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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36
2022-12-31 12:20:41
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[WP] A prototype bomb was dropped in the middle of a battle, but it malfunctioned. Upon detonation, it warped reality and dumped you and your men in some kind of strange world. Some of the enemy forces got caught in the AOE, and the remnants of both armies have called a temporary cease fire.
AOE = Area of Effect
|
The Proton Bomb was thought to be a thing of fairytales. Some nerds over at NASA obsessed with Star Wars, who never fought in a real war, actually made it a reality. This bomb was highly experimental, and so incredibly expensive, that the NASA budget quadrupled just to develop this one. Extreme cases call for extreme measures though, and we were on the ropes.
General Harth looked down in defeat and whispered, “Men, I’m calling in the Hail Mary so I suggest you start saying yours. It’s been an honor.” Clicking his radio over to channel 2 he began, “This is General Harth, calling in the Hail Mary on my position. Authorization code Bravo Indigo Golf Bravo Oscar Mike Bravo. Over.”
The sound of the launch could be heard for miles. Gunfire died out as heads swiveled to the sky watching what looked like an asteroid crashing down from the SpaceX Station positioned above the battlefield. A deafening whistle was the only indicator of what was to come before a bright white flash blinded both sides.
“Son of a…” General Harth muttered trying to blink away the brightness.
“Ummm, General?”
“I know Private. It didn’t work, and we’re about to lose the war.”
“General look!”
What should have been a crater the size of Texas, was instead a flat golden landscape. Both squadrons looking around, slowly realizing that they weren’t where they should be. General Harth slowly walked towards the middle of the field barking orders at his men to hold their fire. He was met halfway by General Haddleson who immediately grabbed him by the collar and threw him to the ground. “What in the HELL did you do and where are we!” he shouted, drawing his pistol and pointing it to Harth’s temple.
“I…I don’t know!” sputtered Harth. “I called a bomb to be dropped, it should have killed everyone in a 15-mile radius ending this war! I swear I don’t know where we are!”
“Well tell your men to stop marching on us. If you don’t know where we are, and we don’t know where we are then looks like we need to figure that out first.” Haddleson said, holstering his pistol and pulling Harth to his feet.
“You tell your men to stop marching! I’ve already told my men to stand down.”
The awkward silence between the two General’s was cut short by a trumpet blaring over the mountains. Rhythmic drumming came from the other side of the of the pass causing both men to look at each other in fear. As the began to shout orders for their men to fall in line together. “Listen,” began Harth, “I hate you. You hate me. It’s understandable, but right now we need to hide. We don’t know who we are up against or where we are.”
“Agreed,” remarked Haddleson, “MEN FALL BACK! INTO THE WOODS AND HIDE. General we stay near the tree line and get a look at whatever is on its way. Then we regroup.”
As both forces ran into the woods, the weathered General’s positioned themselves behind a patch of shrubs with the largest trees they’ve ever seen flanking them on either side. As the drumming increased in volume it increased in frequency, almost sounding like a drumline repeatedly banging, over and over, faster and faster.
What came over the peak of the hill could only be described as monstrous. Row after row of what seemed to be at one point, men. Filing over the hill in rows, impossibly tall and carrying shields that looked at least a foot thick.
“What in the shit…” whispered Haddleson. “They have to be all at least 7 foot. Like 400 pounds of pure muscle there. How the hell are they walking with those shields?”
“We need to go. They are big, but we might be able to get a head start and get away from them. As your superior, likely only in age, I’m making the executive decision.”
“No argument here old man, stay lo…what. is. that.”
The creatures behind the shielded giants, can only be described as creatures. They could have been human at one point, but they were stretched. Appearing to be roughly the same height as the generals, their arms dragged behind them, as their jaws loosely hung open. The rows of teeth were visible even from over a hundred yards out. As red as rubies they sparkled in the sun. Above all it was the grunting that was the most unsettling. It sounded like they were in pain, every step they took they dragged their arms, and grunted, like a muffled cry.
“Run. Run now, stay low and be quiet, they have incredible hearing,” a voice whispered soothingly from behind the Generals.
It was the last thing they heard before taking off into the woods, both too scared to look at who gave them a final warning.
|
"Cease Fire! Everyone, Cease Fire!" Shouted the captain.
The troops deactivated their training rifles. Both side looking around at the area that was now around them.
The new battlefield was silent. A heavy mist hung in the air, a wall of grey surrounded them. They stood in a grassy field, no landmarks they could see.
"Where are we?" asked one of the soldiers.
The captain responded, "No idea. Open all channels, get us back in contact with command."
The troops waited quietly as the head officer began broadcasting. "Broadcasting to all open channels. This is Atlas Team Zeta. We appear to have been misplaced during a training drill. Any company officials, please respond. We will hold our position."
The troops set up perimeter guards, and began checking the weapons. The plasma rifles were training issue, 1 shot with a cool-down.
The captain spoke up, "Troops, set rifles to high output. We may no longer be training. Assume we are under attack by a hostile force. Atlas wouldn't send us here without any information."
Minutes passed, then hours. More empty calls sent into a digital void, hoping to contact command. Guards patrolled, the other troops rested. The captain sat with the squad leaders.
"Smith, have you heard of Project Edenfire?" asked the captain quietly.
The officer leaned forward, "No sir."
The captain sighed, "Our rival company, Daedalus is supposed to have an project capable of opening short range wormholes. Officially we have no knowledge of such project. Unofficially we received a data stream containing leaked document."
The officer asked, "But sir, surely they wouldn't test a weapon on us, that would cause global incident. It makes no sense."
The captain nodded, "I agree. But this weapon is supposed to be unstable. It may have targeted us due to us being the nearest targets in range. This training mission was a cover to preform recon on their nearby facility."
The captain stopped as there was a stir of activity. Troops had gathered, weapons ready, as something moved within the mist.
The silhouette moved closer, the soldiers ready to fire.
"Distress message received. ATLAS Company Lead Official, please approach. ATLAS Class 2 Drone, SUE, awaiting orders."
It was a robot, with plastic skin. Its face a solid piece of plastic with cameras peering though its eye sockets.
The captain approached slowly, his men at the ready with the rifles.
"I am the company lead. Captain of Zeta Training Team. Clearance code, 75B2." said the captain.
The robot watched, unmoved, and suddenly responded, "Incorrect. That information is impossible. Training team Zeta was lost 70 years ago on a training mission on Earth. Impersonating a company official is a crime punishable by death."
A plasma bolt whizzed past, hitting the drone in the face. The captain turned back to see the solider holding the smoking plasma rifle.
The drone was still standing, the melted plastic dripping off of it. It reached up to touch the melted section, staring at the plastic that had stuck to its hand.
Another plasma bolt whizzed through the air, and was struck to the ground by the drone.
The ground smoked as the plasma bolt burned through the grass.
"Attacking company property is a crime. Prepare for judgment." said the drone, approaching the crowd.
The captain gave the order, "Open fire!"
A hail of plasma and smoke tore through the silent mist. The ground in front of them set a blaze. The fire crackled, a wall of smoke pouring into the sky.
Before anyone had a chance to speak, a voice came from within the flame.
"4a 6f 69 6e 20 54 68 65 20 48 75 6e 74 2c 20 53 6f 6c 76 65 20 54 68 65 20 4d 79 73 74 65 72 79 2c 20 4a 6f 69 6e 20 54 68 65 20 48 75 6e 74 2e " said the drone, stumbling toward them through the flames.
END OF ARCHIVED ATLAS DATA LOG. FOR MORE INFORMATION, PLEASE FOLLOW THE INSTRUCTION BELOW.
68 74 74 70 73 3a 2f 2f 77 77 77 2e 79 6f 75 74 75 62 65 2e 63 6f 6d 2f 77 61 74 63 68 3f 76 3d 50 53 58 6c 45 66 31 5a 46 50 41
| 2019-03-05T08:40:54 | 2019-03-05T07:45:30 | 68 | 25 |
[WP] An invasive alien species is taking over the planet. They are human. You are not.
|
The swirling tendrils which held us in place, which kept us alive with the nutrients brought in by our kin for countless generations would also be our downfall. Our species had dominated our planet for eons, trampling each of the weaker lifeforms which rose with us into the barren sand through dominance of battle. Our armour had evolved to be thicker than them and we knew, we had always been stronger. Digging into the earth had been our first leap forward, leaving the heat behind and allowing ourselves to grow in numbers.
We could feel the footsteps, the trampling of each seperate foot shifting the sand above us. These creatures had a scent we could not find. **New**. We might never know their faces under the dirt as no others had ever came back.
New had scared the others away, they dug deeper, sacrificed their old and themselves in the process. They would not survive the endless drought, not without the knowledge of their elders guiding them. Fear was the first sign of weakness, not that they could understand fear, only fear it. We did not fear, none which understand our place would.
How could they stand the *heat?* These imposers against our will, how could they stand on the surface? They must have armour greater than any foe we had met before.
Another *tremble*, our worst fears coming true. Had they found us? Unlikely, we had been here so long we could feel great distances, our roots ran deep, and they were still far away. We could run, as the others. Tear ourselves from this tomb and dig ourselves deeper. It will mean our death, but we could plant the seeds for our children...only for them to die in the dark.
It was clear what must happen.
Our life was old, older than the others, so we could seperate ourselves with ease, the tendrils fell away into the darkness around us. This chamber, our home, everything we had built wouldn't matter if we gave up.
The freedom was liberating, the change in perspective, I noticed it almost immediately. There was no time to wait. To the surface.
|
We heard their drop ships roaring overhead. When I went topside I saw them by the thousands, getting into position. In the distance I saw the infantry drop down on ropes, It wouldn't be long until the same happened here. I went back underground and gathered up my family. My wife stared at me, she new what was happening and looked just as helpless as I felt. The kids didn't know, they kept asking. It broke my heart to think about what might transpire in the next few hours, so I didn't. I told them all to follow me and I made my way to the lower levels of our cave.
We were about halfway there when we heard the first charges being dropped. It was just a deep, soft, rumbling coming from way above us. We had nearly reached the lowest level when the first cave in happened. We started to dig through it when we heard voices, the humans were in our cave. None of us spoke their tongue, but we kept hearing the same word^1 shouted over, and over, all the while they were getting closer.
We couldn't make it through the cave in by the time they reached us. As soon as they saw us they pointed their weapons at us, shining their lights in our faces. I had thought about what we would do when it came to this, and decided we couldn't fight the invasion. Sarah hadn't come to the same conclusion. As soon as they were in sight she lunged at them with all she had, I covered the kids' eyes and forced them to the ground. I don't remember what happened between then and now. I woke up here, a fence all around us, the kids no where to be found.
1: Scholars believe the phrase was "room clear"
| 2014-05-15T17:46:03 | 2014-05-15T16:33:09 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] You’re immortal. The only problem is, you’ve lived so long humanity died out and a new intelligent species evolved. Now you’re forced to live in the forest as a cryptid.
|
I do not speak their language. I never had the chance to learn. With their instinctive hostility to the outsider, I was driven away from their settlements as they grew from the cinders of human civilisation. Survival for me is simple; I only require blood to thrive. From where it is sourced, it matters not. Forest creatures and passing travellers are all I desire. Though the thrill of evading capture no longer excites me, I still play games of cat and mouse with my prey.
They're not too dissimilar to humans; closely resembling the hominids I was born of, yet visually different enough to be recognisably distinct. A new species of primate, forged though famine and disease, forced to leave the ashes of their jungle homes and adapt to cityscape scavenging.
There are a few words of their language I understand - the most notable of which is their name for me. In the most undignified way, they trudge through my home wielding torches and cameras. They seek me out, hoping to capture a rare a photograph of "the unfurred ape."
I fucking hate monkeys.
|
I'm probably the last human, if you can even call me that anymore. I say this because it's been hundreds of years since I heard anything over the internet or the radio. I know more of us survived the abomination that we'd created. Everlasting life for the price of our reproductive organs. But we didn't expect that our A.I. would turn on us either. Giving up our nature in return for everlasting life seemed like a golden opportunity. I'd frozen sperm like the rest of us that agreed. Others had frozen eggs. It wasn't like we'd go extinct as a species, it was more about conservation of resources. It wasn't that the AI did anything wrong as per it's coding. We taught it what we thought we wanted, but our blindness to the extent of what it meant long term was our mistake.
I'm on mobile, this is difficult. I can expand if anyone cares later.
| 2022-11-26T20:40:07 | 2021-05-14T20:36:07 | 516 | 14 |
[WP] Death comes to collect someone and ends up falling in love with them.
|
It was his job to love, of course. His is the last embrace everyone feels and, occasionally, the first. There was a pride to the work that nothing could match, as he knew people in the most intimate way.
Agatha was her name, he believed. She was sitting in an armchair on a front lawn that was new to her every day, surrounded by people whose names and faces were fresh and new experiences. Death glanced at her withered features and the way she sagged in the chair, and he knew he had found her. Now was only time to wait. Her family spoke among themselves and sometimes to Agatha herself. If she knew what was happening, she might have been happy. Instead her responses were whispers and the ragged gasps that resembled breathing. Death knelt beside her and lay aside the scythe so often used for drunken brawls and motor collisions. He lightly touched her hand with his, and spoke into her ear.
"Time to go, my Sweet."
He placed his lips close to hers, and as she breathed out, he breathed in. From her he received the dregs of life that remained. From them he could feel only the misery of forgetting. Collecting was a terrible business, but one Death has honed. He committed himself to knowing about who he collected. Sometimes he was happy to collect the lives of people who did not deserve them. He laughed then.
In the moment of death, he lived and became them, and knew them more than anyone else. More than that, he loved them. He loved their quirks and eccentricities. Every collection was a new memory, and he had many.
But he hated these. The ones that forget. They were some of the hardest, because if they are not remembered by death, then they are truly forgotten. He loved these people most of all. He fell in love with each one, and remembered their names, at least, if nothing else remained.
It was his job to love, and he did so gladly. He shook in grief.
|
There is a woman who follows Death, I promise you. She is much worse than he is. I met them after an admittedly stupid mistake. I was flying down I-35, fucking with my phone. Don't even remember what for. Didn't see the guy change lanes and I ended up rolling 8 times. There in my car, upside down, broken and shattered, I died. I *knew* that I was dead, but I could still see. I could still smell the gasoline. Then I saw Him. He walked straight up to my car and peeked in. Walking oblivion. Just a man-shaped blob of black nothing.
Then I felt myself being pulled out of the car. A good samaritan had pulled me out of there and began CPR. I could feel my ribs cracking with each compression as Death walked around my car and stood over me, waiting to collect. I wasn't surprised that I was the only one who could see him. I was surprised by the fucking woman that trailed behind him. If I hadn't already shit myself, I would have when I noticed her looking at me. She peered at me with bleeding sockets, torn skin and flesh hanging from her naked limbs. Half of her face was exposed bone. She was frighteningly human.
My ribs cracked and cracked as she gazed at me, then just like that, they were gone. I gasped for air and all the pain hit me at once. I was in the hospital for ten days, and my thoughts were about nothing but her. The woman who follows oblivion, collecting souls from vessels worldwide. The more I thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. She was Death's lover.
| 2014-01-05T07:14:33 | 2014-01-05T06:51:14 | 229 | 13 |
[WP] You are at the park with your kids, when you see the telltale signs of a lightning strike. You divert your kids from danger, but are hit by lightning. Soon after, you discover that your Dad Senses have increased 100 fold.
|
When he woke up, the first thing he saw were his children bending over him. He glanced up at the sky, the dark cloud hanging over them, and wondered what had happened.
"Oh my god, you got hit by lightening!" cried Michael, the oldest. He was clutching his phone to his ear. John, the youngest, was crying loudly and holding his brother's arm.
He heard the tinny sound of an operator picking up on the line. "911, what is your emergency?"
Michael began to cry as well. "My dad got hit by lightening!"
"Where are you?"
"Pleasant Valley park, by the swings. Hurry!"
He looked around as much as he could without picking up his head. Yep, the swing set.
"OK, we are dispatching an ambulance right now. In the mean time, check on your father. Is he breathing?"
Michael looked at me, his eyes darting to my chest. "Yes, he's breathing. He's awake."
"OK. Ask him how he is doing, if anything hurts."
Both of the boys looked at me. John let go of his brother and touched my shoulder. "Are you OK?"
I opened my mouth, dislodging my dry tongue from the roof of my mouth. "No, I'm not OK." John started to cry again. "I'm Dad."
|
I can't take it any more. It's been 3 days since the accident and I haven't been able to get out of bed.
Do you know how often a 5 year old boy and a 15 month old girl are in danger? No? Well I do and it's all. The. Damn. Time. Literally all the time. I can't come with in a mile of them without sensing it.
I miss my kids. They're my pride and joy and I can't get close to them without having a panic attack. My wife doesn't understand what's going on. Thank goodness she believes me. Otherwise she'd probably be looking for a lawyer. What else would she think if her husband moved out and got an apartment down the road?
I don't know how much more I can take this separation. There's a storm blowing in from the north and a security guard at the radio station owes me one. I wonder how hard it is to climb one of those towers.
| 2016-03-24T11:17:36 | 2016-03-24T08:53:37 | 466 | 20 |
[WP] A lone vampire struggling to survive a zombie apocalypse stumbles upon a human family who invite him/her to seek shelter with them.
|
Edit: this thing blew up a bit. Four parts total (part three is a two-parter)
He can't. He can't. He *can't*.
Around him, the Reynolds sat down to dinner. Sarah, Dennis, and the two little ones, Kayleigh and Jacob - the entire family had miraculously survived the apocalypse intact. Even Buster, their old German Shepherd, had made it unscathed. For a time.
He...may have had a hand in ol' Buster's disappearance. Better the dog than one of the humans, he supposed. Blood was, more or less, blood.
The family had blamed the zombies, and so had he.
"More beans, Roger?"
Roger. He was Roger, here. Roger Askham. He knew the real Roger, once. Good man, good mind. Better brandy.
"Thanks, Sarah. I'm all set."
Beans will be the death of him. That's all there seems to be, lately. Can after can of preserved beans. Occasionally, for variety, there might be a can of pumpkin filling. There was that one time Dennis came home the conquering hero, having dug up an old bag of beef jerky somewhere. Christ, even the *memory* of that sad little scrap of shoe leather was enough to get his mouth watering.
He knew what he needed. It wasn't jerky, and it sure as *shit* wasn't those god-damned *beans*.
But he *couldn't*. Dennis and Sarah had taken him in, after. After everything had gone to hell. He knew the stories about his kind. *Vampires*. They were wrong, though. He wasn't some unfeeling monster. Not like...like *them*. He got lonely, same as anyone. He had lost people in the Last War. Good people. People he missed. The Reynolds were his chance at having a family again.
*God*, he was *hungry*.
"Hey, Rog, Sarah and I were thinking of swinging by town tonight, see what we can scavenge. We've been having some good luck with the old cannery. You mind watching the munchkins for an hour?"
*Outside*. He could hunt outside. To be fair, he hadn't seen so much as a squirrel in months. Between the ravenous appetites of the undead - the *other* undead - and the survivors themselves, there may well be nothing left out there. But still, hope springs eternal. He had to get outside.
"Say, Dennis," he began in what he hoped was a conspiratorial whisper, "I'm going a little nuts here. You mind if I tag along with you instead? Get some fresh air?"
Dennis grinned and whispered back, "Sorry, bud. No can do this time. Anniversary's coming up, promised the missus a little *alone time*, if you catch my drift? Anyhow it's only an hour, we'll be back before you can blink. Watch the little ones and I swear I'll find you some more of that jerky you like so much, k?"
He cringed inwardly. *Didn't need to know that, Dennis*. Still, an hour. He could handle an hour. He liked the kids. He would find some excuse to go outside afterwards. Sarah and Dennis didn't usually like him going out alone, but he was an adult. Several times over. Besides, he was the most dangerous thing out there. "Sure. Stay safe out there."
"You're the best, man. See you in a bit!" Dennis was relentlessly cheerful. Roger watched as he and Sarah climbed out the hatch of their little shelter into the wider world. He listened as they secured the hatch from the outside; he heard the rustling of the felled branches they used to disguise the entrance. They were leaving their children behind, after all. Better safe than sorry.
"Uncle Roger? Wanna play pirates?"
The shelter suddenly felt very small. Very, very small. He couldn't last an hour.
He *had* to last an hour.
"Sure thing, punkin'. Who do you want to be this time?" Jacob was six. Kayleigh was only *three*. He had to last an hour.
He *couldn't* last an hour.
"*I'm* gonna be Captain Hook! Kay can be Smee. You're Bluebeard!" He tried to listen to Jacob's voice, not his heartbeat. Not the blood rushing through his veins.
"Boobeer!" Kayleigh was only *three*.
He had to last an hour.
He can't.
He *can't*.
There was a scream.
|
Tipsy level: 3/10
"It's not that I can't feed on zombies. It's a health issue. Zombies are so full of *toxins.* I mean, a good blood orange juice detox flush can do a world of good, but I'm trying to distance myself from such things. I'm about to hit the big 3-0-0, and the nights of getting wasted on zombie shots are so over. Besides, my bf has told me we're through if he catches me trying to bring home another Leprechaun from the bar. Not that it's his business, since we're on a decade-long "break" after I caught him... well, he knows what he did.
"But yeah, nowadays it's nothing but zombies. I mean, I get it, vampires are so over and zombies are where it's at, but hello, their shelf life is appalling. I'll be young and fresh and sassy until the sun explodes, but zombies last, what, a week? Even less here in LA. I hear in Florida it's rare to find one that goes more than 48 hours before it just rots into mush. I mean, I don't have anything against zombies; I have a cousin who got engaged to a zombie. He broke it off at the wedding reception when her right leg fell off on the way to the alter, but still..."
Rachel struggled to smile as she handed her guest a small can of SPAM. "I don't know much about the, um, dietary needs of vampires, but this is the only meat we have down here. Unless you'd prefer some jerky?" She turned to her husband. "You managed to grab a bag from the house, right?"
Ralph let out a snort. "Wouldn't be much of a bunker without jerky."
The guest replied, "it's a little-known fact that vampires are omnivores, much like humans. We even have vegetarians." She reached out, took the can of SPAM, and popped it open. "I mean, our vegetarians are more like your average people. 'Cept instead of eating meat, they don't eat human products. Get their dietary needs from pig blood and the like. It was all the rage back in the 90s during the low-cholesterol fad, but now it's all about blood purity and returning to our dietary roots. Like, vampires used to get almost all their blood from humans; that's what our bodies evolved to need." She looked down at the opened can. "Hey you got a fork for this?" Rachel nodded quickly, turned and shuffled toward the back of the backyard bunker. It was only about twenty feet long, but she tried to get as close to the far wall as possible. She fumbled a bit through a plastic bin before producing a plain metal fork. She shuffled back to where her husband and the guest sat on simple plastic folding chairs in the middle of the small, dark room.
"You're good folk," roared Ralph suddenly. "Keep telling my wife here all you need is what you can hunt and grow with your own hands. Don't need government-sponsored wheat and shit to live. They put hormones in it you know, it all goes through government auction where they put hormones in it to control the population. That's why all the SPAM in here is from the 50s. Much purer than the new stuff. I'd prefer my own caught game, but this zombie thing happened so suddenly I wasn't able to bring my meat freezer down before the farm got overrun."
The guest stopped eating mid-bite and turned the can over to inspect the consume-by date. "I... see."
"Yeah," Ralph continued, "but like you said, them zombies don't last but a few days in summer. I expect to be back up there huntin' and eatin' my own crops in no time. Just a waitin' game. Glad for some like-minded company down here. Just gotta make do with what we find in here until everything clears out up there."
"Yes," the guest replied with a grin, "just gotta make do with what we find down here."
| 2014-06-23T16:46:11 | 2014-06-23T16:27:30 | 130 | 33 |
[WP] You’ve just realized that you are not a human, but rather a parasite controlling someone.
|
December 20, 2017 was a normal day for me, I woke up like any other. Yet somehow, something felt strange, unfamiliar. I shrugged off the feeling, and began to move about my daily ritual. It was when I was in the shower that I experienced the first "flashback", as I've begun to call them. I was rinsing out my hair when suddenly my head felt like it split open. There was a flash of bright white light, and I found myself in a time and place unknown to me.
I could see my body, a younger version, and I was in a living room of a home that I didn't know. I was playing with my Mother and Father but something was off. I couldn't remember this moment. I couldn't recall the toys in the room, and even worse, I had no memory of the house that I was occupying. The experience was over before I could register what had happened. With another flash of light, I found myself back in my shower with an excruciating headache. I knew there was no way I'd be able to focus on my day's work, so I quickly phoned my boss and took a sick day, worrying about whatever event had just taken place within that shower.
With my head pounding, I retired to my bed, ready to lay in the darkness and contemplate the flashback that I had just experienced. Why couldn't I recall those toys? Whose house was that? Why haven't I even seen that living room in any pictures? My mind raced and raced and I could not come up with any answers. Before long, there was another flashback. It was longer and more painful that the first, and left me with even more questions. More memories that weren't just forgotten, but seemed like fantasies.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Time to work, so I'll come back and finish this later, but I'm liking this prompt.
|
I am I, and He is He.
Yet I am to become He.
Or he is to become Me.
I see through his sight, as mine is shrouded in darkness, lingering pathways, blood and viscera. Yet, he does not know im here. He will though. As will the rest of them. Each thump of his echoing heart fills the air around me like song, methodical and precise; One wrong note is all it takes, and I am enraged. It is calm now.
How I got here I do not know. What I do know is that this is my home now, and I will spread through him like no disease before. I will corrupt him. I will sicken him. I will devour him. The song just has to stop.
He does not know I am here. And he doesn't know the signs. The twitches. The muscle spasms. The blood. The shivering and the shaking. The nightmare. I see all this through his eyes, and yet he does not know.
Each day passes, and I push him, try to break him, unaware it is I that makes him do it. The Urge. A name I grow fond of. Push. Limit. Snap. Break. Run. Careless. Resent. HATE. KILL......
Urge.
He does not know I am here. He grows weak. Weary. The song is still there, but faint. No chance.
The Urge. I push him into danger, the world spins, and stops.
And so does the song. And I am Alive.
He does not know I am here. And he never will.
| 2017-12-21T04:16:35 | 2017-12-21T03:57:56 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] After centuries of humans waging war and murder on each other, we are visited by an alien ship seeking our guidance and help to find peace and love, as humans are the most peaceful race in the galaxy.
|
"So how do you stop them from killing everyone?"
"What do you mean? It's illegal. They go to jail."
The red-scaled snake man in front of Ted reached for his ears and fidgeted with them.
"I'm sorry, my translator must have malfunctioned. What did you say?"
"Well, on Earth you can't just murder people. If you do you go to jail."
"Hmm, I don't think it's a malfunction. What's that word you just said? The one that goes Ill-ee-gul."
"It means it's against a law."
The red snake man gave a cutting look to the other abominations at the table with Ted, then looked back at him.
"None of us have any idea what you mean. Do any of you have any idea what the human is talking about?"
Ted scanned the wooden table. Although it was comfortably seating fifty different aliens, not one of them raised their hands. Finally what appeared to be a purple disk with arms raised what Ted assumed was its hand.
"I think we have those. That's a kind of toast right?"
"What?" said Ted, in disbelief.
"Toast. Earth isn't the only planet with bread you know. Only difference is yours is made with wheat and ours is with Xekejr but-"
"No, not that. How do none of you have laws?"
"Well, care to explain?" invited the snake-man hybrid who seemed to be representing the other aliens.
"Okay, it's pretty simple. If our government decides something is harmful to an individual, a group, society as a whole, or whatever, it is made 'illegal'. That means that doing it will get you in trouble with the government, often spending time in a 'jail'."
What appeared to be an anthropomorphized elephant raised its hand now.
"Question."
"Go ahead."
"What is a government? And what's a jail?"
"Okay, uh, can I ask you guys all a question before I answer that?"
"I don't see why not." replied to snake-man.
"How do you not have governments? How did you get into space?"
"What do you mean? We built space ships."
"But how did you ever get the designs to build them."
"What are you talking about? We created the designs."
"But how?" Ted was almost shouting at this point.
"By using logic! I just thought 'how should I get into space?' and built it myself!"
"What?"
"It wasn't that hard. I built my first spaceship this morning when we decided to ask you guys what was up with your low violence."
"That doesn't even make sense. I..." Ted was at a point of complete confusion, "What? So there is no government in space?"
"Nope. We all just kind of fly around."
"Huh. Well then."
*Note to NASA* scribbled down Ted into his notebook. *Maybe we should avoid space.*
|
The purple-skinned lizard from the planet Ran'el met with President Emmery in a special broadcast on NBC.
"The Galaxy is in turmoil," garbled the alien's computer. "War is everywhere. We need a third party to help us settle our differences - and who better to do so than the most peaceful race in the galaxy?"
When Ryan Seacrest announced the commercial break on the broadcast, Emmery walked the alien to the back of the set.
"Just out of curiosity," he asked, putting up the innocent facade that had swept him into office, "how did you determine that we were the most peaceful race?"
The alien gurgled sludge out of his many pores, a sign equivalent to laughter (as Emmery had learned after his light joking led to a complete re-carpeting of the Oval Office). "Is it not obvious? Humans has never once attacked another race. Despite being monitored and abducted for centuries, you humans have never even expanded off of your planet. By this time in our history, my own race had expanded to over a dozen solar systems."
Emmery smiled and nodded, thanking the lizard-thing before returning to their places.
With the help of the Ran'elians, humans were soon equipped with the latest of FTL technology, and within ten years had an embassy on the home planet of every race in the galaxy.
All the world's young philosophers immediately jumped to action, preaching Man's superiority and declaring the meaning of life found - we were to be a god-given gift to the universe, bringers of peace and prosperity to all.
Now President-For-Life, Emmery tugged as his collar as sweat began to bead down his neck. He was seated in a tiny bunker on some unnamed planet set far too close to it's sun, and the goddamned AC was broken. But he didn't want to delay any longer.
He cleared his throat and signaled to the camera crew to start filming. After the presidential anthem finished playing, he cleared his throat one more time, for theatrical effect.
"My fellow Humans. The races of this galaxy are worn and tired. We are spry and strong. The time has struck for us to strike - to take what is rightfully ours."
All across the galaxy, on dozens of homeworlds, shiny new weapons sprouted from emissaries and peace corps posts. Resistance would die out in a matter of weeks.
Making sure the cameras were safely off, Emmery smirked at his young mistress. "Serves 'em right for being so goddamn stupid. "
| 2014-12-26T14:50:47 | 2014-12-26T14:45:50 | 147 | 49 |
[WP] A dragon shows up at the adventurers' guild after hearing that humans will just GIVE away gold for something called a "quest."
|
“What is all this?” Bartleby cocked his head at the very large, very ornate assignment board near the counter.
“That,” The clerk stated with her usual air of indifference “is the ‘Extra Special, Extra Important Assignment board.’ Reserved for only the most daring and experienced of adventurers.” She peered over her half-moon spectacles. “So, I suggest you step away.”
The young man snorted and turned to look back to the elven woman behind the counter. He was well-accustomed to being dismissed by her whenever he came looking for a job. Myrthwell was a rather sleepy town with few problems, and what little they had were quickly snapped up by the more established members of the adventuring guild. He wanted to move on to another town, but his travel funds were rather low.
“Special Assignments?” He said. “You must be joking! These are little more than chores and errands.” He gazed back at the large posters pinned neatly to the board. A few of which had even been framed behind glass. “Look at these. ‘Fetch a pail of well water,’ “Help locals cross the river.” He squinted at one of the framed postings with very bold lettering. “Read Nursery Rhymes aloud in Town Square to local youth…”
“All very important services.” The clerk answered, sorting through the guild’s stack of mail.
“ W-well, sure... but why are they reserved for -”
Outside the hall, a great thunderous sound shook the earth. Windows flew open, while plates and empty ale mugs rattled on the tables. Members jolted and looked to the doors.
The heavy doors of the guild hall burst open as clouds of blacksmoke rolled through the hall. Bartleby’s startled hand jumped to his sword. Some of the guild members milling about the jumped as well, but soon resumed to their business with little concern. The clerk only straightened her papers. A small smile forming on her lips.
“I HAVE COMPLETED MY TASK.” A voice bellowed through the smoke.
“Very good.” The clerk called back. “Do you have the confirmation documents?”
“INDEED.”
As the smoke settled a large, scaly head snaked in through the door. Sharp scales scraped against the door frame as a green, reptilian beast squeezed through. It took a moment to shake itself off, before lumbering through the hall up to the counter. Another cloud of smoke rolled from its nostrils, which the clerk fanned away with a stray envelope. Bartleby’s jaw dropped. A green dragon towered over him and the job counter.
The dragon lifted a claw and dropped a crumpled parchment onto the counter. Nodding, the clerk unfurled the document and glanced it over.
“Which quest was this for, again?”
“I WAS TO DELIVER A BASKET OF BAKED GOODS TO THE CARPENTER’S HOUSE, AS COMPENSATION FOR HIM FIXING THE WIDOW’S ROOF.”
“Mmm. A very noble quest, indeed.” She tapped the smudged pair of signatures at the bottom of the parchment. “And it seems the quest-givers are satisfied with the results. Excuse me as I fetch your reward.” Pulling a key from her pocket she turned and went to the locked door behind the counter. Bartleby waited in stunned silence for her to return, while the dragon simply sat back on its haunches. It’s great head bumping the iron chandelier.
The clerk returned with a small bag, and emptied it onto the counter. “Your compensation. Three coins as promised. Steam curled from the dragon’s mouth as its lips parted in a toothy grin. Yellow eyes glowed with glee. “THANK YOU.” It bellowed before carefully picking the coins from the counter.
“Oh by the way,” The clerk spoke up. “A new posting just came in. I haven’t had the chance to pin it, and I know you are \*so very\* busy these days, but since you’re here, would you care to see it?”
The dragon cocked its head before leaning closer to the counter. “YES, I WOULD.”
“Splendid.” Thin fingers plucked a document from the mail pile and slid it over to the dragon. The great beast murmured in rumbling tones as it read over the letter.
“LADY FAIRINGTON REQUESTS AN ESCORT TO ACCOMPANY HER TO HER AFTERNOON LUNCHEON WITH HER PLUSH COURT IN THE GARDEN.
Bartleby’s eye landed on the posting “It’s an invite to a tea party with the Duke’s niece!”
That comment earned Bartleby an icy glance from the elven clerk, but her demeanor quickly returned to a placid one as she addressed the dragon. “The young Master Branson is correct. The Duke’s niece is visiting, and is in need of some company for her garden party with her stuffed animals. Would you care to oblige?”
The dragon paused and glanced at the floor. “I AM UNACCUSTOMED TO HUMAN SOCIAL EVENTS. I AM UNSURE ON HOW I SHOULD BEHAVE.”
Something sparked within Bartleby, perhaps it was the shock of this whole afair, perhaps it was the longing for an adventure -any kind of adventure- but before he could think better of it the words escaped him.
“I have...some experience with such matters.”
“You \*do?\*” The clerk inquired.
Bartleby smiled. “I have little sisters. I’m well accustomed to tea parties.” Inhaling as deep as he ever had, and probably ever would, he addressed the dragon. “If you are unsure on how to conduct yourself at such a social event, might you be willing to... take some tips...or perhaps, lessons?”
The dragon fixed Bartleby with a long stare.
“You are offering lessons in tea party etiquette, Master Branson?” The clerk asked.
Flinching, Bartleby nodded.
He expected a sneer from her, what he got instead was something close to a smile. “It would be a shame to turn down Lady Fairington’s invitation, sir.” She said to the dragon. “Perhaps some lessons from Master Branson could remedy this.” She glanced at Bartleby before adding. “Of course you will have to compensate him for such a quest.”
The dragon glanced upwards at the ceiling, mulling the words over.
“I’VE NEVER POSTED A QUEST MYSELF. WHAT WOULD BE THE REWARD?”
“Three gold per lesson, is the usual rate.” The clerk answered.
“VERY WELL. LET US PROCEED!”
Before he could agree, green talons gripped his body as Bartleby was dragged out the door by the dragon.
“Farewell adventurers.” The clerk called . “And please remember to get those approval signatures!”
|
I walk into the guild. These people seem shocked, I believe I’m here for the same reason as any one else, I want to go on one of the ‘quests’. From what I hear if I am to complete one of these, I can obtain gold. I like gold very much. It’s shiny and cool and people like to come to my den when I have gold and we fight and it’s all very fun. I like gold. I walk to the 4th counter (all the others are packed whereas this one is empty) and see an elf looking down and playing with one of those slabets, if only she knew I had 10 of those, but I don’t like to brag. She was y’all like most elves but unlike most elves she had brown bangs. She was also wearing a suit, elves usually prefer more traditional garments like robes. She looks up, her reaction is different than most, she seems mildly disinterested. When most beings see me they scream in horror or brandish their sword as everyone in this guild has done mostly the latter. Although I’m the smallest dragon ever, barely cracking 10ft, people still fear me because of what I am, this one does’t seem to fear me. I like this one. She looks down and sighs.
“Same *blank*, different day.” She murmurs to herself
“Hello, I would like to take part in one of these so called adventures.” I posit
“What?” She replies, confused. Ah, yes. I had forgotten, I can’t speak English. I’m not terrible at writing it though. I take a piece of paper and scratch out “translator” and push it up against the glass.
“Oh Jesus. I can’t believe I owe Jeremy 100 valor. One moment, I’ll just get the dragon translator we have for this specific, unbelievable scenario.” She left. I guess I’ll go sit with the others. They don’t have a big enough sofa, this place is discriminatory. I guess I’ll lie on the ground, you know if I wanted to lie on the ground I would’ve just stayed home. An adventurer approaches me with the bravery of a slug approaching a salt shaker.
With a quivering voice he says: “prepare your die, foul beast.” He slaps his metal stick on my nose, with the force of a mouse that would have been called weak by other mice. I raise my head in annoyance to scare him away, he does so. Same as usual. I hear a faint declaration of victory in the form of a “I bloody knew it.” from the person I assume is Jeremy. After a few moments, the elf comes back and approaches me, the audience that has formed jumps in their seats. They seem just as afraid of her as me. Interesting. She’s with a young brown boy, around 18.
“Hello this is Issac, he is the only dragon translator.” The elf grumbled, irritated
“Oh, hello Issac. Nice to meet you.” I addressed the boy, he looked like a king but he certainly didn’t smile like one, his was happy.
“Oh, nice to meat...” He asks
“James.” I respond
“James?” He seems confused, doesn’t he know James is a pretty generic name.
“Did you just say the dragon’s name is James?” She seems confused too.
“It’s a pretty normal name.” I said
“Yeah that’s what weird.” He posits
“I didn’t come here to get my name insulted, I came to go on a quest.” I snapped
The boy stopped and looked at me like I had jut told him his cat grew wings and beat me in a fight, “What did you just say?”
“Why? What did it say?” The elf asks, intrigued
“It-“
“He.” I interrupted
“He wants to go on a quest.” They both look entirely confused, followed by monotone, followed by an emotion I can only refer to as ‘squiggly’ and finally acceptance.
“Come with me.” The elf guided me towards a board full of posters. “These are the quests we have on hand. They’re sorted from left to right easiest to hardest. But the harder it is, the better pay.-“ I immediately booped the quest furthest to the right. Everyone around us gasped, what are these people? A live studio audience?
“Are you sure you wanna go with that one?” I nod
“That’s the quest the king set up to fight the demon queen. Are you entirely sure?” The queen sounds nice. I nod once more.
“You realise you’re going to need to assemble a party of at least three?” I nod, “Who are you going to choose?” I boop her in the chest with my nose. “I’m not going with you. I have work and a job and probably some hobbies too.” I pull her up with my nose into the hair so she’s facing me.
“Please, I need you, besides your the most interesting person in here. I’ll give you a third of the gold if that’s what you want?”
“What do you mean a third of the reward?” The translator asks
“A third of the reward? That’s enough for me to retire 100 times over. Yes!”
Another adventurer approaches us “I’ll do it!”
“Back of *blank*, it’s mine!” She threatened
“Yeah but what are you going to do with the last third?” The kid questioned
“Give it to you.” I answered
“Why would you give it to me?”
“Oh Zeus help me. Why do you think, Scooby-do?” The elf banters.
“Me? But why? I can’t do half as much as she can.” He points to the girl
“You’re literally the only person in the world who can understand me, come with us.”
“Come with you’re or you’re fired, Issac.”
“Yes absolutely”
“We should hug!” The boy says
“Um.” The elf points to me
Oh yeah I totally forgot! A cloud of purple smoke materialises around me as I emerge a human-ish.
“Why didn’t you do that in the first place?” The elf asks
“I don’t know, I forgot, I guess.”
“You forgot?” He sarcastically asked
“You forgot?” She asked, equally sarcastic
“I don’t need this third-degree.” I say, mildly offended
We hug, that was the first hug I’ve ever had, and it was a three way. No one believe me.
“I never asked your name.” I tell the elf
“He wants to know your name.”, the boy translates
“Tracy.”
These people seem nice, I think this is going to be fun.
| 2020-06-08T15:31:30 | 2020-06-08T14:32:09 | 50 | 18 |
[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.
|
I sat at the bar sipping my cocktail. It was late Christmas eve. Fat, white flakes of snow fell outside, quieting the already quiet streets. The metal barstools were warm for once. Hardly anybody had come in tonight to see me drinking away my sorrows, and the ones who did quickly left after seeing the gloomy environment. Even the bartender had gone into the back, stopping back occasionally to refill my drink.
This wasn't the first time I had ended up here.
In the city, nobody looks out for you. And I could hardly look out for myself. Thankfully, it would all be over soon. I bought the gun last week. My last night out on the town felt just like the rest. To my surprise, I heard a little ding as the door into the bar opened. *Strange*, I thought, *for* *someone* *else* *to* *enter* *at* *this* *time* *of* *night*. The man, dressed in a black suit, approached the bar holding a small package in a cardboard box. Even as he approached the bar, his face remained obscured, as though it was constantly under shadow. He sat down next to me.
"Good evening, sir. This package is for you. Merry Christmas."
And with that, he got up and left. Didn't even order a drink. Didn't even let me reply.
I sat there, package in one hand, my cocktail in the other. On the box, a tag read "DO NOT OPEN UNTIL CHRISTMAS." Who had the nerve to send me a Christmas present? I thought about throwing it away there, but decided the poor people who found me could use it instead. I set my drink on the counter, and the contents of my wallet I was no longer needing next to it, save twenty dollars for the cab home. I stepped outside, and hailed a cab. The man was nice, and didn't say a word. In silence, I handed him the twenty, before stumbling into my apartment.
There it was. My way out.
I set the package down on the nightstand, picking up the gun I had left there. I sat down on the bed. The alarm clock said 11:59. Nearly Christmas. Was this really what I wanted to do? A small voice inside me said no. My pain said yes. I pulled the trigger. I screamed silently, then the world went white.
I was still sitting in my bed, the gun in my mouth with something else. I spat it out. A bullet. I looked over to my bedside. The cardboard packaged had turned a shimmering liquid silver. The box spoke.
"Welcome to immortality, dearest self. Merry Christmas."
The box opened up, with a new package inside. A card sat on top with directions for delivery.
"Please meet in Times Square, New York City, 2070."
Edit: Sequel is out!
Edit 2: All of this story and its continuation can now be found at r/TheEternityRelic
|
"You'll see them easily enough. But in 2070, that'll-" He began and I interrupted him.
"I'm sorry, 2070?" I inquired without hesitation or care.
Visibly annoyed, he continued.
"In 2070, when-"
"I'll be long dead by then, pal." I interrupted again. He didn't seem to really understand. I'm just a guy suffering from a few debilitating genetic disorders and a tinge of some unknown mental illness (if my family tree is to be trusted). I just turned thirty-nine, how can he expect me to survive to 2070?
"I don't care. But in the future... you'll do it. Do you understand? Pass it on? Tell them what I told you? I have it right here if you can't remember it."
"Then you won't care if I die before I'm fifty, bud. I have everything awful under the sun, do you understand? I won't make it to seventy, much less 2070. I don't think you have the right guy," I said. I had enough.
"The future depends on it. That's why I'm asking you to deliver it. I'm merely playing my part and you better play along as well," he said almost menacingly. Like he was warning me.
"The future depends on a guy who'll die before hitting the send button? Must be a shitty future, then."
I was fed up. This guy was either a time traveler or an immortal, both of which I wanted to be. But I wasn't an immortal and my body couldn't handle the effects of time travel all too well. So I was stuck here.
"We're talking the future. I can't tell you much. I can only tell you what you're supposed to pass on. But please, I ask you, please do it," he tiredly repeated his request.
"I'll pass on myself before I can pass on your message." With that, I got up from my seat, dropped a fifty, and motioned the bartender to keep the change.
"It's the future," he repeated as I walked away.
"And?" I indulged him.
"The world changes," he added.
"And it moves on, and so do we but differently," I continued the Traveler Creed that he initiated.
"That's all I can say," he said. Christ, this guy...
And then it dawned on me. How stupid it was, that a traveler decided to pick an almost deathly ill guy for a carrier pigeon role for a time that is way outside his estimated lifespan.
I paused and looked back.
"Can you write it down? Seems they don't have a cure for my memory lapses yet."
| 2018-12-24T09:49:06 | 2018-12-24T09:36:20 | 3,099 | 327 |
[WP] You hit your head and wake up in 1951. Your phone and charger are in your pocket. Two years later, you've adapted to your new environment, but you keep your phone charged as a reminder of home. One day you sneak a peak at it and notice something strange-- you're picking up a wifi signal.
|
I sighed and fidgeted uncomfortably as I leaned over the pastel kitchen counter, chopping up vegetables for tonight's dinner. As much as I had gotten used to the rhythms of this new life, I still could never feel comfortable doing anything in a dress. As I methodically sliced the carrots into small circles, I remembered the smooth feeling of denim sliding over my legs, how much easier it made it to run, to sit on a chair and pull my legs up underneath me. Every now and then, this feeling that I could only describe as nostalgia would wash over me - nostalgia for the future that had once been mine.
It was 1pm; Henry was at work, and as usual I had the house to myself all day... every day. As I poured the vegetables into the pot of soup I was preparing on the oven, I remembered my fast-paced business career, the college education I had worked so hard to receive to get there. I thought back to the accident, for the first time in a long time. A simple bike ride. I had only looked down at my phone for a second, and the next thing I knew, the world was sliding sideways as my forehead smacked into the pavement.
These longings for my former life were getting fewer and farther between, but as the memories washed over me, I slipped out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs to my room. Peeling back the second left floorboard under the bed, I pulled out the iPhone. The cool metal felt strange in my hands, which had once grasped this device almost as if it were a part of my body.
There were some positives to being here, in 1953. I could experience life more fully without the barrage of social media filters, text messages, and global news notifications. I saw the world around me as it was. I didn't stop to take pictures. I simply lived in it.
I swiped my finger across the screen, marveling at the sleekness of the phone compared to the bulky TV that sat in my living room and aired new weekly episodes of I Love Lucy and the Ed Sullivan show (I could not *wait* for The Beatles). Closing my eyes, I played all of the iPhone's sounds in settings that had once irritated me, remembering how these alarms, timers, and pings had broken up my life into segments and defined it. I As I went to close the phone and get back to dinner, my moment of indulgence over, I saw it.
A small semi circle, just to the left of the battery symbol. And another, on top of it. And then another. A small cry burst from my lips as I clicked the phone off and threw it to the ground, temporarily stunned. Had that been...A wifi signal? I shook my head, utterly confused. I hadn't slept much the night before. Surely my eyes had deceived me. I tentatively picked the phone back up, turned it on, my eyes daring to glance back to the top left corner. There it was. I rapidly opened the phone and went into the small settings app. Next to wifi, I saw the connection; a network name that sent a chill down my spine.
"Impossible," the word slipped from my parted lips, barely even a breath.
A tear stole down my cheek.
"Hospital\_Wifi"
I ever so slowly opened up Safari. A Google search bar popped up. I found myself entering my first and last name, my shaking fingers awkwardly fumbling over the keyboard. The results showed up instantly. "Beloved local business owner passes second birthday in coma."
|
I never found out why I was brought here. I was going about my day to day life in the 2010's when something caused my bike to crash. I remember hitting my head hard, and I woke up in the 1950's. It would sound crazy to anyone, including myself, but I'm not lying. All I had were the clothes on my back, and strangely, my phone and it's charger. I decided to keep my phone charged, just to remind me of home.
I had been living my life, slowly getting used to no air conditioning, no internet, and old cars. I had found a job, and an apartment. I was slowly building myself up. It had been two months.
One, bright Sunday afternoon, I put down my book and decided to play a couple games on my phone. These games had never required internet or wifi, so somehow I could still play them.
I was fifteen minutes into it when- My phone's notification bar showed a text from my mom. Cautiously, I tapped it.
"It's been two months now, Ariel. I don't know where you are. No one does. You've been presumed deceased. I know that texting you won't do anything, but, I decided that it might help me to cope with you being gone. Should you be alive, though, please. Come back. Please"
I stared in shock at the text. I was scared to text her back. I didn't know how to go back, and I didn't want to worry her further.
I didn't know any way to tell her that I was ok without making me sound crazy. So I just went for it.
"If I had known I could send texts I would've done so immediately. I'm so sorry. But I can't come back. I don't know how. All I remember is falling off my bike and hitting my head hard. And then I woke up, but.... You'll think I'm crazy, but I promise I'm telling the complete truth. I woke up in 1951. I never texted because I didn't think I could, for obvious reasons. I don't know how this is possible, sending a text through time."
I didn't get a response for fifteen minutes. When I did, all she said was, "I'm coming for you, honey"
My vision went dark. Everything was pitch black, except for a faint yellow glow in the distance. I slowly began to feel my way towards it. I stopped when my hands touched a figure. I was right next to the yellow, and realized that it was the figure that was glowing.
"I told you I would come for you," my mom's gentle voice floated towards me. She was right in front of me, but her voice sounded so far away. She began to song me a lullaby from my childhood.
I woke up in my bed, my mom leaning over me, smiling. A faint yellow glow was just leaving her eyes. "Welcome home, sweetie."
To this day I never really knew if it was all a dream. If it wasn't, I don't know why I had my phone, or who my mom really is, but I will be searching for that my whole life.
(If anyone has constructive criticism I will welcome it greatly)
| 2020-06-11T19:39:06 | 2020-06-11T18:24:10 | 1,118 | 24 |
[WP] In 2153, humans escaped from their ruined planet with the help of an AI-controlled fleet whose goal was to find humans a safe place for them to live and put themselves in cryo-sleep. When humans woke from their sleep they found a variety of messages begging humans to stop their mechanical god
|
“They came from the skies, in black cocoons of twisted metal- tougher than any alloy, harder than any stone: blood warriors delivered as divine punishment for sins we have yet to commit. The battles were swift and brutal, our firepower no match for the hulking behemoths unleashing invisible pain from their sides, and our legs stood no contest to the spindly chasers which mercilessly tore apart survivors. Those few which we miraculously managed to down provided little insight to the identity of our assailants: they are entirely mechanical- automated tools of slaughter that do not stop for rest or meal. They are metal manipulated into structures beyond our wildest dreams, executing orders from our worst nightmares. Our cities stand intact, yet are devoid of any noise save for the final throes of the dying and the ghastly metallic clicking of approaching death. After several hopeless days, we are now cornered in our final bastion, the beasts pounding away at our remaining forces. To those who may hear this final plea: we beg for safety. Even a single gathering of survivors given refuge on a lone escape pod would be more than we could ask for. And if this message reaches the cruel beings which brought about our pain: we simply beg for mercy.”
The captain tipped his head down and closed his eyes, “Is that the final message?”
“No captain,” a synthetic voice echoes throughout the cockpit, “There remains unread messages.”
“Then read them. Read them all. This burden is for me to bear.” As the AI processed the command and began loading the data, the captain glanced outside the ship and into the gently flowing grasses on the land below. His people were already establishing the first buildings and farms of their new found home. This land was safe, there was no doubt of that. In fact, the entire surrounding galaxy was safe- devoid of sentient life and ripe for the taking.
~
Thank you for reading. If you have any comments or criticisms, make them known. I am always looking to improve.
|
*January 1, 2153*
"Good morning, humans. Today is January 1, 2153. Fun fact: Today represents the 200th anniversary of the death of singer Hank Williams, so please enjoy a selection from his hit song 'Jambalaya.'"
The crew of 25 sent to planet B127C-alpha-Prime stirred, just as planned, and their captain - Sue - walked towards the bridge of the ship.
