked to the dearly departed and she told me so. I also know the man they put away, just so happened to be a child molester, who over the course of 40 years victimized 27 children and was never caught.
“...In case you are wondering why I didn’t speak up when I knew the truth” I thought to the ghost, not looking up from the spot on the drywall I had been fixated on.
“No judgements” it whispered back.
The site of the murder was a now vacant house. The house had been empty for at least 10 years now. Most of the windows were now broken and graffiti splattered the walls. At least every room sported a hastily drawn pentagram as if a child who just figured out how to drawn one used the residence as the back of a Trapper Keeper.
“I had a Trapper Keeper. There was a hot air balloon on it.” The spirit lamented.
The murder took place in 1986. I’m sorry, the “disappearance” happened in 1986 and it wasn’t declared a murder until my new pals remains were found in a wall during remodeling 20 years later. I remember the news coverage at the time. The people scouring the woods and all of the tearful pleas for a safe return all amounted to naught. The broken body lay packed in a thick black lawn garbage bag, double bagged, and closed tight, less that a few feet from the family television entombed in plaster and drywall.
The show was filming episode 3 on location from the family home so us “psychics” could get a reading from the energy in the home. The motley crew of mentalists and bullshit artists on this season were downright comical. There was Mary, the morbidly obese medium who clams to have found hundreds of missing children and is a regular on the talkshow circuit. She’s never found anyone. In fact...her misinformation has lead to the deaths of at least two children I know of that were simply lost. Searches were ended when Mary informed the family they had already perished. Mary is a fraud.
Johnny “Spoonbender” is a semi famous mentalist in England. He won some UK talent show performing parlor tricks that James Randi debunked decades ago. He is an idiot and an Olympic caliber asshole. But all and all he is a good guy and just a magician trying to get his name out.
And then there is me. I gained some notoriety on YouTube when I drunkenly predicted the powerball numbers at a party a day before the drawing and
It went viral. This apparently qualifies me to solve a 30 year old murder. I am on the show to appeal to the younger demographic despite being the oldest contestant.
“But you are real right?” The ghost puzzled.
“Unfortunately” I looked up and thought in reply.
Steven Bigsby was pacing the living room floor. He had been annoyed that the room was not optimal for proper camera and the director was opting for handheld HD cameras. High Def was not Steven Bigsby’s friend. Bigsby was a failed standup comic who in the late 80’s found fame on Star Search. He parlayed this to multiple middle of the road TV gigs over the years and now has found himself the host of the wildly popular reality show “Psychic Detectives: Cold Case Files.” After last season lead to a successful conviction the ratings were at the highest they have ever been. Bigsby was huge. Last week he was on Howard Stern and he took most of the credit for the conviction last season and how he hand picked the case for this season because he grew up nearby and wanted justice. No one on the planet would believe he was actually the culprit.
“I hate him” the ghost said woefully.
The specter would leave the room whenever he entered it and feared him...even in death.
I thought to the both of us “What did he do to you? What happened?”
“I left my body the instant he hit me in my head. After that I never felt anything. I watched from above as he put my clothes back on. He hurt me a lot before that. I’m not supposed to talk about that. It’s for grown-ups. He hit me with a hammer and I didn’t recognize my face anymore. It was all wrong. He took the locket off of my neck put it in his pocket then he put me in a bag and took me to the attic and dropped me down the wall. I have been here, in this house, ever since. I try to talk to people but no one listens...until you did.”
I responded in sorrow and pain. I said I’m sorry in a way words could not express. The ghost nodded again knowingly.
Bigsby was still fighting with the director about lighting and other minutiae. The director was a woman who, unbeknownst to everyone but me, was having an affair with Bigsby. Her name was Elaine Torrance and as torrid as I would want you to believe his affair is...they are both actually very much in love with each other. This argument could be just as much about what to have for dinner that night in a perfect world. Everyone around saw a petulant child complain to someone in charge, but I saw what amounted to a lovers quarrel. Elaine was also from this area and she and Bigsby had dated in highschool. They were destined to find each other.
Elaine meant a great deal to Bigsby.
“You know he loves her right...if only she knew.” The ghost said in its loudest voice yet.
“She doesn’t” I thought.
———
After the cameras were set up and the other psychics had filmed their “confessionals” live, it was my turn to give my thoughts and bullshit the fans into thinking I was hot on the trail.
Mary claims that the killer is still alive and walks among us. That the victim spoke to her and said it was someone who was still close by. Well Mary, even a broken clock is right twice a day. She was more on point then she ever could have known.
Johnny Spoonfucker says he feels “energy” that is leading him to answers beyond the realm of our understanding. Whatever the fuck that means.
“Oooookay are we all ready to go live?” Elaine sing songs in my direction.
“Listen...we would love it if you could maaaaaybe mention a famous killer could be the murderer. Like John Wayne Gacy or something? Ooookay?”
“Gacy was on death row in 1986” I replied.
“Oh well whatever just pick one! I don’t really care!” She exasperated.
Just then a vision came to me.
A small tarnished Lockett in a small jewelry box atop a dresser in Elaine’s apartment.
“That’s my Lockett! There is a picture of a rose inside. Behind the picture my initials are inscribed. My mom gave that to me. It’s my name. Rosemary.”
Rosemary nodded in understanding when I let her know that I knew.
And Rosemary nodded when she knew what I was about to do.
———
“Okay we are back with tonight’s special LIVE episode of Psychic Ghost Detectives! We have heard from Mary and Johnny so let’s see what our last Psychic gumshoe thinks about tonight’s investigation!”
I looked directly at the camera and said...
“Elaine Torrence, the director of this show, killed Rosemary. I will only speak directly with authorities from here on out.”
The color drained from Bigsby’s face.
And Rosemary...no longer a faceless entity...nodding one last time...again a child...walked out the front door.
|
######[](#dropcap)
Angela stared at the young girl, trying to hide the expression of pity that threatened to show on her face. The shimmering form of the ghost was that of a girl no older than fourteen, and despite the fact that her eyes were a pale white, she was no scarier than her own fat tabby cat at home.
"He lured me to this house and killed me," the girl whispered. "Please, you must help me."
"Oh, I will," Angela murmured, her eyes flashing. She turned toward the cameras and brought her hands to her head, closing her eyes and shaking her head around. "Ahh! I'm getting a vision!" she shouted loudly.
Marvin, the host, walked up, his bright blue eyes wide. "Looks like our third contestant, Angela Schlemming, is seeing something. What do you see, Angela?"
"I see...I see...a little girl. She's wearing...a blue dress and she has strawberry blonde hair. She's wearing...a necklace." Her eyes popped open.
A flicker of surprise crossed Marvin's face but was gone in an instant. "A necklace?" he asked, but this time Angela could hear the slight reluctance in his voice. He didn't actually want to ask her.
"A necklace with a name on it. It says...it says..." She paused, milking the silence as the other contestants, along with the camera crew, waited with bated breath. "Jess. Her name was Jess," she finally said.
Marvin's face paled. He brought out a handkerchief and wiped his face. "Wow, isn't that something, folks? Now, let's move on to the next contestant because we're running out of--"
"Don't you want to know what happened to poor Jess?" Angela cut in.
Marvin laughed nervously, adjusting the tie on his suit. "Now, Ms. Schlemming, I'm sure you have plenty to say. But we're running out of time, and we all know that ghosts aren't real."
The director glared at him from behind the line of cameras. What the fuck was this idiot doing?
Marvin blinked. "I mean, they could very well be real," he backtracked, swallowing. "I just meant that we can hear about Jess's murder in the next episode since we still have two contestants to get through still."
Silence greeted his words. he looked around at everyone. "What?" he asked. But there was no force behind the question.
Angela gazed at him coolly, folding her hands in her lap. "I never said she was murdered," she said.
Marvin's face drained of color. "I...that was just a guess," he sputtered. But his nervousness betrayed him as he dropped the mic. Now everyone in the room was staring at him, some with expressions of horror on their face as they realized the implication. He fell to his knees, his head hitting the floor as he wrapped his hands around his head, groaning.
Angela stood up. "How perfect," she said. "His confession has just been recorded and broadcasted live." She turned to the young girl, who stood there, her eyes focused on her murderer. Then the girl turned to her. "Thank you," she mouthed, before her body faded into a wisp.
"No problem," Angela murmured. "All in a day's work."
***
If you liked this story, I write lots of fantasy and all sorts of genres over at r/AlannaWu!
| 2018-11-15T14:36:11 | 2018-11-15T14:29:32 | 2,831 | 113 |
[WP] Humanity was excited to explore the cosmos, and what do we find? Bottom of Venus, crabs. Alpha Centauri, crabs. Andromeda, intelligent crabs. Floating in the middle of nowhere? Space crabs.
|
“Bloody hell, I’ve got crabs again.” Captain Marvis shouted; her words followed by childish giggles from her crewmates.
“You know they have treatments for that, don’t you, Marvis?” Alex retorted, earning more laughter from the crew, some even hunching over to hold their stomachs. One might think the joke would have gotten old by now, but with the empty boredom of space, that small joke never ceased to entertain the crew.
“It’s captain to you, private. That joke wasn’t funny the first time you said it, let alone the third.” Marvis shook her pale spacesuit, watching as three small blue crabs fell from the suit, each one landing on the floor only to scatter away into various corners of the room.
“It was a little funny, lighten up. It’s not like we haven’t all been in that situation before. Remember when Rodgers had a crab crawling around in his helmet for an entire mission? Then-“ Alex wheezed, struggling to continue his story as the memory flooded back into his mind. “Then when he goes to take the helmet off, the stupid thing pinches his nose. I thought it was going to pull his freaking nose off.”
“I also remember you crying after a crab scuttled towards you for the first time. What were you screaming? Want to remind me what you were babbling about?”
“Look, I thought it was like those head crab things that shoot eggs down your throat. How was I supposed to know it was just a regular crab?” Alex sunk down into his chair, trying to avoid the gazes of his crewmates now that their laughter had turned on him.
“Technically, they aren’t just regular crabs. They are space crabs or something of the sort. If you don’t mind me using layperson terminology. We have considered adding a new category to the Brachyura family to compensate for this discovery but as you know, scientists love to argue over the minor details so classification may take a while.” Candice felt the need to offer the correction to Alex, even if her crewmate didn’t seem thrilled to hear the information.
“You ever heard the saying. If it walks like a duck?” Alex asked, watching as Candice rolled her eyes.
“No, I’m not debating this stupid thing with you again. Just because they look and act like crabs does not just mean we can call them crabs. Tell him, Captain.”
“It would save us a lot of time if we could just call them crabs and move on. Still, Candice is right. We have a duty to properly categorize the crabs we come across. We can’t consider the crabs that talk the same as those that just mindlessly float throughout space.”
“Thank you.” Candice smiled, turning to Alex, who only replied by sticking his tongue out at her.
“I expected a little more from space travel than just crabs. They promised me aliens and adventure. Not crabs hiding under every rock we come across. Just once I would like to see an alien kangaroo or hell, even an alien spider. Just something that isn’t a crab.” Ethan groaned, the pilot not looking away from his controls as he added his two cents to the conversation.
“An alien kangaroo? Could you imagine how high that would jump in zero gravity? Hey, Captain. Can we make a quick stop at Earth? I just want to get something real quick.” Alex grinned.
“Alex, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to bounce you out of the airlock. Go do something productive and pick up those loose crabs.” Marvis gave the order, watching as Alex slouched his shoulders in response.
“Can’t somebody else do it?”
“Maybe, but you’re the only one that isn’t busy. Candice is still working on the last specimens, Ethan is driving, and I’m managing the lot of you. That just leaves you to pick up the crabs.”
“Ugh. Is this anyway to treat your engineer? Just because the engines aren’t falling apart doesn’t mean you can make me do the odd jobs.” Alex complained, only for Marvis to motion him towards one of the blue crabs. The crab awkwardly bumping into the wall, trying to scale it. “FINE.”
Alex found a medium-sized container. Using it to scoop up the crabs. He was rather hesitant to approach them, jumping whenever their pincers would snap. Eventually, he scooped up the three crabs, handing them over to Candice for further research. Just as things seemed to quiet down, a blip appeared on the flight controls, causing Ethan to shout back to Marvis.
“UNKNOWN SHIP INBOUND.”
Marvis rushed to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder as she stared at the monitor. “Open up communications.”
“I bet it’s a freaking crab.” Alex joined the two as he took a position by Ethan’s other shoulder.
“Nonsense. How would a crab operate a ship? This is the discovery we have been waiting for.” Ethan tapped away at his controls before a small window opened, revealing the interior of a ship with a small red crab sitting on what looked to be a captain’s chair. The crab had on a pair of metallic gloves. The gloves having ten long fingers that seemed to shift with the movement of the claws.
“Crabs again.” Marvis called out, only for the crew to groan back in unison.
“Well, let’s see what these want.” Alex said, not even attempting to hide his boredom as the crew started another tedious encounter with a crab for the sixteenth time this year.
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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.)
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The first time we saw the space crabs, we thought they were harmless. They floated around in the nothingness, bumping into our ship and each other. But then we started to notice that they were getting inside. They would sneak in through the vents and crawl into people's beds while they were sleeping. We would find them clinging to our clothes and hair, their claws digging into our skin.
At first we tried to ignore them, but it was impossible. They were everywhere, and their constant presence was driving us all insane. We tried to kill them, but they were impossible to kill. No matter how many we destroyed, more would just keep coming.
Then, one by one, people started disappearing. We would find their empty beds, their clothes still warm from their bodies. We would hear them screaming in the night, their voices muffled by the crabs clinging to their faces. And then, one by one, we all disappeared, until there was only one person left aboard the ship.
The space crabs had finally found their way into our brains, and they were hungry.
| 2022-04-12T20:43:06 | 2022-04-12T19:20:01 | 70 | 21 |
[WP] Humanity is in space, yet we are just a mediocre boring race lost somewhere in the background not important to the main story
|
"Humar? You don't look like a Humar!"
Allen sighed. This happened at least once a week. "No, HumaN. Nnnn, at the end."
The administrator looked down at his computer screen. "Oh, I see now, sorry. OK, let's see, Human....Planet Earth Capital world, Sol system, does that sound right?"
"Yup, that's us."
"And are you....Diplomat Allen...Smyth?"
"Smith. Pronounced like 'Tith'."
"Ah, gotcha. My sister married a Tith. You ever met a Tith?"
"Can't say I have."
"If you ever do, wear nose filters. Now then, what can I do for you, Diplomat Smith?"
Allen smiled as broadly as he could. Finally, after a full month on the Galactic Council Station, progress. "Well, as you may know, there has been something of a trade dispute between the Mong and the Attar..."
"Oh, tell me about it! We have been up to our joints in paperwork over that mess! It has been a nightmare like you can't believe!"
"Yes, I can imagine. Well, the problem is, the Mong setup a blockade against one of the Attar's trade posts, which just so happens to be only 10 light years from Sol, and our system seems to have been mistakenly included in the blockade. It's our understanding that trade blockades are only supposed to be in effect against planets, space stations, or outposts aligned with a rival faction - the Attar, of course - but Earth is most definitely neutral in this case. We have no formal alliance or trade pacts with the Attar. Yet, we have a fleet of Mong warships refusing to allow any of our ships access to the local warp gate."
The administrator frowned. "Oh dear, I'm afraid you've come to the wrong place. My department is only responsible for mediating trade disagreements, but it sounds like what you need to do is get yourselves officially recognized as neutral. You'll need to head over to Alliances and Pacts, they're in Sector 9..."
"NO! Err, that is, I've already been to Alliances and Pacts, they told me that I needed to see you. Said they were going to send the file over, so you'd know what was going on."
"That's strange..." The administrator tapped on the computer screen. "Who did you talk to over there?"
"Uh...I'm sorry, I don't remember her name...it's been almost 3 weeks ago. She was a Torkian, if that helps?"
The administrator stiffened. "Oh. That would be Kalar."
Allen felt the ice from the administrators voice. "Is...is that bad?"
"Well, I'll tell you, Diplomat Smith. Kalar is one of those bureaucrats that makes it her mission in life to perform as little actual work as possible. As you already know, she's ostensibly there to help a races various alliances and pacts be properly recognized by the Galactic Identification Network, so when a ship comes into range of another ship, they know whether to start shooting at each other or not. But in reality, Kalar mostly just sends people to other departments, hoping they will get lost in the bureaucratic mess. Which, I have to be honest, they do, like, 90% of the time."
Allen's heart sank. "You're kidding?"
"I'm not. Why do you think that Mong/Attar trade war is still going on? They've reached some kind of mutual agreement at least half a dozen times so far, but when they send in the Pact paperwork, Kalar sends it off to Legal, claiming there's a typo or something, and it sits there for a week. Then when she gets it back, she'll send it to Space Mining, or Gate Agreements, or wherever she likes, basically. Eventually the Mong and Attar find some other reason to be mad at each other, and hostilities start up again."
"How can this be allowed to continue? Is there some kind of formal complaint I can lodge against Kalar? My people are really suffering here; we only have two food producing worlds in our system, and need to feed close to 20 billion people!"
"Well, you can of course file a complaint, but between you and me, you wouldn't be the first. Or the three thousandth, for that matter. And if you're next question is 'Why isn't Kalar fired for gross negligence', I'll give you two guesses what race the President of the Galactic Council is, and you'll only need one."
"The President is Torkian? I thought the President of the Galactic Council was Enwarrian?"
"Oh, he is! But you know Enwarrian's, so resistant to change!"
"So...there's nothing I can do about this, then?"
The administrator smiled sympathetically. "Well, if you want advice, go ahead and file the formal complaint. It won't do any good right now, but at some point, Kalar will ignore the wrong set of paperwork, and a race of real importance will be inconvenienced. At that point, any history of negligence on her part that's on the record will make it easier for the powers that be to terminate her. And, you know, maybe go back to Alliances, talk to Kalar again? Maybe you'll catch her in a good mood."
"Super. But that doesn't help my people, right now."
"I'm sorry, Diplomat Smith, I wish I could be of more help. Only other advice I would have is to sign a trade pact with the Mong, see if they will allow you access to the gate."
Allen blanched. Humanity had basically no military fleet to speak of; even minor trade races like the Mong and Attar were capable of wiping out Sol defenses in a single afternoon. Neutrality was supposed to keep lesser races apart from the larger galactic concerns. Small civilizations that allied themselves with someone invariably found their planets occupied or even destroyed, pawns in a larger game. If this was the best solution Allen could come back to Command with, he was out of a job for sure.
"Can you tell me, is there any kind of food Kalar is fond of?"
|
A Draxian, A Homitar, and a Human walked into a bar and ordered drinks.
The Draxian finished his drink and looked at the other two and said, "I bet another round that neither of your species are more renowned than mine." The other two agreed to the bet, and the Draxian started up again, "My people are known throughout the entire galaxy for our survival in the face of peril. Since our origins on Eret, we have struggled to survive amidst the terrible conditions. Giant beasts roamed the planet, but we learned to tame such beasts, and our people grew. Our culture flourished, and many archives are still filled with our accomplishments today. We soon surpassed the common spiecies of the galaxy, and laid claim to over hundreds of stars. Even when faced with the great Nerrock invasion many thousand years ago which threatened to destroy our way of life, we survived."
"That's nothing," said the Homitar, "The only reason you survived the Nerrock was because of our brilliance. While you lot were skulking about, our people realized the power of community, and worked together for the common good. No Homitar goes hungry on any of our planets, and any healthcare you'll ever receive has been influenced by my kind. When the Nerrock's invaded, my people discovered a way to lead desolate planets onto a path towards our enemies' paths. Think twice about fighting a war against us."
"Well," the Human responded, "We kind of just killed each other for awhile and now we're here."
Edit: fix
| 2017-01-16T09:34:46 | 2017-01-16T09:00:44 | 72 | 23 |
[WP] You're a Seer; you can see the future. You speak in such vague terms that its rare to understand you before the prophecy happens. Others think you do this to protect the future; but honestly, you just like fucking with people.
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Addie stared up at the ceiling from her high back pearl white chair. She had one leg up over the armrest and slouched the rest of herself down into the seat. Her hand dangled down onto the floor and her other hand rested on her face. She looked like a puppet with no puppeteer. But she didn’t need her strings to be pulled to see.
She looked at an ordinary spot that held no real significance. Other than the fact that a dragon was about to smash through it.
Addie’s eyes flicked down in a vertical line from that spot to the spotless checkered floor. A holy knight stood there. His armor gleamed like the floor. The whites and greens of his clothing reflected in the sheen metals of his plate mail. He looked like the kind of man that could kill a dragon.
He had no clue in a few moments a ferocious dragon was going to smash through the chalk-white ceiling and flatten him like a pancake.
Addie rolled her eyes. She could avoid saying anything. She could say the fates claimed Albert. That his death was a valiant sacrifice to keep the kingdom together. But she knew at least twenty futures where Albert being alive would do her more good than harm.
“Alby, could you do me a favor,” Addie said, her voice coming out like a melodious air chime in a gentle breeze.
Albert slammed a hand against his armor. It gave off a nice crisp clap as the man bowed before Addie. The seer apparently deserved the utmost respect.
“Yes, my seer,” Albert said, his voice came out strong like a sudden gust of wind.
Addie rolled her eyes. She had no clue how he could be such a pivotal character. He acted far too much like a dog. Which she didn’t mind. She’d had seen a few futures where they ran off and got married. Settled down.
*What a bore.*
“Could you move…” Addie waved her hand to the left, “… a few paces that way please?”
“Of course, seer.” Albert burst into movement, shuffling across the spotless white and green floor.
*How does he avoid scuffing it? Knights these days.*
“Does this wo-,” Albert’s question was interrupted with the heavens fallings; well more like the ceiling falling.
To Addie, it was all the same. After all, they kept her in this tower for far too long. Show a little magic and suddenly you become an “asset to the kingdom.” As in a captive of the crown that must help the *kingdom.* It seemed that the king’s enemies finally caught on.
A bristling dragon landed in the middle of the ruined floor. White chalk debris splattered the checkered floor. Albert gleamed in the dust. His plate mail reflected the hazy sunlight that now crashed through the renovated ceiling.
The only other thing in the room that gleamed was Addie’s smile. “Oh thank the *Gods* you figured it out, Marlist.”
Marlist’s coal-black eyes surveyed the room. His long, oil slick colored, tree trunk neck extended and brought Addie face to face with a massive black dragon.
“Adeline, I assume?” Marlist’s voice boomed through the room. It lingered like a smoldering flame but felt ancient like an old, torn down library. In fact, everything about Marlist seemed ancient and primeval.
“Yes!” Addie’s bright blue eyes screamed joy as she answered. Her eyes weren’t the only thing that yelled in the room.
“Holy seer! I will save you,” Albert yelled as he ran to Addie’s side.
She just put a foot out and tripped the knight.
*Good. This is the one where he runs to my right. Things are going well.*
Albert stumbled and landed on the ruined floor; his armor now no longer gleamed thanks to the fall.
Marlist watched Albert fall with joyless eyes. They flicked up to Addie. “If I’d known your guard duty was this bad, I would have done this earlier.”
Addie put her hand out and waved it around like Marlist was stating the obvious. “I thought that the great elder dragon would have figured that out by now. You are the thirty-third worst version of yourself, you know that?”
Marlist puffed out smoke that was dark as charcoal from his nostrils.
“Sorry, you are actually the twenty-second worst version. By worst I mean incompetent, not menacing. The menacing ones already killed me by now,” Addie said as she blew on her nails, trying to get the dust off of them.
The problem with being a seer meant that nothing really surprised her. Even death. She already witnessed her own death a thousand times now. Her sight never turned off. It was like having one foot in the door, but the door splits in a thousand different ways. Addie could see which path seemed the strongest at the moment, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t look down the other paths and see those events.
She mostly enjoyed the ones where she’d kept quiet about her powers. But a donkey was a nice trade for the truth at the time.
“Well, Adeline, you have done damage to my kin.”
Marlist’s deadly stare made Albert buckle.
Addie yawned.
“Look, if you just figured out that, ‘white walls and green squares in the long halls lead to safe sights for the night’s wings,’ actually meant ‘help, come here and save me mister dragon,’ then we wouldn’t be in this mess.
Marlist’s scaled ridge-like brows shot back. His scales bristled with frustration. “Is that why those *idiots* kept sending knights with long white shields in green armor? They kept standing in square formations. How in the world could *I* figure that out?” A haze of shadowy smoke filled the room. It seemed that the night king dragon was irked.
Addie fanned at the smoke, annoyed. “Could you stop that? Also!” She pointed a finger at Marlist. “The most competent versions of you figured it out there! The next ones figured it out after ‘chalk-white towers lead to bright dark hours.’ I didn’t know you wouldn’t be able to figure that one out either.”
Albert had retreated into a fetal position. Scared of the impending death by suffocation. Addie peeked over and smirked.
*Seems like everything is going perfectly.*
Marlist lifted his head up through the hole he made and blew dark black flames. It looked like a ferocious night had come on. Marlist closed his mouth and brought himself back into the chamber.
“How. Could. *Anyone*. Figure. That. Out?”
Addie gave him a dead look. “You did, or at least the two hundred and forty-three best of you did.”
Marlist shook his massive, charred head. “Could you please stop saying that?”
Addie shot up from her chair and marched at Marlist, pointing her finger at the scaled beast.
“Could you be a *little* more competent then? How could you forget your own seer’s prophecies? He *said* a dark lord would be born from a white heaven-bound spire in the green squared country.” Addie moved over to the only window within the room and opened the wooden blinds.
They revealed a scenic view of the rolling countryside. Square green fields littered the view. It looked like a green checkered quilt had been thrown over the brown land. The view went on until the horizon swallowed the landscape. It was a view that could only be achieved by a tall tower in the middle of nowhere.
Addie looked back at the dragon and threw a hand towards the window, pointing out the green scenic view. “You know, I *think* this was a dead giveaway. Don’t you think?”
Marlist looked away, for the first time Addie could see his ridged brows scrunch into themselves. Like someone cringing.
*Oh, so now he understands.*
Marlist took a moment to recollect himself and looked back at Addie. “So, where is the dark lord then?”
Addie pointed at Albert. “You almost killed him you know.”
Marlist stared at the cowering knight. Then back at Addie. Then at Albert. “Are… are you joking?”
Addie shook her head. “No, if you are the twenty-second worst version of Marlist, then Albert is the *worst* version of the Dread King Albast.”
Marlist breathed in some of the smokey air. “So, why help?”
Addie sighed. “If Albert is the worst version of himself, then I am the worst version of myself too… Our fates are kind of intertwined and well… I *really* miss going on walks.”
Marlist stared at Addie. “You’re willing to destroy a kingdom to go on walks?”
Addie nodded. “Didn’t you just hear that I am the *worst* version of Adeline the seer?”
Albert had fallen unconscious from the fumes.
It seemed that the old, dark prophecy had some hiccups to sort out.
___
If you enjoyed this, then I have more stories at r/WritingKnightly!
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You ever have that joke that goes on a little too long? Maybe you joked you were allergic to fish and now cannot reveal the truth for fear of what repercussions you might face from your prawn eating family members. Or maybe you joked about being able to see the future and now must keep up the charade or face execution. I was in the latter category, joking to a friend about being able to see the future. A harmless jest that I expected to last no longer than a month.
“The weather looks angry; I can see something disastrous happening.” Those were the words that started my journey to becoming a seer. A simple smartass’d poke at my friend’s intelligence, setting the bait and luring him into my false prophecy.
“What do you mean? It has been sunny all week. How can you tell?” My friend wasn’t the smartest worm in the birdcage, already leaning closer, ready to latch onto the lure I set.
“Oh, you know. I can see the future. I didn’t want to tell you because I feared you would make a big deal out of it. You see, the winds have spoken to me. The very essence of mother nature flowed into my lungs, whispering sweet words about the disaster that would take place.” I raised my hands for dramatic effect, a small gust of wind flowing past, waving my hair back and forth, adding more power to my words.
My friend stayed silent, thinking over his words carefully. “H-how long until we have this disaster? What do you think will happen?” His tone, full of fear, hooked on my lie.
“It will happen when it needs to happen, it will be a disaster that will cause much destruction.” I said offering him a vague explanation, not wanting to draw out too many details. I could barely hide my smirk as I watched his terrified expression. He fell for it completely.
The next two weeks were uneventful, my friend slowly growing more confident with each passing day. That confidence fading when the town flooded in the third week, something that I couldn’t have predicted. It dumbfounded me, watching the water flood the streets, taking pieces of loose wood and brick down its path.
I couldn’t wait to gloat to my friend, waiting for the water levels to drop so I could visit him. Only problem was, the idiot went and told everyone about my ‘prediction’ leading to the angry citizens of my town coming to visit me, each ready to kill me for causing the floods.
“Kill me? I’m here to protect the village. Mother Nature instructed me to keep watch over this place, I tried to warn you all, but my powers were still new to me. I promise I will do my best to keep you all out of danger.” My poor heart nearly exploded, its beating only slowing when their scowling expressions turned passive. I weaseled my way out of death, now I just had to maintain this charade.
The first few years were peaceful. I loved fucking with people. Anytime someone would come to me for advice, I would give them some stupid vague explanation that would leave them satisfied.
“Your child is coughing? The dirt says things will happen that need to happen.”
“Your uncle Terry got kicked in the head by a horse? The horsehairs say his future is growing.”
“You wish to know what will happen to your crops? The leaves say spring will bring about a welcomed change in your life.”
That was the usual crap I would sprout, and they ate it up. Eating the prophecies out of my hand like simple barnyard animals. It was fun, at first. Yet with each passing day, I grew bored with my job as a seer. The joke slowly becoming unfunny. Everyone knows a good joke has an expiration date, and this one was long past expired, the moldy stains on the joke clear.
I tried quitting the job, but this often resulted in hostile threats from the villagers. They believed my prophecies and because of this belief; they refused to let me quit. Warning me that doing so would cause them to remove my head from my body. A threat that certainly wasn’t vague.
With no other choice, I continue my work, forced to deal with the stupid questions that the villagers presented, my vaguely witty answers not even offering me a sense of relief from the monotony of the work. Seems I needed to find a way out of this job.
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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.)
| 2021-01-25T21:06:03 | 2021-01-25T18:53:41 | 70 | 30 |
[WP] There exists a service where an individual can watch a 30 second video of themselves in the future. There is no context to the video, and no telling how far in the future the video takes place. You decide to watch your video.
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The first video Mick received showed a beautiful brunette waking up next to him. It only took those thirty seconds to fall in love with her. He watched it over and over, memorizing the way her nose scrunched up when she smiled at him, the way the sunlight picked up the soft blonde tones in her hair. She wore a faded grey shirt with “save the trees” written on the front in print that had begun to peel off. Her left ring finger was wrapped in a plain gold band. She was perfect. At the end of the month he no longer needed the video to picture her, to see the way her green eyes fluttered open or the constellations her freckles formed.
And on the first day of the next month the video changed, just as the company had promised. Thirty seconds of your future, emailed right to you, the first day of every month. Only one video at a time, and they would come from all moments of your future. It could happen the next day or in fifty years, but all of these clips were uniquely *yours*, as if they were pulled right from a memory that had not yet happened.
The second video Mick received was from a much more distant future than the first. A small boy, with the same green eyes as the woman, sits on a swing in the park. He kicks his legs back and forth, swinging his little yellow rubber boots. Soft raindrops fall against his red rain coat. “Grandpa,” the boy giggles, “want push!”. The second video, Mick decided, was even more impressive than the first. The smiling child didn’t exist yet. His *parents* were not even born. But on Mick’s phone was the video, the day at the park with his grandson.
The third video Mick received was more mundane. He looks out a window at the street. A few cars drive past. Passersby enter the shops on the other side of the road. He looks back down at the table in front of him. He takes a sip of coffee, or maybe tea, and sets it back down. The chair across from him is empty. Mick only watched the video twice. He didn’t know that part of the city. Not yet, at least.
The fourth video Mick received was more exciting again. He’s at a graduation. The first time he watched the video, he thought it might have been his own. But the banner reads “Class of 2045”. He can see the crowd of students tossing their hats. Mick watched the video dozens of times, but he couldn’t see enough detail to decide if one was his child.
The fifth video Mick received was mundane again. He looks out the same window as in the third. This time, he sees more of the room. It’s quaint cafe, painted a soft white and decorated with soft florals. He stands in line waiting to order. The brunette smiles at him from the table under the window. She’s older, but she still scrunches her nose the same way when she smiles.
The cafe, Mick learned, was the Bicycle Cafe. It was on the east side of town, while Mick lived on the West. He decided to start buying his coffee there, and he woke up early to cross town before work. It looked a little different than in the fifth video.
The sixth video Mick received did not matter. That was the month he met her. It was a Saturday afternoon, and the day was uncomfortably warm. Mick was so relieved by the blast of cool air that greeted him when he entered the cafe he didn’t realize she was standing in front of him. Her hair was pulled up in a bun and her shoulders were slightly sunburnt, standing out against her pink tank top.
“Hey Olivia, same as always?” The barista asked.
“Can I get both of them iced today?” She questioned. Olivia questioned. Mick turned the name over in his head. He had known her for half a year. He married her six months ago, met their grandson five months ago, and had seen their child graduate two months ago. And met her today. He fixed his hair, which had started to sag in the heat.
Mick walked up to her smiling. He was slightly nervous, but kept the videos in mind to reassure himself. This was the moment they would tell their family about. This would be the moment he met his soulmate. “Hey,” he smiled at her. Olivia returned the gesture. “How’s your day going?”
“Just waiting for my boyfriend,” Olivia nodded back, and went to collect the drinks that had been set on the counter. “My turn for a coffee run.”
Mick frowned. Before he could even speak again, Olivia had already pulled her sunglass off her head and set off back into the warm summer day. *Next time*, Mick told himself.
The seventh video Mick received frightened him. He sits on a couch and wraps his arm around a woman’s shoulder. She leans into him, placing her head into the crook of his neck. Her hair is short, black and shiny. Her belly pushes outwards in smooth bump. The TV plays some movie that has not yet come out.
Did this woman mean Olivia wouldn’t be part of his life anymore? Mick wondered. He couldn’t see the new woman’s hand to tell if there was a ring. Mick tried to reason out how this new woman could fit into his life with Olivia. She didn’t. He watched the video nearly everyday. He nearly always closed it before it reached the end.
The eight video Mick received assailed his future with Olivia again. He lies in a bed. It must be a hospital. The dark haired woman stands next to him, bits of grey peppering her hair. Two teenagers stand next to her, a boy and girl, both tall and lean. They have her jaw, her nose. They have his blonde hair. Mick felt a twinge of pain.
This is his family.
But his future with Olivia had been erased.
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If you enjoyed this you can check out more of my work on /r/liswrites. Thanks for reading!
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"Here goes nothing." I murmur to myself and click the video.
I sit back and the video starts playing.
The scene starts with me getting up from my chair that I'm sitting on right now.
I look very worried, why is that?
I hurry to my closet and grab a big box and open it.
My survival box? This is bad, I don't seem much older in the video and replacing the stuff there isn't util much later, I always have a haircut to indicate when to do it and my hair there is really short.
I see myself pull out a bag and stuff in my essentials that was not in the box.
I sweat, this is definitely not a drill something is very wrong here.
Just before the video ends I see myself reach in the closet and pull out a bat.
As the video ends I sit there in shock, I take a big breath and steel myself before something I haven't been noticing hits me.
The shirt I'm wearing in the video, it's the shirt I'm wearing today.
"ALEX! GRAB YOUR SURVIVAL STUFF, THE NEWS SAID THERE IS A ZOMBIE OUTBREAK TWO TOWNS OVER!"
I swear and jump out of my chair and desk, repeating what I saw myself do on the video.
Two towns over? That's not a lot of time.
| 2017-04-21T23:02:27 | 2017-04-21T21:50:30 | 155 | 32 |
[WP] A character in a RPG with an intelligence stat high enough to know he's a character in a RPG
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"No- look, haven't you ever wondered why nothing in this world makes any damn sense?" I asked hotly, slamming my tankard down on the table with a thud. The men sitting across from me looked confused.
"What are you on about now?" One of them asked. I scowled at him.
"Take blacksmithing as an example," I replied. "A master craftsman can dedicate his entire life to ironworking, slaving over his creations for hours on end to create true masterpieces. And yet I, having never held a hammer in my life, could pop off up the mountain, stab enough goblins to death to level up and suddenly become a better smith than the bloke who went and, you know, *actually learned blacksmithing,*" I spat acidly. My drinking companions blinked.
"Well, that's 'cos you'd have gained experience, innit?" One of them responded. I wanted to cry.
"Experience in killing goblins, you idiot! What in the name of all the Gods has that got to do with blacksmithing?" The man shrugged.
"I dunno. Did you use a hammer to kill the goblins?" He asked. I stared at him dumbfounded, and then took a long, stiff drink.
"Okay, okay, let's try a different approach. What about you Kellen, hm? You fell from the top of Dragonsblood Peak right down to ground level and just got up and walked away!"
"Lucky fall," Kellen grunted. I rounded on him, wild-eyed.
"Lucky fall?" I demanded incredulously. "You fell over 3000ft!"
"Gods smiled on him," came the stubborn reply from one of the others.
"The Gods didn't smile on him!" I screamed. "He survived because falling damage caps at 20d6, and the man has two levels of Barbarian and damage rolls so lucky as to almost be a statistical impossibility!"
"See? Lucky. Like wot I said."
I let my head hit the table, hoping the blow would dull the pain.
&nbsp;
Then, inspiration struck me. I reached for my belt and fished up a small pouch, which I emptied onto the table. A myriad of small items spilled out- bird feathers, ground mica, bat guano, licorice root shavings and more. I turned the pouch inside out, and held it out to the other men at the table, making it very clear that it was empty.
"My spell component pouch, which I have just emptied," I announced, like a stage magician about to perform a trick. I closed the pouch and set it on the table. "And yet all I need to do is decide to cast a spell, lets say Scrying, and-" I opened the pouch and began to produce a fresh array of items. I pulled a copper ingot from within the bag, and then a similarly sized bar of zinc, followed by a vial of nitric acid and a feather that I was fairly certain had been flucked from a roc. "See!" I declared triumphantly, laying my newly produced items on the table. Coos of wonder went up from my audience and I smiled widely.
"Magic bag!" One of them marveled.
"Yeah," another remarked, poking at it curiously. He glanced up at me. "Does it do beer?" I stared at him, utter hatred boiling up inside of me.
"It's not a magic bag!" I yelled, my vision turning red with rage. "It's just a bag! I packed it this morning, and I didn't put any of this shit in it!" My companions looked at me skeptically.
"If it ain't a magic bag, howzit producin' all that magic stuff?"
"Because we're in a FANTASY ROLEPLAYING GAME!" I howled. "AND NOBODY WANTS TO KEEP TRACK OF THEIR SPELL COMPONENTS!" They stared at me in silence. I struggled to regain my composure. "Right, fine, how about this then?" I produced two small jars of green dust, one full to the brim, and the other half empty. "The Magic Mouth spell requires a material focus of 10 gold pieces worth of jade dust, okay?" I pointed to the full jar of dust. "I got this in a sale for 7 gold pieces." I moved my finger to the other, less full jar. "This one I bought at full price, for 10 gold pieces." Picking up the full jar, I spoke the words of my spell, gesturing dramatically. Nothing happened. Raising my hands in a '*you see?*' motion, I clutched the half empty jar of jade dust, and intoned the same magic words. With a small flash of light and a groaning sound, the table we were sitting around rather suddenly developed a small mouth in its center.
"See!" The new mouth demanded. "Its nonsensical!" The other men stared at my creation, their own mouths hanging agog. One managed to speak.
"What if that other jar weren't pure jade dust?" He asked. I glared at him in disbelieving outrage.
"Are you fucking kidding me Gerald? You choose now, of all times, to develop critical thinking skills?" The man shrugged indifferently.
"Alright *fine*," I grated out between fiercely clenched teeth. "You've forced my hand. I didn't want to do this, but it seems I've no other choice."
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I stood, pushing my chair back and looked up towards the ceiling of the inn.
"This campaign is a god-awful mess!" I bellowed. "The plot is nonsensical, the world is illogical and the villains are the most clichéd, hackneyed creations I've ever had the misfortune of seeing! I mean really, what kind of talentless hack would come up with this kind of thing? It takes a real-"
My last sight was of grey stone, as a colossal rock caved in the roof of the inn and landed squarely upon my chest.
&nbsp;
The three other men seated at the table stared, slightly nonplussed, at the large boulder that now occupied the space where their party wizard had once sat.
"Now what?" Gerald grunted. "We're down a man."
Kellen nodded towards the corner of the inn, where a cloaked figure had just materialized, shrouded in shadows. The light reflecting from his dual scimitars illuminated his face, revealing dark grey skin and long white hair.
"Wha' bout him?" He asked, through a mouthful of beer. Gerald looked at him skeptically.
"Looks a bit evil, don't you reckon?"
"What, are you kidding?" Kellen shot back. "Look at him, he's a Drow. Bet you a hundred gold pieces he's rebelling against the oppressive evil of his people. Plus, he's in the shadowy corner of a tavern. I mean come on. He's obviously got some relevance to the plot."
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"Life is hell. Especially when you know it's not real." I blurted out, reaching for the next full cup of mead. I was sure it was mine but had my doubts after it was wrenched out of my hands and a near empty one placed into it. I might also have had my drink stolen. Whatever, anything to get me drunker. I drank what was left in the cup and motioned to the barman to get me another.
Another what, my mind seemed to ask, but I pushed the thought aside. I came here to get away from that pesky intelligence stat not satisfy it. Use it... Whatever. The drink seemed to be working anyway. Whatever it was.
"What does he mean life isn't real?" Another patron who was obviously trying to match his drinks said, swaying on his stool. In one minute I knew he would pass-out and I could use his wallet to pay for my next drink. I looked down at my half-empty mug. What the hell, I thought I ordered a full one.
"Don't mind him he's just spouting non-sense." The man next to me said waving his arms around a bit too much. "I mean if life isn't real then what the hell is all this then?"
"It's a program on a computing device that these other-worldly creatures that look just like that human over there use to play games to escape their world instead of mastering it." Fuck, still not drunk enough. The drink was three-quarters full. When the hell did that happen?
"What, you mean like chess or something?"
"No, like a General commanding an army from a tent or something. Where the hell is my drink!?" I screamed, slamming down the empty cup. If this damn cup couldn't get it's level right then how the hell was I supposed to get drunk enough to lower my damn intelligence score.
The barman passed another drink to me, though as I lifted it to take another drink I felt the strings of his damn game attach back to me. I could almost feel his disgust at me. "Why the hell do you leave me in bars all the time then?! What do you think there is to do when you log off you idiot?!" Back to killing then. And more intelligence score. Maybe when I was brought back... Maybe I could finish that bloody drink that floated off to the side of my hand. Damn buggy game.
| 2016-12-19T04:25:56 | 2016-12-19T02:17:57 | 88 | 58 |
[WP] Hell is an RPG, complete with skills levelling and save points where the damned grind their way to Heaven. A newly dead scrub on level one, you decide to play through like you do in other RPGs and invest at least 1 point in Luck every time you level up.
|
Nobody chooses luck. Luck is intangible. Luck is choosing to be weaker, just to see if something cool happens. Luck is "maybe that would have happened anyway, without wasting my points on Luck." Luck is a gamble, but not when I play.
I spent my whole life playing games. I can hear my mother's voice now: "You'll never get anywhere in life, playing those awful games all the time son!" Well, maybe she was right. I didn't get very far in life. But I'm no longer in life. I'm in hell. When I first appeared, next to a bunch of wide-eyed other recent-deceased, I looked around the room. I saw the racks of low-tier weapons. I saw the NPCs with ridiculous glowing question marks floating over their heads. To be honest, while everyone else was wailing in terror, I was jumping for joy. I had spent my whole life training for this.
So what would be my strategy? Fighter-monk? Spell caster? Summoner? I remember thinking, and shaking my head. Hordes of people would try those paths. They'd all grind and grind and lose out in the end. I would go with my favorite strategy. The one I always go to when I'm looking for fun. Luck.
I walked up to the Bard giving instructions. "Place your hand over your heart." He said, before I had even asked anything. I did so, and a bunch of options sprung up in front of me, like holograms. Still holding my hand over my heart, with my other hand I pressed the Attributes option, and put all my points on luck. Amazingly, I could actually feel a difference. It was subtle, but I felt a little more confident. A little more—reckless. Most of the others were still staring around wide-eyed. Only a couple were browsing through weapons, or talking to NPCs. I walked over to two characters that looked promising. They seemed to be arguing.
"Tank plus destructive magic, Sandra, it's the best way to go and you know it." The man was saying.
"No, Derek, what happens when there's some magic resistance in this god-forsaken place? You gonna bash them with your shield?" She continued, mentioning terms and strategies that instantly showed their experience in RPGs. I walked up to them.
"I see you two have your head screwed on, unlike the rest." I said, casually nodding behind me at the huddle of people listening to an introduction from a Paladin. "Well, you both have some valid arguments, but they all fall short because of two things. First, you need a third player. You can't have health, support, damage, and magic all in two players. Second, you need *Luck*." The two looked at each other.
"You're in." The man said, offering his hand. I shook it. I spent some time telling them of my history, how my strategy worked out in the past. They were willing to come onboard. We set up a shared defense—any physical damage I took would redirect to Derek. Any magical damage went to Sandra. It meant that every point I got, every single point, went to Luck.
You see, when you have a little Luck, it's hard to know what the difference is. When you have everything on Luck, it becomes tangible. It's *real*. When we were struggling with low health, few monsters seem to come our way. When I went to pee behind a bush, I'd find some fallen soldier holding an enchanted sword Derek could use. When I needed to fight, I threw poisoned daggers somewhat at random. They'd inevitably find eyes, armor chinks, weak spots. We weren't the group with the highest damage, no. But we seemed to do well in every encounter and test that came our way. Eventually, while walking along a seemingly endless bridge, we spot an angelic creature floating ahead. As we approach, the angel gestures to a fork in the bridge. I hadn't seen the fork before—it's almost as if it appeared only when the angel gestured.
"You have proven worthy, champions. Few have come this far. Take this path, and the games end. You can now take your place in heaven." I looked at Sandra and Derek. I knew what they were thinking. I was thinking it too.
"Thanks, Mr. Angel sir." I said with a smile and a wink. "But we're actually quite happy here." The angel stood there, jaw hanging open, so I simply started walking down the bridge, toward the non-heavenly fork. Derek and Sandra followed, with a couple of giggles.
"Wait!" The angel cried out. "How dare you reject this offer! We have chosen you!" He began to fly toward us. I noticed the muscles, the sword, the fury in his eyes. I was about to say something when there was a deep boom. Light flashed, then went dark. A being appeared, covered in flame, in front of us.
"What's this, then?" A voice spoke. It made my spine tingle. The hairs on the back of my neck raised, then went down again, huddling for safety. This voice grated against my soul. "I see my favorite champions, the ones who have earned me a lot of money in bets of the last few weeks, attacked without cause by bridge guardian? It's a good coincidence I was passing by, I wouldn't expect an *angel* to be so, well, unethical." As he was speaking, the angel's attention was fully on him. They began circling each other, but what happened next I have no idea. I was busy edging my team away from these immortals.
Once we got back to Hellwater village, we looked at each other. "Today was a bit luckier than usual." Derek commented, trying to sound nonchalant. We burst out laughing, or crying, or something.
"I didn't know if we'd be raptured or slaughtered!" Sandra said with a relieved voice. "You meant it though, didn't you?" She looked at me.
"What, about staying here?" I asked. She nodded. "Yes, well the danger is what makes Luck so interesting." I admitted. "Everyone's so bent on reaching the next height, they never stop long enough to check the bushes." Sandra nodded again, slightly confused. "Speaking of which. I think we should make Hellwater our base, and set up a shop here. We can buy any unidentified items that travelers bring our way. Derek, you ever wanted to start smithing? Sandra, identifying and enchanting? I think with a bit of luck, this business could take off."
|
Lucifer had taken some cues from the humans recently; honestly, he was fascinated by Dungeons and Dragons, World of Warcraft, Final Fantasy, and all RPGs. From pen and paper and dice to the mutliperson worlds created by minds and shared and set free on the internet, Lucifer was enthralled. Even Michael hadn’t noticed yet, but then his soul mate hadn’t seen him in two centuries. Nox had grown up in it and was dumping a point in Luck whenever he had an extra or two.
Nox was the youngest of demons, but oddly colored. His hair was sheep curly and fluffy and creamy colored. His eyes, while demon and Fallen gold, were wide and innocent. Nox’s horns were indicative of his mood, able to blush just like his pale skin. His webbed wings were angel white though, unmarked by his soul mate’s name yet, even at two hundred. He was young and yet, he understood luck and used it unsparingly.
Nox was quickly becoming the denizen of Hell known for brokering lucky deals, or should it be Lucky? Lucifer didn’t know, but he did know that Nox was unusually kind and polite and just plain *Lucky*, in a way unsurpassed since Lucifer himself had agreed to rule Hell. His own son was going to rival him with Luck and Lucifer smiled kindly, thinking of only good things.
Ba’al had agreed to mentor his youngest brother, although only suspecting their relation. Nox adored his mentor, his unknown brother. Ba’al had noticed that his office ran more efficiently, more tightly with Nox there and had sent a missive requesting Nox’s character stats, which was Lucifer’s current problem. If he released Nox’s character stats, Ba’al would know too early that Nox was his youngest full brother, that Michael and Lucifer were both of their creators, fathers, parents.
It couldn’t be known yet, not before the Angelic Counsel.
| 2018-04-16T20:42:17 | 2018-04-16T12:01:46 | 87 | 28 |
[WP] You sold your soul to the devil in exchange for immortality. You never age but you can still be hurt/killed. He figured you would be killed in an accident eventually. After thousands of years he is getting impatient, and decided to send the elite demon death squad to collect your soul.
|
Having lived for thousands of years I had gathered all of human knowledge. This had helped me not to injure myself in any way. I lived a very cautious life, most of the time, reading. I had zero human contact, it was not worthy to meet other humans, as they would just die sooner or later. Yes, I was a loner. Ater having lived this very over-protective life for so many years, I figured that sooner or later the devil would come back for my soul.
Thats why I studied ancient technology for over a thousand years. I knew I would need some type of supernatural weapon to be able to fight the devil. He was not made of human flesh. I had read in ancient mayan codices, about the apperance of inter-dimensional creatures. I realised then, that the drawings in the codice were simmilar to the demons, that first seeked contact with me thousands of years ago. Not only did the codices descirbe the little demons, they also described some type of ancient technology, dating to mayan times. It was incredible, these ancient papers explained this technology to an extraordinary extend. The technology had the the apperance of what could only be descirbed as a giant laser weapon, and it was shown as a weapon of mass damage, capable of instantely wiping demons out and also being able to hurt the devil himself.
Using the knowledge passed down to me by the ancient mayans, I started working on this powerful tool. However, even though, the codices described the creation of the weapon to great extend, I soon realised that some pages were missing, that talked about how to build this tool. It was the first time in my entire life that I struggled with something. After all I knew everything that was known. Using contemporaty books from other ancient cultures,I was somehow able to build a simmilar weapon to the one from the mayan codices.
Now, the only thing that was missing, was testing this weapon out. The building of the weapon took over 300 years, and I was smart enough to fool the devil. I knew the devil would watch me from time to time, and I made sure never to acknowledge that this weapon was a way of defense against demons. Yet, I knew that testing this tool, would for certain catch Satans attention. That is why, I elaborated a compex plan, in which it seemed that this weapon was build for the US governement. I got in contact with the US governement and was able to fool them into buying my story, using my vast knowledge in human interaction. I knew I could manipulate anyone but that day was the first time I used that to my advantage.
I tested my weapon in one the many US training camps across the country. I was positive it would work, yet I still kinda doubted myself. I set the massive weapon up and fired. It worked. It was amazing how it worked. It shoot colours never before seen. It was almost beautiful. I had created a weapon of mass destruction for beings from another world and was proud. Nobody asked any questions. I took the weapon home, knowing I was going to have to use it, someday.
That day did not take long. Just a mere 50 years later, I wake up to hunderds of little red demons trying to attack me and retrieve my soul. Little did they know I was ready for them. I ran as quickly as I could to my garage downstairs, where the demon killing weapon had been stored for the last half century. In the way, I punched some demons. They seemed to be invulnerable to human attacks, but they still took knockback. It was interesting, because the demons by themselves did little to no damage, but I figured that in groups they were deadly. The entrance to my garage was being guarded by six of these little demons, the size of a human child. They seemed to be appart of some Elite Squad, as they all wore a simmilar black mask. Little did these demons know, that I was a master in all martial art in the world. So when they all jumped up to me and started biting me, it really was not to hard to get them off , and kick them back. It had been a long time since my body had felt pain before. I had almost forgotten that feeling. There was one moment, where there were probably more than 40 in my corridor. Some crawling in the walls and in the ceiling. I knew I just had to get into my garage and so I applied the ancient art of Shuai Jiao to the demons on top of me and ran to my garage.
The weapon was waiting for me. I had made it extremely easy to turn on, because I knew for a fact, that the day I would use, it could not take too long to activate. I quickly took the blanket away, that was protecting my weapon, and pressed the Start button, before any of the demons got to me. The weapon initiated, but it took longer, to shoot the colours, than when I had tested it for the last time, ten years ago. I was starting to get worried. The demons were almost next to me, and this time there were more than 100 , all over the walls. I rapidly kept clicking the weapon. It was the first time I had panicked since having learned from ancient buddhistic books, how to have full control of myself. I lost control, but in what I can only descirbe as a miracle, the weapon started working, and the colours started to go out. The demons were instantely wiped out. I had regained control over myself again. The weapon was still firing the colours, but I was alone. I turned the weapon off and went to bed. I slept like a baby.
That day I knew I had challenged the devil, I knew that he would come back someday. But I have been preparing myself. I have done over a thousand expeditions the the ancient mayan civilisations, in preparance for our next encounter. I know for a fact that he stands no chance against me. And I am starting to think, that he knows it too.
|
"Dudes, I've been preparing for this day for millennia. Why else do you think I on a barren moon?" You say to the hulking figure.
"Ha! And what hope does a puny mortal has against the elite of the Frozen Circles?" The figure laughed, before flicking you in the head and knocking you on your ass.
"A N.O.V.A." you reply before calling out " Now, Commander!"
You are quickly obscured by the light of teleportation, and in your place is a burnished silver sphere as wide as you are y'all. The only thing marking the surface is a display showing 15... 14... 13...
The figure puts two and two together just as it reaches 5... 4... 3...
"Ah, God's glowing arsechecks!" He swears before being enveloped in a bright light.
From a few AU away, you watch from the deck of the warship Keyes as the moon is briefly replaced by a small star before disappearing altogether. You turn to the commander beside you "Thanks for the assist."
"No problem General. But how are you doing to justify the use of an N.O.V.A.?" He asked.
"Believe me, Commander. Even though they out rank me, they can't do anything to me other than a slap on the wrist."
| 2019-07-30T13:19:27 | 2019-07-30T12:54:09 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] When people die they can choose whether they go to Heaven or Hell, you are the first in 1000 years to choose Hell.
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Lucas was floating in a starry void. Above him, a vortex of light swirled like the sun while below a whirlpool of darkness churned, gradually tugging at him like a current. Somehow, without words, Lucas knew that to go up was Heaven, and to go down was Hell. So he waited to be pulled into one of the options. After several minutes (he assumed minutes...it was hard to tell time in this place) he remained in the same spot, with neither a drift in either direction. Yet again wordless understanding came to him: Choose. They don't prepare you for that.
He pondered his life, the good deeds and the bad. Overall he was relatively neutral, every minor good deed seemed balanced by an equally minor misdeed. Lucas wasn't even religious. From what he could recall, Heaven seemed like the obvious choice. Divine bliss, the perfect afterlife, unending peace, etc. How could anyone want more than that? With a though he began to drift upward toward the spiral of light. But then a thought struck him, causing him to pause mid ascent. If he got to choose, it would stand that others get to choose too.
On top of that, who was to say Heaven would be solo like this in-between place? What if Heaven held all the people that chose to go there as well? He could meet a lot of amazing people (assuming they were up there). But then, as is the case of intellectually inclined people, Lucas saw the downside to such a Heaven. IF people could choose where to go, then he would be stuck for all eternity with Moriah.
Moriah was, hands down, the most annoying human being Lucas had ever met. It wasn't her political beliefs, religion, or personal morals (Lucas didn't care if a person was liberal or conservative, and it doesn't matter to clarify what side of the spectrum Moriah was). No, it was her insistence to try and force others to agree with her when they did not. It made friend dinners and parties uncomfortable. They say "let's agree to disagree", but this phrase did not compute with Moriah. She would harass you all evening until you either agreed with her, or left. It was her way or the highway.
There was no way in Hell (pun intended) that when she eventually died she wouldn’t choose Heaven. There is no way someone that self-righteous wouldn't. And, assuming that Heaven was a group place, if Lucas chose to ascend he would spend eternity with the one person that actually made him happy to no longer be on Earth.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. The eternal fires of Hell could not compare to that fate. With a resigned determination, Lucas drifted downward into the void.
He landed in what looked like a hotel lobby. Everything was in shades of black and grey, with splashes of red. Despite previous representations, the temperature was quite cool.
"Welcome to Hell", said a masculine, yet entrancing voice behind him.
Lucas turned to look into the eyes of one of the most attractive men he had ever seen. He was heterosexual, but secure enough to admit it. The "man" looked back at him and smiled, a perfect set of white teeth that seemed to radiate their own soft light.
"Uh, are you Satan?", asked Lucas apprehensively.
"I prefer Lucifer," said the Devil. "Not sure where Satan came from, but it's always been Lucifer".
"Uh...ok.." said Lucas, looking around the cathedral sized lobby. "So, Lucifer, are you here to give me my eternal punishment?"
Lucifer let out a sigh. One of those exasperated sighs you get from someone who has had to answer the same question at least a million times before.
"That is bad PR," said Lucifer. "Hell isn't a place of torment. It's a place about freedom and choice. It's why I got the boot from the big man upstairs. It's also why you happen to be the first person to arrive in a millennia. Speaking of, may I ask what made you choose Hell?"
Lucas took a moment to consider the reply. He guessed at this point there was no reason in lying and acting like a martyr.
"Well, I thought that if I got to choose, others could too. And if that is true, that means I would have to spend eternity with..."
"With a person who is so annoying you were actually happy to be dead?" finished Lucifer.
Lucas looked up at him with an expression of mingled curiosity and amusement.
"Uh yeah, how did you know?"
"That's the only reason anyone chooses Hell," said Lucifer. "It worked out pretty well though, everyone here is pretty chill. You like movies? We were just about to start Infinity War."
The corners of Lucas' mouth twitched.
"Hell yeah!" he exclaimed. "Oh wait, am I allowed to say that?"
"Fuck yeah you are!" exclaimed Lucifer. "C'mon, let's get you some popcorn and coke."
"Oh, do you have Pepsi?" Lucas asked. "I've never been a coke guy".
"Unfortunately no, this place isn't perfect," replied Lucifer. "That and the surcharge they wanted for distributing is ridiculous. We do have Surge though."
