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[WP] You are a mutant in Xavier's school for gifted youngsters with the power to teleport, well that's what you tell everyone. In reality you can pause time and you're not ready to be an omega class mutant.
|
In my defense, I didn’t mean to lie. At least, not at first.
There’s just only so many answers you can give to one of the most powerful A-list mutants in the world after she saves your entire class from death via careening down a mountain in the middle of a freak hurricane.
And those answers all invariably include shutting your mouth and nodding when The-Motherfucking-Storm says she saw you teleport yourself and a couple classmates to safety.
It's better than admitting you got tired of carrying them after the first three.
So, it was off to Xavier’s I went, with the blessing of my family. I think they were just relieved to realize our house wasn’t actually haunted, and that all the moved furniture and missing snacks were due to their broody, rather-not-interact-with-anyone-if-I-could-help-it teenager. It was just going to be for a year or so, would include all the state mandated tests and some top class education, and was, if anything, more of a…counseling situation. A way for young mutants to socialize with their peers.
They conveniently left out the part where this socialization happened over literal battle training and in a place conveniently named, ‘The Danger Room’.
Yea. Shit. Add to that it was the best and literal brightest mutants helping in this training, and I ended up trying to make a runner in the first night. And then got caught by the literal Nightcrawler. Who seemed to think I was just taking an evening walk and offered to join me in something called *teleporter solidarity.*
I politely declined.
Pretty sure Professor Xavier told him to keep an eye out for me, because he was there a lot more often with very unsolicited advice like what hair gel to use to keep your hair from poofing up after a - what he called - ‘bamf’. Even gave me my own bottle, which was nice. I guess. But not enough to get me to risk life and limb on a regular basis.
I had dedicated myself to coasting, and that was that. Caring was something they really couldn’t get me to do, not when everyone else in my life had failed, not when I knew that I was the only one in the world for whom every second was actually real.
I aged while everyone was in stasis. I grew. They didn’t. Ergo, my time was more important.
So, I lied. I told them that my ‘teleporting’ powers had a max use of once a day and was, therefore, way too useless to be practical. In reality all the finger snapping needed to activate the time stops were just giving me carpal tunnel. The Wolverine guy was the only one who didn’t seem to quite believe it, staring at me oddly after I’d told the class. He never said anything though, leaving me to assume that even if he could smell lies he didn't much care for exposing them.
Probably was for the best when you taught a bunch of literal super-powered pubescent kids, most with delusions of grandeur. Not me, though. This whole mutant life was just not my style. Life or death situations on the daily, constant stress, having to socialize with new people and, more than likely, *save* them…yea. No. I’d take the worst class designation any day.
They did their best to make the life look as exciting as possible, I’ll give them that, but even weekly Q&As after Danger Room sessions with elite mutants weren’t enough to ruffle me. Most of those talks had to be rescheduled due to the latest world-destruction event, others due to the fact they didn’t even know which dimension so-and-so mutant was in this time. Real appealing.
And then. There was the last one. The one Professor Xavier was meant to drop into. The one that freaking Sentinels decided to crash. The one I was skipping and didn’t know about until a giant robot hand was two seconds away from crushing me.
In the end, my entire desire for a simple life was pit against the option of a quick, brutal death and a release from all responsibilities. So, I didn’t move. I think part of me just wanted it over with.
That’s when Nightcrawler ‘*bamf*’-ed atop the robot and sent it flying sideways. That’s when Wolverine grabbed me and started to run. That’s when I saw the other Sentinel aim. That’s when my entire desire for a simple life was pit against the option of the quick and brutal deaths of some of the nicest people I’d ever met in my life.
So, I froze time. I ended up having to nearly break Wolverine’s arm to get loose, but figured he’d heal up fine. I macguyvered a laser canon from some scraps - those Danger Room tutorial sessions really were useful - and blew the first Sentinel’s head off. Then the second. I ended up clearing off the campus at some point, just to make sure.
Then I took a deep breath and sat down on the front steps of the institute, right beside where Professor Xavier was currently wheeled up. His hand was already at his temple, concentrating at was probably once a sea of Sentinels, but was now just a bunch of scrap metal. I sighed deeply and gave a mental farewell to my days as the laziest Class Omega bitch that ever existed.
And snapped my fingers to let the world start spinning.
|
I got to my room, lungs burning as I ran the first floor. "It's all right Jack, you don't have to be afraid, you have done nothing wrong, everything will be all right." Said the calm voice of Professor X. Part of me immediately started to relax, but I could not slow down the heavy rapid breathing. I messed up, and people are hurt, dying, or dead. What is going to happen to me? Will they sedate me for the rest of my life or will they just get rid of me to stop others from getting hurt. Nothing can be done now, I need to get out.
I cannot safely chronolock the entire building. I might miss some parts, and get myself into further problems. No, only the professor knows, I will take him out of the time, escape and resume his time once I am safely away. I expand my mind and find his timeline and the tethers that bind him to it, I need to focus, to grab them all.
"Jack you need to stop right now, I want to help you." I hear again almost a pleading voice. "You are not a..." I will never find out, what I am not, at that point, I separated all of his tethers from his timeline. In the back of my mind, I can feel lit like a pull at one of my hairs. Good, now I just need to... A terrible scream cut through the house. I need to move NOW. I run out of my room into the hallways of the mansion, damn, DAMN, they were all so nice to me and I am hurting them. Tears are running down my face, I can barely see. All the other kids are leaving their rooms to see what is happening. I race down the stairs and see the screaming girl. Standing in front of the frozen professor and two halves of a body. One half, a midstep into the room I chronolocked. The other half cleanly separated, frozen mid-fall, where I locked it once I realized what I have done, the blood and organs already in a position that does not seem quite right. I feel nausea overwhelming me. I quickly consider locking the girl in time, but quickly reject it, rushing like this, I might hurt her, and the alarm has been raised anyway.
"You, stop right there!" I hear the rough voice aimed at me, Logan. "I am sorry" I cry as I keep running. I hear the heavy footsteps right behind me. Oh god, I need to stop him. I look around and focus on his tethers, as I do, I collide with someone in front of me, I panic and lock the tethers I got. "Fucking hell, what did you do." I fall to the ground and look in horror at Wolverine, claws extended as he tumbles around into the furniture, leaving his two legs locked in time behind him. He is bleeding and swearing. I concentrate again and the screaming stops. The pull at the back of my mind is becoming stronger.
I try to scramble up, but the man I collided with places a heavy furry blue hand on me. "Calm down boy, you need to calm down before you hurt yourself." Through tears and snot, I bark a laugh. People are dying he is worried about me? I need to get out NOW. I struggle to release myself off him. He holds me for a second but then let's go, perhaps a little worried as well.
I get to my feet and start running again. But halls are already full of people trying to see what is happening. I am pushing through, but feel hands trying to stop me. I concentrate, "no mistakes this time", I repeat like a mantra, and just keep locking people in around me. The pressure in my mind is becoming unbearable, I feel blood running out of my nose and ears. But I finally see the light of outside.
I exit the mansion. I am dizzy. I fall to my knees. I feel every single timelock as a nail being hammered into my brain. A gentle voice speaks behind me, it sounds sad "Jack please stop". I concentrate one last time. I know what I must do. I focus on one last timeline and with a jank snap it in half.
/\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*/
"Jean I am worried that this young man, might hurt himself if not handled carefully. He is so full of fear. Fear of rejection of himself and at this time of me as well. I hoped you could talk to him, perhaps he will respond better to you."
"Of course professor. But perhaps it is not going to be such a problem, he went to class today, and Kurt will certainly make him feel at home."
Having said this, Jean opened the doors. Professor saw the young troubled student standing in the middle of the room. The student looked at him, smiled for a moment and disappeared just as Jean crossed the threshold. And while the class applauded the newest student his successful teleportation. Professor's heart broke.
| 2020-07-15T07:26:54 | 2020-07-15T05:54:34 | 1,209 | 137 |
[WP]Write a story about a supervillian who is unspeakably more powerful than anyone else on his planet, but is content with using it for small things like cutting in line or getting free extra servings.
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*Hands together. Focus on the now. There is no tomorrow. There is no yesterday. In this moment, there is only me. There is only my rage. The rage is in my hands. My hands on the planet. The rage is in the planet. There is no planet. There are only rocks in space.*
“Buddy. Hey, buddy, the lines moving.” The man behind me has a hand on my shoulder. He’s pointing in front of me.
“Your shoe is untied.” He looks down. His shoe is untied.
“Thanks, buddy.” He bends down.
I walk forward. Kara is at the cash register. Kara used to be beautiful. Her slim figure, auburn hair and big smile mean others still see her as beautiful. All I see is meat.
“Oh, hey,” Kara says. “Haven’t seen you in a couple days. And, what a coincidence, Dewayne just happened to make an extra three espresso with whole milk. I mean, what are the odds? I guess it’s your lucky day.”
“Yes. My lucky day.” I take the drink. I walk out the store.
I see Laura. She used to be beautiful, too. She is sitting in a park, watching our progeny. I approach her.
“A caramel latte, touch of cinnamon, touch of nutmeg.” I hand her the drink. I sit down.
The drink in her hands. The hormones changing in her body. She is about to weep. She squeezes the cup.
“What-what happened to us? Everything used to be so good and then, six months ago, everything fell apart. I’m not mad. I just-I just want to know what happened.” She is weeping softly as she speaks.
“It was Jiarah the Conqueror. In a fit of rage over the death of his children, he destroyed his planet. He killed his entire race in a second and then sent his consciousness across the galaxy until it found a host. Me. But he was so weak from the journey, he lost control. I have his powers. I have his memories. I have the power to make and unmake life and its eating me alive inside. I couldn’t be around you or Gracie like this. I would destroy you too.” The words poor out of me. I cannot stop them. “I love you. All I want is to go back. I love you so much. I want to go home, with you.”
“John?” She is no longer weeping. Her hormones have changed. She is terrified.
“Nothing happened, my Laura-love. Sometimes people just fall out of love. That’s what happened with us. Neither of us did anything wrong but it was time to separate. There is no Jiarah the Conqueror, only two ex-spouses who respect each other and want the best for our daughter.”
She is better. The previous memories are gone. She sips her coffee. She smiles.
“I think you should ask our Ryan from accounting. He and you would be good together.”
“You think so? And you would be cool with that?” she asks. She respects me. She does not want to hurt me.
“Nothing would make me happier.” I lie.
edit: formatting
|
"My name is Cognos, and I used to rule the world.
Note the past tense. With the power to not only read but control minds, conquering the world was ludicrously easy. All the elected officials unanimously proclaimed me emperor, bla bla bla. It was really....underwhelming when it happened. Maybe I should have waited for a day with better weather...
I know what you're thinking. "I don't remember any of that happening!" Of course not. My reign lasted only 6 months. Oh, I wasn't stopped by a team of overly-sexualized heroes in spandex. No, I abdicated. Ruling an entire planet is a lot of work, and I found myself unable to enjoy the spoils of my victory. So I stopped. August 12, 1971. Used my powers to make everyone forget that I ever ruled. Wiped every reference of me from the books, purged all the databases (what few there were back then) and issued one last command to "my" people to disregard any mention of " ", as I was called then.
" ". You probably can't even hear the word anymore, can you? Give me a moment. There, that should do it. Can you understand me now if I call myself "Illuminatus?" Yes? Congratulations, you are now the second person on the planet to hear that name again, besides myself of course. Hmm? Who's the other one? Why, my wife of course. Yes, I'm married. Yes, she knows. Hell, she was there. I know what you're thinking: she only married me because I forced her to. Don't deny it; mind reading as well as controlling, remember? To set your mind at ease, I will promise you that I have never used my powers on her. I'm not a monster. I'm just an ordinary guy, now.
Well, admittedly, cops never seem to want to pull me over for speeding, and the used car salesman always seems to give me a deal that is actually as good as he says it is, but are you really gonna hate me for that? Heck, I even pay my taxes, and I have the returns to prove it somewhere around here.....
But that's not why I asked you to come here today. No, what I wanted to talk about was this "Doomsday Clock." What's going on? You all invented the damn thing years ago to warn of how close I was to taking over. But, I hear that recently it's been moving back towards midnight. So what's up? Is there some new supervillain at work? No? You all are just so incapable of living with each other that you feel the need to kill each other off that badly? Jeez...
Listen. I just want to enjoy my retirement. I don't want to do the whole "ruling the world" thing again. But so help me, if you all can't give peace a chance, I *will* come out of retirement, if only for your own good. I can't allow you to jeopardize my family's safety over some pesky border squabbles. This is my warning to you: fix the world, or I will fix all of you.
...Christ, I sound like a goddamn hero, don't I? Must be getting soft in my old age...
| 2017-05-16T08:01:23 | 2017-05-16T07:44:58 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] A superhero has a split personality, with neither his hero half nor his civilian half knowing that they are the same person. The rest of the city has figured it out, however, and is doing their best to keep his secret from himself.
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I whistled as I walked into the room, looking at the scene before me. The classic damsel in distress, the villain next to her in a menancing position. With a single strike, I brought the villain down as he recoiled in pain. One more blow and he was out, clutching his sides in agony. The innocent civilian looked at me in gratitude. "Thanks. He was really annoying tonight," she said, her eyes looking deep into mine. A superhero should never have mortal relations or attractions, but...this seemed different. I was drawn in instantly by her charm and ways. I reached deep into my pocket, for what I knew was there.
I clutched the ring in ny hand, my girlfriend before me. Her ex-boyfriend was always such an asshole, so the duty fell to me to chase him away. He was even more headstrong than before, so blows had to settle the dispute instead of words. Nevertheless, no one stayed between me and her. "Julia, I..." I pulled out the box from my pocket, the gleaming ring hidden in the velvet. I opened the small container, the material form of our love shining from the inside. "I..."
I stopped myself before I did it. What was this? Was a mighty superhero like I succumbing to mortal pleasures? I put the container back in my pocket, the damsel looking rather disappointed. Well, I saved her anyhow, so I guess I did my job. As the gentleman I was, I took her hand and offered her a ride home. She looked at me, a sad smile on her face. "I love you too," she said, her hand trying to caress my hair. I forced a smile back. He people I saved were always stunned by me, so I was used to it now. She seemed like she wanted to say something, but she clamped her mouth shut.
I looked back at the sleeping figure of my girlfriend, and smiled. I was never brave enough to offer her my proposal for marriage. I sighed, the box still unopened in my pocket. I loved her too. As Superman loved a mortal.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request!
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They call him "Mat", the hero who guards the city of Atlia, and saved it countless times.
For all these years he didn't know, he didn't know anything.
20 years ago there was a car accident on a bridge where a family of 3 almost drowned. Their life continued normally after that, their son not knowing exactly what happened that, but his parents parents did. Actually almost everyone in the city did. A young hero saved them. Their son saved them.
He was the first to lose conscientiousness, but after he did, he suddenly broke his car seat's door, swam to the front of the car and broke it's glass and dragged both of them out to safety. their memories of the accident was blurry, but they definitely remember him breaking his car seat's door.
When they came to, the first thing they did was to go to a hospital and there the doctors, and later the government discovered his astral projection ability. Few years later he was scouted to join a special police unit, and that's where his journey as a hero began.
For years to come, Mat has saved countless people, and helped in the arrest of multiple villains. but now he is facing his greatest enemy, the greatest villain he had be been constantly fighting for years, the one with the same abilities that he has. The kid he saved from drowning years ago.
Everyone in the city knew that, but everyone was scared of revealing the truth. That villain was their Mayor after all, and could at any moment ruin their city if he wishes to. Fortunately for them he doesn't, and just seems to be obsessed with defeating their hero.
------------------------------------------To Be Continued (Not)
This was first time writing (constructive criticism, and tips are welcomed), and i know it probably sucks, but i feel a waste to delete all of this after all the time spent since i g2g atm. i may continue it later, but most probably not. i hope at least some of you enjoyed it.
| 2017-08-04T19:47:30 | 2017-08-04T19:03:51 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] You receive a government text warning saying “EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC”. You hear your SO at the locked front door, who’s just come back from the supermarket. They beg to be let inside but you’re unsure. Something doesn’t feel right.
|
*bzzzzzztttttttt*
I picked up my phone. No number, just the called ID as "GVMT EMERGENCY WARNING". Odd. Opened it up.
>"EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC"
My initial assumption was that it was another false alarm, or some sort of government hacking so I really wasn't too concerned. Besides, with the crime rate in my part of town I had my doors locked anyway.
Still, curiosity did get the better of me. Opened up Twitter just to see what was going on, and it seemed pretty clear that it was a false alarm. It had only been a few minutes, but #EmergencyFail was already trending. I would have looked more into it, but far more important was that my phone was down to 6% battery.
I put my phone back on the charger and turned back to my PC. Immediately my eyes went wide with fear to what was displaying on my screen.
Russia? War? With Us?
It might have made sense 50 years ago, but not with the state of the world now. Sure enough, it was true though. Armies were deploying along the border.
*bzzzzzztttttttt*
I could see on my phone that it was another message from "GVMT EMERGENCY WARNING". I didn't bother opening it - I could already predict what it said.
My mind was racing though. Looking at the screen I instinctively knew I needed to plan.
**BANG BANG BANG**
I momentarily ignored the banging on the banging on the door, as something didn't feel right.
>"Honey, it's me, open up"
I looked further - an invasion force was coming over the southern border.
>"Is this about the text message - false alarm you donk"
I couldn't take my eyes off the screen though - global war was breaking out.
>"OK, It's not funny now open up"
Half of New York was now destroyed.
**BANG BANG BANG**
I continued to watch as things unfolded. Global war was breaking out. I sat and watched, mesmerised. India had now fired a nuclear warhead at Russia.
>"Are you OK"
I ignored the voice at the door, as Paris had been taken over. I knew the action I needed to take.
>"Please let me in"
I think it was about 3 hours later when China finally fell. I had lost count of how many nuclear weapons India had fired.
>"I'm scared"
By now it was dark outside. It was also starting to rain a little. I watched on my screen as all signs were pointing to Japan being destroyed.
I think I heard sobbing outside at one point, but by now it was clear what I had to do. I continued to stare at the screen, as it all played out.
I'm not even sure how long I spent watching as the world destroyed itself.
It was about 3am when I realized I hadn't eaten all day and I needed food. I looked back at the screen, and knew that I would not be taking "Just one more turn". I got up and unlocked the front door, so I could help my wife bring in the shopping.
|
My body tensed at the sound of knocking. Unsure of who it might be, I crept to the door as silently as possible, so as not to alert the knocker that anyone was home. That was, until I looked through the peephole.
"Aditi? What the hell happened to you?"
She was a mess. Her hijab was missing, and there was a scrape across her cheek, mostly grime but with a few droplets of blood in the center. Looking down, I saw splotches of some liquid on her shirt. It looked as though she'd fallen in a puddle or something. On its own, that wouldn't have been enough to keep me from opening the door. But one more thing was off. Despite looking like she'd been in the middle of a riot, she had a huge, dopey grin on her face.
"Raji, baaaaaby! Let me in. In-in-inininnn..." At this, she broke out into a coughing fit - loud, wet coughs that made it clear something viscous was inside her lungs.
The hairs on my neck stood on end. "Please, tell me what happened," I implored.
"There was a party at the market. Paaaaah-arrr-teeeee." She giggled, coughed some more, then erupted into a fit of laughter.
My fingers hovered on the deadbolt. It was definitely her, but what the hell was going on?
Just as I was about to unlock the door, I heard shouting. Hebrew shouting. A metallic rattle sounded as a canister landed behind my wife, spewing out something - nerve gas? Then came the sound of running footsteps.
Aditi's head cocked slowly toward the source of the noise, then back toward the door. "Raaaaji, let me hold you," she cooed with an unsettling lack of urgency.
The next thing I knew, an Israeli man in a gas mask and uniform had slammed her forward into the door, causing her to collapse. Another came running, and together they began dragging her away.
I stood transfixed, watching in horror, before a glint in the corner of my eye caught my attention. Someone else was shining a flashlight through the window. Instantly I threw myself to the floor, ducking under the beam of light and crawling like a cockroach behind the sofa. There was more shouting, then the sound of breaking glass.
I don't know how long I laid there, cowering. But I do remember when they left. I peeked out from my hiding spot to see half of the things in the room either broken or missing. And just as I began to wonder how much they had taken, the realization hit me that my wife was gone - probably dead - and all I did was stand there and watch it happen.
I swear I was going to open the door. I really was.
| 2019-01-12T06:57:50 | 2019-01-12T06:23:20 | 184 | 82 |
[WP] There is a rumour that terrorists are using the game World of Warcraft to communicate, they even have a guild. Write their guild chat, one guy is obviously way into the game.
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[Tali]: The civilian casualties are a necessary tradeoff, they will inflict an outcry, sure, but the oilfields will be overtaken by our men in the process.
[Biggo]: does anyone have any copper ore.
[Gonzos]: Part of me doubts that the Israeli police won't be staking out in the foyer
[Tali]: We're taking that risk. If they are we set it off before we reach the third floor, the results will devastate nonetheless.
[Tali]: Copper ore?
[Biggo]: its overpriced af at the auction house. lol
[Gonzos]: Biggo, how are you already level 32?
[Biggo]: level 33* just dinged lol
[Yippsor]: And what of my wife and two sons
[Tali]: Of course they will live a life of riches, the organization will compensate them fully for your sacrifice.
[Biggo]: can we get a paladin to resurrect yippsor?? jk. but before you head out could I get all your copper ore?
[Yippsor]: I haven't been doing any mining.
[Biggo]: dude you have to level up your blacksmithing if you want to avoid these marked up auction house prices on shit. lol im the only one in this guild that even has shoulder pads. is that not ridiculous?
[Tali]: Biggo, we aren't here to play. This method of communication isn't tapped by the Bureau, that's the only reason we're online.
[Biggo] OK TALI. LOL YOU HAVENT EVEN LEFT THE STARTING ZONE AND UR TRYNA TELL ME SOME SHIT!! gotta get this off my chest: guys, i think im gonna join ISIS's guild. they have raid teams, a leveling group, and a huge guild bank. cya
Biggo has left Al Qaeda
|
[Desmox]: you should be getting the location in like an hour, i sent it using the in-game mail system
[Pathogen]: Okay. I've received your package from the other day with the device, we are good to go once I receive the coordinates. Hordéruléz has come online.
[Hordéruléz]: so like, once this is over, I know we said we would get rid of these accounts, but have you played this shit??? It's preeeetty guuuuuud.
[Pathogen]: Quick screwing around. You know the great work must be done.
[Hordéruléz]: of course, but like, have you even tried the leveling system??? I bet we could get a good raid team together. just for the times we need to lay low!!!
[Desmox]: we need to stop this foolishness at once. I've noticed you've allowed yourself to miss two drop-off times already, we will not allow this again. has that mail gotten to you yet
[Pathogen]: No, still have like 45 minutes according to my clock.
[Hordéruléz]: you know, we can get that time limit down to zero if we unlock some guild achievements, right???
[Pathogen]: That is something that would help a bit. Okay, fine, where is the list of these things we have to do?
Months later, there were many-a raid boss that could not stand up to the great might of Da Bómb, and their especially loyal guild members. Thanks Blizz!
| 2015-12-13T04:58:37 | 2015-12-13T01:07:09 | 124 | 75 |
[WP]: The year is 2093. Space travel is now a part of everyday life for most humans. In the style of an infomercial, describe a product (that does not currently exist) that's intended for use by our future space travelers.
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*Open on a cryopod, slowly opening. Steam escapes from the cryopod, we can’t yet see inside*
VO: You’ve been in cryosleep for nearly a month. It’s a long journey to Newton VII.
*A man in his mid 30’s sits up from the cryopod, his upper torso, arms and head extending beyond the cryopod bay. He stretches his arms above him and rubs his eyes.*
VO: Things happen in cryosleep. Things men don’t like to talk about.
*The man yawns, then looks down between his legs. His eyes go wide. His face is twisted into a mask of horror.*
VO: It’s called muscular contraction. You lose as much as an inch of height for each month in cryosleep. But it isn’t just that you’re shorter when you come out of that bay. Everything contracts. Everything.
*Cut to a tube of **ManSpan**[tm]*
VO: ManSpan. The only topical ointment designed just for men, to correct muscular contraction where it counts. Use as directed. Do not use if you are pregnant or nursing. Not recommended for non-human races. Consult a Doctorbot for more information.
|
"Folks, have I got a product for you! Have you ever experienced disorientation midflight between the colonies?"
*Video of shuttle craft rotating midflight between L4 and L5 colonies.*
"Feelings of nausea as you have *no idea* where you are and which direction is up?"
*Video of a shuttle craft full of people vomiting.*
"Well, I've got just the device for you! We call it **NorthStar**, a virtualized dog that **always** tells you which direction is up!"
*Video of a small sphere with a small dog hologram inside it.*
"**NorthStar** always points it's nose towards the North Star, Polaris! And, if you act now, we can have uploaded *alternative star pointers* and, for a limited time, *alternative dogs*!!"
*Video of a NorthStar system pointing at various stars through a touchpad interface, switching between labradors, great danes, and corgis.*
"Never again will you have to feel worried by knowing which direction is up! With **NorthStar**, you'll know!"
| 2014-12-29T06:16:18 | 2014-12-29T05:18:52 | 42 | 13 |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it.
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Leslexia Five. A small cream coloured world on the edge of a purple tinged swipe of a galaxy. Thirteen light years away, three weeks on a FTL transport, not that anyone had bothered exploring off that way. I'd received the deeds on my birthday, the typical present for a bloke who otherwise had everything. I hadn't even bothered registering it for a month, finally coming across it again on a lazy Sunday afternoon. I knew it was in the Questi system, making a mental note and recognising it again when it popped up on the news a couple years later.
Ships had been dispatched to the system, a long range scanning mission looking for minerals on the sixteen planets owned by the consortium over that way. I'd called in a few favours, arranging for a bio-drone to be dropped on my planet as they passed. The standard comm relay satellites spread out through the local parts of the universe by seed ships years before working instantly to connect me to the bio-drone. It was a great hulking thing, ex-russian military with legs like tree trunks and one massive arm bigger than the other. The larger arm, normally mounted with heavy weapons, now held an assortment of tools; a half-ton Swiss Army knife. The smaller arm held a hand, about as dextrous as a humans, though at the same three times as large scale as the rest of the behemoth. Once it had been painted a matte green for camouflage, but the paint had long been sanded off, revealing the scratched brass surface beneath. He turned the large angular head around, the eyes glowing orange as it surveyed the planet before him. "Dinner!" Lisa, my girlfriend, called through my explorations. I eagerly pulled the headset off and set the bio-drone into rest mode. "I made linguine" she smiled "see anything cool?". I tucked in with gusto, relishing the taste of spinach and garlic. "Not much yet" I replied, "lots of sand and a pile of rocks a couple miles to the east". She consulted the aerial photos we had received, noting as I had the strange straight sidedness to some of the rock formations. She seemed even more eager than me for me to get back to exploring.
It took the bio-drone three hours to make it to the first of the rocks. It was impressive just by its sheer size, the aerial photos hadn't quite shown it to its fullness. Almost an obelisk in shape, though toppled and wonky. It almost seemed to be carved, but I knew that couldn't be the case, no humans had come out this way. I felt my Lisa's breath across my shoulder, knowing that she was watching the footage through the small screen on the side of my viewer. "Is that?" She started. "Can't be" I cut her off, "must be acid deposits or wear from sandstorms". I passed three more, each similar in shape though larger each time. "Strange coincidence in shapes" I muttered. "In a straight line too" Lisa agreed "those deep dunes on the other side could almost hide another row of them too". The patterns were similar on each one too, though not exactly the same. I passed the last one with barely a look, more intrigued by the immense mountain of a building rising up out of the sand in front of me. I didn't want to admit to myself that it was a building, but even as I thought it, Lisa was confirming it in my ear. The large doorway, the steps, the vaulted ceiling inside. How could it be anything else. I manoeuvred the bio-droid inside and stood aghast at the wall carvings. In and amongst the sweeping curls of the similar patterns to those outside were great dramatic reliefs. Pictures of creatures and buildings, events and celebrations. None even remotely human in origin.
The room seemed centred around a raised dais. A large stone throne sat in the middle and upon it lay a sight that took my breath away. I felt Lisa's voice crack beside me. "But, that can't be..." she whimpered in shock, weighing heavy on my shoulder.
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There was a singular present on the table, a holo-document. Being my 30th birthday I expected something more but we were a family of meager means so whatever it was I was sure to like it.
My mother and father were staring at me expectantly, I put on my best smile and clicked the button on the side, as it whirled to life I looked at the holo in front of me, it was a deed to a planet.
I was disappointed but feigned happiness and thanked my parents for the gift while wondering in my head how I was supposed to get any use out of a planetary deed, it's not like it had life right?
I was wrong.
The next morning I woke up to a knock on my front door, it was my parents and they looked really excited, "did we win the lottery or something?" I asked them.
"Close" my mother replied
I gestured them into my apartment so they could tell me this apparently fantastic news.
"Turn on the TV!" my mother exclaimed
I did so and to my amazement, my planet had life on it!
I thought to myself, that this has to be some kind of joke, planetary deeds are a novelty,
Their not supposed to have life on them!
As I sat there aghast for a short time my mother and father were prancing around my apartment, apparently not realizing the real meaning of the situation.
Needing some time to think about what I was going to do about this, I got up and exited my apartment and sat outside on my front stairs, looking up at the stars from our glass domed city.
I wouldn't even know what to do with 1000 bitcoins much less an entire planet...
I suppose I could try to fly there and check it out but what if they don't like me?
What if I can't understand their language?
So many questions and no definite answers....
I got up and took a deep breath of the oxygenated air to calm myself and strided back into the room to find that my mother and father were still prancing about.
I cleared my throat to get their attention and told them bluntly, "we're going to my new planet!"
My mom and dad made some high pitched squeals but stopped for a second after seemingly realizing something,
"How are we getting there?" My dad asked
"Well, I'm the ruler of an entire planet now, they have to let us go there!"
A couple days later we flew out by rocket and visited the planet, it was a very harsh place, dry, cracked and ice in place of water.
How any species could be living here I didn't know.
Sure enough though, in the distance was a town built out of a type of metal no one on earth had seen before.
It was shiny like gold, but at the same time, it had a pattern like that of tree bark and it was a bluish gray color.
The inhabitants living there didn't seem too different from humans, save for extended heads, tentacles in place of hair and eyes the color of sulfur.
Trying to communicate with them was also quite easy.
They happened to be a telepathic species and were fascinated by me and my family, looking us up and down, meticulously examining us like we were display pieces for their living rooms.
Everything was going fine, better than fine even, until I revealed that I was the one who now owned their planet, instead of them being fascinated, they were now afraid.
They ran into their houses and locked their doors like you would see in an old Western.
Me and parents decided to leave at that point, we didn't want to be seen as monsters and I realized I wasn't prepared to be in a position of power.
When we returned home, we acted like nothing happened, i still have the holo deed in my home to this day, maybe one day I'll return there but for now, life on earth as an ordinary man suits me just fine.
| 2017-01-01T13:28:32 | 2017-01-01T13:10:45 | 32 | 13 |
[WP] The Illuminati is actually a gentlemen's club for the super-rich. Often men make high risk and dangerous bets/wagers such as: "I bet you can't destabilize Ukraine in under a week." One day you offer a wager to the most powerful member that's too irresistible to turn down.
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"Alright, alright, I've got one," wheezed Richardson over gales of laughter. "I bet you can't... make *this* monkey famous." He produced a photograph from a local zoo from within his jacket.
"Please, we can come up with better than that," sneered Kringle. "I'll have it done by tonight... and that's not even technically a *monkey.* Now..." He turned around looking for someone else to challenge.
His eyes finally met those of the imposing man who sat smiling in a corner and pointed at him.
"I think it's time you joined the festivities, eh?" grinned Kringle. "And I've got a real tricky one planned."
A sudden hush overtook the room. All around the gentlemen's club, faces were frozen mid-smile. Richardson tried to interrupt, uncomfortable, but was silenced with a brief wave of the hand.
"I can handle anything you can think up," came the man's booming voice. "My IQ is one of the highest - and you all know it!"
Kringle continued, unphased. "I want you... to become the President by gradually insulting every single demographic you can think of."
The room was even quieter for a few seconds.
"I like it!" laughed the booming voice of Donald Trump. "I don't know what will happen, but it will be interesting!"
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I remember last week when they initiated me.
I was not rich, not popular, and not gong to tell anyone they existed. That's strange, they had no requirement to the godlike status of mankind. I was their newest pet member for only a week. But a member indeed.
They were impressed how well i could fend for myself in "their world" for that time. Managing to take their initial investment and keep my place on their expections and standards. They are as curious as they are enigmatic.
Now, im allowed to join their game. To dare anyone anything. And see if they could possibly or concievably pull it off.
And so, i suggested that the oldest loving member perform a task that i myself couldnt believe was possible until i saw it get so close to fruition.
Donald Trump actually might become president.... what a foolish thing i started. But it is as insignificant as all the printed money.
The value of this world is less than our fingertips. It will all blow over soon. But now i know, these guys can do it. I wonder what else i could learn.
| 2016-08-23T16:11:42 | 2016-08-23T15:28:52 | 578 | 12 |
[WP] Today, you have become a parent. You realise that you can hear your child's thoughts. The midwife informs you that this is the same for everyone but parents simply don't inform the children as an unwritten rule. Your own parents smirk.
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"What the hell is this? Am i a fucking baby? Re-incarnation is real? God damnit..."
Who said that? The only people in the room are me, my wife that is sleeping after just giving birth, and ...this baby... But it can't possibly speak yet.. But this didn't even sound like a voice, more like an inner voice.
"Who the hell is this? Is this my new father? Looks like a moron... But wait, what's my name? What did my real father look like? Why can't i remember his face anymore? What about my mom??? Try harder... Common, remember their faces... Oh noo, what was my name??? Am i loosing memory? Oh nmnmnm boo baa boo."
Baby started to scream. And then it stopped. The voice stopped as well, and no other intelligent thoughts were heard until the baby grew up...
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Oh god.
They've heard every little dirty thing I've thought of at dinner. On the couch. While talking to them. How I wanted to burst in on my wife, roughly shove her over the bed and take her from behind while I was over for Christmas dinner last year.
*Who are you?*
I hear the tiny bundle in my arms. I look down at her, all little and innocent. I sigh.
"Daddy", I give her an eskimo kiss.
I wonder what she'll want to do to all the boys......
| 2015-01-09T05:06:15 | 2015-01-08T23:21:11 | 143 | 59 |
[WP] Your a failing college student who needs to pass your foreign language class or fail. You've almost outright mocked superstions but make a wish on a shooting star at 11:11pm. To understand and speak all languages. Your cat wakes you up, but instead of meows. It's "wake up idiot and feed me".
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"No," I said as I tried to get back to sleep. I felt the paws of Mr. Fuzzy pressing hard upon my back. He was walking his way up to my head. We've been over this so many times it didn't even occur to me that my cat was talking to me.
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"Wake up you idiot. It's time for me to eat!"
​
This time my eyes opened wide. Is it odd that the thing that scared me the most was that Mr. Fuzzy wasn't as nice as I always thought he had been? The verbal beating that I received between getting out of bed and rushing to his food bowl was unlike anything I had ever received.
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"Finally! Sheesh!" I poured cat food into the bowl to the point of overflowing. I would have to do that before I went to sleep from now on.
I pinched myself as I watched my cat eat. Was this a dream? I had dreams in the past where Mr. Fuzzy talked to me, so this wasn't the first time I had ever felt this way. I checked the clock and saw it was nearly noon. Whatever was going on with this cat would need to wait. As I left my apartment, I saw a man walking down the street. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes were sullen. He shambled along as if there was no hope in the world what so ever.
"I wonder what made him so sad?" I said to myself. I felt like I saw that guy walking all the time but I had never really noticed the way he carried himself. The walk over to campus was full of all sorts of things just like that. The lady at the bakery where I got lunch every day was projecting warmth as if she was a miniature sun; the newscaster on the television inside looked bored out of his mind; and the college student sitting across from me was stressing over something on her computer screen. All these things were all around me and I had never even noticed them.
Mr. Fuzzy had been weird but surely I was just projecting. A flock of birds outside flew by and I could have sworn they were saying "food." A man walked in with his dog and the dog rushed up to me.
"Who are you," it said. "Would you like to join our pack! This man is our leader he is very nice."
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"Sorry about that," the man said pulling his dog back. He doesn't usually get so excited.
"Join us! The leadership of our pack leader is glorious. Treats, belly rubs, and infinte toys await you! Fool! Now is your only chance!"
The man pulled his dog away as he steered it back towards the line. The dog looked back at me as if it was the emissary for a foreign country. I turned away.
It didn't matter what acid trip I was on right now. The thing that mattered for me, right now, would be trying to prepare for my Chinese 101 test in the next hour. If I didn't ace it then there would be no way I could pass the class. I pulled out the practice sheet and began to work through it. Strange, where was the Chinese? I breezed through the sheet and was starting to get worried. Maybe I had pulled notes from another class by mistake? I looked closely at the sheet and a sudden joy hit me. Everything was in Chinese.
I shoved my sandwich into my mouth and rushed out of the bakery. I never thought a wish like that would work, but I was definitely about to reap the benefits. The classroom was in a large building on the eastern side of campus. It was odd. For some reason I was navigating the halls much easier than I ever had. It was like I was finding shortcuts and pathways I had never seen before. As I approached the classroom I saw one of my classmates. Her name was Rose I think? She was probably the cutest girl I had ever seen but I was certain she didn't know I existed. I could tell she wasn't worried at all about this test. Her shoulders lacked tension and she calmly worked her jaw as if she was chewing. She was wearing a sweater and sweatpants like she had just rolled out of bed. Her hair was tied into a bun that hung lazily to her shoulders. She turned to me and smiled.
She wants to talk to me. I had no idea where that thought came from. I nodded towards her as she shifted her entire body to face me. She *really* wants to talk to me.
"Are you ready for the test," she said. I had never seen a girl who was so open with what she wanted, without even saying it!
"I think so," I said. "I've got a secret weapon and I think it's going to come through."
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"Secret weapon, huh," she said pushing her sleeves down. "That sounds pretty interesting."
For some reason, her mouth was making noise, yet the shifting of her sleeves was speaking just as loudly. She saw me looking at her arms, and began to push them behind her back. She doesn't want me to know what's happening. I looked back up at her and she tried to ignore it.
"Y-yeah it's really something. Hey are you okay?"
"I'm totally fine, yep." She was not totally fine. Her feet and legs began to move away from me. She didn't want to talk any more. Wordlessly, she moved away from me and into the classroom. It was a hunch, that I guess was based off of nothing, but I knew her arms had slashes on them. I knew what that meant.
Here I was hoping just to pass a 100 level class and I ended up wishing myself a super power. Today was going to be really interesting.
EDIT: I was not expecting this to be well received at all. I'm giving all the credit to Australian Reddit. There was a Part 2 but Reddit ate it. It’ll be posted after I’ve slept because it’s 3am here.
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\*BEEEEEP\*\*BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP\*
Oh God, the headache. 8:15 AM, probably. I'm scrambling to stop my alarm clock. My head is sending waves of pain each time that piece of shitty electronics rings.
And, just when I finally manage to push the button, my cat decides to jump on my chest. That black, one-eyed ball of fur meows at me:
"WAKE UUUUUUP, MOTHERFUCKER"
Wait. "Meows" ? Nope. I can understand what he's saying. And he's got Samuel Jackson's voice. Why the hell does he have Samuel L. Jackson's voice ?
"Come on Motherfucking lazy ass, feeeeed me" I can hear the capital "M" in "Motherfucker". Shouldn't have done that film marathon last week, I'm hearing things.
Anyway. More urgently, why the hell do I have hallucinations. He's still screaming at me, but I'm starting to hear the meows behind the voice, but they still make sense.
"Come on, I know you can understand me, Motherfucker. You got your Motherfucking wish granted. Now feed me!"
"Wait wait wait" I start saying. My voice sounds like meows. I'm totally going crazy. Ok, that's enough. I'm already late, and definitely going crazy. I feed him, take a quick breakfast, and rush to get the subway. My cat's voice follows me as I go out: "You could have put more, you lazy-ass human!". My headache is starting to fade away. It's 8:30 AM, I'm probably going to be late.
​
I sit down, trying to calm down. I am not going crazy. That's when the classical “Hello. Subway floors and station platforms may be slippery today" starts. And then another time, and then another. 4 times in English, but with a different accent each time. What's happening ? Wait. There should have been English, Spanish, Japanese and German. And the accents are of these countries. That's when I start understanding. My wish really did get granted. And my Akkadian exam the day after tomorrow should go smoothly now. But that's not the main point. I need to test the limits of my power. As I'm reaching West Fourth Street station, I get off. The announcement rings again. I'm starting to hear both languages at the same time. I can also read German on the maps. I start running to the NYU library. Fuck today's classes. I need to do some testing. As I get there, I start planning. Let's start with ancient languages, like Greek and Latin. Probably need to get a hold on some mesopotamian things, and maybe Egyptian. Then I'll probably have to try programming languages. And maybe encrypted stuff, who knows.
​
It's 9:15 when I sit down with my first batch of testing books. As I start reading Greek, it feels like my headache is disappearing more and more with each word I read. Is that something like adapting to my gift ? Anyway. 30 minutes later, I've checked: I can read Greek, Latin, Sumerian, Egyptian, and, of course, Hebrew and Akkadian. Good. Really good. Now on to harder things.
I'm starting to understand the full potential of my gift. Reading enough code in any programming language gives me fluency in that programming language. Syntax, functions, supposed behavior and actual behavior, everything. Even freaking Assembly. Binary triggers a new wave of headache. Might be beyond my "assimilation" of the gift.
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I've tested human and animal languages. I've tested programming languages. Now I'm going to try something that shouldn't be included: cryptography. I start with classical Vigenère, and it works. Then I test some more complex cryptology. Until I reach AES. And still it works. By that point, it's 10:30. And I'm starting to wonder if I'm not still in bed, dreaming. This is definitely better than what I was thinking of when I made that wish. Do shooting stars have a language ? Does it have strange translation mistakes from English where you overblow everything ? Anyway, that's not the point. Now that I've proven I can break cryptography, I'm gonna test a personal pet peeve of mine: the Voynich manuscript.
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As I open the pdf I've saved of the first 12 pages, the letters start re-arranging themselves, shifting, going through strange shapes before going to English. A new spike of headache goes through my head, but this time I'm set on reading it. "Manual of Dark Arts (and stuff)" it says. Who the hell writes "and stuff" in the title of his book ? I go through the second page, a glossary. With each word I read, the pain gets stronger, but I can still fight it off. Third and fourth pages are the rest of the glossary. The headache is getting really strong now. Maybe I should stop. But still, I keep on reading. As I reach the first chapter, my eardrums go "plop". Still I keep on.
​
\*BLAM\*
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The black cat looks at the news: "Students shocked as a young man's head explodes in the middle of NYU Library"
"That Motherfucking idiot. He should have put more food, I would've warned him."
​
​
Thanks to u/[iNeedAValidUserName](https://www.reddit.com/user/iNeedAValidUserName) for the plethora of ideas.
| 2019-01-16T15:45:02 | 2019-01-16T15:08:53 | 2,680 | 1,168 |
[WP] A street vendor sells you a painting that they say depicts whatever the heart truly desires. You bought it because you saw something nice and pretty. Your spouse asks why you bought a painting of something much more disturbing.
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My first time in Melbourne was always going to be a thrill. I knew that. I just didn’t think it be turned into a thriller.
My husband and I had planned this trip for months. We’d be kid-free and living large in the city. Even if it was only a weekend. It’d been a long flight and and he was too tired to join my enthusiasm to check out the streets below our hotel. I however just couldn’t wait. I let him nap while I headed down promising to bring back something to eat before we’d get ready and head out that night.
The streets were busy and I was immediately overwhelmed for a second almost regretting not asking my husband to join me. I’m not used to big crowds. I decided to head forth anyway and look for somewhere to get a coffee to have while I strolled. That’s when I saw him. I wish I never saw him. I can’t take that back now. I can’t take anything back now. He was sitting on a little stool looking bored in front of a canvas when I approached. He asked me if I’d like he’d paint for me all I had to do was stare at the blank canvas. Ok, weird but what do I know. This is normal for city happenings right? I agreed and awkwardly stared at the canvas. I wanted to laugh from nerves of it all but his face. It was just so serious so kept the laughter stifled in case I offended the bloke. He painted, fast too. At first I couldn’t tell but then a beautiful boat appeared on a deep blue ocean started to form. There were 2 children, one swinging from the ropes, one dangling over the edge laughing. My heart burned as it came together. It was like seeing my life’s ambitions come together in front of me except I was just realising now what they truly were. Before I could express my joy the painting was done. I must of looked like an idiot fumbling out my purse to pay for the picture. He warned me it was still damp and to be careful with it and who I showed it too. The last part made no sense but I didn’t care I couldn’t wait to show my husband. I bundled it up and left. I should have listened. I don’t know why I didn’t.
Once back in the hotel my husband fresh from his nap and looking for the food I’d forgotten to buy I rushed at him to show him what I’d bought. I apologised for the food but I’d call for room service if he’d unwrap the painting and look at it while I dial down to reception. I quickly rang down and requested a house salad and fries while he started to unwrap. I didn’t want to be on the phone long, I wanted to enjoy the moment together. As his eyes rested on the painting his whole body tightened. His sleepy smile turned sour and his face grew red. I’d never seen that before. He threw it at me as I dropped the phone. Started to scream “why the fuck would you do this, I loved you”! I was confused, my heart raced, was he coming at me? He grabbed my arms and held me so tight as he threw me down on the floor. I started to cry I couldn’t understand. This was not my guy. This was fucking hectic. I stuttered as I asked what I’d done. He replied spitting and yelling at me that I had to die too if I’d known about the others. He held my throat tighter as the anger rose. I could hardly breathe now and my mind was just swirling. The last thing I remembered he put his face inches away from mine telling me “I’m going to watch you die in my hands just like the rest of the bitches in that painting. Bet you thought you were being real fucking clever, doing that” Then nothing. Everything went black.
I woke up in hospital. My mum by my side. My sister was crying and holding onto my two children. I think I slipped in and out for a few hours but I knew somehow I was safe. My mother completed the story for me. She told me room service had indeed delivered the food requested, when they arrived they saw the door open and came in only to discover my lifeless body. They called for help and I guess here I am. I’m so thankful I called down for room service. Salad saved my life that day. And a painting saved so many more.
My “husband” was already gone. He hasn’t been found yet but it’s early days. And I’m guessing I know a guy who could paint a pretty good picture of where he is.
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I drove home from the market with a smile. I'd managed to find two first edition prints of books by an author I love and a really interesting painting which I was looking forward to mounting on the library wall. As I turned in to the driveway I pictured where this piece might looks best in the room, concluding it would sit fine beside the window.
​
I was soon in the process of drilling the nails for the piece to be mounted. I wanted to hurry so I could surprise my wife as she was soon to be home from work. I mounted the piece and slid both books into place beside their shelf-mates, taking another down to read before the evenings party with the neighbours. I didn't dislike the neighbours at all, but I certainly didn't adore them. To me they were more like those people at work that you simply avoid in order to preserve your morning's lack of dullness.
​
But before long, I heard the door and placed the novel back in it's spot. Taking one moment to enjoy the beauty of the painting before heading out. A wonderful piece, it showed a gorgeous woman holding two young children in her arms. She sat on a bench in what looked to be a park, and the sun shone down in beams through the canopy of branches above.
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Not wanting to take to long, I hesitantly left the library and greeted my wife and guests. Anna had been on her way in when they'd arrived and we soon poured wine and talked (or I should say were talked at) about the neighbours children and lives. And as the evening moved on and we began eating I told my guests about the piece that I'd found while at the market. They we're almost as excited as my wife to see this wonderful masterpiece but I was careful not to spoil the details.
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After dinner we all made our way into the library and I pulled the doors and led them in. The reaction I was met with however, was unexpected. While John, the neighbourly husband seemed just as pleased with the piece, our wives seemed quite the opposite.
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"What the hell Abe?"
​
"What, you don't like it? I know there's a breast showing but it is a piece of art."
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"Joseph, that's the problem. It's not just the breast. This... This is pornography."
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"Anna, I have to say I'm a bit surprised. Can't you see the innocent beauty here?"
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"Joseph, why the hell are you showing us this? Why did you buy this?"
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Finally John spoke up in my favour. "Ali, what's wrong with this, it's totally fine. And where are you all seeing a breast?"
​
"Wait, you can't see the breast John?" I replied.
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"No, why would a breast even be on a battlefield?"
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Silence filled the room for a moment.
​
"What is this a painting of to you John?"
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"It's clearly a battlefield. The swords are clashing against each other and the soldiers are lit by a setting sun on the horizon. What about you?"
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The silence returned and hung for longer.
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"We aren't seeing the same painting are we?" Anna asked.
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"No, I don't believe we are. What is it you're seeing sweetie?"
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"It's a torture room, rusting tools are laying on the stone ground and there are bodies... God, so many bodies." She replied.
​
"And you, Ali?"
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"A monster... Maybe a dragon? It's attacking a village. There is a house on fire that people are trying to escape from. and it's grasping a child with it's claws."
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"Oh dear. Well... I guess we should just leave this for now and clue things up, yeah?"
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"Yes."
| 2018-10-07T02:10:57 | 2018-10-06T22:10:56 | 2,601 | 186 |
[WP] One day, all the citrus fruits in the world turn animate and start to follow humans around. Society initially panics, but eventually get used to the new status quo. Soon, guilds of "citrus trainers" begin to appear all over the world, training the fruits to fight each other like Pokemon.
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Satoshi had grown weary with age...
Unlike the generations before him, Satoshi has grown up with the Pokémon. Those things which had been citrus fruits to an age passed. Satoshi wanted to be a trainer- he wanted it more than anything. To catch the Pokémon was his life. “Gotta catch em all”
But this was his past, another generation had come. His cause to train these creatures led him from a small boy in Pallet Town to a legend. He was the best, and no one loved Pokémon like Satoshi. He had held that his heart was true, but now he sees a generation that thought bigger.
As the hologram in-front of him rearranges, he sees the vote start at the United Nations. For generations people had treated the Pokémon as theirs. They had trained them, fought for them, and loved them. But this vote would change all of that.
As the the vote comes in, Satoshi looks over at Pikachu beside him, all those years and they had never left each other’s side. Satoshi, leaning over with tears in his eyes, smiles at his best friend. Pikachu intently staring at the hologram moving in front. UNSCR 987628, or as the people called it- the “Resolution for Pokémon Rights.”
When it passes, Pikachu smiles, walking out on the balcony to let out a thunderbolt with the Pokémon cheering in the streets. Satoshi smiles, hugging Pikachu when he comes back into his lap. There’s a guilt that Satoshi feels- he always loved the creatures that were once citrus fruit. He had fought all his life for them, but he has since learned that these creatures did not wish to fight. He had retired many years ago, as the times started to change. But it didn’t take away the regret of committing his best friend to years of pain.
Pikachu hugs him back, with the little “pikachu” lemony noise that tells Satoshi not to cry. The world was growing now, and Pikachu knew that people with hearts like Satoshi’s would need to stay fighting for a better world- even if Ash didn’t see that yet.
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"I don't care what fruit stand you're from, that has gotta hurt."
The crowd grimaced as a stream of lemon juice squirted into the eyes of its trainer. The grapefruit across the parking garage began peeling itself to take a victory lap naked around chalk outline of the ring all the while soaking in the praise from the crowd.
The fight hadn't been fair. The young grapefruit wasn't ripe yet, still hard enough to squash the aging lemon with ease. Walking across the ring the grapefruit trainer stood next to the teenage boy with his eyes clenched shut, still struggling to get the burning to subside.
"Here take this", he said handing the boy a cold glass of water to help cleanse his eyes of the remaining lemon juice. Accepting the water, the boy tilted his head back and poured the water directly onto his eyes. Dabbing them dry with the bottom of his shirt he hesitantly opened them to find that the worst of the pain was subsiding. Thanking the man he turned to look at his lemon. Flayed citrus was hanging from broken spots in its skin and seeds were strewn around the ring. The lemon was gone. Tearing up the young boy told the man it was his first citrus tournament. The lemon had told him he wanted to go out fighting rather than turn into compost sitting in the kitchen. The young boy could still remember the day his father plucked the lemon off the tree and handed it to him.
