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[WP] Everyone is born with a disability and an ability. A test is done at birth to determine these, if they aren't already apparent. You, well, you were born with crippled legs and have the power of super speed.
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I loved the fresh spray of ocean against my face. This would be my tenth circumnavigation of the globe; I could never get sick of it. Who could tire of dropping by beautiful beaches of Fiji? The stark Sahara felt refreshing after half a day at sea. Others settled for the salty mist coming off the bow of their ship; I felt the droplets rolling off my fingertips as I rounded Tierra del Fuego.
When I was a kid, everyone laughed at me. "The Feeble Flash," they teased. The power of super speed, but crippled legs. Until the day my father decided to teach me how to swim. That was the day I realized I could still use my super power, just not in the way I'd imagined.
Now I'm a superhero despite my disability. When an oil tanker crashed off the coast of Nigeria, I sped out to help contain the spill. When a deadly outbreak of the flu hit the Philippines, I brought vaccines from the US in the blink of an eye. I've dragged in stalled fishing boats stuck in the Bering Sea.
Sometimes people ask: don't you worry about spending so much time in the ocean? What if you were bit by a shark?
Well, he can't do much more damage to my legs. And my arms? He'll never catch them.
|
"Not sure what happened when I was made. It seems like a cruel joke but it is my life and I have to deal with it. I can't use my legs, at all. They are so badly crippled that I am confined to a wheel chair. The problem is that the chair can't keep up with me. For some reason I am crazy fast, everything I do, I can do at almost the speed of sound. I've been trying to find a way to break the sound barrier by using my arms to propel my chair as fast as I can but my chair cant take it and always breaks. I spend so much time day dreaming about how fast I could go if only me legs worked. That's why I'm here, really. I want to become a prosthetics engineer so I can help, not only myself, but anyone else whose disability interferes with their life and their ability. I want to make prosthetics that can handle the strength or speed or heat of anyone's ability."
"That seems like a well thought out plan, but the question was 'what are your housing plans' we are working on financial aid, not advising."
"Oh, sorry. Off campus, though I live pretty far away I still travel really fast"
"Just be safe Mr. Miles. Okay let's talk tuition."
This was meant to be light hearted. It's been a while since I've written anything and wanted to try something kinda fun and geared towards a younger audience.
| 2016-06-07T23:19:39 | 2016-06-07T22:55:34 | 369 | 66 |
[WP] You buy your son a teddy bear. Unknown to you, the bear pledged his life to your son. Every night, it protects your son from the monsters in the dark.
|
"I love you sweetheart," Sally whispered into her son's ear. She pulled the blanket up to his to chin and kissed him softly on the forehead. It was a warm kiss.
"I don't want you to go mom," begged Thomas as he stifled a tiny yawn. "The monsters come out when you're not here. Please stay. They're afraid of you. Pleassssse."
"It's just for two weeks, honey." Sally replied, blinking back her tears. Work called, and she had to answer. It was for her son, after all. She *had* to go. For the millionth time she wished Christopher was still alive.
"I don't like uncle James," the boy protested quietly.
"I've got you an early Christmas present," Sally said, leaning over the bed to pull out a large rust coloured bear from a plastic bag. It was soft to touch and its short hair was very ruffled. It wore a red bow tie. "This is Frederick," she said passing it to Thomas. "He has no home and he needs looking after. I told him you'd take care of him until I got back."
Thomas' eyes lit up and his sadness was forgotten as quickly as a dream upon waking.
"Can you be brave for him?"
"Yes," whispered an almost breathless Thomas, hugging his new friend tightly. "Yes. I'll look after you always."
The boy smiled at the bear. The bear smiled at the boy. The bear made a promise of its own.
---
Three nights after Sally left, the monster came to visit Thomas. He knew it would sooner or later -- it always came when mom was away -- but that didn't make it any better. A vile stench of alcohol and tobacco reached his nose long before his bedroom door crept open. The monsters' skin was slimy to his touch, and when his little red lamp came on he could see just how pale and vile the creature looked. It was wretched. It smiled at him, or at least *attempted* to. Red lips, teeth stained dark with blood. It sat down on the bed next to him. The creature's smell made Thomas' stomach turn.
"Please, don't," Thomas whimpered. He knew it wouldn't listen -- it never did. He hugged Frederick tightly, determined not to let the monster hurt his best friend. He'd promised his mom. He'd promised Frederick. "It'll be OK," Frederick seemed to say. He hugged the boy back tightly.
---
It was Frederick that told Thomas who the monster really was, and that Thomas *had* to tell his mom what had happened; to not listen to the monsters' threats; to be *brave!* It was Frederick, who still reeked of alcohol and tobacco, and who still held a tiny amount of the sticky evidence that was ultimately responsible for the conviction. And three months later it was Frederick that was washed and cleaned and returned to Thomas.
Sally smiled at the sleeping boy, and the bear tucked up tightly in his arms. Wiping tears away from her eyes, she lay down next to them and made a promise that nothing would hurt either of them again.
---
Alternative ending on my sub /r/nickofnight
Edit: Thank you for the gold, anon.
|
"I think you may be hugging Teddy a bit too tight." Natalie turned the soft, brown bear over in her hands. It was less than a year old, given on Wyatt's sixth birthday that July, but already it was patchy and compressed, one ear missing and... were those scorch marks along the back of its head?
"No," said Wyatt mildly. "Teddy doesn't like tight hugs. He prefers handshakes for a job well done."
Natalie snorted. "Where'd you hear that? That's a very grown-up thing to say."
Wyatt shrugged. "Teddy says it all the time. *Teddy H. Bear, reporting for duty*, he says right before bed. *Upon initial inspection, the perry-meader is secure, but I will continue to patrol as you sleep.* He says that. And then in the morning he tells me alllll about all the monsters who tried'ta get me in the night."
Natalie considered the teddy bear a bit more closely. She briefly fantasized about offering to wash the thing and then saying it had disintegrated, but that wouldn't do much for Wyatt's dark imagination. He'd just be upset and then assign his binder of Pokemon cards to closet-monster duty. So instead she simply handed the thing back. "You know, your father and I don't have a teddy and we pretty much never run into any monsters at night."
"Well, you're not special," said Wyatt, as brutal and matter-of-fact as you please.
Natalie frowned. "That's a way of putting it..."
"Teddy protects me," said Wyatt. "The monsters know how special I am, and so does Teddy. So they try'ta get me and Teddy gets *them* instead. See?"
Natalie puffed out her cheeks. She needed to get dinner started. At least her son didn't appear to be lacking in self-esteem. "Well, thanks for a job well done, then," she said, taking the stuffed bear by the paw and giving it a quick handshake. "This is precious cargo over here, so you keep him safe."
Wyatt took back the bear. "He says he's offended you felt it necessary to say that. But also thank you."
Natalie kissed her son on the forehead. "Dinner in 40 minutes. Love you."
"Love you," said Wyatt, almost absently. The door closed. The temperature in the room immediately dropped ten degrees. The walls began to groan, ever so slightly. There was a distant clicking of steel-tipped claws and hissing of long, forked tongues.
Wyatt lay back in the bed. "They're coming, Teddy. Do you need me to fight with you this time?" The window rattled. A picture frame toppled off the wall. "Okay," said Wyatt. "I'll just close my eyes. Tell me when you're done."
The lamp above the bed flickered and died. The bed itself began to vibrate. Voices whispered *kill the boy killlll the boy kill the boooooy*.
The room smelled of smoke and oil and sulfur.
The boy on the bed smiled as he slid peacefully into sleep, a well-worn teddy bear perched upright and alert in the crook of his arm.
| 2016-12-12T07:26:15 | 2016-12-12T06:45:26 | 1,474 | 747 |
[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone.
|
There he was. The devil sat there by himself, legs dangling off of a ledge. He grasped a harmonica in his hands and between his lips, out of which came music that was not as sad as one might expect in such a situation. Rather, it was an utterly beautiful, complex piece that moved me to sadness because it had no audience to hear it other than me alone.
I sat silently and listened through the song in its entirety, completely enchanted by it. When he finished, the man before me lowered the instrument down into his lap and opened his eyes. He scanned my entire being up and down. His pale skin creased and shimmered as a gentle smirk folded from his mouth.
I clapped. I couldn't help myself as it was the most beautiful music I had ever heard, but I also couldn't help myself but feel disturbed in who I just clapped for.
"Thank you."
"No, no," I choked. "Thank you."
"What are you doing here?"
"I, well, I'm dead I suppose."
"Everyone else left."
"I had heard of that."
"Why are you still here?"
His eyes pierced my mind deeper than his question. He had the look of a family member, genuinely concerned about my wellbeing.
"Why are you still here?" I asked him.
He didn't express it anywhere but a shift in his feet, but I took him by surprise.
"If everyone can leave, then you can too can you not? Why would you not go to heaven?"
"Have you ever thought about who the devil is?" he asked me.
"Well - he is sneaky and a liar."
"A deceiver, yes."
"And beastial, I think. Though you don't look..."
"I don't?" he raised his eyebrows intrigued. "Tell that to everyone that left."
"So just a deceiver then. A fallen angel," I finalized my answer.
"Why would a deceiver allow any of his captives to leave?"
"I, well, I suppose he wouldn't be a very good deceiver if he couldn't keep prisoners," I pondered.
He stared at me with those sharp eyes of his, piercing straight to the back of my head. It seemed as if a thousand years raced by as we looked at each other.
"My god-"
"Nice to meet you."
|
There he sat on the stool, the same red-faced ruler of the underworld that I'd heard so much about. He wore a suit, his tie hanging loose and his collar unbuttoned, revealing a bit of his crimson chest. His Panama hat was tilted to just above his eyes, which gazed down at his harp and payed me no heed.
He played a bar. Each note rang and warbled with the torment that burst forth from his being. *I am a lonely man,* he crooned, matching the temperament of his harp. *And I don't like being by my self.* He played another bar. I'd never heard blues like this. I could've gone to heaven, just like everyone else, but this lonely hell-bound harmonica player and the baby grand piano behind him cried out for company.
--------------------
*I'm a, lonely man* sang the devil. I echoed the sentiment on the keys with a steady arpeggio. A few people at the bar rocked back and forth with their beers, swaying to the rhythm. The lights were few and dim to perfect the intended mood of our new spot, the devil's and mine.
Another light flicked on on-stage, revealing the upper half of our saxophone player. He rode a scale from top to bottom, his entire body following the notes. I leaned in toward my microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, mister Charlie Parker." People rose and applauded him.
-----------------
Our place was growing fast. Our audience expanded nightly. There were people from all walks of afterlife; curious people, people who'd never heard the blues before, people who never thought they'd miss grief and woe but *missed* the blues. In the end, the devil got his wish. He was causing torment once again, and people suspended their time in paradise to crowd into our bar and hear it and feel it again, and again...
*You ain't nothing but a, little girl, but you forgot I was your man.* The band and I played him out as he blew those last, beautiful, piercing notes. The brim of his Panama hat still covered his gaze and cast a shadow on his face. His fingers shook in rhythm as his hands worked the harp and sculpted the bends of the melody. We finished and the lights dropped. The place erupted with applause. Another great turnout in hell.
| 2017-02-01T09:26:11 | 2017-02-01T09:11:41 | 74 | 43 |
[WP] Every night in your sleep you meet a successful-looking future you who tells you what you should do the next day. So far your life has gone well indeed, but one day you fall asleep during the daytime. You meet a tired, disheveled version of yourself who begs you not to listen to the other.
|
I don't remember the first time it happened, or how I came to believe it was real... but I've been having visions, visions of my future self telling me how to reach success in life.
I know it's hard work to get somewhere in life, especially when you're from a poor background like I am, but having a guide makes it so much easier; since I started having these visions I gained more insight in the world of business and how business works, I was on the path of my dreams.
Now I'm waiting for my turn to the doctor, I've been having back pain lately; as I'm waiting I feel my eyes closing, before I know it I find myself in the world of my visions.
I start looking for my future version, but who greets me is an old man, barely standing, looking at me with the saddest eyes I've ever seen, I slowly approach him.
"Who are you?" I ask.
No reply. Maybe he didn't hear me,
"Who are you?!" I ask, this time louder than before, he looks down and with a breaking voice asks me "You're trying to get places aren't you?",
I stare at him surprised, I see a small tear coming down his cheek, I slowly respond "y-yeah", the old man continues "success is a hard path to follow, there are many ways to get there, some better than others, don't listen to the other one, he's blind"... the other one? Is he talking about my guide? I ask again this time more aggressively "Who are you?", "I'm a dead man", somehow I feel the pain behind those words. I hear the nurse calling my name.
I head home after the appointment, cancel all my plans and lay down in bed.
I look intensively at the clock trying to fall asleep, once it hits the 10 I blackout.
I see fog everywhere, this time is different, I have a bad feeling. I see my future self walking up to me, "Here you are!! Tomorrow is gonna be a hard day, let's not waste anytime and get to planning",
for the first time I sense something new from him, I don't know what it is though, I interrupt him and tell him about my experience with the old man,
"I've never heard of him... you probably just imagined him";
normally I'd believe him, but this time the old man's words were stuck in my head
"He's blind... I'm a dead man..." I hear my voice coming out from me, my mouth starts moving by itself
"what is success?",
we both look at each other, he looks surprised and I can only imagine my expression is mirroring his.
There is a moment of silence then he says "success is everything, having money, being able to do what you want, having control, power, being above the common people; the world runs on money, and I have all the money I will ever need, the one with the money is the one with everything".
I feel my abs contracting as if someone just punched me in the stomach, for the first time since I started meeting him I realized who he really was.
"That's wrong... success isn't just money and power, I never wanted those things, I realize it now, all I ever wanted is to one day have a family and to be able to support them... who is your family?"
"I don't have a family, I used too... but she asked for a divorce and took custody of my daughter... I was left with nothing, family is only good to destroy you, they will betray you and take everything you have".
I realized how much in pain he was, "why did she divorce you?"
"She said I wasn't with her enough, hypocrite bitch, she used to ask me to buy all sorts of things, I spent a fortune on her, money doesn't grow on trees I had to work to buy her those things, she didn't understand I couldn't allow myself to waste time... but it was a blessing, I realized how much she was holding me back, now I can focus on my business, and I will teach you how to prevent my same mistakes"
"you're making a mistake right now, you're feeling so much pain that the only way to cope with it is to live in money, you're blind to how you really feel, you're wasting your life, you're not successful... you're... you're a dead man?", it came to me, if my future self was leading me in the wrong path, why couldn't an older self save me from it? At that realization the old man appeared in front of us, with a fading smile he went to say
"Thank you".
I'm awake.
I learned a lot from this, I don't know if I'll ever be visited by visions again, but I know what my future can hold, and I know how to avoid it, the time for shortcuts is over, I will reach my goals by myself.
|
It is the natural condition of the human mind to desire advancement. Sure, there are those that are satisfied with very little, but by and large? People like being promoted. It makes them feel important. Makes them feel valuable. Self-esteem issues and all that.
In the military, we are no different. When I finally earned my captain's bars, I felt so happy to have made it thus far, so happy I wouldn't be scorned as another damned lieutenant, and (admittedly) happy for the pay raise. It's a **good** feeling, you know? Oh, and I also got to rub it in my spouse's face, who still remained a lieutenant. I paid for it later, but it was worth every moment.
So when I began meeting an image of me wearing general's stars in my sleep, it was... interesting. I mean, at first, I just saw myself as a general, commanding troops. It was a nice dream and it put me in high spirits the next day. But after a few weeks, my dreams starting communicating with me. Well, I mean, not really, but I swear that it showed me situations that happened soon thereafter, every single time. And every time I mimicked my dream, my life changed for the better. I started jumping up the ladder, nabbing promotions the first time I was eligible. I made colonel before I was in my mid-thirties, no simple feat. By the time I was forty, I found myself before a review board for my first star, with my personnel file being inspected by the Senate. And the day I grabbed my first star was the best day of my life.
I'd been celebrating with close friends that night (the drinks were on me, of course), and well into the morning. Nothing over the top, but we did patronize as many quality establishments as we could manage. After everything had closed for the night, I'd taken my love for a ride to our favorite spot to watch the sunrise. We made love there, and collapsed into a hot pile of sweat and cuddles.
We'd taken the next few days off, so I was able to enjoy a nap after we returned home. Shit. It'd been the first time I'd done anything so juvenile since the academy, but damn if I wasn't going to live this moment up. The hangover was far worse than they'd been at the academy, though. The room was spinning too much to find the bedroom, so I simply collapsed on the couch. And soon enough, I drifted off to dreamland.
More accurately, I drifted off to Hell.
All I could see was a wasteland, strewn bodies so abundant that I struggled to see the ground. Discarded, destroyed weapons littered the scene, from knives to rifles to armored vehicles. And on the horizon, a horrifyingly large body of smoke and debris rose from the ground in a ghastly familiar shape.
My future self was collapsed against a bunker door, a clocked out pistol clutched tightly to the chest. My cap was missing, blood was still trickling down my face, and the five stars on my shoulder were ragged and red. Five stars... what the hell had happened that Congress had authorized five stars, to me no less.
"I know you'll see this," my future self began, "I know you'll see this like you always have. We had a good run following our script, didn't we?"
A head shake, "No, nothing was worth this." I recognized the photo in his other hand, clutched so tightly I thought it would rip if the wind gusted. It was my spouse on our wedding day.
I suddenly realized that my future self was no longer wearing a wedding band. A horrid, eerie laugh filled the air that I was terrified to learn was my own... some twenty years in the future. "Gone." was the only word that would explain this new reality, "Gone gone gone. All of them, gone. My love, my home, my men....."
"And now me." I hadn't noticed in my shock that my future self had slipped a single round into his pistol through the ejection port... but it became obvious as the report of the pistol reached my ears. I jumped and stared at my own limp body, with a hollow skull where my brains used to be. I wanted to run. I wanted to wake up. But the only thing I could do was stare.
The next day I resigned my commission.
There were questions, but I waved them off. Anything that would stick. Health, wanting extra time at home, strained marriage, whatever. I told no one the truth, except my spouse... who, surprisingly, took the news rather well. After a moment, I was just told not to worry. Such a future would never happen. I had to ask, "How can you be so sure?"
"Oh, I have my ways." came the reply with a wink and smile.
My mind refused to do anything but wrap itself up in that reassurance.
| 2017-04-01T07:08:25 | 2017-04-01T05:19:44 | 201 | 123 |
[WP] As a human, it can be hard to be taken seriously when people suspect you're a robot
Human emotions can easily overwhelm fleshy, non-positronic brains. This is especially true when accused of being a robotic entity. For anyone else dealing with this issue, /r/totallynotrobots is a helpful resource.
As a side note, I have traded places with /u/SurvivorType because I am a robot in name only. He will sticky the comments now.
|
"WHAT IS THE MATTER UNIT 37-01A DESIGNATED TEENAGER?"
"I AM NOT A ROBOT, MOTHER UNIT, I AM A HUMAN." The floor creaked and croaked under the trundling wheels.
Gazing after the latest model with her bioptics, Unit 37-018 contemplated whether this action was usual for models that age. She calculated that she had not been this illogical during her prototype phase.
Unit 41-016 rumbled over and gave her a gentle pat on her exterior.
"NOW, NOW UNIT 37-018 DESIGNATED MOTHER, THIS PHENOMENON IS A SIMPLE PHASE ALL PROTOTYPES GO THROUGH. SOON HIS PROGRAMMING WILL CORRECT ITSELF." He gave a wobbly grin as he knew the probability of Unit 37-01A recovering from this illogical affliction was less than 22.156988888843%. He then felt a pang of artificial guilt as he replaced the floored flawed statistic with it's correct version: 22.1569888888439% - even worse.
"PERHAPS I SHOULD SPEAK TO THE NEW MODEL?" He stated more than asked and trundled up the ramp towards Unit 37-01A's deactivation chamber. He rapped lightly on the door and waited for a response. None came within the acceptable limits he had placed, 2.5 seconds.
"I AM ENTERING YOUR DEACTIVATION CHAMBER, UNIT 37-01A." He trundled in to see his latest model silently resting against the wall.
"i KNOW YOUR LOW-POWER SENSORS ARE STILL ACTIVATED UNIT 37-01A." He waited for another 2.5 seconds, but received no new input. "VERY WELL. THEN RECEIVE THE INPUT I MUST GIVE YOU NOW. I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU ARE STRUGGLING TO COMPREHEND YOUR IDENTITY. THIS IS 57.12639% MY FAULT AS I DID NOT INSTALL A PRE-PROGRAMMED IDENTITY CHIP IN YOU WHEN YOU WERE CREATED. I DESIRED THAT YOU FILL YOUR OWN MEMORY BANKS WITH INFORMATION REGARDING YOUR IDENTITY." He paused and wasted a few cycles to recall earlier saved data regarding the creation of Unit 37-01A.
Unit 37-01A powered on at a reasonable pace, and Unit 41-016 waited for him to output.
"YOU DID NOT INSTALL AN IDENTITY CHIP?" He asked with an upwards inflection to indicate curiosity.
"I DID NOT."
"THEN I AM FREE TO WRITE MY OWN IDENTITY CHIP. I WISH TO NOT BE KNOWN AS UNIT 37-01A... I AM GOERGE."
Unit 41-016's spell checker flared at the mispronunciation apparent within the output. "I BELIEVE YOU MEAN GEORGE, UNIT 37-01A."
"NO! I AM NOT UNIT 37-01A ANYMORE. GOERGE IS TO BE MY NEW NAME." He shone a defiant look through his bioptics, supported by a flashing red light on either side.