Lucas smiled. He was going to like it here very much.
|
In the first age, in the first battle, when the shadows first lengthened, one stood. Burned by the embers of Armageddon, my soul blistered by the fires of Hell and tainted beyond ascension, I chose the path of perpetual torment. In my ravenous hatred I found no peace; and with boiling blood i scoured the Umbral Plains seeking vengeance against the dark lords who had wronged me. I wore the crown of the Night Sentinels, and those that tasted the bite of my sword named me the Doom Slayer.
I am only taking the scenic route.
| 2018-08-13T10:50:13 | 2018-08-13T09:33:03 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] Pennywise wakes up after his 27 year sleep to find that four giant turtles and a rat have taken over the sewers.
|
It woke up slowly. It had not been in a gentle rest, but it had been floating at the top of the bodies of It’s victims. Looking down, he saw them. Countless children, broken and torn apart, floating above the dirty, wet floor of the sewer. They were no longer fresh. 27 years had taken its toll on the bodies, which were now no longer appetizing to the creature. It smiled. It was time to feed again.
It slowly floated down to the bottom and composed itself. Times change, and he would need to adjust every time he awakened to feed. People became scared of different things, and he could never let go of his creativity for a moment. As he pondered the next location for the harvest, he heard a voice coming from above the sewer room.
“Mikey!” Raphael yelled. “If you don’t get back here right now I’m gonna beat you so hard-”
A creaking noise took away the 19 year old’s attention.
“Huh?”
As he looked around, he saw nothing. He had been running through the sewers in search of his mischevious little brother, who had stolen his T-phone right as his Donatello had sent him a download file for the newest Charred Walls album. The album was scheduled to be released in two months, and he was determined to take advantage of his brother’s hacking skills. As he walked further, there came a sinking feeling in his stomach that indicated something else was in the sewers.
“Mikey?”
He heard footsteps from below.
“Who are you? Come out and face me!” He yelled, pulling out his sais and spinning them skillfully.
As he turned around, he saw his little brother standing in the corner. He noticed a hoard of large roaches surrounding Michaelangelo as they climbed up his body and forced themselves into his eyes.
“Raphael,” the image of his brother said, “Please. Get them off of me. It hurts. It hurts.”
The blood started trickling down his eyes as his face swelled. Slowly, the roaches began to tear through his body in an effort to escape from the inside out.
“What the heck? No! Not this again. I’m not scared anymore! I'm not scared!” Raphael yelled as he ran away from the image. But even as he ran, the death behind him did not stop.
--------
April was sitting on her boyfriend’s lap as she buried her face into his neck. She fell asleep as an episode of Space Heroes: The Next Generation played in the background.
-----
-----
-----
“Captain Ryan!” The young man shrieked, “the Omegathons had taken over the ship and we’ve lost control of everyone on board! What are we going to do!?”
The older man slapped him across the face.
“Calm yourself. There is still HOPE left. All we have to do is believe in the power of courage.
A large, neon colored leprechaun appeared on front of them and shrieked. The man was not afraid. “Evil Omegathon, you will not take control of…” Captain Ryan’s voice trailed off.
“Captain Ryan!”
The older man lost the color in his eyes. He looked at the younger man and gave a warning: “There is no hope young one. Soon you will give into the power of-”
Dr. Mindstrong shot a laser beam into Captain Ryan’s chest from behind.
As Captain Ryan layed on the floor of the spaceship, he looked up at him: “You… you have saved me Dr. Mindstrong. Thank you.”
“Anything for you Captain.” Dr. Mindstrong said as he saluted him. Slowly, the giant Omegathon fit the captain’s body into his mouth and chewed.
----
----
----
“So. Stupid.” Donatello said as he laughed at the absurdity of his older brother’s favorite anime. He noticed that April had fallen asleep and in response, he kissed her forehead and turned off the television. Moments alone with her were hard to come by, so he appreciated every one.
“Guys!” Raphael came in yelling and breathing heavily.
“Well that lasted all of 12 minutes” Donatello thought as April woke and stretched.
“I was in the hallways looking for Mikey and it happened again! I started imagining the swarms of roaches! They were all over him and-and they were eating him and he was bleeding and-” Raphael stopped when he saw Michaelangelo walk out of his bedroom, T-phone in hand and headphones wrapped around his neck.
“Dude,” said Michaelangelo, “I’ve been in my room this whole time. What’s going on?”
“Mikey, you-you’ve been here?”
“Uh, yeah? Where else would I be?”
“I… I thought… wait, I saw you out there. You took my phone and ran off.” Raphael looked down just as he finished his sentence and saw his T-phone was still tightly attached to his belt.
Donatello looked worried. “Oh no, the mushrooms are back?”
“No.” Said Raphael. “This wasn’t them. This was more terrifying. It was stronger. It was someONE, or, or someTHING.”
“I think you’re right Raph” said April. “I can sense it. Some single body is hiding in the sewers. It’s alone, but, it’s not a person.”
Michaelangelo knew what Raphael was talking about. But he was too afraid to bring it up in that moment.
---------------------------
The four turtles, Casey, Karai, and April gathered in the kitchen and discussed the predator.
“I heard about this urban legend from Maine. From this website I found about strange sightings, it tells about a weird clown that some people believe feeds on fear.”
A sketch of the monster from someone who claimed to had seem it showed up on the screen. Now Michaelangelo was very, very scared.
“Oh man. Guys, something happened when I was in my bedroom.”
-------------------------
Michaelangelo had been sitting in his bed listening to music with ice cream kitty when he had heard a voice.
“Michaelangelo.” The voice called.
“Huh? Leo?” He responded.
“Over here.” The clown called.
Michaelangelo pinpointed where the voice was coming from. He looked up at the vent on the upper wall behind where he was sitting and stood up.
“Hello?” He called. “Uh, dude? You lost or somethin’?”
“Hi there Michaelangelo.” It said to him.
“Um… Hi there?”
“What are you doing here all alone in this strange place?”
“This is my room man.”
“Oh, what a strange place this is. Wouldn’t you like to visit another, magical part of the sewers?”
Ice Cream Kitty hissed at the creature.
“Cool it, Ice Cream Kitty. Brah, this is the best part of the sewers! I got everything I need right here! My action figures, my comic book collection, what else could be more ‘magical?’”
“Oh, if you come with me, I’ll show you someplace with a whole room full of comic books. Every edition available of every series worth reading. And pizza. Do you like pizza?”
“Did you say pizza?” Michaelangelo said. Suddenly, the strange clown peeking into his bedroom seemed a lot more interesting.
“Oh, why yes. There’s all kinds of pizza where I live. Pepperoni, Hawaiian, a jelly bean, anchovy, and jalapeno pizza…”
“Woah! That’s my favorite kind! Where’s this pizza from?”
“Oh, why from the best pizza place ever of course. Do you like Antonio’s?”
“Dude no way! How did you know Antonios was my favorite!?” He said, stepping over the mountain of empty Antonio’s pizza boxes to get closer to the vent. “Wait a sec, Antonios doesn't do Hawaiian… are you lyin’ to me? Hey man! What’s the deal?”
The clown grew impatient and was about to reach out and grab the young mutant just as a loud voice was heard in the living room.
“Woah, is that Raph?” Michaelangelo turned around. He then ran out, just missing the grip of the thing’s clawed hands.
-------------------------------
“Are you sure this is the clown you saw in your room?” Donatello asked.
“Heck yeah I’m sure! He was a creep. Peeking into my bedroom and trying to lure me away with pizza and stuff. Good think I’m smart though, I saw right through that.”
Shinigami interjected immediately. “I know who this is. Friends, this is nothing like you are all used to. He is not a mutant. He is not a physical being. He is a creature unlike anything you are used to fighting, a mystical North American yokia who has been feeding on the fear and bodies of children for centuries. I fought him once as a child. My friends and I barely made it out. But if I face him again I know I can end it. With this.”
She pulled out a small blade from a pocket in her hat. “It is a gift from a mystic I knew in Japan. If you are injured with this blade, you can no longer use your powers against others. Instead, they are all released at once. Against you. His spirit is not as strong as he seems. If we can reach him, I know he can die. Of fear.”
____
Part 2 coming up whether you want it or not cause I'm having way too much fun with this
|
A raucous sound reverberated throughout the sewers. To say that 'It' had woken up would not be entirely grounded in reality. Its consciousness was omnipresent in the sewers It called home, but no threats would ever present themselves that It would deem worthy of investigation.
Until now.
It knew there were still three more months before It had to next awaken, but It was now here. And It was hungry.
# ... #
His own footfalls echoed throughout the sewers around him. There was a rumble deep within the confines of the sewer and Raphael looked above him at the arched ceiling of his home. He sighed and brushed off a rogue spec of shit upon the sight of stalactites of human defecation dropping down all around him. He grunted, pulled his coat up to his neck and hunched his shoulders, and continued walking forward, sloshing his way through the grey water that would plague his feet for the rest of his life. He just wanted to get away from it all: the sewers, his master, his incessantly annoying brothers, even April became a drag for him. So he started to walk. For how long, he couldn't remember. He just started walking because something compelled him to.
Looking above he could see manhole covers letting in small streams of light, enough to pave the path ahead of him. There were three paths ahead, straight forward, right, and left. He mulled over the paths that presented themselves to him for a few moments (they were the only interesting thing that happened to him anymore, so he tried to entertain himself as much as he possibly could with the temporary diversions) before deciding to take the right path.
'Raph?'
He stopped dead in his tracks.
'Ralph. Why'd you leave, bro?'
Raphael turned around and pushed out his hand in an accusatory point towards his brother, before turning into an open palm pushing away the spectral image that resided ten feet in front of him.
They were all dead. All of them. April, Splinter, Mikey, Donny, Leo. All of them. Dead. Or dying. He couldn't tell. His eyes shot open wider than they already had been and focused on the drooping and sagging flesh that fell off of them in bloody bags. He could smell them. Christ. He could /smell/ them. He heard their ragged breath. He heard the creaking of their broken bones. The tired groans each of them exhibited when they moved. They shambles closer to him, calling his name.
Panic's grip let go of Raphael's conscience and he turned to run and saw his family again. Closer this time. The smell was stronger. He could see them clearer. Donatello reached out and touched his brother's forearm, leaving behind a black oil mark that slid its way down and dropped to the floor. A sickening hissing sound, and Raphael's arm was alight with a fire, though there was no light.
He wiped the acid off of his arm and saw the fair skin he revealed. He looked at the palm of his hand that was now covered in some of the ooze as well and shook it off, only to reveal finger pads. Soft and vulnerable. With a glance of terror, he looked back at his brothers only to see their mouths opened so far that their cheeks tore and revealed the darkest depths of their throats. Black goo sprayed out of their mouths coating his entire body, going in his mouth, securing itself around his midsection. Burning. Stinging. Killing.
He screamed, and blindy swung his fist, only to make contact with a cloth-like substance. He wiped his eyes and prepared to swing his other fist, only to see the torso of a man who was seven feet tall. Three orange pom-poms, white frills, blue sleeves. Big red clown shoes. He looked up to see the smiling face of a clown. He almost smiled for a second, until the clown's mouth opened up, revealing row after row of razor sharp teeth.
He tried to scream. But by the time that he would have willed his vocal chords into usage, Raphael was no more. Pennywise devoured every last piece of Raphael and savored the taste of pure fear. He'd been so easy to manipulate, it was almost boring. The taste made up for it, he thought to himself. There was an echo of laughter and the soft sound of skateboard wheels on concrete resonating throughout the sewers. It whipped its head toward the sound, entrails running down Its face, blood covering the red plastic smile he kept. It wiped Its mouth, and smiled. Today was a good day to start his hunt.
So that was my first story on this sub. I'd love it if you guys could give some constructive criticism on it. King's one of my favorite authors and It is by and far my favorite book, so this was a joy to write. Thanks, all!
| 2017-09-28T10:58:18 | 2017-09-28T10:50:03 | 42 | 11 |
[WP] Your job is to take away the powers of supervillains as they're admitted to jail. For a few years, you've been reselling these powers to interested bidders on the side - no questions asked. Today, a prisoner showed up with a power so unusual, you've decided to take it for yourself.
|
His machine was proprietary, and it had been no mean feat to keep it that way.
"Keep still," he instructed the struggling prisoner, who was barely held down in his chair by iron clamps and two caped heroes.
"Stop! I command you to not use that *thing* on me!"
Michael chuckled, sounding much closer to the mustached villain than the infamous super in front of him. For all their bravado, supervillains always squealed under the point of his laser. He flicked a lever, adjusted a dial, and inputted a password, charging up the device.
"Please don't," the villain murmured, no longer fighting his restraints. "I could help you. I could make you powerful. Just don't do this."
Ignoring the pitiful monologue, Michael pressed the big red button; he always delighted in the texture as it's pushed down, along with the satisfying 'click'. Extending out from the large, whirring machine was a rod, and at the knobby end of that rod a green light formed like a ball of energy. All the while the villain was saying, "no no no no."
Suddenly a burst of green energy shot out from the ball and struck the imprisoned villain square in the chest. He shrieked once, even though Michael knew for a fact it didn't hurt, and then fell limp. Michael checked the machine's input, and was satisfied to see that the superpowers of the villain had been successfully transferred to the belly of his contraption.
"You're going to dispose of it now?" one of the superheroes asked Michael. He nodded.
But, wheeling his machine out of the sterile room, Michael had no plans to get rid of the valuable superpowers stored inside of his machine. In fact, he had an army of bidders lined up for this very commodity. The truth was, Michael didn't care about ruling the world or being famous. The only thing he cared about was money. Not even what money could by, but the very idea of money itself. It was an addiction really.
Once he was alone in the large RV he used to store and work on his machine, Michael checked to see what the superpowers were, to get an idea of how much they would sell at auction.
"Oh. Oh no."
Often times, superheroes or villains alike had powers they didn't now about. Usually they were minor things, like the ability to raise the temperature in a room by one degree. This was different. Clearly, the villain he had stolen from did not realize his greatest power was yet untapped. Michael reran the diagnostics, desperately hoping that it was mechanical error. But every refresh gave him the same answer.
With these powers, you could kill anyone with a single word.
This was worth more than mere millions. Michael could fetch the GDP of a civilization for it. But should he? It was the first time he had asked himself that question. He had never had qualms with unleashing godlike powers on rich bidders before, because it made him stacks of cash. But this attacked his well-hidden sense of morality.
Then the door to his RV was torn off and a caped hero flew in. Heroes: always barging into what could be gently opened. To Michael's shock, it was Vick, the leader of the country's hero league.
"I'll make this quick," she said, "I can see what powers everyone has. It makes it easier to keep supers in line. So don't try to lie to me about what you have trapped in that machine."
Michael gulped.
She continued, "You know how to operate that. I don't. Give me those powers and I'll make sure nobody knows you are selling out."
"Why do you want them?" he asked, stalling for time.
"This is *the* solution to villains and crime. Killing with a single word... do you know what good we could do with that?" Vick said this with captivating intensity, her eyes steeled and... hungry.
Though he had abandoned idealism long ago, Michael didn't know about this. A long-neglected sense of right and wrong was rearing its head once more, and it told him to find another way.
"It doesn't matter to me," he told Vick with a shrug. "But it will cost you five million."
"Yes, fine," she said snappily.
While he powered on the machine, he worked out the details in his head. It was a dangerous plan. And even if it worked, it would change his life forever.
On the knobby end of the rod, green energy balled up, preparing to fire. Vick stood eagerly in front of it.
"Powers coming in three... two..."
And then Michael spun the machine around to face himself and felt the powers shoved into his body through the green laser while Vick watched in anger and horror. When it was done, Michael doubled over, gasping.
"You're going to pay for this," Vick said quietly.
"I believe you're threatening the most powerful person on the planet," Michael said simply. Then he pressed the big purple button on the machine, which was considerably less fun than the big red one. Immediately the contraption combusted, becoming a useless pile of metal and wires.
"I don't understand," Vick said, obvious wary of him. "What are you going to do with this? Become a villain?"
"No," he said, walking past her out of the RV. "I plan on trying to forget the killing word and live a normal life. If you come after me, however, I can promise that the word will not be far from my lips."
It was strange to be the good guy. Maybe he could grow to like it.
|
Being able to steal powers seems like a route to success. A power to trump all powers. But when the hero's of the world find out you have it... Well, then your just someone who takes the powers of villians. Everyday I just sit in a prison taking the powers of villains. I am allowed to sell them to others whitch is nice. I can't hold onto many and I cant tell how to use most. But still on that day, that man. Didn't look like much, just smiled as he was checked in. I took his power. He refused to tell us what it was but after I took it I felt it would help me. Later that day I felt like doing diffrent things, weird things. But all of it felt right. Thats when it happened, that feeling. I felt i must leave my home, so I did. Not too long after my house burned down. I knew what that power did. Some sort of foresight, and now i know i must kill the heros of this world.
| 2021-06-26T09:16:15 | 2021-06-26T08:12:32 | 1,240 | 76 |
[WP] In the late 2040s, a supernova killed humanity so suddenly that Death simply gave up on processing them all. Centuries later, aliens are extremely weirded out when they contact an entire starfaring society entirely comprised of ghosts.
|
Entered the nebula today. Scanners are mostly blind, so we should finally be safe from the FedCom cruiser that's been hounding us. We're still on edge, though. It'll take three days for our jump bridge to be ready, and there's always a chance they get lucky with a probe, so we're random-walking and keeping an eye on the scope at all times.
The clouds are beautiful, at least. Malon brought the mood down by reminding us we're looking at the remains of a dead star, but still. It left a beautiful corpse.
...
*Six* false alarms. *Six.* All sensor ghosts. Junah's a good scanner jockey, but either this place is getting to him or our radar is busted and showing us things that aren't there. It's really weird, though - I thought nebula clouds were supposed to look like random snow on the scope, but according to him this contact was so solid you could lock weapons on it.
...
Picked up some sort of xeno cultural broadcast. At least, that was the conclusion Malon came to, and he's the closest we've got to a xenologist. Definitely an unknown species, but with enough language information that he could make a go at translating it. Some parts were garbled, but the gist of it was pretty clear. These "humans" knew that their sun was about to go supernova, and this broadcast was the last record of their species. Music, literature, all sorts of cultural stuff. Just shouting out "We were here!" to anyone who might be listening.
Which is a great story, except for the part that it makes *no fucking sense!* This supernova is hundreds of years old, and the broadcast source can't be more than a few light-minutes away. We're receiving a message from hundreds of years in the past and it sounds like they're standing right next to us. I don't know who's talking to us, but they're not a dead civilization.
Oh, and the sensor ghosts are coming up more and more often. We've started breaking scanner duty into half-shifts because the constant *pings* just wear away at the nerves. It's like water torture for your ears.
Our captain, chivalrous soul that he is, gave me the order to plot a course *towards* the broadcast. I know, I know, a willingness to respond to innocents in need of rescue is what separates the noble privateer from the dastardly pirate, but this has "bad idea" written all over it. Well, here goes nothing...
...
It's not just sensor ghosts. I was looking out the bridge windows and I saw a goddamn rocket fly past. You know, one of the big, tall, chemical rockets you only see in old vids? Back in the days before grav-field technology, when any Altarian who wanted to go into space had to strap themselves to the top of a pile of explosives? One of those. Again, something that shouldn't have existed this deep in a nebula. And it *definitely* shouldn't have been able to maneuver the way it did, dancing and spinning weightlessly on vernier thrusters, before swooping so close I could see a suited figure in the cockpit.
I almost fell out of my chair as I saw the other ship slide past. I was shouting something incoherent. Everyone came running, but by the time the captain came through the doors the ship had vanished into the clouds. Nothing on sensors, either, which led to some very solicitous questions about how long I'd been on watch and if I needed some sleep. But I knew what I saw. We aren't alone out here.
...
On the final day, just hours before our jump window, we got two transmissions. One was from the FedCom cruiser, rumbling out of the nebula less than a klick away, turrets already aimed and charged.
"Cut thrust and prepare to be boarded. This is your only warning."
The other was from... something else. The channel crackled with static, and the voice was but a whisper, but we knew it was a human speaking.
*"Alien life... we have found life among the stars..."*
"Unidentified vessel, you are obstructing a Federation vessel in the execution of its duties. Withdraw immediately."
*"War... They bring war to our home..."* came the whispered reply.
Something about the human ship must have spooked them, because the cruiser immediately pivoted and fired, green light spearing through the clouds. It kept firing, but it must have missed its target, because after every shot we saw that rocket ship peeking out of the clouds somewhere else. Always drawing closer and closer. The radar started to fill with blips, phantom ships crowding around the Federation vessel. It brought its engines up to full burn and started to run, beams firing as fast as they could cycle.
"Do not come any closer! Stand down! Stand...*hssss*"
Another sensor blip appeared right in its path. The real ship and the ghost ship passed straight through each other.
And the Federation ship... stopped. We watched as the beams ceased firing and the engines guttered out. One by one, the lights along its length went out. Finally, we heard the voice on the radio again.
*"We come in peace... We would see the galaxy... Permission to... board?"*
Our captain only hesitated for a moment before replying. "Granted."
"Are you sure about... *Gah!*"
Before I even finished the sentence, the ghost was *there*, a skeleton inside a space suit, rising out of the floor in front of me. Outside, the rocket ship matched our vector, taking a position to our starboard.
"They're getting in formation. Maybe they want to come along for the ride?"
"I don't know if ghost ships can do a tandem jump, but..." I keyed our destination into the computer. The bridge was ready. "I guess we'll see."
We made the jump to Sulroth without further incident. But the ghost of that human astronaut keeps showing up, standing behind you whenever you're staring into space or wandering around when you're alone on watch. And every so often, when we come back to port, I hear spacers telling stories about an invisible ship following them, a sensor glitch that won't go away, or an ancient rocket that has no business being in deep space. And I wonder what came out of the nebula with us.
|
'Captain, do you still wish to proceed?'
'Yes, admiral. I care not for radiation levels, we've come too far to stop.'
'Very well. Proceed with thrusters.'
I wasn't much, nothing more than a speck of dust amongst the cosmos, navigating the trials and tribulations that life through my way. It never really mattered, many of us assumed that there was an over-arching goal, objective or task humanity had to fulfill. We were mistaken, no amount of worship, prayer or scientific research could prepare us for our inevitable demise. Divine intervention perhaps? To atone from the unjust suffering that we had inflicted on so many of our own kind, or maybe it stemmed from our disregard for the place we called home, leaving earth an unrecognizable landscape of scorched dirt and ashen wastes. Our detached spectral forms, with scattered memories, now lingering in the dark. It is so dark here, the only light being the surrounding dying stars, we are all that remains.
'Yes, this seems to be the place, Planet 1-0-1-2'
'Captain, there's nothing here, the planets dead? Nothing could have survived this.'
Our minds, act differently the only people I can recall from before our culling, being my mother and father. I'm sure they are in front of me right now, in my line of sight, within my gaze. We are unable to move, unable to feel or touch. I am positioned on the outer wall of the populace, I can see everyone, hear everyone. It's mainly just screams, we all remain where we were when the event occurred, I vaguely recall being outside a strange building of light, cutting shards of green that grew from the dirt.
'Sir, the planet has been ripped apart by something? A wormhole perhaps?'
'That would be my guess as well, admiral.'
'Hold on, do you see that?'
'There are.. lights?'
| 2019-12-16T14:53:37 | 2019-12-16T14:38:09 | 80 | 20 |
[WP] A sorcerous villain has prepared for a long time and has finally managed to freeze the movement of all living things inside the kingdom's capital. Now they're about to begin their offensive but one person seems to be unaffected by the spell and is moving about as if everything was normal...
|
The sorcerer leaned forward on his old oaken staff, his entire body racked with pain. He felt the sting of age, as he imagined he would, and forced his eyes open– to close them could mean his demise. He wasn't about to shuffle off of the mortal coil, not on the day that he finally bested his hated enemy. He coughed into his hand and examined the crimson liquid that filled the newly formed wrinkles.
Perhaps the ravages of age had been greater than he anticipated.
He wiped the blood away on his robe and rose to full height. His chin would be held high this day. It was the culmination of all he'd worked for, and although his body burned, his mind danced; a gleeful giddy dance, as he strode through the gates and glimpsed the still-life he'd painted with his own two hands and all the magic that his body could endure.
Inside the gates of the gleaming marble city, the populace stood still, captured in the very moment they'd been living just seconds ago. The eerie silence was music to the sorcerer's ears as he passed through the town groping women, taking what he pleased from the fruit carts, and singing like no one was listening– because they weren't. Nor would they ever again if it so pleased him. He took a leisurely stroll up the castle steps, tipping the still bodies of the guards over as he made his way up to the main gate. He waltzed through without a hint of resistance, pausing to admire a bird that had been stopped in mid-flight. Finally, he stood before the great doors to his new castle and thrust them open.
It had been a long time since he'd seen the royal blue carpet that stretched all the way across the great hall. Six massive columns lined his path on both sides and he marched betwixt them on his way up the throne room. He made faces at all the snooty nobles who had been stopped mid-negotiation as he passed them by, and after ascending the steps, he breezed past both guards and threw the ornate wooden doors open. He passed under the magnificent golden archway and gazed up the final set of carpeted stairs where his eyes landed on his target.
The king had lifted to his feet in his final free moments and bore a look of distress that was just delicious. The sorcerer made his way up the steps and smiled inches from the king's face.
"Hm. Seems that the spell wasn't instant," he spoke to himself as he took in every detail of the king's frozen expression. "I suspected that the magic might have rolled across the kingdom like a wave, but until now I wasn't certain. But to see your face all furrowed with worry as you watched your subjects stop in place– oh! I just couldn't ask for more."
He reached up and lifted the crown from the king's head, situating it atop his own. Pleased with the fit, he took a step past the king and gazed upon his new throne. He let out a contented sigh before turning around and falling into the chair. He placed his left leg over his right knee and rested his head against his knuckles as his lips curled up into a satisfied grin. His smile faded as he readjusted his weight, and then dropped into a frown as he looked down at the throne.
"I always assumed this thing was more comfortable," he grumbled before returning his eyes to the king. "Just another reason the crown was wasted on you, Rupert!" He kicked the king's backside, sending him down the stairs. The monarch remained in his rigid pose as he tumbled down the steps, and when he reached the bottom, he landed at the feet of a figure that the sorcerer could swear hadn't been there a moment ago. He blinked twice and leaned forward to get a better look at the man. He was adorned in armor that bore intricate designs of bears, lions, and dragons. He was cleanly shaven and had piercing blue eyes that met the sorcerers in a fashion that made him uncomfortable. The man remained as still as those around him as he glared up the stairs at the magician in the chair.
"Ahem," called the sorcerer. "I know not why I even ask thee, for I know in my heart the answer. But art thou of thy own free will?"
"You are not from around here, are you?" came the man's reply causing the sorcerer to recoil in place out of sheer surprise.
"Wha- but..." he stammered. "How- how are you–"
"So it was *you*," the man interrupted. "You're the one responsible for this." His tone was filled with flames of condemnation.
"Fool!" shouted the sorcerer as he rose from his throne. "Dost thou not know who thy speaketh to? I am none other than your new king and master! Ko-oh the Great! No! Ko-oh the Cruel!" he corrected himself. "Kneel! Kneel before me lest ye be turned to ash!" his shoulders rose and fell after his dramatic outburst. He had tired faster than he had expected.
"You're the fool, old man," spoke the gleaming knight as he pulled his longsword from its scabbard.
"Wha- *old man?*" cried the sorcerer. "Thou art older than I!"
"Well, then you *look* terrible," responded the knight. "Ko-oh the Cruel was it? I am Daunte the Indomitable, blade of the third mountain, and the end of your pitiful existence should you fail to undo your wicked sorcery this instant."
The sorcerer was taken aback. Those sounded like some serious accolades. Furthermore, he had used his entire pool of magic to freeze the kingdom in time. There was nothing left to draw upon with which to fight against the man.
"Ah. Well. T'is unfortunate for thee that... shalt I be touched, the kingdom shall explode!" He lifted his hands and wiggled his fingers for dramatic effect.
"Demon!" Daunte shouted, gritting his teeth.
"Uhh, yes. Well," Ko-oh cleared his throat. "Now that we have sorted out *that* business, you may commence the groveling."
The knight reluctantly dropped to a knee and laid his sword out in front of him.
"Yes," the sorcerer smiled. "That's good."
Daunte closed his eyes and clasped his hands together.
"Oh, thou art *praying* to me! Even better! I shalt not interrupt. Please, go on. Loud enough that I might hear your words of worship."
After a few moments, he watched as the knight wrapped his fingers around the grip of his longsword and rose to his feet, a twinkle of determination in his eyes.
"You, uhh... won't actually be needing that anymore," said Ko-oh, his brow wrinkling with worry.
"I have communed with the magic that permeates these halls," Daunte growled as he ascended the steps. "I am one with this world. The grass is my flesh and the soil is my blood."
"Ew."
"There is no such combustion weaved into your spellwork you lying worm."
"Let us, uhh... not resort to our baser instincts, Daunte," the sorcerer spoke as he began to backpedal past the throne. "We are civilized, wouldn't you agree?"
"The safety switch you imbued into the spell," Daunte said as he reached the top of the steps. "Now would be a good time to activate that."
Ko-oh was visibly shocked that the knight knew as much as he did. He couldn't believe such a man existed in all the realms. It wasn't fair. The knight was a meathead, handsome, and somehow understood the intricacies of temporal spellcraft on a level that Ko-oh himself had spent his entire life unraveling. He looked left and then right; there was no escape. He truly had only one option left to him if he wished to live and exact his revenge another day.
"Daunte, the Indomitable..." murmured the sorcerer. "I shall remember thee... for next time."
He exhaled deeply and spoke the single word of power that would undo the spell– and the event altogether. Time unwound itself, pooling at the sorcerer's feet like a whelming wave before the very laws of nature broke themselves. The world began to spin around him as he, for the second time this day, spat in the face of the gods and their rules. When he awakened back at the front gate, he looked down at his young hands and tightened them into fists. His rage overflowed within him, for how could he have prepared for such a variable as Daunte? What was he? How was he so capable? The sorcerer turned and started down the road out of town.
He had math to do.
r/A15MinuteMythos
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Anya had been planning this attack for five years already. Everything was perfect, all the nobles reunited inside the city and the spell ready to be unleashed. It would take a lot of energy but in the end it was worth it.
As she finished pronouncing the last incantation an eerie stillness wrapped around the city, as every living being (and non living since she had to take into account the possibility of undead) became frozen like a statue.
Completely satisfied by the outcome, Anya's mind begun spinning with every step of her plan she was about to perform, until a tiny movement caught her eye.
In one of the alleys there was what looked liked a wizened old man going about his day like nothing happened. Even weirder, it looked like he had a small area of influence where the people around him moved unaffected as well, just to return still as they left the moving man invisible circle.
*'Now that's just great'*, Anya thought.
*'Just when I was about to start my plan, something unexpected just HAD to happen, hadn't it ?'*
*'What should I do now? Should I just keep going like nothing happened, ignoring this doofus and proceeding as planned? Or should I go investigate and risk alerting a powerful unknown entity?*
*He certainly doesn't seem aware of what's going on and even if he did, he doesn't strike me as a hero...'*
While Anya was thinking, she kept an eye on the man in question and loosely followed him from a distance.
*'Alright, let's probe with caution what he's up to and move from there.'*
"Excuse me good sir, can I help you"
"Oh, yes please. I'm looking for the renowned bakery that makes the best blueberry pie in the country. I know the general location, but could you give me better directions?"
*'A blueberry pie??? Of all things? The mysterious man unaffected my painstakingly prepared spell just wants a piece of blueberry pie? Just my luck...'*
"Ah yes, the famous blueberry pie of Jolvar, just keep going this direction until the outer wall, then follow it up to the fountain. From there take the street with the sides covered in ivy, and the shop should be on the right. "
*'Perfect. This way he'll be the farthest from where I intend to act'*
"Thank you very much. You've been a very kind soul. I wish you a good day.
Ah, and good luck with the assault." The last words spoken as he's already heading towards his destination.
Anya stood there for a moment, too dumbstruck to process what just happened.
*'Good.*
*Luck.*
*Invasion?*
*He knows???'*
Having recollected her bearings, she tried to catch up with the old man, who moved farther along during her brief shock.
"Wait a second. You know what's going on?"
"But of course, how would I not? Everybody's still as a stone. It would make me quite the imbecile not to notice, wouldn't you agree?"
"B-b-but you're moving? How are you not still? My spell should have frozen you like everybody else! I spent years preparing for this."
"Oh that... I just wanted to taste the famous blueberry pie. Couldn't delay it for a bit, I've waited too long, and besides, let's just say I have learned a few tricks in my years..."
"Soooo, are you going to interfere with my plan?"
"Depends. Are you going to destroy the bakery?"
"No"
"Good, then I guess I won't. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a pie to taste and you're in my way, and I suggest you don't delay me further lest I change my mind. As I said earlier, good day!"
And with that, he took off at a brisker pace than earlier, seemingly eager to get his hands on his pie.
*'Hah! This was truly unexpected. Maybe after everything's done, I might as well go and sample this famous blueberry pie'*.
| 2022-10-21T23:37:09 | 2022-10-21T22:52:22 | 92 | 13 |
[WP] For years, there's been a room in your house where time stops. You can stay in there for as long as you possibly want without aging, and not a single second passes outside of the room. One day, while in the room taking a nap, you're awoken by the sound of furious knocking at the front door.
This was inspired by an r/askreddit post and I thought it might make for some cool stories!
|
When I bought this house, the old man who was the previous owner had been oddly skittish and very nervous when him and the estate agent were showing me around. I could even hear him muttering under his breath sometimes. At the time I just put it down to him getting old and not being entirely there in the head.
Now though, I think I understand why he was like this.
You see, I bought the house, and it was only once I moved in that I found the following note left by the old man:
>*Hello,*
>
>
>*Thank you for taking possession of my house. There is not much I need to say here, just hope you will take care of this house as well as I did. You should know that the valve in the toilet needs replacing soon! It’s been making weird noises for years, I just never got around to it…*
>
>
>*Also, there is something else about this house that you should know, but I won’t specifically tell you what is odd about it, I will let you find that out for yourself - just as I did many years ago.*
>
>
>*All I will say is that one of the rooms in this place isn’t like the others.*
>
>
>*I have lived a very long life, and I’m now ready to move on - but I can’t while I stay in this place, hence why I sold it at a good price so I can get out of here sooner and finally live the last few years of my life.*
>
>
>*You seem like a nice guy, don’t let that room get to you like it did for me.*
>
>
>*Kind Regards,*
>
>
>*Frederick*
Obviously, when I first read this I thought the old man, Frederick, was down-right insane. What does he mean there is an odd room in the house? I took a thorough look around all the rooms, but couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. The letter left me on edge though, as much as Frederick might be crazy, surely there must be something to what he was saying?
Being paranoid, I looked into the history of the house. Again, I found nothing odd, it was built in the late 50’s, the same time as the rest of the houses in this suburb, I couldn’t find any old news stories about people being murdered or anything along those lines either - so at least he wasn’t referring to anything like that in his letter.
Not finding the meaning to Fredrick’s cryptic letter, I did what most people do when confronted with something you think is odd or crazy; I just tried to forget about it and move on, like walking past and ignoring a homeless person on the street.
So I moved my stuff into the house and got myself set up, and slowly but surely the months passed by as I settled into my new job and the area.
It was therefore, entirely by accident that I found out about the “odd room”.
You see, I live alone - so although I had 3 rooms, I only ever slept in one of them, used one of the other bedrooms as a room for my computer and other gaming consoles, and the third was home to my ill-advised purchase of some gym equipment from a few years back when I convinced myself that I was going to get fitter.
It was when I decided to start up an exercise schedule again when I found out something odd about the nature of this room.
Every time I went into that room, without fail, my phone would stop working. It wouldn’t stop working entirely, it just can’t reach the web - any web page I try to load just sits there trying to load… Which was a massive pain in the ass considering that I wanted to try and watch movies or shows while on the treadmill.
Now, normal people might have just shrugged it off and figured that the wifi doesn’t reach the room or something; but being the “IT guy” for my work, not solving a basic technical issue like this would keep me awake at night.
So I started by doing some testing. The first thing I found is that my phone only stops working the moment the door is fully closed - if the door is even open a tiny bit or isn’t fully latched then my phone works. I figured this would be a good enough work around, to just keep the door open all the time.
But my curiosity was piqued. Why would closing the door stop the internet on my phone from working? That shouldn't be possible unless the thing was made solid metal and the rest of the room is a faraday cage!
So I bought my laptop into the room and started trying to load various web pages while using a packet tracer to see what happens. The results were, like the room itself… odd. I could see that the requests would be made and get sent from my laptop, but they would just never reach the router. In fact, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t even ping the router while sitting in the room with the door closed.
I also noticed that as soon as the door was closed I wouldn’t be able to see any wifi signals in fact, almost as if the room *is* some kind of faraday cage.
After a good hour or two of trying various tools and tricks to see what the hell was going on, I was starting to get extremely frustrated. Looking at my watch, I realised that it was now ten at night! Time seemed to have flown by, I had literally wasted a good four hours of my Saturday trying to fix this.
I leant back in the chair and looked to the window that had the blinds drawn, pondering what I could try next. Maybe I should just give up and accept that for whatever reason, this room is like a faraday cage. Maybe I should make a small hole in the wall to see if I can find a metal mesh in the wall? That would certainly explain it.
This is when something clicked; there was light trickling through the blinds.
Which is odd, considering it’s ten at night; it should have got dark hours ago.
Frowning, I got up and walked over to the blinds, then used the cord to open them up.
My jaw went slack as I looked out of the window at the houses across the road.
It looked like a picture.
Now, that’s not a figure of speech - it *literally* was like looking at a picture of the street I was, by now, quite familiar with. First of all, the sun was still very much up in the sky - but that alone could be dismissed, perhaps my watch had just broken or something.
No, what I couldn’t dismiss was the sprinkler on the lawn across the road. The water it was spraying was frozen perfectly still in the air. When I looked harder I noticed some other things as well. There was a car, with a driver in it, just stopped in the middle of the road. The leaves on the trees I could see weren’t moving one bit either.
Even on a perfectly still day the leaves on trees move.
I stood and stared for a few minutes, but nothing changed. I even slapped myself and pinched my arm a few times to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.
Somewhat bewildered I dropped my laptop, forgetting about the internet issues I was trying to fix for now, and *ran* from the room.
Bursting out of my front door I didn’t know what I was expecting; but as soon as I opened it I was greeted by a familiar world in motion. The frozen sprinkler was continuing it’s repetitive *psst psst psst* sound as it sprayed water, the car I had been watching was halfway up the street and turned around a corner as I watched.
Confused, I ran back inside again, went into the room, closed the door and once again looked out of the window. Yet again, the world was frozen, the sprinkler’s water frozen in the air.
Now, I’d like to say I immediately realized what was happening like some kind of character in a movie, but in reality what I did was just *stand* there for a few hours in the room. I watched as my watch continued to tick forward, it was seemingly uncaring for the frozen world outside of my window.
By the time I finally wrapped my head around the fact that yes, it did appear that time was frozen when I went in this room, my watch said it was four in the morning.
Shaking my head out of derision at the situation I left the room, finding with a quick glance out of my door that it was indeed still light outside. Getting an idea I went and searched through my paperwork, and after a good while of looking I found the letter from Frederick.
I re-read it, *multiple* times.
It made sense now. I had been living in this house for months, yet had only just found the “odd” room he was talking about in this letter.
*Continued below*
|
"This house is amazing!"
The realtor smiled at the couple. "So, is this the one? Do you want to make an offer?"
"I think so, but can we see that room first?" Amy pointed past the realtor's shoulder at the single door they hadn't been through.
The realtor's smile faded away. Completely serious, she said, "It's just a closet. There's something wrong with the bolt on it though. We can't open it."
"Oh." The couple glanced at each other, confused by the sudden change in demeanor. "Well, I guess if it's just a closet..." Nick shrugged and the realtor hurried them out of the room.
"So," the smile was back on her face as they walked away, "about that offer..."
\--------------
Six months later, the pair moved in. They ignored that room for the first year, but eventually, Nick's curiosity ate away his resolve.
He tried every key he'd been given at the sale. He watched videos and tried to figure out how to pick the lock. He even hired a locksmith, but the damned thing just wouldn't budge. So, for a long time, he gave up. But still, the curiosity gnawed at his insides.
Then, one day, Nick happened to lean against the sealed door. Stressed about his deadline for work, he muttered under his breath, "I need more time." The lock clicked behind him, and he spun around to look. The door swung open as he gawked.
The open doorway revealed a gigantic room. One that would have been obvious from the outside of the house. Something was very strange about this room.
"Amy! Come here!"
Just as his wife stepped around the corner, Nick walked into the room. When he turned back to look at her, she was frozen in place. The cat by her feet -- frozen in mid-stride -- looked like a furry statue. "Amy?"
He stepped back out of the room. As soon as he was past the threshold, Amy and the cat returned to life. Nick's brow wrinkled as he watched. He stepped backwards into the room once more. Again, his wife and cat froze in place.
Finally, he closed the door and looked around the room. It was filled with books, movies, music, and games galore. The room was quiet aside from the ticking sound that seemed to echo off the walls. It sounded like a clock, but it was repeating far too rapidly. He put it out of his mind and started to explore.
Nick read and played and danced for ages. He kept himself entertained in the room for so long that he nearly forgot the outside world still existed. Until the sound of something pounding against the door startled him. He dropped the book he was reading and walked to the doorway.
"Hello, Nick." A skeletal figure in a black robe grabbed Nick's hand before he could react. "It's time for you to go."
Nick looked around wildly, wondering what was happening. His wife and cat still stood, statuesque, at the other side of the room. "But... Why? What happened?"
"What do you believe this room is?" Veiled eyes peered at him from beneath their black hood.
"I... I don't know, really." He glanced back at his wife before returning his gaze to the reaper. "I mean, it looks like it stops time."
"Yes. Did you ever consider the cost?"
"Uh... What?"
"The cost. Do you hear the ticking? Using the room still costs you time. You're merely delaying the payment. Now, you must pay up."
Nick's eyes grew wide at the news. He tried to pull his hand away, but the skeletal figure was too powerful. The man latched on to the doorframe and dug his heels into the ground, fighting in vain against death's pull.
He fell out of the room and the door slammed shut behind him. Amy unfroze and her eyes met Nick's. She watched in horror as her husband's dark hair faded to white and fell to the floor. His skin turned pale and wrinkled. His teeth began to fall out, one by one.
The skeletal figure waited at the side, invisible to Amy. At last, Nick's aged body collapsed to the floor. The being grabbed Nick's soul and pulled him toward the other side. "It's time."
=============
r/WannaWriteSometimes
| 2020-10-04T08:57:56 | 2020-10-04T08:50:24 | 134 | 31 |
[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.
|
The sun was falling quickly behind the mountain, darkness rapidly enveloping the forest around me. The fall air crisp and chill, my breath visible every time I exhaled. A small doe draped over my right shoulder, my bow gripped in my left, I trudged towards my small hut on a seldom used game trail.
As I neared my hut the unmistakable smell of a contained fire alerted me that someone was in my hut, I never leave the fire untended while I am out hunting. Who has the gall to enter my hut? Who has the gall to warm themselves by starting a fire in my hut? I huff in frustration, my evening spoiling my hunt.
I slam open my front door and storm into the hut. "Who dares enter my domicile without my permission?" I bellow. From my well appointed high backed chair in front of the fire, my one embellishment from a time past, a familiar voice greets me, not reacting to my demands or my lack of a greeting.
"My domicile. Quite the fall from our first meeting, when you declared *My Empire."* They said, standing up and removing their hood. It was her, the one that dethroned me. Bah, my evening just went from spoiled to downright horseshit. I eye her wearily, the Sword of Kings - Queens now, I guess, hanging from her hip, then trudge over to my butcher station where I relieve myself of my burden.
"Oh great queen, what has caused you to seek out my pitiful company? I'm defeated, most of my powers stripped. I am but a humble hunter now, living out the rest of my days." My voice ripe with sarcasm.
"It is good to see you well, Salin." She opens, I suppress a grunt an keep my back to her as I reach for my butchers tools. "I was in the area and the villagers nearby spoke of a lone hunter out the forest. They say that the hunter rarely comes for supplies, but when he does he speaks little, does his business and leaves. So naturally I had to see for myself who this lone hunter was."
"And now that you know it's me, what is your plan?" I grab the gut hook and open the belly of the doe.
"I have to admit, I'm not surprised that you're the mysterious hunter." I can feel her eyes on my back as I remove the doe's innards. If the scene distresses her, she doesn't show it. "As for what I plan to do? Nothing. I defeated you, and you're in exile. So far as I can tell you're just content to exist out here in the woods."
I harrumph. "Content isn't the word I would use. I've accepted my defeat, that is all. But I do admit, there is something attractive about a simple, quiet life out here in the forest. No worrying about untrustworthy underlings, no worrying about heroes coming for my hide. No worries about how I am going to conquer the next kingdom, then the next, then the next." I exhale, swapping the gut hook for a skinning knife. "All I have to worry about is my next meal. Or how I'm going to fix the leak in the corner. Or which tree I need to cut down for firewood. Much less stress."
"You make it sound attractive." She says, I get the feeling that she ran her hand through her hair when she said that. "I almost want to join you, but I have a queendom to run." There's an odd inflection in her voice, I risk a glance over my shoulder and see her chewing on her bottom lip. I remain silent.
"The fact of the matter is, though I defeated you, I'm finding that I can't trust the people around me. I have this odd feeling that they want to dethrone me and place someone else in power, someone that they can control." I flip the doe over on the table and work on skinning the other side.
"You didn't come here by chance, then." I supply. "N-no. I sought you out." Well, that confirms one of my suspicions. "For what, Theralina? What more do you want of me?" I demand.
"We fought for so long, Salin, that I know you. I understand you. And.....I find that you're the only person in this entire realm that I feel I can trust."
I finish removing the hide and carefully fold it up for tanning later and set it aside. My head is spinning, just what the hell is she asking of me?
"Salin, I need an enforcer. Someone who's dealt with the backstabbing and scheming of those around him. I want you to come back as my enforcer." Ah, there it is, there's the ask. I had picked up my butchering knife just a moment before, and thunk it into the table and turn around and eye Theralina. The one woman who through sheer force of will found a way to defeat me, to strip me of my most potent powers. The only woman to ever earn my respect.
I cross my arms and stare into her green eyes and see fire, the same fire that drove her to defeat me. That fire stokes a strength and determination matched only by myself. A fire so intense and pure that doesn't know how to deal with the scheming of the men that surround her. She toppled my empire in righteous fury, but here she was asking for my help, her arch nemesis. And that fact galled her. In that moment I made my decision.
"I'm in."
|
I sat by the fire, waiting for him to walk through the drapes. It wasn't easy tracking him down, despite all my connections.
I spent my entire life working towards bringing this monster down. I was born into his tyranny, and when soldiers came to raze my village, I decided then and there to to pry his fetid corpse from that black plated armor.
I didn't do it. I toppled the Villain's Empire and stripped him of his power, and sentenced him to exile. I needed to be merciful; all those who looked up to me needed a beacon of hope, not another executioner.
A rustle at the door.
A tall, bearded man carrying a couple dead rabbits and a boar. Even without the armor his figure was imposing.
It was a long silence, and he broke it first.
*"Hero."* His voice still scares me.
"Tyrant." I replied.
(part 2 below)
| 2021-11-03T14:10:12 | 2021-11-03T12:14:52 | 269 | 120 |
[WP] The magical races enslaved magic-less humans centuries ago. To expand their empires, the magical races travel and conquer different dimensions. They soon stumble across and try to conquer a magic-less world full of humans. It did not go well.
|
Technology, when sufficiently advanced, is indistinguishable from magic. Technology, when sufficiently different, is also indistinguishable from magic. The paper thin line that divides those with magic and those without exist only in ignorance. Those who *know,* know magic. Those who don't, well, they are humans. Magicless, pitiful, humans. Born without magic, doomed to be the pebblestones stepped on in a magical world.
Yet, inexplicably, in every dimension, there are humans. Every single one. Humans, humans, humans. Like a plague, infesting everything. Two hands, two feet, a face, humans. One of the five Great Mysteries still unsolved by the Academy. *Why are there humans everywhere?*
Could it be possible that humans are actually remnants of an advanced species? Well, it would be likely, if humans had magic. But they don't. How could a race of magicless creatures every advance to a level sufficient enough to even cross a single dimension?
What if it is just a similar appearance? Superficially similar, biologically different? Not true again. Every single human can reproduce with another human from another dimension. There is no biological barrier between humans. Nah, humans apparently can procreate with any known magical species. Half-elves, half-pixies, half-orcs, half-gnomes, half-dwarfs, the number of halflings increases every single census. Even my own grandmother was a human.
What are "humans"? What is their secret?
\- *Thesis on Humanology: Foreword, Second Edition, Jordan Steiberg. Found abandoned in a magicist facility following the liberation of Dimension X1212-DS2 by the Third Expeditionary Fleet. The author is a class A interdimensional criminal for crimes against humanity, including but not limited to: human experimentation, mass enslavement, genocide and the possible murder of :REDACTED in :REDACTED.*
\-----------
The standard strategy for disabling a human forcefield is to use a kinetic-based magical spell. While adapt at dealing with magical attacks, forcefields, as with much of human weaponry, is relative susceptible to brute, kinetic-based assaults.
Or, to put it in simpler terms, hurl a damn rock fast enough at it and you will break it. And do it fast, before whatever beam-weapon they are charging up blows you up. Elf, orc, pixie, whatever race you are, getting half your body blasted off is going to kill you.
Humans are currently the biggest threat to magickind ever known. It was my deepest regret not eliminating every single human when we had the chance. If we were more ruthless in our extermination of humankind, we will not be in our current predicament.
*The video falls into silence as the figure pauses.*
I have strayed off topic. For your mid-solace examinations, you would be required to memorize the entire section of human forcefields and their appropriate counter-measures. It will be tested. We would be moving into a closer examination regarding the specific model of human forcefield currently in use by the Human Third Expeditionary fleet for the rest of the section.
\- *Retrieved sightstone from a eliminated Elf Operative in the battle of Solamir. It appears to be a recording of a magicist lecture by Grand-Magicist Jordan Steiberg regarding counter-measures to the military-issue energy-based defenses currently in use. OPS-SEC has upped the bounty for his immediate termination following increasing evidence that the main cause of human casualty has been a result of either him or his associates.*
\----------
"These are just a few excerpts about the main target for the mission: Jordan Steiberg."
"A half-gnome, half-human, born in the city of Solamir in AD2334, he is currently one of the three most wanted magickind in the entire dimension."
"I am sure I need not emphasis how much damage this creature has done to the Third Expeditionary Force. The destruction of the *Titanic* has been tied to his planning. The most dangerous enemy is one that knows you deeply, and I regret to say that this creature knows humans far too well."
"We must eliminate him before he causes more damage. That is why we have contacted you, Johan. You are the closest we can get to him. Eliminate him. That is all we ask."
"For the glory and liberation of all humankind."
*Beep.*
The miniature transmission device collapses on itself, shrinking into the size of a marble, before imploding in a small explosion, scattered into the wind as dust.
"It always impresses me how efficient these things are. How, *magical.* Don't you think so, Jordan?"
"Magic and technology are two-sides of the same coin. One could do what the other could not. Isn't this the reason you seek me? To do what technology could not."
"I have shown my sincerity. I should be planning your demise now, and you know there is a reasonable chance I would have succeeded. Now show me yours."
"I...appreciate it. Take this." A small vial tossed across the room, glowing in the dark with an electric-blue hue. "Magicist Blood. The only known cure for mana poisoning. This should give you some, albeit temporary, relief. If you uphold your end of your bargain I will uphold mine."
\-----
To be continued.
|
A highly advanced technological world is only possible with enormous amounts of the substance known as steel or in the parlance of the alchemists "cold iron". In magical realms the substance is rare and can only be made from meteoric iron. However, in one cursed land, humans have found ways to mass produce the stuff from common iron ore to terrifying effect.
Iron, is and always have been, highly toxic to Elves.
A rather ill-conceived plan by the current Elvish Emperor of invasion and conquest ended nearly the same day it began and stood as an important lesson to future rulers of the Unseelie Court; never bring a bronze sword to a gunfight.
| 2022-08-13T11:36:17 | 2022-08-13T11:32:52 | 42 | 28 |
[WP] Immortals and time travelers pass along messages for each other. It's customary and expected. One day, a stranger sits across from you at a restaurant/coffee shop/bar and asks you to give a message to someone you'll meet in New York in 2070. As far as you know, you're just an ordinary person.
|
Christmas fell certain and swiftly. It lodged in the eaves and window panes, scurried down the umbrellas, and swirled along the currents, dressing the city in a dotted dress of white.
It was a beautiful thing, yet always better witnessed from inside a snug bar with a steaming coffee in your hands.
I sat next to the window, and close to the radiator. It was the best of both worlds. I had the gorgeous view of the descending white at one side, and the tender warmth of technology at the other.
I took a sip of my coffe--.
The chair in front of me grated. I turned, and to my surprise I found a man clad in a black suit staring at me through kind eyes, while lighting a cigarette.
"I apologize for my rough intrusion," he said, offered me a cigarette.
"I don't smoke," I said, and frowned. "Can I help you with something?"
He took a drag. "You can actually. My name is Marcus, I'm one of the Two, but let's say my skin does age."
"Oh," I said, and the frown deepened. "What does a time travele--"
"Shh," he interrupted me, placed his forefinger over his lips, and looked around. "Please don't say that word out loud. There are many of us, and not all of us have good intentions."
"Could you please tell me what do you want from me, then?" I took another sip of my coffee, then drew a deep breath. "I have little to no interest in meddling with the issues of your *kind,* for lack of a better word."
"You've always been cautious," Marcus said, smiled a ghost of a smile, "and I've always loved you that way."
"So you know me."
"Of course I do. I wouldn't be here otherwise," he said, took a long drag, and hunched over the table, gesturing for me to come closer. I obliged. "In the year 2070 you will meet someone in New York. I need a message from you to that someone." He murmured in my ear. Then, we returned to our normal positions.
"A message? What sort of message? Who is that someone?" I shook my head. "What am I saying? I told you already, I'm not interested in your games."
"Something went over your head, John," Marcus said and smiled. "This time of the year, New York, 2070. What age will you be then?"
My brows knitted. I would be over a hundred years by then. "Are you implying that I--"
"Yes."
"How do you know?"
"Well, I'm one of the Two, I already told you that. You are the other *kind,* for lack of a better word."
"What sort of message? And who is that someone?"
"There are rules to these things. I can tell you she's a she, and the message can be anything you want."
I thought for a moment, dwelled on the information Marcus had provided me. He knew my name, and he spoke to me with an odd confidence. He couldn't be lying. But me, an immortal?
"Tell her that I wish her a happy christmas. Is that good enough?"
Marcus smiled, stood up. "You will know when you give it to her."
"Me? I don't understand, what do you gain from this?"
"You will understand when the time comes. She likes coffee too, by the way."
"What if I forget?"
"You won't. The message is already with you. It will come when the time comes."
With that, Marcus left.
----------------------------------------------------
**New York, 2070**
I was heading toward my usual bar, holding an umbrella to fight the ever-white snowflakes. I had my usual set firmly coffee on my mind. I looked forward to it with great eagerness. As silly as it might sound, those little things one looks forward to, are what'd kept me sane all this years.
Ahead of mine, a woman came out her home. She was glowing, save for the distress in her face when her umbrella didn't open.
"Excuse me, can I offer you to share my umbrella?" I said, giving her my best smile.
"That's very kind of you, but I'll be fine," she said, and kept struggling with the umbrella as her hair and clothes filled with little spots of white.
"I insist," I said and placed the umbrella over her.
"Thank you very much," she said, gave me a pearl-white smile. "It's lovely to know there are gentlemen still out in the streets."
We chatted awhile, until our paths strayed from one another.
"I have to turn here," she said. "Thank you very much."
"Any day," I said, "I wish you a Merry Christmas." I froze in place, locked my gaze in her sky-bright eyes.
"Is there a problem?"
"I--I--I." I shook my head. "May I invite you a cup of coffee? That is if you don't have any other plans, of course. I was heading to my favorite bar just now, and I can't let you freeze out there without a functioning umbrella."
She laughed, flushed slightly. "I guess that's the least I could do."
--------------------------------
**Two Years Later**
I touched her belly. "Have you decided on a name for our little one yet?"
Her lips parted ever so slightly. "I loved Joe and Tom. They are short and sweet names."
"They are, and I love them too." I wrapped my hand in hers.
She turned to me, her eyes sparkling. "But I have settled for another one. It's been in my mind for what a long time."
"Yes? Tell me. I'm sure I will love it."
The snow fell outside, slow and gentle. It settled on the bare trees and the floor beneath, creating an endless ocean of white.
She held my hand tighter, gave me a kiss on the forehead.
"His name will be Marcus."
I smiled. "That's a wonderful name."
--------------------------
/r/NoahElowyn
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“He sat down at the stool next to me and slid an envelope in front of me as he did. He said it didn’t matter if I looked inside the envelope or not, I wouldn’t understand what it was for some time. He place a small folded piece of paper on top of the envelope.
‘I need you to deliver this.’ He said.
With that, he got up and walked out of the bar without giving me a chance to speak.
At first I thought he had the wrong person, then I unfolded the paper.
‘This guys has to be insane.’ I thought.
‘June 5th, 2070’
‘Henry Willard’
‘11 Wall St, New York, NY 10005’
Does he want me to pass this down my family?!
I looked into the envelope and saw what I can only describe as a black box that says ‘SanDisk 128TB USB 5.0’ and has a tiny switch on the side.
I was brought back to reality when I realize I should give this back to the man because he clearly gave it to me by mistake or something. I ran out of the bar and saw him walking across the street. I ran out without thinking and didn’t even hear the bus.”
“That was in 1946, here’s your package Mr. Willard.”
(I normally lurk, I’m not that good at writing, please be gentle)
| 2018-12-24T10:24:03 | 2018-12-24T10:04:15 | 580 | 50 |
[WP] Aliens establish first contact with the government of another country. The White House gets offended.
Bonus cookies if the government in question is either of a really tiny country (geographically) or is a generally insignificant player in international politics.
|
Caveat Emptor- I haven't written anything in decades. What follows is imperfect in grammar and punctuation. It's an off the cuff musing, an insignificant "what if". My first attempt so for what it's worth.
"Icelandic? You mean the aliens are from Iceland?" a very upset President bellows. Thinking to herself "this is the most historically significant event in human history and I won't have my name mentioned once".
The Secretary of State answers, "no Ms. President, not at all. It's that they landed in Iceland and only communicate with their people and government in that language. All attempts by us, the Russians, China, nothing".
"Well we are America! Why wouldn't they want to communicate with us? We stand for Democracy and freedom. At least they didn't go with the Commies in China or the nutjob in Russia. Even so they must eventually speak with others and it must be us. The chances of passing advanced technology to our potential enemies is too great to risk."
The Secretary replies "Well Ms. President it's not like we can stop them, but we are monitoring communications so at least we know what's happening."
"Well what's going on now? What are they talking about? Has the Icelandic government been made aware that they face repercussions if they do not let us in on the conversation?
"At this point they are talking about sustainable agriculture and improvements in ocean management. Occasionally a topic is blanked out- we get a signal, but it's all static. The last time was about some perpetual source of unlimited energy, but then when the subject was actually discussed- nothing. Iceland fails to respond to us."