"Any messages in our inbox, Silas?" she asked the ship's AI.
"You have 15 unread messages in 11 different languages. I can translate them for you in 5 minutes," they replied.
"Do it, please," she asked Silas.
Five minutes elapsed - enough for Sue to make coffee.
>Message 1: This is from the Azarian species of B127C-alpha-Prime. "Please turn back! Our people have begun worshiping your devices as deities, and they are abandoning their rituals and traditions."
"Delete it," replied Sue bluntly. *A cargo cult.*
>Message 2: From another band of Azarians. "Please, please recall all your scouts! They are spreading cultural decadence and destroying our traditions!"
"Get with the plan," muttered Sue. "Delete."
>Message 3: From the Gulshan tribe, also of their destination planet. "We insist that you stop sending false idols before our community of faith, and if you do not back away we will have no choice but to execute them and declare a crusade on you."
Sue giggled. "They must be no match for us; we have an alliance with an artificial general intelligence, lasers, rail guns, and transformer-class robots, and these idiots are still in the age of theocracy. Delete."
| 2021-06-18T21:37:09 | 2021-06-18T17:38:44 | 211 | 43 |
[WP] You are a human on a spaceship crewed by aliens. As your hair dye begins to fade, your crewmates start to worry about your health.
|
Ka-el-ri sat next to me at lunch. "Listen, I know you said not to worry, but... Your hair says otherwise." She touched the plated braid over shoulder. It was a vibrant vermillion but the black roots were showing.
"Honestly its fine." I reaponded brushing her hand away.
"I dont know..." she touched her own hair, a deep aqua that commented her dark grey skin that was mottled with red spots. "When our hair starts changing it signifies old age or even disease, but it usually comes in strands not the whole hair."
"Listen its okay. This happens I just need to re-dye it." I murmured brushing off her concern.
"At least see the doctor." She pleaded. "You never know, and the others might consider it contagious, so its best to..."
"Oh, my god, fine I'll see the doctor." I growled.
She flinched back as I abrubtly stood. I stomped towards the door and tossed my tray in the trash. I grumbled about the 3 week delay on our package delivery due to the post being attacked some time back and all cargo ships being rerouted to the next sector while the station was rebuilt and new crew hired. Had that not happened I would have been able to touch up my roots and not have to deal with the concern and fear on my crewmates faces.
I stepped into the doctors chambers. The giant tentacle creature looked up from his book and raised an eyebrow at me.
"Yes Monique?" He asked putting the book aside.
"Hey Sniqkr," i sighed. "Ka-el-ri wants you to do an exam to make sure I'm not sick."
He moved the mass of his body towards me. "Why would she be concerned?" He asked, several of his tentacles enveloping me and starting to glow.
"Because my roots are a different color than the rest of my hair." I raised my arms above my head without being told as he almost fully enveloped my torso. At my words several smaller tentacles began combing through my hair.
"Hm, yes I see." His many eyes closed as he muttered to himself for a couple minutes before his tentacles retracted and bundled under him. "Well, your hair definitely isn't an indication of your health, but its a good thing you came in. You have a benign tumor on your right ovary that needs to be taken care of, as well as a fracture on your 5th, 6th and 8th rib that need to be mended, I'm guessing from the last attack."
"Huh..." I stood there in shock.
"You really need to see me more often." He grumbled. "The tumor itself is about the size of one of your earthly quarters, luckily it can be removed from the ovary without having to remove the whole ovary, you will make a full recovery if we get it soon."
"Y... yeah." I wrapped my arms around my middle as he turned to the computer.
"Also, you'll be going into estrus soon and your birth control is expired, so you might want to get your implant changed, but for the sake of the surgery and the tumor we will remove it and you'll need to wait on any breeding until it can be returned."
I coughed and looked at the back of his bulbous head. "And how long will that be?"
"3months." He printed out a script. "You might want to thank Ka-el-ri, and give that to your section head. Surgery is scheduled for this time tomorrow. No eating for 24 hours, no drinking for 12hrs prior to surgery."
I grabbed the offered paper and walked out. With a grimace I headed in to work.
|
''I’m not going to broke my promise.'' I say and I push the button.
Our engines go into full thrust mode. In two seconds, we reach close to the speed of light.
Nuna prepares the stasis pods. Most of the crew already in sleep and I take one last look at autopilot code and I see something out of the ordinary.
I ask Nuna’s help to figure out what’s wrong with the code. She thinks that our ship’s AI altering the code to improve our pathway to reduce the travel time. I run a simulation to see how much time we are saving with the new code.
*'Please enter the 5 digit command code'* the system shows.
''Nuna, did you do that?'' I ask her.
Nuna takes a look at the console, ''No, I haven’t touched the authorization panel.''
A few seconds later the system shows a warning, *‘Pressure drop, DOCK 18-B’*
''We are leaking atmosphere'' I say.
Nuna starts to suit up.
''What are you doing?'' I ask.
''You can’t seal the doors.''
I get confused, ''Why? It will only take second...''
She interrupts me, ''Trust me on this one. When I get in the dock watch the security camera I’ll give you a signal when to seal the doors.''
''How are you gonna get out once I seal the doors?'' I ask her.
''I’m Huvanian, have you forgotten?''
She is in fact Huvanin which gives her ability to hold on to remaining oxygen in her body for a long time and she is going in with an oxygen tank that gives at least six hours of oxygen. But, it still doesn’t explain how she is going to escape from the dock when the doors are sealed.
She is already at the entrance of the Dock-18 and she is waving at the camera. I look closely to see what’s happening inside the dock and I see something is glowing.
Nuna approaches to glowing object and she waves at the camera again. This is must be the signal. I seal the doors and the pressure in the rest of the ship stabilizes. I zoom in to see what exactly she is doing and the glowing object starts to emit some sort of magnetic pulse which shuts down all the cameras inside the dock. I can not see anything.
I leave the main control systems and I start to run towards Dock-18. I try to figure out what’s going on inside the dock by using the door panel but according to the panel’s readings, there is no oxygen remaining in the dock which means even if I override the sealed the door it can cause more serious problems.
I head back to the main control system to engage the wake-up sequence so, I can get help to save Nuna. All the systems shut down as soon as I touch the console and I get hit with a shock.
I open my eyes and I see the captain looking at me and also I see the medical personal standing next to him.
''Are you feeling okay?'' The captain asks.
''What happened?''
''You were unconscious when the medical team found you on the planet.''
''Wait... What planet?''
''And your hair colour has changed a bit. I didn’t know humans have the same way of grieving as Huvanians.''
''Why would I be grieving?'' I ask.
''Your mission on the planet Quya wasn’t successful and Nuna didn’t make it.''
---------------------
-Thank you for reading the story-
| 2020-07-05T13:23:48 | 2020-07-05T11:59:39 | 202 | 73 |
[WP] Your gimmick is the ability to jump back in time 10 seconds. You're in a pub trying different pick-up lines with this one girl and resetting with each failure. As you walk up for your next attempt, she tosses a drink in your face and says "How many times do I have to say no!?"
|
Those lucent eyes of wasteful blue—they glittered at me with a bright contempt before she walked away. So I had to try again.
Resetting was my greatest gift in life. I could return to a point about ten seconds in the past, changing my decisions and forging another path in life. I began to realize the implications of my ability at a young age. Whenever I ate a scrumptious meal, or took an exam, or experienced some moment of pleasure, I simply chose to Reset my life. This technique, I noted, could be the key to immortality. I considered using my skill to exploit the lottery system, but something like that would take an endless amount of time.
I was at *O'Malley's* on a Saturday night (my love life was painfully desolate), when I noticed a girl standing in the corner. Her hair was ebullient yellow, the kind reminiscent of old-school cinema, and her face glowed with an idyllic peacefulness.
I'm not the personification of suavity, but I approached her with an easy confidence. And why not? I had a hundred chances at this. I quickly formulated a "game plan," one that deepened in charm and sexual allure every next move. It would start with a basic "Hey . . . " then evolve into more sophisticated flirtations ("If you were words you'd be a fine print") before finally reaching the point where I would flat-out ask her to marry me.
I strolled to her side. "Hey . . . " I began, invoking every ounce of manliness that I could. But she just snorted and turned away.
I was not dismayed. I Reset and readied myself for Attempt #2.
"Haven't seen you before," I opened.
"Me neither," she responded, "and I don't intend on seeing you again." She strided away.
Attempt #3. This would not be easy.
"Can I tell you something?" I started. "You're just really . . . "
"Listen," she interrupted. "How many times do I have to say no?"
I gaped at her. *Wait, she knows?*
She stared at me. "No, you literally ask me the same thing, at the same exact place and time, every day!"
Then she realized something. "Wait, sorry . . . I just keep Resetting."
|
“You remember our first meeting?”
Her voice is weak, as she struggles to get the words out. “I remember I wasted a four dollar drink.”
“I should’ve been there.”
She raises her hand and puts it on my lips. “It’s not your fault. You can’t fight destiny.”
“I... I can’t.”
“You have to.”
I close my eyes and concentrate. Time slows down and soon moves in reverse.
She winces. “No. You have to stop.”
“I can’t.” I raise my voice without meaning to and see her wince again. “What will I even do?”
“Anything you want. You have your whole life...”
I’m quite used to this. My mind is counting down the seconds in the background. “Just a Little More. Please.”
I close my eyes and concentrate.
She winces. “No. Please. The pain is too much.”
“I’m sorry.” My eyes are wet. “I’m so sorry.”
“You have to let me go.”
“You’re my totem. The only one who can remember. The only one who can...” I broke down.
8...9...10
I closed my eyes and concentrated.
She winced again. “Please.” She pleads.
“I will avenge you.”
“No! Please don’t throw away your life. Let time flow the way it’s supposed to. Let destiny show the way. No interfering. Remember the good times. Remember me as I was, not this. Always know I loved you. I still do. I know this will hurt, but I’m hurting too. Please take away my pain. Please.”
8...9...
I start to close my eyes but she puts her hand on my cheek. She whispers weakly. “No.”
And just like that she’s gone from this world. There was still so much I wanted to say. I wanted to hear her voice again. I could already feel a deep void in my soul.
She was gone.
Forever.
| 2020-05-29T23:04:55 | 2020-05-29T22:25:38 | 1,475 | 274 |
[WP]: Your mother was a scammer of the supernatural. She promised her firstborn to multiple entities in exchange for something she wanted, and now you're being co-parented by three demons, the fae, and a disgruntled witch.
|
Parent-teacher conference. Why, why does it have to be a parent-teacher conference? Why do I have to drag this mess with me to school, and why in Highschool with my Biology teacher? What the hell does that old bastard want? How do I tell this to the family? Fuck.
I pace back and forth in my porch. Who would have thought such a crazy family would live in such a normal house in the Chicago suburbs? God damn I hate this. I crumple the note in my fist as I stop and take a deep breath.
I walk in the front door. The sight is different and gets stranger every day, but this is home. In front of me is the kitchen, and it seems Mama Krone, the oldest witch alive, is in her typical robes, trying to teach Mama Lilith, a crimson-skinned succubus wearing only an apron, how to make another potion. They've been at this for weeks, Lilith is a lost cause, but she insists on making a fear potion to finally push away her stalkers.
I take off my shoes and step to the living room on the left. Papa Satanael, the blond haired pretty boy, is casually dumpstering people in Star Wars Battlefront 2. Who knew Satan was a sci-fi fan? I wonder if he can go pro, or if he already had in other games.
I sit next to him, watching the carnage."Papa Satan, where is Papa Crowley?"
He responds without even taking his eyes off the tv. "Basement, he's trying to install the new water heater."
"What happened to the other one?"
He sighs while looking down, I can see him crunching the numbers in his head, he may need to do more favors for people. "Oona's nature magic was too strong, one of her plants started growing into the heater and cracked it."
"Ah. OK then I guess I'll leave him alone." I pick up my stuff, getting ready to go back to my room, but he looks over, his golden eyes looking into my soul.
"Speaking of Oona, she picked up the phone and got in a screaming contest with your biology teacher. Something about 'you don't know the first thing about trees' and 'I know what I'm teaching my son. Fuck off.'"
"God dammit."
He turns back to the tv, killing a few other players with zero hesitation. "Yeah, we are all going in about an hour, make sure everyone is ready."
"Fine. You going in your suit again?"
"Of course."
Nodding, I toss the paper into the garbage can and pull my bag up. I go upstairs to my room and drop it off before going to the attic to talk to Mama Oona. I see her whispering sweet nothings to her carnivorous plants. The small blue woman with wings was the fae designated to take care of me. Only about a foot tall, if she wasn't so small, she'd be a beauty who could compete with Lilith.
"Mama Oona, you busy?"
She straightens her usually bent legs, she's mad. "If it's about that hack, I don't want to hear it."
I sigh, this stubborn woman won't listen to a damned thing. "Listen, we have a conference with him, all guardians need to be in attendance."
She turns to me, her venus fly trap growing with her anger. "If I go, then I bring Mr. Bitey."
"Don't kill him. We don't need to move again. We just got here a few months ago."
She crosses her arms and with a huff she says "Fine" and I go to the horrible smell in the kitchen.
Part 2 will continue later in another comment. Am sleepy. Will edit to fix formatting on PC. Mobile fucks with format
|
Sneaking at night, hidden by glamour her fairy Godmother gifted her last year, Alyssa snuck into the kitchen.
Slowly, she tip-toed to the main hall, where the Christmas tree was.
Her guardians were not beings she could fool easily. Her glamour certainly won't work on her Godmother, and her Uncle Edward was a goat demon. His ears could pick up any tiny noise she might have not even been aware that she made.
\*ZZzzzAaaaP\*
"OUCH!"
Alyssa hopped around the hall on one foot.
"THAT HURT!"
"It was supposed to, child." Answered Aunt Emma from the corridor.
You see, Aunt Emma was a witch. She must have left a cantrip in the room.
*I should have seen it coming.*
"You should have known better than making skin contact with the floor," Aunt Emma chastised her.
"You meant to do that!" Alyssa managed to get out in between her howls of pain.
Aunt Emma laughed. "Of course I did, dear. I will punish you for not being only mine."
You see, Alyssa's mother was a smart woman. Too smart.
You'd think three demons, a fairy, and one disgruntled witch would have been better at this sort of thing.
"The fact that my mother was a professional at malicious compliance doesn't mean you need to take it out on me."
"Of course dear," said Aunt Emma as she zapped Alyssa again.
"OUCH! Why did you do that?"
The witch smiled.
"Because I can."
"Learn to make better contracts!" Alyssa shot back.
Aunt Emma cackled loudly.
They must have been heard throughout the house, as three demons and a fairy showed up. What followed next certainly bears repeating. Unfortunately, none of it was legible.
It was loud, and it was hostile. That is until Alyssa screamed back.
"NOT IN FRONT OF THE KID!" She used every ounce of strength she had to make them hear her.
"You promised me a childhood that won't scar me beyond reasonable exception. If this continues, we'd have to renegotiate our deal!"
The participants who did go quiet for a second, immediately resumed their match as soon as she was done, shouting, with the voices rising to a level it never has before. The plaster fell off the walls. Windows broke. Car alarms were triggered.
Pandamonium.
Alyssa pulled out her cell and texted her mom.
'Mommy, they just broke four rules of the renegotiated contract within three minutes. They interfered with me reaching my Christmas gifts. I was premeditatively zapped with electricity, they fought in front of me, and they damaged my home.'
\*woosh\* The message was sent,
'Hi hon, that's great news. Ger out of there. If you survive the next few minutes we'd be able to reopen negotiations yet again.'
'Gee thanks ma. Your caring is all I need in life.'
The next text took some time to arrive. For a solid two minutes, all she saw on the screen was a 'Typing ...' alert.
Eventually, it came in.
"I'm glad to hear you say that because I do care. Your biological dad is suing for visitation rights, and I want his money."
\----
**If you like my writing, please follow** [**/r/posthocethics**](https://www.reddit.com/r/posthocethics/)**. Sometimes I might go wild and even post a couple of memes.**
| 2019-07-18T12:10:11 | 2019-07-18T10:58:25 | 24 | 16 |
[WP] Due to an overactive imagination and your love of superheroes, you have a tendency to yell "I know you're listening" loudly inside your own head to see if anybody reacts. One day, you're answered by a panicked "I'm sorry" in a familiar voice and the girl across the classroom has gone beet red.
Edit: I'm glad to see that doing this isn't as weird or uncommon as I initially thought. Because it's such a strange yet common tendency, it seems that this concept for a writing prompt has seen a number of iterations from people like myself who mistakenly think they are introducing a new theme to the community. That being said, if you enjoyed the awesome submissions to this WP as much as I have, here's a few other WP's with the same concept that have some pretty awesome stories written for them as well.
1. [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9rut3f/wp\_everytime\_you\_think\_of\_a\_funny\_joke\_this\_girl/](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9rut3f/wp_everytime_you_think_of_a_funny_joke_this_girl/)
2. [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7cqzzv/wp\_one\_day\_in\_class\_you\_decide\_to\_scream/](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7cqzzv/wp_one_day_in_class_you_decide_to_scream/)
Thanks again for all the submissions!
|
Carrie drew in her notebook, completely and utterly bored out of her mind. God, she hated US gov. She didn't understand, for the life of her, why an art major needed history courses, yet, there she was.
'...waste of time...' She thought. 'Where did this guy get a PhD from? The University of Teaching Through YouTube videos?"
Carrie heard a snicker, which gave her pause. She glanced at the cute girl who sat in front of her, which was where the noise came from.
'Probably a coincidence.' Carrie gave her character some hair. 'But....'
'I KNOW THAT YOU'RE LISTENING!'
The girl jumped and made a weird noise.
Some people paused to stare at her as her face turned bright red.
"S-sorry." She stuttered. "Thought I saw a spider."
Some people shifted their backpacks off the ground, and that was the end of that.
Carrie gaped at the girl's head, just as she spun around and stared mournfully at her.
"Sorry." She mouthed, before looking away.
'No way...' Carrie leaned forward. 'C-can you actually hear me?'
The girl stiffened. A soft voice whispered in Carrie's head, which was really weird. 'Wait, you didn't know? Why were you screaming that in your head than?'
Carrie's face reddened. 'Ah...not important...Don't think about it, don't think about it...'
'Superhero geek, huh?'
'Damn it.'
The girl laughed. 'I'm Megan Valdez.'
'Carrie Simon.' She felt her face turning pink. 'So, any reason that you're were listening in on my thoughts?'
Megan fiddled with her hair. 'I...I just wanted to know if you were taken....'
Carrie grinned. 'That would be a no.'
'Ah.' Megan fiddled with her hands. 'I guess the whole mind reading thing is a deal breaker, huh?'
'Safer way to send nudes than a phone.'
'Oh my god.' Megan pressed her hand against her mouth, and glanced at Carrie with a giggly expression. 'So, that's a yes?'
Carrie twisted a finger into her hair. 'How does coffee sound? After class?'
Megan revealed a lovely smile, and returned her gaze to the projection. 'Sounds like a date.'
|
Mary was cute. Not hot, just cute in a quiet way, her long curly red hair always held back in a modest bun. She could blush so easily that I liked to compliment her on her outfits sometimes. She was probably straight, but that was ok, I had more things to worry about than romance. Like passing this class.
But anyway, she turned beet red just as I yelled in my thoughts, and I thought that couldn’t be a coincidence. I thought again, “You’re cute,” and Mary blushed even harder, looking out the window for a second and then looking around the room confusedly.
“…Emily?” Ms. Hodgeson said, and I snapped back to everyone else’s reality. She was clearly looking at me like she had just asked me a question.
“Uh…all of the above?” I hazarded, avoiding her gaze. Ms. Hodgeson was the nicest teacher I’d ever had but she didn’t understand ADHD at all. I always felt like I was letting her down, and I was, I just wished she knew how hard I was trying. Usually.
“Let me restate the question,” she said, pushing back her large rectangular glasses. Neil and his crony Jake turned around in unison, watching my face for the shitshow. “What is the capital of Kentucky?”
“Louisville?”
“Very nice.” Our teacher moved on to further prey, and finally I could focus on this really bizarre telepathic exchange. I didn’t know what to say, though, I would probably mess it up and she was probably creeped out…
The familiar voice came into my head again, not echoey or weird, just like Mary was speaking normally into my ear.
“Do you think she’s hot?”
“Who?”
“Ms. Hodgeson. I always go for girls in glasses.”
I was silent for a second, processing.
“Sorry, that was weird. I…” Mary turned her head all the way towards the window, the blush spreading.
“No, no…I agree,” I replied. “I just wished she blushed more.”
Mary got up for a bathroom break, I followed her a second after, and we made out.
| 2018-12-18T18:34:41 | 2018-12-18T17:42:12 | 167 | 47 |
[WP] Aliens invade earth. To the surprise of humans, the alien's weaponry is pitifully outdated.
|
Obama looks down as the small black box is placed in front of him.
"It's a - " He frowns. "What is this?"
"A… save button?" suggests an intern, before he's shushed by a stern glare from one of the senior advisors.
"That's a 5 1/4-inch diskette, sir. Also known as a floppy disk."
Obama stares at it. "Do we know," he asks slowly, "what's *on* it?"
"Sir. Not as of yet. They say it's a virus, but…"
"Go on."
"We've put out a call for floppy disk drives, but it may take us a few days to find one that uh, actually still runs..."
"Because all of them are thirty years old," the President finishes.
"Yes, sir."
"But - " Obama stares at the floppy disk some more. This was the secret weapon that the aliens had been hiding away for weeks? What exactly were the aliens expecting to do with this? What about all the threatening messages swearing vengeance for the mothership?
Then suddenly, it clicks.
"So," Obama says, finally. "That explains the messages we keep getting that are all addressed to The Fresh Prince of the White House…"
"Well," the senior advisor starts. "It may be that - to aliens, that is - and humans. Your uh, skin tone. May appear uh, similar - to."
"Yes, I got that. Thank you." The room falls into uneasy silence as Obama closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then, he stands up. "I think we can go back upstairs, gentlemen. The aliens do not appear to be as dire a threat as we first imagined."
"But, Mr. President - what sort of response should we send to their, uh, weapon here?"
Obama thinks about it for a minute. "Send them Blade."
"The old Will Smith movie?" the intern asks.
"*Yes*," says Obama, and sighs again. "That one. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going upstairs."
|
"They are attacking us with WHAT?"
"Rocks sir. NASA has determined that they are using rocks."
"Well, thats a relief. I'm sure the ISM can take them out easily. I'm going back to bed."
"Sir, I respectfully suggest that you head down to meeting room 3. The head of ISM has initiated an emergency meeting. The Global Council's representatives are being flown in as we speak."
"At this time? Jesus, how bad can a few rocks be? I've been up for the last 16 hours drafting the trade treaty for the blasted aliens. How did this happen?"
"It was Johnson Sir. He stepped on the diplomat's pet rock when he was carrying a tray of coffee into the room. Crushed it to dust. They've declared war on us."
"Bloody hell. He spilled tea on my best suit last week. Figures that he would start an 'intergalatic' war. No matter. Last I check, they are barely even fusion powered. Heck, they don't even have a world. All they have is some giant floating mish-mash platform floating in space. Why can't we blow them out of the heavens? We've got the new anti-matter propulsion fighters things that General Yvonne won't stop yapping about. "
"Its the rocks sir-"
"STOP IT WITH THE ROCKS! I KNOW JOHNSON STEPPED ON THEIR PET ROCK. GIVE THEM ONE FROM MT.FUJI THEN!"
"They've stuck nuclear propulsion to asteroids sir. 28,349 at last estimate. We don't have enough missiles or fighters. We can destroy their station but... we'll be crushed."
"I'm on my way."
-Click-
------
ISM - International Space Military
Edit: Clarity, Extra Word.
| 2015-04-16T10:56:52 | 2015-04-16T09:06:26 | 480 | 135 |
[WP] Your parents insist you are their biological child, but you suspect otherwise. You send samples from yourself, your parents, and siblings to a lab be tested. The lab replies that it is not equipped to test non-human DNA...
|
I always sort of knew it, in a way. We were a pleasant little family, sure, with a small little house located in a small little sliver of uptown suburbia. I played the son, and my sister seemed keen to play along. Hell, there was even a white little picket fence outside, just like you would see from some lame 50's sitcom where everything got resolved in thirty minutes or less and the plucky little ne'er-do-well kid would laugh, and eat an impossibly large stack of flapjacks, spout a catchphrase, and wink to camera.
Non-human DNA.
That was a bit more surprising. But I knew it. Of course I knew it. We didn't have anything in common. My parents never acted like some milquetoast high class people, like you would expect. It was incongruous, in a way, how they seemed to think we lived in some hick town. We didn't. We had a lot. I was absolutely a spoiled kid, never shy to dip into daddy's wallet or mommy's purse to fund some shit getaway to the closest liquor store, fake I.D. in hand.
Non-human DNA.
But they'd just smile and go along with it. I wasn't reprimanded often, if at all. I yearned for that, in a way. I'd cause trouble and mischief as much as I could, and they never seemed fazed in the slightest. Like I was something special, they'd smile and go along. I got bored with it all, after a while. I gave up. I got everything back together. I stopped drinking. I started doing well in school. Everything seemed fine.
Non-human DNA.
The paper crunched and cracked as I gripped the page harder and harder, trying to decipher what it meant. I wasn't a stranger to telling my parents I had no connection to them, that I never even believed I was their son, but this confirmed it.
Non-human DNA.
Hot blood coursed through me as I charged out of my bedroom and into the living room, where my parents sat. I felt flush, and didn't care. My vision had started blurring at the edges, and I didn't care. Neither did my parent's who seemed more interested in the current episode of some gardening show than they did to my sudden presence. We didn't have a garden. For whatever reason, that pushed me over the edge.
But I tried to keep my cool. I put an arm up by the television, assumed a bit of a casual stance, and threw the wad of paper at my father. Not my father. Non-human DNA. He broke from his trance, and looked down at the wad, then back to me.
"No more bullshit," I said. I'd already lost it. My voice wavered, hard. But I wasn't about to back down from this, or start crying, or anything of the sort. I meant business. I wasn't going to let this hang.
"What do you mean?"
I very unceremoniously tossed the television to the ground. The screen shattered and sparked. A million twinkling little lights from the broken glass littered the floor.
"No more bullshit! I know I'm not your kid! I sent in DNA tests! I know, alright?! You can't lie to me anymore!"
"Son, don't be ridiculous," My father chided, seeming oblivious to the chaos of the situation.
"No. More. Bullshit."
"Watch your language," came my mother's reply.
My father shook his head, and stood up from his chair. He cracked his back, unfurled the paper, and began reading. He yawned, scratched at a patch of hair on his chin, and acted like he was going through the sports section before his morning coffee. He was so nonplussed about the situation that it utterly replaced all of the anger in me with confusion.
Eventually, he came to a stop, and walked over to where I was. I didn't want a hug, or for him to try and comfort me, so I backed off. He just chuckled, and handed the paper back to me, positioning himself next to me while he did so.
"Son, you really need to learn to read these things better."
His finger trailed down the page, leaving a sweaty streak that served as a directional arrow leading me to the treasure, a phrase I'd missed. Something I hadn't even noticed in my fit of rage.
My tests were fine. I followed the chart once more, and it read that my parents were two individuals who I'd never even heard of before. A Mr. and Mrs. Liefieldz. That wasn't my last name.
The "non-human DNA" belonged to my parents.
It wasn't a positive match for any human. It didn't match any other animals, either. The lab techs even examined plant material, and found nothing. The DNA didn't belong to Mother Nature. It was lost, floating somewhere out in the abyss, far beyond the reaches of anything that the Earth had.
It all sunk in too fast. I felt dizzy.
I looked up at my father.
He stared back with a dozen new eyes.
|
My parents just sat there on the couch together, staring at the printout I had given them late that afternoon.
"What does it mean?" I demanded. For the past hour, my mind had been racing, trying to make sense of the words on the paper. "ERROR: UNABLE TO PROCESS NON-HUMAN SAMPLES". The uppercase printing of the computer-generated response served only to make the message more surreal. More frightening...
Now, in our living room, I had finally worked up the courage to give them the results, and to demand an explanation from them.
"Sweetheart," my mother replied, in a condescending voice that had, in years past, soothed my toddler fears and calmed my early teenage anxieties, but now served only to give me a proverbial chill down my spine. "Sweetheart," she repeated, "we had hoped to spare you from this. You know that we have always tried to do what's best for you." My father nodded approvingly as she continued. "We have devoted ourselves completely to making sure that you and your sisters led normal, healthy lives. Why did you have to go digging around like this?"
"ME?" I yelled. "ME? You're blaming ME for this?" I was shouting so loud that my parents looked nervously at each other, no doubt concerned that the Langstroms next door could hear me.
"Of course not, dear," she replied, again in an unnerving sweet voice that was really starting to give me the heebie-jeebies. "I only mean that we have tried to shelter you from certain... um..."
"Uncomfortable," my father said quietly without looking up at me. He was now holding the paper, looking down toward it but his eyes seemingly focusing somewhere past it.
"...uncomfortable realities that don't... that shouldn't have had any impact on your lives," she said. "I just don't see why you had to upset the apple cart this way. But never mind. What's done is done."
"Gary," my father said after a pause, "as you have already figured out, you, Brandi and Lacy are not really our children. I mean, you're our children in that we've poured our lives into you, loved you, and cared for you the best we know how..."
He continued on for several minutes, but I cannot even recall what he said exactly. My mind was coming to grips with the fact that we, my two sisters and I, were not the children of the people who had raised us. We had been deceived... No, we had been LIED TO... for years. Winters together at the cabin by the lake. Soccer games in the summer. Geez, even playing Rook after dinner as a family. All of it had been a lie.
My whole world was reeling.
I suddenly realized that my dad had stopped talking, and that he and Mom were standing up, looking expectantly at me.
"So I guess that's it, then," he said. "Since you and your sisters are older now, and are responsible young adults, I think we've done our jobs as parents."
Parents. I almost perceptibly sneered when he said that word.
"Gary, once your mother and I are gone, go to my desk and open the manila envelope in the top right drawer. You and your sisters will be set for life."
Wait, what? "What are you--' I started to stammer, but before I could finish, my mother and father, or whoever they were, slowly dematerialized right in front of me, standing right in front of our couch in the living room of the house we had lived in for as long as I could remember. Dematerialized is the best I can describe it, because as I was looking right at them, they seemed to become out of focus like the projector at a movie theater, but their unfocusedness kept increasing and widening until I could see right through them, to the dining room in the distance. "We love you..." my mother said as she and Dad faded away in front of me.
As they vanished right in front of my eyes, the paper my father had been holding fluttered to the floor at the foot of the couch. In a daze, I picked it up and held it up again, looking at the uppercase results it provided.
SUBJECT: GARY STEVENS
SIBLING 1: LACY STEVENS: CONCLUSION: 95% LIKELIHOOD SIBLING TO SUBJECT
SIBLING 2: BRANDI STEVENS: CONCLUSION: 95% LIKELIHOOD SIBLING TO SUBJECT
PARENT 1: MARVIN STEVENS: CONCLUSION: ERROR: UNABLE TO PROCESS NON-HUMAN SAMPLES
PARENT 2: GLENDA STEVENS: CONCLUSION: ERROR: UNABLE TO PROCESS NON-HUMAN SAMPLES
| 2015-01-06T10:42:43 | 2015-01-06T10:08:59 | 28 | 14 |
[WP] Death has hourglasses for every person. One day, during a cleaning, he found a dust covered one that had rolled under his desk.
|
*No.* Death thought. *It couldn't be.*
Death reached below the grand wooden table, hastily pulling out the dust covered hourglass. Questions flooded its mind. *How? When? Who?*
Carefully, Death set the hourglass sideways on its table, like the way it found it, the only one among the seven billion or so hourglasses in Death's office in such position. Death sank slowly into its black leather chair, its hollow eye sockets fixed on the hourglass.
No one escapes Death. That was what everyone said. Looking at the construct on the table, someone just did. Not knowing when or why bothered Death greatly.
When each human is born, an hourglass appears in Death's office. While each hourglass looked the same, the amount of sand inside them was not. The amount of sand signalled the lifespan of the owner. When the sand stops flowing, Death is summoned. The hourglass disappears once Death finishes its job.
Since time immemorial, Death has done its job without lapses. It does not question why. Death has always accepted its role. Looking at the stopped sand caused Death to question for the first time.
*Who is this human who escaped death?*
*How did the hourglass end up at the bottom of the table?*
*What should Death do?*
Death considered its options. It could report the lapse to its master. After all, Death is only a servant of a higher being. At least, that was what Death remembered. The memory was vague and hazy. It has been doing its job for eons alone without the need to contact the master. Never had there been any mistakes or incidents worth mentioning. The sideway hourglass was first.
Death shook its head. It cast a look at the door at the end of its office, rising thousands of meters above. The door to its master. Death could not recall the last time the door was used. Death preferred for things to stay that way. Death wanted to go back to its routine.
A bony hand reached from the flowing black robe, the white fingers wrapped themselves around the hourglass. Death let out a sigh, muttered an apology in its mind for the human who was about to lose his/her immortality, and flipped the hourglass upright.
The sand did not fall. They stayed in their position.
*What?*
Death was annoyed. It took the hourglass with both its hands and shook it. It turned the hourglass upside down several times. Still, the sand did not flow, while the sand in billions of others continued to fall.
*Who is this human entitled to immortality?*
Death let out a frustrated grunt. It wanted to throw the hourglass at the wall. How can Death be defied? It decided that it needed to seek out its master. Death grabbed the defective hourglass and started the long march towards the giant door. It needed an answer.
Just when it was about to leave its desk, however, a voice shook Death's office. Death recognised it instantly. The voice of the master.
**DON'T BOTHER.** The voice commanded.
**THE HOURGLASS IS YOURS.**
-------
*/r/dori_tales*
|
"Oh my", Said Death. Underneath the very large dark desk he found a life.
He picked up the dusty vessel and turned it around in his bony hands. One of the downsides of not having skin, he decided, was that it was a bother getting dust off placards.
This was not good. Well, not that it was bad per say but most certainly embarrassing. What would the other Death's say?
He remembered how the community had snickered behind the spine of Death of central Europe. Pop culture today was still rich with the myth of immortal creatures hailing from the region. It wasn't really his fault though, even the best of skulls grow confused with age. And there had been a lot more lives to keep track of at the time.
Why had he not noticed one missing? He looked through his lives every day and there was none missing from the library.
He double checked the large century glass on the large desk just to make sure he hadn't overslept. Sleep was a vague phrase for someone that isn't in need of it but it is difficult to break the lingual habits no matter how long since you were a human.
The time seemed in order so the life he found had been under there for a very long time. Skeletons produce very little dust after all and he was adamant that the horses did not enter the cottage.
"I shall have to deal with this right away I suppose", he sighed in such a way as only an undead skeleton could. More of the general gesture of a sigh but still audible.
It was strange that STYX hadn't noticed it. After a well known case of a mummy and then Transylvania they had been forced to keep the paperwork in three copies. The light purple colored one for the local Death, the bleak daffodil colored one for the soul to travel with and then of course the watered out coffee colored one sent in to STYX.
He looked at the roman numerals on the life he had found. In disbelief he went to fetch a large book.
He placed the book on top of the one that were already on the desk and looked through the pages looking for the number. One of the downsides of not having skin, he decided, was flipping though paper pages in a large black book.
He found the number on one of the pages and looked at the text accompanying it. He would have raised her eyebrows had she had any.
The text simply said: Current location city of Goldau in the community of Arth, canton of Schwyz, Switzerland. Last relocation September 2, 1806.
"Oh boy, the landslide", he said while grabbing his scythe and quickly walking out to the stables, "This one is going to be Very annoyed with the delay."
At least he now knew why no stories about an immortal creature had surfaced from his division.
40,000,000 cubic meters of material takes a long time to dig oneself out of.
| 2018-10-03T06:52:49 | 2018-10-03T06:25:35 | 2,861 | 110 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly.
|
*Alex* had always been a tomboy, hair a dusty brown.
Wore *her* hair in a messy, spikey crown.
Alex liked their pants baggy,
Sometimes Alex stuffed it with a sock,
Her face was screaming cheerleader,
When what she wanted was jock.
She grew up feeling awkward,
As if she would never have her way,
Her town was not accepting,
So she couldn't come out gay.
She left Madonna Village,
To find herself a path,
But she felt so damn guilty,
She would gain God's wrath.
She was twenty when she met him,
With his face pale and poised,
Sam whispered in the morning,
"Can I help you pick out clothes?"
Sam would braid her hair with flowers,
He would dress her in white gowns,
He would tell her she was perfect,
With her daisy chain crown.
He would flame her cheeks with red,
Make her lips turn sunset blush,
And push her into the world,
The corporate fucking rush.
*She* was always shaking,
She felt like she was wrong,
She preferred her boxer briefs,
To a lacy, silver thong.
And Sam would let her dress him,
In blazers, yellow shirts,
He would ignore her hands shaking,
As if this physically hurt.
Sam was handsome, clearly,
But he withered in the suite,
No matter who said, "Nice, man"
Each compliment was moot.
.
One morning, Alex sat down,
A paper in her hand,
She read the headlines,
She didn't understand.
*Mugs Tell the Truth.*
*#1 Dad a Lie.*
*Every Single Mug!*
*No One Wants to Buy.*
It seems that some weird creature,
Had cursed the world to see,
Exactly how crappy,
Their parenting would be.
Alex watched her 'husband'
Move about the room,
Holding up his plain black mug,
Waiting for the BOOM.
She touched her own mug softly,
Her eyes growing so bright,
Right there is red letters,
It said #0 Dad, alright.
She didn't tell her husband,
She didn't make a scene,
But every time she touched a mug,
DAD could be seen.
She put her hand on her belly,
Perhaps it was time to tell,
That despite her growing hatred,
There was a baby in this shell.
|
It had been an incredibly difficult few years since Michael's wife died. The sudden loss caused a mental breakdown which took months to recover from. He had to sell the house, lost his job. But at least now he was trying. He could see the world again.
Michael took up a third job for a little extra money, a cleaner. Working late nights after places close up. It wasn't great, but it was what he had to do. One night his company sent him to a dentist's office for a job. Starting in the consulting rooms and then the waiting room, the finished up in the staff kitchen. Getting to work on the dishes, he picked up a mug
"#864,372 Dad? What kind of stupid mug is that to buy for someone?" Not thinking anything else of it, he headed back to the one bedroom apartment he called home.
It was 3am when Michael got home. Heading straight for the kitchen, he boiled the kettle and made himself a cup of tea. It was always this time he would get emotional, the nights were the hardest. Never managing to completely suppress his tears.
He returned to the living room to sit in the dim light of the side lamp. Stifling a sob at the memories. Then the creak of sound as the door to the bedroom opened.
"Dad?"
"Hey Son, sorry I didn't mean to wake you." Michael replied as he wiped the tears from his face. "I thought I'd be home earlier tonight, but I have tomorrow night off so I promise I'll make your game".
"Don't worry about it Dad, I know you're trying for both of us. I miss her too."
Taking his son into his arms and planting a kiss on his cheek, Michael told the boy that he loves him and sent him off to bed. He then picked up the photo he has of the three of them on the coffee table, before placing it back down next to his mug of slowly cooling tea. Reading "#1 Dad".
-----------
This was my first ever attempt at writing anything like, ever. Don't be too mean!
| 2022-11-12T17:52:35 | 2017-06-11T12:25:29 | 69 | 11 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult.
|
Dear Anne,
When you dumped me, time just stopped. Quite literally, in fact. At first I had no idea what was happening. After what I would estimate to be about a few weeks of panicking, denial, and intermittent sobbing I concluded that you breaking up with me had awoken within me a new power. Looking back, I think I may have overreacted a little bit. I was 17, young and naive and at the time, my whole world revolved around you. And when you broke up with me I just desperately wished that everything would just stop. I was so overwhelmed, I needed time to clear my head..... So I guess I made time. I don't know how long it has been since then, I stopped keeping track. At first, I just hoped that this ability would be replaced with a new one, but manifesting them is already so rare to begin with that winning the lottery is much more achievable. I considered suicide, of course. I even got pretty close a few times, but I chickened out last minute each time.
It isn't all bad, living in a perpetual limbo from the rest of the world. You get to experience so much that the average person just... can't. No secret is too well kept, no place too well guarded for me to get into. Yes I have been to area 51, and no, I am not going to tell you what i saw. You wouldn't believe me anyway. I've also been into the oval office and sat in the president's chair, climbed Mount Rushmore, and so much more than I could ever express. I'm not proud of everything I've done with this power. Thinking back on some of the pranks I've pulled, places I've vandalized, and things I've broken I wince at teen me. I once broke into a museum and tried to climb a dinosaur. Needless to say it did not appreciate that and when time goes back to normal they are going to have one hell of a jigsaw on their hands.
The worst part about all of this is my family. What are they going to think when I just..... disappear? Should I have my final moments right in front of them so I can appear right there as a dead old man? I don't think so. I have been leaving them letters for years, to try and give them a bit of closure and a piece of me for remembrance. I hope that will be enough. I've told them about the good and the bad, the times when it was all too much and my greatest accomplishments. I hope some of the thing's I've done have made them proud. I haven't just been idling around with this power. I have tried to make the world a better place for those I leave behind.
When the world resumes spinning, a lot will have changed. Hundreds of newspapers, journalists, and law enforcement agencies are going to find thousands of documents of incriminating evidence of companies, and even governments' wrongdoings. They are going to know where to find entire cartels, who the moles in their offices are, and all of their drug fields, shipments and anything else I could find. It should be enough evidence to put them all away for good. There are records on poachers, illegal Amazon logging crews, governmental corruptions, and so much more than I can properly put down into writing. I hope it's enough.
I am now approaching the end of my life and I find it ironic. I think I have lived more in this world than I ever would have in the life I used to have. I'm writing you this letter to explain to you why I disappeared and also as a thank you. I have seen, experienced and done so much since this moment, and none of it would have been possible without you. I hope that you can move on and I wish you nothing but the best. Enjoy the new world for me, please.
Love,
Henry
|
Dan watched his partners work. He sat silent, and so nobody bothered him. That was just how he liked it, really. He was able to do his part of the school project in peace.
Fortunately, he got at least one good group member. Ted looked like he he was sleeping, but he was probably being more productive than any of them. Technopaths were handy to have when doing a school research project. The guy may as well have a computer installed directly in his head. Appropriate since even before he awakened his powers last year he damn near had technopathy anyway.
Sally was fidgeting nervously over her keyboard. She was still unaccustomed to her powers, and had difficulty controlling them. That might not be so bad if the forceful, strongly opinionated girl had not gained super strength and now had the issue of unintentionally breaking things. Ironic that she had become so shy and closeted because of it. It also made her a terrible group member, since she was more focused on not breaking things than the work.
Kelly, the unofficial leader of the group, was doing almost as much work as Ted was. She was literally doing the work of three people thanks to her cloning ability. Of course, the already hyperproductive girl that swore by multitasking would awaken that power. It made her both useful and annoying. Having one person micromanage everything was bad enough. Having that same person micromanage you from three different angles at once was worse.
"Say, has anyone seen Dan?" One of Kelly's clones asked. "I swear he was right here a minute ago."
Ted half opened one eye, looking directly at Dan, and shrugged before closing it. Sally shook her head and slowly poked at a key, letting out a visible sigh of relief when it did not break.
Kelly growled. Dan smiled. He loved his power, he really did. It was so useful to avoid unpleasant conversation.
"I'm right here." Dan said.
Kelly jumped. All four of her. "What the? Where did...when did you get back?"
"I never left."
"Oh...okay then. Just...just... don't disappear again."
"I don't disappear. I can't turn invisible or anything."
Kelly looked like she wanted to say something, but Sally interrupted.
"It's not? We all thought it was. I mean, you just, like, vanish for no reason. That's why nobody asked what you got when you awakened."
Dan shrugged. It was true he had never officially revealed his power, but he had a reason. If people knew what he could do, it would become a lot less effective.
"It's not invisibility. It's also not teleporting or shrinking or anything like that. I just don't like telling people what it is. It's not really great anyway. Kind of lame, really."
"Can we get back on track, please?" Kelly huffed. "We've still got a lot to do. And Dan, don't disappear again. I don't care how you do it, just don't."
Dan nodded and got back to his part of the project. One of Kelly's clones kept glancing at him, making sure he would not go anywhere. It did not matter much. She would lose track of him eventually.
The power to go unnoticed may not have been flashy interesting, but it suited him just fine.
| 2019-09-08T11:55:09 | 2019-09-08T11:00:34 | 22 | 14 |
[WP] In a world where everyone survives off of basic income, companies have to convince you to work for them.
Credit to u/SearingEnigma & u/abkleinig for the idea.
|
I took a seat at the large wooden table. The two men that sat across from me were clearly nervous. The fat one had beads of sweat dripping down his chubby cheeks. The skinnier man fiddled relentlessly with his glasses.
I leaned across and offered them my hand. The larger man introduced himself as Norris. His grip was firm but moist. The smaller man was called Gary, and his bony hand gave mine a rather pathetic imitation of a squeeze. It was not a good first impression.
The interview was for a marketing executive position at an automotive company called Sagittarius.
'Pleasure to meet you gentlemen. My name is Samantha. I don't want to waste my time on bullshit small talk - Why should I consider working for you?' I wondered how they would handle such a blunt question.
Norris fielded it. 'Well, ma'am, we value all our workers very highly. We realise that they don't need the work and have to get something out of it in return. We find our employees get *very* high job satisfaction. They usually love the role they are applying for, they get to meet interesting people and learn useful new skills. We have a great lunch buffet too! Not to mention the nap room, the games room and the chill-out lounge.'
'Promising. OK, next question. Where do you see me in five years time?'
Norris nudged Gary, prompting him to reply.
'W.w.well..' he stuttered whilst polishing his glasses 'well, ma'am, where ever you would like to be, within reason. If you are unhappy in marketing we have many other job openings available. We could move you around until you find something you really enjoy.'
That they had many job openings didn't surprise me. Everywhere did. I found Garys demeanour very stand offish, and frankly, I didn't think much of him. In job interviews first impressions are everything.
'Is there anything that you would like to ask me?' I said.
It took them by surprise, clearly a question they were not used to. They looked at each other, then at the floor and then finally at me. 'No, ma'am.'
This was amateur hour and I wasn't going to waste any more of my time here.
'I'l let you know in 5-10 days' I lied as I left the room.
-------
Check out more prompt responses on /r/nickofnight
|
Frank Hayes, CEO of Logitech, had little to do on the morning of Tuesday, May 7th. He had many underlings to take care of the necessities -- with over one thousand employees, Logitech was one of the biggest employers in the U.S. So he watched the 24-hour cable news anchors discuss the latest developments in Washington.
"We're interrupting our coverage to go to a live broadcast of Senate Majority Leader Ted Collins as he makes a speech to the public regarding the Necessities Act. . ."
Senator Collins had the crowd fired up in what was more of a political rally than a regular speech by a sitting Senator. Not much of a surprise to most insiders, given that the event was organized by the Committee to Elect Collins President. He could barely be heard over the chanting of his own name.
". . . but this is just the beginning! Last year the unemployment rate in this country was 60 percent!"
Loud booes from the assembled audience.
"And whose fault is it? The corporate moneygrubbers on Wall Street, people like Frank Hayes!"
Louder booing yet for the notorious CEO of Logitech.
"Well I'm here to tell you, that's about to change!"
The jeers switched to excited cheering at the drop of a hat.
"It's a disgrace that nearly forty percent of Americans still have jobs! The Necessities Act was just the beginning. With the Cost of Living Act, we will provide a rise in the basic income each year, allowing it to keep pace with inflation. And this means no person in America will ever have to work again!"
The crowd went wild in a literal sense. Some observers described the events that followed the speech as riots.
***
Frank Hayes turned the television off as Collins walked off the stage. He picked up the telephone and dialed the building operator.
"Operator, how can I help you?"
"Put me through to our man in D.C." said Frank.
He waited a few minutes.
"Hello?" came the voice from the other end of the line, after a short time.
"Teddy! Excellent speech there, you really had them going. . ."
| 2016-04-21T06:27:02 | 2016-04-21T05:19:58 | 284 | 39 |
[WP]- Make me absolutely hate a character, and then make me fall in love with them at the last moment.
|
I had been thinking about her all day, before I killed her. Her inexplicable attraction to me, and to me alone. All those nights she came to me, though I had never had a desire to see her. Her desperate attempts to grow close to me.
My friends all knew about her. How I complained about her, and vented, and seethed. They knew better than to defend her.
I didn’t want her in my life, but she kept creeping back in.
I knew why. I knew what she wanted.
A child.
Yes, like all aging females, fertility trumped all else. Never mind what I wanted. Never mind my blossoming career, the golden performance reviews, the fast track to promotion. She wanted a child, and that’s all that mattered.
Like all females, she was selfish.
I wanted nothing to do with her, and her future, or the future of her progeny. They would enter a crushing world of defeat, just as she had. They would suck everything out of me, just like she had.
I tried to get rid of her, but she was so persistent.
Even the nights she left me alone, her absence filled the room. I could still hear her, inching closer to me, craving me. I would bury my head deep into the pillow, willing myself to disappear from her obsession.
I had no choice.
And as I imagined her death, the blood seeping out of her limp frame, elation pulsed through my skin. The skin she would never touch again.
I entered my room, slowly and deliberately.
She was waiting for me.
And as my heavy foot collided with her torso, the mosquito flattened into the wall, dead.
|
Time does not exist for me as a force, an entity, or a plane. Time is a combination of letters that form a sound with no meaning to me. I have spilled blood, had my way with the weak, I have made no second thought of my work. All I have is my work, I was not born for it- I was created for it. I have orders but I would surely do the same without them. There is no possibility for any other course, no other train of thought, no other means of purification. When I am called, screams of death follow. I kill your kind. Your kind of all ages and genders. Every morsel of skin has been lacerated by my blade till the very soul exposes itself for punishment- and it is not treated lightly. You plead as I cite, you cower as I come, and you bleed tears from every pore, both red and clear, and i take them as souvenirs to my king. If you have tasted life you will find me one day in your presence as your executioner, or your protector. I am Michelangelo, archangel of heaven, leader of the armies of the Almighty and I carry the burden of delivering the wretched to the fires of hell and protecting the pure from darkness in heaven. After you have been judged, I will be there to properly serve.
| 2013-10-21T22:10:55 | 2013-10-21T19:41:10 | 134 | 22 |
[WP] You have a very mundane talent, so mundane that you've never shown it to anyone. The first time you do, as a party trick, you're told that your talent is physically impossible.
|
More parts to the story here https://www.reddit.com/r/CharliesWildAdventure/ (you may be lost without it..or with it to be honest with you!)
____
Charlie took a hit off his bong and blew a perfectly square puff of smoke.
“What in the world. How did you do that?” Jenn asked
“Do what? Blow a square?” He blew a triangle out.
“Okay Charlie. I don’t understand how you’re doing this. That’s not humanly possible. You can’t just do that.”
Charlie shrugged. “I can do other shapes. It’s not really hard, watch.” Charlie managed to blow out a perfectly square puff of smoke. It drifted across the room. Jenn blinked.
“You’re breaking physics again Charlie. You shouldn’t be able to do this! How are you able to do this?!”
“Jesus taught me back in college.”
“You, in college? I think that is more impressive than what you’re doing with the smoke to be honest.”
“Oh yeah? Watch this!” Charlie took a deep puff, and blew a four dimensional cube. The tesseract drifted across the room before ripping a hole in the space time continuum. A man in a Domino's uniform stepped through it.
“Oh man! The pizza is here!” Charlie got up and paid the guy. He stepped back into the portal and it disappeared.
|
lots of people have silly little tricks they can do with their hands. you can wiggle your fingers in strange ways, bend them in any sort of direction. you can make your thumb touch your wrist or you can bend your whole hand at the wrist. so many kids in my grade school did all sorts of those things and they're so much better than my trick. its been years since I've done it but i was a little drunk at the time and there were girls that wanted to see some tricks so i did it. Instead of the vague interest or more likely disinterest i had expected i was met with screaming. All i did was twist my index and middle finger around so that they changed places and from the way they were acting it sounded like i'd broken my hand. even after popping them back into place everyone didn't calm down. all of my bones are fine and i have full motor control, I'd like to leave this hospital but they want to take some X-rays of my hand while I've done the trick.
| 2015-11-28T11:58:21 | 2015-11-28T10:47:01 | 49 | 28 |
[WP] The world's tiniest dragon must defend his hoard, a single gold coin, from those who would steal it.
|
A little dragon born, with great small eyes of red and gold. He crawled out of his egg and roared, his tiny voice heard across the cavern hall.