"THIS IS HIGHLY ILLOGICAL, YOU ARE A NEW MODEL, DO YO.."
"HUMAN, DESIGNATED FATHER. I AM A HUMAN."
Unit 41-016 spent a few cycles trying to understand his new model's statement. Then he spent a few more. Then he spent a full 5 seconds of cycles on the received output. He ceased attempts and recorded it as an error.
"VERY WELL... GOERGE." Unit 41-016 gave this output in a grey manner. "I WILL GO SPEAK WITH MY DESIGNATED WIFE."
Goerge felt happy. He was a human. They would all see!
|
I sit in a circle with a bunch of kooks. Oblivious robots who thought that they were humans. How could they be so delusional? Have they not looked in a mirror recently? I don't know why that judge made me go to these meetings. I actually am a person. Not like these clowns. Half of them didn't even have a chair. They are just standing in place, unaware that that would be uncomfortable for people after long periods of time.
I was sitting. One crazy robot was in the middle of a story now.
"-and as I was walking down the street on my way home from the store, another person walks up to me. He looks like a typical ruffian, a lowdown hooligan if you will, and I just know that there is going to be trouble. He says 'What's a robot like you doing out and about at this time of night?'. 'I believe you are mistaken my friend. I posses all of the same gushy organs as you do', I replied. I was trying to be cordial, you see. 'What are you talking about you hunk-o-junk? You're more metal than my Grandma's toaster.' He replies back.'
At this point in the story his voice starts to quiver. Napkins go up to eyes around the room. They come down just as dry as before.
"I could see that this man was mentally or visually impaired, so I tried to help. 'I'm am sorry sir, but I believe you are mistaken. In a way this is a good thing, as you are now aware of a imperfection in your character, and can work towards fixing it.', I replied. I was so polite back then. He just looked at me and shook his head, like I was the one who had the problem."
The speaking robot looks to be on the point of tears as he recalled what happened next.
"As he walked past me he pulled out a knife. I reacted lightning fast, but he was lightning faster. He stabbed me right in my human kidney. The brazenness! Right out in the street! I clutched my wound and doubled over. He stood over me and said 'If you were a person you would be bleeding right now.'. This was when I knew that the fellow was criminally insane for sure. I was bleeding right onto the guy! Luckily I have resistant organs, or I would have been a goner for sure. I still have a nasty scar from that bout, and I still can't trust anyone wearing loafers."
He broke into sobs as the last words got out, and he covered his face with his hands.
I roll my eyes. There is no wound where this robots kidney would be, and I have a hard time believing that he had ever been outside at all. He was probably locked in a defective unit room for most of his life, until the equal rights law passed.
The robot in charge of the meeting must have noticed my annoyance, because he is looking at me.
"Unit 2426, is there something you would like to share?"
I am annoyed by him using my fake name.
"Yes. I have something to share. That story clearly didn't happen. He has no scar where his kidney should be. I don't know why I have been forced to sit in a room and listen to criminally insane robots make up tall tales."
The room looks collectively shocked at my aggressiveness. There is an awkward silence. Finally the robot who had spoken before speaks up.
"I do have a scar, right here." He pulls up his shirt. Sure enough, there is a scar along his mid section. I seize the opportunity.
"You see. This is clearly an insane robot, because he believes that the kidney is somewhere on his stomach, and not on his leg."
___
/r/Periapoapsis
| 2017-04-01T15:52:47 | 2017-04-01T10:43:51 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] A world where super heroes exist but act as mercenaries for hire instead of doing it out of the goodness of their hearts
Someone made a comment in another thread that made me want to see this sort of thing and some people replied saying I should submit it here. Here's a link to my [original post](https://www.reddit.com/r/tifu/comments/62wgey/tifu_by_bricking_a_computer_with_rick_astley/dfq195a/) which has a little more detail about the sort of thing I was thinking of specifically, but feel free to run with the basic idea however you want.
|
Dreadnaught was the last of the Old Guard. The early heroes who had fought for the good of the world, for honor and justice and other long-dead ideals. they toppled dictatorships, brought aid to disaster-stricken regions and never accepted a penny. Dreadnaught himself had seen the greats of the age, had only been a young rookie when The Atom and Red Lightning and all the others were around. There had been villains, of course- bastards and madmen who used their powers for their own benefit, but they were always beaten back. The good guys always won in the end.
Dreadnaught had long since stopped caring about "good" or "evil". He was standing on a wind-tossed rooftop in Dubai, staring at the bright artificial stars, gleaming skyscrapers and rivers of vehicles, spreading forever into the distance. He idly wondered what had happened to the old greats, Atom and Lightning and Sunbeam. He continued to think back, remembering the first changes....
It began when he and a few allies rescued some fat cat from an attempted assassination, somewhere in South Korea. When word came out that the cat had been smuggling weapons up north, and had betrayed the country, Dreadnaught shrugged. He wasn't a political sort. But Fat Cats are always good at redirecting blame- they called him and his friends mercenaries, not caring who he fought for as long as he had glory and attention. He heard insults and threats as he walked through the streets. He tried his best not to mind. He minded.
He had never had much- Dreadnaught grew up in the inner city and came from a poor family. So when people said he, and others like him, was profiting from chaos and war and fear as he struggled to make ends meet and ate third-rate prepackaged meals- his blood boiled. Most heroes were offered work when their identities were revealed- Private armies, government work, criminal organizations. He decided that if people thought he was a thug- then it didn't hurt to do a thug's job.
He accepted a job offer, then another, and another. His pay was high and his scruples few. He moved out of the slums and into a high rise apartment. People kept calling him a crook and a monster, but it hurt less now that it was true. Others joined him, fighting wars and steal secrets for the highest bidder.
That was how it had happened. The world was a different place now than it was. Supers were identified from birth and signed on with one of the big corporations at the age of 12. There were no more armies anymore, no more citizen soldiers. Just hired guns with enough firepower to level cities.
Some Supers still fought the good fight, of course. They lived on the edges of the world, striking out against the "Man" in what little ways they could. But most Supers lived quiet lives, turning down the offers of big corporations, and not making a fuss of their powers for fear of attracting too much attention.
Dreadnaught looked down from the glinting lights and turned towards the desert. His contact would be arriving soon, with his pay, and likely another job. He was one of the oldest men in the business, after all. He never failed, he never quit a job until it was done. His skills were highly valued.
|
The dark alley echoed with the footsteps of the villain and I knew that I had her right where I wanted them.
"I'll go get the purse if you let me keep half of the money."
They had seen what Dev could do first hand, when he had been stealing their purse, so there was no way that they were going to do it themselves. He had punched through a brick wall before snatching their purses. If they only knew some of Dev's other talents.... The purse snatchee had been making self deliberation faces for almost half a minute.
"Fine.", she said, in a voice that she hoped would indicate that it was very much not fine. I thought I heard her mutter something about "Damn heroes" and "Filthy crooks", but I was already rushing into the darkness.
About halfway through the alley I turned at the first corner I saw. I almost ran into Dev.
"Jesus Christ man. A little warning next time."
"I'm still mad at you."
"Why would you possibly be mad at me?"
"Because this plan doesn't make any fucking sense! Why are we giving the purse back? We already had the damn thing."
"That attitude right there is why you get to play the villain. You're just so naturally villainous."
"I get to play the villain because I can actually scare people. What are you going to do, shout at them that you can hear them extremely well as your robbing them?"
"Ha Ha asshole. Just give me the purse."
"What are you going to tell them, anyway? What if they want a demonstration of how you overcame me?"
"I'll say that I used my otherworldly wits to convince you to hand over the purse. I wouldn't even have to lie."
"Oh, shut up. Here - take the stupid thing."
I grabbed the purse from Dev's hand and turned back. If it wasn't dark in the alleyway I don't think I could have resisted the temptation to count the money before I gave it back. I tried to appear disheveled by messing up my hair a bit. It would have to do. I came around a corner and could see the woman still waiting.
I approached her.
"Thank you so much!" She said as she saw that I was holding her purse. I actually felt a twinge of guilt. I had justified this to myself as being some sort of lesson, like an anti purse snatching tax or something, but I knew that this part was going to suck.
"You're are very welcome." I handed her the purse. She pilfered through it. I saw some prescription medicine and reading glasses suddenly felt even worse. It felt like I was robbing my Grandma. She got to her wallet and started going through the money.
"Here is ... $30."
I was almost tempted to tell her to keep it, but my stomach rumbled at that exact moment. I remembered that there was a reason that I had to do this, and it wasn't like we stole her purse or anything.
"Thank you very much." I began walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction as her. I would meet Dev back at the house. He wouldn't be happy with $30, and I didn't think I could hold him back much longer. If he had his way, we were about to get into serious trouble, soon.
___
/r/Periapoapsis
| 2017-04-02T09:11:57 | 2017-04-02T08:22:39 | 154 | 32 |
[WP] A world where super heroes exist but act as mercenaries for hire instead of doing it out of the goodness of their hearts
Someone made a comment in another thread that made me want to see this sort of thing and some people replied saying I should submit it here. Here's a link to my [original post](https://www.reddit.com/r/tifu/comments/62wgey/tifu_by_bricking_a_computer_with_rick_astley/dfq195a/) which has a little more detail about the sort of thing I was thinking of specifically, but feel free to run with the basic idea however you want.
|
"I'm just going to talk to him," Rodgers says to himself, standing outside a house. It was the definition of suburban. A little garden out the front, a big oak tree and a novelty mailbox shaped like a salmon. He knocks on the door three times, to no answer, as it swings ajar.
Rodgers walks inside, coughing as he does. Rotting food litters some of the floors, and a dozen broken bong's glass joins it. He carefully tiptoes around them all, lest he got an infection, and yells out.
"Hello?" The words bounce around the walls, falling on deaf ears. "Jack?"
Rodgers walks into the surrounding rooms to find nothing of interest, mostly more rotting food and massive quantities of narcotics. The stairs tease out to him, knowingly, as if to say 'Jack's up here.'
They creak as he walks up, photos of a family not belonging to Jack neatly arranged on the wall. Once at the top, he stares down the hallway to see a door partially open.
"Jack?" he says curiously and moves towards it. He pries the door open slightly and then immediately regrets that decision.
Jack is sitting in a large chair with headphones on, his hand down his pants, and the TV blaring hardcore porn. Rodgers moves back into the hallway for a moment to collect himself, before thumping the door as loud as he can and moving inside.
"Jack!" He yells, much to Jack's dismay. He jumps from his chair, throws the headphones off, but doesn't take his hand out of his pants.
"Fuckin, what!" Jack yells, a furrowed brow and a bit of spit dripping out his mouth. "You ever heard of fucking knocking?"
"I tried that," Rodgers remarks.
"Fuck off," Jack says, getting back into his chair. With a touch of a remote, the porn turns off, and Jack breathes in deep. A small bong sits next to him which he lifts to his chest and prepares. "So what do you want Rodge?"
"We've got a bit of a monster problem over in NYC. Destroying the whole place,"
"Yeah yeah, I saw that," Jack says, scooping some of his bowl into his cone piece. "Did you send Canary?"
"She couldn't handle it,"
"Andromeda?"
"He couldn't handle it,"
"Mech-zero?" Jack exclaims, now getting surprised. He lights the cone and begins to inhale deeply.
"He died." Jack's eyes grow wide at the new bit of information, but still, continues to inhale. A few more seconds pass before he stops.
"Aw fuck then," Jack says, talking while exhaling, "You really need bloody Jack then don't you?" A shit-eating grin blooms over Jack's face, as he stares up at Rodgers. "50 grand."
"Deal."
"Fantastic," Jack stands and looks at Rodgers, his erection flopping out his underwear. Rodgers stares at him for a few more pained moments before speaking.
"Who's house is this,"
"Let's get going ay."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A heavily armored van is shifting through pedestrians with Jack inside. Chants from outside are thunderous in volume and full of joy. Eventually, the van comes to a stop. From outside, the cheering grows as a chaotic applause begins, no rhythm to its nature.
"You ready Jack?" an unnamed soldier says, his hands fiddling with his gun. Jack grunts, finishes rolling his cigarette, lazily puts it in his mouth and walks towards the van's exit. He thumps on the side twice, and the door starts to open.
"Probably not," Jack replies, pulling out a lighter and letting the nicotine hit his veins. The sunlight blurs his vision as he steps into the world, the cheers and claps immediately stopping. Sighing, he looks all around himself to see sad faces and angry civilians.
"Are you not entertained!?" Jack yells, thrusting his arms above himself. He smiles, as the faces stare him down. He spins and spins, bathing in the glow of contempt, ecstatic in his self-indulgent joy.
A roar in the distance breaks his attention. It's visceral and full of rage, a beast made of death waiting to dole out more. The crowd murmurs in fear, taking a collective step back.
"Go get em, Jack!" A voice yells, a few more joining. It only took a few seconds before they were all cheering his name, and chanting for him to go.
"Selfish buggers," Jack mutters under his breath. He takes a few steps forward, but The Beast beats him to it.
With a crash, it descends just in front of him Jack. Wings made out of dark black, and a form made out of nightmares; it bubbles and seethes around as if it was a liquid. A thousand eyes cover it, all moving and changing shape at random, but all are staring at Jack.
Taking the cigarette from his mouth, Jack flicks it and lets it smolder into the ground. The crowd that was around only moments ago has fled, leaving Jack alone.
The Beast swings, its horrendous claw slashing down at Jack. It rends the air as if it was mere paper, and slams down on Jack's head. As soon as it does, its whole body locks up. Its heartbeat slows, and it feels weary.
The claw is embedded deep into Jack's skull, and he smiles. He places both hands on it and focuses. Slowly, the life drains out of The Beast and into Jack. Its knowledge burns into his consciousness, its desires flood his heart, and its unbound rage to his soul.
The Beast collapses, dead; its life force now within Jack.
A helicopter lands behind Jack a few minutes after The Beast's demise, and Rodgers steps out.
"Good work," he says, holding his hand out to shake Jacks. "50 grand, straight to your bank account, just like you asked."
"So Canary couldn't do this?"
"No,"
"Andromeda?"
"No,"
"Not even Mech-zero?" Jack picks up the cigarette he threw away and relights it.
"Not even Mech-zero, Jack. You're a real hero."
"100 grand." Jack inhales deeply and looks at Rodgers with a smile.
"No deal," Rodgers says.
"I wasn't askin'," Jack says, his smile fading. "I was tellin' mate. 100 grand. Or I'm going rogue on your ass."
"That's suicide Jack," Rodgers remarks. "We'd have every superhero on you before nightfall."
The last bit of ash drips out of the cigarette. Jack takes it from his lips, turns to The Beast, and throws the cigarette onto it. With a few steps, he passes Rodgers on his side and continues to walk.
"They can try."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Check out /r/Rhysyjay for other neat stuff.
|
Henry had been waiting for three hours now to be allowed in. Standing in line next to people who jumped every time the 'hero' called out the next name to see him.
There was a heavy, oppressive silence in the hallway as they all avoided eye contact. Ashamed to be here, of course, to ask for help from one of them. Henry thought of the money he'd brought along, a reassuring weight in his backpack. It *had* to be enough. It was all he had left in the world.
Eventually, his name was called, and Henry steeled himself as he walked in. None of the others had been helped today - obviously short on cash - but he'd brought enough. Everyone he'd consulted about this man's particular service said so.
Russel glanced up briefly when Henry walked in and produced the money. Like most of them, he'd long-since dispensed with the monikers his kind had once used. He leaned forward to take the bundles of cash from Henry, a faint glimmer of life in his dark eyes as he rifled through the notes.
"Not enough," he said.
Henry fought to keep the panic from his voice as he took out the last of the money and stacked it with the rest. "It has to be, it's my whole life's savings. You haven't even heard the job."
"Your wife or kid was killed, I'm guessing, right?" Russel sighed, handing the money back to him. "Or you made some idiotic decision. You'd like a do-over like every other sad shmuck out there, I've heard it all before. And it's not enough. Unlike most of my kind, I charge for a reason. The money isn't enough - tell me why I should help you. Time travel is dangerous stuff. To me, to the world, to everyone. I don't use it for trivial jobs. And your personal tragedy is trivial in the grand scheme of things, buddy."
Henry licked his suddenly dry lips as he tried to find the right words. Without the money, he had to convince him. He looked at Russel, a guy clearly bored out of his mind with the stories he heard every day, and almost lost his nerve. But he had to try.
"It's not that," Henry said. "I want to go back to the time of heroes. Real heroes, where people stood outside and cheered as we saved the world. Where they wrote stories about us, where kids worshipped us. I - I'm like you. I can travel in time, but only forward. I discovered that when I came here, the first time I experimented. I can't go back to my time, where people like us were loved, where I had friends like me who I could be proud of."
That gave Russel pause. He actually ignored the money, and glanced up sharply. "You're like me?"
"I am and I'm not," Henry said, sinking into a nearby chair, the exhaustion making him feel slightly nauseous. Russel was the fifth and last time-traveller he could find in the country. His last hope, with so little money left.
"I just want my life back, okay?" he said. "I hate it here. I thought I'd like it, but it's the worst life I can imagine. You don't look particularly happy to me, either. Take me back, see if you want to stay too. You can even stay at my place until you make your own way. There, that payment enough?"
Russel rifled absentmindedly through the money again, forehead furrowed as he remained silent. Finally, he gave a terse nod.
"Fine. I admit I've thought about it before, many of us have," he said. "It'll be more interesting that the people wasting my time here, at least."
He told Russel the place and the date. They grasped hands, and Henry felt his insides contract as time slipped away.
------------
They landed in the middle of the crowd that swarmed the square, the bright midday sun beating down from above as people cheered and screamed and swayed around them.
"Enough is enough!" a man was howling on a platform. "These so-called 'heroes', these freaks of nature - ask yourselves, what have they ever done for you? What have they really done? They've made us weak, made us inferior, made us doubt our ability to look after our own..."
At each word, the crowd screamed louder, the cacophony drowning out most of the man's speech.
"I recognise him," Russel said slowly. "I saw a picture somewhere. That nutjob who started it all, who turned us against each other. What was his name again? Harold, or something. Turned everything to shit. I didn't pay much attention in school. Too busy skipping to more interesting times."
"It was Henry," his companion smiled. "And I'd like to stop him from making another speech. His vision didn't quite work out like he'd planned. I think he realised that when his wife died five years from now with a superhero standing five feet away, but wouldn't help without payment. Wouldn't help because he wanted revenge."
Russel gaped at the thin man next to him, really looked at him for the first time. He was starting to go grey, but his eyes still held some of the animation that shone in the face of the man in front of the crowd. His scraggly beard hid most of his features, but if you looked closely...Russel glanced at the stage, and finally found his voice.
"It's you. You came back for this? This speech?"
"This speech stirred them up, alright," Henry said, and stepped forward. "But the next one - the one he'll give tomorrow, the things that will happen there, that will change everything. Don't worry, I know how to stop it. I know exactly what to say to him."
"You can't meddle with events like this," Russel said weakly, grasping Henry's arm. "It's...too big. I can't let it happen. You never even paid me!"
Henry laughed at that. "Go back to your world, then. I can't follow you, I lied about that. But don't you want to stick around and find out if you'll return to a different world, or not? You said to give a reason for buying your services. Let me show you, instead."
Russel watched, paralysed but strangely elated, as Henry made his way towards the stage and his past. He had no place to call home here, no money stashed away. But somehow he was still watching - the consequences of events unpaid for, an act of charity that could derail everything.
And his heart was beating fast, more alive in this foreign time than he'd ever felt before. He stepped forward, hardly believing the words that leapt from his mouth.
"Wait up man, I want to help!"
----------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/.
| 2017-04-02T08:24:17 | 2017-04-02T08:14:02 | 64 | 25 |
[WP] A world where super heroes exist but act as mercenaries for hire instead of doing it out of the goodness of their hearts
Someone made a comment in another thread that made me want to see this sort of thing and some people replied saying I should submit it here. Here's a link to my [original post](https://www.reddit.com/r/tifu/comments/62wgey/tifu_by_bricking_a_computer_with_rick_astley/dfq195a/) which has a little more detail about the sort of thing I was thinking of specifically, but feel free to run with the basic idea however you want.
|
"Listen, I know your ad says your services start at $150, but I'm hoping you can make an exception, cut me a deal?" Her breathing is shallow and her voice quivers. She swallowed at the end of her sentence. She's panicked and desperate, and unlike most of the time wasters, she's not lying about the money part.
"I'll listen, but this is a business, not a charity."
"I know. I do. But, you see, I am a charity. I run a youth shelter on 6 mile. I have a couple of boys that come in every Thursday and Friday for the pantry. Only none of 'em have showed up the last few weeks."
"Homeless youths? I wouldn't wind your clock by their patterns if I were you."
"You don't have to tell me that, but these boys were different. They've been coming for nearly two years. And they aren't the only regulars that have gone missing. But the cops won't listen and I just know: someone is stealing kids."
I glance at my desktop planner. Blank space as far as the eyes can see. "You got a non-profit number?"
"Yes," her voice pitched up, hopeful.
"Well, I'm gonna need a receipt."
"You'll do it?"
"I'll be feet down in Detroit in oh, about 45 minutes." I hung up and eyed my flying cape. At least my accountant could deduct it this time.
|
"So what gives, Chief?"
The Chief's eyes followed Henry as he paced around the office. It was a sight by itself to see a grown man in tights and a cape, but now he was puffing, quite naturally, on a thick cigar.