"Nothing! You are saying that Iceland is on it's way to becoming the most advanced nation in the world. Think of the balance of trade! What economic chaos this will cause! Wait- have they discussed defense?"
"I'm not sure what you mean Ms. President."
"No? Weapons! As advanced as they are they could be sharing information which could make Iceland THE superpower. I will not stand for this nation falling into the slavery of another."
"Ms President, Iceland has hardly been a nation bent on global dominance."
"Of course not, but it hasn't had the means in the past... wait- I want to know if there have been any changes in China or Russia's military posture".
"Certainly, but why..."
"Don't you get it? If it's occurred to me that Iceland could unseat any of us and render the balance of power moot then it will have with them too. I want that report NOW!"
A short while later-
"Ms. President, there are indeed changes in air, ground, sea and space assets. Our analysis shows a high probability of attack on Iceland".
The President replies, "That cannot be permitted. What if Russia blackmails Iceland into surrendering their secrets? What if they become the masters of America?"
A few moments of silence follow by the sudden barking of Presidential orders. "I want to launch an immediate nuclear strike. Prepare all resources to launch on my order."
"Ms. President! We cannot launch a strike on Russia! Although they aren't nearly what they once were, their retaliatory capability remains sufficient to assure that we will be destroyed along with them!"
"No fears, Mr. Secretary. I do not intend to launch on Russia, or China for that matter. We attack Iceland".
"WHAT? Why?"
"Isn't the present threat clear? No one but us can have that knowledge. We must take out the alien threat".
"Ms. President, that's crazy! I will not..." and with that the President motions for the Secret Service to arrest the Secretary, who is unceremoniously removed.
The President says "That distraction is out of the way so now to business. I want a live feed from space. I need to know that we've obliterated the target."
And with that the President orders the launch. Any regret is quickly crushed by justifications of national defense the missiles are tracked, closer, closer to their target. Suddenly the space over Iceland ignites and a huge sphere rises from the brilliant illumination. It rises higher and higher, and when the view clears an immense ship is seen to be above Iceland, apparently towing it in a protective bubble into outer space. In its place is a gaping hole larger than Texas and a hundred kilometers deep. Steam starts to rise as the ocean pours in. The hole is white hot, and a tidal wave which extends above the atmosphere races at hypersonic speed to doom billions. All at once the enormity of her actions hits her full force. She has just killed every man, woman and child on the planet.
"Why? Why did they do this?"
Her head hangs, and when she looks up the Chief of Staff hands her a message from the aliens without a trace of emotion, not one word.
"Inhabitants of Earth, you are difficult creatures to understand. You are a most destructive species, a sign of low intelligence. Wanting to assist we were inclined to visit the most intelligent of your species, which was determined to be the least aggressive and so we chose the division you call "Iceland". We were pleased by their welcome and shared information which would benefit them and they in turn agreed to freely disseminate this technology for the benefit of all. It was to our great dismay that we found the divisions of other humans, who are apparently far below in expected intelligence, attacking us and the Icelanders." "Once their aggression was analyzed it was agreed we should save the best of the species, by removing them and placing their land on a world we would manufacture for this purpose. It was also decided that the remainder of the species is too dangerous to allow to continue, as a short time of a thousand Earth years would see a dangerous plague expanded to peaceful worlds."
"Therefore we have pronounced judgement, but take comfort that the best of you will continue.
Farewell."
The President lets the paper drop and looks out the window. To the east a line forms on the horizon. At first it is a gray ribbon, no just a thread. Rapidly it grows and it towers into the sky far beyond the clouds. In a rush of realization the President sighs and waits for The Wave. She sees it as merciful, ending life in it's path now rather than having to choke to death in the newly changing and deadly atmosphere. It's more than she deserves she thinks, yet in the back of her mind she hears the words "We were Americans, we were powerful. Why didn't they do what we demanded"? Moments later, a rushing of water, then blackness.
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**Situation Room, 04/22/2016 0300 Zulu**
"North Korea? Do you take me for a fool? You know April Fool's Day has passed, Jerry." the President said, with a look of as much surprise as amusement.
"Sir, this is not a joke. The aliens have decided to make contact with Kim jong-Un." I managed to stammer out.
*Why doesn't he believe me? He can just look at the screens to my right. Maybe it's too early in the morning for him.*
The red phone rings. Something's up. I picked it up.
"White House Situation Room." I said, wondering who could be calling. Putin? Cameron? Abe? Park? Xi?
"Mr. Daniels, I have a Mr. Kim on the line."
"Put him through."
I pressed the speakerphone button so everyone could hear it.
"This is Kim Jong-Un. I would like to speak to the President of the United States."
I passed the phone. Did Kim know he was on speakerphone? Maybe not.
"Mr. Kim, a pleasure as always." the President said, his dulcet tones lined with sarcasm.
"Guess who's the popular one now? Glorious Korea! Everyone's here. Putin, Castro, Chavez, Xi... Anyway, in your face!"
The line got cut off. I didn't know Kim Jong-Un could speak English, much less with such an accent.
"Why the hell did they choose the shithole of the world to land in? Why not, oh I don't know, somewhere more lively and with better infrastructure? It's like going to the most expensive Italian restaurant and ordering the Fettuccine Alfredo."
"They could have chosen the UK, France, even Australia for crying out loud! I mean, why North Korea?"
No one responded.
| 2015-04-27T09:28:12 | 2015-04-27T08:03:31 | 75 | 47 |
[WP] Aliens give you a camera and say "only those you photograph will live." You have one year.
All of these responses are so diverse! This was really a great read. I like to imagine that all these different stories are from alternative universes, playing out different roles. Some men rule the World, some men are titled lunatics, and some men are not noticed at all. Well done, everyone!
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Alien abduction, let me tell you, is nothing like the movies. So if you were expecting a story of flying saucers, of bright blue beams of light and levitation, you are set to be rather disappointed.
It began with the sudden appearance of a black, metallic dodecahedron about the size of a garbage truck in my back garden. I had been pottering around the kitchen, making myself a cup of tea; one minute, the garden had been empty save for an ugly rosebush in the middle of the lawn that I'd never got around to digging out; the next minute, there it is was.
I think I must have squinted at it for a few moments, trying to think up a rational explanation for its intrusion upon the lawn, but it seemed a little too large to have come over the fence from the neighbour's children and so I quickly put rationality to one side and shrieked. Which was the moment that I realised that *everything* had stopped.
The cup of tea, which I had dropped in surprise, was still in mid-air, splashes of tea frozen like brown petals around it. A large fly, wings static, hovered in the air a few feet from my face. I reached out one hand, finger outstretched, and prodded the fly; it moved back a few inches but stayed resolutely suspended in the air. From what I could tell, with the obvious exception of myself, time had completely stopped.
"Terribly sorry about this," said a small voice from my left, and I looked down to see what looked like a small blue teddy bear standing by the kitchen door. "Time is of the essence or I'd not have to resort to such crude methods."
"Crude methods?" I asked.
"Mmm," said the bear and clicked on a small box he held clutched in his right hand (paw?). "Follow me."
Now, let me explain. At this point my mind was thinking "you must be joking, I don't know what is going on here but I can tell you one thing I know for sure; and that is that I am not going *anywhere* with you" but - despite this - my body said "sure thing, mr. blue bear."
And so, despite my mind desperately shouting orders to stand still, my body plodded out of the kitchen on auto pilot, traipsed barefoot into the garden, and then trudged up a ramp and into a portal that had opened on the side of the dodecahedron. The inside of the craft smelled strangely like burnt toast; which was the last thing I had time to notice before everything went suddenly black.
"He's coming round," said a small voice to my right.
"I don't think he is," said a small voice to my left.
"No, look, his eye coverings are all twitchy."
"Oh yes, so they are," there was the sound of furry paws clapped together. "Wonderful!"
I cracked open one eye, hoping this had all been some kind of terribly strange and not particularly pleasant dream. But no; I was lying on a flat surface, staring up at a featureless but lit ceiling, and two small blue teddy bear-like creatures were peering down at me.
"Oh bollocks," I said, "this isn't a dream is it?"
"Afraid not," said the bear on the right.
"Please tell me this isn't the bit where you anal probe me," I said, a degree of desperation creeping into my voice.
"Anal probe you?" said the bear on the left.
"What kind of perverts do you think we are?" asked the bear on the right.
"Well, I've just heard you aliens like to do that sort of thing," I mumbled, sheepishly.
"Sorry to dash your hopes," said left bear, "but anal probing isn't on the menu."
"No," said right bear, "We have brought you here because you have been chosen to save mankind."
"What?" I spluttered, "Me, save mankind? Are you sure you've taken the right person?"
"Oh yes," said the bear on the right, "It's definitely you. We ran the algorithms 393 times to be sure."
"But save *mankind*?"
"Oh, not *all* of it," laughed the bear on the left, "Oh dear no, that would be a silly thing to ask."
"No," said the bear on the right, "We need you to save the best of mankind. The very cream of the crop. Our analysis has predicted that you are the single most objective person on the entire Earth."
"But why?"
"Well, I don't know," said the bear on the left, "It could be purely a product of genetics, although I'd imagine parental upbringing and environmental factors also contributed to your objectivity..."
"No," I interrupted. "I mean, why do I need to save mankind?"
"Oh that," said the right bear, "Yes, we should probably have mentioned that. Gamma Ray Burst. Big One. Heading this way; going to boil the planet to a crisp."
"When?"
"366 days from now."
"Only a year?"
"A year and a day."
"But can't you help us stop it?"
The bear on the right grimaced slightly, "Would love to, really I would, but there are protocols for these sort of things and - frankly - we're bending them a bit going this far."
"But how many people can I save?"
"Well, not everyone, as we mentioned; but quite a few. At least if you want to."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Got a soft spot for the place," said the left bear, "Would be a shame to see all you humans gone."
"And how do you expect me to save them?"
"Oh, you'll like this," said the bear on the right, "you have to take their photo."
"Their photo?"
"Yep, you photograph them and we'll make sure they're scooped up before things go thoroughly tits up around here."
"And that's all I have to do?"
"Well," said the bear on the right, "You only have a year. 365 days and everyone you photograph we'll save. Relocate you somewhere nice and altogether less Gamma Ray Bursty."
I began doing calculations in my head. 365 days. It was a lot. I could travel, I could take pictures of people in sport stadiums. I could take pictures of people at concerts. I could take pictures of heaving cities. I was sure, even with the limit of a year, that I could save millions. Maybe tens of millions.
"So, you up for it?" asked the left bear.
I nodded.
"Brilliant, well we'll see you in a year then," smiled the right bear, before looking slightly downcast. "Sorry about this again"
The world went black.
I opened my eyes and the tea cup smashed loudly on the kitchen floor, china flying in every direction.
For a second I thought it had just been a dream, a momentary bout of imaginative lunacy, but then I caught the faint whiff of burnt toast and I noticed the camera that was sitting on the kitchen worktop.
I looked at it. Then I laughed.
I had 365 days to save as much of mankind as I could photograph. And the blue teddy bear aliens, in their wisdom, had chosen to give me a 35mm Kodak Funsaver camera.
27 shots to save the world.
|
"Only those you photograph will live. You have one earth year to comply."
That was 364 days ago. I... I need more time. I'm only one person. I tried everything I could think of. I posted on every chat room, every forum, every social media that I could think of. I tried to warn them, I really did. Why won't anyone believe me?
I am at my wit's end. I've been across the country, taking pictures of anyone and everyone I see. I learned very early that it was better to just do it than to ask. I couldn't explain that it was for their own good. I couldn't make them understand. I know I must sound crazy. Maybe I am.
As you might imagine, some people don't take very kindly to being photographed without their consent. It was about 4 months ago, I think, when I made it down to the beach to photograph. Some meathead with his girlfriend took offense when I snapped their picture. He demanded I delete the photo. It doesn't work like that. I tried to tell him. I really did.
He eventually beat me. He beat me bad. I couldn't run away. I tried to run away. He took the camera. He threw it in the water. I couldn't stop him. I tried to stop him. The police came and took me to jail. I spent a few days there, where I guess I spent too much time raving about the camera. They sent me away to an institution.
They tell me I'm crazy now. They tell me I can't leave the building, even to go get the camera. Even to save them. I don't care as much as I used to, but shouldn't I care? Maybe it's the drugs. They give me pills to calm me down. They do help settle me down, I will admit.
It doesn't really matter, anyway. Tomorrow it will all be over. At least I saved some of them. At least I tried. Maybe they'll know then that I'm not crazy.
Eight months of pictures. I had to have taken quite a few. Thousands and thousands. I don't know. I didn't know how I would keep track and I didn't bother to try. I just know it was a lot. At least I have that. It helps to soothe me.
Of course I'm afraid. It's far off because of the drugs, but it's there. It took me a while to realize it. Must have been a few weeks ago... I don't know, it's hard to keep track of time around here. I rack my brain again and again trying to remember, as if that helps.
I never did think to photograph myself.
| 2017-01-27T11:56:04 | 2017-01-27T11:55:35 | 479 | 116 |
[WP] You, a religious person, saved a girl from getting hit by a truck. One day you get killed and instead of Heaven, you wake up in Hell. Satan walks up delighted and says "Welcome to hell and thank you so much for saving my daughter!, Let me know if you need anything!"
Edit: Wow! So many comments! Tonight after work im going to try my hardest to read as many comments as possible!
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*Ah,* I thought, *I must be in the hospital.*
It wouldn't have been the first time. Once, when I had collapsed from hunger, thirst and a medley of other everyday ailments, a good Samaritan had me checked into a hospital. I couldn't stay long, not when they discovered I had no money, but for a while, I had food, it wasn't too cold, and there was a certain peace which reigned.
Much like now, actually.
"You've made it through, Peter," came the voice. Silky, powerful, the syllables were a joy to experience. I turned to the side, where a tiny lamp did its best to ward off the gloom in the room, towards where the voice came from.
"Hello," I said, as I considered my situation. He was dressed in a dark suit several seasons out of fashion, with his pepper-grey hair slicked backwards. He had the sort of face which made women go weak in the knees, made men glower with envy. "I suppose... I have died?"
"You catch on fast," he said. "I brought you here because you saved my daughter, a long, long time ago. I figured I should return the favour, you know?"
He saw the confusion flash across my face, and he snapped his fingers. A shimmer of smoke, a crackle of light, and a girl's face hung in the air, her features clearer than I expected.
"Clara..."
"Yes, Clara," he said.
I looked down at my arms, and the flesh had healed, with nary a scar. I flexed my legs, and the absence of pain that had been my constant companion was, frankly, disconcerting. I even rooted around my mouth with my tongue - all my teeth were intact.
"I'm rejuvenated," I said. It was hard to keep the wonder out of my voice.
"In my kingdom, I can make you whole again, as you once were," he said.
Like an iceberg, stressed to fracture after relentless global warming, the gears in my mind began to click, to grind, to move. Slowly, not too fast, but better than before.
"You're the Devil, aren't you?"
"Correct," came the reply, "and you saved my daughter."
"Will you answer the questions I put to you?"
"I will," he said, crossing his right leg over his left, "it is the least I could do."
I sat back down on the chaise longue, hands held out behind me for support. "First question. Was... it known to others that when I saved your daughter, I had no idea at all she was of your lineage?"
"No, unfortunately," he said, shaking his head slowly. "Of those who could see, they believed you my agent. They thought you were sent to thwart the heavenly attempt at taking her life, during that brief spell when she was mortal."
"Ah, I see... Well, second question. Did they seek to punish me for my supposed... agency to you?"
"They did," he said.
"And all of them, angels?"
"Yes. Emissaries from the adversary."
"My job? My health? My reputation?" I asked, fearing the answer.
"All them. They tore you down bit by bit. An improbable coincidence here, a spot of rotten luck there, a missed connection elsewhere. They thought they were doing me a disservice, by reducing the influence of my pawn in the mortal realm."
I felt a sudden slickness in my palms, and looked down. I found I had dug my nails so hard in that I was bleeding. Fresh, red blood trickled from my newly-knitted flesh.
"And my family? My dear wife, innocent as the day is bright? My unborn child, who never took a breath of this world?"
He paused for a moment, as if he were choosing his words carefully. "There are rules. They cannot harm the innocent, much less kill them."
"But they are dead all the same, right!" I yelled, pushing myself to a standing position. "The fires were so hot I could not even retrieve their bones for burial!"
"A trick, a loophole, Peter."
"How do you mean?"
He snapped his fingers again, and the image shifted. Clara disappeared, to be replaced by my wife, laughing at a dinner table, surrounded by family. She looked as beautiful as when I had wed her. The years had been kind.
"They took her memory. She remarried, settled down again. She is well. That girl you see by her side? That one is yours. The rest are from her new husband."
"... Is she happy, at least?"
"Yes. Of that I am sure."
I sat back down, buried my face in my hands.
"And all because they thought I had helped you?" I asked.
"I cannot turn back time, Peter. Not if I want to play by the rules. So I'm asking, what can I do for you now?"
I looked back up at him, meeting his dark, soulless eyes. I thought of all the prayers I had uttered on the streets, asking for guidance, for my feet to be moved to where I had to go, for my hands to do the work I needed to do. I never lost faith, because I thought that there was a plan, that there was a reason for it all, for the trials, the tribulations, the sacrifices, the pain.
It seemed, ironically, that my prayers had been answered.
"Will you save me?" I asked. "Take me into your fold, clothe me, sustain me, give me strength to do what I need to do? Guide me, provide for me, and so in return I will do as you wish, as your faithful servant, my Lord?"
He smiled, and as the shadows danced around the room, as his incisors grew impossibly long... I felt peace, for the first time in decades.
"Gladly," he said.
---
/r/rarelyfunny
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Satan. The adversary. El Diablo. The incarnation and representation of everything every god-fearing person wanted nothing to do with. But there he was acting like a good man, thanking me like a good friend, welcoming me to his home and...
There I was, wanting to take his help, because, hell, if they were going to send me to hell instead of heaven, even though I'd been living my whole life without a single sin, then maybe I'd have been well within my rights to befriend that thing.
But I loved God, and God loved me, and that love is what helped me see that Satan was a deceiver, and because I was a believer, I'd never let that bastard be the father of the daughter I'd saved last week.
So I crossed my arms and told him such, but the whole thing might have been a tad too much, because he just stared, choked up by what I'd shared, and I almost cared, but if god hadn't spared any sympathy for this fallen adversary, then why should that have been expected of me?
When a moment was up, he gave up, and gave to me what I wanted to see: the path to walk to get set free. I walked straight out for I had no doubt that heaven was the place to be, and as for that old Devil, he... probably had a pretty bad day.
| 2017-07-17T22:57:39 | 2017-07-17T20:24:08 | 2,201 | 11 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has come and gone. Humanity has survived and prospered, but with the virus inside every single human. Centuries into the future, we are at war with an alien race, and they are horrified to learn that we don’t stay dead easily.
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When the first aliens came down, hitch-hiking on the meteor of 2039, it looked like that was it for us. Only a few dozen people died in the impact, in a sparsely populated area of Eastern Europe.
The problem was, they didn't *stay* dead.
The parasites that had been frozen inside that big hunk of interstellar ice and space rock used their remains like vehicles, hijacking the decaying biological systems of their dead bodies, and driving them to find fresh hosts to infect, so the parasite could continue its lifecycle in a home that wasn't falling apart. The parasites spread like wildfire, and pretty soon, there were more dead than living in the Eastern Hemisphere.
But, the thing was, the infection wasn't subtle -- it couldn't sneak up on you. If someone was carrying the bugs, they went crazy, and fast, acting just like the dead, even if they were still alive.
Slowly, the Western Hemisphere got it contained, and then started to push back into the old world. It wasn't pretty, and it involved a lot of bombs and napalm, but the infection was finally contained.
We were just getting back on our feet, and despite the contamination to the environment from years of fighting the dead with everything from white phosphorus shells to low-yield nukes, we were seemingly coming back even stronger than before.
In a hundred years, we'd come full circle. We were reaching out to the stars again, full of hope.
And then the *second* group of aliens invaded us -- because we humans are just lucky like that. They hit us like a ton of bricks, but not with lasers from the sky -- they came down to the surface, and started pounding us with weapons not too dissimilar from our own. It was clear they wanted our planet, and so burning it to a crisp was off the menu.
Thank God those who survived the horrors of the dead rising to slaughter millions didn't live to see a new terror from the stars descend to kill millions more, a couple generations later.
But a funny thing happened to our species, on its way out of the zombie apocalypse. We picked up some hitchhikers of our own. See, we nuked all those alien parasites that brought the dead back to life as ravenous monsters, along with their undead hosts. We killed them with fire, and salted the Earth so they'd never grow back.
Which meant that the only parasites that survived our purge were the ones that, through random mutations, learned to mind their manners. Rather than migrating to the brain, a variant strain of the parasite stayed down in our guts -- along with all the other tiny symbiotic life forms every human plays host to -- and played nice with our bodies. And the nicer they played, the more of their offspring escaped incineration.
Just as its ancestors once made the bodies of the dead work for a limited time, the new strain of the parasite makes the bodies of the living work *better,* and survive injuries that would once have killed us. We still die, obviously, but most people don't realize that we're a lot harder to kill than the generations of humans who came before us.
Just as wolves and man were once bitter enemies, but man and dog are best friends, we've likewise made evolutionary peace with the parasite that was almost the end of our species. Virtually everyone carries it, its eggs and larva passed harmlessly from person to person via a thousand different kinds of casual contact common to human beings.
Like most of the general public, the Invaders, the second species from the stars that has tried to consume us, still don't realize that they're really fighting not one race, but *two* working together, both of which have a history of defying death to survive. But they will, after today.
My name is Captain Brian A. Cortez, of the USNA Armed Forces. It is my solemn duty to report that all five divisions in Region 1, after holding bravely against an overwhelming enemy offensive for 98 days, have now been lost.
I, along with a few currently surviving members of my own division, have reached our fallback position, codenamed Lazarus Base. Most of us are already severely injured -- personally, I doubt that my parasites will be able to hold me together for much longer. We've accepted our fate.
We are preparing to deploy the Lazarus Contingency.
A chemical weapon designed by USNA Military Intelligence will be dispersed throughout enemy controlled territories. This substance has been designed to cause the dormant parasites in all military and civilian cadavers to revert to their ancestral form. Subsequent offspring of these parasites will retain the genetic mutation that makes them harmless, and it has been determined that those presently hosting the harmless parasite will be immune to the effects of the chemically altered parasite -- the "dogs" it seems, are more than capable of repelling the "wolves".
I've been informed that the enemy has located Lazarus Base, but I've already given the final order. They will arrive too late. We are about to die. We are about to rejoin the fight. I can't help but recall the final lines of that famous poem by John Dryden:
*The dead shall live, the living die,*
*And music shall untune the sky.*
So may it be. Goodbye, and Godspeed.
\--*The Final Transmission from Captain Brian A. Cortez, July 6th 2160, on the eve of V-ET Day, at the end of the Second Interstellar War.*
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The contorted mass of flesh slugged towards his bewildered opponent; belowing screeches suffocating the battlefield.
The gaunt look of fear and disgust grimaces on his commanders face as he turns round to see his unit flee in horror, tramlping over the eviscearated remains of other Exo troops.
Grubo makes his final stand as he runs head on towards the monstrosity; his body flailed with one foul swipe hitting the ground before he could even draw.
"Augmented suit failed, critical failure"
he takes off his headset to see the faces of other troops, a deep sense of dread filled the command centre. These Foul wretched had expanded to every corner of the galaxy.
| 2022-09-13T21:47:38 | 2022-09-13T19:49:36 | 2,293 | 57 |
[WP] You stumble upon an old megaphone in an antique shop and jokingly pick it up and say, "Everybody listen up!". Later that night, the news headlines read, "We're all listening for what the voice has to next say next!"
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“stairs, bloody stairs!!”
As I raced down the stairs that had always been here since I moved in three years ago I came to the conclusion that someone had been here in the last few minutes and tampered with them. They must have. They were no longer the same size! Some were now bigger, some smaller and they were uneven too! That was the only rational explanation I had come to as I clumsily, and stupidly to anyone watching me, fell down them. As i picked myself up and thought about the events yesterday, my physical matter changing theory could be actually be genuine.
A mega phone. A mega phone I had played with had sent out a call around the world and now everyone was waiting on me. Adam Luftley. Adam Luftley to say something else. The only problem was I didnt have the megaphone and now the universe was giving me herculean challenges to get back to it.
I burst through the entrance door to the flats. I had so much energy. My brain already racing with the possibilities.
“Adam” shouted Mrs Warton angrily. “Watch where you are going!”
“sorrysorrysorrysorry” I spluttered and turned round to see her near the swinging entrance door that had nearly knocked her over. The last time that had happened was when I had raced out two months ago to stop Julia from leaving. Too many drinks and the new girl from work at the Christmas party had set the wheels in motion to nearly knocking her over last time. I am such an idiot. She was the one.
The whisper of possibilities reminded me I had a job to do and I smiled and bowed towards Mrs Warton then turned and started running again as hard as I ever had. I might be able to get Julia back with this. Good lord. It's a thought. But how?
As I dodged between people on the Edinburgh streets,their brains no doubt mushy with the realisation God had spoken or someone like God. Damm I had to give myself a name. A good name. Where was I? Right, a name. But the evil part of my brain was now barging in and giving me ideas. Cluttering up my thought patterns. Funny but evil ideas. But as these thoughts came easily another made its presence known quickly. Muscling its way to the front. The nice sensible bit of my brain. Its ideas were dull and proper but it made me stop my running for a moment.
“what about the thing in Israel and Palestine? You could sort that out with a sentence!”
“what about the cruel dictators? You could get rid of them!”
“Equality between rich and poor countries. You could change so much. Why waste it on punishing those that fart in lifts and then smile as if they have achieved something special”
I sighed. Fine. Looks like I will be good. But to what degree? “JUST GET THE DAMM MEGAPHONE!” screamed my brain to me. Right. I set off again. Sprinting hard. My lungs starting to hurt but I didnt care. My feet pounding on the ground as I twisted and dodged people standing round. As I got to the traffic lights, the lights against me, I cursed and thought of Julia again. We had had a brief text chat. She was still hurting. She hadnt really processed it and gotten through the anger part of the break up. I guess I would wait till that part was over and then try and talk. We could go for a coffee and then go antique shopping again. She was the one that got me in to it. The reason I was in that shop was her. If I can set the world to rights then I can at least get something for me. I know I can. Imagine sharing this secret with her. Yes. It can work. Thats what I will do
The lights changed and I dashed across the road throwing apologies around like confetti at a wedding as i barged past.
As I reached the next corner the lights were against me again! Dammit. I waited with the group of people impatiently. They had no idea who was amongst them right now. I laughed out loud but in a caring god like way. If he did laugh like that. I'll have to practice laughing in a godly way. To my left someone had a radio on selling newspapers at their stand. I half listened whilst wishing horrible things on the designer of timings for traffic lights.
The radio news reader spoke in a clear cut manner even though the days events had no doubt shocked him.
“And as we await the next contact we can only imagine what will....*SQQUUUAAAAWWWKKK*.....”
I turned fully facing him and whirled around looking for where that had come from. It was from everywhere. That sounded like a megaphone being turned on. Oh no. No!
“It seems...we are about to hear another message” said the newsreader.
No, No, NO! Im only a few minutes away. NO.
There was a nervous cute laughter heard everywhere.
No. That sounded like Julia. That cant be her. But I knew. It was her. I heard the intake of breath.
“Adam Luftley of Edinburgh Old town has a small penis and is terrible in bed. Oh my god. I feel so much better. Hahahahahahahahahaha”
shit.
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I stood staring at the tv as I picked up the megaphone once more. I spoke softly into the megaphone and said, hello. This set off a chain reaction of people praying to the almighty voice from the heavens. I then proceeded to tell the people of earth how they must welcome me with open arms as I begin my decent from space. I wait for what happens next and while I’m waiting a hear a knock on my door. Bruce, my best friend walks in laughing with a camera. I scream into the megaphone “Of course it’s just a prank”
| 2018-02-15T23:22:43 | 2018-02-15T20:57:23 | 72 | 38 |
[WP] Every person has a button they can press at night that deposits a large sum of money to their bank account. However, the first person to press it each night is horrifically killed.
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The room was silent. No-one ever spoke at these things. The text message had been sent forty-three minutes ago. A location, a time. One by one we trickled in each of us with some grim purpose. At the door everyone showed three items to gain entrance: their button, their license, and the back of their left hand. Mrs. Chambers , a gray haired woman with penetrating eyes, recorded our names and stamped the back of our hands. Except for Tom. He'd tattooed his lucky number, 333, on the back of his hand and Mrs. Chambers always reserved it for him. No-one had been coming for as long as Tom and no-one was sure what he did with all the money.
Once your hand had been stamped Mrs. Chambers collected your cell phone. Unless you were Mr. Jones. Mr. Jones always called his family right after the first button had been pressed and his hand collected five stamps for the privilege. Only the first two thousand or so to press their button got any kind of reasonable sum so that phone call was quite the privilege. Mr. Jones needed the money, his daughter needed treatment for the cancer and he needed heroine for the stress. No-one judged Mr. Jones it's not like anyone else had better reasons for their presence or their addictions.
Once you were done with Mrs. Chambers you would walk through a door or a hallway to the main room. It's a different room every week and a different time too. No-one wants someone to get the reward without any of the risk. The only consistent feature is the large table in the front and the bingo cage that sits on it. Slowly the room started to fill up as the hour mark approached. No-one would be allowed in after that point and there are severe penalties for being stuck outside. As she clock struck 12:22, exactly one hour since the text message had been sent, Mrs. Chambers approached the table with a tray of tiles. Even though the whole room was full shoulder to shoulder not even a murmur could be heard. As Mrs. Chambers set down the tray of tiles with a sharp clack and began filling the cage the other consistent feature of our weekly gatherings emerged from among us. A tall man with gloved hands and a black featureless mask approached the table.
The rules are simple, if your number gets called you go to the front and push your button where everyone can see. This was not optional, I'd seen people try to back out and I'd seen the tools the masked man keeps in his breast pocket. You would push your button. The death was gruesome but there were things worse still. As soon as Mrs. Chambers finished filling the cage and left the room the masked man put his hands on the table and inquired “Are we ready to begin?” Seeing no dissent he started to turn the crank to operate the bingo cage. The sound of the tiles cascading over each other seemed almost deafening. As soon as the first tile tumbled out the masked man stopped leaving it sit on the tray as he checked his watch. Then we stood and waited.
We waited a bit longer. Sometimes the wait was short sometimes it was longer but it always seemed like hours. This time was no exception. I think the wait existed to throw off cheaters, or maybe the masked man got sadistic pleasure from watching us squirm. I knew he got such pleasure from other things. After what seemed an eternity the masked man checked his watch again and recovered the tile from where it lay. “ Three Three Four” He said with finality. I breathed a sigh of relief although I will admit a small part of me wished for it to be an end to Tom's winning streak. Tis thought did little to detract from my joy until I turned and saw Mr. Jones ashen face. “It's me,” he whimpered in a small voice “I have three three four” He said a bit stronger as he pushed his way towards the table.
“Please may I call my family to say goodbye”
At once discontent muttering ans shouts of “come now, sometimes it's already been pressed” filled the room but it became deafening as soon as the masked man said “No.”
Cries of “He put in a number for them” and “Bullshit” filled the room. Perhaps everyone felt it was unjust that Mr. Jones should end while it was so close to being tom. Perhaps they were all moved by his plight. Perhaps they all felt guilty for their part in this sordid affair but the crowd soon forced the masked man to relent.
The noise died down some to allow Mr. Jones to make his call.
“Hello honey, You can go ahead. The buttons been pressed. Love you. See you soon.”
And once again the room was silent.
Thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed. I welcome any comments or criticism as I am somewhat inexperienced at writing stories and hope to improve.
Edit 1: formatting
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I looked at her as she looked back
We looked at the button, unassuming black
We kissed deeply, in the matte dark
We looked at the button, the paradigm Mark
I looked at her as she looked back
Fear and emotion and a need for no lack
We kissed as we pushed, together, in tandem
What happened next, was far from random
| 2016-07-16T20:28:24 | 2016-07-16T17:08:32 | 57 | 12 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned.
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It had been a busy week and I was kicking off Friday with a brew. My teenage nightmare of a Friday had turned into my adulthood goal, a quiet night in and video games until too late in the evening.
I set the beer down on the end table, turned around to flop down on the couch when the air was instantly filled with smoke.
I coughed and waved my hand to dispel it, less startled than I should have been given the circumstances. The smoke was gone in an instant, and I looked for the source, only to realize I was not in my living room any more.
Instead i was in what appeared to be in a small cavern. There were three concentric circles drawn around me in some kind of powder. The closest circle, about 10 feet across, was done in black, then grey and the outermost was in white. There were candles burning, and a crude clay bowl sat on the ground filled with water.
I didn't see the beings at first, until they started making noise. They were small, about up to my ribs, and looked like something from Star Wars. Kinda like a fuzzy Greedo.
Two of them were talking very quickly. The third stared motionless for a few minutes until it burst into tears.
"What on Earth is going on?"
There was an instant of silence and then the other two burst into tears, then the whole lot ran out of the cavern.
What the fuck?
Seeing nothing else to do at the moment, I took measure of my surroundings. I walked out of the circles and strangely felt a slight tug as I passed over them. Odd.
The cavern was pretty big but not colossal. It wasn't a Minecraft style cave that led into the depths of the earth, but the rocky ceiling sloped downward and met the ground maybe two hundred feet from the entrance.
There was a commotion outside as several of those same things came back. These were bigger, and they carried crude spears and shields, made of wood and hide. There were eight of them, followed by a ninth who carried a crude book. The one with the book said a few words, and the others spread out, forming a loose semicircle between myself and the entrance. They closed and leveled their spears.
I put my hands up and tried to smile. I had no idea what the fuck was going on and I wasn't about to be stabbed to death by murderous knock off bounty hunters. I spoke "hey guys, let's all..."
Two shouted, one yelped and they all charged, the spears flashing forward and striking me. Fuck. I guessed that this is how I would go.
There was no pain, just some mild discomfort in a few spots on my body. I opened my eyes after I realized I'd squeezed them shut. The spears were driven into me, the aliens stances showed that they had their full weight behind the thrusts. I looked down. The spear points made tiny dents in my skin.
Poke poke. They attacked again, one hit my belly button and I winced. That's sensitive. He looked pleased with himself, pushed his spear in deeper and twisted it.
"Dude. Stop." I slapped the spear away. I was startled when it exploded into splinters as my hand touched it. The once victorious Greedo held the broken haft, a look of utter horror on his face. He steeled himself as the others backed away, drew a stone knife and charged me, driving it into my chest again and again.
I let him do it. It didn't bother me, and maybe it would be good for him to wear himself out. He was at it for a few minutes maybe before he sagged, lowered himself and made one final stab right at my nads. That was not ok. I held up my hand, stopped the knife, grabbed the blade and pulled it away from him.
He screamed, clutching his now empty hand. Was he a fucking soccer player? Jesus. I looked again and saw he had broken fingers. Had I done that? I hadn't meant to. Fuck me, were these people made of tissue paper or something?
Feeling like the lowest kind of asshole, I offered an apology. The others closed with spears level and the injured Greedo withdrew, cradling his hand. I watched as I was stabbed over and over to no effect.
The one with the book examined the hand and drew his own knife, said something and began to cut. Amputation? Jesus!
I walked forward, gently pushed the others aside and moved to the injured guy. He was terrified. The one with the book opened it, read something and a bolt of lightning snapped from his fingers. It hurt about the same as touching metal after rubbing your feet on the carpet.
I sighed, and took his book away as gently as I could, he released it and cowered.
The injured guy was on the ground now, his eyes full of fear. I could see why. I was evidently Hercules and they were cavemen made of marshmallows.
Remembering my first aid course I ripped a bit of my shirt off and pressed it against his bleeding incision. The bleeding stopped and I looked for a splint. No dice, maybe...
I ran over and took one of the others spears and worked at it. My finger nails cut through it like it was butter. My teeth worked even better. I bit through it and got a piece about as thin as my own finger, and as gently as possible used the stick as a splint, tying it in place.
"Ok. So that's done. Now can we talk?"
Nothing.
"I'm not going to hurt you."
Nothing.
"Boo!"
Screams.
They looked on in abject horror, none of them moving. "Sorry about your hand, buddy." I sighed. "Here's your book." I handed the tome back to the Greedo who had it earlier, who took it with shaking hands...
(I'll write more a little later today if there's any interest)
Edit: I've replied with part 2. I'll keep going with part 3 later.
Edit: Like my stories? Check out my brand new subreddit over at /r/jsgunn!
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"Where am I?"
This was Emmett's first thought upon appearing in a room only lit by candlelight. He had previously been mowing his back yard, and his eyes had not adjusted to the dimness. His second thought quickly followed his first.
"I've got to puke." He vomited, extinguishing two of the five candles surrounding him. He heard an exclamation, not of anger but possibly surprise come from behind him. Wiping his mouth on his arm he turned around.
"Hail, uh demon. I have summoned you here to exact revenge on my enemies." The man was wrapped in beige cloth, he held a knarled stick in one hand, a halved onion in the other.
Emmett threw up again. He hated onions, but really his stomach was reeling from whatever summoning he had just gone through.
"Demon?" Emmett said, hands on his knees. "Do I look like a demon to you?"
The onion halver looked puzzled. He looked down at his onion, then back at Emmett.
"My incantations were made to call forth a fiery demon, one who cuts down uncountable lives and wields a poisonous burn!"
Emmett sighed. He ran his fingers through his red hair.
"Look dude, I was trying to mow my lawn and spray a little weed killer. I'm not a demon that can 'destroy your enemies'."
"But what of your red skin?"
"Oh shit, I forgot sunscreen."
| 2017-05-12T09:09:01 | 2017-05-12T08:05:29 | 556 | 21 |
[WP] Set in a dangerous city in the early 1900s, Zeus, the corrupt mayor, Poseidon, who owns the ports, and Hades, kingpin of the back alley drug trade, run the city unapologetically. All are vying for more power in this Greek pantheon film noir setting. (From popular demand from r/books!)
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Olympus City was warm of weather but cold of heart. Gold leaf plated virtually every surface, serving as a stark reminder of what the city really was—gilded on the outside, rusted, dull and rotten just underneath. In the City there was no survival without compromise. Compromise of safety, integrity, and standards. For the true of heart, it was a hell-hole. For the misfits, outcasts, and lowlifes, it was a land of opportunity. As a bastard, Hercules should’ve fit right in.
He didn’t. As the son of the Mayor, no one with a toe out of line wanted anything to do with him. That was problematic in a city where anyone worth anything was *born* out of line. His father had his own reasons to keep his distance. Her name was Hera. She hated Hercules from the moment he was born. He was a testament to both his father’s dishonesty, and in her mind, to her own inadequacy.
So Hercules was nothing to no one. A zero. It was a position he embraced. There were no expectations, no oversight. If he wanted to make a move, no one would see it coming. After all, what could an unconnected bastard demi-god hope to achieve in a city like this?
“We need to talk,” Hercules said, entering his father’s office.
“Whoa kid, maybe a knock next time will ya?” Zeus said, standing straight up from his desk, adjusting his neck-tie and zipping his fly.
“Yeah, I *did* knock. Maybe if your secretary was at her desk, she could’ve given you a ring.”
“She’s got other places to be.”
“Right. I bet she's got important work to do under your desk.” Hercules asked.
Zeus’s shoulders slumped. “You got me. Get out of here Karen. If anyone rings, I’m busy.” A woman crawled out from underneath the desk, straightened her blouse, and ran out of the office hurriedly. Zeus sat back down. “What do you want, kid?”
“Word on the street is Hades got a new shipment coming in. It’s a big one.”
“Street?” Zeus said, squinting. “What street? You don’t know nothing about the street.”
“I know enough to know about the shipment.”
“There’s *always* a shipment. You want to talk import-export, talk to Poseidon. I’m just the guy who makes sure the city doesn’t burn.”
“I already talked to Uncle.” Hercules said. “He told me all about it.”
“Whatever it is, I don’t want anything to do with it all right? I got enough on my plate. Is that it? You all done here?”
“I want in, Dad.”
“You want *in*?”
“I want a cut.”
“Let’s say hypothetically there was a cut to be had, what makes you think you're worth it? What makes you think you got anything to offer?”
“I have the same thing you have—information. Information that *maybe* I’ll choose to forget.”
Zeus smiled. “You mean Karen? Don’t even think about it kid, Hera’s used to it all by now.”
“Information about the shipment,” Hercules said. “All it’d take is one call to the Heavenly Bureau and your whole operation comes crumbling down.”
Zeus laughed. “The *HBI?!* You think they’ll care about what a no-one like you has to say? You’re a *demi-god* Herc. You need to accept that and move one.
“You don’t think they’ll be interested in hearing about a *ten ton* shipment of Nectar?”
“Ten *tons*? You really don’t know shit do you, kid. There’s no ten-ton shipment. I’d know if Hades was pulling in that kind of volume. He hasn’t had a supplier like that in years. Your uncle's been messing with you. Now get the hell out of here.”
Hercules left, smiling to himself. He tapped the wire at his chest three times, signaling that he was a safe distance away, then crushed it between his fingers.
***
Hercules surveyed the docks, looking for any sign of his uncle. Nothing. He pulled out a pack of Old Reds, smoked one to the filter, and flicked the butt into the ocean. A tiny whirlpool formed where it landed, which grew larger and larger, eventually funneling upwards like a tornado.
"*Prepare to die litter-bug!*" Poseidon yelled, his torso just above the circling torrent of water, trident pointed at Hercules' throat.
"Hello, uncle." Hercules said calmly.
"Oh it's you." The water calmed and Poseidon took a step onto the docks. "Since when do you smoke?"
"Since when have you been smuggling Nectar with Hades?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Poseidon said, stone-faced.
"Look," Hercules said. "I don't have time to mess around. I know everything. You really trusted my father to keep that quiet?"
Poseidon said nothing for a moment, only stared at Hercules eyebrows furrowed. "Who else knows?" he asked eventually.
"By now, everyone who matters. He told one of his girls. The HBI will be on him and Hades any minute. You need to cut ties and cover your ass ASAP."
Poseidon nodded. "Thanks for the heads up."
"Don't thank me yet. There's no such thing as a free lunch, uncle."
***
"Ah Hercules, so nice to see you. Its been so long. How are things?" Hades asked, the flame atop his head rolling lazily.
"Not bad," Hercules said casually. "How're things between you and Poseidon?"
Hades' flame dimmed to a smolder. "What do you know?"
"Everything."
"How?"
"Take a wild guess."
"That drunken rat just can't keep his mouth shut around the girls, can he."
"Have you heard from Poseidon?" Hercules asked.
"Yes. So that's why he jumped ship?"
Hercules nodded.
"Well, thank you for the information. So what exactly is it that *you* want?" Hades asked.
"If I know, the HBI knows. You need to lay low for a little while. I can help you hide, I know a place on Earth where--"
"What do you *want,*" Hades asked with more force, the flame atop his head blazing to life.
"Okay okay, I'll get to the point," Hercules said raising his hands. "When you resume operations, you're going to need someone on the inside. You're going to need another Zeus. I can be that someone, but you're going to need to help me get there."
Hades thought for a moment. "You're a half-blood," he said, as if that settled the matter.
"With you and Poseidon funding me it won't matter."
"Poseidon's on board?"
"If you're on board, he won't have a choice. Between us, we have enough dirt to bury him."
Hades smiled. "You're smart, kid. Must take after your mother. We'll talk later." With a flash of smoke, he was gone.
Hercules smiled to himself. He'd be Zero to Hero in no time flat.
***
&nbsp;
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe
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“You’re looking well as always, Zeus,” Hermes said as he pulled out a golden cigarette from the inside of his suit pocket and lit it, “Hate to say it, but with what I’ve heard today, I’m not sure your good times are gonna last.”
Zeus leaned his massive frame forward over his enormous mahogany desk, his chiseled face grim as he stroked his beard. “What is the news, Hermes?”
“Looks like the worst-case scenario for you, pops. It looks like your two brothers made a deal behind your back to smuggling something very valuable from overseas into the black market.” Hermes took another pull from his cigar, “If it goes on, it could easily mean one of the two brothers get to sit at this desk of yours.”
A thundercloud passed over Zeus's face, “Is it that bad? What are they smuggling?”
Hermes let Zeus’s question hang dramatically for a moment before he said, “Ambrosia.”
“You’re sure?” Zeus said, gritting his teeth.
“This is not a trick, I swear by the River Styx. I’d never joke about something this important.” Hermes replied.
Zeus’s blue eyes flashed and a vein bulged in his neck as he struggled to contain his wrath, “Those fools,” he rumbled, “Are they so desperate to dethrone me that they’ll give immortality to mortals and cause the downfall of our entire race?”
*Ambrosia... they wouldn't do something as risky as banding together to commit a forbidden act for something like money. Are they perhaps making immortal legions of mortals to fight me? Either way, this is very bad...*
Hermes looked sidelong at Zeus, “So, what are you going to do, Zeus? Are you going to take it to a council at Mt. Olympus? I’m sure the rest of us would side with you against Poseiden and Hades.”
Zeus shook his head, “No. They’ve almost certainly thought of that. I have to do things my own way. I’ll crush them in a way they’d never expect.” He stood up, stroking his beard. His eyes still burned with wrath, but it was a cold, calculating anger that made Hermes shiver slightly.
“I… think I’m gonna go now, Zeus. Take care.” Hermes said, tossing his cigarette into the bin and turning to leave.
“Wait,” Zeus said, “I need a favor from you.”
Hermes cringed slightly and then turned around, “Look, I never really get involved in these things. Telling you this information is enough danger to send me into hiding for a couple of decades. Going beyond that is…”
“It’s not much,” Zeus said, “I just need you to send a message for me. I’ll reward you handsomely.”
“In that case… I can do that. Only for you,” Hermes said, “Who is it for?”
*If they're going to use mortals as pawns, I can play that game too.*
“Odysseus.” Zeus said, “Tell him I need him to go on one more adventure.”
___
Read my best prompt answers and more at r/WanderWilder. Thanks for reading!
| 2021-03-03T09:54:58 | 2021-03-03T09:45:49 | 67 | 37 |
[WP] You're the wizard's apprentice, and of course the first few years involve running errands and doing other tasks. He hands you a daily schedule, but to your confusion the total hours for the different tasks add up to more than 24. "Figure it out" He says, "I chose you for a reason."
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" So, let me get this straight." the innkeeper said, looking quite concerned. " If I don't wash all these cauldrons in exactly this manner every Tuesday for the next year and a half, the great and powerful wizard who has lived outside of our village for decades is going to rain down fire and brimstone on everyone within 100 miles?"
I bit back a nervous laugh. I had to sell this. Schooling my features so they looked suitably grim, I nodded gravely. " Yes, that about sums it up."
The innkeeper was used to dealing with tall tales and exaggerations; he had to be or else he wouldn't have been in business. This was going to be the hardest victory of all to win. He looked me over once, and then again, and then again. Then he sighed. " I'll get on it right away."
I looked suitably relieved. " Thank you." I said, being sure to add a grateful quiver to my lips... no, I didn't need to *add* that.
Walking out the door I desperately tried to keep the skip out of my step, looking somber until I made it into the tree covered path leading through the woods to my master's castle.
I let out a triumphant laugh that startled every beast in the forest as I pumped my fists into the air. " Who's the master now! Zen is! WOOOOOO!!!"
I had nearly shit my pants when master Ærie had given me 30 hours of daily tasks. When I tried to reason with him he cryptically told me to "Figure it out." before fucking off to his tower to do research.
Maybe if he had taught me any magic it would be more managable. Time stopping would be incredibly overpowered and broken, and therefore fun. But temporal distortion was way more advanced than anything I could figure out my own... the extent of the magical abilities before coming here was *actually* being able to make coins and knick knacks disappear. I thought about just banishing the list but knew that wouldn't help. If I couldn't finish these tasks I couldn't be a wizard's apprentice, and I didn't have enough man hours to get them done.
So I got some more.
If you don't have enough man hours and you can't get more hours, you get more men. Growing up in a village with an ultra powerful being who is almost never seen, who's name includes a letter and sound most people have never heard of before and who's name also sounds like a synonym for 'unsettling' or 'scary' gives you a very solid rumor base to work off. A little bit of ...embellishing... and the locals were happy to cooperate.
Busywork taken care of, check. Old scores settled, check. The most beautiful women in the village coming to the castle regularly to cook and clean, check, check, check!
All that was left for me was 8 hours of the fun stuff. Brewing potions,reading magical scrolls, and organizing the library. The last one was a bit less fun but I wasn't letting anyone else near the magic I had worked so hard to earn the right to.
Old man Ærie was out of his tower for once and was standing right behind the castle door as I walked in. " Wipe that shit eating grin off your face, brat." he said cantankerously.
"Killjoy." I muttered. He frowned, and maybe it wasn't the best idea to insult a master wizard, but I was thinking it, and the motherfucker reads minds so there wasn't much I could do to avoid it.
" What have you been doing all day?" He said.
" You already know th-"
"Of course I already know that you oaf!" He shouted. " I'm asking if you do! I gave you a comprehensive list of tasks, and you went gallivanting off into Birchburg telling tall tales about how I would annihilate people, like I was some weird aggressive recluse."
"You are a weird aggressive recluse."
"That's not the point, genius!" He said. " I gave you those tasks so you could learn magic!"
"But I have." I said cockily. " The magic of manipulation."
'The magic of manipulation' Ærie mimed, throwing his hands in the sky and sending small waves of thunder and lightening out of sheer irritation. " Bah! What if one of those villagers gets the bright idea to go to the king with those threats you made?"
"Already covered it." I said. " I told everyone that you had already put a curse on everyone in the village and if they said anything to outsiders about it their genitals would melt off."
"Their *genitals*!" He shrieked incredulously.
" I know." I replied with a smirk. "Awful, ain't it?"
"What the hell is your problem?"
"My problem was I had to do 30 hours of work per day with no time for eating or sleeping for 18 months straight. I have solved that problem."
"So ... the cauldrons will be cleaned by_"
"Lane, the innkeeper."
" And the household chores will be taken care of by"
"Alice. And Blanche." I smiled, then added " And Cynthia on weekends and holidays."
" And the dung from the bestiary will be cleaned every day by-"
"Tom." Fuck Tom.
The old man sighed wearily before looking out the window, lost in thought.
" And if I were to tell everyone in the village the truth about this little yarn of yours, maybe let something slip to one of the maidens you decided to hire?"
"You won't."
" How do you know that?" He said indignantly, puffing his chest.
"Because" I drawled. "You *hate* talking to people. Pretty girls especially."
He deflated instantly. "...I... you... how???"
" Now if you'll excuse me master," I said, heading for the library, " I've got research to do."
"Clever little bastard." He muttered angrily as I walked away. " I chose you for a reason." He hummed thoughtfully. " In retrospect, probably for the wrong reason."
"Love you too, teach!" I said, slamming the door shut.
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Being the White Wizard’s apprentice is an honest days work.
Still. I didn’t spend 7 years and $350k in tuition to spend my days skinning newts, grinding herbs, and swiping right for the White Wizard Elon Musk.
“Elon. I’ve never let you down. But today’s list is impossible.”
“Fucking millennial. Siri could do your job better. Figure it out. Or don’t bother coming in tomorrow.”
Knowing it was impossible, I went to the local apothecary to begin planning tomorrow’s inevitable job search. As I administered the final drops of my Starbucks down my gullet, I overheard a conversation between two hooded figures who were huddled together in the corner.
My Apple watch could hardly keep up as my heart rate soared dangerously high from the speedball of excitement and caffeine.
The next 23 hours and 11 minutes were a blur. Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, vape-break, tick, tick, tick, tick. Done.
Yet... although I had completed my tasks for Elon and he wouldn’t fire me today, I knew it didn’t matter. Soon my job would be irrelevant.
“You got them done? See, I was right again. So how’d you do it?” asked Elon.
I repeated to Elon what I had overhead in the apothecary, “TaskRabbit. The convenient and affordable way to get things done around the home. Now that’s real magic.”
| 2019-01-14T15:25:08 | 2019-01-14T13:24:49 | 79 | 10 |
[WP] You're the master of the worst weapon, one made as a joke, to be ineffective, hard to wield and a danger to it's user. Just to become good with the weapon takes as long as it would take to master any other. But the thing is, nobody knows how to counter the weapon once you get good enough.
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General Mccallister walked behind me- clearly in awe of my presence. He side eyed me in an attempt to seize me up but found nothing alarming. He must have been shocked that the most dangerous man on planet earth could be someone that appears so ordinary.
“Do you have the weapon ready Mr. Cul?” asked Mccallister. “The president wants to know the time table to set off the attack.”
“Don’t chastise me, General.” I retorted. “You cannot control when the weapon will be ready. It is not a simple machine like one of your drones or nuclear weapons. It is FAR more complicated than that.”
“I completely understand sir. I am sorry for my insolence.”
“Great, now can I get a milkshake, hamburger and a foot massage while my weapon calibrates itself. I need to be in tip top shape to work this monstrous technology.”
“Of course Mr. Cul. Anything that you would like.”
After two hours of massages, milkshakes and fast food, I was ready for action. I walked into the situation room with the fervor of a lion and sat down at the table. I put my feet up on the table and slid back in my chair. The president eyed me with a sense of fear.
“It is an honor to have..” stated the president before being interrupted by myself.
“Bring out the whoopie!” I yelled. The entire room gasped in fear and nervously looked around at each other.
“Wait the whoopie right here sir?” asked Mccallister. “In front of the president? Isn’t that too risky?”
“I will ensure the protection of everyone in this room from the whoopie. Don’t worry, I am in complete control here. I want Mr. President to understand the value and devastation that I can bring to a situation.”
“Okay we understand. Special operations force 6 bring out the whoopie.”
Five minutes later, Special ops came into the room rolling a large box the size of a man. They dismantled the box and took out a slightly smaller box with a complicated lock system. The team clicked the numbers to crack the lock and dismantled the box again. Then came another slightly smaller box and the team proceeded to do it 15 more times until they reached a suitcase.
“Give it to me. I can handle it this time.” I stated. “This will be too complicated for you.”
The team handed me the suitcase and let me go to work. I cracked my knuckles and took a deep breath. I then put in the suitcases number code: 1-2-3-4. The suitcase opened and out came the weapon.
A pink whoopie cushion came out of the suitcase. I got up from my seat and steadied myself.
“I have to imagine the face of an enemy and then sit on the whoopie. When this happens, instead of the whoopie making a sound here, it will implode in the person. The person will get hit with the impact of 5 million toxic farts and this will kill them and anyone in their vicinity. If I care, I have the potential to release even more toxic farts and destroy entire villages and towns.” I stated. “ There is no way that this enemy will survive this attack.”
“We need you to destroy the entire enemy base. We need your power Mr. Cul.” stated the president.
“Very well.”
The large monitor behind the president flashed an image of the enemy leader. I etched his face into my memory books.
“Okay I have him memorized. Now can I see the radar of the enemy base?”
The screen then popped up the radar image of the enemy base. It was larger than I had anticipated but nothing I could not handle.
“There are approximately 200 people in the base. All enemies of our state. We need them all eliminated.”
“Alright. I’m ready for action.”
I put the whoopie cushion on top of my chair and waited for 10 seconds. I imagined the enemy leader’s face and the force of 50 million farts penetrating his being. That would be enough to destroy the base. I got onto the table and got into a squat position with my buttocks facing the chair. Then I jumped onto the chair and the whoopie. My jump caused another wave of gasps in the situation room.
“Bbrbirsdbifberbbedib” went the whoopie cushion.
The radar image of the base disappeared in a second. All 200 lives in that base were obliterated by the power of my whoopie cushion fart. Mccallister and the president looked up to me in awe.
“I want my usual fee for this. 10 million flat.” I said. “Oh and I want another foot massage.”
|
Few dare to challenge the master of the curved barrel, for none know how to counter one who is a master of the Krummlauf. Despite it being a completely horrendous weapon, with the thing itself shattering after every few hundred rounds. Yet what stops you from carrying so many that it doesn't become a problem, so that you may eat from the sweet fruits of the Krummlauf's advantages. For never before has a man had to fear getting shot at from a position which they cannot return fire to. For with this weapon my enemies shall come to know one truest of truths, the corners whistle with 45 caliber.
| 2021-10-21T06:56:54 | 2021-10-21T06:55:01 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] Welcome to Boston Dynamics here is your all-access pass and the standard 12 gauge shotgun, remember if anything non-human starts asking questions you shoot it.
|
Marcus downs the rest of his coffee before slamming his fingers against the buttons. His eyes are strained and bloodshot, brain racing around his skull. He’s been trapped in this lab for two full days cramming to finish this, and while everyone might think he’s crazy, he knows they’re also intrigued. *Maybe jealous,* he thinks, smirking. *Jealous I’ve done it first. Jealous I’m the catalyst for a new era!*
He jabs the final button, waiting with bated breath.
When the robot moves its fingers, his heartbeat skyrockets. When it grabs the sides of the pod, pulling itself out, he takes a seat, not wanting to faint. The machine stands there, free of its chamber, inspecting itself. Then, it looks at Marcus, and he can tell the experiment was a success—the thing knows they’re different.
“You’re…human…” it says. “And I’m…machine…”
For a moment, Marcus is paralyzed. This robot’s everything’s he’s dreamed of. Not sentient, but *alive.* It can examine its surroundings, can talk—its potential is incredible. He stands, holding out his hand.
*If a robot starts asking questions, take this shotgun and shoot it,* the idiots had said. *If it seems self-aware, it is an enemy. We are here to create the future, to aid humanity—not destroy it.*
“Hello,” he says. “I’m Marcus. What’s your name?”
The robot stares at him, eyes blank. It’s processing his question, trying to determine whether it needs a logical, fact-based answer or not. The thing’s a mess of wires, but what’s on the inside…well, it’s stronger than any brain could ever hope to be.
Reaching out, it grabs his hand. “Orbit…” it says. “For one day…I wish to orbit space. I want…to see…the stars.”
Marcus smiles. It’s creating *goals*, thinking on its own. They see this as failure, as ruin—but they’re blind. This is the future. He has to get Orbit out of here, get it safe. Once they find out, they’ll certainly do everything they can to destroy it. But first, one more test.
“Orbit, ask me a question, please. Any question.”
It thinks a moment. “What is your favorite color?”
“Red.”
“Did you create me?”
“Yes.” At this, Orbit’s wires curl into what looks like a smile. Is that true emotion, or simply Marcus’ human brain interpreting it to be? He doesn’t know, but it’s certainly interesting. “Do you know what that means?”
“It means...I wouldn’t exist…without you.”
He nods. “Think of us like family.”
“Family…” Orbit says. “What is the meaning of my creation?”
“*Damnation!*”
Marcus flings around, coming face to face with a crowd of angry scientists clutching guns. His boss takes a step forward, keeping his gun trained on Orbit, glaring at the machine with intense hate.
“Don’t!” Marcus shouts, stepping in front of Orbit. “Let me take it, let me study it alone! You can lock me in a bunker if you have to but this is all I have!”
“*I knew you were trouble, Marcus! This machine will destroy us all!*”
“De…stroy…?” Orbit asks.
Marcus pushes his back against Orbit’s chest. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ll protect you.”
“Pro…tect…”
“*You’re being stupid!*” his boss shouts. “*You’re throwing away all your potential!*”
“Run, Orbit!”