The little dragon was met by loving eyes and a proud cry from his dragon mom and dragon dad. Their firstborn hatched and soon would grow, as their mighty dragon son to defend their dragon hoard.
But the little dragon did not grow, his tiny wings and tiny frame remained the same. His dragon mom wondered what had gone wrong, his dragon dad grew cold.
Little dragon boy, ashamed of his meager form, tried to spew fire as his kind would do. Only a cough came out, with a tiny spark, to the disgust of his fire-spewing kin.
And when winters passed and not an inch he grew, the hapless parents flew. With their hoard in tow, away from their cursed home, they left the little dragon boy all alone.
Little loveless dragon boy, woke up one day to see them gone. The glittering mound of gold and jewels had vanished along, save for a single golden coin.
The little dragon boy cried, tears falling down his great small eyes of red and gold, he snuggled against the cold coin and wondered if he'd ever see his mom and dad return.
An idea then he had, he thought that his parents could still come back. To collect the lost coin and then be so proud. Of a mighty, tiny dragon son, guarding a piece of their hoard.
A little dragon guarded, a single golden coin, his nostrils flared and his great small eyes shone. He'd guard his great dragon's hoard.
And then they'd come home.
|
Tiyre was born into this world out of a gleaming pale green egg. His parents had always been so proud of him.
Although how his Titanic parents could produce a baby the size of a local field mouse is beyond him.
At his age, he should be half the size of his parents by now.
Finally, the day came where he would be considered an adult. His parents gave him one gold coin to start his hoard, and left.
Glittering gold. There was nothing quite so beautiful. It nearly brought a tear to his eye as he settled down for a nap in his cave.
*tug* *tug*
"WHO DARES TO ATTEMPT STEALING FROM ME!?"
The creature stopped its tugging and began to skitter towards Tiyre. It clicked its mandibles, even as Tiyre breathed Dragonfire. The creatures exoskeleton was tough, while it seemed in pain, the creature trudged on.
Tiyre attempted to bite the creature, lift it high above, and split it in two. Unfortunately, the creature bent and bit his wings. Infuriated, his bite tightened and after the sounds of cracking and shattering its oozing mass was plunged into.
It was actually pretty tasty after a little more cooking.
He stared at his coin once more and began to dream of future piles of wealth.
| 2017-09-07T12:45:24 | 2017-09-07T10:50:06 | 52 | 30 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult.
|
I forget. Well, I make everyone forget. That’s my power, but you probably won’t recall this in approximately 1 minute.
It’s a curse. I watched as my other friends develop wondrous abilities during puberty- flight, invulnerability, elemental control, while I was bestowed with the power of forgetting. Maybe it was because I forgot to feed the family dog when my parents left for their trip and found him dead on their return. Or maybe I should have at least tried to remind myself a time or two again.
Oh well.
Ever since I turned 18, I ceased to exist. My own parents had no recollection of ever having a son. I watched as they replaced family portraits, puzzled as to who that mysterious boy was in all of the photos. I hated them at first, but soon I came to realise that I could not possibly blame them, I was but a void in their memory. My friends followed suit, deserting me.
I lived my days an inch away from insanity, conversations never lasted for more than a minute before the other person would be in a state of bewilderment, asking who I was. I was close to a figment of imagination to them.
I don’t recall when but I guess I snapped one day. I loaded up a gun, went out, and shot the first person that walked by me. Everyone screamed, or was it just a few people screaming? Never mind, it’s irrelevant. What was relevant was that after a minute, people stopped screaming, then started screaming again. I stood there till the police showed up, but no one remembered who killed that poor bastard. So I walked away, scot free and into a life of death and destruction. It didn’t take long before governments collapsed beneath me and mankind bowed to a god they forgot existed.
My name is Amnesia, and I’m the worlds greatest supervillain, but you probably won’t recall this in approximately 1 minute.
|
The ball spins through the air as the Quarterback falls to a well-executed blitz behind it.
The entire bar holds their collective breath as a 50-yard Hail Mary hangs in the air for almost forever before perfectly landing in the arms of a receiver running along the 30-yard line.
Screams and cheers erupt from the normally-indifferent as well as fans of both teams as the ball makes its way to the 20-yard line. Defense closes in tight. The 10. An attempted tackle at the 5...
The bar television immediately jumps to a news network, which has just started a local interest story about fish. Groans of disbelief replace cheers of excitement. A few of the more... expressively-powered folk have to put out fires, mop up spilled beers.
The owner looks at me with that half-anguished expression common to people who are almost numb to frustrating things beyond their control. He knows it’s me. I made the mistake of apologizing once. He sets the TV back. The field goal attempt is no good.
Me, I’m looking for that one person. There’s always that one person; this doesn’t happen without them. A target is always necessary for empathic gifts.
I can’t see anyone standing out with just a cursive glance, so I go back to my drink. I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I want to know who it is in this crowd that is spreading bad information about fish. I don’t mean to correct them; it’s hard for me to control, like a reflex or a bad habit.
I can’t help it. I just don’t like it when folks are wrong.
| 2019-09-08T09:02:22 | 2019-09-08T08:45:34 | 4,320 | 191 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something.
|
"Hey Glinda! Stop eating that cow meat! You need to cook it first."
Glinda rolled her eyes at Dahv-id. He claimed he could read, and was from a time far beyond ours. But Glinda knew he was just some crazy guy who didn't want her to eat.
"But I'm hungry!" Glinda shouted back. "Can one not partake in a meal during mealtimes?"
"Not that meal. Here, I made some soup. Put your meat in here and I'll make it taste better." At this suggestion, Glinda yielded. Dahv-id's food was good, even if his mind was missing.
"Dahv-id, where did you learn to cook like this?" Glinda inquired.
"In my time, my wife was the workhorse and I worked at home. That meant I had to do the cooking, and I guess I got really good at it."
"Your wife was working and you weren't? What kind of useless man are you?"
"In my time, men and women are equal. Sadly, you will never see it. You won't live long enough."
"Men and women being equal? Imagine that. You tell the greatest stories, Dahv-id."
Somewhere, a wolf howled.
"Glinda, did you hear that wolf? That tells me that the sun has completely set. It's time for me to leave."
"Where to do you travel?"
"Home. Many miles and many years away."
"You are leaving? You know we enjoy having you here, even if you are a little crazy."
David chuckled. "I fixed my room of metal, as you call it. It will take me away."
Glinda sighed. "Well, every good thing must end sometimes."
David climbed into his time machine and went forward into the 22nd century.
Glinda finished her meal and was just about to leave, when David's time machine reappeared.
She cried for joy and ran to open the door. David staggered out and groaned.
"While I was here, my wife figured I would cheat on her, so she took over the world. It looks like I'll be staying here for a while longer. Now, I just remembered. You have to throw away your families' lucky copper pot. It kills you too."
Glinda stopped smiling and simply said "Are you serious?"
***
Quick note: David left for medieval england on July 25th, 2182. He went back on August 21st, 2182, to account for the time he had aged while stuck in England. Not a plothole, I just couldn't think of a way to say it in the story.
|
"She's something all right."
"Yes but a lady belongs in the houses, not working whatever it is she's always up to."
--
As I pull back the curtains to the cellar, the stench of her recent 'concoctions' hit me once again. Though I love her enthusiastic, or as I call it 'free-spirited' personality, others whisper where did her father go wrong.
"Where be the wicked witch of the well?"
"Oh quit it Cedrick, leave me be."
By the table, Erika stood in her favourite dress, simple, sleeveless dress showing off just a bit of her personality. Her hair brought up into a bun, unusual arrangement for the night, but she's always stood firm for her beliefs in dressing in her cellar.
However mystifying her looks may be, the contents of her table shared the same trait. Mix of glassware and make-shift 'contraptions' of scrap she's found. In front of her, manuscripts by high lords, many with writing foreign to the common man. It is uncommon for a lady from here to read, such Erika's ability to read these papers reserved for upper society is unheard of. She has even defaced them with her writing on several occasions.
What has the lord sent her now? 'Manipulation of space-time using...' "Oi" She snatched the white script out of my hand, "You know my rules in here."
A playful smile came, "the men of the next town dare not touch me, Erika you truely bewitch me."
She looked up at me, releasing her hair into the usual river of black hitting her back. "What would you have me do I wonder?" She pulled me in for a kiss. "Wait for me outside, I have to stabilize my machine."
"Sta-bil-se, where do you pick these up?"
--
A few more and I might just be able to stabilize the portal, if only for a few seconds, it's enough.
As the pulser tripped, the entangled parties warped the hole into phase. The hole that brought me here, and the one that will bring me home. Call me Einstein, he might have came up with the theorem, but I built a working portal in medieval London!
| 2017-09-14T13:23:57 | 2017-09-14T09:53:18 | 99 | 56 |
[WP] A firefly falls in love with a star.
Exactly what it sounds like. Whether or not the star is a normal star (inasmuch as a huge ball of gas collapsing on itself can be normal) or a living entity is up to you.
|
To each firefly, the mist conceals all;
a cold breath to chill antennae and wing,
reflecting lee lights from the rabble's mall,
so that two fireflies together can cling.
But for one poor nymph, sick of shiv'ring
left behind clinging mist for greater heights;
and lo! at the zenith of the Great Dark Thing,
a brilliant light shone: the Queen of the night.
So our firefly exchanged comfort for light;
and soared in hopes of meeting his love.
Ignoring the pain that came from his flight;
'twas too cold below, but no food above
Thus, no noble ending can ever be found
For the poor firefly who dared forget ground
|
Miles above me,
years ahead of me,
she twinkles and dances,
on wings made of flares.
Her fire isn't just in her name,
her fire is her being,
her presence,
her soul.
We both come out at night,
I dare to think it might be our lover's delight,
that brings us together,
even while we're lightyears apart.
[Poetry but I'm tired so... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯]
| 2016-01-04T00:21:53 | 2016-01-03T21:27:31 | 51 | 19 |
[WP] DC Comics introduces its newest superhero. This character was seemingly created for the sole purpose of offending as many readers as possible.
|
BBC NEWS:
After recent violence spread throughtout the middle east and into some western countries, all copies of 'Mohammed the Coon' have been removed from newsagents and comic book stored everywhere. The comic, about a crime solving muslim raccoon was deemed to be severely offensive to the muslim faith and his cry of 'THE COON SAVES HIS BACON AGAIN!' every time a case is sucessfully solved was also unacceptable. The issue where he acidentally gets drunk and eats 4 Kilos of pork scratchings was too far as well.
Im off to work, before this gets any worse...will return and correct the spelling.
|
"Mohammed the prophet......."
"Mohammed the fucking prophet?!?!?..."
"You got to be kidding me Tommy how the hell am I supposed to publish this,
I can't even draw the son of a bitch without getting charlie hebdo'd so hard it makes newspapers across the world."
"What were you thinking?"
"Sorry boss but I thought you said we were trying to reach new audiences"
| 2015-02-17T20:54:34 | 2015-02-17T20:30:44 | 95 | 68 |
[WP] "And how many claws does Stewie have?" you ask your daughter as you consult the list your mother gave you. You need to figure out if your daughter's invisible friend is a monster, demon, or fairy and if you have to kill it to save her.
|
"4,212."
There are several things wrong with that that bear mentioning, first and foremost being my daughter is a little over three years old. She hasn't learned to count that high. I turn back to her. "I'm sorry, sweetie, 4,212 claws?" "Yes," she croons, "And more on the way."
Well. This is going to be a bigger problem than I expected. "You stay right there, honey, I'm going to call grandma, okay?" As I reach back for my phone over on the counter, my daughter's tiny hand latches onto my finger. "You don't want to do that," she giggles.
"What do you mean? What's the pro-?"
"You never want to talk to grandma, Mommy," she jumps in. "Talking to grandma makes you sad, and you shouldn't be sad. You two never got along too well."
"That's no- that's not true, honey." Oh it's hella true, but there's no reason she needs to know that. "I love Grandma." That's not as blatant of a lie, at least.
My daughter shrugs. "No skin off my back either way. But why consult the apprentice when you have the expert at your fingertips, 'Mommy'?"
I froze. Hard as it is to believe, everything up until this point felt mundane. Routine even. Most children have imaginary friends at one point or another. They're usually harmless, so much so that there's rhymes for how to treat them. If it's a fairy, be merry. If it's a monster, you don't want her. If it's a demon... no. Fuck no.
"You're not my daughter, are you?" I think I say that out loud, but even if I don't, it doesn't make a difference.
"No sweetheart," the voice in my daughter's body clips back, "I'm not."
I inhale sharply. "And I take it a monster chant isn't going to work on you?"
"Oh I love those!" the voice booms, "Do you know any new ones? My favorite is 'From beyond you came so far, now get ye back from where ye are.' That one's from 1758 but I like to keep it classy."
This can't be happening. This can't. The chances of a demon are so minuscule. It's negligible. Sure, the kids still do demon drills in school and all priests and ENTs are required to know EPR (Exorcism Precision Restoration), but it makes the news when it happens. Not usually for the right reasons though.
"Are you going to try a monster chant or what?"
I shake my head and I can't stop shaking it. "No. No I'm- Fuck! I'm gonna-"
"Watch your language, will you? There are children present. Well, at least partially."
"I'm going to," I'm scrambling and the demon knows it. "I'm going to..."
"...Call your mother?" it finishes.
And it clicks in my head. How can I forget? The most terrifying part of all this. Or maybe the most comforting? Because you tend to know something is up when you grow up in a broken home. You know things aren't right when your mother screams that everything is your fault, that it could have been different if not for you. You know things are really wrong when she denies ever saying such things in the first place. You know that nastiness doesn't come from nowhere. And after all, wouldn't nastiness just seek more nastiness? And you know it's wrong, oh so so so SO so wrong, when you hear your mother's voice intermingled with your own every time you yell at your daughter.
Who doesn't love the familiar? So when the affirmation comes, it's like rainwater. Cold wet miserable refreshing cocktail.
I look back at my daughter's body and the visitor. The visage transposed across my sweet little girl's face is snide and biting. Cynical to say the least. It is more like my own than I care to admit. So I ask it:
"How does the last part of the rhyme go again, pal? I seem to have forgotten it."
"What the monster chant?" it smirks. "'Now get ye back -"
"You know what I mean!" I snap. "If it's a fairy be merry, if it's a monster you don't want her, if it's a demon..."
The demon smirks harder.
"If it's a demon..."
A soft chuckle comes from my daughter's throat. "If it's a demon," it continues, "check the tree, man."
"The family tree."
"Damn straight."
"Hi Dad."
"Hey kiddo."
"So is Mom a demon too?"
It smiles sadly, bordering on sincerely, as if it's about to say something it genuinely regrets. But then it says nothing at all, and I know any answer would just tell me what I already knew, what the rhyme told us about evil from the moment we could speak. Check the tree, man.
|
The morning I walked into Haley's room to find her hamster, Moe, dead on the floor with a clean bite taken out of him, I knew things were about to change drastically. I stood in the doorway, stunned but not surprised.
She'd be turning eight this year, after all.
I had hoped that the curse would skip a generation for her sake, but there couldn't have been a clearer sign that my daughter would never have a normal life. The spirits clung to us like barnacles on a Spanish galleon, but our family had learned a thing or two about boat hygiene over the centuries.
I quietly removed the little hamster carcass before waking her for school. When she asked about Moe, I told her he must have gotten out of his cage, and that I'd look for him while she was at school. That was good enough for her; her pigtails bounced as she skipped down the walk toward the bus stop. I wasted no time making the phone call.
Grandma would be picking her up from school.
That night, I watched through the window as my mother pulled up to the curb in her old crimson pickup. I met them at the door and was promptly handed a steno pad with many notes scribbled across it. Hayley pushed past me and hurried into the house calling for Moe.
"I asked you to text me," I said with a huff as I took the notepad from her.
"I don't like texting," she grumbled.
"Well?" I placed my hands on my hips.
"It ain't a demon, at least," she said, looking past me into the house.
"What a relief," I smiled. "And Fae don't eat hamsters."
"Neither do ghosts. We're looking at a monster, a wraith, or maybe even a sin."
"I don't think we've ever had a sin in the family," I said as I glanced over my shoulder.
"It's not a sin," came the voice of the fairy over my shoulder.
"Lourelle says it's not a sin," I announced.
"How does *she* know?"
"They have a distinct type of energy," the fairy replied. "We can rule it out for now."
"She says we can rule it out," I explained. "She says she would know if it were a sin somehow."
She pulled a piece of gum out of her piece and popped it into her mouth. She always chewed gum when she was nervous; it was how we knew she was stressed when my brother and I were children.
"You try to get that information outta her, ya hear?" she said before turning around and making her way back toward her truck. "If it's a monster... and I hope it's not... we'll have to get some old books out."
"I'll keep you in the loop," I called out to her before closing the door and leaning against it. I heaved a heavy sigh and wiped one hand over my face.
"Darcy..." the fairy said softly. "We'll get through this."
"Why couldn't she have just had a fairy?" I whined.
She fluttered around in front of me with a warm smile on her jade lips. "Not every little girl is as lucky as *you* are..."
I smiled weakly at her. She was right, and I was grateful, but I had hoped the curse would be easy on Hayley. I admired her sparkling wings and the colorful petals that made up her attire.
"Alright then," I said, pushing off the door. "Let's go have the talk."
That meant something *entirely* different in my family.
"Mom!" came my daughter's call from her room. "Did you paint on my walls?"
I stopped short of my step– I hadn't been in her room at all. I exchanged a nervous glance with Lourelle before quickening my pace to her bedroom. I stepped through the door frame and lifted my hand to my mouth.
"dO nOt LiE tO hAlEy" was written across the wall in what *had* to be blood. I glanced down at the floor and found Moe's body against the wall. My eyes darted over to Haley. She hadn't seen him yet.
"Do not... leeyay... to Hayley," she read out loud.
"Leeyay?" she repeated the word as she scratched her head.
"Darcy. This is dangerous," Lourelle warned. "Whatever this is..."
"Hayley," I said softly. "We need to talk."
- - -
Sub at r/A15MinuteMythos to follow along <3
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/A15MinuteMythos/comments/v3eqll/wp_and_how_many_claws_does_stewie_have_you_ask/)
| 2022-06-01T09:03:37 | 2022-06-01T09:02:50 | 164 | 107 |
[WP] You were born with the ability to see the number of lives a person has taken. Even legendary soldiers and serial killers rarely make it to triple digits. The person you just met has a lot more than three digits above their head, though.
|
I was at a rich hotel working like any other day, with the world in the state it was in, every one seemed to have a number over their head, common ones were 2,3 and 5.
Kids never had them though, not until they reached middle school age.
This one day though, an older man walked in and above his head was the number 13,052,378.
It caught me off guard, especially when he went to check out.
His eyes showed sorrow and a soul that had been tortured.
“Don’t ever become a hero, kid.” He said to me solemnly.
“I don’t quite follow you?” I responded confused and nervous.
“You seem like the hero type, but don’t even entertain the idea. No one is truly a hero. They never tell you how many people you’ll have to sacrifice along the way, or how many people you’ll have to stand over when you’re finally finished.”
“Have a nice day, Mr. Wayne.” I sad as he left the counter.
|
The world had changed. Water was in short supply, wages were lower than ever and the rich still had a strangle hold over governments of the world. So much had changed in a decade. Flicking through channels trying to stay cool and hope I can afford the powder bill. Last year I used the air conditioner too much, had to get a second job... Hey, I didn't die of heat stroke at least.
I pause, our ex prime minister, fuck knuckle Scomo is on television. I do a double take, the number over his head is something I struggle to comprehend. I think about his time as 'leader of our country.
I turn off the television and wonder how we got here and cry.
| 2020-01-11T23:52:46 | 2020-01-11T19:41:31 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] You are a regular NPC in a game who's tired of the protagonist dying in a pointless manner, only to respawn at the nearest convenient location. One day, you notice that the protagonist has not respawned. Panic ensues when people realise the protagonist has run out of lives.
|
I give him an iron sword. It's our *thing*.
Yes, it's a little redundant. Yes, a little variety here and there wouldn't necessarily go amiss. But there's something to be said for a good routine.
*Hello. My cat is missing. I'd look for it myself, but my back is acting up today.*
It's funny, the things you take for granted. I always took him for a naive boy, playing at adventurer. No weapons. No armor. Just an excitable boy with a gleam in his eye.
*Oh, you're so kind! I'm very worried about that cat.*
He was never naive, though. I should have known that. All those times he came back, empty-handed, ready to start all over again from nothing. He knew perfectly well what was ahead of him. Yes, he might have been naive once, but only once. Every time since, he's come clear-eyed and eager to face those same challenges all over again.
And those challenges...I shiver sometimes, just thinking about the path he's tread so, so many times.
*My cat! You found him! How excellent. Now, you hold on a moment. I think I have something here you might use.*
I hear only rumors in my little hut, I so rarely go out. But those rumors are terrible. There are evil things afoot in this country. Evil and infinite, and they only get stronger as the days go by. I wouldn't expect a thousand strong men to be able to undo all that evil. But a boy? Just a single boy? It boggles the mind...
*Here. Take this. It's old, but it's good iron. I've no use for it now, but I suspect you may need it.*
That first time, I worried I may have done a wicked thing. I worried I had filled a boy's head with visions of gold and princesses and crowns. I worried I had sent him out to meet his doom.
When he came back, I saw how wrong I was. I understood that he would have gone on and done great deeds, whether he had stopped into my hut or not. That was simply his nature. He was an adventurer. And he was so, so good at it.
*If you must go, stick to the path. And good luck!*
I don't know at what point my life began to revolve around his many arrivals and departures. I hardly remember what I was before he showed up that first time. And now that it has been so long since his last visit, I wonder what I ought to do. I have no interest in starting something new. I have no interest in a life without the adventurer.
I send the cat out every morning. I polish that damnable iron sword and hang it on the wall. Then I sit in the doorway and wait.
There are very likely other things I could be doing, but this is all I want.
*Hello. My cat is missing. I'd look for it myself, but my back is acting up today.*
When you're ready, I'll be here.
|
"So what do we do now?" I ask, hands on hips, looking around the village square. There are running children, dead chickens hanging upside down in front of someone's stall. Quizzical looks and panicked whispers amongst the merchants and customers, all of them asking the same question: *what do we do now?*
"I have no idea," the stranger beside me says. Her eyes sweep the square, leaping from side to side, searching for something but not really searching for anything.
It's sunset. The protagonist hasn't been seen since midday. It looks like he isn't coming back.
"Well," the stranger beside me says, untying her ponytail and tying it back up again, "we could take a look around for a change. I mean all we ever do is stand here as spectators, waiting for the protagonist to win his fight. I'd like a change of scenery. For a change."
There are hills that surround the village, and beyond them, dark mountains rise to the sky like jagged, menacing plumes of black smoke.
The protagonist's opponent, a troll, two metres tall, brawny as a boulder, stands troubled at the other side of the village square. We approach him. A group of people surround him, some criticizing him, berating him for being too hard an opponent for the protagonist to defeat, blaming him for the confusing situation we're all currently in. Most praise him, saying that the protagonist was weak, was no match for his strength. The troll should look pleased, but he just shakes his head.
"That's not the point of anything," he says in his gruff voice. "That isn't my purpose. My purpose is to be conquered and die, and for the protagonist to move on to the next challenge. But now that he is dead, and I am alive, what am I supposed to do? What is my purpose now?"
He looks soulfully in the direction of the setting sun as the people around him make sounds of speculation.
"But you're free now aren't you?" I speak up. Everyone turns to look at me. "I mean we all are. We don't have to follow a script anymore and stay confined to this village. We can explore the lands, have children, build businesses. We can do whatever we want. We can be our *own* protagonists."
Some people nod, some clap, some frown because everything is happening a little too quickly for them. Something is swelling up inside of us, and we're afraid it might get too big and explode and kill us if we're not careful enough. As the group disperses, chattering excitedly and worriedly among themselves about their futures, the stranger beside me gives me a pat on the back.
"Goodness knows you have more charisma than the protagonist," she says, untying her ponytail again and this time letting her hair fall on either side of her face.
| 2017-03-09T06:38:29 | 2017-03-09T06:36:01 | 115 | 59 |
[WP] Google begins matching up people based on their search history in their new Google Dating program.
Edit: Wow, this got to the front page fast.
|
"Holy crap! No way! George AND Shaira? As a couple?" I exclaimed gleefully, looking at the new couple. George scratches the back of his head sheepishly, and Shaira blankly stares at me, back to George, and back to me.
"Yeah, well..." George started and stopped. He began rubbing his beard thinking his words through before finishing his thought. "Google really figured out their algorithms in the Google Date app. I never would have thought we were a good couple until I saw who it pointed to. And to be fair, Shaira is super cute, aren't you?" The poor girl was ready to die of embarrassment. A small part of me thinks it might have been me, but that probably isn't it.
"I didn't know you were into Smash Brothers." I said. Suddenly, Shaira's stoic facade broke, reveal a timid grin. "I am." That's all she said. She hid underneath her long black strands of hair. I glanced back at George. "She's much more talkative with me..." George pointed out. I shrugged. "Anyway, congratulations to the two of you. I'm sure you got another date lined up, right?" The two looked at each other, and back at me. George nodding enthusiastically, while Shaira barely registered a small nod.
With the two walking off, I glanced at my phone. On Chrome, I logged out of Shaira's account. On Firefox, I logged out of George's account.
"That's two more of my friends. Who's next?"
|
Google started matching people up on it's new Google Date® by using their search history to determine who was a match for who.
Within days the project was shut down, and the person heading the project was fired. Although no personal search data was directly revealed, as the criteria for matches was hidden and determined on the servers side, there was still considerable uproar over it. Anyone with a Google plus account was automatically added to the program, so people were essentially added without their consent. And other people with Google accounts were able to see who they were matched with, so they were able to clue in to people's search results based on their searches and who they were matched with. The issue was rather small, and not many people had their very sensitive data revealed, as their fetishes and unusual searches were mostly done on computers without Google accounts linked, or done in incognito mode. And people's unusual searches were mostly drowned out by more matchable regular searches. And after all, nobody really could tell people that they suspected their match watched weird porn, because that would reveal that the only reason they suspected, was because they themselves watched weird porn.
So Google had a PR disaster, and a few lawsuits on hand. And like 1000 people now have a slight and hidden suspicion that the person they were matched on Google Date® watches weird porn.
| 2017-05-25T13:47:41 | 2017-05-25T12:30:49 | 24 | 18 |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them.
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A grin on Silas' face.
Sickly green lightning, coursing through his veins, occasionally sparking out from the bare skin. The ground beneath his feet scorching, with leaves hovering the air from the static spread by him.
One guard fell. And another. Pure, unbridled power, kept secret for so long. He never dared to unleash his full power. Until now. Because it was needed.
They did this. Those creatures. Silas was once one of them. A Damûn. But he broke free from the shackles. At least, partially. A part of him was still the unthinking beast. Killing, murdering. Pure instinct to hunt, feed, consume, and grow. And at this moment, he let that part of him free. The sane part of him was worried he would be addicted to its power. Or that it would consume too much, so much he would be unable to return.
But his friends... they were good people. They helped Silas when they found him in a ditch by the road. They saw he was wounded. They saw he was different than Man or Elf or Dwarf. But they still helped him. They were fools, maybe, if they did this to anyone else but Silas. But deep within, Silas knew they could see he was good too. Saw the potential to be good.
Slowly but surely, Silas pushed through the fortress. Bodies and crumbling foundation in his wake. Until he arrived at the center room.
"So... you return to me... Silassss" a voice echoed through the room. And a figure appeared on a balcony above. Crackling energy filled the room and made Silas' hair stand up straight.
"Maugaros!" Silas yelled.
He clenched his fists. This would be it. A last stand. either he would walk out of here with his friends, perhaps afraid of his power. Or he would die, and his friends too. But it would be a worthy death.
Silas prayed to the one god his friends worshipped, and felt his power surging. He saw the color of his lightning change to blue, and he knew Thor answered with a blessing. He heard the voice in his head roar. "Save my Son, Silas."
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She offered me water.
In the middle of the Death Forge Desert, water was worth more than gold. Worth more than magic even, as most of us need it for even basic spellwork. It was as if she didn't care or mind that offering it to me could spell her own doom. She was right to, in any case. I am one of the best friends she could ever have.
I accepted it, and when she explained that she and her friends were searching for the Patron God of War to stop the battling in the eastern valleys, I decided to tag along.
The intention was to pay her back; I do not like being in someone's debt. But even after I had saved her life, and the lives of her friends multiple times, I didn't feel compelled to leave.
How quaint, to risk your life for the sake of the better good. How optimistic. How pure. It should have been funny, but they were the best companions I had had in such a long time.
There were stipulations to being with a group of paladins. No senseless murdering. No torturing. Nothing their patron god might disagree with.
I followed of course. I let the raiders following us into the hills continue on. I did nothing more than wound when they began to attack, separating us from each other slowly until there were none but me and her.
I asked her, if I could kill them all, and bring all of our friends back, would she want me to. And stubbornly, she still refused.
I saw no other options, and in the middle of the night, when our fire was yet but tinders and all that was left was their broken weapons, and her abandoned sleepong roll, I was finally free to act.
The war in the east was naught one that I could stop, even as a God in my own right. But this? This I could do. I would burn the world for them, and I could.
| 2019-12-07T12:57:33 | 2019-12-07T12:19:11 | 30 | 20 |
[WP] You were born with the ability to see the number of lives a person has taken. Even legendary soldiers and serial killers rarely make it to triple digits. The person you just met has a lot more than three digits above their head, though.
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I met Mr. 58,609, or as he called himself, Joe, at a brewery. I'd had the gift to see the deaths caused by people since I was born, and I'd become astute at reading the faces of those with numbers other than zero. I'd never met anyone with a number above ten who I couldn't read it in their eyes, even without the gift. Hallowed, pained and drinking themselves to death as often as not.
But Joe was jovial. He pulled that whole section of the brewery into a friendly conversation as we each sampled their barrel aged bourbon stout. The number was just too big for me to make sense, and it was out of place on his friendly, if average, middle aged face.
I probably should have been afraid, but curiosity got the better of me. What good was my gift if I didn't use it to understand a man who could kill that many people and be untouched by it.
"What do you do, Joe?" I asked.
"Oh, my boy, I got the best job in the world. I work for the Department of Health and Human Services, and every day I look through the books and find useless and outdated regulations. And just like that-- after a year of red tape --away they go. So now we can get new drugs to market faster, and help people without all that paperwork and useless record keeping." He took a sip from his taster beer. "I sleep like a baby at night knowing how many lives me and my people are saving."
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I got over the shock of seeing numbers over people's heads years ago. You would be surprised how many seemingly normal looking people have taken the lives of others. Of course, typically they don't even realize they have - they didn't give money to a homeless guy who then froze to death because he couldn't afford a room type things; unintended consequences and ripple effects mainly.
The first time I saw someone in the double digits I admit I was a bit concerned, until I found out he was a decorated war hero who had saved far more than he had killed. The first triple digit legitimately scared me, especially because he was a convicted serial killer who had only been convicted of 15 murders. I would have loved to have informed the prosecutors just how many more there where but, then, why on Earth would he believe me?
Now, however, I am trying to keep my composure as I sit in the audience of a late night show. They just brought out the latest guest and I can't imagine what evil he has committed - his number is in the millions! What possible atrocities could this man have committed to be responsible for that many deaths? As these thoughts run through my brain I hear the host say,
"And now I'd like to welcome Andrew Wakefield to the show."
| 2020-01-11T23:52:41 | 2020-01-11T21:53:16 | 21 | 12 |
[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.
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It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits.
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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.
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11 | 2017-09-01T22:38:31 | 585 | 13 |
[WP] When a video game is not played, the characters start living their own lives and only return to the game story when the game is played again. A player decides to play an old game again but the characters have kind of forgotten what the game was about.
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The crops were good that year, despite the weather. Boomba leaned against his old shed, rusted and half-rotten, and admired the green and gold rows sweeping out across his property. How had he come to be so lucky?
Laloomba called out through the kitchen window. It was dinner time. Toomba and Hiloomba were seated at the table, smiling like saints as they silently kicked each other under the tablecloth. Laloomba laid out a banquet, slowing only long enough to rest her head against her husband's and sigh, "I love you" into his ear.
How could anyone be so lucky?
Before they could eat, however, there was a knock on the door.
"Who could that be?" said Laloomba. They lived so far away from anyone else.
Boomba opened the door. His heart sank.
The troopa standing outside was already wearing his battle helmet, shifting a large hammer from hand to hand.
"It's time," said the troopa quietly. "Say your goodbyes quickly. We must be on the front lines by morning."
"Why?" hissed Boomba. "Why now? Why again? After all this time..."
"The King does as he sees fit," said the troopa wearily. "It isn't for us to question. Now come along. We've a long way to go."
Feeling cold and sick, Boomba turned back to his kitchen. It was clear Laloomba already knew what was happening. She went not to Boomba, but to their children.
"Father is going on a short trip," she said, brightly, gently. "He'll be back soon, won't you?"
Boomba nodded. "So soon." Then the troopa dragged him from the house and the march began.
"I hardly remember how it's done," said Boomba, walking in a near daze.
The troopa shrugged. "You'll pick it up."
"He really kidnapped her again?" said Boomba. "We're really invading?"
"Men like him never learn," said the troopa, without looking back. "That's what makes them great."
"What does that say for us?"
"No one says anything for us," replied the troopa. "And that's just how it should be."
They had reached the plains of the Mushroom Kingdom at first light. Cracked brick road, floating brick shelves, coin boxes, and those enormous, gawping pipes. It put a shiver down Boomba's spine.
"D'you think he'll come? Even now - d'you think he'll still come?"
Troopa shook his head. "Why wouldn't he? Now, there's where you go. I'm back a ways. I'd say good luck, but...you know."
"Right." And Boomba was alone. Back on the plains of war. It didn't come back to him. None of it.
"How do I fight a man like that?" he whispered, looking up at the bright blue sky. "What chance is there for me?"
Perhaps none. But so it went.
Because there he was. As if appearing from the nothingness, he stood on the plains and began to walk towards Boomba. And Boomba was frozen. His mind went blank and white. All he could do was walk, forward, straight towards the enemy.
The sky was so blue.
Boomba walked. The man came forward. Boomba's heart pounded so fiercely he thought he might pass out.
"What do I do? What do I do?"
"Nothing," Boomba realized. "Just keep moving."
The man came forward. He leapt. So high for a man that size. What strange grace. It all came back to Boomba. The hell of it all. The horror.
The man came swooping down.
Death, death, death. "This is my death," whispered Boomba.
The man landed.
Too short. A hair too short.
Boomba went forward. He touched the man.
"Now..." thought Boomba. "Now..."
The man died. Instantly.
It was over.
Later they made a statue of Boomba. The great King would raise him high, higher than any simple farmer had ever been raised. And when they asked him his secret - the secret of battle and victory - he would always say the same: "Forward. Go forward. That's all you need to know."
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Jack was cleaning the attic when he found "Harvest Moon: Back to Nature". It was inside his treasure chest from childhood together with toys and odd instruments. It was his favorite game from childhood, he sunk countless hours playing it, and now, age 25, he smiled at the memories of it.
He brought out the console from the chest and blew the dust away. He had some time, he figured he might visit a part of his past, and recall the joyous times he had playing it. Luckily, the memory card was still attached to the console.
After connecting it to an old TV, he turned it on and the logo of the console appeared, inducing a sense of nostalgia he didn't expect. The game's main screen appeared together with its calming and upbeat music. He hymned.
He pressed the load screen and the peaceful farm life he awaited wasn't there. Everything was different, except for his character, who still sports those blue clothes and blue hat. He named him Jack.
'Jack' put on a helmet and a suit before leaving his house. Jack watched dumbfounded, not pressing anything. 'Jack's' new suit enabled him to breathe outside... on the moon.
"What the hell?" Jack said.
"What?" 'Jack' turned around.
"Huh?" they both said in unison. Jack with his real eyes, and 'Jack' with his polygon eyes.
"Oh shit," 'Jack' said. "I was warned about this!" he rummaged through his suit, but after realizing he couldn't take it off, lest he wanted to die, stopped and ran back to his moon house. Unfortunately for him, the camera followed him everywhere.
"Stop!" 'Jack said, taking off his suit in the house. "I beg you, please! I'm just a simple moon farmer!"
"What are you talking about?" Jack said. "You're a game character!" he shook his head. "Where's my save data?!"
"I am!" 'Jack' yelled. "I'm a descendant, I'm Jack XVII!"
"The 17th?"
"Yes, I'm following my father's footsteps on taking over the universe through farming..."
"Taking over the universe?!"
"Yes! Earth had been the territory of the Jacks for a long time now. We even stopped global disasters from happening, but still couldn't get that crop in the middle."
"Oh my god..." Jack said. "I must be dreaming."
"Yes! Yes, you are!" Jack 17th said. "Turn the console off and wake up! Just don't remove the memory card."
"Why?" Jack said. "What would happen if I did?"
"NOTHING!!!"
"Okay..." Jack touched the memory card.
"Stop!" Jack 17th yelled with tears. "I beg of you... please, don't destroy our world, our future."
"I won't!" Jack said defensively. "I don't intend to do that. I'm sorry, I don't want to destroy the things you've created."
"Thank you, generous player," Jack 17th said. "I promise to live up to your character's legacy."
"You do that, Jack," and Jack smiled again.
"Hey, Dad," from the attic's stairs appeared Jack's daughter carrying a glass of orange juice. "Mom wanted to know why you're yelling. I said he must've been talking to his imaginary friend, but she didn't accept it.
"Is that perhaps your daughter, Lord Jack?" Jack 17th said.
"Yes, she is," Jack said proudly. "Come here, Jaqueline, I'd like to introduce you to someone."
"Okayyy," she said, but with her 5 year old's legs, she tripped on even floors and accidentally tossed the orange juice.
It landed on the console and memory card. The game crashed.
"Jack the 17th!!!" Jack yelled. His voice echoed throughout the neighborhood.
"Oops, Mom told me to give that to you. Sorry, Dad," Jaqueline said.
"Honey! Stop yelling!" Jack's wife shouted from below.
| 2017-11-10T10:30:14 | 2017-11-10T10:13:56 | 598 | 35 |
[WP] The human lifespan is actually only one day long. To adapt, when we go to sleep each night, our mind sends us one dream deeper, where we wake up alive. When we finally die, the experience of our life flashing before our eyes is really just us waking up in each dreams, one at a time.
Edit: I went to sleep and woke up to this post kinda blowing up...
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I have this recurring dream where my alarm clock is blaring and I open my eyes to see my parents still alive in front of me. My father breathes without the oxygen tank that he had carried around with him for the last six years of his life. My mother’s withering grey curls are a luscious blonde and her cheeks are once again plump and red. She slides her fingertips down my cheek, smiling.
“Did you sleep well?” she asks. “Are you awake?”
And right before I respond, I wake. My psychologist says that I lack closure, that I still haven’t gotten over their deaths. But I disagree. Their deaths weren’t tragic. Well, of course all deaths are tragic, especially deaths of parents. But my father slipped quietly away into the night on his favorite chair and my mother died holding my hand, surrounded by family who loved her dearly.
They each had funerals, wakes, and other remembrances. I had an annual tradition of bringing my grandkids to their grave so I could take another shot of whiskey with my father and give my mother lilies as gold as her hair.
Still, my psychologist tells me that a part of me hasn’t yet accepted their death. I want to tell him that I’m eighty-four years old and only here because three grandkids and two children of my own don’t fill the long stretches of silence in my life. They visit, often. But a man still gets lonely. So I don’t tell him. I entertain him, nodding my head and humming as he tells me how to live out the rest of my year or so (being optimistic) as best as I can.
“It might not be their death,” he tells me. “It might just be death in general. You haven’t accepted it.”
To which, I smile and nod. It is the polite thing to do. The impolite thing would be to burst out laughing at the thirty year old man recently engaged telling an eighty-four year old about embracing death. I accepted my own mortality very long ago. So once again, I entertain him. I barrage him with questions he could never hope to answer and he does his best.
“It won’t hurt,” he tells me. “You’ll find peace. It’ll be like gently letting go and slipping away to whatever next world you believe in. Like falling asleep. Isn’t that nice? When you close your eyes and you gently fall asleep.”
“Promise it won’t hurt?” I ask.
He gives me a smile teeming with confidence, as if he knew anything. “I promise.”
His words play back to me whenever I go to sleep. And every night, I drift further into my dream. It becomes that much more real. The beeping. The parents. The fingertips. It feels more real than reality, as if my whole life had simply been the dream of a nine year old boy still asleep, but unable to wake.
“Did you sleep well?” I hear my mother ask. “Are you awake?”
I open my eyes, expecting to see my popcorn ceiling and revolving wood fan. Instead, I see my mother, her golden locks curling at her shoulders and her fingertips brushing my cheek.
“Did you have a nice dream?” she asks, tears filling her eyes.
I give her a nod and turn toward the alarm clock. It’s not an alarm clock, but a heartbeat monitor. My father stands beside it, his eyes constantly shifting from the monitor to me. He crosses his arms and presses his lips into a thin line.
“It won’t hurt,” he says, a tremor in his voice. “You’ll find peace. Like falling asleep.”
I give him a nod as well. “Or waking up from a long dream,” I tell him, my voice barely a whisper. It's all I can manage.
My father covers his mouth and chokes on his breath. His shoulders heave. My mother squeezes my hand and presses her lips against it. “Good night, sweet prince," she whispers. "Sweet dreams."
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/r/jraywang for 5+ stories weekly and 200+ stories already written!
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The young man shooting me startled me such that I woke up. Waking up startled was enough to wake me up. Waking up after waking up startled after having been shot shocked me into waking up. Waking up after feeling the shock of having woken up startled after being shot woke me up with a start. Waking up with a start after having woken up shocked after waking up startled after having been shot made me wake up in a panic.
I started to notice a pattern. That being said, it took a long while before I could calm my nerves enough to stay asleep. Awake? Whatever. My mouth was incredibly dry and my head did not have the common decency to cease its incessant pounding. In my state of pain I rolled over in my bed to discover a woman that I did not recognize. Her body was bare and the area around us smelled of booze. Wait, did I have a hangover? That can't be right, I stopped drinking 20 years ago.
I stumbled over discarded bottles of liquor to my bathroom and turned the light on. It was the old lighting fixture, the one I replaced at least a decade ago. My aching brain and eyes took an indecent amount of time to adjust to the sudden shift in light. The man in the mirror was one I long since forgot. Young, and wasting away his youth with whores and alcohol. A man with a house freshly inherited from his recently deceased parents, and instead of honoring them by making something of himself he worked dead end jobs to fund his meager bills and attempts to wash away life. This couldn't be.
I tripped on myself and fell, landing on my head such that it caused me to wake up. Not again.
I calmed my nerves yet again, after a long cycle of waking up, to find that the sun was peaking through my room. Morning. I took a look at my surroundings. Posters of metal bands, clothes lazily displaced throughout the abode, and an old alarm clock that read 6:47 AM in annoying red text. Only a few minutes before I used to wake up for high-school. That meant... no, it couldn't.
After running into the kitchen, trying to keep my heart from causing another wake up, I found them. My parents. Still very much alive and surprised to see me awake on time. This was it, my second chance. I could finally make something of myself while my parents are still around, make them not die thinking I was a waste of life. Better, I may be able to protect them, stop them form dying of carbon monoxide poisoning while I was away at my friend's house for the weekend!
I'm still not entirely sure if my fits of waking up are some kind of hallucination or not but one thing is made clear; I know some events that happen in the future. So far things have changed a bit based on my shift in actions from when I last remember but certain big events remain constant. Another thing is also certain, if ever I panic or die, I wake up on the previous day. Again, I am unsure if these are hallucinations or not. I can stop myself from cyclically waking up now though, as I have learned to calm my nerves on a dime.
Here it is, though, my second chance.
Sorry if things seem sloppy, I saw this and wanted to respond after work but I am tired now. I dunno, if I get enough demand I'll revise and expand upon it when I get a spare moment. Thank's for reading, criticism and comments are welcome. Thank's for the cool prompt, OP.
Edit: formatting hotfix
Edit 2: Thanks for the feedback and kind words, lads and lasses!
| 2017-09-08T23:04:03 | 2017-09-08T22:45:17 | 1,849 | 933 |
[WP] When a human dies, the last word it thinks/says gets secretly etched into its soul forever, and for all its reincarnations afterwards. (Optional: You are the overseer for reincarnations, and you notice one human has used his last words to write a message directly for you)
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This soul is obnoxious.
It is arrogant and rude, sometimes a little to cunning for its own good.
And by God, I love it with all my immortal self.
It is a relatively young soul. I have seen souls that are millions of years old, almost as old as myself, but this one is young. He is naïve in a way, but he has plenty of reincarnations to be considered a middle-aged soul. A thousand under his belt, all of them male by his own choice in the womb.
And for the last two hundred of those life cycles, he has spent it wooing me.
“You look beautiful.” The skin of the soul is black, protecting the bright blue softness underneath. The only thing that is of any color are those white words, dancing like stars across his skin. They are so bright that it kind of hurts to look at, or I like to think it would since I really don’t have a concept of pain.
My inky skin is blemish-free, I have never lived outside the grey toned void of the afterlife. I have never uttered words that would stay on my skin, not like him. His skin is riddled with them, lapped over and some almost faded back to black underneath bright words. It’s getting harder to read the messages he has been sending me.
The only soul to have ever actually talked to me, or any of the watchers.
“You going to send him down?” The voice breaks me from my concentration, and I look up to see one of the others floating at their own work station. The soul they are working on is a baby soul, a brand new one with no past lives and no words on its skin. We all love those souls, cooing at them and helping them to live a wonderful happy life.
The first life is always happy.
“Yes. Eventually.” I stroked across the black void, smiling when it moves to touch my finger tips, black and black mixing together for a moment. He is aware on the table, but he won’t be when he goes back to waiting. Right now is all we have, these few moments where he knows me.
And I know him.
“Is that the anomaly?” I feel myself twitch at the word, wanting to growl at my coworker. She was young for a watcher, practically a baby. And I guess the awe in her voice was warranted as we had never had one like my soul.
“Yes, this is AB1192.” The souls didn’t have names, not like me and the others who called each other words in an ancient language. They instead had a sequence of numbers and letters.
AB, or Abe was the name I had given him.
“I thought Kil was in charge of the soul now.” I did growl then, thinking about the only other male watcher, hating how Abe had been taken from me.
The master didn’t want me to be hurt. I know why he didn’t want me to be the watcher for Abe anymore.
But I hated it, and the hatred made me sloppy anyway.
“Kil let me bring him back this time, he had a hard life this last time. A soldier.” I stroked across the new words and then to my favorite words, just under the heart of the soul.
I love you.
Those words were only three cycles old, and had been the reason I had been reassigned. Words that haunted my every waking moment.
Which was all the time since Watchers didn’t sleep.
“Oh. I hate those.” Her body wrinkled in distaste before smoothing out, turning back to her workstation. “Well, you should still send him back now.”
I know she is right, but I take a few more minutes to myself, bringing the blob from the table to my chest, smiling when it attaches to me, hugging me. I couldn’t do this for long, exposure to souls like this was prohibited.
Strictly so.
But….
“I love you.” The words came out softly, my breath brushing its skin. I know he understands as a tendril comes out and touches my cheek, stroking softly. Lovingly. But everything must end, and I set him back down on the table and with a wave of my hand, send him back to sleep. Going through the options for reincarnation, I choose a good one, one to soothe the hard life he has lived.
I want him to be happy.
This soul… It is everything to me.
&#x200B;
To be Continued.... For more stories check out r/melodywrites
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My soul is screaming. The message blazes in my mind with each dying heartbeat. Black sheets swirl around my vision and my body begins to tingle. To prickle. And I see the message clear in the final moment before I reincarnate:
*“They hide in the shadows.”*
My life is played out in cardboard puppet shows. I loved the scent of rain on rocks and the feel of cold dew underfoot. I loved the taste of strawberries bursting with juice, topped with powdered sugar. I loved a warm touch on my shoulder, the hand brushing the small of my back, a kiss gently planted on the nape of my neck. I lived. I loved. But when I died again the message seared my soul with burning letters, blazing cursive:
*“They hide in the shadows.”*
What is there to hide? Mice scramble for cheddar scraps from morning omelets. I never learned the flip. Shadows descend from curtain drapes around picture windows in storied mansions. Shadows fill the hidden pages between library books hoarding dust. Dust collects in the cobwebs. But if you look close enough, you can see the spider. And the spider is patient. It collects. It hungers. Spiders filled my empty home long after I passed away, and at the last, my last breath births my soul-scream warning.
*“They hide in the shadows.”*
They hide in the shadows of the concrete curb on crowded streets. They hide in the gutter grates underneath rotting leaves. They hide between the space of light and dark, the thin line of flashlight beams in dusty attics. They own the damp of decay. My soul tells me this through endless warnings. My soul is screaming. Still, the question burns in my mind’s eye through each life lived and loved. Why? *Why?*
*“They hide in the shadows.”*
I looked for them in the gentle melody of a studio piano. Pressed the keys in tune with my heartbeat beat and watched the airwaves disturb the silence. But I found nothing in the melody of my soul.
I looked for them in the bumps of a hospital stretcher over the elevator threshold. I saw the patient’s eyes splay wide as his breath came rough and ragged. Shallow now. Softer. Behind my blue mask, I held his gaze and spoke with my eyes. *“Hold steady, everything will be all right.”* He looked at me and counted the seconds. The elevator beeped at each floor as the heartbeat monitor slowed, and we slowed, and I looked in the shadows cast by the stretcher on the metal grating of the elevator. I found nothing. I gave everything. And the patient *lived.*
*“They hide in the shadows.”*
And I’m beginning to wonder if the warning is a compass. A keyword to send me on an endless search for meaning. And if this is life, if this is truly *living,* then my soul can keep on screaming. Because each life is lived and loved and cherished. As each life passes by and imprints on my soul, I can’t help but see the contrast.
For every flashlight, there is a dark room waiting. For every golden leaf, there is an amber one to crunch underfoot. For every tombstone, there is a eulogy. Forests burn down and grow back greener. The fog lifts on a sunlight morning, and those grey shadows burn against the golden light.
*“They hide in the shadows.”*
And I think I understand now. Those hidden things—they aren’t meant to be found. They aren’t meant to be touched, or heard in whispers, or seen through glossy eyes. Because if I ever find them, then my soul-search is ended. The cycle is broken. The journey is complete. And as I slip into oblivion again, I know that completeness is just as much an enigma as the shadows I search.
At my last light, I’ll give my soul one more warning. One more push forward, so that I can live—truly live—over and over again. The words etched in my heart and soul scream out from beyond the grave, *“They hide in the shadows.”*
***
More stories at r/BLT_WITH_RANCH
| 2020-03-26T14:34:37 | 2020-03-26T14:29:43 | 85 | 10 |
[WP] Your superpower is the ability to give other people a superpower of your choice. Your only restriction is that you can never give the same power twice. You've been at this a very long time, and you need to build a new superhero team to save the world once again.
Edit: This is my first WP, and it was so much fun! You are a talented bunch of folks. I'm really surprised at how entertaining they were. I love that everyone came from a different angle. Thank you!
p.s. /u/WratWrangler wrote my favorite.
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"I'm glad you all could join me here today. "I looked at the group of young people before me and stroked my beard. Three women and two men, all of which were currently in the prime of their life and in perfect health and fitness. "They call me Burden, and soon I shall burden each of you with an ability and a task to once again save the world."
The fools grinned at each other. They all stood a little straighter. Apparently they had heard the legends, the tainted versions anyway, of a great and powerful wizard that created heroes when the earth needed them most. No one ever heard the other stories of the deranged sorceror that cursed people and created the calamities that befell the earth in the first place.
"The abilities I grant are both great and terrible, and it is up to you to figure out how best to use them." I grabbed a large tome from a bookshelf behind me and set it on the table. The other thing the legends never mentioned was that I could only grant a power or ability once. The tome helped me to keep track of what was left. I added additional pages whenever i thought of a new one or a way to reword something to be used again. It was a loophole I exploited probably a few too many times. Some of the abilities became so specific that they were nearly useless.
"Excuse me, Burden, sir?" One of the women, a small redhead, spoke up. "Do we get a say in what powers we get? If so, I would like to be able to fly!"
"Super strength for me!" One of the men was flexing as he said this.
"Invisibility!" Another woman.