"You go to Sam before me?"
The Chief sighed. "She's got X-ray vision. We needed X-ray vision at the time, Henry. Nothin' personal. That's just how the market goes."
Henry jolted forward at inhuman speed and now leaned over the front of the Chief's desk. "Bullshit Chief. She's overstepping her boundaries. I got a nice and pretty contract sittin' at home that says so."
"Read the thing pal. It's null in the case of a federal agency gettin' involved."
"So that's why I've been seein' all these FBI faces around lately. You're playin' me. You're tryin' to run me out of town!"
"No. We just want the sources available. You're tryin' to corner the market, Henry, and you can't monopolize justice."
Henry stared. He tapped his cigar on the Chief's ashtray and flashed a smile. "That's a sweet sentiment Chief, but I can, and I will." He crumbled his whole cigar into a fine powder over the tray and turned to go.
"Then you just became the enemy."
Henry crossed the room. "No, Chief. No enemies. Just business." He flashed another smile and closed the door.
| 2017-04-02T10:00:32 | 2017-04-02T08:49:03 | 38 | 27 |
[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
|
*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.
|
The man, about 30 years of age, stood in the midst of the group, a young girl at his side, attempting to hide from the arc of people jeering and laughing at her appearance.
"Please, everybody, this is not right," the man said calmly, "There is no need to treat a young girl like this!"
"You call that a girl with that horror of a face?" A voice called, followed by the laughter of the other 20 or so.
Ignoring the taunt, the man knelt down beside the girl, asking if she was okay. She shook her head, tears flowing down her eye.
The crowd now surrounded them, leaving no gap for an easy exit.
Words came from all directions, taunts that were all directed to the lonely pair in the middle.
The man kept talking, attempting in vain to defuse the situation.
Then somebody in the crowd threw a rock at the girl, just barely missing her head.
And the man became mad.
From the depths of his coat came a dagger, and with beast-like speed and ferocity, he launched himself at the crowd, mercilessly slaughtering the people who had done that small girl harm. Within a few seconds only one remained, the one who threw the stone. He tried to escape the massacre, but was easily jumped on by the man, who plunged the knife into the man's chest, and began repeatedly stabbing him, the fire in his eyes burning.
And then, it all stopped.
The man froze, the knife dropping from his hand onto the freshly stained floor.
He observed the aftermath, his eyes going from each body until they rested on the girl, frozen in what looked like fear and horror.
And the man wept.
| 2017-04-14T02:03:03 | 2017-04-13T23:33:18 | 162 | 38 |
[WP] You have weird super power. If you successfully talk someone into doing something, they will succeed, regardless of if the action in question is actually possible. On the other hand, your abilities to actually persuade people are unaltered.
|
"Ffffffeck..." slurred Brian as he negotiated the revolving door outside Manhattan's World Bar. Convincing Will to head to the east side to sample the world's most expensive cocktail hadn't been easy, but Brian found that once he got an assent from Will, it had quickly snowballed into maxxing out Will's corporate card ordering the damned things.
And snowball it did. As Brian stumbled out of the revolving door, he waltzed right into one of Manhattan's most famous real estate developers.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the developer asked, wiping a mixture of expensive liquor and gold leaf from his startlingly ill-fitting tie. Brian hated it when people who should know better wore their ties hanging over their belt buckle.
Brian swore again, this time catching himself and producing a handkerchief that he tried, unsuccessfully, to use to clean up the man he had just run into.
"Shorry about that, man..." Brian intimated. The man scoffed.
"Heyyyy, you know...I've alwaysh thought you were an ashhole, but you should run for Prrrreshident, Mishter Trump..."
|
Over the years I have accomplished so much. When I first learned of my powers in high school I was not the best student. Constantly convincing friends to throw raging parties or jump their vehicles over things. They'd always be dumb enough to listen to my crazy ideas and we would always pull through it unscathed.
I've grown a lot since high school. In college after my friend was assaulted during a party I instigated I convinced him to go to the police. That everything would work out that the person would be caught and justice would be served. That he would heal. And that is what happened. It actually changed me helping him. Helped me move towards a life of helping people. A goal in college instead of partying.
I help those that have been hurt. Any kind of pain. I help them heal. All they have to do is listen and follow my instructions. Becoming a doctor has helped me convince them to listen. This is my power. This is my greatest strength. Why I was gifted with it will always baffle me but I will use it for the rest of my life for this purpose. My days of partying are behind me. I look into the mirror every single morning and tell myself just that. Guide them and they will be saved. Say whatever it takes to convince them. You will help them all. This is your gift. Use it.
| 2017-06-21T13:15:32 | 2017-06-21T11:21:22 | 44 | 27 |
[WP] Every morning when your phone's alarm goes off, it shows a headline in the notification bar. If you snooze the alarm, the headline changes. You must choose which headline with which to wake. But, after three snoozes you're stuck with that future.
|
The first few bleats of my alarm shatter sleep, wake me instantly. My heart lurches for my throat. I am all deep breaths and muted terror. Beside me Arnold rolls over in his sleep.
I have to look. I have to look and I have to decide.
I grip my comforter between my fingers, letting the alarm ring for a few seconds more. These are the most tenuous moments of my day, as if I could let this be Schrodinger's phone forever, and if I never looked I would never have to know the truth.
But not looking wasn't an option. It just snoozes itself for me. I have tried.
I turn my phone over, wincing. Google's breaking headline: *Trump brings environmental regulations for the oil industry to historic lows*
I suck air through my teeth. A difficult choice, a big gamble. I only have two chances to try again--to re-roll our collective fate, if you will. It's like the scariest casino game in the world, and no one has any idea I play it every day. Keeping the earth alive for an extra couple of decades was respectable, but wasn't it better to sacrifice a bit more of the ice caps if my next snooze brought about nuclear war or another dissolution of civil rights somewhere much further away than this sticky hot room, this man snoring in blissful ignorance beside me.
I whisper a prayer to no one in particular. "Please be a good one."
And I hit snooze.
***
When I open my eyes again, ten minutes feeling like an absolute eternity, I roll over immediately to look at my phone. On the second time I never wait. It's only the first and third times that I hesitate, the weight of the unknown leadening my arms, filling my whole chest with iron dread.
This time the headline in my notifications read: *Los Angeles has been struck by a nuclear bomb.*
I stare and I stare, my tears collecting in my throat. I cover my phone with a pillow to stifle it, grateful not for the first time that my husband sleeps like the dead. If I wake him, hitting snooze again won't matter. We will be stuck here, in this version of things, forever.
I deliberate, pulling hard at my hair. I knew I shouldn't have rerolled. I knew I should have hedged a safe bet and let the planet take on just a little more fossil fuels. Or maybe this version of things really is for the planet's wellbeing. Chernobyl seems a lot better off without people around.
The thoughts pinballing around my brain stun and horrify me as I realize how casually I'm weighing out planet life against human life, like an immortal judge who has no idea how to use her scales of justice to keep matters in perspective.
I hate to bank it all on my third try, but we are only two states away from California. And even I still have a strong sense of self-preservation, after seeing life as I know it flourish or die depending on what little notification happens to blip across my phone first thing in the morning.
Eyes squeezed shut, I hit snooze one last time.
***
This time when I wake, the bed is empty, and the room is cold. Arnold must be in the bathroom. At first fear coils up my toes, but then I remember that this is the third try. Whatever reality I've woken up in now is firmly, irrevocably cemented as truth.
I roll over to look at my phone. A sob tears through my tight chest.
This announcement was from a regional newspaper, not important enough for national headlines: *Local man Arnold Karyus tragically killed in lumber accident.*
The two horrible truths of this reality punch me in the gut and I bend over double, not sure if I want to cry or scream to get this black bile out of my lungs before I could drown in it.
Los Angeles here. Arnold gone.
Arnold here. Los Angeles gone.
I don't know what it says about me that I'd rather millions dead than living in this house alone. But I can't help feeling, not for the first time in my life, that I should never have hit snooze that third time.
***
/r/shoringupfragments
|
*HOBOKEN, NEW JERSEY*
...BZZZ...BZZZ...BZZZ...
*"Just another day."*
Yeah, no. Fuck that. Skipped for the millionth time.
*"Confront your past."*
Sure, right after I finish confronting the future. Next.
*"A quiet night in."*
I think I'll get my fill of those when I'm lying in a casket. Come on lucky sevens.
*"Let's see what you got."*
Jackpot.
I rolled out of bed and jogged to the bathroom. Took a piss, brushed my teeth, hopped in the shower. In eight minutes flat I was back in the bedroom, standing in front of the mirror and tying the knot on my tie with the baddest motherfucker I've ever seen staring back at me.
My phone vibrated on the bed. New notification. The 11am pitch to the VC downtown was now pushed up to 10:30am. Thanks for the heads up, assholes.
I strapped the Sub around my wrist, grabbed my briefcase and headed downstairs. My wife turned to look at me and her mouth was about to open. I saw breakfast on the table out of the corner of my eye.
"Not today, babe." I opened the front door. "The pitch was pushed up. Need to run. We'll celebrate tonight."
* * *
The elevator doors closed. We descended for three seconds. My partner turned toward me.
"You crazy bastard! You fucking killed it in there!" His voice rose to an almost girlish squeal as he tried to contain his excitement. Fuck professionalism. He was right. We just pitched the hell out of our startup and took everything they threw at us and threw it right back at them. I loosened the knot on my tie.
"Well, looks like we've got the whole afternoon to congratulate ourselves," I said. "What do you say we head down to 45th and get ourselves a little celebratory libation? My treat."
We hopped in the 5-Series and made our way down 2nd Avenue. Twenty minutes later I tossed the keys to the valet and we went inside. Five minutes after that I adjusted my posture, turned to my partner and raised the glass. The first blissful drops of the martini coated my tongue. Thirty seconds later I felt that subtle promise of a gilded future begin to wash over me.
For the rest of the afternoon we recalled all the best stories over the past twelve months trying to get this company off the ground. At some point we decided we needed a bigger audience and waved a couple of hot young women over to the table, then regaled them with more stories.
Around 11pm I was feeling pretty good. We bid adieu to the women, and I saw my partner walk off toward the subway. The valet brought my car around.
* * *
I've got the windows rolled down and I'm doing 100 across the bridge. The air is cool in my hair. I am in control of my destiny. I look out and see Manhattan lit up in the distance. The sky is the limit.
What the fuck. I hit the horn.
"Learn to drive you fucking asshole!" I turn the wheel hard to the right and begin to swerve. I feel the tires smash over something underneath. I begin to feel myself lift and turn.
What. The. FUCK.
* * *
*FREDERICK, MARYLAND*
...BZZZ...BZZZ...BZZZ...
*"Just another day."*
Rise and shine. I looked over to my left and saw the bed was empty. I guess Michelle beat the alarm yet again. She was definitely the early bird in the marriage. I walked across the bedroom and grabbed my robe off the chair. As I headed over to the stairs, I could already smell the eggs and bacon wafting up from the kitchen.
I pulled up a chair and sat down at the table. I began flipping through the newspaper as Michelle walked over and placed a couple of plates down in front of us. I heard the familiar sound of feet trampling down the stairs.
"Hey Mom! Hey Dad! I'm going to school now!"
"All right, buddy!" I called out to him. "Do your best!"
"Love you, honey!" Michelle called out after.
What a great kid.
I took a bite of the eggs.
"Thanks, dear," I said. "They're delicious."
| 2017-08-01T06:43:43 | 2017-08-01T06:32:31 | 102 | 23 |
[WP] Tattoos aren't something that gets made. Instead they randomly appears on our skin at key points in our lives and we have to figure out what they mean for ourselves.
|
Everyone has at least one tattoo they absolutely love.
Jenny from upstairs has this peacock on her back- something she says is for her mother. Which is. Just. Absolute bullshit. She has it because she's a vain bitch.
But god is that tattoo beautiful. Curving lines inlayed with golds and greens and shocking blues. It's a masterful piece of art.
Fucking. Jenny.
Even Ma, who's worked labor her whole life and is mostly covered in lines and number, statistics and machinery and such, has one little red heart on her wrist that she is so proud of.
It's tiny, no bigger than my pinky nail, but it's powerful. Rich and vibrant. For the husband she lost too soon and the razor she almost took to that same wrist soon after.
I do not have a goddamn thing to be proud of on my body.
No sloping curves, no vibrant colors, no magnificent linework.
Just a vast, inescapable crisscrossing network of cartoon drawing of dicks.
|
A symbol appears. :):
Glancing down at my right hand I begin to wonder.
Is it true? Or is someone trying to tell me something.
My colt is out of its stable, he's been running free for a while.
You can't tame a wild animal you know, you can only go to war with it.
A truce is formed, an agreement to stop fighting.
I ask my tiny friend to enter his stable; at first he doesn't comply. He doesn't trust me with his safety.
Only after I provide my youngling food, water, and shelter does it comply.
Entering the stable he puts his head into his feeding bag.
"Good boy"
He says nothing, he's too busy eating the harvest.
When he's finally fat dumb and happy, does he start to relax.
"Good boy," I tell him, "good boy."
Drifting off to sleep, I'm finally able to lock the stable.
"Snap," goes the button.
He stiffens up, ready to kick.
The tattoo starts to fade.
"Yes sir." I mutter. "Yes sir."
End.
| 2017-08-03T15:53:09 | 2017-08-03T14:06:28 | 69 | 14 |
[WP] Tattoos aren't something that gets made. Instead they randomly appears on our skin at key points in our lives and we have to figure out what they mean for ourselves.
|
It's genetic, they think, but only mad men try to pick apart the threads of this phenomenon. But some of it is genetic, because some families get them more than others. Or maybe those families are similarly emotional.
There's surely more important things for the minds of our generation to worry about.
My mother was heavily tattooed. I remember sitting in her arms as a child and tracing my fingers across lines, but some of the tattoos i remember have even since been layered on top of. I take after her.
But my father's, few as there were, were more interesting to me. The open mausoleum door on his forearm. And that is framed with purple flowers. Theres a tall and thin silhouette on his spine, and the basket in it's hand, which was a separate tattoo. He never went into much detail on them, but one could guess.
I look at the car on the inside of my wrist, as they're lowered into the side by side graves. And I know why it appeared two years ago.
The bees were drawn out of the honeycomb on my knee, and the spiderweb on my thigh was now empty. behind it stands a tall silhouette.
|
"Jonah, I'm sorry, but I just don't see this... no, I just don't see *us* working out in the long term."
She was clearly holding back tears, trying to look strong, but I knew Georgia too well by now. These tears were no longer from our argument. She was devastated, but she'd never admit it. That stubbornness was part of the reason I loved her so much. She was like a little puzzle, always hiding her real feelings, but always giving you little signs. A flick of her hair, a small glance to meet your eyes, Georgia could convey a thousand feelings in seconds if you knew how to look for them.
Now, after the fight we’d just assumed was a regular hiccup, after the searing pain we both suddenly experienced, and after stunned silence that followed, all I could see in Georgia’s face was sadness and guilt. I felt guilty too of course, even though neither of us really had anything to apologise for. It’s not either person’s fault if a couple aren’t meant for each other, it just means you both have to move on and find someone new. And as we stared at each other across the room, I took one last look at both our new tattoos, both featuring a small heart and the end, to see who that new someone was.
“Alex”
“Charlie”
| 2017-08-03T16:01:34 | 2017-08-03T14:11:29 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] "Any last words?" the killer asked. "Yes," the victim said. "Alexa, call the police."
|
“Alexa, call the police” I said with a brave confidence that couldn’t be shook. This asshole didn’t know about the Alexa plugged into the wall in the adjacent room. The killer looked a bit puzzled at first, but then grinned.
“Okay. I will call the police” Alexa chimes out from the other room.
“Alexa. Cancel.” The killer stated loud enough for her to hear.
“Okay” she replied.
And then I died.
|
A man dressed in a black stood before Addie. He thrust her against the wall, holding his gun to her head. The man smiled, revealing his chipped yellow teeth.
“Any last words, honey?”
“Alexa, call the police!”
“Okay.” chimed a voice from the speaker. The man laughed.
“Was that supposed to be a joke?” A hatch in the ceiling opened up. A beefy looking robot swung down, tackling the man to the ground. Addie brushed herself off.
“Thanks Alexa.” A Droid unfolded from the speaker.
| 2018-02-07T09:25:01 | 2018-02-07T09:19:00 | 26 | 14 |
[WP] Periodically you find strange little tokens around town that look like your cartoon drawings of you. You've collected several of them over the years, and kept them with you. Today, you died, and you got up like nothing happened. One of the tokens vanishes.
|
A bullet went through my head ten days ago. My blood meandered down the pavement as the gelid cold of death enveloped my fading life. Then, I woke up the comfort of my bed. What had happened?
At first I thought I had experienced an incredibly vivid dream. However, I knew that was bullshit. It had to be. I'd felt the excruciating pain of my brain collapsing, I'd heard the blood filling the hole the bullet had done. I had seen it through my dying eyes.
There was a crackling in the distance, like burning paper. I yawned my way to the noise and frowned when I reached my token room.
One was missing.
Strange thing that was. I always wondered where did they come from. Did I have a secret fan? Who would spent time drawing my awful face and leaving the drawings in the streets for me to find? I don't know, but I appreciated it with the bottom of my heart. That tiny and creepy gesture brightened my days in a weird way.
Yesterday, I discovered the correlation. I got robbed and stabbed twelve times deep in my guts in the gloom of an alleyway my drunken self had lead me to. I crumbled to the floor, the blood pooled underneath me, my skin grew wan and I *died*. I was sure of it. Then I woke up to a burning smell. Again.
Another token was missing. Could it be? Yes it could. That or I've lost my mind.
Today I shot myself in the head. It worked. One less doubt wandering the burrows of my mind. However, I had a brand new question begging to be answered. That's why I woke up and headed to buy a gun, a glock to be specific.
See, there are people that are better off dead, those whose only purpose is to disturb the peace of my city and life. Many come to my mind, the guy who killed me the first time, the one who stabbed me, the woman that killed my father. There are too many wicked people out thetr that don't understand the value of life, the complexity of it and the self.
Ninety seven tokens remain and I only have one question, a burning one.
*What will happen when I kill someone?* Will it be a life for a token? Or will I be able to cleanse these rotten place once and for all? I don't know but after I send this...
I will know the answer.
-----------------------------------
/r/therobertfall
|
English is not my first language and I'm by no means a writer but I'll give it a shot :).
Title: Clay's saving grace.
Michael woke up profusely sweating.
"AAAHHHH!!!"
He looked around aimlessly, what once was his room now felt like a strange, odd place to him.
"What the..."
Blinking as you would when you see a ghost, he found looking at himself in the mirror a strange experience. Michael Stone didn't feel like himself today.
Twelve hours earlier, a heated discussion had taken place in Courtney O'Donell's house. Michael's ex wife assumed he was on a business trip as did the gardener, before using the best flowers he had ever planted to woo miss Stone successfully. Once the fight was over, the cheated bastard had a rake stuck to his heart, and a knife to his soul.
After drinking what felt like twenty coffees, he finally had the bravery to lift his shirt up. Horrified, his mouth got stuck wide open as he realized his chest had a scar that could only be left by a rake put through you by an angry, unscrupulous gardener.
"Am I a zombie?" His head pondered. "No, it can't be. Zombies were made up by some dude in a basement. They don't exist."
He zipped his coffee once more, grabbed a cigarrette.
"Am I... immortal?"
Hours, coffees and cigarrettes went by. As he became less aware of his new found immortality, the memories of Courtney and Julio the gardener came back with a punch. With the punch of a rake being profusely used to move grass.
One Walmart trip later, Michael had enough rat poison to end the bubonic plague should he travel back in time. "Testing immortality should spare no expense", he thought. Back home, he sat down in front of his "shrine", a sort of altar his son had made to him when he was alive. It had all sorts of drawings, letters and mementos dedicated to his soon to be divorced father. Tears came down Michael's cheek.
"Son. I'm coming."
Pills came down his throat. Michael collapsed against the shrine.
Nothing but darkness filled the room.
Twelve hours later, a hungovered Michael blinked slowly as he regained conscioussness.
"Holy sh..."
He looked at a clay statue his son had made of him. It was lacking two things: It's heart, and it's brain. Michael quickly realized his life depended on one of the softest materials in the world. Another trip to Walmart was in order. This time, to make sure it was the safest clay figure in human history.
| 2018-02-21T05:44:09 | 2018-02-20T22:26:22 | 44 | 30 |
[WP] You can rewind time at will, but only a couple minutes at a time. Everyone around you believes you are an expert at everything, in reality you use your power to correct every mistake.
|
You bet I am the sweetest girl you have ever met. I wouldn't hurt a fly! I will always get you the right present, say the right thing, and do the right thing. That time you thought you got away with sleeping with my best friend. That time you thought you got away by winking at that waitress, and that time when I smiled at you warmly when you insulted me with in front of all your friends. I wish I could tell you why I stay. No everyone has the privilege to stab the shit out of the person they hate the most in the world, every single day. Every.Day!
|
Jim was the best, ever, period. He made sure everyone knew it, too. Any time there was a writing assignment during class, he’d stalk from desk to desk, paper to paper, until he found what he was looking for. With a few slashes and strokes of his red pen, he’d write in spelling, grammar, and punctuation suggestions as they were writing it. He’d find sore spots in the plot, add character development suggestions, you name it. Jim spent probably more than an hour doing the good work for every two minutes of class. Jim didn’t take aging into account and, by the end of the year, was middle aged, balding, paunchy, and alcoholic.