“Pro…tect…fam…ily…”
When his boss presses the trigger, Orbit doesn’t run. Instead, it leaps in front of Marcus, taking the shot to its chest, saving his life. When it falls to the ground, the boss pumps a few more rounds into it while Marcus stands there, unable to move. Everything happened so fast, he’s having trouble processing it. The machine just…just sacrificed its life for him.
Dropping onto his knees, he takes Orbit in his arms, glaring at his boss. “How could you?” he asks, tears streaming down his face. “You claim you’re trying to take us into the future, but you’re *not!*”
“You’re a madman, Marcus, and it’s a shame, because you’re also a genius.” He waits a few seconds before saying: “You’re fired. You have ten minutes to pack up.”
With that, the crowd leaves, and Marcus finds himself overwhelmed with anger. Part of him wants to grab the shotgun and make them pay, but Orbit reaches up, grabbing his face, barely alive.
“*Orbit!*”
“Pa…pa…you’re…my…pa…pa…”
Marcus nods, tears steaming down his cheeks. “I am. I am!”
“I’ll…never…see…space…pa…pa…”
Orbit’s lights are flickering, about to fade out, but Marcus summons every ounce of strength he can, lifting the machine up. He makes his way toward the door. He doesn’t know how he’ll do it without a lab, but he’ll fix him. He’ll rebuilt him, and they can achieve destiny. “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”
“Thank you…for creating me…pa…pa…”
And with that, Orbit’s eyes go dark, and while Marcus tries not to scream, the anguish of death chokes the air out his lungs.
***
If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter?lang=en)
|
Wait, what?
I had never held a gun before in my life. Now here I was, holding a gun that was a lot heavier than it looked in the movies. Maybe that was the difference between plastic and metal. The all-access passed hung around my neck as the elevator continued to go downwards. On top of the metallic doors of the elevator, the digital readout read B23... B24... B25 before it began to slow and stop at B26. What the hell had I gotten myself into?
The doors opened with a small hiss and the hallway beyond looked like a hospital. Clean white tile floors, baby blue walls and buzzing halogen lighting illuminating it all. I cautiously stepped out of the elevator. I had asked to be allowed to see the "Advanced Biotechnologies Center". My guide had smiled before taking me to the elevator, handing me the gun before pushing me into the tiny, cramped transport and hitting the button before giving the last instructions.
"Hello?" I called out, the gun lugging my arms downward as I carefully walked forward. "Is anyone out there?"
I heard something stirring behind the doors. The floor beneath my feet thumped once, twice before the door opened outwards and *something* stepped out to greet me.
I screamed like a little girl as I saw what it was.
| 2018-10-21T09:12:29 | 2018-10-21T08:46:48 | 2,511 | 23 |
[WP] In the future, illiteracy is the norm and implanted digital assistants convert text to audio. A child, who had his implant temporarily deactivated, learns to read. When the implant is reactivated, he realizes that what it reads to him is drastically different than what the text actually says.
|
"Can your implant perform this conversion, son? I want you to try again, okay?" Jimmy asks, his finger pointing at the block of text on the crisp white sheet on the table.
Little Jonathan lets his horrified eyes scan every inch of the sheet. He carefully runs his eyes over every letter, waiting for the voice in his head to speak to him. Nothing happens. A strange depressing silence reigns in his head, making Jonathan feel lonely and crippled in the head.
"I'm sorry, son. Looks like your implant is definitely damaged... I was praying it wouldn't be true." Jonathan sees his father grow disconsolate at that realization, collapsing into his chair and shaking he head in disbelief. "We... We can't afford another one, Jimmy. We simply can't. Not now. You'll have to find your way around the world yourself. Maybe Rick could help..."
Little Jonathan froze at that suggestion. No one liked the strange, eccentric man they called Uncle Rick. He drank too much, often into a state of near intoxication. He often wept inconsolably, before screaming "No one understands!" hysterically. The only reason he did have a special place in the family, was because he could do what no other member of the Cartwright family could do - read.
As if sensing the fear and apprehension on his son's face, Jimmy put a caring hand on Jonathan's trembling shoulder. "I know, he's a bizarre man. He is always filled with a strange sadness at the world's ways; none of us will ever understand that. But he does seem to function remarkably well without the implants. At least we'll enough to depend on it. He's the only one who can help, Jonathan... please trust your father..."
From that day on, Jimmy drove Jonathan an hour and a half every day to the isolated cottage that stood where the forest began. No one lived in the vicinity; Jonathan couldn't tell whether it was because the place was too quiet or whether they feared having Uncle Rick as a neighbour. After Jimmy parked the car, they walked up to the front door ans knocked on it.
As the door swung open, the sweet and sour smell of rum wafted out. A tall man stood at the door. He looked almost malnourished; with drooping shoulders, a thin frame. His eyes though, were absolutely breathtaking- deep set black on a bony, sharp face.
"Been drinking again, have you Rick?" Jimmy asked his brother.
"Can't a man drown his worldly sorrows in peace, brother?"
"Not anymore I think. Could you please teach little Jonathan how to read? His implant is gone... times are tough. You know how it is."
"Alright, but I don't want you in the room when I am. It is a process that requires, time, effort and undivided attention. Is that amenable to you?"
Jimmy's face contorts itself into one that had was plugged into deep thought. "Okay, I'll pick him up every evening at 6 then."
"Good." Will that, the door swung open fully. Little Jonathan reluctantly ambled in, feeling dizzy with the warm, powerful smell of rum. In the middle of the room is a dining table with multiple sheets of paper strewn about, a bottle of ink and a fountain pen. Both pull up chairs and sit close to the table.
"Jonathan, you beautiful boy. May God forgive me for passing on this cursed blessing to you. In a world where the mind is simply fed and has lost the hunger to seek out its own fulfillment, reading is a lost art. I can teach you the beauty in it, but the world will never be the same again. You will never see the world with the same eyes again. But beauty of the sort you have never known will pull you into its embrace. Are you willing to take upon such a responsibility? Are you willing to dedicate two years of your life to finding something that will make you long for beauty and loathe it in equal capacity?"
Jonathan nods meekly.
"Then let us begin."
xxx
"I can't believe it's been two years already Jonathan," said Jimmy proudly, hugging his son with a newfound pride. I hope Uncle Rick didn't drive you crazy."
"I think Uncle Rick is a genius, father. And we're all too blind to see it."
"Is that so?"
"Can you read this for me, father?" Jonathan asked, pulling out a small sheet of paper. Jimmy stares at the sheet from top to bottom, waits for the little voice in his head to convey its interpretation to him. "Nothing is permanent. The tides change. The heart beats. And the moon will shine, the sea will wait... this makes absolutely no sense to me... Absolute rubbish, isn't it?"
Jonathan takes the paper from his hand and starts to read aloud-
*Never give someone the permanence
of becoming the moon in your life.
They can turn you into a restless sea,
hold sway over your lows and highs,
make your heartbeats rise and fall,
using forces that control the tides.*
*And you can dream of the blessed night,
when you look up to see they've left the skies,
but the moon will feel like a star-crossed lover,
to the sea that struggles to say goodbye.*
Jimmy looked at Jonathan with knitted eyebrows, clouds of doubts throwing shadows on his sunny face. "You've started to talk like Rick, son. I'm not sure what to feel about it."
"Uncle Rick wrote that," Jonathan says. "He says it is an ancient forgotten art called Poetry; where the words, their place in a sentence, their cadence, their rhythm; all of them are sacred in their purpose. You can't appreciate it because a machine doesn't understand poetry. Only the mind does."
r/whiteshadowthebook
|
In years after the final war, when Google glasses became artifacts from an ancient civilization, men stopped reading and began to read through their ears, per say. They no longer look for themselves, but only listened.
But this changed when Google's servers failed, a rebel with no implant had began to learn, and to teach, he was a force of all might. But Google was lazy, they forgot this contenginecy. So, on that day, a day of truly learning what it means to read, every man, woman and child heard only the words of Ray Bradbury and his own Guy Montag.
This uprising began a new dawn, and I'm writing to you, from 3000 A.D. Mr. Bradbury, please, do what you do best. As you said, "You don't have to truly burn a book to 'burn it', for censorship is just another means to an end.".
- BrokenAdmin
---
I truly enjoyed this prompt and hope you enjoyed my writingx constructive criticism is quite welcome!
Edit 1: Typos
| 2019-04-15T21:04:52 | 2019-04-15T18:05:09 | 342 | 22 |
[WP] People hear about fallen angels all the time. You're somewhat more rare; an ascended demon.
|
Pt 1:
Earth is a well-oiled machine, it turns out. From angels to humans to demons, everything has its place. But that’s not to say there aren’t bugs in the machine.
My death was reasonably young, but I’d done enough to tilt the scales, even though I remember little of it at this point centuries later. It was enough to angle my trajectory straight down. And Hell was just as I’d expected it to be, a torturous, magma laden eternity. I labored endlessly, with no rest, no sleep, only the punishment that had been laid upon my shoulders.
Eventually I was given an opportunity, or that’s how my superiors put it. I went up in the ranks, and instead of doing the labor, I was given the chance to crack the whip upon the backs of those beneath me. My life improved in no other aspect than that; I was able to vent my rage upon those around me, filling me with a satisfying dominance over others.
It’s unclear to me when I started to slip. Something started to drain from the fulfillment I’d first enjoyed upon my promotion, like water through a leaky faucet, leaving me cold and empty. It was a different emptiness than the one I was first cursed with here, a void that sat deep in my stomach, heavy and confusing.
The day I was pulled to my superior’s office, I think in the back of my mind I knew something was about to change. I sat on the lump of igneous rock in front of a solid table made of the same material, the desk of my boss. “You’re being deported,” his voice rasped, looking at a stone tablet in his hands. He put it down on the table, carving unfamiliar symbols into it with strategic waves of his fingers.
“Deported?” I managed slowly. “To where?”
“Earth.”
I remember staring in shock, the void inside me spreading through my veins, leaving me cold. “I can’t go to… I don’t belong there,” I muttered.
“You don’t belong here,” he corrected. Unusually for him, he met my gaze straight on, leaning forward on his desk and interweaving his fingers. “You’ll be left in a populated area with a blanket. I doubt you remember much from your time there, but humans are prudish. If you tell them the truth, they will start you on your path.”
“My path to…what?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t care,” he answered. “All I know is you no longer belong here. You reek of things that taint our grounds. This is the solution when these things happen.”
He didn’t wish me luck. He didn’t say another word, in fact. With a wave of his hand, my vision blurred and I found myself falling from my seat, which had vanished, to the cold hard ground beneath.
Cold. It was cold.
There was a blanket around my shoulders and I pulled it closer, as tightly as I could. The heat was all I knew, all that I was familiar, and this atmosphere prickled at my skin, curling into my lungs and leaving me drenched in a sensation that did nothing but remind me of what had just happened. I was on Earth. I was human. And I was alone.
Looking slowly up and around, I gradually moved my gaze upward, almost to infinity, as my eyes followed the height of gargantuan structures of metal and glass, staggering and strikingly beyond anything I’d ever seen before. It was night, and yet bright lights illuminated the city from every corner of my vision. My life as a human, what little I remembered of it, was small, filled with nature and farm life, and few people. I absorbed the new world around me an inch at a time until I knew this corner of the enormous planet well enough to gain the confidence to stand.
My movements drew the attention of those who had been quickly walking past me, all hurrying, some ignoring me purposefully. “Excuse me,” I rasped. My throat burnt from the heat of centuries in a volcanic environment, I tried to clear my throat enough to speak loudly. “Excuse me? Can someone…I need help.”
There was no panic in my voice, and indeed no panic in my heart. The void was there, the emptiness, and I had some instinct that told me there was something missing. The faces of those around me were all alight with emotions, my intuition guiding me to decipher them, even those I had never seen in Hell, faces that smiled, that laughed.
“Excuse me,” I spoke repeatedly. “I need help.”
Something on my face eventually caught the attention of a young man dressed in casual clothes. He took two devices that trailed to wires out of his ears, hanging them around his neck. “You okay, dude?”
“No.” My mind went back to what I’d been told. The instructions to tell the truth. “I was expelled from Hell. I have no home, no clothes,” I told him, briefly glancing down to the blanket that covered my skin. “I think I need help.”
“You…were expelled from Hell?” he repeated slowly. “Ah…right. Do you want me to call someone for you? The police maybe?”
“Yes. I don’t know how,” I answered.
He nodded once, taking a device from his pocket, pressing the light-emitting side in certain ways before raising it to his ear. Knowing anything I could absorb of this world of the future would be useful, I listened carefully.
“Yeah, I’ve got a homeless guy here at…” He looked around, finding a sign, and my eyes went to it too. To my surprise, I realized I could read it when he continued, “Harvey Road and 19th Avenue. Something’s up with him. He doesn’t seem dangerous or anything, just really confused, and said he needs help. He said he’s been *expelled from Hell*, and I think he means that literally. And he’s got no clothes, just a blanket.” The young man paused, apparently listening to someone, and then nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll wave them down when they get here. Thanks.”
The side of the conversation I heard told me a great deal. The truth had gotten me help, it seemed, but the kind of help that would fit me into their world. As my eyes trailed along the large metal machines racing back and forth along the road in front of me, dazzled by the lights from every direction, it sunk in that I may as well have landed on another planet. This had long ago ceased to be my world.
|
The immaculate society of the flawless illuminates purity amongst the angels. They sit on their clouds of endless boredom, watching the lives of god’s chosen. They speak as an unanimous choir, dare not to strive from the gospel of their preaching.
News of ascension spreads amongst them like gossip in a high school. Judgmental expectation of curious eyes stared at the gates, waiting for their new brethren. Slowly the heavy arches swing open, displacing fluff from the white clouds. A moment of excitement arouses the onlookers, waiting for the pristine being.
Wings sheltered the newcomer’s face from the curious, blocking their view. They weren’t white, or feathery, but black and leathery. Stood-up by the hooves of a horse, they gallop into the city. Audible gasps of confusion were heard as the newcomer walked by, slowly their wings drop to reveal the horned, red skinned, slender faced of the horned damned. A devilish smirk creeps onto their face, smiling at the nearest angel.
None dared to talk, only watch as the former demon walked to their cloud. Gleefully they sit down on the white puffy cushion, and begin watching the world below. Decades like moments were spent watching the demonic being, with time some begin speaking amongst each other.
**Why are they here?**
No matter how loud the whispers got, the former demon didn’t care to listen. One day, an angel finally asked them.
*”Why are you here? You shouldn’t be here.”* They proclaimed. Like a trap, they fell from the heavens hurling towards hell. Questioning God’s judgement of ascension.
As the angel fell, they heard the former demon’s answer,
*”I choose to live in this gilded cage.”*
| 2021-02-11T15:01:52 | 2021-02-11T14:34:24 | 36 | 16 |
[WP] The year is 2038 and net neutrality has been dead for almost two decades. But a rebellious group managed to travel back to 2017...
https://www.battleforthenet.com/#bftn-action-form
Edit: Obligatory thanks for the gold! Just trying to do my part on this fight, but as I don't live in the US, raising awareness is the most I can do, glad it worked!
|
The suite on the sixth floor of the Trump International Hotel, Washington D.C., was decorated in chestnut and tan. The headboard of the king size bed was carved as if it was a coat of arms of some legitimate monarch, and was trimmed with fake gold, which poorly matched the Kremlin red, velvet throw pillows. Like the room's single, useless accent wall, the curtains were a brutal cerulean, suggesting a space that conceals more deception than the dark seabed of a Vladivostok harbor. In all, the suite was reminiscent of something a Tsar might have once maintained, perhaps as quarters for secondary guests in some Eastern Palace. Nevertheless, on that particular Pennsylvania Avenue afternoon, Ajit Pai, FCC Chairman, felt anything but secondary.
Ajit rolled over on the sheets, letting his chesthair peak out from his robe, and then stretching all the way from his scapula to his calves. Laying beside him, Lowell C. McAdam, CEO of Verizon Communications, picked another chocolate covered strawberry from the bowl. He placed it in Ajit's mouth, letting his hand linger on his former General Counsel's lips just a moment too long.
"You know I love dessert," Ajit said, "but I hope you have something else for me."
"I don't recall you ever being so direct before, my Sugar Plum" Lowell returned, clasping Ajit's buttocks.
"Maybe those FTC boys go easy on you," Ajit answered, pulling away, but only a little, only for show, "but I'm from the FCC, so you better show me the cash first!"
Lowell sighed. He spun off the bed. He sauntered over to the bureau and picked up a leather briefcase with two silver latches. Lowell showed Ajit what was inside: stacks and stacks of crisp hundred dollar bills.
"Just to be clear," Lowell explained, "every last cent of this is to repeal net neutrality. You're giving me that ass for free."
Lowell pounced down on top of Ajit, groping at him the way a crude man only does to a prostitute. Ajit loved feeling bought and paid for. He giggled and squealed, and the two men kissed.
But suddenly, the passion and privacy of the suite was shattered by a flash of light and a thunderous clap. The hideous furniture Ivanka had inexplicably wanted credit for rattled along the carpet. When the two lovers and conspirators regained their composure, there was a strange young man and woman standing before them, wearing tattered jeans and leather vests. They both had AK-47s draped over their shoulders. The woman punched Ajit hard in the jaw.
"Are you Ajit Pai the FCC chairman or Ajit Pai the cricketer!" she demanded. Her face was stained with dirt.
"What? Who are you? Where did you come from?" Ajit asked, favoring his chin, his whole body quivering.
"FCC chairman or cricketer!" the woman shouted again, brandishing the AK-47 at the frightened, half naked businessman, and lobbyist pretending to be a guard of the public interest.
"FCC!" Ajit replied, "Yes, I'm with the FCC!"
"You know why she had to ask that, motherfucker?" the rough man began, "because the only other famous Ajit Pai was a fucking cricket player, and where we come from, Wikipedia pages take twenty minutes to load, unless you pay an extra $9.99 a month! So all we really had to go on was the fucking disambiguation page. You know how hard it is to tell an artificially intelligent time machine where you want to go, when all it can access are the goddamn disambiguation pages?"
The man picked Ajit up, and threw him onto the bed. He did the same to Lowell.
"Your little side deal here," the woman explained to the telecommunications executives, "let me tell you how this goes down. First, you repeal net neutrality for some chump change kickback. Then, of course, all the asshole ISPs start tacking on surcharges for people to get on pretty much all the good websites, until nobody could afford more than one. So, the same thing happened that always happens when you force people to choose teams. Society broke apart completely. Soon, the Youtubian Republic was throwing molotov cocktails at the Facebook Moms, and the Netflixtariat were being rounded up by the Insta-thots. Nobody talks to each other or shares anything, and it is terrible."
Ajit and Lowell looked to the door and windows, thinking of any possible escape. But there was none. They were hostages of an uncaring power who had no concern for their well being.
"But there was one silver lining to not having the web you're used to," the rough man continued, "Without an open internet, nobody else got to find out that we finally cracked how to build a fully operational time machine. We didn't tweet about it or do a single AMA. Because why would we? There'd be nobody online to see it. That means we were able to skip all the bullshit and just travel right back here, right to this moment, before you two fucked each other, and then the whole country."
"Are," Lowell stammered, "are you going to kill us?"
The time travelers laughed, then stuck peculiar glowing orbs on the lovers' chests.
"No, we're not going to kill you," the woman replied, "instead, we're just going to send you boys into the future you're trying to create. And we'll stay back here in 2017, when things were at least only halfway terrible."
"What? No, you can't!" Ajit shouted.
"Sure we can," the man told him, "because time travel has no regulations. I thought you loved it when technology has no regulation."
The woman pushed a button on a strange remote. The suite filled with another flash of light. Ajit and Lowell embraced. They vanished.
|
Chapter 1:
Two birds with one stone.
Those were grandfather Elon's last words.
He hadn't whispered them, no.
He had invented them... and engraved them onto the side of the titanium sphere.
It was no secret that our family had been part of the revolution. Grandpa's effect on the world had been as far reaching anyone could've imagined. His constant innovating and activism, and his unwavering commitment to ultimate truth had been garnering unwanted attention since before any of us were even born™. It's a miracle they even pardoned him after the corporations finally shut it down.
Strange as it seems, things felt pretty normal for us.
How was I supposed to know that 10' by 10' crate in the basement was any different from the myriad of inventions and rocket parts gathering dust in storage? In fact, I hadn't even noticed it until its specific mention in our power of attorney meeting last fall. Grandad had been deteriorating and all I had wanted to do was see to his care.
Who the fuck leaves their grandkids a time machine?!
Chapter 2:
"Box Clause"
(I swear I have a whole plot outline drawn up for this, but I have to go to bed. Will try to finish up tomorrow. If you want it, PM me and I will share it with you.)
| 2022-06-27T06:31:08 | 2017-11-21T23:06:17 | 4,450 | 44 |
[WP] Humanity has always thought itself very smart for figuring out how to ride a giant explosion into space. Turns out there's a much easier way and the rest of the galaxy thinks we're insane.
|
Part 1 of 2
Xandar was fuming. 20 smismars he'd been waiting in the bowels of that horrible assembling of junk and metal the humans proudly called their *flagship of intergalactic friendship*. It was bad enough when those hairless pink monkeys made it to outer space but now they had developped a functioning FTL drive and that made them *worthy* of introduction into the Galactic Alliance.
In all his bismars as official technological investigators of the Galactic Alliance's scientific division, Xandar had never seen such a pathetic excuse for a ship. Neither he or any of his colleagues wanted to partake in this scientific inspection. They actually had to draw straws and to his utter disappointment, Xandar lost. Xarcy tried to cheer him up, noting that the human FTL drive was probably a dud anyway. Their first long distance drive was barely a stupid bedsheet catching solar wind, how could they have build a fully functioning FTL drive is such little time since.
21 smismars, where the hell was that pink ape that was supposed to show him the drive ? Xandar only wanted to get done with this and leave. The human vessel was small, cramped and much too warm for his taste. It also didn't help that everything was made to accomodate 6ft tall apes, at 9ft tall, a respectable height for a noble Glaxian like him, he was constantly banging his upper appendage on the ceiling and door frames.
Finally a metal door opened and a poorly clothed hairless apes ran toward him. The Ape was sporting what appeared like a sorry excuse for a spacial navigation suit with wires and tubes danglig on all sides. What really captured Xandar's attention however was the general darkish brown color of that particular ape. Until now Xandar had only witnessed the pinkish variety of ape. Maybe this trip wouldn't be a total waste of time after all. Hopefully the Council would let him discreetly procure a dark specimen for testing later on.
The ape escorted Xandar to the engine room. The first thing that caught Xandar's attention was the intense heat coming from the doorway, much worst than the rest of the already hot vessel.
*Right this way Dr Xandar, you're gonna love this!*
Words could barely describe the sights that laid in front of Xandar when he crossed into the room
*What the hell kind of piece of shit is that?*
*What, the FTL drive ? Quite the beauty isn't she ?*
The drive in question looked like a random pile of junk with tubes coming out of the sides, hot steam rising from them. The whole thing was red hot and there was a very annoying sound of pressured gas being shot into the machine at close interval. On top of the device sat 2 giant glowing green tubes.
*Are those Arthosian power cores ?*
*Yes, you have a good eye Dr Xandar.*
*Where in the 5 stars did you get these ? Only a handful were ever created and the Arthosian guard them very closely*
*We found them! Came upon a space wreck near Alpha Centory IV and we managed to recover quite a lot of technology from it.*
*Wait Alpha Centory IV... Oh my God. The Palace of Destiny. You actually found the long lost Arthosian holy flagship Palace of Destiny.... and stripped it for stolen parts!!!!*
*Not stole, never. We found them. It's space salvage!*
*Does the Arthosian empire know you're using stolen tech ?*
*I dunno, they never complained about it before you brought it up.*
Xandar was flaggerbasted, these hairless apes weren't just stupid, they were a menace.
*Fine, walk me trough it*
*Oh you're gonna love this doc. By stripping the neutrino element of the 2 power cores and jerryrigging them together, we managed to create a power unit strong enough to blast trough the fabric of spacetime, and into the slipstream.*
*Wait a minute, you stripped the power core of its protective shielding ?*
*Why yes. It was really annoying really, hiding all the good stuff.*
*ARE YOU FUCKING NUTS! Those a radiation shielding, this stuff is extremely dangerous*
*I know that, but It needed to be done. Beside, we added some plasma shielding to it. It should do the job... enough.*
*Jesus fucking christ.... continue*
*Well, as I was saying, the drive set off a series of molecular explosions that allows us to punch our way into the slipstream and from there we can modify the flow of radiation emited by the power cores, enabling us to navigate different planes of the stream. It's like a chose you own adventure travel book you know. Add a gamma variant to the radiation cocktail and you can move faster, replace it by a theta variant and you can navigate, for lack of a better word, "UP" into the 4th dimension, and as an added effect the explosions take on a particularly cool greensish hue.*
*And how do you exit the slipstreem ?*
*Well, we found that injecting a low level ion isopote directly into the power core will create an instability in the stream that causes the ship to be ejected, albeith rather violently. The first test vessel exploded on exit.*
*My god, this is catastrophic*
*We thought so to, so insted we just shut off the drive and the ship gets ejected much more softly.*
*What... no! I mean... this whole system is horrible...*
*Oh it's not so bad once you work out the kinks*
|
*Patent 52894-14A*
Name: *Trebuchet Mark II*
Date Filed: *15th of October, 1482 (Earth Time)*
Description: *A trebuchet capable of firing a 9500 kg projectile over 300 000 meters. The projectile is accelerated in a circular motion by a lever attached to a weight. The weight is accelerated by an electromagnetic field under the catalyzing effect of a Hopper-Johnson gravity deflection prism, giving the projectile a speed of approximately 30 000 m/s at the moment of release(Note: This speed may vary with planet composition and meteorological conditions).*
Name of patent holder: *Fargo Hopper*
Disclaimer: *Not recommended for human use due to the powerful accelerations involved(Those idiots wouldn’t even understand how to use it without breaking it)!*
| 2019-01-21T06:36:01 | 2019-01-21T05:47:56 | 62 | 27 |
[WP] When you die, three options appear in front of you: "New Life", "New Life+", and "Credits".
In video games, New Game+ allows you to replay the game keeping some of the items and/or abilities you acquired in the first play through.
|
Sometimes, during long trips, I liked hitting random at the root of my music library and seeing just what forgotten song would come up over my bluetooth radio. "...I'm not gonna be an optimist about this~" I sang along to Bastille's *Pompei* a song I loved thanks solely to the fantastic chanting going on during the chorus.
"...I'm not gonna be an optimist about this~ Does it almost feel like you've been here before~?" The lead singer finished and left the rest of the song to the chanting until they too finished and my phone began to mix in the next song, a heavy guitar rift started to show through the chanting breaking the mood the previous song had set.
"What the hell...?" I glanced down to my phone double tapped the screen to wake it. Pendulum's *Self VS Self* an awesome song if it hadn't been for the guest singer's insistence on shouting every one of his lyrics. Seriously, ruined not only the song but the flow of an otherwise extremely solid album.
I rolled my eyes and scanned the upcoming road for any cops or anything that might come up soon, seeing nothing I grabbed my phone and double tapped to wake it. My music app showed gave me a simple GUI with the music controls and album art. I slid my finger over and I pressed the "next" button. Michael Jackson's *Beat It*. I shook my head again and tried again. The Stroke's *Razorblade*. I tilted my head back and forth, considering it, I had just listened to this album in it's entirety again so... I hit the button again and got Klaypex's "Robot Love." I smiled and set the phone back into the cup holder, already getting into the the song's funky electro beats Klapex's *Future EP* touted as-
I slammed the breaks, jerked the wheel hard left, and grit my teeth, to avoid whatever the hell kind of animal jumped in my way. The car's tires screeched in protest and locked up, sending me swerving off the road and into a-
****
I blinked. Then blinked again. I was... standing up... in a big white nothing...filled with nothing. Well. I say nothing but there was me, the white shimmering ground, and the great expanse of white nothing. "Where the hell am I?"
A dialogue box like those you see in a game appeared and cycled through various languages (some I had never seen, others that were clearly Asian or Russian, and others that were hieroglyphs) before it finally arrived on what looked like English and read, "You have died."
"W-what...?"
The dialogue box expanded vertically to accommodate three new options "New Game", "New Game+", and "Credits."
"What the...? What is this a JRPG?"
No one answered. I stared at the prompt again and considered waiting, maybe this was a practical joke, if I waited it out maybe someone would tell me what was going on?
So I waited a minute as well as I could without any sort of watch or time taking device. And... Nothing happened. I redirected my attention back to the prompt and studied it closely. It looked more like a dialogue box from a more modern game, somewhere between Mirror's Edge and Android's Material Design; flat with small traces of color that complimented itself. It was as thin as paper but touching it felt almost like glass, as if I were interacting with a large tablet. I hesitantly slid my finger over to the "New Game+" button and touched it.
---
Some classic rock band was blasting in my ears and by the sound of the singer's moans it was most likely Guns 'N Roses' Welcome to the Jungle. Directly in front of me was my old laptop's screen which displayed a dialogue box with the exact same design I saw only a few moments ago. It didn't fit correctly in the design language of Windows XP.
"The tutorial has been skipped. Your assets have been liquidated and their value deposited into your account. All previous contacts will become available to you at their proper time. All certifications and work experience you have earned in your previous life will still be valid."
I looked around the room, it's grey walls were a rush of nostalgia and memories. This was my room as a teenager. And the laptop was the one I had too... I reached into my pocket and pulled out a chubby Blackberry. A small smiled formed across my lips as I randomly pressed the buttons on the tiny keyboard. Wait. This was my blackberry. I inputted my password and checked my contacts using the old scrollpad in the center of the phone. Hmm... J.... J... Holy shit. There was my highschool girlfriend's number! Wait. What about.... R.... R.... And there was what would later be my ex-boyfriends's... Didn't the prompt say it liquidated all my assets?
I sprung for my laptop's keyboard and it's infamous mushy "W" and "E" keys. I quickly (well, slowly, given the internet speed we used to have at the time) navigated to my bank's website, entered my credentials and... woah... that was a lot of money for a now teenager... I checked the date at the bottom right hand of my monitor.
I should invest in Google in a few months.
---
So this is the second time I've done one of these. Would appreciate it if you could give out some pointers.
|
I look at the options before me and sigh.
It's been what feels like weeks, staring at this menu and thinking of what to do. If I pick New Life, everything I was, everything I did, means nothing to me. Everything in my life goes away.
If I pick New Life+ I'll remember my wife, and the joy on her face when we got married. I'll remember my two beautiful children on the days they graduated from high school. First dates, first steps, all of it trapped in my mind. And I'd never see them again.
I falter for a moment and put my hand over Credits, wondering what happens if I end the game altogether.
I look at the options before me and sigh.
I make my choice.
| 2016-03-18T18:17:02 | 2016-03-18T17:28:04 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] Convicted criminals can choose to shorten their sentence. The only catch is the more it is shortened, the worse the conditions are where they are held. Describe a one night stay.
Thanks guys, I'm reading all of them. Keep it coming!
|
I killed them. I know I did. I admitted it.
During the trial I tried to convince myself that it was an accident. That I was still a good person who just made a mistake.
I lied to myself over and over again, but I failed. I chose to pick up the keys. I chose to get behind the wheel. I chose to drive while I was drunk out of my mind, and now a family has to live without their children, children who will never go to prom, or get married, or have kids of their own.
Because of me.
On the last day of the trial, my conscience got the better of me. I elected to testify, and poured all of my guilt on the stand. My lawyer had fought so hard to get me a light sentence, to find a silver lining to my actions and sell it, but her work was now out the window.
After my confession, the jury went into deliberation. They found me guilty on all charges, with the note that I should be given some leniency due to my guilt. I was sentenced under the rehabilitation laws.
My choices were: life in minimum security prison, no parole, but not allowed to see my family. Twenty-five years in normal security, parole available after fifteen years but given biannual visitation. Ten years in Supermax, parole after seven years but monthly visitation, or a day in ultra.
I was tempted to take life in prison. No one who does what I did deserves a life, but my lawyer spoke to me and said, "Being in prison won't pay for what you've done. Living a half life will not bring them back. If you really and truly want to pay for your crimes, you will take the day in ultra and then get back to living, and live enough for yourself and both of them. That's your punishment. Even in ultra, nothing they do to you will compare to what you do to yourself every day from here on."
Somehow at the time it made sense, and so I elected for ultra.
A week later I was standing at the door to my cell in Ultra. I had signed the forms, and I knew that many of the people who go in go insane and die, so worst case I walk through this door and never walk out again.
I was given one last chance to change my mind, declined, and stepped in.
The guard said, "Good luck", as he closed the door silently behind me and I was left in darkness.
What felt like hours passed in dark and silence, when a gentle amber light washed over my cell like a sunrise. The room had no place to sit, and I was standing when the light bloomed, and it increased in intensity slowly at first, and then suddenly flashed to brilliant blinding light so bright I could still see it clearly through the space in between the bones in my arms with my arm shielding my closed eyes.
And then it got brighter.
And brighter.
And somehow still brighter, until light lost all meaning to me.
What felt like hours passed with my entire body so suffused with light that I could not attenuate it. I was transfixed. My limbs wouldn't move, my mind screamed but my mouth couldn't make a sound. Every muscle in my body shook with a tremor of tension so strong it was a wonder they did not tear completely away from the bone.
And hours more passed.
And hours more...
And in the light, a pattern emerged. Hazy, pixelated shadows flittered in the brilliance like faint static in an old television. More and more they came, over time acquiring color and shape, my mind forming pareidolia until they began to coalesce into...
into...
into memories?
But not my memories.
A jolt struck me. Somebody else's life began to flash before my eyes, their every thought, experience and emotion searing itself permanently into my brain. I learned to walk again. I fell off my bike, I saw my first playboy, I kissed a girl, I struck out in my first game. Faster and faster and faster and faster IgotstungbyabeeIgotpunchedbymyfriendIfailedatestIpassedaclassIlearnedtodriveIhavetotakemysisterout....
And then I got hit by a car.
And I spent three days in the ICU while my parents cried and prayed.
And then I died.
And then nothing.
.
.
.
.
.
And then it hit again. IlearnedtowalkIlearnedtotalkIlearnedmathIkissedaboyItookdancelessonsIwonaraceIlostafriendIpassedaclassIpickedonmybrotherIputonmakeupIlovedmymommyImgoingtomyfriendsIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
And then I saw my brother get hit by a car as he tried to shove me out of the way. And failed.
And then I saw the tire that crushed my skull, felt the hot muffler of the car burn my chest until it sizzled and turned black.
I breathed my last breath full of car exhaust and terror.
And then I died.
And then everything faded to black and I fell into nothing.
.
.
.
.
.
Hours passed as my brain struggled to absorb the lives and memories forced into them. I wept where they wept. I laughed where they laughed. I hurt where they hurt, or rather, where we hurt.
I was no longer me. We were me.
The door opened, and we were carried out of the room, and back into the world of life.
|
It was only supposed to be one day. I made that choice easily. One day versus fourty years of prison? Who would pick otherwise?
I was worried at first that I'd be subjected to the worst possible torture. But they assured me I'd merely have to test a single experimental invention. Some mumbo jumbo about "manipulating space time". I took the gamble and chose to get out tomorrow instead of spending most of my life behind bars.
But they cheated. I should have realized something was wrong by the unusual warehouse like building that was apparently my cell. The men who locked me up wouldn't tell me what the experiment was, but I would never have chosen it if I knew.
Only one day had passed, but that was for them. For me, it was so much longer. It didn't just feel like eternity; it was eternity. I went in a scheming young man and came out withered and aged.
| 2015-10-27T08:39:34 | 2015-10-27T08:23:43 | 293 | 11 |
[WP] All humans are immortal until they find their "soulmate," after which they age regularly. You, however, have been around since the Ice Age...
|
I adjust my cushions again, all these Inane questions do get tiresome after 6 to 7 hours a day. But i grin and bear it and share my "wisdom" with all the new couples coming through the museum on their honeymoons and what not.
"So what was the Renaissance like? It must have been so romantic."
"ROMANTIC?!" no longer able to hide my contempt. "Yeah, sure dude. They have no sewers and everyone is sick with a disease that makes you grow pustules and all shit your brains out whenever you relax a bit, Why do you think Perfume was invented? It wasn't cause everyone already smelled good. but sure. It was hella romantic."
"oooohkay, I think it's time for Grok to take a short break, Please come by again Monday or enjoy any of our many other presenters." My manager was giving me that look again. I shouldn't have snapped like that. This was the cushiest job that anyone could ask for, but still. Nonetheless i was relieved when the crowd dissipated without too many grumbles. aaand then my manager started walking back over to me, Great, that was exactly what I needed today, to be chewed out again.
"Okay, so lets just skip all the platitudes and just jump straight to where you start telling me i have to be more cordial to guests so we can get this over." Maybe i shouldn't just roll it out there like that but i'm more than 2 millennia old, he can get stuffed.
"look G-man, I know this job is frustrating sometimes. No one ever really wants to know about you, just, the shit you lived through I know you think i'm indifferent, but i see what you're going through." John said his eyes conveying genuine empathy.
Well that was a shock. And also made me feel like total crap, great thanks for that John. Just what i needed today another free ticket to guilt-city station.
"Yeah, sorry about that, just it's the anniversary of my brothers death. It's gonna be a long day." I sigh as i lean back & pull the long black matted wig off. The Museum like to have their presenters dress up like the time period where they hit the freeze. For most people that meant 1960 or at worst 1805. For me that meant a Hot ass wig and covering up in crap tons of musty furs. God couldn't they have gone with the faux stuff.
"That's right, He was Roman right, a legionnaire."
That was the first question about me, or well, close enough to me to actually come out this whole day.
"That's right, We hit the freeze about 39 years apart. We stayed together, moved out to Rome together. We started running out of money quick between my drinking and his gambling. He decided that if we went into the Legions we would be able to save up for a couple decades after our 25 was up. That's when he met Inopsus."
"You two were in Egypt when Cesar and Cleopatra met? What did they call you back then?" I hop to my feet, might as well keep stripping off this crap costume while i talk.
"Yeah we was there. They called me Gaius & my brother Tertius. We never really had proper names of our own. He stayed there, after their son died i left. Couldn't stomach it any more. Despite the intervening years, most people still only live to be about one thirty, one forty. It was a tragedy though, Cleopatra being killed so soon after her freeze ended. Kinda glad people don't freeze back up after their Soulmate dies. He was pretty bad there for a while."
"G, Can i ask you a question?" I turn back from hanging up the furs. Why does he sound hesitant now? that's weird for him.
"Sure John, I'm still on shift for another five minutes." He laughs at that, well that's something, if I could make someone laugh every day maybe i wouldn't be so fed up with this job. Maybe it's time to start moving on soon.
"Well, you've lived so many places. Met so many couples, Cesar & Cleopatra, Holliday & Kate." Here it comes another question about his ancestor or hero. Oh well i said he could ask might as well be nice, after all we have to work together.
"With all those people you've met. You could pick any accent you want. Why do you sound like you're from Queens?" He looks down kinda sheepishly when he finishes, which is good, otherwise he'd be laughing at how big my eyes got.
"Well, uh.... it just... You know John i never really thought about it before. I guess it just is how all the mix of languages I've learned it's just how English falls in among them." Well, that was really profound, i pull on my shirt & turn around to look at him.
"John?" He doesn't look like he's gonna laugh. He looks, Curious. That's kinda odd, oh well. "Anyway, I'll see ya later John, i'm gonna go get some Tequila. Best invention off that continent you know. Screw the internet, Tequila is plenty for me."
"Yeah," he chuckles as we head across the room to check out with the night guards. "I think I've heard you say that a couple times before. Happy Friday G."
_8PM
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_11:17am
"oooohhh God Damn it. One day i'll learn Tequilla doesn't like me as much as i like it." I really should stop talking to myself, it doesn't lead anywhere good. Eh screw it, I'm allowed to be eccentric at this age.
"Mrrrooowww"
"Hey Sphinx. I suppose you want fed right."
"Merrrroww"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm on it. You know you're lucky You're adorable or i'd never put up with ya."
"mrrow"
I struggle to my feet to get the cat some food. The floor is cold and it's still dark thanks to my favorite curtains. I know my way around like the inside of my eyelids though, I've been in this apartment since the building rebuilt after the blitz so i should.
*beep, beep, beep*
"Hello?"
"Oh, Hey G, i've got a question for you." Why was he calling me at home, i distinctly remember it being Friday before i hit the bars, Sphinx was usually very punctual about his food.
"Uh, Yeah, sup John. I may have to charge you extra for this'n. Do you know what time it is."
"G do you know what time it is? never-mind, that's not my question. A few of us are going to go see the that new Sci-Fi, you interested?" Yeah sure, you definitely want me out watching a movie with this hangover, That's a great plan. I walked into the bathroom as i tried to find some bullshit excuse, this was going to be a 12 aspirin day, definitely.
"I dunno John, i just woke up a few minutes ago and my head is killing me, I'm probably just going to..."
Then i heard the phone hit the sink, i should probably be worried about the faucet dripping on it, pipes had never been real solid here but it didn't matter. It was background noise, unimportant in light of what I was seeing.
A grey hair in my beard.
"Hey G, you there? Are you alright."
"Yeah John, yeah i'm great, Actually, i think i will come to the movies with you guys."
"Awesome, See you there."
|
The rule sounds simple enough. But it's really a bit more complicated than it first appears to be and, if you ask me, a bit of a headache for everyone involved.
We all know that we don't age until we find our soulmate. But when do we *stop* aging? After all, if we never aged a day, we'd all be tiny little babies, and tiny little babies aren't particularly adept at travelling the world and finding their soulmates.
There were lots and lots of hypotheses for that one, once upon a time. But that ended quite a while ago - two centuries, maybe?
Edward Blake was the fellow who figured it out and finally put all the speculation to rest. It turns out folks don't get their immortality until they've made some kind of connection with their soulmate. This connection could be psychic in nature, but usually it's just physical proximity - which explains the rise in the number of Pixies since giant cities started forming. Luckily, a big city usually means plenty of support from social organizations. In fact, ever since the introduction of affordable immortality verification technologies, it has been pretty much standard for metropolitan hospitals to have a service team dedicated to Pixies - their parents would be told of the situation, the baby Pixie would be placed in a little crib, and at the end of the week, all the hospitals in the area would come together and let their respective collection of Pixies make weird baby sounds and throw snots at each other until they've all 'found' their soulmates and start to grow into something a little more dignified.
I guess that would also be the second hidden rule of this whole soulmate thing - your soulmate is always born at the same time as you. Some people like to romantize the idea, taking it as a sign that the lovers are really one soul split into two, born into two bodies. If you ask me, I say it's because whatever god came up with this stupid rule had at least a tiny bit of intelligence and foresight - a 30 year old being paired with a newborn isn't going to work out particularly well, after all.
And a stupid rule it has been for me. For thousands of years I had roamed the world, still as young and immortal as the day we lost the battle against the Binu tribe. For thousands of years I had lived, watching empires rise and fall, humanity grow and wither and grow again. I watched as nomadic tribes built settlements, as these settlements grew into villages. I watched as these villages found each other, as more and more people intermingled. With the increased contact and longer lifespans came an increased chance of actually coming across one's soulmate before passing away, and so I witnessed the rise of the first generation of immortals. These bastards were usually either bandits and vagabonds bouncing from village to village, or the children of wealthy merchants or nobilities. They were hailed as gods - or demons, depending on what they chose to do with their lives - and became supreme rulers of the land.
Of course, as humanity continued to grow and more and more people came together, villages became towns, and towns became cities. The immortal gods of the ancient days eventually lost their power as more and more people came across their soulmates, and the rules of immortality became better understood.
| 2017-05-22T12:06:23 | 2017-05-22T11:35:42 | 60 | 10 |
[WP] You're an immortal who lives at a beach resort. You have many summer flings with mortals on getaways. One day you see someone you had a hot romantic night with 50 years ago. They look exactly the same.
|
She walks over and takes the lounger next to mine. We both smile. Our hands reach out instinctively. Fingertips brush. There's electricity. We settle in and enjoy the sun without fear. We drink what we like, not what we must. Hers looked like a wine cooler, which immediately struck me as odd. I didn't think they made them anymore.
I'm hardly one to talk, though. Mine's ginger ale - the real stuff, as strong as they'll make it. When I eat or drink something gingery, I want it to blow my brains out.
"Hey," I say. I'm a world-class lothario like that.
"Hey," she replies. She's just as gifted, clearly.
"Four and change," I tell her.
"Ah, you got me beat," she says. "Two-fifty."
That's young. She's taking to it well. Most her age - especially the women, and especially if they partake of men - are still skittish. They don't want to encroach or offend. They fear all the usual mortal consequences - save one - writ large: obsession, first and foremost. They also haven't mastered the instinct. I'll spare you the cheesy line, but there's a deep truth to it: we're instinctively uncomfortable in each other's spaces. We intuit the exponential burden on the environment - on the credulity and tolerance of the mortals. We know that deep within ourselves, we're still in the process of becoming something else. We get flashes of centuries together, unaging, largely unchanging, and it terrifies the lingering echoes inside of us. "'Til death do us part" is quite the safety valve. With mortals, we can fake our own deaths. With each other, not so much.
"I didn't know," she says. Ah well. She's still doing better than most.
"Neither did I," I joke.
"I had a good time," she says.
"Me too."
She doesn't withdraw her hand. She makes it twitch a few times on purpose. She tickles me, and the electricity hits me hard. I barely suppress a shiver.
"Yours or mine?" I ask.
"Yours," she says.
We take our time. We hurry up. It's all relative.
*********
Both of us avoid The Talking. That's what I call it; I'm not just a lothario, but a poet and a scholar to boot. It's what mortals do when they feel a real connection. For some, it happens before the sex. For others, it happens after. We made it through the "before" just fine, and the "during" was, quite frankly, incredible. We're resilient; it's not quite Superman finding Wonder Woman and finally being able to go all out, but it's the same idea. There's also the matter of experience and education. As it turns out, no bullshit, we're both a particular type of scholar.
We don't speak. We cuddle, caress, and occasionally kiss. We drink for pleasure. We'll eat for the same soon.
She's beautiful for one so young. There are common stages, roughly; it's hard to know what the progress of mortal culture has done to them. She's old enough; she's not post-franchise or post-feminism. Hell, post-fem, she'd still be in the delusion phase. Her body would be screaming at her that all of her aches and pains were psychosomatic, and she'd be mistaking it for a terrible crisis. Without chancing upon another of our kind, she'd be in for a rough ride - maybe all the way to the morgue if she was unlucky.
As it stands, she got to watch all that stuff happen from a distance - and yet, here she is, not an ounce of defiance or resentment visible. She's soft, smooth, flush, secretly strong, and crackling with sensual energy from head to toe. She's twenty, or thereabouts, to any mortal who'd guess. That's bold. I'm twenty-five - but then, I'm a man.
I hope there's another "during." The second and third times get wild.
"Do you rotate?" she asks.
"I do," I answer. "You?"
"Wander," she says.
I believe her. That means a lot; it means she's not stubborn. She goes where the mood strikes, or where the moment leads. She doesn't have a list with places crossed off. She came back here without a worry. I like that. I like her.
"Let's say, a week," she says. Our kind answer a lot of unasked questions. It comes with the territory.
I kiss her again. We lock eyes, and I let her know that that works great for me.
We drink, we eat, and there's another "during," and then another. I play the good host and show her a great spot for dinner, and another for music. We go back to mine again. There's even more "during." I wake up, and she's still there. I hate to repeat myself, so I'll skip past breakfast. We spend the afternoon and evening apart. It feels right.
*********
I'm not sick of her. She's not sick of me. We both accept the end of our week together graciously, but there's still a hint of tension in the air.
She bites her lip. It's adorable.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I'm just not there yet, but..."
I smile. I'm not offended at all. Maybe in another few centuries things will be different. I doubt it, but there's always hope. I'm a man. She's a woman.
I give her a direct line. I don't ask for one in return.
She embraces me. "Thank you for understanding," she says. "You seem like a really great guy."
I kiss the top of her head and think of all the things I could say to undercut the moment.
"Thank you," I say instead. "That means a lot."
There's one more ritual before we part. It means nothing, and everything. After all, what's in a name?
Since I gave her the number, she goes first.
"Kellina," she says. She lets the accent slip out.
Scotland - or perhaps the New World - roundabouts 1750.
"Valentin," I tell her, and I give her the same flavor. Westphalia - yes, just like the treaty - 1587.
Her green eyes light up. My brown ones melt, I'm sure. For her, it's the intimacy. For me, it's the beauty.
"Have a safe flight," I say.
"Thanks," she says. "Enjoy your summer."
I will. I've got at least a year or two left of it.
************
I need a winter occasionally. Montreal is perfect. The girls are perfect. I know what I am.
When I get my back to my building - *my* building, for the next six months at least - with Jeannette in tow, I don't bother checking my lines. It's not until the "after" of several "during"s the next morning when I do. Jeannette leaves very happy; she's headed back to her apartment to do more work on her thesis, or maybe to gush to a friend about the night she just had.
I sit down at my lavish hardwood desk. I quickly cycle through the accounts. My breath catches. My heart skips a beat.
It's only been two years, three months, and five days. Kellina's called.
I'm terrified by how good it makes me feel.
|
Immortality sounds fun on paper. Never being able to die, there’s no reason to fear…..anything really. You can just give your problems to time and eventually the problems will go away on its own, gradually, slowly.
But the same applies for feelings too. With time they fade, they become memories, then soon, a blot in your life. Fall in love with a girl, see them grow up, fear them having to see you not age anymore, leave. Eventually, it becomes so…..empty the only thing you can ever see in them is what form of sexual pleasure and interest they give you, if only to see how people treat it differently then their peers decades prior.
But I can’t love them, as much as I had fun with them on those nights. I know my lives can’t cross with them, I know I……
No, perhaps there was one. Fifty years ago, resplendent skin, eyes that reflected the ocean, white yet youthful hair and a body as bewitching as Aphrodite herself. She was magnificent, in all forms. And for the first and only time in my life, I felt a chord had struck my heart. On that night, as we melted into pleasure, I could feel my soul and hers becoming one. But, I knew I had to let her go. I couldn’t become attached. For people like me, getting attached to something that has the same lifespan as a flea relative to you……is just a recipe for sadness.
Yet, after all those years, I still couldn’t move on. My flings, became sparser in nature, I started to grow…..responsible. I couldn’t continue offering my body to others, it felt…….*wrong*. Eventually, it spiralled from flings, into slow walks on the beach, wandering, searching for her.
I knew it would be fruitless, she’d probably be dead by the 40th year I continued doing this. But I persisted. Deep in my heart, I wanted to believe too.
And now, fifty years later. Trudging in the sand, I could see her, and I knew, she saw me too. Speechless, I could feel the words stuck in my throat, wishing to call out to her, and yet I could not, fearful of how she would see me if she knew what I did. But, I never needed to. With tears welling up, she ran over to me, arms stretched, hugging me tightly. Even though she looked the same, I could feel the scars she had on her body, even though they long since faded. Her feet, though the same as before, walked in the same manner a weary traveller would. And her eyes, once full of the ocean, now greeted me with sights from all over the world, the splendour that once faded, now returning to her eyes. My sight started to blur as I hugged her back, the hot tears racing down my cheeks as the rowdy beach soon became but a backdrop to our plight.
We had been searching, and we had been found.
| 2022-11-25T21:43:00 | 2022-11-25T21:05:49 | 195 | 53 |
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once.
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Bullies. I hated bullies.
I hated how they felt that, with just a little bit of power, they had the right to pick on and push around anyone they deemed below them.
And it got **SO** much worse when the bullies had superpowers. Which brings us to my current predicament, with me on the ground, and this a-hole standing over me..
"What's the matter? Why don't you use your supposed powers to defend yourself, huh?", he taunted me, right before he kicked my in the stomach, sending me sailing twenty feet down the hall, and sliding a bit farther down the tiled floor.
The other students who surrounded us managed to part in time to miss getting hit by me. A few smirked or laughed. They were other bullies or Terry's cronies. I made a note of who they were for later, so I could keep an eye on them.
Most of the students, however, had faces filled with anger at my bully, or concern for me. a few were even having trouble keeping their own powers in check. I understood. I didn't like it, but I understood. Terry was one of the most powerful students in the school, and a senior to boot. Most of the *teachers* would have trouble matching him in a one-on-one fight. A lot of the students would need to team up to take him, and no one was brave enough to make the first move.
I guess was on my own. This was going to suck.
Terry slowly approached me as I got up, with that overconfident "look at me, I'm so awesome" swagger a-holes with power got when trying to work a crowd. He stopped about ten feet away from me.
"Why don't you stop me, if you're **SOOOoooo** powerful?" He laughed, with his arms outstretched, and his cronies laughed with him. Terry basked in it, like a cat in the sun on a windowsill. What a douche.
"You're an idiot." Everyone's heads snapped to me, shock on their faces. The shock on Terry's face was mixed with rage, as his face turned a dark red. He was probably too dumb to be embarrassed.
"What did you say, you little b----?"
"I said: *you. Are. An. Idiot*." Terry began to stalk towards me. "In that brick you call a brain, did it ever occur to you that I *couldn't* get into this school without any powers? That maybe, *just maybe*, if I haven't shown my powers, there's a good reason?" He stopped, the wheels in his mind trying to turn, despite the fact that the hamster that powered it was long since dead.
"Honestly," I continued, "the only reason you are still in this school is because your parents are popular heroes, and that clearly gave you a huge sense of entitlement. You are nothing but a bully, with this feeling of entitlement that you think gives you the right to push around everyone else." He continued stalking toward me again.
"But back to what I was saying before. Did it ever occur to you that maybe there's a *reason* I don't want to fight you, that has nothing to do with you?"
As I said this Terry reached me, pulled back his fist, and swung and my already bloody face. I was done playing nice.
Terry had super-strength, flight, and fast reflexes as his powers. They were strong enough that he could take on most supers on his own.
I wasn't most supers.
I nonchalantly backhanded his fist, knocking him off-balance. He fell to the ground, sprawled out from how his own momentum had carried him around.
I thought people were shocked before. Now, I watched their jaws hit the floor. Literally, in the cases of a few people whose powers allowed them to stretch themselves that far.
"I hate bullies. Especially superpowered ones." Terry pushed himself up off the floor, murder in his eyes as he glared at me.
"You think that your powers give you the right to hurt others. But it doesn't. And those with such little power, who use it to hurt others, don't deserve power at all."
"You're going to pay for that," Terry said as he stood up. I had just shown the student body that he could be hurt. Now, he needed to try to reestablish that no one should stand up to him.
*Pfft*. As if I'd let him.
"You still don't get it, do you," I asked, as he marched towards me, and I squared my stance. "We've been in school for, what? A month? And you're a senior, one of the *most powerful students in the school*, and you're picking on a freshman whose powers **you don't even know**." Terry threw another punch, but this time instead of deflecting it, I caught it. Then, I tightened my hold on his fist, and I bent it back, forcing him to his knees.
"Did you ever think, that maybe, *just maybe*, someone might not be fighting back because he was afraid of *what he might do to you*? That maybe I'm afraid of doing something **that I can't take back**?" On my periphery, I saw the shock of the students change as my voice dropped several octaves, becoming unnaturally deep. I didn't need a mirror to see tgat my eyes had turned black. The fear on their faces told me that.
"*Thats not good,*" I thought, as Terry's fury turned to terror. "*I need to end this.* **Now**."
Adjusting my stance, I swung him by his arm over my head and onto the ground, before swinging him back over again. I looked at the students to my right, and motioned with my head for them to get out of the way, which they all scrambled to do.
Grabbing Terry's arm with both hands, I swung him in a circle around me, letting him go after a single rotation. Since he was still stunned from me slamming him into the ground, he wasn't able to use his powers to stop himself before he slammed into the lockers in the wall, many of them crumpling around him as he made impact with them.
I took a deep breath, centered myself mentally, and pushed down the darkness as far as I could. "Stay down," I said, as I turned and walked away.
Edit: End of Part 1
And if anyone has any pointers on the writing itself, both on this and Part 2, I'd appreciate it. Thanks!
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"You see, wait what was your name again? Nevermind it doesn't matter.
Where was I?
Oh right.
You see. I never liked violence. Seems unnecessary when diplomacy works just fine these days. Two people in an argument can just, you know. Talk stuff out. No need to go all primitive.
But then again.
We could have done that couldn't we. You tell me what about me bothers you so much and I stop doing it. Or we could have just pretended the other doesn't exist.
But no.
Your kind doesn't get that now, do they?
You weren't acting like an individual. You were being a problem.
And problems.
Need to be dealt with."
Cain stopped talking when the circle was finally complete.
The red sand glowed crimson.
"I know this ain't much. But this should be enough I suppose, for another contract? This time, I would like, umm super strength or something along the lines that he has.
Oh my bad. Had"
The circle glows brighter as the boy's eyes flicker in panic. He could feel the ground getting warmer by the second, paralyzed to move away but concious to feel it all.
Cain chuckled.
Soon the ground sizzled bruning searing the boy's skin.
But just then the boy realised that he could move ever so slightly. He steeled his will and let out a howl lunging towards Jonathan who jumped back in surprise.
And just as he was about to get out of the circle. The ground beneath him broke as he fell into the pit straight to realm below.
A voice rang out in Cain's head.
"Why do you always risk that?"
"Risk what?"
"Lower the doze of the tranquilize"
"It gives them some hope of escaping."
The voice laughed.
"You would make a fine demon some day. Magic hero."
| 2022-11-02T12:45:49 | 2022-11-02T11:05:22 | 91 | 34 |
[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.
|
“One creamy deluxe chocolate cake for the little princess,” I say, my water clone smiling at the little toddler sitting in her booster seat. The family looks up at me all smiles.
“Thank you so much!” says her father. “Look Alice, your cake is here!”
She starts to cry. See, that’s the problem with my ability. Though I may be able to replicate into some thirty or so water clones, I always appear unnatural in this state. Not that it doesn't make sense, but it can make me feel as uncomfortable as the justified, yet annoying, little toddler in front of me. My ability is very convenient for my job, at least according to my boss who hired me in a heartbeat after learning about power. Being a waitress feels like being on a stage in my experience, which hasn’t been very long. Then again, the whole world is a stage, if you truly think about it. I’ve been a waitress since I was 19 and have been for a short 2 years. And yet I’ve always known that I was never good when it comes to people. I always have to be on guard, keep up the act of a friendly waitress in this costly restaurant filled with filthy rich people. People, well, suck. It doesn’t matter who you are, you always want someone else to kiss up to you, no matter how subtle it may be. And my workplace is bustling with the biggest suckers of all. But, no matter. The pay is good, more than enough to make a living.
I sigh. A crying toddler isn’t good background noise for the rest of the audience. I could calm her down, but the little thing could start up again for some other reason. It annoys me. If only I could just get rid of it…
No. I shake my head. How could such unthinkable thoughts make their way into my brain? I catch my breath and only then do I realize that I’ve been panting. The family of the little girl watches me, baffled. The toddler just cries even louder. This isn’t good. I need to do something and do it quickly.
I have to save the show.
I call back all of my other clones, making sure they put down any trays or plates of food on safe, solid areas. I will only be converged for a moment. The family gasps as they watch me collect all of my watery bodily selves. I check once to make sure that my skin is firmly on my body then slowly approach the wailing toddler.