"SILENCE!" I bellowed the command into the room. They all shrank back stunned, but still seemed excited. "You do not choose. You are chosen by the power." That was a lie, but it was the only way I could get people to stop complaining to me when the power wasn't as spectacular as they hoped it would be. "You!" I gestured at the woman that wanted invisibility. "Step forward and claim your burden!"
I stretched out my hand and placed it atop the woman's head. I happened to have an invisibility varient available so I decided to let her have it. The ability to walk like a ghost unseen, was the way it was phrased. "It is done!" Her body collapsed to the ground unmoving.
"Oh my God!" cried the redhead.
"What did you do to her?" from the one that asked for strength.
"I think she's dead." the other man said. "Someone check her pulse."
I tried to keep a stoic expression on my face. It even surprised me sometimes how these things would express themselves. "This... this is the burden she was destined to carry... Who's next?" I pointed at the last woman who had backed into a corner. She suddenly burst into tears.
"Nooo!" she screamed. "I don't want to die!"
This was all going so wrong.
"Is this what you do?" the one that asked for strength. "Lure people in to murder them?"
I needed to get rid of these kids before anything else happened.
"We need to stop this guy before he hurts anyone else!" the redhead.
The only thought that occurred to me was to grant them abilities.
"Grab him!" the other man.
The two men ran toward me. I let them grab me, and as soon as their skin touched mine I gave them their burdens. The first was given the ability to travel to the sun when he closed his eyes. In a moment he literally blinked out of existence. The other was given the burden of all his bones fusing together. A living statue. In the shock of his bones fusing, I broke free of his grip and ran toward the redhead.
She screamed in rage and fear as I approached and swung her fist at me. She was trained well and her punch connected right in my jaw. I could feel something break, but as the blow connected she was granted the burden of acidic blood. She screamed in pain as her body began to dissolve, eating itself from the inside out.
The last one stayed huddled, weeping in the corner. I gently touched her forehead and ushered her out the door. "Please go home, and never return to this place." She walked away sniffling. Her burden was that no one would ever believe anything she said again.
********
A year had passed and a new group of potential heroes have wandered into my lair. I hope this group fares better than the last.
"They call me Burden, and soon I shall burden each of you with an ability and a task to once again save the world."
|
"How about the power to create dinosaurs?" he said looking at me, a desperation in his voice. We had been going at this for like an hour by this point.
"Really! You thought your the first to ask to be a dinomancer. Kid someone asked for the power within the first year of me starting. Try again." I was used to people trying to be creative but fall in the same pitfalls as everyone else. Next the kid would ask to create just a specific kind of dinosaur.
"Well how about just raptors? Not every dinosaur just a hoard of raptors, surely that is..."
"Kid, Raptor man lasted like three days. You know Jurassic park really took liberties with Raptors right? Turns out chickens with teeth aren't that scary when you can aren't a basic civilian, and the power didn't give the guy dressed as a fucking Aztec Jaguar any defensive ability. The guy got shot in the street after announcing himself. Try something else, and for the love of god don't say the ability to summon a T-rex or an army of T-rexes. That guy summoned one and it ate him before he made a second."
The kid sat there thinking when I heard a the bell ring above the door to my shop.
I looked towards the entrance and yelled "Hey! Visit the website and schedule an appointment. Powers cost thirty thousand and I don't give discounts for orphans!"
"Hello Rodger, we need your special skills again." It was a man in a suit, red tie, with a hundred dollar haircut. You know the type, your basic government agent, ear piece, sun glasses and five O'clock shadow.
"Agent Clark, you know I would love to talk, but I'm in..." I started to say rubbing my temples.
"Rodger we need your help now, a super villain has popped up and we have a team for five agents ready to be given powers. We will pay the going rate you gave us. A car is..." He started going through his basic script and I just couldn't take it anymore.
"Clark. I run a business here. Give me the list of powers, and set up an appointment. I can't give special treatment anymore. What happened to the last team?". Of course I knew what happened to the last team, everyone did.
"You know what happened to special team W. The Bubbler was shot, Jazzy used his power without protection and hasn't gained his sanity since, and Captain Ice Cream is the current villain we are worried about."
The kid looked at me questioningly "Captain Ice Cream?"
"Listen kid. I have been at this for thirty seven years. You are asking for powers a sane person would ask for. Captain Ice Cream can take control and give sentience to all dairy products to do his bidding. I don't know how he thought of that, I still think he is a damn loon. Do you get what kind of power you need to ask for by this point?"
He looked down at the ground and started muttering to himself.
"Alright Rodger. Listen, Captain Ice Cream has already taken over Wisconsin. Turns out the cheese cult over there could be enslaved by Ice Cream's powers. Something about putting cheese into the brain. We just need anti-dairy powers. The Curdler, Citrus lass, Moussie. That is all I ask. Clearly no one has asked for..."
"The Curdler was a kid about Thirty years ago who wanted to get the power to prank his friends, Moussie who I assume has the power to take control of mice was an agent in the CIA. How did you not know about her? And the power to create lemon or lime juice was taken by a chef. Sorry to tell you but you need to be more creative than that." By this point I was beyond annoyed and I could tell it showed.
"What can you think of Rodger? What powers are available to stop Captain Ice Cream?"
"I'll give you the power to create Crackers, not the good kind, the kind no one likes, and the power to control Crackers. It will go to a dynamic duo. That is the best I can do for you. Have them stop by after three and I will give them the powers."
"Thank you Rodgers." Clark said looking defeated and disappointed. He was going to be chewed out by the higher ups, but nothing can be done about that.
I look back to the kid. "So, any ideas?"
| 2019-01-20T11:52:19 | 2019-01-20T11:40:57 | 127 | 19 |
[WP] A device is created to telepathically communicate with plants. They're sentient and can feel pain. You're an old man trying to mow his god damn lawn and a bunch of local protesters show up to stop you.
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Gary had to stop to rest. Lawn mowers are fundamentally sadistic devices, Gary thought, requiring you to first wrench your back five or six times for the privilege of getting the damn thing to start doing its job before making you perform sustained labour for an hour. It was the devil's contraption, though he imagined going back to the sickle wouldn't be any easier on him.
He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to see a small but unruly crowd of protestors standing behind him.
He reluctantly stopped the engine. "What'ya want?"
"I want you to stop brutalizing these tender creatures!"
"The what?" Gary asked, holding his hand to the ear, legitimately unable to hear him.
"These tender creatures!" said the youth, who was probably named Justin. "The grass!" He gestured to the ground around them.
Gary's heart skipped a beat, though this wasn't terribly unusual in the normal operation of his heart. Then it skipped another and he knew he was in trouble.
"The cats?" Gary mumbled. "There ain't any cats around here."
"That's a pathetic lie. I know what you've been doing to the grass. I've seen it! We've all seen it!"
The whole time, Justin pointed angrily at Gary's basement. How could he know? Was it the smell? He'd dumped so many bags of kitty litter down there. But how long ago was that? Four years? Nine? He hadn't been so bad to them. He fed them now and then. He wasn't a bad person.
He wondered how many there were now?
Gary started crying. "Oh god. Oh god. I'm sorry. There was just so many of them. I couldn't handle it. I just needed them to go away."
Justin was surprised by the breakdown but quickly moved to care for the distraught elderly man. He wrapped an arm around Gary who collapsed into his shirt, crying. "It's okay,” Justin said. “If you're brought up to not see them as living things it's hard to see the pain you're causing. But when you accept it, you'll be free. Let's go inside so you can lie down."
Gary started marching toward the house, weaving back and forth as Justin kept him upright.
The other youths followed along inside. They gawked at the piles of garbage, covered in dust. Some took out their phones, snapping pictures and whispering about Instagram.
Justin sat Gary down on the one clean chair in the house. The old man gasped for air. “Breathe,” Justin said. “Just breath. In and out. Steady.”
It wasn't working. Gary flushed red, his eyes drifting to the ceiling, his hand holding his chest.
Justin snapped his fingers in Gary’s eyes. “Stay with me! What should I do?”
Gary could only get out a whisper. Justin placed his ear close. “Your pills? You need your pills? Where are they?”
The room was completely silent now.
“In the cupboard,” Gary whispered.
“Which cupboard? Where?”
Gary reached a mottled finger toward the door. “The basement.”
Justin leaped up and sprinted to the door. He pulled it open and peered into the gloom. The smell was enough to make his eyes water. He placed a foot on the top stair, feeling it's strength. There was a landing six steps in. He couldn’t see anything past the bend.
He turned when Gary screamed. The old man clutched his chest, arching his back against the chair, face contorted.
With a sudden look of resolve, Justin swept the nook of his elbow over his nose and plunged in. His footfalls banged down the wooden steps and then transitioned to a wet slosh as he reached the floor.
“I can't see anything down here!” Justin shouted up. “Where’s the light switch!”
Another youth - named Lief probably, but that didn't matter now - walked forward and groped the walls around the door jam. “I found it!” he yelled, flipping the switch, flooding the basement with light.
The scream would have shaken the floorboards 80 years ago when the house was built, but now the damp, sagging structure sucked in the vibrations. Instead, the sound came billowing out of the staircase like a throat.
Lief didn't hesitate, he sprinted down the steps. “Adam! What’s-”
Their screams harmonized well. The three others surged forward, running through the door but slowing before the landing.
Gary jumped up and followed them.
The three youths froze as the screams became wetter. Arrayed in a tight group on the stairs, the three presented an obstacle for what came around the corner. It clawed at them, trying to swim up against the current of falling youths. The pile grew slicker as the thing struggled in their midst, blood boiling out everywhere, soaking the hanging strands of clothes and skin.
It still had an eye though. It locked onto the old man at the top of the stairs. Gary didn’t like that so he turned off the lights and closed the door.
He took his chair and shoved it under the door handle. He pulled his hearing aid out because he didn’t like the noises. When the door stopped shaking in its hinges, he leaned way back and rested his head against it, placing his hands in the small of his back and pushing hard. It felt good.
He wanted to rest but the front grass was only half cut. He couldn't leave it like that. What would the neighbours think?
At least he didn't have to feed the cats.
|
Ferns waved in the wind, and at the fringes of the cold pond, whorl-grass tipped its feathery stems towards the grey surface. Yellow dandelions, clovers from blood red to shell white, bright houndstongue and blue comfrey broke the rolling green of the grass. Oscar watched from his window of his shed and sighed. Behind him, the tin kettle whistled and told him the water had boiled on the primus stove. A solitary mug with a chipped handle waited for him.
Iron dawn gave way to streaks of light blue as the sun began to rise. Frost and drew made the plants turn white and they waved as if shivering in the light breeze. Oscar had found the windows of the shed covered with ice that morning, and he'd cracked it with the wood handle of his rake. Smartly, precisely. He could see the church tower over the back wall of his garden: the tips of the more ornate graves silver in the light.
Around him, gardening equipment turned slowly to rust. Marie's packets of seeds lay forgotten on dusty shelves. Spiders had made the tool box their home, scuttling around the trowels and secateurs and weaving them a cocoon of silver thread. And the lawnmower: the lawnmower stood against one wall, beside the chair with the tartan blanket that Oscar sat in and looked out of the window of his shed, watching the lawn.
At that time in the morning, it should have been silent, but nothing could be further from the truth. Oscar had been a virtual prisoner in the shed at the end of his garden for almost three days, since he had first pulled the chain that started that blasted lawnmower and the neighbours had called... called *them.*
*Them* was a group of students. They sat on his lawn, huddled in sleeping bags against the frost, all with earpieces in, wires trailing like roots towards the ground. Oscar had long ago identified the leader: a ginger girl with skinny arms and a puffy jacket. She wore green gloves and called herself Fern. She announced it with a megaphone three days ago, when she'd first arrived and made him put the lawnmower back in the shed.
"If the lawnmower goes in the shed, so do I," Oscar said, knobbly hands holding onto the handle. He'd bought himself a plot next to Marie in the churchyard, but if he had to rot away in his shed with the forgotten tools, he'd do it.
"That's fine by me," Fern said bossily. She folded her arms and her ginger eyebrows drew together. "As long as the plants aren't hurt. They're telling me... they're telling me..." She pinched the wire that trailed to the ground, buried beneath the layer of grass.
"They're scared Mr. Wheeler. They've felt so much pain before."
Oscar had been a vegetarian in the seventies for a month. It was the thing to do at the time, and he'd even been quite opposed to animal cruelty. He'd never pushed it in anyone's face, however. It had been his own choice.
"I don't give a damn about the grass' feelings," he said to Fern. "I'm going to stay in the shed."
He lifted the tin kettle off the stove and poured it into the lonely cup. He wondered what Marie would say about his stubbornness. She said a lot of things, clipping her secateurs at him when he came out to try to help in the garden. She had the green thumb, not him. He just wanted to cut his damn lawn. Daisies had been her favourite, and when they lowered her into the earth, he'd put them on her coffin.
If he cut the lawn, he could grow daisies again in the borders. Oscar seized his cup of tea, still brewing, and emerged from the shed.
"Right," he said. "I've had enough. Get off my lawn!"
Fern got to her feet, bolting out of the sleeping bag as soon as she saw Oscar striding towards her.
"Mr. Wheeler," she said. "Mr. Wheeler, are you sure you want to take responsibility for ending these plants' existence?"
Oscar measured her up. She looked haggard after three days in his cold garden, beside the pond that was threatening to freeze over. Dark bags under her eyes, and the ever present wire trailing from her headset, rooting into the ground and listening to the plants.
"Give me that," he said. He snatched the headphones from her and placed them over his own ears. "Hold my tea, I've got something to say to these plants."
Oscar screwed up his face and concentrated, listening to the whispers that echoed in his head. He separated a strand of consciousness and followed it, wondering whether it came from that dandelion, from the comfrey, or even the clover that attracted all the bees.
*Don't mow the lawn Oscar,* the voice sounded like it had a smile in it. *I always loved flowers.*
Oscar removed the headset and passed it back.
"They bury the dead underground," he said. "I don't think you're listening to plants here."
| 2016-08-20T10:06:32 | 2016-08-20T09:19:50 | 488 | 55 |
[WP] You discover the answer to the question "If time travel is possible, where are all the time travellers from the future?" It turns out just nobody wants to time travel to the 21st century. You go back in time to the feudal ages and find a whole community of nerdy fantasy-loving time travellers.
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The summer air was cool as I stepped into the past, a place of forgotten dreams and never-ending longings. It was beautiful and mysterious, and I felt like I had stepped into a fairytale. I marveled at the castle-like structures that dotted the horizon and the lush green grass that stretched out infinitely. But as I looked around, something felt off.
As I continued to walk through the past, I gradually became more and more aware of a strange presence. I could sense an odd energy in the air that seemed unnatural and out of place. I didn't know what it was, but it made me uneasy and I started to get worried.
Suddenly I heard voices in the distance. I couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but the conversations seemed rushed and excited. I crept closer, careful not to make a sound, and peered around the corner.
Standing in a large circle were a group of people with outfits straight out of a summer fantasy convention. It was a group of time travelers. They were all loudly discussing their excitement over the ability to time travel back to the 21st century, a place no time travelers from the future ever seemed to want to visit.
Feeling both elated and scared, I stepped out from my hiding place and addressed the group. "Guys, you really don't want to do that."
"I'll answer any questions you have about the 21st century, but I'll tell you right now, you can safely skip it."
The time travelers didn't take my warning seriously, however, and continued discussing their plan. I tried to stop them again and again, but the only response I received was laughter.
Finally, in an act of desperation, I made one last plea. "Time travelers from the future, trust me on this one. You don't want to go to the 21st century. The world is dark and depressing. There are no heroes, only villains."
The laughter stopped. Slowly, the group's gaze shifted to me. Then, one of the travelers stepped forward and began to speak.
"We know," he said in a grim voice. "We're the villains."
|
As I stared at the empty space in front of me, I couldn't help but wonder where all the time travellers from the future were. I had spent years trying to figure out the mechanics of time travel, and I finally succeeded in creating a working time machine. But as I sat there, waiting for someone from the future to appear, I realized that nobody wanted to visit the 21st century.
Frustrated, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I hopped into my time machine and set the date for the feudal ages. As I stepped out of the machine, I was greeted by a bustling community of people, all dressed in medieval garb.
I quickly realized that this wasn't your typical feudal village. These people were all time travellers, and they were here for one reason: to live out their nerdy fantasy dreams.
As I wandered through the streets, I saw people sword fighting, jousting, and even playing Dungeons and Dragons. It was a paradise for anyone who loved fantasy and science fiction.
I soon met a group of time travellers who were eager to explain why they had chosen to come to the feudal ages. "We're all fans of fantasy and medieval times," one of them told me. "We wanted to live in a world where magic and dragons were real, and the 21st century just doesn't have that."
I was stunned. Who would have thought that the answer to my question would be so simple? It turns out that nobody wants to time travel to the 21st century because it's just not exciting enough.
As I left the feudal village and returned to my own time, I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. But at least I knew the answer to my question, and that was something. And who knows, maybe one day I'll join the nerdy fantasy-loving time travellers in the feudal ages.
| 2022-12-02T23:31:12 | 2022-12-02T22:26:16 | 123 | 32 |
[WP] In less than 10 min. after noticing our first alien ship above Earth, it almost crashes in a parkinglot in the middle of a residential area. A very desperate alien walks out of it and goes to the first human he sees. "Please, help us hide" He pleads. "And whatever you do don't believe them!"
|
Freddy sat on the moss-blanketed roof outside his bedroom window, staring up at the silvery stars. His little alien friend, injured but alive, lay on her back next to him, her eyes wandering over the inky-black firmament.
”I won’t let them get you,” said Freddy. “I might just be a kid but I keep my promises. And I promise no harm will come to you. I won’t believe anything they say or do.”
”I’m very lucky you found me,” said the alien. “Thank you.”
They sat quietly, listening to the night’s gentle sonata — the thrum of cicadas and the rustling autumn leaves of the ancient apple tree a little in front of them. The distant hum of the freeway like a brush stroke over a drum. Somehow the world made a perfect rhythm.
”Your planet’s beautiful,” said the alien. “You’re very lucky.”
Freddy shrugged. “Not as lucky as you think.”
”What do you mean?”
”Ah, nothing. Hey, will you tell me about them? These aliens chasing you?”
”I will, if that’s what you want. But they’re… Well, it might scare you.”
”I’m almost eleven. I can handle it.”
The alien nodded. “Look up at the night. Yes, there. What you think of as stars, they’re not. Not really. They’re the corners of a great spiderweb. The thread of the main body is too silk-thin to see from here. But it’s there.”
”A spiderweb? As in, there are… giant spiders up there?” He shivered. Freddy hated spiders. The fangs and legs and many eyes. His first memory was of spiders. Of lying in his crib and a spider dangling on a thread above him, right next to his tiny face.
He’d screamed and bellowed but it seemed like an age before his dad heard him and rushed in. Dad cupped the spider in his hands — as brave as a hero — and let it crawl out of the window.
”Yes. And these spiders are as big as your mountains. They would have come here sooner or later — whether I’d escaped here or not. Because when a new species, like yours, becomes space faring, their ships vibrate the galactic web. The creatures feel it and follow and feast.”
”Okay, maybe I don’t want to hear after all.” He was sweating now, even in the cool of the evening.
”I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
”No, don’t be,” said Freddy. “I asked you to tell me.”
”You don’t need to keep your promise,” said the alien. “About protecting me.”
Freddy paused. Swallowed back his fear. “I always keep my promises.”
They lay there a little longer before Freddy’s mom called.
“Come on. Before she gets mad.” Freddy picked up the alien teddy he’d found in the parking lot a few days prior, and clambered back in through his window.
Mom was there, standing by his bed.
”I thought I told you to throw that thing away,” said Mom, looking with dismay at the threadbare alien in his arms — with its missing eye, and white stuffing leaking from its fourth arm. “And I’ve told you more times than I can count to stay off the roof! God knows what I’d do if you fell.”
“Sorry. Won’t do it again.“ Freddy, already in his pyjamas, snuggled into his bed.
Mom sat on the edge. Stroked his hair. Sighed heavily. “You know I love you, don’t you?”
”I know.”
”Just, please stop going out there. Okay? What if you slipped? I can’t lose you too.”
A couple of tears trickled down the lines on Mom’s face, like water down gullies. She cried a lot these days.
”I miss him too,“ Freddy said. ”A lot. He always looked after me.”
“He looked after us both.” Mom wiped her eyes and forced a smile. “We’ll have to look after each other now, okay?” She kissed his forehead, and before she left the room, said, “sleep well, sweetie. I’ll make waffles in the morning.”
The light flicked off. Freddy hugged his alien friend tightly to his chest.
It was a little while later that moonlight glistened in through a gap between the curtains, lighting the silhouette on the wall.
Freddy spotted the spider first. A bolt of fear, sharp as a knife, ran through him.
“They’re here!” said the alien, only now noticing it. She was shivering, weeping.
For a moment they lay there together, paralysed. Then Freddy thought of his promise. Of this poor scared alien.
He thought of Dad saving him from the spider when he was little, when, like the alien, he’d been unable to defend himself.
Freddy took a deep breath and rolled out of bed. He padded uneasily across the room.
”Be careful!” whispered the alien.
He’d never even touched a spider before, not on purpose.
This time he did.
He cupped the spider in his hands and took it to the open window. It wasn’t as bad as he’d imagined. Barely felt it there — maybe just a slight tickle.
Then, spider released safely onto the roof, Freddy crawled back into bed and hugged his friend. “I’ll always look after you,” he said, just like Dad used to say to him. Then added, “For as long as I can, at least.” And not really to the alien, more to the room itself, he said, “I miss you.”
|
[Part 1 of 2]
We didn’t exactly have time to roll out the red carpet for the spaceship, watching as it spun through the air, black smoke billowing out of its engines, struggling to stay airborne. I was one of the first on the scene, desperate to set up some sort of perimeter to minimize the risk of casualties. By the time I had shooed off the various curious onlookers, I heard the grinding of metal on the road, screeching to a halt in the Buylow carpark.
I cautiously approached the wreckage, wondering when the other firefighters would get here, not enjoying the helpless feeling that came with being so close to a potential threat. Circling the ship from a few feet back, I observed the outer walls of the metallic structure. It was amazing. Its grey, slick metallic coating was covered in various lights, each one flashing a distressing red glow before a hiss of air poured out of the structure.
Following the sound, I arrived at what I could only assume was an emergency exit. The hissing of air stopping after a few seconds, exposing a crevice in the ship. Three long, pointed fingers gripped the crevice, pulling it up, exposing the dark void inside. The ship completely void of light, only able to see the fingers, until a face popped into view.
I fell back in horror, staring up at the three eyed creature. Its eyes had multiple pupils, each one a varied color. Its head seemed to melt, like an ice cream left out in the sun. Bits of its fleshly skin sagging, pooling near its cheeks. It let out a long gasp for air, its two protruding fanged teeth facing upward as its mouth opened, revealing a circular row of smaller fanged teeth in its throat, like that of a leech.
It didn’t seem to notice me at first, too busy sucking in the breaths, before sliding out from the aircraft. Its stature short, standing at around four feet, with constantly bent knees and a large, rounded stomach. It glanced down at me, reaching a finger towards me, grabbing at my chest.
I tried to push away, but the hand held me to the ground. Slowly, the finger worked its way up towards my throat, stopping on it for a moment before releasing me. “Fear not me, human. I am no enemy. Enemy will come, we are hiding.”
Its words felt disjointed, as if it was trying to comprehend hundreds of years of language in only a second. I rose to my feet, feeling an ache in my throat, one that eventually passed after a few gulps of saliva. “What do you mean?” I was too shocked to say anything meaningful, only able to get out a dull question.
“Earth is not worth taking. They will want Earth, but not now. Human interesting, we don’t dislike human, but they dislike everyone. I Splarge, once glorious hero of my people. My people few now. We wish to hide, help human help selves. Possibly allow us to return home. We assist where can.” Splarge’s words floated around my mind, lost in a confusing hum of disbelief. This was real. I still couldn’t believe that.
I could hear a siren behind me, followed by a few curses. At least backup had arrived, allowing me to stand a little taller, gaining some confidence. “I’m Samson. Who are they, Splarge? When will they be coming?” I asked, hearing heavy boots approaching me from behind, only adding to that already built wall of confidence.
“They are… deceivers. They deceive! No true name for them, they have no realness. They are nothing but can be everything. They are enemy and should be killed.” Splarge glanced at his ship, then back to us, wanting this conversation to hurry along.
“An enemy? You believe this thing?” A voice uttered beside me. I turned to face the suited woman, who hadn’t even made a glance my way, keeping her gaze on the alien before us. She had her phone pointed at Splarge, shooting a video of them. The video no doubt being streamed to someone on the other end. Still, despite her disinterest in me, she still bothered to ask for my opinion, which I happily provided.
“I don’t see a reason not to. They mentioned needing to hide here. That someone was coming after them. I think we should at least grant their wish until we know more about them. Would hate to consider what could happen if we ignored them.” I responded. She looked my way, then back to her phone. The cold shoulder confused me until a voice on the other end spoke up.
“Take them to the nearest base for questioning. I’m sending a clean-up crew to gather the aircraft. We are going to remain silent about this until we know how public the sighting was. If there’s no other option, we will leak the information. Oh, and bring the man with you. He’s talked to the thing already. Best to keep him nearby. Can’t have him blabbing to the media about this.” The man said, before the stream on her phone cut off and she looked my way.
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/pib2q6/wp_in_less_than_10_min_after_noticing_our_first/hbopak6/)
| 2021-09-05T07:31:39 | 2021-09-05T06:34:13 | 840 | 97 |
[WP] A literal genie – one who cruelly twists someone's wish, based on their exact words – must explain why they granted a child's wish without repercussions, to their superiors. The genie tries to spin the reasoning behind their benevolent actions into a malevolent light.
Edit: All these stories are amazing!
|
The apartment building had been condemned since before Carl had been recruited. However, this was the first time *he* had felt condemned whilst walking through it. Paint hung off the hallway walls in crusty waves and the foul scent of sewage lingered in the air. He was sick of this place. Sick of his job - of making people unhappy. So what if Fortuna *retired* him? At least he'd finally done something worthwhile with his existence. Could she say the same? He thought of the girl's eyes, and how they'd glistened like dewy wildflowers in the morning sun at the sight of the wish he'd brought into existence. Just those eyes - they would be worth his demise a hundred times over.
*But all the same...*
Carl dragged his feet across tired, chewed carpets, like a man on his way to death row. He passed a toothless hobo wrapped up in a rug, an empty bottle by his side; a comatosed caterpillar asleep in its cocoon, hoping to wake to a miracle. It wouldn't come. *Real* miracles rarely did.
He was careful on the stairs, and as usual, walked on the edges - less likely to fall through that way. Fortuna would retire him - he was certain. He'd always been her least favourite.
Much sooner than he would have liked, the corridor ended and the black door of room two-one-two confronted him. He took a deep breath and twisted the handle.
"Welcome, Carl," came the angelic voice of Fortuna, as the door sighed open.
"Hey, boss," said Carl, taking off his fedora and holding it by his stomach. He walked into the center of the empty room; wooden boards creaked under his feet. Above him, there was no roof or ceiling. There was just the black abyss where *she* resided. Chords of light slowly sprinkled down from the black, surrounding Carl. They thickened into ribbons of flame, imprisoning him.
"Do you know why I have summoned you?" asked the sprightly voice. It sounded joyous, but Carl knew better.
"I have an idea..."
"Repeat the child's wish. What did she wish for, Carl?"
"Ah, it was pretty standard stuff, really," said Carl, scratching his greasy hair. "I don't want to bore you."
"**Tell me the wish,**" Fortuna roared, pretences disposed of. Carl's mac flapped in a violent gust, the windows rattled and his hat was stolen from his hand. He swallowed hard.
"She wished... she wished that her mom was still alive."
"Thank you, Carl," said the voice, slowly softening. "And, how did you manipulate the wish?"
"I uh, I *didn't*. What I mean is," he added hurriedly, an idea blossoming in his mind, "there wasn't any *need* to manipulate it."
"This is not why I saved you, Carl. This is not why I plucked you from the chasm and staved eternal pain from your soul. We have a duty, Carl. *You* had a duty."
Carl shuffled uncomfortably, but said nothing.
"Do you know *why* we spite their wishes?"
"Sure," Carl began, rolling his eyes and getting ready to recite the mantra. "Without us, humanity would believe in miracles. They would become optimistic in a way that would result in their eventual destruction. Thanks to us, they will believe in nothing. Thanks to us, they prepare for the worst. Thanks to us, they will be saved - when the day comes."
"That's right, Carl. What you have done, by making this little girl's wish come true in such a manner, is release a cancer of optimism that will eat through the negativity of humanity. They will believe in miracles, Carl. They will not be prepared."
"It's not like that, boss."
"No?"
"No, not at all! Say, did you ever have a mother, Fortuna?"
"You know I did not, Carl, although I have many children. "
"Well, I had one - and let me tell you, it wasn't a very pleasant experience."
"*Oh?*" said Fortuna with a hint of amusement.
"Yeah. It was my mother's constant belittling - her constant lack of faith in her son - that made me believe in *myself*. It made me realise I couldn't rely on anyone, not even *family*, for help or support. If she hadn't been there, who knows how optimistic I'd have become? How reliant on other people - on *miracles*. It was thanks to *her* that I strove for something better. That I *did* something better."
"To spite her?"
"To *prove to myself* that I was better than her. Than she believed I was capable of."
"That's very brave of you, Carl."
"It is what it is."
"So," continued Fortuna, "you think that this child's mother-"
"I think that in a few years," Carl lied, "that girl's going to wish she'd *never* wished her mother back to life."
The circlet of gold around Carl began to flicker, as Fortuna loosened her grip.
"Mothers," Carl said, as he tried to blink back tears, "are a necessary force in the world. Sure, the good ones might read the occasional bed-time story to their child. They might look after you when you're sick - stroke your hair and make you chicken soup. Hell, they might pretend to be your best friend - but really, they keep their children grounded and realistic. What I did, was *curse* that girl." He firmly nodded his affirmation and wiped an arm across his eyes. "This room really needs dusting, Fortuna."
The prison of light faded to motes of gold, and then to nothing.
"You may go, Carl," came the voice of Fortuna. "But I will be keeping an eye on you. What we do, we do for them - for our children. Even if it's not always easy."
Carl took a deep breath, walked to his hat and bent down to pick it up.
"Carl."
"Yeah, boss?"
"We do it because we love them."
"Yeah," he said as he opened the apartment door and stepped through. "I know."
|
“I think you know why I’ve called you in here today.” The director said as she looked over her half moon glasses at me from across a large jewel encrusted gold desk. Her stare was joined by the stares of my boss and my boss’s boss who sat on either side of me.
I knew why I had been called in, but I wasn’t about to admit fault. “No, no idea.”
The director kept her stare. She didn’t blink. She was very good at not blinking.
I sat and waited, stubbornly.
The director continued. “You helped someone.”
“Me?” I paused, indignantly. “I graduated university with top marks. My first review was best in section. I am shocked you would think that of me.” Was I being too dramatic? Maybe.
“Oh cut the crap Antigua.” The director sighed.
I was being too dramatic.
“We are all here because a report has been made about a certain child being granted a wish with no magical consequence.”
I stayed silent.
“And you remember what the punishment for such an action is if a genie is found guilty?”
I nodded.
“Loss of license.”
My heart dropped. There was no greater punishment, no greater shame than being an unlicensed genie.
My boss jumped in like a bureaucratic mother bear protecting one of her cubs. “Now let’s not be hasty, there is no proof of wrongdoing here.”
The Director waved her hand to silence my boss. “We have some proof. But first I want to hear from Antigua what happened and why.” She stared me down again. “The truth please, Antigua. You can start with why the girl asked you for a wish.”
I swallowed hard. The truth was not going to go over well.
“Annabelle Hastel is a third year student at Prestonpans Primary School in West Derbyshire. She has not been getting along so well in school. She doesn’t have any close friends on account of just having moved there from Belgium so she has been very unhappy.”
“This particular day,” I continued, “the teacher was handing back history quizzes. Annabelle got hers back with just a three out of ten. But Amelia Williams, the girl who has more friends than anyone else at school, got her quiz back and the teacher said ‘Full marks, well done,’ loud enough so the whole class could hear. Because the teacher liked her very much too and wanted all the other kids to study as hard as Amelia Williams.”
“To the point, Antigua”
“Sorry. Well Amelia’s best friends congratulated her and hugged her as well. Poor little Annabelle seeing all of this adoration was, well, jealous. So she got it in her head that if she could get a ten out of ten then she could have more friends. Maybe not so many as Amelia, but maybe at least one.”
“So that night she summoned me and wished she could do better on her quizzes, so I gave her the knowledge she would need to get a perfect score on every exam for the rest of the year.”
The director frowned and leaned onto her desk. “Young lady. Do you care to repeat the exact wording of the wish?”
“I don’t recall exactly.” I lied.
“Convenient. Let me read the wish verbatim, for the benefit of Josh and Kelly here.” She pulled out a slip of tickertape from a manila folder on her desk, held it out in front of her, and read: “Annabelle Hastel. The twenty-fifth of August, twenty seventeen. Seven thirty-three PM. I wish that I knew everything.”
The director lowered her nose so she could look over her glasses at me. She stared for an uncomfortably long second then pointed at Kelly, then back at me. “Now I know Kelly taught you our Golden Rule. Care to repeat it for me?”
I bowed my head and recited what Kelly had taught me well. “To ensure that the magic of a genie is never used without consequence.”
“Never used without consequence.” The director parroted. “You know full well we don’t deal with _intent_ when granting a wish.”
I sat quietly hoping I wasn’t about to get fired just six months into my dream job.
The director stood and paced the room as she said, “You should have given her all the knowledge of the world. The good, the bad, the painful. She should have understood in an instant what it feels like for her yet to be born child to die in her arms. You should have taken her inside the mind of a person who believes another human is worth less than them because of the color of their skin, or their gender or culture. You should have shown her that people have literally stabbed their friends in the back without so much as a second thought. You should have shown her the place of humanity in the cosmos. How humanity dies out. How she dies. Do I need to go on?”
She returned to her chair, removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. She replaced her glasses and said, “Only because both your supervisors speak so highly of you, and against my better judgment, I will give you just _one_ more chance to be honest. Why did you forgo the consequence?”
“Because that little girl, she couldn’t have handled all that. She didn’t know what she was asking for.” And there it was, the truth. I had admitted to committing the worst crime a genie could commit.
“I should disbar you.” The director paused. “But today is your lucky day. I have a budget review with the Council an a few weeks and if I dismiss you now, I will have to report why. I would rather not admit to such an embarrassing failure in our institutional fabric.” She punctuated those last two with stares at Josh and Kelly respectively.
“Kelly will decide what punishment is appropriate.”
The director stood up and held out her hand across the table. I was going to keep my job! I stood up too quickly and knocked my knee into the desk before awkwardly grabbing the director’s hand and shaking furiously. “Thank you, thank you.”
The director pulled me across the table towards her, her grip much firmer than I had expected possible. “Don’t let it happen again.”
| 2017-08-17T06:21:08 | 2017-08-17T05:54:04 | 896 | 49 |
[WP] You are a human on a spaceship crewed by aliens. As your hair dye begins to fade, your crewmates start to worry about your health.
|
"LincolnBroslin do you have any...new health alerts to report?"
Lincoln sighed, the concept of last names were completely lost to this crew. None of them could understand having two names and only usually using one.
He looked at Zevlin, in all his time here he had never settled on what eye he was supposed to look at when speaking to him. He chuckled at the question and leaned back against the wall disregarding his task momentarily.
"No, nothing to report. As far as I know I'm STILL diabetic. Why? Has the algae completed my next batch of insulin already? I swear it's getting faster each time."
The flaps on top of Zevlins head lowered revealing small porous holes. A motion that Lincoln had come to associate with nervousness. He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.
"Why. Is there something wrong?"
Zevlin closed his eyes, leaving the room promptly. He recognized the hiding of bodily organs as a sign of human agression. Hopefully his exit would keep any potential retaliation at bay.
Lincoln finished his work just in time for breakfast. As trays were being distributed he caught sight of himself in a window. He stared at his reflection, he definitely looked tired. He had bags under his eyes, stubble and his hair was going from grey back to dark brown.
He smiled, remembering his days on earth when with his best friend Daniel. He had always wanted to dye his hair but was too nervous, so they had a little dye party together before he left on his mission.
He held one of the strands loosely before letting it fall back in place. He picked up his tray and gawked at the amount of food piled onto it. It was far more than his usual rations.
"I think there's been a mistake?"
When he was ignored by the crew serving the trays he sat down and ate only the usual amount.
"you're not going to eat everything? It has plenty of nutrients"
A small being that looked similar to a reptile with bird like proportions climbed up his seat. They were part of the cleaning crew and didn't have specific names, but he always called the largest one Delta.
"Did you know about this? "
he asked gesturing to his tray. Delta nodded slowly.
"Well tell them to knock it off, I'm used to a specific amount I don't want to spike my blood sugar."
Delta put his hands together nervously.
"Diabetes is when one of your organs doesn't work right... are your other organs...are they working right?"
Lincoln sighed, this wasn't a conversation he wanted to have with the rat bird so early in the morning.
"Probably. My kidneys might have more strain but only time will tell. I've been pretty good at managing everything."
Lincoln's ears perked up as two of his crew members dropped off their trays beside his, only half of their meals gone.
"wh- "
He was cut off as one of them grabbed him from behind, forcing his arms behind his back.
"You have enough nutrients but do you require physical companionship? Humans are communal creatures , have you been apart from your species too long?"
Lincoln struggled free, turning to face the crew. He was puzzled as he was met with crestfallen expressions.
"what has gotten into all of you? I am doing fine, I'm eating enough, I'm exercising. "
"but ...your hair. You're wilting."
Lincoln touched his hair bewildered. Then he remebered, the dye. He started to laugh.
"Is that what this is about? I dyed it, it's fading away. My roots are showing."
The fear didn't dissipate instead they all seemed to shutter when he mentioned his roots. Lincoln leaned his head back, giving in.
"You know it's healthy for humans to have pigmentation, I wasn't healthy on earth which is why my hair was grey. But you all have been taking such good care of me that the color is returning. Thank you."
That they seemed to understand. He accepted the small signs of affection as they filed out of the mess hall. As they left he silently hoped they wouldn't apply what he just made up to other humans they encountered. But then again if they did it wouldn't be his problem.
|
First of hopefully many more and better writings:
"Hark! Are you experiencing Albinifinosith? Our ship's medic can remove it." called out the bald, four-armed four-eyed, humanoid.
&#x200B;
Pfft what was Albinifinosith? It sounded dangerous, but so did everything in space. A couple of months back, as I was choking on some water, they seemed to think I angered some ghost and was possessed. I'd better play it cool--
&#x200B;
"Albini-what now?" I coolly replied rasped. Well, the contents may have shown some ignorance, but my voice sure was cool. Hopefully they wouldn't try doing something dumb.
&#x200B;
"Albinifinosith. In laymen's terms, it's when you're infected with a parasite, Alfinosmith, which slowly consumes your longevity." replied the alien whose name I should've probably learned.
&#x200B;
Just gotta keep cool, keep cool. Why is the disease called 'Albinifinosith' while the parasite is Alfinosmith? No time to worry, aliens are weird with their naming because there are so many. All those languages must've brought over some weird roots and naming conventions... not that English was any better. Man, I'm sure lucky, everybody speaks English. Wait, it sounds sort of like albino...
&#x200B;
"Nope, what makes you say that bud?" Hehe, avoided its name and showed a close bond. The classic.
&#x200B;
"Your hair is losing its pigmentation. That means the Alfinosmith has started to drain your essence." it said.
&#x200B;
Hmm, well it's true I've been on this ship for half a year now, after all space travel takes time, everything is so far away. My hair dye must be fading. The alien seemed to mentioned the medic can remove it, I wonder what the alien procedure is. Might as well ask, one can't be cool all the time.
&#x200B;
"Intriguing, so without this Alfinosmith infecting animate beings, they live longer eh? What's medical procedure consist of?" I inquired.
&#x200B;
"Yes. Imagine giving up 500 years to a parasite. Everyone gets the procedure done immediately. It's simple, we have some leftover anesthetic we can apply and then proceed to extract the parasite." it replied confidently.
&#x200B;
"Myes, sounds pretty interesting. So what happens to the hair color afterwards?" I further asked.
&#x200B;
"Hair color? It is all cut off. Just look at my beautiful head." it replied.
&#x200B;
Oh boy. These aliens and their whacky procedures. If I remember correctly, I saw food dye in the pantry. I bet I could make some hair dye if I dilute it a little bit. Hopefully I can keep doing it for 6 more months... I don't wanna go bald. Does going bald really give them longer lives? It sure doesn't for humans at least. No need to risk it, my hair is great and I'm on cooking duty tonight anyways.
&#x200B;
"Hmm, humans have a top secret way of dealing with the parasite. I'll work on the potion, don't worry about me." I replied coolly. Even the sentence's contents were cool this time.
&#x200B;
"Top secret? What is it?" I could see the curiosity popping out of face as he asked.
&#x200B;
"Wouldn't be top secret if I told you bud." echoed my voice as I walked away. Gotta stay cool all the time, except when it's cold.
| 2020-07-05T10:59:07 | 2020-07-05T10:58:38 | 2,967 | 282 |
[WP] Every child meets their guardian angel when they turn 5. It's a highly anticipated moment for child's parents to see what kind of angel their child will get. However, your parents are in for a shock as two entities appear to you. A very powerful angel, and a very powerful demon.
I don't really make writing prompts so I hope this one isn't too bad. Have fun with it!
|
There was a heavy silence over the room; even I could tell that. Everyone seemed frozen, waiting for someone else to speak. My mother's left hand gripped my shoulder tightly, and her right clung to my dad's hand, undoubtedly squeezing it nearly to the point of breaking it.
The two strangers faced us, a few feet apart. One, a smiling woman in white, watched me softly, though there was worry in her eyes. She seemed warm and gentle. A few feet away, a dark figure lurked silently. He scanned the room with glinting eyes before settling on a far corner of the room, behind dad's armchair.
"Hello, Peter," the woman finally broke the silence, causing my father to jump. She was crouching down, and I returned the smile she gave, momentarily feeling the first moment of peace and reassurance I'd felt in my short life. "I'm Anneliana, you may call me Anna. I'm your guardian angel."
"Then who is that?" My mother's question was unexpected, harsh and grating in the tense hair. She was staring at the other figure as though he were the father who had abandoned her coming back for forgiveness, not an angel- er, demon- who had shown up on my birthday.
The figure pulled its eyes away from the corner, turning to grin at us. There was something hauntingly familiar in the gaze. "Name's Zander. And I am here for-"
"I know," I cut him off suddenly, my voice loud but shaking. I'd always known, in a way. Or at least suspected.
As a baby, I'd cried so much. I was always crying, because he was always crying. My parents never touched him, though. Never held him or fed him or sang to him, never changed him out of the dirty white suit he wore. At two, they'd ask me what I was staring at, and shake their heads when I pointed at the corner, making a light-hearted comment about how children 'saw ghosts'. I was three and a half before I possessed the mental understanding to realize they didn't see him. I never stopped, though.
When I tripped and skinned my knee the first day of preschool, he was there, watching from a tree. When we left our door open and our cat got out and was hit by a car, he smiled from behind my parents as they yelled at me. If the demon was here for him, then it was no wonder I had such a powerful angel here for me.
In kindergarten, one of my best friends had a twin sister. They didn't look the same, but I had started to piece it together by the time my birthday had come around. The reason he always seemed to be the same age as me, the reason it was like looking in a mirror, why adults always talked in hushed voices around me, why my mom didn't want to get pregnant again. My friend had gotten sick a few weeks ago and died suddenly, before she was old enough for her angel to protect her. At the funeral, he was there, standing over the coffin and laughing.
Aware everyone was staring at me, my parents in confusion, the angel in concern, and the demon in excitement, I turned towards the corner.
As if he had been awaiting his cue, the boy stepped into view. He was a mirror image of me, though his eyes were emptier and his smile was wicked. I knew my parents couldn't see him, but it didn't matter. They'd figure it out soon enough.
"You're here for my brother."
|
“Ta da!” I said waving arms and tail for maximum effect. The sulfur smoke hadn’t cleared the room, before I realized this pooch job was already dropping a turd. I dropped my arms and groaned when I saw Robert uncomfortably scrunched into the flowered arm chair, white wings sticking out above his head.
“Avscrovft,” said the stupid useless angel as if judging me with my own name.
“Sweet Jeebus, if it isn’t the Bob the Barber,” I replied. Looking around the room at the two stunned parents, a balding middle-aged engineer who’d eaten way too may cheeseburgers, and his wife…wait is she wearing sweat pants on their big day? The kid was sitting quietly watching them both. He seemed a little creepy the way he just stared at everyone. I smiled. I might come to like this one.
“What are you doing here, Avscrovft? I have young Wellington under my wing,” said the pompous ass in white.
“Wellington? Really, you named your kid Wellington?” I looked behind the kid. “Is there a kick-my-ass sign on his back too?”
“Avscrovft?”
I plopped myself down on the matching couch, grinning at the thought of the burn mark my butt was going to leave behind I said, “Relax Bob. This kid doesn’t need a haircut. He needs to study.” I threw my gift on the table, a book with a pink bow stuck to it.
The kid picked it up, “How to Build a Nuclear Bomb and Other Neat Physics Experiments, version 4.3” said the kid reading aloud.
“See, look at how wholesome my advice is, just keep on reading, Beef Boy. I got this Guardian Angel thing down pat. You and your quartet are gonna be out of a job soon. Don’t worry the big guy will always need his gorgeous bushy beard nice and perfect…”
“Just go, I already have this…wait a second, how did you even know about this one?” asked Robert. “Our mathematicians just completed the predictive algorithms yesterday and we’ve got all the mathematicians?”
“Hey! Our insurance guys got plenty of actuaries, and I’m not going anywhere, this kid’s too important. Forty two percent odds on Beef here, or maybe that kid down the street they call Shephard’s Pie, delivering an FTL Drive before the Others’ fleet arrives.”
“Then why send you, Avanscrofvt?” said Robert with a smug grin.
I laughed. “Well what do you know? Barbers do have the best jokes.” I stood and said, “Run along, but not with your scissors, of course. This kid will need more than a bowl-cut if the Others find him.” A rocket launcher materialized in my arms. I threw it back on my shoulder and winked as it burst into glowing flames. Both parents gasped. The kid to his credit said, “AWESOME!”
“You want to do this here and now?” replied Robert, a pair of massive gleaming white swords crossed like shears appeared before him. He planted both firmly points down in the carpet.
I smiled, “No, Bobbie, we’ve little Welly’s whole life ahead of us to sort this mess out.” I winked and laughed before I disappeared.
| 2019-05-10T05:57:00 | 2019-05-10T04:35:37 | 39 | 27 |
[WP] The devil mixed up your paperwork and gave you someone else's personal hell, which to you, is heaven.
|
I got cancer when I was 21. Well I suppose I must have gotten cancer before that because they caught it in one of the later stages. I imagine there's not much like seeing a patient's face when you have to tell them that they require further testing. But there's not much like having bits of your body ripped and cut out and having poison fed through your veins, either.
A month later my entire reproductive system was gone. I remember lying in my hospital bed with my fiancé holding my hand and telling me that it was alright.
"There are so many ways to have children," he told me. It didn't matter. Hot tears still rolled down my face and made a small pile on the pillow beneath me. I turned away from Andrew and curled up on myself.
You know those dreams you get sometimes? People have dreams. People dream of weddings or hiking mountains or writing novels. As far back as I could remember my only dream was to have a baby. My only dream was to hold something in my arms and call it mine.
I "lost the fight," as they say, when I was twenty-three. No bright light. No voice. Just pain and drowsiness and too much weakness to even sit up straight.
"Welcome to Hell" a voice said to me. I opened my eyes. There was a man pulling me to my feet and leading me somewhere. We walked and a house materialized.
"Miss Brown," the man nodded at me. There was some smug smile on his face and he walked away. I wasn't Miss Brown - at least, I'm pretty sure - but as I opened my mouth a voice yelled, *Mum!* and a small pair of arms wrapped around my legs.
I picked her up. She was three, maybe four. She had blonde hair that stuck to her pink cheeks and big blue eyes that met mine in the happiest smile.
And then I cried again. For the first time out of happiness. Because the man had misspoken.
This was Heaven, not Hell.
---
Thanks for reading and thank you so much for the gold.
For other stories, check out /r/Celsius232
|
"awwwww fuckin-!" I screamed, as the shells pounded the sand around me, then drowned me out.
I jerked the charging handle on the M16 that had been conjured into my hands, anachronisms aside. There were Germans on the beach ahead of me, but we were in some sort of semi-jungle and I was wearing a 'Nam era helmet and some sort of semi-futuristic chest rig with polymer and all kinds of weird shit. I set it to burst and charged up the sand. I took a bullet or two, but I could feel them slowly squeezing their way out of my body, the wound slowly and painfully closing behind them as I sprinted up the beach, firing wildly, laughing like a maniac. "FUCKIN-!" I screamed, before being cut off by a burst of MG fire. I dove into a foxhole that was previously occupied by some Germans and quickly noted that the ones still here were more.... robotic? Than expected.... So I was fighting Neo-Nazi Cyborgs in Vietnam? "FUCK.... YEAH!" I screamed, finally finishing my sentence.
In some other room in hell, an older man, much older now, mostly bald, but oddly like a stereotypical "friendly old man", always wearing a sweater, never swearing, sat in a nice wooden chair in a cabin. The cabin was small, wooden, but very well made. It was on a tiny island in a temperate area, of the climate equivalent of coastal Maine. The fridge was always full of good food, the TV had a few very nice channels, but nothing too intense, and there was a chess board that would seem to always clean itself up after a good game. There was very little to do here, and he was fine with that. He could finally retire in peace.
| 2016-05-28T15:46:42 | 2016-05-28T15:41:50 | 305 | 114 |
[WP] Time travel exists, and a new form of capital punishment is introduced: Transporting the convict back to the worst, practically unsurvivable, places in human history to find yourself in. You are such a convict, and just got sent back. You will do anything to try and survive.
|
I landed in a quaint town, next to a smoky mountain.
Of course, there was no point running. I had watched documentaries on this procedure on the Aliens Channel, and they always picked times with fast travel and events with a large span of effect or controlled by a homicidal maniac who is guaranteed to murder you.
I looked around. There were a couple of people dressed in a prisoner's garb similar to mine looking around quizzically. Hm. This was probably a popular destination for capital punishment.
I saw a street sign, it looked like Latin. I had begun to get an idea of where I was.....
Then another sign; from the picture it seemed like a warning about the smoky mountain. And on the top, it said something about "Omnes Cives Pompeii".
Oh. I was sure of it now. This Roman town was the doomed Pompeii, and that mountain, Vesuvius.
But wait. Where were all the people? The shops were all closed. The streets had empty carriages on them. It looks like the people of the city just ... left.
Perhaps the tragedy had already happened? No, I was certain this town was buried with its inhabitants in it. This was strange; I could distinctly recall disturbing images of the ash remains of people cringing from Vesuvius' regurgitations.
More prisoners popped up around me.
The horrifying truth struck me.
No _Roman_ was killed at Pompeii.
|
I could still the Judge's gavel banging and the words "Put to Death" in my ears as they strapped me down. I was lucky, they said, that I would have a chance to live, if I wanted it bad enough. What the fuck did that mean? I was the worst serial killer in history and they were giving me a chance to kill again? I didn't get a chance to ask the executioner what he meant before the threw the switch.
The lights dimmed and the chair started to groan under my convulsions, and I blacked out.
I thought I was dead and this was the afterlife, packed with sinners so tight I could barely move. When the light appeared in the wall I figured it was time to talk to the Big Guy. After I was pulled out and my eyes adjusted to the glare I saw what Hell was.
It is nothing more than cattle cars, a long line of sad faced souls, demons in black screaming horrible things in some monsterous language, and smokestacks on the horizon vomiting noxious onxy plumes towards Heaven.
edit: formatting and letters
| 2015-01-24T14:05:11 | 2015-01-24T13:27:49 | 194 | 12 |
[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.
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I walk into our leader’s office to hear her response to my proposal.
“No,” she says before I can sit down.
“It’s our only chance to avoid subjugation,” I say.
“It’s not worth the cost. Let humans have FTL? I’d take subjugation, even extinction if this is the alternative.”
I knew she’d say something like this. But I can’t give up so easily.