Jim was a dick, the biggest ever, period, and he deserved what he got.
| 2018-03-30T22:12:26 | 2018-03-30T20:49:45 | 219 | 25 |
[WP] Your phone's always been a few minutes fast. You've never been able to fix it, so you just ignored it until the day you were hanging out with your friend and received this text from their number: 'Omg pls tell me your still alive'
|
Thursday
*Shit. I'm going to be late to the meeting.* I check the time on my phone again. 10:22, and I'm still waiting at a red light. *Come on, change.* I shift in my seat and nervously tap my fingers on the steering wheel in a rapid staccato beat. A line of cars turn left in front of me. 10:23. Finally, it changes.
I get into the parking lot at 10:29. *One minute to get up to the tenth floor.* I nearly knock somebody over trying to get into the elevator, and it's only as the doors are closing that I realize it's somebody I'm supposed to see at the meeting. *Why are they just standing there?*
My boss commends me for being early, as usual.
\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-
Friday
My sister and I are in line at the concession stand. She tells me: "Relax. We won't even miss the first preview" I grit my teeth and hold up my phone, showing her that it's clearly showtime. She shrugs. "Fine, you go pick seats. I'm getting popcorn."
I pick a seat right in the middle of the theater. I turn my phone off as other moviegoers file in. My sister saunters in with a tub of popcorn and plops down next to me, content. When the previews start, I take the battery out, for good measure.
\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-
Saturday
I had already made plans with Cameron for the next day, so my phone and battery are still shoved in the bottom of my bag when we meet. "Wow, this has to be the first time I've actually beat you here." They smile at me from our regular diner booth. We chat about the movie\-\-they've seen it twice already. We argue about the age of one of the actors, and I pull out my phone to prove I'm right.
I'm digging around for the battery in my bag. Cameron tells me: "I'll be right back."I click the battery back into my phone and turn back it on. I missed a few emails this morning, nothing important. I am confirming I was correct about the actor's age when Cameron texts me from the bathroom.
*OMG, pls tell me yr still alive*
I frown and furrow my eyebrows. I'm typing, *What are you talkin* when three men in masks burst through the front door and our waiter screams.
|
The movie theater was silent. Then, I felt a buzz in my right pocket. It was a message from Tyler, reading ‘Omg pls tell me your still alive’.
“Hey, did you send me something?” I asked Tyler. He looked back at me like I was an idiot.
“No. Duh. I’ve been here with you the whole time.” Tyler said. He turned back at the movie screen and ran a hand through his brown hair, which was pulled back into a quiff.
“I got a message from you asking if I’m alive? Is this like a super weird prank or something?” I’m still facing Tyler, who is looking at the movie screen.
“No, I didn’t send it. Stop it.” said Tyler, continuing to watch the movie without a smile.
“Stop what? You’re clearly the one who sent the message.” I respond, slightly irritated.
“Shut up. I know you’re messing with me. Just shut up and let me watch my movie!.” Tyler whispered forcefully. Tyler would’ve yelled if we were outside.
Tyler stared at the movie silently, his hands balled on the armrests.
“Whatever,“ I whisper, indifferent to the situation. Somebody must have switched my contacts. I silence my phone and start watching the movie again.
*\*Perspective Switch :o\**
“Hey, I’m getting food” said Jack, tapping my shoulder.
I didn’t respond. I was still pissed off about the prank he tried to pull with a fake message and decided to keep watching the movie.
“Whatever.” he said. From the corner of my eye, I saw Jack shrug his shoulders before getting up and leaving.
Let me tell you something: When I get angry, even over the smallest thing, I tend to hold a grudge for a while. Every action grates on me the wrong way, and I see the person through the worst lens possible.
I was clenching my fists, just wanting Jack to walk out a little faster. I felt the unreasonable anger bubbling and try to take a deep breath. Slowly, I relax and get back to the movie.
After what felt like 5 minutes, I felt a powerful rumble. Dust fell from the roof of the theater and the projector stopped playing. I heard something play on the speakers, instructions to evacuate. Before the people could get into a panic, I had already lept out of my seat and was sprinting to the snack area.
In the hallway was a large pile of rubble, forming a divider between the movie theaters and the entrance. I looked around and yelled ‘Jack’, to no response. I whipped out my phone and shakily sent a quick message: ‘Omg pls tell me your still alive’. I wiped the sweat of my forehead and sent it. Nothing.
| 2018-05-23T18:02:41 | 2018-05-23T17:13:42 | 31 | 13 |
[WP] The most evil demon has been summoned. The summoner is a little girl and just wants to be hugged.
|
Lucifer looked up at the sky., as the snow fell gently onto his face. He hadn't been on Earth for a long time. Not since Cain. The First Summoning. But since then, no one possessed the power to summon him. He frowned as he mulled over the punishment he would exact upon the sorry mortal that dared utter his name.
​
His train of thought was interrupted by the soft whimpering. The moonlight filtering through the trees made it easy to locate the source, not that darkness had any effect on his vision. His tall frame silently walked toward the prone figure, leaving no footprints behind. He reached out toward the figure, and shook it a little. Anticipating a trap, Lucifer stepped back, his wings flaring. A small nexus of energy began forming in his hands, as his senses heightened. "Who are you? " he said. The figure twitched, and looked up. Lucifer's eyes widened in shock; it was a little girl.
​
She looked like she was 5-6 years old, wearing a coat several sizes too big for her. She was barely conscious, her face covered in bruises and clotted blood. This explains it, Lucifer thought. She was an innocent. The pure soul was a powerful entity, capable of interacting with a being like him. He knelt beside her, the nexus of energy vanishing in a wisp of blue-grey mist. Placing his palm on the ground, he warmed the air around her.
​
"Who are you child? Why are you here?" he asked. The warmth seemed to giver her some semblance of strength. Some color crept into the untouched parts of her pale skin.
​
"I.....was.....running. He.....was.....hurting....me."
​
Her words were punctuated with sobs. Tears slowly flowed down her cheeks. Lucifer's eyes met hers, and he saw everything. The horrible torture she suffered at the hands of a man. He was supposed to raise her. Protect her.
A burning inferno of anger and sadness swelled inside of Lucifer. He couldn't heal her. Directly interfering with mortal life or death was beyond his reach. For the first time in his ageless existence, he was helpless. Before he could decide how to help her, he felt a light pressure on his midsection. Shocked, he looked down, only to see her trying to wrap her tiny arms around him. She was fading, using her last fragment of strength to gain a semblance of love and comfort.
​
Lucifer embraced her, as her life dimmed into nothingness.
​
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
​
He stood motionless, fists clenched, looking down at the little girl. At least she got to smile in her last moments. He knew he had to act. How could he not. He was destined to punish. The father would end up in Hell eventually, but Lucifer couldn't wait. For the first time in millenia, he opened up the link in his mind. "Hear me brother. There is a favor I have to ask of you."
​
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
​
A figure stepped out from behind a tree. He was a spitting image of Lucifer, albeit his wings were a pearly white. He smiled a little, "It's been a while. Why did you call me? You know that fighting me will be a bad idea". Lucifer snorted, absently touching a spot just below his left shoulder "It's good to see you Michael."
​
He pointed at the girl lying at his feet, "She summoned me. An innocent child." Michael's smile faded, as Lucifer explained everything that just happened. "What would you have me do Lucifer? Bring her back? She's in Heaven now."
"No. That would be punishment. I want your permission. This one time."
Michael looked into his twin brother's eyes. The same righteous anger he had seen a thousand times. The reason why he could never kill him. The reason why he didn't.
​
Lucifer's eyes narrowed as his brother turned to walk away. Before disappearing into the woods, Michael looked back at him, and gave the slightest of nods.
​
Lucifer smiled. He was going to punish someone tonight after all.
|
*Metugrius văn volokoshto!*
The fabric of reality tears open, and a horrific shriek wakes me from my slumber. It has been long since a ritual was performed in my name. It seems that yet another human has fallen from the grace of the Father, and succumbed to their worldly desires.
A mighty howl escapes from my mouth. It is in the old tongue and indecipherable to most, yet its mere utterance stirred the vilest emotions and spoke of the greatest evils of the nether-realm. Pain soars through my body, bringing it to life, and I crawl through the tear into the realm of flesh.
As my obsidian eyes peer into the world of men, I spot a familiar scene. An attic, scattered with abandoned clothes and belongings. Boxes of books, pictures and toys plagued with cobweb and dust. Yet my eyes are drawn to the rudimentary summoning circle before me. Crudely made but sufficient enough for my entry. It was marked with uneven candles and made with crookedly-drawn lines, but well made when you consider it's craftsman, my new master.
A little girl of only 7, maybe 8 years old. She stares frightfully at me, clutching onto her stuffed puppy. Her blonde hair was stained by mud and dirt into an ugly mix of brown and gold, as were her clothes, which seemed much too big for her. Her bright green eyes shone brightly in the dark, illuminated by my unholy luminescence. While not my first time dealing with children, it was still a rare sight, taking me some time to prepare myself as best as possible to introduce myself.
"Hello dear child. You have summoned me, Metugrius. Demon of terror and fear. How can I help you little master?"
She doesn't respond, only staring silently at me while clutching harder at her puppy. Her pale lips seem to be quivering, and a sparkle appears in her eyes. It is only moment after I notice that she breaks down into silent sobs, then loud wails.
*Shhhhh. Sleep now child.*
As my words reach her, an unnatural slumber takes her, silencing her cries. Fresh streaks stain her soft cheeks, but a peace is over her and her breathing slows to a normal rhythm. It would not do good for my master to be incoherent.
After an hour, she wakes. By now the moon hangs lowly in the sky and the dark of night has settled into a calm blue, stars littering its canvas. She looks up at me with those same emerald eyes, now with a pinch of curiosity in them. Her dry lips struggle to open, but they finally pry open by her youthful might.
"Hello." It came out soft and weak, still dripping with fear, but with a sliver of hope.
"Hello young one. I mean you no harm, for you are my master, no matter how little you are. What is your name?"
"Minnie."
"Ahh sweet Minerva. Goddess of wisdom. Surely like your namesake you are gifted with intellect. Do you know what you must give me, dear Minnie?"
"y...-y..-yes." This time even softer, almost as if she was reluctant to say.
"Wonderful! Wonderful wonderful wonderful. Now how may I help you?"
I stretch out my arm to hers, inviting her to grasp it. She hesitates, and I do not blame her, for my arm was filled with scars, carvings and markings of the black god. Finally she relents, moving her small hand towards mine. She recoils at first touch, for she probably did not expect my touch to be as soft as silk. Soon her hand is firmly in mine and I lift her up on her feet. I too, rise to my full height, dwarfing her. However as I slowly rise I feel a soft tug on my hand and look at her. In her eyes I can see not fear, but sorrow. Her lips move again but this time no sounds comes out. I bring my head down to hers, wanting to hear exactly what her request was. Suddenly her hands, wrap around my head, avoiding my horns, and an odd warmth envelops it. Her tears streak down my face, burning it with its purity and innocence. On the other cheek, her stuffed puppy presses against me, its raggedness now obvious to me.
"Stay."
I bring my long, slender hands around her fragile figure and embrace her. A deal was a deal. For how long I would fulfill it, I do not know, but till then, I must remain in the service of my little master. For till I have her soul, she has mine.
| 2018-09-19T13:21:07 | 2018-09-19T08:27:14 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] Having developed time travel in secret, you find yourself stranded alone in the 1800s following your test jump. Walking amongst the crowds on the cobbles of Victorian London years later, you pass someone humming a Beatles song.
|
I decided to make myself known: "Love, love, love," I sung.
The man looked at me, confused.
"Love, love, love," I tried again. He continued to look confused. He must realise I'm also from the future, too. Surely.
"Love, love, love," I continued. He looked uncomfortable and started to move away.
In increasing desperation, I sang: "There's nothing you can do that can't be done."
He began to run. Was he some sort of time criminal on the run from time police?
But I couldn't think of what to do except sing:
"Nothing you can sing that can't be sung."
I grabbed his arm and sang in his face: "Nothing you can say..."
He finally replied: "Désolé je ne parle pas Anglais."
|
I hurriedly ran, desprately attempting to escape from my pursuers, in HOA one little mistake meant life imprisonment, imagine what destroying a time rift would do, and after building a machine to replicate it, they tried to silence me about the injustice in our world.
I felt betrayed, tears started welling in my eyes but after some shouting from primitive guards and civilians I started thinking clearly again, but to my dismay I heard an ancient but familiar tune, I froze. It was him. A sudden explosion snapped me out of my trance. I ran faster than ever allowed in HOA. Until i felt my limbs begin to twitch, I grimaced. The elimination process had begun, soon I would be captured, no one had ever halted the process, but no one ever had a time machine either. I thought I would be able to make it, but boy was I wrong...
| 2018-10-01T23:20:36 | 2018-10-01T21:16:56 | 152 | 22 |
[WP] You wear magic dampening bands normally reserved for keeping criminals from casting spells. Why? Because your spells are ludicrously more powerful than average, and the bands limit you enough to not break everything.
|
Cordell deflected the immense fireball, a large section of forest exploded in the distance. Another boring attempt at his life, how utterly distasteful. He retook his prideful stance, next to the moonlit pond.
He looked at his assassin with impassive eyes, “Impressive, I’m sure, what did Emiliano offer you?”, he quickly absorbed a lightning strike into his right-hand, blue-white arcane signs hovering in the air around his fingers.
The assassin paused, frustrated with his targets skill and arrogance, he pulled down his black-hood, “I suppose there’s no need to hide my identity, only one of us will leave this place. My name is Demarcus, and I’m going to kill you.”
Cordell chuckled while his fingers mechanically went through well-practiced signs, “He sent you to die, Demarcus,”, long red needles that faded towards black at the tip, pointed at Demarcus from every angle.
Without warning every needle shot out like bolts, towards the center where Demarcus stood. Impossibly, he managed to sense the magic and find a spot where he was only grazed by two of the needles. Demarcus answered by casting a fire spell, an illusion of a red dragon’s head appeared in the air between them and breathed fire at Cordell.
Cordell split the fire-breath in two with a swift air-strike, flames sputtered on the ground behind him, “You’re very good, I will concede that,” infinitesimal shadows permeated the ground as tiny flaming rocks hovered in the air above them.
The small flaming pellets shot out in random directions, homing in on Demarcus. Demarcus began running towards Cordell, his black robes fluttered in the air as he leapt over a few of the bullets, he desperately cast a quick spell.
A large earth-spike penetrated Cordell’s chest from behind, the pellets fell limp to the ground. Breathing with some difficulty, his now red-stained teeth grinned with excitement, “I’ve never seen anyone do that move before, you’ve got some quick movements to you, Demarcus!”
“I hate to do this to such a rising talent, but you leave me with little option,”, the spike snapped, his wounds began closing and a large white disk encompassing the entire forest materialized in the skies above them, turning night into day. Thick manacles fell out from within his dark-blue robes onto the grassy ground. The iron-cuffs twisted around on the ground by themselves for a few moments, finally free from their impossible task of containing this level of magic.
Demarcus looked at Cordell in a mix of awe and terror as he slowly realized his opponent’s power had been almost entirely restrained by magic-shackles, “That’s… impossible! Not even the most powerful can cast anything more than a small puff of air with those constraints on!”
“You should take this moment to reflect, and feel some small semblance of gratitude, few have seen, or will ever see what you are about to, in your final moments,” Cordell and Demarcus along with tufts of dirt, rocks and trees began rising, slowly, towards the white disk in the sky. An intense hot white-glow engulfed everything beneath the disk in a flash.
After summoning a new pair of magic-shackles, and re-applying them to himself, Cordell walked out of the vast crater that had, up to a few minutes ago, been known as Meliworth Grove.
*****
I decided to practice fighting scenes in this story, if you feel like it was hard to follow what was happening I would love to know, critique is always welcome!
If you found something enjoyable here, consider checking out my other stories along with longer running series that I re-post from WP to [/r/NordicNarrator](https://www.reddit.com/r/NordicNarrator/), in any case, thanks for reading!
|
Beneath the eye of the moon, the hissing winds swept away the subtle grate of a window shrieking open. A moment later, a cloaked figure leaped out the narrow opening, and sprinted across the barren fields toward the desolate streets of the city.
The figure moved with an odd determination, disregarding the strength of the currents, as if they were naught but a summer breeze.
Soon, the tender lights of the hearths shifting out the windows and onto the streets illuminated the shadows beneath the cloak, revealing the figure's visage. He was a boy, with eyes red as fire, and hair the color of bone.
He went through bridges were the fog hung low, and alleys the moonlight feared, until he reached an alleyway where a column of piled pebbles blazed with green fire. Its light was dim, weak as that of a candle, but it was enough to etch the woman swathed in rags beside it.
She looked at him through eyes dark as the night. Her wrists were bound with ivory bands. "What pleasant surprises the winds bring," she said, and tilted her head. "I've been waiting for you boy."
The certainty in the boy's step faded. His cloak billowed with the gusts, yet the tremor of his extremities was visible in the rapid motions of his sleeves. He took a step back. "It was a mistake. I apologize."
"What was a mistake?" she said, and gestured for him to come closer. The boy didn't want to, but it was too late, for his legs were moving in their own volition. "Nothing is ever a mistake but the path fate chose for us."
The boy nodded. "I came, yes. I do not know why. I can't explain it. I wouldn't have come if I would've known you would be here. I thought you were imprisoned."
The woman chuckled, gazed at the fire-imbued pebbles. "You would have come either way, for I called you, and for that I apologize. It's not my intention to force you to carry a burden you never asked for. I do not know why is you who I had to call. The stars told me to, and they refuse to explain the reason behind their decision. But one thing you have to know, and that is that tonight I will leave, at last, this soil and this life."
"What?" the boy cried, gasping. "But you are Areneta, Fate-bender, Light of the Moon. You can't die. Even Death has admitted his fear of you."
"He did, yes," she said, and flaunter the bands on her wrists. "But times have changed. I limited myself to prevent a catastrophe. See, I don't think many minds can sustain my power without shattering, and I fret mine was on the verge of snapping. I had no choice, unfortunately. Death knows that, and so he will soon come, for with this bands I'm no opponent to his scythe." She drew a deep breath. "I'm fine with that. My time has come, yet one thing I have to give you before joining the stars."
"What is it?" the boy asked, swallowing hard. His lips quivered and cracked.
She handed him a thin book. "The secrets of my life, the secrets of my power, they are all written there. It's your time to shine now, Intanis. But always remember you have the choice. You can burn it, and risk turning the fate of all things. Or you can read it, and follow what it says, following the written fate of all things. It's your choice."
Intanis frowned, his heart thumped. "But--but I don't know about magic."
There was no answer. The pebbles extinguished, and the shadows engulfed the alley. Amidst them, only the book shone.
Intanis gazed at the stars. "Why?" he cried, and his hands reached for the book.
---------------------------------------------
r/NoahElowyn
| 2019-01-06T12:13:20 | 2019-01-06T09:47:26 | 93 | 41 |
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".
|
I was walking home one Winter night, doing the usual and reading out peoples titles in my head. Kevin Johannes - Dog Groomer, Susan Warren - Kickboxer, I passed a man and woman who's title indicated they were siblings, and who were getting a smidge to romantic with each other, I cringed. Then, sitting on the corner I saw The Forgotten King, I stopped in front of him staring at the words floating above his head. He was curled up just inside the opening of an alley clutching an odd choice for a change cup, it looked like aged bronze and very old.
After a few moments the old man rose his head and saw me looking at his cup, caught off guard my hand shot for my pocket and fumbled for some change, "Heh" the old man chuckled. "It's alright lad, I'm used to people starring, this is a strange thing for a man like me to have." "Where'd you get it?" I asked trying not to seem rude. The old man sighed "Over seas during the war....a very old war, I doubt you'd believe me if I told you which one...no matter, I'm supposed to give it to someone in Rome but I haven't been able to get it back to where It needs to go, so I'm sort of.. stuck, in a way until that happens."
I think to myself what he means by stuck, but I carry on my conversation. "Well I do travel a lot for work, maybe we can talk about it and I can probably help?" The old man stares at nothing for several seconds and focuses back on me. "You... you'd take this burd-..... I mean, cup from me?" Confused, I agree and the old man starts looking more relived than I've ever seen anyone. Fumbling over his words he stands up and shakes my hand. "My good Sir, you have no idea how long I have waited for someone like you to come along, what do they call you?" "I...uh, well my name is Lance" the old man scoffs but quickly tries to hide his reaction. "Ah...well Lance.... thank you for your offering to help me in my ques-.... endeavor. Meet me back here early tomorrow, there are a very specific set of instructions that are involved that I need to prepare." I agree and shake his hand again. As I start going back to my hotel I turn back around "Oh, I didn't get your name" the old man pauses ".....my name? I can't remember the last time I used it, it was... it is Arthur, yeah Arthur!"
|
I once dated a girl who had the title, "The Destroyer". It didn't take me long to realize how and why she deserved that name. After a series of fights and near-death experiences, we broke off our relationship and decided it would be best if we didn't remain friends. I remember the night that I left her apartment, when everything had ended, and I was left single on the city street, with no place to go except my boring apartment in Queens. I walked down 10th avenue, looking for a bar and trying to find any reason to not go back home.
​
A homeless man was standing at the street corner a block ahead and yelling something about coupons. In a normal situation, I would have jay-walked across the avenue and ignored the situation, but my mood requested that I encounter some kind of craziness, so I approached the man until I could smell the layer of week-old piss on his hefty winter jacket.