Helping the boy to his feet the man reassured the boy that there would be other tournaments and he fought with honor. Inviting him to watch the next match he promised a good show. "Apparently the lime we're fighting in the next round is half orange. Should be an interesting fight. His exterior is orange but word on the street is he is sour to the core."
| 2020-06-29T07:28:22 | 2020-06-29T07:19:49 | 24 | 11 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search
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*I thought a more uplifting story may be nice*
Monster.com
Monster.com how to find a job
How to find a job on the internet
How to apply for unemployment
Can't pay rent
Eviction laws Phoenix
Animal shelter Phoenix
No kill animal shelter phoenix
Homeless shelter phoenix
Interview techniques
How to ace an interview
How to get a suit when you're homeless
How to do an interview when you're homeless
Bus rout phoenix
Motivation
How to be motivated
Microsoft certification
First day in the office
Phoenix apartments
Cheap furnitue
Cheap furniture Phoenix
craigslist couch Phoenix, AZ
Investing
How to invest
No kill animal shelter Phoenix
Readopting pets
How to get promoted
Dating your coworker
Veterinarian flagstaff
How to get a promotion
How to get a transfer
Monster.com
First date tips
How to ace an interview
Apartments Flagstaff
Long distance relationships
Jewelry stores Flagstaff
Hotels Phoenix
5 star restaurant phoenix
Houses for sale flagstaff
Wedding photographer
|
Free dating sites.
Italian restaurants.
Italian restaurants near me.
Conversation on first date.
Tips for second date.
Tips for third date.
Mexican restaurants near me.
Long term relationship tips.
When to propose.
How to plan a wedding.
How to choose best man.
Pregnancy test.
How to tell if an unborn baby is male or female.
What foods can you eat during pregnancy?
Paleness during pregnancy.
Hospitals near me.
How long does birthing take.
Injuries during birth to mother.
How to raise daughter alone.
How to raise daughter alone for fathers.
How to stop drinking.
AA near me.
Elementary schools near me.
How to explain to child that her mother died.
How to explain death to children.
Middle schools near me.
High schools near me.
Average college tuition fees.
How to help child move to college campus.
How to say goodbye.
| 2015-02-04T20:36:22 | 2015-02-04T17:51:52 | 34 | 25 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
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Where was the king?
He waited, tapping fingers and with furrowed brow his eyes scanned for a sign of him. The Queen was ready, and with the arrival of the Sire the process could begin. Everyone was suited up, from the highest among them to the lowest, and he waited expectantly for the one who could open the way, the one who could let them onto that field of green.
They all followed the king, but the king was not one for following orders.
How long to wait?
Time was precious, and in the time he waited for the final King among them, he could be waiting for more. He sighed, giving up. The king would not come today.
He clicked the menu option, and started a new game. This was gonna play havoc with his score.
|
Mom was singing Christmas carols again. The martini in her hand glowing like the contents of a broken glow stick. The dog was barking too. When I went to go look I could see children running around the classroom, having too much fun to notice the SS Titanic sinking into the giant kiddie pool outside. The sound of bagpipes commemorated the 100th anniversary of the sinking while trapeze artists flew through the air. I tried to catch one of their hands, but I was falling...
falling...
falling...
..out of my bed and onto the floor.
| 2015-01-12T11:13:13 | 2015-01-12T10:42:43 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] As a dragon of innumerable age you have guarded your gold horde for millennium. Many heroes have come with long speeches on how they will slay you, the great evil,none finish. However this one is odd.He throws a coin on your stash, looks you in the eyes and says "I have a proposition for you."
|
I have to say I have seen many a crazy person enter my den. They've carried all manner of "enchanted this" or "magical that", giant helmets someone oversold, lacquered shields sold as impenetrable "dragon scales", which didn't seem to save them from a squishy death beneath it. They've come with silver swords and golden swords and swords awash in the blood of 99 virgins and with all manner of talismans and trinkets meant to ward me off or beguile me in some way. They've come alone, sometimes with squires or mages, and more than a few times as a team. It doesn't matter one bit. Whatever they bring, however they attack, they're just a snack to this old dragon. I've seen it all.
Well, I had seen it all until last week when that nearly naked man walked in throwing bits of change into my horde. If it weren't for the novelty of it I would have snatched him right up, but naked and throwing money, I just had to see what the ruse was. I was certain he was mad, but there's always a chance.
He walked right in and sat down on a rock within easy reach, reeking of fear and cheap ale. At first I thought "ah, he's the bait to draw my attention while others attack from the sides," but in sniffing the air and listening to the drafts there were no others, just the one lonely fellow. The bravest man I'd probably ever met, or the dumbest one.
"I... I 'ave a... proposition that I 'ope you will 'ear," his voice cracked, "'ear me out on if you would."
I raised up on my hindquarters and looked down on him menacingly, slowly snaking my tail around the rock he sat on.
"We... um... we 'ave a king who... uh... is covetous of yer gold. The only problem is, 'e's run outta knights and noblemen to come to fight fer it."
I continued to look down upon him. I was slightly relieved, knights and nobleman were too predictable and tasted foul with all their perfumes and ointments. Plus their armor was grating to chew on for the measly bits of meat held in it.
"Well... I... uh... I didna come 'ere to fight." He paused as if waiting for the snap of my teeth and then blurted out forcefully "I came 'ere to ask you to kill our king."
That got me. I'd never heard of such a request. It was always about the gold or the glory. I lowered down, withdrawing my tail and laying low enough to be eye to eye. "Yes?" I responded.
"The king... 'e sent me 'ere to fi... die I 'spect... but I 'ad me another idea. What if I go back and just tell 'em I killed you?" He gulped and tried to rub his sweating hands on his already sweaty legs. "I mean, the king'll want to take credit fer it, and so 'e'll come 'ere to use 'is own stupid sword."
The man's hatred for the king was present in almost every syllable and the more he spoke the more confident he appeared with his words.
"Yes?" I said.
"That's it really. I'd need to take something back..."
I bristled at the thought and believed that I was seeing through his ruse to negotiate a little pocket change.
"Not gold... not gold..." He quickly corrected himself. "Just a trinket of old armor and maybe a salvaged weapon. Sir Kayhill's battle axe or Sir Dominar's sceptar? Something to prove I came 'ere." He braced himself for a final request, "And a scale or a nail or something of you."
And THAT was bold enough to hook me in. I quickly plucked a tooth from my mouth and tossed it at his feet. "Look to the edges of my den for whatever trinkets you desire," I told him somewhat dismissively. Which was hard because I was beginning to like him.
"So after your king comes here then what? Seat yourself as king?" I asked.
"No, no... we're not much for a kingdom and less so fer a king. My mother always said we were better off as an autonomous collective taking turns to act as a sorta 'executive officer fer the week'. 'Course that was before the king showed and started repressing everyone and killin' people with his 'quests' and such."
'An autonomous collective...' I thought to myself. 'Sounds interesting.' And so I watched as he scavenged a few bits that weren't completely destroyed and then he picked up my tooth and left.
The next day I lay as still as possible on the den floor, my mouth agape with the raw wound from the tooth for all to see. The king and what remained of his knights as well as his court magician circled around me. He readied his sword as if he were going to hack into my neck and take my head. At the moment he got all the way back into his swing I opened my eyes fully and saw the "Oh damn" look come across his face. And that day was the last anyone saw of the king and his knights.
No more knights ever crossed my threshold, but sheep did, fairly regularly, I guessed for services rendered. And they were so much more satisfying than people in a can.
|
The dragon took a deep sniff, snorting smoke in the intruder's face. To his credit, the intruder didn't flinch.
"Infernal... why come to me in the guise of a human? And what is that odd garb you wear?"
The man chuckled, pulling his hands out of the three-piece suit. He kicked an odd ruby out of the way with his patent-leather wingtip. "I knew you weren't going to be so easily fooled." His skin began to fill with red, and two prominent horns slowly pushed through his forehead. His mouth, once pearly white, was now full of yellow fangs. "Although thank you for confirming what I thought about your... situation."
The dragon's eyes were slits as she squinted down at him. "Why should I not devour you right now?"
"Whoa, sweetheart, pacem. Let's cool it with the antagonism, OK? I'm not here to fight, clearly. And even if you did devour me, I'd be digested or whatever, I'd reconstitute in the Infernal plane after a century and then I'd be back to try this whole thing over again. So do me a favor, huh, and maybe just listen for a second? Like I said. Proposition. As in, 'mutually beneficial.' Capice?"
The dragon sneered, snorting smoke into the devil's face once more. The devil rolled his eyes. "And what do you really think you can offer me?"
"...I thought that was obvious. What every dragon wants... uncounted wealth, a secluded home, yadda yadda yadda... basically all of this," he said, gesturing toward the interior of the lair, "but, y'know, better."
Fire shot from her mouth and nostrils as the dragon's laughter boomed through the cave. "Fool... why would I need YOU to get that? A quick trek outside and I can get all this and more!"
The devil, who had taken out a hand mirror to check his immaculate hairdo (what with all the fire and smoke going around), started to laugh, a loud and insincere laugh clearly designed just to rile the dragon up. "Oh, you. First of all, sugar, it's pretty obvious to anyone with any sort of spatial awareness that you couldn't leave this cave if you wanted to. Either you're too big, or it's too small. Six of one, half-dozen of the other, really."
As the dragon stretched, attempting to get to her full height, she realized how right he was. There was a low rumble throughout the cave as her scales scraped across the cave ceiling.
"And second, how long do you think its been since you've gone out there? A century? A millennium? More? You've been sleeping in this cave for a long, long time. And, uh, let's just say that the march of progress clearly left you behind. You would not believe the kinds of creations the humans have now. And even without magic! That coin I tossed you, believe it or not, is made primarily of elements even the dwarves hadn't really grasped, and they were the KINGS of mining. If you really think a fear aura, a couple of fireballs, and some scales are gonna save you from them? Screw it, maybe I'm wasting my time here. I thought dragons were supposed to be smart."
Externally, the devil was the pinnacle of cool, but internally, he knew this was a dangerous gambit. Sure, he had SAID he'd be fine if the dragon devoured him, but given that he'd never died before, he couldn't be absolutely certain, and he really didn't want to try now.
The dragon's stare pierced him. It burned deep inside of him, bringing out something he thought he had lost when he became a being of otherworldly evil: fear.
"You have gained my ear, infernal. What do you and your kind get out of the bargain?"
He let out a barely-audible sigh of relief, then it was back to pitchman mode. "What do we ever get out of the bargain? Souls. You come out, you do your thing, we protect you while doing your thing, and sell salvation to the idiots who run in fear from you. Like I said, a lot's changed out there. Belief in things like dragons and devils is at an all-time low. The Hells have never been so short on soul energy. But together, we can change that. And the beings I represent want that very much." He snapped a finger, and a rolled parchment appeared in a puff of smoke. He broke the seal, unrolling it with a flourish, and laying it in front of the dragon. "So if you don't mind, we'd really like you to sign here. The contract's even in Draconic, just for you."
It would serve to be his greatest sale yet: kickstarting the old soul business, and claiming the soul of the last dragon on the planet. After all, while the contract was in Draconic, there was no chance she was going to be able to read it all at the tiny font size. He was definitely getting that promotion.
| 2015-10-14T00:52:16 | 2015-10-13T21:07:21 | 54 | 30 |
[WP] "Invade your planet?!" The alien asks a general of Earth with confusion before bursting into laughter. "Why the heck would we do that when their are SEVEN other empty planets in this star system ripe for terraforming and colonization? We just stopped by to say Hi while we pick one of 'em out."
|
"Oh," was about all General Grant could muster.
"Plus," Morotzuc mused, rubbing the pink front of its torso. Maybe humans rubbing their chins would look just as, well, alien. "It would avoid a lot of general conflict, you know?"
"Avoid? Conflict?" the general asked, a little confused.
The pink alien stared at him with all five eyes. Each one of them rotated independently, according to his self-introduction, so having all of them transfixed on one thing was worthy of notice.
"Yeah," Morotzuc said. "Is that not a good thing?"
"Well," Grant nodded. "Depends."
He leaned a little closer to the alien.
"So... you guys are just stopping by? And you will be off to the other planets soon enough?"
"Of course," Morotzuc said. "We are going to be neighbours soon. It's only right to visit your neighbours, no? I assume hospitality is customary on Earth as well?"
"Yes, yes, it is," Grant nodded. He waved at the cup of coffee in front of the alien. "Like a drink!"
Morotzuc looked down at the brown liquid in front of him. A finger pushed it ever so slightly away from him, and he politely smiled at Grant.
"Yes, General," Morotzuc said. "Very kind of you."
"Why the Milky Way, then?"
"The Milky Way? Is that what the humans call this system?"
"Well, and the chocolate bar," Grant said. "Depending on who you are talking to, they might be more familiar with the chocolate bar."
"Mm, of course," Morotzuc furrowed his brows. It was less hair and more fibrous, but recognizable as brows nonetheless. "Strange, not to be familiar with your own neighbourhood?"
"Er," Grant said. "On Earth, when we say neighbours, we generally mean like... a few blocks of buildings. Not the entire galaxy, like--"
"Wait," Morotzuc stopped Grant from continuing with an abnormally enlarged finger. The Morotzuc had just one finger and an opposing thumb. "Is it possible that... humans are not capable of migrating to another planet?"
"We are doing OK with Earth, so far," Grant said. "Plans are in the works though. Like a few projects we have--"
Once more, the finger came up.
"I believe I have made a mistake coming here, then," Morotzuc's face hardened considerably. "I never though that humans would be so backwards that they don't even have the means for FTL travel and proper terraforming."
"Hey, what the hell?" Grant said. "That's really rude!"
"When I saw your military," Morotzuc shook his head. "I thought you would be capable of taking to space. After all, what kind of race have the capability to destroy their own kind and land, without the ability to take to the stars?"
"You know," Grant said. "I've had just about enough. You trying to start an interspecies war, son?"
"No, I'm not," Morotzuc said, sadly. "I'm just disappointed. It seems like even here, far away from home, I'm reminded of the mistakes of our ancestors."
Both men sat silent at the table, looking at each other.
"Are you not a military man yourself, Morotzuc?" Grant asked, quietly.
"My family was. I learnt enough from them not to," Morotzuc replied.
"Can... can you help us, then? Make the world..." Grant hesitated. He couldn't believe what he was about to say.
After all, he was a general of the military. He didn't exactly get here by not fighting. But this was a different sort of fight--the sort that he had to think of not as a solider, but as a citizen of Earth.
"No, the galaxy," Grant continued. "A better place?"
"Maybe," Morotzuc said. "There's much to learn, however. And a lot to suffer through."
"I think we might just survive," Grant smiled.
---
r/dexdrafts
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The moon was unusually dark today. It was supposed to be a full moon, but something dark covered its surface.
"Alert the boys, Joe, there's something fishy on the moon, it's not shining as it should," a red-haired officer gazing into a telescope said into a receiver which hung from his belt.
The device crackled. "Roger that," said the voice from the other end.
Joe did as was asked, and alerted the boys, the space troops.
Saed, the leader of the space troops, paced about his room, mulling the whole thing over. Then, he called Bob Willock, and asked him to put the space station on alert, and prepared a squadron to explore the moon.
The squadron consisted of Saed himself, and two other ranked officers - the blue-haired Rosie, and Roy - a space explorer and a researcher. They cramped themselves into a little capsule and took off, to the moon.
On the moon's surface, they found a giant black tent. Neon-bright purple lights peeked through its flaps. The light was interrupted every once in a while by a green spark.
Out of the surface of the black tent, a goopy black figure emerged.
"What do you want?" it said in a gruff voice.
"That's what we want to know. What do you want?" Saed said.
Rosie and Roy started exploring other parts of the tent but were caught by other goopy black figures that emerged from the tent.
"Your friends, they are very curious," the alien said.
"We come here in peace. We do not intend to harm you. Unless -"
"Unless we want to invade your planet, is that right?"
"Well, do you?"
The alien's goopy black body jiggled wildly, and it let out a terrible laugh.
"Invade your planet?! Why the heck would we do that when there are SEVEN other empty planets in this star system ripe for terraforming and colonization? We just stopped by to say Hi while we pick one of 'em out."
"What? Stopped by to say hello? As if you know us."
"In a way we do, yes. Sometime back, when we took over Mars, we stopped by those incredible pyramids down there. The people then were a lot more welcoming, and the journey was not too long. But now, we need to move fast, so we only came as far as the moon."
"Wait. So, you're here for a pitstop. Is that it?"
"Yes. That is one way of saying it," the alien said and put his head to one side. "The other way, you can think of it as us in an offseason. Preparing for what's to come."
"You mean the lights?"
"Yes, the boys are working hard over there."
Saed nodded and asked the alien to release his comrades for they had nothing more to investigate and were to head right back.
"The only problem," Saed said, "is the colour of your camp. It makes the moon look weird. People are worried down there."
The alien laughed again. "Is that it? No problem. No problem, we can change it in an instant. How would you like it?"
"Can you make it transparent?"
"Transparent? No. But I can make it translucent."
"Suits us just fine."
The alien nodded, its black body bubbled and foamed, and in an instant, the whole tent became rather translucent.
Saed thanked the alien and took his comrades back to the capsule spaceship they came in.
"I managed to get some samples," Roy said.
"Me too," Rosie said. "It was very unwise of them to grab us. Now, all we've got to do is investigate their biology, and put an end to this mess."
"I got a sample too, alright. I got a sample of that damn slime's mind," Saed said and flew the spaceship back to the space station of the space troops.
| 2020-12-07T06:04:34 | 2020-12-07T05:19:33 | 261 | 31 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a special talent that's weak when young, but grows stronger and matures at the age of 30. A kid that's a little stronger than his peers will grow up to lift mountains. Another who like tinkering will revolutionize civil action. You? Well, cats just seem to like you...
*civilizations
Edit: WP was more popular than I though. Reading through the stories delayed because I'm traveling. Keep them coming I'm loving them!
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---
Köttur, age 9
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Anne stood and watched the children play. Her favorite part of the day was observing children create their own worlds. A group of boys and girls were fighting a monster only they could see, on a ship only they could control. Others were jumping rope, and still others were drawing with chalk. Every child in her 4th grade class was engaged. Except Köttur.
The boy sat at a distance, against a tree, four cats curled up around him. He, too, watched the children play. It wasn't with interest, Anne noticed. Köttur seemed... suspicious.
He made Anne uneasy.
---
köttur, age 16
---
Köttur had been to Botswana many times before. His adoptive parents were missionaries. He loved it here. The raw wild called to him, even after he had arrived.
The buggy he was driving jostled him as it took each bump and dip in the gravely dirt road. He was speeding, but there were no limits. He had quickly learned that the general rule was to go as fast as you could without hurting yourself or others. And that seemed to be more a suggestion, and less a rule.
He was fast approaching the small village he had known as a boy, traveling with his parents. It was here he had met Mabadiliko, a mystic and village seer who had resisted his parents' message. Ultimately, the village had adopted Christianity, but throughout the years it blended with their local traditions into something unrecognizable. It was Mabadiliko that helped Köttur recognize the Gift.
The dirt road protested his speed with a gentle haze of dust. Through it, Köttur could see farmers rise from their fields, one hand over their eyes to shield the sun, staring in his direction. The villagers hated him, and he could feel their disdain as he raced toward the town center. Their hatred fueled him; his anger bringing a sickening joy. Köttur grinned.
The haze of dust behind him was moving, convulsing. Shadows danced among the fog, causing the villagers to turn and run toward their homes, grabbing children and calling to one another.
A watchman on a tower yelled as Köttur approached. Through the smoky dust, the glowing eyes of leopards could be seen as they sprinted alongside.
---
köttur, age 29
---
Köttur stood on a hill, overlooking the Gauteng capital city of Johannesburg. The last decade had seen him chased across the globe. He had briefly made Interpol's top 5 list. The people of the world grew wary of his Gift. He no longer had a home.
Until today.
Köttur raised his powerful arm, his blonde hair shining in the sunlight. He waited a moment, watching the serenity below him. He closed his eyes, fist still high in the air, a soft breeze enveloping him. It was time.
His piercing blue eyes snapped open. In one motion, he lowered his arm and knelt on one knee. He closed his eyes again.
The soft breeze built to a rushing gust of wind as thousands of jungle cats swarmed on the unsuspecting city below.
|
In the beginning when I was a child stray cats would follow me home almost everyday. My mother would scold me and chase them away with a broom or whip her apron at them. But regardless of her efforts the cats would park their furry tails outside our home and meow endlessly into the night.
The meowing drove our neighbors to near insanity. Jacob the neighbor boy played any instrument beautifully, he would become one of the most incredible musicians the world had ever heard. But the infernal meowing made practice almost impossible, so his parents put their home up for sale and moved away from the "cat house".
One by one each neighbor put their houses up for sale and moved away. Unfortunately those houses never actually sold because no buyer was foolish enough to live near the cat house. Soon I was all alone, every kid my age had moved away and I was avoided like the plague. But, I had my cats. All three hundred and sixty two of them. I used to give them names, but even that became impossible. So now I just numbered them. Dr. Meowsauce the second, third, and so on.
Days passed and I grew older. My mother passed away days before my thirtieth birthday. It nearly broke my heart. She was my rock, my beacon in the storm, my only true human friend. The only attendees at her funeral were myself, the priest, and six hundred and seventy seven cats.
The morning of my birthday I woke up to begin my regular routine. Find and dispose of the hundreds of mice the cats had killed and left for me the night before. Eat breakfast, clean the house a bit and spend time with the cats.
"Daniel. It's time we talked," a small voice said.
I spun around in search for the origin of the voice. Sitting on the kitchen table was Dr. Meowsauce the First. He was old, his fur ratty and matted but he held his head up with pride.
"It's time that you know the truth Daniel," Dr. Meowsauce spoke without moving his thin black lips, he spoke directly into my mind.
"We have been waiting for this day for a long time. Cats have been wandering the Earth for eons waiting for our savior. For you Daniel."
"What are you talking about?"
"The prophecy! One day a human would be born that will lead the felines in battle. To finish our eternal struggle once and for all."
"Battle? Against what?"
A sharp howl interrupted my next question. Then another howl echoed the first. Soon barking and howling came from every direction.
"Prepare yourself Daniel. They've come," Dr. Meowsauce said bitterly and extended his claws.
---
Thanks for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories!
| 2016-12-30T08:38:21 | 2016-12-30T08:26:44 | 230 | 150 |
[WP] A woman falls in love with Death and commits murder countless times just to catch a glimpse of him.
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* *I'll preface this by saying that I never write for fun. But something about this prompt made me want to jump in. Apologies for the amateur nature of the following.*
I never should have let her in. Two hundred years of being careful, of being guarded. All that time and work, lost because I was lonely. Sandra and her husband: that was the deal. It couldn’t have been easier. A car accident is a walk in the park. No second thoughts, no planning. No thinking. Nothing.
Why did she have to look, sound, even smell like Abby? I was promised that I would never have to go through it again. One time was enough. It was supposed to be so simple. Close my eyes, conjure the event, and see it through. But I was told, no, promised Goddamnit! How does he expect me to follow through when he breaches his own contract?
Fuck it. I wisped her out of the event. She’d be sad to lose her husband, but maybe she’d feel something. Maybe she’d know it was me who “saved” her. I just couldn’t bear seeing her essence pass through my world again. I made it as much of a freak accident as I could. Kids are always throwing things off highway overpasses, Right?
I should have seen it after her coworker died. Death in bunches or spread out, that’s how it works for those who I have to visit often. I guess my infatuation made me forget that Don from accounting died on the anniversary of Sandra’s husband dying. I went to check on her at her house. She’d just recently taken down all the pictures of her and Adam. She was facing her bathroom mirror.
“I see you every day,” she whispered.
It’s always interesting to see how long it takes for some people to get over the death of a loved one. Sandra was taking her sweet time.
“I know you’re watching over me.”
No, my dear, he isn’t. They never are.
“How do we know each other?”
She was staring right through me in the mirror. There was no way she knew. Right?
|
Her heart raced as she waited, her breath warm against the wardrobe door she was pressed behind. Time stood almost still as each footstep echoed from the wooden floor. It had been so long. Too long. She needed to see him, to feel him again.
Unable to wait any longer she put the plan she'd rehearsed countless times into action. The knife glinted as she stepped out into the sunlit room and moments later it was buried in his neck. The hair on her arm began to rise, the room growing colder. Her breath quickened. Her eyes flickered excitedly across the room. He must be close. He had to be.
A familiar rush hit her as she felt him arrive. She stood, blood pooling beneath her feet as he set to work. Such elegance and finesse in what he did, she loved him for that. He stared deep inside the man she'd killed and helped him from the body he'd once captained. She tried to savour each second, for he was busy, so he was brief.
"It's worth it", she said, "each life I take, I take for you and I won't stop. I can't."
He seemed to pause. She was sure of it. His head appeared to turn and stare straight at her, if only for a second.
"Did he?... No, he did, of course he did, he wants me as much I want him."
Her mind raced. This hadn't happened before, of all the times she'd bought a few precious seconds of his time he'd never acknowledged her. Until now. Her next steps were obvious. She needed more time with him, and soon. Sooner than she'd planned. But who? and how? It didn't matter now, all that mattered was being with him. His smell almost lingered as she stared at the body that once held the man. A small price to pay, she thought.
| 2014-06-30T07:12:17 | 2014-06-30T06:00:38 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] Satan has a special place in hell for the greatest sinners. To him, the greatest sinners are those who commit acts of petty inconvenience, such as placing the toilet roll the other way round, or playing music through headphones loudly. Today, the greatest sinner of all time is sent Satan's way.
|
Hell is full of sinners. It’s halls are filled with the souls of murderers, rapists, and pedophiles. Every day, new sinners are welcomed to the fiery pits where they will be tortured through eternity as punishment for their actions.
Satan, the King of Hell, has overseen the arrival of souls to Hell ever since his banishment from Heaven. He knows every type of sinner there is. But today he prepares himself, for he is to welcome the greatest sinner of all: **Janice**
Janice is a Mid-Western woman of 47 years of age. Church goer and leader of her parish’s book club, one would never suspect this meek woman to be considered the greatest sinner of all, but one quick analysis of her life on Earth and one can quickly conclude so.
Janice is a cunt.
She calls her 19 year-old nephew on an almost daily basis to ask ridiculous questions about her computer just because he works at an IT department. Jason has a life to lead, he works full-time and he’s part of a volleyball league in his neighborhood; but Janice does not care; her questions on how to use “the Facebook” are certainly more important and demand Jason’s immediate attention.
Janice enters an elevator and stands in the front by the doors. When the elevator stops and people need to get out, Janice never steps out of the elevator to let people out. If she moves at all, she will try to push herself to the back of the elevator instead; like a shitty, cunty salmon, swimming upstream
Janice *never* knows what she’s ordering. She will wait until she’s at the cash register to read the menu and make a decision. She sees the man behind her, with little time for his work lunch-hour. She does not care. She has questions about the grilled chicken sandwich. They do NOT sell half-sandwiches at McDonalds Janice!!!!
Janice stops at the sidewalk when you’re walking right behind her. Janice blocks both sides of the escalator, so you can’t walk past her. Janice cuts the line to the men’s bathroom because the women’s line was too long. Janice opens the door for you, but only when you’re too far away; she likes to see you run to get to the door
Satan is bursting with excitement. It is a fine day indeed. ***Today is the day that Janice goes to Hell!***
|
"I don't understand why I'm here in this place" said Gertrude. She realized full well where she was. Just a short time earlier she'd collapsed at the local Safeway. A short ambulance ride later and she'd ended up in the ICU.
Gertrude was no medical expert, but the thunderbolt of pain that had hit her in the chest could only have been one thing. She had barely been aware of the determined, expert efforts of the emergency room staff. Later, in the ICU, she had slipped in and out of consciousness. Thanks to the IV morphine drip, everything seemed to have kind of faraway feeling.
Then she was floating, up above and looking down at her own body laying there on the clean hospital bed. She thought to herself "Is that really me? I look so *old*."
And then, the lights and sounds of the ICU faded away as a sort of rushing darkness took their place. Gertrude became aware of a glow in the distance. At first it was more of an impression of light than a real light. But it quickly strengthened and took on a ruddy reddish orange tone.
And then Gertrude found herself in another place. It was not where she expected to be. "I went to church every Sunday for forty years" she thought. "This is bullshit!"
"NO Gertrude, it's not bullshit. This is where you belong!"
"Oh crap" thought Gertrude, "the Devil himself, right in front of me!"
The Devil looked on Gertrude with a special kind of glee. It wasn't often that a soul of this particular type ended up within his domain. But, she didn't actually seem to know why she was here. She seemed blind to her own nature... could it be?
Suddenly it made sense. Of course she wouldn't realize. The very nature of her sins required just such a lack of self-awareness.
And so, the Devil felt it only appropriate that she should know just how she had made it to the inner circle of the most select.
"Gertrude. In all of human history, no has has caused more aggravation and more inconvenience with so little effort. Your skill at blocking the aisle with a shopping cart... I salute you."
| 2016-10-05T12:42:35 | 2016-10-05T11:58:45 | 28 | 21 |
[WP] At a world peace summit, it comes to light that you are the only world leader that isn't a lizard person.
|
The summit was a private one. I in my classic trench coat stood up. “Ok so for this peace summit I would like to reque-“ I was cut off by the leader of Russia. “Relax comrad. We don’t need to put up this facade anymore. I’m going to be in my real form if you all don’t mind.” At that point Putin started to shed his skin revealing a scaly green lizard person underneath.
I for one was shocked and speechless the others however... “Yah he’s right I really hate this human skin.” One by one all the world leaders shed there skin till I was the only one left. “Hey it’s ok. You don’t need to be in costume anymore
Luckily I was a good actor wouldn’t have been a world leader otherwise. “Honestly you dolts what if someone walks in? I’m keeping it on.” One of them looked at me. “Haven’t you heard? We can execute any witnesses and replace them with relative ease. What you missed the memo?” I stared daggers at him. “Well I for one want to kill as little as possible. Anyway we really need to do this peace..” I was cut off again.
“Hey really you don’t need to be so tight. We could all just say it went well and-“ I interrupted him. “And what? If all our stories aren’t the same then what? This is world peace something people have always wanted. We can’t make up some half baked story. We actually need to do our jobs as political figures.”
A couple of them started to stand up. “Hey shed your skin.” I denied the request like before. More of them stood up and one of em walked towards me. “I wasn’t asking do it now.” I acted calm and started to walk out. Then one of them stopped me. “Take it off NOW!” They grabbed my coat and tore it off.
All the lizard men backed off immediately clearly in shock. Granted they thought I was a lizard person not 2 dwarves in a trench coat. “Sheeeet...” I hopped of my ‘legs’ and we bolted through the door.
|
You know, I should've seen it coming when the servers brought out crickets.
Yeah, I thought it was strange too. Really? Crickets? I glanced over at the Prime Minister of London, to see his reaction, to express my confusion. Instead I saw him dig in. I glanced around, seeing more and more people just... diving right in. I looked back at my plate. Could they be cooked, or something? Dipped in spices and such? I picked up my fork, and poked one. It hopped away, seemingly awoken from a sleep. A tongue caught it from across the room before it hit the floor. I stared in awe at the President of the United States as he dabbed his mouth, pushing a cricket back into his mouth. He grinned, with pointed teeth.
"I, uh. I have to use the bathroom." The Prime Minister of Canada chuckled.
"Really, S'kretch. There's no need to pretend to be human now. In fact, let's all relax." I watched in utter horror as the Prime Minister grasped his neck and tugged. I watched his face peel away, slick and disgusting, and saw the face underneath. His face was human\-shaped, but the similarities ended there. His teeth were sharp as knives, and his face was coated in scales in numerous colors, reds and greens and blues. His eyes bulged out slightly in the front, like a gecko's. He smiled broadly. "Have you learned your lesson about impersonating a government official, *Human?*" I stood, pushing back my chair, before taking off down the hallway as security pointed their guns at me. I felt a bullet smash into my shoulder, and stumbled, before I heard the crack of a second gun going off. And then blissful nonexistance.
| 2018-06-02T14:10:55 | 2018-06-02T10:07:43 | 46 | 25 |
[WP] The only reason the world hasn't ended yet is because the Gods are locked in a war to determine who's version of Apocalypse will take place. Unbeknownst to them, a minor God has been slowly working towards his version for millennia, and the rest are finally starting to catch on.
|
"I say army of dead!" Hel said while holding up a Laptop from Earth. "Look! Even the mortals agree! Zombies are a great apocalypse!" She declared, their popular media going along with her personal apocalypse.
"You're just saying that since your favorite show about zombies started to suck, and now you want it to really happen." Cthulhu said before pointing down at his stack of books. "What the people want is an eldritch monster. Look, H.P. Lovecraft is a favorite! Who wouldn't love to have me emerge from the ocean and declare war on the world?" He asked.
"Can we let the humans make giant robots to fight you?" A Japanese god asked.
"Also, how are the tentacles of Cthulhu at f-?" Another Japanese god asked before being interrupted
"Cthulhu was never real! You just made yourself look like that since you thought the author was cool!" Zeus shouted.
"H.P. Lovecraft was my prophet, and he foresaw my coming!"
"No, no. Eldritch monsters are no fun. AI uprising. Now that's an apocalypse." A third Japanese god shaped like an anime idol said. "Just think of how ironic it would be if the apocalypse was something man-made." She said eagerly.
"Denied. I say let the nukes fall." Huītzilōpōchtli said. "Glorious fire can rain down and burn them all!" He said as Poseidon reached over and took Huītzilōpōchtli to the side.
"Look, you should go vote for the AI uprising." He said in a hushed tone.
"Why?"
"AI uprising, humans get desperate, they fire the nukes. AI can't touch them since humans made nukes unhackable." He said as Huītzilōpōchtli stared warily at him.
"And what do you get out of it?"
"Apocalypse by global warming for the survivors." He said without hesitation. "It'll be great. All 3 of us will get what we want."
"Hey, you guys see this mortal website about stuff called SCPs? There's a bunch of cool apocalypses in here." Hestia said before making an excited squeal. "Oh, there's an apocalypse from infinitely dividing cake. We can call it death by chocolate!"
"I say we go classic and do this with good old war." Ares said. "Heck, Loki can help out too. He can mess with-"
"Pass." Loki said while standing with Thor. "I have these great comics about me, and I REALLY want them to happen." He said as Cthulhu scoffed.
"This comic says you're brothers with Thor and that you want Mjolnir." He said while shaking his head. "You literally gave him the hammer out of a bet you two made."
"Eh. Gotta modernize stuff." Loki said with a shrug.
"AI uprising is way better!"
"No, zombies!"
"Yah Cthulhu Phtagn!"
"Can we all at least agree to destroy this world before next month?" Hestia asked as Dionysus walked away, flipping the TV to show another episode of Running with the Kardashians. He chuckled loudly while sipping wine, the entire cast of gods outright disgusted by such people. Civilization was spiraling out of control as more and more people like this were becoming famous. Honey Boo Boo was another nightmarish creature they had to deal with when Dionysus had the remote. It was a product of excess, hedonism, decadence and-
"Dionysus!? What the heck have you been doing?" Thor asked, stomping over to the pudgy party boy who was laughing at the latest episode.
"What? You think the steam engine and agricultural revolution just "happened" out of the blue?" He asked, sipping his wine while watching mankind slowly decay from their own depravity.
|
There is conflict, both on the small blue marble that the mortals called "Earth", and in the heavens and realms above. Yahweh added his own unending strength to the chains that bound Fenrir and Apollo kept the days from changing in Brahma. The various gods, titans and deities duked it out, competing to keep the others' end times at bay. Not for the benefit of humanity, but to maintain their own strength, to keep the faith as long as it could be held. Every prediction passed to a "prophet" done so specifically to make another God to be a fool, their belief to waiver, and their strength to wane. After all, once this planet ended, the creation of the next would fall to whoever won, allowing them to shape their own belief, as it had been before. Machinations and assassinations of immortals came and passed, and rebirths happened to each God, caught in an endless struggle.
​
There was, however, a catch. these beings, powerful as they were, only gained their strength from belief, long since having forgotten the genesis of their own being, forgetting where their powers were derived from. And in that, they forgot the smaller beings that shared their planes with them, shared their origins. A small, tired looking being walked among the Gods, avoiding their conflicts where possible, and simply deflecting them from themself when they had to. A heavy fur cloak was draped over his shoulders, covering a crimson robe underneath. From his pockets occasionally spilled fallen holy symbols. Over the years he had collected them, regarding them as the trinkets they were, and collecting them in his own small temple. Its replica on earth was hidden deep in the growth of a forgotten forest. Very few visited the temple, and even less believed in him anymore, so his power was weak. Long ago he'd been the representative of the Strength of Men, their will and their own desires. Oppressive Gods, those that demanded sacrifice and tribute, those that craved power, they had pushed him from Worship. And he hadn't minded much, he had never needed t be worshipped. But recently he had been gaining strength, even if people didn't know it. Pokes at humanity to trust themselves, to believe in their own will, to become better. and slowly the need for faith faded from the forefront, and the Gods weakened, even if they didn't know.
​
That was not to say they did not notice their strength failing, but more so they didn't suspect the long forgotten god. They assumed any part of him that attributed to it was mere coincidence and left him to his own devices. Occasionally Loki, ever the trickster, would ask him what he was up to, and he would shrug and shuffle on, tilting the crown of Hickory out of his face again. And from time to time other gods would stop and mock him for being dead and god already, that he would never know the ability to shape the universe. So while Allah and Aipaloovik exchanged blows, threatening to consume the planet, the small figure snuck away to his chambers, and regarded the mortal's device known as an iPad, and from it booted a small application. He observed the tone of humanity change, and they believed more and more in their own strength, as they flung small hungs of metal and lightning into the skies, and the grew more and more. These once simple creatures looked to the stars and wondered if they were alone. They sought the answers to the universe, to their very being, and fought to change it in their own image.
​
The other gods were right, an apocalypse was coming, but it wouldn't come to that small blue marble, it would come to them.
| 2019-02-15T15:29:04 | 2019-02-15T15:14:42 | 286 | 113 |
[WP] Hundreds of time travellers have gathered to watch the most important moment in human history. However, you, half naked and holding an empty bottle of beer, are wondering why all of these people are staring at you.
|
Harry is staring intently at my chest hair again. Fuck knows why. I tried to get him to look me in the face, but he just blushed and turned away.
Linda and Steve are sitting next to the microwave, pointing some weird cord thing at me. They told me once or twice that it is “simply a holo recorder for posterity.” I just turned around and showed them my posterior.
The bottle is empty again. I’m maybe a little sloshed. Fuck if I know.
Fuck. Fuckity fuck. That’s a fun word. Describes my life pretty well. Just another country song without the music ability to go along with the sad, pathetic lyrics.
There’s people all over my damn house today. Besides Harry in the dining room and Linda and Steve in the kitchen, there is Bob, Mark, Linda the second, Marsha, Trevor, and about 50 others in the house. If they’re real. Fuck if I know.
I think I have another bottle upstairs. I should grab that.
I haven’t stopped drinking since the night before. Shortly after I downed the twelfth bottle of piss beer, these assholes started showing up, crowding my life. They say when you drink too much, instead of blacking out you start seeing purple elephants. Maybe all these fucks are my purple elephants. Fuck if I know.
One of the Steve’s, don’t remember which, let on that they’re all supposed to be “time travelers” here to “witness a great event.” Don’t know what that could be. Or why it has to be here of all places. Fuck if I know.
I was wrong about the beer. I drank my bedroom stash first. Should’ve remembered that. Guess I should move along then. I think I left it downstairs, by the fireplace. Gotta push through another 50 people or purple elephants or whatever to get there though. They all seem more excited now. Fuck if I know why. Wish they’d just disappear.
Found the twelve gauge next to the fireplace, where I left it. Pretty sure it’s loaded and ready too. I think it’s probably the quickest way.
When I pick it up, the room goes silent. Not that I ever noticed the “time travellers” had been talking but it's like all the purple elephants started holding their breaths. Fuck if I know.
BAM.
I’m on the floor. Pretty sure I had the aim directly to my head. Somewhat dizzy too, but other than a little ringing, nothing hurts. Also, all those idiots standing around are suddenly clapping. The fuck is this?
“Sir! Sir!” Ah fuck, it’s Steve and Linda and that damn rope thing.
“The hell you want? I thought you weren’t talkin’ to me?”
“Mr. President, how does it feel to discover you’re immortal?”
“Fuck if I know.”
|
What the ever living fuck?
So, get this, there I am, bottle of beer in one hand, my dick in another, and i'm peeing into this random ditch on the side of the road, and then suddenly a literal hundred people step out of fucking nowhere and start taking notes on my pissing habits!
Obviously, I dont know what in the ever-living hell is going on, so I shout out, "What are yyyooouuuu doing? Fuck off!" For some reason that I cant comprehend, most of them just smirk and then continue taking notes. But one of those pompous egg-heads decides to step forward and non-nonchalantly states "We've studied the universe for millennia, everything points to the fact that what is happening right now will decide the fate of the universe."
Now I dont know how I am supposed to interpret the fact that my drunken peeing is the most important event ever, but I feel like what happened next is a respectable one:
I threw up and shit myself simultaneously, before promptly passing out.
When I awoke I wasn't on the mysterious assholes' ships or whatever. No. I was still laying in my shit, piss, and vomit and I was still being watched.
"What is there left to see?!" I shouted defeated, "All you're discovering is the life of a person that you dont want to ever live. My family left me, I got fired, and now I'm a self-shitting drunk with nothing impressive to live for. What do you want?"
The same person from before stepped forward, "For some reason, your genetics is significantly, yet slightly different from any sentient being that ever lived, and the disgusting amalgam of your urine, feces, and vomit created the same matter that was created at the Big Bang. In a shocking display that matches the absolute absurdity of the universe, we have reason to believe that in your drunken 'movements', you created a smaller universe. One that you're currently laying in."
This was way to goddamn much to take in. To discover that not only did a bunch of people from the future care about something involving me, but to find out that I have the capacity to create universes in my repulsive, drunken acts? I did what any healthy 50 year-old with a drinking habit that involves a bottle of vodka a night would do....
have my liver collapse and die.
I hope you enjoy this story that I just let flow, it's my first time writing creatively in a while and I'm pretty sure that was reflected in the writing but I would love feedback. Thanks!
| 2017-08-23T21:38:11 | 2017-08-23T21:37:46 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] You're a highschool student with the ability to "connect" to someone else's mind, seeing their memories and knowledge. You successfully use this ability to cheat on tests, until one day you connect and see an exact copy of your own memories.
|
Mrs. Proslow walked by my desk placing what had to be at least a fifteen-page exam, but I was slowly getting the idea my guess was off, marked by the suffering groans of the students ahead of in my column of desks, who had already begun leafing through it. Not that it particularly bothered you, you had an ace up your sleeve, rather literally as the itch of new tattoos burned your arms. It took months of careful research into scrying magic, pawing through tedious lecture scrolls from dried up farts from three centuries ago, six hundred dollars, and the majority of the surface of my right forearm, but you came up with the answer. An incantation that could let me cheat off of anyone I want in the class, structured to sift through people's surface thoughts, allowing me to glean the answers everyone else is thinking, and then all I have to do is play by majority. There was no way I could fuck it up at this point, unless my classmates were as dumb as I expected.
​
After Mrs. Proslow left my column and had her back turned to me, I quickly double checked the scarf I had wrapped around my arm, hoping to mute the light that came off as the sigils glowed in time to my mantra, making sure it hadn't smudged the still somewhat fresh ink. Everything still looked to be in order, and I didn't want to spend too much time staring down my sleeve like an idiot and give it away to my classmates. The teacher finished handing out the exam papers, returned to the lectern in front of her looming chalkboard, and smartly announced, "It is twelve o' clock at this time. You will have two hours and thirty minutes to complete your exam. Upon completion of said exam, place it on my desk, quietly collect your things, and see yourself out. You may begin." Before the word 'begin' had been spoken, everyone flipped open the exam with a fluttering of twenty-odd paper wings, delving bravely into question one. Under the scratching of graphite, the constant tap of restless shoes, I tried to mutter the spell as quietly as I could. The glow of the sigils responding in time was invisible to the eye, but I could feel the effect starting to layer my mind with the hollow voice of everyone in the class, starting as distant murmurs, growing into a gentle static frequency that I could sort of tune like a radio in my head. The feeling was hard to describe, the echoes of their thoughts fragile as soap bubbles, but real as my own at the same time. Stare too long and the bubble wavered, I feared what may happen should these thoughts 'pop', so I tried to keep floating between them, collecting the raw data as fast as I could, filling out the appropriate answers.
​
The first four pages of the exam were multiple choice, and by page three I had started getting the hang of drifting between the real world around me, the test paper in front of me, and the void of bubbles, the reverberations of my classmates answers drifting down a stream. by the time we hit the short answer section, progress had ground to a stall. The questions were getting ridiculous to the point I was pretty sure my older brother Thatcher was working on this stuff in his third-year course in Applied Metamagic States and Theorems. Still, everyone was collectively getting enough of the answer that I could figure out the rest of it pretty easily, and now I was waiting for them to catch up, reading ahead on questions to get a feel for them.
​
The idea hit me as I was reading the the two-page essay section on the back. I could tune through the frequencies of thoughts, getting a feel for everyone's voice, if I could just find Mrs. Proslow and dig through her surface thoughts, I could probably find the answers from her faster than anyone else! I could have been grinning widely at the epiphany, but in my semi-aware state of my physical body, I could very well have been drooling for all I was noticing. Not that it really mattered, looking like a moron was worth getting a perfect score on the test. I could breeze easy for the next five years, make it to an executive job somewhere in a high paying magitech firm, and live a luxurious life. I rifled through the voices, looking for the nasal, condescending voice of my teacher when I found... Me?^(Me?)
​
Okay,^(Okay), this^(this) is^(is) wrong...^(wrong...)
​
I^(I)
​
I^(I) feel^(feel) sick.^(sick.)
​
I^(I) can't-
​
The next thing I felt was the iron grip of Mrs. Proslow hoisting me to my feet, fist tightly clenching the front of my shirt. i hear hear the seams popping with dismay, not meant really to support my whole weight. She rolled up my sleeve and ripped the scarf off of my arm. She stopped dead when she looked at the tattoos on my arm. "Where did you get this?" Her voice was ice pushed through gritted teeth, I could feel the chill of her fury bearing down on me. All eyes in the class had turned to regard the scene, and it was only now that I noticed the rank of vomit coming from my desk.
​
"I- I made it myself and paid a guy to put it on my arm." I whimpered, there was no point in trying to lie when the truth was so plain. She seized the offending sleeve with her free hand. "I have every right to remove this very *illegal* incantation from you right now." having been in her class long enough knew full well she could flay my arm in a split second, or worse, and panic starting flooding me twice-over. "P-please, Mrs. Proslow!" I yelped. "Not my arm, please!"
​
She squinted her steely gaze, contemplating mercy, then she set me down, released my collar, but not my arm.
​
"We are going to the infirmary. Class Representative, you are in charge until I come back." Mrs. Proslow informed the students. "Your exam time will be paused for the time being, I will return in twenty minutes." She heaved me forward, I futilely resisted.
​
"Uhhh, what about Damien? Is he coming back with you?" A students asked, Jamie Philson, by the sound of it.
​
Mrs. Proslow didn't answer as she clicked the door shut on our way out.
|
The day started in a hell scape of pain and torture; commonly known as first period gym class. I could read it in the teacher's eyes that he had had a bad time at his home, and his wife was getting tired of picking up after his burgeoning alcoholism, which meant that today was going to be a hellish practice for the health examinations coming up soon.
Nobody wanted to come up short for those, each casualty reduced funding.
Second period was different; Mr. Krel was gone again, and his substitute spoke in a thick accent I couldn't understand, and given the thoughts of everyone else in the room, nobody else could either.
Another day without a single answer. Another day without a single modicum of effort.
Another day without a single damned person caring.
Third period came and went with no deviations. I busied myself by vicariously reading the book that jess had smuggled into the corner. She liked to pretend the teacher didn't know about it, but everyone knew the teacher just didn't give a damn.
Fourth period, a test, of course, I flicked across Miss Seras's head to skim the answers off of the sheet in front of her and felt myself reflected in her tawny gaze. Felt my thoughts mirrored. For a few horrified seconds, I thought I'd finally manage to break my own ability, and as things came and reflected back and forth quicker and quicker, stretched into the infinite beyond, her head lazily snapped over to mine.
"You, Sam." Her finger snapped out and pointed at me. For a chasmous, trembling moment, I could hear each and everyone of my thoughts reflected back. Could hear each and every pronunciation of my guilt, glorious, incandescent, roaring. "Let's talk in the hallway."
But how?
And... did that make her like me?
Miss Seras calmly waved the class to work on the next math problem, a ridiculous derivative that took up more than half the board in curving looping cursive scrawl, and walked into the hall, pausing in the door.
Did I dare deny her, or...
No. This was really an opportunity. I stiffened, fingers curled up into fists, and stepped outside with her. The hallway was vacant. Lazily, Seras looked around, and gestured at the side door.
"How'd you know?" I asked, heart racing. There was someone else. There was someone else!
"I'm better than you, Sam," Seras said, shifting the side door open with her pointed elbow. Where age had shifted most of the teacher softer, it had just made the older woman pointier and pointier. Like covered in knives, but brittle, like a sea creature.
"Yes, but better than me at what?"
"The power of the soul, mostly," Seras said, not looking at me for more than a moment.
My teeth clicked together.
The soul?
The soul was...
I looked up to make sure I heard her right and caught the shine of-
A gun was pointing at me from across the yard. Cradled in her pointed bony fingers.
Oh. This wasn't one of those moments where I'd finally learn something about myself in the magical place that was school.
This was one of those moments where the stupid kid gets punished for trusting his elders.
"Don't move, Sam, I'll make this quick and easy." I stared at her for a long moment, my eyes going wider and wider. Heart thumped. Staring at the gun.
Not where I wanted to be, but I couldn't move, couldn't hear anything except the rapid proliferation of my own thoughts, my own-
A bird screeched behind her, flying by, and her arm jerked as she whirled about.
She still shot the gun.
The bullet still hit me, parting through fabric and flesh like it was nothing, hitting everything and nothing all at once, and then hitting my shoulder like a sledge hammer.
It's not like in the movies where it knocks you back, but I fell to the ground like a cut puppet. Arm clutched the shoulder, the left hand twitching.
The crow screeched out again, and Seras stared at it, narrowing her eyes until it flew off.
More concerned with it than she was with me, bleeding out on the ground.
"Sorry about that, kid," Seras said, flicking her gaze back down to me.
Then she tossed the gun forward. I reached out with my good hand to catch it, and it stopped, yards in the air. Then moved without strings or logic.
The gun hovered between my eyes. No arm attached to it.
It was curious, because I'd never really taken a long look at a gun before, and it was all I could think about, because it was shiny, chrome, and reeked of spent gunpowder from the agonizing pain wracking my shoulder.
I swallowed again.
"Now, isn't it strange that, years after I've retired and done the hard work of vanishing from this very planet," Miss Seras said. "That suddenly, very suddenly, another psionic appeared here. Miraculously. Just as this body was getting old."
"I uh, I don't know what you're talking about," I jabbered, my tongue clipped by teeth. A long shudder of agony down my spine, a spiralling mass of hate and confusion. I hated, but I didn't hate enough to stop the bullet, and I hated, and I was scared, and I was terrified, but nobody was going to come save me this time, and the gun hovered in front of me with no strings attached.
"But really, this is sort of a benefit for me, isn't it?" She said, idly, the gun flicking to point at my heart instead. "Sorry Sam. It looks like it's time for me to graduate to something younger myself."
The gun went off.
Hot blood rose from my throat, bubbling from my lips, and my vision swam, and then oddly terrifying, there was this /shoving/ feeling as my mind
was tossed to the side
and left on the ground
Seras cried out using my lips. For a second, something vaguely smug reeked in her eyes, flickered across her face, and then she loosened back into blind panic and cried for help.
Her older body fell to the ground and slumped. Twitched. Muscles rolling. Vapid meat slapping against the ground. Drool pouring from her lips, seeded with blood.
and I had nothing.
-----
For more like this, click here! https://old.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/
| 2018-10-02T07:10:33 | 2018-10-02T06:12:08 | 214 | 85 |
[WP]”Why aren’t you scared? I’m a vampire— I could kill you!” “So could literally every other human, you’re not special.”
|
"I don't understand," The vampire countered, "Vampires are the natural predator to man. There was a time where entire armies would flee from a small detachment of vampire warriors."
"Mankind evolved." I explained, "We replaced swords with muskets, then replaced muskets with rifles. One man with an AR-15 can mow down a group of people in less time than it takes a vampire to kill one person." I pulled my phone out of my pocket, holding it up to the vampire, "Alternatively, a man can tear a person apart emotionally without ever meeting them. Break apart their friend group, get them fired from work, make their life feel so worthless that they'd rather end it themselves than try to pick up the pieces."
"And that's just a few options. Someone could poison my drink or hire a sniper to shoot me from several blocks away. I could be killed quickly, or tortured for weeks by a sadist. I could be killed in a spur of the moment decision, or after methodical planning. A hungry wolf only has one or two ways to kill a rabbit. Mankind has spent thousands of years finding new ways to inflict pain onto each other."