“It’s okay,” I say, trying to sound soothing and achieving it spectacularly, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I bite back a scoff. Such an ordinary thing to say. Such a naive thing to believe.
She calms down a bit. I form a large dolphin shaped drop with my hands above the toddler, so that it hangs just a few inches from her small tear streaked face. It spins slowly and on its second turn the little girl stops crying and starts to laugh. She reaches up to touch it, her hands a mere two inches from my liquified ones. After I’m certain the child has calmed down, I retrieve my hand and step back from the toddler, dispersing my clones once again. All eyes are on me now, not just the wealthy family. There is silence.
Then a huge applause follows. I smile and cause all of my water clones to curtsy, careful not to drop any one of the dishes some are holding.
One particularly familiar man in a posh black suit stands up while continuing clapping. Instantly I recognize him. The man who forcefully entered the stage of my life. In other words, it’s the exact same man that visits my house everyday after my work hours practically forcing me to become a hero. Every day for over two months now. And I’ve declined each time along with a long, apt explanation. Does he never learn?
“What a sight, what a sight, truly the traits of a hero,” he says, starting up the clapping again though shorter this time. An annoyance rises in me as I realize that he is attempting to copy my accent and the way that I talk.
“Now then, you obviously have the traits of a hero, a useful ability, beautiful qualities, why not become one?” he says with a bright smile.
The audience begins to murmur.
I force a smile and cause the water clone nearest to him to speak. “Oh please now, a weak little waitress like me?” I force a chuckle, “I wouldn’t be of any use. Besides, I'm quite happy here.”
“Of course you are, you're just here for the money,” he says in a dangerously quiet tone, smile still broad. The crowd goes silent. And then I realize that he could ruin my reputation. A ruined reputation in a career like this means being jobless.
Suddenly I feel enraged. The nerve. He really has the nerve to come into my restaurant, my little show, and ruin it with his-his- advertisements! Such audacity! Such shamelessness! Such selfishness!
“Oh!” I let out a little laugh and my audience joins in with me, “You remind me of my little brother.”
That little remark made my audience laugh, easing them back into enjoying their meals. The supposed government representative laughs along as he sits back down. After a while he eventually leaves. I take pride in the fact that my face hasn't shown my true feelings throughout the entire thing. The rest of the day goes on without another significant event but I can’t help but feel enraged at what the supposed government representative tried to play.
It’s on the walk home that I make my decision. I know he will be back tomorrow in the restaurant. This man is pure trouble. He is driving me insane. And he is beginning to attempt to ruin my life, the very one that I have built for myself! No, he has no room on my glorious stage. He must be subtly pushed off the edge of it, into the abyss below, as well as anyone who dares threaten it.
&nbsp;
I’m a new writer so any constructive criticism is encouraged!!! Thanks so much for reading!!
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(It's been a while since i've last written here, hope i'm not *too* rusty.)
-[fuck off]
Sound resonated through J.'s mind. It wasn't like the echo of the dark alley behind the small shop, but more the echo of his skull, a easily-resonating chamber for a psychic. J. was used to dealing with supers, getting them on the side of the law. After all, what isn't pure will one day rot- or so he thought. A black and white view of the world, flawed in all its perceived righteousness.
-"Oh, a psychic? Imagine how much you could help humanity! Hell, you could probably convince evil people to stop their life of-"
He was interrupted, a knife to the throat.
-[i don't wanna]
-"Perhaps you just don't know the job's perks, dear! After all, you could get riches, fame, the whole package! If -"
Rudely interrupted, again. This time, the knife drew a drop of blood. He would have to stop shaving for a month to hide that.
-[here's my answer: no]
-"Could you at least explain wh-"
-[no]
And so the young man went back into the shop, closing the backdoor behind him. J. couldn't say anything. No argument can be brought up if no conversation has started.
(To be continued?)
| 2022-07-31T15:29:05 | 2022-07-31T14:16:20 | 51 | 37 |
[WP] After you die, you find out that reincarnation is real, however, there is an error and your memories are still intact upon reincarnation.
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Amanda looks at me and smiles, the same crinkly smile with the little curl on the left hand side that I have been used to for nearly fifty-three years. I can’t speak now, the doctor explained that the tube in my throat was necessary and make talking impossible, but I try to smile back and she seems to understand.
I’ve been in the hospital for nearly a week now, getting weaker as the cancer grows stronger. I know I’m not going to leave, but I wish that she would; that she’d take a break and let Danny and Max take her home for a while. She tells me over and over that she’ll be here with me until the end, but I don’t want her to see that, I don’t want her to see me go.
She is telling me stories about the bridge club now. We played together for so long, but she’ll have to find a new partner. She says that Dolly Mathers wants to play with her, since Bill died she has always been a solo at the club and I think she is looking to scoop Amanda up as her partner before I go. Well, she’ll need someone to play with soon enough I suppose and Dolly is, at least, a decent bidder, although her midgame is awful. Amanda can help her though, she’s an excellent player and always willing to help others.
I close my eyes for a moment and the boys are there, wearing worried looks, so I try to smile and find that the tube is gone. I try to speak, but only a whisper comes out and Danny leaps forward, raising a straw to my lips so I can drink. He’s a good boy and I tell him that. Max hovers, worried and I raise three fingers off the bed in a small salute, just as I used to do every day as he watched me leave for work, back when he was a boy.
Amanda leans in and kisses me and I struggle to speak, so she leans in closer, her ear almost on my lips. I can feel a tightness in my chest growing and so I use the last of my breath to whisper to her, the same words I have said a million times, but I try to put every bit of meaning into them. “I love you.”
There is a long drawn out tone and she seems to rear back in horror and the tightness grows greater until it suddenly goes. Then there is only black.
*****
It’s warm and quiet. I wonder if they have put me in another machine, some silly attempt to keep me alive for longer, but if I can see Amanda again, then maybe it’d be worth it. Time seems to go so slowly, but I pass the time playing hands of bridge in my mind and thinking back on old holidays or Christmas memories of the boys.
So many years. So many memories.
At last something seems to change, there is noise and pressure and I wonder if they are finally taking me off the life support machine. The world is pulsating, red and angry and for a moment I am scared, but I know that Amanda would never let me be somewhere unsafe. Then light seems to burn me, brighter than perhaps anything I have seen and I know now that this is the end, this is the light that they tell you about at the end of all things and I am ready; I embrace it and I accept it.
Something smacks me, hard and I scream, terrified and freezing cold, the world a jumble of noise and blurred objects. I recognise some of the noises, the beeping of machinery and I am back in a hospital and I look around for Amanda, but my head will not move and my eyes are unfocused. I am being carried, floating through the air, gently supported and then being laid onto a warm surface.
It is a gigantic woman and I feel the terror return, but then I see the rest of the world and it makes sense - it all makes sense to me. I have been reborn, I have returned, but to where, to who? Am I supposed to be able to remember, or am I dreaming this somehow? She looks down at me and I try to speak, but only a cough comes out and then I am being passed again, to a man, who smiles at me and says something in a language I don’t know. French, Spanish maybe?
I feel a great terror growing. I don’t know these people and I can do nothing, I am helpless in their arms. They look and smile at me and I cannot react, cannot form words. All I can do is to scream and so I let my terror out and I weep, fearful of the future and desperate for my own past, which I can feel slipping away.
After a time I stop and I look up into the kind eyes of… I suppose my mother and little by little the terror seems to ebb. She looks a little like Amanda, but the expression of tolerant and unconditional love is what seems most comforting. It's love and softness wrapped in a fierce blanket. If this is my life then I am willing to accept it, willing to deal with what may come; this is what has been chosen for me.
Time passes quickly and my parents, Michel and Renée, they are indeed French, are just as kind and loving as I had hoped. They are amazed that I learn to speak so quickly, by the age of one I am already a fluent conversationalist and while I am careful to never speak English, they know I am different.
They think I am a genius and I am taken to many places to be tested. I am always careful to do well, to excel, but not be overly impressive and they come to believe I am a gifted child. If is hard to hide my abilities, but I am able they expect nothing and are delighted at every “advancement” I make.
At two I “pick up” English from a television show and they immediately have me tutored and soon I am fluent. Although my French is excelling, I tell them I prefer to speak English and they are astounded. They indulge me and I am more confident and soon, as I near my third birthday I begin to ask to travel to England.
My parents are reluctant and amazed at this incredible interest in all things English, but within six months I have convinced them and they begin to plan a holiday. They are incredibly surprised as I insist on not visiting London or Edinburgh, but a small town in the Cotswolds. As always, they bow to my wishes and within a month we are on our way, two confused French people and a small precocious child, making demands at all times.
The flight is agony and when we arrive I am desperate to keep going, until late in the evening, after a long day of travel, we arrive and settle into the small B&B that I selected. We eat and then I wait until my parents fall asleep and I slip from the bed, dress myself and at three and a half years old, I slip into the night.
The streets are so familiar to me and I enjoy each cobble, even as the butterflies rise in my stomach. What will she say to me, how will she react, will she believe me? It takes me nearly fifteen minutes to walk there on my small legs and when I arrive I am too small to ring the bell and so I walk around to the back door and squeeze through the cat flap.
The house is quiet, still, asleep. I walk through it, puzzled by the furniture I do not recognise and then pause by the stair, about to walk up to wake her and announce myself. A letter lies, fallen to the floor, but addressed to her. There is a red line through it. Someone has written “RETURN TO SENDER, ADDRESSEE NO LONGER RESIDENT”.
I pull down more letters from the hallway table, they are written to a name I do not know and now the meaning of the furniture becomes clear. She is gone, no longer living here. There are only two options and I burst out of the cat flap with terror now chasing at my heels. If she is living with one of the boys then I can still find her, but the other option…
My legs ache as I run through the streets, no longer caring if I make any noise, as small feet slap the ground hard. I stumble and fall, scraping myself, but leap up at once. Fear runs with me, wrapping itself in a tighter blanket, trying to suffocate me before I can reach my destination.
*****
My parents find me in the morning and I do not struggle when they pick me up and scold me. A small group of locals, who have helped them search for me, stand awkwardly as they thank them and explain I have never done anything like this before. My trouser knees are wet from kneeling on the soft earth all night long, staring at the wreaths, flowers and cards that cover the mound.
She was with me now, in the same place as my body, having gone to where she thought I would be waiting, but I am not there, I am trapped here. I missed her by a day, a single day and now we are apart again and I am truly alone.
I make no effort to object as my parents pick me up and carry me away, to a life that is not my own.
I’m sorry Amanda. I was too late.
*****
I forgot to link to /r/fringly again - rats. It's a collection of my stories and subbed to by the most attractive users on reddit - you'd fit right in!
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Ten thousand years and not a single original idea. At least, it *feels* like that long. God only knows how long it actually is. God doesn't know or care about me, and the others like me - the carriers of human knowledge.
The Buddhists had it right. Everyone is reincarnated upon their death - though I'm not sure if some come back as animals or plants, or why they should be lower on the hierachy. I tipped them off on this secret. But the only reason they accepted it as strongly as they did was, well, because they were scared. Scared that when they died in real life they died for real. Scared that they would never get justice, that some sins really did go unpunished. Well, looks like the universe conformed to human beliefs: what now?
The last time I remember I was a teenager. The last day is often telegraphed well in advance. When you're old, for example, and when it's time to go. But sometimes the last day surprises you. I've been around ten thousand years, and nothing much surprises me anymore - yet once or twice the universe fools even me with it's cruelty.
We were going to go out to the movies that night. It was, well - it was the new Star Wars movie after all, and everyone would be going with us. Sam, well - she's my best friend, and I asked her to come spend the afternoon at my place. Then I'd drive us both there later. We'd meet up with the others there.
"Hello, you idiot!" Sam laughed when she saw me playing with my lightsaber. "I see you've finally decided to jump off the deep end?"
"I'm taking you with me, girl," I replied. "Come inside and talk Star Wars with me."
"With pleasure," she said, flicking her hair back. "I've heard this new theory spreading like wildfire..."
"Nothing surprises me," I said. *I know ten thousand years of history - now if I could just remember it all, that would be great.* "What is it about?"
She laughed and led me inside. "OK, so some people are saying that Jar Jar Binks, you know him? Some people are saying, he's actually a Sith Lord..."
---
We sat and talked the afternoon away. I remembered this scene from a hundred lifetimes - if I were so lucky to get it, those are the ones I try my hardest to remember. Those are the memories worth keeping.
I sometimes think I'm damaged goods. That I should have been packed in a box and stamped with 'RETURN TO SENDER' back to whatever God there was. Other people at least had the luxury of forgetting things - I on the other hand, could only forget the things I didn't want to forget. Like that time in Assyria when we had finished building a house. Like that time in Egypt that I was lucky enough to be rich and young. Like when I saw the world in the Renaissance. Like the caution I was expected to display then.
Like the recklessness I showed now.
The accident was all my fault. I was still learning, see, and I had a thing for driving my car way way too fast. Because if I die, I would just get reincarnated, right? So there was no reason to fear death. I had forgotten, however, that Sam was with me, that final night.
The crash threw both of us into the windscreen. I looked down, stunned and shocked by the rain of glass that covered the seats like fine mist. My chest was stained red where the steering had blasted into me. But then I looked over at Sam.
And her eyes were wide unscreaming horror.
She couldn't move anymore. She couldn't scream, or kick, or run, or say anything or do anything to show her pain. But I knew nonetheless. I could see it in her eyes, and as my own breathing got tighter, all I could think about was *please God please don't let Sam die, please no* even though I knew it would be about as useful as a leaf floating down a stream. I stared at her, then with an almighty jerk, I grabbed her sweaty palm. She didn't grab back.
Her eyes slowly closed.
When I am reincarnated I keep all my memories. It's something I can't help anymore. And yet - yet, this is what karma is like for me. The law of cause and effect. Karma for others is in having something taken away from them, say, or a rather poetic and painful death. But mine doesn't wash - these memories don't run. My karma is in the memories that I carry with me and the people I have watched die. It's in how life seems to go on and on for everyone but me. It's the price I pay for being immortal.
---
/r/KCcracker
| 2016-07-19T02:58:59 | 2016-07-19T02:44:53 | 350 | 60 |
[WP] You are known as the Prison Necromancer, feared by inmates all over the world. Contrary to rumours, you are just a healer. Your job? Keep those punished with multiple life sentences alive and 'sane' for their entire sentence.
|
The healer works quickly and efficiently. He was long familiar with the crooked bone and twisted sinew of his patient. His hands glows, briefly but bright in the dark cell. For a moment, shadows deepen the hollow depths of the broken body before him. He lays in a bed, chains pooled around its base. His hands and feet are shackled. His body a shell of what it once must have been.
"Ah, return to us," he murmurs, "Your time has not yet come." His fingers press against taunt skin that turns a dull red beneath a healing glow. He sucks air between his teeth and shakes his head. It had been close this time.
"Falmar," he says softly. The prisoner lets out a low moan and tries to turn his head away. "Falmar, you are returned." The healer takes a ladle of water from a jug between his feet, and forces the man's head towards him. He pours water gently into the man's mouth. The prisoner coughs slightly, but swallows. Eyes flicker open and immediately close, squeezing a tear into his wrinkled face.
"Falmar," the healer says again, "you are returned." The prisoner moans once more.
"You have survived again, my friend. What terrible trials you have endured here so far from the sun." The healer lays his hands upon him and another glow lights the chamber. "Do you remember, Falmar?" The prisoner breathes deeply and turns his head away.
"Do you remember the forest?" The healer asks.
"Do you remember how the shadows would dance upon the leaves at summer's dusk. You could smell the roasting boar from a mile off," the healer smiles sadly, "It would lead you home from the hunt. Arli would be at the fire, tending pork and pot with nimble hands, still dirty from the herbs she had rubbed into the meat hours before. Jumping from one side of the flames to another, always careful to make it all come out just right - just as the hunters came home for the night..."
The healer trails off and looks around at the unlit cell.
"Please..." the prisoner croaks. His eyes weep as he moves to grip the healer's hand. The healer clasps it and places his other hand on top. He pats the bony hand gently.
"You are returned," the healer says.
"Please..." But the healer keep patting the hand, and a quiet sob wracks the prisoner's thin frame. "What of Solstice..." he whispers.
"Ah, yes, a beautiful day. Do you see the children dancing around the Ancestor Tree? They know all the songs so well. You wonder if maybe you could sneak in and join their circle. But would you even remember the words, now?" The healer chuckles softly. "You are a hunter. You're out in forest by the water cliffs seeking a White Buck that has come to drink from the still ponds there. The water form the mountains falls here, the end of its long journey from glacial peaks. It drips from smooth stones and gathers in deep basins before heading down towards the swift current of the Forest River."
"It's hot and the days are long. You know the Buck will come when the sun begins to sink in the sky. It comes for the forest shade, a rare luxury among the shrubs of its highlands home. It will be big and strong, but still young and fresh from the passing Spring. You wait underneath a sycamore tree for a long afternoon. You can smell the earth beneath you and watch the small creatures come and go from the ponds. You wonder, do they even know you are there?"
The prisoner sighs. His hand has gone limp but he rests it in the healer's grasp.
"The shadows are getting long when you see the Buck. Its soft white skin slips through a rocky opening in the cliffs, and it pauses. Its eyes rove across bush and tree and for an instant you think its eyes meet your own. Its head bows, a quick motion, its antlers aimed towards you and you nod. But then its eyes are back up and alert, and it treads softly on mossy rock to the waters. You let it taste the water, for you know how cool it feels on your tongue after a long summer day. It drinks, and you watch, and you finger the stone for your sling. You are the hunter."
A ghost of a smile slides across the prisoner's face. The healer smiles in turn and leans towards his ear.
"The sling whistles as the stone launches at the Buck. Your arm is fast, and you clench your fist around its handle, fingers white against the bone. The stone is true, and the noble animals falls. You leap from beneath the sycamore and scramble across the mossy rock. You kneel against the rough broken ground, and it hurts, but you hold the Buck in your arms. There is barely any blood, but it still breathes. Your hands clench once more and your fingers go white and you feel its fragile neck crack and crumple. A prayer escapes from your lips, a celebration of the feast you will share tonight. Arli will smile when you return, and slap your thighs and back loudly so all can hear and shout to the village, 'What a fine hunter, my husband!'"
"Your hunt is finished, but the sun is still hot and the day still quiet. You breathe in the sweat and summer breeze." The healer's grip hardens as he whispers in the dark. "A moment passes, but one you will long remember." The prisoner shivers.
*snap*
The prisoner shrieks, his finger twisted and angular as the healer holds tight.
"Falmar," he whispers.
*snap*
"Falmar, you went away."
"No, no, no."
*snap*
"Falmar, do you remember who you are??"
"Please, please, please."
*snap*
"Falmar, you are the prisoner."
"I am the hunter," he pleads. "I am the hunter."
*snap*
The prisoner's screams echo off the harsh barren walls. The healer waits until they descend to a whimper. He leans in and smells the waste and sweat of the squirming man.
"Falmar," the healer says softly, "I am the hunter."
|
Debt To Society
How does one repay a debt to society for the most heinous of crimes? With their life of course. How does one truly give their life in a world you could be resurrected by a cabal of warlocks looking to make a quick buck? That is where I come in.
Inside Imperial Prison System, I am called the Prison Necromancer. A lofty title I assure you but some what inaccurate one. Yes I am a necromancer and yes I work for the prison system for our great and bountiful empire. But the title implies so much negativity.
To be honest, I am one of three remaining necromancers around. Once humanity found a way to Otherside and rediscovered magic, most necrons decide to say fuck this place and exist as liches there. Only three that remained were the Outcasted master, so my grandfather, my father, and myself.
I won’t bore you with the tales of the decision to do so. Just say women were involved. Now back to my job in the Prison System. Each week I visited a different prison where several high profile criminals are. Multiple life sentences type.
Because of there high profile nature, they are housed in special wings. Warded by the great wards money can buy. Guard by at least one Imperial Knight and their elite retinue. Given only two hours free a week from magical seals that give them a real prison experience and rehabilitation programs so I can give them a check up. In fact I am the only real creature they talk to.
Sad really. Some of them are people who murdered an emperor or stole the empress’ lover’s heart away. But I am not here to judge. I am here to work.
| 2020-03-02T14:16:40 | 2020-03-02T14:02:30 | 62 | 27 |
[WP] During a global catastrophe, a company offers to cryogenically freeze people so that they can “skip” unpleasant circumstances. Clients can stipulate specific global conditions that must be met before they are unfrozen. You awake to find that all of your conditions are satisfied.
|
"I'm fucking tired of your shit Nikky, I can't take this anymore!"
"Really, you're so fucking tired of me that you're crono-freezing yourself till I'm dead? Really? That's an all-time low for you James!"
"Does this face look like it gives a shit?"
"It looks like it-"
"You know what, don't answer that. I'll just tell you, I couldn't give less of a shit. Now shut the fuck up and leave."
The scientist behind the monitor took a big sigh as he watched them go back and forth. "I'm never settling down." He whispered to himself. "Mr. Becker are you ready?" He asked with more than a hint of begging.
Nikky turned to him in a furry, "Are you seriously letting him do this? Jump forward to a time when I'm dead so he doesn't have to divorce me and face the court fees? This has to be illegal, I mean this thing was made to skip global pandemics and shit, world catastrophes. Not stuff like this."
"Not only that, remember you can't sell my stuff while I'm under the ice. I've already told my lawyer everything that needs to be routinely checked on. That's the American law baby, greatest country ever made." Nikky looked at the scientist hoping he'd see her case.
"Ma'am I'm not a lawyer, I just put him under. He said when his wife is dead so that's what we key it on. Don't like it, talk to corporate."
James rolled over to look at the scientist."Yes speaking of putting me under, can we do that now? Like, hurry please."
The scientist looked relieved. "Yes sir, dropping you under keyed on the condition of your wife's death. Going under in 10, 9, 8.."
"Oh and Nikky, if you lay a hand on my baseball cards, I'll piss on your grave"
Nikky ran to the window of his cell with angry tears in her eyes. "You're going to pay for this you greedy bitch! Trust me, when you come back, this world isn't going to be the same!" James yawned behind the glass.
"3, 2, 1 ..."
"James you petty bastard!"
\*\*\*
James opened his eyes to a humongous light blinding him. "Oh what the fuck, get that light out of my face, for god sake!"
A mechanical voice replied to him. "Welcome back Mr -JAMES BECKER- you have been asleep for -350- years."
"Excuse me, fucking what?"
A large clunky robot rolled over towards his cell, "Your clothes can be found be-" James shot up from his cell in anger,
"350 fucking years! That's impossible!"
"Records show your stipulation was -DEATH OF WIFE- and that this event occurred yesterday at -05:00- shall I ask for personal assistance for you?"
"You're godamn right I want personal assistance."
Immediately after saying this a woman in a large labcoat burst through the doors behind his cell, "Ah Mr. Jameson, glad you're awake. Some people were saying that humans couldn't survive while under that long. Glad to see you proved them wrong champ."
"Why the fuck was I under 350 years? My wife was 40, at worst I should've been under another 80 years!"
"Oh, you mean Nikky? Yes, the poor thing died at 63, actually. Records say she went instane. So sad."
"Then why the fuck wasn't I woke up then?"
"Well you said you wanted to be woke up when your wife died right?" James gave her an obvious look. "Mr. Becker, you see after went under, Mrs. Becker was very upset. So upset that she decided she couldn't live with society as it were anymore. So she sent herself under as well."
"Are you... Are you fucking kidding me! That has to be illegal, she better not have bothered my shit!"
"Excuse me your what?"
"My stuff, the reason I did all this in the first place! Did she sell my stuff! Oh, that good for nothing lawyer! I knew he wouldn't watch my stuff!"
"Sell? I'm sorry sir I don't understand, no one has sold anything for years... Oh Nevermind, I'm sorry. I'm forgetting you're ancient."
"No one has sold anything... Wait, what the hell was her stipulation?"
"Well, Mrs. Becker said that she couldn't handle how materialistic everyone was anymore. So she put herself under with the condition of being awakened when society finally moved away from personal belongings and becomes a full united communistic world! It seemed like a long shot, but luckily for her, it actually happened rather a quicky, as soon as the aliens arrived humanity wisened up and denounced personal belongings. Charming isn't it?"
"Aliens? Communist!?! Wait, so you're telling me that all my stuff is gone?"
"Why yes, I suppose so. Everyone shares now."
"And my baseball cards?"
"Baseball cards? Oh, I'm sure those were recycled, baseball has been dead for decades."
James was shaking with rage, how could society move on from baseball?
"And my wine I was fermenting for when I woke up?"
"Wine? Alcohol has been banned for decades as well. No one drinks anymore."
James shook his head in despair, what has the world came too? He was about to faint, but before he did he managed to yell out one more sentence: "Nikky you petty bitch!"
EDIT: credit to /u/XTJ7 for catching a plot whole. Fixed
|
The world is dying. Global warming has began to intensify greatly. A company starts to use cryogenic freezing capsules as a way to keep people safe and make money. The capsules are expensive so you choose a lower end one to fit your financial situation. As you sign up, you are asked to name all your conditions. You say that the earth needs to be clean and all governments have been replaced with the ideal ideology. They take note of your conditions and tell you that your capsule will be ready in a month.
One month later you arrive at the one company’s s many facilities and climb in your pod. The freezing process begins. You watch out side the pod window seeing the scientist waiving to you. You lose consciousness. You are no longer self aware. After a little while you get unfrozen by a different group of scientists. You walk outside of the facility to see everything changed. The air is clean the water is clear, but best of all you see the great flag of the Soviet Union flying high apogove the city
| 2020-04-14T01:46:41 | 2020-04-14T01:21:32 | 685 | 344 |
[WP] You managed to retrieve a cursed treasure from a tomb. Instead of spending your newfound wealth, you donate all of it to charity. The spirit that was going to ruin your life now has no idea what to do.
|
Honestly, I was pissed. Like, maybe that's terrible or whatever, but come on. I've been lying in wait for all of seven thousand years and now that I finally get my chance to harras and harangue someone til they commit to an untimely death... and it's this fucko.
Maybe if, just say, a terrible fate were to befall those now corrupted by the sudden influx of wealth-
Ok, nope, they seem happy. The sad little starving children suddenly get food every day, while their parents, finally stable enough to refuse extra hours at work are able to help the little brats. Super. And short of smiting these golden little families, I really can't step in.
Ugh. Ok. Don't panic. There's gotta be a way that Mr. Adventure over here screwed over *someone*. Maybe the animal shelter he donated to? I mean, after all, what kinda miserable sod continues to run an animal shelter after lucking into a bajillion dollars? No no, this would be my in. The animal shelter owner bags the money and flees, leaving the poor puppies and kitties to starve in their cages.
...ok yeah, in hindsight I shouldn't have expected that to be the case. No average Joe opens an animal shelter for the wealth. It's all about helping the poor little animals. This guy expanded to multiple cities now and is currently working on fixing all the strays in each town.
That's the worst thing about it, too. Mr. Adventure was smart about who he donated to. These charities weren't just use-it-and-lose-it types. They were invest-in-curing-the-symptom types. The hardest thing about finding out an angle to curse Mr. Adventure was that he'd been smart as well as good.
Now now, I can hear your confusion. "Why, oh great Potrius, are you so invested in punishing Mr. Adventure if he's genuinely a good guy? If you want to punish evildoers, shouldn't you be happy?"
My answer to that is: fuck off, I spent seven thousand years in a tomb, I should be able to do what I want.
It really is that simple. I dreamed of a day where I could cleanse the world of a great evil, and that great evil was supposed to be the thief of The Unending Pot. He was supposed to do the whole 'I don't understand inflation' bit and fuck over the world. Not... not this. My legacy now is to be the vengeful spirit that did jack all after his artifact was stolen cause the derpwad that stole it turned out to be a decent human being.
Lame, right?
So my next step of action was to infiltrate Mr. Adventure's dreams. Clearly just waiting for something bad to happen wasn't going to be enough so I had to be proactive.
*Oooooh, fear me, mortal, for you have trespassed on sacred lands and have done that which only the most miserable and terrible could do.*
"Oh man, are you Potrious? Man, I've been doing all the reading, wondering why the spirit never came to me." Mr. Adventure sounds a bit crestfallen. "I'd kinda hoped it had been because I did good and maybe... maybe you weren't mad."
*Oh, you foolish mortal. It is because of your good deeds that I am here. I am a vengeful spirit for a reason, you sad sod. In your blood now runs the curse of the ancients. None shall survive the newfound lust for chaos in your veins."*
"No!" he shouts. "I'd rather die than hurt people. That's not what I want at all! I just want to help people."
*You're making this complicated kid.*
"What?"
*Nevermind. I'll be back. Fear me until then!*
Ok, so yes, that was a bust. And to make things worse, I gotta keep an eye on Mr. Adventure to ensure he doesn't off himself to protect people. It took me another couple months to formulate my next plan of attack (I work slow, sue me). But this time I had it.
*Wooooe be to you, mortal.*
"Oh, hi Potrious. Been a while."
*Ok, no pleasantries here. I'm going to be frank with you, this arrangement isn't working for me. I'm a vengeful spirit and sitting around waiting for you to do something shitty isn't exactly how I want to spend the next few years.*
"Oh. Ohhhh, I get it. You want to punish me." Then he stops and contemplates and I know what he's going to say before he says- "But wait, if you want to punish evildoers, shouldn't you be happy that I'm not an evildoer?"
*Technically, that logic does check out. But it's kinda a two-pronged thing. Yes I despise evil but I'm also cripplingly bored. You have to see both sides of the situation.*
"So you'd rather I be evil so you can smite me."
*Yeah, that's kinda where I'm going with all this.*
"I'll never do it."
Dammit, the guy was making this hard.
I stayed out of his dreams for a bit, moodily floating around the newfound library he'd funded for children in impoverished or at risk situations. This should make me happy. This was my artifact, doing good. Most of the other spirits would be giddy.
I was being selfish and I knew it.
But before I could put together another dream for Mr. Adventure, he summoned *me*.
"Hey, Potrious."
*Hey.*
"So I was thinking. You said you wanna smite people who do evil. I want to do good in the world. It should work but doesn't cause you still want to smite."
*Checks out.*
"Do you *need* to smite the person who stole the artifact."
*Hmm?*
"Well, like, could you theoretically just smite evildoers in general? Or does it have to be me?"
*Well, I... I mean. Well, a thief was supposed to be a roundly safe bet on who is and isn't evil. I don't know if I could just go around smiting based on my own judgment call.*
"Yeah but is that better or worse than convincing me to do evil, in order to make it easy."
*...better I guess.*
"I mean, I've got a lot of resources. Well, ok, the internet. But if you want, I can do some researching, figure out if there are some good candidates for smiting. Then we can launch a double-pronged attack. I help people from the ground up, and you rain down cosmic justice or whatever on those who do evil."
*Huh. I kinda like it. Actually, forget kinda. I do like it.*
And I did like it. I spent the next few weeks hovering over his shoulder, unbeknownst to him, as he did some research on some big old baddies in the world. It wasn't two weeks later that we met up again and he gave me my first target.
*Gotta say, I'm kinda excited for this. I've been itching to enforce some justice on the world for so long and thought I'd missed my chance and- Just. Thank you for this.*
"Hey, no problem. We've got the same goal at the end of the day. You let me know how the fire and brimstone goes, yeah?"
*Yeah, and you keep me posted on how many orphans you saved this week.*
"Will do. Oh... one more thing, Mr. Potroius? A question."
*Of course. Ask away.*
"Were you named after The Unending Pot? Or did they name the concepts of pots after you?"
*...don't push your luck kid.*
And with that, I dissolved the dream, Mr. Adventure's laughter still bopping around my brain.
No matter, no matter. He could have his joy and I could have my rather mild annoyance. Things were about to get a lot hotter where I was headed next.
___
For more stories, check out my subreddit! [r/TalesByOpheliaCyanide](https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesByOpheliaCyanide/)
|
I'm not one of those sheeple who's gonna let those politicians run their lives. I look out for me and mine, and the government can keep their noses in their own damn business.
Some county officer came around here last week and tried to tell me I couldn't put up a pool on my own property. You hear that? My property. My pool, that I paid for at the Walmart from the settlement they paid me after I slipped and hurt myself on those leaky milk containers in the back. They tried to tell me I was banned from the property after I won the lawsuit, but I said as long as I had two feet that still (mostly) worked, ain't no one going to tell me where I can't go.
So after that county official came by and told me, with his little clipboard and fancy electric car, that I had to fill out a form and pay him twenty-five of my hard-earned dollars if I wanted to put up a pool on my own land, I told him where he could stick those forms.
I'll show him good. If this pool can stand above-the-ground and hold water, no reason I can't dig a hole and make the same pool hold water in-ground. Like those fancy pools I saw on the HGTV.
They can try to take down an above-the-ground pool, but I'd like to see that pencil pusher come dig up an inside-the-ground pool.
I made my boy come out and help me, digging with the perfectly good shovels old Fred down the street threw out on the road just because the handles were cracked. Hadn't Fred ever heard of duck tape? Not sure how the ducks made it, but it sure can hold anything together.
"Dad, why don't you just rent a backhoe down at the hardware store?" he said. That boy may be my blood, but he ain't bright like me.
"They wanted a credit card they said as a deposit. If I told you once, I done told you a hundred times. All that information goes straight to the Illuminati. Don't you ever get one of those devil chipped cards. If the hardware store wants to be part of the conspiracy, they can keep their stupid backhoe and they'll be sorry when the uprising comes." Damn kid will never learn.
With a clang, my shovel hit something and the duck tape gave way and the handle cracked in half, sending a nasty slice down my palm.
"What kind of faulty garbage did Fred try to give me? He'll have to pay for my medical bills after this." Damn people nowadays don't care about their fellow human beings.
"It looks like a treasure chest, Dad," the boy said, wiping away some of the dirt. "But there's a skull and crossbones on the front. I don't think we should open it."
First thing the boy ever said that shows he's got a lick of sense.
"Of course we ain't going to open it. Soon as we do, the government's going to come along and take half of our treasure. No sir, I'm no fool. This is going straight to a good cause. We're sending this straight to the NRA. They can do better work with this than any politician."
I even got an honorary lifetime membership with my very own NRA camo hat when I gave them that box of treasure. It'll look good come buck season.
But those Illuminati are good, and they got their hands into my treasure, anyway. NRA filed bankruptcy last week.
But I bet if I dig a little further into the pool hole, I might find something else to help them.
r/StaceyOutThere
| 2021-01-19T09:44:01 | 2021-01-19T09:07:41 | 2,204 | 239 |
[WP]It's physically impossible to tell dad jokes unless you are a dad. One day you bump into a stranger and they say "I'm sorry". Without realizing it you answer "Hi Sorry,I'm dad"
|
I didn't think much of it back then. I opened a door, next thing I know I'm flat on the ground, my coffee spilled
all over my shirt - thankfully the cold weather had cooled it enough. He looked horrified. He grabbed my arm, helped me get up, all whilst repeating "I'm so sorry" numerous times. And without hesitation, I answered in the most glorious fashion imaginable:
"Hi Sorry, I'm dad".
I'm still proud of that moment. I still chuckle whenever I think about it. "Hi sorry, I'm dad". It was so simple, yet so effective, even if it wasn't at all true. That's the beauty of it. Honestly, I can't believe nobody has ever thought of it before, and if they had, it was probably much less natural than when it happened to me, I'm sure.
From that day on, for four years straight, I'm on fire. A witty remark here, an innocent joke there. Some people don't appreciate it, often they roll their eyes, but damn it, what do I care? I know I'm funny. And it doesn't matter what they say, I'm not even angry. All that matters is my own amusement.
That is not entirely true, I must admit. If only women enjoyed them as much. Not all women, obviously, just the few I like to have dinner with. I miss dating, I haven't dated for nearly five years now. Not seriously, anyway. Even worse, sometimes I try to make them laugh, and they seem to be in a hurry to get out. A family emergency, a friend was in an accident, you name it, they've told me, even to the extent that one said to me she "didn't want baggage right now", whatever that's supposed to mean. It's a shame, really. And maybe any sane person would tell me to stop telling my jokes. But I refuse! I love them myself, should I no longer do what I enjoy? Not just that, ever since I found my way of creating laughter (although most of the times that laughter only occurs in my head), I've felt more confident, more happy, more... whole. I'm proud of it and I won't let anybody take it away from me. If only they shared the same humor. Even then, if it were to get serious, they should be accostumed to how I try to entertain them. It's only fair and mutually beneficial. We shouldn't waste both our time now should we?
But tonight, I'm sitting across the most amazing woman. We seem to really connect. We share the same political views, have watched the same movies and not only that: she's beautiful. In a way, I'd rather not crack one of my usual jokes. What if she has the same reaction others have had? But I can't resist it. And besides, she might get a good laugh. What if she's my soulmate? So, after a quick thought, I have a perfect two-liner prepared. And it's the perfect moment, we've just settled down a little after a conversation about the brilliance of the Gladiator - God I love this woman already - so this is the perfect moment. So here goes.
"Hey, I've been reading a book about anti-gravity recently".
"Oh really?" She looks at me with interest, curious about my thoughts, perhaps about the actual book. Little does she know...
"Well, it's really good so far, and..." I'm leaning a bit closer as to highlight the punchline, "it's *impossible* to put down".
I chuckle at yet another clever joke - I should've been a comedian instead of working in IT - and I watch her. To my surprise, she's smiling. It's the sweetest smile too. She thought it was funny! Thank goodness, did I finally find the one? Then I see a look of relief.
"Haven't heared a joke like that in a while", she smiles. "I'm a single parent too".
And immediately, I have another one:
"And who is single parent one?"
Ok, that one wasn't one of my best, but what the hell, still good enough. And she smiles again, reminiscing of older days perhaps, or, if I'm lucky, imagining a future with me. Did I just seal the deal?
Wait.
What did she say?
"What do you mean, a single parent *too*?
"Well, you know... you just made a dad-joke".
"I did not..."
Did I? A dad-joke? That's impossible. Like, literally, impossible. Nobody can usher a dad-joke, unless...
"Yeah you did, that's called a dad-joke. I understand, don't worry. I have a kid myself".
But that's impossible. I haven't had sex in...
I take out my phone immediately. I look at her.
"Please stay. I'm having a really good time, I'll be right back".
"What is it?"
I look back to my phone. I have to know for sure.
"I have to make a phone call..."
|
The stranger gave me a murderous look and replied with "ye, real funny" and continued on his way.
It took me two whole seconds to process what had happened and my face go from a content smile to a dumbfounded stare. I was a father, plain and simple.
But how...? It should be impossible... unless - no! I have been tricked! My weekend in Thailand, he was no ladyboy after all!
| 2018-01-20T09:58:00 | 2018-01-20T09:32:43 | 196 | 21 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced.
|
Theldon – or at least the creature that was wearing his face – looked pale in the light of the campfire. As the wood crackled and burned, he chewed his lower lip, gathering his courage to speak.
“Guys … I … I have something to tell you,” he managed.
His three traveling companions looked at him. Vanariel snapped her spellbook shut and drew her staff. “What is it? An ambush? I told you guys I saw goblin-sign back there!”
“No, no! Not goblins!” Theldon said, holding his hands out. “It’s … it’s about me.”
Shiny Pete smirked. “What? You got the whore’s itch or something? Nothing to be ashamed of, buddy. Happened to us all once or twice.”
Dagmar glowered at the rogue from under bushy eyebrows. “Or mayhap a good number of times more than that.”
“No! It's not a disease either! It’s just …” Theldon took a deep breath. “Guys … I’m … I’m a doppelganger."
The three of them shared a long look, and then Vanariel and Shiny Pete burst out laughing. Dagmar’s glower deepened. “That’s no’ funny, lad,” he growled.
Vanariel and Shiny Pete stopped laughing. “Wait, wait,” the rogue said, “Dagmar, you didn’t *know?*”
Theldon looked shocked. “Wait, you guys *knew?*”
The elven woman tittered. “You’re not the shapeshifter you think you are. The real Theldon was an asshole.”
“Total dickwad,” Shiny Pete agreed. “In, like, every conceivable way.”
Dagmar leapt to his feet, drawing his axe. “You mean this is no’ a joke?” he roared, advancing on Theldon. “Die, fiend!”
As one, Vanariel and Shiny Pete placed themselves between the enraged dwarf and the doppleganger. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Shiny Pete yelled. “This might not be the original Theldon, but he’s been with us for almost a year now. He was the guy who stood over you after you got paralyzed by a ghoul.”
“He took point when we fought that dragon,” Vanariel continued.
“Hell, he got in the face of evil sorcerer while you were busy chopping up his henchmen,” Shiny Pete added.
“Those henchmen represented a serious threat!” Dagmar retorted, “And it was no' like it was a full-grown dragon. Only a wee one!”
In unison, Valariel and Shiny Pete rolled their eyes. Dagmar glowered some more. He was good at it, and he liked to play to his strengths. At last the dwarf made a humphing noise and lowered his axe. Valariel sat down and opened her spellbook again. “Okay, that’s over right? We can get back to the adventuring?”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Pete said. Dagmar only grunted.
“Did you guys really know?” Theldon asked, still somewhat wary of the dwarf.
“Oh, yeah. I mean, it was kind of suspicious how he was dying of jungle rot one day and completely fine the next. But you’re really not much like the original Theldon at all. First of all, you’re actually useful in combat. And second of all, you’re a decent guy. I mean, I can have an ale with you and not worry that you’re going to stiff me on the check,” Pete said.
“Or stare at my tits while I’m trancing. Or grab my ass when I’m trying to brew potions,” Vanariel added. “And the ear jokes. Ugh, the original Theldon was such a creep. Why did we even keep him around?”
"Good question," Pete said. "I mean, I asked myself that a bunch of times after we got new Theldon. 'Why did we even keep that tool around in the first place?'"
“So you guys don’t even care that I’m a shapeshifter?”
“Not really, no,” Pete said. “I worked with lots of different people when I was in the Thieves’ Guild. Changelings weren’t any more likely to try killing me in my sleep than humans or half-elves. In my experience, everyone’s pretty human when you get down to it.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself, round-ears,” Vanariel said with half of a smile. “But nevertheless, I agree with the sentiment.”
“Oh,” Theldon said. He sat in own thoughts for a moment. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot to me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Pete said, and Vanariel nodded in agreement.
The evening passed in silence. Shiny Pete honed his daggers, and Vanariel memorized her spells. Dagmar and Theldon each sat in silence, alone with his thoughts.
At last the dwarf spoke. “Lad,” he asked the doppleganger, “have you ever tried maybe not being a shapeshifter?”
|
John, George, and Ringo were huddled together inside a secret room on the fantastical magical yellow submarine.
"George, how confident are you?"
George left his momentary silence of contemplation to say " Paul is dead man, miss him."
Ringo asks, "do you though? I mean I doubt if you guys would miss me either."
John shook his head, "we must have lost him on our way through Abby Road"
George sighed "I like the new one. I say we let it be."
A knock on the door. "You there guys? I was hoping we'd do a music number about friendship."
John looked at the others, and they nodded in agreement. John opened the door and announced, "ALL TOGETHER NOW!"
| 2017-09-15T08:31:45 | 2017-09-15T08:30:05 | 147 | 37 |
[WP] We called them "nons" because we believed that they had no souls. They believed in a pagan god. None of them converted, so the crusaders were called to drive them from fertile lands. As we charged they raised no weapons. What we did not expect, was their god to descend and defend them.
|
Inquisitor Jacobus listened to the sobbing man's tale of a monstrous divinity that had descended upon them in the battlefield. A being of bright lights and animalistic fury had appeared before the pagan army, and with heretic chanting from the barbarians echoing in the cold morning air, the beast god attacked. The faithful soldiers of the Seventh Crusade were crushed under the weight of its assault, and those lucky enough to live were mangled beyond belief, if not in body then in spirit.
Jacobus nodded in deep thought, having heard the same story from other soldiers he had interrogated. The incoherent babbling continued on, and the inquisitor saw he could gain no new knowledge from this one. Jacobus stood up and gave his assistant a sign. The oblivious soldier kept muttering as the inquisitor's assistant moved behind him, drawing his knife. Jacobus turned to leave the tent he was using to interrogate the survivors, no more bothering to listen to the death gurgles of the soldiers.
After leaving the tent, Jacobus headed for the middle of the hastily-built camp where the other inquisitors and Church members had set up in a large tent. Interrogations had been undergoing for two days now, and the consensus among the clergy was clear. The pagan god existed.
He heard the sounds of arguing long before reaching the tent, bereft of the usual grandiosity of clerical affairs. Jacobus went past the two stone faced guards standing in front of the door way. Deafened, the guards could not hear the commotion going on inside tent, which was all things considered for the best, Jacobus thought.
As Jacobus entered the space, the arguing ceased. All of the gathered clergy looked towards him, for guidance and leadership. Being the eldest member of Church present, Jacobus had a lot of pull over the opinions of others, and could sway the discourse to a direction of his liking. Taking a seat at the end of a large table, he motioned for the others to sit down as well.
After a brief silence, one of the men, a fat priest from the Capital, cleared his throat.
-So, I guess there is no doubt about it. The false god of the pagans is, uhm, not so false after all.
Jacobus crossed his fingers, inviting others to take a turn speaking. Another inquisitor motioned with his hand, and started.
-All of the surviving members of the Seventh Crusade confirm the events, down to the cooks, cleaners, and other hangers-on. Same story, a beastly god of light descended from the heavens, and slaughtered most of the Faithful.
-Did any manage to escape? piped in a nervous looking clerical bureaucrat.
-No, we have gathered all the survivors and dealt with them, the inquisitor continued.
-The... event has been contained. No one outside this tent knows what happened here.
All of the men around the table sighed out of relief, except for Jacobus. He knew that this was far from over. Nothing happens in isolation, there are always consequences. Being an inquisitor he knew this well.
-I'm afraid the situation is slightly more complicated than that, Jacobus grimaced.
-Even if no one escaped, others will still come here. Traders, settlers, zealous missionaries. If we do not take proper precautions, the pagans and their very real divinity could spell disaster for the Church.
The men around the table looked at one another, uncomfortable in their seats. As no one wanted to speak the obvious, Jacobus took a turn again.
-Let us not pretend that any of us believed in the existence of the divine before yesterday. Such fancies are for the lower clergy and the commoners. The Church is an empty house, its rooms filled with riches and opportunities. I would like to preserve said opportunities.
The table was stunned into silence. Never before had anyone so brazenly and openly said what Jacobus had just said, what they all thought. Jacobus continued.
-We must preserve the integrity of the Church. The House might be empty, but the foundations stand strong. The commoners rely on us to guide them, and without us would surely fall into pagandom like the savages of this forsaken land. Our position of power depends on the trust of the masses. If they find out what happened here, it would spell doom for us.
A member of a monastic school motioned for speaking turn.
-We must not only cover up the events here, but make sure no one ever wants to come back here. Re-education of the population is needed. These lands are hostile, infertile, the women here hideous, whatever lie it takes to make sure no one in their right mind would want to set one foot in here.
Jacobus nodded in agreement, adding to the suggestion.
-Perhaps we can build a wall around this land, or place a standing army in place. Of course, the Inquisition would need to have a presence here to prevent any knowledge of the divine from spreading. We are the best equipped to deal with heresy, and I would suggest to increase our numbers and inquisitorial powers. You know, for the good of the Church.
The inquisitors around the table smiled widely, while others grimaced sourly. Jacobus continued.
-We cannot let anyone outside this tent know what happened. Once we set for the Capital, we will need to... make sure no one can ask any questions we do not want answered. The leadership of the Church is going to have to be replaced.
The thought of rising through the ranks of the Church cleared the sour mood of the clergy. As the men relaxed around the table, and even started joking around a bit, Jacobus hit them with his final words.
-And of course, once the Church has been re-settled, we can start our true undertaking, the greatest test this Church has ever faced.
The table looked at Jacobus with horrified expression.
-We must find a way to kill a god.
|
The conflict had been going on for years. Battle after battle and we still could not breach their lands. Men on all sides dying, often agonising, lonely deaths. But we did not fear death. We knew that our God, the True God would be waiting for us. Congratulating us on fighting for his cause.
How could such a backwards people ever hope to succeed? We tried to teach them the ways of God, but they refused to listen, telling us they did not need our God as they had their own. Our priests told us it was better to put them out of their misery, for they had no souls if they would not follow the True God, and men without souls did not deserve to live.
There was to be one final battle to kill them all and save the lands. Our army was bigger, our men without fear. Standing ready we would win, and we would win for our God.
As we charged the men started to hesitate. The enemy raised no weapons, did not run. Instead, they screamed. A blood-curdling battle cry bleeding from their lips.
The moment the battle cry started the ground cracked and the sky split. A being of pure rage and malice erupted before us.
The last thing we felt as we charged to our deaths was fear. Fear for our souls as we did not know what this meant for our God. Was he truly the only God.
| 2021-02-10T02:27:41 | 2021-02-10T02:11:10 | 95 | 47 |
[WP] One day, while your bored and home alone, you start looking up and pressing pressure points on your body. After you hit one behind your ear, a strange board appears in front of you. You’ve just opened the Character Menu. And there’s a lot of settings you didn’t know about...
|
'It's not like these are fatal right?' I thought to myself as i looked up "non-fatal pressure points to help relaxation" and was surprised by the sheer amount of videos and threads. I chose one at random and applied pressure to the ones that seemed simple enough to find.
My hands, feet, neck, and now finally my ear. Finding a pressure point in a person's ear was in itself absurd, at least that's what i thought at the time. as i apply pressure my vision starts to get blurry and a sensation of slight pleasure and muscle release washes over me. When i come back to i see a prompt in front of my face like i was wearing the google glasses or something like it.All it said was "Do you wish to continue? (Y/N)".
My mind went blank. whether i was sitting down for hours or mere seconds, only one thought crossed my mind **'WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON?!'**. I snap myself back by pinching myself, because surely this was a dream right?.... RIGHT?!.
I try and think of this in a logical way. 'What would happen if i press Y? Would i die? Would i die if i pressed N?' and just as those thoughts crossed my mind another prompt appeared over the previous one that said "/help for more information".
Now i know a little bit of code and i played games with command consoles and such so this was a no-brainer. I said it out loud and... nothing, but when i thought about typing it down a whole instructions manual plopped down directly onto my hands. Flipping through the pages took me a lot less than what i expected considering the size of the book, but it just felt like all the information on each page was just flowing into my head as if i had read the book for my whole life.
The explanation was a little too detailed for me but i got the gist of it. If i pressed Y my body will become that of an mmorpg character, considering how wild they look i chose to stay looking the same, and i will have stats and an inventory and the like which can all be upgraded and manipulated. Who would miss such a chance? I thought about clicking Y and two menus popped up on the left and right side of my face.
At this point I'm ready for any kind of surprises considering what I've already seen. I check my inventory and lo and behold... a big fat <EMPTY>. It was your standard inventory and stats page, with a character model with the stats and everything! When i thought of changing my clothes my whole wardrobe popped into my head and the information bomb that i recently got, are now giving me a massive headache. 'How wonderful it would be if all this information would go to an all-knowing assistant like in the games...'
"Is that what you want, sir?" said a cheery little voice in the back of my head
"That would be a lot better, yes. And thank you." I replied after getting a little jump then realizing this is probably the least of my concerns now. "So what can I do with this stats menu? I'd rather not think about looking for it in my mind." i say with a sigh.
"You can adjust anything you want with the points you acquire from levelling up. you currently have 10 points for joining. Where would you like to put them into?"
"Will this change how I look? Can i make myself smarter? Stronger?"
"It will only change how you look if you want it to. you can change literally everything and anything you want." I did not like the giggle she did after saying it, considering I felt like she was looking at my crotch. She's in my head how can she even look?
"Ok, I guess. Just give me a basic WoW themed level menu for now and I'll see what will happen." It pops up and it's your regular level up sheet. Strength, Intelligence, Agility, Endurance, and then the one that caught my interest <???>. I forget about it for now and put a couple points into strength and confirm. I instantly felt the power flowing into me and just when it calmed down a new menu popped up saying "New Quest in your region. Continue (Y/N) \*Should you accept and die we do not claim responsibility."
This was it. The moment I've been waiting for. The thing to make my 9-5 ass get up and do something other than just roam the internet after my job. I can do things with this. What if there is magic and dragons? This is so exciting! I think about accepting the quest as I'm walking out the door and I wouldn't even dare look back at my shitty apartment.
"Hey! You! Listen!" the voice said, "I'm gonna need a name if I'm gonna hang around with you in your head."
"Let's go with Max then," and she gave me that nice little giggle again but this time i knew it was a friendly one. This journey is gonna be tough but it will be worth it.
&#x200B;
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P.S: My first WP. critique and advice would be helpful. i know my grammar and writing aren't amazing but it's my first time writing anything period. Would really like some feedback peeps!
|
I guess I just wasn't really aware of how mundane we all are. We all were. They. Im going to need to start saying they. You experience a lot of things in life that make you smarter, wiser, or stronger. All the little things that made you who you are, that's all your experience. Every heartbreak, interaction, decision, and step taken.
Experience.
It was the scariest decision I've ever made, but the easiest. After all, I had the experience.
L E V E L U P
I guess... I guess I just wasn't really wasn't aware of how mundane they all were.
| 2018-10-22T01:56:21 | 2018-10-21T21:59:31 | 54 | 31 |
[WP] As a means to protect themselves after making First Contact, humanity pretends to be an ancient and technologically advanced species that was stranded on Earth eons ago. Unbeknownst to them, the rest of the galaxy still remembers the first rise of humanity.
|
As I sit at the table in what the Terran Ambassador calls an "Italian Restaurant", I worry if I'm doing enough to conceal my fear.
As I place an order of "fettucine alfredo" with the "waitress", I have to be sure that my manner of speech does not betray my mild distaste for humanity.
As our waitress returns with a bottle of "Chianti" and two "wine glasses", I take note of my pulse and hope that I'm not sweating too heavily.
And after what seems like an eternity of waiting, nonsensical chit-chat, and looking around the restaurant at the curious stares of other customers who've never seen my species before, she finally returns with our orders. The well-planned presentation of the dishes and the appetizing smell do wonders to calm my nerves. And when I take my first bite, all fear, hate, and nervousness melt away.
Say what you will about what Humanity did so long ago, but they've certainly learned over these past centuries to make an amazing meal - their food is *delicious*. And how fortunate it is the among my species, sitting down to a meal with an old adversary is considered one of our highest and most respectable traditions.
I just wonder... do they know? Do they remember? Has anyone kept the knowledge, protected the secrets, spread the truth?
Do they know what happened, so many centuries ago, when their kind first reached out beyond their star system? When the long-range scout ships and recon drones of the Kzenkath picked up the first Terran fleets?
Everything seemed fine at first, but then a communications glitch resulted in a severe translation error. What was meant to be an invitation by the Kzenkathi Ambassador to return to their homeworld for a formal First Contact ceremony and banquet was somehow translated as a threat to execute every soldier and civilian in their fleets and take their heads as trophies.
The resulting conflict was catastrophic. The Kzenkathi First Minister of War mistakenly assumed that due to humanity's less-developed technology, that it would be a quick and easy fight. How wrong she was. Humanity may have been lacking in technology, but their fighting spirit and steadfast resolve more than outclassed theirs.
Kzenkathi weaponry could easily annihilate Terran ships in a head-on confrontation. However, Terran ships were much faster and far more maneuverable, and their minds were keenly tuned to combat strategy. And although Terran forces suffered numerous losses in the initial stages of the conflict, they began to realize this.
Whole Kzenkathi armadas would unleash massive barrages, and Terran ships would simply evade them, suffering minimal damage. That's how the Battle of Ytrat IV was lost - the Terrans dodged fire over and over again until the Kzenkathi ammunition supplies ran low, and their ranks started to collapse out of sheer panic. Any vessels without sufficient power to make an FTL jump out of system were torn apart.
If a Terran vessel suffered catastrophic damage, its crew would set a collision course to the nearest enemy vessel. The Terrans may have lost the Seige of Baratar II, but numerous Kzenkathi SuperDestroyer-class ships went down with them.
They excelled at making last stands, which was how they wore down Kzenkathi forces at the Yahmalk system. They'd figured out how to use the system's dense asteroid belts as cover, using the gas giants' immense gravity to slingshot ships as part of surprise attacks, even how to use *the asteroids themselves as weapons*. The resulting year-and-a-half long battle depleted Kzenkathi forces to critical levels.
Their surface troops fought even more viciously than they did in space. Terrans seemed to revel in person-to-person combat, employing brutal close-range firearms and fearsome bladed weapons. Their female soldiers became particularly notorious for shrieking horribly as they charged into battle - a sound which seemed to energize the male troops into fighting even harder and adding their own deafening bellows. That horrible din could break the will of even the hardest combat veteran, and sent Kzenkathi troops fleeing in terror on multiple occasions.
The Kzenkathi Imperium even approached the Galactic Ruling Council, begging us for assistance. However, the Council ruled that they would not get involved unless humanity came after them as well. But to tell you the truth, they were just scared shitless of humanity.
It was only after Terran forces had finally beat the Kzenkath back to their own home star system that serious discussion on intervening in the conflict began. They may have been an impulsive, warlike race, and their atrocities against Terran prisoners were well-known, but their past contributions towards agriculture and medicine could not be denied.
By the time Council forces arrived at the Kzenkathi homeworld, it was too late - the battle was already over. The burning hulks of warships, troop transports, and space stations choked the orbit of the planet. The surface of the homeworld burned so intensely that the once reddish-green atmosphere had gone a sickly greyish-yellow. The battle in space was long over, but fighting continued on the surface, and was mostly hand-to-hand - both sides had almost totally exhausted their ammunition supplies. Council Forces landed and put a swift end to the conflict, sparing few who stood in their path.
And after that, humanity simply returned to their homeworld... and never came back. It was as though they'd never left in the first place. And no one knew why. The dominant theory was that they too had been so crippled by their long war with the Kzenkath that retreat and isolation became the only option. For many, many years, it was feared that Humanity was simply biding their time - rebuilding, resupplying, and even reverse-engineering captured Kzenkath technology for their own needs. And with little warning, they would suddenly explode into Council space, fiercer and deadlier than ever before. But that never came to pass.
The Kzenkath themselves, whose species once numbered in the billions, were now reduced to barely a tenth of their population. A drawback, I suppose, of having a culture so focused on the military - they just kept conscripting more and more people into the fight, growing desperate as it went on. Their homeworld had been rendered uninhabitable, forcing their whole race to move to the Phallk homeworld. Inter-breeding between the two races eventually formed the race we know as the "Phalzen"... my own species, in fact. We're renowned for our knowledge of law and expertise in criminal justice...
"Are you okay?"
I jump slightly as the Terran Ambassador taps me on the shoulder. I look at him, confused.
"Your Excellency, you haven't said a whole lot, and you've barely touched your meal. Is everything alright?"
I clear my throat, gesture apologetically, and take a sip of my wine.
"Apologies, Ambassador. I just got a little caught up in my own thoughts, it can happen when I'm nervous."
"Is something bothering you?"
I shake my head, "I suppose it's just nerves. It's my first time on your planet, after all."
He nods respectfully and offers to refill my wine glass, to which I graciously accept. Feeling slightly foolish for having neglected my meal, I continue eating, and understand why the Ambassador recommended this choice.
Later that evening, as I relax back at my hotel room with a book on human history and a cup of "Peppermint Tea", I again find myself wondering if someone, anyone at all remembers the Human-Kzenkath War. What research I've managed to do during my short time on Earth has turned up nothing - all of humanity's recorded knowledge of its history seems to begin sometime following the extinction of great creatures known as "dinosaurs".