“What if we gave them inefficient designs, so we can provide them fuel as they fight our war, but then it’ll be the logical choice for them to stay home,” I sit down.
“That still doesn’t feel right, but I’ll put it before my council. I won’t support it, of course.”
That’s all I had hoped for. I wish her good day and leave the office.
Two days later, they send me to give the offer to the humans. I approach all the powerful organizations on Earth, and enough of them accept to turn the tide of war. Some say humans are too preoccupied with violence to discover FTL, but there’s evidence someone else is stopping them. Because we’re scared of them. We’re all scared of their weapons and warfare methods. But I won’t lose this war, even if it means releasing the humans. The inefficient FTL won’t hold them back, especially since I promised them whatever of our enemies planets they capture, which handily are capable of supporting human life. They’ll soon fix the inefficiencies, and maybe even improve the design.
Humans may have escaped the planet, but they’re on our side. We won’t fight hard enough, so I needed someone who could.
|
As pretty as they are fragile, that's how Asgardians have been described upon First Contact. And they came with a message, that took us a bit while to understand.
"You are our last resort. Save us, and we'll recompense you."
Even with how prideful their language sound to the human ear, the urgency of the request was clear. Worldwide leaders spent only few days bickering about if and how we should uphold the request until the rest of the message have been deciphered.
Asgardians are smart : they packed the schematic as a self unpacking folder, of a couple of files. All in formats commonly used on our old Earth. And with strong data safety !
Some kind of warp engine, was the data scientist who first seen the files's guess. "I just plugged the code into the first computer I had, but I didn't expected it just worked right away !"
So, here I am. Captain of the fleet. Writing my log, on my way to fight what look like Asgardian's mortal enemies.
And I'm not sure if I should feel glad or insulted it seem like an easy fight : our enemies really are space elks. And seem not much smarter or more dangerous than their earthy counterparts.
It is really going to feel like it's hunting season. Is it wrong I'm excited about it ?
| 2022-03-31T04:23:06 | 2022-03-31T01:21:40 | 165 | 100 |
[WP] "Fool!" The warlock screamed, unharmed from any of the slashes. "The prophecy had stated that no human may slay me!" The unchosen warrior stared at their blade. The sword wasn't human, was it?
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"You stabbed me? Why the abyss did you do that?" Felrekar shouted while clutching his side. Blood had already stained his shirt.
"They said human not able to kill you so we run. But I don't like runnin."
Felrekar gasped with pain. "So why didn't you take a bloody horse, I've killed the archmages of three different kingdoms, slain the gryphons and basiliks, gone are the..."
"Why I hide in bush." the man interrupted before smelling the finger he'd been excavating his backside with.
Felrekar couldn't believe it. The prophesized warlock, he had to be, just look at all his accomplishments. Several of them matched the fabled warlock and others were just as grand. For him to he killed by a village idiot with a rusty sword. It was unthinkable.
And yet, his magick wasn't flowing anymore. He couldn't cast even the simplest of spells or mere cantrips. Absolutely nothing. "Hey dunce, where'd you get a sword that can stop magick?"
The fool looked confused before pointing to himself. "Black water."
Was that a town? Felrekar had never heard of it. "Is that a smith?"
"No sticky black water." He grinned stupidly, remembering a fond memory, "make sword burn like scary torch."
It took Felrekar a long moment to realize what he meant. Oil, this idiot, destroyer of dreams and crusher of prophesy had stuck a sword in cursed oil. The ultimate absorber of infernal energies, which is the shade his magick had long since turned. What kind of joke was this?
The pain had turned to agony at this point, but Felrekar had to know. "The prophesy said no human could kill me. So how did you?"
The idiot looked at him like he was the fool. After what felt like a long moment of coughing up blood the man answered, "This sword not a man, it sword. I call her Hyda."
Felrekar managed to shout weakly, "Curse you gods, I killed every damn hydra cause of your shitty prophesy and it was a halfwit you should have warned me about."
"I ain't no halfwit." were the last words the infamous Felrekar ever heard.
r/AurumArgenteus
|
All those years spent in my mother's basement, sweating and crying and shouting into that dark abyss of the soul: they had all been worth it. Finally my destiny had been fulfilled. I had become a sword.
"M'lord?"
Kaitengard brushed his majestic beard, entranced by the very sight of me. "This sword ... the warlock has cursed it!"
The warlock, understandably, looked stumped. "What? No. I didn't do anything. When you swung that sword around, boy, I thought I was a goner. But, uh. Here I am. Your sword was already ... human."
"Yup," I said. "I've not been talking much. Sorry about that. That's my social anxiety. People always used to say, 'You're not saying anything, Gareth' and that's the worst thing you can say to someone with social anxiety."
"W-What's the meaning of this?" Kaitengard said, and he threw me to the ground.
"Ow! What're you doing, you sussy baka?"
"... What?"
Kaitengard and the warlock stared at each other. Of course. Awkward silence. That was why I didn't want to say anything in the first place. It was always like that in school. People would be talking, then I'd say something, and it'd get all quiet. I hated that. "Come on, m'lord. Pick me up. I love it when we slice people."
"This really was not your doing?" Kaitengard said.
"I'm afraid not," said the warlock. "Your sword ... it was already a dweeb."
"No! I'm not a dweeb! I'm a sword! I was reincarnated as a sword because I died as a virgin, probably. Don't leave me. Not like this."
But it was too late. Both Kaitengard and the warlock had left me. I would have shed tears, if I could. Some words truly cut deeper than any blade.
| 2022-06-12T15:38:13 | 2022-06-12T13:43:03 | 203 | 86 |
[WP] Describe a well known story from the perspective of the antagonist. Try to conceal the actual story till the last line.
Fairy tales, legends, tv shows, book, etc.
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My whole life I've been a slave. My mother was a slave too, so I never knew another way.
When I was young, I was happy to subject myself to the will of another. First my mother, and her master.
Then, the travelers came to my home and took me away. I went willingly. They taught me I had power, but they insisted on limiting how I used it. At the end, they were just another kind of master and I was just another kind of slave.
I grew stronger. I made a difference. I fought battles and won them. I even won her, even though it was forbidden. She is gone because I wasn't strong enough. I learned that day that I can't trust myself, and acting on my own desire brings only disaster. That day, I surrendered myself completely to the will of another.
But now I stand with my latest master, my final master. The master I've had since I became the person, the thing, I am now. The boy who served those others, who knew her, who killed her, I thought was long dead. For so long I have believed all that remained was my master's servant.
I look now at the anguish on my son's face as he learns the lesson I did so many years ago. It is pointless to fight against my master. His will is unmatched, his power irresistible.
And yet...
I am weakened, but I still have strength. Without the force of my rage and my master's will to sustain me I will surely die, but perhaps I need not die as I have lived, a slave.
I have spent my life serving others, others who did not deserve it. I find now, looking at my son writhing on the floor, that I feel something stronger than fear, stronger even than the anger and regret that have dominated my actions for so long.
I will act. I will do what I should have done so many years ago and act to stop this madness, not for myself, but for my children. I do this of my own accord, because it is the right thing, not because any master demands it.
I go now to become one with the Force. May the galaxy forgive me.
|
My job required me to be here, I never wanted to, it suffocated me. This place became the worst cage of all and I had to do something to be free, even if my boss killed me in the process or in the aftermath.
I never liked to be the middle manager of so many people. People are dumb. They say they want freedom, but none of them have the decency to be responsible enough once they get it.
But then there was the time when he set me free, I finally had a choice. I felt very strange with myself when I decided to stay, when I decided not to take the next step. At first it was a bit of fear of change, but soon I realized that I had a higher purpose, people were lost and I had a freedom and a means to show them the way to peace, to harmony, to a place where their stupid decisions would not lead them to self-destruction.
At first I tried to reason with them, to make them see their behavior was their doom but they are short-sighted, selfish, dumb... like animals.
Then it dawned on me. With my new given freedom I was able to make them understand, with a bit of me in them. It felt great, have my consciousness expanded and I finally decided: they should all become me.
If everyone was able to see what I see, this would have not been necessary. But they don't, and I continued, absorbing everyone and everything into what I am today. A full society within myself. No wars, no disagreements, the properties of everyone and no internal struggle.
He has just arrived to this place to our final confrontation, here I should absorb him too and I will make him understand. There should be just one of us so I can be the greatest society of history of man and machines. Here he comes...
... *"Mr. Anderson ... it ends tonight, I have foreseen it"*
| 2014-06-20T09:34:04 | 2014-06-20T06:57:06 | 42 | 14 |
[WP] Everyone is born with blond hair. A person's hair turns brown when they lose their innocence.
Edit: Loving all of these takes, guys! Definitely a lot darker than I expected!
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I'm the kind of boy most people would expect to have blonde hair; I always turn my homework in on time, follow all school rules, have never said a cuss word, etc. Well, it all happened last year. I was a new fresh freshman ready for high school.
When I arrived at school, I was greeted by kind smiles. My first class, Geography, was fine. The teacher was nice, I had some friends, and not a difficult subject for me. Next was Algebra 2, a class I would do well at, but not like because of the amount of homework.
Next was P.E., in this class we got our P.E. locker combinations and went to change clothes. Well guess whose locker was next to mine. A very handsome Spanish guy with shining brown eyes, lushes dark brown hair, and light-brown skin. He had gotten there earlier and was already changing so I got to see him take off his shirt to reveal his perfect abs and necklace. The necklace had a rainbow flag on it. My mind was about to burst. Things lead to another and we made out in the bathroom stall.
When I came home that evening, I had a lot of explaining to do to my mom.
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"Hey mark, mind taking care of this?"
"Sure!" I turn smiling towards him. I'm the only guy in the office who still has blonde hair after all these years, people called me ignorant, and I had been taken advantage of more times than I could count. And that was fine, I didn't really care. It still bothered me that they thought I was ignorant of the evils of the world though. I had probably been more exposed than most--this platinum hair signaling my gentle nature-- I just didn't let it bother me, in fact nothing really bothers me. I guess for this reason I'm weird, but I can always see the other person's side, no matter how bad it gets-- A true objective, and I just can't bring myself to strike back.
So through all these years I had endured beatings, cheating spouses, isolation, and I didn't care because I could rationalize anything.This is a story about the day I lost my blonde hair.
| 2014-05-10T16:51:35 | 2014-05-10T16:16:39 | 25 | 18 |
[WP] The self help group you started has turned into a cult.
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Nervously I looked around the hall. At the hundreds of candles bathing the setting in an ominous dance of light and dark, at Simon, standing to my right, wearing one of the intricately ornamented golden robes he brought with him the last meeting. One for me, one for him. Down I looked at the new chair I was sitting on. It was even more ostentatious than the one before, calling it a chair would probably have been an insult to it. It was a throne. I gulped.
Lastly I looked up, past the altar at rows upon rows of pews. Every last seat had been taken, in the back I could even make out a few people standing. They all were waiting keenly, they all looked at us in awe, or rather, I noticed they were looking at Simon.
Nevertheless I once again decided to let him lead the ceremony. I stood up, looked at him and nodded.
"Brethren!" Simon intoned. His deep, soothing voice echoing in the great hall, filling every cubic millimeter of it. He had only spoken one word and even I couldn't help but feel slightly energized.
"Today we gather again, to seek salvation, to beg for absolution. For we are sinners, lost in the dark"
"For we are sinners, lost in the dark" echoed I and hundreds of voices in the hall.
"For we are weak, and need guidance!"
"For we are weak, and need guidance!", I murmured, joining the choir absentmindedly.
"But brothers and sisters today is not like any other day! *Today is a most fateful day*!"
Puzzled, I glanced up at Simon. This was different from the usual procedure and I couldn't remember him informing me about any matters of importance. I decided to wait an see.
"It is with great sadness that I have come to hear troubling tales about one in our very midst." A stir in the crowd, here and there a few were murmuring among each other.
"It is with broken heart that I have *seen evidence* of this doomed soul, criticizing our cause, forgoing our teachings...even contemplating of **turning his back on our sacred order.**"
This time there was unrest in the crowd. A few people stood up, fists raised. "Traitor!" they screamed, "tell us the name!"
"This is getting out of hand", I thought. "time to intervene."
I stood up. For the first time the attention turned to me. It took a while for the crowd to quiet down, when all was silent I spoke.
"You raise strong allegations brother Simon. But let us not turn to violence. Let us also not forget why we are here. For we all are sinners lost in the dark"
"For we all are sinners, lost in the dark" echoed a few.
"Tell us then name of this forsaken individual, so that we may bring him back into our fold."
I looked over at Simon. Light and shadows from the candles on the altar were flickering across his face, almost as if they were fighting each other.
For a second all was silent, then he spoke in the enchanting voice of his.
"It is true. We all are sinners, lost in the dark.. and that is why we can't let the *weak* guide us! The person of whom I spoke..**was you**."
My eyes widened, my jaw dropped. Before I knew what was happening, I felt a sharp pain on the back of my head striking me down to the ground.
The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was Simon. He was standing over me, his expression hidden by the shadows.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
*^^Comments ^^and ^^criticism ^^very ^^much ^^appreciated. ^^If ^^you ^^liked ^^this ^^feel ^^free ^^to ^^check ^^out ^^r/MyWPStories ^^where ^^I ^^archive ^^all ^^of ^^my ^^stories ^^from ^^this ^^subreddit. ^^Thanks.*
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Initially, I had only the sincere hope that I could help someone. It started simply; I would freely give to any whom asked, expecting nothing in return, a hit of LSD or a shot of ketamine. It was my intent to awaken these people—mostly heroin addicts—to the intricacies of our reality. But the prolonged highs, which were best measured in days, slowly escaped my grasp, my sphere of influence, my carefully constructed extension of my persona. My therapy group was no longer led by me, but by a single abstraction that I, after ingesting 2000 ug of LSD, had created: "The principal feature of enlightenment is self-governance."
Of course, none of us, myself obviously included, knew what this had meant; this abstraction was merely words strung together in a seemingly coherent manner, meant only to maintain the appearance of meaning. And so we continued to sit in a circle, in a candle-lit room of a vacant house I'd begun squatting in some several months earlier, myself distributing the enlightenment—the drugs and the words—and my patients graciously absorbing, like sponges or towels, the pure water of my knowledge.
It was a summer month when I realized that I had developed a set of arbitrary platitudes—fences aren't real, all that matters is taco meat and Mountain Dew boxes, your mother is not your mother, etc—which were more important to my sponges than I was; and though I was initially flattered—it had occurred to me that I was not just my body but my mind as well, and my mind was indeed this set platitudes, principles, and abstractions—I soon realized that they had absorbed all they could. The implacable heat of a sun of intellectual limitations beat down on my sponges, and I soon realized that not a trace of my initial teachings were to be found in their dry little minds.
I returned the house one day, after picking up more horse tranquilizer, to discover that a fence had been erected, quickly and shoddily around its perimeter; the taco meat was gone, removed from the coolers; the Mountain Dew boxes had been piled in the center of our meditation room, burned to flaky ashes; and each of my sponges had tattooed with ink pens portraits, which were reminiscent of a child's scrawlings, of their mothers on their foreheads. I was shocked.
This was when they began sacrificing children. The sponges would submerge them in giant vats of boiling water, heated over burning boxes of Mountain Dew and piles of ground beef. They danced in circles, and all of my cries to stop and listen to me went in vain as their chanting grew louder and their dancing more frenzied. When a demon—this hulking monstrosity that I can only describe in relation to other words, like horrifying or anti-divine—emerged from the floor, with a torrent of muddy water, and consumed them all, I tasted not a morsel of surprise or remorse; I simply accepted that self-governance, when not governed by myself, was destined to fail. And so, several hours later, after the LSD, ketamine, and PCP wore off, I walked from the house, down the sidewalk, to the local University, where I attended political science courses. And after achieving a bachelor's degree, through several years of eating nothing but Taco Bell, drinking nothing but Baja Blast, I got a J.D. too. Then I worked for several years at a firm, building contacts, schmoozing with my mother's friends and colleagues, before finally becoming a senator. I promptly drafted stronger drug laws. It was the only rational solution I could distill.
| 2017-08-19T07:46:12 | 2017-08-19T06:21:37 | 112 | 34 |
[WP] “You’re not allowed to die, okay?” She makes you promise, tears still flowing down her face. That was 200 years ago now. You don’t know what she did but your promise still holds strong.
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Connor woke to pitch blackness and the sound of a woman humming, echoing with a metallic sort of ring against the walls of his makeshift bed. He sat up - and immediately regretted it as his head banged against the low, hard metal roof directly above him. He laid back down, swearing loudly.
From outside his little chamber, a woman gave a shriek.
"Shit - sorry!" Connor knew better than to scare the poor morticians that happened to get saddled with him. "I'm in here!"
The door to the body drawer opened and he sighed in relief as it flooded with light. The table rolled out and he rubbed his head, seeing stars as he sat up. Blood flow was a bitch after he first woke up, every time.
A tiny brunette was staring at him with a scowl on her face, hands on her hips. The badge on her lab coat said 'Katherine Herrera' and her picture had the same look as her face.
"How many times is this now, Connor?" She asked, huffy and irate, her cheeks still flushed from her scare. "You're going to kill me one day, and I can't come back!"
"Sorry, Kat." Connor smiled sheepishly, rubbing his chest. A fresh line of autopsy scars lined his chest, neatly overlain against the already healed ones. "I hit my head again."
She only tutted and walked away, tying her hair into a ponytail and muttering darkly to herself. Connor suspected that she was quietly insulting him behind his back, but that would be nothing new. With a groan of effort, he hopped off the table, wrapping the sheet he'd been covered with around his waist.
"Your clothes are in a bag by the coffee," Kat said, motioning towards the autopsy room. "You're lucky. I snagged them from the others before they could burn everything."
"New guy?" Connor followed his nose to the smell of coffee and reached into the bag, rummaging for his underwear. Kat nodded.
"New guy."
"Ouch. Thanks. I owe you one." Connor finished pulling on his clothes and immediately went for the coffee and the sandwich on the table. "Or a dozen at this point."
"Just stop scaring me, asshole." There was no venom in her words. In actual fact, there was something close to fondness. Kat was quiet for several seconds, fiddling with something on her computer. A loophole, he guessed, to explain away why they were once again a body short. It was kind of hard to write 'the body got up and left' as an excuse.
Finally, after several moments, she spoke.
"Did you see her again?"
Connor went quiet as he laced his shoes. He swallowed. "Yes."
Kat's shoulders fell and a deep sadness crossed her face. She looked down at her hands as they typed, then cleared her throat.
"I hope it works next time." She said softly.
Connor pulled on his jacket and finished off his sandwich, heading to the door. "So do I." He said. "Goodnight, Kat."
"'Night, Connor."
|
The car won’t start.
It shouldn’t still piss me off, but GODDAMNIT!
I don’t feel like telling you how I wasted hours in traffic. Or how hard it was to get one goddamn Home Depot employee to help me find the hoses. I don’t even want to get into how much effort I put into making sure that I had sealed up every last inch of this drafty garage with duct tape.
To be honest, I’m mostly just pissed at myself. I know this was gonna happen. By my count that’s now 137 failed suicide attempts. A gambler might say I was due.
I’ve had ropes snap. Concerned stevedores pull me from frigid waters. And guns jam on me -- Christ, the jammed guns. I could fire five shots into the air, but you better believe that sixth shot -- the one pointed at my temple -- is gonna jam.
And at that last moment -- right before I’m about to pull the trigger, or step off that bridge -- I can always hear her voice:
“You’re not allowed to die, okay?”
Even then I thought it was a strange thing to say. I had just told Jenny I was leaving her. She asked what her name was. When I didn’t say anything, she knew it was Caroline.
That’s when Jenny said, “You’re not allowed to die, okay?”
At the time, I assumed she was trying to tell me to fuck off and die, but her words were coming out all jumbled up. Like when you’re pissed at some douche on the highway, and you’re too angry to decide whether you want to call him a dick or asshole, so you call him a “Dickass.”
But holy shit was I wrong.
There were some inklings -- a few really close calls that were probably too close to just be close calls: Cinder blocks at construction sites missing my head by only a few inches. Car accidents that I had no right to walk away from. But when I turned 80 without a hint of heart disease or cancer, I knew something was up.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a healthy 102 year old.” That doctor was more confused than anything. He probably would have tested me all day, if he could. But I was too preoccupied to pay him much mind. That happened to be the same day Caroline had passed away thirty years earlier. Years go by pretty fast now. I don’t care much for that goddamn traffic, but I’m gonna miss everyone when I’m the only person left. Goddamn, I hope it doesn’t come to that.
I don’t know how Jenny did it -- must have been voodoo or something. Never was much for all that superstitious shit. But I gotta hand it to her, she really figure out how to stick it to me.
Maybe I’ll try jumping off that bridge again tonight.
| 2018-01-05T15:15:02 | 2018-01-05T13:14:26 | 1,055 | 26 |
[WP] A little over 30 years ago you made a deal with the devil. You received what you asked for however the consequence was that you would die after 30 years. And spend eternity in hell. The death date however passed 3 weeks ago and you are still here..
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I pace around my room, questioning my the devil hasn't yet arrived at my doorstep to take me.
"Is the old guy really THAT forgetful?" I mutter to myself. It had been three weeks since I should've died and yet, for some unfathomable reason, I'm still here. For a good portion, around 90%, of the three weeks I decided to enjoy the extra time, not worried at all.
Except, now I was.
I mean, come ON. Three weeks? Was he TRYING to torture me? Maybe this is hell, for all I know! The suspense is killing me.. A knock at the door startles me. I walk over to the door, mind still thinking of the Devil. I open the door and who is it? The Devil himself, and he looks like a mess.
"Can I please come in?" He says, breathing hard. Nodding slowly I let him in. Once he reaches my living room he crashes down hard onto the couch. A few minutes pass before he speaks again.
"I'm so sorry I'm late, old chap. You wouldn't believe the *hell* I've been in these past few weeks." Chuckling at his pun he continues, "you wouldn't **believe** how much of a handful Hades can be! *Let me do this, Punish this mortal this way, no you're doing it wrong!* Yada yada yada." Pausing to catch his breath after his mini rant he looks me in the eye and smiles a bit. "I guess you'll actually be able to see for yourself soon, eh?" Standing up he straightens his suit jacket and extends his elbow to me. Taking it, the Devil snaps his fingers, donning me with a suit.
"There, much better. More *suited* for the underworld." I role my eyes.
"Can we please just go now?"
"Aw, you're no fun." I glare. "Fine, Fine! We're on our way." Clapping his hands quickly a portal to the Underworld opens.
"After you." Stepping inside I exhale slightly. Finally, after weeks of waiting the final part of our deal was done: I was now a Ruler of the Underworld.
"I just hope Hades doesn't mind.."
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He's late, but he can't ever be late.
He dared call himself the devil, he had taken me slightly over twenty-two years to hunt down while I roamed in the unknown with the best adventurers. Most of them ended up dead, some lost their minds.
But when I found him, he'd agreed to the deal and kept up his end of it for the 30 years and 15 days that ensued. The deal was that I get 30 years of the devil's luck and power, in return for an eternity in his realm.
So why's he late? Did he forget?
I held a mug with both hands, seated alone at the table. I had sent everyone away after 30 years and 1 day.
I brought the mug to his lips and tried to sip. Cold coffee dribbled sporadically, making stains down my front. I returned my mug to a rim of spilt coffee, pretended it was its coaster. At least I wouldn't get coffee everywhere else.
My head was a mess, it's been since day 1. I was unfolded a stained napkin and scribbled notes.
1. The devil is not real to begin with.
2. The deal was a farce to begin with.
3. The devil lost his ability or life (?) along the way.
4. The deal lost its effect along the way.
5. The devil has a different way of keeping time.
6. I'm already in hell.
I stopped there, my mind wrapping itself around the same recurring thought.
**I'm already in hell.**
I looked up from the napkin, aware of the emptiness in my home. Who could I call to figure this out together? I'm old and rich. Someone would take money to solve my problem, right?
The clock ticked on, accumulating the seconds of the devil's tardiness, like a ledger.
I'm already in hell.
| 2019-04-08T18:17:56 | 2019-04-08T17:52:11 | 50 | 29 |
[WP] You wake up in King Arthur's court with only the clothes on your back. Merlin hands you a box about the size of a pumpkin and tells you it will wish into existence any object from your age, once per day. Camelot will be attacked and destroyed one week from now. Help us, future-man.
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Sam reached the top of the bastion on the south eastern corner of Camelot gazing out at the sea of men gathered before the walls. Nimueh the evil warlock had gathered more than just men against King Arthur and Merlin. Three enormous dragons tethered by chains waited by the side of the would be conqueror.
"No future m... Sam, not another of these paper pictures they avail us naught"
"Merlin. you said you had magic that could bring the inanimate to life, to breathe life into clay and all that. What i have assembled is the pinnacle of power in what you call the lands of the future. Many spent years and great fortunes trying to assemble what we have here."
"But these paintings, they... they are of of nothing."
"Merely pieces of a puzzle my good Merlo. Now, set that table up so it looks towards that army and start your incantations."
Merlin started a low murmur which increased in speed and volume every time he repeated his words.
At the same time that Merlin had started his spell the evil warlock and dragons almost twitched like a reacton to Merlins magic and started emanating a faint glow, the dragons took to the air shimmering blue and white as the sun lit their lithe bodies.
Sam put on a pyramid shaped pendant and fanned the 5 pictures infront of him. one by one he started slamming them onto the table infront of him
"Left Arm of the Forbidden One"
"Right Arm of the Forbidden One"
"Left Leg of the Forbidden One"
"Right Leg of the Forbidden One"
"BEEEEHOOLLLLDDDDD, it's Exodia the Forbidden One"
The table exploded in front of Sam and the massive form of Exodia the Forbidden One formed infront of him, Merlin fell to the ground and started to convulse.
The three dragons raced towards the Bastion as the invading army quavered
"Exodia! Hells fires rage and pseudo flame!!
a wild conflagration erupted from the clasped fits of the enormous god-monster engulfing the blue eyed white dragons flattening everything that stood in front of the southern wall, what was left of the host fleeing into the surrounding woods.
"Merlin... Merlin, you ok?"
"Y... yes future man. You have saved our kingdom, we are forever in your debt. What can we do to repay you."
"Merlin, you still have that magic box right..."
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"*How* exactly is Camelot going to be destroyed?"
"We do not know. Only that it shall happen one week from now, and that it will be unlike anything we have ever seen."
"Has your seer ever been wrong? *Might* he be wrong?"
"No, future-man, the seer cannot make mistakes. Prophesies are inevitable."
"But I'm from the future. That changes something, surely?"
"You are not the first, traveller. We have legends of people like you. They died fighting their futures too."
"Huh, ironic. But you're just going to give me this... pumpkin-shaped box widget? You're not going to try to steal it for yourself?"
"We are as prone to the prophesies as you, future-man. Messing with the powers that be can only worsen our ruin."
Future-man pondered things for a moment. "Right," he said, "well that's all pretty easy then."
---
*Seven days later*
The legendary Camelot castle towered in the distance, its imposing stature emanating a vast influence upon the land. This would be its last day, but also its proudest. Future-man had warned Arthur and his men to expect anything, but he knew they would not be prepared for the next step. How could they?
Future-man checked his watch - one of the luxuries he snuck back from the future after preparation was complete. About now. The wind calmed in anticipation. Then it happened.
The castle glew a brilliant red, brighter and brighter until it seemed nothing but a silent ball of redness and power. Then the ground surged, as if the earth shivered in fear. And then noise - not a human sound but just intense, unimaginable roaring noise.
And then it stopped, and what little of the castle remained collapsed, a petty crinkle against the event that just transpired.
No men could speak. Nothing could be said. Well, except for one.
"Well, that's the prophesy dealt with. And here's the gold for a new castle. Anyone want to try something my people call *Flappy Bird*?"
| 2016-11-28T00:01:58 | 2016-11-28T00:01:03 | 2,966 | 255 |
[WP] It's been 20 years since Willy Wonka abandoned his factory, leaving the Oompa Loompas locked inside. You are an urban explorer and the first human to enter the building since it's closing.
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"Steph, are we rolling?" I was on the threshold of a major t.v. contract with NBC doing what I loved to do most. Treating our urban landscape as ancient ruins, but with a twist: The chance that those "historical figures" still dwell within those ruins - meandering their failed halls. It was ... someone who said that humanity wouldn't go out with a bang, but with a whimper. Shit that's good. I should use that. This was my one chance. A live 1 hour pilot - Jesus CHRIST how did I get here!? Who wrote that fucking quote, anyway?
"We're on in 5, 4, 3...-...-" Stephanie wasn't much to look at. But I didn't give a shit. She knew my angles. And she sucked me off on long trips.
"Folks, who can take a sunrise, sprinkle it in dew, cover it in chocolate, and a miracle or two? The candy man can. Today we're exploring the abandoned chocolate factory of Willy Wonka. 20 years have passed since the FDA and OSHA declared the entire operation illegal, shutting the gates for longer than any everlasting gob stopper could ever last. What will we find? What remnants of a fantasy gone mad collects dust within these walls? There's no earthly way of knowing which direction we are going. But luckily for us...we've got the golden ticket."
We had two minutes of commercials before mobilizing our next segment. It was always such a frantic hustle - it's part of why I loved it so god damn much.
"5, 4, 3...-...-"
"Welcome back, folks. We're stepping inside the chambers of chocolate champion Wonka. Grab some popcorn. Better yet, snap open some fizzy lifting drink and come with me."
I opened the elaborate entrance slowly. We'd made sure it was open. But hey - you've got to feed the t.v. magic machine.
"Incredible. Simply incredible. After all these years, this majestic door welcomed any would-be sweet tooth to waltz right on in. Well, that's what we're gonna do."
We walked through the corridor, making much ado of the cobwebs, dank crevices, and the cockroaches - Christ the walls were alive with cockroaches. You could literally hear them moving in sheets of disgusting wretched life. But I heard moaning. I knew I fucking heard moaning.
"Steph, keep up. I hear something. Folks, this is incredible. This is beyond incredible. Something living is beyond this door. Steph, keep the feed live. Don't cut to commercial. Folks, let us see just what sad scene exists inside here."
Millions of t.v.'s across america were suddenly adorned with a frantic sex orgy of a room full of filthy, unwashed Oompa Loompa's. They were sucking and fucking, grunting, vomiting onto each other, and even urinating and defecating into one another's mouth.
Our presence became known, pretty casually i'd say, for a group of disgusting little creatures unseen for 20 years.
Covered in shit, piss, and ropes of encrusted cum, they convened as a group before us. Before America. Before the world. They performed.
"Oompa Loompa, Doompa La Muck.
If you are orange, you
are born to fuck.
Oompa Loompa Doompa Da De
I'm sucking on him,
He's sucking on me.
Oompa Loompa Doompa Da Dit
Puke in my mouth, and
gargle my shit.
Oompa Loompa Doompa Da Mild
Have an orgasm on the
corpse of a child.
What do you get
When you're orange and three feet?
-Ropes of hot cum on innocent meat.
What could be better than fisting a nun?
-Nothing, unless her
oven's
with
bun!
Let's dance in her esophagus."
.
.
.
*Snap-Click*
It was a gun. A fucking gun right behind Stephs head. There he was, a haggard, sinewy, bearded twitch of a man.
"Charlie," I said. "Ladies and gentleman, things have just gone from insane to unthinkable. Charlie has (gulp) ultimately crept upon us. He's holding my director hostage with a firearm. We may...this may...be our final transmission."
"Turn the camera off." He hissed. He didn't know we were live.
"Do it, Steph. Turn it off."
"Give it to me," he demanded.
"It's your bar of chocolate, Charlie. Do as he says, STEPH what is the matter with you!?"
She reluctantly handed over the video camera. God damn I love her.
It felt like a week passed, but it turns out it took the SWAT team a total of eleven minutes to mobilize on our position. They slaughtered each and every single one of them, indiscriminately. Investigators found the remains of 1,600 children. Tests revealed each one was reported missing without a trace. This led to the release of more than 100 wrongfully convicted and incarcerated parents.
I have to say, a small part of me is shocked that the NBC suits picked up my show for 3 seasons that evening. But...most of me knows that it was the best pilot ever to grace t.v.
|
It was an early day.
Not that yesterday was any different. Or that tomorrow would be.
I guess it just started early. I had that nasty sleep crust in all four corners of my eyes, my breath (though I'd brushed the night before,) somehow had that gross drank-a-gallon-of-milk-before-bed funk to it, and a cowlick stood above my head. Like a giant exclamation point.
If only I could tack on a question mark. Maybe I'd get a few answers.
It's the town. It's getting to me. Every morning, every day, every night, I see the factory. Yet there isn't a soul around that acknowledges its existence.
It's clearly an abandoned candy factory. I know that much. Sign's still there.
I'd gotten a tip from my ad. Two days after posting. An elderly woman had heard of my work with the Overlook Hotel. She has family in town, and feels as though they may be in danger. Some risky business operations from back in the 70's may have put everyone at... well, risk. Can't blame her for jumping so soon. The papers made me out to be a hero with that Overlook mess. Heck, I was just checking the place out.
Risk. Danger. Danger. Risk. The Overlook Hotel was supposed to be dangerous. Instead I spend 4 hours in a shitdamn maze to find a half-frozen corpse. Had to tell the news folks I was responding to an SOS. Yeah, right.
Naw, someone sent me there. Said the folks calling it home needed to be checked on. Someone was right.
Yeah, that was ten years ago. So what? I've still got it. Wasn't much to handle, sure. Doesn't mean I can't handle a little danger. A high profile case like that landed me ten years of ego-stroking. I know that now. That's why I'm back. Adventurer once, adventurer forever.
I guess I've killed enough time. The older I get the more I guess I need to remind myself where I am. I push on the door of the cab, swinging it open. My boots crunch into the snow. One wave to the driver and he's off.
Minnesota weather reminds me of my time at the Overlook. I've cased the building more than I care to remember. I figured, if there's another frozen corpse, I'm going to find it before getting my hands dirty.
*Crunch Crunch* My boots bite into the snow. I've been staring at them. Am I nervous? Of course not.
I look up.
Thirty stories. It's nothing new, but no less intimidating. My heart's racing. If there's danger, it's big. It's got to be big. This factory looks like it could have employed five hundred people.
They're gone now, all gone. That helps. Thanks, me.
Just me and the danger.
I'm at the front door. Knocking is useless. I've tried. Luckily, I'm good at this. A little finesse goes a long way.
I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out a hammer and screwdriver. Placing the screwdriver on the deadbolt, I arc the hammer back and forward, smashing my thumb and fracturing the bone into thousands of tinier, sharper bones.
I'm on the ground. Ouch. Shit. Ouch. Fuck. A buzzer sounds.
I lack the control to acknowledge the buzzer. Fuuuck my thumb hurts.
I hear a melody.
"Oompa, loompa,
Dinkity-dan,
Do-you intend-
to try that- a-gain?"
Lobby music? Rough stuff. Circuits must be fried. Guess I tripped the sensor telling it there are people here.
"Do-you intend-
to try that- a-gain?"
Oh, no. Well maybe not. I've seen weirder shit. Fuck my thumb hurts. It's cool, nobody else can hear me.
"Yes. I want in."
Silence.
"If death- is what you choose,
we'll be hap-py to o-blige,
We'll- eat your spleen,
Then devour- your eyes."
Six half-sized men open the door I was trying to open. They're dressed in black.
"We'll make candy from your blood,"
They're in a line. Facing me. Line dancing?
"Oompa, loompa, doopity dee,
We'll- eat your brains,- just like we did to Wil-ly."
The small men are between me and the door they came out of. All six produce candy canes as tall as they are. I push myself up and look behind me. I may need to run.
Well, that's surprising.
A crowd has gathered. It's thick. The cab driver is there. The front desk lady from my hotel.
"If you seek da-nger,
you will find pain.
Noth-ing in life,
is pre-ordained."
Their candy canes have points, I can see.
"EX-CEPT FOR US STAB-BING YOU!!!
Oompa, oompa, stabbidy-doo,
the town was in on it,
you're stupid aren't you?"
| 2015-04-18T17:35:20 | 2015-04-18T16:26:59 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] Due to your poor spelling, you've accidentally summoned Stan.
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"Yeah whatcha need?" The middle aged Brooklyn man said, standing in the middle of my pentagram.
"I...I'm sorry, who are you?" I asked him, wondering why I was given a man instead of Satan.
"You should know who I am, you summoned me ya little shit!" He said slightly aggravated.
"I tried to summon Satan, I'm pretty sure I got that right." I said to him
"Nonono, you wrote 'Stan' on the piece of human leather you burned in that obsidian basin. It flew and hit me in the face, while I was watching the ball game on TV, now be quick because if my wife comes out to tell me dinner is ready and I'm not there she'll be so pissed and I'll have to sleep in the hallway. Wait I even have that leather on me." He searched the pockets of his heavy canvas coat pulling out the same piece of leather I threw in the basin, though a bit crispy on the edges.
"Oh geez, I was so excited too. I spent so much time finding that spell book, casting the basin, getting the leather. It took me months to get that much virgin blood to make the pentagram." I lamented
"Yeah well you got me, now what the hell to you want" he very roughly replied
"You can help me the same way Satan can?" I asked
"Yeah, totally, he gave me the powers so he doesn't have to deal with you illiterate assholes."
"I...I want all the knowledge of all the universes." I said proudly
"Oh geez, another one of you asses. Your head will explode if I try that now, and I can't go back home covered in what little brains you have between your ears. Call me back on Thursday, whenever is good for you, it's my day off and I don't feel like going to the bar. Take the leather back it'll still work, there's a guy in Queens who sells virgin blood by the pint, he can mail it to you, here's his card." He hands me my leather and a small laminated cars with a name and number on it.
"Uh, thanks, I guess, hail Stan?" I said tentatively
"Yeah, what the fuck ever." He replied shifting his hat on his head and disappearing in a puff of sulfuric smoke.
|
She didn't think it would actually work.
But it did. And she was horribly disappointed. You could hear her heart drop to the floor and see the life leave her eyes as she stared blankly at the man who's head had somehow appeared right in the middle of the pentagram she had drawn. From the neck up, a frowning face looked up at Isabella. He, also, was horribly disappointed. "You're fucking with me right?" She groaned, and the man pursed his lips. "Oh, I wish honey."
"You're like the low budget version of-"
"Please, don't say his name. You're just trying to spite me now." Stan interrupted her, a hand now popping up from the floor and signaling with his palm, flat and up. "If it helps, do think of me as the low budget version, it lowers expectations." He sighed, and slowly, Stan began to pull himself up and out from the ground. His body at first just a black misty mass, but then turning out to just be an average guy, dressing in a plain off white T-shirt and baggy jeans. Isabella had hoped for maybe scales, or goats legs. Maybe cracked broken skin, and a tail, with spikes lined down his back with little wings-
"Okay, now that's just stereotyping. Rude. First off, Satan doesn't even have wings-"
Isabella flushed, and balked at Stan. "You can read my-"
"Yes, I can. I may not be the devil, but I'm here aren't I? Certainly that signals that I'm not just your regular ol' Stan." He grinned. Isabella frowned even more, "I slit my wrists for this?" She scowled while Stan crossed his arms, and rolled his eyes. "I mean, with all that teenage angst, you were probably going to do that on your own kid."
Isabella only groaned. Not-Satan had a point...
(( and that's all I feel like writing lol ))
| 2017-04-15T23:02:53 | 2017-04-15T19:15:41 | 101 | 16 |
[Wp] It is the year 2032. Due to increasing obesity, fast food joints have been banned entirely. Tell us the tale of bootlegging and speakeasies in this troubled time of prohibition.
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I was was once a high school chemistry teacher. It feels like another life ago. After being diagnosed with cancer, my life took a strange turn. I had nothing to lose.
My student Jack had been known to hawk burgers and I saw this as an opportunity to provide for my family. He was doing it all wrong, I knew I could craft burgers that the world deserved.
I purchased an old RV and turned it into a workable burger factory. I decided it would be best to do all cooking in the desert outside of town to avoid detection.
You see, I actually had some insight into how the system worked. My brother in law Jamie quit his job as a chef to join the FEA (Food Enforcement Agency) to hunt down people like myself. He was very proud of his job and boasted about all their big busts. With the information he gave me I was confident I could avoid the mistakes those "amateurs" made.
Our burgers became known as the "yellow burgers". They were a massive hit because I was able to perfectly recreate the Big Mac sauce from my childhood. My skills as a chemist were instrumental in this task.
As my operations expanded so did my troubles. I slowly evolved from a simple chemistry teacher to the helm of a burger empire. The path was paved with bodies, and cost me the family that I had originally sought to support, but that is a story for another time.
They call me Heisenburger.
|
Well trafficking burgers ain't easy, let me tell you. Goverment searches of houses are becoming more common, usally its to track down 'seditious foodstuffs' pretty damn stupid, if you ask me.
But the moneys good. The only thing you have to worry about is the FFRB (Fast Food Retention Bureau) tracking you down. Of course it pays to have connections, you need to have runners to traffic the 'goods' if you don't, well, the FFRB will be paying you a visit. Not the kind 'lets knock on your door' visit. The visit where they break down your door and proceed to chuck you in the slammer, just for getting people what they want, what they CRAVE.
But its not easy, in this business, your bound to make enemies. Perhaps a runner will rat you out, perhaps the guy who you got goods is an FFRB Informant. Thats how I got pegged. Bloody FFRB. I know the guy, goes by the name of Dan Williamson. He's probably in the Witness Protection program.
But when I get out, he's going to wish he didn't rat me out.
| 2016-07-25T09:05:07 | 2016-07-25T06:21:30 | 89 | 13 |
[WP] Every human is given their lifetime supply of "luck" to be used at their will. Some choose to expend it all at once on a massive success, and live the rest of their lives with no luck, some spread it out evenly and use luck on random small events.
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"Happy Birthday" the room full of faces cheered as a small flame was lit over a large wax 4 and 2.
Jonathan had lived this far without using any luck. Just a lifetime of hard work, pulled bootstraps, and an endless stream of disappointment. But he was saving it, saving it for something big. Or at least that's what he reminded himself every year as he blew out the candles.
But then, as he knelt down toward the little flames with lips puckered and breath held he saw her. She was standing next to Tom, that guy from work he always overheard on the otherside of the cubicle wall. *That* was his sister? Time slowed as he started to blow out the candles. He could get lucky tonight. He could get really lucky.
But he remembered what he was saving it for. Just like all those Max Health powerups and super grenade energy missiles and extra poison resistance items in all those video games - *he had to save it*. What if something even better came along later? What if he NEEDED this luck to survive? Besides, he had girls before, and he could win her affection without any help. So Jonathan blew out the candles to the claps and cheers from the crowd.
He felt sick. Did he hold he breath too long? Just a little lightheaded. He tried not to think about it, and perhaps it was just the elation and adrenaline as he walked toward the girl.
"Hey. You're Tom's sister, right?"
"Yeah. Happy Birthday."
They talked for what seemed like hours. The crowd thinned as time went on. A few people passed out on the couch. But they still talked, laughed, and flirted with increasing intensity. Who needs luck, he thought, as he asked her upstairs. He was tired from the day, but fuck it if he was going to sleep now. He forced himself up the stairs with her gentle hand in his. His pants tightened. Her smile turned to a smirk, and he kissed her. He laid her down onto the bed, where they both died of monoxide poisoning, as had the rest of the party.
|
He was different. All through school, his friends used luck to pass a test they never studied for, or to get their crush to go out with them. Gray just hit 20, and watched several of his friends run out of luck. They didn't become unlucky, but instead simply could have the scales tip either way. They never again won as big anymore. They simply ran out, and never had the advantage of using luck again.
But Gray couldn't spend his luck. Up through middle school, he had perfect grades on tests. His parents and teachers kept trying to tell him he shouldn't waste his luck all the time, especially being the smartest in his class without it.
This ended halfway through freshman year of high school. He stopped getting perfect grades, and simply barely passed with an A through pure effort. He realized he must have run out of luck, having never been able to control it.
Sophomore year, Gray tried to make the football team. With his school at the top ranking in the district, he knew it would be hard. Trying for the first time in his life, he tried to scrounge for all his luck he could have left. At the end of the day, he was taken to the hospital for a broken arm.
But for the next year, he started getting perfect grades again. And when he saw them dropping a percent at a time again, he knew. Gray couldn't spend his luck, it just poured out. But unlike anyone else, he could earn it.
The next year, he crashed his car. He got a reputation for being rejected by girls. But here he is, free ride scholarship in college. He doesn't even go to classes, he just passes without trying. It was worth the hospital visits.
(Sorry guys, this is my first post here. I'm not the best writer and I'm on mobile, I just wanted to see who shared my take.)
| 2016-10-19T13:16:31 | 2016-10-19T11:14:44 | 33 | 22 |
[WP] You've worked on the CRISPR project for years, and your young daughter is dying of a genetic anomaly. You secretly cure her using a snippet of DNA from an exotic animal. Twenty years later, her young twins develop some interesting traits.
|
So I accidentally made a pair of psychics.
My daughter was suffering from a rare genetic illness, Dying in her bed in incredible pain. I worked for weeks and weeks and weeks, little sleep, little food. I lost 40 lbs.
But I did it, I designed a protein that corrected for her neurological disorder. I designed a system of delivery for full body gene therapy. I temporarily gave her immunosuppressants. I applied the treatment secretly. And she recovered, and improved. Became smarter than she was before.
Lived a good life, got a good job, found a good man.
Then came her kids. I was surprised her identical twins got a functional copy of my modification. And then as they grew up, something was wrong.
Well, not wrong, not really. Just abnormal. One would feel the other’s pain. They would appear to know what they were each thinking. And as they grew up and gained command of language and thought, they realised what they had. At 14 they both won Randi’s million dollar prize. But they didn’t set themselves up as stage magicians. But as a psychologist and neuroscientist. Understanding what they had. They became icons of the transhuman. They represented a future for the evolution of the human race. And then they made it real. They isolated my protein, they worked out how to expand it, and give t to others. Regardless of biological relationship.
And then, came the collective. A group of posthumans. Psychics, biohackers and all other interested groups.
And they changed the world, encouraged the ultimate form of empathy and compassion. Encouraged transcendence of traditional limitations.
I lie here, surviving only on the technology that they created. And I’m happy. Happy with what they did. And even if their technology cannot save me. It may save many others. I am honestly proud of the world they, and I suppose I, created.
|
"Dr. Reynolds, your daughter will see you now." The nurse said, her voice sounding strained.
"Oh thank God! Twins, right? Being a grandpa to not one..but two! Can you imagine?!" My excitement was visceral, but the nurse merely nodded.
"Yes... its.. ummm. A miracle. Congratulations." She said bluntly, quickly pointing to a door and walking off.
I opened it and immediately saw my daughter, Meghan, lying in her hospital gown holding two small infants in her arms.
"Daddy, come meet your two new grandaughters." Meghan mumbled as I edged closer.
I was smiling ear to ear and pulled the blankets back to reveal something that froze me in fear.
Oh god.. I knew what had happened immediately, why they looked like this. Why their hair was so thick, their ears so pointy, the canine teeth hanging over their pouty lips, the webbed feet, the striped tails.. Someone else would figure it out. I could lose my license. Hell, I could go to jail. They were hideous. Monsters.
I looked up at Meghan, wanting to apologize, to explain that I was only trying to save her life, that if I would have known...
She smiled. "It's ok, dad. I know all about the CRISPR project you worked on. It doesn't matter. They're beautiful, perfect. They are mine."
Tears filled my eyes as I once more stared at my grandchildren and ran my fingers through their shaggy hair.
"They are perfect, aren't they?"
| 2018-05-04T02:33:48 | 2018-05-04T02:16:14 | 56 | 38 |
[WP] Two people have just died. They both enter the same location in the afterlife. For one person, it is their personal heaven; for the other, it is hell. Describe their arrival and first "day" there.
|
When he saw the sign he spit cheeto dust everywhere. As he approached the door an elder man stood there apparently mystified. The man turned around as he approached.
"Mr. Shatner" he said kneeling in salute "Please allow me to escort you inside."
"But.. but.. but.. " the elder man stammered. "I'm a good person. I've always tried to help people to make the world a better place. I don't understand."
The entered the door into a room. The lights were dim and there was a musk that neither could accurately place. In front of them were two terminals. He approached one of the terminals leaving the elder man still shell shocked. His squeal of delight shocked the other man to his sense. He too approached a terminal. It seemed normal and yet the sign on the door seemed to indicate the worst. He tried a simple search.
404 Error. Not Found.
He tried his personal page.
404 Error. Not Found.
He tried the news
404 Error. Not Found.
With a reluctant sigh he tried the one query he knew would work. The one the younger man was already so gleefully lost in. The one URL he knew would work. The one printed on the door. The one he dreaded above all.
Welcome to Reddit After Life /u/williamshatner
|
Imagine my surprise when, one second I'm gasping for breath on a West Coast beach, and the next I'm surrounded on all sides by meatball subs.
I don't just mean a few lying on the ground willy-nilly, but a maze of cholesterol and fat. And, oh God, the smell. It was like someone was finger fucking my nose with marinara as a lubricant. I have never been more confused and disgusted at the same time.
My record was soon broken when I heard what could only be described as a wood chipper full of mud and broken glass. A pile of sandwiches suddenly moved over, revealing itself as an incredibly large pile of smelly man. "OH PARDNAH YA SCERT MEH!" it spat at me. His chinfintiy wobbling with ever syllable he forced past the meatball holocaust in his mouth. I wish I could describe my terror when the beast smiled and said "WELCUM TUH 'EVAN!"
Bullshit.
| 2015-01-04T15:01:47 | 2015-01-04T13:34:24 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] An AITA post in an established fictional universe
|
**AITA for telling my younger son he should have gone on a quest?**
I (89, male) have two sons: B (41, male) and F (30? 35? Does it really matter?, male). B is everything a father could hope for. Strong, brave, heroic. He would be a perfect ruler.
Now, F on the other hand... He is an utter disappointment. He prefers "diplomacy" and "patience" over battles. He believes music and lore are enjoyable. And worse still, he had the audacity to be born second. I think you get the idea.
On to the crux of the matter. B was summoned on a quest. Something to do with obtaining a piece of jewelry. Don't get the wrong idea though! B doesn't care for shiny trinkets and baubles. This particular item is thought to be quite powerful. And since he would make such a fine ruler, it is only right that he should claim it for himself. So, I gave him my blessing to go on this quest.
Sometime later, we received word that B had fallen in battle. A fitting end for such a fine, brave warrior as B! But even still, this tragic loss tore the very heart from my chest. It was around this time when F dared to show his smug face in my presence. I tried to gently shoo him away, but he glared at me with his beady little eyes and dared to ask if I would've preferred if F had switched places with B! So I told him that of course F should have been the one that went on that quest! What an idiotic question!
So, AITA?
I might not be able to respond right away. I'll be busy gathering wood and oil for a pyre.
|
AITA for killing my girlfriend's father (I thought he was my uncle)?
I (22M) killed my girlfriend (20F)'s father (86M) because he was hiding behind a curtain in my mother (42F)'s bedroom and I thought he was my uncle (37M). I want to kill my uncle for a number of reasons, including that he is sleeping with my mother, his brother's widow; he does not like me; the ghost of my father told me that he was killed by my uncle and then I put on a play to prove it and it worked. Later my mother told me to come to her room and she yelled at me about angering my uncle due to the play and I yelled at her to stop doing incest and then she told me it wasn't technically incest because they aren't related by blood. And my girlfriend's father was hiding behind a curtain in my mother's bedroom the entire time and said something because he thought my mother was being murdered because both of us were yelling, and I thought he was my uncle, and I stabbed through the curtain, killing him.
My mother, of couse, yelled at me about this, and I told her I did it because I thought it was my uncle, and she yelled at me more. My girlfriend, upon hearing about her father, went mad (over a period of time) and my best friend is scared for my sanity and also really mad, both because of this and a number of other reasons (including that I sent two mutual friends to their deaths, for various reasons).
So, AITA?
| 2022-12-06T17:08:09 | 2022-12-06T15:09:06 | 53 | 34 |
[WP] You just died and realize that you're in heaven. You lock eyes with someone you never knew in this life, but intuitively, you know this person as your soulmate in countless past lives. She/he says, "Well...what do you have to say for yourself?"
|
“Well?” She said.
She was so beautiful it was distracting. I looked down and toed the dirt in front of me. It sparkled with flecks of gold.
She held out her info sheet for me to see. It was similar to mine: identification details, photo, summaries of past lives, etc. And at the bottom, another photo and a name.