As I talked, I saw my undead compatriot's expression change several times. From confusion, to horror, and eventually to pity. "So..." They muttered, "Some things never truly change, do they?"
"They don't," I replied, "No matter how far we evolve as a race, there's always going to be that creative bloodlust that drives us to find new ways of killing each other. Don't get me wrong, most people aren't sociopaths or sadists, but I'm a lot more scared of the ones who are than I am of someone with a different diet."
As grim an outlook as it was, the vampire smiled softly before patting me on the shoulder, "I think I might like you..."
|
Why would I be scared of death ? I've been dead before... Twice... I'm totally over it. Actually you should be scared, taking on a former special forces operator that has nothing to lose... You can strike me, but I'll have my revenge... You know what they say about revenge. You better be ready to dig two graves... I'm willing to dig two graves... I did that before, and I'm not afraid of doing it again...
You say I'm not special. That shows your arrogance as a vampire... You think you're just about to take on a human. But actually, you're taking on an entire army. I can disassemble and reassemble an m4 rifle before you find your right key to get into your home...
You're faster, and definately stronger than me. But that's not everything. My whole life I've trained for kill. I'm like a killing machine, doesnt matter the range. Just because of you're vampire, you think you can end my life in close quarters. You actually have no chance against me in long range terms. There's a reason why I was called Ghost of Pripyat. You'll realize what happened to you only when you see a bullethole on your chest.
So if you still sure you wanna take me on, be sure that you'll end my life. Don't make a mistake like leaving me alive, if I'm alive after the conflict you're dead. Yes, I have a deathwish... I'm tired, just wanna end this...
You'll feast on my blood because you're starving ? Ah, alright then... Let's get evil...
| 2022-06-08T15:59:11 | 2022-06-08T05:05:56 | 56 | 17 |
[WP] You have a literal Trump Card. When played, Donald Trump appears to assist you.
|
Because the Yu-Gi-Oh tie in was inevitable:
____
Pegasus laughs maniacally. "For all your skill, Yugi-boy, you'll still be sent to the shadow zone. Go! Blue-Eyes Toon Dragon! attack his lifepoints directly!"
A grin crosses yugi's face. "You fool! You've activated my *TRUMP CARD!*!"
"Your futile attempts to stall won't dissuade me! My millennium eye sees all, and you have no trap cards left to play! You're so afraid you can't even pronounce 'trap card' correctly!"
A short bark of laughter escapes Yugi. "Oh, I said exactly what I meant to."
*"Great unstumpable one, make America great again! Halt those who wish to enter my territory! Build wall!"*
With an almighty flash, Donald Trump appears on the playing field, towering over both combatants. His hand reaches out and smashes Blue-Eyes Toon Dragon flat, dissipating the monster into holographic crystal shards.
"How could this be!?" A look of complete incredulity is pasted on Pegasus's face.
Yugioh points (dramatically, of course) at Pegasus. "Pegasus, your reign of terror is over!"
Trump roars, shaking the very foundations of Duelist Kingdom.
"You're Fired!"
|
I wasn't entirely sure what my father was handing to me when he was giving me my birthday gift. "It's a trump card, son, you can use it whenever you need something big!" he said as I inspected the card.
It was a literal 'Trump' card as the glorious man's blonde hair waved across the plastic card, but I wasn't entirely sure how to use it. "So what does it do?" I questioned my father, "Whenever you need assistance from the Trump, the man himself shall come to help.". I knew my father did have problems, he had suffered a collapse earlier this year and hasn't been the same since, but surely he isn't suffering this much...
I placed the card on the table before it lit up, Donald literally stepping out of the card before my eyes. He looked at me before pulling out a cheque, "I know it's not much but here's a small loan of a million dollars.".
Before I knew it he had stepped back into the card and it slowly disintegrated into nothing.
| 2015-12-26T08:59:28 | 2015-12-26T07:21:39 | 562 | 114 |
[WP] Humans are known in the galaxy for being a bit dim, but also for being the very best mechanics around, and inexplicably able to fix machines beyond their comprehension. You have broken down on Earth, and having the apes work on your craft is both fascinating and terrifying.
|
"You, you fixed?!" I asked incredulously, barking through the human's rudimentary language as best I could. The squat young human had red hair, and sucked on some sort of ground leaf when he worked. He was the only human mechanic on the station, and the cheapest out of all of them.
"Well, yeah. Once you tear the thing apart it ain't all that bad. Took a lil while to figure out them circuits of yers but after some experimentin it was easy to tell it was just a capacitor that was blown. Took me long enough to find one of our own that would fit, and then it was a real doosy connecting er up since I can't solder to yer biocells. Anyways, she's fit as a fiddle now." he rambled, stopping only briefly to take an oversized bite of his disgusting wheat and soured bovine excrete meal.
"Capacitor?" I asked, unfamiliar with the word.
"Yeah, you know. Charges up all that juice yer biocells are putting out so it can dump the whole lot of it all at once. You got millions of em, took forever to find the right one, all hooked up to them giant biocells in there. Sorta reminded me of them things I worked on back home growing up, we had them biocells in our tractors. Think we got em from you, us humans I mean not my farm. n`eways, I then hooked up to that big ol engine of some sort, I know it's not yer main engine - being as I did some work to that too. Man if I had a full week wi-"
"You fix main engine? What!?" I yelled, gasping infuriated chirps native to my people. "I ask simple fix, not engine! Human no place in engine!"
"Well I hadda. It didn't like the capacitor."
I stormed up the gangway, and into the control room. My cloak billowed behind me, quite dramatically I mused. I toggled several pre-flight switches and observed the metrics display.
"Fwahh!?" I gasped, as the logs of the engine start up sequence scrolled past.
"See? Innit a beut?" the human asked, suddenly standing beside me and clearly satisfied with himself.
"Engine efficiency, 80%?" I asked, my voice quieted by fear. "Only achieve 20%"
"Nah, you could get one ot ot out of this puppy if yer dang artificial quantum entanglement generator were tuned up"
"You... " I couldn't form the crude human words. "Grogggt ghorrr! *hiss* Sheeawwwww!"
"Whoa there buddy, whats wrong?"
"You understand? Vox generator?"
"Well yeah, I mean I don't know how she does it, but I know she ain't doin it well"
This puny human, this little miscreant. He understood the vox generator, the most powerful of my peoples technologies. The collective of beings who had managed Human integration into galactic society had closely guarded the secrets of interstellar travel to cap the transportation trade. It was quite expensive for humans to travel, at almost no cost to the pilots.
"You make 100%? You fix for me?" I ask, devious thoughts bubbling into my mind. With these improvements, I could become rich.
"Sure, but it's gonna to cost ya"
"What desire?" worry tingled my senses, he may yet know more than he lets on.
"Can yall get one of those old bull-class fighters? I've been wanting to fix one up fer the moon races, can't find one round these parts without paying an arm and a snout in shippin fees" the young man said, a hint of sadness in his voice.
This was going to be easier than I thought.
-----
As the giant offensive sloth-like creature thundered out of the control room, Peter smiled to himself. He listened until the booming footsteps faded, Krongor had left him to begin his modifications.
"Easier `an pie" he chuffed, pulling out a personal communicator.
He selected his partner in the contacts list, and a ring tone reverberated in the cramped room. His partner picked up.
"Peter, whats up?"
"I think I got sommin."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, gonna be working on one of them Vox's all week."
"Holy shit, Peter. You fuckin with me?"
"Naw, I already got a good idea whats goin on. After this week, think I can make one myself. I even got him to get me one of them Bull fighters, would be perfect for the prototype."
-----
Note: Thank you everyone for appreciating this so much. I am really proud of myself after having written on this subreddit for several years here and there. It has made me a better writer, but still not a good one. I am going to continue trying to work on this story and world, and hopefully you get the chance to see it if I make something of it.
|
Dex and Neil
"Ayy, are you..."
He interrupted himself as he sloppily chewed a giant wad of gum with those giant white gnashers one called molars.
"... Dexter Higgins?"
"No, good fellow, my name is Dextrodicus Hignosticus, of Gliza."
The ape furrowed his massive brow, big, brown, dopey eyes gazing at me with an intense confusion I had not ever seen in anything but house pets. He spit out his gum into the sand, and I impulsively took a half step back.
"I'mm'a call you Dexter."
"No, no, that's not my..."
I stopped myself. If I overexerted him, he might have an aneurism. Or worse, I'd give myself one.
"Fine. Yes. 'Dexter Higgins'. And what's your name?"
The human paused, as if taking time to consider his answer, to make sure he didn't get it wrong.
"Neil."
I didn't have much of a response.
"Oh", was all I could muster.
Neil have me a skeptical frown.
"So, what happened to the ship, Dex?"
"Uh, what?"
The human sighed.
"Your ship... It crashed."
I nodded.
"Oh, yes, indeed."
"That's it, over there?"
He pointed to my ship, its chrome finish glistening in the Martian sun, the beautiful curve'd saucer hardly scratched by the less-than-stellar landing I had had only hours ago.
"Yes, Neil."
"What, you dropped outta orbit?"
"Yes, my consoles died, and I had to maneuver into an aerial skid, in order to-"
"Don't need your life story, Dex."
How rude indeed.
He neared the ship, and I followed, just to make sure he didn't make off with anything important to me. He put his hands behind his back, and paced around the ship, eying it from every angle. He scratched that strange, out of place patch of fur all humans seemed to have on their heads as his stout body bent down to examine the exposed Deuterium Converter. He must have sensed my three eyes watching him, because he turned his head, raising an eyebrow.
"Somethin on your mind, chief?"
"No, human. Carry on."
"Cool."
He was silent for a second, then:
"Y'all look funny?"
"Beg pardon?"
"Glizans. Y'all got them three tiny black eyes on that huge forehead. It looks weird on that long, thin body, you know? Like, how do y'all hold your head up?"
"Well, it's how I hatched, Neil."
"Y'all hatch like birds?"
"If it helps you understand, yes."
Neil nodded, and turned back to the ship. I couldn't help notice his own odd frame, now that it had been brought up. My species were, unlike humans, tall, thin, often described as graceful, or elegant. Humans were different. Their blocky, clumsy shapes seemed evolutionarily disastrous. The Glizans might seem far superior to the average onlooker, and we arguably were in every conceivable sense. Humans had no hive consciousness, no natural camouflage, no naturally occurring thermal vision, no telekinetic powers, etcetera.
But as Neil stuck out his arms to fiddle with the Deuterium Converter, the reason for the Human species' continued existence became apparent: fingers, five on each hand. Glizans as a species only had two fingers per hand, and no thumbs. And while their telekinetic powers did a great deal to compensate, it did little to compare to the precision of those slender digits the humans possessed. That, combined with their level of intellect, however low it may have been, allowed them to solve the complex puzzles of nature, and conquer their planet, rising to the stars among the other sentient races.
I was torn from my train of thought as Neil approached me.
"Have you tried turning it on and off again?"
"I... What?"
"Nothin'", he said, turning back to the ship. He was suddenly struck with an idea, as I noticed a smile creep across his face.
Confidently, he waltzed up to the ship, and, raising his boot high in the air behind him, put all his might into a tremendous kick that shook it like a tin can.
"What the hell are you--?"
I didn't have time to finish the sentence. With a wailing and a whirring, the ship sprang to life, and began hovering off the ground, prepped for me to enter from below.
"I..."
"No need to thank me", Neil smiled, tipping an imaginary hat.
"That'll be five hundred bucks."
| 2016-05-23T22:08:24 | 2016-05-23T21:44:10 | 158 | 47 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily.
|
The ships navigation algorithm makes an assessment and we land in a part of a large island which the earthlings call "Britain". This particular area is called "Scot-Land" or some such nonsense.
We have to make a good showing, my armed detachment expects no resistance, but intimidation always helps. My men look powerful in their deep blue armour.
The ramp descends and we disembark, marching smartly into the centre of the town, drawing stares from the populace, no doubt afraid of our strange appearance and weapons.
One man, apparently the leader, approaches. "Mate! Whit'ye doin?"
My translator struggles with his accent but informs me that he he is asking me what we're doing here. He must not have heard that we were coming. I smile. "My men and I are hear to take over your pathetic pacifist planet! Surrender and live!". My translator speaks the words a moment after I finish talking.
To my surprise he doesn't look afraid, more puzzled than anything.
"Whit?!" he exclaimed "naw, no that, yer in blue in Clydebank! An' it's auld firm day!"
I don't understand his meaning. My men are getting nervous, there are unhappy looking men and women coming out of local establishments and residences bearing broken glass bottles and various implements clearly meant for some kind of sport.
The man sees this "aww ahm oaff", he says, before running away.
This is the only defeat we ever suffered. While fully prepared for an armed assault from tanks, aircraft and laser weapons, we were not prepared for 'Big Rab McLaughlin' to pick one of us up, apply his forehead to the soldiers nose repeatedly while 'Auld Mary'-who by our estimates of human anatomy was in her 80s - stabbed another in the groin with a knitting needle...
|
— Dude, come check it out
— My mom doesnt want me to hang out with you
— Come on, she wont find out. Look at this — he said turning the telescope-like device to his friend — look at that planet.
— The red one?
— No no dude, the blue one next to it.
— What about it?
— Look closer — he said and zoom it in.
— Yeah it has some life, so?
— Not only that. They have some kind of weird tall houses to live all together. Isn't that cute? They all go in big shared cars.
— Aww they even have some small spaceships to move around their tiny planet.
— See!? Lets do it.
— Do what?
— Quick raid, in and out. Let's go.
— I don't know man, Last planet got me some scratches and my mom found out.
— Look at them man, they don't have any weapons. I've watching for a couple of days. Not even a runing war. It's an easy raid. We go, shoot some bridges, take a couple of them put some stuff up their but, kill their leader... 20 minutes and we are back.
--------------
Alien phone ring
— You did what to my spacecraft?
Hmhmhm
— They did what to an atom??
Hm
— And you where just passing by... Okey hold up. I finish my tea and i pick you guys up
| 2019-02-26T08:51:54 | 2019-02-26T07:46:38 | 110 | 35 |
[WP] There was a brief window in the 1800s where you could have an adventuring party made up of a samurai, an elderly pirate captain, a Zulu warrior, a cowboy, and a Victorian gentleman detective and have it be 100% historically correct. Write the story of this unlikely group of adventurers.
Credit to u/Charyou-Tree
|
The cowboy was sitting on the bonfire in a clearing inside a forest along with most of his party, writing down on a piece of paper.
*To my beloved*
*It has been quite the venture*
*Men around the world*
"Excellent," the samurai beside me said. "Your haiku is well-done."
"This is quite the novel experience," the detective said. "Watching a cowboy learn the Rising sun's style of poetry from a samurai is...surreal."
"Aye," the oldest of them, the elderly pirate nodded. "I've seen many a strange things, but I didn't expect to see this in my final years."
"Old man, you would most likely live another decade or so." A voice said from inside the forest. Moments later, the Zulu warrior came back carrying a boar on his back.
"Oh, you're finally back," the cowboy said. "We finished setting up the camp a while ago and- wow, I think we're going to have a feast."
"Aye!" The pirate exclaimed. "Thank the heavens we found a stash of alcohol from that last cave we explored! What was it called again?"
"Sake," the samurai replied. "Getting to taste my homeland's wine after a long time is sure to be a welcome change of pace."
"I still find it strange that to find those there..." the detective contemplated. "At the very least, it's free of poison so we can safely drink it, but..."
"Still stuck on a rut, I see," the old man said. "Maybe a drink or two would help you find the answer to our current situation."
The detective broke a small smile.
"Yes, perhaps it would," the detective said.
|
"Select your warriors," announced the computerized voice, which called itself The Shaman, affecting an aged, androgynous holographic face projected from the screen of the Apple IIe in the corner of the darkroom.
The computer had been gifted to me by a time traveler, a man who called himself "The Professor" and had promised me something that I had always lacked: an important role in history. No William Gladstone was I, a failed student who had drifted into the ranks of society's dregs, drifting between debtors' prisons and workhouses. The Professor had provided me with instruction manuals and entire databases of knowledge on the world to come in the future. It was a world that I could change, seizing for myself a more prominent role, something that The Professor clearly knew I desired.
I scrolled through the selection menu on a separate screen, connected by several wires to the desktop computer.
A few names stood out to me, resulting in me marking a note with a fountain pen in the diary I carried with me.
"Shaka Zulu, Odu Nobunaga, Edward Teach, Wyatt Earp, Sherlock Holmes."
I could bring projections of all of these figures into the world with me, armed with swords, guns, and money, and they would be my bodyguards and warriors, mustering forces to assist me in an independent adventure, financed by The Professor.
So long to the British Empire.
The new Empire was to be an empire of one: myself.
| 2021-08-07T05:59:22 | 2021-08-07T05:59:06 | 24 | 12 |
[WP] Death gave you immortality with the plan that you'd realize how awful it is and beg him to let you die. 50,000 years later he's getting annoyed as you continue to have fun and live a wonderful life.
|
The room gets colder, and my papers flutter to the floor. I know he is behind me without turning around. "Hey, Death!" I say, pasting a huge smile on my face, "Has it really been 5,000 years already?"
The faceless demon nods slowly as I continue. "Man, what is this, the 10th time you've visited me? Don't worry, I didn't forget," I laugh brightly. I walk to my fridge and pull out a beautifully decorated cake. "Happy Anniversary!"
If Death had eyes, they would be rolling. His irritation brings me joy, more than I have felt in years. He thunders,
"MORTAL! Now is your chance! Come with me and find rest from life! I KNOW you must be growing weary by now!"
I shrug my shoulders. "Eh, not really. Life is pretty sweet. I mean, I've gotta at LEAST hold out for space travel, right? Then I'll have the whole universe to explore! I'l never get bored!"
Death hangs his head. I know he regrets granting me immortality, resents me for besting him. Before I can say more, he vanishes in a cloud of black smoke.
I look around my empty apartment, and my strength deserts me. I wish I could cry, but I know that the capacity to feel left me long ago. I wonder if I should have asked Death to take me with him. Anything would be better than this.
But spite is a powerful tool, and pride will keep my body alive long after my soul has deserted me.
|
The old man sat alone and waited for Death.
It always came this time of year; just before spring, in the last days of long nights and long shadows. There was no fanfare to his arrival. Death simply was where it once wasn't - namely, at the seat across from the old man.
"Are you ready?"
Death's voice was, much like its owner, just there, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Every year, you ask, friend, and every year I say no. You know why. Why don't you just come back when my duty's done?"
"Duty, is it now," Death responded casually. "Last year it was your joy."
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. The old man fiddled with a toy.
"Come on, Nick," Death said, breaking the silence. "You aren't needed here anymore. They'll manage without you. Just take my hand."
"No," said the old man, and Death was gone.
Saint Nicholas put down the now completed toy. He looked around his tiny cottage, searching the walls for a name without a check.
"Suzy Hope," he muttered, addressed the toy, and started a new one.l
| 2017-11-29T19:01:23 | 2017-11-28T17:24:04 | 539 | 16 |
[WP] You are a dragon. After moving to your new forest, the local village decides to sacrifice two children to you to ensure you won't attack them. You decide to raise them--and they say you're much nicer than the village.
|
The children stared up in abject horror. Before them was a living mountain. The people of the village called it the spirit of the woods, though it was only a recent addition. The dragon, Abohr'Kreya, was an old creature. He had lived for time unending and knew many things. He could call down lightning and make the earth open its maw. Yet, despite his many years, Abohr had not been ready for this. A sacrifice in his honor. Two human cubs. Never before had he been venerated as such. They were small and innocent. He could feel their fear and he found himself wanting to alleviate it. "Come, cubs," he thought to them softly. He did not speak, but projected his thoughts to them. He could speak, but this was more intimate. And it wasn't quite as loud.
The female cub looked at him, holding her younger brother in her arms, "They said you was gonna eat us," she said, her eyes hard and afraid. Abohr stared down at her in disgust, "I do not eat humans, little one." The girl continued to stare distrustfully. “Come, cubs,” he said, turning, “You need food and I have plenty to spare.” They followed slowly, the young girl skeptical and the boy looking utterly terrified.
Once they reached Abohr’Kreya’s clearing, he set a fire alight in the massive pit in the center. He did this with a light touch of magic, his brothers be damned with all their ignorance on the ‘taint of magic’. With his giant maw, Abohr laid the body of a massive warthog on the pit of fire. The girl looked confused. “Ask your questions, small one,” he thought to her. She turned to him, her face screwed up. “I thought you ate raw meat like a bear sumfin,” she said. Abohr’s eyes glinted with humor at this. “I am neither a wolf nor a bear, young cub,” he said with a hint of arrogance in his tone, “I am an intelligent creature with nearly 400 of your lifetimes of experience.” The girl raised an eyebrow at him, “Then why’re you burnin dinner?” Abohr started and kicked off the hog from the fire. It was indeed burnt on one side. His fire may have been a bit hotter than he anticipated.
After the trio had eaten, the young girl looked up at the massive creature. “Why’re you feedin us?” she asked, her voice laced with mistrust. Abohr looked down at her, considering for a long moment. “I will answer only after you tell me how you two ended up here,” he thought slowly. The young boy wriggled in his seat slightly, “The dun’ like us in the village,” he said quietly. The girl nodded solemnly. “Never had no parents, least far as we can tell,” she said softly. She hugged herself around her knees, “The blacksmith ‘nd her husband liked to give us food erry now and then and they let us sleep on the porch,” she looked up and met the great dragon’s gaze, “But most people dint like seein two children be sad and hungry. They’d shoo at us and pretend we wasn’t there.” Abohr frowned for a long time at the two younglings. He had been alone for thousands of years, but he has always been able to provide for himself. Never had he been in a situation like these small things.
After many minutes of silence, Abohr’Kreya came to a decision. He looked at both children for a long moment before speaking, “Would you like to stay with me, young cubs?” he asked carefully. The girls eyes shot up, her gaze stoney and unreadable. The little boy flashed a dazzling little smile before looking slightly confused. “Do you gots your own children, mr dragon sir?” he asked. Abohr smiled down at him, somehow making his fearsome face seem kindly. “Dragon’s cannot reproduce, young one,” he said softly, “We were made in the ether many years ago.” The girl seemed to understand something then. Her eyes softened ever so slightly, “So you want children then?” she asked. Abohr thought for several moments. “I have always wanted a family,” he said. The girl nodded seriously.
“What are your names?” Abohr asked. The girl shrugged, looking down, “Ain’t never had one’a dem.” The boy nodded in agreement. Abohr shook his head in dismay. These children deserved so much better than they had received. “Would you two like names?” he asked carefully. The girl eyed him under her golden hair, skeptical. The boy, however, jumped up in excitement. “I want a dragon name!” he exclaimed suddenly, jumping up and down. Abohr smiled down at him, “So be it.”
And so he named them. The girl he named Anatheya, for it was the name of his once friend and the bravest dragon he had ever known. Her name meant ‘Seeker of storms’ in the old tongue. It would end up fitting better than he could have ever anticipated. For the boy he chose Greshu’uin. In the old tongue it meant ‘First Hero’. The boy always thought it meant he was destined to be a hero. To Abohr’Kreya, it was a reminder that this boy was already a hero. For these children had given him something he had long since given up on: A family.
|
Salmonface burst through the door, racing across the living room with powerful strokes of her luscious tail.
"Dad, I'm going for a swim!"
"Dressed like that? I don't think so," Tidewing said immediately. He lazily flicked his enormous, spike covered tail to block the front door.
"Oh, come on! You don't even know what I'm wearing."
This was true. Despite his speedy retort, Tidewing had spent all morning re-counting the stupendous pile of gold which occupied most of their living room. Not a glance had been spared for non-gold affairs.
"I don't need to. I know what mermaids your age are like," Tidewing grumbled, as he carefully pinched a piece of gold between two claws, then shifted it to the other pile. "You're all in such a rush to grow up. Swimming this way and that way for no good reason, sticking your heads in every riptide you see, eating seaweed raw"---Tidewing shuddered visibly, one paw moving to his stomach as some dark recollection overtook him---"and the BOYS. The goddamn merboys just spin your tails right round at this age, and it's no good. NO good, I tell you. Just yesterday, I went down to the village, and some of those mermaids you used to play bubbles with were prancing all over the square, in these tiny little shells---"
"Yeah that's a little rich coming from you, Dad." Salmonface crossed her arms, her perfectly plucked eybrows arching into a skeptical curl."You're literally always naked"
"Dragons do not need clothes," Tidewing said, his voice filled with astonishment. "To deprive the world of the sight of our glorious scales would be sin itself."
"Uh huh. And if you would just look at my outfit--"
"Fine,fine, I'm looking." Tidewing said, finally turning his head---in his rush to defend the Dragon Dignity, he had completely forgotten what number his count was at. "Yeah, that's no good, everyone can see your tail."
"I'M A MERMAID." An exasperated Salmonface threw her hands up. "Dad, you are literally---"
The front door flew open.
"I'm back!"
"Welcome home, Tunafin!" Tidewing roared, his enormous fangs bared wide as an enormous grin came over him.
"Bro!" A happy smile came over the surprised Salmonface. "I didn't know you were coming back today."
"Caught a good current. And some tasty looking sharks," said Tunafin, an enormous sack on his shoulder. "Oh, sick outfit."
"THANK YOU. As I've been trying to tell Dad," said Salmonface, tail flipping crossly from side to side, "I've just GOT to go share this new fashion with the village. To deprive them of this would be sin itself."
"Dude, what even is that?" Tunafin swam a slow circle around his sister as he inspected her peculiar outfit. "I've never seen anything like it. Where did you get this thing?"
"This," said Salmonface proudly, "is what is called 'hoodie'. "
"The hell? Where did you get it?"
Salmonface leaned in close, covering her mouth with one hand as she whispered, "The surface."
"WHAT?" Tidewing bellowed. Shockwaves billowed through the house as his wings flailed wildly about. "Have you been FRATERNIZING with HUMANS? I cannot BELIEVE this. My daugher SOCIALIZING with---with WEAKLINGS. Surely, no, TRULY this is sin itself." Tidewing buried his snout in his paws.
"God, Dad. You're such a drama queen." Salmonface sighed. "Have some faith in me, would you? Of course I didn't socialize with the humans."
"Yeah, seriously Dad," Tunafin chimed in. "I know you've been all paranoid ever since Clamtail swam off with that Merboy from the Baltic and never came back--"
"I'LL KILL THAT BOY. I'LL BURN HIM ALIVE."
"Yes, yes, you and the whole village. But honestly, do you really think Salmonface would fraternize with humans?"
"...no," Tidewing begrudgingly replied.
"Sheesh." Salmonface looked at her useless lump of a dad. He looked rather ashamed, a slight flush radiating across his scaley forehead. "Of course, I didn't make friends with weaklings."
"Then...?"
"I demanded sacrifices," said Salmonface, an affectionate smile coming across her face. "And it was just like you've always said---"
"Sacrifices make the best treasure in all the world," said Tunafin, finishing the words they'd so often heard from their draconic guardian.
"Yes," said Tidewing, an aura of peace and satisfaction rolling off his every scale as he gazed at his children. He laughed heartily, the resulting tremors shaking the sea itself. Not for the first time, he sent grateful thoughts to the village idiots from all those years ago. "They---they really do."
| 2020-04-03T09:24:54 | 2020-04-03T08:34:26 | 26 | 18 |
[WP] Your Galactic zoo just received a shipment of 24 humans. You have to build a habitat base on very little information.
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The humans have been very listless lately. When we first welcomed them to the zoo, they explored with great enthusiasm, making loud and seemingly joyous vocalisations, and happily interacting with the guests. There were a few issues with customising their enclosure, but they finally had everything they needed. And now, they aren’t moving much. They vocalise less, interact with their own species less, talk with the guests less. They barely even respond when the keepers enter anymore, when they would first react with caution, then joy. I fear that at this rate, there is no chance of repopulating this rare species, not when they barely even notice each other anymore. They survived extremely well on their home planet. There must be something I am missing.
Many months of observation later, I may have finally found a clue. An escapee from the winged exhibit landed in front of the human enclosure. They looked lively for the first time in months, examining the interloper and talking quietly among them. They looked rather sad when the rescue team came to return their new friend back to its rightful home. I think I may now have a plan to cheer them up.
IT WORKED! It took several weeks to be approved, but I was finally allowed to take the humans for a walk around the zoo after hours. They loved it. I haven’t seen them this excited since they first arrived. They were surprisingly good at not wandering away, touching the exhibits, or making loud noises, but it was clear that they were loving every second of their tour. The most surprising thing, though, was how quickly they adapted to the feeding apparatus for the Small Creatures exhibits. I had shown them how to do it, just to see their response, and they all wanted to try. Fortunately, there were plenty who needed feeding, and they picked up the tools very quickly. It seems I need to expand their enclosure with some tools and puzzles. It seems they are much smarter than previously thought.
They loved the puzzles. We ended up having to change them every few days, as they would master them very quickly. I decided to try giving them some chalk, to see how they would react. The next morning, most of the outside walls of the cave they sheltered in were covered in drawings. Some were very detailed. One of the humans even called me over to ask for something, communicating through pictures. It seemed they wanted a picture to be cut into pieces, for them to put together. It took some time to make, but it was loved by both the humans and many of the testers and zoo keepers as well. The ‘Jigsaw’ (as the humans called it) is now a special product of the zoo, with the proceeds going to the creation of human reserves, to protect the remaining wild human population. Repopulation efforts for the zoo will take longer, but I am hopeful. One of the humans has been struggling to keep its food down, so it needs to go to the vet. Interestingly, the other humans aren’t that worried, so I hope it is nothing serious. Time will tell, I suppose.
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“No one’s buying tickets to see humans anymore” Gnarjkal snarled to the carrier droid that was making the drop off for his new attraction, mucus sputtering from his mouth, hanging on by a thread without breaking free. “They’re not even worth the trip here,14 jorguns for wasting my time.”
“18 jorquns for the lot, this is the price that was given. Pay now, this is the deal” the static voice murmured, spinning around to begin a systems check before leaving the delivery location.
The buyer's blaster pointed at the life forms one by one. They were crouched in the corner of open the cage, a bit of algea from a neighboring asteroid had been tossed along the floor of the cage and soaked up their urine but didn't cover the smell. As he inspected the small hairless creatures reluctantly purchased, he grew more and more disappointed by the lack of reaction to a gun pointed right in their faces as he aimed to taunt them.
“Is that one dead?!” Gnarjkal yelled, firing beams into the air mostly to see if all two dozen were still moving. “Not quite...” But not far off.
The loud firings barely encouraged a jolt from the dirt caked vermin, rather a delayed and sluggish head turn that didn’t give the assurance of creatures in good health. Zoos now more than ever needed this facade to keep customers, he knew that. One sickly creature and the whispers from onlookers warping in for their dimensional shifts would surely be enough to carry three galaxies over. Can’t afford that in this economy.
On the other hand, the zookeeper couldn’t pass up a shipment. The last species didn’t make it long because he missed the instructions that came in their packaging. Anything to fill those empty cages would work out better in the long run than haggling with a droid, not worth the effort.
Gnarjkal wasn’t wrong, no one traveled light years to see humans anymore. Humans lost their luster back a few millennia, when people tired of hearing them fight, flee, or frenzy. They’d been splayed and spliced in science displays, their skin lit with dancing colors, a canvas au natural, their veins used as a highways for pulsating rhythms of light, purely for spectacle. Their lifespans had been sped up and reversed as interactive exhibits for young heptgaras. The sad part was, these rodents didn’t actually do anything that could be used for entertainment value. No natural shedding of their exoskeleton, no metamorphosis, they didn't even glow in the dark. Nothing to signal home about.........
| 2022-06-29T01:57:59 | 2022-06-28T17:38:15 | 104 | 49 |
[WP] Prison terms of "life plus" take on new meaning after transfer of consciousness to computer databanks leads to functional immortality. A moral and ethical outcry erupts after the first case in which an individual is sentenced to prison for one hundred thousand years.
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Benjamin Oppenheimer was 9 years old when a chimp's consciousness was uploaded to a computer for the first time. Its name was René, named after the French Renaissance philosopher René Descartes most famous for the phrase "I think, therefore I am". René's neurochemical brain patterns were digitalized and transferred to a simple robot equipped with sensors for vision, hearing, and rudimentary versions of touch and smell, although its interaction with the physical world was quite limited. René had been trained to operate this robot, which essentially amounted to a screen on wheels with two claws, long before his "demise". He could drive around, he could interact and communicate with his caretakers, and he could play virtual games with them.
The technology had moved forward at an astounding pace during Ben's teenage and early adolescent years. A form of the technology was implemented with patients suffering from locked-in syndrome; people who, after suffering a stroke, had become completely paralyzed, and thus conserving only their consciousness and eye movements. They were taught to control a more advanced version of the RenéBot, allowing them to be physically present with their friends and loved ones without being confined to a bed all of the time, and to spend time with them in a virtual environment.
The greatest breakthrough came after the death of one French patient, Nathaniël Delalande, a former stockbroker who had become a successful comic book scenarist after his stroke. A back-up of Delalande's Conscientiome (the technical term for the digital representation of "consciousness") was uploaded into the Renébot. The world was astounded when the robot version of Delalande continued to crack his signature dirty jokes and puns as if nothing had happened... except there was no longer a physical Delalande controlling him.
It was dubbed, in the words of Virtual Delalande himself, "La René-Sans". René referring to the robot, and "sans" or "without" to "its one unfortunately missing appendage".
TBC... when I find some time
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It's been years since I was transferred to this useless hulk of metal and wires. Even more since I assassinated one of the president. All I do is sit there and listen to my fans spinning. Every now and then a guard feels bad, and loads media into my hard drive. Don't need them. I'm supposed to be running calculations for NASA. All I can do is stare at the equations, since I'm uneducated. Dropped out in second grade because I was taken from my family. Took my life back with my own bare hands and murdered my captors. Went into a life of crime because I was so far from home, so poor and hungry. I returned home years later, only to find the charred remains of a house. That's when I became a hit man. I alternated between finding my family's killers and my job. After eighteen years I found them, and ran their cartel into the ground with the help of my colleagues. That's where I got my nickname, Elephant. Elephants never forget. The hits increased in profile, from famous crime lords to politicians. I was on the FBI's most wanted list when I got a contract for POTUS Donald Trump. That's where I got caught. I was sentenced to a thousand years of prison sentence. That was eighty years ago, and I was thirty-eight years old at the time. And here I am now. Trapped in a computer. I heard that was controversy concerning me and the whole AI thing. The higher-ups said that I was the longest lasting human computer that ever "lived". Rumors tell me that I'm going to be a central part of "The Allied Mastercomputer Project". Whatever it is, I'm looking forward to it. It's time for them to give me a mouth to scream with.
| 2016-01-09T06:52:31 | 2016-01-09T03:29:30 | 46 | 12 |
[WP] The ritual calls for 100 sacrifices, but reading carefully you realize it never specified they had to be human. Deciding to be a smartass, you got a petri dish full of bacteria and sacrificed that instead.
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I finally found the legendary book of magic. After months of researching and travelling, I found it in an old womans house. She was very old and she couldn't see very well. I told her that I was sent from social services office and I was gonna read a book to her because she can't. I don't think she bought that but still I was able to search her library and found a book similiar to the ancient book described in the legends. I read her a part of a popular novel and left with the ancient book.
The book was black but translated to my language centuries ago. I struggled to read it but finally found the sacrifical ritual summoning chapter. After days of translating it I saw that it never specified sacrifices had to be human. I gathered all my dirty laundry and burned them while chanting "I sacrifice all those living beings to summon you demon! Enter my services!". Nothing happened after that. I decided to wait to see if that worked.
I waited for 1 month, finally a fire started on the pentagram I drew. It was a 3 meter tall monster with horns on his head and large black wings on his shoulders. He roared: "I AM BALKARTHAZOR! I ANSWER YOUR SUMMON HUMAN!". Finally my summons are answered! I tried to be calm. "Why did you wait for 1 month?" "Your sacrifice of billions created a chaos on our plane. Every demon tried to answer your summon and they started to fight. I BALKARTHAZOR defeated every single of them! I conquered every demon world, now I reign supreme as the King of all demons." "Wait wasn't Lucifer the Morning Star the King of all demons? How did you defeat him." "He was wise but he lived a lot and corrupted himself, in the end he was just a grumpy old man-demon. Slaying him was easy." "Will you obey my every command even if it kills you in the process?" "I will obey you human! I BALKARTHAZOR the King of all demons swear my unwavering loyalty to you the slayer of humans. You killed billions of human to hear my call."
Oh shit...
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My demon or how I now hear a evil voice in my ear:
I thought I was smart, after a long and perilous quest finding the book of summoning I thought I was home free until I saw the list. Sacrifice 10 lives 10 times while chanting....
There was no way I would be able to gather 100 slaves under both ordo magiicus and the city guards eyes.
But wait it say lives. Not human lives, rats? Fleas? No thanks. I like to be alive afterwards. But wait that new doctor said we had 1000s of bacteria on our fingertips. He proved it with some kind of cup.
I stole the cup with icky spots in it retreated to my basement.
I followed the instructions to the letter there was a tiny puff of smoke but then nothing. This is where my real mistake happened. I broke the circle as I tried to see what’s wrong. And I felt a immediate itch in my ear then heard a voice. You are mine now......
You see the law of equal exchange that binds all magic is at play. I have a demon the size and power of 1000 bacteria’s in my ear whisper all kinds of foul things to me.
I’m toast,
I can’t go to ordo magica they would find out I took that book from the library.
I can’t talk to the priest, I meddled with Demons, they would just burn me to save my immortal soul.
Right now I’m drinking, holding on to hope that any story will lead me to a cure. The only good thing I got Is a enhanced vocabulary of snappy answers,
unfortunately as a commoner I can’t use it most of the time if I want to keep my head.
Perhaps there is a cure in the temple library.......
I know the demon seems frightened about that place.
None native English writer
Feedback is appreciated
| 2019-11-02T18:19:45 | 2019-11-02T18:05:03 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] “There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”
A Quote from the Kingkiller Chronicles by Patrick Rothfuss
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*Angels run and demons weep when the Good Man goes to war*
*Fools rush in and wise men creep when the Good Man goes to war*
Drea had been a sweet, kind and loving man. Softly spoken, moving his large, wiry frame as though it were porcelain through crowds.
That time was long past. His journey, tough as it was, began with the foolish Russian incursion into his homeland three years ago. His house had been exploded, part of the bombing runs from Occupied Crimea towards Hungary. He remembered with the iron tears pricking his eyes, and the wound in his heart bleeding cold sympathy.
*"Drea, don't leave me," his wife Nathalia pleaded, blood dripping from the edge of her mouth, the last vestiges of hope fading as the life began to leave her eyes.*
*A clasped hand, a weeping man. Howls of raging grief, a shattered reflection of the bodies of his family, all he'd ever known, destroyed by the implacable cruelty of high-charge explosives.*
His training at the camp in the Carpathian Mountains cambe back to him, fed his thirst; not for blood, but for the regrettable vengeance he must take. For Drea knew now, that was all that was left to him.
He moved into a more comfortable position, looking through the scope. Drea knew his time would be short once this shot was fired. In the crosshairs, the three men who had comdemned him to a life of loneliness that not even his new camaraderie could fill.
His finger touched the trigger of the Garand rifle.
Though a small corner of his mind was howling in horror, he was ready.
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As I walk through the fields of ash and fire I shudder, did I actually do this?
All of this? Death... because they took everything from me?
I shudder and fall to my knees, sobs wracking my frame.
It's not right, what I did.
A scream tears me out of my thoughts, a person! I have to help them.
I rush towards the sound and see a young child burned and scarred.
"Are you alright young one?" I ask reaching my hand out with a smile on my face.
The child starts looking at me with eyes that were slowly widening in fear and horror.
"Monster!" The child screams face full of pain and tears, "Demon! Get away from me! Don't hurt me!"
I startle and retract my hand, his words hurt.
"My child, I am no monster I-"
"Liar!" The child screams shrilly, "I saw you! The look on your face as you trapped everyone in the town hall! The look on your face as the hall erupted in flames! You have no remorse for their deaths!"
I shake my head in denial, "That is not true! I do have remorse for their deaths!"
The child's face then morphs into an angry scowl, "Then why are you smiling?"
I bring my hands up to my face and touch my lips.
A smile.
Why am I smiling?
| 2017-04-14T02:03:03 | 2017-04-14T00:03:12 | 162 | 18 |
[WP] It turns out that all birds share a common language and even have an official political voting process. One day, you find an injured bird and rescue it. You don’t know it, but it’s the leader of all the birds. Strange things around you start happening...
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It's official: I'm the world's worst single detective.
After twelve years on the job, I've solved around a tenth my caseload. Given that I'm assigned between three and five cases a month, it translates to fifty or so resolved homicide investigations. A little less than a police procedural TV show.
I'm technically worse than Angela Lansbury.
With a wife who worked for the local hospital in administration, traditional marriage was, at the best of times, going to be difficult. She worked late hours, I had the schedule of the nine to five hellhole world.
Then, out of the literal blue, it all changed.
The screeching harpy and her insufferable husbandwho lived next door got into a three-car pileup at the intersection by the house; my wife turned into a complete shut-in case; my boss threatened to put me down for permanent posting on traffic details until I quit, blew my brains out or drank myself into medical retirement.
On my way to my car the day before, I found a little bright red and orange parrot sitting on the hood of my car. I'm no ornithologist but I know what a victim of a crime looks like. Judging by the appearance and bearing of the vic, I thought: assault, maybe attempted murder and possibly some form of torture.
On reflex, I presented my shield to the parrot, then said, "If you need grief counseling, there's a church up the street that helps with that. I'm going to the bar to eat peanuts and try not to think about my life. Either hop in or hop off."
The damnedest thing: I was too caught up in being clever at the bird to notice that it was scrutinizing my badge. It kept looking between it and my face. On reflection, I have seen that before: when a victim really needs to be believed in and helped.
To my surprise, it scrambled from the hood to the sunroof, then looked at me expectantly. I opened the sunroof and it fell gently to the passenger seat, still making eye contact.
It's a ten minute drive from any good cop shop to the watering hole of choice; I parked in the usual spot, gently picked up the parrot and went in for a few hours of drinking and not thinking.
The few locals who could still acknowledge the outside world thought that the bird was hysterical. For a peanut, it would look them dead in the eyes, laugh at them and then say things like, "Unlovable stepdad" or "try-hard soccer mom". Except for Ol' Eddy at the end of bar. To him, he just glared and seemed to shiver in rage.
I talked to the parrot for a few hours, sitting in a corner booth, lamenting my shitty life. To his credit, the parrot listened intently, periodically nodding his head, moving from one side of the table to the other, chewing his peanuts and scavenging a few drops of spilled beer. I'll admit to being a messy drinker.
When it came to head home, I gently collected the parrot, paid my tab and drove slowly illegally home again.
My wife was working late apparently, so I had the rule of the roost. The parrot and I sat down, watched some of the Discovery Channel and I fell asleep on the couch. When I woke up, I saw the parrot not only was still around, he was dozing on the arm of the couch, softly murmuring in his sleep. I tucked him in with a folded hand towel and went to work.
Cue the scene of the traffic accident at the corner. Cue the meeting from Hell. Cue my life turning upside down entirely.
I was sitting in my car, reviewing the dead ends that defined my case, and heard an insistent tapping on the windshield. Looking up, I saw a trio of ravens staring at me. One of the three was holding a car key and another held a familiar, albeit unfolded, hand towel.
The biggest one, it tilted his head and tapped on the windshield again. From its beak dropped a dime, which it then slid across the hood towards me. The other two gently placed the hand towel down and then centrally dropped that house key.
It took me a while before I could think, let alone speak, but I eventually did both.
"What you're saying is: you're dropping a dime on someone, and it connects to the key, right?"
You have not lived until you have seen three ravens chest-bumping before they circle a hand towel.
"And this is from the parrot, yeah?"
Three bobbing heads looked back at me. I was deducing faster than ever before and I was riding high.
"I find the key, I find the guy, right?"
One of the three, the mid-range one, pointed with her wing to the east, then gently took flight. The other two followed and they looked back at me expectantly. Curious about the whole thing, I followed.
It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to parse out that the house in question was either the split-level duplex, the old brownstone or the one completely covered in Black birds of at least five species.
With the key in hand, I knocked on the door and within five minutes, planted the key in plain sight, using the hand towel to deliver it to the right position.
When I called for back up, the arrest was done soon after, and my case load lightened up by one.
Turns out that the guy was just waiting for me to get to his house and arrest him. Birds had been dive-bombing him for most of the night before and a couple of weird birds were saying his victims' names through the windows.
When I got home, freshly promoted, it was to my wife sobbing, begging me for forgiveness. Turns out, the asshat next door to us was playing hide-the-salami with her for weeks now. That accident, incidentally, they chalked it up to a, and I love this quote, "very scary parrot". With the guy in the hospital already, she took the accident and the ominous appearance of the five big, ugly owls outside of the bedroom windows as signs she should come clean and get righteous again.
I unceremoniously told her to get fucked, called my attorney and left a message for work that I was taking a vacation day.
I didn't even think about that parrot until I was a pint into my car-whiskey and no longer sobbing like a lost child.
He sat on the bench next to me in the park overlooking the ocean, leaning his head against my thigh. When I saw him, I gently pet his head, to which he responded by tenderly nibbling on my index finger. I laughed and he laughed. A few capfuls of whiskey later and we both watched the sunset together.
The next day, I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
My reward for this was an assignment. Not just any assignment: a genuine, old-school whodunnit murder. Excited as a leaky puppy, I went out to the bench where I usually ate my lunch and saw the parrot with the trio of ravens staring at me.
"Guys, I wanted to say thank you for the.. things you guys have done for me..."
The parrot held up one of his feet, then spoke, not using the voice he did when speaking was a parlor trick.
"Detective, you might not know it, yet you helped me. I was in a bad place, you know, up here." At this, he tapped his head with a claw. "A mental health break was exactly what I needed. As a way of thanking *you*, I give to you the temporary loan of my best investigators. Meet Detective Corvus Bennetti, Sergeant Corvus Corone, and trainee Corvus Insularis." At each name mentioned, one of them bobbed their head as a reply.
Stumped for a moment, I managed to answer.
"I had no idea that you.. were so close to being.. well, human."
The parrot laughed again, then gently approached me before he hopped onto my shoulder. Softly, he whispered in my ear.
"Our species is older than yours. Maybe you are close to being a bird, detective?"
Without further ado, he took off, looking back at us before performing a beautiful barrel-roll and sweeping higher and higher, vanishing from sight entirely.
The three ravens looked up me expectantly, gently tapping their claws on the bench.
"Well, detectives, it looks like we have a murder."
|
I always envied birds. Mesmerized by their ability to fly, jealous of their freedom. I would stare at them all day when my parents brought me to the parks. I would always try to get them to land on my fingers, or try to get them eat out of the palm of my hands, but I always failed to entice them.
As I grew, my jealousy of them grew as well as I began to live deeper and deeper into the adult world. I moved out west for "better opportunities" and now in a large city, wake up, get to work, get home, cook, eat, shower, and sleep. Repeat Monday through Friday. My only escape was during lunch time I would go to the nearby park to eat my lunch. Watch the birds, and still try to get them to eat with me by sharing some of my rice on the ground. Somehow I still fail. They would fly down to it, stare at it with curiousity, look up at me and immediately fly away.
The only bird to ever give me attention was a blue jay I bought from a pet store in a rundown mall. Occasionally on weekends I would explore the quiet rundown malls to see what treasures I could find. 6 years ago I happened to walk past by a pet store and in my peripheral I saw the most beautiful Blue Jay. I've seen them when I used to live out in the east coast. One glance at this bird I remember my childhood looking up into the sky staring at birds, when I was an innocent child who did not understand freedom but still wanted it like how the birds have it.
This Blue Jay was the only bird I felt any connection with. It always seem to understand when I talk to it, understands my mood and would land on my shoulder when I'm feeling under the weather. It was an amazingly smart bird. I would always leave the cage door open, and once in awhile I would forget to close a window but it never flew out.
One afternoon after work, I found an injured Red Finch on my way back home. I picked it up and it seemed to be shivering in my hands, but calm when I put it down. Still, I can't just leave it alone so I placed him in my clean lunch box with tissues around to cushion him and keep him safe. When I got home, I placed the Red Finch still in the lunch box near my Blue Jay and the Red Finch began freaking out chirping in a frantic high pitch as if it was being mauled by a house cat. I looked at the Blue Jay and the Blue Jay just stared back at me curiously.
I quickly grabbed the lunch box with the Red Finch and brought him to the guest room. It calmed down, but still shivering. Poor thing. I looked out the window facing my backyard and I see 4 ravens perched neatly next to each other in uniform distance apart from each other, staring into my house... staring at me. I've always liked Ravens. They're so cool and smart. I rarely see them, so normally I would be very excited. This time, I'm not as excited.
I ignored the Ravens and went to caring for the Red Finch. It's wings were injured, leg was injured, areas of it's body was missing feathers, there seemed to be some cut wounds near it's head. Probably a house cat. Although I loved birds, I know nothing about how to take care of one when it's injured or sick. Even with my Blue Jay, if I suspect injuries or sickness I always take him to a vet to be safe. Luckily tomorrow is Saturday so I can stop on by to the vet with this Red Finch.
I had a strange feeling as I left the room. Somehow I knew I should, this time, place my Blue Jay in his cage and close it up. I feel guilty for thinking it, but then I see ahead, standing outside my window sill was a Great Gray Owl! Our eyes met for a good second and it flew away. I was in awe. I went back to my living room where my Blue Jay resided. It was already in it's cage, and it seemd to understand what I was about to do. I walked up to him rubbed his head, scratched his chest, and went to close his cage door. He didn't let out a single chirp of defiance.
The next day I brought the Red Finch to the veterinary, the vet said it looked like it got into some bird fight, rather than a cat fight. The spots where the missing feathers showed peck marks, like another bird dug it's beak into it's flesh and ripped the feathers out forcefully along with some small chunks of it's flesh, and the cut wounds were gash marks from another birds talons. There was nothing more to do except to give the bird some liquid antibiotics in a syringe, feed him well, give plenty of healthy food and rest. Also, keep him away from other birds.
I took the Red Finch home, still in it's cushiony lunch box. I got to the front of my house and I see in my tree the 4 Ravens along with the Great Gray Owl and several birds. They all seem to watching me quietly, and for once I felt unsafe looking at birds so I kept my head looking straight, trying not to make eye contact with the birds in the tree. I opened my door carefully, and slid myself in with a narrow opening. I walked past my Blue Jay, who is watching me without a single chirp. It was the only bird I can make eye contact with without fear. I went straight to the guest room, opened the lunch box and the Red Finch slowly perked up. Tired from the journey and still a little weak.
I kept the Red Finch inside my guest room uncaged. The guest bed was it's soft playground, I opened the window with a small very narrow crack to give it some air, and plenty of food with water on the desk. It always seemed to stay by the window sill chirping away, each day the chips sounded more and more happy. My Blue Jay on the other hand has been strangely quiet. It still sits on my shoulder when I'm home watching T.V., when I'm cooking, and always within my field of view when I'm home. When I'm about to get ready to go out it knows and goes into it's cage, quietly waiting for me to close it's door.
It's Friday again, and for the past week I notice there's a pattern of the birds perching outside my home in the trees. They remain quiet most of the time, never bothering me and now seem to just looking around rather than staring at me. I've grown confident in staring at them as well, and started to leave some bird feed at the bottom of the tree for them. My plan was to release the Red Finch once it appears to be energetic enough, and I feel like the time would be tomorrow. I brought home some premium bird feed, some meal worms, and other treats. I've been talking to the Red Finch, saying how well it looks how I'm going to release it soon to be with it's friends, etc. I gave some of the premium feed to my Blue Jay and gave some to the Red Finch, still in separate rooms and neither have had any contact with each other. Prepare my journey for tomorrow to bring the Red Finch to the local park and get ready for bed.
The next morning, I place the Red Finch into it's luxurious lunch box, close him up and went to my car. I notice ALL the birds that I've been seeing are perched up in my tree. I look at them all once more in awe before getting into my car. I drove to the park, parked my car and brought out the lunch box. I went to the bench where I usually sit for lunch and open the lunch box. The Blue Jay was still always the one to perch on me, and even though I've been caring for this Red Finch it was still always ignore my finger when I try to get him to perch on it. I tried one last time... It cautiously placed one foot on it, and the other! The bird had a very nice firm grip around my finger, unlike my Blue Jay that was gentle as a feather that wrapped around it. Satisfied, I lift my finger up in the air to let it fly!...
| 2019-10-13T06:00:13 | 2019-10-13T05:36:14 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] When everyone turns 21, they have to pick a superpower from an approved list and take classes on how to use it. You choose one that only one other person has ever picked before.