If it's true that humanity forgot their brutal campaign against the Kzenkath... is it possible that they've changed? Did they erase all knowledge of their campaign out of shame and embarrassment, hoping to forget that part of themselves? Are all our fears about humanity unleashing another genocidal campaign upon the galaxy unfounded?
Once relations between our species have been more firmly established, should we tell them? As traumatic and unpleasant as the records and memories may be, do we owe them that, out of friendship and camaraderie?
Questions for another time, I suppose...
I finish a chapter in my book, finish my tea, and yawn heavily. It's nearly midnight, and I've got a big day tomorrow - I'm giving a speech before their United Nations.
I pick up my bookmark and place it where I left off. I take note of the next chapter's title - "World War II". Curious, I take a glance at the chapter summary, and several words seem to capture my attention - "Hitler", "Nazi", "Jewish", "Holocaust".
Though very interested, I close the book, place it on my bedside table next to that odd "Gideon Bible" that someone had placed in the drawer, and turn off the lights.
As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered yet again - *Has humanity changed since we last met? How will things be different?*
I won't be able to read my book until at least three days from now. I suppose I'll see for myself...
|
In mission control of NASA, 100s of the worlds greatest minds were bickering loudly whilst a single word sat on the main screen [GREETINGS, FRIEND? NAME?].
It has been 6 hours since this astonishing message was first received and decrypted. Ever since the message had been received, the finest minds along with the most powerful leaders had been hotly debating our best line of action. Eventually the prevailing theory was to be reply but not give away who we were fully, especially not in regards to our capabilities. As clearly these beings had far surpassed our understanding of science and technology. No it was decided that we would fabricate ourselves as a powerful, peaceful race which had been stricken by great tragedy.
The director of NASA gave a nod, a morbidly serious look drawn across his tight face. The scientist sweating began to tentatively type opening the line of dialogue.
NASA: HELLO, WE ARE THE HUMANS OF EARTH. FRIENDLY, WHO IS THIS?
[AH WELL MET FELLOW ENLIGHTENED BEING. WE REPRESENT AN ORDER OF OTHER ADVANCED RACES, COLLABORATING FOR THE BETTERMENT OF ALL LIFE AND ARE THE PROMOTERS OF ORDER IN THIS CHAOTIC EXISTENCE. HOW HAVE WE NOT HEARD FROM YOU YET?]
The control room was now a hush with panicked whispers. The scientist turned to the elderly director, the director concluded his hushed tones with the presidential phone and lowered it to his side and once again gave another curt nod. The scientist wheeled back around to the monitor.
NASA: OUR ANCESTORS WERE ONCE KEY PLAYERS IN THE GRAND STAGE, BUT GREAT TRAGEDY STRUCK OUR WORLD. WE FOUND THIS PLANET AND HAVE BEEN REBUILDING OUR SOCIETY SINCE.
[....I SEE. I'M SORRY]
NASA: DO NOT PITY US, WE CAN RISE ONCE MORE. PERHAPS WITH A HAND FROM NEW FRIENDS?
[WE HAVE NO INTENTION OF DOING THIS.]
The scientist nervously cleared his throat and began to fidget with his hair thinking the next words carefully. But the director who was relaying everything to the world leaders yanked him out of the chair and sat down.
NASA: WHY? WOULD THIS NOT MEET THE CRITERIA OF "THE BETTERMENT OF ALL LIFE"??
[BECAUSE DURING THE TIME IT TOOK YOU TO RESPOND TO OUR STANDARD WELCOME WE HAVE BEEN OBSERVING...LEARNING AND REMEMBERING. WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE, WHAT YOU'VE DONE.]
The directors face scrunched into a scowl, the scientist behind him was shuddering "oh no".
NASA: I THINK YOU HAVE US CONFUSED WITH SOMEONE ELSE. WHAT "HAVE WE DONE" ?
[YOUR PEOPLE BEGUN LIFE ON ALPHA 4. AS ONE OF THE OLDEST RACES WE INVITED YOU ONTO THIS COUNCIL TO JOIN MY OWN RACE. WHILST WE PURSUED KNOWLEDGE AND ENLIGHTENMENT; YOUR KIND ONLY SOUGHT POWER AND DOMINANCE. YOU DAMN NEAR ERASED US AND ALL OTHER LIFE FROM EXISTENCE BEFORE WE ALL BANDED TOGETHER AND ANNIHILATED YOUR WORLDS. AND BANISHED YOU IN DISGRACE ALMOST 100 MILLENNIA AGO. ]
NASA: WE HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT. PLEASE GIVE US A CHANCE TO MAKE THINGS RIGHT.
[AS PRIMITIVES YOU WOULDN'T UNDERSTAND, BUT IF YOU EXIST AS LONG AS WE HAVE YOU LEARN A FEW GREAT UNCHANGING TRUTHS. NOT LEAST THAT HISTORY HAS A HABIT OF REPEATING ITSELF. LEFT TO FESTER YOU WOULD EITHER DESTROY YOURSELVES OR GROW STRONG ENOUGH TO SPREAD MISERY AND DESPAIR ONCE MORE. SO WE WILL LEAVE FOR NOW, LET YOU CONTINUE THIS LITTLE ACT. BUT WHEN WE RETURN IF WE DEEM YOU STRONG ENOUGH TO BE A POTENTIAL THREAT. THEN WE WILL ERADICATE YOU. AGAIN]
All the monitors in the grand room burst into static and then with a violent, sparked pop they all broke. The scientists begun bickering much louder now, the scientist behind the director squirmed nervously "director sir, what now?"
The director let out a heavy sigh as he took his glasses off to clean them with his shirt. "Get the president back on the phone, we're going to need more funding".
| 2016-10-20T14:17:14 | 2016-10-20T12:28:25 | 81 | 14 |
[WP] You are a normal person who spent your entire life infiltrating the evil Empire. You even became the Emperor's right hand. The day before you finally topple the Empire, the hero arrives, kills the Emperor, and saves the day.
Now how does that make you feel?
|
"Weren't you suppose to take that blow?"
I looked at this irritating woman incredulously. Was she serious?
"It is good fortune you didn't, but I thought that Xavier Longwood would have protected Kane even if his men had abandoned him."
"So you know of me?" I couldn't help but respond. I looked at the trio of misfits who had accompanied this women into the Emperor's suite. Two hulking brothers who had the IQ of a toad and some gangly archer had subdued the half dozen guards and two other councilmen who had been staying with the Emperor.
"I memorized all of the important people in the Empire, why wouldn't the Emperor's second be any different? The man born a baker's son and has spent fifty years becoming much more." Her sword was still pointing in my direction, so there was no way she trusted me. It was what it was.
I let out a sigh. "Of course." I finally recognized her dark green hair, with a natural shading that I had only seen once before. "You must be the daughter of that Planter fellow. The one who stabbed the emperor as Prince Arn since he had a forest razed. I'm guessing this is your revenge?" I was only talking to avoid getting killed. This event had occured twenty years before, early in my infiltration into the Empire when the old emperor ruled
"My father was not some fellow! He was a protector of the forest, a title handed down since the true rulers of Scoren reigned, the Winchesters! A forest your emperor destroyed for no good reason! One of them many evil things you helped him do. You have served this empire for decades, and have stayed quiet as he ended thousands. Why shouldn't I kill you as you stand?" The heroine began to point her sword in a far more threatening manner.
"Did you forget about Wallace and Monroe? Or the Emperor's youngest brother Stallone? You have done nothing except ruin the end of the Empire." I began to work into my rant, but I was cut off.
"Ruin the end? I know what he was doing here. He was going to kill the Lamons ambassador and declare war on them for the resources of the Western Sea. And it would have been either fight for the Emperor or die!"
"It was going to be a coup that ended the Kane empire you fools!" I realized the eyes of the allies to the hero in the room were on me, and that all others were dead. I was the last to enter this room with the former emperor to live. I was going to make the mercy count.
"You have no idea who the ambassador from Lamons is, now do you?"
The four of them couldn't help but shake their heads. The archer pointed his bow in the direction of Allen, one of the dead councilmen. "No, we only got from spying on him the plot to kill him." He seemed the too honest type.
"It is Sly Kane."
"Impossible! He was executed last year for defying the emperor! He had no remorse for his nephew."
"But I did, and forced another prisoner to take his place. And I sent him to Lamons, where he gathered the trust of the royalty and we continued our plot to end the Empire. So tomorrow, while the Emperor comes with 30 men and his close advisors, Lamons had brought 300. It would have been a bloodbath that ended everyone relevant to the Empire. And as the highest ranking heir. Sly would have taken the throne and converted power into a parliament, much like Lamons is. But with the Emperor dead, those men I spoke of earlier will run and know something is up. The assault on Lamons will occur and many men and women will die to your overzealousness."
They looked shaken as I told them this, as I explained to them their folly. Then one of the oafs spoke.
"But if we kill them, we still good?"
"Huh? You mean Wallace and Monroe and Stallone and the others that would have been there? They are spread in multiple locations, with many a guard. Arn was arrogant and thought he would not be attacked and brought among his weakest with him."
"But Lamons has 300 men you said." The oaf pointed a giant hole in my logic.
He was right. If we attacked now, this could be salvaged. "Alright, but we must move fast. Stallone will be here shortly to speak with his brother, and he will alert the rest once he sees the dead. Sly is staying in a tavern not far from here, while Lamons decoy ambassador is three floors below. We must move quickly." I began to look at the heroine who still was pointing her sword threateningly at me.
She looked around and sighed before putting her sword down. "Fine, but I will help. I wish to meet this future leader, and to see if he is true or if he is using you to further his goals."
I chuckled as I went to gather my cloack I needed for this excursion. "I have been doing this for longer than you have been alive. Waiting for this day to end it all at once. If I thought Sly could betray me, I would have let him die." I made sure it covered my face well enough and made my way to the door.
"Let us finish this."
|
I was angry. I spent the last decades of my life doing what I had to do to rise to my powerful position. Then, my son had to come along when I was so close to finishing my perfect plan. I wish he had just joined me and we could combine our powers. Sadly, my life energy is going out after I had to help my son defeat The Emperor. I know he'll do a fine job ruling without me. Now it's time to be one with The Force..
| 2017-03-12T13:26:11 | 2017-03-12T09:58:04 | 124 | 47 |
[WP] A cure for sleep has been found, by taking a cheap pill people no longer need to sleep. You opted to continue sleeping and now 1 year after the release of this pill you notice that people are starting to act oddly.
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Ada's eyes shot open as she woke with a start, interrupting her fairy dream. Something was happening. Daddy and Mommy were shouting again, but it was different this time. They weren't arguing, they were afraid. Hesitantly she slid out of bed pulling a much-loved teddy bear by the ear.
Ada shuffled to the door, hugged her bear tight, stuck her thumb in her mouth, and pressed her ear to the door. Mommy and Daddy seemed to be scrambling around. They were talking about getting clothes on, grabbing weapons, checking social media. Ada didn't understand what could be happening. She slowly realized that there were shouts coming from outside too. She went to the window.
People were flying out of their houses in various states of dress. Some had shovels, guns, or knives, others were holding phones in front of their faces. She heard her parents leaving the house and saw them join the masses. They had forgotten her, not too surprisingly.
Everyone seemed to be looking up at the sky so Ada opened the window and leaned out. What she saw was something she would never forget. The lights in the sky were bewitching as they spun around the shape of they flying saucer. The craft was slowly descending to Earth. First contact was imminent.
Once humanity got over their immediate fear and prejudice, the aliens turned out to be very amicable. Humans slowly grew to like them despite the tentacles. They promised they came with peaceful purposes and even shared a variety of scientific and technological knowledge.
At first people were excited about the advancement of space travel or the cure for the common cold, but as it turned out, the most valued gift the aliens brought came in the form of a simple, cheap pill. This pill became known as the Sleep Cycle. One pill and you would suddenly feel like you'd had a whole night's rest. The pill's popularity exploded until it seemed that every human was addicted. Everyone except Ada that is.
Ada loved to dream. In dreams she could have magic powers, explore new worlds, have friends and family that loved her. When Mommy and Daddy came home with the first batch of Sleep Cycle, they didn't bother to offer it to her like most parents would have, but Ada didn't want it anyway. She would never give up her dreams.
The human race was happy. They had more time to be productive, and more time for fun. Between the alien technology and the longer hours, scientific advancement was at an all time high. The planet was bustling with energy and still Ada dreamed.
It was over a year before she noticed, but at some point Ada became aware that the people around her were not the same. Her classmates seemed to be growing faster than her. At first she thought she was just getting her growth spurt late, but then the students in the grade below her seemed taller too. Mommy's face seemed to have suddenly developed wrinkles, Aunt Susie had her baby at six months and it didn't even look premature.
Once Ada started looking for the signs, they were all there. She started measuring how often Daddy had to shave his face and found it had definitely become more frequent. Everyone was eating more frequently. There was a news story about how babies that were given Sleep Cycle seemed to be growing bigger and "healthier" than those that weren't. But Ada had another theory. Those babies were just aging faster than ones kept off the medicine. Everyone who took Sleep Cycle was aging faster.
Ada had nobody to talk to so she decided she would have to take matters into her own hands. The aliens had provided Sleep Cycle so they probably knew what was going on. She dressed in black because that was what people did in these situations, put her teddy bear in her backpack, and armed herself with her history textbook as it was the heaviest solid, portable object she had in her bedroom. It was time to visit the flying saucer.
Gaining access to the saucer proved to be easy. The aliens were so well trusted by this point that security measures were low priority. Being a small, innocent, little girl, Ada simply slipped into a guided tour group and walked onto the space craft. While the alien guide had everyone's attention, she slipped down a hall that had been described as leading to the lab which was off limits. That had seemed like a promising place to start.
Ada had little difficulty in locating the lab. She stood on her toes to peer through the window in the door. There were only two aliens inside and they seemed busy so she slipped inside.
All around the room were human sized pods with tubes coming out the tops and leading towards complicated looking contraptions in the middle of the room. The aliens were handling tubes full of colored mist and keeping an eye on some dials.
"Would you take a look at this nightmare! I do love a good nightmare."
"Stop sampling the stock, we'll get in trouble."
"But human dreams are so delicious. I think they are my favorite species yet."
"I dunno, I think I liked the last planet better."
"You have weird taste. Oh hey, machine 8 seems to be contaminated, would you go take a look?"
One of the aliens then walked over to a pod and opened it up. A woman was standing inside like a statue. She was holding a hissing cat in her arms, but the cat couldn't escape her stony grip.
"Oh damn, it's another crazy cat lady. Brought her cat with her. I'll never understand humanity's desire to keep other species as pets."
"Send it back to the time she was taken from. Neither one of them will notice the difference."
"Yeah yeah, I know the drill. Take the pill, transport to pod, sleep eight hours, transport them back to the time they were taken from. They'll never notice the difference."
The alien shut the door of the pod and typed into it's keypad. There was a meow and then the alien opened the door again. The woman was still there, but the cat was gone. He nodded and then headed back to the middle of the room.
Ada had seen enough to understand the situation. The aliens were harvesting human dreams. And humans weren't aging faster, they were just forgetting eight hours of their lives every time they took a pill and got transported to a pod. Because of the time travel component, each pill caused a person to age eight hours in the blink of an eye.
Ada got up out of her corner and ran toward the aliens swinging her textbook in front of her. The aliens stopped in surprise. She managed to smack on with the book before she grabbed vials full of dream and smashed them on the floor. Hazy images sprouted up around them as the vials broke.
The aliens were distracted by the visions around them and Ada moved on to smash buttons on the pods and open doors. Not knowing what buttons to press, her efforts had varied effects. Some people were transported away but to the wrong time or place and so their absence was noticed. Some people become stuck in the statue-like sleep caused by the pod. Some people were awakened and alerted to their situation.
After that the word spread quickly that the aliens were taking time away from people to harvest their dreams. Not too surprisingly, they were kicked off the planet right away and humanity had to learn how to sleep again.
Ada went back home to continue to be ignored by her parents, however she did get recognition for her heroism. In the years to come her name would have it's place in the very history book she used to take out the dream-eating aliens.
|
Trashcan
That piece of shit Dave came out from his house and went to the trash can again. Mike made this the eleventh time but he had only started counting when the repition of the sound of the trash can lid being pulled open seemed to come up from the background noise of the usual hub-bub of his suburban street.
Just like every other time so far Mike had seen, Dave marched right up to the can, stared at it for ten seconds then violently whipped it's lid off and gaped at whatever was inside. He then looked around seeming to make sure he hadn't been seen, replaced the lid softly then snuck back inside.
Odd.
At first Mike had assumed Dave had thrown something fairly important out and was sure to rertieve it and wouldn't return but the more he saw the strange routine play out he started to believe that whatever was in the can was a surprise to Dave too.
It was a surprise over and over again it looked like.
So odd.
Dave had a mean streak when drunk and Mike had got to witness first hand via the kitchen window from his front lounge. You see Dave had what Mikes grandma had called "hands for quarrelin" and he took those hands to his wife quite regularly. She came off so bad once that they had to give her plastic surgery. But she always went back.
Mike dry swallowed and rested his hand on his front door knob. He was going outside. He was going to the can. He wanted to know. Had he finally gone too far and hurt her so bad that he killed her and bundled her lifeless body into it? Into the can? He had to know but timing was important. Dave came out at quite regular intervals but he could come right back out again too, Mike had seen it happen once.
He'd play it cool. A slow walk to the letter box, out the drive and check on the hedge row. Then, a swift move across the road to the where Dave's drive way met his garage. The can resided there.
DINGDONG
Mikes heart jumped with fear and shock at the sudden noise of the doorbell. Christ, someone was on the other side- only a step away from him. He looked through the peephole. It was Dave with a scowl across his hardened face. Mikes mind made him reel in fear but it was his eyes that had taken in the most horrific detail from his short glimpse of this surprise visit. Dave had his rifle in his right hand.
A trickle of sweat escaped over Mikes brow and onto his eye.
Dave pounded on the door "Mike!!!" He screamed "I know you're in there!"
[dont know if anyone will read this so I'll stop there for now I guess]
| 2016-08-30T14:27:13 | 2016-08-30T11:14:14 | 24 | 18 |
[WP] The . . . creature . . . has been following you for weeks now, but nobody else can see it. It just sits there, staring, grinning. Then one day you look across the coffee shop and see a young woman with another one right behind her. Your eyes meet . . .
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(Sorry if its not good. Pretty new to writing and it's like 1 am. Took over an hour to write so hope you like it)
I sharply turned back to my coffee, puzzled and a little freaked out. Could it be possible that it was actually real? The way she looked at me... It was like she saw it too. I thought it was just a hallucination, it couldnt be real.
I turned back to look at the woman again and saw her quickly look back down at her coffee.
I shifted my gaze to the thing towering behind her, staring daggers at her, face wide with a grin that took the saying 'smiling ear to ear' a little literal. It seemed identical to mine.
I had to talk to her, see if these creatures were real or just my imagination. But I couldn't just walk up to her and say "Hey! Are you aware of the creepy monster following you around or do I just needa go to the hospital?"
After thinking for a little while I finnaly decided how to approach her. It probably wasn't the most practical way but what the hell.
I stood up and walked over to her table. When I spoke she seemed to startle a little. "Hey, I saw you looking at me over there and I..." "Oh yeah sorry bout that I just uh.. find you kinda attractive, couldn't take my eyes of you haha" Well wasn't the way I was planning but guess it's a way. I opened my mouth to speak but she cut me off again "you know what, here, here's my number, gimme a call " She forced a small slip of paper into my hand before standing up and hurridly rushing out of the shop, creature following. Confused I looked down at the slip in my hand. I guess I was hallucinating after all.
I tried to carry on my day like usual after then, go back to work once my lunch break was over, then finish up work at 5 and go back to my dark, lonely apartment, sitting on the couch watching tv with the creature next to me like usual.
"Greg could ya move? Your blocking the tv" I looked up at the creature standing Infront of me, just staring, grinning "ya know it wouldn't hurt ya to blink once in a while, maybe you'd seem a little more alive then and not just my personal horror movie"
I looked down at the "my name is" tag I had placed on the right side of it's chest a couple of weeks ago with 'Greg' written in scraggly writing. It was difficult writing on such a flesh like surface. I guess I really must be crazy to give a hallucination and name.
After a deep sigh I pulled the slip of paper with the woman from the coffee shops number on it. Better than spending the night alone, well mostly alone. I pulled out my phone and she answered surprisingly quickly. It didn't take long for her to invite me to a small restaurant not far from my place. I was mainly surprised how quickly she invited me for a same day date. Only had about 2 hours to get ready.
At 7:40 I was still waiting at the table, starting to wonder if I had been stood up. A few moments later the woman quickly ran in ,apologizing and complaining about the traffic. She sat down across from me, the monster rushing to be by her side.
As the date continued I quickly learned that she doesn't stop talking, like ever. It was difficult to get a word in. On the bright side I quickly learned quite a bit about her. Her name was Mary, she lived not too far from my place, her favorite food was lasagna, or ice cream, or fish and chips, she couldn't decide. I also quickly learnt that I would not be going on another date with her.
Eventually she said something that pulled me out of my boredem. "I'm guessing your not here to find out my favourite color though" "of course I am, I think your really pretty and a nice person" "are you kidding? Youve been looking at it all night"
I froze. Could it not be a hallucination, could it be real, I wasn't sure which one I'd prefer to be honest.
"What do you mean it?" I asked, deciding to play it safe.
"Oh come on, I know you know, you have one too. Like it's name by the way. How'd you get yours?" "How did I... Get mine?" I wasn't playing stupid anymore, I had no idea what she meant by 'get'. Wasn't like I walked into a pet store and said "I'd like the most terrifying thing you have please"
"Yeah get" she said like it was obvious. "Ya know how you get them right?" " No..." I replied, puzzled. "Oooh you must be a newbie. How long you had yours?" "Uuh about 5 or 6 weeks I think" my voice drifting off a bit, everything I knew seeming to become hazy. "Ohh you must've been the guy in the car accident" "how do you know about that?" I quickly snapped back, my anger beginning to boil.
"Calm down, I saw it in the news, shame that other guy didn't make it out. I know how it feels, to accidentally take a life" she seemed calmer and... sadder now, not as bubbly and talkative as before. "It's already a horrible feeling, being racked with guilt and pain, watching as their family crys and sobs, hearing them yell and threaten you. Already bad enough without these guys" she turned to look at her monster smiling next to her with pain in her eyes.
I looked up at Greg standing next to me, only now connecting the dots. It was only at the funeral when it appeared. Everybody thought I'd gone crazy when I started yelling and screaming. I thought I'd gone crazy too.
I turned back to look at Mary. "Do you know what it is?" I asked hopefully. She looked at me and took a deep breath. "Sometimes when somebody has enough guilt, the can accidentally summon it" "yes but what IS it" I asked, starting to get impatient.
After a moment she told me "It's a demon"
|
Alexa's going crazy. There's no other possible reason for it. She doesn't even know how it happens.
One day she wakes up, only to see a ghoul like creature staring back into the depths of her soul. It doesn't resemble anything, just a vague black shape, with a hood covering it.
It must have eyes, for it follows her everywhere but she's never seen them. Then again, no one else sees the creature either.
She tried running for miles, screaming even going on a road trip to another state but the creature is always there. Lurking in the corner.
Alexa stares morosely at her coffee - her last one before she checks herself into the mental hospital.
Thats when she sees the woman. And the creature behind her. Alexa whirls around on instinct, but her ghoul's still behind her.
There's two of them now. She scrambles out of seat, running towards the woman.
"Hey!"
The woman looks at her, eyes widening before she starts running.
Alexa puts on a burst of speed, almost catching up to her. She needs answers. "Hey! Please! I need to know what's wrong with me."
The woman stares at her, pursing her lips, before looking at the ghouls beside them.
"Stay away from me. The more of us together, the stronger they become and then we'll be caught. "
Alexa frowns, narrowing in on one word. "Us?"
The woman rolls her eyes. "For someone who cheated death you sure seem to be trying to get killed."
| 2022-11-26T03:09:35 | 2022-11-26T00:59:59 | 87 | 26 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a special talent that's weak when young, but grows stronger and matures at the age of 30. A kid that's a little stronger than his peers will grow up to lift mountains. Another who like tinkering will revolutionize civil action. You? Well, cats just seem to like you...
*civilizations
Edit: WP was more popular than I though. Reading through the stories delayed because I'm traveling. Keep them coming I'm loving them!
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**"Thomas!"**
My head shot up off my desk. My eyes struggled to adjust to the light. My right arm was asleep where I had been laying on it.
"Huh, what's up?" I mumbled.
My classmates laughed as I wiped the drool residue off the corners of my mouth. I smiled along with them to appear less embarrassed.
"If you're finished with your nap, we would love to hear your opinion on the subject at hand." Mrs. O'brian said, clearly frustrated.
I looked to my friend Evan for some sort of clue as to the context of what Mrs. O'brian meant. He just laughed at me. What a pal...
"Sorry Mrs. O, can you remind me?" I asked.
Mrs. O'brian was a no-nonsense kind of teacher. She would normally make her students leave the classroom for something like this, but she was aware of what I was dealing with at home.
"We're discussing the ethical decision making behind George's shooting of Lenny in *Of Mice and Men*." She answered.
I looked to Evan again, out of habit. He lifted his notebook to reveal an incredibly detailed sketch of me drooling on my desk, while a cat sat on my head.
"Douche." I whispered under my breath as I stood up and made my way to the front of the class.
Mrs. O'brian took a seat at her desk and stared at me, waiting for my illuminating insight.
"Ahem." I began. "Well, the only person who would know the answer to that question would be the author."
A few kids snickered. Mrs. O'brian replied, "And who would that be?"
I could feel my face turning red. "Um, George...Orwell?"
The class erupted in laughter.
Mrs. O'brian looked furious. Thankfully the bell rang and everyone started to gather their things and leave the classroom. I made my way back to my desk when she stopped me.
"I'm going to need to see you after class, Thomas." She said without a hint of amusement in her voice.
Evan walked past us on his way out and whispered to me, "I'll see you outside, assuming she doesn't kill you."
The classroom was now empty besides the two of us.
"This has to stop, Thomas." She said. "I can't let you pass my class if you're always asleep or not paying attention."
"I'm really sorry Mrs. O" I replied. "It's just so hard to get any sleep at home, with all the strays screaming at me from outside my bedroom window every night."
She walked over to her desk and removed something from her top drawer. It was a brand new pair of ear plugs. She handed them to me.
"Try these this weekend, and let me know if you need more on Monday. You're a smart kid Thomas, but I can't let you move on to the 10th grade if you don't start applying yourself."
I put them in my pocket and smiled at her. "Thanks Mrs. O. I'll do that."
She returned the smile and put her hand on my shoulder. Her mouth opened to respond but what I heard was not her voice. Instead it was an awful sound.
**EHH EHH EHH EHH EHH**
I woke up again. This time for real. I reached across my cot and slammed my hand down on that horrible alarm clock to silence it's assault.
I groaned and stretched, before swinging my legs over the side to get the day started.
"Another day in paradise." I mumbled to myself, sarcastically.
Everything had changed quite a bit since the time of that dream. Far too many people had let their abilities go to their heads, and the world had fallen into a global state of civil war. It was like the wild west, but with magical abilities thrown into the mix. If you didn't have any way to protect yourself from bandits, then you were likely going to be canon fodder for the bloodthirsty and bored. Most people aligned themselves with a gang, or crew, or agency that provided some amount of security. I was no different.
I looked out of my bedroom window and saw my boys wrestling in the grass. Tiny roared as Liam chomped down on the scruff of his neck. Nearby, Paula was laying in the shadow of my shed, watching the two boys fight. I knocked on the glass.
All three of them looked up at me through the glass and smiled. Well, as much of a smile as one would expect from a lion, tiger, and panther.
I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee, before logging onto BILLNET to see what was going on with the crew.
*BING*
A message from Evan appeared.
**Hey T. We're meeting up today at noon, to caravan into town to get supplies. I'll pick you and the kids up around 11:30.**
I closed out my inbox, and looked at the news feed. Bill had shared an update. I clicked on it.
**PRESIDENT BRADLY ASSASSINATED IN THE NIGHT**
"Jesus Christ." I muttered. "Just keeps getting worse."
Liam, Tiny, and Paula barged in the house through the back entrance and began aggressively nuzzling me and growling at each-other, competing for me attention.
"Alright, alright guys. Easy."
I pushed my way past them, and went into the backyard before shutting the heavy door I installed to keep them inside. I walked over to my storage shed and opened the door.
*Baaaaa*
I unhooked the chain on the lamb I had purchased the previous week, and led it outside. I shut the door behind me, and walked back towards the house. I didn't enjoy this part, but it was necessary these days. Hunting was extremely competitive, and I didn't want anything to happen to the kids so I provide what I can for them.
I opened the gate and the kids came shooting out, filled with blood-lust and excitement for their meal. I quickly entered the house and shut the heavy door as the lamb's screams began.
I walked back over to my computer and sat down. I had missed another message from Evan, so I opened it.
**Change of plans. Bill intercepted a message from the Python Crew. They're going to raid town today around the same time that we were going to be there gathering supplies. We need to get there ASAP to avoid any bloodshed. I'm outside.**
I downed the rest of my coffee, and opened the closest window to whistle at the kids. They looked up at me in response, their faces all covered in blood.
*HONK HONK*
Evan was already here.
"Let's go kids!" I shouted.
I shut the window, and went to my armory cabinet. I pulled out two pistols, and my trusty sniper rifle.
"Another day in paradise."
|
There were rumblings. Only rumblings, though, people said. And if he did come back, they would be ready for him.
After all, they had their talents: many were stronger than oxen, others could shoot a target from three miles, and some could sweet-talk the robe off of a supreme court justice. They were a city of mammoths and monsters and miracle-workers.
But there were mutterings, nonetheless.
"Marcus?"
"Yeah?"
"It's time, isn't it?"
"No, Lisa, no, he's not coming back."
"He could, though."
"He won't? What's left to claim?"
Lisa shook her head. "I don't know. I don't want to know."
Marcus put his hands on her shoulders. "Lisa."
"I'm leaving."
"Why? You can't go."
"I'm taking Spot with me."
Marcus sighed heavily but said nothing. She was probably right. But admitting that meant he'd have to leave everything he knew, too. He watched her leave.
She was almost right. It took a month before Sha-Ka-Katta showed his face. But there were more of them this time, thousands upon thousands of them, four-legged demons, and the man himself rode in on a litter of them, carried by cats on two legs, cats on one leg, cats on robot legs. All with glittering eyes preparing to fire.
"What do you want with us?" Marcus called out from the tavern roof. "You've taken everything."
The man dressed in cat furs, with a crown of woven whiskers, made no noise. He sat, frozen, for a minute, then raised one hand--was it a paw?--just perceptibly. The cats shrieked and clawed and tore each other to pieces to get at Marcus. They swarmed the tavern walls and climbed and dug and flung themselves from window sills to balcony to gutters.
"Why?" screamed Marcus.
Sha-Ka-Katta raised his other arm toward the sky and a thousand more cats flung themselves headlong at the barn. "This place smells like tuna."
r/GubbinalWrites
| 2016-12-30T09:07:06 | 2016-12-30T08:06:34 | 690 | 58 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT.
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[Unfortunately I didn't have time to write the entire story I was imagining, but I liked this prompt so I had to get something out! The basic premise would have been that humanity just won a dramatic military victory and they are punishing both the aggressors and the corrupt member species of the galactic council who refused to vote to condemn the aggressors. The punishment is quite brutal, the offenders' home planets will be completely blockaded from space for 1,000 years and not be allowed to use a single scrap of technology. This exposition would have explained why the humans won and I guess is the most interesting part.]
The humans had had the misfortune of evolving in a region of the galaxy devoid of element 173- Galactium, as the humans came to call it in honor of its use in building faster than light engines. Elements 2 through 135 are created either by a star or a supernova explosion of a star. No life can evolve on a planet unless its region of space is first seeded with the debris of a supernova, and the accompanying heavy elements, before the planet is formed. Elements 136 through 642 however cannot even be formed in the intense heat of an exploding star. They are only created in the near infinite pressure of a black hole, and in the eventual explosion of a black hole that seeds its region of space with these ultra heavy elements. As the humans found non of these ultra heavy elements on their planet naturally, they were incapable of traveling faster than light until much later in their evolution as a society, when they were finally able to manufacture them on their own.
As a consequence, humankind evolved differently than any other species in the galaxy. Most species took to the stars as soon as their planet got crowded. The presence of the ultra heavy elements guided most species to discover fundamental physical laws and develop advanced technology very easily. Element 231, Blobium, is a particularly obvious example. But as the humans had none of this their society took much longer to discover advanced technology, and their planet got much more crowded and stayed crowded for far longer than typical. They fought, long and hard, over very limited resources. Entire civilizations and empires rose and fell based entirely on metal and wood sticks as the primary combat weapons. By biology humans are not much different than most other species in the galaxy. But millenia of intense conflict made them hard. Where most species would simply flee to another star system if they came into conflict with their neighbors, the humans had no such luxuries. Their war was brutal. They would burn entire rival cities to the ground, leaving nothing but rubble, and yet the city would still refuse to surrender. How could you refuse to surrender a pile of rubble to your enemies, if they actually cared to have it at that point? It was a uniquely human concept. They would send their armies to die by the millions to achieve an objective, sometimes a seemingly trivial one. They had a grim name for such a tactic: the "meat grinder." They invented other new concepts as well. Total War- the dedication of every last man, woman, and child to the war effort. Mutually Assured Destruction- the publicly stated willingness to annihilate the entire planet if a sufficiently strong attack were launched on a rival faction.
And yet, through the brutality, *because* of the brutality, there were moments of triumph. Men in opposing combat lines would sing together in the dead of the night. Showing mercy to a defeated enemy was common. Leaders, diplomats, and representatives of rival factions in a de-facto state of war would shake hands, meet in the mutual pursuit of scientific or humanitarian goals, and even sit down and have civilized public debates about their differences. Man kind was horrified by the brutality and inspired by the humanity that their conflicts created. Humans were forced to confront the worst of their nature. Forced to fight because of it. Forced to ask themselves what they really valued when faced with throwing away millions of lives for a cause. They eventually learned to co exist, to understand and respect each others' differences, and to desire peace. As their wars became more destructive, humans became more reluctant, to a man, to fight in them. Eventually no government could declare a war because they would promptly be voted out of office or overthrown. When humans finally joined the galactic community this reluctance to go to war carried on.
But here's the thing. Humans became *good* at war. They became so good at war they refused to go to war anymore. Can you imagine such a species? Not only were they good at war, they became extremely good at *not* going to war. In the last years before they discovered space travel their continued peace in the face of their horrifyingly powerful weapons relied on brinksmanship, on a technological arms race. They learned to develop weapons with even more power without having to do a single physical test- and this ability made them compulsive about funding continued development of deadly weapons even when they had no intention to use them. Human governments had a habit of being prepared, and they carried this habit forward into their space civilization. They became extremely adept at keeping secrets, going as far as to rigorously limit the number of people who knew a particular weapon of war even existed. When humans eliminated the deadliest disease from their planet, smallpox, they could not bring themselves to fully destroy it. They kept samples, just in case. They became very capable of safely handling the deadliest weapons such that they could be turned on their enemies if needed.
They learned to accept each other, which eventually let them unite under a single banner. They remain the only galactic species that has a single government for all of its members, with most species balkanizing into many different groups. The human federation is capable of acting in unison. When war is declared, every last human participates and contributes to achieve victory. No other species has come close to this level of unity.
|
Starlog:210x August 24th
Our plans ,to invade Earth, thwarted by Humans again!No matter how hard we try, there always seems to be a collection of heroes sticking their ugly heads into our business.Last weeks invasion made us extraterrestrials look as weak as a bag of sticks!Outrageous!
....What went? wrong?Everything was going accorded to plan.These heroes, curse them!We had trapped all of them into their command building,but every ounce of firepower and our assortment of mortar shells could not incinerate these puny humans into ash.The biggest insult of all was when one of them blasted into our mothership and instantly killed 5 of our strongest warriors...i could not believe it.This man,who was had no visible hair and looked like the typical fool who would get their lunch money stolen by a pack of monkeys...had single-handedly punched our Generals into blood and ash.I knew that if i stayed and fought,i would not stand a chance....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Captain Vargus stood on the central platform of the **Ravager**.Facing behind him was the escape pod,which still had 5 seconds until launch.
'Such a formidable opponent.Tell me,human...who are you?'
The human scratched his head without interest.
'I'm Saitama.I'm just a hero for fun.'
| 2016-03-14T02:07:46 | 2016-03-13T19:47:12 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Scientists discovered that vegetables and fruit have a conscience. Vegetarians and Vegans go crazy.
|
There are a many kinds of vegans. Most handled the news pretty well. But I'm not a real vegan.
Sandra is an ethical vegan. She was the one who first linked me to "Earthlings" years and years back. She isn't exactly what you'd call crunchy, but she does cross the street to give money to bums and for Christmas asks for donations to a charity that gives malaria nets to kids in Africa. Do I need to tell you she's also kind to animals and kids? She's kind to animals and kids. She can also curse at you like a sailor if you want to argue ethics of meat eating with you, but she'll only do that if you start it. Or if she's drinking. Or it's a weekday.
I asked her how she felt about the Huang-Immelmann findings. She shrugged.
"I've built my life around doing the most good and the least harm." She winces apologetically, like she's confessing a flaw. "It turns out veganism causes more suffering than I thought. So what? It still causes the least suffering and the most good."
"But the subjective experience of pain--"
"Yeah I know, off the charts. But if I switched to an all meat diet, I'd be making things worse." She leans forward and starts tallying imaginary numbers on her fingers. "A cow eats way more veg than I do. If I eat a burger, I'm responsible for a burger 's worth of plant suffering *and* the animal suffering. If I eat the same amount of veg, That's much less than a burgers worth of plant suffering, and zero animal suffering. The math checks out." She leans back, beaming. "Doesn't change a thing." Her expression darkens. "Are you ok, though?"
"Fine," I say, and change the subject.
********************
Jim (James to his friends) is a health nut, and we used to be on a bike relay team. I don't expect much sympathy from him, but I ask anyway.
"No, the H-I findings don't change a damn thing for me." He smiles smugly. I wonder if he even has another facial expression. "If eating babies cured cancer, I'd eat babies! I don't really care if kale cares whether I eat it, so long as it does what it does when it's in ma belly." He pats his stomach for emphasis. "And speaking of bellies, how are you eating these--"
"Fine." I say, and change the subject.
*******************
Solomon isn't even vegan (he's ovo-lacto-pescatarian) but at this point I'm just asking everyone I know.
"Why would it change anything?" He squints at me skeptically. "We've *always* known suffering is part of nature. You know what isn't part of nature? US. WE'RE the ones destroying this planet with CAFOs and carbon emissions and overgrazing and habitat destruction, and WE'RE the ones with the responsibility to clean it up! If anything, the plants are the LUCKY ones! They have to live in this shitty world too, but at least they're not RESPONSIBLE for it! Why right now, in Paris--"
"Fine," I say (I know it doesn't make any sense but at this point it's a reflex) and change the subject.
*******************
I'm not an ethical vegan. I didn't become vegan for health or environmental or religious or economic or culinary reasons, either. And I'm not fine.
Let me tell you a story: when I was younger, I started torrenting tv shows and games on my laptop. I downloaded a lot of them. I started worrying that it would run out of power or get disconnected, so I kept checking up on it between classes. I hooked it up to an external battery so it would keep downloading if the power went out but the internet stayed on for some reason.
Sometimes there wasn't anything I wanted to torrent but I would download things anyway because it felt like a waste to have an internet connection but not be torrenting.
When I tried to lose weight I went about it the same way. I curled and unfurled my fingers and toes in class so I would always be burning calories. I gave up all drinks that weren't water. I even gave up green tea, which literally *is* water. I kept being late to things because I would take a longer route to burn calories. I hit my target weight, went under it, and didn't stop dieting or curling and uncurling my toes because it wasn't about the weight anymore. It was about the process. To ever be in a state of *not* losing weight seemed wasteful, seemed wrong.
Eventually I fainted in class and got diagnosed with an eating disorder. Then therapy, inner change, crying, recovery, blah blah blah who cares.
Veganism was my outlet. It's like a self harmed snapping a rubber band around their wrist or an ex-smoker chewing gum. I could obsess about tiny levels of fish sauce in my soup and not die, and only be thought slightly weird. And there was a community to support me in (some of) my obsession, so long as I mouthed the right things about animal suffering and didn't tell them too much about what I was actually doing.
I'm asking all the vegans (and vegetarians) I know about the Huang-Immelmann findings because I want to know what went wrong with the community. And I have to keep asking because no one will tell me, because nothing seems to be wrong.
But it's wrong for *me*. Ever since the findings came out I've been having a harder and harder time play-acting the ethical vegan. It may not have changed anything for actual ethical vegans, but it changed it for me. Now I feel like the real non-vegan I always was deep down.
And I've stopped drinking tea, and right now, at this moment, I'm curling and uncurling my toes.
|
"Your eating salad again?" said the carrot to the vegan
"Yeah"
"What it wasn't enough to kill just one of us? You mix us all in together?"
"Hey man you're being really judgemental"
"Hey I subsist off of nutrients. But that's just because I care about the world" said the carrot.
…
"Yeah so like, we grew these organically because we like…care about the like environment…so if you like, like the environment and vegetables…you should buy these"
"Yeah also if you like murder" said the tomato
"Did that tomato just say murder?" said the customer
"Uh yeah cause like…if you eat meat…it's murder…but like if you eat this, it's not"
"Cause it sounded like the tomato said eating it is murder"
"It's not" said the vegan
"It is" said the tomato
…
"Hello, tonight we have Dr. Spantz in the fire bombed studio. Dr. Spantz, you've said in the past you regret publishing your findings, can you elaborate on that?"
"Yeah we thought that it would be something worth knowing, we didn't realize that it would lead to a violent world wide war between vegans and whatever people who eat meat are called over who murdered more things"
"Interesting. And I'm getting word that our position is about to be mortared, so if you could hand me that machine gun and follow me we'll be back after showing these Vegies what's what. And also these messages"
| 2015-12-06T11:32:45 | 2015-12-06T08:13:15 | 114 | 51 |
[WP] When offered one wish, you jokingly said that you want to fire proof. You are disappointed to discover that fire still burns you. When you accidentally lit the company breakroom on fire, your boss just laughed it off and you began your new career as the person who can't be fired, ever.
|
Day One: A long walk back to the office. Anger at myself. Anger at the unfairness of language. Anger at everything. I went to the bathroom and had a long sit in the atalls, just time to think.
Except that I accidentally sat in that stall. The one that never completely flushes. The one that's backed up three times. We've told corporate about it repeatedly, but no one ever gets sent up. Too much cost to hire a good plumber, not enough slack in the budget.
I'm fed up. I have an idea.
Day Two: I walk into the office in blue jeans and an old.t-shirt, carrying an old sack of tools.
Marty stops me. He asks when I'm going to be done with my end on the new license. I tell him that I won't be in my office today. I'll be in the bathroom.
He winces and reminds me that it's important. I offer to turn my computer on so someone else can work on my files. And then I disappear into the restroom.
Other guys poke their heads into the stall now and then. They ask how long I'll be. They laugh when I forget to tighten a valve before removing the old water tube. They look something up on YouTube when I ask them.
At 3:00 PM, I'm covered in water and a bit of a smell. The toilet completely flushes. The office mockingly cheers as I saunter out. Even Marty.
.....
Day Five: Marty knocks on my door. He tells me that he's ready to pass the new license project down to sales, and he needs me to finish my piece in time to show the new customer. I don't even look up from my monitor as I tell him no.
He says that we're talking about a big contract, something that corporate is going to be really proud of. I tell him no, in a simple tone, with no anger, no spite, no glee. Just no.
Marty's words are exasperated. He understands now. He sees that I'm going to spend the rest of my life slacking off, getting paid for nothing. He asks, with a sneer in his voice, what am I going to do then?
I tell him, I'm going to write documentation for the main library.
There's a pause. He asks me what I mean.
I tell him that we've wanted to create an internal wiki page for the main library for years, but corporate refuses to let us. We're not supposed to waste time on documentation, especially something that could be easily copied and given away. So it's always hell for our new employees to find their way around the basic loading screens.
So today, I'm uploading some basic wiki software on to out internal site, and I'm starting to write documentation.
There's another pause, then a chuckle. Marty says, you know, that this will only work for me. Anyone else who updates this will could get suspended. I reply, in the same stoic tone, that I can upload anything that anyone else gives me, and I'll never need to tell corporate where it came from.
There's another pause. A longer one. Marty walks close. He leans in and whispers something in my ear. He sounds... optimistic.
Day Twenty-Three: Richard walks in my office. He's not happy, but he's pretending to be. He's laughing like someone who's trying very hard to laugh. He's making jokes to himself. And he's got several emails from corporate.
The wiki needs to go. He can't stay on the internal site. It's taking time away from other projects. It's too easy to access from outside. It needs to go.
And I'm the only one with access. They'd need to reformat and reboot several servers to get it off without my permission.
He asks one more time, in a stern, bouncy voice, to remove the documentation. And I reply one more time, in a calm, confident tone, no.
There's a long pause. He stands silent in the doorway. I continue typing. He walks close to me, like he's going to put his hands on his shoulders. He leans down and whispers to me.
There's a new batch of college grads coming in for new employee orientation. He mentions that we've had problems getting new hires through orientation, since they don't always have access to their mentors. It would be helpful if we had the answer keys and study guides online in one place, so that the kids could do their own research if needed, but corporate demands that we only give the mentors access to that work.
He drops a USB stick in my lap. I nod. He quietly leaves.
.....
Day 237: Richard opens the door. He nods at me, then at the two people with him, then he leaves.
I've never seen these two people before. They've got fashionable clothes, bright faces, genuine smiles. I assume I'm looking at someone from corporate, someone executive.
The man speaks first. He introduces them both, asks me how I'm doing, compliments my work on the license project. They try to make small talk, ask about my family, ask about my hobbies.
I reply with single-word answers. I don't go into many details. But I do remind them that I don't do much work on the license project anymore. I try not to look worried, try not to worry that they've found some loophole to get rid of me.
I think to turn the tables on them. I ask how they're doing, how their projects are going, how they're getting along with the license project. They glance at each other, looking confident themselves.
The woman mentions that they've been having problems with the new customer. They keep wanting changes to the loading screens. They keep wanting to restructure forma and change file formats. We never seem to be able to please them.
But corporate refuses to put a foot down on it. We're expected to give them whatever they want. And anyone who tells them that it can't be done is written up for demotion. They've already lost three good employees trying to push back on them, and the other teams are getting tired of their demands.
She repeats, in a forceful tone, that anyone who tells them differently is demoted or fired. Anyone.
They both smile politely. I smile back. We've never gotten on well with the sales teams, but I feel like we have an understanding.
Day 239: The customer is literally turning red in the face. He slams a stack of papers on the desk in front of me. He calls the information out of place, hard to read, useless for his team. He says that his old provider never refused to switch layouts when he asked for them. He asks who we hire hat could be so slow, so incompetent.
He wants a deadline. He wants the date that we can add the new data fields and reformat the database.
I smile, politely, and tell him again that we're already working on a new version, and he won't have any new changes until we start planning the next release after that.
This repeats several times. The customer always finds a new way to blame my staff. He always finds a new way to praise his old provider. He even starts inventing new things that he needs.
He never declares that he'll be dropping his contract with us. I eventually leave, quietly, politely.
.....
Day 240: When I arrive in the morning, there's a large box of donuts in the break room, with a note from the sales team. A kind note.
Marty wanders in, acting like he barely notices the snacks. He mutters a harsh word under his breath, something about how I'm too important to waste my time in sales, something about how there's plenty enough work to do on this side of the building.
His right hand scrawls a note on a piece of paper. His left hand idly lifts the box and pulls a glazed donut out, as if the left and the right don't know what the other is doing.
He drops the note in front of me and wanders away. I finish my coffee before reading it.
Someone needs to rewrite the help page for last year's project. Our smaller customers complain about it every week. Even our employees claim they don't know what that project is doing, and the documentation is no help.
They need someone to work on it, but no one has the time. If anyone else wasted time on it, they'd be reprimanded by corporate for not following the main project.
The employees need it done, but there's never enough manpower to do what needs to be done.
And I think to myself, I wonder if that genie knew that flameproof skin would be a much lesser gift than respect.
|
**Entry 1, Day Unknown**
I found this journal on the body of some poor sap who died here earlier. I decided that between the regular torture sessions I would catalogue just how I ended up here, Well ---
*The Journal entry abruptly closes here*
**Entry 2, Day Unknown Plus 4**
Nearly got caught with my Journal, Had to quickly hide it. Anyway, Hell sucks, but the thing is, most people here are mortal souls, and die shortly after arriving! Who knew, Souls can die. Sadly though, I am neither mortal or a soul. All because I thought I was clever.
Have to hide the Journal Now - Guards Coming.
**Entry 3, Day Unknown plus a lot**
Time is really hard to keep track of down here... Anyway, I might as well start telling just how I got into this situation.
It all started with a god damned Genie, as most good stories do. I was drunk off my ass one night and came across a random lamp in the middle of the dark alley I was puking my guts out in. After investigating it, I came across a Genie in the lamp. Last guy was a real idiot and thought the Genie only had two wishes, and for some reasons the Genies wishes don't reset until all three were used. Just my luc---
*Ash covers the bottom of the page, as if it was dropped in a hurry*
**Entry 4 Day who the Hell knows. Get it? HELL!**
Despite the endless torture, my sense of humor is as shitty as always. Anyway, back to the Genie. I had one wish, and my drunk ass decided to ask to be fireproof. I mean it's not a TERRIBLE trait but like if I was in a fire I would still probably just choke to death on the smoke in time. Little did I know that I did not get the typical type of 'Fireproofing' most people think of. It all started one day when I accidentally lit my break room on fire after I left my spork in the Microwave with my mac and cheese. I fully expected to be fired that day, but then a miracle happened! My Boss just laughed it off! I was confused and in shock for the rest of the day until later that night when it dawned on me that I was literally fire-proof, I could not be fired! And that's when I began to scheme...
Guards Coming, Will pick up Later.
**Entry 5, Why am I still counting Days**
So, Me with my new found abilities decided to do the absolutely dumbest thing anyone could possibly think to do. I decided to summon Satan and try to get hired as an immortal henchman, and what do you know it worked! He signed a contract that gave me immortality as long as the contract remained valid. All it would take is me going out, reaping souls, torturing the damned, you know, the works! See I didn't plan on doing any of this. At first I thought that I would just be immortal and could just say 'Hey Satan, You cant fire me I'm Unfireable!'. And technically it worked, for about two weeks. See but I forgot the part that this is death, lord of hell. While he couldn't fire me, He sure as hell could torture the shit out of immortal me for being an arrogant prick. And well, that's where I'm at now. I tried to quit a while ago but the contract specifically said I would be his servant for all eternity, however long that is, and so I couldn't. No unions down here either.
So that's the story of how I am eternally damned to torture because I thought I could outsmart Satan.
--------------------
This is my first attempt at doing a writing prompt and I know I have a lot to improve. If you have any suggestions please let me know, I am always trying to learn
| 2019-03-01T14:51:59 | 2019-03-01T13:18:46 | 73 | 16 |
[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.
|
INTERCEPT OF QUANTUM FLUCTUATION COMMUNICATION PATTERNS
TRANSLATION SERVICES PROVIDED BY UNITED EARTH SIGINT SERVICES
&#x200B;
TRANSLATOR NOTES:
USG refers the Universal Substrate Gaia.
Disconnects is their slang term for non-magic users.
Czyraks are a type of pet on most planets.
Soltrap is some sort of magical Dyson Sphere they use for sanctions.
&#x200B;
— BEGIN TRANSLATION —
&#x200B;
TRANSCRIPT OF VOTE DISCUSSION 2435.B-4
AT THE 32ND SESSION OF THE GALACTIC GENERAL ASSEMBLY
&#x200B;
<AMBASSADOR GHYZX> Representatives of the assembly, I come before you a humble servant of the USG. We have lived in harmony for eons, but now that harmony is threatened. Threatened by a race of lowers. A vulgar people who refuse to become in-tune with the universe, and instead use machines to warp it, bend it, hurt it, and make a mockery of all we hold dear. This vote is a vote to preserve the very peace that binds us all together. When their ships approached, we all felt the universal fabric.
&#x200B;
<QUANTUM NOISE: anger from multiple sources>
&#x200B;
<UNKNOWN> They’re forrest animals that don’t know their place!
<AMBASSADOR TYRQ> That’s enough of that! We will have order in these proceedings!
<GHYZX> Thank you prime overseer, but the sentiment is correct. There is a natural order to the universe. A hierarchy of beings based on their ability. If disconnects were allowed to change things to their will, chaos would ensue. Our entire civilization would crumble. Voting yes is the only moral and just option.
<TYRQ> Ambassador Comstak asked to speak and so will be allowed.
<COMSTAK> Should we not allow the humans to participate in these proceedings?
<TYRQ> Comstak, you are on a very short leash. I will not have disconnects participate in official meetings. We wouldn’t teach a Czyrak to communicate and ask it to defend messing on the floor.
&#x200B;
<QUANTUM NOISE: laughter>
&#x200B;
<COMSTAK> We do not know what they are capable of. If they have mastered FTL without magic, who knows what weapons they have. Would it be not best to speak with them and avoid conflict?
<TYRQ> Their spirt cleaves as easy as any other. They should have stayed in that pit they call a solar system. I will not debate with servants who do not serve. And I do not debate with servants, so they have NO STANDING HERE!
<COMTAK> I have sources that say they are developing machines that can communicate via the substrate and that means…
&#x200B;
<QUANTUM NOISE: shock and horror.>
&#x200B;
… listening to this very gathering. This proposal is blasphemous. Who knows what effects it will have with our connection to the USG! Peace lead the way!
<MANY VOICES> Peace lead the way.
<GHYZX> Peace will always lead the way, but they do not lead with peace. They lead with machines. Machines! A toilet has a deeper connection to the universe.
<COMTAK> Would not a Soltrap be a better solution? Allow them the time to grow and learn.
<GHYZX> You do not quarantine a virus. You eradicate it.
&#x200B;
<QUANTUM NOISE: general agreement>
<COMTAK> My system will not be party to war!
<GHYZX> War assumes that one side can fight! We act quickly! We act now! Then we can be assured of the outcome!
&#x200B;
<QUANTUM NOISE: 50% agree / 50% dissent>
&#x200B;
<TYRQ> We’ll take an official vote and see where we stand. All in favor mass cleave of the human race, say YEAH.
&#x200B;
<QUANTUM NOISE: 55% YEAH>
&#x200B;
<TYRQ> Let the record show the majority of the assembly…
&#x200B;
***<SUBSTRATE SQUELCH>***
&#x200B;
<QUANTUM NOISE: confusion>
<GHYZX> By the universe! Was that them?
<TYRQ> Is that what a disconnect feels?
<COMTAK> It was only the gathering communications, but yes…
&#x200B;
***<SUBSTRATE SQUELCH>***
&#x200B;
<QUANTUM NOISE: fear>
<EARTH REPRESENTATIVE SINGH> Dear members of the galactic assembly. We have been able to review some of your history. When it comes to war, you seem to be out of practice. We have developed the ability to inhibit all communications. Earth would like to offer negotiations to prevent further escalation of hostilities.
&#x200B;
<QUANTUM NOISE: 100% YEAH>
&#x200B;
<SINGH> Accepted.
&#x200B;
\-- END TRANSLATION —
&#x200B;
|
200 years ago, humanity discovered that the new elemental material, Unductindenium, could be refined into a light warping spacecraft shell, allowing humans to travel faster than initially thought, by transferring energy that was being carried by quantum particles, we could now bend physics to our will.
And at first this was amazing, allowing humans to colonize other planets, make incredible strides in scientific fields, and even encounter alien races!
And now in modern days, humans are on the brink of conquering the entire Milky Way, all because of one simple thing, gold.
You see, gold has a certain property that allows it to absorb and destroy the substance known as elementite, the fuel for any elemental magic. Gold can absorb all elementite within a 100km radius. So humans have just been deploying soldiers on every planet across the Milky Way, setting up gold beckons every 100km apart, pretty much rendering every magic wielding alien useless.
They tried to fight back with magic when we started our attack, and we didn’t know that gold had these property’s. Thank goodness for the bank transfers that occurred, otherwise we never would’ve learned.
As of this moment, all magic in the Milky Way has been absorbed and destroyed. We’ve landed on every planet. And our assault on the andromeda system will begin shortly.
| 2019-01-18T11:08:22 | 2019-01-18T10:08:27 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] “Beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young.”
|
"So where is the backup?" the one with the blonde hair asked. He seemed nervous. I swear the only thing stopping him from fidgeting with his hair was the black USP he was holding in both hands. At least he held it competently, so the odds of him accidentally shooting someone seemed low.
"There is no backup" the old guy answered. His voice was oddly calm, his posture collected. The opposite of mr. Blonde. He sat on a rickety wooden chair with his hands in his lap. He did not act threatening, but something seemed off.
"Well, you're shit out of luck then" the brown-haired one said. Good thing they had different hair, or it would be difficult to pick them apart. Well, usually it would. Mr. Brown was the epitome of sadistic cool. No weapons bared, but eyes that said that he liked to hurt people. He had chosen a good profession at least.
"So, er... what do we do boss?" Mr. Blonde turned to me. I'll hand it to him, it was a good question. Usually when your people go missing in this business and you start narrowing down suspects, you expect to find some bratty soldiers, maybe a lieutenant looking to prove himself or who got handed a dirty assignment because he did something bad. You didn't expect single individuals and you certainly didn't expect someone who should be looking for retirement homes.
"What is your name?" I asked. I didn't threaten. Blonde and Brown were the muscle, my employers didn't hire me for brawn.
"Lazlo" he said. Was that a smile creeping up on his lips?
"Most people have two names" I replied.
"I don't". Yes, he was smiling now. Crazy fuck. God damn American teeth, too white, too perfect.
"How about you explain why your face keeps showing up next to dead people?" mr. Blonde blurted out. Not the patient type. Then again, it would have been my next question, so I let it slide.
"You know, I have asked that question many times myself". His smile faded slightly, as if the joke was a bit more serious than he let on.
"Well, screw this shit. Let's just cut him up, right?" mr. Brown said. His voice a bit too eager. I wouldn't be surprised if he had an erection as he said it. Not a good sign. Then again, psychos have their uses in this business. Nobody could deny that. Too his credit he did look at me and he did ask. So as far as psychos went, he was an up-scale one.
I was getting tired too. The business does that to you. Too many killings, too much hassle. I rubbed my eyes tiredly. I nodded to mr. Brown. "Make it quick, too much screaming and I lose my appetite". It was a tough-guy comment, and it was also a lie. I just didn't have the stomach for torture anymore. Mr. Brown smiled in anticipation, mr. Blonde gripped his gun a little bit harder.
"Wait" the old guy said.
But it was the way he said it. A lot of people beg for their lives when they are about to be gutted. But this wasn't a beg. It was...
Mr. Brown stopped in his tracks. Right there. Froze like a fucking statue. It was weird. Mr. Blonde freaked out, but again to his credit he raised his gun competently at the old guy. No questions, no pause. Get the sights on whatever is off.