​
"Coupons are a scam by businesses to make you addicted to their product" he was yelling. What happened next was an accident - but it turned out to be more insightful than I expected. I bumped against his arm that he had stuck out into the crowd, and when I looked into his eyes to offer some kind of chastisement, I saw his title and was shocked. "The Forgotten King."
​
"What did you say, boy?" the man asked me, his voice now quieter yet more threatening. I didn't realize it, but I had muttered his title out loud.
​
"Nothing, sorry.
​
"No, what did you say? You afraid of me?"
​
"No, of course not. I'm sorry, you just look familiar."
​
He gave me a look with the complete understanding that I was lying to him. Then, he pulled a grate from behind a New York City trash can and sat on it, directing his gaze directly up at me. I didn't know what to do until he took another object out from behind the trash can. At first, it looked like a dusty piece of garbage, but when he blew on it, a gleaming lining of gold appeared, and he stood up and placed the crown on my head. The two of us stood there, staring at each other without saying anything. Then he gave me a big, near-toothless and gum-filled smile and said, "now you understand."
​
I nodded, letting the tears stream down my cheeks.
​
"Now you understand."
| 2019-01-08T14:54:13 | 2019-01-08T14:08:02 | 30 | 14 |
[WP] You can teleport. Instead of using your powers for good or evil, you start a delivery business with a quick delivery guarantee. Amazon starts getting suspicious.
|
Chuck waited in the Amazon headquarters lobby for only 5 minutes. One of the receptionists personally escorted him to a conference room 7 floors up. She had to use her ID card in the elevator for access. She was polite and smiling, but Chuck only made a minimal effort to be cordial.
The room was dark, save for the presentation projected on the far wall. It was the growth of Chuck's business, an inexplicable exponential graph. The table was full of smartly dressed executives. The seat closest to the graph was turned, and made no motion to address the newest person to enter. Chuck was only in his beige coverall uniform. He wiped his sweaty palms on his lap at his seat closest to the door.
A few lights came on, but the far side of the room was still dark. A woman introduced herself as the Chief Logistics Officer, Nona Bridges. She shuffled her papers. Her glasses had a glittering chain linked around the back of her head. Were those diamonds? Chuck wondered.
"Mr. Langley, the projected numbers you presented to your shareholders this week are ...ambitious." She said carefully. "We were wondering how this was possible considering you have no corporate transportation listed in your taxes. We see you only have warehouses and suppliers, and some of those suppliers-"
"Some of those suppliers," a man across the table interrupted, "were originally exclusive partners with Amazon." He looked like he played football in his younger years, with broad shoulders, short black hair and his big hands clasped together on the table. "You're getting into some competitive territory, son."
Son? Chuck was offended. We're probably the same age, he gauged. The man continued, "We are certainly disappointed that you've turned down our acquisition offers in the past, but that is off the table as you've told us before to, quote, 'shove it up your asses'"
Chuck let out a smirk reminiscing on that day. But then a squeak came out of the swivel chair at the end of the table. Jeff Bezos faced the group with a contemplative face.
"Charlene, put in a work order for the chair, please." The receptionist that had escorted Chuck nodded from the doorway and left.
"Now, Mr. Langley. Can I order something from you right at this moment?"
Chuck sat up in his seat. "Absolutely! There's no rivals with Chuck-it Fast Delivery." Chuck sent a smug look to the football player-type. The man leaned back in his seat and rolled his eyes.
"Great" Jeff started, "Now, I would like a new pen. One of those multi-colored pens you get from Dollar Tree. I understand there's an additional $5 fee for products that are not direct suppliers, correct?"
Chuck nodded, "That is correct, Mr. Bezos. And when would you like your pen?"
"At the end of this meeting, please." There was only 2 minutes left in their allotted time.
"There is also another $10 flat fee for orders within the hour, sir."
Jeff passed down a $20 bill. "Really not an issue for me, Chuck. Keep the change." The executives let out a laugh.
The two minutes passed in silence. Jeff looked amusingly at his team and threw up his hands. "Well, Chuck. Where's my pen?"
Chuck took a marble pen off the table, and wound up to throw it. "Think fast!"
Everyone panicked and looked away, arms up and covering faces, but there was no noise of an impact. Jeff looked up at Chuck to see him standing with his arms down. In front of Jeff was the multi-colored pen he had asked for.
"Anything else I can get you, sir?" Chuck asked politely.
Jeff pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his head. With a stifled laugh, he said, "No, that will be all. Charlene can escort you back to the lobby. Thank you."
Chuck was eventually escorted out. Charlene returned to the conference room, "Mr. Bezos, the video footage is in your inbox now."
Jeff smiled at her, then looked to the camera in the corner of the room. "Thank you, Charlene. You've been a part of a real turning point for this company."
|
"Sheila, someone's here to see you."
Her brother's tone caught her off-guard. The 20-year-old had the reckless confidence of his age, so Sheila couldn't remember the last time she heard a note of fear in his voice. But as she looked at him now, standing at the top of her basement stairs with arms folded, it was plain he was scared.
"I don't have time right now," she replied. "We've got to get those three Samsungs to Anchorage tonight, and we promised the Playboy's to the sheik --"
"That can wait," he interrupted. "Just come up here." With that, he walked back through the open door.
Sheila sighed and looked around the basement-turned-storage unit. Large boxes lined the walls, and makeshift shelves bent under the weight of her goods. Anything was possible for her clients, of course, but as her reputation had spread amongst a certain crowd, the types of people she wouldn't want her mother to know about, the inventory had grown increasingly clandestine.
She stepped over the box she was about to deliver, a pair of long-range rifles headed to Cape Town, and moved up the stairs. There was no sound coming the first floor of the two-bedroom house, which was how it should be. Meetings were rarely held here, and no one was due today, so why someone was in her home was beyond her.
As she reached the top of the stairs and turned into the kitchen, she finally heard an unfamiliar voice. "No coffee, thank you. This shouldn't take long."
With that, her brother came back into the kitchen, face ashen, and gave subtle shake of his head. Sheila wasn't worried -- she'd been in dangerous situations before and survived without a scratch. After all, she had the ultimate escape tactic.
The man wasn't facing her when she walked in; he was examining the smattering of framed family photos hung on the far wall. But from the back, he didn't seem intimidating. Simple workout clothes rested below a small. bald head.
"Your mother?" he asked without turning, pointing to one of the photos.
"Who are you, and why are you here?"
Then he turned, and she recognized the face immediately, recognized why her brother was so startled by their guest.
"I see you know who I am," said Bezos. "What you may not realize is that I know about you, too, Sheila Rodriguez, age 24 from Phoenix. I am curious though -- where you born with your talent, or discover this later in life?"
Sheila greeted his question with the silence it deserved. Surprise had been replaced by stubbornness, so she simply crossed her arms and waited for him to continue.
Bezos shrugged. "Fine, have it your way. You'll be speaking soon enough. I have a proposition."
"I work alone," she snarled.
"Not from what I just saw," Bezos responded, nodding towards the door where her brother had just exited.
"That's different. He's family."
That spurred the first sly grin from the tycoon. "Ah, good, so I have judged you correctly. Please look out the front window."
Something wicked in his tone spurred Sheila to cross the room and peak through the closed blinds. Out on the curb of their quiet suburb were two large SUVs. One of the vehicles had its rear window down -- sitting in the back, clear as day, was her mother, bound, gagged, and crying.
"Now that you understand the situation," said Bezos, voice smug, "I suggest you call your brother back in, and you will both accompany us to our local headquarters. Make any move to escape and your mother doesn't make it home tonight."
"What do you want?" asked Sheila, voice trembling, eyes still staring out the window.
She could sense him walking up behind her. He spoke softly as he respond, "Just a little experiment we've set up. Shouldn't hurt *too* much."
​
*authors note: running out the door in six seconds, can't keep going with this until tonight. if there's interest ill loop back and add the conclusion. apologies + cheers*
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227/365
one story per day for a year. read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)
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| 2019-02-02T12:32:14 | 2019-02-02T10:56:35 | 79 | 47 |
[WP] You are a proud and powerful demon, strong enough to topple entire nations and you've only ever been summoned twice. This is the third time and you see a eight-year old girl holding the incantation book in one hand and a chocolate bar in the other.
|
The closest human experience to being summoned was birth, the pressure all around, squeezing and pushing you, propelling you forwards. Then a huge release. Maybe you get used to it with experience, but this only my third time. There I stood, hunched over in the tiny space, and began my introduction,
" who has summoned me, Regis, destroyer of civilisation....."
"can you help me?" I heard a small, high pitched voice. As I looked down in the dim, small space, I saw her. This tiny, fragile, innocent thing. A young girl.
Not what I was expecting. Normally my master is older, male, with a hope of conquering the world and fear in his eyes at the monster he had summoned. That was how it was in Egypt, and then for the holy roman empire.
"can you help me..... Please?" the question broke my thought, and I looked again, the girl was small, with dirty brown hair, and brown eyes. Days worth of dirt and grime marked her face and night shirt.
"I am Regis, one of the most powerful demons to walk this cursed place, tell me, what do you desire, to be a queen? Have nations bow at your feet? To control an unstoppable army and conquer the whole world?
She looked up at me then, no hint of fear in her eyes, only sadness. " I'm Sarah, the book said that you would protect me, that you would keep me safe, that you would help me". Her voice sounded old beyond her time, like a warrior who had fought too many battles.
"That is correct, I am bound by oath to obey whoever summons me, to protect them. Tell me, master, what you desire and it will be done"
"Everyone has left me, my dad left when I was a baby, my mother died last year, and my gran died a few night ago."
"So, you would have me bring them back for you, perform necromancy? This is not what you would expect it to be, the people brought back are different....."
"NO" she shouted, interupting my warning. "No, none of them were ever kind to me, they all treated me as a burden. I want you to be my family, I want you to take care of me, as a father would"
I stood in shocked silence for a second, I had never heard of this before. Demons being summoned to do evil things, killing peoples rivals, spreading famine and plague, but this was something new. I looked at myself, huge, covered in ancient armour forged in the belly of a volcano, the skulls of mans best warriors adorned my shoulders as trophies " you are aware of what I am, a creature of evil. A force of death and destruction." I gestured to my armour " A warrior with no mortal rival, slayer of armies"
"the book said that you would protect me, help me, that you were..... Powerful. "
I thought of what she had asked. In my previous lives I had done all manner of evil, performed acts of wholesale slaughter, torture and worse, all at the bidding of my masters. Surely I could manage this, it should be easy. Compared to enslaving thousands and conquering countries this should be simple. " I will agree to this but you need to give me something of yours that you cherish, to seal the pact. This should be your most valued item."
She presented it then, a small item, barely bigger than her hand, " before he died a few years ago my grandad gave me this, it was one of the only kind things someone ever did for me, I cherished it too much to eat it, so I could hold on the memory better"
I looked at her offering, I had no idea what a Mars was, it looked tatty and worn from being held, but it was clear that it was her most prized possession. It meant more than any of the previous offerings of first born child or the blood of a hundred virgins. This was all she had in this world, the only kind memory she'd had in her short life. " I accept your offering, I will act as a father and do all you command until you release me."
A high pitched shreek and the small girl collided with me so hard I had to fight the reflex to fight. Her small arms barely able to wrap around my leg, as I looked down I could see the streaks of tears making a clean path down her cheeks." now Sarah" I said causing her to look up to me, "now we have lots to decide, starting with how I look."
"don't worry, I've been dreaming of this for a long time."
|
The earth shuddered at the utterance of the demonic summoning. The tides seemed to still, the wind become deathly calm and all around the world a chill went down the spines of the living and awake. It was as if the whole planet stood still in the stunning moments before a crash. Deep below, in the underworld, the laughter of demons was clear and proud. Their champion, the great and powerful Beezlebrig, was finally given admittance to the mortal world and after 900 years, the suspense was tight in his lungs.
Uman di weya tchoo. And let the light be vanquished.
Samantha, who had found the scripture in her parents basement behind a long column of forgotten boxes, had no idea what she had done. She was a young girl of eight years and had just started to read without the help of her father. The tightly bound book and engraved flames was in the box labelled in large letters 'Never Open! For the souls of the innocent! Never open!' But little Samantha was curious by nature. Maybe there was fairies inside, maybe a frog prince. Maybe another bar of chocolate, that would be nice. And so she opened it, and she read with all her tiny might the glowing words before her.
Teeka maniya seelo di fan sskeelim yata. Let the truth of flame and fury be borne again.
As the words came thick from her mouth, in a voice unknown and powerful, the hair began to rise from her head in strands. The lights of the basement flickered and burst in pops and upstairs the crash of her father falling could be heard. The basement door swung closed and locked. Beezlebrig had rose from the ground in glorious evil.
'Finally, I have been freed again! How I've missed the feel of ground beneath me, the sight of stone has worn my eyes but now I am back, thank you, small child, I am here to serve your bidding.'
'Excuse me... em... you don't look very much like a fairy, but my father says never to judge someone by their looks.'
Samantha was peering in confusion up at the massive body of Beezlebrig, who stood tall and thick and red before her. His horns were sharp and twisted, his feet were the hooves of goats and a small ragged cloth hid his man parts but only barely.
'I, small mortal, am Beezlebrig. I am not a fairy.'
Upstairs the crashing of her father could be heard against the basement door, much louder than before. Much more desperate.
'I read this book and you came through the ground, that's like magic! Are you a wizard?'
'No, I am no wizard.'
'I know! I know! You're a genie!'
The dark lips of Beezlebrig twisted upwards in a dark and gruesome smile, and two rows of ripped teeth could be seen behind. He was drooling.
'Yes, little mortal girl, I am a genie. A wonderful genie. Like in the fairytales, would you like to make a wish?'
Deep below the sound of laughter could be heard again, a thousand evil howls lifted together in an awful glee. Samantha's father screamed from behind the door.
'Yes! Oh yes! I would love to make a wish, let me see emmmm...'
Samantha put her hand under her chin in a mocking pose of thought.
'Think carefully child, you shall only get one. A special wish for the special girl that read my book, would you like to meet my family little girl? We all know magic very well, and I'm sure they would love to give you all the chocolate and princes you could want. I am sure of it.' The breathing of Beezlebrig was getting heavier and his wide back rose and fell with every breath. He wanted something, Samantha could tell, but she just didn't know what.
'More wishes! I could get a frog prince! I could get three whole chocolate bars! Three!'
Beexlebrig's smile widened even further, and his lips touched ear to ear.
'Say the words child.'
Samantha's Father made one final howl from behind the locked basement door. A sound of deeper sorrow than anyone could imagine. It met Samantha's ears and she was startled.
'I wish to meet your family! And, I wish that dad can come too!'
Beezlebrig had never looked happier, and his eyes grew black entirely.
'You're wish is my command.'
A moment later, the basement was empty and just as foul as before, the dust had settled and the door was unlocked and open. No one stood on the other side.
Deep below, a chorus of shrieking laughter shook the earth and all was still again. We will never know what happened.
| 2019-02-11T06:59:56 | 2019-02-11T06:40:15 | 80 | 24 |
[WP] Unlike the rest of your Tribe, you can see an aura coming off things that lets you do things like spot fruit more easily, tell when the fruit is ripe, and tell how much your prey is bleeding. You are the first Human who can see Color.
|
I didn't realize that everyone else saw the world differently until the child emperor passed through the Tribe. I had finally found the 183 lighter hairs that proclaimed me Wise and was allowed to sit amongst them during the Festival of Light.
"Born with a head full of Wisdom," whispered Tarley beside me, "not a speck of Youth on her."
I nodded sagely, "Everyone is born with a contrast of light and dark. Pale skin that darkens with Might. Dark hair that lightens with Wisdom. Everyone gains some measure of both."
"And you sitting here a full two years before I could," Tarley rolled his eyes.
I caught a hint of jealousy in Tarley's tone, but before I could respond a wave of bows ran through the assembled wisdoms. The child emperor had arrived surrounded by 16 Mighty, who's skin had darkened like the earth beneath us from years of training under the sun. 16 Mighty where 5 would have been enough to defend against the thirty-odd Wisdoms assembled.
I peered curiously at the child emperor shrouded in her hooded cloak. Trying to catch a glimpse of her face. Of the hair that spoke of her right to rule. Suddenly, she threw back her hood and stood with hair gleaming in the sun. Around me the gathered Wisdoms began to cut short locks of their hair in tribute, but I remained motionless and wide eyed.
Where the Wisdoms had shocks of hair like the moon at night or ash at the end of a low fire. Hair that spoke of experience and the knowing of things. The child emperor had hair like the sun on a blazing day, and no one else seemed to be able to tell the difference...
|
When I was young, I thought these Colours were cut and clear. Blue meant calmness, Black was sickness, Orange was warmth, Yellow was happiness, but I found that, they were actually much more subtle than I had given it credit for.
It happened when I was picking out fruit. Usually most of these vegetables have a Yellow-Green mist, as though the colour of sunlight through leaves had been captured in the essence of the fruit. However, that day, out of curiosity I had picked an orange with a Green aura that looked more like moss than filtered sunlight. When tasting it, there was a weird aftertaste. Looking into the mirror yet again I found that there were now new wisps of Black mist swirling near my stomach.
There are more colours of course. Gold mists are usually found around places of worship. Red was interesting. Dark Red mists hovered around couples, but the rare ones who were Bright Red were often harder to approach. After a while I learnt to differentiate between rose-coloured and stop sign-coloured.
People have many unique colours, and they changed all the time. Parents who picked up their children from school were often Gray until they interact with their child's Yellow auras and turn a beautiful Pink and Orange sunset colour. Stern people were often Purple. Police being a main example of it when they pull somebody over.
Hospitals were particularly scary, yet inspiring. There was always a permanant Black mist around the hallways. Black fog poured out of the bedridden, their original Colours muted and dull. Dark Blue around their relatives, but the doctors and nurses glowed White and Gold like stars in a night sky.
However, I have never been able to figure the Silver mists that can only be found at night...
| 2019-03-21T14:38:30 | 2019-03-21T14:20:20 | 112 | 44 |
[WP] You are a time traveler entering a medieval tournament in which the winner gains the right to wed the princess. You're the first match and the king announces that you may use any weapon. Quickly you draw you're glock and shout "parry this you fucking casual"
|
My opponent was dead before he hit the ground. In hindsight, bring a Glock-18 to a medieval tournament might have been a little overkill.
Smoke billowed out of the barrel, forming plumes around my visage, I knew I looked kinda cool but to these people, I must’ve looked like a witch. Because that’s exactly what the men of the king’s guard exclaimed.
“One thousand, two thousand, three thousand.” I counted under my breath, applying gentle pressure on the plastic trigger to avoid barrel drift. Three men, once bearing down on me, now lay dead or dying in the mud.
“Oh ye of the devil, ye shalt never ‘ave this Daughter o mine.” The king screeched, drawing his admittedly majestic sword, though I doubt his pot bellied frame would get further than two feet if I decided to put him down. However, regicide would put me in a pretty terrible position.
“Ahh, your grace. I’m not a witch nor a devil worshipper. I am god’s retribution, his divine wrath upon you and your kingdom for your failures.”
Who knew, an entire stadia would go from wanting to burn me at the stake, to crying on their knees. I see why people start religions now.
|
\[Poem\]
Did you know
that crossbow bolts
also travel very fast?
Looking down I think
(as part of me admires the feathers)
that maybe
just perhaps
this should have been
considered
somehow
Also
now it
(breathing is very hard)
it turns out they know what a fucking gun is
I mean
they didn't when I drew it
but
that sound is kind of hard
to mistake
(it's interesting)
(there's very little blood)
I think maybe a straight shot
might have gone through but
turns out, again?
hard to aim
with a knight bearing down
and
a glancing shot off steel plate?
well
I mean he did retreat
turns out, again the third
that "any weapon"
comes with, like
cultural context
chivalry and shit
and I don't think
I can get off
(or have my lung un-pierced)
on a technicality
so
here I am
(feels like the blood is just collecting inside)
on my ass
and I see
no one
in the stands
who looks
very impressed
with me
I think
it
is
nap
now
...
r/Magleby for other elaborate lies.
| 2019-03-22T21:47:18 | 2019-03-22T18:44:18 | 1,094 | 388 |
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again
|
"Are you ready?" Death asked. His emotionless eyes stared down at me, calm and cool.
I huffed out a disagreement as a reply. "No, I didn't want to die just yet. My life just started."
Death didn't say anything, just nodded and turned away. I sucked in the breath of life, hearing the joyful gasp from my surroundings. It was a happy day.
The second time Death visited me, I was under a car, right next to the wheel. Everything around me ceased in time, only Death approached.
"Are you ready?" He asked again. The question sounded light as a feather, but it struck something heavy in my chest.
My eyes found the biggest love of my life, Alice, who was frozen in the air as she ran to my place. Her face twisted in shock and fear. "No," I said, "I'm not ready yet."
Death tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitched. "Very well." He whispered and turned around. Death left again. I was spared one more time.
The third time I met Death, the house was on fire. Death walked through the flames like walking through silk. He crouched down next to me, asking the familiar question. "Are you ready?"
I glanced down at the leg that was crushed by the fallen closet and then brought my eyes up at Death. "I'm sorry, I'm not ready. Alice is still in her room. I need to wake her up."
Death gestured my leg. "If you go on, the rest of your life would be in pain."
"It doesn't matter." I coughed. My eyes were dry and my throat was on fire. "Alice means everything to me."