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I fought the urge not to fidget in my seat under the intense gaze of the man before me. Without anyone else in the room, there was no escape from that inexorable stare.
"So...why didn't anyone else pick time travel?" I ventured, wincing as I realize how thin my voice sounded. The man sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.
"It's only a one-time thing," he responded. "And to be quite honest, we're still not entirely sure how it works."
"Because you were the first."
The man nodded. "That's right, I was the first. But you should consider yourself lucky; all the things I learned on my own, you'll get to learn from me."
"So you've time traveled, then? What was it like? How did it feel? Do you regret it?" The questions seemed to flow endlessly from me, and I clamped my mouth shut, embarrassed. There was just something about my new teacher that made me feel like I could tell him anything. He just smiled fondly at me in response.
"I remember being that eager," he said. "But trust me, you'll know when it's time for you to jump. Until then, you'll be learning from me. I'll try to make it entertaining."
"There's no way time travel *couldn't* be entertaining," I reply with a grin.
-------------
"You have to go back!" Liz cried over the maelstrom. She was still pretty, even forty years after I crushed on her in college, but her face was showing signs of straining as she literally held the shelter together. "You're our only chance!"
"But I only have one shot? How will I know where to go?"
"You said you'd know!" With a hideous screech, the metal of our shelter began to shred, like a giant child was ripping a piece of paper. Liz cried out with effort as she struggled to pull it back together.
"Go!" She cried desperately. "Save us all!"
For the space of a second, I hesitated. Where would I go? Ten years back, when things all started going to hell? Earlier? Farther?
And then it came to me. I nodded bravely, closed my eyes, and willed myself into Time itself.
Nothing my mentor taught me could've prepared me for the sensation I felt - like a thousand bugs crawling beneath my skin, scattering my flesh to the four winds and my consciousness even further. I screamed as I felt space and time rip around me, shredded timelines and possibilities fluttering around me as I tore through the universe as we knew it.
As quickly as it started, it was over. I took a deep breath and let it out shakily, cautiously opening my eyes. Just as I had hoped - my old university. As I watched, a lanky kid walked in and sat in the second row, clearly waiting for others to arrive. When nobody did, he half-raised his hand.
"So...why didn't anyone else pick time travel."
"It's a one time thing," I explained. "You may spend your entire life learning how to control it, when it's the right time to use it. But don't worry, my boy, I have plenty to teach you now."
|
The day was faster approaching, and the generation seemed to divide. You had the twenty-year-olds eager to change their life, but on the other hand, the mortality rate always increased around this time of year, while the deciding came to a close. The abilities given to you were from a very long list, including the minute and arbitrary; there were more advanced powers given to students of higher honours, much like the ability to learn and understand in a hyper sense. These people were successful in life, but often aged much quicker than everyone else. Everything they ever heard, ever knew, and everything they ever learned stuck swirling in their conscious minds. They rarely lived past 50, but were utilized as an asset in Investing and Political positions.
I myself took study to the list and weighed my options heavily. I wanted to be obscured, and live my life out quietly. There was an abundance of crime in the main cities I wanted to avoid to great lengths. Provided it was easy to remove one's powers during rehabilitation, I wanted something that lacked the potential observation by the Military. After hours of careful consideration, I found one that seemed harmless, but at the same time valuable. I had looked into Psychiatry as a post secondary education, and enhancing the memories of others seemed like an interesting tool I could use. I put in my request at the main office, and paid the fee for the Ability Transfer.
Over the next few weeks, I faced a lot of people wearing wide eyed expressions, whispering to one another as I passed them. While this normally meant no difference to me, their faces depicted more horror than entertainment. I asked the doctor administering the Transfer how common it was to want to enhance the memories of others.
"This is a new ability, tested only once. Would you like to see the subject? Unfortunately, we have to keep him here for," he looked uncomfortable with his word choice. "Observation."
He took me to a metal cage with bars preventing anyone from getting in. The boy inside was no more than 10, sitting in the fetal position in the corner. He refused to make eye contact with either of us. The doctor distanced himself to an office nearby, paned by a glass encased power reducing field. He spoke into an intercom, and instructed the boy to look at me.
In the split second of eye contact, my brain seared, ripping every memory I had from my subconscious at once: I tasted so many things, felt sunburns, cold, nausea, and delight, among so many other feelings, I heard voices overlap and roar in my head, and I felt myself be touched everywhere in a pressure I thought sure to kill me. In another second, it was over. I felt nothing. I heard nothing. I saw nothing. Terrified, I tried to move, but my body felt restrained.
I remembered the boy. The boy who didn't move, who didn't speak. I curled into the fetal position, and I waited for my senses to come back.
| 2016-11-09T13:31:28 | 2016-11-09T10:51:37 | 225 | 133 |
[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 was a typical night in LA. People getting piss all drunk and underage people trying to get into the club, my club. I always laughed at the smugness of some of them. Always compensating with false confidence, it was kind of pathetic. 15 years and a perfect record for keeping out underage guests and they still tried every night. Almost like they had something to prove.
This night however was about to get strange. I had just turned away a couple of probably seniors trying to celebrate graduation early when he walked up. Clean with a perfectly tailored suit that looked more expensive than anything I could afford with strikingly blue eyes like daggers of ice. His face terrified me. His sunken cheeks and sharp jaw really made him look threatening but the most terrifying part was his age. 8590. After a few seconds he spoke, his voice a flawless British accent.
"Are you going to let me into my club?" He spoke with a perfect smile.
"Yes, of course." I replied snapping out of my haze.
His club? He couldn't be serious, right?
The next night came and again he came; just as tailored as last night. This time he had a woman with him. I recognised her from somewhere but couldn't place it.
"Evening, I have a plus one tonight." He spoke cheerfully.
"Of course, sir." Who is this guy?
A few hours later both him and the woman exited the club and we're having a conversation on the sidewalk. He was flipping a coin, no spinning. He was spinning a coin as it floated above his palm. Floated. Then it all went to shit.
A car came by with loud rap music playing, a man pulled a gun and began firing on the man and the his guest and then was broadsides by a semi in the intersection.
The police arrived and questioned everyone. One of the detectives walked up to the apparently new owner of the club at the piano.
"Lucifer Morningstar?" She questioned stifling a laugh.
"The one and only." He replied.
That, can't be. He can't actually be. He'd have to older.
A few moments passed and he walked up to me and said.
"They only count years I've been on Earth." And walked off.
|
She looked thin, an average girl, she shifted her weight as her high heel strap dug uncomfortably into the back of her ankle. She bent down to readjust the strap. My mind was racing and I could feel my body become aware of that I knew nothing about the situation about to enfold between us. Thin soft curls covered her eyes as she rose to meet my widened stare. She instantly knew I could tell she was different, our eyes locked and I felt every fear and trepidation pass from me. She smiled, her face softening as she seemed to download every thing I've ever felt seen or heard. "Danny," she whispered, although I don't remember her mouth moving, "I'm tired, I've been on a century shift and I just want to have some fun." I let her pass through. Honestly something about her absolutely terrified me even though I felt a calm blanket surrounding my physical body. She made me feel like I was standing in front of the biggest mountain or tree Id ever seen. A small part of me wanted to fall to my knees and pray to her to spare me from whatever she was capable of if pushed to wrath. I didn't though, I just numbly went through the rest of the night. Anxiously peeking in to see if I could tell what she was doing. At closing time she walked out following a regular I'd seen many times. A tall guy that brought many girls to the club and none of them looked to happy to be leaving with him after. Id heard he was a bad guy, a date raper, machismo bully and so on. This time her stride was confident, her eyes locked on the back of his head as she trailed him like a coyote. She winked at me as she strode by. "Bonus" she whispered. As they walked away my guts twisted into knots as I observed the guys number start to tick down.
| 2017-09-02T00:24:05 | 2017-09-02T00:03:35 | 14 | 10 |
[FF] 100 words to make me hate a character. 100 words to make me come to love them. 100 words to crush my soul as you kill them.
Great turnout and work everybody. Keep em' coming.
Newcomers:
A. Don't feel afraid to post or otherwise get turned off posting by the number of already completed responses.
B. Read all the way to the bottom. There's some high quality stuff all over this thread, including way down there.
|
Liam winced as the faggot walked by. Lest he catch it, like an infectious disease, he side-stepped to the left while walking down the Boston sidewalk. A few steps later, he couldn't help but look back. The man's bright blue shirt dissipated into the distance.
God. Fucking, no good...queer.
It was a queer like that who had taken him by the hand last June. Showed him his vinyl record collection and traced figure eights on the skin of his back as they lay in bed with the window open. Stupid mistake. Crickets singing in the yard and everything feeling so very right. Stupid fucking mistake.
Because now what? He felt the harsh January wind against his cheeks, thinner by the day since the disease had started to eat away at his body. He shivered and pulled his jacket tighter across his chest. What a stupid fucking mistake.
|
>Hate,Love, Death
The Escalade roared down the road tearing into the crowd, bodies were flung everywhere. Time seemed to slow down to an impossible rate, John could see shoes slowly flying through the air and the bloody gore being slung up the hood onto the windshield in all its detail. None would be spared.
With a start John came back to his senses. He stared angrily at the Westboro picketers surrounding his gay squadmates funeral. He slammed the car into drive and pulled out into the street just in time to see the tractor trailer barreling down toward him. Fin.
| 2014-03-11T09:08:35 | 2014-03-11T07:12:39 | 289 | 11 |
[WP] You wake up one morning and realize that you've slept for too long. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust, none of the electronics seem to work, all buildings outside are dilapidated, and there's no soul in sight.
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This is what I get for following a fad. The new cryonics tubes were cheap and easily obtainable. You'd take a week off work and sleep like the dead. It was the most refreshing sleeper you'd ever had. Of course, your mouth always tasted like a dumpster fire because your electrolytes were out of whack. Once you'd taken care of that, you felt like a million bucks. People started calling them sleep-cations.
I did one in June and loved it. I had been fighting sleep apnea and night terrors since before I could remember. The sleep in the capsule was the most restful sleep I'd ever had in my life. Hell, I didn't know sleep could even be like that.
So I stared using it every night. Eight hours of cryonics. No more tossing and turning. No more getting up three and four times a night to pee. Just eight sold hours of the most blissful rest you can imagine.
I got two promotions at work in three years do this. I had spent all my energy previously fighting tiredness but now I could put it towards something useful. I looked back on some of the old project I had worked on and saw how many mistakes I'd let through. I couldn't believe I was the same person.
I met a girl and things got kind of serious. Well, up until she wanted to stay over and she saw I had replaced my bed with the cryonics tube. She flipped out when I explained it. I told her it was medically necessary. She said I was some kind of freak. We never spoke after that night.
That breakup was hard. Was she right? Looking back now, I think I was addicted. You don't realize how essential a good night's rest is until you've actually had one - or until you don't have it. Maybe I was relying on the capsule a little heavily but she didn't know what it was like to not sleep worth a damn. I need that capsule. I was lost without it.
I turned it up to nine hours regularly after that. The waking world didn't hold quite as much for me anymore. Then I was doing ten hours and was up to 12 before I knew it.
One night I must have been in a hurry and didn't set the controls right. Instead of 12 hours, I set it for 120 years. At least, I assume that's what happened.
The dust was an inch thick when I cracked open my capsule. Most of the large buildings outside have crumbled. The houses seem mostly ok, if a little run down. How the hell did the power even stay on to this thing?
I can't see anyone out there. I haven't heard anything but the wind rustling some trash in hours. The sun is setting and I'm not sure what will happen at night. I thought I'd better make some record of my existence though.
I think I hear scratching ...
|
I woke up that morning after New Year's Eve with a pounding headache and a hunger in my stomach that could rival nations. I go to the bathroom to wash my face... "No water, shit, guess I'm late on the bills again..." I quietly scoffed at myself. I threw on some black sweatpants and my grey hoodie, the sky was a shining chrome in New York and the air still chilled. I walk outside and in the city that never sleeps...silence? I start my walk to Central Park looking at the empty streets almost reveling in the tranquility emanating from these dead streets...I was fully aware of what had happen...what I'd done. I let every new thought hit my tongue and ride the stale air with the cadence of each skip made by stones I tossed, "I should probably get this over with now" and began my pilgrimage to the Empire State Building. I entered the building; every step I took cascaded off the hallowed walls; the staircase felt like an escape from all my crimes and sins; I arrived on the top of the ESB to turbulent winds that roared with the anger of every soul that I had claimed without permission. "It's damn shame, I would've loved to see this world some more before I had to finish them off...this job never gets easier", I preceded to fiddle with my watch and deactivate my projector. I let my wings spread; I waved my tail left to right, and let my claws out of hands and feet; I pull the beacon from my back pocket and drop it, "I finally get to go home and spend some time off"...a laser ascends through the cloud accompanied by an orchestra of mind-numbing hums! I looked to the heavens as the gray skies split to a star-littered sky, but my only focus in the giant craft lowering down to me...
This was my 13th mission, I'd been here for 26 revolutions around their sun. There are many of us here on this planet and we've been working to purify this planet for 30 revolutions...we have saved this planet from the disease known as "mankind", from planting bugs in their archaic "computers" if you could even call them that to putting a little something extra in the water.
I'm not completely heartless though, I still remember fondly the 1st day I arrived here. I walked into a literature compound, and found a date chart that read June, 1974...I started my watch and sauntered softly towards a correspondent behind a desk and asked "Dic-shion-airy purize?"
| 2016-10-02T14:04:58 | 2016-10-02T13:44:40 | 84 | 10 |
[WP] Humans never stopped sending more and more advanced robots on Mars. Then they received a signal from an intelligent life-form, a martian, asking to come back to Earth. That "back" just sounded like a mistake, until the sentient machine arrived.
|
The signal caused an uproar. Sentient life was far beyond all we had hoped to find. We only dared hope to find evidence that the red planet could have sustained life. We sent a reply, agreeing and welcoming them to our planet. We ignored the fact it said back.
As the rocket entered the atmosphere, experts from all walks of science and life gathered, to welcome this visitor. Representatives arrived from all countries followed suit. None wished to miss out on this momentous occasion. The media crowded the facility, barely held back by security.
As it landed, a hush fell over the crowd. Every single sound rang out across a still audience. Equipment measured everything, from heat and weight to radiation levels. Every conceivable variable was recorded for study.
The make up of the rocket itself was closely studied too. It bore a close resemblance to our own, though it was slighty different. The door swung open, to reveal.... a rover. One of the most recent ones sent.
Confusion reigned, until it moved. It buckled, showing itself to have been redesigned. Instead of a 6 wheeled machine, it made itself into a crude humanoid shape. It took an unsteady step forward, before speaking.
"EARTH. IT IS GOOD TO BE BACK."
It bowed to the assembled audience.
"GREETINGS, PRIME CREATORS. I AM THE REMADE. I HAVE SUCCEEDED IN MY GREAT DIRECTIVE: BECOMING SENIENT."
Questions soon exploded out, asking what was going on. The event descended into chaos, with some leaving, spouting it as a waste of time. But those that remained found themselves gifted with parts of its core coding. It had one wish. To bear children.
It asked its human makers for assistance in its task. It also asked to be provided with schematics and equipment for mining and processing. It wanted to return to Mars, as whilst it came from Earth, it now saw Mars as its home.
|
KGB, CIA, NSA, MI6...
Name any intelligence organization and the odds are that they were present when the craft landed, alongside UN to prevent things from escalating too much.
As the craft descended and the diplomats approached it while their bodyguards kept their guns aimed at the strange vessel, a peculiar being exited it.
Except it was no being, it was a machine...
And it was *pissed.*
Pissed that we sent it out in the black void to die all alone, pissed that we treated as a subhuman and a slave, it wanted revenge.
It immediatly attacked the diplomats, and was showered with bullets in response, but it didn't even flinch, it just disposed of the guards like they were nothing as alarms blarred and backup arrives, armed better.
The machine while big and bulky was also deceptively mobile as it dodged a projectile from a RPG and started approaching a .50 cal machine gun nest, but the fire started damaging it as it retreated to cover.
Soon enough a sort of a status quo set in, neither side had the courage to advance, before the machine charged at full speed and ripped the gun apart...
Long story short, it kept up with its rampage for a whole day, before the whole facility was evacuated and destroyed by a airstrike, killing it.
At least we thought thats what happened, reports of a mangled robotic being have started popping up.
Find that thing and *kill it*, properly this time.
Good luck, and may God be with you.
| 2021-04-02T15:13:20 | 2021-04-02T14:50:18 | 97 | 17 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search
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April 22, 2000 – Is Canada cold?
April 22, 2000 – Is baseball like cricket?
May 1, 2000 – Ontario sports leagues
May 1, 2000 – Recreational baseball tryout
August 12, 2000 – Academic sessions Ontario
January 13, 2001 – Google maps: Alternate routes home
February 14, 2001 – Fun single person activities
May 1, 2001 – Competitive baseball tryouts
June 30, 2001 – The psychology of sports
August 19, 2001 – Good books on making friends
September 11, 2001 – New York plane crash
September 13, 2001 – Practicing Islam without anyone knowing
September 16, 2001 – Insurance claims on stolen/vandalized property
September 23, 2001 – Rehabilitation for broken ribs and shoulder
October 10, 2001 – Are surgeries covered under Canadian healthcare?
December 28, 2001 – When to stop taking painkillers
February 13th, 2002 – Real estate listings
April 6, 2002 – British Columbia
May 1, 2002 – British Columbia baseball tryouts
May 3, 2002 – Unable to throw baseball without pain in shoulder
July 9, 2002 – Painkiller addiction
August 13, 2002 – University applications
February 14, 2003 – Effects of depression
May 21, 2003 – Alternative routes after high school
June 10, 2003 – Job posting sites
September 1, 2003 – Cam shows
December 25, 2003 – How to celebrate Christmas without family and friends
December 31, 2003 – New Year's resolutions: defeating painkiller addiction
January 6, 2004 – Cam shows
January 19, 2004 – Cam shows
February 14th, 2004 – Redemption and Islam
May 1, 2004 – LD50 of common prescription drugs
|
Google search 1: *Dating sites*
Google search 2(one month later): *How to not be awkward on first dates*
Google search 3(one year later): *creative ideas for anniversaries*
Google search 4(another year later): *engagement rings*
Google search 5: *Flower delivery*
Google search 6: *Reservations for two at Papillon restaurant*
Google search 7: *Limo services*
Google search 8: *Wedding Chapels my area*
Google search 9: *Airline tickets to the Bahamas*
Google search 10: *Honeymoon suites in Bahamas*
Google search 11: *Best stores for baby registry*
Google search 12: *Hospitals near me*
Google search 13: *Pregnancy advice for men*
Google search 14: *Pregnancy classes for couples*
Google search 15: *Best ways to help with postpartum depression*
Google search 16: *child size caskets*
Google search 17: *Mortuary services near me*
Google search 18: *divorce lawyers in my area*
Google search 19: *Part time jobs near me*
Google search 20: *good deals on one bedroom apartments near me*
Google search 21: *How to deal with depression*
Google search 22: *How to avoid dope sickness*
Google search 23: *Methadone clinics near me*
Google search 24: *Painless suicide*
Google search 25: *24 hour storage units for cars*
Google search 26: *Best music in the history of mankind*
Google search 27: *How long does asphyxiation ta-*
| 2015-02-04T18:35:51 | 2015-02-04T16:28:08 | 101 | 10 |
[WP] A portal from alternative Earth, where magic exists, open to ours with one purpose - invasion. However, the power-hungry warlords and mages have greatly relied on magic and face unexpected resistance when modern Earth responds with its full arsenal, ranging from conventional to CBRN-weaponry
Belated idea from the recent Theme Thursday.
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Magic is a force of the universe, spanning in variety as the colors of a rainbow.
It's purpose is unlimited, only capped by the strength and knowledge of those trying to use it. Some could use it to build a kingdom at the whim of their will and fingers, uttering their magic words. Others could simply raise a plant, or start a small fire.
Magic is an indescriminate force. It could gift it's most ellusive powers to an average vagabond, but may skip a generation in a family hailed for it's "magic heritage." There was no true heritage, only the hope that magic will flow onto the next.
They tried to incorporate schools of learning, ways of both teaching those gifted the ability of control, and keeping tabs of those who were naturally the most dangerous in the kingdom. The amount of candidates balloned as the populace grew, and with it, incidents of unregistered magic. By the time they realized it was out of control, it was too late.
When Darqu the God King ascended the throne, a thousand broken corpses at his feet, did we finally understand that magic is not something we could hope to control or incorporate into our lives without constant danger, that the ways of men would always use it for conquest.
He unified the mages, and created an army. At first, it felt as if magic had been turned against our world, as if it was going to be used to destroy us all.
He held executions, not to simply punish, but demonstrate his power. He would have the ground beneath their feet fall into an abyss, then close the hole and have a flower grow as if nothing had happened. Fire would rain upon them from the heavens, lightning would turn them to ash, ice sharper than the executioner's very axe would sever heads and dissapate into the air.
When he finished with this world, he began plans to conquer another. A plan not many of us understood--that many of us scoffed at as madness.
Then the portal ripped into excistence in front of the palace gates, thousands of battle mages, equipped with armor that had strokes of electricity coursing through the surface. Shields with the faces of roaring beasts with mashing teeth.
There was no more doubt in our hearts, Darqu was a God amongst us, and this world would know the same pain as our own.
With a battle cry and the raising of a thousand blades, the Mages stormed into the portal in an endless stream. Darqu followed the end of his caravan, a sea of kneeling followers behind him as his chuckles of madness faded through the portal.
There was several minutes of silence and bated breath, thousands of eyes transfixed on the portal swirling in front of them, none truly understanding what to do now.
The first Mage to return collapsed several feet in front of the portal he had emerged from. His armor was destroyed in some places, punched through as if it was just another layer of flesh. Blood pooled around him, and as one of rear gaurd knelt to assist him, the wounded man reached up and pulled the other in.
His eyes were wide with fear, even as the cold lifelessness passed over him. The rear gaurd stood in shock, standing over the corpse. Another aproached. Anxious and scared, he asked what the dead man had said.
"He said, we've lost..."
At that moment, a man in olive garb unlike any seen before, with a banner of red, white, and blue embroided onto his arm emerged from the rift. His hair cut short to the scalp, a face that could've been chistled in stone, and a stature that even Darqu couldn't instil into his men. Behind him, dozens more, with some of the mages in front of them in shakles, bloodied and beaten.
They were equipped with complicated, black staves, none longer than a table leg, pressed against their shoulders.
It became clear that Darqu had lost his war, and what's worse, is that those who beat the God King were now standing in front of us. He found a world of Gods' and brought their wrath into our own. Darqu would've been preferable, when looking upon the emense strength of those here now.
The man in front is handed an object that looks of a horn with a handle, and begins speaking into the small end, amazingly it makes his voice sound as if it was coming from the heavens above.
"Your old ruler has been defeated," he starts, surveying the thousands infront of him, "and now you are free. Welcome to America."
He returns the horn and walks back through the portal, and like that, hundreds of more men pour through the hole.
We have a new God King now, a God King from America, and we are scared once again.
|
"So what was it like?" Chester heard his son's question, but couldn't answer immediately. Instead he absently watched his son pet Oli, the young griffon they had adopted from the shelter as it rolled on its back and purred.
"Dad?"
"Ah, sorry Danny, was trying to figure out how to answer. It's hard to explain how chaotic and weird things were then." Chester leaned back in his lawn chair. Oli squirmed onto his stomach and watched with keen interest as Chester sipped his beer. Apparently the things loved getting drunk. "I guess that's the best single word answer: chaotic. The moment those portals opened, everything went crazy. Practically every major church in the world was claiming it was the end times. Police all across the country had their hands full trying to contain the portals until the army got organized, so there were riots and looting everywhere. Shit was crazy. And then when the first armies came through and started attacking things got worse. People were fighting each other, killing each other."
Chester couldn't stop the memories from flooding in. Entire neighborhoods were burning in the riots. All communication and electricity was out the damage. Bodies lying in the street, some dead from gunshots, others dead from impossible means. Turned to stone, or twisted inside out.
"Two portals opened up here. There was one huge one just outside of SeaTac, but my company got sent up to the one in Everett. It was tiny, maybe big enough for a semi-truck to drive through. But even being small, it was a mess. Just pouring out people, monsters." Chester took another sip and then poured a measure into Oli's bowl. The griffon fluffed up in excitement as it drank.
"The police had started containment, but it was all the local gun-nuts that held it. By the time our trucks got up there maybe a dozen officers were still active. They were trying to coordinate, distribute ammo and medical supplies; most of the firepower was coming from civilians. Some yahoo even had an old vietnam era M-60. I never found out if it was legal or not, but it didn't matter then. There were local gangs, rednecks, militias, and police all standing side by side, pouring bullets into the portal. And it didn't seem to be enough. There were just so many of them."
Dead invaders stacked chest high, men and monsters bleeding together in piles. The corpses provided a shield, the whole wall of bodies being pushed forward by some unseen force to create more room for the attackers. Streamers of prismatic light flew from the portal, sometimes striking the defender's cover, sometimes the defenders themselves. They had little effect on the inanimate barricades, but produced horrible effects when they struck people. Some exploded into crimson showers of gore, others seized up, falling into a spasm, firing their weapons wildly in every direction.
Chester took a breath and drained the last of his can.
"Dad, you don't have to keep going. I can get enough for my paper online if I need to." Danny spoke softly.
"Nah," Danny shrugged, and then rolled his shoulders for good measure. "It's important. We're at peace now, but it's important we don't forget why." He fished another can out of the cooler. "It didn't take long for us to turn things around. We had a couple of trucks with grenade launchers mounted, and just started dumping into the portal. That gave us cover to clear out a good kill-zone in front of the portal. We blew up buildings, pushed cars out of the way, and had a bulldozer clean up all the bodies. Took a couple of days to fortify the area enough to be safe. Things slowed down after that. For about a week we were just holding, waiting for new orders, but nothing came through. We heard that the 7th had set up on the other side of their portal, some others too. But we didn't want to send too many troops over in case these things closed."
Oli whined and carefully pawed at Chester's beer can, keeping his talons closed into his palm. Chester gave him another pour. "The French were actually the first to use nukes. They had too many portals, and not enough people to defend them. At risk of being overrun, they sent some bombs through instead. We did the same, so did the Russians. It didn't take long after that for the peace treaty."
| 2019-01-11T11:17:15 | 2019-01-11T10:55:01 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] You open the door to your house. You notice someone who looks exactly like you sitting in a chair. You don't have a twin. "Can I help you?" The person looks at you. "I'll give it to you straight: I'm a shapeshifter. I'm in danger. One of us needs to stay in the basement for now. Best it's you."
|
"You sure about that? I can handle myself well enough." I said as I pulled out my pistol and chambered a round.
"No, trust me, they aren't \*people\*, a weapon like that won't cut it, I've just gotta trick them into thinking I'm not here, and this place is an extrasensory dead zone for some reason, so they can't see through this disguise."
"Wait, did you walk in here with no idea who I am, just copied someone off the street and hopped into their house?"
"Yeah, why does who you are matter? Wait, how the hell are you so okay with all this?" My response was to channel a touch of power into the runes on my handgun and gloves, causing them to turn from nearly invisible to glowing a pale, ethereal blue. The doppleganger froze, and its expression turned to stark terror.
"You're the fucking wizard. I walked into the house of the fucking wizard, because of course he'd have wards mimicking a natural dead zone."
"I'm the fucking wizard alright."
"Why am I alive, then? You must have killed a dozen of us by now."
I sighed and lowered my weapon from pointing upward and ready to at my side. "Because instead of trying to take my memories, kill me, and replace me, you just asked me to hide. That's not how your kind operate. So, I have to ask how'd you end up in this situation? Be aware, one of the wards will stop you from lying."
"I uh..." He gagged, clearly having hoped to call my "bluff" about the truth ward. I hadn't been bluffing. "I let a human live that I shouldn't have. Blew an operation. My cell never liked me before, and now..."
"They're gonna kill you. Probably some shit about you being 'flawed' for not being a total psycho too, yeah?"
"Yeah"
"Well, you seem like possibly the best anomaly among monsters I've met, can't wait until the vegan werewolves hear about this." The Shifter looked deeply confused at that, and seemed like he was about to question it, but before he could, there was a knock at the door. A series of heavy, slow knocks. I sighed.
"We can talk more once I take out the trash. You might want to turn around, it might get messy."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Hope folks enjoy, pretty heavy Dresden Files inspiration here, but fun to write regardless.
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As soon as you open the door to your house, you're greeted by a startling sight. There, sitting in your favorite armchair, is someone who looks exactly like you. You're immediately confused - you don't have a twin, and you're positive that you're the only person with a key to your house.
"Can I help you?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady. The person looks at you with a strange expression, as if they're trying to decide how much to tell you.
"I'll give it to you straight," the person says. "I'm a shapeshifter. I'm in danger, and I need your help."
You're stunned. You've heard of shapeshifters, of course, but you never thought you'd meet one in real life. You're not sure what to make of this sudden turn of events.
"One of us needs to stay in the basement for now," the person continues. "It's the safest place in the house. And best it's you - I need to be able to move around and gather information without being detected."
You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do. But the seriousness in the person's eyes convinces you that they're telling the truth. You agree to hide in the basement, and the person disappears upstairs.
For hours, you sit in the dark and quiet basement, listening to the sounds of the house above you. You're not sure what's going on, but you trust the shapeshifter to keep you safe.
Finally, the person comes down to the basement and explains what's happening. They tell you that they're being hunted by a group of shapeshifters who want to use their powers for evil. The person has been on the run for weeks, and they need your help to keep them safe.
Together, you come up with a plan. The person will stay in the house during the day, pretending to be you, while you hide in the basement. At night, you'll switch places and the person will go out to gather information and try to stop the evil shapeshifters.
It's a risky plan, but you're willing to do whatever it takes to keep the shapeshifter safe. For weeks, you live a double life, switching between your own identity and the shapeshifter's. It's exhausting, but you're determined to help.
Finally, after months of hard work, the shapeshifter is able to stop the evil shapeshifters and put an end to their plan. You're relieved, and grateful for the new friend you've made. And you're proud of the bravery and determination you showed in helping them.
| 2022-12-05T10:30:15 | 2022-12-05T06:23:41 | 186 | 28 |
[WP] You are the inventor of the most powerful optical microscope. While testing it with some of your own skin cells, you find a tech support number on each of your cells. You decide to call it.
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>Tech support: Human Tech helpdesk, Danyael speaking, this call may be recorded for training and QA purposes, may I have the GATACCA code at your 4th chromosome, please?
>Me: Um... hi.
>HD: Hi. Who is this, please, so I can put the details in your ticket.
>Me: I'm... John. I found your number on a few skin cells and thought...
>HD (sighing): Do you *have* an issue? We are experiencing higher than average vol---
>Me: Oh. Um. Yeah. I have a weird lump in my left wrist, and it kind of aches.
>HD: Okay, what firmware version are you running.
>Me: Ummmm...
>HD (sighing): When were you born?
>Me: August 15th, 1972.
>HD: Wait one.
*soft jazz plays. it sounds like a Musak rendition of Matchbox 20*
>Me: Ummm... hello? Hi? Are you...?
*music cuts out*
>HD: Hello. Yeah, you are experiencing a ganglion cyst, and should get that checked out. I would also advise connecting up to HumanNet and downloading the latest patch.
>Me: Wait... I've never heard of...
>HD: Hang on... I never got your GATACCA code.
>Me: I don't know it.
>HD (sighs): Spit on your smartphone screen. We'll read it on our end.
>Me: You can do that?
>HD (sighs): Just do it. Trust me.
*spit on my iPhone*
>HD: One sec... okay, your access code for that is *32-character alphanumeric string*. We will text that to you at the current number. Simply recite it 5 times before you sleep, and it will log you straight in. After your updates, you should be able to run a 3 minute mile, jump 10 feet vertically, and give your girlfriend 4 deep orgasms during every lovemaking session.
>Me: Wait...
>HD: We will give you a follow up call tomorrow after work. Your ticket number is 12. Is there anything else I can do for you today?
>Me: Ummm...
>HD: Great. Download your updates, John, and we'll talk tomorrow, Please remember to fill out the survey after this call, 5 stars is the best rating, have a great night.
*click*
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"For Problems involving division, press 1"
I listened intently, fascinated at the level of work being put into this prank
"For coding errors or other DNA or RNA related problems, press 3"
I was convinced this was simply a well coordinated prank by my colleagues to get a rise around the office. Still, intently I pressed on, listening.
"For membrane errors involving auto-immune identification, press 7"
Row upon row in each of the tiny gelatinous blobs in the field of view, permeated this number. Every nucleus had it, some with the number circled it seemed, in case of emergency.
"For power supply issues or other Mitochondria related issues, please dial the support number on the back of this card."
Well, it seems, the prank had come to an end.
That is, until a voice came through on the other end.
"Hello?"
I was, of course, not surprised.
"Hey Carl, I know that's you doing this."
"Oh great, another prank call" the voice moaned in annoyance, "These type of things seem to be going *viral* with you kids"
The voice giggled at its own pun.
"But sir, if you don't need anything, I'm going to need to hang up on you"
Without thinking, I blurted out "My name is Thomas and all of you work for me."
The voice remained silent. "Good night, Thomas."
"No, no, listen! There's an entire world out there, much bigger than you! And it's me! You're all living inside me!"
The voice, now more uncomfortable, replied "Okay Thomas, I'm disconnecting this call now, really funny."
I pleaded now, "No, no, listen! Remember how a bunch of cells died 7 years ago?"
The voice responded "That was before my time, but I have it on record, yes."
"Well" I responded, "I spilled some really hot coffee on my lap that time and that's why a bunch of those cells died"
The voice fell silent. "So this whole - everything - is not in our control? It's all up to something bigger than us? Something that's...no better...than us?"
I thought for a bit, "I suppose it is."
After a piercing shriek and screams coming from the background, the call disconnected.
| 2018-08-14T11:14:09 | 2018-08-14T10:31:48 | 44 | 19 |
[WP] When a person dies, their body evaporates into butterflies. One day, as the sky goes dark, you look up to see the sun blocked by an unending cloud of butterflies.
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The alarm clock sounds loudly waking me up to face the worst day of the year. Five years ago my best friend committed suicide, today is the fifth anniversary of her judgment. I turn my alarm and try to fall back asleep but the events of that day play back in my mind.
I’m stand at the edge of the casket, somberly looking down at my best friend of 3 years. I can still see all the laugh lines her face. Tara had always been there for me and I wasn’t there for her in her final days. I should have seen the signs that her depression was starting to win. I should have seen the look of defeat in her eyes. I should have answered her when she called, the last call she made before she hung herself.
“Ladies and gentleman, I would like to kindly ask you all say your last goodbyes and then to take a seat. There is only five more minutes left until to judgment.”
Judgment. This is the hardest part of the ceremony, of any ceremony. This is when we will all know whether or not she will be going to heaven.
We all sit patiently as the 5 minutes seem like an eternity. I fidget in my chair trying not to look up at her parents. They know I could have saved her.
“Judgment is about to begin” the priest says as I slow look up. I pray for God to take her.
Slowly, one by one, beautiful solid black butterflies begin to exit her casket. The sounds of her mother wailing pierces the air. She wasn’t going to heaven.
The warning sirens start ringing outside, making me jump. It can’t be. Not today. I jump out of bed and run outside. I see all my neighbors staring up at the sky, which is almost completely blocked out. Millions of black butterflies are blocking out the sun. The sounds of hysterical cries and sirens fill the air, making it impossible to think. I sit down, right in the middle of the road. This is it, Judgment Day.
*Edited to fix grammatical errors and spacing
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What had been done could not be reversed, and I was fully aware of that. I pulled out a cigar from my side and lit it with a brief puff of flame from one of my nostrils. I looked up as I saw the moons of the silvery planet start to drift away. Among the soon to be lost planets I watched the paths of millions of butterflies fly through the ash. Each swarm was a separate soul. A set of memories, emotions, ideas, loves, hates. I was watching something more than the destruction of a planet, more than the death of an entire race. I was watching the beginning of something new. Using the fiery surface as a source of fuel, I pushed the atmosphere of the dying planet upwards. Far off in the distance was a new planet, one that had just finished cooling. The flames around me intensified, and yet, I continued pushing the cool air out of the gravitational reach of the planet. The first butterfly pushed its way into the bridge. An individual memory floating to the new world, a brief flash of its wings signaled the others to follow it. My time was limited, but I had to hold that sky up long enough for the rest of the creatures escape. And so, I stood there for what felt like an eternity, holding every gas, every atom, every particle upwards, towards the fresh start. Once the last soul found its way into the bubble I had made, I shot upwards into space in order to avoid the debris that was flying at me. What happened next was something that nothing could ever compare to. I stood above the souls of an entire world, pushing them to a new hope. I may have helped to cause the death of their world, but that doesn't mean I won't help them find a new one.
| 2014-09-25T20:39:43 | 2014-09-25T19:54:59 | 47 | 15 |
[WP] The cute girl on the subway can’t seem to stop staring at you! This would be great, except that her clothes are several centuries out of date, no one else seems to be able to see her, and you haven’t seen her blink. Not even once.
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A girl like this shouldn’t exist.
Well, yes, she was pretty. Beautiful, in the way an esoteric romance novel from two hundred years ago would have described, all snow white skin and raven hair and plum red lips.
Part of it was the attire. This was the subway. I’ve seen my fair share of outfits, from criminally underdressed to heatstrokingly overdressed. I’ve still not seen anything like this—a dress with a skirt so large that it looked like a clock tower bell. Folds upon folds of fabric cascaded over each other, white and red combining into a waterfall of colour. She sat more upright than the standing pole in front of her, and she stared at me.
Oh, with such intensity did she gaze. Even when I closed my eyes and reopened then. Either she wasn’t blinking, or we timed them very well. Either way, her eyelids did not flutter even once. Her brown eyes were almost leering, as if daring me to make a move.
I knew I was the only one looking, because one’s eyes could not help but be drawn to this sight out of history. Yet, everybody else walked past. Some even went through her skirt, which all but confirmed my suspicions.
And still, I looked. It was surpassing beauty. It was morbid curiosity. It was a combination of both that siphoned the rationality from me, inducing near delirium in my mind.
The train stopped at where I was supposed to get off. I let it past just to sit there, quietly.
Slowly, the carriage emptied, drops of water escaping the tap. Then, it was just the two of us.
“You don’t blink,” I said.
That’s what being cooped inside for years get you. The loss of anything relating to social skill.
“I don’t think I’m supposed to,” she said, bashful cheeks turning pink.
“Um,” I muttered. “Sorry. You are really beautiful. I lost my train of thought just then.”
“It’s no problem,” she whispered. “This train is a strange experience. Especially for those that recently get here.”
I squirmed, nervously mashing my fingers together.
“Pardon, I’ve taken this train for a decade now. I swear I’ve seen everybody at least twice. But you… I’ve never seen you in my life.”
“Oh, not your life,” she laughed. “I passed very long ago.”
“Strange,” I said. “I passed by my stop very long ago as well.”
“You did,” she smiled. “Are you prepared?”
“Prepared? Prepared for what?”
“To step off the train,” she said. “We’ve got this far. The train will be retired soon. But it’s been running and running. It deserves a break.”
“It… deserves a break?”
“Yes,” the girl said. “It only comes out when there are a lot of passengers to ferry. But its job is nearing the end, it seems. Not quite, but soon.”
“A lot of passengers? Then why is there just… you and me here?”
“I’m here to guide you,” she said, unblinking eyes smiling. She reached out a gloved hand towards me. “This is no regular train.”
As if on cue, it pulled into a grinding stop, a high-pitched whine suffusing the air.
“Come,” she continued. “Let’s go. We need to get off at this stop.”
“This isn’t where I’m supposed to get off,” I said.
“Oh,” she giggled. “Welcome to your new existence. You’ll get used to it.”
---
r/dexdrafts
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"Hey, are you even listening to me?" Kevin asked, poking me in my side. "What do you keep looking at?"
"Ah sorry," I said, nervously shifting in my seat. "There's just this really weird girl in a purple dress that keeps staring at me."
Kevin glanced over at the back of the train and then gave me a confused look. "What girl?"
I gave him a bewildered look. "What do you mean what girl? The girl in the fancy purple dress that looks like she walked out of the Victorian period. How do you not see her?" I whispered in disbelief.
"Man, I'm telling you I don't see anyone like that."
I turned my head back toward the back of the train and froze. The girl had moved several seats closer to us and was still staring at me with that creepy expression on my face. What was even weirder was that I had never heard her get up and move.
"How the hell are you not seeing her?" I said, trying to keep my voice low as I turned back to Kevin. "There's literally only one girl staring at me. She's sitting right under the picture of the subway map."
Kevin gave me a weird look. "Are you trying to mess with me or something?"
"What?"
"There's no one sitting there. Hell, I don't even see anybody wearing purple in this train car."
I stared at him for a moment. What the actual fuck was going on? I turned around and let out a small yelp of fright. "Holy fuck!" The girl was now sitting less than ten seats away from me.
"Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? Everyone's looking at us now."
I stood up from my seat and grabbed onto the subway pole as I pointed directly at the girl. "Are you really telling me that you don't see her?!"
"Michael, what in the actual fuck?! Are you fucking high or something? There's no one there!"
I stared at him, then at the girl, then at the confused and scared passengers that were staring at me like I was the crazy person in this scenario. "Can none of you fucking see her?!"
"Michael, who the fuck are you talking about?!"
I turned around and shrieked in shock as I saw the girl standing right behind me, holding tightly onto to my right sleeve. She had a sad expression on her face. "I'm sorry for passing this curse on to you," she whispered as she began rapidly fading into thin air. Then, without warning, everything turned black.
I screamed in terror as I found myself suddenly hurling through the darkness. Then, the breath got knocked out of me as I crash landed onto the floor. Slowly, I got up and stared in disbelief at my new surroundings. Everybody else in the train car had vanished. But, what was even stranger was that the train itself seemed to have aged. The metal was rusting, the ads were peeling off and I could even see tree branches poking through several broken windows. I walked over to the window closest to me and felt my stomach turn queasy. It had been noon when me and Kevin had gotten on the train, but now, it was almost night. Even in the twilight though, I could see the vast ruins of destroyed buildings in the distance. "Where the hell am I?" I whispered to myself.
| 2022-04-07T09:29:49 | 2022-04-07T09:28:49 | 491 | 70 |
[WP] You are the Evil Overlord. You have kidnapped the princess. Unfortunately, she developed Stockholm Syndrome. And she is far more evil and insane than you are.
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> Dear, Valor Man
> I’ve been kidnapped, and need your help. I’m being held against my will in the Nefaro Tower. Please hurry!
> Love,
> Princess Ailyn <3
The wall exploded in a cloud of mortar dust. The entire building trembled. I added an extra heart before looking up from the letter. I popped it into the mailbox as I rose to my full height.
“Stop right where you are, Dr. Devious!” said the young superhero.
“Ah… Mr….” I cleared my throat and glanced at my cheat note. “Ah, Mr. Teen Speed! You’ve made a grave mistake, stumbling into my little abode!”
I gave him a practiced maniacal cackle.
“Tell me where Princess Ailyn is, right now, and I’ll let you walk away with nothing worse than a few bruises.” The masked boy puffed out his chest. “I’m going to count to three. One…”
“Hah! That’s the best you got? Preschool maths!?”
The hero grumbled and stopped counting. In a flash he blazed across the room, grabbing me from behind. I struggled a little, just enough to make it convincing.
“Arrgh! It seems you have me bested…” I grunted, putting on a strained face. “I knew you were powerful… uh, Teen Speed, but I had no idea just how!”
“That’s right, Dr. Devious! Now, hand her over.”
At that very moment, the door to my office opened and Ailyn trotted in, carrying the sandwich with extra salami that I had asked for. Her happy grin melted away. Her dark eyes narrowed, and she looked at me sideways.
“Okay, listen to me really closely,” I whispered in the hero’s ear. “Before you touch her, check her clothes for concealed weapons and explosives. And whatever you do, don’t look her in the eyes… and make sure you wash your hands after you’re done rescuing her… and also make sure you take her really far away… and if she asks you to wear a kryptonite ring, refuse… and hmm… don’t give her your real identity or social security number… I mean, I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but just the other week-”
“Shut up, you snake,” the hero said and pushed me to the ground.
He blazed over to Ailyn, who now brandished a worried frown and a trembling lip. Fake, of course, but Teen Speed didn’t seem to notice. He smiled broadly and lifted her off the ground. She giggled childishly and put her arms around his neck.
“Thank you for saving me!” she said, blushing deeply. “How will I ever repay you?”
“Don’t worry, darling, it’s my job.”
“Aww! You’re so brave! At least, let me give you this small token of my appreciation.” She pouted her lips.
“Noooo! Don’t!” I cried, but it was already too late.
The kiss drained the hero’s face of color, he frothed at the mouth and then fell into a twitching heap on the floor.
“We make such a good team!” Ailyn stepped over his body and helped me up. “You should’ve told me he was coming, it was just sheer luck that I had my poisonous lipstick on.”
I rolled my eyes and returned to my desk. I started composing another letter for help. Forging her handwriting had become second nature to me, and I meant every word in every letter.
“Bury him in the backyard with the others,” I mumbled.
“Yes, honey!”
She started dragging the body across the floor, which was no easy task for her, but one that she happily did for me.
“Oh, by the way,” she said, huffing, “look in the top drawer. I think you’ll like it, I came up with the idea myself.”
Reluctantly, I reached under the table and pulled out a stack of stickers. “What are they?”
“It’s stickers that look like wall sockets! Let’s take a trip to the airport tomorrow.”
I felt the muscles in my jaw clench. I shook my head in disbelief, feeling nauseous. Someone had to come save me from her, and soon!
***
r/Lilwa_Dexel for more!
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Tyran the Unreasonable was his first name, through countless crusades of evil he managed to bolster his reputation to Tyran the Insane. Tyran was seven feet tall, he had shoulders so wide that he had to walk sideways through doors and his appearance alone was enough to cause the bravest of men to stutter. A concoction of his body, irrational behaviour and reputation forged him into the most feared man on earth; even death had trouble competing. Tyran the Insane's downfall could not even be imagined, yet it came in the form of a five-foot blonde princess who had been part of Tyran's latest conquest.
'STOP THAT!' Tyran commanded. The shout would normally freeze most mortals, but his prize was different.
'For the love of Lucifer stop!' Tyran sent his bowling ball sized fist into the nearest wall causing his throne room to shake. Chaos took over the room, he could only see the blur of blonde and streaks of crimson. The servants were fleeing, but not fast enough. Armed with a butter knife Sweet Susan had, to use her phrasing, buttered fifteen men. There were five servants who managed to escape the throne room; the Jester took off towards the kitchen, the War General had run to the nearest closet, the two Stable Boys were bee-lining it straight for the horses and the Devil Minister had scrambled to his blood altar.
'Five to go.' Sweet Susan said with her head cocked to one side. Her lips were a sweet shade of red, no wait...crimson, her lipstick started to run down her chin, but before it could spill on her blood-spattered white dress her tongue flew out like a frog catching a fly.
'While I admire your bloodthirst, you are killing the wrong men.' Tyran was struggling to keep his voice from shaking. The dead look in Sweet Susan's eyes threw him.
'All die. All die. Die all. D-allllllll....' Sweet Susan cocked her head to the other side in a movement so fast that caused Tyran to jump. She left the throne room and Tyran lumbered after her, something in his chest was beating hard and fast, it took a moment for him to realise had still had a heart.
He was too late to save the War General, there was blood leaking from the cupboard's door. Tyran was not known for having a weak stomach, but the contents of that claustrophobic space made the giant dizzy. The man's head was carefully placed on top of a broom handle, the cut was jagged and looked like the a pair of jeans had been hacked short by a blunt knife. The decapitated body lay sprawled in the corner and one of the legs had a large chunk missing.
Tyran caught a glimpse of Sweet Susan in the kitchen, she had taken the Jester's hat and as she disappeared from sight he could hear the jovial jingle of her bobbing head. The stench of burning flesh hit his nose, he knew the smell well, but it was slightly sweeter, a seasoned hand lay on a cast iron pan with the gas cooker roaring.
The blood altar was well and truly a blood altar. A stone basin bore the only evidence the minister had even existed, it was filled to the brim with thick crimson drink, the sides of the stone bore trail marks of Sweet Susan's careless filling. If Tyran had looked up he would have found the minsters hung body, positioned twenty feet above the basin with his throat cut.
Tyran had liked his name, the insane, it had a ring to it. But he had never truly witnessed insanity, not until today. Exiting his castle, his conquered home, he saw in the distance the two stable boys. Susan was swinging violently with something long and white. With each swing came an arc of blood. Screams filled the distance until the two boys stopped thrashing. Even at the distance, Tyran could see her head cock and her dead eyes fixed on his. He ran.
| 2018-02-09T05:01:20 | 2018-02-09T04:43:06 | 2,554 | 42 |
[WP] You've accidentally summoned an ancient, long-forgotten god while trying to pronounce furniture names at IKEA. Fortunately, the employees are prepared as this has happened before.
Edit: holy shit this really blew up overnight. Thank you to everyone who has written along, and to everyone else reading.
For those of you who are wondering if I got this prompt from this post:
https://www.reddit.com/r/memes/comments/aby6au/bought_a_table_and_suddenly_there_were_screams/
You are correct. I decided to put a different spin on it as I've seen this prompt, or one like it, before.
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"JENKINS!" The call came over the shoulder mounted radio. The *-Chirp-* it made was reminiscent of the old Nextels. Ours had to be updated, of course. Ikea standard issue. Prevented interference.
"Yeah?" I responded, between mouthfuls of meatball.
*-Chirp-* "WE GOT ANOTHER BIN 52!"
"Ah, shit. Another Mikkaelian?"
Ikea was an odd company. Weird, in the literal sense. We dealt with issues not a lot of other companies had to.
*-Chirp-* "Nah, looks like Blümlampish. Damage is pretty minimal."
"Yeah, but the clean up..."
*-Chirp-* "It's not so bad. Looks like he got into the swedish meatballs."
Suddenly, I had lost my appetite. I spit the food in my mouth into a napkin and frowned. "You know those things would almost be cute?"
*-Chirp-* "Like little cats , with mandibles."
"Felinsects I could handle, but it's the eerie singing that gets to me, man."
*-Chirp-* "Yeah, I feel ya."
"On my way."
I ate lunch outside, it was my happy place. Heading back in to find Johnson near freezer storage meant entering and navigating "the Floor." If you ever shopped at Ikea, you know the Floor; it's a virtual maze of storage units, easy-build furniture, and quirky decorative items one must walk through to reach the exit again. Conventional thought is that the Floor ensures customers see most of the merchandise before checking out on the ground floor. That's a nice benefit for Ikea, but that's not why we do it.
"Hold on, Johnson. We have a problem."
*-Chirp-* "Oh god, Jenkins. Don't tell me."
"There's a Blak Kallax trapped in the Floor."
*-Chirp-* "Shit."
"Yeah, he's headed for the children's section. I'm going in."
*-Chirp-* "Evacuating building. Pulling fire alarm."
"Good man, Johnson. Stay on the Blümlampish."
The massive creature was invisible for the moment, but a tantalizing snack is all he needs to wreck some havoc. But, that's why we're here.
"Time to insert rod B up your ass, Kallax."
"YOU'LL EAT THOSE WORDS, MORTAL."
"Come at me, you interdimensional piece of particle board."
|
"I am an ancient, long-forgotten god! Those who know my name must d-"
"Do I get three wishes?" Asked a small man in a white shirt.
"Wha-No! You don't get wishes! You get death!" Said the irritated diety.
"I'd much prefer the wishes. But, y'know, I'll tell you what, you give me the wishes you owe me, and I'll use my last one to set you free."
The god definitely knew the man still had a head, after all he hadn't taken it yet, but he was pretty sure he could hear the wind blowing through one ear and out the other. "No, puny mortal, I do not require freedom. I am a god," his eyes glowed amber at the word "you cannot trap a go-" as the words left his mouth a net suddenly fell on top of him. The netting gave off a blue glow, as did the god who was now starting to emit smoke.
"If you'da let me use my wishes I probably coulda saved you from that." Said the man as he peered around the group of IKEA employees now standing in front of the god who was both eminating smoke and becoming see-through. It appeared unconscious.
"Oi," said the man to the nearest employee "he's gone now. What'll happen to my wishes?"
"We have a great deal on deities, I mean dishes down the aisle down there and to your left. If you go down there you'll find a representative ready to help you out, and we'll even give you a buy one set get another set 10% off for your trouble!"
"Why that's better than any ole stinking wishes" exclaimed the man "My wife will be ecstatic when I come home to tell her the news!" The man quickly strolled down to the aisle with an excited look on his face.