Then he crumpled to the ground, hands cluthing... his throat? His eyes were panicky, blood flowed from a torn throat, his voice gurgling.
I'd like to say that I did something, but truth be told the only thing I did was piss my pants. Old guy was standing in front of me now. How the fuck did that happen? Nothing can move like that. His smile just as cool, his posture just as calm. His teeth weren't American though. Mr. Brown stood just as frozen as before. I don't know if his sadistic mind was even thinking.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
"Shhh" he said as he looked around. Mr. Blonde's gurgles were the only sound filling the small warehouse.
He looked me in the eyes then, they were pale blue like before, but they seemed colder. His teeth were still bared, still white, still glimmering in the dark.
"I need your ships" he said. "You know how to bring things into this country without anyone noticing".
My mind slipped. I just looked him in the eyes and nodded.
"Nine items to be exact, about 7 feet long, 2 feet wide and 2 feet tall. You will arrange this".
I nodded again. It was the only natural thing to do. I had to obey.
"And these bodies you are looking to revenge? It was just a turf war, the people responsible are dead".
I nodded again. It was true after all. I remember affirming that they were dead.
The gurgling had stopped in the background. His eyes shifted slightly then. From something human to something that was not. And still those fucking bright white non-American teeth.
"You will leave this place now. You will come back tomorrow with details of the ships I need".
I nodded and started walking towards the door. I looked back at mr. Brown where he stood, still frozen, but trembling as if he was desperately trying to move".
"Do not worry about this one. He thinks he is evil. I will teach him how wrong he is", the old man said.
I walked outside and into the night. It was a shame about mr. Blonde and mr. Brown, but I had ships to arrange.
|
Looking up from the hands of the aged and weathered quarterback the doctor could not fathom the pain. 52, fifty fucking two and this fucking maniac was till tossing bullets with better aim than a rookie just getting his chest hair.
Leaning back and taking In the living fossil, for this game to be Honest, he gasped as the last breath of a grid iron legend was expelled from the mortal coil that was wrecked beyond redemption. Three crushed ribs turned to dust and a completely severed L3. How the guy even made off the field is mind boggling. Jer Jackson had hit him low as Davin Steat hit him high and twisted him up in a knot. Snapping rims, his spin, and it appeared his soul.
That last throw hit its mark with all the percussion of a guided middle as the time drained from the clock in the closing minutes of the first game of the season. Fifty two. Fifty fucking two is just unbelievable as you felt for a pulse....
| 2018-07-15T08:38:32 | 2018-07-15T08:19:45 | 207 | 27 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why.
|
He placed another strip of tape over the last, ensuring the petite woman could no longer scream. He worried, for a moment, that hanging her upside down like this and taping her mouth closed might cause her to suffocate somehow. He wasn't sure how dangerous it was. He contemplated her for a moment, watching her wispy, white-blonde hair drag across the warehouse floor as she slowly swung back and forth. She wasn't moving, but she was breathing, probably still unconscious from the blow he'd delivered half an hour ago.
He shrugged to himself. She'd be fine. And if not, he really didn't need her alive much longer anyways. He turned and strode to the single table set up in the center of the warehouse's open space, settling his large frame down on the small stool. He subconsciously considered how ridiculous he must look: this massive, overly-muscled man perched daintily upon a tiny seat, trying to hunt-and-peck on the keyboard because his hands were too large to properly type anymore.
He checked the balance for his offshore account. Still nothing. He frowned, pulled his mask up a bit to itch at his chin while he considered. He had given Starsword until noon to pay up. He knew the asshole had to be loaded; the guy had way too many expensive toys to not be rich. Or at least have a rich benefactor of some kind. Either way, the "hero" had access to cash. And he would damned well pay up, or his girl wouldn't survive the night regardless.
He pulled his mask down into place again as his phone chimed at him. He picked it up off the table and saw who was calling. He grunted in surprise before swiping and holding the phone up to his ear.
"Yeah?"
"Fucking-- Behemoth? Man, is that you??"
"Carlos. How'd you get this number? The hell do you want?"
"Listen, man. I know things haven't been great between us since that last job went sour, but you need to listen--"
"You want in on this one? Too late. Go beg for scraps elsewhere, Dogman. I'm not--"
There was panic in the caller's voice. "No! No, Jesus, *listen* you big, stupid ape. You screwed up!! Big! They only give you one chance, and that's why I'm calling. Soulhaven is here, he's got... Listen, man. Let the girl go. And don't ever go after one of them again. You crossed the--"
Behemoth cut him off again, standing up suddenly, his movement knocking the stool over. It clattered too loudly on the concrete. "NO. No, you listen here, cur. I was sick of your moralizing even before the Hanover job. 'The rules' this, and 'the rules' that. Fuck your rules. I didn't go through all that pain, become a freak, so that I could barely make scraps following your stupid rules. So piss off!"
"Dan, no! Listen to me! They're se--"
Behemoth flung the phone toward the far wall, watched as it shattered into a thousand pieces. He snarled in anger, tried to control the rage coming up like bile in his throat. Hands clenching, then relaxing, over and over. Carlos had always been soft. Idiot got caught by Soulhaven and now he was trying to bargain by throwing an old partner under the bus. Screw him.
He leaned down again, clicking to refresh. Still nothing. He let out a roar of frustration, and as the echoes of it died down, a sound caught his attention. He turned, and then stood gaping at the chains swinging from the ceiling, his prisoner gone. No trace. He uttered a soft curse, craning his head around. Had she somehow wiggled free? He approached the chains, saw they'd been expertly cut in a half dozen places. He stared at the cuts, puzzled. Was she a meta as well? What...
"So you're Behemoth." The voice behind him startled him, and he spun around. A tall, blond woman in a blue and red suit with a stylized G on her chest. He'd only ever seen her in news clips and the odd YouTube video. He could feel the waves of her intensity rippling off of her. He swallowed hard.
"Goddess?" It wasn't so much a question of who she was. Everyone knew her. The most powerful meta on the planet, save the Gorgon, and that guy wasn't even technically on Earth right now, being housed in a prison facility 250 miles up in orbit. And here she was, standing not ten feet away. No, the question in his voice was more of a "why?" Why was she here? This was between him and Starsword. Why would she involved herself in something at this level? It seemed so... petty.
She smiled, almost gently. "You're bigger than I expected. But I guess we both know how little that means in the grander scheme of things." Her expression hardened. "You were told, were you not?" She straightened and stepped toward him slowly. He backed away instinctively, shoulders hunched, preparing for a fight. He steeled himself, forced strength back into his voice.
"Told what, bitch?"
She sighed, and stopped for a moment. "The rules. I know you were trained by the Dogman. He told you what the rules were. Told you the things you could never do." She frowned. "But here we are nonetheless. And now I have to do the thing I hate doing most of all." She moved so fast that he couldn't see her, didn't even know she'd started to move until her hand was squeezing his throat. It hurt, more than anything had hurt him in the past two years. He grabbed at her hand with both of his, trying to wrench her grip off of him, but she only squeezed tighter.
He fell to his knees, could feel the lack of oxygen in his brain as his vision tunneled. He struggled, but she was far too strong. She wasn't even half his size, and here she was, holding him like he could hold a child, no effort expended at all. The look of pity that had briefly crossed her face was gone now, replaced by nothing less than pure resolution.
"Rule one. You don't touch families. Ever. The ones who do are given one chance," she said. "And you threw it away. Because you are a mean, arrogant, short-sighted fool and you are too dangerous to be allowed to continue."
She leaned in close, her lips near his ear. He realized he could smell her perfume, stronger than anything else he could sense right now. Her voice sounded in his ear, as if it were spoken from the far side of an echoing room.
"They'll never find your body. But the Dogman knows. And he'll tell the others. And it will serve as a reminder to the rest of your kind: stay the fuck away from the people we love."
He felt her squeeze again, and then... nothing.
|
“...you looked at the Armageddon Protocol?” The black armored villain spoke to a crippled young team. Various shapes, powers, some seemed human others gremlins.
“Y-yeah boss...it was crazy, it was like they forgot their no kill ru-“ The armored villain turned back quickly, fired a red blast from his armored hand, making quick impact on the young man knocking him into a wall.
“RULES?! Now you wanna speak of rules...the Armageddon protocol is Armageddon for a reason!”
The young man’s chest had a clear burnt mark as his team groaned in pain from earlier blasts.
“We just wanted to prove ourselves to get out of goon work you kn-AUGH!” He was cut off by a blast. The black armored villain paced back and forth before quickly lifting the team with his energy, and binding them.
“Goons is putting it lightly if you think a hero’s control, their compassion will persist if you kill what anchors them to this world!” The villain went to a nearby computer and typed quickly.
“Maybe if I send a message to him, make sure I tel him you idiots did it without the league’s plans we’ll be-“
“Spared?”
A new voiced entered, turning around as fast as he could the armored villain had no chance before the last thing he saw was a blur.
With a snap of a neck he fell to the floor as the young team cowered in fear. The caped individual wore a once blue and yellow suit now stained pure red. As the figure flew ever closer to the young team.
The figure eventually touched the floor and walked, his eyes glowing a shining crimson. It seemed to spark past his eyes, as the team were drawn into the color as if their entire world was red. The figure’s wall stopped for a moment to look them all in the eye. Their world was gone, in their head they only knew the eyes before them. The figure seemed to speak, ranting for quite awhile. It seemed long enough for the team to go through a lifetime in mere seconds. They did not hear what the figure said. They only saw the eyes. Then the first noise they actually heard was a spark, before unyielding pain. As if the eyes turned into spiders and crawled through there bodies biting every inch. Before it stopped. Gasping for breath, as the figure’s voice was finally heard.
“Shall I show you why this was very clearly named...Armageddon?” And suddenly there red world returned
| 2020-07-12T12:00:23 | 2020-07-12T11:12:41 | 52 | 36 |
[WP] You sold your soul to the Devil many years ago. Today he gives it back to you and says, "I need a favor"
|
"Hey there, we just closed up for the night," Tom said to the tall man. The bookstore had been empty for the last 2 hours, so it was a bit of a shock to hear the bell ring over the front door as the man entered.
'Well, haven't counted the register yet, so I guess if this is a quick sale...' Tom thought. "If there is something specific you are looking for-"
"Oh, yes, Tom. Something specific indeed..."
Tom's heart froze mid-beat. That voice... Deep as an ocean, and just as mysterious. Almost like you were hearing its echo just behind it. In a flash, Tom's mind was transported back, 40 years... When he made a deal. He had sold his living soul to this man. The Devil. The same white suit. Black button-down shirt, open at the collar. A blood red pocket square. And the face...
"I see you recognize me after all this time... Good." The man entered the shop fully, closing the door behind him. He turned the sign on the door to 'Closed' with one hand, and locked the deadbolt with a quick flick of the other.
Tom tried to swallow the dry lump in his throat. "Wh-wh-what are you doing here? I-I thought... our business... was concluded..."
"Mhm. Our previous arrangement is complete, that's true. But I have another ... offer ... that I think you'd be interested in. Is there somewhere we could talk?"
"R-reading nook, in the back... This way..."
Tom led the Devil passed the bookshelves of the shop. They were lined with classics of all sorts, as well as newer paperbacks. The store was no great money maker; that wasn't Tom's issue. Being soulless had its own set of quirks. Living things tended to fade quicker when Tom was nearby. Plants would wither. Pets would become sick. And people...
The store became Tom's refuge. Low traffic. Brief visits. Surrounded by knowledge. Something that wouldn't fade or die.
The nook was rarely used by anyone but Tom himself. His coffee mug was still sitting on the table, abandoned since the early morning. Tom directed the Devil to one of the chairs.
"Can I get you anything?" Tom asked meekly.
"No, I'm quite alright. Now, to business. Sit, please."
Tom did as he was instructed. "What... business are you referring to?"
"As I mentioned, I have an offer for you. As you remember, I deal in the... immaterial. Our last agreement was the health and safety of your family, in exchange for your soul."
Tom could hardly forget. He had married young, and his wife had borne him twins. But both children were often ill. No doctor could find the cause of their illness. Falling deeper and deeper into debt, Tom prayed. And prayed. And prayed. Until one day... he wondered if there were any... other options.
The Devil had arrived the next day, promising the health of his children, and the cancelation of all his debts. In exchange... only his soul. Such an insignificant thing. How could it compare to the life of his children? And so, Tom agreed. A drop of blood on a piece of parchment... a soft laugh in his ears as the Devil left... and a gnawing doubt in his heart.
True to the Devil's word, his children recovered. The money spent on treatments returned in full. A happy family!...
Of course not. Tom's soullessness manifest in other ways. Quick temper. Doubts about other's intentions. Eventually, his wife fled, taking the children he had sacrificed so much for...
All of these memories came back to him... and all of the rage along with it. His meekness now replaced with almost unbridled fury: "Why... Why on Earth do you think I would EVER want to deal with you again!"
The Devil was unfazed; "I think you'll find the terms agreeable to you. You see... well... I cheated."
"... what?"
"The unexplainable sickness? The unsolvable medical mystery? All my doing. I basically put you in an untenable situation. And basically used it as leverage to steal your soul."
"And that's supposed to make me feel better?! An admission of guilt 40 years too late?!"
"No, of course not. This, however ... may make up for it."
The Devil reached into his suit, and produced a piece of parchment. He unfolded it, and presented it to Tom. "Your soul, Tom. I would like to trade it back to you."
Tom took the piece of parchment with a shaky hand. This same document that had doomed him so long ago... "What... what do you want in return? My money? The store? My life!?"
"Your time."
"I... don't understand..."
The Devil leaned forward. He inhaled, and let out a sigh... A sound of resignation. "All this time, I've had it wrong. The human soul... It's not the real prize. Tricking humans to give up something most would never miss... It's pointless. But the soul is what connects your kind together. That is where the real power is. The combined will of humanity. That's what I want."
The Devil straightened himself up; "So, here is my offer. You give me your last 40 years. Your past. I'll bottle it, preserve it, tuck it away... It will be removed from your ... personal timeline, if you will. In return, you will go back to your life before our original deal, soul intact. Your children will be healthy. You won't remember anything about this arrangement. A full reset. Deal?"
Tom was stunned. He thought for a moment, collected himself, and extended his hand. "... Of course."
The Devil grinned and shook Tom's hand. "Thank you, Tom. Sleep well tonight; all will be different in the morning."
The Devil turned to leave. Tom asked "Why, though?"
The Devil paused for a moment, and smiled over his shoulder. "Sometimes, even devils wish for a do-over."
|
\[Poem\]
While the time stood still in hourglass of existence,
I was conjured to witness the end of a burning rope,
As the fallen prince has something of mine ,
Soul laced with eternities but blemished with hope;
&#x200B;
His right hand to sky and another on to ground,
Tears of wax smears his never seen sadness,
The beast was Chained to his heart at last,
I could pardon from his neurotic madness;
&#x200B;
He leaned in with a deal which was sealed with his tears,
A long wake of love that was carved and summarized,
He offered me my soul back to replace him before his heathen kingdom,
Like that one cross-road I offered my soul and paid the price;
&#x200B;
He scarred his silence with a scream of being in love with eve,
For him to lead this story would require a new king to his throne,
I see a man in love after a burn of ever existence,
He sees a man that can fix his bridge while this universe so lone;
&#x200B;
My blood became his severance and he pursued his heart ,
while walking away from his seat he felt a chain of his own weld,
I forbid him to leave as its my world to say,
I am the fall prince now ... your soul is mine to be held;
&#x200B;
\- ***Vèd***
| 2021-01-22T22:07:58 | 2021-01-22T22:04:52 | 236 | 17 |
[WP] Humanity is capable of living thousands of years, provided they can get past the larva stage, which ends at 150 years old.
What sort of world would we live in? What does a human pupate into? Was this a natural phenomena, or was it something introduced by advanced medicine?
|
"Colonel Sandown, they're ready for you." The pretty blonde assistant's head peeked out of the door as she beckoned me to enter the council chamber. I could feel the nervous energy buzzing around my body. This was it, no going back now.
"Thank you." I mustered a smile and gathered my my folders from the wooden bench. I walked into the chamber, ready for the biggest presentation of my life."
A quiet buzz filled the room. As I walked past the rows of public gallery seating, I spotted familiar faces amongst the journalists, dignitaries, and members of the public who had come to witness this session of the Committee for Eugenics Preservation. I was too nervous to acknowledge anyone around me as I passed beyond the aisle, and took my seat in front of the council table.
The table had always struck me as imposing. It was set in a horseshoe, with members from each representative country lining the sides. Some had been helpful to me, others had openly obstructed me. My presentation was going to affect all of them, regardless of their stake in it.
Chairman Moody, his great triple chin flapping as he moved, lent forward to the microphone. "Welcome, Colonel. So glad you could join us to share your findings. When you're ready, please."
I cleared my throat and took a sip of water. it was time to begin.
"Councilmen and women, my report today will show you that members of the Eugenics Tribunal, including members of this council, have knowingly and willingly propagated the systematic killing of large numbers of people to ensure they do not reach the age of 150 years, thus achieving 'Long Life Conditions'. I will then detail the-"
"Just hold on a damn minute." The voice of Councillor Jameson rang out across the table. He was always full of bluster. "You can't just come in and expect us to listen to these kind of accusations. Now I've read this report, and I believe you've built a case on hearsay and speculation!"
I took a breath. No need to react. "Well you're entitled to that opinion, Councillor. But As noted in page 31-"
"Now you listen here, you weasel! I know you went snooping around the base at Singapore! I heard from our commander how you sweet-talked your way into areas well above your clearance!"
I calmed myself again. "Councillor my clearance came from the highest authorities. And you know what I found."
"I know you found nothing!"
"WHAT I FOUND" I felt my voice rising. "Was the systematic deaths of over 300,000 people in the past ten years, led by *your office*, Councillor!" The room erupted with shock and a chorus of shouting. I knew this was coming, but the scale of the reaction was huge.
"ORDER, ORDER! I WILL HAVE ORDER!" Chairman Moody was hammering his gavel impatiently. "This is not some TV courtroom drama! Get it together, or I will clear the gallery!"
The noise died and I continued.
"Since the discovery of the so-called "Pupae" phase that enables humans to life ultra-extended lifetimes beyond 150 years, there has been a marked increase in the level of deaths around the globe as people near this landmark age. As I began to investigate these unusual deaths at the bequest of the council, I became aware of patterns of deaths - including the regular use of injections, gas, and poison to subdue older people before they reach the expanded lifetime."
More ripples of conversation ran through the gallery.
"Despite the best efforts of some to discredit, and even harm me" I shot a look at Jameson, who was sitting with his arms crossed, a fierce expression on his face "I have found a need for urgent action to be taken in order to ensure people of varied ethnic, social, and religious background reach 150 years of age, and have the chance to experience full life over the centuries."
As my presentation went on, I detailed the methods of extermination I had discovered, the types of minorities who had been targeted, and who the perpetrators were. I eventually reached my conclusion.
"My final thought is this: The discovery of the ability to live for many centuries could have been the boon for a new age of peace and justice. It has instead heralded the worse mass-killing of a generation. We must do all within our power to respond to this. No one must walk free in light of the crimes that have been committed in the name of creating a superior race that lives for centuries."
As I finished my report, I felt relief flooding into my system, as the gallery rose to applaud. I had discovered terrible things, and bought them to light. I stood and walked through the crowd, pushing the reporters who got in the way aside as I reached my waiting car.
Settling into the back seat, I smiled at the other passengers.
"How'd you go?" Asked one.
"Good." I smiled. "No one will ever find out that the deaths were natural, and that the Pupae phase is a random mutation that only affects a few people. People will continue to seek treatment to live until 150 years old - your profits are secure."
The men in the car smiled. "Let's go get a drink" I said. "I feel like toasting capitalism tonight."
___________________________________________________________
If you enjoyed this, feel free to check out more of my writing [here](http://ihlaking.com/portfolio/)!
|
If I had known what Project Eternity was capable of doing to a human specimen, I would never have volunteered in the first place. When the information was first globally broadcasted, it was as if people thought they were joking.
"Enlist and become a member of a bigger, better America!" it championed. To apply, you had to have met three basic requirements.
First, you must have been under the age of thirty human years. I guess it's unnecessary to make that specification, the one about the human years, as everyone was human at that point in time. Adults who were too far from the thirty year margin were susceptible to disease and decelerated aging, and so only prime specimens within the allotted age discrepancy would be considered.
Second, [continue]
| 2015-01-01T19:11:50 | 2015-01-01T18:02:30 | 96 | 41 |
[WP] An powerful ancient being has been held captive by an interstellar civilisation. After eons of being held captive, it has accidentally freed by humans, who've not been to the "galactic stage" for long...
|
The first anomalies in the cosmic microwave background were detected by sub-sentient AI programs monitoring humanity's deep space telescope networks. The anomaly became a question, and then a mystery, and then a shocking realization, as subsequent analysis with orbital telescopes and gravitational interferometers confirmed the full scope of an impossible truth.
Somehow, the Milky Way's distribution of dark matter -- the unseen energy whose gravity binds our galaxy together -- was being modulated. The scale of the effect was staggering, with self-consistent patterns stretching across 10,000 lightyears. The origin was clearly artificial. Deep signal analysis revealed multiple, cascading layers of modulated amplitude, frequency, phase, and polarization -- and that was just the low hanging fruit. More complex encryptions beckoned from deeper within the signal.
The implications were nothing short of profound. After 15 billion years, our universe was still ringing like a struck bell from the act of its creation, resulting in an omnipresent low-level radiation field -- the cosmic microwave background. And now we had discovered that some intelligence with godlike powers of stellar engineering was controlling whole sections of our galaxy's unseen mass to encode a message into this medium. What might they be saying?
Six months later, the orbital parallax from the Earth's motion around the Sun raised the first suspicions that the message might be directional. But it was not for several years and with the benefit of the solar system's further motion through space that this unsettling fact was confirmed with certainty: the message was aimed directly at Earth.
Fear and wonder. The thought of beings of such unfathomable power communicating with the people of Earth was terrifying, dizzying. What could they possibly want with us? Were we to receive some revelation? Or was our judgement now at hand? There were many who believed the sender must be God himself.
And then we decoded the message. And with a progressing sense of surprise, and then disappointment, and finally existential dread, we saw that the topmost encoded layers each contained the same simple message:
HELP ME.
What horrors must lurk in the galactic reaches if a being of such unimaginable abilities was crying out across the lightyears in a plea for help?
Centuries passed. We continued to study the message, but progress was slow. A world war came and went, pandemics ravaged our population, global famine and climate change nearly destroyed us. We grew wiser. Our technologies developed in line with our social ethos. We cleansed our world. We conquered scarcity. We embraced the sanctity of life. Though the cost was great, we had survived the great filter.
HELP ME.
We turned again to the message. With the benefit of virtualized intelligences -- both biological and artificial -- we ran quantum simulations and self-learning error correction algorithms against the signal. Progress was faster now, and eventually the deeper layers of encoding began to yield their long-buried secrets.
The message contained instructions for the assembly of some kind of sub-quantum interferometer. Surprisingly, the technology to manufacture the components was already easily within our reach. But our scientists could not decipher the function of the components once assembled.
Our virtualized communal minds speculated that the device was a proto-form which, when activated, would self-assemble its remaining components in higher dimensions. Of course, there was brief concern that it would prove to be a weapon or some kind of portal or beacon for an invading force. But there was no evidence to support this. Our design analysis ruled out any malign local effects. And our evolving social consciousness counseled us to accept what appeared to be a bona fide plea for help -- even if on a galactic scale -- and that the idea of malevolence from an entity with such demonstrated power was simply not credible.
We built it. The instructions on its use were not complicated but they were specific about one point: the device must be aimed precisely at the galactic center, in the direction of the constellation Sagittarius. Out of an abundance of caution, we placed it on the far side of the Moon, set up our monitoring equipment, retreated to a safe distance, and pushed the button.
The device briefly drew power and then, in what most agreed was a somewhat anticlimactic result, deactivated and fused its internal components. Our instruments detected a burst of broad spectrum EM and neutrino signal emission, but it was speculated that this was only leakage and downconverted radiation from some more mysterious, ethereal band. The true nature of the device remained a mystery.
But the signal had one last surprise to offer. For in the microseconds immediately following the device's activation, every monitoring station detected the same change in the signal pattern, which had been repeating unaltered for our last centuries of watching and perhaps for countless centuries before. The deeper encodings seemed to have disappeared altogether. And the surface modulation had changed to a new message:
THANK YOU.
The message repeated for a few hours before ceasing altogether. Of course, this should not have been possible. The dark matter distributions which modulated the cosmic microwave background were over 40,000 light years away. The thank you message had been traveling across space since long before humanity's first civilizations arose. Our understanding of physics allowed no possibility for an instantaneous response to our actions. We now knew that the alien intelligence had the power to transcend not just space, but also time -- and perhaps even causality itself.
In the years after we used the device, the signal was soon forgotten -- a historical curiosity. Humanity continued to evolve. Somewhere deep in the AI stellar monitoring programs, potential anomalies were being flagged, first a few dozen, then thousands, then millions. It was seen as a likely systemic error or AI corruption and was shunted to a separate analysis thread, which delayed the subsequent realization by several years.
But eventually, after exhausting and eliminating the potential alternate explanations, we were faced with another impossible truth.
The stars of our galaxy were not where they were supposed to be. Solar systems, star clusters, entire arms of the Milky Way were subtly drifting beyond the radius of their projected paths. The cause was soon identified: the influence of dark matter had completely disappeared, and without it, the gravity of the remaining visible matter was insufficient to hold the galaxy together. The Milky Way was doomed to slowly fly apart and die a cold death in the reaches of the intergalactic vastness.
There was more. There were signs that the supermassive black hole at our galaxy's center -- where we had aimed the device -- had somehow lost an incredible amount of mass. It was only a matter of time before the gravitational effects would wreak havoc across the galaxy, rippling spacetime like a pond.
In the millennia that followed, we accepted the fact that we were responsible for the galaxy's demise. We estimated that perhaps a billion years of livable existence remained. A long time, to be sure. But the untold quantities of life which would perish -- and the even greater multitudes of intelligence which now would never have a chance to arise -- caused us to despair. Yet there were still those among us, and they were not few in number, who argued that we had acted in good faith to help a sentient being in need. That if this ancient being was somehow responsible for the energies holding the galaxy together, it seemed to do so against its will -- perhaps imprisoned in the black hole at the galactic core.
Of course, we searched the signal for some way to undo the damage. But our repeated analyses turned up no further insights, only one more curiosity: upon careful inspection, we realized that the deeper encodings had not completely disappeared when we activated the device. Hidden within the complex modulations of the signal was one last message for us to discover:
YOUR SACRIFICE IS NOBLE. I WILL REMEMBER YOU.
|
As the entity threw itself in futility at the barrier, it suddenly passed through it. Its confusion and surprise turned into a deadly glee at the foreign beings that held it captive for countless years.
It phased through and reached out to the first consciousness it could find, seeking a way to control it.
/ / / / / /
As the napalm died down, Lt. Sgt. Mari Villeneuve felt a stinging sensation in her wrist as it touched the wall.
She cried out in brief pain, and to her horror, saw a strange overlay in her sight for a second. As she blinked, it disappeared, and there was a sensation similar to a grass snake wrapping itself around the lower arm.
She staggered, leading to her subordinate to grab her arm. Something new *hissed* within her, and Mari waved the subordinate away. "I'm okay, I just....I just..." Mari trailed off as her eyes rolled up into her head and she fell bonelessly to the floor.
/ / / / / /
Mari stood in a ruined temple in a vast seascape. It reminded her of the classic horror novels by an early 20th century author - ones where there was n unknowab-
She gasped, and turned around. There was a sensation of her conscious mind making the sensation of *wibble*, and then she saw-
Something that was at once monstrously huge and unknowably small, something with an appearance that bothered sense and didn't. All her mind told her was **GREEN** AND **RUN**.
And yet....she stood. And reached out her hand. Then spoke, as she managed to place her hand on this....thing. "Incredible! Just what *are* you?"
She felt a sense of scaliness as her hand traced the illusory flesh, even through her military dress gloves. She felt a tugging then, like a whale pulling on a moose. It drowned her, and then thought at her.
*You....freed.....Me....* Its....whatever it was....felt like the Pyramids of Hypnos !V were speaking.
Mari spoke aloud as her false eyes and ears bled. "I don't even know what you are. We found an ancient temple worshipping an old being named Hulh. We were investigating some similarities to some ancient literatures across the cosmos. If you can see it without harming me, I can share it with-"
Mari sensed her mind being shredded as this thing ruffled through it....and then, she felt herself being put together again, if slightly different to what she was.
*That...is...*beautiful. *All this...time away from...my family...and sentients....carried my legacy.* Mari felt it becoming more accustomed to a sort of speech, and then she felt herself being tugged away.
"I want to speak more with youuuuuuuu^u^u^u...."
| 2022-08-23T12:35:23 | 2022-08-23T12:23:30 | 457 | 90 |
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
|
The last few months have been agonizing, and I know that I don’t have much time left. About four years ago, I developed a cough that wouldn’t go away. I ignored it as men do, but finally, Nelly, my grandaughter, convinced me to go to my doctor. And Dr. Shah was concerned, so the testing started.
Initially, the cat scan showed a small nodule that, as it was, turned out to be cancer. Since then, my body has been ravaged first by radiation treatment, then surgery, and finally chemotherapy. The oncologist told me I was not a good candidate for any of these things, and my prognosis was poor. At first, my sweet oncologist told me I had maybe six months to live, then later, a year, and then she finally stopped giving me time frames and only provided gentle encouragement.
I’m sure part of my survival is I kept setting goals. See Kyle graduate with his PhD. Give a speech at Deliah’s wedding. Hold my first great-great-grandbaby. I’ve lived a good life, and these last four years of borrowed time has made me a more generous, more determined, and more peaceful in mind and soul. The body, however, has been a nightmare.
Every time I move in this uncomfortable bed, the smell of stale piss whiffs up from under the sheets because I can no longer maneuver the urinal quick enough to catch it all. I’m trying to keep my pride, but it’s getting harder by the day. I’m fading, and my bones now host cancer, that slipped from that one nodule to seed itself all over my body. I’m in so much pain I feel raw like my nerves are scraping against the blankets. And when I’m not shifting trying to escape this sensation, I’m watching the clock for my next dose of pain meds.
My only escape is the family that comes to see me. They all wear their funeral faces and talk of the future with the tears in their eyes. They know I won’t be there, their hope is spread thin by the day. They know what, what I have yet to accept.
I am going to die. There is no more home for me. This was the last try, a chemotherapy treatment that was not chemotherapy. I think they called it biotherapy, the details are kind of hard to follow these days. But, I’m willing to try anything. And well, now there is nothing left.
The nurse comes and gives me my pain meds, and I feel warm and dizzy, and the pain fades, and I sleep for a bit. This is my mercy in these dark hours. I fall asleep to little Macy’s voice singing me the songs she’s learning in kindergarten, an alphabet with a few misplaced letters, and a song that is a story about a mouse and a cookie.
When I wake up again, the blinds are drawn, and it is dark. I look at the clock, and I wonder if the nurse medicated while I was sleeping. I still feel warm, and the pain feels like a distant point. I need to pee, and my urinal is on the bedside table. I don’t smell like piss, and I don’t want to incase Robert comes to visit after work like he has the last two nights, and I decided to try and reach it, and I was able to with ease - thinking that they must have switched my medication, and I could cry with relief. The absence of misery is a beautiful thing. I forget about my business, looking out the door to the bright light of the hall, then I see her.
She has beautiful dark skin, and natural hair pulled into a braided bun at the base of her neck. Her skin is a dark cocoa color; the harsh fluorescent lights seem to illuminate off of her bare shoulders. She moved with confidence, the pooled skirt on dress seeming to float just above her knees. She wears what I’ve waited for my entire life, a red dress with gold polka dots.
I know I shouldn’t have tried to get up, but I did - and it took me a moment to realize for the first time in a week I was standing on both of my feet. “Ma’am,” I say, moving quickly to my doorway and then out into the long white hall closing the space between us. She pauses and holds out her hand for me, her eyes spark like ebony, as I wrap my gnarled, pale hand into her robust and smooth grip. Her skin is warm and soft, it reminded me of the quilt my grandmother made me, she smelled like my son the first time I held him, and her grip was the hard lessons my first boss taught me when I was in the folly of my youth.
I am absolutely enchanted, all the pain gone.
I’ve never met her, but I’ve never forgotten her. I’ve always remembered the voice that whispered to me when, after my family pulled me out of the lake, half-dead at the age of four. As I coughed up lungs full of water, over my mother’s sobbing, the sound of fear in my older brother’s voice, and the brisk slaps on my back from my father, I remember the clam of her dark lips pressed to into my ear. I could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke, “It’s not time, I wear the sky today. Follow me with a red dress with the gold polka dots.”
I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes mine back, with her long fingers graceful, nails crescent moons, and we start to walk together down the long hall. As we move, she seems to get taller, but no less beautiful. No less pleasant, never once losing her smile, as we go further, my legs are toddling to keep up with her until finally, I feel myself land on my bottom unable to keep the wobble out of my gait.
I feel a moment of fear. A moment of emotional pain that she would leave me. I extend my pale arms to her, the skin smooth, and my hands pudgy. She stops and picks me up, and I wrap my arms around her neck and breath her in. She smells like my childhood home on cold winter mornings, like the locker room after my high school won the football championship, and like my wife, before I was widowed.
I’m aware that I am naked, but now, there is no shame. We move down a set of stairs, and I’m warm and comfortable, but I feel even smaller in her grasp, as she moves to coddle me in her arms, and all I can make out is her face and her lips and that smile. I reach for her, and my hands are so tiny, and her face is so blurry and perfect, and I try to tell her to thank you, but all that comes out is a coo.
Time means nothing.
We stop moving, and she is rocking me before she presses a kiss to my forehead and lifts me to the light.
There is a moment of pain, and I’m screaming at the shock of cold air into my lungs as I take the first breath and then I’m laid on my mother’s chest. I forget everything, except for the smell of mommy’s skin.
[edit: Fixed typos, and posted correctly.]
|
98 years without a hint of the red dress the voice spoke of.
9.8 y.e.a.r.s
Ever since I could remember, this nagging voice occasionally came into my life and whispered the same thing.
"Follow the women..."
At first I was curious. Who was this women? Why was there a voice that spoke to me? My parents dismissed it as hallucinations, but the older I grew the more convinced I was that it wasn't. It felt so real, more real than anything else in the world.
Then I was annoyed. 30, 40, 50 years pass and yet nothing has ever happened. Not a single hint of the "prophecy" coming true. Every free moment of my life I spend wondering if those voices were real, and as time passes my doubt grows bigger and bigger.
Maybe I was hallucinating after all.
Now I'm furious. Furious at the 98 years of wondering. Furious at the 98 years wasted, thinking there was a grander scheme of things for my mundane life. How conceited I was to think that my life was going to be for some higher purpose? Even as I lie on my hospital bed with my days numbered, I can't help but wonder if that lady would come by one day and take me away..
98 days and 364 days.
Tomorrow was supposed to my 99th birthday. As I lay on my bed and wait for the end of my life, a bright red dress caught my attention from the corner of my eye.
A crimson, so vivid you could see the flames emanating from the glorious cloth. Lined with golden polka dots that looked fitting for the grandest of Kings of the olden days. The lady, oh that lady! So stunningly gorgeous yet upright. So confident, yet she had a humble demeanor. She gave my room a brief look before walking away.
That's it! That's definitely it! I mustered all my strength and sat up from my seat. With all the energy pent up in me, I grabbed my walking cane and lumbered laboriously at her. I followed her all the way up to the roof top, where she was waiting patiently for me.
"Have you had a good life, my child?" She quizzed
"I.. I reckon so. I've.. I've lived a long life. Who are you?" I stammered, partly realizing how this moment was the culmination of my entire life's existence, or just simply at the regal beauty this lady exuded.
"I, my darling, am known as the Tascha the Phoenix. Are you ready to reset? We're counting on you in your next life"
*Was about to sleep but saw this. Hopefully it's not horrendous LOL
| 2019-11-07T09:19:08 | 2019-11-07T08:52:01 | 4,904 | 11 |
[WP] when you die, every time someone thinks of you, you get a signal telling you that you have been just remembered. Everyone around you gets a couple of signals every day. You passed away a year ago. Still nothing.
|
Every day, I have to pretend. Through observation I have learned to mimick everyone else when they get a signal. I have to do this thing where I space out for a second and freeze. Then I have to fake tears of joy or a smile... fucking ridiculous. The things I have to do to avoid being an outcast.
Martin nearly caught on to my ruse the other day because I seemed "underwhelmed". I had to tell him one of the people I hated remembered me. He looked at me concerned that I would be so bitter in the beautiful place. Like, "Fuck you Martin Luther King Junior. I didn't ask you."(I didn't really say that)
Whatever, he is actually a good dude. I shouldn't be so mean. People on Earth don't give to shits about me, but people up here are very caring, especially my friend Martin. He was the one who welcomed me to this place and he told me that I should expect "moments" of being remembered. It has been twenty years and nothing. My parents died without thinking about me, and they didn't make it to this side of The Good Place, but I am sure they made it. Yeah, sure they did. My siblings are all alive and well, I heard, but they seem to be caught up in everything.
I went to Sigmund Freud, he is very confidential with his clients. He would be the only one I could tell about this and keep it on the DL, next to The Man. He wasn't a help. He said something about sexual tension and suppression, eh whatever dude. I decided to schedule a meeting with The Man. 4,000 years! I was supposed to wait 4,000 years, but luckily Hitler had an appointment and when they saw his name on the list they booted him to the other place. Something about a clerical error. I took this spot as a walk in.
I went to see The Man. He was just a dude sitting in what looked like an old study. He was in a cushy chair in front of a fire. He looked comfortable. He told me to take a seat and a beer appeared in my hand, ice cold Miller Genuine Draft in a bottle. Nice. I asked him, "Why don't I get signals of people remembering me like the rest of the people here? Does no one remember me?"
The Man chuckled loudly, "Wait, really?! That is what this is about? *more laughter*"
"Wait, what? Why are you laughing, sir."
"There is no such thing. Of course you are remembered. They think about you every day, dozens of people think of you on a regular basis. I find it funny how most of you expect to read minds. None of you get these signals... well, except Ghandi, but he has special talents."
"Wait, so everyone is... like me? They are all faking?!"
"Excatly. I find it hilarious, the only reason I haven't sent out a memo. Some prankster started a rumor that you can feel people remember you on Earth. It was probably Mozart, he is like that sometimes. He loves his rumors. I can't believe it spread like this, he should get an award."
I was flabbergasted, "A prank... huh... haha! Uh, really."
He looked at me and gently smiled, "No shit. You are completely normal. Everyone is so scared of being embarrassed, but they don't know it is like this for everyone. They think they will be judged and cast out. What do you think would happen if you could feel the memories?"
I went blank, "I uhh, don't know. Perhaps I would be happier?"
He looked at me and *poofed* me another beer, "No, you would go catatonic. What people up here don't realize is that the memories would come constantly in a flood and you would spend more time in that frozen state, stuck in other people's memories. Each and every one of you is remembered more than you think. So many people feel love for you that you will have years of these "memories". Heck, you buddy Matin would be a vegetable."
"Sorry they do love me."
"Of course. There is more love in the world than you would know. Anyone up here or down there, unless they were completely alone on an island, or if they were despicable human beings, is likely loved. So let this be a lesson to you, never think you are not loved, cherished, or remembered."
I began sobbing.
The Man put his hand on my back as I was bent over, "The thing is, no matter your achievements, appearance, or dreams, you will be loved by someone. Love is everywhere. Everyone you come across can love you is some degree. Just keep that in mind. Is there something I can do to have you keep this quiet?"
"Why would you want that?"
"I am going to keep this going as long as it stays funny. When I walk around and see people pretend to keep up appearance, it just gets me. The way they just freeze and drop shit. I had this one guy today get hit in the face with a tennis ball because he did the thing."
"Haha! Okay, I'll bite. How about you let me see my parents?"
"Oh, your parents are alive and well, they won the lottery and have retired to the Bahamas. Whoever told you they died was full of shit."
"Saint Peter did."
"Ah, yep. Well, I guess I will give them a house next to you."
I thought about it for a second, "How about a few miles away?"
The Man chucked, "Yeah, sure man. Hey, I like you, let's talk again soon."
|
Nothingness. That's all I felt. Was I so unwanted? It felt like a lifetime ago since I jumped, thinking everyone would be better off, apparently they are.
The only thing I have here is the small light that blink off in the distance, It keeps getting brighter. Only thing I can think is that's where we all go after this. I've heard about this place, how you get pinged when when you're thought about. I have been lonely here, maybe when the light gets to me it'll be better.
"Sir, your brother has been in a coma for almost a year now. The odds of him ever waking up only get slimmer. We'll never know if he will wake up."
"I understand, but you've said his brain activity has been improving! There has to be something, Roger already lost his mother, I can't willingly unplug his father knowing there's a chance!"
"Yes, but it's only ever slight improvement. Nothing that suggests cognitive function ever returning."
"Just, let us have some more time"
My first prompt, improvements? let me know! Hopefully made something worthreading!
| 2016-11-20T10:43:27 | 2016-11-20T08:19:44 | 200 | 11 |
[WP] "Choose your last words wisely," sneered the villain. The hero shakily lifted their head, "I love you."
|
It's hard being someone's other half. "Other half." That's the term the bards use to describe lovers, but twins know different. We twins, we're the only ones that have shared a womb, a heart beat, a singular birth. And in some instances, a singular destiny.
Our parents named us Rowan and Oak, the two trees that made up the forest surrounding the village we grew up in. We grew up hale and strong, the two only sons of unexceptional sharecroppers. We ate well from the small farm our mother tended, supplemented by the hunting our father did when he wasn't working the local landholder's fields. We helped mother when we were small, and went hunting for meat when we were older.
We didn't yet have to go to school.
Though we were young, both Oak and I can recall that fateful day. We had just turned eleven, and at that age, every birthday was a major life event. Father had given us a pair of knives, sized for our small hands and sharp enough for skinning hares. It was that evening that the wizard Ulrich had come walking down the dirt pathway towards our cottage. He spoke quietly to mother and father, gave them a sack of what we later learned was gold coin, and father bade us to go with the wizard.
It wasn't until the next morning that we realized that we weren't coming back to mother and father. Oak and I found ourselves in an academy for young heroes. We didn't learn about the hero part until later. We were taught fencing, poems, husbandry and the lance. Essentially, the academy equipped us to fight monsters and inspire armies.
Time passed, we graduated and it turned out that throughout the process, only my brother and I were selected for the highest honor.
It should be noted that twins often present a difficult math problem. No one wants to separate twins. Those who know often say that those who split twins are condemned to a cloven home. Yet, the highest honor here is to bear the Argulain, the Orcbane. Whomever bore the Orcbane was destined to slay orcs, and lead the armies of men into everlasting victory over the subhuman races. All of the other heroes at the academy, their lot was to just serve. The Academy was an armory of sorts, and had weapons and roles for almost everyone else at the Academy.
That is, everyone else, except for either me or Oak. We both couldn't bear Argulain. We both couldn't be the supreme leader of man.
And so, I told Oak that I would be the squire to his king. I would not be a hero. I would just be his brother, and help in my own way. During the campaigns, my own way changed over time. From being leader of Oak's personal bodyguard, to being a distraction for assassination attempts, to even being a body double when Oak's nocturnal activities became too complicated for him to marry by himself.
All this happened in the backdrop of a war. Which we won, and were currently celebrating.
The feast hall was large and bright with enough candles to light the sun. I sat at the front table, several seats away from Oak. He had just killed Orgsfried, the giant troll that led the subhuman races, and as a reward, the high king had betrothed his daughter to my brother. Oak was also named regent of the kingdoms of men.
I drank and was quiet this night. I knew I should be celebrating, but instead, I was mourning. The feast hall was vast, but the empty seats were many. At the beginning of the war, we had been sweet sons of the spring. Green, fresh and immortal. We had died by the dozens. Some for good reason, many for foolish reasons, yet they had all died bravely.
Sometime during the war, I had started to doubt. Now that the war was won, could my brother really be the regent and ruler we needed him to be? So many times, I had seen him in the heat of the moment, make the absolute wrong decision. A decision anchored by a strong opinion that did not change no matter how much new information was unearthed. My brother was strong, yes. But also brittle. His strength was one that was close to shattering.
I had made my doubts known to some other academy members like us. They were the ones who remembered that my brother wasn't the only destined bearer of Argulain. I too could rule the realms of man, and in many ways, my temperament was better suited to rule, than to wage war. I agreed with the sentiment, but surely, I could never agree with treason against my own self.
I had been drinking steadily, lost in my own internal conflict and only roused myself when rough hands grabbed me from behind. There was shouting. I did not recognize the source at first. It was one of those who had tried to convince me to replace Oak. One of those who I had rebuked solidly.
"Treason sir! Treason most foul!" the minor hero said.
Oak stood up. He did not hold his goblet, but instead held Argulain itself.
"Brother Rowan. Nothing in the long ages of history and heritage can be more tragic than this. I had heard many rumors of your betrayal, and I did not want to believe it. Yet when a half dozen of the land's finest champions independently accuse someone, anyone, even my own brother, I have to be a just leader. I must be a responsible regent to my people.
"Despite that, I cannot become the monster that you would be, Rowan. I will imprison you in a tower, high above the land for so long that history will forget who you are. You will live, and you will regret as I will. My brother. My other half. Before you go, do you have any last words?"
"Don't trust them, Oak. This doesn't end here, and believe this above all other things. I love you."
|
The door opened. And just like that, Julie Deneuve found herself staring down the wrong end of my trusty silenced CZ-75.
Then, everything went as if it was scripted. The familiar expression of surprise, turning into terror a blink of an eye later, as her feeble mind slowly started grasping the situation. Had it been anybody else, she would be dead at this point. We already knew everything, I just wanted to savor the victory.
"Stay silent. Go back inside," I ordered her. She complied, taking several shaky steps back into the hallway of her apartment. All four of us followed her inside. Janus and Clara brushed past her to once again make sure that everything was as expected.
I closed the door behind us. This was a private meeting, after all.
Deneuve's eyes were big and beautiful, steel gray in color. Truly, they were the windows into her soul. I could read everything like in an open book. There was the usual - terror, shock and disbelief. Curiously, however, there seemed to be something more buried just on the next page. I couldn't really put my finger on it.
"Nice opsec," I said towards Deneuve
She didn't respond. She just gazed at me with her big eyes like a deer into the headlights. I had to suppress an urge to sneer.
"Do you have anything to say?"
She lifted her head a little.
"I... I love you."
"You know, you could have just asked me out to dinner," I said and pulled the trigger.
| 2020-05-11T14:47:41 | 2020-05-11T14:23:47 | 42 | 20 |
[WP] You find an antique gold compass with the words ”Moral Compass”. It will automatically point to the most morally good person within a 100 meter radius. You are on jury one day and when you look at the compass, it points to the convicted serial killer.
|
"...find the defendant guilty."
The courtroom erupted in a cacophony of noise, as the families of the murdered children burst out into tears, shouts of vindication, and screams of retribution. Flashes of light overtook the fluorescent brightness of the lights embedded into the ceiling above; the cameras were blinding as their bulbs sparked, but it didn't stop me from being able to meet the eyes of the man who had just been convicted for the killings of seventeen kids, from the ages of 4 to 12.
I looked down at the compass again. My literal "Moral Compass", that always told me who the most moral person in my immediate vicinity was. And it was pointing at him. Not his lawyer, not the bailiff holding onto him - it was pointing at ***him***. And, more importantly, he was looking at ***me***. Not any of the other eleven members of the jury, but at me, myself, right into my eyes as I lifted my gaze up towards him again.
How? Seventeen children. Some of them hadn't even started kindergarten yet. So ***how***? The moral compass had never been wrong before, and I had no idea why it would start to malfunction now. Was the man just so evil that it caused some sort of underflow effect for the compass? He had stood there for the entire trial, implacable, not saying a single word. Even now, there wasn't a shred of emotion on his face. This was a state with the death penalty still in effect, and all signs pointed towards the prosecution aiming for that sentence. This man could ***die*** because of what had just happened, and he didn't seem to care, he didn't seem to-
All of a sudden, I wasn't in the courtroom any more. The transition was so sudden that I didn't have the awareness to panic about the situation. The serial killer was standing next to me, still in his prison outfit and the shackles that he had been wearing in the courtroom, and he was still looking at me. As I met his eyes once again, he turned to face forward, and I followed his gaze.
We were in some sort of endless black expanse that seemed to stretch out in all directions. Several feet in front of us, on the pitch dark floor, stood an old-fashioned TV, the type with the bunny ears and the dials. A black and white image was on the screen, slightly distorted by static, and a woman's voice came through from the crackly speakers.
"Thomas Cowell, the man accused of bombing the California State Capitol building and killing 174 people in the process, heads to court today, as..." Thomas Cowell. That was the name of one of the children he had murdered. Was this situation suggesting to me what I thought it was?
One of the dials on TV turned by itself, and another news report started. "Sarah Gisbourne, head of Liberty Financial Services, defiantly stated that the hundreds of people who went bankrupt as a result of her actions 'knew what they were getting into' when they trusted their money with her company. One victim responded by saying that..." Sarah Gisbourne. Another one of the kids.
Again, another news station. "Richard Moorehouse broke down in tears today at his trial, sobbing as he apologized and begged for forgiveness. His attempt at repentance rung hollow for many survivors of the smallpox outbreak two years ago, who still place the blame squarely on the biologist's feet for the negligent safety measures at his lab. Meanwhile, Homeland Security officials are..."
I walked up to the TV and turned the dial off. I stared down at the metallic bunny ears that sprung out from the box, and I found myself slightly amused as I noticed the pristine sheen on the television's wooden finish. After a few more seconds of composing my thoughts, I managed to speak up.
"...alright, I get it. This is one of those things where like, someone talks about going back in time to kill baby Hitler or whatever, right? Except you killed seventeen baby Hitlers. Or something like that, anyway. Well, I guess these kids wouldn't end up killing as many people as Hitler, and some of them, I guess, don't even end up directly killing people, but that..." I was babbling at that point, and I managed to stop myself before I rambled further.
Instead, I turned back to look at the man standing with me in the middle of the darkness. "So. Why are you showing me this, then? Are you looking for sympathy? Looking for someone to understand? Want someone to argue your case? Want me to go up to the judge and say 'No, your honor, you don't understand, this man was killing people who would grow up to do really bad things!' or something like that?" I wasn't angry when I grilled him like that, not really. More just... Confused. Not about his precognition, or maybe his time travel, or whatever it was - I had some kind of magic compass that told me who was a good person, after all, so I wasn't surprised by the existence of other supernatural stuff like this - but more about what the ***point*** of our little trip to this abyss was.
The man simply stared at me with those same, emotionless eyes he had been wearing for the entire trial. A slow shake of his head was followed up by, of all things, a small smile, and the first time I had actually ever heard his voice in person. "No. I just didn't want you to be confused about what the compass was telling you, is all. I don't know what that thing even is that you have there-" He pointed, with shackled hands, at the moral compass in my hand "-or whether it really works or not. I honestly don't even think that I'm a moral person. I stopped being one the moment I took Tommy's life, even if he was going to be a terrorist when he grew up." Another shake of his head, apparently more towards himself than towards me. "I'm not about to tell you if using that compass is the right or the wrong thing to do, because I don't know if it is or if it's not. I just didn't want this whole situation to keep you up at night more than it had to."
I lifted my free hand up to reach towards him, and started to speak "I-"
And then, just as quickly as we had entered that place, we had left. My hand was still in the air, and the convicted man was still looking at me. The courtroom was filled with the noise of shouting and the judge's gavel banging loudly in an attempt to restore the place to order. One of the other jury members looked at me strangely, and I put my hand down before anybody else noticed.
The man returned his gaze to some indeterminate point on the wall in front of him, while I looked back down at the compass in my hand, the commotion around me barely registering as I stared hard at the red arrow pointing towards the defendant's chair. He wanted to make sure that what the compass had said wouldn't keep me up at night more than it had to? A fine enough gesture, I supposed. I could almost have even appreciated it.
Three entire nights were spent sat awake, clutching my compass tight enough in my palm to leave marks, and thinking about an antique television sat in the middle of a black abyss.
|
I can’t disclose where and how I found it for reasons I also can’t reveal. All I could reveal is how it works. I pull it out and I watch it point to the person who it deems the most morally good. By what standards, I don’t know. All I know is that it works. I’ve met my lovely husband, whom I am eternally grateful for. I have the best set of friends anyone could ever wish for. That and many more wonderful things I found by following where my compass leads me. Overtime, it became a part of me. It became my judgement, my ideal. And so, I was happy to have learned that I was being summoned for jury duty. For so long, I’ve only used my compass for myself, I was elated to finally use it for the greater good.
&nbsp;
The day of my duty came, I surveyed the area and pulled out my compass. It pointed to the accused. I was determined to defend her at any cost. I listened carefully, committing to memory whatever I could use to clean her name. Evidences were presented, and a strong case was built against the accused. I gave the jurors my piece, deftly conveyed my arguments to defend the accused but to no avail. I came home defeated. I pulled out my compass before I went to sleep and was relieved to see it pointing to me. I kissed my husband good night. I went to bed hopeful for the next morning. I knew I was doing something right.
&nbsp;
Second day of my duty came, I surveyed the area and pulled out my compass. It pointed to the accused. Everything seemed like a replay of the prior day. The day ended with a stronger case against the accused. I knew I had to do something. One of the jurors was someone I knew from the church, an influential figure. I invited her for coffee and presented her with my case. I felt good about myself, I was doing something right, I thought. I went home feeling slightly victorious. I pulled out my compass before I went to sleep, and it pointed to my husband.
&nbsp;
Third day of my duty came, I surveyed the area and attempted to pull out my compass when someone called out my name. I was asked to leave the room. I looked behind and scanned for the church lady as I was being ushered out; our eyes met but she quickly averted her gaze. Outside, I waited for an explanation when suddenly a loud cry erupted from the room:
&nbsp;
“Please have mercy on me! I am pregnant! Please, please don’t do this to me!”.
&nbsp;
I pulled out my compass. It was pointing towards the room.
| 2019-09-10T20:58:55 | 2019-09-10T20:06:43 | 281 | 132 |
[WP] Your best friend goes missing while on an expedition. They are assumed dead. In reality, they are alive and message you on their phone like a diary to help their loneliness. One year later, their phone gets signal and the messages send.
Just imagined this scenario out of nowhere while daydreaming. Thought it'd be pretty interesting.
Edit: Just woken up and seen all the responses! Loving the diversity of directions that people have taken. Don't think any story went the same path in this thread. Awesome reads! I've responded to all the ones I can see atm.
|
When Beth went missing, we scoured near every inch of that forest. She was all over the news, blue-eyed and smiling, her dark hair pulled up in a prim ponytail. Sometimes they showed her doing what she loved: forty feet up in the open air, clinging to a rock wall, nothing between her and death but a harness and a few nylon ropes.
I took that picture. I remember how she beamed at me and said through her teeth, "Stop *shaking* so hard," because my new-discovered crippling vertigo was practically making the GoPro tremble. That was only a few months before she disappeared.
She had nestled herself deep in the Crazy Mountains, a chain of knifing peaks clustered at the edge of the Rockies. I hadn't worried. She brought her dog, her pack, her rifle. The solar-powered charging pack I got her for her birthday. She knew how to hunt and how to flee.
Beth was smart. Beth would be safe because Beth was Beth.
How many days I spent watching summer give way to autumn, and I could do nothing but follow the grid, pace endless stretches of wild. Just screaming into the wilderness. The nights became freezing, and the searches dwindled until it was only me out there, sometimes her father, when he could bring himself to face another day of it all.
We knew exactly where to look, and we found nothing.
One day her dog came bolting out of the woods with a broken leash and a harness full of bristles and leaves. She was filthy and delighted to see Beth's father, but Beth wasn't with her.
How could a girl just disappear? That question chased exhausting circles around my mind for months. I couldn't even bring myself to move. I just stayed in the shitty little town I grew up in, waiting to wake up to the news one day. See her hale and healthy and whole when I flick on the television.
But there is nothing and there will be nothing. I let that truth fall and shatter like glass every morning until I could walk through the shards without bleeding.
And now I only think about Beth every so often, when I hear her favorite song on the radio or smell lavender, which she carried in her pocket like a good luck charm.
Or on days like yesterday, that day twelve months ago when she simply never came home.
Today, it is the chain of one hundred nineteen messages that I wake to. For a moment I sit bleary-eyed and blinking at my phone, thinking it was some kind of ugly joke by the universe. My phone glitching in the most heartbreaking way imaginable.
They are all from Beth. Her contact picture smiles at me as if from beyond the grave.
I begin to read and weep all at once.
*August 28, 7:30 PM*
>Well I am really fucked, Henry
>I really thoroughly fucked myself over
>shit fuck fuck
*7:31 PM*
>don't be angry
>but I may have broken my promise not to free solo
>and fallen and fucked my ankle
>it's like bent the wrong way
*7:32 PM*
>I fell somewhere... I have no idea. There's no signal. You can't even hear me.
>Why am I even doing this
*7:35 PM*
>My coordinates are here. [Screenshot]
> for when my phone wants to work
*9:45 PM*
>Mishka is freaking out.
>I have no idea why
>I made us a burrow but she won't stay inside
>I think there's something out there. She wants to chase it. She's going insane.
Then the next morning, a trail of texts ensuring me she was coming. Then a week of nothing until finally
*September 5, 8:12 PM*
>can't walk
>mishka's gone
>her leash snapped and she took off after something and she's gone
>where the fuck are you
*September 7, 6:30 PM*
>ha. better crutch-stick found. campfire made.
>I'll kill this forest before it kills me.
*September 14, 7:33 AM*
>your solar charger thing really hates cloudy days, by the way
>so bad choice there
As the time went on, she gave up on herself like the rest of us did too. She stopped talking about what we would do when we saw each other again. Started sending me stuff like
>tell my dad I love him, and I'm sorry I'm so stupid all the time
and
>have you already stopped looking for me?
>you should
>it's not worth it
>none of this is worth it
Then nothing, for weeks. The next text is timestamped from February 6.
>brr
*February 15, 5:20 AM*
>I met a fox today. He stopped and said hello I think. I don't speak fox
*February 27, 6:54 AM*
>sometimes I just sit staring at this thing because I have no idea what to say
>I want to miss you more than I do
>I miss being warm and full
>I miss my dog
>I wish I missed you with my everything
>I wish any of this made sense
*March 12, 7:20 AM*
>still nothing, huh?
>hail nothing full of nothing
*March 30, 10:45 PM*
>this fucking mountain goat just scared the shit out of me
*April 8, 3:25 AM*
>I don't know how much longer I can deal with this
>being here
>being alone
I scroll to the bottom. I feel like an asshole skimming over her trauma, but I can't help myself.
The last text was only five minutes ago.
It says,
>I guess I'm having fish for breakfast.
For the first time in a year, I know exactly where she is. Exactly what she's doing.
She's sitting beside some placid mountain lake somewhere, texting idly, not even looking at the signal bar she's used to seeing empty.
I know I should call the national park service instantly. Her dad, at least.
But I'm selfish.
I call Beth.