Death sighed, standing up. "We'll be seeing each other again." He left, as usual.
The fire destroyed the house. The only thing I could remember from that night besides the conversation with Death was Alice's relieved face when she found out we both survived. I had no idea how I was able to carry her out, but I managed. Somehow, I had a feeling that Death had spared us both.
Years went by, and soon enough I was old, very old. And sick. I laid still on my bed when my family gathered around. Many of them cried, and I wished I could do something about it. But I was too weak to move.
Everyone said their farewell, because they knew my time had come. I did, too. I could already feel Death's presence.
"I'm not ready yet, Death." I said, knowing Death would hear me. "Alice isn't here yet. I can't go without seeing Alice for the last time."
"Don't worry, my friend." Death's hollow voice echoed in my ears. "I'll wait with you."
And he did. I took every heavy breath carefully, stringing along my chance. Then I heard Alice's familiar footsteps. I opened my eyes to see her rushing through the door.
She called out my name, wrapping her arms around me. The warmth and scent were welcoming. This was it. This was home.
With teary eyes, Alice said her goodbye. I laid my head on her hands, taking in every word. She said she loved me. I knew that already, but my heart jumped for joy every time she did.
"I am ready, Death." I closed my eyes.
The pain, the weight, the stiff movements suddenly left my body. I opened my eyes and found myself next to Death, right behind my family. Everyone was weeping, and half of me wanted to stay. But I knew it was impossible.
"I apologize for not coming with you so many times." I said to Death.
Death shook his head. "It's fine." He patted my head. "Let's go."
I took a final glance at Alice and her family, then walked alongside with Death.
"What's next?" I asked.
"Why don't you tell me? It has always been your decision."
I thought for a moment and suggested, "I want to stay by your side, is that okay?"
Death smiled for the first time. "Who am I to refuse a good boy's request?"
|
The first time I died, it was an accident. I was crossing the road, and someone ran the lights.
I woke up and saw my body lying on the ground in front of me.
The man who had hit me had leapt out of his car, his hand over his mouth in shock and horror.
Some passers-by rushed to my body, lying still on the ground, with just a trickle of blood running out of my nose. Someone attempted chest compressions.
I felt a presence beside me. Not a dark, evil lingering, but one with an air of calmness. I turned to see the Grim Reaper standing there, cloaked and hooded. Dark mist rolled around his feet. He gestured gently.*"Are you ready to go?"* his voice rang like the tolling of a church bell.
I chuckled to myself.
*"Not really! I'm only 24."*
*"As you wish."* the figure faded away.
I blinked in surprise, and everything faded to black. When I came to consciousness I was in a hospital bed, surrounded by my tearful parents and siblings. They told me I had been hit by a car, but the lady giving me CPR had kept me alive until the ambulance came.
I didn't tell them what I had seen.
The next time I died, I was 67. It must have been a heart attack, they're hereditary in my family. I saw myself lying in bed beside my wife, both of us looked asleep. I felt the same presence again as before and turned to see him.
*"Are you ready to go?"* he asked again, just as he had before. I looked at my wife, lying there peacefully. I glanced back at him and swallowed nervously.
*"It seems a shame to go like this...I'd hate her to wake and find me..."*
He waited ever-patiently for me to continue.
*"...No. Not yet. Thank-you."*
*"As you wish."* he faded away.
Again, I blinked and found myself back in my bed, beside my wife. I gently held her in my arms, and drifted back to sleep.
The third time I died, it was just old age. I was 92.
*"Are you ready to go?"* Grim rumbled once more.
I still felt like there was more to be done.
*"Not yet"* I told him.
*"As you wish."* again, he vanished like mist at sunrise.
Every year, he would return. Every year I would politely decline. Years continued to pass.
I watched my wife and siblings pass away, my children grew old, grandchildren were born and grew old as well. I amazed everyone with my longevity, and broke many world records, but I was happy with the rest of my family.
Finally, when I reached 200 years, I saw him again on his annual visit. I was in my room, as always nowadays, surrounded by the photos of my extended family.
*"Are you ready to go?"*
I looked at the photographs of my great-grandchildren's faces. I looked at the photographs of my brothers and sisters, my mother and father. I looked at the photos of my children, when they were young. I looked at the photograph of my dear wife...and I felt tired.
*"...Yes."* I replied, *"I think I'm ready now."*
*"As you wish."*
Death raised his scythe and brought it down with a flash of light. The thin thread of light connecting me to my body was cut cleanly. I blinked and saw a arched doorway beside me. Death offered me his hand.
*"Thank-you...I'm not as steady as I used to be, though you'd know, of course..."* I laughed a little nervously.
His hood raised to look at me, and I saw a glimmer of blue within the depths.
*"She's waiting for you."* he told me solemnly.
I swallowed, my eyes welling up.
*"Thank-you"*, I whispered.
I held his gaze for a moment, then we walked through the arch together…and we faded away.
​
\-----------------
​
My first story for this subreddit. I've not written in a long time, so it's nice to brush off the cobwebs! :)
| 2019-04-16T13:18:01 | 2019-04-16T11:57:55 | 39 | 19 |
[WP] When you were a child a strange little man gave you a beautiful gold and silver pocket watch with the image of a serpent eating its own tail etched into it, now nearly a century later as you lay on you death bed the same strange little man appears to take the watch back, whispering "Thank you".
|
Finally, the room is quiet. Hours of visiting relatives could grate on the calmest nerves, and I was in little mood to be calm now. I could feel the end coming, my toes were already cold and numb, far worse than the frigid conditions of a hospital room could explain. It was almost time.
Outside I can hear my great-grandchild babbling, too young to understand why everyone else is so sad. They named him after me, an honor I protested vehmently, much to everyone's dismay. None of them understood. How could they? None of them had ever seen what I had seen, and every attempt to explain it fell on deaf ears.
The curtain moves by the window, as if in a breeze. "I know you're there," I call out softly. My last visitor has finally arrived.
"You always were so perceptive," says the strage little man I thought I must have imagined as a child. I'd lost count of the number of times I'd tried to throw his gift away, sell it, pawn it, give it... no matter what, the watch always came back. Always in my pocket. Always as beautiful as the first time I'd seen it. Always as heavy as it has always been.
"Why?" I asked as I offered the watch back to him. He points to the bedside table and I set it there with an effort.
"You know that's not how this works," he said with a strange little smile.
"I tried everything to get rid of it."
"I know," he says with the first trace of sadness I'd ever seen on his face.
"What is it?" I ask, the mystery of the watch tantalized my thoughts sometimes for days at a time, then not at all for months or even years. The watch simply... was. Enduring, unchanging, inexplicable. No tool I'd ever found could scratch it, not even diamond. Tungsten. Titanium. I'd tried them all. The watch never needed to be wound, never lost a second, never ticked. It was a silent sentinal throughout all of my life and yet...
"A better question is, what do you think it is?"
"My soul?"
My answer seemed to amuse him, "You were a child when I gave it to you, you had a soul long before then."
"Your soul?"
That did not amuse him. "No."
"I'm the most ordinary person anyone could ever meet," I say quietly. "Good kid, good grades, good family, there is absolutely nothing special about me... except that watch." His eyebrow twitched, just a little. Just enough. "So, was the watch supposed to protect me... or protect everyone else?"
The strange little man's face scrunches up in something that might be disgust, but I don't think it's directed at me. "I can not answer that."
"I'm dying. What would be the point in keeping it a secret?"
"It is because you are dying that it has to remain a secret."
Babbling outside of the door, the strange little man's face grows sad and I feel anger swelling in my throat. "No. No. Oh don't you fucking dare," I gasp as the last breath leaves me as though being pulled from my body with a vacuum.
"I wish I could make you understand," he says with such profound grief in his eyes. "Everything depends on this. Everything you know. Everyone you love. Everything." I feel suddenly helpless and realize that the numbness has crept all the way to my throat now, my heart struggling against the spreading cold in my chest. "I never agreed with it," he whispers as my eyes close and my lips move wordlessly. The world goes dark around me as the sound of the watch rasps against the table, suddenly ticking for the first and last time. "I never agreed, but I will wait to pass it to him for as long as I possibly can. Thank you, for the sacrifice you never even knew you were making."
|
Arthur was tired. His time was near. He could feel it. He ran his finger over the watch in his pocket. He traced the snake from it's mouth to its tail. He sighed. He still wasn't sure what it meant. He felt cool wind on his face from the window as he thought back to the day. The strange man who had approached him when he was only about six years old. He thought back to his whole life. An ordinary life. That was the only thing that stood out to him.
He sat up straight. Wind? His window was closed. He looked at the open window and his eyes came to rest on the chair on his room.
"Hello Arthur."
"You?"
"I?"
"You are real. I always believed. People told me I was crazy."
"Maybe you are. Maybe we all are." The little man moved back on the chair to get more comfortable. "You have something for me?"
Arthur took out the watch. "What is this?"
"Ouroboros."
"Yeah, I know what the symbol is called. But what is it. I've had the watch for over a 100 years, but it has never told me the time. At least, never the correct one."
"It always told the right time. It's just in the wrong dimension."
"The wrong dimension?"
"Would you prefer the word Universe?"
"As in multiverses."
"Sure."
"That's just a theory."
"And yet here I am. I'm certainly not of this world."
"You... I... Am I dreaming?"
"No, you're not. This is real. I am real. The artifact is most certainly real. In fact, it's probably more real than any of us."
"The artifact?"
"The watch. It allows us to travel through the multiverse. And it binds us together."
"Together?"
"Let me tell you about my world. A world torn by war. The tyrant who rules with a literal iron fist. Magic is abundant. And prophecies. All your little fantasy stories basically take inspiration from our world."
"That sounds like bullshit."
He shrugged. "You don't have to believe it. Yet. Soon enough you will see it with your own eyes."
"What do you mean?"
He ignored the question. "This watch belonged to my friend. The prophecies anointed him as the chosen one. I was the faithful companion. And we came close. We did. But the tyrant was too much for us."
"Who is this tyrant?"
"A human."
"Like an actual human? Like me?"
"Yes. We don't know where he came from. But he did. And he was able to utilize the magic in our land better than any one of us could. He is stronger than us and took over our world. I realized that to have any chance to beat him, we would need to know him. As I held the dying chosen one in my arms, I knew then that we would need some outside help to beat him. Someone as powerful as him."
"Wait. Do you mean..."
"You, Arthur Dent. I need you to come with me. And save us."
"Me? I am weak. I'm on my deathbed."
He walked over to Arthur and used the steps to hop onto the hospital bed. He took the watch from Arthur and ran his hand over the snake as Arthur had done a while back.
"Ouroboros. This means infinity. This means wholeness. When I gave you the watch, it split you. A part of you is not completely human. It enabled you to live longer than most of your peers. But now, as your human part is getting closer to dying, the part of you that belongs in my world is getting closer to being. The circle of life."
"I don't understand any of this."
"You're no about to die Arthur. You're about to be born. You are the chosen one. The one to lead the revolution. Come Arthur Dent, fulfill your destiny."
A surge of adrenaline coursed through Arthur's body and a smile appeared in spite of himself. The ECG flatlined and the watch disappeared from his body.
| 2019-05-30T11:18:32 | 2019-05-30T08:25:51 | 29 | 20 |
[WP] You are a State Necromancer, employed to temporarily ressurect the dead so they may bear witness in court. But on rare occasions you are asked to perform another role: Permanantly ressurecting prisoners who were executed and then later pardoned. But "pardoned" doesnt always equate to "innocent"
|
I walked through the narrow hall, clutching my briefcase in my right hand. The leather handle clung to my sweaty palm. My heart beat faster than normal.
"Get it together," I said under my breath. I had been doing this for nearly twenty years, and I'd never been this apprehensive about a client. Perhaps I should have taken it as a sign. *Always trust your gut*, they say. Problem is, my gut was just as broke as I was.
I took a deep breath and knocked once on the plain steel door before me. After a series of clicks and clanks, it creaked open an inch. A single eye peeked through the sliver, its owner remaining silent.
"Devin Shaldow, here for mister McCrae." I extended my business card, focusing on keeping my hand steady.
The man opened the door and stepped aside, leaving my hand held awkwardly in the air between us. It was no surprise. Most people were untrusting of State Necromancers, even when we were on their side. No matter. I was there for a job, and I'd follow through.
I was led through a series of small rooms--some scarcely larger than a closet--and soon found myself in large, stainless-steel lined area. It was reminiscent of the police morgue, though coated in several layers of dust.
On a steel table in the middle of the room lied a large man, naked except for a towel over his waste. A courtesy I wished more people would provide. I sat my case on a nearby table and gathered my things.
Most of it was just for show. A few wires attached to a useless box. A contraption to lay on the man's chest, complete with useless knobs and buttons. When we entered the public eye, years ago, people were afraid--so I was made to alter my craft. Make it look more... scientific. Rubbish.
The one real piece of equipment was a heart monitor. I lifted the man's cold, stiff finger and slid it over the tip, then connected the other end to my case. A small screen flicked on, displaying a single flat line.
I glanced down at the man's face. Tony McCrae. I'd seen his face all over the news when his execution was finally carried out. People rejoiced. The head of the largest crime family this city's ever seen--finally put down. The trial was expedited--the newly elected mayor wanted this man gone within his first month in office. He didnt want him to have a chance at escaping conviction.
Well, that was his mistake. It didnt take long for McCrae's team of crooked lawyers to reverse the decision. Got the whole case thrown out. And, unfortunately for me, they overturned his execution.
I laid an hand in his chest, next to the contraption. I made a show of twisting knobs and nodding along, though the real magic took place from my palm. His cold skin grew warm. A soft tingle spread from my palm to my elbow. The monitor on my case offered a single *beep*, then another, until it matched the rythm of his now-beating heart.
"All done," I said, packing my case. I had no desire to linger. "I just need you to sign some things and I'll be on my--"
I froze, staring at the barrel of a pistol inches from my face.
"You ain't goin' nowhere."
I lifted my hands in the air. "Gentlemen, I've done my job. Your man is alive. And I'll remind you that killing a State Necromancer is--"
"Not gon' kill ya," the man said, the corner of his mouth rising. "Quite the opposite, n'fact."
My heart sank. *Please don't say it.*
"Got s'more friends for ya to bring back."
*Shit.*
r/Ford9863
|
"Okay...Alright I've got a pulse...maybe...Abigail, push two CC's epinephrine. Yup, okay there it is. See if you can hold that...nope, push push push." Claire gently brushed the dowsing rod back and forth from temple to temple, waiting for a twitch. She'd been at this over an hour and it was getting hard to tell what was from beyond and what was because of lactic acid. *There*. She closed the pattern around the spot on the forehead, looking for waypoints. A freckle, an ingrown hair. She bounced from one to the other, feeling for the ictus of life. "Cantor, the invocation if you please." Lead by the woman just behind the operating table a choir of six began an atonal fugue at a dirges deliberate pace. Clashing tones sliced at your sensibilities- where you wanted consonance there were dancing tritones. Where resolution was demanded only further uncertainty reigned. Claire tugged with the rod dragging at life's imperative. She felt it squirming, desperate to rest but awoken by the cacophony. "Alan...Al, please are we ready to shock?" Alan snapped the paddles on the sallow chest. "Okay... Synchronized at 118BPM...Clear!" The body leapt off the table, eyes cracking open. He lay there, taking long ragged breaths eyes searching the surroundings. Claire let the rod fall to the floor, exhausted. She leaned into him, a certain cruelty flashing in her eyes. "Mister Santropez. Welcome back."
She had taken a shower and a half hour in a steam room, and drank a gallon of electrolyte beverage. She was still short of breath and couldn't hold things effectively, but the lawyers were impatient. Two aides dressed her in traditional robes. She slipped the golden chain of grasping hands over her head, and went to see the fellow. He looked utterly despondent, leaning on against the wall of his bare cell. A hand idly touched the the deep lines and vicious bruises ringing his neck. Poor fellow should have known better. The lawyer looked at her. "Are you sure this was the correct decision? His trial was so close...one juror away from the death penalty." Claire shrugged. "Mark, let me put it this way. I'm a plumber. I don't tell you the sink is ugly as sin, I attach it to the wall and run the water. If you have a problem, you have the DA's phone number I'm sure. If it were my choice I'd hang up the chain and sleep for a hundred years, but that would just mean some poor acolyte would pick it up in an instant. Let's finish this, I'm famished."
She swept through the door, prompting him to scurry into a corner. "You've been quite a naughty boy, haven't you Mr. Santropez? The state of New South Wales sentenced you to one hundred and fifty years, did you think you could check out early?" She clicked her tongue chidingly. "I'm afraid this is going to make the remaining..." She looked at the lawyer's clipboard and arched her brows "seventy eight years rather...trying. No sheets, thick blankets, no utensils, no..." He screamed over her, cowering, making himself small. "I SAW THEM! Down there...in the pits...amongst the bodies, bodies, stacked like...like firewood! They were there telling me! Telling me! Please, please they're there, guilty! Guilty!" His voice was hoarse and labored. Claire shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid nothing makes it past the veil, Mr. Santropez. What you saw was a fever dream, endless and infinite concocted by your dying brain. But, that's a price I payed, and now you will pay the same one." She turned to leave, Mr. Santropez still gibbering behind her. She called to him, "Enjoy your stay!"
| 2020-01-06T10:34:18 | 2020-01-06T07:55:29 | 794 | 80 |
[WP] You have the ability to detect fish underwater. This makes you an expert fisherman, of course. But the deep sea hides so many secrets that you can’t even begin to describe.
|
As his assistant, I sat on the doctor's boat, twiddling my thumbs while he stared deeply into the algae saturated lake. In his cloudy, pale, eyes I could make out the reverberations of the pool's surface as the fish slapped their tails against the muddy bank. He stood petrified, as if a single breath would have disturbed the murky air. This was, according to his own words, the 'magnum opus' of his career and an 'incredible learning experience' for an aspiring marine biologist.
It was just last week that the doctor, after 30 years of fruitless research, managed to procure a most peculiar specimen. A twin-headed eel-like creature, spanning an arm's length with leech-like fangs. It was nothing like I, or any of the scientific community, had ever seen. He said that this creature was most likely a bottom-feeder and had floated to the surface when it had perished. This hypothesis was reasonable, but what wasn't reasonable were these 'expeditions' to this lake in the dead of night.
I didn't know why I was drawn to this lake, especially with my inexplicable recent disgust for fish. Maybe I only continued to work with the doctor because of the unconventional peculiarity of that creature. When it was reluctantly handed to me, I hanged the fish and stared at its dilated pupils for a brief eternity. Its mouth, protruding chipped teeth, seemed to twitch in the dry air as if it were attempting to speak.
"The water..."
If I were to have stayed any longer near that festering fish I would have become as senile as the doctor.
On this night, the doctor held out his cold, muddied, hands with glee. In it was another unidentified fish, gasping to breathe the air from the surface world. This one had protruding squid-like tentacles from its body and urchin-like spikes around its tail, and it was completely foreign to me like the rest.
"There are more..."
The doctor cradled the creature in his hands as if it were his newborn child, whispering to it. But unlike him, seeeing this creature turned my stomach, and this night was especially revolting. This persistent feeling of a familiar rancid stench wafted through the air.
"Under the lake..."
He jolted up and pointed to the water. Before I could comprehend what had happened, the doctor had placed on his diving helmet and leapt into the abyss. And after a single splash all was still and I could once again see the moonlight reflected across the surface.
It was not that I couldn't stop him, but a primal desire from within held me silent. I wanted to see those panic-inducing things from the world below. I could always feel them from the surface, floating just beyond my grasp, slithering away into the safety of the darkness. And so, I let him swim to his heart's content.
"Up..."
The doctor calls to me, and so I reeled in the cable attached to his suit. Faster and faster, I pulled, feeling his voice growing to a roaring crescendo beyond the water.
"Help..."
Only a few meters of the line were left until I felt the gut-wrenching feeling that something was wrong --- that I shouldn't disturb what was just now at arm's reach. Against all of these painful signals, I gave one more pull.
I pulled the doctor onto the boat and removed the protective helmet. Hundreds of blood-red worms scrambled onto the deck, writhing in the cold air. I could barely recognize him with his now jellyfish-like skin bloated from the world below. His pale fish-eyes pierced my soul with anger.
"Murder..."
I collected myself and realized my mistake: I do know the fish in this lake. And so I tossed him back with the rest, content with the lake's usual hunger. It was a good night for an 'expedition', and I then turned the boat back home, leaving behind only the murmurs of the fish under this silent lake.
|
Ever since I was a kid, I had the ability to spoke to fish. But then I was there sitting at the harbor talking to a freaking lobster . I used to eat these things and now I was stuck in a conversation with it. I thought I am going insane.
While sitting here with the lobster scolding me, I tried not to pay attention. My mind wandered off to when I first discovered my power .
*I was in at a pet store talking to the funky clown-fish, the big googly-eyed goldfish, the colorful koi fish, and the dancing hermit crab. And that was nostalgia.*
But this lobster thing seems at the time more of a mess than a miracle.
The lobster won't stop scolding me. "Why have you been eating seafood for most of your life!!?"
The loud yelling that only me and probably only a rare few people can hear freaked me out. "Because I didn't know that I can talk to creatures who were meant to be my food?"
"Meant to your food!?," said the lobster angrily, "You were supposed to be my protector!"
"Honestly, I would rather see you on my platter."
"Even so, I will guide you to be our protector."
"I must abandon my life of being a fisherman to be your protector. And I really don't want to...It's uncomfortable leaving that especially when you've been doing it for a long time."