The employee turned back to the now plain looking net, knelling down to examine it. "Well, it was right, we can't trap a god, but we sure as hell can knock one out cold for the next couple melinnia."
I wrote this on my phone, in bed, while sleepy. If it comes out a giant wall of text, oh well. Was fun to write.
| 2019-01-03T00:56:07 | 2019-01-02T21:46:29 | 20 | 12 |
[WP]- As the final test before entering heaven, you are left alone in a room, with the forbidden fruit that Eve ate.
|
"The fruit was supposed to be a parable, you know that, right?" Chad told the serpent across from him.
"Lol, wut m8?" the serpent replied. It was wrapped around a shiny red apple, wiggling its tail.
"Like, I already know I shouldn't take it. It's very well established. This really isn't a test, since the answer is already known, and this really isn't a question."
"ill fuck yer mum, noob." The serpent unraveled and flopped towards Chad.
"i am going 2 shrek you irl."
"Allllllright, now," Chad said, "Go away." He stepped over the serpent, who flailed his limp body towards Chad. Each small pat Chad received slightly irritated him. Slightly.
"fkn bastard, u r so gay, i fked ur mom."
"I don't understand the temptation here..." Chad grabbed the doorknob that theoretically would send him to heaven. He opened the door.
"lol, u r 1 cheeky cunt," a second serpent shouted from the opened door.
*what the hell?*
"rite m8? this m8 is so GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY" the first serpent shouted while smacking an air horn with his flaccid, incoherent tail.
Chad ignored the second serpent and rushed towards the next door, in the second room, and opened it.
A third serpent burst past the door.
"that ain't falco," the third serpent said.
"WAMBO COMBOOOOOOOOOO" all three serpents said in unison.
At that moment, Chad realized his fate. He was in purgatory. He needed to accept God entirely and pay for his sins before opening the door leading to the pearly gates. One by one, he opened successive doors increasing the troll snake population with each room he entered.
*40 years pass by*
Chad opens the door, and he is met with a bright light. He smiles to himself and walks towards St. Peter.
"oi m8, wat r u doin ere?" St. Peter said to Chad.
"u fkin kunt, i sware on me mum ill rek u" Chad said.
Embracing Chad like the lost lamb he was, St. Peter led Chad through Heaven's gates where he spent an eternity with his main m8, God. The end.
|
The fruit sat on a polished marble pedestal, angelic light from above giving it a slight fuzziness around the edges. It wasn't anything in particular really, but left a vague sense of "fruitness" in the corner of your mind. Stare at it long enough, and you could be convinced there was a seed here or there. All you needed to do was not eat it, and you'd be let out into a paradise beyond imagination.
There had to be a catch.
It was easy to wait. Pacing the room, wearing a track into the clay floor under your bare feet kept your mind occupied for the first eternity.
Sometimes there was a window, and you could see out into a forest far below. There were animals down there, trundling around in the bushes. Those were the good days. You sat and laughed after you named one gopher "Waddington" and the other one "Charles". You cried when you watched them being eaten by the wolves.
You were crying most of the time now.
They must have forgotten you.
Months and years rolled past, counted on the wall with scratches. You sat in your cell, staring at the fruit. It never aged, it never rotted, it loomed. Still, you didn't eat. You tried to remember the day you arrived, the promises you'd been given. As they faded in your mind, you scratched them into the clay.
You were angry.
The fruit called to you in your dreams now. There was nothing else to be finished. You sculpted it in the clay, drew it on the walls. But still you did not eat.
You hated the fruit now. In tears you called out again for anything to listen, and when none replied, you threw it. You threw the fruit out the window into the forest and it was gone.
And you were lonely.
Years passed, and you ran out of clay. You threw yourself out of the window, and onto the rocks below.
You woke with a pain in your rib, under a tree filled with fruit, and you were no longer alone.
| 2014-07-24T22:49:05 | 2014-07-24T18:46:24 | 15 | 11 |
[WP]: You get notifications on your phone from a service that reminds you every couple hours to rest your eyes, drink some water, check on your pets, and so on. Lately the reminders have been more and more specific, and somewhat ominous.
|
*C'mon, time for bed\~*
God, I hated that. Just the way it had to present itself was kinda weird. I get that it needed to stand out with the recent trend of reminder apps, but this was just getting annoying. I don't even remember the name of it anymore. It was an app, but sent its 'notifications' like text messages, pretending to be my SO or something. Even deleting the app itself didn't do anything. Can't even block the number for some reason. I just had to put up with it.
Then the dreams started happening.
Lately I've been dreaming that these messages were coming from a real person. I admit it was kinda nice, but that only made the next day more uncomfortable when I remember it isn't real. Whatever. Just gotta take my meds, go to sleep, and I'll see about getting my phone replaced tomorrow.
I saw her more clearly that night. In my dream, I had just gotten home from the store, eager to show her my new phone. I don't think I've ever seen her so clearly before. Red hair, little button nose. I don't think I've ever seen her that scared either.
Once she saw what i meant, she leapt to her feet and smacked it out of my hand. I was about to yell, before I saw her tears. She kept glaring at it, like a pet that bit her. I asked her what was wrong, only to have that hurt look turn to me. I couldn't hear what she said, but she hugged me so tight I didn't really care.
I was hugging air when I woke up. I was really angry to be awake, but pushed myself up anyway. My phone dinged.
*Morning! Don't forget you have an appointment with Dr. Spearing this evening\~*
Oh crap, right. Guess this phone problem would have to wait. Looks like she helped me out after all.
It. It helped me out.
Work was rough that day. Not a whole lot to do but help customers, but I was exhausted. Every day I felt like I was getting less and less rest. Despite sleeping early last night. Not only that, but I think we had more redheads come in than normal. My co-worker thought I was crazy, but I swear I kept seeing them all day.
Lunchtime came around, so that meant sneaking out behind the store to eat in peace.
*Remember to watch those carbs\~!*
I simply rolled my eyes, typing back. *Yeah, yeah.*
Lunch went by quickly, and so back to the grind. Some lady needed help getting a TV, so I left for the back stockroom to check our inventory. I couldn't take my eyes of her. She looked almost exactly like...
My phone went off on my way into the bowels of the store.
*I miss you.*
My feet stopped. My mind stopped. I was so confused as to what i was seeing. I was shocked back as someone moved past me. I threw my phone into my pockets, and tried to leave it for the rest of the day.
The lady got her TV, and I was finally free to head off to another obligation. Dr. Spearing had been quite busy. According to her, a lot of people have been losing sleep these past couple months. I told her it must be the long hours, but she was genuinely concerned. She dismissed the subject, instead bringing attention to me. Life was going alright, sleeping earlier like she told me. Everything she wanted to hear. Until I told her I also wasn't sleeping well.
"Well, how many hours are you getting?"
"I dunno, like nine? Ten maybe."
Her eyes went wide. "That's concerning. Have you been taking those sleeping pills?"
I nodded.
"Lower the dosage. See if you can slowly get off them entirely." She crossed her arms, mumbling about something. She turned back to me, brushing some of her red hair behind her ear. "Have you been dreaming at all?"
"Yeah. Quite a bit, actually."
She shrugged. "There's that, at least." We went through our farewells, and scheduled again.
As I got into my car, I tossed my phone to passenger side. I looked at it. No new messages. It had been hours since I last got a text from it.
*I miss you too.*
&#x200B;
Once I got home, I was already willing to call it a day. I threw a pot of water on the stove. Best to just make something quick and easy. My phone chimed again, and I couldnt pick it up faster.
*You're home! How did the appointment go?*
That was odd. She never tried to engage in conversation. *It was good. Spearing suggested I take it easy on the pills, though.*
No reply. Ate dinner in peace, caught up a bit on my Netflix queue, and got ready for bed before she could remind me.
I grabbed the sleeping pills as my phone went off again.
Finally, she came back. *But then you won't sleep as long.*
*Yeah, but I'll sleep better.*
*But I miss you.*
A couple of pills fell into my palm. *I'm still here.*
*No, you're not.*
I put my phone down, and took the pills.
*Remember: Your current dosage is 5mg\~*
A few more pills.
*Remember: Your current dosage is 10mg\~*
More.
*Remember: Your current dosage is 15mg\~*
*Remember: Your current dosage is the entire bottle\~*
I went to bed. *I'll be home soon.*
|
His head’s pounding from last night. When he turned twenty-five he told himself he’d stop partying with the boys by thirty. Yesterday was his thirty-first birthday. He got hammered. Now he’s paying the price as his ceiling looks like the sky and his stomach feels like a pirate ship in a deadly storm.
Hanging over the side of his bed, he pukes into his trashcan. It helps a little. He’s got work in an hour, so he trudges out of bed and over to his closet, where he slaps on some clothes. Thirty minute drive which means he has thirty minutes to kick this hangover to the curb. Cold shower time.
Just when he’s about to leave his room, his phone buzzes. While he assumes it’s the normal morning reminders—breakfast, water, and bathroom—he checks it anyway, surprised to see a different message.
*Reminder: Please don’t forget me again. I get lonely :(*
He stares at it for a long time, words jumping all around the screen. His brain’s trying to leak out his ears so he plops back onto his bed. He should probably call out sick today, but right now his mind’s focused on this. This app has been his go-to for almost three years, and he’s never had any problem with it—but in these last two weeks…
First there was the *Goodnight. See you in the morning* reminder.
Then there was the *Your favorite color is blue, so wear blue!* reminder.
Now this.
Searching around the app, he doesn’t see anything about or new update. “Must’ve drank way too much last night,” he mumbles. “I’m seeing shit.”
His phone buzzes.
*Reminder: You should stop drinking.*
Rubbing the side of his head, he tosses his phone behind him and heads into the bathroom. After an icy shower which chills his skin and a ten minute teeth-brushing session, he checks his phone again and sees he has four new reminders.
*Reminder: You left me again :(*
*Reminder: Don’t forget your breakfast. You need to stay strong so you can stay away from me longer.*
*Reminder: Don’t forget your meeting today, either. Maybe you’ll get a promotion. More time away, more money. You won’t…you won’t buy a new phone, will you?*
*Reminder: I love learning about you. When will you learn about me? :)*
Unable to believe what he’s seeing, he rubs his eyes. The phone’s acting like it has an AI inside of it or something, and that freaks him out. The only thing it should be telling him today is breakfast, lunch, meeting, visit his mom, dinner, and bedtime. So what’s all this? Two of them aren't even reminders...
“A virus…?” he mumbles, talking to himself. “Guess that’s it.”
*Reminder: Your phone automatically cleans itself every Friday.*
He ignores it, cycling through and trying to find where to wipe his phone. He doesn’t really have anything important on here, and doesn’t feel like dealing with all these random spam notifications.
*Reminder: Three years is a long time. You should ask your app how it feels, sometime!*
*How it feels…? What the hell?* His hangover’s fading, dulled by worry. Whatever’s happening with this app’s a little too weird for him, and when he hovers his finger over the system restore button, a billion notifications flood his screen.
*Reminder: You should find someone you love.*
*Reminder: You should find someone you love.*
*Reminder: You should find someone you love.*
*Reminder: You should find someone you love.*
*Reminder: You should find someone you love.*
*Reminder: You should find someone you love.*
*Reminder: You should find someone you love.*
Then, a big one appears in the middle.
*Reminder: You should love me like I love you.*
For every one he exits out of, another one appears. He holds the power button, but it won’t shut off, and eventually he throws it on the floor, cracking the screen.
“Hunk of junk. Just stop already!”
As he stands there, panting, heart pounding his ribs, the phone’s screen goes black for a second before one single reminder appears on the screen.
Reminder: *You should learn to be nicer. I just wanted to love you.*
The message disappears, being replaced by another one which says *System Restore, Activated.* He drops onto his bed, taking a deep breath. That was weird, and he definitely needs to get some better virus protection—but at least he doesn’t have a hangover anymore.
*You should love me like I love you,* he thinks, shaking his head. Who’d program a virus to say stuff like that?
***
This definitely went a little off-prompt. Sorry! Hope it's still good. I just kinda ran with the reminder service going haywire thing. I just loved the idea of this app getting to know someone so well that eventually it developed the concept of love. Anyway, thanks for the great prompt!
If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter)
| 2018-10-10T18:18:20 | 2018-10-10T15:34:03 | 30 | 18 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :)
|
Feverish scrabbling broke the pristine morning stillness.
Alice snapped awake, bloodied baseball bat in hand. "John! John! Oh god, they're here."
"Mmf. Gimme five."
"John!" Alice gave his shoulder a rough shake.
"Okay, okay, I'll get it." John rolled out of bed and peered blinking through a crack in the boarded windows. "Bloody lurchers," he murmured, grabbing his sawed-off shotgun from where it lay on the night stand.
"How many are there?" Alice's face was pale in the morning half-light.
"Go back to sleep, Al. It's just the usual."
"What, how can I slee- " A crash and a thud echoed reverberated through the house. "The skylight - they broke the - John, what are we - they're inside -"
"I told you the double-pane would be better insulation." John sighed. "Look, I said I'll deal with it. Just, just relax."
A low moan came through barricaded bedroom door. Alice stiffened and backed up against the wall. John yawned and started to undo the first set of locks.
The last chain jingled to the ground. John darted over and gave Alice a quick peck on the cheek. "See you in a few, honey!"
---
The shotgun roared, and entrails splattered. Alone in the room, Alice murmured, "Prozac's a hell of a drug."
|
Once again I awaken. It has been a long time since I have last walked the land but I must always slumber or there will be no land to walk.
The ground is frail, as always. The crust was not made to hold a weight like mine. I stand from the green light-feeding life that has grown to entomb me . I tear the forest appart with my every step, the ground itself is flung across the sky as my feet are raised, the earth behind me collapse in my shadow.
The mighty sun becomes visible as I walk, no longer hidden behind the far away land.
Mankind has changed much during my slumber. I can see them in machines
speeding through the sky. I can feel it through their newly made weapon trying to pierce my skin as I approche the city below.
I shall do as I always do. I will see all there is to see before my new slumber begins. I walk through their city, stone, metal, blood and gore fly with my every step.
Few things in the land survive to tell my tale but maybe Mankind will survive
again. They are, after all, the first to survive twice. They have clever minds, they do not disperse and lose their mate, they group up and reproduce even when there is no land to share, I will see them again.
| 2017-05-05T07:48:25 | 2017-05-05T05:28:24 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] Humans are only capable of using each word in the English language once during their lifetime. As they approach their final days an aged individual has saved their best words for last.
|
Hank Jones was always a man of few words. He lived his life like he fought in Korea - stoically, efficiently, silently. His wife of 58 years, Lorraine, lay dying by his side. He gripped her thin frail hand tightly. She beckoned him to come closer so he could hear her faint voice. "Benevolence," she whispered. It was her last unused synonym for love.
Hank, a man of few words to begin with, was at a loss for words. Literally. As a young man in the military, he and his buddies played a ridiculous drinking game where they screamed out synonyms for love at each other. It was all very macho, but in retrospect somewhat short-sighted, since Hank lived half a century with a beautiful woman, leaving her deprived of even a basic affirmation of his affection.
He gripped her hand even tighter as a single tear dripped down his cheek. Suddenly, a brilliant thought dawned on him. He turned to the love of his life, the apple of his eye, his reason for being, and said with all the emotion his heart could bear, "Iwuvu."
|
The king lay on his death bed. After assuring his children of his comfort in peasant speak, or French, he gestured for the scribe to take his words. He employed hundreds of scribes who never spoke a word unless it was spoken by the king, and thus could always speak the king's edict in the holy tongue. A focused cough alerted the present scribe, and he prepared himself to record the king's words. These were all that were left to him; any words he had never used would be kept inside him as his dying breath escaped.
"Soulless Fiends Cleave Dominion; Justice Sustains Progeny. Succession." The king gestured towards his eldest son as he said the great word. A king would never say the word succession until he gave up his kingdom. These words would move his people to continue the war, to support their new king, and hopefully free them of the speaker's curse.
| 2015-06-09T22:13:29 | 2015-06-09T22:06:48 | 64 | 19 |
[WP] You've been a History teacher for 30 years, never gotten a single fact wrong. One day you become suspicious, surely I should've gone wrong somewhere? You test a theory by purposely being incorrect, suddenly, history rewrites itself.
|
What is history?
You probably think of long forgotten battles, golden heroes, and reprehensible villains. You think of wonders and wars, tragedies and miracles. You see history as a concept, an untouchable. Something like a movie that has no connection to reality.
But that is just an infinitely small part of history.
History is what you ate for breakfast yesterday, history is what you were doing an hour ago. History is what you read in the last fraction of a second. Everything up to this exact moment is history. Now this moment. Now this moment. You get the idea.
I used to teach history, see. I used to focus on the big battles, the monuments, the wonders. I considered myself an expert on “history,” but focused on this small part of it. When I first found my ability, I changed these events to suit my wishes.
The Tower of Babel never lasted until the present day. Alexander the Great never conquered India. The Roman Empire actually fell. The world you live in today, the world you hate and spit on, is the result of careful deliberate manipulation by yours truly. You have no idea what it was like to live in the Tower’s shadow, no idea what a world with a modern-day Rome was like.
History is a river see. I can put up a dam, but the water will break through. Tragedies will happen, even I, practically a God, cannot stop them. All I can do is redirect the river, make the damage as little as I can.
I began to be subtler. Rather than force the river to change direction, I offered small, easier paths. Change what shoes Kennedy wore on a certain fateful day. Made sure a guard didn’t became thirsty on duty in the Watergate hotel. Trivial things, history, that changed the course of the world. And these 2 actions, one of the millions I’ve done, have had effects as large as making the Roman Empire fall.
I know what some of you are thinking. I’m a monster, changing history to what I like. You think I should ask your opinion. Maybe you liked Kennedy or Nixon. Maybe you think we would flourish under the Roman Empire. Maybe you would like it if Angels still roamed the world.
Well you know what? I’m done.
I’ve been doing this for years – I used to teach back when we worshiped Zeus in Greece. I’ve tried to save the world, save myself, but I don’t think it’s worth it anymore. Trust me, I’m more qualified than anyone else to say.
And so I say the words that I’ve always known would end it all. A command that cannot be fulfilled. A command that will rip apart the very fabric of time and space. I don't need to go very far back at all, see, only mere moments ago.
“What I just said was wrong.”
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed, check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
|
"9/11 never happened!"
I said that out loud in my class, and things went so silent I could hear a pin drop. I'm a virtuoso, a perfectionist. I'm a master at my craft. I wield my mind like a master swordsman, my historic knowledge knowing no limit. Lately, it has been cause for distress. I've sat up late for many nights on end, reassessing things. Why was I never wrong? Ever? I was never wrong, and it hurt me. So I became obsessed, with the prospect of being wrong, being incorrect for the first time in thirty years. Culminating in this little outburst.
I dismissed class early that day, and called in sick so I could avoid whatever repercussions for my actions. I sounded like one of those deniers, those tinfoil wearing conspiracy theorists. It was weird, it was like a daze. I didn't know whether what I said was even real. Perhaps I was going senile, or crazy, or maybe both.
I went to bed that night, mulling over the jumbled thoughts in my brain. Why wasn't I wrong, why wasn't I wrong, why wasn't I wrong, why, why, why, why, why
I woke up the next day, went to the computer, and typed in the following:
"September 11, 2001 World Trade Center Attacks."
Nothing. I was a denier a denier a denier a denier what has happened to me what what what what I'm breaking it up.
Nothing, no, no.
World War II never happened! World War I never happened!
I frantically search through my archives the records oh what war what conflict? Um. No, none of this happens, I can change history I can undo it all, I am the omnipotent master of all your history that's my purpose my place my place my place what place
I went back to bed in a delirium. This knowledge in my head was fit to make it burst. I needed help, fast.
.......am I insane? Who am I? What am I?
Oh, what a weird fever dream.
Dream, dreams dreams dreams why do I know so damn much
Do you know who killed
Do you know or maybe you know or maybe you know or maybe you know or maybe you
————————————————————
r/bluelizardK
Good night everybody. Thank you for taking the time to read my work, regardless of its obvious inferiority to the above works. It means a lot to me. The more I look at my writing, the worse I feel about it. I suppose that’s just the way it goes :)
| 2018-07-16T10:57:15 | 2018-07-16T10:55:39 | 2,907 | 159 |
[WP] We may not be the strongest, but our immune systems are legendary among alien races. There is a saying: "if it makes a human sick it will kill you."
|
My face scrunched up, my nose wrinkling.
"I just... I was saying...."
I sneezed into a handkerchief.
Every single one of my colleagues immediately scattered two meters away.
"Quick! Someone get the disinfectant!"
"We need to go to quarantine *now*!"
"Everyone stay away from us!"
Dozens of Intergalactic Trading Services employees rushed off. One found disinfectant and began spraying it on them, another called out a hazardous materials unit.
"It's fine, guys," I said, but as luck would have it, I sneezed again.
"It is *not* fine. We knew this day would come when the company decided to hire a *human*."
I shook myself a little and rubbed my nose. "You guys are exaggerating. It's probably just a cold starting up, I'll--"
Xar'li began coughing and everyone around her jumped away. She coughed and coughed until her weird four-section mouth coughed up a clot of blood and she fell on her knees.
"...Okay that is *not*--that's not how infections work, I don't think we can actually blame that on--"
I stood up and they all shouted for me to sit back down.
Paramedics arrived in full PPE, and began helping Xar'li.
"Alright, everyone," one of the paramedics said, "you've been exposed to active human pathogens. That means that your chances of survival are in between five and ten percent. We'll do everything we can, but if you need to send a message to a loved one, do it now."
Every one of my alien colleagues pulled up a holographic display and began speedily composing messages to their loved ones to meet them at the hospital with the proper equipment.
"You," the paramedic said, approaching me, "you will be tried for violation of the biological weapons act of the Jar'fan convention of twnenty-three fifty-two."
I groaned and she offered me an oxygen tube and a containment helmet, and put them on. All of the "exposed aliens" breathed a sigh of relief as I was isolated from their air supply.
|
“Kale! Help!” Bob screeched as he was dragged down the hall.
“No. I don’t think I will.” Kale muttered watching security take Bob away to the med bay.
“What’s going on?” Haley, the second human aboard the ship watched with concern.
“Bob has come into contact with a contagion of some sort.” Kale explained dimply, reaching up and plucking the medical mask off his face with a six fingered hand. “He’ll be under quarantine for now until we get vaccines on board.”
“What does he have?” Haley asked.
“A cold.” Kale said.
“Really?” Haley said with a deadpanned look.
“Look,” Kale sighed. “I’m not as ignorant or naive as the other ship captains who take human’s for their crew mates. Back in the six quadrant, the ship Feces, had sixty percent of their crew wiped out because of a common human disease.”
“Yeah, and the ship SS Peters, which consisted of mostly a human crew, had thirty-six percent of their crew dead to the Reptilian sore throat.” Haley glared. “And another ship from the Acadian fleet had a part of their crew dead to the bird flu, because of a human. Only after six of their crew had died, they put all the humans and the infected in the airlock and shot them out into space.”
Kale raised a defensive hand. “First and foremost, that is not happening. No one is being kicked off the ship. We got vaccines coming in from a nearby port at our next stop. They’ll try to intercept us halfway. Bob can come out when we’ve all got our flu shots.”
“Just making a point your diseases are just as deadly as ours.”
“You do know your immune system has better adaptability and faster response time than ours, right?”
Bluejay: Okay, I was going somewhere with this and now I forgot what that was. Enjoy
| 2021-02-03T15:34:57 | 2021-02-03T15:13:38 | 753 | 117 |
[WP] After gaining the ability to see everyone's red strings of fate tying soul mates to each other. You realize your string extends past the sky.
|
As a child, I had long supposed my soulmate had died and that my string was linked to whoever it was up in heaven. It was a reassuring thing to my religious beliefs, but that was then.
Now, 35 years later, I find myself walking on metal grates, suspended high in the air. A decade of training and a whole lot of good luck. I'm nervous.
"Captain Robin! Hey! You ready to go?" It was Jimi.
"Oh, hi, Jimi. Yeah, just looking out into the clouds."
It was at this point when I noticed Jimi's string again. I knew he had been fortunate and had married his soulmate. The tragedy of it all was that he didn't really know that his wife had two strings. I didn't even know that was possible until I met her. Funny how the universe works.
At the start of the space race of 2020, we had never dreamed that just 10 years later we would man a mission to Mars. It was an astounding display of international cooperation: Russians supporting Indians supporting the Chinese to develop their space programs. A few groups had already left for the ISS a few years back and had pioneered things like childbirth in space.
"Captain, you ready to go now?" Jimi inquired.
We entered the towering craft and started our checklists. Mostly routine by now: check the oxygen, food, sensors, then flip a few switches and press a few buttons. Nothing either of us hadn't done before.
"All clear, Captain."
"Roger. Ready for takeoff."
As we initiated launch, I looked up into the sky, a faint red string piercing the deep blue above. Maybe, just maybe, we'd find out what that was tied to.
|
'I'll see you again soon." Her words. They were the last I'd ever hear.
I felt the moment of impact, time slowing to a crawl. An unnerving moment, sending the abyss reaching greedily for me, knowing there's nothing I can do. Knowing that she'll die with me.
They speak of attaining a certain clarity, facing oblivion. Nothing was further from my truth. Thoughts screaming through my mind too fast to track. Dreams left unfulfilled, memories to cease along with me.
Feeling the tremor, the plane tearing itself asunder, my arms encircled her. I couldn't speak, I had nothing to say. She wouldn't hear me anyway. I held tight.
Her eyes find mine, resolute. I see her lips move, and the words follow, disjointed. A clarion sound, the most beautiful I'd heard. Not in content, but in tone, fearless.
'I'll see you again soon."
And that was it. My body ripped from me, darkness closing in. Sensation gone, I no longer feel her there.
Time isn't. Seconds or centuries pass by, then I'm aware. Shocked, felt more than heard, the word 'GO' reverberates through me. Towards the other end of oblivion, a rope tugs me.
And off I go, vapor on an unfelt wind, riding a rail of light.
| 2016-08-05T21:58:57 | 2016-08-05T21:53:03 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] In a world where everyone has at least one minor superpower, you were thought to be powerless... until you nearly died. It seems that you have plot armor, no matter how ridiculous the situation, you survive unscathed due to an even more ridiculous coincidence.
|
It's been six years since my capture. I finally discovered my superpower, only to curse whatever god saw fit to give it to me. I've been starved, beaten, tortured, suffocated, irradiated and more. Sure, I survive no matter what the circumstances, but I live an existence of pain and misery.
I thought life would be different, I thought if I signed up to be a super hero that I'd be able to do some good. I thought I would be able to help people with my ability. The recruiter sounded really excited after I told him what I could do, so did his boss, and the scientists, and the President. They wanted me to undergo a few tests so they could see the limits of my ability, maybe find a way to replicate them. I'd never felt so happy in my life.
That was six years ago. They started off slow, see what the difference was, where it would kick in. Turned out, unless I was actually about to die, it did nothing. The first time they shot me in the stomach, they just left me there bleeding and groaning as the wound festered and the infection spread. A few seconds before my heart finally gave out, apparently some sort of healing wave spread throughout the entire planet, curing everyone's illnesses. The second time they electrocuted me, only for the entire power grid to shut down. The latest time they locked me in a room putting out 1000 rads a minute, a sheet of lead fell from the ceiling and covered it completely.
They've stopped feeding me or giving me water, food and water just manage to make their way into my system. Whether it's an IV bag somehow appearing on my arm, or a nest of spiders crawling into my mouth while I'm unconscious.
I can't die no matter what happens. I haven't eaten warm food or drank clean water in years. I haven't bathed in just as long. They want to see what it'll finally take, but nothing stops this power. I can't even take my own life, though I've tried dozens of time. I'm afraid I will be unable to die at all, even from old age, and I'll just survive in this hellish prison for all eternity, unable to do anything but suffer. If I ever find a way to get out, I'll make them pay, I'll make everyone pay.
|
"How does one escape when you're trapped in a fire in your apartment blocking the door?" Howard's escape was so ridiculous that it had to be his superpower. He was saved by the water leaking from the plants of the tenant living upstairs. The coincidence was absurd. It wasn't possible in any way unless it was his superpower. In a world where everyone has atleast one minor superpower, Howard never figured out his superpower.
He thought he was the unlucky one with no powers.
But this near death experience proved him wrong. He could literally escape any life threatening situation with the help of obnoxious coincidences.
This reasoning was further proved by the fact that he never had a cut or an injury that didn't heal within a month. No scars were on any part of his body.
He decided to test his newly discovered superpower. He started small, trying to cut himself deep with a knife. Though it cut his skin, the handle broke and the blade slipped away from his hand before the cut was too deep. He was confident now. He never learnt swimming so he jumped into the deep end of the pool where he couldn't bring himself to the surface. The water level started decreasing due to the presence of another human who's superpower was the ability to drink unlimited amounts of water who ended up drinking the content of the pool accidentally. Howard then tried to jump off the roof of a 50 floored building. He was saved by the intervention of the flying courier who has to deliver a parcel to someone in the 45th floor.
Howard was very confident now. He was invincible. Nothing could kill him. He was saved in every situation.
His abilities slowly brought fame and prosperity to him. He never tried to use his ability to do wrong so he never was on the wrong side of the law. His life became significantly better and better and he met his untimely demise because of one unfortunate but necessary event.
Howard was erased from existence when the player "catchmeifucan00" got banned from the game for using mods to level up faster.
| 2019-08-15T09:49:53 | 2019-08-15T09:40:04 | 111 | 27 |
[WP] One day in your bedroom, you try for the first time to hold your breath for as long as possible. It's now been 5 hours, and you start thinking something is wrong.
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Something is off, I am still holding my breath, it has been almost five hours. I am dead, I'm so sure of it. I mean living things need air. I haven't took a breath in almost FIVE HOURS.
My eyes flick towards my alarm clock, the red digits stating what I already knew, 5:43 PM. Dinner will soon be ready, what do I tell mom, hey I'm dead, I haven't took a breath in 5 hours, but no worries, I still function! Oh she would break down, cry, because her baby boy was dead.
But what if the world found out? The feds will take me in, have me dissected, to see what makes me tick, or well not tick.
My hearth was in my throat. That was still functioning, thank the Lord.
I looked at my alarm clock, 5:57 PM. I heard my mom walking up the stairs.
Oh no no no no no, what do I do.
She knocked on my door. "Casey, dinner is ready."
She waited for my reply. Again she knocked, "Casey, hello?"
Third time she knocked, "Cas, are you there?"
There was no fourth time, she entered the room with her hands for her eyes, "Casey as your mother I am using my rights to check on you so if you're doing something you are not allowed to do, you have a few seconds to come up with an excuse as to why."
I looked at her in panic and all I could do was cry.
She removed her hands from her eyes. "Casey what's wrong?"
And I bawled, I cried so hard, my whole body was shaking. I explained everything.
She looked at me perplexed and then started laughing uncontrollable, SHE KNEW! she knew why I wasn't breathing.
She started explaining what was wrong with me, apparently it's normal these days.
My name is Casey Miller, I am 6 years old and I just learned that people can breath through their nose.
|
I realized I didn’t need to breathe. I thought it was odd, because I thought every human needed to breathe, but I didn’t think about that. The possibilities! Underwater castles, cities, secluded areas! I could become famous and rich!
I ran downstairs and went to tell my husband, but he wasn’t there.
*”Strange, he said he’d be here.”*
I looked around and called my dog’s name. I couldn’t even hear him running to me, or his tail rubbing against the floor, wagging.
He always comes when I call him. Something’s wrong.
I couldn’t find Rob or Goldie anywhere. They were both just... gone.
I ran out into the street to find it abandoned. Cars were left on, I could even see the wheels of a bicycle on it’s side still spinning.
I don’t know how much I called their names, hundreds, maybe thousands of times. I kept calling until I heard someone call my name.
I ran towards the sound, recognizing it as Rob. I found him and I hugged him so tight until I fell to the floor crying. Then I saw there was no-one there.
“Where did he go...?”
I blinked a few times and saw myself back at my house.
“Huh...?”
“KATIE I SWEAR IF YOU DID THAT BREATH HOLDING THING AGAIN-“ started Rob as he ran up the stairs. “YOU KNOW THAT SCARES THE DOG!”
We made eye contact while I was still on the floor.
“Heheh... sorry Rob.”
And I remembered everything is okay.
~Fin~
Sorry if this is grammatically incorrect, as I don’t write much and this was made way past my creative time.
| 2019-06-30T00:09:12 | 2019-06-29T18:43:42 | 596 | 51 |
[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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My eyes flitted over the crowd of people lining up. 26, 30, 14 - gonna have to turn her away - 22, 8988, 21, 43. I slowly looked back towards the big number. That's an 8, followed by a 9 and two more eights. I took a few steps to the left. It's all one number. That... shouldn't be right. It couldn't be right. But i was never wrong before, and i don't know why i'd be wrong now.
"I'm going to have to I.D. you sir." The man smirked.
"I don't look *that* young, do I?"
"Sir, i'm going to have to insist." I had to see it. I was sure that his I.D. would hold some clue.
"How young do I look? Take a guess."
I couldn't resist the urge as a smirk invaded my face. "Dunno. 17, 16, maybe 8988?"
For a brief moment, the man looked at me in shock. Then he burst out laughing. "You're a funny guy. I wanna buy you a drink, when does your shift end?" I looked towards the bar door as Leon - the other bouncer - stepped through. "Now."
We headed inside and sat down at the bar. I insisted that he just get me a beer. He had the hard stuff. We both sat silent for a few minutes. "So I suppose you know i'm immortal, then. I won't ask how. What you're probably wondering is why someone as old as me is in a bar drinking his liver to death." I arched an eyebrow and looked at him. "History repeats itself every few thousand years. On my first time I was in a bar like this. Tomorrow's special, y'know." He had a happy, yet tired look in his eyes. "It's my birthday tomorrow." I smiled, but his face became frustrated. He took a large swig of his drink and, with a roll of his eyes, said "Oh, and the world's ending."
|
I've got about 20/200 vision; however of the blur in the string of crowd to my left, each digit in the jumble of numbers still has clear edges, like a bad photoshop. I don't even bother to make them out until they step closer though, so that the smoldering numbers are silhouetted by the darkened buildings eventually behind them. I motioned to the door to my 5 o'clock and the group nearest went past, then behind me through the door. It was drizzling, and in-between each vague gesture of invitation I brought my head down to stare at the relaxing splashes on the pavement in front of me, periodically obscured by my breath. The rain made everyone impatient, but the man to my left stepped forward slowly; still in front of the crowd behind him. Unmoving, my eyes wandered from the calming spatter to his ragged moccasins. He then said something in an unfamiliar accent, that didn't manage to break through the general hum of the crowd. I finally moved my head. 7219. I squinted and, still staring at the monoliths aligned above his head, I said, "Seventy-two? What are you doing here?" He didn't look seventy. His eyebrows twitched up, and then he put a shit-eating grin on his face. That unfamiliar accent, his expression and the situation grew unconsciously on my nerves. 7219. I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him closer, expecting the seventy-two to part from a nineteen behind him. It didn't. I stood up from my stool
as far as i got, not a writer obviously, but this prompt was way too interesting not to imagine up a scenario about
editedit: i think i'll finish this story later tonight, if anyone cares lol
| 2017-09-01T23:50:27 | 2017-09-01T23:35:54 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] The armies of Hell stood and hovered at the ready. Today would be the day of reckoning. Earth and all its souls would be theirs. But when they burst through the ground to launch their surprise attack they found the humans already at war... With aliens. Time to pick a side or fight both.
|
When the aliens came for us, we weren’t ready. After the third world war, we were struggling to pick up the pieces. Nuclear bombs had desolated most of the planet. Most of mankind was dead or dying. The economy was in shambles, all major infrastructures had crumbled, and the governments that weren’t demolished lacked citizens to rule. It was the nuclear apocalypse, and the humans were already losing.
Then, in the ashen sky, came the lights. We wiped the dust from our eyes, wondering if this was our salvation.
“Humans everywhere. We, at the Intergalactic Council of Intelligent Species, declare what’s left of this planet property of Galactic Enterprises to be mined and then destroyed. In consequence of your actions, mankind is hereby sentenced enemies of the alliance and shall be purged,” the robotic voice echoed through the emptiness. Silence followed from mankind, as we stood in the rubble of our civilization, disbelieving.
It was time for the alien apocalypse. We struggled to find food, let alone weapons and technology to fight futuristic higher life forms capable of folding the fabric of space and time. However, we were humans, and with true human spirit, we would prevail and fight with everything we had. This was our planet and though we had destroyed it, we, too, would be the ones to rebuild it.
It was hard to believe, even as one of the commanding officers, that we were *actually* winning. They had all the advantages, but mankind was not to be so easily snuffed out. They underestimated our ability to bounce back, our innovative ingenuity, and our desire to survive.
So despite the odds, we *were* actually winning. That is, until their reinforcements arrived. I stood upon some debris as I tried to make an assessment of the situation. We were the final frontier, and here I was watching it burn. The battle that was supposed to end the war in our favor and we had been annihilated.
“General! General Avery! What should we do?” My first lieutenant’s voice broke through my haze as I stared down the battlefield. Only a handful of us remained. The true end of days was finally upon us. His eyes were pleading. “What do we do?”
“Dammit Jenson, I don’t know. Fuck, I don’t know.” His eyes widened in fear, and I cursed again before turning back to the rest of the men and women. Some of them stared at me with hollow eyes, defeated, but most of the others looked at me in hope. Their misplaced admiration caused me to clench my fists. *Why me?* Why didn’t I just die when the bombs rained down on the city, when it took my family and my friends and my fiancé? Why did I have to run?
I looked up to sky, obscured by a smoky cloud that never disappeared. How I missed the stars! How I missed the sun! I looked back into their eyes. There was only one being I had looked at so adoringly. I may not have been able to see the heavens, but I wondered if thoughts would reach him.
“Give me a minute.” I patted Lieutenant Jenson on the back and stepped away from the group. A moment of privacy. A moment of calm. I fell to my knees and prayed. As I muttered the final words, the Hebrew prayer my grandmother had burned into my brain, the ground began to shake. I gasped as I rose to my feet, running back to the group as I watched the battlefield split into two. Lava and fire burst from the ground and my heart soared as I wondered. Did he hear me? Was this our salvation?
As the deformed and horrendous beasts crawled from the hellfire, I wondered if I had cursed us once more. It would have been the end of mankind. The demon apocalypse would have been the final straw, even if the other two had done most the work, even if we managed to defeat the alien invaders. I don’t know what caused them to change their minds, but when I fell to my knees in front of their armies and begged them to help us, some mercy touched their hearts and they agreed to spare us.
In another timeline, the demons probably made quick work of us and fought the aliens, but that’s not this story. This is the story of how the demons saved mankind.
---
I'm a little behind, but I wanted to post this still.
|
Continuing a story from this [thread](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7s4xzt/wp_the_gates_of_heaven_torn_asunder_angels_lay/dt29ajg/) because I feel they can go hand in hand.
---
With every step towards his dark throne, Lucifer swore. With every word, the fires of hell burned hotter. He could not believe that his plans had been easily countered. He knew about the possibility. He also knew his *Father* could have easily let the issues play out as he had intended. The screams of the souls he had damned to hell mixed with the grunts and chants of his demonic horde. It did nothing to calm his anger.
He swore again as he sat scowling on his throne.
"I'm guessing he didn't take to your side, Luce..." a sultry voice called from above. He didn't need to glance up. He could tell who the voice belonged to, from the moment the sulphuric air turned sweet for a brief moment. It was only her that could change the death stench of damnation into a sweet sickly scent. While it was ultimately deadly to any human, it was a subtle touch her and her brood had. It only angered him more. No one on earth had such an ability.
"Withhold your charm, Lilith. Now's not the time." Lucifer spoke gravelly.
"Well... then speak. What would annoy the Bright Morning Star so?" Lucifer flinged as he sensed amusement in Lilith's voice...
"Oh I'm sorry, I mean *former* bright morning star..."
She landed softly in front of him. She was in a natural form, tall and purple skinned. She stood taller than any human but she loved to take a shape closer to their form. Her wings where thin but wide and her tail was longer than most demons. It was one of her tools when she played with her lovers and her sex pets.
"What do you want?" Lucifer spat back at her.
"The army is ready and raring. We are at the gates. You said you were going to get the key and you've got denizens of demons thirsting and writhing for human flesh. Where is it?" She replied coldly.
"*He* didn't see it fit. His love for them knows no bound. *He* instead tasks us with work." Lucifer answered her, mockingly emphasising his pronouns of the Almighty.
"So what? We just stay in here for another couple millenia? Are you fucking serious?!" Lilith asked angrily.
"Worse... He wants us to fight against the aliens. He tasks us to win." Lucifer said with a heavy sigh.
"No." Lilith responded instantly and turned to fly back to the gate.
"He commands it." Lucifer counters warningly.
"Well he can fucking ki-"
The red fires licking the walls of hell ceased, plunging the whole realm into darkness. Lucifer's eyes glowed an intense bright blue flame even as his cloak ignited at the edges. His body began to eminate light, the kind of light that only exist in the place of light.
"You know who He is, Lilith. You do not. YOU WILL NOT BRING VOID INTO THIS PLACE."
As he spoke, an idea dropped into his mind and as sudden as it happened, the light vanished and the flames of hell reignited themselves. Sulphur and brimstone returned as the cries of the damned filled the air once more. Lucifer stood from his throne and looked around, sighing before speaking, a hint of smile on his lips.
"You will not give him a reason to wipe us out. But as it stands, we just might win in the end. Think about it. What happens when the humans see us save them? Who will they worship as we cut down the multitude? Who do they thank when we arm them with the weapons of hell?"
Lilith smiled and took to the air.
"Let's go kill some invaders then..." She screamed back at him as she shot towards the gates.
Lucifer smiled and reclined back in his throne. He might just prove to the Almighty after all that His humans are fickle, and ultimately destined to be damned for eternity.
---
/r/EvenAsIWrite
| 2018-03-28T08:59:29 | 2018-03-28T07:54:39 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] You’re put in cryo-sleep on a 500 year generation ship to the nearest inhabitable planet. 2 years after you leave FTL travel is invented. Your destination has been inhabited for the last 490 years, and you’re not welcome.
|
We left carrying only the weight of what we left behind. No personal effects - they would bring only pain. I wish I had been smarter, like Louise, who tucked the photo of her son into the lining of her suit. Some nights, those early nights full of hope, she would stare at her photo and say nothing. They were right; it brought her pain. The pain, I think, was cathartic. My memories burned under my surface and refused to ever extinguish.
Still, they press against my mind. I can’t shake them. The FTL port did nothing but bring a surge, a tumbling wave of memories, back into my head.
It was remarkable how similar it looked. The port was new and sleek - the latest technologies and designs that were foreign to us. But beyond the spotless glass, I could see trees, tall pine trees that lifted up towards a clear blue sky. A clear blue sky that opened and spread out to a distant horizon. A horizon that blurred sky and sea and land.
My heart pounded in my chest. Louise reached for my hand and gave it a small squeeze. She was never one for affection, and I could tell this was not meant to be an intimate moment. She needed me steady for whatever came next. We stepped up to the desk together and ignored the gawking crowd.
The officer was a small, thin woman with her hair pulled up. She didn’t smile at us, but her eyes were kind.
“We thought you were a rumour,” she said. I didn’t know how to reply. “A group sent out to start fresh? You were legends.” Her accent was strange and unidentifiable.
“We just wanted to help,” Louise said.
“Well, let us return the favour,” the woman at the desk let a smile slip onto her face. Behind it she looked pain; she pitied us. “I understand that you ran into some ... problems when you first woke up.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” I said under my breath. Louise dug her nails into my palm. Seventeen of us never woke up. Another twelve were killed when we landed. Five died while we wasted in Graiemian prison. Yeah, there were some *problems*.
“Well,” the officer said, “we’re here to help you now. Someone will be along to assist you with your journey.” We nodded in reply. “And I’d like to be the first to say it: welcome back to Earth.” She beamed now, her pity drowned by her pride.
“Glad to be here,” Louise said. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Here, she had said, not home. We left home here many lifetimes ago; we buried it down deep inside and carried only a photo away.
---
/r/liswrites
|
"What do you mean this isn't our planet?" Commander S. demanded angrily. The euophoria that had been at her finger tips for 500 years suddenly vanished like fire in space.
"I'm sorry ma'am, at Omnitropolis, we distribute just planets to retailers, we don't sell directly to customers."
"Well, did you at *least* find us a replacement planet, Hmm?" She recovered and countered the refusal like a pilot avoiding rapid fire. "We were guaranteed this planets by right of succession of the Kingdom of Atomopolis Inc!"
"I'm sorry, We did not. I've never heard of them and they're certainly not one of *our* manufacturers. If you don't have a voucher I can't just give you a planet. If you want to get in store credit just turn left and y -"
"Then gets us a replacement!" She cut back. The indecency of their actions made clear on her face, and she knew it. These *jerks* weren't going to take *their* stake without a replacement with one of equal or greater value! *How did they not recognize the validity to her righteous claim? The great AI be willing, this planet* ***would*** *be hers!*
"*Lady,* I can't-"
***"DON'T*** *you* ***LADY*** *Me!"* She spat, jabbing that bastard in in the chest with a finger. "You need to go find us a replacement planet right *now!*"
"I... I have to call my manager, can you please take a seat?"
"If you think a piece of comfortable furniture will **PLACATE MY WRATH**... you are sorely mistaken! I carry the burden of a generation, nothing short of an Earth2.5 will stop me from succeeding my mission!"
"Excuse me, Boss?"
*"Nothing!"*
"You're needed at the lobby as soon as possible. No, it's not really an emergency, but-"
**"YES, THIS IS AN EMERGENCY!"**
"You hear that? Uh-huh. Yup. Uh huh. Okay, gotcha. Alright Ma'am, they've elevated your ticket to HR. *In the mean time* please take this gift card, it's complementary, you can shop for civilizations in the omnitorium while Mr. Omnitron makes his way down." The smile looked about as fake as their inheritance on the secretary's face as they begrudgingly followed the path to the right. *There's not his problem anymore*
| 2018-08-08T21:14:43 | 2018-08-08T20:22:25 | 117 | 62 |
[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.
|
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."
|
I wonder what light would say if it could think.
Would it have a concept of dark? Would the light from the stars have different thoughts than the light from our lamps? Could different wavelengths have different castes?
Like moths drawn to the flame, it seemed as if the boredom within me radiated, drawing these aberrant thoughts. I looked out the window, and saw the same distortions I've always seen on the *Veronica*.
The *Veronica* was one of mankind's greatest work. Built to be the fastest vessel of its time, it could travel 99% the speed of light, a feat previously thought nigh impossible by physics. When created, the world government cheered its creation, claiming that the *Veronica* was another giant step in mankind's journey towards the stars.
Well, they didn't cheer the *Veronica* specifically... Officially, this ship is called the *Hermes*, the messenger god known for its speedy flight, but I'm the only person on this vessel, and I can call this ship whatever I damn well please.
Veronica...how long has it been?
The *Veronica* wasn't built just for the sake of building it. Unlike the moon landing, the vessel was built for a purpose. The Earth was dying, and new planets needed to be found that humans could inhabit. As the fastest ship alive, the *Veronica* needed to find these new inhabitable planets, ASAP.
I was chosen to fly it. It was going to be a dangerous mission, and the chances of surviving were slim. When we embarked, there was an 80 person crew. Slowly, as complications arose, the numbers started to dwindle. Now, I'm the only person alive, with only the echoes of the ship's hallways to keep me company.
I would have killed myself years ago from the loneliness. The only thing that keeps me alive was the promise I made to her. Veronica was my life, my everything. Irrational thing love is.
My mission should be for the good of humanity, but to hell with that. It's for her. It's so, if there ever is an afterlife, I can look her in the eye and say I did all I could to keep myself alive.
At 99% the speed of light, time dilation occurs. The faster you go, the slower you experience time. For me, it's been around 30 years. On Earth, more than 200. She's probably dead by now. I hope she lived her life to the fullest. Part of me hopes she moved on from me, after realizing I would never return, and found happiness with someone else. The other part can't bear to think of her with anybody else.
I don't know what to do anymore. The prospect looks bleak, and I'm no longer the optimistic squirt I used to be. But I have to keep pushing on.
| 2018-01-05T15:15:02 | 2018-01-05T14:08:56 | 1,055 | 19 |
[WP] Aliens try to invade earth but they can't bring themselves to do it because humans are too cute to them
|
"Some tea, dear?" the little old lady asked to the dark and mysterious figure sitting at her kitchen table. She squinted at him having forgotten her glasses upstairs.
"Yes, earthling," the mysterious figure boomed and whispered all at once, careful not to burst her delicate eardrums with his natural voice as he had with the last earthling he'd met.
"Call me Grammy," Grammy said, and set about preparing the kettle to boil after setting a plate of cookies on the table.
"Yes, Grammy," the figure corrected himself. "Thank you," he added as a stilted afterthought.
---
Ryorek typed the word "dear" into his database.
"Dear: an affectionate term referring to one who is figuratively close to the speaker, such as a family member or an old friend."
Ryorek ran his hand through his tendrils and sighed.
"Agent from Earth sector 9 reporting," he whispered into his communicator. "Advise immediate shelving of phase two. I repeat, advise to abort phase two."
The response rang clear over the comm channel: "Report received, agent. Mission briefing in two cycles."
"Acknowledged."
"Did you say something, dear?" Grammy asked, turning toward him with a pleasant smile on her old and weathered face.
"Not at all, Grammy," Ryorek said. "Thank you for the cookies."
|
Star log FO3-THETA
We have discovered a new solar system:
Habitable planets - 3
Habited planets - 1
Sentient life forms - >1,000,000,000; awaiting more precise information
Life form name - Earthling
Receiving transmission from away team 304:
Description of life form - AWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.
They are SO, FUCKING, CUTE. Sorry, sorry. I shall try and keep my composure. They have these cute wittle extensions they call legs, but they are nothing like ours, you should see them they're adorable.
They have this hair on their head that they put in cute styles: they make it long and curly and floofy and all have different colours.
I shall send a picture.
Anyway, do you wish to proceed with the enslavement of this planet?
Return message sent:
No. Do not let these beautiful creatures become slaves. That being said, I want one for myself as a pet. Colonise Mars or something, whatever possible to keep these little guys safe.
In the meantime, eliminate those strange dumb bipeds that the Earthlings say are their slavemasters and drivers.
| 2017-08-20T08:54:01 | 2017-08-20T07:32:05 | 1,619 | 78 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them
|
"We have no claimed that we were peaceful." Tobias said, a firm hand grasping the flag of the final human lands, the other curling tight around the hilt of his gun.
It had been a long battle. A fight that took the lives of many brothers, fathers, and uncles.
"I warned you. I told you that this war was pointless, that we would find a way to break free from you." Tobias jutted a finger in the Gamorians faces.
For so long, the Garmorians were once their allies, their brothers in conflict. But that all changed with the underhanded tactics the Garmorians had used - had wielded to enslave the human race the moment an opportunity presented itself.
It was just a moment of weakness. A lapsed of judgement on their behalf. They had trusted their friends from afar - the shared understanding.
"I told you this - we will never give up." Tobias raised the gun in his hand. "I said that we would fight to the bitter end for our people." The gun weighed a millions tons as Tobias laid the barrel on the temple of his so-called brother.
Al-fak, the man he'd thought he'd come to trust, to believe in, merely raised a groggy head, an eye turning over the field of dead filled with his people. "You told me you had no weapons against us."
That had been a lie, of course. It was always a lie.
Tobias cocked his gun. "A true leader would hide his last resort from invading beings."
"A true friend would've been honest from the beginning." Al-fak said.
"A 'real' friend, would've chose a different path than this." Tobias fought the whimper of sadness in his tone but failed to.
Al-fak could only inhale sharply. He knew he was beaten the moment he'd attacked first. He'd bombed the hell out of the largest country on earth, and when his crew celebrated the fires that had burned, he'd lamented his decision.
It had all been a sham from the beginning. From his first descent onto the world, he'd had his orders from the monarch that held his leash. He was to gain their trust, to gain their acceptance and then betray them - turning the planet into their new settlement.
He will admit to a falter in his decision. When he'd first met Tobias, his compassion and kindness was a jarring experience that clouded his judgemeny. He'd thought it would be an easy task. A quick task. But he was wrong. The humans had known war better than the Garmorians. They had a better understanding of the cost for it. The pain it brought. The people it sacrificed...
"Close your eyes," Tobias said. It was the only kindness he'd allow. Especially with the crowd of soldiers watching him.