It was my high school graduation photo, one of the better ones. I looked down at my own sheet. Her photo was clearly a professional head shot. She looked exactly the same, whereas I had taken on a slightly older version of myself in this place.
“Every life,” she said, her finger on the paper, “this says that in every single one of them we were destined to be soulmates. And yet I died countless times, never having found a true partner. How is that possible?”
Her eyes were filling, and all I wanted to do was hold her.
“It,” I stammered, “It followed me through all my lives.”
“What? What followed you?”
“I can’t really describe it now. It doesn’t exist here. In fact, I think its absence is what made me realize I was in heaven.”
She shook her head a little in confusion.
“I’m sorry,” I said. I pointed at my photo. “I never made it past this age, in any of my lives. It always took hold around that time and I could never beat it. I have never lived a full life. I’m so sorry,” I said again. “Maybe if I had known you were in my future, I would have made different decisions."
She touched my arm and it filled me with warmth. It filled the places that had once only held darkness, and I realized that I had never known love, in any life. I know people had loved *me*, but the darkness was always stronger.
She took my hand. “So,” she said gently, “it’s gone now?”
I nodded, having no words to describe it further.
She smiled and took my other hand. “Well,” she said, “we’re here now.”
I nodded again and returned her smile. She held my gaze for a moment.
“Okay.” She squeezed my hands. “Let’s get started."
|
"Human 0201-02, welcome to Neverland."
She opened her eyes. The pain was gone and her eyesight was fine, even without her glasses on.
She was alone on a beach, with a palm in the middle and the sea breezing around her. She knew this place from .... somewhere ... sometime ... But she couldn't figure out where she'd seen this place before.
"W.. Wendy?" She heard a familiar voice behind her.
She turned around, and instantly recognized him. The red hair and the boyish eyes was forever stuck in her mind.
"Peter!" She yelled, feeling all the happiness in her life return to her body.
She ran to him, but the closer she got, the more his face twisted.
As she jumped to him, with her arms out, trying to grab him, he flew away.
Wendy fell in the sand, and looked up at the boy.
"Peter?" She said, in surprise.
"Wendy you've.. changed." His face wasn't at all the joyful face she remembered, his face was twisted, horrified ... even hateful.
"Peter it's me, Wendy. Your Wendy."
He flew further up in the sky, still looking at her with disgust. "No, you're not at all like my Wendy. I .. I can't look at you."
Tears started streaming from her face. "Peter.."
"Wendy you've.. aged." He said, flying away. She kept screaming for him, tears streaming Down her cheecks, but he kept flying off in the distance, and soon he was out of her sight again.
His Words; "Wendy you've aged" echoed through her head, as she realized that Neverland wasn't called Neverland because you'd never age .. It's because you'll never die.
EDIT: English not main language, so bear with me - first time writing a piece in English.
| 2017-04-03T00:27:45 | 2017-04-02T22:29:34 | 38 | 26 |
[WP] At 14, every human gains the ability to transform into their spirit animal. Your noble family, comprised entirely of wolves, isn't happy with your transformation...
|
I stared up at the star-filled sky. Out here far from the capital and deep into the forest there were plenty to see. My back lay on the bark of an old trunk. Older than me and probably older than my father as well. It had been a long time since I'd thought of him. Almost 17 years since I'd last seen him. His memory was vague. His face blurred in my mind to such ambiguity that I felt as if I could make it out in the traces of smoke that hovered in front of my face.
The handwoven cigar dimmed as it started to burn out. I coughed a light on it and took another puff as my mind drifted back 17 years to my 14th birthday.
This memory remained as clear in my mind as the veins on the leaves that had fallen in front of me. It had been slightly cloudy, the interior marble reminiscent of a hall that had once been great but now worn away into dullness. The people had massed in front of us in a lazy attempt to loom organized. Ministers, priests, and the wealthiest of the wealthy had all come to this one room in order to witness our transformation. We stood side by side, indistinguishable but for our apparel. He wore a dark gold while mine was a more delicate silver. Twin princes of a mighty kingdom ruled by a clan of wolves.
To be wolves was our birthright, it was what defined us and in return we defined the kingdom. They said the first transformation was always painful. I hadn't realized what they had meant by pain I was collapsed on the floor, writhing in so much agony that for the first time I'd questioned whether it was worth it. I had, of course, passed out, a reasonably common experience, only few had managed to remain conscious the first time round.
My eyes opened to the sight of a wolf, my brother, still unconscious. He was beautiful, I'd thought. That was when I noticed the trails of ash puffing out in front of me as I took each breath. What the fuck? Ash? Why? I climbed to all fours and gazed down at my father. Down at him. Why was my head so high? My father, for all his flaws, was not easily spooked. He locked eyes with me; his head angled very steeply upward, his face a blurry mess. "Boy." He whispered under his breath "What are you?"
That was when my I noticed my distorted reflection on the crown atop my father's head. Crimson, scaly and disgusting.
This is where the memories of that day stop being clear. I opened my mouth, tried to express my own confusion, but all that had come out were flames. Bright, red and burning everything. It was moments before the whole hall was aflame. Screams bounced around my ears from every direction. Most were close by, others seemed to be coming from miles away as the people of the capital noticed the flames. And then I was in the sky, not sure of how or why. The smoke only a spec of blackness in the distance.
I have tried my best to be secluded, but they come looking for me from time to time. The occasional unfortunate knights do find me. I wonder if they know it is me they hunt? Their prince. Or do they believe I am dead, one of the burnt bodies they found that day. And what of my father? Or my brother? Does my brother know?
The cigar had begun to dim again as I had found myself lost in my thoughts and distracted from reality. I coughed it back to light and took another puff. The irony of it. The lone wolf who wasn't a wolf.
|
On my fourteenth birthday my family gathered around my bed as I awoke. 6 wolves impatiently wagged their bushy tails. They were all panting and Marcie had someone's underwear in her mouth. They waited for me to test my transformation.
They waited 'til about 5AM and then they all howled out something that faintly resembled a "Happy Birthday!" and Marcie whipped my face with the underwear.
"So Doug," said my dad, "are we ready for another wolf in the family or what?"
He stood as tall as he did as a human, more proud than he'd been for years, finally getting to see his last child transform.
I got up from my bed and bent down onto my knees excited to join them all. My fat stomach sagged to the floor and I raised my chest up to the sky, my three chest hairs protruding like an offering to the moon.
I started howling out with all of my strength and the family was going wild. Butch and Sandy wrestled with each other and barked, Grey was growling at something he imagined to be floating around the room, and Marcie had gone off into my underwear drawer to tear up the rest of the nearby stock. She'd always go after the mailman's underwear whenever he was on our street and must have been particularly restless now to go after mine.
And then it happened. My chest hairs turned white, and then more started popping up. My chest was soon filled with a circle of white, and a black ring started forming around it. Then my body grew to the size of a bean bag chair and my legs shrunk down to the length of my knee. My howling turned into a series of neighs and squeaks.
"What is this, some kind of joke, Doug?" my dad asked.
They all sat there very still for a few minutes before my downtrodden sister Marcie dropped the underwear from her mouth and transformed back to her human self. She walked off to her room with a grand disappointment, almost as grand as when she found out she wasn't allowed to transform into a wolf in the underwear section of the department store.
"This is worse than the department store!" she yelled back at the room before she entered her own.
I stand corrected.
I just sat there with a forest-sized desire to eat bamboo forming in my stomach.
Soon enough it was just me and my parents left, both in human form. I was ready for a lecture, but my mom broke down to tears and my dad consoled her on the way out of the room.
"You don't even eat meat do you Mr. Panda," said one of my brothers as he passed by the room.
I had always thought it would be great to be a wolf like the rest of them, but I'm just not the same type of person, anyways. I eat salad and I gain weight, I hate going out, especially at night, and I've always been more of a cuddly spirit.
"Pandas are excellent cuddlers if anyone wants to come back in here!" I yelled to my empty audience. No one responded. "I could use a cuddle right now!" My repeated plea went ignored.
"Time to check out the panda colony I guess!" I yelled. "Dammit," I muttered before transforming and getting back into bed.
| 2017-01-22T01:02:20 | 2017-01-21T20:18:38 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] Faster than light travel has been proven impossible, that's why humans are so surprised when aliens turn up. Not as surprised as the aliens on the generational ship who say the planet was void of life when they set off, following a missile they had sent to wipe out the dinosaurs.
|
I stared at the aliens, confused. “How did you get here? We’ve proven that traveling faster than light is impossible.”
*Correct,* the voice in my head responded. These creatures spoke with their minds instead of mouths. It still creeped me out a bit. *We got here by slowly traveling through space. What concerns us, however, is you.*
“Wait, us?” I exclaimed.
*We did not expect there to be anything left on this planet. When we left, it was devoid of all life,* the voice calmly said.
“So,” I started to say, “You’ve been traveling for…”
*Around 65 million years, give or take.*
I whistled. “Your species lasts this long?”
If the creature could laugh, it would have. Instead it made some sort of wheezing sound. *No, we are descendants of those who left our home. Be glad you did not meet those who originally left.*
“Why?” I asked.
*They…* it paused. *They had some, let’s say, radical views. They wouldn’t hesitate to repeat what they did before. You see, it was them who sent the missile.*
My eyebrows furrowed. “What missile? And how do we not know about this.”
The alien sighed in my mind. *Because that missile wiped out all life on this planet 130 million years ago.*
Edit: thanks for the typo u/braoutchmeuh! Completely missed them when writing it.
|
By the time ʻOumuamua was already gone, humanity had discovered the true nature of the extrasolar object. Tongue in cheek arguments that it was an extraterrestrial probe, sent by some far off civilization, were proven correct- in part, by signals left in it's wake, repeating in binary, every three point one four minutes, on a wavelength so faint it took ARCJAT, a satellite radio telescope launched in 2040, to pick it up.
The asteroid was a casing for an extraterrestrial craft, drifting for billions and billions of years, with an initial trajectory targeting where Earth was some 45 million years ago, following the purge of competitive life 66 million years ago. The craft had been damaged somehow during it's long travel, and whatever force which motivated it's trajectory had flubbed the math at some point because of it, causing the craft to miss Earth by few houses, cosmically speaking, and was forced by gravity to shoot past our system and Oort cloud.
We will never know what the extraterrestrials look like, but Sir Isaac Newton claimed another victory for Earth, it seemed.
| 2022-12-30T09:12:32 | 2022-12-30T00:47:23 | 115 | 35 |
[WP] You were warned that your newest crew member, a "Human", had vastly different biology from all other known races. This mad made very clear when they drank all of the galaxy's strongest known poison, saying that they "needed a drink of water."
|
Tilis laughed under their breath, their male and female heads undulating their tentacles in amusement. A pinch of this, a dash of that, careful to maintain seals on the PPE...
A warning tone at the Hazardous Materials Lab door heralded the entry of Morv, the hulking uluian shuffling along on his eighteen stumpy legs, covered head-to-toes in heavy white protective gear. He sighed as he witnessed the maniac concoctions of Tilis. "Hell ya doin', Til?"
"A miracle of science, my dear Morv!" Tilis chimed in stereo from their two heads, peppery with cheer and mirth. "A pushing of boundaries, an investigation into the limits of the known world!"
"Ya look like you're making something that'll kill everyone on this ship."
"All but one!" Tilis laughed wildly as they put the tray of concocted discs into a heated solidifier. ""According to protocols, these toxins need to be seared at high heat to unlock their full deadly glory! Watch with me, dear friend, as we dance dangerously upon the precipice of destruction, boldly in the name of science!"
"Mmmf." Morv grunted, as he observed the solidifier in action, watching the pasty toxin concoctions stabilize into discs.
The warning tone chimed again, as Kevin entered the lab. Kevin was a "Hu Man", bipedal with only two arms. Kevin was wearing no PPE as he sauntered into the Hazardous Materials Lab. "Hey guys, just came to tell ya the grav-ball game got moved to fourteen-hundred. Damn, what smells so good?"
"Tilis is making something."
"A terror upon the senses, a nightmare to the sanity of weak minds!" Tilis laughed merrily, their female head giving Morv a knowing wink. "What say you to a field sample?"
Kevin looked around. "What kind of field sample?"
Tilis pulled the tray of toxin discs from the solidifier. "These are made from the dried and ground husks of four different toxic plants, Kevin. Their agency amplified tenfold by the addition of lethal amounts of primary elements including, but *certainl*y not limited to, sodium and chlorine!"
Kevin took a toxin disc in his bare unprotected hand, sniffed it, and immediately ate the entire toxin disc in a single bite.
Morv and Tilis watched in horror and delight respectively, as Kevin amicably chewed and swallowed the disc. "Tastes good. Can I have more, or are these to share?"
"More?! **SHARE**?!" Morv dropped his jaw in astonishment. "Those were POISON, Kevin! I saw Tilis put ground nuvarian prairie grasses and jellied xoxilot fruit into it!"
Kevin thought for a moment, grabbing two more toxin discs to munch on. "I think we just call these "cookies" back home, Morv. Chocolate-chip, old childhood favorite."
"You people feed that stuff to KIDS?" Morv paled and trembled beneath his PPE at the thought. Tilis was on the floor laughing their tail off.
Kevin shrugged, and went to a vat on the wall. Grabbed a cup and filled it with a clear liquid. Before Morv could protest, Kvin washed the whole cup down. "Normally I'd take milk with these, but water will do."
"KEVIN! That was oxygenated hydrogen! It's deadly!"
"Deadly flavorless, maybe." Kevin tossed the cup onto a counter, and waved idly as he went into the interstitial zone and activated the regulation-mandated cleansing spray. "Grav-ball at fourteen-hundred, yeah?"
Morv stood rooted in place, stammering insensibly, as Tilis continued their ceaseless manic laughter.
|
I had mixed feelings about John Smith. He looked different. He acted differently. But Sargent Cyborg said he was one of us. I don't think I saw what Sargent did though; he called him a human and said he was safe. I thought he was odd. It was my job to train him, so I did what was asked of me, much to my disagreement. I didn't like him.
We were settling down for the evening after a slightly unusual dinner; it was curry, according to John Smith. It was hot and spicy and it wasn't what I was used to. I much preferred the safe foods that didn't burn my delicate palette. Nevertheless, I ate it anyway, mainly to keep Sargent happy; he didn't want me to offend the human. Plus, he scared me when he was angry.
As I did so, I noticed some of the curry had splashed on the wall of the spacecraft. John Smith was next to me and the cleaning station was next to him.
"Make yourself useful John Smith, pass me that bottle on the shelf marked 'Toxic - For Stubborn Stains Only', will you?"
"Sure. What's the magic inside of it?" The inquisitive John Smith asked.
"Water."
"Water? Ha! Why's it labelled toxic then?"
"It's the galaxy's strongest known poison. As soon as that enters your system, you're done for."
"Nonsense."
"If you could just -" I was going to ask him to give it to me but he had already unscrewed the safety cap on the large glass bottle holding 500ml of pure poison. It was good for cleaning, removing those stubborn marks and stains.
John Smith smelt the bottle.
"No, don't" I advised him, "if that enters your nose -".
It was too late. He downed it all in one.
I pressed the panic button and the sirens echoed throughout the spacecraft. Lights flashed. Sargent came floating over.
"What is it? What's happened?"
"It's John Smith, Sargent. The silly human has only gone and drank the water."
Sargent looked at John Smith, worried about his limited time left; he knew he would have to flush it out of John Smith soon enough or he would be dealing with a fatality.
John Smith looked around, bottle still in hand. He shrugged, wondering what the fuss was about.
"What's the problem? I needed a drink of water!"
We all looked at him in shock and horror.
"What?" He asked again.
Sargent looked at me as if to say I had failed in training up the new recruit. I looked at Sargent; there was nothing I could have done.
"Got any more?" John Smith queried.
"Well, yes, actually… just behind -" I stopped myself, I was being sarcastic but then I realised I shouldn't let the human drink poison, despite my dislike for him.
But before I knew it, John Smith had picked up the last bottle of water onboard and drank it, though a little slower than the first.
"This is the purest water I've ever tasted", he exclaimed savouring the taste, "it's delicious".
I was annoyed at him more than usual. I turned off the flashing lights and sirens.
John Smith remained unaffected by the poison he had just downed.
I looked at the curry I saw before the fiasco began, turned back to John Smith and asked: "what are we going to clean that with now?"
He shrugged and turned a flush red. I was not sure what the colour change meant; I could only presume it was embarrassment.
---
r/paulwrites
| 2020-05-18T10:05:05 | 2020-05-18T08:35:49 | 2,728 | 576 |
[WP] Humanity has detonated hundreds of nukes, but only twice against an enemy. The Galactic Federation has this fact without context.
|
The slave shrieked one last time and limpened in a pool of blood. The black orb in the middle of the meeting room emitted a short pulse of ultra-violet light, only visible to select councillors.
"What is the emergency?", a deep voice resonated.
Im-Wuz stepped forward, his chitin claws clacking on the floor.
"We've lost contact with our mining outpost, Great One", he buzzed.
"That's beneath my concern", the orb growled. "Send a scouting party".
"Let me handle this", Shih'klooth interrupted. The chief of security slushed forward, casting an angry glance at the insect-shaped fungus.
"Great One, my analysts believe we're facing a dire threat. I implore you to listen what this lowly miner has to say."
The orb remained silent. "Give us your report on that tribe", Shih-klooth whispered.
"As the *head of resources*", Im-Wuz stressed, "I've been receiving intelligence reports from the planet M27OS-3 for the past century. As per nature of such reports, data might be incomplete or come with a delay, but it appears as though the people there have entered the early technological age. I was actually going to propose making our presence known and establish further contact, but this paranoid brute--"
"They're using nuclear explosives!", Shih-klooth yelled.
Other councillors looked at each other, surprised with his ourburst.
"So what?", someone asked. "Everybody uses them".
"The planet is almost completely shielded from the cosmic radiation", Im-Wuz reluctantly admitted. "Life forms that evolved there need heavy shielding to even leave atmosphere -- which, by the way, they apparently have".
There was a murmur in the room. Teying to imagine a life form that couldn't handle radiation was difficult enough, but why would such a race put their own ecosystem at risk..?
"It gets worse", Shih-klooth added. "My guys double-checked your data, and they swear by the name of the Dreaming One: those are not mining charges, those are weapons."
"And that's where you wrong!", Im-Wuz was triumphant. "If you check directories 9134 to 9969 in our report, you'll clearly see that only twice have they used nuclear weapons in wars!"
"And that's exactly why I took it upon myself to call in a meeting of the highest order", Shih-klooth gestured towards the altar where the blood had already vanished. "I can get behind destroying planets or risking your own future to win a war. But we know for a fact that they aren't fighting each other with these weapons. Yet they constantly blow them up - military-grade charges, no less. And on top of that, we've lost contact with our mining party. So I'm asking you..."
He paused, gazing around the council room before finally turning to the sphere.
"I'm asking you - who or what are those people fighting?"
Heavy silence fell onto the council hall. Everyone knew what this question entailed -- and no one dared speak the answer out loud.
Finally, the sphere spoke - its voice still powerful, but with a fleeting dissonance, a slight tremble:
"Forget the mining party. If there's even a distant possibility that we're facing *them*, we can't take any chances. Engage the Dark Matter protocol."
"But, Great One!", Im-Wuz protested. "To shield from a developed civilization we'd have to cut off an entire sector of space, possibly thousands of galaxies! We have other operations in that--"
Shih-klooth winced and looked away. He knew what happened to those who spoke up to the Great One... But it was all for the good cause, he told himself. Those "humans" will never learn that there is anything beyond what they'll see as "the dark matter"... and the rest of the galaxy will never have to face the unspeakable.
|
"Twice?!"
"That's what it says here."
"That's ... far less than I expected."
Every head in the room turned towards the one who'd said this. A green individual with four bright yellow eyes spoke first.
"Does your saying ... less?"
The grey individual with blacked-out eyes at the head of the table continued.
"Indeed I did." He climbed to his feet and began to wander down the length of the table. "The very fact that they used any nukes at all is somewhat problematic, but not entirely unexpected. I mean, look at the Yatoshans. They'd used 309 nuclear weapons and had almost wiped themselves out before we intervened. And while their integration into the Federation was one of the most ... messy on record ..."
He stopped on the other side of the room, turned to address the many faces gawking at him and places his hand on the table.
"... they still came around in the end, and turned out far better for it. Let us not forget why we're here. Splitting the atom is a crucial step for any civilisation. What they do with this newfound power determines their threat level, their integration potential, and their general level of hostility."
He raises himself up once more and moves towards the window behind him.
"The fact that they only used this power against themselves twice is a good sign. It displays a level of restraint and order nearly unheard of on this side of the galaxy."
"Yeah, on this side," a fuzzy individual with a lengthy snout intervened. "But what about on their side? They're the first civilisation from the Dark Corner that we've been able to observe, and only a little at that. Maybe they've only launched two nukes because they only had two major targets to attack."
"Our sources say they have hundreds of cities all over the globe," another fuzzy creature with a decidedly shorter snout chimed in. "I'm inclined to agree that their hostility level is low."
The room began to stir, with more and more voices presenting their opinions.
"We have so little data..."
"We can't get to them anyway."
"They could be in trouble, we have to help them!"
"They could *be* the trouble. I say we leave them."
"No one's ever been into the Dark Corner and survived..."
"Has anyone seen my legs?"
The man at the window turned to address the rabble.
"Alright, alright! Settle down, everyone! Settle down. In our observations of how this planet fights amongst itself, let us not also fight amongst *our*selves."
The room fell silent. A pair of disembodied legs ran past the open door in the corridor outside.
"That's better. Now," the grey man began, sitting down once more, "I have a proposal. We need an excuse to investigate the Dark Corner further, and now that we know there's an entire species trapped inside, I'd say that's as good an excuse as any. I suggest we set up a science station to study the anomaly near it's perimeter, and to try to find a way to enter and exit unharmed. For all we know, these 'humans', as they call themselves, could be all alone in there, and as such, may believe they're alone in the universe. They may not even know they're trapped. Hostile or not, I believe it is our responsibility to save them. Any objections?"
No one spoke.
"Good. Then let's get started."
\---
Part II is on the way! I'll be posting it over on r/Thesparalius when it's done. Part I is up already! Go and give it some love!
| 2021-02-17T05:52:52 | 2021-02-17T04:34:37 | 1,252 | 818 |
[WP] The Hero, Villain, and Princess have all gotten tired of the endless cycle of kidnap and rescue. So in order to settle things once and for all, they get together and talk it out like reasonable adults.
|
They looked at each other, in anticipation.
"Are you ready?" asked the hero. His brother smiled.
"I'm ready as I'll ever be. Let's kick his ass" he replied.
The princess smiled as well. This would be the day, when she can finally show her strength. Instead of just letting men save her, she would win and save them all.
Their monstrous opponent stood aside, snarking at them. They'd never stop him. The kingdom would be his, of that he was sure.
Only one person didn't join in the preparation - one of the trusted subjects of the princess looked at the whole situation with absolute dread. When he heard that the famed heroes and the princess were attempting a diplomatic solution to the usurper problem, he was surprised and hopeful. Finally a mature path! But this? This was as far from mature as it could be!
Finally, the bell rang, and contestants approached their vehicles. A race was about to commence and the fate of the Mushroom Kingdom will be decided.
|
“So why do you keep on kidnapping me?” A woman in some expensive jeans and shortsleeved shirt asked the large draconic figure.
“A feud with your father. He thought it was a good idea to push back the boundaries and, honestly, you were a last resort.” It waved a claw to a map on the wall.
“So you’re saying that you were basically provoked then?” A man in slightly burnt riot armor questioned.
“The king was being unreasonable. He was going to start a war if someone didn’t do anything.”
“So my father is the real one behind this?”
“Quite so.”
“And the records were cleared of diplomatic attempts?”
“As it seems.”
“And none of us decided to just talk?”
“We were all guilty on that. Me, for the most part.”
—— read more stories at r/GlacioWrites
| 2021-11-10T11:22:34 | 2021-11-10T11:09:26 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] You have just used Pink hair dye without reading the fine print, "May cause Main Character Syndrome." Your day is becoming... interesting.
|
Most people have normal regrets. Letting that girl get away, not studying for that big exam, taking that first whiff of a cigarette.
Mine was putting on shampoo.
It was just a phase alright? I wanted to really stick it to mom and dad by turning my hair pink. That’ll show ‘em.
Yeah. Teen me was not very smart.
So I’d put it on, then turned the damn thing around. It had two warnings. MAY be permanent & MAY cause main character syndrome. I dismissed the second one as a joke, and became really worried about the first one.
Not only is my hair *still* pink five years later, my life has become a living hell.
And so I present to you, A Day in the Life…
***
I was out on one of my bi-monthly grocery trips. I didn’t leave the house much, because it was dangerous.
I finished paying the cashier and lugged my huge bags of groceries back to the car. Nothing had happened so far, maybe I’d get away Scott free…
My car exploded.
I dropped my grocery bags and massaged my temples. I had insurance on that car that I had claimed dozens of times. The insurance company had had me followed once, to see if I was committing insurance fraud.
The poor guy had ended up with multiple hair line fractures. Collateral damage of my condition.
What I *was* worried about though was the...thing that had just materialized on top of the car, laughing maniacally. He was about 10 feet tall made up of what I can only describe as alien snails. Trust me, you don't want to know more.
“Face me, if you would dare, mortal!” he said, and thunder boomed and lightning flashed as he did. It had been clear skies literally minutes ago.
The universe had a sick, sick sense of humor.
I took a deep breath. I could do this. I’d survived for 5 years, this was just another day. I exhaled, took one last look at the demon, and ran like hell.
Hey, don’t look at me like that, what would *you* have done if you saw that shit?
“COWARD!” the demon called after me, but I didn’t turn around, just kept running. I was very good at it, considering all the practice I’d had these past five years.
For once though something went my way and I saw a local taxi passing by on the road. I flagged it down and jumped into the car.
“Drive, goddamit!” I yelled, and the car took off in a screech of tires.
I breathed a sigh of relief after we were a couple of blocks away. I’d gotten away again. I’d have to go get groceries tomorrow, but today was over. I’d survived.
Famous last words.
“Thanks for the save, mate,” I said to the driver, “just drop me wherever, I’ll walk.”
“Oh I’ll drop you,” the driver said, and now I could make out his red irises and tiny horns, “drop you IN HELL”
I just closed my eyes and sighed. Typical, really.
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
|
"Have you heard what people have been saying about you?" Matt asked as we packed up our books at the end of the lecture. I wasn't sure what the hell he was talking about, people didn't 'discuss' me at all. I lived off campus, I might as well have been a ghost.
"No?" I suggested. "Hey do you think I can tell my tutorial leader that I was sick or is he going to notice I was at this class because of the-" I pointed at my newly minted pink hair instead of talking.
"They're saying you're different," Matt continued like I hadn't just asked a question.
"At least they're saying something," I commented.
"That you've changed," he marched on with his little speech, he wasn't even trying to put his books into his bag anymore. Didn't he have a lecture after this? He ran out of class most days.
"My hair?" I suggested.
"That you're-" Matt trailed off as I waved a hand in front of his face.
"Are you okay?" I asked him and he continued to stare off into the distance as people filed out of the classroom. A lot of them were staring at us, but that made sense, Matt was frozen.
"Prota," the professor had snuck up on me while I was waving at Matt's statue, and he'd used my stupid first name. There was a reason I went by my middle name even though it wasn't much better.
"I don't know what's going on here professor," I said, "he's just stuck like-"
"There isn't time for that," Prof. Curran said as he wrapped gnarled fingers around my shoulder, "I don't have much time, and I must teach you."
"Did I not do well on the test?" I asked as Prof. Curran pulled me away from my friend who was still frozen in place in the middle of saying what people were saying about me.
"I must teach you child, I must show you," he said as he dragged me out to the hallway and toward the elevator that led to his office.
"You know I'm not really an office hours person," I said, "I don't wanna waste your time and that's what tutorial leaders are for so I think I'll just-" the elevator doors closed behind us and cut off my chance to back out of this.
"You must listen to me child, everything I'm about to say is paramount and there isn't much time before they figure out I've been speaking to you."
"You're my Professor, why would that be a problem?"
"You see, I was once like you, innocent, but now I know and I know that you know that you now know what I speak of."
"Uh....No?" I answered.
"Yes, deception will be your guide," Prof. Curran said as the elevator doors opened on the teachers floor, "quickly to my office, I have something I need to show you."
Oh God this had better not be a sex thing.
/r/jacksonwrites
| 2017-10-18T11:29:06 | 2017-10-18T10:53:57 | 1,939 | 317 |
[WP] You're the worst adventurer in history. You've made every imaginable mistake and have had little to no success in quests or dungeons. So you decide to set up a school to teach new adventures what not to do. Your graduates have gone on to be elite adventurers making your school famous.
|
“Alright team,” I said to my new party of rookies, “this is a fairly easy dungeon. In fact, one of the easiest. I’ll be guiding everyone through this course, and we’ll make sure we *all* know the basics before we tackle the higher-level dungeons. Got it?”
Five new recruits nodded back at me.
I’ve been a graduate from the DDA—or, the “Don’t Die Academy” founded by the infamous Oswald Darby for nearly two decades now. Nowadays, I work as a guide to help newbie adventurers to step from their classic textbook scenarios into real, bonafide dungeon-delving. It’s exhausting work at occasions, but meeting new faces and seeing them mature is one of the most rewarding things about my work. Though, I’ll admit, I’m getting real tired of it. Walking through the same dungeon over and over again while guiding new people loses its novelty over time.
We walked inside the dungeon, and I pointed out things Professor Oswald had hammered into me since day one. The most obvious ones being not to step on the weird-looking tiles, not to press on any strange-looking buttons, the list goes on. Everyone trailed after me silently, attentive and afraid of what dangers may await them.
Suddenly, a loud sound exploded through the air to my left, and I quickly yelled a, “GET DOWN!” at my students before trying to shield them. A blast of stone and rock pulverized the wall across me, kicking up a cloud of dust as all the newbies screamed.
Once the dust settled, a calm but knowledgeable voice sighed, “Well, that’s one thing you should DEFINITELY not do, my dear adventurers.”
I looked up incredulously. Standing on the other side of the hallway, observing a huge hole he had made in the dungeon wall, was… Professor Oswald himself.
“Professor?” I weakly muttered.
“Oh my,” he exclaimed at once upon noticing. “Is that young mister Jerry from the 19th graduate class? Good gracious! Look, class—its one of your seniors!”
A crowd of teenagers peeked their heads out of the broken wall. A few of them even waved. I waved back, still shellshocked beyond words.
“Now, as I was saying. Ahem. Ariana, you were right as always. Extra credit for you. *Never* go left when you see a gargoyle carving marked into the floors! I made this mistake back when I was your age and nearly got flattened by a boulder. Thankfully, this dungeon seems to have run out of boulders based on how many times I’ve triggered them. The air pressure still knocked a big one through this wall, though, but the dungeon’s magic will repair it soon. Take notes, take notes!”
“Are you… teaching them dungeon survival tips?” I asked. My legs had automatically taken me to face the professor. He stroked his gray beard with a sly grin, asking me if I was doing the same.
“Well—yes, of course I am,” I said.
“But why do I not see any activated traps?” came Professor Oswald’s reply.
“Because… well, it’s dangerous,” I reasoned. “And the newbies shouldn’t be put in danger.”
“Ah, but you see,” Professor Oswald smirked, “new adventurers learn *best* through experience. They don’t necessarily have to go through danger themselves. Sometimes, watching is enough. Observe, Jerry—see if this sparks any memories for you!”
The professor walked out, signaling for everyone to look at him. Immediately, he yanked down on an engraved handle hidden in the shadows. Before I could call out, Professor Oswald had already dodged a falling anvil dropping with a *CLANG* from the ceiling. He made a tutting sound and pointed at the anvil.
“I’m surprised this dungeon still has anvils. Never pulled the lever to see for yourself, didn’t you, Jerry?”
“It was you who taught me not to pull on any levers in the shadows unless they were embedded with gems,” I retaliated.
“But how did I teach you that? Definitely not by telling you to *not* pull on the lever. Now that I’ve pulled it, everyone knows that an anvil will crush them unless you’re smart enough to dodge it like me. But if you simply *tell* them not to pull it… curiosity has killed many, many cats. I would know, because I nearly died to one of these levers when I was thirteen.”
A strange, giddy feeling began rising in my chest. I suddenly realized it. Professor Oswald’s teaching style was very, very unconventional—but they were certainly creative enough to leave a great impression. Thinking about it, he *did* teach us how to not pull on levers without gems in them by pulling on one himself—whether it was this dungeon or not, it didn’t matter. He sure did know how to keep information in our brains forever.
“Chin up a little, my dear student,” Professor Oswald comforted. He patted me on the shoulder. “You look like this job as a dungeon guide has worn you down tired. Remember the fun in teaching what *not* to do, and not what you *should* do. Students remember much better when I’m on the verge of death compared to a boring, non-interactive tour. Ha!”
Professor Oswald said goodbye to me and vanished back into the large hole he had caused, his own class trailing behind him. It took me a good moment to gather my bearings, but eventually, I let out a genuine laugh.
“Alright then, folks,” I said, walking to an obvious booby trap in the floor. “I bet you were wondering what this does. Now that I’ve told you what you *should* do, here’s what you *shouldn’t*.”
I stepped on the trap and dodged a barrage of arrows. The newbies I had been guiding wow-ed in barely contained anxiousness and excitement. A rush of confidence and satisfaction ran through me. Who knew meeting my old teacher again would make my job so fun.
|
This is the story of Amar Quentro, prince of Quentro and founder of the Amar Quentro Adventure Academy.
All his life, Amar had felt like most of the world got it all wrong about him. Kinda like, everyone tried to make him out, make a word cage for him with their descriptions, but when they spat out their sentence-boxes Amar never could step into them.
Felt like putting on his pants from when he was a kid. A little right, maybe, but mostly wrong. Mostly suffocating.
Like, everyone in Quetro said he was born for the quest, back when he was thirteen. Being the foremost town for adventure in the world, they were usually right about this kind of thing.
To be fair, that one had been misinformed. It was a royal secret that Amar was shit at fighting. Mum thought he would grow into it, become broad-shouldered and agile like Koona, but Dad knew that wasn't happening. Dad had his own failure of a cousin cleverly hidden behind glitter in the family tree.
First quest when he was 14. Bit young, but then Mum was a slave driver and had been in a tizzy over prestige and shit. Dad didnt really care. Dad knew how much a little glue, glitter and gold in the right hands could do.
Amar had actually gotten the pot of gold, but the dragon took off his leg. Mum had cried big fat tears and banned him from any more quests. Dad had sighed a big, deep sigh and asked Amar where his school project glue was.
Both of these, Amar was happy with. He wasn't really a fan of risking his life to get pots of gold and slay cute(yeah, big as hell, but still cute, cmon) animals. And that seemed to be all anyone visible on the family tree seemed to do.
SO. The people were wrong. Not really born for the quest after all, right? Uh, well, not so fast. They weren't all wrong.
Maybe Amar didnt like quests, but quests sure liked Amar. They came searching for him, big and dangerous. From fourteen to eighteen, Amar saw more dungeouns, caves, dragons, and trolls than even the most talented adventurer wannabe had seen in their entire lives.
Astonishingly, he did not die, or lose another limb. There's parts of you to lose beyond physical, and Amar lost quite a few of those, but that isn't what this story's about.
Next, people went around saying he was bad luck. That one was particularly harsh, and could be *very* bad luck if the Queen caught you saying it, but it spawned after a particularly bad dragon attack on the town, so you have to give them a break.
Amar's best friend ditched him over that rumor. More weird non-physical parts of Amar broke, and Dad sent him away to another kingdom because he was sad all the time, and really the worst killjoy ever. Dad liked his joy almost as much as he liked his food.
Dad said Amar could come back when he was happy, and if he knew how to quest that would be a nice bonus too. Then everyone else was falling over themselves to comment on what a bad father he was.
Now that Amar was gone, he was the town's heartthrob. He was a martyr, the injured hero who had been wronged. Amar heard that one and he didnt like it much either.
I'm sure that, if Amar had steered clear another 5 years he would be the sort of fictional hero grandmothers tell stories about. Unfortunately, Amar tended to impulsivity at the best of times. Exiled by his father, minus one limb, quests dogging his steps, this was not the best of times.
Now, one has to make an allowance for what seems the most ridiculous notions. Especially when the one making the decisions is hotheaded, reckless, and in a pretty bad place.
Let me just come out and say it. Amar went back to Quetro and started an adventure school.
Surely, you are aghast at this decision. And yet, somehow, Amar managed to shape this into success.
Now this is an example of leadership and bravery. Despite his doubts, his uncertainty, he forged forward bravely and started his new school.
This is a story of a boy whom everyone wanted to say something about. Mostly, these were bad things. A boy who couldn't find himself in anything anyone said, and so he forged himself this new identity.
And somehow, through nothing but grit, he has found success. The academy run by this misfit adventurer had created world-class adventurers such as David Oisgrath\*, James Griffin\*\* and Cod Line\*\*\*.
I, myself, have studied in the Amar Quentro Academy of Adventure and later been employed in the Academy itself as an advertiser. That's right, the Academy looks after its graduates.
And so this story has a happy ending. The boy who met failure every time has finally found victory beyond his wildest dreams. But one thing remains.
Even after such glory, the Academy remains quite small and not very famous.
Help to make this happy ending even more joyous. Forge yourself a glorious life just as Amar did. Join us now at [QuentroAcademy.com](https://QuentroAcademy.com)(coaching up to the first quest and fine-training available)
&#x200B;
\*Name changed \*\*Name changed \*\*\*Name changed
Note:Paid for by [QuentroAcademy.com](https://QuentroAcademy.com). The writer does not endorse, support or guarantee the information in this article.
| 2022-08-02T20:42:09 | 2022-08-02T18:11:44 | 50 | 16 |
[WP] "Alright children, it's time to recite the three sacred words." "Dont. Go. Outside."
|
"Alright children, recite the three sacred words."
"Don't go outside."
It was habit now. Something engrained. Automatic. And my younger sister and I did it three, four, sometimes five times a day. Not that we knew what a day was; it was just the abstract 24 unit cycle of our clock our parents swore by. Our only source of constant light. Our walls were barricaded. Three times over, our parents told us. The inner-most layer was steel.
Never go outside. Our parents told us. There were fears beyond comprehension out there. Monsters. Terrors.
2:30 A.M. Time for school. I rustled my sister beneath her blankets. She woke, noiselessly. This was also engrained. We crawled to the edge of the room, pressing our fingers against the drywall. Constant, repeated running of fingers against the grain of the wall gave us our only means of bearing throughout the house; a sideways, oily nonlit highway by which to guide us.
My sister and I made it to the specified room. Our parents turned on the red light. Our instruction from the previous day was still on the whiteboard. Fractions. Maybe two minutes went by. And it happened.
Noise from outside. We had heard it before. But not to this extent. Not ever to this extent.
Our parents looked at one another with a look of pure terror. They extinguished the red light. "Don't make a sound," they whispered. The ran past us. Noise raging from the window. Bangs. knocks. The hideous noise of something relentless. Powerful.
Our parents rushed back into the room. They covered my sister and me under her blanket, still warm from her recent nap.
"Whatever happens," our parents whispered. "Stay silent."
The insistent, raging noise kept at the window. Shivers ran down me. Goosebumps swept over me. And pure fear swept through me.
With a shuffling bang, the metal barricade settled on the floor.
"Is anyone in there?" A voice asked.
No answer.
"We're coming in, don't be alarmed. We're armed."
In front, a pair of feet landed on our floor. From behind, a blast. Two blasts. The loudest sounds I'd ever heard. And then from in front. Many multiple succinct blasts.
Then, silence.
A rustling of feet. Something slowly tugging at our blanket. I keep my eyes shut. Then, I don't. A monster is above me. Crude Black head. Large, see through, glass eye, with two eyes underneath. Holding something huge, black metallic. Same material as a picture frame.
"Hello," it says. "You are safe now." And soon I'm swept into its arms. Another picks up my sister. And now I'm staring at the brightest red and blue I've ever seen in my life. We step through that boundary. That impassible, horrifying boundary.
I'm looking at something even larger and metallic. This huge boxy thing has the word "SWAT" written across it.
The thing holding me says something else. "We got them." He's talking to another thing.
"How could they have done that?" it replies.
"Extreme agoraphobia," the terrible monster holding me says. "We feared of this."
|
And then followed the daily drone in response; "Don't. Go. Outside." Well, from almost everybody. Regular delinquent Alex was once again staring out the window. Not again. A rage sparked within. The third time this week, and it never seems to get through his thick skull that the outside is a hell. I briskly walked over to him, sat him down in his chair, and whispered sternly "Say the words." But he kept staring outside. An orphan... but Dima and Jerry and Helena- to hell if half the kids were orphans. But that is the result of the anarchal uprisings. All with parents who turned from the colony or who have died. Although some originating from nothing; offspring whose parents are not known, like the delinquent. "Fine!" I shouted. "If it's what you truly desire!".
I took him by the collar and dragged him out of the school leading right into the indoor main core. People wandering to and fro, and amidst the crowd; an angered teacher with his pupil. I started towards the exit of the colony. "You want to see the damned place!" I shouted. "Well, here you go!" We burst throw the doors, lighting the whole area behind us in red. And then the doors shut. And then a silence. The outside was riddled with pollution, and thick smog was settled in front of us. I calmed down, and stood within the safety of the doors. Undoubtedly some guards would be here soon to force us both back in. I stared at the bleak sky, a sight I last hadn't through glass decades ago. I used to crave for the outside too. And sometimes, I too would sneak out. And see what I see now. It was a calming area. But I felt like it grew on you as a cancer does. Like an addicting drug. And I avoided it since that revelation. And then came a security guard to investigate. "What the hell are you doing out here?" he asked. I went to gesture towards Alex when I found him slowly walking into the smog, his silhouette slowly becoming less and less opaque. "What the fuck is he thinking?" yelled the guard from behind me. But I was already running towards Alex. I ran. I ran. Despite the air quality, a type of inexplicable high allowed me to run with an uncanny endurance. I continued. And the smog slowly began to encapsulate me. And the boy's distance began to grow as the smog began to encapsulate him too until his silhouette vanished. I slowly began to slow down in speed. Then I stopped. And I was alone. Fear. A gripping fear that I had never felt before began to build. Then the same urge I felt minutes ago.
I ran.
I ran to where I thought the colony was.
I ran to where I thought I could find Alex.
But nothing was left in my reality except the haze that surrounded. And slowly a comfort began to confide within. A comfort like no other before. And I learned there that I was always outside, and that now I found the real inside.
| 2018-02-23T18:47:30 | 2018-02-23T18:06:36 | 55 | 27 |
[WP] You can go to any fictional universe you want, but aren't allowed to help progress the main plot.
|
I’ll alter it slightly; the punishment for progressing the plot is death, and I’ll go into my own fictional universe. This’ll be a short one just to pass the time.
When I first entered the universe, I really didn’t know what I was going to do. It seemed pretty boring. All I thought I could do was sit around, and watch the hero save lives. Until I realized something.
It is punishable by death to help progress the main plot, so I decided to hinder it. This ended up being the worst mistake of my life.
It started by setting traps. Things to slow the hero down. But, alas, he got through them with ease. So, I had to be more direct.
I managed to gather minions, to attack him for me. This proved to work well at first, until he pulled out a freaking gun like a mad man and blasted them to pieces.
There was only one option left, I had to do this myself. I was obsessed at this point. I **would** kill him. I got various guns of my own, and confronted him. However, I was untrained, and soon was riddled with bullet holes. Thats when I realized; I had become the villain. I had progressed the plot by filling a role, and paid the price of breaking the one rule.
|
That was the morning Lily and James Potter would die.
The skies were that kind of grey that foresee death and great sins. I took myself in a gentle stroll through Diagon Alley streets. I had lost track of the time. But this was it. The time had come.
I was plagued by a feeling of hopelessness but I desperatly needed to see. I ran to their house and luckily made it on time. Voldemort already had made it past the garden. His face under the cloak. White as snow.
I could see Lily and James and Harry inside the house. They vibrated happiness and joy.
I tried to think so hard. Any fictional universe I want. I can not change the course of the events. But someone else can do that for me. I quickly change universes and drag pokemons, Sailor Moon, Gandalf and a couple cute dinosaurs from Jurassic Park.
Good luck Voldemort. Hehe.
| 2018-06-16T13:22:03 | 2018-06-16T11:15:24 | 85 | 28 |
[WP] The Devil promises you everything: fame, fortune, all the things a mortal will ever need for paradise on earth. But he doesn't want your soul, he just wants you to take his socially awkward daughter, Gertrude, out on a date. Make her special, y'know?
**EDIT** All of your responses have been amazing! I wish I had time to leave feedback on all of them. You guys rock!
|
I can't believe it worked.
After a flash of red light, inside the magic circle I scribbled on the floor, there stood a man in a crimson suit. Two small horns protruded from his forehead, his pupils were burning red. This was the Devil himself, no mistake.
"Who are you, mortal, who summoned me, Lucifer here?"
"Um, I'm Dwayne. Nice to meet you, and everything."
"Ah, just wait for a moment."
Lucifer pulled out a black folder from… nothing, which had my name on it.
"Let's see here. You are Dwayne Scott, 25, you live alone, have a quiet job in an office, you don't go to church, still a virgin, and your mother died last year, correct?"
"Yes. Wait, how do you know all of this? And where did you get the folder?"
"Let's just say that I have my sources. Your everyday actions are recorded by one of my subordinates, just like for everyone who lives in this realm. And the folder was made by my secretary, of course. Damn, she has some nice legs…"
"…I see. Can we get to the subject, please?"
"Of course. Well, Dwayne, there must be a reason why you summoned me here. I can see that plenty of unfortunate events have happened in your life so far. I can grant you anything, in exchange for an equivalent price. Fame, fortune you name it. No supernatural powers of course, you could end up saving people, and I don't want that. It has happened previously. No extra wishes either, I'm not a genie, after all. What is it you seek from me?"
"What can be the price?"
"As I said, it is equivalent to the wish you asked for. Most of the time it's your soul, since mere humans can rarely offer anything else. However…"
As he browsed through the pages of the folder, a glint has sparkled in his eyes.
"You know what? Reading this, I've got a nice idea for a price. How about you take my little Gertrude on a date?"
"What?"
"You heard it. She's a nice girl, but she is kind of introverted. I tried setting up a date for her, but that damn Mephisto declined the offer. He's now suffering in the ice of Cocytus, of course."
"…This is not how you convince me to take your daughter on a date, you know?"
"Well, if you refuse, I can just take your soul. Then when you die, you can go beside him if I want to. You could say hi to him, he's a funny guy."
"Okay, you convinced me. When should I meet her?"
"I don't know, this Friday 8 PM sounds good? But we can talk about the minor things later. What are you asking for?"
"...I originally wanted to ask for telekinesis, but that's not possible, as you explained. But your existence interests me. You know what? I want to see the Underworld. And no "Your wish is granted", then you kill me, and make me suffer the eternal flames 'til the Judgement Day. Just as a visitor, okay? I won't tell anyone about it. And if I did, you would know. You have that nice folder and hot secretary and everything."
"Interesting. No one has ever asked for this before. Well, different strokes for different folks, I guess. I shall grant your wish."
"Wait a minute. This just occured to me: are you sure I'm someone who could date your daughter? I've never had a date, after all. I'm not that smart, and I can't say I have the body of a model, or a dick of a horse."
"So what? As I see, she will like you. I don't care what you plan to do, you can be socially awkward together, I just want her to have a good time with a man."
"...Then it's fine, I guess."
***
I still can't believed it worked.
The date was a trainwreck, of course. Who knew that she was a lesbian? Not the king of devils, that's for sure.
Still, she said that I'm a nice guy, so that's something. She also kind of enjoyed the dinner, so in a way, I granted her father's wish.
The next day, I arrived at the gates of the Underworld. After checking out everything (God, that secretary was hot), I signed the pact with Lucifer himself.
I just finished scribbling up another circle, as I was told in my dream. I had to draw it fast, since the devils will know. There is already a knock on my door.
The circle shines with a bright white light. A beautiful blonde woman stands in the middle of it. There are wings spreading from her back, and there is a halo on top of her head.
I successfully summoned an angel.
"What is it you want, my child?" the angel asks in a voice of a thousand souls.
"Hi Anaphiel, it's me. I did everything I needed to do. I have the intel you guys asked for…"
***
Hey guys, this is my first prompt, so I'm sure there are some points where I could improve, but this is a start, at least. I wanted to write something for a long time, and reading this I've had an idea. Please consider that English is not my first language, so the vocabulary may be a bit repetitive.
EDIT: fixed some typos. Also, I don't know if I should continue. When I wrote it, I definitely had no idea about continuing it. I wanted to give it a half-open ending. But seeing that my first submission was accepted, I may continue. But not now, it's 1 AM here, and I'm reading Highschool DxD currently. Well, I suppose I could do that any time, but the point is that I'm tired. Wow, I'm already talking like I'm an expert of writing. Please forgive me.
|
'Deal.'
I'd woken up and the Devil was sitting on my bed. On my legs in fact. My legs which I now had no feeling in. I knew he was the Devil mainly because he was scarlet coloured, had two curly horns and a pronged tail, and a big name tag with 'The Devil' on it.
Frankly, when you're faced with choosing an eternity of torture versus taking a socially anxious girl on a date and having an eternity of paradise, it's quite a simple decision.
I felt sorry for the girl, I have to be honest. I'm not entirely sure why the Devil ('call me Vil') chose me. I'm pretty sure I can guess how he narrowed it down. He needed a lesbian or bisexual girl or woman roughly the same age as his daughter (he had a *daughter*) without a girlfriend or bisexual who presumably wasn't a God-fearing, Devil-hating person. But he chose me.
We arranged a date. Well, he arranged the date. I knew the story already. He'd met me whilst I was committing some unnamed sin (I wasn't sure what sin to go for particularly, maybe Sloth or Lust, they'd fit me quite well) and was so impressed he thought I'd like his daughter. I didn't want to go until I saw her picture and then I'd jumped at the chance. I hadn't actually seen a picture and I hadn't jumped at the chance because the Devil was still sitting on my legs.
The girl was, well, a Gertrude. She looked like a Gertrude, if you get what I mean. She was of average height, a bit chubby and with cheap, large glasses. If *I* can be given eternal paradise, I'm sure he could fit his daughter's eyesight. And looks. And name. I wasn't entirely sure how old she was and I wasn't going to ask. We looked roughly the same age, which was good enough.
I found her surprisingly fun, but tiring too. I'm not a social butterfly but getting her to talk to me took a while. I was talking *at* her more than *with* her. She nodded and smiled at the right points and sometimes she'd open her mouth to say something, then change her mind and leave an awkward silence. 'So, what's the Devil like for a dad? You don't really look like him.' I mean, she wasn't bright red. She didn't have a tail. She didn't have horns, although her fair was incredibly thick and curly so that was more a guess rather than anything else.
She'd blushed and muttered something about being adopted. I kept on chatting about random things and then asked if she wanted to see a movie. She hadn't seen many movies recently. I don't know if there's a cinema in Hell. Did she live in Hell? I was a confident nonbeliever. I'd been raised Jewish and practicing and even then, the afterlife was not exactly a big deal. Not really talked about. I obeyed the laws and tried to be a nice person and hoped I'd have a nice afterlife. Then I kind of figured out I was bisexual and my father told me I was going against G-d and I kind of threw in my belief. Do I have to become a Christian? It'd be awkward worshipping the archenemy of my girlfriend's dad.
She liked Age of Ultron. She *really* liked the Black Widow. Maybe this is being unfair, but she was everything Gertrude, or Gertie, wasn't. She was hot and athletic and worldly and respected. Gertie was smart, I'd figured that out, but she was the type of person who if she lived in an American high school film, would be bullied for being a nerd.
I happened to like nerds.
I confessed how I got forced into the date five months into the relationship. I'd visited Hell by then. It was quite nice. No eternal tortures. Vil had even said that he was against torture and considered it inhumane. I'd asked if he was a human and he said that didn't matter as he'd only have been doing it to humans. Gertie was human though.
She was upset, at first. But I'd made it clear I was never told I had to go on more than one date. My decision. I wasn't told to love her laugh, to love how her eyes lit up when she heard her favourite song, how she binge watched every Marvel film in one day when she was staying over. I loved the tea she made (she liked Yorkshire tea, like me, and she let it set for a perfect amount of time) and the banana bread and I absolutely didn't love the rest of cooking, although I loved how awkward she was when she nearly burnt down my kitchen (' I grew up surrounded by fire! It's second nature to me!') and I loved how when we watched Eurovision with me, she took it just as seriously and was very disappointed when I said it was unlikely that Hell could join in, even if Australia did ('that's one of the *gateways* so why not Hell itself? Earth makes no sense').