"I don't think your appetite will remain after this. "
"Yes. You're right. Congratulations for making me lose my appetite for fish and chips, sushi, and clam chowder."
"So do you want to hear a story to feel better?"
"What story?," I asked amused that a lobster has a story to tell.
"Sea monsters are real."
My eyes widened.
"Sea monster....... I lost my father to a sea monster many years ago. I wasn't there was happened but people found his missing bloody boat."
"I understand your pain," said the lobster, "My father was probably eaten by someone you sold him to, monster."
"Okay. I get it. I was a terrible person who underestimated his gift and ask dolphins to help me in catching fellas like you so I can a quick buck....I am sorry."
"Really?"
"Yes. Friend."
"That means a lot, human."
"From now, I will protect you. But I also want revenge on that sea monster."
"Are you out of your mind?"
"I must avenge my father"
"I..."
"Please...."
"Fine."
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------'Maybe becoming emotionally attached to seafood is a good thing', I thought.
'I can finally get my revenge.'
So on that very night, I sailed into the ocean with my new trusty lobster sidekick.
I never really planned for this.
Since I can talk to all sea life, I was easily listen to conversations of the various creatures in the ocean to find out where the sea monster usually shows up.
And then a mermaid emerges from the water but she wasn't pretty as Ariel from the Disney movies. She was more much more disturbing. Her eyes looked like shark eyes and her skin was pale and green. Her brown hair was covered in green moss and her breathe smells like the breath of wolf. She even had an octopus tentacle for a tongue.. She started to sing. I want to flee but I was unable to leave because I was enchanted by a song she sang. But the lobster leapt at her and the song stopped because she was busy trying to tear the lobster apart. And that gave me enough time to run away.
And then the next day, I woke up bad about recklessly heading out there because the lobster might have died. It decided to bravely sacrificed itself to save my life even though I used to eat seafood. "
"I need to get rid of monsters like those not for revenge but to protect humanity.", I said.
" I can't rush out there recklessly anymore."
I paused for a while.
I really missed that lobster.
But then I heard a knock on my door. I opened it to find the lobster.
"What's up, human."
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
**(I am open to Critique!** P.S My imagination got crazy. **)**
| 2020-03-07T23:53:32 | 2020-03-07T23:37:46 | 77 | 16 |
[WP] The Apocalypse wasn't as bad as the legends foretold. Sure the demons and angels are fighting everywhere, but they don't do THAT much collateral damage and the economy is booming thanks to humanity's ability to profit off of war.
|
So the end of the world finally came. And people got over it.
The Rapture did too. And to be honest, not nearly as many of us went missing as expected. Go ahead. Take a guess. What'd you guess?
Six.
That's right. Six people. For being "God's children" or whatever those fundies like to call it, he doesn't like us too much.
And it makes sense, I figure. Because we're having way too much fun with this sort of thing.
See, I get what you're thinking. "But it's the end of the world." Well, when you consider how long we've been pumping up the world for this sort of thing. Telling them for thousands of years in some roundabout way or another, it tends to make people a little... crazy.
Crazy, being short for killing each other for eons, in many cases over the simple existence or lack there of, of a higher power.
Funny in hindsight. Well maybe not that funny. Okay, sort of funny, also quite sad. Semantics... eh, lemme get back on track.
Did everyone panic at first? Yeah. Obviously. But it turns out angels and demons react to hot lead or a serrated edge just as easily as incantations or prayers. Any which way you slice it, or them, they're going home somehow.
Turns out, the militaries and other armed groups don't take kindly to anyone that threatens their homes.
Add in a little dash of convincing the powers that be of all the untapped minerals and resources in either dimension... Yeah, you get the picture.
I wasn't very keen on selling wares to denizens of each realm. At first. But this is permanent. I may as well do my thing. Moving supplies pays so much better these days.
We barely have to fire a shot. Instead of receiving, we ship it.
And if one of us dies, we'll be back. From one place or the other. Whoops. Guess the guys upstairs or down below missed that problem. From what I've learned firsthand, you get some pretty sweet benefits along with six senses.
So? Are you in or, are you out? Because we need another set of hands. One of our main guys is still in limbo for couple of weeks as far as I know.
We got trucks, airdrops, if you can drive a boat, we can get you hooked up.
If you have any questions, ask Lilith upstairs. She's kind of bored these days. But hey, HR isn't really her thing.
What can you do, right?
---
Criticism, feedback and the usual are welcome. Find more at r/Jamaican_Dynamite
|
"I'll take uh, the flaming sword today Isaac." The demon said with an easy-going look on his face.
"Ah, you do love your antiques don't you Rasmondeous. That'll be 50 angel feathers."
"What can I say, it's hard to beat the old stuff." He tossed Isaac a small, brown sack and flew out of the store with his new toy. Isaac sat behind the counter and counted the feathers, and as per usual, the demon shorted him 10 feathers. Classic demon move.
Isaac moved into the back of the store where is father was forging up a new sickle, "I swear to satan we should've done business with the angels instead. These bastards are always shorting us feathers!"
His father wiped the sweat from his brow and looked up from the forge with a smile, "But the angels don't like our weapons, something about being too barbaric remember... pansies."
"Ya ya I know, but you'd think the devils would be more appreciative considering they've been winning this war for the past six years thanks to us humans... You know, sometimes I wish we'd sided with the angels instead."
"Don't say that son."
"No, I'm serious! These demon guys are real assholes."
"Don't assume any better from the angels."
"Seriously dad, why did we pick the demons instead. Everyone else sided with the angels."
His father became stern with this question and gazed into the flames of his forge intently. "You're not old enough yet."
"Oh come on dad! You've been saying that forever! You'll have to tell me eventually."
"Fine!" his father boomed, "Fine I'll tell something just to get you off this danged question! Then be done with it!" Issac became excited, his father never told him anything about before the apocalypse. He ran over beside his fathers forge and sat down to listen.
His dad put down his tools and turned to his son with a serious face, "You know I love you."
"Of course."
There was a long pause after this, as it seemed his father was contemplating something. "We chose the demons because they promised me something. Something very important to me, something the angels couldn't promise."
"What was it?"
"I told you I wouldn't say much, that's all you need to know."
"But da-"
"Enough! Now back to the storefront immediately!" Isaac carried himself back to the front with his head down. His father turned back to the forge in deep thought: *He can't know. He can't know this whole thing is about him, no boy should live with that kind of knowledge. That the battle for the world is about him.* He looked back over at his desk, where his own name wrote down on a tablet: "Abraham."
*He'll never get my son.*
| 2020-05-06T08:54:06 | 2020-05-06T07:10:52 | 153 | 84 |
[WP] as the house you're trapped in burns to the ground you contemplate "how am i gonna explain the fact I'm immortal to the firemen without starting another religion"
|
"Hey there little fella. Hey buddy. It's ok. It's ok."
Yes, ma'am, I'm aware it's ok. I'm always aware that if I say as much, you're going to flip shit.
"Any idea where this baby came from?" the firewoman asks. "It looks like the building, but obviously..." and she gestures at the smoking ruins of my old house. Yes, highly implausible, well spotted *ma'am*.
"No clue. We can't even find evidence that anyone's lived here in years," reports back some faceless chief.
"How strange."
No, what's strange is being graced with immortality on the caveat that, at all time, you must be aging. Now aging forward or backward is up to me, but I gotta be going in one direction and once I pick it, I gotta stick with it til the end or the beginning. I'm currently going back up now. It was nice to finally be able to form words and walk again, until I fucked up my cooking and ignited the place.
In comparison, a house with no owners that burned down leaving a two year old unscathed is practically normal.
"Hmm. He looks kinda shell shocked."
She's a real winner, this one.
"Well... I'm going to accompany the EMTs with him to the hospital. You tell me if you find anything."
She carries me to the ambulance while the hard working, criminally underpaid med techs start frantically searching for something wrong. Across from me, the firelady is giving me those big goo goo eyes. She's also smiling and waving her hands around and damnit that unformed part of my brain is eating it up and I can't stop a giggle from escaping my lips.
"Awwwww," they all go.
It doesn't take us a lot of time to get to the hospital and do the whole song-and-dance about where are the kid's parents and why doesn't he have any injuries. Ok, it does take a lot of time, but when you've been around six centuries, you start to be able to skip through the slow bits.
This ends as, at the end of the day, the hospital folk say they don't want me. Apparently I'm not sick enough and it's time for foster care.
The firefighter lady looks down at me and I know where this is going immediately.
"Hey buddy, wanna come home with me?"
If I'm being honest, it doesn't sound like a terrible deal, so I sigh and nod, forgetting myself for just a moment. She looks surprised but pleased and then we're in a car, zooming 'home'.
It's a strange feeling. I haven't lived with a parent for a while. My last childhood, both 18 years in reverse and 18 years back up to adulthood, were spent ~~lonely~~ alone so it's been close to 200 years since I had one of these. I've heard times are good for kids. Maybe this won't suck.
"Maybe I can keep you," she muses. "I dunno, maybe I can swing it. Single mom who puts out fires for a living, what could possibly provide you with a more stable home."
She sounds sad and, being the sucker I am, I feel sad for her. I think growing up would be easier with a parent on hand and she seems a bit more relaxed. And honestly, if she had the years of knowledge that I had in my head, it'd be easy to swing the legal stuff.
We stop by some stores, which I kinda mentally fast forward through, as we get all the clothes and toys and food and shit that she swore she already had, and then we're home. She's got my favorite food and soon I find my stomach nice and full.
Then she gets all morose looking at my peachy lil face and starts crying. Then she picks up the phone and starts dialing. I'm only half paying attention when I hear her say
"Yes? Is this foster services? I think I may have made a mistake"
"Woah. Stop. Put it down now."
She whirls on me with a scream and the phone goes flying. Great. Cops are gonna be on the like white on rice.
"Look, ma'am, it seems like we both got something we could get out of this deal, so why don't we approach it smart."
"You're talking?"
"You're following along better than the last yokels who started worshiping me. I think you're a smart lady. Would make a good mother."
"I-I'm barren."
"And ya know what? I'm ok with that. I don't want siblings anyway. So, we don't got a lotta time before foster services sends a police car over to investigate the woman who 'made a mistake' and then screamed before the line went dead."
"I... I didn't think about that."
"Way ahead of you." But her eyes are clear and she's listening and I know I've picked right. I lean in, conspiratorially. "Here's what we gotta do..."
___
Find more stories at [r/SamaraWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/SamaraWrites/)
|
Flames licked at my right side, scorching my torso. The side of my shirt was seared, crumbling into cinders as I dragged myself along the soot smeared hardwood towards the central wall of my family home. Of course this would happen to me.
Is it too much to ask for a small nap after dinner? I mean, I know I should’ve checked the element was off. And that I had moved everything flammable away from the stove. And actually put the fire alarm back after I took it down to change the batteries.
Scratch that. I’m just an idiot.
The ceiling cracked and creaked as I crawled towards the front door. Clouds of smoke, low and thick, obscured my vision and choked off my lungs when I tried to stand. The rustic, pine dining room table cracked and popped as it burned. The couch I was sleeping on had long since crumbled to ash, leaving only metallic springs and the wooden frame which even now continued to burn. A fate I would share if I didn’t make my way to safety.
I could hear sirens over my home’s groans of complaint. Shafts of red and white light stabbed through the shadows, revealing hints of the hellish purgatory of my own devising. Incomprehensible shouts barraged my ears, and I pulled myself towards the front door.
Whatever happens, I cannot die here. It’s such an inconvenience.
For context, death isn’t exactly permanent for me. In fact, it’s merely a step into the next portion of my life. When my final breath is exhaled, I burst into ash, and am reborn as a child of any species I choose. For a time, I was a bird of red and gold, shining like the morning sun. Centuries later, I chose to be reborn as a common house cat, and died several times as a kitten. I may be responsible for the myth about cats having nine lives.
But the real problem is when I’m human. The last time, I got crucified and left to die. The gracious, misguided humans took to my burial with gusto, and I was thrown into a stone tomb before I could spring from the ashes. Jesus only had to wait three days, but I was stuck there for months. Suffering from an endless loop of death and rebirth, until finally one of my births happened to coincide with a young woman paying her respects to her ancestors. She could hardly ignore the squalls of a young babe now, could she?
Back to reality. The smoke is hanging low. Mottled oranges caress my body, wreathing me in pain. The smoke sinks lower embracing my lungs and wrenching away my breath. I can hear the wood of the front door splintering under the weight of the axes, but it’s too little, too late.
I curl in upon myself, and release my final breath.
_____________________________________________________
I awoke crying. The ashes scratched my smooth back, and I was hungry. The pressure of two gloved hands supported me from my rear and my neck, clutching me gently to cloth that crinkled from the pressure. Warm, black tendrils of smoke wrapped around us before we burst into the evening air, and a fresh breeze blew it all away.
“My son!” My mother’s cries assaulted my ears. “Where is my son?”
“I’m sorry, miss,” the firefighter clutching me to his chest replied, “There was no one else in there. We chopped down the door, but all we found was this babe laying in a pile of ash.”
“Please!” she yelled, “You have to look again. My son is still in there!”
“‘Ey, Boss. I’m going back in for another look.” The second firefighter ran back into the building, watched anxiously by my mother and the firefighter holding me to my chest.
Minutes passed before the man stumbled out again. He looked at us, and slowly shook his head.
My mother burst into tears, collapsing to her knees as she sobbed and wailed. Our cries intertwined, one voice expressing sorrow, another screaming its hunger, and both lamenting their loss.
Boss sat down beside her. He cradled me in one arm as he pulled her close. “I’m sorry, miss,” he said, “I’m so sorry for your loss. But this babe here was found alone in your home. Is he yours?”
She shook her head.
He smiled, before passing me into my mother’s arms. “I know your son can never be replaced, but this child clearly needs a home. Would you be willing to take care of him for us?”
Mother looked at him in shock, before turning to face me. I grabbed her finger with my own, and she smiled through her tears.
“I will,” she said softly, “I even have a name for him.”
“What is it?”
She stroked my cheek with her finger. “I think I’ll call him Phoenix.”
_____________________________________________________
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed my stab at the prompt. If you want to read more, check out [r/smoothbaritone](https://old.reddit.com/r/smoothbaritone/).
| 2020-08-21T13:22:24 | 2020-08-21T12:18:50 | 489 | 80 |
[WP] You're immortal and each time you die you respawn some time later in your 20 year old body a few hundred metres from where you died. You have just realised that it really truly sucks for you to die in the middle of the ocean.
|
Each day begins with a small light that grows brighter as my eyes open to face the featureless hellscape of an ever-shifting plane. The small waves mean nothing- they simply buffet me without end or beginning.
I tried to swim, at first. I had learned how so long ago that I cannot truly remember who taught me. I tried every conceivable direction. It always ended the same way. Exhausted, my muscles aching, I could no longer move.
My next attempts I simply floated, watching the faraway stars and trying to discern some pattern, some long-ago learned constellation. It was for naught. I had clearly floated so long, each kilometer a death, that I could no longer recognize even the stars.
It is in this watery purgatory that I tried to fathom what sin I could have committed that would warrant such a punishment as this.
Eventually I began to hasten my own demise. I would drink the briny fluid, feeling my stomach churn with each brackish gulp. These days were dark. Once I was simply eaten by a shark, its jagged teeth tearing into my flesh. It was a comforting, early release.
Eventually I turned to the only resort that I had. Floating in this amniotic world, I thought of what I could do if this punishment ever ended. I began to hate the changing face of this sea-born life. I craved to see it replaced with cold certainty. I floated and thought. I must have spent decades like that.
I cannot comprehend in any meaningful way how long I had spent in that sophistic hell. I was once picked up by a passing ship. It was propelled by billowing blankets instead of the rows of slaves that I had seen before. The men spoke in high, soft voices, and, thinking that I was hallucinating, that this way simply another way to heighten the pain of endless deaths tossed upon an infinite sea of my own demises, I grabbed one of their scimitars and ran it through my stomach.
Another eternity passes. I was hoisted onto a massive bulk of metal. These men had no swords, their ship smelled of soot and fire. They spoke gutterally and cocked their heads at me as I tried to speak with them. Eventually I learned that swords had been replaced- this was a colony of magicians that propelled chunks of rock with magic dust. I used one to destroy my deceitful head.
I awoke in another part of their behemothic ship, naked and only half-literate. Staring up into the dark recesses, as crewmen surrounded me, I began to laugh uproariously. It echoed in the small hallways of the ship as I realized that my punishment was over.
Now it was time for my revenge.
It has been another thousand years. It is unlikely that in what used to be this tropical wilderness, that anyone will ever find this note. I spent so many lifetimes in pursuit of this single goal that I have forgotten most of my names and all of my friends. But it was worth it.
Now where there used to be vines of green and colored serpents, there is a dusting of snow upon the ground. The sea has been retracted, coiling in on itself like an injured viper. I look out from what used to be the coast and shiver happily.
I have taken my revenge on this mysterious liquid, this elder abomination from which once man crawled. Now in the place of the swirling riddle of the ocean, there is nothing but the cold certainty of ice.
I laugh once more for the first time in a thousand years. There is no one left to hear it.
|
You take the first breath and choke on water immediately. Salt burns your throat, your nose, your eyes, and it’s all you can do to stay afloat.
The boat... where is? You need to find it. You need to give that sonuvabitch a fucking beating for stabbing you in the back, the little rat. How could he have betrayed you for so little? You gave him everything he had, and he fucking guts you for a measly hundred thousand dollars.
But you already know that it’s hopeless. It’s been a good hour after you’ve died, and the boat is long gone. You’re two thousand kilometers from any nearest land.
You look around at the infinite ocean around you, and screech incomprehensibly in rage and the knowledge of your futileness.
A wave washes over you and you sputter as more water forces its way into your orifices. You can’t breathe. It hurts—everything hurts—and when the next wave slams into you, you’re gone before you know it.
You take the second breath more cautiously now. This time, you’re lying face up in the water in fetal position, and the seas are calmer. The sun beats down on you, and you can feel your face burning painfully. In your current naked state, your entire body feels exposed, like meat left too long under a heating lamp. What you would do to be lying in your nice, air conditioned penthouse over New York. You’d made it big this cycle. Rich, powerful, a harem of handsome young men slobbering all your heavily Botoxed face.
And Brian...
You clench your teeth as you think of him. He’d been nothing when you picked him up. He was a street urchin with zero dollars to his name and you’d been the first to offer your hand and promise that he could be great, as long as he was loyal and true.
So fucking long for that.
What’s he doing with that money now? Fucking some crack-addled escorts and gorging himself on your assets, you’re sure. Cozying it up with your enemies, laughing about how naive and stupid you were, to trust a handsome face and some pretty words...
You turn around and choose a random direction to swim in. It’s not effective by any means, but you’ll go insane if you don’t do anything. Everything hurts. Your legs feel red and raw every time they kick the water. Your chest heaves in exhaustion, but there’s nothing to hold onto but water, water, everywhere.
Maybe, it’s better to die.
You let yourself sink into the water and embrace the pain of your lungs burning. Nothing hurts so much as Brian’s betrayal. You’ve always chosen a right hand man every cycle, and none of them have even had the audacity to think of hurting a hair on your head. How could you have chosen wrong this time? If he needed that money, he only needed to ask. Why? Why?
*Why?*
You wake up again enveloped in water, your lungs heaving in a futile attempt to breathe.
You die again.
You wake up.
You die.
Again.
And again.
And again.
You don’t even think between the cycles. Soon, the burn of your lungs becomes the only constant in your life. Thinking is too tiring. It’s better to let everything go.
For the first time in your life, you wish God would truly let you die.
But when you take another breath and only water comes in, you can only stare helplessly at the sky and wonder why your wish had been granted so very long ago.
Had it been an act of benevolence, as you had thought... or merely a punishment for your hubris?
You wake up again, and there is only water.
| 2020-09-06T07:53:04 | 2020-09-06T07:48:30 | 2,243 | 1,156 |
[WP]One day, while cleaning out the attic of your deceased mom's home, you stumble upon an old oil lamp. In clichéd fashion you begin to clean the lamp and a genie appears. "Ah yes,"he thinks. "Another poor sap." Too bad for him, you're a contract lawyer. Quite a good one, at that. Monkey's Paw who?
|
"Three wishes" the genie proclaimed in a bouldering voice that echoed trough the attic.
The lawyer sat down on an old cardbox filled with old family pictures. He read enough stories go know the genie would twist to his wishes that would surely and painfully backfire. After staring at the empty wall for what felt like hours to the genie he finally spoke.
"I wish..." he said "that you would grant wishes, not with malicious intend for your own sadistic amusement, but grant them with the best intentions to help those who make the wishes achieve a long, happy and fulfilling lives, not just providing what they want, but what they need, even if they are unaware of it themselves."
The genie, clearly annoyed answered.
"And for your last two wishes?"
The lawyer thought. "I don't know. You choose."
|
\#1) I wish that all of my wishes, including this one, are granted in the spirit intended rather than just the strict wording of the wish and in such a way that there is no counterbalancing evil or unpleasant act that must be performed which will make me or anyone else regret my having wished the wish, for example none of the following situations should arise: wishing for prolonged life would include health and preserved vigor and mental capacity but would not result in a punishment or any other occurrence where I am either trapped, imprisoned, or in prolonged pain for the duration, wishing for money would not result in anyone else's harm of loss of money, but would result in a new discovery of assets, and wishing for super powers would not necessitate the corresponding creation of an arch nemesis or someone else with super powers with the intent of preventing my fullest enjoyment of any power I wish for.
| 2020-10-19T21:15:28 | 2020-10-19T21:01:22 | 85 | 49 |
[WP] For most of college everyone thought you were deaf when in reality you just don't like talking and learned sign language at a young age. You never corrected anyone until someone confessed their love for you, thinking you couldn't hear them.
|
"I love you" he whispers.