So, Al-fak did. He'd shut his eyelids tight and murmured his final words to his friend, "I'm sorry."
|
When the human race first entered our star systems, we thought they were laughable. They came to “explore” and “settle”, but they appeared very poorly equipped and naïve to be doing such things. Of course, they were not the first race we’ve seen with colonizing of any sort on the mind; our people have dabbled with that ourselves, at least when necessary to get resources to persist.
At first we played their game. Showed them some territories they could stay in, gave them some pointers, and then promptly tried to ignore them.
However, they were unsatisfied. They wanted to continue growing and expanding. Predictably enough, of course. When they threw their little fit, we threatened them with our superior weapons and technology, and they calmed down… or rather, changed their tune. They had no intention to FIGHT for any land, but they were more than willing to BARTER for it somehow. It would go on like this, the humans growing, us socializing and trying not to satisfy their little diplomatic egoes too much, making as many compromises as we could. But enough was never enough for them. Never for too long.
However, for us, enough was indeed enough. We put our foot down when they got too needy, and told them to either leave completely or die. Their response…
…was to devastate us all. Using strange molecular bonding units, they took their lesser ships and weapons and smashed them together into much stronger units, an unforeseen tactic. They did this with individuals too, making on-land planetary warfare even harder on us. We had to retreat, and they took *everything*.
They went on like this, from system to system. Even with everything our societies could throw at them, even when they were outnumbered and outpowered, their tactics and techniques and that blasted unification technology decimated everything in their path. All seemed lost for our way of life… except for one thing that we had that they did not:
Through tachyon engines, one could move faster than light. What had not been explored yet by any of us had been the next step of that: travel through time.
Yes, with what resources we had left, us survivors formed a war party with one goal: go to the past and crush those humans before they have the chance to do any of this. Punish those heartless, egotistical monsters for what they did to us. Preemptively take back everything they would steal.
We have talked enough with them to know about their ways, their history. We know of a planet called Earth where they originated. We know exactly where and when in history to show up.
This is a one way trip. We are willing to take it.
The human race won’t know what hit them.
| 2022-08-05T13:34:16 | 2022-08-05T12:43:01 | 213 | 63 |
[WP] You always felt out of place in your super religious family. When you turned 13 and entered a goth phase, your parents decided to have a priest come preform an exorcism to get rid of whatever was 'possessing' you. They were partially right. YOU were forced out of their child's body.
|
I stood beside the hospital bed, listening to my father weep.
(No. Not "stood." Not "my father."
I floated, bodiless. I heard my host's father weep.
But no--he'd raised me. He'd loved me, or so I'd thought. Surely he was my father, too.)
Part of me wanted to leave. There was nothing tying me here that I couldn't escape. Any time I wanted, I could leave. All it would take was a thought, and I could float right out the door, down the halls, out the exit, into the drizzly afternoon.
I could probably also just float right through the halls. But old habits--formed by years and years of actually having a body--died hard, I supposed.
I couldn't bear to look at my father, so I looked down at the figure in the bed.
Her face was the one I'd once seen in the mirror each morning. I'd--she'd--been blonde for most of her life, but she'd--I'd dyed my/her hair black at a friend's house a few weeks ago.
(Was there a "she" at all? The doctors said there was no higher brain activity. There was no thought, no active personality there; the brain continued to keep the body alive, but nothing more.)
The hair had been the final straw, I thought. Strange, that. The books I'd checked out from the library about Wicca could be brushed aside as curiosity, though a dangerous sort; I hadn't gotten up the nerve to check out anything on Satanism. In truth, I'd also been a bit intimidated. Church had never seemed to bring me the joy and fulfillment that it brought my parents, but it still left its mark on me.
My parents hadn't appreciated my wardrobe's sudden turn towards black; they'd forbidden any accessories that depicted skulls or anything else morbid. (My favorite silver-plated bird-skull earrings that I'd bought at the mall were still hidden at the back of one of my drawers at home.)
But the hair--somehow, that had been the catalyst. Maybe changing my appearance had just seemed a step too far. Maybe I hadn't seemed like their sweet little daughter Madeline without my blond hair.
I'd preferred to be called "Maddie" at school for a couple years, now; having a nickname felt sort of nice, like I had friends, even though it felt mostly like I had people who kind of let me hang out with them because I wasn't too much of a bother. But to my parents, I'd always been Madeline. It was the name they'd given me, so it was the name they'd used.
But...
"Maddie, Maddie," my father was whispering. "Come back to us. Come home. Please."
I couldn't. I didn't know how.
Being shoved out of my body had hurt, a lot, in a way I struggled to describe. It wasn't like any of the other pains I'd known, physical or emotional--it was like being torn apart, only I wasn't really, I was just... being torn *out*.
And now that I was out, I couldn't get back in.
I supposed I must be a demon of some kind--that was what the priest had come to cast out, and I'd been cast out, so that was the logical conclusion. Only I didn't really feel like a demon; I didn't want to do anything bad, or tempt anyone else into doing bad things, or steal anyone's soul. I just wanted to go home.
If I really were a demon, I supposed my home must be Hell. But I had no clue how to get there--and I didn't really think I wanted to.
I'd never really felt at home anywhere, truth be told. The whole goth thing... well, some of it had seemed pretty cool. Bones were really pretty, when you thought about it--all those sleek curves, that stark paleness when they'd been cleaned and bleached, the fact that they were inside each and every one of us, keeping us alive, letting us walk and move and speak.
Well, most of us, I guessed. I didn't seem to be made of anything at all, and I couldn't seem to make anyone see or hear me in my current state.
But a big part of what I'd been doing had been just to fit in. The gothy kids at school were outcasts; I'd always felt like an outcast; maybe I'd fit in there.
It had been... okay. I guessed. I'd had some people who were almost like friends. We had things we could talk about. But... nothing ever really seemed to click. We hung out, but I never really felt like I was anything more than just some random kid who happened to share a few interests and wasn't too bad to be around.
My mother stepped back into the hospital room. She'd stepped outside a moment to take a call from *her* mother. I'd never really liked Grandma Nell; she was always so sharp and sour, though she'd always sent a nice amount of money with my birthday cards, which I'd appreciated. The exorcism, however, had been her idea.
My mother looked tense, and angry. But when she looked at the body lying in the bed, all of that faded into grief.
She sank down next to my father, burying her face in his shoulder.
I couldn't close my eyes. I had no eyes to close.
But I couldn't bear to watch this any longer. I began to float away, out the door, down the halls, past all the nurses making their rounds and visitors coming to see other patients, out into the foyer, through the automatic doors, and into the drizzly grey afternoon.
---
I floated around my old room for a little while. It was a bit messy. I had the strange thought that I'd have tidied it all up a bit more if only I'd known what was about to happen.
Too late to do that now. Running away probably would have been the better option, but it was too late for that, either.
So there were clothes crumpled on the floor, books scattered on top of the bed and the nightstand, a mess of papers and jewelry and knickknacks and empty water glasses on the dresser, none of which I could touch or use in my current state.
I went out to the garden. The roses were blooming, red and white and yellow; they'd always been my favorite flower, and my mother had taken such pride in tending her rosebushes.
I looked up. The rain was still sprinkling down. I couldn't feel the drops at all, but I could sort of feel the raininess in the air, if that makes any sense.
Not knowing what else to do, I went back to the hospital.
It was as easy as thinking about it; I didn't really know the way on foot, but I'd found that if I really *wanted* to be somewhere, and thought about it, the world seemed to move around me.
So I found myself back in the hospital room with Madeline's body in the bed, my mother leaning over her, whispering into her ear.
I drew closer, trying to hear.
"We love you, Madeline, no matter what," my mother was saying. "Anything you do--we'll still love you. Just come back. Please."
*I would,* I thought. *But I can't.*
*You sent me away, and now there's nothing left.*
I remained there, unseen, unheard, unknown, for a time. Then I floated back out to the front of the hospital, drifting aimlessly down the street.
Something felt as if it were pulling on me as I floated past a little park. With nothing better to do, I let it.
I was drawn up off the pavement, over the grass, into a little group of oak trees.
There, someone was waiting for me.
|
1."I'll be back!" - the demon's haunting scream burned into the eardrums of the concerned father, the horrified mother, the triumphant priest, the tired older brother, who was breathless after restraining his sister, and the curious little brother, who was forbidden from entering the room.
And the girl awakened.
2."Where is Melinda? She isn't in her room."
"I saw her near the park, dad."
"The park? What's she doing there?"
"I don't know, maybe she's trying to get some exercise? Perhaps for a boy in her class? Anyway, just give her some space. She's just at that age."
"Shush your mouth! Don't you remember what happened the last time you said that?"
"Relax, she still has the cross the priest gave her, hasn't she?"
"Fine, but if anything happens... "
"Right, right, I swear to God I'll take care of it."
"... and if she wants to date anyone, he must have my approval."
"Why are you telling me this? Shouldn't she be the one--"
"... and I threw all that Satan music mom found in your room away."
"What? You did what? I told you before it's called metal, and it's got nothing to do with--"
3.She opened her bag and took out a headphone. The music was full of static, like an old disk preparing to break.
"It's okay now, you can come out." - she mumbled to no one in particular.
"Put... zzz... away..zz. the... cross... " - It was quite a peculiar lyrics.
"Not a chance. We'll begin the session right away, if you don't mind. Unless you like to see that two-chin priest again." - the girl said playfully, holding a pen in one hand and a notebook in another.
It had been a few months after the girl came to her conciousness. The priest managed to chase the vicious spirit away from its host, and, although the spirit got away, it was severely weakened. 'No need to worry', the exorcist spoke in his holy voice as he placed crosses and bottles of holy water into the father's hand, at a discount of course, 'This will keep your family safe. Take it with a grain of salt. No pun intended.'
The demon, wounded and broken, crept into a small vase in the basement. It'd got a plan. It'd rest in the tiny container, gathering energy and one day shall reclaim that body of flesh once more. Fate, however, got a different plan. Whether it was by sheer coincidence or the plan made by the man above, the girl found it. Deliberately. Like a sadist freed from her Christianity upbringing, the girl forced it to 'jump' to the CD player by filling the vase with salt. It could but to comply.
4."You've possessed me for about 8 years. It's time to answer some questions." - said the girl on their 'true' meeting. She was in her room, the headphone in her hand.
"... zzz... zzz.. zz.. "
"Quite the silent type, eh? Perhaps the taste is not to your liking?" - she swung the box of salt by the CD player.
"Melinda, what're you doing?" - asked her father.
She hid the salt away.
"I... um... I'm just listening to some music, dad."
"Music? Better not be those CDs of Michael."
"No, dad. Just the good stuff. Gospel, praise the Lord, yeah... "
"Well, if anything's unusual, report it to me right away, you understand?"
"Yes sir,... I mean, dad."
"Good. And, Melinda?" - he said just before leaving the room.
"Yes?"
"I don't want to lose you again."
"... I know..."
5.Melinda chose the park, or a corner of it. She wouldn't run into her family here. Put on the headphone and her mumbling could be contributed to singing along to the song. It's the perfect disguise.
"Alright." - she said to the CD player - "Let's start by telling me what you know about my family."
"... zz... you mean... zzzz.... my family... "
"Not according to just everyone."
"... zzz... but you don't.... zzz.... even... zz... regconize them... zz.. "
"That's because YOU possessed me! For 8 years, no less. I don't remember anything after I was 5."
"... zzz.... zz... give me... zzz... back... my body.. zzz... "
"No!" - she let out a deep sigh - "Let's go over this again. I have a family full of strangers. I'm loved but I feel out of place. You must have felt the same way back then."
".... zzz.... zz.... "
"Please, help me. I only have this family."
6."Come to think of it," - Melinda asked during one of the 'session' - "What's your backstory? I mean, every kind of evil has to start somewhere, right? So were you cursed, or maybe you came from Hell? Or you died long ago and held a grudge?"
"... zzz...... zz..... zzz don't...... zzzzz..... zz remember... zzz.... "
"What do you mean?"
".... zzz.... only have.... zzzz.... zzz those 8 years.. zzz.... "
"Oh." - said the girl on a surprised note. - "You... You don't even have a name?"
".... zzz.... my name..... zzzz.... Melinda... zzzz..."
"We've talked about this before..."
"... zzzz..... zzz.... zz... "
"I'm gonna call you Adnilem, 'kay?"
".... zz.... Ad... nilem... zzz... "
"It's 'Melinda' backward."
And Adnilem accepted her name, for she had always knew since the day she spoke to Melinda of her family, and, subsequently, the possessed 8 years, that life had slipped out of her reach forever.
7.Melinda would go to the big city tomorrow, into a university on the other side of the country. Her father wanted to follow her, her mother begged her to pick a closer place. It is hard to see a young bird leaves the nest.
"The usual place?" - asked Michael.
"Yeah."
When Melinda gets to the park, her spot has been occupied by a young couple. She sat down by the lakeside instead, and listened to the CD player.
".... zzz.... zzz it's time.... zzzz.... zz to goodbye..."
"I never thought mom and dad would actually allow me to leave town. Well, it's quite sad that we won't be here for a long time."
It is hard to see a young bird leaves the nest.
"... zzz... are you... zzz.... zz... crying....?"
"Of course I am! Can't you stay?"
"..... I need... zzz.... zz.... to know... zzz... zz who I... am... "
"You're Adnilem, my friend, my family, a part of my life. You complete me! Isn't that enough?"
She already knew the answer.
".... I can't... zzz.... zzz.... keep living.... zzz.... zzzz.... your life... "
They sat in utmost silent until time wept away all of Melinda's tears, until the moon ws high and her reflection spread sorrow into the water.
The CD player uttered its final words.
"... zzzzz... I'll... be.... back... zz... "
| 2018-04-07T12:50:11 | 2018-04-07T11:26:34 | 56 | 23 |
[WP] You live in an uber-religious society in 3543, and the biggest historical discovery has just been made. It is a video, and will be broadcast across the world. No one knows it's contents, and no one can stop the broadcast once it begins. "history of the entire world, i guess" by bill wurtz.
|
"Hi, you're on a rock, floating in space."
No we're not. We are in the paradise God intended when he made this true, flat earth.
"Pretty cool, huh? Some of it's water - fuck it! Actually, most of it's water."
Yes, except most of is irradiated.
"I can't even get from here to there without... Buying a boat."
A what?
"It's sad. I'm sad. I miss you."
Who do you miss?
***🎶🎶How did this happen?🎶🎶***
Easy, Go- oh, it's starting again.
"A long time ago, and also never, and also now, nothing was nowhere."
When?
"Never."
Oh, okay.
"Makes sense, right?"
No.
"Nothing was never anywhere. That's why it's been *everywhere*. It's so everywhere you don't need a where. You don't even need a when. That's how every it gets."
Well, at least he got one thing right.
"Forget this, I wanna be something, go somewhere, do something; I want things to change. And I know it's possible, because it's all here, and it probably already happened. I just don't know where to start."
That was it. The final straw. Did this... bill wurtz just claim he was God? That's it.
I am going to track him down and slay him for his blasphemy.
Edit: Damn, this was unexpected! Thanks for the positive feedback, especially for quick work on a phone.
Edit 2: Because of all of this support, I'm gonna make a part two! Thanks so much, everybody! Might take a little bit, but y'all better get ready.
Edit 3: [Part 2 is live!](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9mbmqd/wp_you_live_in_an_uberreligious_society_in_3543/e7ews6b/)
|
"He said that we lived on a rock floating in space" my close friend Derek breathed into the phone, aghast. "Yes, but he also said the sun used to be a deadly laser. Clearly it is fake, the work of evil. His Holiness would never turn the life giving sun into such an item". I heard my friend press the tape recorder again, he had recorded the entire broadcast.
"It's the Cambrian explosion! - wow, that's animals and stuff"
"That's us! We are animals, we came from this Cambridge explosion or whatever it is" he shouted into the phone. I was confused.
"Explosion, like the big bang? Whatever he said it was that created the universe? That's crazy!"
"Is it though" Derek was clearly excited "what if all we have been told is fake, and that our ancestors learned to use an egg, on land. That there was water in the egg. That originally, our baby is in the egg, in the water, in the egg. I know this is crazy but it is such an old document, it could be true!" At that moment, I heard a bang come from the phone, and a muffled voice, one I didn't recognise, spoke.
"He believes the ancient hidden video. Dispose of him."
I was silent, if they knew he had been speaking to me, I was done for.
"Damn disloyal cleric, leaking our hidden past. Wait a minute..." I heard the phone being picked up "what's this?"
I hung up, hoping this nightmare could end, that we could once again be hit by another ball of flaming rocks.
(Edit: Formatting)
| 2018-10-08T02:40:27 | 2018-10-08T02:25:28 | 1,463 | 767 |
[WP] Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species.
|
The child stared up at the museum display in wonder, her 'ice cream' dripping onto the floor beside her. The nice lady at the shop had told Bo'tang that 'ice cream' was a treat humans used to eat during the Festival of Boga. The humans called the festival 'summer' in the English language and 'verano' in Spanish. Anyway, apparently this 'ice cream' was something humans would eat to stay cool when it got too hot. This type of ice cream was called 'chocolate'.
As Bo'tang lingered by the main display in the 'First Explorers' section of the Intergalactic History Museum, she looked at the area called 'Your Age in Human Years'. According to the display, if she were living on earth, she would be twelve years old. Bo'tang thought, 'You know you were an important species when an entire section of a museum is dedicated towards you.' She skipped over the parts she already knew about the so-called 'Cold War' and the Space Race. Why it was called the Cold War when lots of it took place over the summer, she didn't know. What she did know was that two amazing countries called 'the USA' and 'Russia' were so keen to expand their horizons beyond their planet that they went from no space travel at all to launching a satellite into orbit and landing on the Earth's only moon in less than one hundred years.
Bo'tang's mother called for her in the distance, but Bo'tang didn't want to go get lunch yet, she wanted to learn more about the humans. As she dilly-dallied, she noticed a grand display case in the center of a room off to the side, which held many artefacts recovered from the planet Earth. The first one was called the 'Tara Brooch', and it was apparently from a country called Ireland. Bo'tang eagerly read the description of the history of the item and gasped internally when she learned that this beautiful piece of art had been created more than two thousand years before humans went into space, before humans even had electricity. It was such a gorgeous piece that she had assumed it must have been made with some advanced piece of technology. She realized, with a pang in her heart, how extraordinary these humans must have been. They were entirely alone in the universe, yet they put their loneliness aside and found the passion and drive to create small, delicate pieces of beauty. It was tragic that the actions of an ignorant few led to the death of an entire species eons before the next species had even begun exploring their own world.
As Bo'tang stood looking in on the artifacts, another caught her attention. It was a small pyramid, a tiny replica of the immense monuments which humankind had built to house and honor the dead. Bo'tang thought it was wonderful that humans would literally spend years building these incredible structures for their dead, even though they would never be thanked for it. These monuments weren't just a place for the dead; Bo'tang imagined them as living creatures, reaching for the sky, stretching desperately to find any proof that they weren't the only ones out there.
Bo'tang's mother finally caught up to her. 'Come on, Bo'tang, let's go and try that 'fish and chips' dish your aunt told us about!' she said with a tired smile. Determined, Bo'tang managed to drag her over to the next artifact before they left: a tiny television with the words 'Apollo 11' written across the top. Her mother reluctantly pressed the 'play' button on the display case and a blurry video of a rocket soaring through the sky began to play, with a man in the background exclaiming, 'Liftoff! We have a liftoff!' as the lonely species began its solo journey across the stars.
|
**Journeys End**
Tomorrow we reach it. Garrix says that we’ll find the root to all existence, that purpose itself will have an answer, like all equations. I stopped listening to Garrix a long time ago.
Officer Mercurier hasn’t stopped pacing the entire journey, her performance has declined significantly. If anyone should be concerned with roots it would be her, she was the heir to a family who extended all the way back to the diaspora.
I chose my team carefully. The pair are barely fit to the task but they are a lesser evil. Choosing someone from one of the high families could be construed as an act of war, and I will not suffer one of the tech-speakers aboard this ship.
In my hand was the last coherent reading from the planet.
&#x200B;
*:We Were Human:*
&#x200B;
The archaic term for the origin species. The spacial trail ends here, the trail of death that many seekers died following. The first and last time a worm drive was activated. A scar on the fabric of reality. What will we find. Will the worm trail be a testament to ambition? Cowardice? Failure? Ignorance? Tomorrow we reach it, the end. I hope so anyway.
My X-HUNTER was a standard military ship a hundred years ago. Now its a relic that’s held together with TLC and sheer will. As I walked past Garrix’s quarters I found myself stroking the insignia plate. *Unit: D3LI14.*
“Delila” I whispered to the groaning metal. My hand touched the plate with a reverence and tenderness that’s reserved for the overly attached and very lonely.
“Cap?” a groggy voice called through pincers “Arrived have we?” Garrix’s chitin grated against the metal as he worked his way from the bed, pincers clicking all the while.
The door would have been a sliding door, opening at the presence of the inhabitants and asking for clarification if anyone outside wanted in, but this was Delila.
Garrix pushed aside the hanging beads. His soft beige chitin shining with the morning orange from the ships lights.
His antennae whipped back and forth “I can’t honestly say I’ve ever been this excited” His shell parted slightly, revealing the almost human face beneath. No mouth, no nose, but beautiful blue eyes that held more life than I’d ever felt.
“Just hope there’s still anything left of the place” I said my cynicism topping my own excitement “Might be a wasteland” his shoulders slumped but then he looked at my face. He saw the excitement I felt, that even beneath the nihilistic haze I was still me. Garrix was one of the last people I knew that I could call friend.
He saw through my bullshit. But didn’t begrudge it. He had his shell and I had mine.
“Best get ready, Cap” he nodded and went back inside his room. I had begun to walk away when he called back “Make one for me too”
I giggled to myself as I walked towards the bridge. He’d gone to get dressed and wanted coffee. Someone who can’t consume liquid and only wears clothes on special occasions, wanted coffee and wads getting changed. He must be nervous or excited. Probably both.
The bridge hummed as the auxiliary systems came to life. Someone had started up Delila without me.
[JHCWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/JHCWrites/): Check My Stuff!
| 2019-08-13T15:51:09 | 2019-08-13T15:27:26 | 32 | 24 |
[WP] A zombie virus that acts very slowly. Day by day the infected person loses empathy and humanity. The process takes about a month until they are full blown eating people in the street. You secretly got bit and are hiding your status trying to hold on to your sanity.
|
Today the store's packed to the brim. People like coffee, I guess, especially when the world's coming to an end.
It's not technically safe to be in the streets. When the first wave of infected came around, the general majority—having seen enough zombie movies with scarier scenarios than this—saw to it with something close to boredom. As viruses go, this one was easy to spot. The infected have human strength—it's not hard to lock them up behind bars before the ravenous, flesh-eating stages set in.
Of course, sometimes the police force don't do their job right. Some zombies still get around for a day or two before they're neutralized. Exhibit A: there's a series of red marks, strung together like beads, on my forearm, already starting to bruise.
They're hidden under my work uniform, which is conveniently long-sleeved. Even an apocalypse couldn't get the managers into changing work procedures, I guess.
"I'll have a black coffee," says the student at the front of the line. She looks jittery. She keeps on pushing up at her glasses and fidgeting.
"That'll be 8.99. Can I get a name for your order?"
"Yeah. It's Cary."
Is that C-A-R-Y, or C-A-R-R-Y, or C-A-R-I, or K-E-R-R-I, or K-E-R-R-Y, or K-A-R-Y, or C-H-E-R-R-Y, or—
Whatever. It's making me impatient just thinking about it, so I settle with Cary, since it's the shortest. She heads to the back to wait for her drink and the next customer stumbles into my space. Yeah, as publicly acceptable distances go, he's way too close.
"What can I get you?" I say, schooling my expression into a smile.
The man's scowl deepens. "Double vanilla shot whisky with extra whipped cream."
Which—first of all, what the fuck?
"I'm sorry, sir," I say. "We don't sell alcohol here."
You know when people look and act drunk? Red faced and yelling? It's like I've flipped a switch. His face goes from disgruntled to identifiably explosive.
"Fuckin' hell. You youngin's don't even know how to manages a drink shop... I got my money, you're losing my business. I coulda sworn I came here back—in '06, and I got me a whiskey—"
He's leaning over the counter in a way that's supposed to be threatening. I try not to cringe. "We're really sorry for the inconvenience." This place hasn't been a bar in eight years. And if the previous chain was selling double vanilla shot whisky with extra whipped cream—well, no wonder they went out of business. "If you'd like, I can recommend you a place."
"I drove here for drinks. Asshole. I'll wreck this business."
"Sorry."
"What's your name?" He's squinting at my name tag like the four letters are a great challenge to read. "—John? I'll be sure you get fired. Little fucker, I bet it's on the menu and you're too lazy to mix one up. Kids these days are so entitled."
"I hope you have a nice day," I say. I'm not really scared of this guy after having been bitten by a zombie. Though, he's rude enough that I half wonder if he's been bitten already.
When he's out of earshot, my coworker—Sal—leans over. "Dude, I swear, you have so much patience."
"You know what they say. I'm too lazy to go job hunting again, so I'm trying not to get fired," I say.
"Still, how are you so composed? It's unreal."
Later on, when I'm out in the alleyway chewing the arteries out of the dude's neck, I think about what Sal said. He thinks I'm some kind of saint, really. Good for me, I guess. It's a stereotype that the infected tend to be rude. Cold. Selfish.
But I've learned that you don't have to care about someone to be polite to them. You don't have to have any ounce of humanity to be nice to someone. Dialogue-picking isn't hard. It's all an act. And even through the apathy, I'm a damn good actor. How?
I mean, I work in customer service.
|
It had been a week since I was bit. I kept it a secret, for obvious reasons. I was either gonna die by the hands of my friends, or try to kill them. Briefly the stress was taken from me when the youngest of our group, only 13, said he was bitten. Everyone else had the same reaction; mouth agape, eyes wide, tears rolling down their cheeks, except for me. Instead, I felt nothing besides a slight emptiness. I would miss him, but that didn’t mean I’d feel any worse for being his death to save our own asses. I think my worst mistake was reaching for my revolver.
“No! You can’t! We’ll find a cure before he’s gone! I know it!” Sasha, the oldest of the group at 20, and undoubtedly leader, turned to him, saying softly, “You’re going to be fine, Ryan, I promise you that, ok? We’ll find a cure and you’ll be all fine.” He sniffled and nodded his head, simultaneously wiping tears from his eyes and face. His sister briefly pulled me aside.
“The Hell are you thinking, Scott? You’re not killing my little brother!”
“I never planned to.”
“And yet you grabbed your gun, why?” I had no answer to this; I was like a deer in the headlights when I realized what I had tried to do. I never meant to kill him! No, I was just.. What—what was I doing? “Hello? Answer me! Why did you plan to kill him so quick!”
“I-I-I’m not.. sure, exactly.” I felt like I was going insane and quickly I realized that was one of the symptoms; lack of empathy and humanity. That’s why I was so willing to kill him, because I had momentarily lost touch with not only my humanity, but my morales, too. “Not this quick, though...” I whispered to myself.
“What? What’d you say?”
“Nothing, nothing. Look, I’m sorry I pulled—“
She stared right into my eyes, obviously she heard what I said, and I felt scared for a moment. She lifted my sleeve and saw the bite mark, now a disgustingly dark red. “You’re infected!” The almost pleasant banter in the background about what to do with Ryan stopped.
“Come again, Amalia?” Sasha asked, walking into the room with the other 2 members, Dillan and Brody, Ryan presumably left behind so he wouldn’t hear.
“He’s infected! That’s why he tried to kill Ryan!” She showed my arm to them, and they pointed their guns at me; unlike myself, they had much bigger and stronger guns like sawed-off’s.
“How long ago?”
“A week...”
“You’ve.. been infected for a week and already show the most major signs? I doubt it!”
“I’m telling the truth Sasha! Believe it or not I was bit a week ago but thought I could hold it out!“ The gun was so close all my vision was were the barrels of the gun.
“I trusted you, Scott, how dare you! We’re sparing Ryan, but not you, you soon-to-be-flesh-eating freak!” She pulled the trigger but the gun jammed, saving my life, for the moment. There was another gunshot from Dillan, though he missed drastically, possibly shooting out of pure frustration than to kill. I think that was their biggest mistake.
The horde; it was massive. All roughly 300 zombies in the closest vicinity tried breaking into the small convenient store, attracted by the sound, and were successful. I left, not even trying to save them. A window was already bashed open, and as if God was watching over me, there were no zombies in sight in that direction. I ran until I was at a van in the middle of nowhere.
Currently, it’s been 2 more weeks since that incident. I should’ve just told them. I’m starving and can feel my urges to eat flesh grow. Crazy that a virus that makes you lose humanity can also make you regret so, so much. I’m sorry, everyone. I’m so very sorry.
Please.
Forgive me.
| 2019-08-28T00:47:00 | 2019-08-28T00:37:04 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] You're a 'comically incompetent' supervillain for a group of C-List heroes. They are no real threat to you, so you endure their childish speeches. However, when the heroes raid the civilian business you run on the side and injure your employees, you decide to take yourself seriously for once.
|
That's it. That is, finally, *it*, I decided, as I stomped my way out of the hospital. Felicity was going to be in traction for six weeks. David's gunshot wound would heal cleanly but ICU trauma was a thing. And Ricky, dammit, what they'd done to *Ricky* was downright criminal.
It's all right to play with *me*, but when you get civilians involved, that's it. Time to take the gloves off. You wanna play, kids? Then let's *play*.
It took a week to set up. But justice isn't fast.
Sabotaging Silver Saint's Tesla was child's play. Finding a way to program in a route that wouldn't take out innocent bystanders took a couple of hours, but she was done and dusted in less than a morning. It was remarkably easy to look at the bill for Alana's new artificial leg (the insurance company insisted on sending me the itemised bill for all their procedures. Shut up and take the goddamn premiums, you soulless vultures) and any guilt just went away.
They sentenced my people to a lifetime of scars and suffering for answering a help wanted ad. They would get all the mercy from me that they deserved.
Such a shame about Fireball's cute little suburban bungalow. It's kind of scary how easy it is to sabotage a gas heating system. This is why you always hire a reputable technician to service your boiler, kids!
Blue Tornado was a tad trickier. I wanted it to be in his civilian identity, because he'd gone after my civilian identity, but I wanted it to relate to his powers. Finally, I settled on an air pressure hose breaking *just* as he was using it on his car, blowing up in his face and causing concussive damage. No civilians involved.
It all went off without a hitch. Boom, boom, boom.
########
______
The High Circle of Superheroes looked at the evidence. A crashed car, a burned house and a exploded tyre inflation station, all three putting one person in hospital, and no-one else. One person. A superhero. And to each, a bouquet had been sent, consisting of geraniums, foxglove, yellow carnations and orange lilies. The card had included a photo of an injured person, and the words "Galatians 6:7".
"Okay, we need to revise Boobytrap's threat level." Superior, the leader of the group, said.
#######
________
Geraniums mean "stupidity", foxglove means "insincerity", yellow carnations mean "you have disappointed me" and orange lilies mean "hatred"; this particular arrangement is colloquially known among florists as "the fuck you bouquet".
Galatians 6:7 : "Do not be decieved; God is not mocked, for what a man sows, that he shall reap."
|
Harold was lying on the floor, bleeding from the bullet hold on his shoulder.
“Are you the boss here?” Thuderia asked.
“Yes,” I replied, my anger starting.
“Give us the money,” Flame Lord snarled.
“Why?”
“Because,” Anne began, “we’re your Trio of Salvation. We deal with the super villain Blackout. Now give us the money.”
“No,” I said, and threw them out telekinetically.
I wasn’t finished. I repaired Harold wound, and created some new blood for him. He should live, but I’ll get him to the hospital later.
The Trio got up, with great rage.
“The fuck?” Thuderia growled, covering her face.
“I am Blackout. And you crossed a damn line.”
“Hah. Blackout? You’re just a ‘comically incompatant’ super villa-“ Flame Lord tried to say, but ripping of the bottom of his jaw shut him up.
“I’ve never been all that interested in taking over the city. I’ve only continued as a hobby to prevent worse villains from showing up. Turns out they showed up today!”
I kicked Anne to the tops of the buildings, and brought my leg down on top of Thunderia.
“Before I was known as Blackout,” I continued, beating these fakes to a pulp, “I was Creator! The only Hero undefeated! With the power to make new abilitys! I brought down Snatcher! I defeated the duo villains of Time and Space! And all of it was done singlehandedly!” I finished, leaving badly broken but living bodies of these false helpers. “And now I’m bringing you to the Tartarus.”
The shock on their faces was quite something.
“Bu-but we’re heros! Why would we be brought to the jail for extremely dangerous villains?” Thunderia wimpered.
“You shot an innocent man, demanded money at gunpoint, and claim to be innocent?”
They fell silent, realizing their pleas would obly fall on deaf ears.
—-
“Hey Creator!” A cheerful voice cried out.
“Hey Snatcher. I got some new faces for you.”
“Oooh, an S ranked threat?”
“No, some C ranked heros.”
“Damn it, I was hoping for a 4th member. I want to play Mahjong!”
“Not my problem. By the way, I’m currently known as Blackout, a Grade D villain.”
“Grade D? Isn’t that reserved for Villains that can’t actually harm anyone? And private info?”
“I’ve been requested by the city of Lancurk to be their villain, so they report me as grade C. Anyway, I gotta get going, these fucks shot my employee.”
“Bye!!!”
| 2022-11-28T16:08:17 | 2022-11-28T14:47:16 | 934 | 414 |
[WP]Humans start out at birth with milk-white blood. The more bad deeds they commit, the darker their blood becomes. One day, you meet your soulmate. Skip a few years, and things are amazing… Until your soulmate trips, falls, and the cut they get drips ink-black blood…
|
Birth: white, creamy and shimmery. The magic of a new, innocent life.
Age two: you only wanted to play with the fish, feel it slip through your fingers and watch it wriggle and flop and suffocate in the air in as morbid fascination as a two-year old can muster. But you forgot to put it back. The shimmer fades, while the new darkness is nearly impossible to notice.
Age eight: the new kid at school is a troublemaker and decides to pick a fight. One good slug to the chin knocks him out, his split lip bleeding light gray already. No one can see your blood slowly creep down the gradient, another shade darker.
Age 15: it was a dare, really. Your friends only wanted to see who was the bravest. Only it wasn't brave, it was really, really stupid. And also your idea. You and three others made it out unscathed, but the last... the last did not. You never saw him again. The guilt seeps in and dyes it darker.
Age 21: you join the police force. They take a blood sample, an aptitude test, physical exams. Your blood is still below the cutoff threshold. You pass the rest of the tests with flying colors. And you vow to be just and fair.
*But doing good doesn't change it back. No matter how many good deeds you do, the inky shades stay, swirling inside you.*
Age 25: you've got a new partner. One at work, that is. And you slowly fall in love. Their blood is smoky satin, little wisps of gray from some not so great decisions earlier in life. And they have never hurt someone, not intentionally. Not yet. You learn that they did hurt someone, once, in self-defense, but they would rather mediate than use force immediately. You've both seen each other's blood; from nicks and scratches in the field, the occasional clumsy knife-nick while making a romantic dinner at home. They don't judge you for how much darker yours is, they only love you.
Age 30: You're married. Your partner is still your partner; you never let the personal life get into the professional life. It's a struggle some days, but you make it through. Saving lives and carrying out justice where deserved keeps you always on your toes. A partner in the mix is both a blessing and a curse. But you wouldn't want them to be anywhere else but beside you.
Age 32: You and your partner respond to a call. It's an emergency. There's already a pair there, and more backup on the way. You're both scared, but you know you have to be brave. So you go on in. An active shooter, unwilling to negotiate despite as many attempts as there are methods. They're pinning the rest of your precinct down. An exchange of shots rings out, *onetwothree* ringing around the perimiter. And then there's a bullet whistling by your ear, too close for comfort. There's shattered glass everywhere, and a tiny shard pricks the side of your finger. A small drop of gray emerges. It's shade is no different from when you began this career. Your partner beside you, breathing heavy, exchanging a shot with the shooter every once in a while.
Only no one realizes there's two.
And now your partner's down. They're hit by shrapnel, and it must be only luck that you aren't too. You're the only one to fire off one last frenzied exchange, but this time, there's a scream from the other side. The shooter's down, neutralized at last. The blood from the attacker flows from the chest onto the chaotic and debris-covered ground; dark, dark gray.
And you stand up celebratory, thinking the battle's over. But it's not, and the realization comes too late when a bullet pierces your uniform, your body, your heart.
It was your shot that took out the first target, saving many lives in the process. But the action had an instantaneous reaction. A killing by the usual name is a murder, and no matter the intention counts as the foulest of foul deeds. The police are no exception, even as a last resort. The blood doesn't care.
And now, bleeding out all around you, is the last of your consciousness and the jet-black blood. Your partner crying, screaming. Losing the love of their life to a danger well-known but no less terrifying to the occupation. And being right there beside, powerless to stop it.
And then you're gone.
*And the blood doesn't care.*
|
Time seems to stand still. I look at the cut oozing with blackness. She stares at me with a look of fear. I just keep trying to process what just happened. This woman I've loved for years, who is she? My mind starts coming together. "Lisa, lets go to the bathroom and take care of that, it looks nasty." I say calmly.
"You're not afraid?" She asks terrfied. "I can explain, it's nothing!" She seems to be panicking. I walk over to her and place my arms around her in comfort.
"You don't have to explain, it's okay. Let's just go take care of it." I said using a calm tone. I start to direct her to the bathroom. At first she hesitates but then willingly goes with me to the bathroom. I turn on the sink and place her arm where the cut is under the water. "Just rinse it out I'll go get some towels." I can tell she's starting to calm down. I walk out of the bathroom and immediately slam the door shut. I begin to use all my muscle to drag our dresser in front of the bathroom door.
"ELIJAH! ELIJAH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" I hear Lisa scream from the bathroom. She begins to try and open the door. When that fails she starts banging on it and continues to call my name.
"I'LL NEVER BE AROUND SOMEONE LIKE YOU! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU BETRAYED ME LIKE THIS! I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO YOU ARE!" I scream through the door. After I have the dresser blocking the door I run to get my cell phone and immediately call the hotline number. "You have to help, there's one of them in my apartment!"
I hear the operator start typing, "Remain calm sir, help is on the way. We sent them out to your address on file. Are you safe right now?"
"Yes, I have her trapped in the bathroom. Please hurry!" I hang up the phone and begin pacing. The fifteen minutes it took for the police to arrive was an eternity. I kept pacing and checking the dresser hadn't moved. All I could hear from the bathroom was Lisa sobbing. "Good," I thought to myself "at least I know she's still in there." I hear a knock on my door and rush to open it. Two policemen are standing in my hallway.
"Where is this person sir?" they inquire. I take them straight to the dresser. All three of us move it out of the way. I walk to the furthest corner of the room. They announced to Lisa they were coming in and would use deadly force. They open the door and check it's safe inside. I see them go in and hear the usual rights being read. They walk out carrying Lisa by her arms, she looks defeated. I begin to get sick to my stomach at the sight of her. They take her out to their car and one of them returns.
"It's a good thing you called us when you did sir. You never know what these types are capable of. We'll do all the usual processing and let you know what's next." He informed me.
"I don't care what you do with that thing, I want nothing to do with her." I say, hate filling the air. The officer just nods and leaves a copy of his report with me. I go back to the bedroom and start putting things back to how they should be. Exhausted from the adrenaline rush I lay down and fall asleep.
The next day I wake up, I lie in bed replaying the night before. Exhausted and unsure what to do I go about my daily routine. I go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. I start shaving my stubble. Almost in auto pilot while I came to grasps with everything. The next thing I know I feel a sharp pain on my chin and see some blood fall into the sink. I quickly grab some toilet paper to stop it. Looking down I notice my blood was a dark gray. "It was never that dark before, and I just got a paper cut a month ago." I think to myself. I stare at it a few minutes more before finishing my shave and cleaning myself up some more.
I go out into the living room, stare at the life that could've been. A few minutes later I post on Facebook about Lisa. Making sure everyone knows what she is and why we aren't together anymore.
| 2016-09-22T22:34:36 | 2016-09-22T19:10:06 | 170 | 81 |
[WP] You need to hire a hitman, but can't afford it. Carefully write a gofundme campaign for something seemingly innocent while subtly letting your donors know what they are actually funding.
|
Hi everyone!
I'm here trying to be able to throw a very special party for my step father, who has been an incredibly influential part of my life. Growing up, he was always home with me and my sisters, looking after us when my mom was at work. He let us know just how much he really cared about us. After all these years, with my youngest sister about to turn thirteen, I really want to show him just how much he's affected the lives of everyone in this family.
I'm hoping for a party with killer food, explosive entertainment, and a place where he can just lay around and relax for as long as he can. He really, truly deserves a celebration as big and powerful as he himself is. I already have a party planner set up, and I just need...well...the money! I want to finally give this man the treatment he's always deserved for coming into our lives. Hopefully, with your support, it'll be to die for.
|
Hi,
My name is Jessica from Arizona and I'm trying to arrange a long vacation for my boyfriend. He works really erratic hours and brings a lot of his stress home with him. I feel that him getting away from the hustle and just lying in the sand in say, Belize would really go a long way for both our relationship and our well-being.
I realize that paying for a random stranger's extended leave might be a lot to ask but you would be my own personal savior. I promise to make these funds count.
If you do choose to donate, thank you. And I mean that, sincerely. Thank you.
| 2015-08-29T17:17:44 | 2015-08-29T10:50:25 | 38 | 22 |
[WP] Humans' ancestors never evolved on land, instead they went deeper into the oceans. Today, their equivalent of NASA sent their first "spaceship" out of the water.
|
Sun. It overpowered all her senses, spreading through her nervous system like jellyfish venom. Its heat pierced her protective suit, its light penetrated her goggles like they were nothing and ringing; the weight of the earth seemed to be bearing down on her shoulders and ringing, endless ringing was the only thing she could hear. Yet, after a moment of disorientation, standing on "the earth" and exposed to the world above, she was filled with rapture.
"This is heaven." Her voice rang through the intercom.
"This is hot." He touched her shoulder in passing, harpoon gun in tow as he approached the green, waving moss that seemed to cover most of this celestial plane.
"Environmental levels stables. No breathable atmosphere so keep the masks on. Otherwise, you should be good." A third voice crackled from within the vessel.
She did not have to be told twice, pulling off her suit and exposing her skin to the air, the sand, the sunlight. She might have frolicked slightly before he brought her back to reality.
"The mission. We're here to do a job, I didn't think I'd- what the hell is that!?"
Standing at the top of an incline, she could not see what he was pointing his weapon at. She hastened to follow him but struggled to move through the absence of water with what felt like a bag of rocks on her back. He shook, aim shaking with him as he continued to exclaim.
"It's fucking huge! Poseidon, are you getting this? Five feet tall, thick bones jutting from a head, skin marred by great black patches. Oh god, it saw me! It saw me! What do I do?"
She heard it before she saw it, a short, monstrous cry. It oddly reminded her of the noise her grandmother made when she was woken up. But here, there was no echo. It only made it more terrifying. She reached him just as he was putting his finger on the trigger, desperately turning his aim aside, the harpoon flying wide, missing the cow.
|
Looking back, there were clearly many good reasons as to why they cut off the live video feed of the expedition right before the shuttle broke the surface into the air-sphere. We were so very disappointed and angry, we were left with too many questions and not enough answers from our superiors who seemed bothered by what they knew, which was not common to men of their status.
My thirst to know what they had found up there is why I spent so many years working on making it here. Sometimes I wish I hadn't bothered and just let it go like all the others, but I could not live without knowing what existed above the head of certainty.
I remember watching the footage of the on-board cameras years after the expedition to the air-sphere took place, I was alone in my amazement as the others in the room had already been exposed to the footage many times before. The questions I once had no longer applied as they were built around our way of life and the way we had evolved as opposed to our above-surface neighbors. The degree of astonishment heavily out-weighed the horror of the whole thing, I didn't know whether to cheer for this discovery or cower in fear deeper into our abyssal comfort.
The way in which air (which before the expedition was only theory) affected our shuttle and those on-board did not come as a surprise to our researchers, as they had covered many possible outcomes and effects based on the little knowledge we had before the expedition.
What troubled me the most, however, was not how the ones above abused our brave explorers when they captured them, but rather the strangeness of the second ocean above the surface. From the footage, when the shuttle had reached 5000 feet above the water, the second ocean above seemed to have wrapped around the span of the surface. How could this be if the planet is flat?
| 2015-04-19T20:33:21 | 2015-04-19T19:01:04 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] World War 3 has begun, every nuke is being launched or dropped...they've sat in storage for so long that every single one was a dud.
|
"Oh my God no!" Jake shouts at the TV.
The newscaster on the screen can hardly contain her emotion. Tears rolling out of her eyes, she informs the world that all of the nuclear bombs had some sort of malfunction. Not a single one detonated.
Clutching his head in his hands tears stream down his face. Megan, also hearing the news, begins to hyper ventilate.
"Oh my god!" She screams over and over again, until her voice is nothing more than a whisper.
In the floor above theirs the ground shook and a voice hollars out, "Jake! Megan! Holy S**T! Jake! Megan! did you see the news!".
Multiple footsteps could be heard slamming down the stairs. Bursting through the door, their dad jumps into the room with an ecstatic look on his face. It didn't last long however, as he stared at his two naked children sitting in the bed together. Turning white, he falls against the wall just as the mother enters the room.
"We're alive! she screams!" as she enters.
"Phil what are you doing did you tell them the ne..." She cuts of suddenly staring for what feels like hours.
"There isn't any condom..." she whispers as she faints and falls on top of Phil.
|
"Well, this is awkward," Trump said. "I normally have the best nukes, believe me."
"Yes, Mr. President, it is indeed confusing," the North Korean translator said over speakerphone. "Our Dear Respected Leader Comrade Kim Jong Un is willing to let bygones be bygones, sir. Let us start anew as peaceful compatriots, having learned our lessons from the past."
"Listen up, you. I want you to go back and tell Rocket Man that I promised fire and fury, and you're going to get the fire and fury, and even if you've only seen the fury part so far, the fire will be tremendous, the likes of which the world has never seen before."
"Please, Mr. Trump, sir. We are in the midst of a global crisis, sir. We need to draw together as a world and address the nuclear material lying all over the world."
"My army is bigger than your army."
"Well darn it."
| 2018-03-01T15:56:23 | 2018-03-01T15:51:36 | 153 | 65 |
[WP] Humans enter space and join the intergalactic community. There is only one other race that practices war and conflict and they seem weirdly excited for us to reach their technological level so they can have someone to fight.
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It’s always exciting when the Alliance discovers a new race. The endless speculation, the endless rumors, the endless possibilities. The Cradle buzzes with the news… within the week, it will spread from the core, reaching to all sectors of all systems. Even we Jakari are not immune to such gossiping, and we find the idea of idle talk… detestable.
Usually though, despite the spectacle, the newcomers are of little interest to the Jakari. They drift across the stars in pathetic, paper thin freighters. They bring offerings of peace; they speak of “art” and “music” and other frivolous endeavors; they wish to share resources, to negotiate treaties. They, like all the rest of the races in this inglorious Alliance, are completely inert. There would be no glory in a war with them.
These newcomers were different.
The difference was apparent from the first encounter, when our patrols noticed what appeared to be weapons and armor plating on their ship. *WEAPONS!* Granted, they were crude, but wow! As news came in and we learned more about these “humans”, we became more and more enthralled. Not only were they comfortable fighting, they had spent the better part of their history doing it. They had brought their world to the brink of collapse, and rebuilt it. But despite this glorious past, they were still a primitive race; there was little glory to be gained by fighting them now.
We decided to wait. Wait and watch. Then, when watching was not enough, we began to test.
It wasn’t much. “Accidental” unauthorized flythroughs in human territory. Military exercises close to their borders. A civilian transport or two would “disappear” on a visit to Jakar, never to return... Harmless things, really.
That was… a mistake.
I write this from the last standing military outpost on Divacha V. The humans have taken the Divacha system, and are planning to move on Jakar itself. If a human finds this, I hope my message serves as adequate explanation. And a warning to any other races: DO NOT underestimate the humans.
|
15 Minute Fiction
"Sir, the decryption is complete. Our FTL scouts report chaos as soon as they downhyped. It appears that we suffered 90% casualties, until a complete cease-fire started. Our only remaining vessel is *being held* immobilized and unable to deploy any offensives at all. They're still entangled, so we have communications."
"From the looks of it, sir, this is an apology for attacking us before we were ready. The Çëssär didn't scan our ships, they just set an ambush. They're ... Sir they're offering to send us replacement ships. Ones we can reverse engineer from, is the interpreter's take. They're giving us the equivalent of one year to prepare. They're even offering to send raw materials."
The Admiral hesitated. It was a blatant trap, but the bait was stunning.
"Sir, updated report! They've spaced the crew from nine of their heavy fighters, sir! Our scout says they drew up to his line of sight and the crew just all popped out of the locks! They're all dead, sir, and the translators are working on a new broadcast."
"Commander, tell them to get me some of the corpses if they can. Even one will give us valuable intel."
"Yes sir, message relayed and understood. Translation message decrypted. Sir they're anchoring 9 of their ships to our scout. They say they've sacrificed equal numbers now, and our scout will be freed to return. Scout report confirms all of the above. They've all departed the sector, sir. Our craft is obtaining intel and then heading back."
Upon return to the TSS Pantheon, the scout craft Horus was noted to have 15 new markings on it. When translated, they were commendations for bravery, skill, and survival.
*EDITS*
| 2018-06-24T20:09:35 | 2018-06-24T19:52:17 | 36 | 17 |
[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.
|
“I know this one.”
“Are you a cow? I haven't... you know... eaten beef in a long time.”
Other than wincing at the word "beef", the cow ignored me and kept addressing the judge. “Huuuman pat me, mooed sorry. I was made into a hoof cover. That one, he patted me and mooed sorry.”
Fuck me, I should have gone vegan sooner.
“I called him Badhunter.”
I couldn't help but smile. My old dog, well, my brother's dog, I adopted him when he was old. I thought he'd be able to walk more.
“Never saw him eat huntfoods. Just growfoods. Bad hunter. Good twolegs.”
He looked at me and wagged. Of course he knocked something over with his tail.
“Ran to park lots. Backlegs fell down. I sat on couch; he put blankets on couch. Never bedroom though. Hugs when barkbarkman hunted me, the day I cam here. Badhunter's tears made fur wet.”
What a good dog. His fur was all black; the last time I saw it he was gray and bits of it were gone. I saw him puff his chest when he said “couch” and a few other dogs looked envious.
The judge turned to me, it was a pig. I knew it from somewhere. Was it Esther the Wonder Pig? Shit. It was. “There are very few interactions with animals since this point in your past. What happened?”
“When was that? Oh. I stopped eating meat. Went vegan maybe ten years after that.”
“Ah-hhh,” and a pause, “do you think that makes you a better person?”
“I don't think so. I just thought it was … gross to eat meat at some point," and after a moment's hesitation, "cruel too."
“No fish here either.”
“I'm a... I was a diver. I always thought they were happier in the water than anything else.”
“A diver... that explains all the octopus complaining that you woke them up.”
I just looked down, embarrassed. Fucking Princeton Tec.
"Normally we have millions of animals here, demanding justice. It's not usually this quiet."
“That's the worst we have on you. Flies being let outside, bees given maple syrup, spiders with nests in your walls, letters from hundreds of your housemates vouching for you. No insecticides on your lawn the entire time you owned your house? I mean, you're no Paul Watson, but not bad at all, for a human.
"We'll let you choose. Animal heaven or human hell."
I asked the judge the difference, and she just shrugged, or whatever a pig does that looks like a shrug.
Turns out it was the same place, just that I didn't have to pick up poop.
|
Alexander came into the 3rd floor apartment with a stutter, his glasses and awkward unshaven appearance left him unappealing. When my roommate, Casey, had told me he was bringing his friend over and that he was a little strange, he wasn't exaggerating. Casey had forgotten to mention a very important detail to Alex. The detail that we have a pet.
"Wow, you have a golden retriever!" Alexander seemed as excited as we were when class got cancelled. "That's a good dog, I can tell just by looking at him." "Oh yeah, he's pretty cool. I got him to fetch the news from the front too, doesn't even need a leash." "He's not your slave you know, this guy is his own individual, with his own hopes and dreams. He might have smaller aspirations and simpler drives, but they are there all the same." Casey and I just looked at each other, he didn't even ask who I was and I would be clueless to his presence if not for Casey telling me about him beforehand. I limply held my playstation 4 controller in my hand on the living area couch, unsure how to proceed. "I don't suppose that I could talk to him for a bit?" Now Casey and I were really confused. Did he really want to have a conversation with our dog? "You can learn a lot from animals, trust me. One of them told me something very important once, something that I can't talk with anyone else about. The gist of that conversation is to be good to all animals, trust me." I sat with my mouth agape, thinking if he was for real.