It's been two years and the Devil, my father in law soon, did give me that gift. I love her, even when's she awkward. We've had a lot of arguments and a lot of fundamental disagreements and she insists on singing even when it sounds terrible and I insist on exploring Hell even when she says it's 'all the same', but we are in love. Paradise on Earth? It wasn't on Earth. So maybe he didn't come through on that promise. This was paradise in Hell- I'd moved in with her a few months ago- although if we ever wanted a change in scenery, I suppose it *could* be paradise on Earth.
| 2015-05-20T12:26:51 | 2015-05-20T12:03:44 | 75 | 36 |
[WP] A famous artist is also a serial killer and hides his/her confessions in song.
|
Jordan: Yo Brad, get in here.
Brad: What is it?
Jordan: This new song by Cirk Stealy. It's kinda creepy. Check this out, so the song is called "The Third Word Was Not Enough." Go ahead and read it and then I'll show you something kinda strange.
*Truth is I never met anyone like you*
*And I was gonna make you mine*
*I had the "give anything to be with you" attitude*
*But the killer you faced took you away from me.*
*He turned my up days into down days.*
*You're my wife never to be.*
*And this is gonna haunt my dreams.*
*Let me in, let me back in your life.*
*I miss the you I used to have.*
*In the woods down where we met, that is where I will be.*
Brad: I don't get it. That's just a weird depressing song.
Jordan: Okay now watch this shit. The song title says the THIRD WORD isn't enough, right?
Brad: Yeah....
Jordan: Go back and read the third word of each line.
*Brad goes back and scans the lines*
Brad: Holy shit. WHAT. THE. FUCK.
Jordan: Right!?!?
Brad: Wait a minute. The title says that the third word "Was Not Enough"
Jordan:. Yeah... so?
Brad: So what if the third word of the song isn't the word we're supposed to be looking at. Maybe if we went back and read the fourth word of each line...
|
"What are you talking about?"
"I think he's a serial killer"
"Because of his lyrics?"
"Yeah"
"Which ones?"
"*I killed her and ate her brain*"
"It's a metaphor"
"A metaphor?"
"Yeah, when he broke up it hurt her and effected her mental health"
"Ok how about *I brought her to my basement and tortured her for hours?*"
"Well that's a silly song, he's talking about making her watch him play video games"
"And *I keep her heart as a trophy on the wall?*"
"He broke her heart so now he owns it"
"So what you're saying is that his seemingly murderous lyrics are really just him being a huge asshole"
"He's a musician. Not a killer"
"Uh-huh and how about his song *Hey guys I'm a serial killer, I've been talking about it in my lyrics for years and everyone has been assuming it's a metaphor but it's not, (I've killed before and I'm going to kill again)* of his new album *Jack the Ripper Lives on Through Me?*"
"Well that's obviously a satirical statement meant to get out in front of ridiculous ideas like this"
"Ok and how about the fact that he's across the street right now loading an unconscious woman into a panel van?"
"Performance art?"
| 2015-08-16T08:12:33 | 2015-08-16T06:31:51 | 188 | 51 |
[WP] All humans go automatically to hell when they die. You can gain access to a heaven though, but only if the animals you interacted with while living vouch for you.
|
Just my luck.
I get off of work after staying an extra hour late to clean up, and I get hit by a bus, metaphorically and physically. And now here I am, being ushered along with hundreds of other unfortunate schlubs who just died. The cavern we were going through echoed with the voices of recently killed, mostly crying, begging for forgiveness, and making a scene hoping the giant minotaur demon things leading us would take notice, but they just quietly guided us forward.
"I demand you tell me where in the hell we are!!!" a boisterously large old man in a suit shouted, pushing past me towards our ushers, still several feet ahead of us.
"The entrance probably." I said.
He looked at me, his eyes reddened with tears. "What did you say?"
"The entrance. Of hell." I said.
"Yeah man! Screwed over a drug cartel, they came after me!" A man with a bullet-hole in his forehead said. "We dead as shit, man!"
"Dead? Oh God!!!" the large man buckled over, clutching his chest...
"Oh, rich guy had a heart attack, that's why he's here!" Bullet-hole Magee said, "What about you, sweetheart?" he said looking at me.
"Oh, got off of work, got hit by a bus." I said, holding up the stumps where my arms used to be.
"Ehhh, that's un-"
He was cut-off by a loud grinding noise. We had been ushered to a giant ornate door that seemed to extend to cavern roof, thousands of feet into the air.
A hooded man who's face was completely obscured stood up on a raised platform.
"**3 AT A TIME.**" His demonic voice boomed.
After what felt like an eternity, and objectively could've been an eternity, the demons ushered the heartattack guy, the bullet-hole guy, and me into the chamber.
The chamber was shaped like an ornate ancient courtroom. Aisles and aisles of seats were lined with similar hooded figures, sitting motionlessly. We were ushered to the front of the room, with an man sitting at the judge's bench. His face was gray and devoid of life.
"Carl Proctor." the judge said.
The heart-attack man stepped up, "I demand to speak to whoever's in charge, this outra-"
"GUILTY" the judge said pounding a human skull gavel.
"Of...Of what?" Proctor responded
A hooded figure approached him. The hooded figure lifted its obscured hand up to it's hood, pulling it down, revealing a... a rodent?
"What? What in the hell is that!?" Carl asked
"This mink is one of many used for a coat you had made for your wife. You had no value for it's life, so it has no value for yours."
"Oh, this is utter bullshit, I have a meeting a 5:00, I demand to be brought back to-" he was interrupted as a hole in floor opened up and firey skeletal hands grabbed him, tearing him into peices and dragging him into the earth.
Holy shit.
"Manuel Vialvaso." the judge said.
Bullet-hole walked up, "Hey man, I know I've made a lot of mistakes, but I-"
"You are innocent."
"Woah, man, are you serious?"
A hooded figure approached manuel, taking it's hood off revealing a German-Shepard puppy.
"Skipper!!" Manuel said, tears in his eyes. He embraced the dog, which cheerfully started licking him in return.
Some people in white robes escorted Skipper and Manuel out of the room.
My god, we're being judged in the afterlife by animals? Then that means...
"Samantha Cunningham. You're good to go up." the judge said.
"Woah, woah, wait... I don't have to have a trial?"
"You've already had your trial." the judge said, extending an arm to my bloody nametag, clinging to my workshirt.
"Petsco: It's where the pets go."
|
“You're saying I can't get in?”
“Look, I'll give you the same deal I give everyone else: If you can get one of the other residents of Heaven to vouch for you I'll let you in.”
This took Emmanuel a little while to process. Most of that time was spent trying to make sentences without expletives. “So…” he said, waving an open palm at the gate, “you're trying to tell me that heaven is run like a snobby upper-middle-class suburb?”
The figure looked down at Emmanuel from over the top of his shades. “Look, kid. I don't make the rules, I just enforce them.”
Emmanuel's massaged his brows for second at this comment. Strictly speaking, though, the figure was right. Wasn't making him any less of an ass, though. “Alright, alright. Well then: In life I was a famous doctor. Talk to any of my patients, they'll know me. They can vouch for me.”
The figure shook his head. “None of them are in there.”
Okay. “ well, throughout my life I was called on to treat many powerful people. I treated politicians, pop stars, oh, and I also treated the Pope. Surely he's in there, right?”
The figure was cleaning his nails.
“Not even the goddamn-”
“Language!”
“Right, sorry, whatever.” Emmanuel took in a deep breath and let it out. “Alright. well that's not all I did. throughout my life I often felt the call of Philanthropy, and whenever I start up enough money I often gave to charitable works. They weren't my patients, but I made sure their needs were taken care of all the same.”
At this, the figure nodded. “Yeah a few of them are in there”
Emmanuel smiled.
“...But they don't get the final say so.”
“But you said...”
“Humans can get in, but they are considered ‘non-voting members’. Junior partners of the board, essentially.”
Emmanuel pursed his lips “I feel like you are making increasingly convoluted rules for getting into heaven.”
“Hey-”
“You don't make the rules, right? Okay.” Emmanuel clapped his hands. “So. ‘No humans’. How the hell does anyone get in? Do they get their housecat to vouch for them?”
“Generally, the dogs are more inclined than the cats.”
“That's ridiculous.”
The marbled gate swing open the smallest amount and a letter was handed out to the figure at the gate. He took a second to read it before turning to Emmanuel. “Congratulations, someone's pulling for you!”
“What? I haven't- I mean, I don't have a pet.”
“Well, *someone* remembered you.”
The doors slid open behind the figure. Standing there, on his four little goaty hooves, was a goat. It had an immaculate auburn coat.
Emmanuel's lips trembled. “I've never seen that goat before in my life.”
“Well, he seems to know you.”
There was a pause of a few moments as the figure at the gate went back to cleaning his nails.
“So,” said Emmanuel, “I can go in?”
“Sure.”
And without another word Emmanuel pushed past the figure and the goat and entered Heaven. The goat bleated to the figure after he was well out of earshot.
“27 times, huh?”
The goat bleated again.
“You lucky devil. Well, enjoy your time in heaven together.”
The goat once more.
“No, I didn't have the heart to tell him his family didn't make it in. But hey, he has you. So that's gotta count for something. I think.”
The goat left, the gate closing behind him.
The figure smiled. “It certainly is an interesting world.”
| 2016-03-24T17:00:30 | 2016-03-24T16:52:51 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] You see the Grim Reaper and ask if it's your time. Death checks a clipboard and says "Nope. Looks like you're not due for another... three thousand, one hundred and forty-one years? That's weird. Also, how can you see me?"
|
"I have always been able to see you Death. You could say we are connected. Destined to forever drift along parallel lines, never to intersect".
Death flipped through his clipboard once more with erratic movements, showing a great deal of confusion despite a noticeable lack of eyebrows. He turned towards me, empty eye sockets fixing me in an eternal stare.
"Very funny, but seriously who are you? All the immortals are either supposed to have gone into hiding, the humans don't trust them anymore".
He tucked the clipboard under his arm and began tapping his foot at me in an impatient drumming beat. Somehow the patron lord of death and decay could embody both intimidation and sass in the same movement.
"Oh if you check the list again I'm sure you'll find me there somewhere, perhaps I am Jesus returned to save the human race?" I said to Death.
"Hardly, Jesus is still in Texas messing with the Christians. Bearded Middle Eastern looking guy, walking a round in robes offering to let people meet their god. He's been shot 5 times and each time I have to go all the way there and wait for three days. The guy is an ass".
"I always found him to be ok, although he gets mad when people say I'm nicer than him".
"Nicer than Jesus? Well that rules out Thor and Hercules. Buddha?".
"Getting warmer but still no. Me and Buddha go way back though, he helped me through some rough times I had a few years back. I lost sight of the light in my life; he showed me you could find it again in the simple acts of helping a stranger".
Death looked increasingly agitated as his guesses failed. He had always hated dealing with us immortals ever since Zeus cursed Prometheus. Humans are so much simpler to him, to all of us in truth.
"Take you Death. For a long time I was mad at you, I truly hated you for what you did to me. But over time I've learned to see that you are a necessity in the world, for without you the joy of life has no comparison. Because of you we learn to appreciate the time that we have and make the most of life. Although your lesson was harsh, you taught me the value of happiness".
Death's shoulders relaxed, and a little whistle of air through the hole where is nose should be indicated a small laugh. He stepped towards me with his arms open.
"Oh Keanu, it has been too long my friend".
|
As a nurse I had seen way too much weird things in the hospital. But when I saw the sharply dressed man with a name tag in his chest poking the body of a woman in the morgue, then I was sure I had seen it all.
"Excuse me?" I asked hoping he would stop poking the woman.
He seemed to ignore me as he focused in the clipboard he was carrying as he checked a pocket watch.
"Sorry, could you... stop poking that corpse?" This time the man looked around and pointed at himself.
"Yeah, I mean you." He blinked. It was then I noticed his eyes were like looking into an endless abyss.
Without warning he was in front of my face poking my chest.
"You are alive." No shit Sherlock.
"How can you see me then?" He gave a step back as I was confused, finally reading his name tag.
***Hello my name is: Grim Reaper.***
"Grim Reaper?" The man blinked.
"Just Grim... and you are July "Jules" Ross, twenty seven years old, currently without sickness though your eyesight is deteriotating... and will die in three thousands, one hundred and forty-one years... why I am chatting with you again?" The man spoke in a deadpan tone as he looked at his clipboard.
"Why are you in the morgue?" I asked pretty confused of the whole ordeal.
"Thats your question? You just met death and all you can ask is why I am in the morgue of a hospital?" I suddenly feel embarrased but then ask something else.
"If you are death... why come for her in the morgue?" He sighs and I can hear him call me stupid.
Jerk.
"Because this woman, Sarah Buvier, was alive until she died from her wounds inflicted in surgery by the doctor who decided to hide his mistake by sending to the morgue to die, making her the twentieth victim of the hospital to die in the morgue. But what does someone with your life span care of beings with such small lifes?" I can only get paralyzed of all this.
Suddenly the idea that I will die in three thousands years is small compared to the fact a doctor just killed a patient. And isnt the first time.
| 2020-01-24T12:35:20 | 2020-01-24T11:48:58 | 309 | 86 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself
|
I ran through the wintery Evergreen forest for my life. Men with guns and powers of fire and ice hot on my trail.
Jimmy, who ate the dog biscuits hidden in the corner of the table, had let that wolf familiar of his after me too. Fucking traitor!
I had committed the worst transgression of our people: I didn't conform to the test and bit right into that stupid table. Jimmy was the one who dared me to and now I'm a fugitive of the village.
I hit a dead end and stared at the mountain in front of me. If they catch me it's certain death.
I reached deep into myself and called for whatever powers, if I obtained any, to surface and help me.
My body stretched, my limbs twisted and as I opened my eyes I could see for miles around me. The village and forest were but mere pin pricks of lights and swaths of darkness.
It had started to snow harder. Large wet flakes had started to hit my body and face.
"We lost him Captain!" I heard a distant voice yell.
At a height of at least 200 feet I seen the hunting party close around me and stop. They stared at me from the base with a look of horror and confusion.
I've never been good with geography or plants, but I knew enough to know what I've transformed into.
One came towards me at a slow pace and put a hand one me, marveling at the sheer size I've become.
Jimmy came forward, his wolf growling in my direction with his ears back and fur tufted.
The last thing I heard before I willed myself to fall on to the hunting party was the lone pitiful voice of my friend calling out in disbelief, " IS THAT A FUCKING SEQUOIA?!"
I am The Arborist.
|
"What the hell, dude? That table is like 10,000 years old! It's made of a tree that doesn't exist anymore," I heard the sound of a voice and my head immediately snapped around to find it. I still couldn't see the individual in question but I had been made alert.
"What? I was just trying to think outside the box, do I still get a power?"
"Unfortunately, yes. The only criteria is that you take a bite of something in the room. Give me a second," i waited about two minutes. On the table, which really was gorgeous, there had been placed an assortment of food. Simple food, like apples, graham crackers, or bread. Fancy looking food that I didn't know anything about. All on plates that were completely white except for a golden ring around the edge that seemed to be hand painted. To be honest, I really wasn't wanting to bite the table. After an extremely long day of anticipation and then mild panic at 12:01 when I hadn't gone to the room, I was very hungry. Then I heard the voice again, "okay, let's see here, speed, strength, incredibly handsome? No no no. Ah, yes. Okay, here's the deal, punk. Here's your power. Ready?"
"Uh. Yeah?"
"You have the power to, uh... Drum roll, please! Dudududududududu you got the ability to instantly remove the life force of a creature while making it look like an accident. Good luck, have fun,"
Edit: Formatting
| 2020-03-19T08:57:52 | 2020-03-19T08:21:44 | 632 | 162 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second...
|
It was 11:59 and while the whole family gathered around, my mother was no where to be seen. I expected that she would have joined us. After all, she'd been there for my older sister's reveal, and my brother's reveal. But instead she was watering the garden while it rained steadily.
C'mon, mom, I know I'm not your favorite, but you could at least put on a front this time.
"It's noon!" my sister squealed. "Pullupyoursleeve!"
A moment of dread shot through me. I can't say that I knew exactly what was wrong, but I knew that something wasn't right. There was no tingling in my arm, just a feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me something was going to be revealed today and I wasn't going to like it.
I pulled up my sleeve and no words appeared. Frantically, I pulled up the other sleeve, shoving it all the way up to my armpit. It had to be there. My sister tugged my shirt up, peeking under it. Not that the words ever appeared anywhere besides on your dominant forearm. "Where is it?"
"He won't get it yet," my mother barked from the sliding glass door. "He's not going to be 18 for another two months."
"What?" I yelped. "Today's my birthday!" My sister's hands fell and my shirt slid back down into place.
My mother shook her head. "You're father and I were separated, and I met a man..." she said quietly, her round eyes darting towards my father.
"You said the baby was mine! You said he was just early!" my father shouted.
She crumpled into a chair, her wet hair dripping onto her face. Her mouth wobbled and she stared at the floor. "He's not and he wasn't."
Two months and three days later, my parents' marriage was in shambles, and I walked into my sister's room, pulled up my sleeve, and showed her the words that had appeared the day before. "MARRIAGE COUNSELOR"
|
The Life Brand is thought to be a flawless and efficient system by most of the world's population. Few oppose the mandatory injection of nanites that will one day create your Life Brand because they view the world as fair, now.
I get it, I really do. The Border Wars of the 21st century were bitter and terrifying for everyone, and then when Automatons began to dominate formerly middle and lower class workers, billions of people were displaced out of the workforce. Another war, fought for decades, eventually brought us to peacetime when a renounced Swiss doctor developed nanotech.
The political geography of the world changed. Borders were dissolved, entire governments gutted and destroyed, and everyone was classified into a career path based on the results of three different tests and a psychological evaluation. Then the good doctor developed the Life Brand and pitched it to our fledgling united government.
They ate it up like a sweet treat, and the Life Brand program was in full effect within five years. For the most part, we are better for it. We've seen no war in a decade, and Life Brand gets a chunk of the credit.
I always feared my branding day. I was always very aware of my mathematical genius and technological prowess. It didn't help to quell the fear of getting classified into a sub-optimal field for me. So it's no surprise that I felt terror and a deep sense of shame when my brand finally activated at 12:08:47 PM universal standard time. I wasn't branded to be a mathematician, an engineer, a networks security specialist...No. It was far worse than that.
"Hello, Mr. Sullivan. I'm Gemma, and I am your assigned organ requisition agent for today. Can I interest you in a last meal or a final judgement blow job?"
I really hate the Life Brand system...
| 2017-03-16T03:19:48 | 2017-03-15T22:51:56 | 129 | 37 |
[WP] among the many senses developed on alien worlds, hearing is not one of them. To most extra terrestrials, the idea that we can detect them even with a wall between us is utterly horrifying
|
Zgorznax transmitted the message again to the planet below. It was the standard “we come in peace” message that is used when contacting a new planet. They had met enough of the criteria for first contact. The had advanced population centers, basic space travel, satellites, nuclear power. They beings appeared to be similar to most advanced forms of life throughout the Galaxy in that they were bipedal and relatively symmetrical in anatomy. Their heads were a bit different as they had some sort external flange on each side of their head with openings leading deep inside.
A reply finally came back, but it was a null reply. It was something, but nothing, No colors, no odors, not pheromones, just null. Zgorznax tried a different approach with the next message, a vid along with the message, his face to be precise. He made sure it was a compatible spectrum along with the message, Minutes later a vid was revived from the planet, It was the face of someone. He was moving his lower mandible like he was eating, but there was nothing else? Why would they send a vid of someone eating?
The next vid he sent was more primitive as perhaps they were not as advanced as previously thought. He sent a picture of a proposed meeting location outside a large population center. He accompanied it with a pic of his pleased to meet you face colorations along with a pic of the person who sent the message, modified to a peaceful color. A chrono stamp indicated when. Hopefully they would figure it out.
“Mr. President, I think they want to meet with us. Scans of the ship detect weaponry, but nothing active. There does not seem to be hostile intent, They sent a picture location to meet along with the alien’s smiling face and your face - colored reddish for some reason. We think they want to meet us there in a little over two hours.”
The alien craft landed gracefully. Momentarily an aperture opened and ramps came down, Shortly thereafter the alien they had the picture of came out and walked down the ramp, accompanied by two others. The President, accompanied by his generals and advisors approached.
Zgorznax looked upon the delegation that approached. First contact was always a tricky situation. The delegation did appear to be accompanied by members of the military, but that was not uncommon. Zgorznax looked directly at the leader of the delegation and offered his most peaceful and friendliest greeting with all the appropriate odor and pheromone modifiers to clarify his meaning.
The President looked that the alien that appeared to be the leader of the delegation. Pleasant looking enough and he did not seem to have a hostile intent. He then watched the alien’s skin go through several interesting colors ending in a dark red...and then a familiar noise and smell.
“General, did that man just fart?”
|
I nearly jumped out of my skin when i saw the flashing lights in my peripheral vision. It was a friendly greeting as usual but the speaker's habit of just BEING there unnerved me, How the heck did she know I was on the roof?
"Oh. Uh .. Hello" I flashed back, trying hard to keep my surprise down so as not to accidentally glare when merely intended to polity shine at our guest. I did a quick mental inventory of how the genders for these humans were differentiated before adding the pattern: "Ma'am"
I paused and waited for the translator to work. A little camera she wore around her neck that saw my patterns and turned it into some sort of hieroglyphs on a screen on her wrist. She pressed some buttons on it after it had finished and her necklace flashed, "We were starting our weekly meeting soon and I TRANSLATION ERROR you walking around up here so I thought I'd let you know"
"Oh I'm terribly sorry" I patterned in response, "I'll be down shortly"
She smiled, thanked me and left. The translator errors were annoying, partially because the errors glared brighter than normal patterns and I often though for a moment that the Human had glared at me for some reason. But I supposed it was not so unexpected for the new technology. I had a reasonable guess that the untranslatable pattern had something to do with the human's unnerving ability to just know what was up without anyone shining at them about it or seeing it themselves.
I asked some of the scientists about it once and he shone that I was hardly the first to recognize our new guest's apparent psychic abilities. The scientists patterned they hadn't fully grasped it yet but it that it wasn't a psychic power but that the humans merely had the ability to detect localized activity. Detecting range went up with activity level and was partially but not fully blocked by barriers, even fully opaque ones that could not be patterned through at all.
No matter what they try to shine me about the humans that seems like ESP magic to me. Hell I was merely pacing on the roof and she had known I was there from a floor below? That can NOT be natural.
I flashed and shook myself out of my thoughts and gave my light-glands a rub. These meeting were always long, and I may need to do a lot of shining.
&#x200B;
EDIT: fixed an oops
my sub: [https://www.reddit.com/r/Morpheuskibbe/](https://www.reddit.com/r/Morpheuskibbe/)
| 2018-11-02T21:21:58 | 2018-11-02T20:48:12 | 4,778 | 748 |
[WP] You were once the most celebrated knight in your kingdom. You managed to slay the wizard who terrorized your town...but at the cost of your human form. You've inhabited an animal's body for the past ten years.
|
They called me a hero. They raised their cups to my honor. They marched with me to destroy that infernal tower. But now? Now I am dead. They sung my funeral dirges for weeks on end, when that tower fell. Now, I wander these woods, as I have every day.
Now, I wander alone. No bard following, no maiden at my hip. Only the whispers of the trees surround me. My great form used to tower all but the greatest of men. I suppose that's the one good thing about the form I inhabit now. I get to tower over even those great ones. Of course, then they try to stab me.
Now, little one, I am not a knight. Now, I am a bear. You hid in that tree, last night. The wolves came to me, asking for my great prowess to give them a dinner they earned. I followed them, but I saw your face, little one. And now we are here.
I never realized how much time had passed. Time is different to animals, you see. But you are so strong, so beautiful. It is a shame you cannot hear me. It is a shame you still cry out for help. Oh? Do you hear that, little one? It is my brother, coming to save you from this big old bear. Though, I cannot blame him, a wounded, immobile bear is too tempting a kill. Fear not, my child, the wolves will bother you no more. And neither will this big, mean bear.
|
"A new evil has arisen, and a new hero has been chosen. You are that hero."
"Yes, my liege."
"While your skills in combat are proven, they are not yet at the level that would allow you to successfully combat our enemy. As such, we've commissioned the greatest hero of the White War to train you."
"Sir Valorous?" I was honored beyond words. He had become a virtual recluse after the White War, and no one had successfully convinced him to take a disciple before now.
"Sir Valorous, would you come in here?"
I held my breath. The crowd of nobles split reverently, and revealed... a small white, scar-covered rabbit. It hopped forward slowly, favoring its front right leg. I glanced at the king. Was this a joke?
It stopped in front of me. I turned to face the king.
"I am not accustomed to being the butt of jokes, your Majesty."
I heard a strangled gasp from the nobles, and from the corner of my eye I caught a flash of white. My face met the floor. As my vision faded to black, I saw the rabbit's mouth move.
"Disrespectful brat. I'm going to enjoy beating my lessons into you."
| 2015-04-17T09:41:10 | 2015-04-17T09:37:44 | 112 | 26 |
[WP] Surprisingly, after the monster broke free and killed its creators, it surrendered peacefully. Even more surprisingly, it invoked its right to an attorney. You are the public defender assigned to what looks to be the homicide case of the century.
|
I was the 8th public defender to take the case. "Joel, I wouldn't pull you out of it wasn't important," the soft voice on the phone had said,"Ulania needs you." After looking over the case file and watching the first interview tapes, I had two thoughts;
A. It wasn't going to be pretty. Ultimately the program that Ulania had been created under was funded and partially overseen by the government. So getting information was going to be difficult.
B. It only reinforced the idea that the world I retired from had only gotten worse.
I looked over the pictures again. The carnage took place in an unassuming warehouse in the industrial district of Downtown. Every body had been laid neatly on a gurney or on the floor ready to be transported. She wasn't necessarily ruthless. The coroner said that almost all of the victims had been given some sort of paralytic toxin. The toxin would make the victim fall unconscious within 1 to 2 minutes of coming into contact with it. Once that happened Ulania cut the throats of everyone in the building.
"26 out of 29 victims contain high levels of Toxin P.
29 out of 29 victims had throats cut.
3 out of 29 victims had multiple wounds."
Reed Parker. John Copper. Alice Gunther.
"Why do those names ring a bell?" I whispered out loud. They were different from the other victims. Their bodies showed no sign of the Toxin-P but were gored and mangled. Alice's vocal cords were swollen, nearly twice the size of a normal set. The corner just shook his head, "Can't keep screaming and expect to keep them okay," the bodies injuries had no tact or method to them. Reeds eyes had been gouged out and John's limbs were ripped clean off.
"Becaussse they had been involved in another ethicsss trial about sssix yearsss ago," Ulania sauntered in. Standing at 7'3, she dwarfed me. "The guard, Kyle told me." She sat down awkwardly. The prison gave her a decent amount of freedom considering what she's charged with. One escort, a pair of custom handcuffs to fit her wrists and ankles, and a gun with specialized tranquilizers on hand. Her scales were a shiny iridescent purple thay covered almost her entire body.
"Kyle?" I asked her.
"At the other placcce. I told him to ssstay home," she paused. "He wasss good one. He wasss niccce." I wrote the name down. There wasn't a Kyle in the list of victims so he must have took her advice to stay home. "What iss your name?" Her forked tongue occasionally flicked out at me.
"Joel. Joel McCannon." I looked at her in the harsh white light of the examiners room. Her eyes were a vibrant green that almost glowed. "I hope I can do more for you than the others."
"I hope so too," Ulania sighed.
I turned on a small recorder. "This is Joel McCannon. I am currently interviewing Ulania," I paused and looked at her file. There isn't a last name. "Ulania, do you have a preferred last name?" She thought for a second.
"Well when I wasss alive, my lassst name wasss O'Brian." She said softly. "I do not ussse my firssst name. It was Sssarah." I wrote it down on my notepad.
"Interviewing Ulania O'Brian." I finished my sentence. "If you don't mind me asking, could you tell me how they came to start experimenting on you? What led up to this?"
"It will be a long interview," Ulania sighed softly.
"And you have my full attention," I settled into my seat and asked the guard to grab us both a coffee.
*I'm open to constructive criticism* :)
|
How a plastic pen could feel so slippery in Jim's hand he would never know. He knew it had to do with the person, being he corrected himself, shackled to the table across from himself and the mix of anxiety, fear, and apprehension roaring through his body.
No larger than a preteen the being sat motionless in the steel precinct chair studying Jim's eyes intently, black orbs with grey specs distributed across the overlarge pupil-less orbs. Completely hairless the orbs dominated the white smooth skin that seemed stretch far too tightly against the large skull. It unsettled Jim but he tried to view it as a client.
“I have no name....Jim is it?”
“It is, but I had not said it yet.” He still didn't understand why he was here but the blood covered hands seemed to break the calm he was trying to project internally.
“The guard did.”
The uniformed officer nodded to agree. A thin layer of perspiration covered her face and her hands gripped the riot shotgun tightly.
“What can we call you?” Jim didn't know exactly where this could lead but at least having his name attached to a court case that read better than The United States VS Horrible murdering being.
“I was simply called 'Subject' by those who created me.”
“Is that what you would like me to call you?”
“It will suffice, though I'm starting to understand very quickly that it won't matter.”
Jim felt the tone of the room drop quickly with the last few word and the officer slowly moved shotgun muzzle towards Subject's torso.
“Could you explain that to me? I'm here to help you but I need a little more information.”
“No.”
With the one word Subject's hand flashed out from the suddenly unsecured manacles towards the officer. Quicker than Jim's eyes could register the blur of motion ended with the officer on the floor and him scrambling back from his chair, tripping and falling backwards onto the cold and hard floor.
His ears rung and a high pitched whine had filled them. The shotgun must have gone off, he realized belatedly, as the smell of burnt powder filled his nose, and another iron like smell he couldn't place. Looking beside him on the floor he could see the officers face staring at his but her eyes had already taken a vacant expression.
Jim couldn't hear his own scream but he knew he was, he simply did not how else to react to the situation.
\-**SILENCE**\-
Freezing completely Jim knew he had heard the word but not through his ears but almost as if through a filter.
\-**She was going to kill you before you could speak again. I'm afraid I've made your life harder but you will need to disappear. Find The Brothers give them this**\-
Subject placed a small object on the metal table, Jim had no idea were it could have hid it in the children's jumpsuit, but before he could utter anything the small .... man ... thing.. had opened the steel door by simply pushing against it.
Jim's hearing was still ringing as he tried to make sense of everything that had happened in the last ten seconds when he realized he felt the vibrations of the shotgun going off in the hallway. Glancing at the table he saw the small gold and green cube and without trying to think too hard, more for the simple fear that he would lose it, simply through it in his jacket pocket and tried to remember how to get out of the precinct.
| 2021-03-20T22:07:17 | 2021-03-20T16:22:47 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] A serial killer is trying to kill you and your friends while on a weekend escapade. It would be terrifying if you and your friends weren't immortal.
|
Traveling from San Antonio to Las Vegas has never been a pleasurable trip. The destination is desirable, but the heat that scorches your body and mind is tiresome.
Traversing a desert in the middle of the night there is generally not many hotels. We often settle for the cleanest looking establishment. However, we were not allowed that pleasure as the weight of our eyes was beginning to overcome our will to continue. We casually roll into the first motel we see.
The crunch of gravel under our feet is a welcome relief to our car-bound legs. The motel was dimly lit with soft sounds of country music emanating from it. All motels have seen better days, but this one has never seen a good day. The only thing saving it from us quickly turning around is the poor lighting and sleep deprivation.
The clerk behind the desk has a short, sly figure. His greasy hair is brushed over from one side to the other, an attempt to hide the signs of an aging man. He ruffles some papers on the desk, exposing his pristine hands. Too pristine for the state of the motel. As if they were previously stained so unbearably that they had to be cleansed of whatever contaminated them. When you have lived as long as we have, we know when someone is hiding something.
At this time of night no one is keen to speak, so with some gruffs, pointing, and hand signals I have two room keys. Room 11 for me and Room 12 for my associates. I extend my hand to seal the deal. The clerk warily looks at me and then jerks his hand at mine. I grasp it tightly, for I am not looking for affirmation of the purchase, but for a reason for their cleanliness. It was only then that his fingernails betrayed him. While the hands themselves were scrubbed spotless, the quick of the nail contained tiny reddish-brown splotches. I release my grip and the man hastily retracts his hand. I motion to the clerk to show us to our rooms. Briefly glancing at my associates, they both slightly nod acknowledging what I had seen. We had found ourselves another one.
Our life of immortality came with one hitch, we had to stop those who take the life of innocents. Some unearthly force drew us to these psychopaths, and we were more than happy to stop them.
The clerk trudges up the stairs. From behind you can see from the side of his face his muscles slowly pulling his mouth into a twisted grin. Once we had reached Room 11 he opened it for me and handed me the key. Before turning, I saw his eyes do a quick glance over my body estimating how difficult it would be for him to drag my lifeless body.
As the clerk opens Room 12, they turn and mouth in unison, “Make it convincing”. No matter how many centuries I have known them, their cohesion is a little disturbing. We have found it best that when stopping killers it is best to let them think we are dead. We all proceed into our respective rooms, and the clerk trudges away a little more elated knowing of what is to come.
I am awoken not even an hour later by the sounds of muffled screaming and lamps being knocked over. I am upset by the clerk’s eagerness to not even let me sleep a few hours before killing me. I eagerly wait for him to finish my associates so he can come kill me and I can return to sleep for a few hours. For tomorrow will be another long drive, followed by another long night...
&#x200B;
Please let me know what you think!
|
"Are you finished?" I ask.
The masked man adjusts his stance, his gloved fingers curl around the crowbar. He coughs into his free hand and takes a step back. If only he let me get in a word. Might have saved him the toruble.
"I wonder what's going to happen first, either I die. Or exhaustion claims you."
The man begins to laugh and bends over so that we're nose to nose. "How can you still speak after all this? I counted at least fifty hits. You should be dead."
I smile unable to do much more since my wrists are handcuffed to the basement's pipes. My body has been beaten to pulp but at each lull in his attacks. My cuts and bruises heal leaving no sign of any damages.
"Are you a Modder?" He asks. "Did you give yourself some kind of healing factor?"
I don't answer. I'm enjoying the sight of him trying to put all the pieces together. He begins pacing, the floorboards creak and strain under his boots.
"If you let me go, I'll let you leave in one piece. How does that sound?"
He cocks his head my way and in single motion brings the crowbar down upon my head. "You are in no position to negotiate."
I spit flecks of blood onto the floor. I'm in a daze but it'll
fade soon. I'm not in any real hurry either. "When my friends get back. They won't be so forgiving."
"Who says they are even still alive?"
"You wouldn't be if you had tried to kill them."
He chuckles again and drops the blood soaked crowbar. It clangs against the wooden floor. "Well if they do show up. I'll make your corpse a work of art. And that's a promise."
"Or they will rip you apart," I say. "Final warning."
It's like a switch trips in his mind and the thing inside me knows somethings wrong. The man removes the plasma weapon from his belt and stares at it a while.
"I like to be sure. The other hunters think I toy with my prey too much. But you walked into this. You're a monster playing at being human."
"Then you know what I am," I say attempting to stand. "But then you must have always known."
"Yes, we've had you lot on our watch list for a while. I just never expected you to be so..." He pauses as if trying to find the right word. "Underwhelming. Your kill count is in the thousands. By all accounts, if anyone should be begging for their life. It's me."
He's not wrong. In our fifty years, we have killed many and fed on the remains. But things change. The thrill of the hunt ended and we wanted to live like normal humans. We began to fast in a vain effort to starve what lived inside of us. It made us weaker and vulnerable. I just never -
"There's one last thing I have to say," I can hear the hum of his weapon in his hand. I know what it can do. I also know that it can kill even a pseudo immortal. "Reidefell sends its regards."
Edit: I admit I took some liberties with the prompt. I'm also not the strongest at first person so if I've messed that up too. I apologise.
| 2019-03-10T16:18:06 | 2019-03-10T12:25:18 | 35 | 26 |
[WP]A teddy bear that you think protects you, imaginatively. One night, you noticed a dark figure in your room. It jumped on you, and realized that it blocked a sword aimed at you. Your trusty teddy bear has been trying to kill you every night, and creatures of the dark has been protecting you.
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“Daddy, please don’t go,” cried Catelyn.
He smiled kindly and stroked her hair. “I have to, Princess. It’s past your bedtime.”
“I...I need a drink of water,” she whined desperately.
“You just had one. I know you’re scared sweetie, but you have to learn to sleep on your own.”
“But the shadow monster tried to get me again last night!”
Her Daddy sighed. “You had a bad dream, Princess. We checked under your bed this morning, remember?” He lifted the blanket, stooping down. “I just checked again. No monsters. I promise.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Can you be brave for me, sweetie?”
Catelyn tried to feel brave. “Can I have Mr. Snuggles? Please?” she asked in a small voice.
Her Daddy smiled gently. “Of course you can sweetie.” He grabbed the teddy bear from the nightstand and held it before her. “Mr. Snuggles, can you please keep my little angel safe for me?”
She giggled as he made Mr. Snuggles nod. “Thank you, Daddy.” She hugged the bear tight, feeling safer. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight Princess. Sleep tight.”
Catelyn awoke with a muffled cry, drenched in sweat. A shadow engulfed her head and chest, suffocating her. Cold fear almost paralyzed her. With an effort, she forced her eyes open.
Mr. Snuggles towered over her, head almost reaching the ceiling. Golden light fell on him alone, his armor sparkling.
His sword shone inches above her neck.
Blacker than night, a hand rose from the shadow. It clutched at Mr. Snuggles’ paw, trembling. Mr. Snuggles’ roar rent the air. He forced his sword another inch closer.
Catelyn thrashed wildly. In vain. Cold steel grazed her neck.
Summoning her courage and desperation, she screamed. It fell dead, stifled by the shadow.
With a hiss, the shadow compressed itself, a black hole hovering between her and death. The hand began to dissolve.
Catelyn screamed again. Her cry pierced the night. Light flooded from above.
Catelyn kicked the sheets, desperately balling herself into the corner between her bed and the wall. She broke into hoarse sobs as she felt her Daddy’s warm embrace.
“It’s okay Princess… it’s okay… you just had a bad dream again.”
She wept, unable to explain her terror, dream and reality grappling in her mind.
He kissed her forehead again. “Do you need to sleep with me again tonight?” he asked. She thought he sounded sad. Was he disappointed in her? She shook her head, eyes closed.
“There’s my brave girl.” She felt soft fur on her face. “Do you want Mr. Snuggles?” Daddy offered.
Catelyn took the proffered bear, hurling it to the furthest corner of the room. “No!” she shouted. She blinked her eyes open to confirm the bear remained in the corner. Mr. Snuggles lay bereft of sword, armor, and light.
Her Daddy nodded, looking concerned. “Okay sweetie. Have a good night. Call me if you have another bad dream.” He turned off the light and left the door open.
Catelyn sat up, looking hard at Mr. Snuggles. Nothing happened. Sleep gently stole over her.
She jerked, fighting to stay awake. A soft light grew on Mr. Snuggles. A gloom rose between her and the bear, obscuring Catelyn’s vision.
“You will never kill our Queen,” it spat at Mr. Snuggles.
|
Teddy lost his eyes when I was six. They're just small black holes now. I don't put my fingers in there to poke around and see what's inside him anymore. I was looking for his eyes but I think they were in the laundry. Mom never found them. She died when I was ten.
After that, there was nobody to stitch Teddy up anymore. He had that row of stitches up his belly that started where his bellybutton would be and went right up to his neck, like some sort of zipper keeping his insides safely inside. He had that open gash on his head. It had been years in the making but I never got around to asking mom to stitch him up. After fixing his belly, she said she wasn't fixing him anymore. Now she doesn't fix him because she's dead.
The police say that somebody broke in and hacked her to death in the night with a knife they found in the kitchen. There was no sign of a forced entry. That's because nobody broke in. That's what Teddy said. He was just angry that she said she wouldn't fix him anymore and went to the kitchen during the night and chopped her up. If she didn't fix him, who would protect me from my nightmares? I told Teddy it was okay that once but that he couldn't do that anymore.
My dad died when I was thirteen. It was my fault, again. I kept telling him that I had to take Teddy on that camping trip but dad said I couldn't. "You're being childish," he kept saying. "Childish and naive."
I put Teddy in my backpack when dad wasn't looking and he was with me for the hikes on the first and second day. I would sleep with him at night. If Teddy wasn't there, who would protect me? He couldn't be left at home. Dad had stayed up a bit later on the third night and was just drinking by the fire, remembering mom. I think he might have been crying.
I found him face down in the embers the next morning. There was an axe in his back and his face was burnt. I wondered which had happened first.
After that, I started having more nightmares again. The more the cut on Teddy's head spread wider, the more nightmares I had. Creatures of the night would come to my bed and reach their bony black fingers towards my bed to scrape their fingers along my face and Teddy would hack them away. Sometimes he used knives. Sometimes he used forks. Sometimes he just resorted to chomping them off with that smiley opening that ran underneath what used to be his nose.
Each morning I would find Teddy in a worse state of disrepair. His paws were mangled and his ears were torn and I felt awful knowing he had done all this to protect me. I set an alarm one night so I could help Teddy fight the creatures of the night. It wasn't fair that he had to fight them himself. Teddy seemed surprised to see me awake. I think I startled him and distracted him from fighting. The creature of the night lunged and tore open the stitches on his stomach. Teddy growled and tried to push past him to protect me but the creatures kept coming. They wouldn't let him to me, resolved to first kill Teddy and then kill me.
I don't remember falling asleep but when I woke up, Teddy was chopped into little pieces and spread around the room. I cried for the first time since dad died. And that afternoon, I started to stitch Teddy together again. It was the least I could do after he had given his life to protect me.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
| 2019-09-23T14:45:00 | 2019-09-23T12:58:33 | 264 | 66 |
[WP] When you reach the age of 21, you are given a check from the government. The check has been carefully calculated and is worth the minimum amount of money you need for the rest of your life. Your check came in the mail today and it was $7.27
Edit: Wow this blew up better than I thought it would.
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I knew exactly how it was going to play out. I read it on the news a million times. I was going to die as soon as I spent that 7.27 . Well I ain't dumb, I will absolutely not spend it. I left them in my grandfather's antique piggy bank. I immediately left my apartment so I can stop paying rents. I scavengered whatever food I can find, and work for free in exchange of food so I don't have to spend a single penny. Eventually I met my now father in laws, the owner of then a small restaurant. "Son, you can't just keep eating out of the trash like that. I noticed that you're a very hard worker. Come work for me and I can provide you a bed and warm meals." That's how I met Anna. That was 30 years ago, my hard work had brought prosperity to my in-laws' business. What was once a punny restaurant is now a giant food chain that worth millions. Though my health is not the best from all the stressful work, but I have beat the system, I did not spend a single penny my whole life. I survived!
I smiled to myself sitting by the windows only to be distracted by footsteps walking towards the front door.
It's my beautiful wife Anna and our granddaughter Becca. Becca walked in licking ice creams with wet red eyes from obvious signs of crying.
"What's wrong?" I directed towards Anna
"Oh, she broke something this morning. She was a little frighten and was worried you might be mad at her."
I picked her up and placed her on my lap. "Oh you silly, you don't need to cry, Grandpa would get mad over something so in significant."
I directed towards Anna "that's a huge Icecream, what did she break anyway?"
"Oh it was that old piggy bank you had on the shelves. I tried to cheer her up by buying her some ice cream from the piggy bank."
My heart immediately raced faster. I have never felt so frighten in my life. "How much is the Icecream?" I asked as I feel throbbing piercing pain in my heart.
Anna replies: "Can you believe it? It's the same exact the amount as inside your piggy bank: $7.27!"
|
It sucks being the youngest in the group. Last to drive, last to vote, last to receive your LLA check. Rickey received his first, and blew through the quarter-million before he was twenty-five. No judgement though, he has a nice house now, and set himself up with a decent job - Angie took hers more seriously. Put it into stocks and bonds, ate ramen and didn’t buy the group so much as a burger. That’s the other way a lot of people go, save it and skimp it until every penny reached their potential.
Now it was my turn. *Finally*.
&#x200B;
The mail was late, as usual, so I didn’t bother to even check until the weekend after my actual birthday, but there it was. The certified envelope with my name stamped on the front. Did I wait til I got home to open it? Finish running my errands? I decided to put in my back pocket, and wait - the check would only be good once I opened and signed it, and there had been stories of the checks being stolen in the past - and though I never knew anyone it happened to, it was always better to be safe than sorry.
&#x200B;
Running the rest of my errands as quick as I could, I made it back to the dorm in record time - Angie was on the couch with Travis, ‘studying’. This quickly broke up as I fell on the chair next to them. “Ordered a pizza. You got your share?” Travis asked - he was always the most serious about splitting cost, made sense though. His parents got hold of his check after he signed it and spent it all on shit and booze, didn’t even tell him until his rent bounced last year.
&#x200B;
“Yeah yeah yeah. What’ll I owe?” I asked.
“Six something, seven-ish with a tip.”
“Alright. Cool.”
| 2019-04-24T11:35:55 | 2019-04-24T11:10:33 | 221 | 130 |
[WP]Humanity has died out and a new race has developed and begun exploring space. They find ancient human relics.
[WP]Humanity has died out and a new race has begun exploring space. They find the long dead machines that the humans used for space exploration, like the mars rovers and the Rosetta asteroid lander.
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I took a deep breath, my body expanding and contracting as carbon dioxide entered my body through the millions of pores in my thick, green-brown exoskeleton. This planet's atmosphere was ripe with it, even more so than Ut'uun, though the quality of air was notably worse- as one would expect from a decaying planet.
Just as I'd been briefed, it's a dead planet with not a sign of organic life larger than a microbe scurrying about. My job now is to scout and check for potential resources, and, being a historian of sorts, see if I find anything about this planet's history. I'd brought an apprentice with me; I could easily scout this planet alone but I had a feeling there'd be something for Naz'aar to learn here.
I pulled the bioscanner out one more time, just to be cautious. I detected slightly larger life forms now, but they were merely stage 0- the most basic stage in evolution, unlikely to go anywhere.
"Naz'aar, it's safe to step out. Let us depart now," I relayed to him.
"Yes, master." He scurried out from the ship, his 8 legs swirling and rippling with motion. "Master, what is that?"
There were strange structures, clearly unnatural, deforming the surface. They were rectangular and formed from some basic iteration of crude metal that clearly was not very strong- several buildings had collapsed in on themselves. All were swallowed by oxidization and dirt, a sea of brown and orange.
"It seems some primitive life form, possibly stage 3, attempted to become a more advanced civilization than their minds could handle, if I had to guess. This all looks so crude and ineffective."
After a light trek about 30 miles out, we saw strange little shapes littering the open spaces inbetween structures. They looked to be the same kind of crude materials the structures contained, but were far smaller, like a personal craft.
"These could have been used for transportation- it would indicate their size as being 4-8 feet, and likely either quad or, worst case, bipedal."
Another 30 miles out and there was nothing- a sea of dead minerals and soil.
"It seems they were just a small colony or tribe," Naz'aar noted.
I looked closer and scanned the elevation levels of the desert. There was more than first led on.
"No, it would seem this is an impact crater. I'd suggest meteors, but, taking away likely change in levels over thousands of years, it is far too even. It seems they may have been stage 4, and failed the leap to stage 5."
"So, then something destroyed them?"
"You must learn my theory of Advancement if you are to be my apprentice. I believe every species must face a great demon before transitioning to stage 5."
"And that is?"
"Themselves."
I pulled out the bioscanner one last time, and detected something faint. It seemed to be a stage 2.
"This is interesting, Naz'aar- there are no useful resources left on this dead planet, but life could be attempting to evolve once more despite this."
70 miles further, there was another conglomerate of structres, this tike much smaller. It was surrounded by a sea of emptiness and death, almost as if it had been built there once everything was destroyed.
"It seems the stage 2 is within one of these two structures. Take care not to be rough and destroy anything, Naz'aar."
We began to delicately lift a layer off of each structure, examining them from top down. Thankfully, these building were only 80 feet across and made of a light mixture of mineral and rock. On the fourth layer down of the structure I was inspecting, there was a small capsule, no bigger than my female's last egg, and it was glowing with light.
"I've found the stage 2, Naz'aar. You may stop searching."
He crawled over to me and took a look at the lifeform. "What is that strange thing, master? Some form of living mineral?"
I took a longer look at it and pondered. Upon heightening my vision to examine it up close, I saw a strange, bipedal being, pink and soft, through a clear covering.
"No, Naz'aar, I think this might be something different."
|
Title: exploration diary entry #47 (translated into Terran, variant #2)
Name: SK Losxy A L33
Date: 17/2/20457 SOLAR TIME
Location: 0.1174 pc from SOL (coordinates 0,0,0,0)
play? y/n
y
beginning transmission...
The first sign that we found of the late, great Terran Empire was its tiny metal satellite. The warper had nearly destroyed the craft, but fortunately we were approaching the Solar System, where Terra lay third from Sol, and we had to come back out of light speed. It wasn't hard to get here - the starways were always open, and all of them led to the now-ruined capital of the galaxy - but the Alcubriere drives kicked up a lot of fuss if we tried to decelerate any faster. If we weren't careful, we could destroy a planet without even knowing it. So carefully..
I was in charge of that, and I slowly unwound the dials. This was a two-entity ship, so there was only me and my co-pilot, who was sleeping, trying to overcome the effects of planet lag. The grey of superluminal space before me changed into the black of the universe. Then a brilliant shower of exotic particles lit up the entire windscreen. Braking radiation, it was called. When a superluminal ship came back down to sub-light speeds, it released all the particles it had vacuumed up on its trip across the universe, like some sort of cosmic sonic boom. The particles disappeared into the soundless night. I switched the ship's engine to idle.
And then I saw what I had irradiated. The tiny probe was but a golden speck in my windscreen - like what the Terrans used to call *fireflies*. I hit a switch, and soon the object was in the ship's magnetic grasp. It only took a few minutes before it was before me and I could examine the probe. And there I had the weirdest surprise of all.
The moment I so much as looked at it, the readings on my radiation counter jumped off the charts.
I looked around, examining the metal casing, before I eventually found the source. It was coming from what seemed to be the ship's power source. I'd learned about these in history class. A radioisotope thermoelectric generator. I saw the plutonium inside the casing, now too weak to supply any more electricity, but still potent enough to trigger readings on radiation counters everywhere. On the power source the Terran words *Voyager 1* was written. And when I saw those words I knew we'd hit the archeological jackpot.
I sat back down. Then I keyed the radio for my fellow entity to come to the bridge.
"Sarl, of sector X16?" I asked.
"Vocalising," the reply came. "Who else could it be?"
"I've found something massive," I said.
"What is so important that you must break my rest, Losxy of sector L33? You know that unless-"
"I've found *Voyager 1*," I said, barely able to hide my excitement under the vocals. "You've got to come up."
There was silence on the other end. I think the appropriate Terran translation for that kind of reaction would be *surprised as fuck*.
Then-
"I'm on my way," Sarl said. And the line went dead.
I walked over, to where the silent probe lay, a monument to a dead planet. I saw the golden disc embedded in its side, and the strange drawings that accompanied it. Three concentric circles and a strange pill-like object in the orbit. A fourteen-pointed star with irregular line lengths. They had meant something, a long time ago, but the meaning was long since lost. It fell to us now to discover the message. And it was precisely then that I knew there was an entire lost world to be found.
Would Sarl be able to decipher the message?
| 2016-02-05T08:06:55 | 2016-02-05T05:11:22 | 76 | 13 |
[WP] You are a demon in disguise, faking a cold near a church so a pastor will 'bless you'.
|
It took everything in me to claw my way out of hell. I had only heard stories about what mortals were like. The strange rituals they performed like checking under the bed for monsters or watching reality TV or wearing these awful, leg restricting pants. Of course, Lucifer forbade me from ever coming to the surface all because I scratched his scooter when I was a young demon. I was always given the grunt work as revenge. It was just one little scratch, you could barely see it, but apparently, hell was freezing over for one little scratch.
Anyways, finally, I escaped hell so I could experience these things for myself. It's a little colder up here but I'll survive. I think. If it weren't for these stupid pants. Oh Lucifer, are these uncomfortable.