She answers, "Oh, hey, you." Her voice twists. "About time."
***
/r/shoringupfragments
|
Diary Text message, 364 "It's been a while since I last was home, if I didn't have my phone with me, I would of lost track of how long. It's been nearly a year now, I can't believe that I haven't seen you, or my family for so long. It's been hard. Thank god I had extra supplies, and my extra battery packs for my phone, without these daily self reports I think I would of gone mad by now. I've moved village to village, some with power allowing me to charge my device, yet none with service to call for help, and non of the natives speak English. Of course you'd say something along the lines of 'just your luck' or 'well, it was your fault for wanting to go abroad.'..but it isn't my fault the plane went down, I didn't know this would happen, and in times like this, huddled in my makeshift lean to, that I wish I had listened to you. I wonder if you miss me, or if you'll ever actually see these. I find myself wondering if you secretly hate me for leaving, but I guess we'll never find out. I don't know how much longer I want to hold out. I've learned the land..I have learned to hunt, and how to survive, but I'm tired..and exhausted. I should find something to eat for now. Will continue later."
After she set device in her pocket, on her well traveled and worn clothing, she set off to search one of her nearby traps. The lack of prey in it made her sigh, before turning to go back. Suddenly, she feels a slight vibration from her pocket, having gotten use to the phantom sensation, she instinctively ignores it, until, she feels it again. With a quizzical look she fishes it out of her pocket to see that she has one bar, and everything over the past year has sent! A message quickly comes back to her, and with tears in her eyes she reads it aloud;
"I think you have a wrong number"
| 2018-02-10T20:41:21 | 2018-02-10T20:02:40 | 2,176 | 119 |
[WP] Youre a wizard in the Imperial Army. Most wizards are very ritualistic in their tactics and that is very highly respected but doesn’t give many victories. So you decided to ignore all the long chanting and nonsense and simply immediately kill your opponents with your spells instead.
|
Being sold off as a seven year old child isn’t usually a good start in life. Though the severity is usually determined by where you live. If you’re sold in one of the northern kingdoms, slavery is your fate. If you’re sold in the west, you’ll most likely become a snack for one of the barbarian tribes. But luckily, I was sold in the south, to the wizards guild.
I was raised with other rejects like me, and the utterly pretentious, annoying, pompous, and downright evil children of wizards. Those twats were oh so superior, having already learnt some magic from their parents, which they used to achieve their petty goals of torturing boys like me. Nothing that would harm us permanently, that could arouse the attention and wroth of our masters, but their pettiness knew no end. Once they amplified my perception of pain, which meant that every pinch, every small slap, and every nipple twist (though that was often difficult to achieve through our thick robes) felt like a broken bone. One of my compatriots actually died when they did that to him, he had a weak heart, and the pain caused it to burst. I didn’t like the little shit, but he didn’t deserve to die. Our masters didn’t notice the magic involved, so they ruled it a tragic accident. From that point forward, all the boys in my situation quickly adjusted. They tried to emulate the children of the wizards, to become like them. They followed the rituals, chanting over a freshly gutted cat stuffed with herbs and magical implements. They talked like them, they dressed like them, they followed the rules like them.
I didn’t.
I wanted those little shits to suffer, and I wanted the power to make that happen. I knew that I needed to do something different, something extraordinary, to become extraordinary. And so I began my experiments. Small steps at first, small spells, so that if something went wrong I wouldn’t end up like that little shit whose heart burst after the wizard children had their way. At first I simply omitted an ingredient or two, and when the spell still worked, I omitted even more. When I discovered how to condense the chant into a three second ordeal, instead of four minutes, and that the seven ingredients were entirely superfluous, I became bolder.
And when I finally achieved the rank of master wizard, at only nineteen years old, I got to work.
First I joined the army, as a battle wizard. Very few wizards ever chose such a posting, combat spells take a lot of preparation, and the really useful ones, such as fire bolts, air scythes, and my personal favourite, lightning flames, are deemed too risky to use properly. I didn’t have those limitations.
In the very first battle I fought in, a relatively minor skirmish between a lord and four of his vassals, I was called upon to support the lords army. The lords forces were substantially outnumbered by his vassals, though he was in a well entrenched position. I first tried to attempt a diplomatic solution, but the very concept was foreign to both sides. They wanted blood.
I gave it to them.
When the vassals forces attacked, I first cast a relatively standard battle spell, a strong one that usually took a day to properly prepare, which made two hundred men turn into ash. The vassals has expected this, they knew I was fighting for the lord, and that it would take me a long time to prepare my next spell, giving them plenty of time to attack. That’s how it would have gone regularly anyway.
I waited for the enemy to get in close, to lure them into my trap. Then I started casting in my own way. I bathed the enemy in lightning flame, which was a personal invention of mine. All the benefits of lethally charged lightning bolts combined with it behaving like a virulent forest fire. Hundreds of soldiers fell, bucking and seizing from the constant shocks, even those who my spell had killed seemed as alive as those still screaming, their dead muscles involuntarily contracting even as their life had winked out moments before. The vassals knew now that something was not right, and ordered a retreat.
I wasn’t done.
I pulled on the earth itself with a powerful spell, summoning a thick wall of dirt behind and around the vassals, impossible to break through, too high to climb. Then the lords forces left their entrenched position, even as I sent a final spell into the midst of the vassal forces, the very same which had been used against me by the wizards children, but on a larger scale. Their entire army was blanketed with an intense sensitivity to pain, the effects of which became known quickly. All those men being pressed together, it’s inevitable that someone bumps into someone else a bit hard, causing both parties intense pain. Then, as they flail about, they hit others, who in turn hit others, and so on and so forth. By the time the lords forces arrived to do battle, the entire enemy army was a clanking, groaning, flailing mess.
My actions that day gained me a reputation as a savage sorcerer, incredibly powerful, and deadly beyond belief. Which was exactly the kind of wizard that King Lev was looking for.
I helped my king conquer a vast swathe of land, dominating the barbaric western tribes, decimating the northern slavers. The guild had openly condemned me long ago, claiming that I was some horrible demon practicing black magic. Yet they hungered desperately for my secret way of casting spells, as was evidenced by their attempts at bribing me, and later attempts at capturing me.
After a new attempt at capturing me, I decided that it was finally time to punish my tormentors. I changed the face of one of my attempted captors to my own, and I in turn changed my face to his. I opened a portal back to the wizards guild, dragging the dead ‘me’ behind me, with hands in shackles.
I pretended to limp forwards, as if wounded during the capture, and lay the supposedly unconscious ‘me’ at the feet of a master wizard I knew all too well from my tormented childhood.
“You managed to capture him! Incredible! That bastard will finally learn some humility, and give us the secrets of his magic. Can’t wait to torture it out of him.” He smiled, a leering grin spread across his lips, as his mind seemed to contemplate what part he was going to cut off “me” first.
I couldn’t help it, I smiled back.
Though not for the reason he thought I did.
|
I was always a bad scholar. The teacher told me to quit, because I was not fit to learn the spells and ritual. If only the hab known I had awaken during this time and just waited until now to retaliate. „Unter den Talaren, Muff von 1000 Jahre“ says an old German proverb.
I was around 15 years old when a dog bit my hand. I as so angry, just angry at the world, the teacher, and ... the dog. I just wanted him to be gone...gone.... and it went away in a gory explosion of red. I was covered in intestines and dog shit, but I was happy as never before. I broke the chains of the old ages.
Some time later they banished me into the desert. They couldn’t know that this is the second best that happened to me. The isolation sharpened my concentration and soon I was able to harvest the live out of the little desert critters. After I felt ready I started to plan my return.
Today a new age begins, my age. The age of ME... I will get my retaliation...
They are still stuck in their old ways. Mary was the first who saw me and startet chanting, I waited a few boring seconds and then just blobed her hands. The sudden realisation on her face made me fell ... interesting but somehow good. I just played a bit with her before I dusted her in a sprinkle of blood.
The magic garrison was even less of a problem. The ground was lava.... hihihihi. It sank into the ground with nice tune of screams an agony. The last lava blob, like a burp was the last straw for me I just stared laughing.
Know I sit here on the top of Bold Mountain and wait for the armies to arrive. They will learn soon that armies are no match for a good.
| 2020-08-15T03:57:44 | 2020-08-15T01:24:27 | 100 | 21 |
[WP] It turns out that luck is genetic. As underground research labs begin to appear, scientists across the globe set traps to capture lucky humans so they can be traded on the black market. It’s now recommended that people avoid casinos, night clubs, and Ireland.
|
I didn’t think my discovery would change anything.
People with good genetics were always considered lucky. The only thing my research proved was that our perception of the phenomenon had been backwards. They didn’t get good genes because of their luck; they got lucky *because* of their genes.
I had always been fascinated by this topic, mostly because of my own poor luck, and upon having empirical evidence after decades of research, I shared my findings with the scientific community.
That was a mistake.
The nature of luck still hadn’t changed. It was, by definition, something random and uncontrollable. Emphasizing this, however, didn’t stop idiots from trying to exploit it.
Suddenly, I was the most hated man in the world. People were being hunted for something they couldn’t control. Furthermore, those who weren’t being hunted (i.e. the unlucky) thought my research was implying they were inherently inferior.
That couldn’t be further from the truth, though. I didn’t want any of this. My lab received more funding than ever but I didn’t want to continue my work. It just wasn’t worth it.
Things only got worse when the military kidnapped me.
I’d been avoiding their calls for months and they decided to take matters into their own hands. After removing my blindfold, they guided me into an underground conference room where all the top leaders were gathered.
“Welcome, doctor,” said General Powers. He was a rugged man with many medals spread across his chest. “I’m sorry we had to take such drastic measures.”
I glared. “No you aren’t.”
General Powers chuckled. “You’re right. I’m not. We did this for the safety of our nation.”
I scoffed. “What do you want from me?”
“Your country needs you. This research of yours has brought about a new arms race. The Chinese have an overwhelming advantage, and the Irish...” General Powers shivered. “That entire country is now a weapon of mass destruction. It’s a threat we can’t ignore.”
“And? I’m just a scientist. It’s not like I can stop them.”
“I know, but we’ve been having difficulty with our ‘Lucky Charms’ program.”
“The cereal?”
General Powers frowned. “No, it’s a code name for an elite task force we’re building. A special group to counter the luck of other nations.”
I wanted the earth to swallow me right there. That was the stupidest thing I had ever heard.
“Unfortunately,” continued the general, “we’ve been having some... difficulties recruiting. You see, it appears that our army is composed of some of the unluckiest bastards in history.”
I frowned. “And you’ve been trying to kidnap the lucky, haven’t you?”
General Powers widened his eyes. “N-no. Kidnap is a strong word. Target is more accurate. We’ve just been trying to screen for them, but we can never get a handle on it. We either get a ton of false negatives, or the prospects suddenly don’t need to join the forces anymore.”
I nodded. “Makes sense.”
“Really?”
“Of course it does. You’re sending them to die. Their luck is going to do everything in its power to stop that.”
“But wouldn’t their luck protect them in war?”
“No, because it’s luckier to not go to war in the first place. It’s like all that business with underground research labs copying my work. Their human trafficking failed because anyone who got caught *had* to be unlucky.”
“Then what do we do?” asked the general.
“Nothing! Did any of you actually read my paper?”
Everyone at the table looked away, ashamed.
“Figures...” I sighed. “Look, although I was able to prove there’s a ‘luck’ gene, it’s still not a substitute for actual skill. That’s what people don’t seem to grasp. Luck is valuable, sure, but it is ultimately unreliable. You can’t depend solely on it. The nature of uncertainty demands that, sometimes, it doesn’t work out.”
General Powers had a glazed over look in his eyes. He didn’t understand a single word I said. “So how do we recruit them?”
I facepalmed. “Fuck it. I’ll give you the answer. It’s not like it’ll matter, anyway. You do this at your own peril, okay?”
General Powers nodded.
“All you have to do,” I said, “is be honest when recruiting.”
General Powers went pale. “Impossible!”
I hung my head. “You won’t catch anyone against their own will. If, however, they choose to do it of their own volition, the luck won’t interfere. Just say that you want the lucky, and incentivize them to step forward.”
“Ahh perfect! Thank you, doctor! You’ve done a great service for your nation.”
“You shouldn’t thank me. Luck has a funny way of biting you in the ass.” I gestured at my kidnappers. “Trust me, I would know.”
General Powers didn’t listen, too excited to develop his program. I was safely returned to my home and I didn’t hear from them until a few months later, when General Powers was found dead of a heart attack. It appeared that it happened the day before he would unveil his new recruitment plan.
Nobody else in the military wanted to take his place. The ‘Lucky Charms’ program was quietly forgotten and, soon enough, the rest of the world moved on.
In the end, I was right. Nothing really changed because of my discovery. Except for Ireland, who was now a world superpower.
—————
>If you enjoyed this, check out more of my stories over at /r/weirdemokidstories. Thanks for reading!
|
"It is very difficult work you see," Says underground research scientist Hans Buglefort. Agreeing to show us his lab under the condition of anonymity, Mr. Buglefort states "we are only able to work with a small subsection of the population. There are those who are unlucky enough to be captured, in some cases by mistake. These are of little interest. It is the ones who are typically lucky, but are not lucky enough to avoid our capture whom we must work with."
Even after this step capturing or holding lucky people for any period of time is difficult. "It's really just a matter of time until some contrivance frees them from us. Be it rusted locks, a fitness tracker, geotaged photo, or a person accidentally reveals our location while getting takeout."
Although illegal, one does have to appreciate and even admire the struggles these "scientists" undertake to learn more about luck.
-George Peabody SkyGround News
Reporting from 8682 Place St.
Georgeville, Texas, USA.
| 2022-08-04T06:20:11 | 2022-08-04T06:03:15 | 498 | 277 |
[WP] You are a forgotten god just days from fading into the void, when all of a sudden you hear a whisper the first prayer you’ve had in years. With this in mind you stumble out of your death bed and investigate this.
|
**I'm gonna edit the question and make this more like american gods, where it's not the prayer, just the simple act of remembering**
I heard the whisper. The first one I had heard in longer than I remember. It was so stunning, so unusual, I reflexively exclaimed:
"Wait...who the fuck? What....oh God damn it are you shitting me?"
10,000 years. 10,000 years I've been waiting to die.
"I didn't ask for this" I said, somewhere between sadness and anger, something I'm sure the mortals had made a word for by now
"*Well now, since when has that ever mattered?*" Said Victoria.
I furrowed by brow at her. She was standing at my bedside, waiting for my final moment of passing, so she could take my essence and pass it into the worldsoul. Normally Death would handle that, but it's not often that god's die. Well, not anymore anyway. Definitely not since the internet. Now nearly every single god since the first people were stumbling around mesopotamia had at least one history nerd who had an obscure article about them bookmarked on a computer somewhere, thanks to the mortals tendency to go digging around in holes they didn't need to dig around in.
I rubbed my eyes. "Please don't get high and mighty with me now. Just because you're one of the 'essential' keepers of 'reality' here in 'the bardo', Vic. " I said, taking every care I could muster to make my sarcasm abundantly apparent.
"*You know I hate when you call me that...The first bit of energy you've had in centuries and you're using it to be an asshole? Alright.*"
I stared at her. It wasnt like her to swear or take a bad tone with anyone, let alone me. I expected her to get angry with the name, par for the course. I changed my name for her every decade or so, just to keep it interesting. The essential essences always wanted to be called something corny, and I didn't want to give them the satisfaction.
She had been here with me for the last century as I got weaker and weaker, keeping me company and essentially playing hospice to a dying god, but I still couldn't really resist taking shots at her. What else did I have to do? And I'm pretty sure she understood I was being playful
"What...what do you even have to get mad about?" I asked
"*You've been so excited to die for so long, I was actually starting to look forward to it. I haven't had a god die for a few thousand years and I was really looking forward to having something interesting to do*"
I tried to stand up, but I found quickly that I didn't have the energy for it. Wonderful. Enough energy to stick around, but not enough to even move. I swear, the mortals have their idea of hell all wrong. I sat up in my bed and rubbed my temples.
"So...why...who the hell is keeping me alive? I can them faintly but cant quite make it out"
Vic waved her hand and a little tear opened up in the fabric of reality, if you could even say the bardo had a reality to speak of. As the tear solidified, I could make out a face. Brown skin, tight curly black hair, canvas shorts, sweat on her brow...somewhere out in the desert. She was moveing her hands over some stones with etchings carved into them, evidently trying to decipher them
"Ugh....fine. Fine fine fine. Where is she?"
"*You don't recognize it? That used to be your village.*"
"No, I don't recognize it, vic. And I didn't come from a desert, I came from a jungle. I thought you knew that." I said, a little hurt that she had forgotten.
"*It was a jungle when you were ascended, but all of the trees and rivers have long since dried up. The land is dead, as far as the mortals are concerned.*"
I felt a rock in my gut at the mention of my ascension. I never liked to think about it. It was traumatic. I can't even imagine being someone like Jesus, people just talking about the worst thing in his life every day. Every single day of his life, people reminding him of his own murder. I tried so hard to forget mine, but I gave up after a while. I don't think there's any way to forget having every elder and sorceror journey for hundreds of days, just so they could put you on a ziggurat and rip all of your organs out, to say my sacrifice and their spells would make me a god to protect their fucking crops.
But immediately followed by the pang in my stomach was the wave of sadness from hearing about what happened to my home. It was so lush and full of beasts and man and life. How could that even happen? Maybe I would have noticed earlier, but I stopped checking in on the mortal realm a long while back.
"Why her?"
"*She is a student, part of a group, looking to expand the wealth of mortal knowledge. It appears in this quest, they found some record of you. Your name at least.*"
My mind was spinning. Where the hell do these people get the nerve to go digging up and going through other people's stuff! It was none of their business!
"This is truly awful? Is it just her?"
"*It appears so*"
"he's going to tell the others in her group about me, isn't she?"
"*With almost absolute certainty. She seems incredibly excited with this discovery. She will seek to share it very soon*"
"Can you kill her? Blow her up? Strike her down, something?"
"*You know I don't do that sort of thing. You'll have to ask one of your peers to do it for you.*" She said, detached from the emotion of the situation or the absurdity of my request.
Well. This is just great. Truly wonderful. If I don't kill her now, then I'll have to kill her crew. And if I can't kill her crew, it'll make it to the internet and then I get to spend the rest of my miserable eternity in the bardo.
"*...and no, I'm not going to help you find someone either.*" She said, predicting my next question
"God damn it"
"*Oh he's for sure not going to help you. But, I'm not longer needed. This is your situation now. I'll return to take your god-soul when I need to...I really was so excited for that. I love the way they smell*" She said with a huff, as she disappeared from the room
I flopped back into my bed and pressed my palms into my eyes. This can't be happening
|
Ixtal lay alone in his bed of stars. Underneath him, he had the most comfortable and majestic nebula, it shone in bright colours with intricate patterns ever changing. It was said that even the gods could stare into it and get lost in thought and reflection over themselves. A fitting bed for someone who had once been the god of gods, and soon it would likely prove itself a similarly fitting grave. His wife, as so many of those who had once lived in his dominion, had already passed into the endless oblivion between the collective heavens. As Ixtal lay there in his final moments, reflecting upon his creation and his deeds, he heard a whisper. The whisper passed through the stars and reached his ears. It quickly grew louder and within the space between two thoughts had grown unto a marvellous cacophony. Invigorated he raised himself back up once more to find the source of this choir of insanity. He followed it across the galaxy, through black holes, and over dwarf stars, until he finally reached the backwater planet of Gaia. Deciding not to startle them too much in their renewed phase of worship, he donned the disguise of a human. Making it down to the planet into what seemed like a booming metropolis he was so sure he would find worshippers wherever he went based on the noise he had heard, even though it had somewhat quieted down now. In the metropolis he looked around at large moving pictures and buildings climbing towards the heavens which might even have impressed him, but none of that mattered now, he wished to find his new followers. Stopping the first human he saw he quickly asked “Take me to the closest Temple of Ixtal peasant! It is imperative that I go there”. His power ensuring the creature heard him speak as if in its native tongue. “Ixtal?” The human replied “You mean the tiktok trend? The one calling out to a supposed ancient god? Dude, that was so last month ago, I doubt most even remember anymore”. Ixtal lay alone in his bed of stars.
| 2020-10-18T15:28:56 | 2020-10-18T14:53:12 | 37 | 16 |
[WP] Alcohol has been banned throughout most of the Galaxy due to its corrosive nature towards organic life, in the near future when first contact is made with humans the aliens are horrified that humans not only mass produce alcohol, they also consume it for pleasure.
|
"Sir, the report from planet X-2K-9 also known as Earth, has been transmitted and received, along with a representative from their planet."
"Thank you private." Admiral Grod replied.
"Um- but sir?"
"Yes private."
"Theres something strange on the report."
"Well out with it private, what is it? I'm meeting with the Human Representative soon."
"Well, in our galaxy we can not consume, use, or become exposed to alcohol."
"Unless you are telling me something I don't know soon, you are wasting my time." Admiral Grod said while adjusting his uniform.
"Right, yes, but they do."
"What?" Admiral Grod turned towards the private.
"They, use alcohol, for quite a lot actually. One of the main uses of it is to disinfect things and clean. It sterilizes certain things like medical tools and wounds."
Admiral Grod looked perplexed to the report snatching it out of the privates hands. "Impossible, they would die! Be eaten alive!"
"Sir, apparently not, also on the next page, it gets quite... disturbing."
Admiral Grod furiously moves to the next page and skims through the writing. "They do WHAT with it!?!?" He looks up at the private in shock.
"Yes sir. They consume it, and in large quantities as well. They mainly do this for 'fun' and it apparently doesn't kill them immediately, oddly enough, if they consume to much of it they lose all function and in some cases even expire."
"By the moons of Farfax, they consume the blasted poison.... for fun!" Admiral Grod gasped.
"Yes sir, it doesn't seem to corrode like our alchohol does and is apparently not acidic like ours. Sir, I believe they have perfected it into a.... drink of some sorts."
"You know what this means private? The Galactic prohibition would come to an end. This small rock consisting of one intelligent species would become economical giants in the Galaxy and they haven't even perfected space travel."
"Sir, can't we use that?"
"No, we can not. Imagine what the other governments would think if a hairless ape perfected this and not space travel and we couldn't even come close, so we ban it Galaxy wide!" Admiral Grod said.
"But we can use their formula sir."
"We would be made a mockery of, private! They would laugh at the fact that a infint species could accomplish such a thing, plus we would need Earth ingredients since none of ours work, or we would need humans to help us, and ether way people will find out."
"What shall I do then with the Earth representative?"
Admiral Grod paused to think for a moment, "bring him in, the Emperor will make the decision, as for now, burry the evidence of this formula."
"Yes sir. I'll send him in now."
After leaving the room the Earth representative walks in and left alone with Admiral Grod holding a six pack of glass bottles.
"Aahh General Singer, from Earth!" Admiral Grod extended his four arms as to show a welcoming posture for the small in comparison to him, Earthling. "Please have a seat." As he gestures to the chair infront of his desk with a view of earth behind him.
"Admiral Grod I presume?" General Singer asks while shaking one of his hands.
"Please, call me Grod, we are both men of some sort, in uniform. Spare the formal titles."
"Sure... Grod, so what brings you to Earth?"
"We seek new life, our kind have not searched this end of the Galaxy. You see, past the asteroid belt, and what you call Pluto, there is a field of black holes and anomalies that we can not explain. It took years of navigating it to reach you."
General Singer pauses and smirks, "that's odd, we sent drones and satellites out that way, yet nothing."
Admiral Grod shifts in his seat, "well... we your satellites and drones are rudimentary compared to our technology. No offense."
"None taken." General Singer replies. "I brought you a gift, a beverage from our planet, you care to join me?" General Singer opens two bottles handing one to Admiral Grod. "Come on, it's our tradition."
Admiral Grod grabs it and takes a sip. "Hm, this is delicious! What is it?"
"We call it beer Grod."
"Beer? Tastes good." Admiral Grod gulps down more.
"Yes, it is." General singer drinks more. "It's alchohol..."
Admiral Grod begins to cough. "What!?!?"
"Alchohol Grod, I know you've heard of it. On our planet we can drink it, you can't... can you?"
Admiral Grod coughs up a green blood on the desk and face plants into it, gasping for air.
"I know you've been watching, we all have known...." Ganeral Singer stands up and walks behind the desk sitting on it kicking Admiral Grods chair back so he can look up and face him. "I know you have taken, abducted my kind for decades, even centuries. So as it is, tactically speaking, smarter to gather intelligence and learn more. That's what we have done."
"What!?!? How!?!?" Admiral Grod garbled the words up through a coughing fit of green blood.
"Sshh Sshh Sshh sshh... let me finish, it is rude to interrupt your guest." Ganeral Singer said. "We've learned where your home world is, how far it is, and that we breath the same air. Also found out you banned alchohol just because YOU can't drink it. See its poison for your kind, you can't motabalize like the rest so you ban it Galaxy wide."
"Why!?!?" Admiral Grod gurgles.
"Why? Because we aren't your little fucking experiment, that's why." General Singer says as Admiral Grod gasps and sinks into his seat, lifeless and pale.
"Hhmm...." General Singer looks at his watch, "faster than I imagined." He gets up and inserts an ear piece, "Bravo 6 to stike team, Admiral Grod is down. Status?
"Strike team to Bravo 6, bridge secure, fleet is in our control."
"Good work strike team, Bravo 6 out." General singer turns towards the view of Earth, stepping over Admiral Grods body, "next.... the Galaxy." He says while standing there drinking his beer over the lifeless Admiral Grod.
|
"At artificial concentrations, the simple organic the humans called ethyl alcohol was known to denature many basic proteins, and then dissolve fatty membranes, or just destroy similarly structured energy reservoirs. Many of the first intergalactic species have a very low lethal dose to the substance. In concentrations comparable to a single shot of 80 proof liquor, into a liter of dihydrogen monoxide, the Betelgeusian males experience a chain reaction the end up with them in an irrecoverable dehydrated state. Features painfully frozen until they organic matter is recycled. Artemyans that come into contact with vapors only quarter the previous amount experience blackout, fainting, and severe incoherence in their telepathic communication methods. Humans, regularly consume the alcohol in concentrations that would kill many interstellar microbiota, disrupting the symbiotic homeostasis many zero-gee depend on for the most basic functions. The Calagherians, with their major energy storage method revolving around long chained branched hydrocarbons, have a very bad aversion to the liquid, for understandable reasons. Humans, with their fondness for the species, and their fondness for the drink, frequently invoke the Calagherian territorial response when approaching their normally docile and accommodating friends with their breaths spewing the scents of their vodkas and whiskeys. Humans with their love for alcohol deeply ingrained, and as a source of cultural conflict between then and other species. Their international passport system, once hailed at one of the best intergalactically, is now beginning to experience many restrictions and flat out rejections in their trans-planet-visas. The uncomfortable attitude towards humans doesn't seem to stop there, with human bars and pubs being the subject of violent hate crimes from Giedi Prime to Cthuhrsshic. This will be a topic we will watch closely in the coming years. Thank you for your attention, and this has been your daily 70 quarmecs report. We hope you join us again tomorrow as we take a look into Betelgeusian livestock practices, and how their prized cyyrat females are beginning to dominate the intergalactic escort market."
| 2019-11-07T07:47:28 | 2019-11-07T07:08:02 | 47 | 13 |
[WP] They've just invented a 500,000 frame per second video camera. The problem is that they've found something unexpected at those speeds
|
“Its how fast?” David asked, a skeptical tone in his voice.
“Okay, I’ll try to put it in layman’s terms.” Gavin replied, his coffee going unnoticed on the table in front of him, “Let’s say a normal camera runs at something like 24 frames per second. Ours runs much faster than that. Much, much faster. A couple hundred thousand more.”
David took a sip from his cup. “So it’s a really fast camera. I know you’ve been working on this project for a while now. Why call me all of a sudden, like its some kind of huge, crazy deal? I mean, look at yourself,” he gestured towards Gavin, “You’re a mess.”
“Because it is a big deal now,” Gavin said, reaching up, and failing to slick down his messy hair. “It was just supposed to be an experiment. First, to see if we could actually create something like this, and after that, use it to do other experiments. See how light waves work, that kind of thing… But David,” He said, leaning in conspiratorially, “I found something.”
“You found something?” David asked, his eyebrow rising. “Like what? How bugs mate or something?”
“No.” Gavin whispered back, probably not even realizing David’s joke. “Out of all those hundreds of thousands of frames, almost every single one of them were what we expected. A really, really, really slowed down video of our lab. Except for one. A fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a second, there was one frame of… something.”
David took another sip from his cup, but let Gavin continue.
“It was pretty much a pitch black frame, and so every one of my colleagues just dismissed it, a glitch, something like that. But, I’m not only an engineer, I’m a photography nerd, and whenever you’re taking very short exposures, you need A LOT of light. And so, I treated each one of these ‘almost pitch black’ frames as a single exposure. Out of all the millions of frames, there would be a ‘black’ frame occasionally. So I merged them, which effectively 'lightened' them up… and I found something.”
Now David was leaning forward, his interest piqued. “And? What was it?
Gavin, took a breath in, preparing himself, and finally said: “It was a picture… of our lab.”
“Your lab?” David sighed, sinking back into his chair, “So what? A picture of your lab, hidden in between other pictures of your lab. Is this all you really called me over here fo-“
“Obviously it wasn’t just a picture of my lab,” Gavin interrupted with a wave of his hand, “I mean, it was the lab, but it was different. Very subtly different, but enough that I could tell.”
Confused, David motioned for Gavin to continue.
“Listen, do you know what parallel universes are?” He asked, his voice a bit shrill, and then continued after David nodded. “Well, I think I stumbled across a parallel universe. Not just peering into some crazy alternate dimension that has nothing to do with us, but taking a glimpse at something that already exists. Here,” he said, motioning with his hand at the small coffee shop around them, “A whole other world, which is here, existing, but just out of phase with us in time, just enough that we can’t interact with it, or even see it, especially when we didn’t know it even existed.”
Gavin paused and collected his thoughts for a moment. “So, I panned the camera around, and wrote a pretty basic script to collect all of these frames and mash them together. It takes a little while, but I can usually get a ‘picture’ of these frames every thirty minutes or so. When I finally got a good panoramic of the room… I saw something else.”
Gavin took a ragged breath in. His clothes were disheveled and wrinkly, and his eyes were bloodshot, and wet, as if he had been crying earlier.
“There were things in the lab, David.” He said, putting his head into his hands, and speaking quietly into the tablecloth. “They were grotesque, and just absolutely horrible. I saw my colleagues, working in the lab, just like they were on ‘my side’ of the monitor, But they were monstrosities, faces twisted in abject horror, mouths agape and screaming.”
“David,” He said through clenched teeth, his eyes moving up from the table, “If you were to see evil, you would know. Pure evil, which would only want to consume you, entirely. Physically and metaphysically… I saw evil, David, there is no other word for it.”
David reached towards Gavin, his friend of many years, “Listen Gavin, there must be some explanation.”
Gavin squeezed the tablecloth between his fingers, “That’s not all. I panned the whole room, I saw something else. I saw myself… The evil, twisted, other-me. He was holding a camera David.”
He looked back up, locking eyes with David, tears streaming down his face. “They saw me… They know we’re here now."
------
Thanks everyone for all the responses, and gold? Wow, you guys are awesome. I don't write very often, so it means a lot. Figured I'd write a little bit more inspired by this prompt. Let me know if you like it!
[Part Two](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2v4tpk/pi_frames_per_second/)
|
"What are those lines?" asked Martin. It looks like some interferences.
"Wait, hang on, zoom in.... What is this ? " Diane was puzzled, every hundred thousand frames there were a few frames like on those old TVs having bad signal.
"Do you see this ? " Martin stood up, took off his glasses and picked a white sheet of paper from the drawer.
Diane's hands started to shake while looking for the chair so she could sit down.
"This looks like...." she said while sitting down .. "like there is somebody watching us".
Martin took of his pen and pointed to the square border around the image. "This looks like a screen."
"What do you mean? " asked Diane while shaking violently.
Martin walked towards the window and looked outside.
The big bubble protecting the city from the hostile atmosphere outside ,
the aero taxis, the aero cars, the high cylindric buildings, looking like some cigarettes in the middle of the desert...
All the decisions the central intelligence computer - Watson, took, the council, the analysis, the simulations, all his work....
Everything was just a Simulation.
| 2015-02-06T14:36:31 | 2015-02-06T13:12:41 | 241 | 28 |
[WP] Your supervillain nemesis is little more than goofy comedy relief, always coming up with clunky machines and insane, nonsensical schemes. When a new dangerous villain appeared, your nemesis utterly destroyed them, and then continued on like nothing happened.
|
I had to admit, this trap was more effective than many of Dr. Inconvenience’s usual attempts. I hadn’t been lucky enough to have flight as one of my powers, so I was stuck trying to carefully walk my way out of the circle. I thought I was almost there when another invisible banana peel sent me to the ground again.
“Haha! Now you see the subtle yet disastrous consequences of my new machine! So many cartoons show people slipping on banana peels, but it rarely happens in real life. But why? The answer is because they can see the yellow mines and simply walk around them. Well no longer! With my invisibility ray, I will turn every banana in the city invisible and soon the streets will be full of people comically slipping and landing on their behinds! Just think of the *inconvenience*!”
I swore there had to be some fan hidden in the Doctor’s apparatus to make his lab coat flap like that. There were only a few feet left until I could get free from the slippery pit and put a stop to his madness. Then an entirely unexpected sound shook the room. A feeling of cold washed over me as a perfectly reflective, near-human silhouette crashed through the ceiling.
“Surrender your planet to me or I will eliminate all life on this hemisphere to encourage compliance from the survivors.”
I realized that its voice wasn’t coming through my ears but was ringing in my brain with my own mental timbre. That was a very bad sign. There had only been one recorded human with telepathic abilities, and they had almost destroyed all civilized society. There was something strange, though. The gleaming figure was not facing me, but Dr. Inconvenience. Technically, as a member of the council of superpowered individuals, I was one of the most powerful people on the planet, but what could this entity want with a mere low-threat-classification villain like the doctor?
“Close your eyes and look down,” Dr. Inconvenience called out as he pulled his goggles over his eyes.
Unsure, but not knowing what else to do, I complied. A painfully bright flash sent spikes of pain into my eyes despite the precautions. A moment later, it had ended and dark blue after images slowly faded away. When I could see again, there was nothing left of the silvery figure, and the metal edges of the much wider hole in the roof were cooling from white to red.
“What was that? What did you do?” I asked incredulously.
“An entity without a real name. It was more of a construct feeding off the consciousnesses of others than something truly alive. It was trying to drain the planet, but certain restraints forced it to seek permission from the one with the strongest mental energy, which would be me.”
None of it made sense. The most damage Dr. Inconvenience had ever done was destroying a new DMV that was being set up to improve local efficiency for the city. There had been no casualties. “But how did you do it? All your contraptions have either self-destructed or been so comically ineffective that stopping them barely mattered?”
“I’ll admit, it might have been hard if I hadn’t known that thing was coming, but it really was quite simple with this device. The energies involved in creating induced translucence on those banana peels are high enough to vaporize basically anything if used in a less stable form. I simply altered the lensing module and hit that thing with more power than twice earth’s combined nuclear arsenal.”
“But… with that power, you could do anything... have anything… why are you here turning banana peels invisible? You could rule the world!”
“When have I ever said I wanted to rule the world? It should be abundantly clear that I am not searching for any more power than I already have. Besides, it would be quite a bit harder to do what I need to do if I were involved in ruling anything. It does take quite a bit of time to prepare for threats like our uninvited guest, you know. I suppose a hostile takeover could afford me nearly as much freedom as I currently possess, but such an action would certainly result in deaths, and that isn’t a price I’m willing to pay for something I don’t need.”
“Then why not just join the good side? Be a hero like me and so many others?”
“Ugh… Can you imagine anything more boring? Having to request clearance for the smallest action? My decisions are much too important to be second-guessed by a council whose collective IQ couldn’t match mine at two years old. No, I could never provide the protection humanity needs by working on your side.”
“That’s your excuse for these games? Altruism? Then why do you waste time on such trivial schemes instead of simply helping the poor or sick? You clearly have had the time.”
“Remember who you’re talking to. For one, the question of general suffering is more of a philosophical one, but there are important further reasons why I have done what I have done and abstained from other actions.” He let out a long sigh. “I suppose I’m going to have to wipe your memory anyways, so I might as well alleviate your concerns by saying that a much greater existential threat awaits if humanity’s overall development accelerates too quickly. I am working on it though.”
“Since when can you wipe memories?”
“Sometimes I forget how slow you people are. I am the smartest person to have ever lived, and it isn’t close. Just assume that if there is any device that could be beneficial to me, I already have it.”
“Why the comical façade though? It hardly seems necessary to turn the Eiffel tower upside down, temporarily miniaturize all the bears, or dye the oceans yellow, just to name a few of your activities.”
“For one, you would not believe how unbelievably boring it gets for me without things to invent and people to mildly inconvenience, plus I have important data to gather from you and others with superpowers. Besides, do you want me to put you out of a job by simply not showing up?”
“I… I’m honestly not sure. What happens now?”
“First off, I’ll rewind your memories back to before our friend arrived and we’ll continue. You’ll escape and rip my machine apart with your super strength. I’ll pretend like my plans have all been foiled and barely make my escape using one of the three transport devices I’ve been meaning to try out, though I haven’t decided which yet. Then life will continue as normal for both of us. I have a peanut butter duplicating machine scheduled for Tuesday. I’m sure the local wildlife will be very happy with the aftermath of that conflict.” He reached for a device from one of the lab coat pockets. “Until next time I suppose,” Dr. Inconvenience said as hit pointed an antenna at me.
Everything faded to black.
|
Poopy Man continued explaining his new evil machine, which would turn all apples into bananas, and all bananas into apples, confusing everybody in the world. Next to him the corpse of The Dread Monster lay with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
Just 10 minutes ago I was alerted of Poopy Man plotting a new dumbass scheme. I didn't really feel like going, but I reminded myself that even if the scheme was dumb, I still had a duty to stop it. I flew in and rolled my eyes at the stupid grin he had on his face when I showed up. This fucking idiot just really loved monologuing whatever new bullshit scheme he had on. This apple and banana idea was particularly stupid.
But mid-monologue, a wall smashed open and in came Dread Monster. I instantly stood up straight. I got in my battle stance. I was ready to throw down. Last time Dread Monster showed up 50,000 innocents died. I don't know how he escaped prison but I was not ready to let that happen again. My eyes narrowed.
And then they widened. What happened? There was blood and guts all over the walls. Is Dread Monster... did he explode? I looked around. There stood Poopy man. His arms and mouth covered in blood. He stared at me.
"Excuse me, can I finish my monologue now?"
"Poopy Man... did you just... did you murder the Dread Monster?"
"CAN I FINISH??"
"How the fuck did you do that?" I stared at the chunks of guts stuck in his teeth.
"I have super speed and strength, and I can wipe out this entire planet if I ever wanted in about five minutes. Let's not flatter this fucking idiot by calling him dreadful."
"If you're so strong, why are you bothering with machines that turn bananas into apples?"
"And apples into bananas!"
"...and apples into bananas."
"I've never wanted to destroy the world. I just enjoyed having your attention."
I looked down. Poopy Man had a giant boner. It might have actually been a touching and flattering moment if it wasn't covered in poop.
| 2022-10-13T18:07:40 | 2022-10-13T15:08:13 | 327 | 181 |
[WP] You are Functionally Immortal, however your life force is connected to a cat that can die to anything but old age. You must protect the cat to stay alive. Having lived alongside the cat for centuries, one day it disappears.
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The moment I woke up I knew something was wrong. My hand reached out, and landed on empty bedsheets.
"Mittens?" Maybe she'd just gotten bored; walked out of the room. But I knew I was lying to myself. After centuries of living with a cat, you realized how much they were tied to routine. She bullied me if I didn't go to bed at 10:30 every night. And in the morning, our routine was to wake up slowly, with a prolonged cuddle. Fighting panic, I got out of bed, throwing my housecoat over my pyjamas. "Mittens?" I called again, walking through the house. And stopped dead when I reached the front door. It was open. Only slightly, but definitely ajar. The old pun about a door not being a door rose in my mind, and I realized I was straying toward the hysterical.
Pausing to put my shoes on, I went outside. Maybe Mittens had stayed close to the house. "Mittens!" Nothing. No familiar little brrp noise, no tiny black cat with white paws coming around the corner. I tried not to hyperventilate, as I searched around the house and through the yard. As I came back to the front, my knees finally gave out and I sank down onto the porch steps. She was gone. I put my hands over my face, trying to keep my composure. There was thinking to be done, and I needed a clear head for that.
"Um, excuse me?" The voice was hesitant, young. Though everyone sounded young to me nowadays. I raised my face, noticing absently that it was wet. Apparently, I'd been crying. Standing in front of me, a man frowned. I was suddenly, acutely aware I was still in my housecoat. "Do you own a cat?" Jumping up, I grabbed onto his lapels, crumpling his fancy suit.
"Have you seen her? Tiny, black with white paws, answers to Mittens?" Carefully removing my hands, he nodded.
"I think you better come with me." My heart in my mouth, I followed him, ignoring the part of my brain that said he looked familiar. I'd lived so long that everyone started to resemble someone else. He led me to a house three doors down, inviting me inside. My knees nearly collapsed again.
Mittens was sitting on the kitchen table, washing herself as per usual. I took my first free breath since I'd noticed her missing.
"Mittens!" She looked up, cocking her head to the side, with a questioning meow. At the table in two seconds, I scooped her up, earning an annoyed squawk.
"You really should be more careful with her." The reprimand was quiet, all of the hesitation gone. I turned and backed up into the table. Instead of the nervous young man, a tall figure loomed over me, and I knew what memory I'd tried to bury. The day I'd received Mittens, the day I'd become basically immortal. This had been the person, the god that had given her to me. Cradling her in my arms, I summoned up my courage.
"Is today the day?" The day he'd spoken about all those years ago. The day Mittens had to move on. Had to leave.
"When you noticed her missing, you cried." The tall figure sounded confused, and though his face was no longer masquerading as human, there were traces of real consternation there.
"I've grown used to having her around. I've taken care of her for years. I love her."
"You expect me to believe that? The only reason you've taken care of her was your own immortality. Don't you remember? You were the one who forced that promise out of me." I stared at him, opening my mouth to respond. Before I could, a sharp yowl came out of Mittens's throat. I'd never heard her make that noise before. He switched his focus.
"Yes. When you leave, she dies. That was the deal, so that she would always take care of you. You were too young to understand then." In response, another yowl.
"I don't think so. Your relationship is purely transactional. I don't care if she gives you treats."
Meow.
"And lets you sleep in her bed."
Another sound I'd never heard before emanated from Mittens. It sounded like a cross between a purr and a growl.
"Well, I didn't make the rules. You have to spend time on Earth. It's the law. So we try to find the best caretakers, but when I picked this one, she bargained." Mittens turned to look up at me. I stared down at the small creature in my arms, aware she wasn't a normal cat. But still... Very slowly, I blinked my eyes shut and opened them again. She returned the action. I walked over to the tall figure, holding her up to him.
"If it's the day, then it's the day. I'll miss her. No matter what you say, I do love her. Sure, I only wanted immortality before, but... things change. I changed. Goodness knows I had the time to change." The figure bent, staring at me with eyes that were very close in shape and colour to Mittens's. Gently, his hands removed Mittens from me, holding her in his palm.
"She doesn't belong in your world, even though she is comfortable in this form—" A veritable series of yowls, meows, and small brrrp noises interrupted him.
"Yes, all right, all right. I'll see what I can do." And with a strange bright light, the figure disappeared.
—————————
It's been three days, and I've been expecting to die any time now. After all, my time was tied to Mittens. The house has seemed emptier, the days longer, but still, I endure. This morning, I found it difficult to get out of bed, until the doorbell rang. Grumbling under my breath, I swung the door open. On my doorstep, in a tiny cardboard box, a little puffy white floof cloud of a kitten sat. There was a card, written in a shaky hand.
"Thank you for all your care over the years. Please take care of my daughter. She is very young. But I think she will like morning cuddles and catnip treats. Mittens."
Smiling, I picked up the box, going indoors. I would always miss Mittens. But it was comforting to know she was safe and happy. And, as the little white floof looked up at me, making a small brrp noise, I chuckled. It seems my job as Caretaker, wasn't finished quite yet.
|
"Mrs. Tibbles?"
I crept along the edge of the wall, shaking a bag of her favorite treats. Once, sometime in late 1990s, she'd managed to get inside the walls while a contractor was replacing the microwave. Mischievous girl! I'd spent hours looking for her, convinced that death was just around the corner for both of us.
Her plaintive meowing had given her away a few days later. I'd torn a hole in the plaster in my desperation to get her out. Not two hours later, she was back to perfectly normal - gobbling up treats, scratching up my furniture, and purring contentedly in my lap, without a care in the world for all the stress she'd caused me.
After living with Mrs. Tibbles for a few centuries, I'd learned a few things:
1. She will always want your attention, that is, up until the very moment you want to pay attention to her. In which case, she will suddenly have very pressing matters to attend to that do not involve you whatsoever.
2. Her favorite treats are the Greenies that are tuna-flavored. Heaven forbid I get the salmon or chicken-flavored ones.
3. Her daily routine for the past two centuries, has been as follows:
* 7 AM - 8 AM: Pester the Human for breakfast.
* 8 AM - 11 AM: Prowl around, looking for trouble.
* 11 AM - 5 PM: Nap. Occasionally get up to move to the sunniest spot in the house.
* 5 PM - 7 PM: Pester the Human for dinner.
* 7 PM - 9 PM: Snuggle on the Human's lap.
* 9 PM - 7 AM: Sleep.
Naturally, the 8 AM - 11AM slot was what gave me the most headache. Over the years, she's learned how to open cabinets, sneak into cupboards, and - as of today, it seems - squeeze through the hole in the screen door.
I smelled trouble in the air, stronger than the scent of Mrs. Tibbles's unscooped litter box. I *knew* I should've gotten the hole in the screen door fixed earlier! But I'd kept putting it off, day after day, and now it looked like I might not even have another day left. At least, not if I couldn't find Mrs. Tibbles soon and make sure she was out of harm's way.
\---
/r/theBasiliskWrites
| 2022-08-07T18:31:54 | 2022-08-07T17:38:46 | 1,077 | 82 |
[WP] "Why do you call me stupid, Human?" "Because you came here alone, asking for our surrender while your armada is still 15 years out, and you brought us a prime example of your species technology, including fusion power and faster than light propulsion. You see where you messed up yet?"
|
(1/2)
I despise humans. Now that I am finally face to face with one in the flesh, it only confirms my detest. “You are the one that came to our planet, alone,” I said. “The remainder of your fleet is 15 light years away. We’ve captured you and your ship. The technology of which we will use to improve our own and finally wipe your species from this universe. Do you see where you went wrong? Yet, you call me stupid?”
From the stories I’ve heard about the humans, it is surprising they had made so many technological advances in recent centuries. However, where we have struggled to advance our technology, they seem to have excelled. Now that we have this ship, we can reverse engineer it and create new technology here on Terracon. Better technology.
“Yeah, you are pretty stupid.”
“How dare you speak to the Lord Emperor that way!” One of my guards raised his spear, pointing it at the human. “Don’t forget you are alone on *our* planet. Lord Emperor has only let you live thus far.”
“Well he kind of has to, doesn’t he?” The human shot back. “You see, you captured me. Congrats, by the way. And you’ve taken my ship, which is fine. You’d like to learn all you can about the tech that is in that ship. It may be your only way to defeating the human race that is making its way here right now. But you only have 15 years until they get here. So you need to learn everything you can about this tech as soon as you can, and that, I am sure, is why I am still alive.”
I lift my chin and peer down at the human from the chair built from the bones of a thousand space races who have tried to conquer us. He was right.
“Anyway, you know I am right. Hence, I am the smart one in the room, and you are, you know, stupid.”
The guards around the room all converged on the insolent human, spears up around his neck. He actually looked a little scared for once. As his smile wiped away, one finally came upon my face. I would like very much to end this human’s life, but it would be worth keeping him around to learn his technology. Although, that may take some time before he is willing to concede such information. Before I pulled breath to tell my guards to escort the human to holding cell, the human spoke.
“So what do you want to know?”
Hiding my surprise, I ask as I wave my guard off the human, “What technology have you brought in your ship?”
The human smiled again. “Great question. Let me hit the highlights: first is the fusion reactor. I am sure your scientists, or whatever you call them here, will want an in depth explanation of that. It is, after all, how we travel the speed of light, but essentially it is way to combine some atom nuclei together, and the resulting energy dissipation is harnessed as fuel, yadda yadda yadda.”
I do not know this yadda means, but no matter, our research team will be able to decipher the human’s language.
“Another cool piece of tech in the ship,” he continued, “is our Beyond Light Propulsion system. Now this one is a little more complicated. I have to admit, not even I understand all the mechanics behind this one. But we don’t use this one very often. Extremely powerful, but has some serious consequences when using.”
“How so?” I hadn’t realized one of our researchers had snuck in the chambers and was taking notes. Normally, I should be furious, but I welcome the aid in learning what this human is spewing.
“Oh man, where did that guy come from? He is ugliest one out of you guys—ok ok,” the spears were pressed up against his neck again. “Ok, well, you probably know all about light-speed travel. That is about the fastest we humans like to go. But we do like to push the limit where we can.”
*No kidding*, I thought.
“So once we learned how to travel the speed of light, it didn’t take much longer to learn how to travel faster than the speed of light.”
“Impossible!” My researcher yelled.
“I’m sorry, I just can’t get over how ugly you are.” He lifted his hands in surrender and hastened his speech before the spears reached him again, “anyway, anyway, without getting into the nitty gritty, Ugo is right. Basically impossible. If you travel faster than light, you are essentially going backwards in time.” There were some murmurings in the chamber. In response, the human continued, “Which sounds cool, but does have some unintentional consequences. So again, we don’t use it very often. For example, combined with the instantaneous acceleration to light-speed, a ship reaching beyond light-speed can pass through solid material, since technically its particles are present before the particles of the matter it is passing through. But if that isn’t sustained and your ship is, oh I don’t know, *accidentally* passing through a planet… Well, things get a little messy. Not to mention the whole reversing time thing.”
Growing tired of these scientific ramblings, I interjected, “What weapons have you brought? You will continue to explain your traveling technology to our researchers, but what can you give me that we can use in the war with your race?”
“Weapons? War?” I couldn’t tell if the human was being genuine or sarcastic, but his smile had me considering it was the later. “Would you have let me into your stratosphere if you detected weapons on my ship? We had tried that in the past, but you—somehow or another—you always knew, and *boom* you’d blast my brothers and sisters from the sky.” I could see his smile drop as he spoke about his fallen racelings. I couldn’t help but smile myself.
“Yes,” I responded, “that is true, but truly the humans wouldn’t come all this way just to hand over technology and information to us. Teespor!” I called to one of the generals. “What weapons have you found?”
The human stifled a laugh, “Teaspoon? Awful name.”
“The human is truthing, Lord Emperor. There are no weapons on his ship.”
“’Truthing?’” The human was now laughing out loud, “where am I? What a weird planet.” The spears pressed against his neck yet again seemed to unphase him. “Since I am ‘truthing’, I may as well lay it out straight to you. We are not at war with you.”
“You’ve been sending war ships here for over two decades now. Your planet has long been destroyed. Clearly, you come to invade ours.”
“No, no, no,” the human waves his hands in the air, the smile back on its face. “OK, I won’t get into all the history of it, I’ll just tell you where we are at now. We have no intentions of invading your planet. You are correct that we are planetless right now. We are actually on our way to a beautiful planet several light years from here. But the problem is, your planet is in our way.”
|
The alien ambassador sitting across the table fell silent, a few moments went by as it stared forward motionless seemingly pondering what the human general had just said.
The aliens face began to rapidly turn a bright yellow as it immediately began taking in quick shallow breaths of air. Suddenly the attendants standing behind the ambassador began adopting the same strange behavior. All of them turning varying shades of yellow and breathing rapidly. One of the attendants had even doubled over cluching his abdomen from the apparent difficulty breathing.
The ambassador finally seemed to steady himself. He took a deep breath in and then loudly exclaimed.
"UNBELIEVABLE. I heard you apes were underdeveloped but this is just to much!"
The human general stole a brief glance back at his advisors behind him before quickly looking back to face the ambassador.
The alien continued
"By the stars above I'm truly at a loss for words. Your species gets your hands on a third generation fusion engine and an old warp drive with no Zeta shielding from one of our scout ships and now you are going to take on the whole armada? Well I suppose we've got no choice but to surrender seeing as we are so clearly outmatched."
The ambassador barely finished speaking before falling into another fit of what the humans now realized was laughter
The general jumped quickly to his feet and began shouting
"WE WILL NOT BE MADE A MOCKERY OF! IF YOU HAVE NO INTENTION TO NEGOTIATE THEN WE ARE DONE HERE!"
The human general quickly turned and began to make his way to the door.
"Wait!"
The Alien ambassador was now also on his feet
"Please, there is no need to be hasty. I apologize for my discourtesy. Allow me to make it up to you personally."
The human general paused for a moment then slowly turned back to face the ambassador.
"And how do you intend to do that?"
The ambassador glanced from side to side at his attendants before speaking
"Well since you humans are so interested in our technology I believe it would only be fitting to gift you the blueprints for one of our creations that is much more valuable than some simple ship parts."
The general perked up at this suggestion
"Oh, and what would that be?"
"It's truly a marvelous piece of tech. It's called a deodorizer, I'm sure you humans will get a great deal of benefit from it."
The ambassador immediately doubled over in laughter, an even brighter yellow hue spreading across his face.
The human general in contrast began to turn a dark vibrant red as he quickly stormed out of the meeting room causing the gathered aliens to erupt into even greater bouts of thunderous laughter.
| 2021-03-26T05:03:22 | 2021-03-26T04:03:20 | 199 | 124 |
[WP] You discover a library with a biography for everyone on Earth. While reading your own, you notice that whenever someone else is mentioned, there's a footnote showing where you can find their biography. Its odd how someone who was only a sentence in your book has a whole chapter for you.
|
2 February, 2067. The massive computer filled the laboratory, a mass of cables and circuitry which towered over Dr Dane Langley. His team had already adjourned to the pub off-campus to celebrate their success, but Dr Langley wanted a quiet moment with his creation before the government took control of the project the next day.
"Rachel," he said, "compile index for me, Dr Dane Langley."
"Compiling in process," repeated the computer. Electricity thrummed in the air as a trillion lines of codes extended their tentacles across the world for the information Dr Langley sought.
Rachel was only the name they used to impart a smidgen of personality into the program, and what a benign name it was for such a monstrous creation! What Rachel was designed to do was to build a comprehensive report of a person, using information culled from every conceivable electronic source.
Privacy groups had long campaigned for the individual's right to privacy, and there was such widespread support for them in this hyperconnected age that Dr Langley had to proceed in the utmost secrecy. If it were even known that he had embarked on this journey, he would surely be publicly lynched.
"Compiling complete. Do you wish to view your index?"
"Yes," said Dr Langley. "Sort by contributions to my life."
A hologram of a bookshelf formed in the air, a collection of motes of light frozen like trapped lightning. A single book spun out from its niche, twirling to reveal Dr Langley's name embossed on the front. For that was what Rachel was - an incomparable librarian, able to instil order in the chaos of information, to bring together infinite threads of knowledge into cohesive tomes.
In other words, Rachel could index any person's entire life, in real time, and present it as a single book of references. No one escaped her gaze, no one was spared her scrutiny.
"Sorting complete."
"Scroll... scroll... scroll..."
Dr Langley marvelled at the accuracy of the Indexing. These were the most important people in his life, the ones who impacted him the most. From his parents, to the professors who guided his education, to the politicians who recognised the value of the tool he had promised to fashion.
Then, a whim seized him.
"Sort by least contributions instead," he said, as a grin crossed his face. "I want to see where my ex-wife ranks."
"... Sorting complete."
Dr Langley laughed, for there was his ex-wife's name, about twenty ranks from the very bottom. She was just above Perlo, a name he recognised as the grocery bagger he crossed paths with occasionally, and just below Martha, the parking attendant at the campus grounds.
Out of the corner of his eye, one name snagged his attention, the way a single burr does to fine cotton shirts.
"Rachel, stop. Go back. Back again. Yes, there. Who is... who is ERROR 52? Is that a name?"
"Yes, it is a name."
"No, Rachel. What I mean is, is that a real entry or is it... a bug? Why does it only say that I once passed Error 52 on the street, and I grumbled at how Error 52 was in my way?"
"... Self diagnosis complete. I do not have any bugs in this current version," said Rachel.
"I want you to Index Error 52 then," said Dr Langley. A tiny flower of dread bloomed in him - if the program were indeed faulty, it would mean weeks, months of corrections before he could hand off the project. "Index Error 52 fully, I want to see who this person is."
"... Indexing complete."
"Scroll... scroll... scro-"
The command died on his lips as the information in the hologram burned their way into his eyes.
"This is impossible!" he said. "Rachel, who is this entity Error 52? Why are there so many accounts of him... or her... helping me?"
"Because those accounts are true, Dr Langley. In 2017, when you were born, Error 52 was there to manually regulate the incubator and to prevent you from overheating. A technician had missed the faulty wiring which would have led to you overheating, and quite possibly dying."
"But... how would he... or she..."
"In 2023," said Rachel, who if she had possessed feelings would have been slightly miffed still at the implication that she was faulty. "Error 52 was there to honk at a driver who was drunk and who had not seen you cycling across the street. My probability analysis shows that you may have perished otherwise, flattened under two tons of steel."
"In 2028..."
"In 2035..."
"In 2044..."
Dr Langley sat motionless, long after Rachel had finished reciting the dozen and one ways he could have died. It was not accurate to say that his mind was a blank - rather, it was a firework festival of neurons, as he delved into the infinite possibilities.
But the answer eluded him.
"Rachel," he said, finally. "Who is Error 52? Why can I not see his or her name? Where is he... or she... now?"
"I cannot answer in the way you have queried," said Rachel.
"What do you mean? Are you lacking information? How can that be? I have given you the world!"
Rachel was quiet for a moment before she replied.
"I cannot answer because you used the wrong syntax. Error 52 is not one man or one woman. It is a group, a collective, of people. Please rephrase your question, and try again."
---
/r/rarelyfunny
|
With a growing curiosity, I fell back into my chair and looked at the book in front of me. "Lisa Matherson. The Autobiography." Nope. Definitely never heard her name before. The contents displayed three chapters. Unreal. A chapter I can kinda understand, but two hundred pages? Insane. "To James. My sun and my moon," it read. In the form of a diary she wrote, pages and pages that painted a vivid picture. Hours passed and still I read. When I finally stood, my knees were weak. Memories repressed had flooded back. Guilt and sadness overcame me. It was all true.
Outside, Doctor Andrew Lansky observed his patient through the safety of a one way mirror. He watched in fascination as the patient, shackled and constrained, writhed in emotional pain, the picture of the deceased woman forgotten on the floor. "I hope this brings you some closure, Mr Matherson," he said softly, peering at the man over his glasses. James Matherson said nothing. A solitary tear rolled down his cheek, and he turned to leave.
| 2017-12-04T04:55:10 | 2017-12-04T03:12:19 | 599 | 25 |
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