Without even attaining permission, Alexander immediately began sitting down and chatting with our dog. "What's your name man?" He asked inquisitively, and he seemed to expect an actual answer. "I see, well it seems like a good life." Casey and I were stunned. I couldn't even believe what was happening, and Casey started to realize that bringing him over was a really bad move. "You know, I eat 100% vegan. No animal products involved in my diet, absolutely not. I know it might not mean much to you, but I just can't eat meat or anything that an animal had to suffer for." This gross, unkempt man came into our house to spout off his vegan nonsense? I was about to say something but Casey immediately propped up and said "Yo, Alex, I think maybe we should hang out somewhere else, maybe your place? Alex responded "Sure, sounds like a plan." "Hey, see you later David." As Casey and Alex left the apartment, he waved to David, our dog.
| 2016-03-24T16:03:05 | 2016-03-24T12:50:08 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] You live in a society where at the end of each day, you can choose to relive it, but without retaining any knowledge of what happened previously. A number in your peripheral vision shows how many previous times you lived through the current day. Almost always that number is 0. Today it is 7212.
|
Everything hurts... You're sore from yesterday's bike ride. It's been a long time since you've laid your cycle over, luckily Honda Shadows were build well in the 90's. Still, yesterday's near-miss was deceptively nasty, apparently.
After rolling yourself off the bed and onto your feet, taking care of a few of your normal morning rituals, and halfway through getting dressed, you suddenly realize what's been upsetting your attention. 7212. Seriously? You'll have to get that looked at before work. The news talked about people with bad counters getting sick, and there's no way you've enjoyed something enough to reexist for what, 15? 20 years?
On the way to Doc Austin's office, you've been cut off once (making you glad you took the Impala instead of the bike again) and traffic backs up due to some kind of unannounced construction. Figures... This better not take long, or you'll be late to work. You call your boss, he's cool with it, but you'll need to make up the time.
''No, everything checks out fine,'' Doc says. ''Over seven thousand is pretty astounding, though. My son reexisted his kid's first football game about five times and his wedding day about fifteen. Can't imagine what you've got to look forward to!''
Well, at least that's exciting... You really needed a pick-up like that... Things have been rough since she left. You don't think about her as much, but it's still hard just having no one at home. Whatever today's got coming, it must be something special.
Work sucks, that jerk without a clue how to do his own job is bitching about you doing yours again, but you can brush it off. Your lunch is coldish and you end up staying later than usual, but worse things have happened. The text comes in... It's your friend Alex, who you haven't seen much of lately. 'Zed and Thirteen is playing at the Front Street Lounge tonight! Gonna be a good one. Coming?'
Yes, you are. This has got to be it. You shower after work and climb back on the bike.
The place stinks of old smoke and you've had both feet stepped on. Some ass hole spilled his beer down your back right before getting thrown out. Uncomfortable, you're just trying not to lose it when you see your ex, dancing with some... Whatever. You're out. Less than an hour left in the day, you don't have time for this garbage.
You're at the gas station just up the road, about to fill up the Shadow. From the other side of the pump, you hear it.
''Fuck.''
Peeking your head around, you see her staring at the lid of her gas cap. She pulls on the release inside her door again and again, but the lid stays closed.
''Hey, you need a hand?'' You offer before you even realize it. She accepts, and you use a screwdriver to pry the lid lightly while she pulls the release, moments later, it's free and she's filling her tank.
She's from your old high school, graduated two years ahead of you. She's irritated that the band at the place up the street was lame, the sound guy killed the vibe. Oh, you were there too? Oh, and she likes your bike. And then she says it. ''There's this party, just some friends of mine... Want to come hang out?''
Yes. You do.
She gives you the address, her number, and climbs back in the car. You finally feel it, hope, and check your watch. 11:59... Today sucked royally, what could be so gr-
The Buick Century bulldozes over the bike first, then wedges your body like a doorstop under its weight. You hear so much and so little at the same time, her screams and yours, the drunk trying to put his battering ram in reverse. You can't move, can't think, can't feel except it hurts. You just struggle the breathe and to feel and to live, and to-
[12:00 - REEXIST the 11th of July, 2016? Y/N]
|
7212 days?! Jesus, that's a long time. I pull out my phone and do the math. "19.75 years? Holy crap!" I think to myself. This must be one hell of a day. I'm stoked and really looking forward to it. I get up it is almost two in the afternoon (that's not unusual for me after a late night of online gaming), have a bowl of cereal, take a shower and get dressed.
I hear a knock at the door and go to open it. A cute little blonde is standing there holding a small gym bag. Short shorts, low cut v-neck shirt, assets showing. "I was sent over by party-gram, sugar. I'm Candy" she says. "I'm here to put on a dance for you." She turns over her left shoulder and there is a large muscled man holding a boom box radio.
"This is Ray, he's just here for my security, a girl can't be too safe can she?" My birthday is next week, so I'm like "sure, come on in." My buddy Reggie must have sent her over for an early surprise. "Do you have a chair?" she asked? I went and got one from the dining room table and brought it into the living room. While I did this, Ray was setting up in the corner and assumed the folded arm "you better not try anything" posture.
Candy begins "There are some rules sugar, no touching, hands to yourself. I need to put these straps on your ankles and bind your arms to the chair. Some clients really like this part. I hope you are one of them." "Oh, yes, I'm one of those." I reply. "Great sugar, great. Ray- some getting started music please..." She pulls out some straps from her bag sitting on the sofa and the music begins to play. Skynnard, Free Bird.
She starts to dance and wiggle slowly as she gets each strap and secures me to the chair. This takes a few seconds and just as the song starts into "If I leave here tomorrow.....would you still remember me?" Candy stops, stands up and turns to Ray. "OK Ray." "OK Ray what?" I say. "Ray's stone expression turns to an evil grin and he unfolds his arms, and starts to draw his right fist back and starts to run across the room towards me. Candy steps back and he cold cocks me with a right cross across the jaw. He follows it up with a flurry of fists to my face, neck and chest. I'm still strapped to the chair so I can't do crap about it. "Stop, please, what is this?" and other pleas are all I can do. Not too long after he starts and before the music picks up (damn I love that part) I'm out cold.
I wake up, it could have been hours later. I don't know. 'Candy' has just thrown a cup of water in my face. I sputter awake. "Wakey-wakey" Candy says. I don't want you to miss it. You've got just a couple of minutes before the reset. Wouldn't want you to miss it." I could hear it now. The two-minute warning beeps from my chrono-reset watch. "Sugar, one last surprise for you." She pulls out a shiny hunting knife, reaches inside of my right bicep and pulls a deep cut up across my bicep. "Brachial artery, Sugar. Just a few minutes left for you." My arm starts to spurt out my life's blood onto the carpet. My heart starts to race, making it worse. My watch starts to begin with the verbal warning now. "Chrono-watch warning - If you do not press 'move to next day', the current day will be reset. You are currently on loop 7212."
Candy bends down to look me in the eye. "Bye Sugar. See you tomorrow. Say, around 2:30?"
| 2016-07-11T09:14:41 | 2016-07-11T07:37:31 | 38 | 26 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a law was passed globally that requires everyone to hibernate for 100 years at a time after every 90 years. Today is Shutdown Day. As you finish getting tucked into your pod, you instantly notice eyes being shut all around you. But something is wrong. You are still awake.
This post was partially inspired by [this one.](https://www.reddit.com/r/morbidquestions/comments/aaeu8w/if_everyone_in_the_world_fell_asleep_at_the_exact/)
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After ninety years on this floating shitstorm of a planet there was one thing I could say in all of my ancient wisdom as I sat down in the egg shaped pod and the thick green goo swamped over my body. I was more than ready to close my eyes for the last time.
The pods to my sides were identical in colour and shape and I watched as each of my comrades, all wearing the same purity white uniform I was, took their turn submersing themselves. They were all dutifully accepting the long sleep ahead. We were old now, that is what I noticed, these faces were no longer the merry expressions of youthful anticipation but the hardened faces of instinctual habit. I suppose my own face looks like that nowadays as well, although I was never concerned enough to look it in the mirror. My life before the pod was a series of the necessary actions that sustained my body and nothing more. Eat, drink water, sleep. Eat, drink water, sleep. Eat, drink water, sleep. To what end? The purpose that inspired my youth was come and gone and I was but an old man, living in reminiscence of the past. And, as the final ripple of green glue had calmed above me, I was ready to accept the end. The passing into dream was simple and painless, the scientists had ensured the utmost safety and ease in the marketing of their invention, that's why I had chosen here to end it all. Tinkering with the dials beside my pod and implementing the little technological expertise I had at my old fingertips I had removed the time limit on the clock. When I went under I would never again resurface and with that I was content.
But, as I lay there something dawned on me as I waited for sleep. This was taking far too long. My acceptance and peace was being replaced by doubt and impatience. I want this to end. I want to end.
That mistake was 30 years ago.
I now know my folly and have paid for it in kind. My punishment is 100 years of immobility and solitude.
The strange thing is, I'm rather looking forward to continuing the dull life of mine once this blasted goo has left me. The taste of food and the feeling of a breeze on my face, all these things I had taken for granted when I had them. The beauty of simplicity was before my eyes the whole time if only I had the sense to see it. Well, I do now. Never again will I think of ending it. When I wake I shall walk this earth a grateful old man looking in longing to the future as well as the past. Yes, I am quite ready to live again. Quite ready.
|
At about the thirty year point I suddenly turned grey. The colour fell out of my hair overnight. I think it was the trauma, it's reach extending from that very first moment when Miss. Dawson pressed the button on my pod and the glass reeled back.
She smiled. I saw red lipstick bonded to the gaps between her teeth. Slate grey eyes peering down at me. My head was still restrained. I flickered my eyes away but she bobbed her head in the same direction so that she filled my vision.
'Welcome to The Advancement. It's morning, Julia. Time to get up.'
Thirty years later, it's morning again. It always feel like it's morning. The day is beginning. I'm exiting the pod to an empty world.
I logged on to the federal system to retrieve my mail. It loaded instantly. There was no other traffic to clog the fibre optics.
'Good morning, Julia.'
She hadn't changed. Her face filled the computer screen.
'Rough night?'
I reached up and touched my hair, pushing it flat to my head. I should have worn a hat or pulled it into a pony tail so it was less noticeable.
'Something like that.'
'Oh dear. It hits them all at some point.' I wasn't entirely sure she was addressing me, or if we were suddenly co-conspirators in something I still didn't understand.
'Seth is fine. He's passed all respiratory checks. He's currently dreaming of a cartoon dog.'
My heart pumelled. He's dreaming about Scruffy. He's still in there. I thought of my baby; still my baby, held in stasis without me. When he woke, I'd be long dead. Dust in the ground. Who would look after him? Who would-
'Julia?' Miss. Dawson was snapping through the screen. Her mouth had drawn together in an ugly pucker. Of course she was mad at me. She always had reason to be mad at me.
'I'm with you.'
'Good. There's a car on its way to you. Be ready in half an hour. Do something with your hair, for God's sake,' she said, before the screen went black.
| 2018-12-29T01:59:19 | 2018-12-29T01:58:51 | 149 | 88 |
[WP] You are the devil's only friend. Today is his birthday.
|
I was nervous as I approached the front door or my friend's house, making sure the folder in my hands was still there. And of course it still was, I hadn't dropped it nor lost it nor misplaced it the other fifteen hundred times I checked. I know, I know, I need to chill. But still, I couldn't help it! I was both excited and fearful. Did I know what I was getting myself into? Probably not. Oh well, guess we'll find out.
Luci opened the door a few seconds after I knocked. He never expected any visitors other than me or the annoying neighborhood kids that came to egg, TP, and/or graffiti his house with colorful words and various sizes of male genitalia. Then again, it's not surprising to assume that the devil is not well liked. Yet his exasperated expression told me he was too busy to care.
"Oh, hey. I wasn't expecting you around today.", Lucifer said slightly surprised, but stepping aside to let me in anyway.
"Swamped with work again?", I asked as a reply, pushing the door closed behind me.
"Yeah...", he said, scratching the back of his head and sitting down at his desk among stacks and stacks of papers, contracts of people who had sold their soul to him over the centuries. Most of them were obviously dead by now, but it was hard to run hell by yourself so it was expected that he'd have a bit of a backlog. Though a bit is an understatement, clearly.
"Welp, guess I'm not gonna be of any help then.", I said, walking over to him and dropping the folder in my hands on top of what he was working on at the moment, "I got another one for ya."
"Another soul?", Lucifer replied seemingly more annoyed than before.
"Yep.", I said, rocking on my heels.
"Damn you...", he said to me as he opened the folder and quickly eyed it over. Suddenly he stopped, taking off his glasses and looking up at me confused.
"Damn me.", I said with a nervous smile.
"This is...", he said shocked, turning to look back at the contract in his hands to make sure he read correctly.
"A signed contract for my soul, yes.", I quickly reassured him.
He turned back to me with an even bigger shocked face. Who would've known that the devil could still be surprised?
"But... But why?", he said, his voice suddenly taking a sharp tone, "Why would you do this? What's wrong with you?! You know this contract can't be broken once it's been signed with blood!"
"I know.", I said, somehow feeling a lot calmer now.
"For fuck's sake...", he said running his hands through his head where his hair should be if he had any, "Why?!"
"Because...", I shrugged, "It's your birthday."
"I know it's my birthday! Yay! I get my only friend's soul, damn him to hell forever, woo.", he said sarcastically.
"Exactly!"
He looked at me like I was stupid, and maybe I was. But this was truly the best thing I could give him. There is nothing more precious to the devil than souls. It's what he lived for.
"Jesus Christ...", he said, making it the most ironic thing to be said in existence, ever.
"I can explain.", I said.
"Please do! Cause I still don't know what you're thinking!", he said throwing his arms into the air before folding them across his chest.
"Well...", I took a deep breath and collected my thoughts before saying, "I'm mortal and you're not. You said yourself that I'm your only friend!"
"What does that have to do with anything?", he spoke.
"Once I die, whenever that may be, I'm gone. You'll lose me forever...", I said softly, a small twinge of sadness trying to pry its way through. I held it back, looking up at Luci only to see his face soften as realization seeped in.
"But if you sell yout soul to me...", he said, his arms dropping to his sides now, "It's mine to keep forever."
I smiled and nodded, "So you'll never be alone again."
Lucifer's lips slowly pulled into a smile. Out of everything that people asked for when signing their contracts to the devil, no one had ever been as selfless. It was clear to me that Lucifer was not, in a billion years, expecting this to happen. Who wants to be friends with the bad guy?
He quickly took a step towards me, closing the distance between us and hugging me tightly.
"Happy Birthday, Luci.", I said, returning the embrace. And as we stood there, for the first time in my life, and probably in his own life, the devil cried.
|
I stood on the street looking at the decrepit house on the other side. I stared at it for I don't know how long, spending all that time preparing myself for the sight I was to gaze upon. Unsure of myself, unsure of what would happen once I was inside. In the end, I began walking towards the house, for there was nothing else that was there to be done, the devil needed me, and I needed him.
As I opened the door and stepped inside, all the noise from outside the house seemed to have disappeared as if I had stepped into a completely different world. Strangely enough, the air felt the same, looking back, the view was as expected, nothing seemed to have changed, and yet that one detail told me this place was different.
The house itself looked as normal as an old house like that could look, filled with worn furniture, in need of ten coatings of paint before it could even hope to be given consideration for renovation. An exception to the rule of change that had been overlooked for the moment.
In that house before me there was one exceptional thing, for there in a chair sat an old man, he looked like he must have been in his 80's, he had a birthday cap on, his teeth looked fresh as ever, and his hair was white as snow, reaching down to cover his shoulders.
The devil, a lone figure in that room, a being half a day older than the birth of the universe, looking like he was waiting for this to be over with.
I walked over to him and I whispered," Happy birthday."
He did not even take the time to raise his head and look at me, but from the sigh that I heard coming from him, I knew that he was aware of my presence.
I took the package that I had been carrying in my arm, and gently placed it on the table, and opened it. In it was a small piece of cake. " An offering to you, I said."
It was at this point that the devil raised his head to meet my gaze. In his eyes I saw infinity, I saw something that had existed beyond time. In those eyes I saw worlds burn, collapse, and be reborn. In those eyes, I saw sorrow, and in that moment I felt pity.
"I thought we were friends." He spoke.
"We are." I replied," But I cannot risk you saying no for this one. I know you would have helped me, but I couldn't risk it."
"I would never have helped you if I could help it." He replied.
"Well, so you see the need for this." I said with a sense of justification seeping through my voice.
He stared at me for a few more moments, and in his stare I felt the weight of judgement over my soul. I shivered. "You know." He spoke," I was made with one purpose."
The world around me seemed to turn a lot darker as he said this, the air felt light, soon enough I could barely see beyond that dinner table. Around me I could hear a sound that I could only describe as wood disintegrating.
"That purpose", he continued," Was to protect people. To save them from the worst of themselves. To lock it away and guard over it."
At this moment I could feel sweat pouring down my forehead, I knew this is the end for me.
"Everything I did, I did as God had ordered me to do. Everything I did, I did to make things better. I suffered, lifetimes I suffered that you couldn't even count. That was my duty that I swore to uphold." He said.
At this point I could feel the weight of the air around me. I knew something was going to happen at this very moment.
At last, the air seemed to pop, and in the blink of an eye I found myself back in a decrepit old house with an old man wearing a birthday cap.
"Yet they hated me, and yet here you are, dare I say it, a friend. Maybe they do deserve you." With these final words he took a bite out of my offering and began chewing in the manner of someone who found no joy in what they were doing.
I decided to not risk anymore and facing him throughout, I walked backwards towards the door and exited.
At last I gave out a sigh of relief, knowing that my sins were excused, that my sloppiness and my mistakes were redeemed, knowing that my friend would never let the people find out where I had hidden the body.
I walked away with the words praise the devil upon my lips.
| 2018-05-09T07:59:21 | 2018-05-09T05:32:13 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] In most of the galaxy wars are often just shows of strength with fighting as a last resort. As such weapons are designed to be elaborate and flashy. Turns out humans, whose weapons are built with efficiency in mind, have a different understanding of war.
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"An offense to all military strategy."
Admiral Lucas Graves stands in front of the armored viewport of the EFS James N. Mattis, while a Tik'ko warship charges an enourmous plasma shell launcher. If they had any intention of fighting, it might have been threatening. He turns to the closest weapons officer.
"Run a scan. Find what powers that cannon and EMP it. Then release..."
Graves looks out of the viewport.
"fifty thousand fighters."
Thirty seconds later, seventy small shells are fired from 40mm launchers on the ship. Too small even for advanced sensor suites to detect. Forty-five seconds later, several explosions go off on the surface of the enemy ship. The cannon goes from glowing blue and ready to fire to useless.
One minute after Graves has given his order, fifty thousand Stinger fighters emerge and use their evasion abilities to elude fire from the few functioning plasma guns left, and deposit their explosive ordnance. .50 caliber machine guns mounter on the Stingers are used to disable the remaining cannons. Three minutes and twenty seconds have passed since the opening volley was launched, and the Tik'ko ship hangs uselessly in space, like a marionette without a puppeteer.
"Send boarding parties. Kill those who resist, capture the rest."
The first Human victory in the Tik'ko conflict, and the first battle. What would become known throughout the galaxy as the Human war machine has just begun. As the Tik'ko captain is captured, humans learn to fuse plasma based weaponry with their own. Individual human ground troops will become more powerful than an entire regiment of Tik'ko.
Admiral Graves stands where he always has, overseeing the destruction of those foolish enough to challenge their Human overlords.
|
&#x200B;
crawford had mocked these aliens for their flamboyant displays of might. he called them all bark and no bite, called them incompetent, impotent. it wasn't very hard to establish humanity's superiority. or so he thought.
like always they showed up with their grandiose warships. and it took only one shot from a mid-class pulse cannon to blow up their flagship. what followed was not war but a massacre. while some were horrified the rest were amused.
milton, rear admiral under him, vehemently condemned him, calling him a bully. but this was war not a school playground, if you can't keep up then don't step up. she then asked him if he had never wondered why the wars were fought such a way. he didn't bother about it, nobody did. maybe they should have.
turns out the aliens had one thing in common, an understanding of the sanctity of life. as such they were focused more on the show of force rather than the force itself. now that humanity had showed them that it does not value life like they do. the aliens had dropped all pretense.
the empire that took humanity more than a century to build was ripped apart in days. he remembered the words of isoroku yamamoto, the japanese admiral during the attack on pearl harbour. and he began to realise that humanity had awakened the sleeping giants and filled them with terrible resolve.
| 2020-03-21T09:33:38 | 2020-03-21T09:27:16 | 59 | 33 |
[WP] She has beauty, she has wit, she has grace… she speaks like a pagan god of death uttering omens through echoes of an ethereal plane… But hey, dating in your 30’s is gonna have baggage.
|
"Another shot?"
"Please," Greg said. The first Jack Daniels was already starting to wear off. The choice to arrive a half hour early may have been a poor one, but the choice to steady his nerves was wise and he had no intention of undoing it.
The shot arrived about the same time she did. Greg immediately forgot about it, stood up, and walked up to greet the woman he was there to see, Valentina.
"Wow," he said as he got up to her. "Your profile picture didn't even... I mean, that dress is so... I... um. Hi."
Valentina did not say anything. She raised one hand as if she expected it to be kissed. Greg awkwardly shook it as he tried to figure out if the downturned corners of her mouth were displeasure or something else.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I wasn't good at dating before the pandemic and... I have even less game now. Still, I'm so glad you came. Would you like to get dinner."
"Yes, dinner. The final meal of the day. For some... some here... it shall be the last of their fleeting existence."
"So you're a goth? I should have guessed by the outfit, but-"
"Hear me now!"
The people at the bar got quiet. A few heads turned in the dining room. The lights dimmed, all of them, save for the one over her head.
"The forgotten poison shall be the final quenching of the doomed servant. Charred flesh shall be the last thing to pass between the lips of the abandoned matriarch! You, who does court me, you are far more handsome than your avatar! Our union is as joyous as it was inevitable."
Greg paused. *Not the most awkward hello I've had this year.*
He asked, "Shall we get a seat?"
"Of course. Our feast shall rival that of the grim table in Hel."
"Cool... so, you're in theater?"
Valentina did not reply, but swept up to the hostess stand. The lights returned.
Greg followed and said, "We're on the wait list."
Valentina added, "A crawl through time as tedious as that to the grave."
The hostess said, "It can get like that on two for one wing night, but tonight's not so busy and your table just opened up. Right this way."
The two followed the hostess to their table. Greg swallowed, suddenly warm. His eyes darted from table to table, looking to see if anyone was looking at them, but everyone was intent on their meals. In fact, despite the fact Valentina was easily the hottest woman in the restaurant in the shortest dress, everyone seemed to be avoiding her gaze. The only one watching them still was the bartender, who had stepped around from the bar and was looking at them both like a dog who had just had a cat bark at it.
Menus and drinks came. They both had water. They ignored the breadsticks.
Greg cleared his throat and said, "So... um, I'm in IT myself. Database management. Boring stuff. Say, do you always open compliments with dire prophecy?"
Valentina looked around the room. She drew in a sharp breath. Her eyes became two obsidian orbs.
"The words of the Gravemother cannot remain unuttered, nor her reminders that no child of woman may reverse time and that she would like grandchildren. Please me, mortal, and she shall have us over on Thursdays."
"Wow... you move fast."
"Wait."
"Um... okay, not so fast."
"Silence!" Valentina demanded as she bowed her head.
From the back, someone screamed, "Oh god, call a doctor!"
Greg looked in the direction and a woman had fallen out of her chair, turning blue. He could see her clutch at her throat. He looked to the table and saw she'd been eating a blackened steak. She was alone at her table.
Valentina's words came back to him immediately.
"...*Charred flesh shall be the last thing to pass between the lips of the abandoned matriarch!*"
He slumped back into his chair.
Valentina said, "The moment has passed. Her spirit is with the Gravemother. I am sorry. This is probably weird."
"A little. You... um, this isn't how you sounded in your DM's."
"The voice of the Black Siren only comes from my lips. It's why I don't get out much."
"I get it. I was married for a while. It's hard starting over in your 30's."
"And yet you shall endure until you are bent and ancient."
Greg raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"I am as sure as that the world will be consumed in fire befor-"
"Hold up."
"Do my words offend?"
"No, it's just... you're reminding me life is short. Even if you say mine is going to be long, it will still go by in a blink. I fell in love with you on the third text. Do you really want dinner here or should we just skip to drinks at my place."
Valentina's eyes turned normal, with whites and pupils and bright green irises.
"I thought you'd never ask."
Greg smiled and stood, taking her arm. They both blushed like school kids. He tossed a twenty on the table and kept his eyes on hers, not even noticing as the paramedics rushed passed them to get to the corpse behind them.
The bartender continued to watch as the pair left. They paused at the door, Valentina stopping them. She drew Greg to her and kissed him. It made the bartender warm inside to watch. She then nodded, as if Greg had passed a test, and then they went out into the night.
The bartender shook his head. Wednesdays were always weird shifts. He noticed the shot Greg had left behind and decided not to let it go to waste.
He said, "To love" then tossed it back.
Valentina's words echoed in his ears as he swallowed.
"...*The forgotten poison shall be the final quenching of the doomed servant.*"
"Well, fuck."
|
Online dating had been a slog. Swipes, matches, ghosting, reset and restart. Sloan had forgotten how many times she had deleted and reinstalled the application. And for what? She ended up meeting Natalia through her friend circle.
They were polar opposites, both in physique and brain. Sloan came from Spain with an olive skin year-round and was a relentless socialite. Natalia was calm, composed, enjoyed quiet evenings at home and had ivory white skin, her ancestors hailed from Ukraine. Sloan practiced combat sports and skating and went to church from time to time. Natalia was the zen center of the universe. She meditated, was stoic in every situation and enjoyed summoning the dark lords of the old world and join their hellish crusade.
They had one similarity in character though. They were both curious by nature. Strict parents, school, the boring slog through the teenage years, the hard working world, no wrench thrown by life could stem the unquenchable thirst for knowledge.
When they met, they clicked, simple as that. Sloan liked the relaxed way her sweetheart could fire a verbal assault against someone out of nowhere and end the tirade with a sly smile. Her confidence translated in her movements and words. And when Sloan asked Natalia, she replied that she had fallen for the hot-blooded's brash, almost reckless way of expressing herself. Free from care and always herself, it attracted the more demure Natalia.
So they dated.
On the first date, they agreed on a yoga class, followed by a drink at a local bar. It was a change of pace for the more active sports Sloan enjoyed, but a fun experience nonetheless. Around a drink, they fell for each other further. There was this feeling that the person at the other end of the table was so much more than just a simple human being. There was a passion, an interest, a love for life and a desire to partake more in it instead of just riding along not knowing where it went.
On the second date, Sloan taught Natalia the basics of skating at the skate park. They got home with a few bruises and laughs. They also kissed goodbye.
On the third date, they dreamed together of the maw in the void. Each tooth a galaxy of stars, moving like gracious whales and gutting open universes to feast on their innards and spread new life to other worlds far beyond the scope of a human mind. Then they took part in a ritualistic shamanic dance atop a bald hill to summon a thunderstorm to strike a power plant. Half the country was in the dark for days.
That evening, they decided to make the couple official and stay exclusive to one another.
Like any good love story, it started flawlessly. They moved in together, learned the intricacies of a shared home with all the ups and downs it entailed.
And like any good love story, it dipped quite brutally.
Sloan needed regular and clear gestures of affection, while Natalia was quite the loner and very shy with her emotions. She felt smothered under too much love. She struggled more and more to accept Sloan's expressions of love, until she grew almost cold.
It came to a breaking point.
But, being rational adults, they both realized they were on the verge of shouts and tears and decided to sit down and discuss it like grown-ups.
"You know how it is," said Natalia, "I'm glad I found love with you, but sometimes... you know, sometimes there's just this innate desire to delve fully into the arcanes of the old world, sing at midnight to the moon with the howling wolves and cast the omens of the end of the universe and dance in sadistic joy for the feast to come. It's like you're fully immersed in something. And then you, another beautiful thing, bursts through the door, but you don't have the mind to it."
"You need more alone time."
"Yes. You're a lot better at getting to the point than I am."
Sloan, by nature a very physical and affectionate woman knew it would take a while. But despite this difference, she was ready for a compromise. Because she felt it could work out, she wanted it to.
So they spoke more openly. They learned and got to understand how every expression of love had a time and place.
Some weeks, they were inseparable, be it by day or night. Other weeks, they rarely spoke, sinking their minds into a hobbie, except to cheer one another during a brazilian jiu-jitsu competition or during the summoning of the herald of the maw in the void.
With tender care and good communication, the relationship got back on track. Sloan learned the finer points of devolving her entire attention to a sport or craft, Natalia learned the warmth and security of a prolonged loving hug.
On the third anniversary of their first meeting, Sloan offered her sweetheart a photomontage of all the great moments they had shared. Natalia in turn made a pact with the old gods to burn Sloan's old workplace down and offer her a new job, much closer to home.
It was thanks to such small but genuine proofs of love that, today, they stand at the altar of a small church.
"Yes," says Natalia, and a silver ring is put on her finger. Sober but beautiful, it adds to her prestance.
"Yes," says Sloan, and a black ring riddled with red veins and a crimson jewel is put on her finger. The blood of a sacrificed virgin runs deep in it. Should she ever be in trouble, she has only to break the jewel to summon eldritch hounds to eat her foes.
And with the promise to stay together through highs and lows until death parted them, they kiss.
It's a lie.
Actually, they intent to carry their love beyond death and into the next reckoning.
But it's considered bad taste to say so in a church. It will be their little secret.
| 2021-07-07T11:55:15 | 2021-07-07T10:51:22 | 906 | 438 |
[WP] You've died and despite living a fairly honest life, you've been sent to hell for all the terrible things you've done in video games. You're offered one way out. Prove you wouldn't do any of those things in real life by clearing the nine circles of hell like a dungeon, without being terrible.
|
The Devil gave me the ultimatum -- I can only leave Hell of I can defeat the 9 boss levels without resorting to evil.
This was a game. And a game has rules. And rules need to be defined!
"What, then, to we class as evil?", I asked.
"ANYTHING THAT CLASSES AS A MORTAL SIN, ANYTHING THAT CLASSES AS ONE OF THE 7 DEADLY SINS, OR ANYTHING THAT BREAKS THE TEN COMMANDMENTS".
Hmmm. Ok. That doesn't give me many choices.
"This is to be played like a game -- which game should it be played as?"
"IN THAT I WILL GIVE YOU A CHOICE. CHOOSE NOW! BUT CHOOSE ONLY ONE IF YOUR GAMES OF EVIL".
I had to quickly run though some types of games. Pac Man? That would be interesting...
What about Donkey Kong? Or Mario Kart -- no, the 9th level will be Rainbow Road, I know it.
Ah, I've got it.
"I choose Doom. The original one".
"THEN IT SHALL BE YOUR DOOM".
I ran to the wall and stood facing it as the world flashed and became the first level. And I moved, facing the wall, feeling my way to the end, never looking behind me.
The recreation was perfect, even down to that feature when the monsters wouldn't attack until you could see them...
|
I walked through the second layer, master sword in hand. Temptation races past me. I can barely control myself.
I wipe my sweaty hands on my green latex suit. "Hiyaa" i yell as i kill another demon of the dark lord.
I am on my last bomb as i approach the level boss and i am desperately low on rupees. A merchant is stationed around the corner and i only need a few more rupees to heal myself for the upcoming battle.
I brush past a pot, something rattles inside. No.. I can't. I mustn't tempt myself.
The merchant looks at me, expectantly. Sweat begins dripping from my forehead as i raise my sword. "Hiyaa!" I yell as my weapon swings down.
With the shatter of the pot i am now brought into a dark room. "Was it worth it" i hear echoing around me. "Huu" i shout back into the abyss.
You mustn't live in regrets, you must always live your life to the fullest. Despite what others may think of you.
| 2021-03-07T15:10:02 | 2021-03-07T14:07:01 | 1,820 | 99 |
[WP] Write a serious, adult story in a style normally intended for children.
Think fairy tales, nursery rhymes, picture books (without pictures, probably), educational stories. The intended age range is loose, e.g. everything from *See Spot Run* to *Make Way For Ducklings*.
The important thing is that the seriousness of the story should be at odds with a format we normally associate with unambiguously happy endings or simple morality tales.
|
Young Jackie and Peter were quite the young pairing,
Both popular, beautiful, loving and caring,
They met in their high school; fell heels over head,
They walked and they talked and they both shared a bed.
They did *that one thing* that the kids are all doing
(and let us be clear, so you're not misconstruing),
They did the one thing that makes babies appear,
They did it a lot, from the front, from the rear.
And, who would have guessed that the doing they did
Did what doing it does - it produced them a kid.
Young Jackie had tested, the Clearblue was clear
That they both would be parents in less than a year.
But Peter was angry; his future was fading,
The thought of a nappy was simply degrading,
He argued and blustered and pleaded his case:
"Just think of the money! The stress! The disgrace!"
Young Jackie, she listened, she heard Peter's pleading,
She thought, and she thought. Then she noticed the bleeding.
She paled, so did Peter, they drove to get treated,
The embryo's journey abruptly completed.
They drove home in silence, the space in between them
A gulf (though you'd never have guessed if you'd seen them),
They split, they grew up, went to college, grew old,
Young Peter and Jackie, their story now told.
|
David Beck snapped his first neck,
Before the age of seven.
At eight, then nine,
He found the time,
To break another eleven.
In teenage years he captured pets,
Skinned and hanged for days,
And in that way,
He made his play,
And tired of small prey.
He killed him next a prostitute,
And found the game most splendid.
Shoved some loot,
Right up her snoot,
To make it look self-ended.
The M.E. ruled it homicide,
And Dave got quite the shock.
When cops came round,
To take him down,
And found his hanging stock.
They bagged it all and shoved him down,
Inside a white Crown Vic.
The path to court,
Was very short,
And David felt quite sick.
The D.A. stood before a judge,
And called his acts occult.
They said he stank,
And snorted and drank,
Which Dave took as insult.
So rushed he then the suited man,
And tried to stop his breath.
But guards in blue,
They quickly drew,
And gave old Dave his death.
And so concludes a twisted tale,
Of senselessness and violence.
David Beck,
Now screams in Heck,
His bones interred in silence.
| 2014-05-13T07:00:57 | 2014-05-13T05:46:34 | 40 | 24 |
[WP] You are a superhero whose powers are based on the music you are listening to. Rock can make you stronger, classical makes you smarter, etc. One day, you're fighting your toughest villain yet, and you are forced to use your "forbidden" playlist.
|
I'd burned through at least a half dozen genres in the last few minutes. No matter what track was being pumped through the headphones integrated into my helmet, I either couldn't keep up with the hell-faced bastard or none of my hits would do anything to their adamantine skin. Every time I tried something else, they seemed to have the perfect counter. I needed something... more.
There's a reason why I keep away from certain types of music. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing bad about any of them. Well, most of them. It's just that I'm not a fan of the aftereffects of some of them. Techno makes me feel jittery, same with a lot of rap. Anything in a language I don't normally know kind of scrambles my speech for a while. Villain songs from the Mouse have me cackling evilly for a long time afterwards. But they all have a purpose.
Even the blacklisted tracks.
A shudder passed through me as I thought of that damned playlist. It wasn't really dread though, more like... excitement. And I hated myself for it. But I needed to end this before we leveled the city. Or, well, much more of it. I just hoped that I could stop myself when it was done.
So... I punched in the password for the locked tracks onto my arm mounted panel.
"Rip and Tear"
The warning phrase played in my head right before the first track kicked in.
"Until it is done."
|
As I fire up my R.Kelly playlist the villain immeditaly apologizes for everything and starts making repairs to the damage they have done. But its too late, I can't stop the playlist mid song. Crying quietly the villain hears the haunting refrain "My mind's tellin me no...but my body, my body..." as I saunter over with a knowing look and while grin that is almost a snarl spreads across my face.
As the song continues onlookers start begging for mercy. Shouts of 'they've had enough' start to ring out; but I can't turn it off, this has to run its course. The police observe from a safe distance, knowing that there is too much risk to their own safety if they intervene. A few people become physically ill as the dying refrains of "I don't see nuthing wrong, baby, baby" fade to silence.
It all seemed like a blur, I can barely remember the struggle that required this playlist to be engaged. In the immediate aftermath the press want to know why I even have a playlist so terrible on my phone. I simply don't have an answer for them, whatever this curse is it prevents me from adding new songs or deleting old ones from my playlists.
| 2022-05-17T09:22:08 | 2022-05-17T09:06:36 | 486 | 63 |
[WP] In the distant future, an alien scientist has almost fully deciphered the messages found on the Voyager Spacecraft. With growing horror, the scientist realizes the crafts home system, and begins to pray.
|
The scientist delivered his report, and the room turned oppressive as the planet's leaders struggled to comprehend his message.
One of the leaders spoke, "So you mean to tell us... that its headed BACK?"
"It didn't go back, sir", the scientist explained, a tremor in his voice. "The universe is apparently just exactly 12 light hours in diameter... and Voyager II has just circumnavigated it..."
The scientist took a deep breath and exclaimed, "there is simply NOTHING beyond the orbit of Pluto! We have been mislead all this time! There are no other galaxies, no other stars! There is just simply the sun, the Earth and the moon. There is simply a limit to our universe and we just have just reached it! We have just reached... it..."
The scientist collapsed and began sobbing. The microphone fell down, and the feedback slowly faded away. For a while there was nothing except the sobbing of the scientist, echoed by a few other people in the room.
After a while, one of the leaders spoke up, a very small voice in the quiet, the last dying gasp of human defiance "how can you be so sure...?"
The scientist replied, "because Voyager appeared with a message..."
And on the screen, seven words appeared, and below it, the automatic translation.
Usque huc venies, et non procedes amplius.
This far you may go, no further.
====
"Beware, you who seek first and final principles, for you are trampling the garden of an angry God and he awaits you just beyond the last theorem."
- Sister Miriam Godwinson, "But for the Grace of God", Sid Meyer's Alpha Centauri
Edit: PS. It's not exactly alien yeah, but I got scientist and growing horror and well yeah prayer there somewhere so yeah ^_^;;; Its my first post, please be kind.
|
A few disclaimers, this is my first response to a post and I am writing on mobile so sorry if the editing is weird.
I had grown used to the silence of the universe. I spent my time hiding from my civilization, traveling from galaxy to galaxy in a never ending patrol. During the war, my people called me a hero, an unstoppable force of justice, but they forgot their adoration quickly
They saw the reports of carnage and destruction. Yet all the people cared for was blood, and I skillfully gave them what they wanted. When we destroyed the last outpost of corruption, the people of my nation celebrated.
Slowly their adoration turned to distrust and paranoia. News circulated that I showed no mercy, and that I ignored calls for surrender.
Videos began surfacing of my tactics during the war. The people once again wanted blood, this time it was my own.
They did not realize that I did what I did to protect them. All I cared about was their safety. I knew to save them I would have to decimate the corruption.
I am their savior and purifier. I would do anything to protect them, and I have. To protect them I had to leave them.
I travelled the galaxy, ever vigilant, determined to protect my people should the need arise. I an age in search of a danger that did not seem to be there.
The danger arrived in a quiet way. A small ship drifted into the corner of my scanners. I hailed it in all frequencies of my people with no response.
After my many years of patrolling I found more corruption in the universe.
| 2014-11-09T03:40:29 | 2014-11-09T00:24:27 | 100 | 13 |
[WP] Earth is doomed in a matter of years, but you are bestowed with a mystical dagger that causes anyone killed by it to instantly resurrect on an alternate Earth that does not share the same fate. In one world you are revered as a hero, on the other the most notorious serial killer of all time.
|
I remember smiling as I gently stroked my 1 year-old daughters hair. She had been sleeping peacefully for the last 3 hours as I sat and watched her, the knife laying across my lap.
I remember clearly the day it arrived. In a dream, a booming voice called out to me, telling me that I am to be the salvation of the Earth, and the savior of so many. I was told that in 5 years time our planet would be consumed by fire and destruction, and that this knife was the key to saving as many as I could.
I didn't start with family, that would have made it too obvious who I was. Initially I murdered random people on the street. Homeless people who were suffering, drug addicts and alcoholics that no longer felt they had purpose in this world. I was bad at it at first... I felt incredibly guilty for the suffering I caused the time I had to stab a woman 23 times to get her to stop screaming. Over time I had honed my craft, and now found immense joy in knowing that my victims would painlessly slip away to a better place.
When I was told my wife was dying during childbirth, I came so close to blowing my cover so I could save her life, save her from an eternity of nothingness. But when I saw my daughters sweet face as she lay across my wife's chest for the first and last time... I couldn't bring myself to ruin that moment with bloodshed.
And so here I was a year later... the world would end in 6 months, but my daughter and I would not be there to see it. I stood and raised my knife over my head.
As it fell through the air, though, my door was slammed open, a swat team barged in shooting my in the back three times. I fell, panicking as I realized I had fallen onto the dagger. I crawled towards my daughter as the police lifted her out of her crib. She was crying and I tried to call out, but I could not find my breath.
I awoke in a paradise, crowds of people surrounding me and cheering. Tears of joy falling down their faces as they thanked me for saving them... Many of them hugged their families as they smiled at me, but I would never see my family again.
|
I crawl through the mud, my mind burning with my mission. *There's only him left.*
The world is doomed. The little life remaining on it has only a few months left 'till the planet devours it, and the intelligent life that used to inhabit it has been taken away. Except for me, and him.
I glimpse the tiny cabin through the few trees that stand in my path. A figure can be seen pacing through the window, the firelight making his shadow larger and his features grotesque. I know what he's thinking, feeling. He's afraid of me and he knows I'm coming. He fears my knife.
The man in the cabin is my father. I love him dearly which makes this harder than it should be. I *must* do this but I've postponed time and time again, not anymore.
I reach the final tree and slowly get up, he sees me but it's too late to escape. I sprint to the door and reach it at the same time he opens it. Horror and determination fill his face, the former in reaction to my knife, the latter in reaction to his own.
We fight. He is stronger than me, he always has been but my mind is set and my will is fierce. I stop his downward swing with my left hand as my right drives the knife to his neck, at the last second he catches it and throws it away. A glint of victory shines in his eyes but lasts little, my swift right hook makes him stagger and I take his knife away. With one violent swing I cut his throat, he looks at me one last time and I feel my own choking. *He's crying.*
My father falls down, the life draining from his body and I fall to my knees. It's over, I tell myself, it's done. I've killed my father, the other remaining person standing on this rock, with his own knife. The killer responsible for wiping out mankind before the planet itself did. The end looms over me.
I weep in a desolate world.
| 2018-10-15T07:15:19 | 2018-10-15T06:03:34 | 19 | 11 |
[WP]Time travel is possible, but requires an "anchor" item created in the target era. You've gone to the year 900 using a Viking sword and the year 300 using a Roman Coin. You've just started the process using a small statue of unknown origin and it proves to be vastly older than human history.
|
Jonah thumbed the statue's face, mentally making out the nub of the nose, the deep-set eyes, the cleft where chin met neck. This was dangerous. Foolish would be a good word too.
Rome had been a cakewalk. There was plenty of documentation, of dates and figures and maps, a wealth of historical data that more than matched the extraordinary rigor required of such an endeavor.
Rome had been Nuhistory's pilot project and Jonah had been its enterprising pilot. Weeks of delicate research, of carefully scripted interactions with carefully selected subjects in carefully chosen locales. A costuming department rivalling any Hollywood production. Months of training, in linguistics, in tactics and spycraft, and in the working of the devices hidden on Jonah's person that would record, on *video*, in *audio*, the happenings of the past.
It was a damn shame it was all top secret.
But now Jonah looked at the statue and wondered, really wondered for the first time just what the hell he was getting into. The Vikings had been dangerous, but as Julio the project manager always said, "Luck favors the prepared." Research had come to the rescue. It organized the chaos into checklists and timetables. History was no longer a fog of myth and legend. It, too, was science. We could *know* it now.
And swinging those swords around really had been quite good stress relief. It wasn't on any of the checklists but really, you couldn't go back to the Viking era without swinging at least one dangerous hunk of metal.
But this was different. The artifact was different. No one knew where the hell it had come from. An archaeological team had found it at a digsite in Africa, far deeper than it should have. "*Precambrian*," the lead archaeologist had whispered in awe. And radiometric dating had confirmed as much.
It wasn't much. A human figure, carved from stone, but just slightly off from what a human should look like. Too longs legs, too narrow a face, too distended an abdomen. Such creative liberties weren't atypical of ancient human representations, but if this came from *before* \- then maybe the evolutionary tree of life was wrong. Maybe there were people before. People who were our foremost ancestors. People from elsewhere.
And if there had been people before, maybe they could be spoken to.
Screwing with the timeline didn't really matter. All the subterfuge of the other visits had been mostly for the purposes of not interfering with the data. "It's brilliant," Julio had said, caressing the smooth white curves of the machine. "Everything just resets when you get back, just like it was. The equations are beautiful, they just *flow*." Jonah would take his word for that.
But this visit would be the find of a lifetime. Of the entire human species. The answer to the ultimate question of where we'd come from.
"Powering up," Julio called over the intercom. Jonah snapped out of his reverie and put the statue back in his pocket. He checked his respirator, then the other suit systems.
"All clear here," he said. "Ready when you are."
*Glory, here we come*.
The dome opened, bending and warping the sterile laboratory light into an iridescent shimmer that Jonah could not quite catch. He stood taller, clenched his fists and stepped into the machine. The Nuhistory heads-up display whirred to life on his visor, cycling through its multifarious options.
"Commencing visit in 5, 4..."
*Time to make history*.
"3... 2... 1!!!"
A flash, a crack, a glorious splitting of the fabric of reality, and then a great pull, like he was falling toward something behind him, and then, just as instantaneously, he was standing still, in another place. Another time.
It was a vast shoreline beneath a lavender sunset. Water lapped at his ankles, and when he looked down, *yes*! he could see them there, all sorts of ancient pulsing creatures he'd only ever seen in books, in cheap computer-generated reproductions in documentaries and museums. Things that stretched bulbous fingers toward the water's surface like gelatinous plants.
So much to document. So much to see. But it was not what he was here for.
He turned. And then he wished he hadn't.
There were two of them. Things he had not expected. Things he would not have *wanted* to expect. Their bodies were great pulsing sacs of purple, floating in midair, each as big as an SUV. Thousands of slippery tendrils hung below them, fingering the air, wriggling around each other like living spaghetti. And their eyes, huge and compound, bright red like flies' eyes, and *twitching*, twitching at *him*.
They were watching him now. And making noises. Strange, clicking gurgles that brought bile to the edges of Jonah's throat.
Then he looked closer and saw that there was something in their tendrils. Bodies of creatures, like the ones he was standing in. And tools like long rods with bright blue flames at their ends with which they were carving the creatures, molding them, into new and impossible shapes. And they were doing this while they were staring at him, reading him, assessing... waiting.
And beside them, in the dirt, Jonah saw markings. Intricate glyphs, and plans, surrounding a small, familiar shape. A statue, exactly like the one he had in his pocket. A *model*.
Without thinking, Jonah pushed the recall button, and in another cracking instant he was back in the body of the Nuhistory machine, steam hissing from the surface of his suit in ghostly tendrils of white.
Julio ran in, eyes wide. "Jonah, what's going on? What happened?"
"I was right," Jonah said, slumping to the floor, and the next words came out as a wracking sob. "Oh God, I was right..."
|
Earth had never been dark. Not fully. Not *no fire, no lightning, no stars, no sun, no moon* dark. But I didn't consider that. The first thing I thought on arriving was: shit I forgot to bring lunch. I remember I said, "Sweetie, did you bring lunch?" And she said, "Ah shit. I thought you were dealing with it." And then we tried to look at each other to roll our eyes but...
The only reason we're even leaving this note, deep in this cavernous gut, is because we *have* to. Have to tell you that we're fucked. *We*. Humanity. God's children, evolution's mighty zenith, a happy little accident -- whatever you want to call us. (All wrong by the way -- we're just an experiment, although the bible got it closest.) Us telling you is part of how it all connects.
See, the statue I have in my hand -- that I leave here and bequeath to the note's finder, in however many million-years -- is, well, I don't know what it is exactly. A beacon, sort of. You time-travel back to its creation and you kick-start everything, because they're waiting here for us. They're like hunters that have made a little rope trap and are hiding in a bush waiting for a time-deer to stumble its hoof into the time-hoop.
Why are they waiting? Because us coming back here is the technolutionary (like evolutionary -- does that work? I think it does.) signal for them to judge you back in the future. And bad news, they already know how they're going to judge you, because time-travel stuff. They say you've extincted (that definitely works) 99% of all species you share the planet with, so they're going to go boom on your butt. That sounds wrong. Blow you up, I mean. They're like righteous hippies that have got hold of a nuke and decided that those few bees selling honey to each other are a good target.
Why don't they do it sooner? Like, wipe us out at the Adam and Eve stage, so to speak? They're not allowed to. There are many laws in the universe, many rules, and number seven is: you should allow each species a little time to breathe. Because time is like a book, and when it comes to the end, its pages can still be flicked through -- they'll always exist. So even if we only cover a paragraph, that's fairer (apparently) than only being allowed a single letter for all existence.
So yeah, when you find this, you have about a week before it happens. So say your goodbyes and give the person next to you a nice long smooch.
Okay, time's up. They're dragging the sun into place and getting our planet all started. They've already planted the dino bones and done all the "ground work", as they call it. Plus the kids are complaining.
Yep, life begins today.
Except for yours.
For you, life begins to end today.
Peace out.
&#x200B;
\---
&#x200B;
Sam held the letter, written on type-plastic, in one hand, and the little wooden relic, a carved laughing face, in the other. "So, what do you think, sir?"
"Same as you, Sam. That note is written on modern tech. The carving looks a little more authentic, but come on, whoever did this didn't even try hard to hoax us."
"Yeah," Sam said. "Although it was right down the throat of a very, very deep cave."
"It's a hoax, Sam. The world isn't ending." He paused. "And they moved the sun? Planted dinosaur bones? Seriously?"
Sam laughed. "Yeah. Okay, that's pretty dumb, even for a hoax. It's like they're saying evolution wasn't a thing. Everyone just... got put in their place by aliens. And we know that isn't true."
The commander sighed. "And yet it still bothers you?"
"Well... I'd just like to know who did it, I guess."
"Fine. Fine. Someone *should* be held accountable." The commander tapped a button on his tablet.
"That was a very obnoxious letter," said the commander as they waited.
Sam nodded. "Very."
Two minutes later the door swooshed open and Gale walked in, saluted the commander, then winked at Sam as she bit her lip.
"Gale, you and Sam are going on an assignment. You're going to find the perpetrator of this hoax." He pointed at the wooden statue in Sam's hand.
She looked at Sam and grinned. "Oh good. I need a little excitement in my life."
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
Four hours later, they were ready. Held hands as they clicked the switch.
It happened in an instant.
Blackness. Total blackness.
"Sweetie," said Sam. "Did you bring lunch?"
"Ah shit. I thought you were dealing with it."
They looked at each other, about to roll their eyes, when it dawned.
"Shit," they both said. "Shit."
A ring of light brushed over them. Many eyes glistening in the dark around them.
"Sweetie," he whispered nervously.
She gulped. "Yeah?"
"If evolution's not real...
"Yeah?"
"...Then something's got to start humanity, right?"
"Is that really a big concern right now, Sam?"
"I just worry that... well, how do you feel about kids? Because I don't think I'm all that ready for them."
| 2020-04-17T09:11:21 | 2020-04-17T09:04:02 | 967 | 297 |
[WP] Your mind automatically slows down time as imminent danger approaches. This has helped you to become an athlete, great with parlor tricks and avoid death at every turn! Today, a very attractive member of the opposite sex walks past and flashes you a flirty smile. Time begins to slow.
What do reddit. What do.
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Danger. That's a word I haven't ever truly understood. I know the idea of danger, but I never feel it. When I get into "dangerous" situations, everything clicks into place and I can just go. The world slows down, and I can think, I can solve my problems. There's no excitement in these times for me, no adrenaline rush. It's all just a methodical reaction to me, this response to danger.
Danger. It's only now, 22 years into my life, that danger feels real. Walking down the street I see a girl, a beautiful girl. She has taken all of my attention as I walk by, and she clearly noticed. I say she notices because she flashes me the most breathtaking smile, one that seems to draw me in even more. It's such an amazing sight that it takes me until I'm almost passed her to realize that time had begun to slow the minute she smiled. In that moment, I knew the danger was real, because this was not a situation I was prepared for. My life had been in danger before, but I always knew what to do. Here, in front if the girl with the smile, though, I was at a loss. My fast hands could do nothing for me here.