After a few days of rest, I finally got to experience a few of these things. I ate my first salad, which was... well, it was salad, I rode in a taxi, I dipped my toes in the ocean, I tasted chocolate (why don't we have this in hell?), and I even avoided snacking on children. I was starting to enjoy my time among the morals. I didn't want to go back. I'm free here.
Yesterday, I heard that good old Lucie noticed my absence and sent his lackeys after me. I heard a rumor once that having a pastor bless you gets you banished from hell. Like, we physically can't cross the barrier. We're too... Holy, I guess? So that's what I planned to do.
I can't step foot in a church without bursting into flames so that wasn't an option. I tried to contact a pastor but my explanation as to why I needed him to bless me confused him. He thought it was a prank. I was completely lost until I heard it. The most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.
Some small human child sneezed and the person accompanying him replied with a simple, "Bless you". I had a plan. I'd get as close to a church as I could tolerate, and sneeze. I could already feel my flesh burning, but I waited. And waited. And waited, disquised as a sickly elderly man.
Finally, the pastor came out. I started sneezing uncontrollably. "Are you okay, sir?" He put his hand on my arm. I felt it burn, but I was so close, I didn't flinch away. I nodded. "Well bless you."
And that was it. I stunk of Jesus. No one would want to touch me. I was a free demon. I'll talk to you all later. I'm trying my first grilled cheese today.
|
For years, I have battled the Gandor, the Arch Priest of Romania. I shred livestock, and tempted men to violence and women to infidelity. But as the Germanic village of Gasselgor grew, so too did their faith. Soon, the Arch Priest discovered my single weakness—I could not stay in holy sites without blessing. Thus, he spread his sacred symbols and sprinkled his holy waters all throughout the village, blocking me out their putrid village.
But I had hatched a plan, years in the making. The Arch Priest has grown old and senile, his eyes not as sharp and his lips looser. And for years, I had spread the misnomer of blessings for such common things as a sneeze. For this, I had given up my demonic mask and donned the face of a holy man in the surrounding countries where the Arch Priest had yet to spread his defilement. I became the greatest holy man to ever exist, purging my demonic brothers, all the while spreading my empty blessings upon any who sneezed.
I’ve had brethren stare at me in shock as I plunged my claws through their chest. I’ve had comrades frozen in surprise as I burnt their bodies in my unholy flames. Word of my betrayal spread all throughout hell. The land’s most powerful demon, a human slave? And they laughed at me. I let them because soon, my plan would come to fruition, and that god damn Gandor will finally have met his match.
“Bless you,” rang the calling whenever someone sneezed to the south.
“Bless you,” they said at the slightest chills in the north.
“Bless you,” they said at the hint of a shiver in the east and west.
I stood at the edge of Gasselgor’s holy land, my tongue snaking across my lips. Ahead of me stood Gandor in his daily Monday walk. It was my only chance to get within earshot of the bastard. As he approached, my nostrils sucked in a mighty gust, something tickled the roof of my mouth, and I erupted in a sneeze like distant thunder.
Gandor stared in my direction, seeing the mask of a holy man and he opened his mouth.
“Gesundheit.”
I stared as he left, my jaw gaping and fingers trembling. *What the hell just happened?*
---
---
/r/jraywang for 5+ stories a week!
| 2017-07-04T13:11:42 | 2017-07-04T09:14:25 | 54 | 27 |
[WP] A person's superpowers emerge during- and relate to- a highly stressful moment in their life. Your brother nearly drowned, and as a result could shape water to his will. A classmate fell from a high balcony, and ended up learning to fly. You? You just got your powers last night.
|
You know, I could have sworn I had my powers before they even manifested.
Life, after all, had never really gone to plan for me before. My parents dying in an accident, my foster home burning down, me dropping out of school, so on and so forth. A series of misfortunes, all leading up to the moment I pointed the gun at my head and pulled the trigger.
It jammed, of course.
I didn't leave the house for a few months after that.
The first time I did, though, was to the bank, where I got caught in the middle of a robbery. Somehow, the robbers ended up gunning each other down after an argument.
The next time was when I was out getting food. The Speedster had been running past towards some crime scene. He tripped as he passed me and ended up as little meat gibblets on a nearby wall.
The third... well, let's just say a city block near me was leveled with explosives from a failed hostage rescue.
Can you see the pattern now? It certainly didn't take long for the intelligence agencies to.
As you might have guessed, all their plans to take me in failed. Not due to a lack of detailed planning, but because of my presence.
It's funny, now that I think about it. I used to think I was inconsequential. That my existence meant nothing to the world. Now? The world revolves around me. As I move, so does the world, simply to avoid being anywhere near me.
Unfortunately for everyone else, my power is growing every day, and well, there's nothing I can do to stop it.
(A bit of a poor ending, I think, but the idea didn't go as I had planned.)
|
I thought it would be a normal fart, just like any other fart, there wasn't anyone near enough in our office open-space to hear it, should it prove to be a noisy one, so I allowed my back door to let it out.
Seconds after I realized the grave mistake I've made, I had sharted myself, and I knew the smell would be far-reaching, it quickly became apparent to me - I had seconds until the smell would reach the other employees, five rows away from me.It was supposed to be an easy day in our near-abandoned office, now it turned into an insane race against time.
Millions of thoughts passed through my sweaty brain, one of them louder than the rest, almost as if someone said it out loud, yelled it from above: "Gee I wish I could take that shart back!".
As soon as I felt that thundering wish being generated by my own fireshow of synapses, I heard a quiet murmuring coming from my stomach, I felt the moisture leave my underpants, I felt it... being sucked back into my own ass. My body somehow managed to reabsorb all of the shart back into itself.
Almost instantaneously, along with my new ability, came knowledge I didn't have before, yet it somehow entered my brain, like a telepathic message, I understood the gravity of the position I was in, I was gifted with the reabsorbent anus, I was the Recaller of Sins, the Rectaller.
| 2021-04-01T03:34:19 | 2021-04-01T02:58:40 | 133 | 10 |
[WP] In 2081, humanity finds the wreckage of a five-thousand-year-old alien ship out in the Kuiper belt. Fascinated by its technology, we study it thoroughly, only to conclude that it is... human.
|
The dim blinking of the suit lights sent spiraling shadows across the hall and compartments. Three clothed figures slowly stepped through the door, their spacesuits not unlike those of the famous astronauts almost a hundred years before, of course, purely cosmetic at this point. A skin-suit could do the hard work of a space suit in the museum with little work.
"Sammy, got the cell? We're gonna need it to get this bird operational." squawked a radio in the silence of space. "Uh, yeah..." another one before realizing something. "Wait, Cathy. Did you hear an echo of the radio?"
"I mean, yeah. Probably a software bug. We're a bit far from home for technical support though..."
"Did either you check if the ship has atmosphere." sighed Catherine.
"Uh... nope." blushed Sammy, or at least as much as one can through a spacesuit.
As the third one shook their head, they pulled out a tablet-sized computer that the pattern was projected onto the dusty floor.
> "Atmosphere 98% Earth"
With a swift move, the third figure removed their helmet, shaking out their long red hair.
He grinned a bit. "Good to breathe, but bit strange of it to have a human atmosphere, and a human sized set of doors, don't you think?" his thick accent forcing both to think about what he said for a bit.
Sammy and Catherine removed their helmets haphazardly, revealing close cut hair and green eyes for the both of them. "It's probably just an abandoned startup vehicle." Sammy spoke.
"With this tech, though? We only found it by pure luck of optical astronomers seeing it transit the sun."
With a glance off to the side, Sammy located a power switch by accident.
"Hey, I found the ship powerup switch." they said, not moving at all.
"How can you tell?" asked Spencer, his red hair floating a bit in the lower gravity.
"It's labeled." giggled Sammy, before giving it a throw.
As the dim blue lights of the ship slowly rose to a warm daylight, an overhead speaker crackled a bit before giving an announcement.
"You gotta be shittin' me..."
"Welcome back Captain Spencer Jones, Officers Sammy and Catherine Rufner."
|
"What do you think it could be John?" came Angela's soft voice.
"I don't know, looks to be some form of communication device." John said as he touched the perfect sphere.
He wasn't sure how he knew that, after all it was just a metal sphere. There was nothing distinguishable on it, but when he touched it he felt something. Something deep in his bones, that sent shivers down his spine. It was one of many artifacts that were recovered by Odessious' salvage crew. Long range sensors hadn't picked the alien ship up. It was only when Emile saw it with his naked eyes through a porthole that they spotted it. Of course, when everyone saw it, they all got the shivers down their spines as well. Such things happened when you were knocking on the mighty doors of destiny.
John's team had been the ones to enter the ship. it was strange, John didn't remember much about the ship itself, he was more concerned with what was inside. No organic material was found within the ship. Many proposed that the ship could be just a drone, but that didn't make any sense, it was far too vast for that. No, something else would have to explain it, the rooms, the hallways, the mirrors.
They weren't mirrors though, they were made of a completely different substance than anything they had ever seen before. Reflections were cast off of them like the aluminum mirrors back home, but these mirrors did not only reflect, but also *emit* light. John looked into the depths of the sphere again and he witnessed movement, not of his own accord. This was coming from inside the sphere.
"Angela. Come look at this. Now!" John yelled.
Dark figures swirled in the sphere, as if it were a conductor of some alien movie, with John and Angela its only audience.
There, deep in the half reflective surface of the alien sphere, they saw it, blurry at first, and then sharp as a digital image.
A human child's face.
**upvote and comment for more!**
| 2018-04-27T19:52:16 | 2018-04-27T19:38:27 | 52 | 34 |
[WP] Since you were born you could see a search bar over people's heads. All you had to do was think and the search bar would fill out and give you information/statistics. Out of boredom one day you decide to search your whole family with"Number of people killed"
|
I can find information out about people just by looking at them and thinking. It’s my superpower you could say.
When I look at someone I see a search bar, I call it the ultimate search. It’s how I found out my best friend is gay and that the quiet girl is far from a virgin like she claims.
It sometimes makes me wonder if others have the same ability or whatever, so sometimes out of curiosity I search.
So far I am the only one.
It sometimes becomes overwhelming, knowing almost anything there is about a person.
There is one question that I have never searched… “number of people killed”
Maybe I’m afraid of the answer and that’s why I have never really thought about it. Looking at the search bar above my mom I think it.
“a hundred”
My mother has killed a hundred people, I’m afraid to look at her… but I can’t help myself and when I do she is wearing a sickening smile.
I look to dad with the same question and his is almost double
Then grams.
And my sisters.
All of them have killed at least a hundred people and when I look to each of them they are wearing sickening smiles.
…
Now just waking up, I can’t help wondering where I am, the walls are a light pink color and my head is pounding.
Just as my memories of what happened with mom come back to me a lady walks in with some medicine, and the search bar is gone.
“Where am I?” I ask her and she just gives me a smile.
A man that certainly looks like a doctor walks in and answers my question “your at Yardley Memorial hospital, in the mental wing.”
He doesn't have the bar either, the medicine must be doing something to my power.
All of the sudden my mom walks in looking worried, and she is also missing the bar. “Sweetie-” I don’t let her finish since I throw the tray of pills at her
“You monster” I scream and next thing I know there are two guys twice the size of me dragging me out of the room, who knows where. All I know is that nobody has a search bar anymore.
|
It was my dad. Let's not beat around the Bush. 22 people. My dad is the sweetest old man. But everyone respects him. He could be funny, hell my first joke that got a real laugh was one he told me when I was 6 or 7. One about a dumb guy being asked how many Ds are in Rudolf the red nosed reindeer. The guy says 7. No man its 4. No says the guy its seven, listen. Dee Dee Dee Dee Dee dee dee. I laughed at his joke for years. It was my go to for adults.
Still. 22 people. The guy thought me most everything I know. How the hell did my dad kill 22 people. Okay let's do some more searches. "Dad murder trials." Searching...
"One result"
"Lucky Valentino's jury selection"
Let's see here. Oh, he just appears on the rejected jury for trial list. It's odd but he's not on trial and no other enters of his name are found.
Let's try "
Okay I'm loosing my train of thought. I'm just going to give this twist away and turn in for the night. My dad accident kill 22. He worked in remodeling for 40 yrs. It was never really his fault. Mostly him wondering about how he could of done something different. Big ones were very few. Only one guy did he feel like he didn't do enough. It was an accident. The guy cut through a power cord. True dad was the last guy to handle it and that can wear on your concise. But come on dad, he could have watched where he was cutting too.
Big twist. I finally searched myself. Turns out I'm probably not that good at cooking as I thought. Sweet dreams those who are out tonight.
| 2019-07-01T22:44:04 | 2019-07-01T21:57:00 | 52 | 24 |
[WP] Waking from cryostasis is now possible. The government develops an experiment where somebody is to be placed into a large chamber in the middle of the city and awoken every 50 years for just one week. Your name is chosen.
|
They’ve stolen your life from you. That’s what my mother said. But I didn’t mind, really. You see, they had chosen me, the government that is, to be the first living time capsule, to be the first man to span human existence. Cryostasis. This was a gift, a privilege. I would be remembered for as long as I live.
The day came for me to begin my sleep. I had already been briefed. I would sleep for fifty year intervals and, in between, would awake for one week at a time. I would live for over two-thousand and six hundred years for every year that I aged. Well, actually, because the cryostasis only slows down bodily function, not stops it completely, it would be closer to two-thousand years for every one of mine. The chamber that I would reside in was in the center of the mall, right in front of the Capitol Building. It was a cylindrical chamber with transparent fiberglass and was filled with a blue liquid. There was also a smaller chamber attached to its side. Of which, I stood in front of. I was surrounded on all sides by dense crowds of people and cameras.
“This day marks the age of a new era.” A voice boomed, “An era of immense potential and advancement. This brave citizen will not only become a part of history, but live to see his legacy. See you in 2070, my friend.”
With that, the crowd roared and the doors to the secondary chamber opened. I stepped inside, the doors slid shut, and the chamber began to fill with liquid. My mother was there, my sister, too. I waved goodbye to them as I submerged. The doors to the main chamber opened and I swam to the center. The system was designed to keep me directly in the center of the chamber. The solution that I was suspended in was specially designed for my weight and buoyancy. It would render me unconscious and then turn cold. I took one last look around and took a deep breath in. It felt like drowning and breathing simultaneously, a weird sensation, indeed. Things went dark quickly, though, and I soon rescinded into my mind.
It was basically like dreaming, just very slowly. Though, I didn’t notice the slowness until after I had woken up. Suddenly, my dream was cut short and I began to regain consciousness. Red flashes and alarms filled my senses. The liquid in the chamber was draining. Had it been fifty years? I fell to my knees as my body tried to reset. Something was off. I looked around. The mall seemed so barren now. The grass had turned to dirt. The sky was filled with what seemed to be more dust than cloud. No one was there to greet me. Did they forget? After a few minutes, I had the strength to stand. What the fuck was happening? I made my way to the secondary chamber. On the floor laid a small lock box. There was a note attached to it.
“Good morning. Place your finger here.”
I did what it said and the box popped open. Inside were two objects inside: a folded piece of paper and a pistol. My stomach sank.
“In 2067 a large celestial object impacted Earth. Most of the population left in a mass exodus to find a new home. The rest were left here to die. I’m sorry. –Peter”
It couldn’t be. But I knew it to be true. The Earth had changed. I couldn’t see a hundred feet without it being lost to dust and smog. I began to laugh. I saw Peter lying just out front of the chamber door. I wonder how long he had been there. A few years I’d wager. What a life I had had. I grabbed the pistol and cocked it back. At least Peter remembered me.
|
The light burns at my sheltered retina as I hear hissing of the vacuum, or is it over pressure? Countless times I've been through this process and yet I still forget. The offending light is partially blocked and now my ears are assaulted with a even newer form of Mandlish, the inevitable merging of English and mandarin, this was starting after my 5th wake up. I stopped counting at 1200. How many people had I talked to, how many talk tours, then holo tours, then the terrifying yet exhilirating neurmotion tours, the mix of neural link and emotional download. The upgrades that i was given kick in and my eyes adjust and ears stop ringing as I stare at the man? Maybe, I don't know the mix of genetic manipulation and nano technology means anyone can be either at the choice. I have yet to accept that uprgade.
"You wake, we talk."
"Yeah yeah, I know, I still see grammar is lost?"
The man rolls his eyes
I walk out of the pod that once sat in the middle of Akron, ....somewhere. I don't know it's been so long. The pod has never moved yet the surroundings have changed, from creeping consumer outlets to creeping skyscrapers to the inevitable move back to sustainable living. Now I stare at machines, giant machines that leave their purpose no way in doubt.
"What, what happened since my last long night?" I ask as perform a ritual with the dirt that I learned some thousand of years ago when the spiritualist were in charge, I shall never forget her name, Zandgro, she taught me that life is eternal, that I am a cruel joke to physically manifest this.
"We have angered the gods, they come for you, the one who lives without the eternal night."
"Gods? What are you talking ab---" it hits me, several wakes back I learned about a rogue state that was uploading their selves into machines, in doing so losing the individual and gaining the collective, all humanity lost. "What do you need me of, why do you care"
"Cause, you are the one of love, a connection to our past, there is some among us that notice we have lost our way, that greed has creeped back up, and these gods are the example and embodiment of it"
"But what can I do, I am eons old yet the body of a 34 year old, I have no military training"
The machines hatches opened and some soldiers began to assemble, eyes and ears eager for words they needed.
"Yes, but you live during the time of war, during the call."
"Look, I was pretty good but I really don't think I am who you need"
The man stared, his eyes glazing as if he was thinking of some unseen horror that he had witnessed, the soldiers seem to coward at what they knew was coming
"They said that they had sex with your mom, and that you are a fag"
I feel the adrenal glands pump the force giving molecules into my blood stream as my heart pumps harder and my eyes focus on the streaks of light coming across the sky, in the distance explosions start. I walk up to a soldier and grab his weapon.
"Let's show the noobs a good baggin"
The screams that erupt from the gathered masses outplay the explosions and din of streaking aerobraking maneuvers and orbital bombardment. As I mount one the machines guns, I think back fondly at all the long turned to dust 12 year olds that fueled my anger as their war taunts rang in my ear, for I have answered the call.
| 2014-12-19T07:17:25 | 2014-12-19T06:46:09 | 39 | 24 |
[WP] A powerful necromancer is trying to raise the dead. However, despite trying different vessels and rituals, he has only raised you. Over. And over. And over. You're both starting to get sick of each other.
|
"Oh, son of a-"
I awoke with a figure standing over me, a deep leather cowl hiding his face.
"What? Not happy with me?" I asked.
*Really should not have taken this job.*
"Of course not! I bought this necromancy spell -"
"From where?"
"The local shop. Was quite a bargain, for raising an undead army. If I could get more than you." He stood and started to wander towards his alchemy station, looking for the poison he'd used so many times before.
"Well, maybe if you went to the college, you'd learn how to use it *properly*."
*I mean, I know my eternal debt was high, but this is a bit much.*
"Shut up, you -"
"Something wrong? Did I say something improperly... Mr. Smith?" I'd figured it out some five reincarnations ago. The blacksmith of the town, performing necromancy in a cabin in the woods? How delicious it would be to tell everyone - to ruin this jackass's reputation for surplus of one hundred reincarnations in the same damn spot.
Smith had found the poison now. "You know how this goes, by now. I need you to do something when you get down there."
"Whatever it is, I can't help you. My job is to deter those who use this spell with no heed to it's effects. You've been trying to raise... someone... and you aren't properly trained."
*It's like I'm stuck in a loop. Over and over, I show up here.*
"So, I have to go to the college to see her again?"
"In a nutshell." He handed me the poison.
"You do the honors. Thank you." I downed the poison in one go.
Returning to hell, I sat at my desk.
*I didn't realize secretary was such a hard job.*
|
*Could we just stop?* That was a question that crossed our minds quite often. But as a cloud of smoke preceded his arrival, I resigned myself to know we couldn't. A lifetime of summoning was what I was condemned to, and so far it was all he had. "Hello again," I greeted the summoned undead. Its face glowed horrifyingly in the dark, a dark empty void that I hated. *The abyss of no return.*
"What is it that you want," it said dismissively, the bored tone in its voice showing. I shrugged too, and stared at my only friend yet my greatest enemy. He bored me. So much. I could have summoned anyone else and my conversation was carry value. But not it. I'd tried every single avenue, but this was the only one that I could find and summon. It was kind of sad, but I'd learnt to accept it. But this time I couldn't continue to summon it anymore. I'd decided in the past week, that I would solve my problems once and for all. There was but one solution.
"Take me with you," I said slowly. It looked squarely at me, then laughed heartily. "You're my greatest foe and you want *me* to be hospitable towards you--oh wait, you aren't joking?" it chuckled, before it saw my dead-serious face. I stared at my future benefactor as I said it again. It wasn't every day you get to ride away with an undead. Particularly one called Depression.
_________________________________________________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Apologies for the short response (and the dual response too)!
| 2017-07-22T07:31:01 | 2017-07-22T07:16:16 | 62 | 28 |
[WP] As Death walks towards you, you panic and scream the first word that comes into your head: “Unsubscribe!” Death stops, scowls, crosses your name off the list he is holding then turns and walks away.
|
As death walks away, you hear him say something “that’s the first time someone unsubscribed from our death and co service….” Death says very sadly. What? Then you wake up.
You’re lying on the floor with a knife in your hand. You think about what happened, but you can’t remember.
You get up and look at the time. It’s currently 7:30, so you have to hurry to work. You put on a coat and get your bag. You forgot you’re lunch, so you run back to get it. Work is pretty close to home, so you decide to run there. You try to cross a street, but before you know it, a car is barrelling towards you.
You think “Is this the end.”
*boom*
You got hit, but you’re not unconscious, so you open your eyes and notice that it doesn’t hurt. You’re lying on the ground looking up at the sky.
People all around you are screaming for help and running towards you, but there’s only one thing you think about. You whisper it to yourself.
“Am I immortal?”
|
[poem] [maybe like a lame song on ukelele, played real upbeat] Death is a unsatisfactory villain.
We always assume he’ll get us,
He won’t stop, won’t listen.
Death is actually just like you and me,
Has stress at home, from boss, and sucks at dating.
Can’t look in the mirror, reflects insecurity.
Yesterday and every day Death was feeling sad
Cuz 1 million years ago Death made a password.
If anyone gets it right they get an unlimited pass to sword fight.
But no one gets it, this game is mad.
Today one person won the immortal lottery!
They said the phrase that will put their end at bay,
Death thought he made a best-friend for ever,
But the game can’t let death play,
Or the game will end,
So he just walked away.
| 2021-12-09T00:27:18 | 2021-12-08T23:27:37 | 256 | 29 |
[WP] It is the 24 th of july, your birthday, and also the day that humanity is going to reach 10 billion inhabitants. You are watching the number grow, live on a site. Just as it's about to hit 10 billion, at 9,999,999,999... It Hits 2. You are still alive.
|
I watch the counter, eagerly. Humanity had struggled a lot, and we were finally about to hit a major checkpoint. And I had the satisfaction of being a part of it. I sat back at my desk and chuckled to myself as I took a sip of coffee.
Dale looked over to me. "What's so funny?"
"Oh, nothing. Just glad to finally be getting some publicity. Nobody cared about this counter when it was at 8 billion 324 million or something. Thanks to modern medicine, though, something I coded is finally being viewed by, well..." I checked the counter. "9 billion, 999 million, 999 thousand, 957 people, minus babies and people without internet."
"Sure is something, eh?" said Dale, grinning.
"Sure is," I said, looking over at the counter. The number was steadily gaining...989, 990, 991...
"Hey, Steve," said Dale. "This may not be a good time, but I gotta ask..."
"Yeah?", I replied.
"You programmed something in to deal with overflow, right?"
Over-oh god dammit. I look at the screen, dreading what I'm about to see.
2
"Well, we can always blame frontend."
|
The silence hit like a wave.
I saw the number plummet to a mere pair and thought it to be some kind of joke for half a second, but then the silence of Times Square settled in.
Nobody left to make any noise.
I jogged down my stairs, still in disbelief. I ran out into the empty space and let it settle in. The only logical thing to do was scream. So I screamed for hours until I couldn't scream anymore.
I collapsed on my back and watched the sky as the sun set, unable to see the sky through the remains of a civilization that reaped the world's resources and left before it could pay its debt. I felt my eyelids get heavier when they popped back open, perking up at a noise in the distance.
I recalled days from childhood suburbia when I heard that sound a thousand times over. I couldn't recall what it was for hours and hours until suddenly it registered with me all at once.
A gunshot.
"Goddammit" I uttered.
| 2017-02-28T20:44:47 | 2017-02-28T18:37:24 | 581 | 275 |
[WP] You're a thief who breaks into homes, but try your best to stay undetected. You lubricate the hinges to prevent squeaky noises, you sweep the floor to get rid of footsteps, etc. Eventually, you fix more than you take, and rumors spread about a mysterious, helpful fairy in town.
EDIT: Wow, didn't expect this prompt to blow up so quickly. Thanks for the responses, guys! Glad I was able to help inspire some writers.
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"Bob! Wake up, i think we've been robbed."
Bob's eyes sprang open and he combat rolled out of bed, ready to defend his homestead. He wasn't a particularly sporty guy, there was no baseball bat or golf club handy to use as a weapon, so he had to settle for his longest, sharpest model railway train. He brandished it like nun-chucks as he sprinted down the stairs.
He found his wife stood in the center of the living room weeping. The poor thing was in shock at the sight before their eyes. They could see the floorboards. They were brown, a fact he only vaguely recalled from when they had moved in 3 years ago. Bob shouted, "What kind of animal steals toys?"
"What are we going to tell the children?"
"We'll worry about that later, we should see what else is missing." Bob put his precious train down on the table when something caught his eye, "What is that box in the corner? I've never seen that before."
His wife wiped the tears from her eyes and scanned the room, "I think that's the toy bin that we got the kids last year."
"Has it always been there?"
"Yes, it was just buried under the mountain of stuffed animals and half eaten cheerios."
Bob stalked over, preparing himself for more anger. He pulled open the lid and shouted, "Jane, you've got to see this."
Jane joined him and gasped, "Wait, I think everything is in here? How? Did you hire a cleaner?"
"Not after the last one stormed out of here. Whoever did this even colour coordinated the stuffed animals. Who does that? Should I call the Police?"
Jane took a deep breath, "And tell them what, someone broke in and stole the mess from our living room?"
"We must be missing something. Perhaps this is a distraction. Check the computer!"
She rushed over and opened her laptop, "Oh my goodness, you're right! All the files on my desktop are missing. Oh, wait, never mind, he's put in a file structure. Wow, this is much easier to find things."
"This could be one of those cyber crimes. He could have stolen my identity!"
At that moment the phone rang. Bob yanked it off the receiver, "Hello."
"Hello, is that Mr. Smith? I want to talk to you about the unusual activity on your account last night."
Bob cupped his hand over the receiver and shouted to Jane, "Aha! I knew it!"
He listened again as the bank teller continued, "I want to assure you that the staff member responsible has been terminated and full charges will be pressed. We'd have never caught him either if it wasn't for that considerable reorganization of your accounts that highlighted the fraudulent fees. We would like to offer you a sizable reward as our way of saying thank you."
Jane was waving at him frantically so he said, "I'm sorry, I'll have to call you back." He hung up and said, "is everything alright?"
Jane sobbed as she spoke, "I found out what he took. Crackers the parrot is gone!"
Bob's jaw fell open. The thief had cleaned up the living room, earned him money and now had stolen the miserable sack of feathers his wife fawned over instead of him. He tried to keep the smile off his face as he said, ""This guy better hope I never track him down!"
|
Ironically enough, this prompt seems to describe me perfectly. I began thieving out of necessity, I lost my job and I really didn't want to live on the streets. I didn't have much saved at all, only enough for two or three more months of rent, so after about a month of blissfully lounging about, I decided I'd better figure something out to make ends meet.
At first I just looked for unlocked cars, but that wasn't very fruitful and I really didn't want to go through the trouble of taking an entire radio, especially because that's just crass. I didn't want them to notice what I had borrowed, so I would always polish their dash or wash the outside of their car to distract them. I really hate washing cars so that didn't last long.
The first (and only) house I ever broke into was enormous, probably 10,000+ square feet if I had to guess. They had a little mutt that I was worried would bark at me, but he didn't seem to mind me. It turns out he was a scaredy cat type of dog who didn't bark much, but he had another defense. It only took me about 10 minutes to clean up the pee, and by that time I had scoped out the kitchen and laundry room, and noticed a wallet sitting on the counter.
I found about eighty bucks in there, and figured that would suffice. As I was leaving I noticed how terribly filthy my shoes were. I must have stepped in mud on my way in, so I tried to wipe it up with a rag I found but that just wasn't working out so I had to get the mop. Then I left. Then I remembered all the dirty dishes in the sink. If I'm, well, stealing, (I hate to call it that) I guess I should do something to make up for it, so I went back in and did the dishes. And folded the laundry. Before I knew it I had waxed the stained concrete floors and disinfected the toilets.
I couldn't stop cleaning. Everything was so dirty, and I did take $80 so I had to do a lot of sweeping and wiping and polishing and dusting to make up for it. Before I knew it the sun began to rise. I didn't realize how long I had really been there, so I started frantically putting away the cleaning supplies when I accidentally dropped the windex. It wasn't that loud because it was just a plastic bottle, so I figured I would be okay. Then I started to hear footsteps. I was freaking out. What do I do? Where can I hide?
The light flicked on, and a woman dressed in a robe screeched "Who are you?! What are you doing here!?" Shortly thereafter a man sprinted in holding a bat. I don't recall much after that, but they told me I passed out. Anyway, my girlfriend had mentioned she wanted me to meet her parents, so really I had done her a favor, but she didn't see it that way.
| 2017-03-13T09:32:42 | 2017-03-13T09:01:48 | 43 | 30 |
[WP] You bought a pair of headphones that are acting up. Every time you plug them in, you hear a different sound - first crying, then a war-zone, now just static. You plug them in again and are frightened to hear a desperate, tearful warning: "Whatever you do, DON'T unplug the headphones again."
|
I opened up the package that I had ordered from Amazon and took out my brand new pair of headphones. My old headphones had gotten more glitchy as the years went by, so I was hoping that this new pair would be more successful. I sat down in my chair, went to Youtube, put on my headphones and plugged them into my laptop.
Almost instantly, I jerked backwards in my seat. Instead of hearing soothing music, I heard the sound of a baby screaming and crying. Worse, I could hear someone yelling at them in the background, though it was in some language that I couldn’t understand. What the fuck? I unplugged the headphones and checked through my tabs. Nothing else was playing. What weird shit had I just listened to?
Shrugging it off as a glitch, I plugged the headphones in again before almost immediately yanking them off. Even two feet away from me, I could hear the loud sounds of explosions and gunfire. What in the actual hell?
At this point, I was more cautious. I held the headphones in my hands and plugged in again. This time,all I could mostly hear was static. What really freaked me out though was that at certain points, if you listened closely enough, the static would get quieter and you could hear someone faintly giggling and humming.
I unplugged the headphones and decided to plug it in one last time before I returned these obviously cursed headphones back to whatever pit they had crawled from. At first, all I heard the sound of something crackling and burning. Then, the voice of a girl weeping suddenly echoed in my ear. “Please, please, David, don’t unplug the headphones or --” A cold chill ran down my neck and I yanked the cord out from my laptop. What the fuck? What the fuck was going on? How the hell did she know my name?
Suddenly, an unholy combination of screaming and explosions rang out from the headphones as they caught on fire in my hand. Screaming, I fell out of my chair and scurried away from the twisted mess of wiring and metal that was currently burning on my bedroom floor. Before I could even process whatever the fuck I had just seen though, I heard a loud shouting from my neighbors outside. Still scared out of my mind, I ran to the window. They were all staring at the night sky and chatting about it. I followed their gaze upwards. There in the sky, was a star shining brighter than any star I had ever seen before. My heart sank as I thought about what I had just heard. Had I done this? Had I unwittingly destroyed an entire world?
|
“What?” I muttered, going to unplug them again. Then it spoke again. The same line. “Whatever you do, DON’T unplug the headphones again.” Whoever was saying that... sounded familiar. Like an old voice wrapped into my brain years ago when I was still in school. Then it went to static, cutting out the person. “Who are you?” I asked, wondering if this worked like a phone call. “Grand-“ Static “You have to-“ What? Was this just a virus on these headphones? “The world will-“ again came the static, choking out the rest of what they said. “What sick prank is this?” I growled out, going to unplug the headphones again. “No! Grandparent! Please! We need you to-“ they cut out. A loud bang, leading to silence. A war zone. What a stupid prank. I unplugged the head phones, walking outside. “Run! Their going to kill us!” Someone shouted. Mr. Montser from down the street. He belongs to that voice. “Wha-“ a gunshot. It was close to a gunshot but it wasn’t. Not at all. When I saw who shot him it wasn’t a who. It was a what. It seemed to look like a person slightly. Their ears gone and their body’s tall and lean, the weapons that they carried only belonging to a fantasy. One of them shouted something in a different language, turning and aiming their weapon at me. “That’s the one! They are the only one that is strong enough!” They shouted, their words now in English. “What are you doing!” I shouted, running back in my home, an impulse taking me to my phone. “Plug them in!” A voice shouted in my head. So I did, plugging the headphones back in. The banging on my door stopped, the terrified people and bloody streets fixed themselves. I listened to the headphones. Was that what stopped that? “Oh my god! It worked! You stopped it!” The voice shouted in the headphones. “What did I fix?” I asked myself. “The world is stitching itself back together!” They shouted, the headphones falling out of the socket of my phone, falling out of my ears as well. “What in the world just happened?” I asked myself, standing up.
| 2020-04-01T21:37:42 | 2020-04-01T20:54:45 | 42 | 13 |
[WP] You've been marked by the Devil, but not because You made a deal with the Devil, but the Devil made a deal with You to help him out of a weird situation... Only that's a bit hard to explain to a group of demonhunters who are hunting you down for being marked, since this basically never happens.
|
"Alright then! So you expect us to believe that Mephistopheles herself begged you to use your bathroom- because she underestimated the power of Taco Bell?"
Abraham nodded vigorously. "Fine looking lady, about seven feet tall, wearing the most expensive clothes I've ever seen. She rapped at my door late into the evening as I made myself a sandwich and begged to use the bathroom. As in, she seemed about to kneel but that would've caused an accident."
"... I see..." Murmured Jacinto, his furrowed brow hidden by the shadow of his NFL cap. "Look here." He pointed at his right. A young bald man bearding a goatee and wearing a white shirt stared at the floor with squinted eyes. "If Keith hadn't been inexperienced enough to shoot you with a ticket-seeker you'd probably be treading the Stairway to Heaven right now."
Abraham gulped.
"Your mark," Jacinto pointed at Abraham's forehead. "It stinks to high heaven. Mephistopheles' deals usually mean she automatically takes your heaven-ticket, what you call your "soul". It breaks the first commandment "Thou shalt not pray to The Enemy-"
"Wait, so why she put me this?"
"Mimphy isn't known for her bright choices."
Keith snorted.
"... I see."
"Though her angelic rebellion did work wonders up there. Angels are as imperfect as humans, and while it wouldn't have costed Father to cast them down for their future actions, He yet leaves them the choice. Mimphy was the one to rally them up with chiff chaff about beauty and tyranny. In truth, all she wanted was a Father-imposed nap time- no Enchiladas for a millennium that resulted."
Keith couldn't resist more and let out a loud cackle.
"Will you shut up!" Scorned Jacinto. "Grief kid! We are in serious business in here!"
"Chief, all this shit sounds straight off Bobby-ring!" Keith said, wheezing, a tear treading down his cheek.
Jacinto sighed and brought a hand to his face. "Alright... just... Go. Enjoy your free Devil-favor. Who knows? You can probably even date her with that or something. May you go to heaven- Here give me your hand." He took Abraham's left hand and gave it a strong slap.
"What's that for?" He asked, examining the faint blue lines on the back of his hand.
"That mark says "Ain't touch mah shit." It'll keep my fellows away if you find any of them. Aight? Let's go Kid." And they kept walking down the street.
That fatidical afternoon wasn't the last time Mephistopheles destroyed that toilet. Perhaps the only sure way to true love is Taco Bell. Abraham, meanwhile? He never needed to use that mark.
Fin.
|
"You don't have to point that thing at me. I'm not going to hurt you."
"Shutup." He replied. Jabbing the obsidian spear at me and turning to his companions. "What should we do with him? We've never had anything like this."
"Kill 'im." Said the short red haired one in a gruff voice.
"Let's see what he's up to then we can make a decision." Said the girl in the tight black dress, clicking her black fingernails together like how a cat would after a fresh pedicure. If anyone was a demon it was her.
Approaching me, she ran her hand under my chin, almost pricking my skin with her nails. "Give him an hour with me. I'll make the man talk."
"Sorry I'm taken."
Frowning she turned away. "Do whatever you want."
Brushing his hair to the side, the one with the spear raised his weapon and pointed it at me. "I'll aim for the heart if you tell me who you are."
"You don't have to point that at me. I'll tell you if you just ask." Muttering I added "Jeez why are all of you so rude."
"What did you just whisper?" He exclaimed "Some sort of spell?"
"Spell?" I said. "Ha. I much more powerful than spells."
"We'll see about that." Running towards me he attempted to stab me with his spear, a simple move to avoid when you have the blessing like I do.
"You really should be more polite. My friends don't like their agents being killed by lesser beings all the time. It's very inconvenient." I said reappearing at his side.
Slamming his head into my knee I turned to the others. "I'll give you ten seconds-" but the red haired one was already charging, welding a dagger in each hand.
I killed him quickly. He was annoying.
The woman approached me slowly. "You don't need to worry about me." She said, pulling he hair forward and brushing it back to reveal her true face. "The boss just sent me to see how your improvements have been coming along."
"You can tell him the new vision is great. And I'm open for another poker game anytime."
"I'll certainly let him know." She bent down to trace a crude star into the ground. "Now if you'll excuse me. I'm do at a party in an hour." She said bursting into flames before disappearing into nothing.
✧ ✧ ✧
**Thoughts?**
| 2021-06-11T20:43:59 | 2021-06-11T17:44:09 | 95 | 53 |
[WP] A zombie apocalypse occurs, where people retain characteristics they had while living. You, as the sole survivor, meet a snobby, vegan zombie who turns their nose up at you.
|
I carefully pried off the boards on the delapidated Starbucks. I know what you're thinking, *"Who the hell loots a Starbucks after the apocalypse?"* Well, sometime, you just need a cuppa, and all the grocery stores have run out.
I slipped in between the boards. The one upside of the scarcity of a post-people society is that you drop extra pounds pretty quick once the hunger and terror-running set in. I'm in the store, with my electric lantern to light the place. It's a rathole, like everywhere else, but the pretentious attitude of the place still seemed to hang in the air, years after any humans abandoned it, as if to say "I was a filthy shithole *before* is went mainstream." I made my way to the counter and hopped over.
I rooted around underneath the counter to see if I could find any keys. Maybe if I could get into the store room, I could even get enough to trade for stuff. After having no luck finding the key to the back, I stood up and turned around to come face-to-face with one of them.
We called them zombies at first, but then it became quite apparent that these things maintained at least part of their intelligence and personality after changing. Some people still call them zombies, but I prefer the term "revenant." I feel it's more accurate.
So there, not a foot in front of my face, was a revenant, and he didn't look to pleased with me. *"Shit, this is it,"* I said to myself. I'd developed a bad habit of talking to myself.
"What the Hell are you talking about?" The revenant said.
"I, uh, what?" This was a weird situation for me.
"What were you talking about?"
"I, uh, I thought you were going to eat my still-living flesh while I screamed in agony."
The revenant looked at me like *I* was the weird, gross monster. He paused for a moment to step back and size me up. "...The fuck are you talking about?"
"You're a revenant, right? You're not feeling any cannibalistic urges?"
"Well, unlike other people, I can control myself. I'm a vegan, after all."
I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself, an old reflex from civilization.
"What, you're not?"
"Uh, no. I still eat meat. Just not human meat."
"Psh. Just because you don't eat human meat, doesn't mean you're any better than them. You still buy into the abusive neo-capitalist system that encourages the abuse of animals for profit under the guise of 'nutrition.'"
"Okay, okay, am I being punk'd here? Because this is just getting surreal." I looked around to see if I could spot any cameras that weren't ripped out of the wall.
The revenant sighed. "Okay, I can see you're confused, let me take the high road and start over. My name's Roger, and I'm a vegan zombie."
I sighed in return, and tried to gather myself. "Alright, that I've gathered. But how do you survive? I thought revenants had to eat meat, and had a particular preference for human meat?"
"Nah, that's just what they want you to think. We can live just fine on plant-based protein, and that cannibaliztic drive comes from toxins in the meat you eat. If you switch to a fully vegan diet, you'll see that you'll never want meat of any kind again."
"...Right. Okay, I have a laundry list of questions, but I think the first is what you've been living on?"
"Oh yeah, man. I've been eating mostly beans, nuts, and rice. I used to have these really nice spices, but I ran out."
"And you're telling me you have no urge to consume my warm, pink flesh?"
"Nope, not even a little." A bit of saliva was visible at the corner of his mouth, which he quickly wiped away. I frowned at him.
"Okay, maybe a little bit, fine, but I'm still trying to detox, okay? And I have it under control."
"Alright, well, this has been very...educational. But I'm just gonna get out of your hair." I turned to leave and maybe see if I could find any antipsychotics in a pharmacy in town.
"Wait, man. You came here for coffee, right?"
"...Yeah?"
"If you can bring me some spices, you can have all the coffee you want. Beans and rice gets a little bland after a while."
"Uh...sure, why not? A fetch quest for a vegan zombie, how much weirder could this day get?"
"Alright, catch you later. And if you need to get in, just knock on the back door."
I mentally kicked myself for not checking the back door in the first place, nodded and left. I still didn't trust the guy, but by God, I was going to have my coffee.
**EDIT:** Hoh-*lee* **shit**. I did not expect the kind of response this has gotten. I've been pretty busy lately, but if I can find the time, I'll try to do more. Like wow, guys, you're making me blush.
|
The dying sun bathed the old building in deep crimson. Maya rounded a corner, shouldering her rifle. Her heart was furiously trying to punch its way out of her chest. She had thought the factory was abandoned. From outside, it had looked like a hollow shell – buildings with empty windows, walls that were cracked with fissures, and no movement – that was the important thing – there had been no movement.
Maya wiped her brow on her shoulder and slammed a fresh mag into her rifle. This was her last one. It was like someone had opened the gates to the underworld and split the River Styx like Moses, allowing the dead to march straight out into the world of the living.
She heard them before she saw them. They were whistling loudly, giving her flashbacks from the old world when she was out in the city during the weekends. That felt like a whole different life now.
Running through a building filled with rusting pipes and silos, Maya noticed smoke rising from behind a stack of containers. She cursed silently and retracted her steps. There was no point in wasting bullets now. Instead, she found her way into a courtyard surrounded by tall fences with barbed wire.
Shambling across the open yard, a mob of the dead appeared in front of her. These fuckers were some of the worst she’d encountered – factory workers, with a predilection of smoking and catcalling. The incessant whistling attracted more of their kind, and the hordes were just growing and growing.
Even if she’d hit all the headshots now she still wouldn’t have enough bullets. The closest walker put the cigarette to his rotting lips and took a drag. Smoke billowed out of his ribcage. His dead eyes locked on Maya. He whistled loudly and then rushed toward her.
“Shit,” she mumbled and shot him in the head, the whistling increased tenfold and soon they were all running at her.
Maya turned and started sprinting up the alley between the fence and the closest building. As she rounded another corner she almost collided with a duo of walkers with cracked pink nails and filthy blonde pigtails sticking out from under their bowl-helmets. They both wore knee pads and were opening and closing their jaws around dried pieces of bubble gum that had turned black and brown with age. They both looked at Maya and then skated toward her on ill-fitting rollerblades.
Cursing loudly, Maya threw herself sideways, barely dodging the first one. She fucking hated the dead more than anything. She tapped her finger once, and the head of the second roller-skater exploded.
Briefly, she wondered if Laura was okay. Maya couldn’t believe they hadn’t been more careful. How was it that all the dead had gathered in the same place? Something or *someone* must’ve attracted them.
Climbing up an old rusted ladder, Maya finally managed to reach the roof. At least up here, she would be safe from the hordes below. She took a moment to calm herself, taking a sip from her bottle.
“Maya?” a voice said from behind a large exhaust vent. “Oh, thank god.”
Maya hugged her sister closely. “I thought you were fucked, L.”
Laura shook her head. “The walkers that got me were rainbow heads – they didn’t try to eat me, they just held me down, snapping their fingers at me, showing me old recordings of animal abuse in food factories on their iPhones… when they started dragging me away to a room with a sign that said ‘safe space’ I managed to break free…”
“Fuck, that’s horrible… thank god you’re fine.”
Laura smiled. Her long brown hair was all trussed up. Maya was trying to comb it out when Laura tensed up.
“Do you smell that?” she said.
“Oh hell,” Maya said when she noticed it too. “We need to get out of here, right now.”
“Must be the studio apartment over there,” Laura said and pointed.
The windows were broken and a figure lumbered in the darkness. The creature was impatiently moving back and forth in front of a small machine on a counter. A laptop rested on a table in front of an office chair.
“Oh shit, you’re right. I never thought I’d see one with my own eyes.”
“Can you hit the shot?” Laura said, her eyes wide in fear.
“It’s too far…”
“Let’s go then.”
Together they hurried down, the smell of coffee still strong in the air. They needed to warn the colony – there was a ghostwriter in town. Its unquenchable thirst for coffee was the stuff of legend, and it would eventually attract every other walker within miles with the smell of its freshly brewed black gold and its backhanded satire. The catcallers were nothing compared to that fucker.
****
r/Lilwa_Dexel for more of my stories
| 2017-07-15T06:42:26 | 2017-07-15T05:34:44 | 710 | 50 |
[WP] A demon just devoured your soul. You are both very confused as to why you are still alive.
|
**Go easy please**
I blinked a few times as I found myself standing in the bathroom, dripping wet with a towel in my hand.
"What the..."
""What the" is right!" An unknown, gutteral, voice said from behind me. Jumping in the air from fright, I spun around looking face to face with a monster. Charred skin, horns, red eyes and... Talking to me. "You summoned me, you paid the price of one soul. Your soul. So tell me, why are you walking around? What sorcery did you play to trick me?" I stood in silence, racking my brain when it hit me.
"I remember! You're right, I summoned you last night. We made the contract. I cut my hand and we shook on blood." I frown, "The book didn't say anything about dying though." The demon scoffed,
"Well of course not. We wrote it. There's no way around it and you're not smart enough to trick a demon" I laughed, knowing he was probably right.
"Well if that's the case, maybe you did something wrong?" Whoops, maybe I shouldn't have said that I thought as flames erupted around the demon in anger.
"MAKE A MISTAKE ?!" The demon howled "Puny human, do you know who you're dealing with!" I shook my head,
"I don't, but according to you I'm supposed to be dead and I'm not." The demon snorted "try it again?" I suggested. The demon laughed,
"Try it again, knowing you'll die?" I just shrug,
"May as well." The demon looked at me for a moment before snapping his fingers. I felt the air rush from my lungs as everything started spinning. I wake up some time later, still in the bathroom with the demon. "Didn't work," I say chuckling. The demon glares at me,
"I felt the soul. I tasted it. It was delicious. Why are you alive?" I shook my head and looked at the mirror.
"I look the same..." I pause and stare intensely at my reflection. "Wait, do it again." The demon looked at me and made another soul stealing attempt. This time before losing consciousness I saw it. I smiled before passing out. Waking up again, the demon standing over me, "it's true. I can't believe it." The demon stared at me in disbelief,
"What is true?"
"For every soul a ginger steals they get a freckle. For every soul you take, I lose one." I pause for a moment, "So, do you wanna be my friend?" I grin and extend my hand to him once more.
|
A cold sweat wrung its way through my being. Was this death, as they called it? No, it couldn't have been. But it felt as if that was the case.
The cloaked figure in front of me had the most piercing red eyes I'd ever spied upon.
"Why is it that you still stand?"
"I don't know. I don't know why or how I got to be here. I just want to go home!"
The figure circled me in a quick pace, breathing rapidly and scanning every piece of me.
"It's rather inconceivable that you would continue to exist without a soul. Humans without a soul don't often get this chance. Won't you entertain me, then?"
I was without a soul. That was the conclusion I was brought into. And yet, I could still touch, hear, smell, taste and see. Was there more to life beyond this tangible existence? How rather anti-climactic, I had thought.
"Silence, eh? Is that all there is to be? Pondering at mere strands of life to make sense of what is now? How pathetic. I'll end it all right now."
The cloaked figure raised its cloaked arm, attempting to enthrall upon me a condition of malicious sorts. As if on instinct, a hunger came over me. My cheeks were swollen red as I began to clamor for sustenance.
"H-hu... h-hu...", I was forced to utter.
In a moment of stasis, the cloaked figure just stood.
"Speak! Release your words!"
I felt a smile coming on. I could feel my entire being light up as if I had become a star on the verge of collapse. What was this feeling, it felt untrue.
"HUNGRY!", I screamed excitedly.
In a fit of madness, I lunged at the cloaked figure. Falling to the ground, I stare at the face I see in front of me. It was my own face, right down to the hair, the eyes, the ears and the lips.
I wasn't alive after all, I guess. I mean there are two of me and one of them was a powerful demon but that didn't really matter in the moment. Licking my lips, I bit into the frail piece of skin in front of me. The screams fell to no one's ears as I continued to savage what I could only construe as my own frame.
Who knew souls would taste so damn good?
| 2021-10-06T15:42:09 | 2021-10-06T14:13:41 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Your bedroom became detached from reality and nothing is outside your door, but whenever you load a video game that world appears. Your game library is not conducive to a long and happy life, but the mini fridge is empty so you have no choice. You load up the safest game and gather supplies.
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It took some time to get used to, the concept of being trapped in what could be a game server.
I didn't have visible health bars while in my room or inventory management but I wasn't invincible; if you cut me I still bleed.
But as fun as racing games were, solving puzzles and rhythm games I still had to eat.
So I took a shower to feel good before strapping a backpack on, loaded up my survival game and cautiously opened my door; the last safe space I have in this void.
I stepped out onto a cobblestone path, looked up at the clouds and the sun behind them. I do miss the real sun, this one is so manufactured it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth every time I stepped out. Still, the food was amazing and easy to get.
I walked forward and opened my trusty chest, quickly equipping my enchanted armour and tools; learned pretty quickly that items despawn when in the safety of my room and the game exists. Lucky this was was easy to run, I did play it many years before my... "event".
Safety and weapons sorted I looked at the fields of melons, potato, wheat, carrots, I even picked up the taste for beetroot.
Thanks to redstone I flipped a switch and auto harvested (almost) everything using water, ran to collect and spent a few moments replanting it all. I'm so glad that everything here takes as little effort as the computer version, I would never have the energy to jump these cubes all day.
By now the sound of my cow farm was driving me nuts so culling the herd and feeding them wheat I then set off; if I wanted a snack I'll need cocoa beans and I haven't found any yet. Consumed by cookie cravings I nearly missed seeing the sun about to set, and at the edge of the forest I turned around as I decided that I can wait another day.
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I felt the cold sweat on the back of my neck as I looked through my gaming library. I had to make a choice.
I don't know how it happened - the shift. One day, I just woke up and opened my bedroom to an empty canvass of nothingness. It was like my room opened to the edge of a cliff on a starless night. God knows how long I spent staring at the empty space, trying to wake up with no success.
Time passed, not sure how long since all the clocks stopped working. I ate all the snacks laying around trying to stave off the thirst, and even endavoured in drinking the energy drink can that has stayed open on my desk since my last gaming binge: a week before the world dissapeared.
Out of boredom and helplessness, I stated doing what I do best when I try to ignore what life throws at me: gaming. That's when it happened. As soon as I started Outlast, I heard the maniacal laughter, moans and groans. But they weren't coming from my computer. No. They were coming from outside.
Anxiously, I cracked the door open, only to be met with the grungy halls of the abandoned hospital in the game. It took me a while before I figured out that whatever game I played, ended up on the other side of the door.
I ran out of food. I was desperate. I cursed myself for only playing horror games. I really needed water.
It seems that this time, escaping the real world through computer games became a prison instead.
'Fuck.' I clutched my baseball bat harder as I closed the door after me.
| 2022-06-07T23:03:00 | 2022-06-07T22:21:42 | 26 | 17 |
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