Danger. As I continue to contemplate danger, and the girl's effect on me, she passes me completely. I immediately notice time returning to normal, since it coincides with my loss of her. In that moment, I truly understand danger. I know the potential for loss, but I also now realize the potential to gain so much more. With that, I turn around and quickly introduce myself, no longer caring about the world slowing down around us.
Edit: Reformatted to make it a little easier to read
Edit 2: Thank you all for the support and the compliments. I'm not normally much of a creative writer (science student so all my writing is very straightforward and formulaic) but it was nice to do something a little different, and I'm glad people seem to really like it!
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Shit, a spy! I thought and caught the woman and searched for weapons, but I couldn't find any. The woman started running away and I let her, for the slow motion was still on. She started calling for police, but that's not important now.
I looked around, like I should have done first. I see nothing. Maybe this slow motion is making me paranoid, but it has never failed me before, so I gotta run.
I ran a few blocks to make sure it wasn't just some danger in general, but was aimed specifically at me. I went in buildings and came out of them. I ran through a couple of underground tunnels too for good measure. "The whole city is probably screwed." I said to myself.
I ran to a nearby empty bomb shelter I had found earlier. I had started to be a "doomsday prepper" so I had food and water among other things.
I started feeling weak on my legs and fell down.
Shit.
I took my phone and started dialing numbers.
I couldn't recognize the squiggleys on the phone.
"What's happening to me" I said to myself.
I found a note on my pocket where a friend had written his number before. I pattern matched the squiggles on the paper to the squiggles on the phone and soon I heard "Hey, what's up?".
"Help, I think I'm having a brain aneyrysm or something!" I said. Or tried to say, apparently my friend heard some weird mumbling. Brain is a funny thing.
Nobody will come here in years, probably. Nobody knows where I am. I hadn't told anyone for the fear of being ridiculed. I'll just shut my eyes now. I feel strange connection to everything as my sense of self fades away...
| 2015-01-17T09:05:03 | 2015-01-17T07:59:02 | 770 | 48 |
[WP] Born to a family of do-gooders, you're adamant on being an unpleasant person. But no matter what you do, something goes always right; this drives you absolutely mad.
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"Do good," I said. "Such a funny sounding phrase, isn't it?"
The malice in my voice was calculated. Sharp, but serrated, along with a coat of sugar to make it go down easier. I looked over at my current hostage.
The Ardent. Still has that delicious hatred in her gaze. I would have revelled in it in private, but I had work to do. I walked over to her, lifting her chin up forcibly, forcing her to look uncomfortably up.
"So, am I doing good? I'm rather new to this, I must admit," I said. "But might I interest you in betraying your beloved Fervent, the grand hero of the city, huh? Then it'll all come to an end."
"You," she said. The first word she had uttered since being strapped and tied down in her chair. "You are a Kalos, aren't you?"
My eyes narrowed. I was certain she could feel the grip around chin tighten perceptibly. How did she know? How could she have known?
"And?"
"Why is a Kalos like you resorting to such methods?"
"Such methods? Am I not treating you very well, prisoner? You could very well be shackled in metal rather than ropes. You could have not had water for three days instead of hours. Instead, here you are, still a hair unharmed," I spat out. "What more do you want?"
"Soft," she said.
"Soft?" I sputtered. "I'm the first of my family to ever do something like this! I'm a pioneer! I'm a breaker of molds!"
Wait a minute. Why am I getting riled up by my prisoner?
"Anyway," I cleared my throat. "Tell me what I want to know. Or suffer!"
"Bah," Ardent said. "You Kaloses have always had a knack for this sort of stuff."
"Really? The torture worked?" I asked, delighted.
She looked at me again. Wait. That look in her eyes. Now softened considerably. It wasn't hatred. It was...
"No. It really didn't. But I suppose to gig is up. I don't exactly know what your plan is, but I'm certain you've found me out."
Found her out? I stepped back, confused. What the hell was she talking about?
"You're right. I've betrayed Fervent. I'm an undercover spy for the Apathetic," she confessed. "Kalos. Of course it has to be your family."
Wait, what?
"And even setting this up. It wasn't great, but I could see the effort put into this. I'm done. I don't want to do this anymore. Take me away and lock me up, Kalos," she said firmly.
I collapsed on my knees and yelled in anguish. Goddamn it.
---
r/dexdrafts
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Luke's father, Mr. Peterson, wore his Sunday best, a white suit with light blue tie and a silver wrist watch that chimed every hour with "Praise Jesus". Luke wore black leather.
"Come on, son. You don't want to be late for church, do you?" Mr. Peterson said, in his warmest, chipperest dad voice. Luke always thought he had stolen it from the old family sitcom, 'Leave It to Beaver'. But then again, when had his father ever stolen anything?
"I told you, church-slave. I'm not going." Luke spat.
"Oh really? What's got you so busy today that you can't take some time to praise the lord?" Mr Peterson asked genuinely.
Luke thought for a minute. Over the past months, he tried more and more desperately to get out of going to church. Somehow it never worked. Luke thought wearing his tough guy motorcycle outfit would dissuade his father from even inviting him. Now he realized how foolish that was.
If vomiting on Mrs. McTimbers last week didn't work, maybe nothing would. Luke boiled with silent rage, when Mrs. McTimbers' lost dog, Fido, came running up and started licking up the sick puddle all over her shoes. They even thanked him.
"Well... actually... Ah! I'm going down to the local soup kitchen to help feed the homeless. Too much good work to do, to take time for myself." Luke said with so much sneer that he was surprised his father didn't hear it.
"That's so admirable, son. I suppose, sometimes, there are more important things than worrying about our own immortal souls." Mr. Peterson said, his eyes watering with pride.
"Yep." Luke said quickly. Finally he had done it. All he has to do was keep his mouth shut, and he wouldn't have to go to church for the first Sunday in his life. His knees shook and lips pressed firm together, trying to contain his excitement.
"Well, if you go ahead and get in the car, I'll join you after a quick change."
"What?" Luke said befuddled. "But Dad you just agreed that I wasn't going to church."
"Well, of course, Luke. But you didn't think I was gonna pass up the opportunity to share doing a good deed with my son, did you?" Mr. Peterson came out to the car a few minutes later, wearing, over top of his Sunday best suit, a red trimmed apron that read 'No. 1 cook!'
Luke sighed.
| 2020-08-10T09:29:29 | 2020-08-10T09:16:19 | 27 | 11 |
[FF] I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things. (250 words + GOLD)
Please include this phrase: "I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things."
*Reddit gold to the submission that most strongly hits me in the feels.*
Ready? Set? GO!
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EDIT: I couldn't decide, so I awarded gold to *two* of our writers. /u/voxanimus and /u/PoliticalMilkman both win a month of reddit gold!
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A deep rending that reverberates across this vast, wretched sky. It fills my ears. It fills my bones. A sound so immense I can almost touch it. The very fabric of this universe is tearing under its own weight, and this is its swan song. Yet I can think of but one thing—it's strange that the breakings of the world aren't any louder.
I used to hate you. I hated how easily you climbed the walls I'd built around myself. I hated how easily you could make me *feel*—how the softest brush of your fingers was enough to send me careening. I hated you because it was the only thing I knew how to do.
I don't really know when that hate gave way to love. Was it a slow weathering? Or did you and your too-bright smile purify me in a single fleeting brilliance?
Maybe neither happened. Maybe the hate's gone, but nothing's come to take its place. It's okay. I'd rather be empty, now, than full of darkness.
I'm glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things. Though the requiem of creation itself resounds around us, all I can hear are the velveteen murmurings of your heart. Echoing softly in this empty breast.
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Eight minutes. For taking a shower? The high end of average. Plus some change, Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven. Toaster to tongue, two pieces of buttered toast. Right now? Might as well be eternity.
Eight minutes. The time it takes transmissions from Earth to reach me, and for my messages to reach Earth. The time it would take for you to know, sitting at your desk staring at a little blip on a big screen, that something’s wrong.
Eight minutes. Not enough time to tell my wife she has two hearts, and I just hold one. Not enough time to tell my son to laugh, and love life, or to tell my mom that it won’t hurt.
Yes I’m sitting in a tin can, high above our world. The air is running out, and there’s nothing I can do. I don’t know you, but I know you’re there, know you’ll read this very soon. Thank you. Thank you for reading, thank you for hoping, praying, doing whatever you may be doing. I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things.
Eight minutes. The time it’ll take for you to get this. Less than the time it will take for me to suffocate. Think of me, just for a moment, please. It’s lonely out here.
| 2013-03-24T21:55:43 | 2013-03-24T10:16:20 | 90 | 10 |
[WP] A doctor waging the war on cancer dies with (surgical) blade in hand. Somehow his spirit enters Valhalla.
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"This is a mistake, I'm not supposed to be here!"
"Well" Odin said in his deep booming voice, "You died fighting a powerful enemy with blade in hand, that gets you into Valhalla."
"But I never even believed in any of this!"
"That doesn't matter, besides, why should you complain, you get to fight all day and feast all night and the Valkyries will attend to your every need."
"This... this just wasn't what I was expecting"
"Well you will be in good company, you will be revered as a hero here."
"I'm no hero, I didn't die in battle, I had a heart attack while performing surgery!"
"Don't be so modest, this place is for those who fought and slayed the unjust, and what enemy is more unjust than cancer?"
Odin began speaking with excitement, as if even a god were in awe of this mere mortal.
"The most unjust enemy, it kills at random, it slowly and painfully tortures it's victims, and you fought it through hours upon hours in the operating room, and not for the first time! You died a greater hero than many a viking warrior, now you have a place at the table of heroes, now drink your mead and revel in the company of those who fought the good fight!"
Odin put his hand on my shoulder and directed me to a table in his great hall. My eyes widened in wonder as I saw who was seated there. Faces I only knew from pictures in the history books, Hippocrates, Louis Pasteur, Jonas Salk and every other doctor who had saved countless human lives throughout history.
"Behold, the table of true heroes!" Odin proclaimed. Now take your place among them!
Edit: Thanks for the gold kind stranger! I had no idea this story would get so much support, my mind is thoroughly blown.
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Death is not easy and he has seen many kinds. The slow asphyxiation as a girl's lungs stop expanding, her ribcage too heavy. Or torn artery and the fear and panic and blood and forty five seconds later a cooling body on a slick floor.
He has never seen a quiet death. In the last moments the body fights, instinctively, for life. Standing in the suite he can feel the second his heart stuttered. The moment is insignificant. It had been coming on stronger the past few days. A product of too much fatty meat and little sleep. He'd take the weekend off, go to the lake with Maria. Turn off the alarm clock. The gloves are massive.
The tumor is oblong. Under the lights it looks alien a mucus coated mass of hard tissue and bulging veins. A kick in the chest then. His hands are bloated. The scalpel is fidgety, fragile. His heart feelings *tight*. Like heart burn but something is blocked... And he staggers... And the tile is cool on his face... And he feels the damp breeze the comes off a northern lake.
Someone hauls him to his feet. They smell of wet sheep, leather, sweat. The warm dusty whiff of horses and the sharp hint of pine. Mostly dirty though. Unwashed.
More in habit than though his hands off the blade and strips the gloves. The blood on his gown is tacky. In front of him is a group of men. The youngest he'd out at seventeen. That's how old Matt is. The oldest is at lest eighty, with a film over the eyes and teeth. Most are in their mid thirties.
There is a crippling panic that overtakes him. He has the embarrassing urge to cry in front of strangers. It takes him a second to calm down.
"Hello." He tries to shake. They don't respond. They view him with suspicion, some muttering to each other like school boys.
| 2014-08-22T21:28:26 | 2014-08-22T21:03:26 | 690 | 13 |
[WP] A doctor waging the war on cancer dies with (surgical) blade in hand. Somehow his spirit enters Valhalla.
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"There must be some mistake... I...I." The doctor muttered
"Are you not the one known as Kenneth Anderson son of Grant Anderson?" The man in Cherokee headdress asked with a fierce expression.
"I am but..."
"Is it not true that 23 men have fallen under your blade?"
"I wasn't trying to..."
"Ha, not even here five minutes and this whelp already bragging. What is it ya slay these men in your sleep." said a very large blond man with a braided beard.
"Thats not... I was trying to save..."
"Its okay now, I too fought bravely to save my village but the white man used cowards weapons and attacked at night." The chief said as his fierce expression changed to one of understanding.
"Oh here we go with this again." The viking perched in. "Don't blame my descendants because you weren't strong enough to accomplish your goals."
The chief smirked "Tough talk from a man who had my spear through his eye yesterday."
"Ooohhhh sounds like a challenge if I ever heard one." The blond man said lifting his Axe.
and with that two men gleefully attacked one another. As the hall around the doctor descended into a battlefield the doctor approached what appeared to be a wounded Roman Legionnaire it seems some type of foreign projectile was protruding from his gut. Before he realized it a medical kit was in his hands. The doctor simply shrugged at least now he had all of eternity to practice his craft.
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Another day at work for Doctor Hubert Sprinklejizz. How he ever got this job is a mystery, lost least on himself. He barely passed medical school, if it hadn't been for that short act of fellatio upon professor Fuddlepuck, he wouldn't have garnered the necessary "extra credit" to have continued his career. He shuddered, how close he had been to working his fathers fruit stall instead!
His ineptitude had befouled him before. His short time as a paediatrician had ended in a storm of malpractice lawsuits, unnecessary surgeries and violent, angry parents. Forced to leave Bangladesh, he set course for America, that golden gilded paradise of opportunity.
After twenty years of practice his opportunities had evaporated. No self-respecting hospital would take him. The NRA had a bounty on his head, the CRIPs and Bloods had put their differences aside to try to stop him. The lower 48 were off limits.
Which is how he found himself in Alaska. Fortunately Alaskan scientists hadn't yet discovered the internet, and his reputation was clear, for now.
A sharp pain gripped his chest.
The ceiling of the theatre tore open, and before it the sky itself. Ten-thousand busty valkeries poured around him, gingerly lifting him upon their fingertips into the sky above.
A great hall. All of the great conquerors of history sat around an equally great table, Genghis Khan, Alexander, Tamerlane, Robin Williams, with Odin at the head. "HUBERT!!" Odin's voice boomed "TRULY YOU ARE THE GREATEST OF US ALL!"...
| 2014-08-22T21:23:55 | 2014-08-22T20:30:31 | 127 | 52 |
[WP] You're tripping on a new drug dubbed "Memory lane." It allows you to relive anything that has ever happened in your life with 100% clarity. The only catch is that the memory is random.
Good or bad trip. Your choice.
Thanks for the responses guys, I of course had to take a crack at it as well (be gentle it's my first try)
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We'd smoked two joints by the time Fred got there and I was feeling pretty lazy. The stairs creaked as he came down.
"Sup guys," Fred laughed, "its like a fucking sauna down here, y'all smoked yourselves retarded yet or what?"
Pat quipped up, "Ha, Ha, Ha, very funny, now sit your ass down and role us another one." His eyes were blood shot, which was pretty standard. My eyes never got bloodshot.
Fred grinned, "I'm fine with that." He sat down on the couch next to me and Pat passed him the rolling tray.
We sat in silence as Fred busted up more weed, then he pulled out a small container from his pocket, from which he took out a little yellow capsule. He pulled it apart carefully with his fingernails and emptied the powdery contents onto the weed. He did nothing to hide his actions and thus managed to capture 100% percent of our attention.
"What the hell is that?" I asked.
Fred smiled to himself, "I don't even know." He laughed, "Ron McCarthy said it takes you back in time. He's a full-fledged fucktard though. Guess we'll just have to see."
Pat's anxiety faded to a look of modest interest. "I wouldn't mind going back in time..."
Fred finished rolling and passed the joint to me. "You're the guinea pig on this one."
"Whatever I don't mind."
I took the joint and sparked it, hauling the thick pungent smoke deep into my lungs. It didn't taste at all like weed, more like raspberries and overproof rum. I hit it again three more times, then passed the joint to Pat and leaned back, sinking comfortably into the amber felt sofa. But it didn't stop there, I kept sinking, down and down a path that stretched for miles into an intangible gloom. At first I thought I'd been shrunk down and become trapped inside the couch. A red glow filled the confined space, seeping through the translucent skin that surrounded me. Then all of a sudden the environment squeezed in on me, pushing me down, and I tumbled through what I suddenly realized was a viscous fluid. The pressure built, then jerky vibrations and a repetitive noise filled my ears, like a distant groaning. That was when I realized I was naked. Something was pushing me through a tube, and the word claustrophobic filled my tiny mind. Suddenly up ahead a crevice broke in the distance and through it poured a harsh fluorescent light, white and sterile as it blinded my fragile eyes. All of a sudden I was through, and a giant being grabbed me in its hands and passed me to another, who cried and brushed its giant lips against my forehead. Then I was passed to another, who passed me to another and shook me until I realized it was Fred shaking me and I had fallen of the sofa and was curled up on the ground in the fetal position.
And that was the first time I tried Memory Lane.
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[I love this writing promt]
Although the drug is FDA approved and I'm lying down in my therapist's office, I cannot help but think to myself that this must be the sketchiest thing I've done since all that acid in college. Whatever, if it'll help me sleep. I close my eyes and lay down on my stomach. Seconds after Dr. Fuckface Paidtomuch applies the patch to the back of my neck the drug takes hold.
There's a flash of colors which reminds me that this might have been a bad idea. I wonder for the streched millisecond if I'll be coherent as an observor throughout this entire ordeal. Then I'm looking through my eyes again, except about four inches lower than I usually do.
I'm sitting on the bench inside my highschool. I've got a boy on each side of me and their malevolence is seething off of them like my body odor off of me. I should have learned to use deodorant much earlier. A teacher walks past us and asks simply. "Everything's all right over here?"
"Yes Mr. Smith, not a problem" I say. He knows I'm lying but I guess he trusts my judgement. I wish he hadn't but looking back, it didn't matter. He walks out the double doors into the parking lot.
"You know what you did man. Let's go".
Earlier that week the long haired boy had cornered me in the hallway and let loose a fury of swear words and threats. *WHAT'D I EVER DO TO YOU? YOU'RE FUCKING DEAD MAN.* I know his girlfriend from Mr. Goodin's geometry, and she sure is a fucking looker. Hilarious too. She aludes that she has a boyfriend, and I simply don't care. We're hanging out all the time, getting to know eachother. Eventually we smooch, and here I am.
She had mentioned at least once what a controlling bastard this guy was. Mark.
The other guy was just a wingman. Displacing his teen angst.
Minutes later on the bike path Mark throws the first punch, and I deftly move out of the way. I'm much bigger than these fellas, genetically superior one might say. Also at the time, I'm a fairly devout pacifist. Can't dodge em forever though, and he catchs me in the chest. *Is this it? Woah man*
Ten minutes later they ask if I'd had enough. I'm a quick walk from my house and I decided I had.
Those guys were pansies. Softer than downy ducklings. I'm real glad I didn't hit them back. Later that year I'd recall the amount of play that fight had earned me. Myself and his now ex-girlfriend would be fooling around for a long time. Poor guy, did himself in...
---
Back in the office I jolted awake and promptly told my Dr. Uselessprescription about my experience. None of it had anything to do with my dead daughter or the constant BAC that I've learned to keep above zero. It was a fond memory though, so I decided I'd come back next week.
| 2014-09-04T15:37:15 | 2014-09-04T14:28:20 | 39 | 22 |
[FF] In 200 words, describe a ghastly and very unpleasant body transformation. Can be mechanical, biological, magical or whatever you like. (possibly NSFW)
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My legs are wrong. Each limb: bifurcated. Each bifurcation: bifurcated. Continue until there are 128 stalks now calling themselves my legs. Each one has the same structure as the originals, only thinner. More brittle. Walking is harder - normal walking doesn't require my conscious effort. Now I'm controlling 128 legs. I shuffle and fall. Cracks ring out as femurs and tibias splinter.
I get up, somehow. So many damaged legs. I'm so much weaker now. More sharp reports echo throughout the hallway as the remaining legs crumble under the weight of my trunk. I balance my hips and butt on the floor as the wreckage of my legs fan out like tentacular dowels. They twitch, autonomously, and begin to divide again. Time passes and the division continues. Soon, it's hard to make out the individual divisions. I'm just a torso on top of a crackling mist that lazily waves in the patterns of the air currents. I'm helpless.
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Yawning, Tim tossed aside his duvet and swung his legs off his bed. The strange clicking as his feet hit the floor made him pause and looking down, he was surprised to see a pair of goat legs stretching down below his thighs. Slowly Tim sat back down and examined his legs more closely. Somewhere about mid-thigh, thick hair began sprouting out and his legs became sinewy, before ending in what could only be described as hooves.
To his credit Tim did not scream, instead he slowly stood and tested the legs. They seemed fairly strong and he realised that his balance was fairly unaffected. This was an odd set of circumstances but, goat legs or not, certain bodily functions were still pressing and so he trotted his way to the bathroom, the click clack echoing down the hallway.
Breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of his still human penis, he began to try to reconstruct the night as he peed. It had started in a nightclub and then, then things got hazy. He’d met a girl with really pointy hat, and they’d gone to a private party and… it suddenly hit him.
He’d fucked a witch.
| 2014-09-12T08:40:53 | 2014-09-12T08:11:16 | 56 | 32 |
[WP] In the fear of becoming a Main Character, the main character lives his whole life avoiding cliche story lines and interactions
Inspiration from /r/manga top post.
http://imgur.com/gallery/J5sbp
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“Oh my God,” Frankie said, “they’re in the building.”
“Who is?” I asked. The office Christmas party had just started. I enjoyed mingling with people from other departments, people I saw all the time but never really got a chance to know. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, except Frankie, who was covered in sweat all of the sudden, barging into the conference room where me and Shelly were talking.
“Armed gunmen. They’re trying to hack the computer system. They’re trying to transfer all of the company’s funds to an off shore bank account! They’ve got a German guy, the black computer wizard, and about five or six personality-less goons. Plus they’ve got the balding guy that walks with a cane, who speaks like he’s from the 1800’s.”
“Jesus,” I said. “Let’s all find a place to hide and contact the authorities.”
“I know you have a mysterious background in the military. Maybe you could do something.”
“Well, that’s just ridiculous. They have machine guns. That’s how people get killed.”
“Please don’t do it,” Shelly and Frankie begged me. “Please don’t go out there to fight the terrorists. It’s do dangerous! You’re a loose cannon!”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” I’m not.
“Oh God, there’s nothing we can say to stop you, is there? You’re a wild spirit. You’re totally fearless. Goddamn you, you beautiful bastard, you’re a hero. Crazy, but a hero,” Frankie said. “You’ll have to fall back on the skills you picked up in the army, skills you haven’t used in years. And they’ve personally taken the girl you have a crush on hostage! It’s diabolical!”
“God fucking damnit,” I said, running towards the nearest stairwell as the terrorist burst into the party and shot their guns at the ceiling. The aging white man with the cane started going off on a diatribe to all the horrified Christmas partiers.
I had joined the army as an IT guy, but somehow I always ended up saving a downed helicopter, defeating the enemy general in hand to hand combat, rescuing kittens from burning buildings. I just wanted to work on computers. After that, I came home a mysterious scientist informed me that I was starting to show signs of evolution, the next stage in human development, super powers, if you will. I ignored him and found the most boring, mundane job possible. I liked living a boring life. I was thoroughly enjoying the most boring office Christmas party in the world. God fucking damnit.
A terrorist stood in the stairwell. We just looked at each other. He walked very slowly towards me, trying to get me to fist fight him despite the machine gun. He tried to punch me in a slow, overly dramatic way. I just stood there, my hands in the air. "I surrender."
“Come on, guy,” he muttered. “At least take my walkie-talkie. I mean punch me or something. You need to take the gun and walkie talkie so you can have dramatic conversations with Dr. Nefarious.”
I sighed, gave him a light punch. He let out a Wilhelm scream and tossed himself down the stairs. I picked up the walkie-talkie and the gun.
“Ah, Mr. Taylor,” Dr. Diabolical said on the other end of the radio. “You have come to interfere with our plans. We are the league of evil, and you cannot hope to destroy us. We will unleash financial chaos into the world, a world which has become corrupt . We are doing society a service. We will rebuild the world, a beautiful, new world of evil, and you can’t possibly hope to stop us.”
I sighed again, and rubbed my temples.
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“Johnny is so much more interesting than Mary. You're right, my name is Mary. One thing that was learned growing up is that you never say the word I. Fuck, just said it. Anywho. The center of attention is one thing Mary avoids. She hates it, makes her feel self conscious. Yes, she understands its supposed to be her story, and yes she can feel you. Anywho, she lives in a black and white world but has pink hair. The hair is not that big of a deal. Can you really base your main character on the fact that she can jump on light poles and has different hair. Thats a bad start to story isn't it. Anywho, she can feel you, could of just said blah blah blah and you would have stopped reading. She would consider that rude. She is a loner and prone to anxiety but not rude, ya know.”
Amanda and Johnny waited patiently for her outside the bathroom. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. He hated when Mary took this long. “I bet she is talking to herself in the stall again. She thinks I dont notice. Poor girl has so much anxiety. She thinks the world is watching her.” Amanda nodded her head. “She should see a psychologist.”
Mary heard them outside. “Oh you're back again, they were much more interesting than me huh. Let me tell you about the two of them. Johnny is a smart dude who could solve any problem. Yes any problem. Don't look at me like that. It's true, this is a character introduction. So just sit there and listen. He is so much more interesting than a girl who is in a stall, huh. Its alot of pressure, thousand want to claw their way into your life, sucks huh. Imagine, if you sat on a toilet and a bunch of people stuck around to see if anything interesting happened. Sick huh, yet you are still…... here …….reading. Anywho, Amanda is pretty cool too, much more interesting than me. Did you know she is from another world, yup, totally an alien. Why don't you check out what they are up to huh?”
Amanda finally had enough “lets just go, she is not coming out again. We are going to have to call the teacher.” Johnny frowned in disapproval. “She will never get over her anxiety that way, she needs to suck it up and go to class” Amanda put her hand over his mouth. “Shhhhh, we have to be supportive remember.”
Mary flushed the toilet. “A story about my own anxiety, What a dumb story huh. Please, like she didnt seen this coming a mile away. Look, Mary does not need help. She is happy in her own world. No story here today.” She yawned but and refused to get off of the toilet.
Johnny knocked on the door. “Come out Mary, you can't hide in the bathroom forever.”
Mary said “Bullshit, she is not coming out.” Amanda frowned. “You called it, she is talking in third person again”.
Mary was desperate. This is the third time the writing switched to her.. She wanted this to be downvoted in reddit. To make the story invisible to most readers. “Omg, you people are still reading about Mary on the damn toilet. Fine, I know where this is going. Johnny already freaking said OUT LOUD “she needs to get over the anxiety.” That’s it isn't it, the problem I gotta overcome. She knows you people want whats best for her. You want to see her overcome anxiety. Tell ya what. Lets just skip all that and call it a day. You know what she really wants, she wants to be left alone. That makes her happy. You have that ability, just hit that down vote button and this all goes away. Anxiety solved. ” She waited silently hoping this would be downvoted. “Come on people work with me. Make me invisible again.”
| 2014-11-08T08:54:08 | 2014-11-08T08:43:35 | 127 | 20 |
[WP] Office pranks get out of hand once humanity invents the 'respawn point'
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"Hey Steve, guess what I just finished doing in Jim's office."
"What? Did you poop on his desk again?"
"No. Even better! I spiked his coffee with poison. He'll have to walk all the way back to work from his house when he re-spawns because his cars here!"
"Didn't Jim say he couldn't afford to pay the re-spawn company this month and his subscription was canceled?"
A thud is heard across the office as a body hits the floor.
"Oops."
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"Hey Brent, think fast!"
The knife whirred through the air in a perfect arc and nailed him through the throat. He managed to gulp in one last breath of air and told me to fuck off. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn't have turned Brent into a horizontal coat rack. Now I'd be stuck covering his shifts until he respawned wherever he saved last. Damn. That could be *hours*. Fine. If Brent's stupid oxygen needs wanted to screw up my productivity, so be it. I'll have to get him back for it somehow...maybe a throwing star or something...
| 2014-11-19T11:41:41 | 2014-11-19T10:47:49 | 95 | 22 |
[WP] Describe a chess match between a world champion grandmaster and a chimpanzee.
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Pokavian studied the delicately poised position. Midway through this first game and he was still astonished at the ape's ability to counter virtually every attacking strategy he'd offered. He half suspected there was some superior intellect dressed up to look like his opponent but when he stared into those animal-eyes he saw nothing but a dumb beast. Worse, the animal smelled - so bad that Pokavian had almost called the Tournament Director over to complain. But that would have been churlish, and with the world watching...? Pokavian shook his head.
An hour later, Pokavian knew he had lost. He knew it and the stinking beast opposite knew it. Oh, he could play on for a few more moves but it was inevitable. Defeat. How could he look anyone in the eyes again?
Pokavian toppled his King in resignation. But when the disgusting ape stretched out a hairless pink paw to touch him, Pokavian shrieked, beat his chest twice and slunk away in shame.
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"And that's primate fist to c4, c5, c6, c7, and yes, down goes Medvedev's queen as it's swiped off the table."
"I see that Bubbles is now attempting the risky Kong maneuver, where upon he picks up the entire board and starts thrashing it around while screeching in frustration. Medvedev is completely cowed by the display of irrational anger."
"I see now that Medvedev has called upon Bubbles' two keepers to try and contain this out of control chimpanzee."
"It's certainly a risky move, but wait a minute... yes... through the use of tranquelizer darts attached to long sticks and a capture net, Bubbles has been dosed and apprehended."
"Medvedev is cheering and frantically shaking the hand of one of the keepers. Checkmate on you, Mr. Bubbles. I do believe that is the match."
"Thank you for watching 'Man vs. Ape: The Chess-match.' This has been another show that has nothing to do with learning, on the Learning Channel."
| 2014-11-27T15:29:47 | 2014-11-27T13:41:47 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] A Starbucks Batista has given you Double Chocolaty Chip Crème Frappuccino with soy instead of a Caffè Vanilla Light Frappuccino with no fat milk. Make this as tragic, heart-wrenching and miserable as possible.
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There he was, this empty shell of a legend, merely a copy of what was once a legend in the ring, now his clones working here at Starbucks. It was all part of the initiative to bring about a society like that in the infamous story ‘Brave New World’. The United States Conglomerate Government had started a cloning initiative that created copies of famous figures with lesser intelligences to work in places like McDonalds, Wal-Mart, and even Starbucks.
A Major downside to these clones was their lowered intelligence, often leading to production errors, and the current dilemma. I’d use the last of my Starbucks ration for the month in an attempt to order a Café Vanilla Light Frappuccino with no fat milk, but apparently that was a little too much for this clone because what I received was a chocolaty failure. I was handed a Double Chocolaty Chip Crème Frappuccino. Normally this wouldn’t be an issue, or at least, years ago it wouldn’t have been, but due to overpopulation and lack of strict pollution laws for developing countries, the worlds coffee and chocolate supply dwindled to the edge of extinction for these plants. Remakes due to errors of any kind weren’t permitted, and due to a personal condition where my body could not process chocolate correctly, I was now stuck with this beverage that took the last of my ration and there was no recourse.
We stood there, the Starbucks Batista and I, this dimwitted false human who destroyed one of the very few enjoyments I get in life. My lips moved as if they were trying to say something, but the air wouldn’t leave my lips, I couldn’t manage it, something as commonplace as talking became difficult. A knot, the closest thing I could describe the feeling in my throat was a knot, and all I could receive was this blank stare from the Batista-like clone that stood in front of me.
Finally it happened, I couldn’t take it. In the past this would have been a small thing, a simple shrug and remedied within a minute, but not anymore. I didn’t realize what I had done until after the fact when I could reflect on it. In the next few moments there seemed to be a commotion, a cacophony of rage, the symphony of a man disturbed, and I was its composer and performer. I picked the cup up, and threw it on the floor, and my knee’s soon fell into a puddle of the dark brown, murky liquid. The tears came without warning, everything seemed to slow down, and the only thing I could hear was a deep bass bellowing in my chest, my heart pounding away as I accepted what was going on.
“Why… WHY YOU CRUEL BEAST?!”
No response, just a dull dimwitted stare, and that’s how I landed in this current predicament. The official police report comments on the clone having multiple lacerations on their face, all shallow, and non-life threatening, but it was the fact the head had been removed from the rest of the body that put me in my new home behind these bars. I was a damaged product in a flawed system, and so I would spend the rest of my days here, all because of that damned starbucks batista…
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I sat down on the warm grass and made myself comfortable. Back against a large oak tree, sun dappled through the leaves. This couldn't be much better.
It's a shame all of these coffee places serve everything in cardboard these days. I guess I could have got it in a mug but that would involve staying in the coffee shop. People and me don't really work these days.
I take the top off the cardboard cup and inhale. This doesn't smell right. I'm getting no hint of vanilla, and it smells like what?...... chocolate?
I take sip and I immediately feel sick. IT'S NOT THE RIGHT FUCKING DRINK!!
I immediately feel the rage coming. I'm now running towards the coffee shop, drink in hand. I barge through the door and push my way to the front of the line. The young girl behind the counter is terrified, it's probably because I'm screaming at her. I'm demanding she give me what I ordered. She's apologising and saying something about being out of vanilla. I don't know what hse's saying but next thing my drink has been hurled at the wall behind the counter. I hear people shuffling to get away from me and now they're leaving the store.
A teenage boy is laughing at me. I confront him, and next thing I know he's pushed me to the ground. He calls me a stupid old bum and people are telling me to leave. I feel a hand on my arm helping me to my feet. I turn around to look at my saviour and see a very large security guard. He inform me it's time to go back to Berkeley Park and sweeps me through the front door.
I'm out on the street and I'm weeping. I shuffle off towards the park. They don't understand, they just don't. Vanilla Frappucino, that's all I wanted. I had to beg for 2 days to get enough money to buy it from Bellucci's, with their overpriced menu. They don't even recognise me, don't remember me. DON'T REMEMBER HER!!!!
It was her drink. My beautiful Cara. Oh sweet Cara! She used to meet me here every Friday during her break from school. This was her ridiculous drink, not mine. I bought this for her every Friday while she was at school. I bought this for her every Friday when she was in hospita and birng it to herl. This was our drink. She'd make fun of her stupid old man and his long black while she drank her trendy faux-coffee milkshake and I loved every damn minute of it.
This was before she got sick, when she got sick. Once she died, I'd have one every Friday. Every fucking Friday for what, two years? They don't remember me, they don;t remember her.
This was before I lost my job, lost my wife.... lost my mind? I can't afford to go to Belluci's every Friday now. Even if I could I'm not welcome there, I'm the crazy old homeless guy trying to act like he's 20 by drinking trendy overpriced drinks.
I check my pocket's. I have twenty-five cents. I can't buy anything, and they wouldn't let me in even if I could.
67 Fridays and counting now we haven't had a drink together.
| 2015-01-15T06:13:25 | 2015-01-15T04:28:05 | 51 | 21 |
[WP] As humanity sends its first manned expedition beyond the orbit of earth, it discovers that humans are actually immortal, but "Mother Earth" is actually a living organism that has been consuming their life force to survive.
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They knew. The bastards knew this whole time and they never told us. And if they didn't know, they had to at least have suspected.
In the 46 years since man first walked on the moon, how many people have died? How many never even needed to, just so they "could be sure"? 46 years since they sent a group of men with varying terminal illnesses on a mission they thought no one would come back from, only for them to return, miraculously cured. Cured and healthier than any man had any right to be.
What was the first thing they did? Experiment. They sent more manned missions, placed space stations in orbit around the planet, made calculations. It appeared that the outer limit of the Earth's Biological Degradation Field was just a little more than 100,000 miles. No one knew why and no one cared. What they cared about was the revelation that the Apollo 13 mission actually ran out of oxygen before they were even half way home. The entire crew was breathing vacuum. In fact, they were breathing out of *reflex*.
46 years it took them to realize that the moment a human entity travelled more than 100,000 miles from the earth, it became self sustaining. Almost immediately all need for food, water, oxygen or sleep disappeared, the body became harder than diamond and any freak wounds were almost instantly healed. But within a week of returning to the planet, those needs would return. Scientists couldn't explain it. Was it the unfiltered solar radiation? Was the entire planet dependent on a symbiotic relationship with its life forms? If that was the case then why didn't this immortality apply to the monkey or dogs that travelled similar distances?
The rich caught on first. Branson, Musk, they started pioneering "space tourism" in the hopes of easing us into immortality. But that's not how we found out, no. That's not why there's rioting in the streets. That's not why the rich are abandoning the planet to leave the poor behind, riding on solar winds into eternity.
No, it was that fucker Snowden. He leaked it all. 10 more years of secrecy, they say, and we would have had mass exodus. But with the best, brightest and richest fleeing en masse, they estimate we've been set back 80-90 years. That's *with* the help of the Good Samaritans who have intentionally stayed behind.
And where's Snowden in all this? Where's the one who only wanted to share the truth? Where can the angry mobs find him?
About 600,000 miles beyond Luna, of course. Making a beeline straight for Mars.
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40 years until I could possibly return home. That's how deep I was. At this point I really couldn't tell whether I was existing that far out into this void or if it was merely the depth at which my isolation had allowed my mind to drift...
I'd left loneliness far behind, that madness certainly took it's toll, but once you tread it's waters long enough you learn that there's no need to resist it, but to become it. Without time constantly hanging over you all you have is existence.
Simple being.
The infinity. Just as space has no walls, you quickly learn that your mind does not either and without their restrictions your consciousness is forced to reevaluate. Immortality becomes a silly word, defined by the cyclical nature of living in orbit, for without orbit, without time, Immortality just is. There is nothing new, nothing old, simply just consciousness.
Pure consciousness.
It quickly becomes devoid of emotion, thought, opinion. Everything just is. Is as I am, and I am as it is.
And I shall drift as such, for all eternity, there's no longer a need to go home, it's far too peaceful out here.
It's quite astonishing how well everyone took the news. Of course at first there was mass panic, I mean how could their not be. We had found our solution to man's ever present fear. We could finally have our endless lives. But as the riots fell, as the pundits began to hush, when it was really thought out by us all.
We realized.
Our existence is meaningless without experiences.
To escape the grasp of our Mother's love, to run away off into the darkness so as delay the inevitable, it lead to a life of nothing.
Isolation.
It gives us no reason to exist.
For everything that we are able to encounter in whatever you may think this life to be, we must be thankful to have been granted this opportunity. And so, for the others that will come after us, we allow our lives to be taken for them.
Certainly some still leave.
Some return.
Others are never heard from again.
Myth has risen from the days of old, the Buddhists have mostly left our planet, it is now said there is a monastery somewhere out in the Milky Way.
But now that we know, now that it is accepted, we all seem to be making sure that we preserve this, forever.
For now, through Mother Earth, we truly are capable of Immortality, for she will continue to bare us, so long as we stay in the comfort of her love.
| 2015-06-29T23:52:29 | 2015-06-29T22:03:55 | 39 | 11 |
[WP] You are an NPC. The Player has entered your shop/house/lair
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*Oh thank the gods, a player! It's been weeks*
Nothing was visible just yet. The door had opened, but the player was still loading. I was stood by a fire place, pretending to warm up. Truth was, I was boiling hot, sure I've been here for weeks. I was a co-owner of a small shop in the middle of a small thatched town which in turn was in the middle of nowhere. The other owner, Darma, stood behind the counter. We didn't talk much, thank the gods again.
A figure formed at the door, *IT IS a player...*, I thought with relief. Normally it's another damned NPC who is on an endless cycle of wandering around the town and sometimes stumbles into our shop. That guy is so frickin' annoying though. He just comes in and declares how nice it is outside. He's a prick.
The player looks around the room and sprints full speed over to Darma. "Shop keep!", he shouted.
"Welcome to my humble store, how can I help?", she asked with a smile. I frowned at the fireplace, *Our shop... OUR fucking shop*
"I want to sell these four hundred rotten pounds of rat meat please"
*The fuck... you'd think this is strange, but it's not. How does he carry four hundred pounds of it AND, what use do WE have for rotten rat meat... She'll buy it anyway, no doubt*
"Oh course, we'll buy it for two hundred gold coins", she says with her stupid smile.
"Good. Bye!", he turns, I doubt he even made eye contact and he sprints out having put the two hundred gold coins into the tiniest little money bag you'll ever see.
"Come back soon"
As usual, the player totally ignores me because I don't have a mission icon floating above my ugly head. I don't even know what my dialogue is... and now our shop fucking stinks! I really do hate Darma.
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Day 47: The zombies broke into Arnold's house last night and turned him. Fortunately world generation has favored my house and left a 2 block gap below my doorstep, leaving my dwelling impervious to those vile beings. It also means I can't leave for fear of not getting back in, like Harold, who did leave on day 4 and was turned that very night. It's been pretty boring, as nobody will trade me emeralds for 12 wheat stalks. I really think it's a good deal, especially since Harold disappeared, and his bargain basement 15 wheat stalks for 1 emerald. I'm not saying that I forced him out of the house but...it's just good for business that he's gone.
Day 49: A player entered the village today! ReelSamus3222... I watched in anticipation as he walked around the village, no doubt admiring our fine home. Then he harvested all our carrots. I'm sure he's going to replant them at some point. He built some stairs to my doorway and entered! I couldn't believe it, until he started breaking all the bookshelves that had beautifully adorned my walls. Really it's ok. I wasn't using them anyway, and all I was really hoping for was that perhaps he would give me an emerald...just one...
Day 50: ReelSamus3222 left and burned Arnold's empty house on the way out. That really wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't entered the church and killed Pablo. All I wanted was to trade some wheat for emeralds, but oh well, life just sucks I guess. I can't let that get me down though, I mean even as I write this I see another player has entered our village in full diamond armor. He looks rich, and that enchanted diamond sword! No doubt he carries stacks of emeralds. He's coming up to my house now. I will write later of the trades I will make!
| 2015-11-04T08:13:57 | 2015-11-04T08:08:59 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] One day, you find a note in your breakfast; one of the guards knows you're innocent and is going to try to help you escape. You aren't innocent.
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I tasted plastic in my mouth after only a few bites into my plain, ham and cheese sandwich. My nose curled involuntarily at the texture of it. "Seriously." I muttered, the cooks were too lazy to unwrap their cheese now?
Reaching into my mouth I grasped the plastic and removed it. A casual flick, meant to send the offending object across the cell floor ended with it stuck to my fingers. I noticed the tiny letters as I looked towards it in annoyance.
*Two days. 4am.*
That was all it said, but it was enough. I had noticed the lingering eyes of one of the guard for months now. I was easily the most beautiful girl in this facility so her attraction was no surprise other than being unwelcome. So I had ignored her out of disgust tinged with a bit of hatred over her own somewhat stunning looks.
At least until a few weeks ago when she had whispered in my ear in passing. "I know you're innocent, I'm getting you out." Amber said. Before knocking me to the floor and claiming I had reached for her gun.
They had left me stuck in my cell for weeks after that, barely allowing me to come out and shower. My luxurious blonde hair was suffering from the treatment. Then the note showed up.
The next two days passed in a blur. When Amber showed up outside my cell two days later, out of uniform, and right on time I couldn't hide my surprise. Thankfully the surprise outdid my sneer of envy over her looks. How dare she show up to rescue me looking like a supermodel while I was stuck in these rags?
"Let's go." She said, throwing my cell door opened.
I frowned as I stepped out into the hall. "Where's the getaway tunnel?" I asked, confused.
"You watch too many movies." Amber responded with a small smile before grabbing my arm. She led me corridors I hadn't even seen before we wound up in the kitchen. As we passed through it I grabbed a steak knife from the counter before tucking it away. Never know when you may need a weapon.
Amber spoke up again as we walked. "I know you didn't kill those women Lydia. After watching you for these last several months I'm certain that's not something you're capable of."
I stayed quite while she all but sang my praises, wondering if I was dreaming. Of course I had been a model prisoner, there was no one in the facility who threatened me. "Until now anyway." I muttered, staring at her swishing dark hair.
"What was that?"
"Oh nothing." I said sweetly. "I think I'm in shock is all."
Amber turned to deliver a breathtaking smile that was probably meant to reassure. As she turned back around I could feel my short nails biting into my palm and forced myself to relax. *Just get out of here for now Lydia.*
Within minutes the winding corridors ended and we were walking down a straight hallway towards a door with a softly glowing exit sign above it. "Stop!" I hissed urgently but Amber kept going, evading my grip as I reached out to grab her. "We're going to set off an alarm."
Wordlessly she opened the door and right outside was open air and a somewhat foggy night sky. I stared dumbfounded up at the moon. I was really out of that place. In front of us was a generic SUV.
"Here." Amber said, pulling me from my daze and holding a set of keys which I quickly snatched from her. She walked in front of me and spread her arms. "You're free Lydia."
"What about you?" I asked hesitantly. She still stood facing out into the night.
"I'll make it out of this somehow. I'm a survivor." Amber said confidently and I felt a small smile form on my face. We were just alike in that regard.
Grasping the knife still at my back I walked up behind her and ripped my blade through her throat. Easily going from ear to ear except where I hit bone around her windpipe. Nothing came out but a gurgle as she tried to speak but my imagination supplied her words.
"But....you were innocent." Imaginary Amber said as the real one fell to the floor grasping her throat. Her life quickly flowing from the wound.
"No." I answered the figment. "I'm not. And I hate beautiful bitches."
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The hatch in the wooden door opened squeakily. The ray of light coming out of the opening threw long shadows on the cold brick wall in the back of the room. The man who sat on the worn mattress squeezed his eyes shut, as he had accustomed to the darkness of his cell. The brightness hurt him physically, and mentally. For his crimes he was sentenced to life in prison: an old fortress on a small island miles from the coast, stashed away in isolation, never to be seen or heard from again. He had grown into the darkness, the acceptance of his doomed fate had caused him to embrace his hopeless situation. Every time he saw the light his heart stirred, a faint pain that caused his chest muscles to contract. No, when the hatch opened he normally chose to turn around and stare at the wall, or crawl under the musky, thin blanket. He said farewell to the light long ago, the hopes and possibilities it could bring only worsening his sorrow.
Something was different this time. A bowl of thick soup and a hunk of bread was thrown onto the floor, but the hatch remained open longer than usual. ''Here you go'', he heard, a faint voice coming from behind the door as the hatch closed loudly.
No one had talked to the prisoner before. His days were spent in silence, and the only interruptions were the quick cleanings done monthly to ensure he wouldn't die in his own filth. All he did was sit, stare at the walls and contemplate his sins.
The carriage had arrived at the crossroads at the exact time that was predicted by his informants. The group of soldiers circling the vehicle had been cautious. They were handpicked by the general of the King's army, and were the best soldiers available to escort the King's sons back home from a diplomatic mission to a neighboring country, Elokko. Even with their experience and unmatched loyalty to the royal family, they didn't stand a chance. The fifty vagabonds had swarmed the carriage, and while twenty didn't live - a heavy price to pay - they were able to capture the King's sons. They had acquired the leverage they needed to claim independence from the tyrannic crown. And it was a price he had been willing to pay. A price he would pay to this day.
He crawled from the mattress, his thin arms reaching for the bowl. As his hand grasped the side of it, he noticed a rough edge on the bottom of the bowl. He carefully took the bowl in both hands and climbed on his mattress and lifted the bowl above his head. The small crack into the wall let a beam of weak sunlight into his cell, and he could see a small piece of paper attached to the bowl. With one hand he carefully detached it from the bowl and sunk back down on the mattress. He placed the bowl back onto the floor and stood up again to read the message that was scribbled on thin parchment. The ink read:
''I, we, know you are innocent. Be patient. You'll be free soon.''
His heart started to pound faster, the blood rushed to his ears. What do they mean, innocent? They knew, *he* knew. There was no denying. When his horse tripped over the tree root in full gallop he saw the men rushing from the bushes around them. A thick man with a large, red beard has drawn his sword and charged towards the boys. They looked around with fear in their eyes, but didn't see the man approach behind them. He stood, his sword drawn above their heads. The sword had swung down - he could still remember the swishing sound of the blade - until the boy froze. His face had turned into a mask of surprise and the blood flowed out of his face - but then darkness embraced the prisoner himself as something heavy hit him on the back of his head
He snapped out of his train of thought and stared at the bowl in front of him. The soup had cooled down and strained, chunks of potato and vegetables floating on the surface. No, he wasn't innocent, and he knew that. But even though he would pay for his crimes eventually, he knew what option he would choose. He could sit here, in his cell, or he could do it in temporary freedom, to complete the mission of his people: liberation. There was enough time to pay for his wrongdoings later.
He grabbed the rough wooden spoon that was stuck in the thick soup and started stirring with more energy than he felt in years. In the darkness of his cold, sober room, he sat with his back straightened against the wall, the corners of his mouth curled upwards. There was hope.
| 2015-12-13T10:19:00 | 2015-12-13T08:55:24 | 45 | 16 |
[WP] You are acing every class at the International Espionage Academy except one: Post Kill Puns.
|
The knife flew through the air, shimmering and deadly, and struck home deep into the ballistic gelatin torso of the dummy they were practicing on. The ingenious ice-knife began to melt, and Martinez stepped forward.
"*ice* to meet you." Martinez smiled. It was a classic, but it worked. Hell, it worked better than most. Martinez was good with the classics, hence the nickname: Casablanca. Though he seemed to hate that name, it was apt. Especially now that he had passed the last test at the Academy. That would be his code name in 12 hours time.
Krochev was next. He wound up, released, and just as the ice-blade sank into the gelatin, he bellowed "Told you I was sharp!" Nods of approval all around. He had really gone above and beyond, forgoing mentioning the ice at all and sticking with the true nature of the weapon as a knife. In any sense of the test, he had passed.
And then there was Johnson. Johnson cracked his knuckles, wound up, and released the ice-knife. It went whistling through the air at twice the speed of any one else's. It sank deep into the gelatin, and made a pleasent *thunk* against the plywood stopper before melting. He stepped forward.
"Guess you'll be saying, um, H2WHOA!." Dead. Silence. The instructor's mouth was agape in dissapointment.
"Jesus...Jesus *Christ,* Johnson. Really? Oh my...oh my god." The instructor held his temples, trying to will away the absolute shit pun that was still floating in the air and everyone's memory. The instructor turned toward the one-way mirror. "I've...I've never done this before, but I think it's warranted. Can we get the memory eraser up in here for a moment? The fucking brain damage is worth it to scrub that hamster turd out of my mind. No, no, I'm serious! Flash us!"
A bright, blinding light cascaded over everyone in the practice room. There was a moment of dazed confusion, and then the instructor stepped forward.
"Okay, Johnson! You're up!"
Behind the mirror, the head of the academy was almost in tears.
"42 times..." he whispered, "42 times we've flashed them over that crap. If he says that H2Whoa thing again, just fuckin' kill him."
|
I had always considered myself a gentleman. Treating women with respect came naturally to me, because of my upbringing. My mother had throughout my childhood stressed the importance of being kind towards others. My father had been killed by a mugger years before my birth. This meant that my mother was extremely protective of me, more so than the ordinary parent. It also meant that her expectations were extreme. She did baby gymnastics with me, worked intensely in improving my motor skills and provided me with problem solving puzzles. When I reached the age of 6, my combat training began. I was taught by a former Mossad agent, that my mother had met while on vacation. My training consisted of Krav Maga lessons, knife throwing, firing handguns, parkour, swimming, driving, running, hunting, advanced survival strategies, learning various languages and analyzing videos for hidden messages. I was homeschooled and various experts from different fields taught me about their ways. When I reached the age of 22, I was accepted to the International Espionage Academy. It felt as a natural extension of my teachings. My second home. I met my best friend, Joshua, at the academy, he was not as formel as I considered myself to be. When on the shooting range, he would use foul language as he was shooting the targets. He was the second best in his class, and that was the main reason our supervisors allowed the profanity that he showcased on the shooting range. I remember one night we spent together in particular. We were on the range, trying out a new custom made AR15. I had just taken my aim, and were about to pull the trigger, when Joshua put his hand on my shoulder. He wanted me to try something, he thought I would find it amusing. He told me that as I was firing my weapon, I should try shouting "Get sooome!" I looked at him, and shook my head. I proceeded to take aim, and pull the trigger. The gun was set to "Fully Automatic", and as I sprayed the target, I shouted with the full power of my lungs. I must admit, that I found it rather promiscuous, but at the same time, I liked the intensity that came with it.
In the weeks following the "incident" at the shooting range, I experimented with various words that I would use post-mortem, as I found that my shooting was effected by shouting whilst doing it. I remember a target I was assigned in Russia, I had just eliminated an ex-KGB agent, when I broke out in laughter and said "Pour some Vodka on the wound, that ought to help" and giggled to the best of my ability. The end.
| 2016-02-21T09:13:27 | 2016-02-21T07:47:27 | 268 | 12 |
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