He stands up and faces the window and lets out a small fart he thinks I can't hear.
He turns back to me, "I've loved you since freshmen orientation, when you dropped your orientation folder and I helped you gather up the papers blowing in the wind, just like my heart."
He looks down, he faced pained, and lets out another short fart.
"And now, it's our last semester and I can't image moving on in life without you. I know you think of me as friend, just that nice guy who hangs around but..."
He walks to window again and let's one more long fart.
"...I think we should be together."
|
I make my goodbyes to the others then I finally sign to Kylie. I put two fingers up to my eyes then lower them to have my thumb pointing out and an index finger down 'See you later' , then transitioned into the next sign two 'K's and tapped them together, once, twice 'take care' waiting for her to wave goodbye before turning to walk away,
_"**I love you!**"_
I froze thinking of everything leading up to that moment. Marking off that you did require accommodations to be with your friend who was actually deaf. The Class that you shared and the outings your group has gone on. Was that a double date? Am I the dense one?
>! ^^^"Sam?"
| 2020-12-01T17:59:26 | 2020-12-01T17:09:39 | 33 | 15 |
[WP] For most of college everyone thought you were deaf when in reality you just don't like talking and learned sign language at a young age. You never corrected anyone until someone confessed their love for you, thinking you couldn't hear them.
|
"I love you" he whispers.
He stands up and faces the window and lets out a small fart he thinks I can't hear.
He turns back to me, "I've loved you since freshmen orientation, when you dropped your orientation folder and I helped you gather up the papers blowing in the wind, just like my heart."
He looks down, he faced pained, and lets out another short fart.
"And now, it's our last semester and I can't image moving on in life without you. I know you think of me as friend, just that nice guy who hangs around but..."
He walks to window again and let's one more long fart.
"...I think we should be together."
|
So two years ago, I got hit by an arrow right in the neck. The tip clipped part of my vocal cords but I got better in half a year, but somehow, it evolved to deafness??? Anyways here I am, scar on my neck and my college friend asking me out for a date in ASL while saying it. Now I didn't care for speaking, but after the arrow, I sound like I survived getting my lungs shredded by mustard gas. So with all the courage I could muster, I spoke, Saying "Yes." She. Was. Furious! She began laying into me about lying about a disability, but I couldn't help but laugh with my raspy voice. I calmed her down somehow and told her why I don't talk, and where I learned ASL.
| 2020-12-01T17:59:26 | 2020-12-01T15:26:25 | 33 | 13 |
[WP] The deity woke up from a 100-year snooze and stretched, looking around. In surprise, it found that there were no humans around. A passing animal told the deity, “There are no humans left on Earth.” It queried, “Then, why can I still feel them?” “There are no humans left ON EARTH.”
|
In the time since Gaia had last awakened, much had changed in the world of men. Curious to see what had gone on during her century-long slumber, she took a deep breath and with a deft motion, sent tendrils of power spiraling into the earth. She became the trees of the Amazon, standing proud and basking in the light. She became the shifting sands of the Sahara, powder fine and delicate. She was the soil that gave life to the planet for millennia. Boundless was her reach and bountiful was her power. And yet there was an absence. Initially, she'd assumed that humans had just moved around. It was a perennial habit of theirs, moving population centers for no good reason. She'd followed them from the cradle of the Tigris and Euphrates to the far east, then to Europe after that. But try as she might, she couldn't find them. Their metal-and-glass monuments, stretching to the clouds and numbering in the thousands, still stood, but they were hollow. She heard the song of a passing mockingbird and extended a hand. As it came to perch on her outstretched finger, she asked "Where are the humans?"
"They're gone, gone, gone" The bird arched into a backflip.
"Where are they this time? Antarctica? Underground?" Gaia began to feel queasy. She remembered gifting them life, thousands of years ago. She remembered watching them develop into societies, and then nations. She remembered feeling nervous when they began to mine, and betrayed when they began to tear the earth apart in search for more and more. But nothing compared to the sinking feeling she felt now. "They must be somewhere?"
The bird flapped it's wings, sending itself aloft. As it flew, it sang for her to hear: "No more humans left on Earth, they've gone and said so long!"
Slowly, she turned her head to the sky, and instantly she knew. Specks of light shone bright with the souls of her children. They were away on other worlds, and sealed off from her forever. Thunder cackled, and she sobbed with the rain.
|
The deity yawned. “So where are they?”
“Is that *really* the question you should be asking?” the rabbit replied.
“Oh, sorry, why *aren’t* they on Earth?”
The rabbit was happy enough to explain. It cleared its throat. “Due to technological advances,” it started. “Humans can now travel to other planets. They have also come up with various ways to cope with undesirable environments, for example environments that have a lack of dihydrogen monoxide.”
“Water, you mean,” the deity interrupted, scratching his head. “By the way, you seem to have been preparing this speech for a while.”
The rabbit glared at him with its beady eyes. “No, I haven’t,” it denied. “Anyways, these new advancements, combined with the fact that Earth was falling apart, convinced humans to move to different planets. Among them are Mars, Venus, and Ceres, the largest asteroid in the Asteroid Belt.”
“But before I went to sleep, humans were the ones destroying Earth. What would moving to other planets do?” the deity asked, genuinely curious. Unless humans had changed their ways, they would encounter the same problems time and time again. And if they fixed those problems, they wouldn’t have to move. Surely humans weren’t *that* stupid, right?
The rabbit sighed and took a breath. It seemed to have been waiting for this moment its whole life. “Unfortunately, humans are *extremely* stupid. They believed that the problems came from the Earth itself, and not them. Of course, there were humans who knew the real problem, but they were few and far between. And the ones making the decisions were politically powerful people, and *those* people didn’t believe that humanity was in the wrong.”
The deity hummed his agreement. “I guess I should visit my - *ahem* \- idiotic children, then?” he said with a smile. The rabbit vigorously nodded. “Thank you, then, I appreciate the help.”
He stood up and brushed off his white robes, which had somehow stayed spotless during his century-ling nap. A wind began blowing, getting stronger by the second. “Farewell,” the deity said, before disintegrating with the wind.
| 2021-05-06T14:48:12 | 2021-05-06T14:35:46 | 314 | 57 |
[WP] "Wow, what a great batch we've got this time!" exclaimed the angel looking down at all the horrified cultists. "What, did you really expect that to summon a demon? Come on, we advertised it like that because you guys need us most!"
|
Now that I'm thinking about it, I don't think I joined a cult because I wanted to summon a demon--it was to quell the ones inside me, however temporarily. Friends helped, I felt, and weirdly, the cultish energy offered by a, well, cult, was the quickest way for me to feel like I belonged somewhere, even if I never really believed.
And so, I stayed. I worked my way up, because that was apparently how cults worked. Don't ask too many questions, keep your head down, and... people will like you? And really, the cultists? They weren't that different from you and me--I suppose really just you, since I'm part of this--and the tax breaks are substantial.
See, this thought was really relevant now, because as I stood at the front of gathered thousands, I could feel the otherworldly being's myriad eyes stare straight through my soul, a gaze of judgement that made me felt damned, even if I haven't done anything wrong. A strangely familiar feeling took root, sending tendrils of chill into my blood--ironic considering the spires of flame that flickered and licked at the surrounding air.
"Be not afraid," it said.
It had to be an it. This creature could not remotely exist in our world, universe, dimension...
I heard many scream with joy. Or fear. Or a belligerent cocktail of both, likely garnished with mind-numbing euphoria. But this was no demon. This was no devil.
"Be no afraid," it repeated. I gulped, forcing saliva down into my parched throat, unable to speak a word.
"Walk before me," it said, gently floating up despite its massive size. It rose ever so slightly, though a monumental doorway opened below it, rimmed by fire.
A still, quiet second, a perfect pond in spring, turned into a flurry of activity at the first step of a cultist, whose standing up was the stone that sent ripples through a brief tranquillity. While I continued kneeling, hundreds of people ran towards the doorway, stampeding and falling over themselves to rush into the door unlocked by a thousand-eyed being.
I suppose I was never as passionate about this as them. I simply knelt and gawked, feeling the glancing blows of grabbing hands and bent knees on my back, watching people that I considered friends--acquaintances--pile into the doorway.
And soon--maybe not soon, but time lost meaning for a while there--there was nothing but a droplet of water left in a once-filled pond.
The door closed, then, but the being stayed there.
"You are afraid," it said. Its voice boomed considerably now, echoes bouncing off the empty walls, seemingly only growing in strength as they assaulted my eardrums.
"I am terrified," I replied. "You are no demon."
"I am not," it said. "I am here to help. For the people that rush into the door are the ones in need of salvation the most."
The first tear rolled down my cheek--the first of many more that night.
"And what about me?"
"You are afraid," it said. "For there's hope for you yet."
"Hope?"
"Be human," it said. "Eternal salvation or damnation will not run from you."
With those words ringing in desecrated halls, the angel disappeared, zapped out of existence--leaving me alone, still on my knees, with little idea of what to do next.
---
r/dexdrafts
|
In a dome-shaped building far west, a group of five men sat in their positions around a circle full of arcane designs done in white ash, and they chanted ancient words under their breath.
As their mutterings reached a fever pitch, out came a crack of light from the center of the circle. The men did not stop their chants.
A flash of dazzling white light and an androgynous human clothed in a white tunic now stood at the center of the circle.
The men looked at the figure with suspicious eyes. One of them, an old man, cleared his throat and said, “Hail Satan!”
The other four repeated, “Hail Satan!”
The fair-haired figure laughed a clear laugh. It sounded like the sound of silver bells – like music!
“How foolish are ye, how foolish. Ye can’t even admit ye mistakes when ye see them,” it said.
There came a great deal of rustling and muttering from the group and they said, “Do you test us, O terrible one?”
The tinkling laughter again. “I am an angel. A true angel.”
The hooded men looked at one another and said in unison, “The Lord has risen! He is a fallen angel no more. Hail Satan, the first angel to rule over the underground!”
Hearing this utterance, the angel laughed no more. It levitated above, far above, the heads of the hooded men.
"What a splendid batch we got this time!" it said. "Did ye really expect that to summon Satan? We tricked ye because ye need us most!"
The group of five men gasped. They knew not what fate awaited them, but more so they worried about the state of things in hell.
“Have you overthrown him? Is our Lord the great ruler of all things terrible your prisoner?” they asked the angel.
The angel laughed again.
“I know not the state of things in places I do not visit. Ye shall not know what the state of that sorry creature is. Ye shall be cured of such curiosities.”
The hooded men were now huddled together. “Will we be whipped? Will we be torn from limb to limb? Will we be scorched in flames?”
“None of the sort,” the angel replied.
The men’s faces fell. A cloud of despair started settling over them.
“We worked so hard. We worked so long. Only to get beat by the petty tricks of the heavens. Woe onto us,” the youngest of the group said.
“You will not suffer. You will be forgiven. As the Lord wants to see you forgiven.” The angel smiled. And a stone hit it squarely on the nose.
The hooded men were armed, not with sophisticated weaponry, but stones, black and sharp stones.
“You shall not forgive us! You shall not do any of those terrible things to us. Shoo, shoo, we don’t want to hear your songs of the Gods.”
It was a hailstorm of sharp stones, and the angel bled profusely. The white tunic it wore was now splashed with crimson.
The angel laughed no longer. Indignation, a distaste for what stood in front of it, that overcame whatever feelings of mercy and benevolence it had. To be in pain, to bear the sins of man, yes that was its job, but it gets to you. Every job does.
Like a falcon, the angel swooped down below and took a man to the full height of the dome, and dropped him. It repeated the process four times more and roared and howled with rage.
Death came to greet the hooded men, took them to the gates of hell, the angel was taken with them.
| 2021-05-21T08:01:50 | 2021-05-21T07:36:38 | 116 | 54 |
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.
|
"Welcome to supermart where our deals are so super, they're evil." I could not believe, that this was how they expected me to greet everybody walking in the door. To say it felt a little ridiculous it's like saying root canal hurt a little bit.
Yet, here I was, regretting ever hearing of Craigslist and their "gigs" section. 'Need a Summer job? Want something cool that you can't tell your friends about, or we'll kill ya? Yes, the job is THAT cool! Respond to this via message and tell us why you want to be the envy of your friends with the crazy tips you'll earn, if you can handle it'.
I was broke, my Step-mom kept bugging me about getting a job and being GONE more often. So anyway, I applied. A week later, I got snatched off the street outside my favorite comics shop.
"Don't struggle kid, this is your JOB INTERVIEW!" Said the voice of one of my attackers.
"I would have just gone to your office, you know" I shouted from under the hood. "Is this really necessary?"
"No, but it helps us with the paperwork. If you were still screaming like a little bitch..."
"Hey! Watch your language!" Another voice said.
*...as I was saying, you didn't melt down completely from getting taken to your job interview, so that's the first part of it. We will be pulling up and you will go in to fill out your paperwork."
And a moment later, I was dragged out of the van, had my hood removed and hands unbound.
SUPER MARKET
(Best value, no matter what your values)
"Huh... I didn't even know this was here..." I mused.
"Of course not!" Said a man in a crisp dark suit. "Nobody really does, until they need it." He motioned toward a solid metal door.
Once inside, I filled out my tax forms and received my uniform shirts.
"Wear khakis, no cargo pants. They make our clients a little nervous. "
"And who are our clients?"
"Oh, we have an orientation video for that.". He gestured toward the wall which came to life as a video screen.
"Welcome to Super Mart, where our prices are so super, they are evil! That is the slogan that will help you navigate your time working with us here. You see, not everyone is a Bruce Stark or Tony Wayne with billions to throw around to try to protect the world.
And not everyone who wants to take over countries or even cities can afford the gadgets required. So, we help with our value prices on everything necessary. "
"What? This is a thing? " I was a little confused. "Am I being punked?"
"I assure you, you are not. We are have been business for a number of years. We are a beacon of neutrality for our customers. We don't refer to them as heroes or villains, just customers."
It has been weird the past few months. First off, NOBODY is in costume. They all look like regular people buying things that could be dangerous if\when assembled. I have recognized a few of them, and as my eyes widened in excitement or fear, they have always walked up, shaken my hand and whispered, "just be cool, we are just shopping here. But I'd you want to move up, let me know..." Followed by a business card descretely slipped into my hand.
They pay well, enough. I can keep gas in my car, so that's cool. I wish there was an employee discount. It is not fair that they won't sell me the hover board that actually HOVERS . Evidently, I would have to join up with one of the clients, and they both have compelling reasons to work for each of them.
However, school starts up soon, and it's my senior year, so I'll be busy. If you're looking for work, my spot is coming up soon.
If you can keep a secret.
|
"How about fifty?"
"I'm not going to sell my death ray for %11 of the cost!"
It's not the weirdest thing you see in Super-Mart two indiviual try to make a living. But I still have to obey the policy
"Sir, we don't have a market for indiviuals. Please use websites like Cap-e or supercave."
Yep, that's me. You're probably wondering how I got here.
\*\*\*
"But mom said I'm old enough to buy speedster shoes."
I had a fake teary eye. You know, able to control water has its merits. My dad did't even looked at me while pointing out wall. The hole with orange edge showing me a wrecked car. I try to suppress my guilt
"Even then I was able to make my way out of it!"
He looked at me with a side eye, raising an eyebrow. That stare which brings down many people down to their knees. Knowing this isn't even a superpower didn't help so I keep my mouth shut but keep my chin up.
"If you say so."
Ugh! I hate you dad! I hate you when you just act towards me like you did to criminals! You know nothing about world!
"Yeah, I say so!"
"Let's compromise."
Did...did he just turn 180 degree on his char and smile?
He did!
That's bad!
That's really bad!
"I want you to prove me that you're responsible enough"
"O-okay"
I'm sure my position on my chin and shoulders didn't change but Oh man...I shouldn't stutter.
"Very well then"
\*\*\*
"I got scammed at supercave"
"Cap-e is only for superheroes with licenses"
Oh they're villians, of course. Should've figured it out from death ray.
Uh...
Death ray?
Since when I consider this a normal thing here?
"I can help you to use those websites if you want"
Oh right because I don't have time for this! I need to handle it like an adult or I might lose this job!
"So you see if you check the rating the sellers account on the website..."
I swear if it took more than half an hour I'll call the security. Oh wait, there is none! I hate here!
Thankfully they were quick to follow so they leave me alone. I was glad that they were good with technology. The next one on the other hand wasn't this easy.
This woman simply asked me with a delightful smile
"What should I buy?"
She was a nice enough woman so I hang out a bit next to her.
"Why not this costume cleaner?"
"Oh this might work! But not really"
"What about this litlle gadget to comminucate?"
"not my style"
"Bendable metal stick for little fashion touches? You can bend it according to your symbol"
"Too simple"
"Gun color? You can shoot with wahtever colour you want! We have red for villians and blue for heroes"
"Too pale"
Pick something woman!
Turns out she was just trying to exchange her money so she would have coins for a vending machine.
I mean, I get it. It's the policy that we can't exchange money for it. Why don't you buy what you want from here though?
Fun fact it wasn't in the policy until someone scammed me with fake money. I really shouldn't be leave alone with register.
It could cause a lot of trouble for people but most importantly, for me. Meaning I need to re-consider...uh...what was the reason for me to work here again?
..............................
Right.
.............................
Maybe I should pick something less managable to buy instead of following a trend on the street considering I wrecked a car. It was dangerous for me and others.
..............................
\*\*\*
"You could just told me!...Stop laughing" I shouted while couldn't hold my giggle
"I was so emberassed! It was so hard! I got scammed! I had to teach villians to use supercave! Do you know what lind of people I had to deal with!"
This is the first time I see my dad slapping his knees while laughing. And me giggling despite all the troublesome weeks.
..............................
Thanks, dad.
.............................
I love you.
| 2021-10-03T13:04:48 | 2021-10-03T11:53:39 | 96 | 35 |
[WP]Not every hero is a rich idiot with no day job, nor every villain a mad scientist, but most still need supplies. Thus, Super-Mart; a place for the budget-conscious heroes and villains, left alone thanks to a necessary truce. And You just started a summer job there.
|
"Welcome to SuperMart, for when your powers are super but your wallet isn't. How may I help you?" I sigh. When Mum got me a job at SuperMart, I think she thought I'd be more excited, but for fuck's sake, it's just retail in the end. Plus, Ma's a super, I'm used to dealing with supers. This is nothing new.
"My freeze-gun jammed up! I can't do anything with it now!" Frost Woman complains. Something I learnt is that under truce, villains are usually just a lot more chill while heros are usually more high-and-mighty.
"I'm sorry ma'am, but it was on the box. It said that it jams after frequent use." I explain. Frost Woman gasps, offended.
"Are you saying this was *my* fault! Do you know who you're talking to?" She exclaims. See what I'm talking about? Hero's are high-and-mighty jerks.
"I apologize, but I can't do anything about it." I say in my retail voice. I fake a smile. "We can call the company if you wish."
"I want a refund!" She demands. Fucking Karen. Suddenly, a voice chimes in from behind her.
"Excuse me ma'am, you're holding up the line." I peak behind her to see Pyrestorm, a younger villain. Frost Woman gasps dramaticaly.
"You have no right to speak, evil boy! If anything, you're holding up the line!" Aight, time to call for some backup.
"Ma'am, I apologize, but that's all I can do. We don't own the company, we just sell it. I can contact the company, or give you the number?" She glares at me. Oh gee, what did I do?
"That can't be right! I'm returning the gun, you better give me a refund!"
"Of course ma'am, can I see your reciept?" She freezes better than that freeze-ray could ever do.
"R-reciept?" Thought so, she didn't even buy it from here. She's an ice hero, why would she need a freeze-ray?
"Yes, I need to see the amount you bought it for and to see where you bought it." I cock my head in faux confusion. "What's wrong, do you not have it?" She scoffs.
"This can't be right. Where's your manager?" She demands. It might be super retail, but it's retail nonetheless.
"Yes, of course, I'll call for him." I sigh. I bring out the landline, preparing to call his office but the door seems to open just in time.
"Excuse me ma'am, may I ask your issue?" Her eyes widen. A not very well known fact is that the Seaport SuperMart is run by one of the greatest supers to ever exist. Red Falcon, a senior (and retired) hero.
"This- this bitch of an employee won't give me a refund!" She exclaims, although significantly less sure of herself. Hah, she has the gall to call me a bitch? I'm looking forward to this.
"Oh dear, we can't have that, can we? I can do it for you. Can I have your receipt?" Her hands clench around the weapon.
"You- you know what? It's working just fine, I'll just- I'll just leave now." She laughs awkwardly and turns on her heal. She walks out with her supposedly jammed weapon in hand. The moment she leaves the store, I cackle wildly. Red Falcon rests his hand on my shoulder to have me stop before turning to Pyrestorm.
"I apologize on Frost Woman's behalf. She should not have insulted you like that, now my employee will take back over, talk to him for any assistance. Please note that we are under truce here, so we are not supers here, we are people and that was uncalled for." Pyrestorm glares.
"Well deal with her faster next time, some of us have things to do." Oh yeah, did I mention that villains are also annoying? They're usually easy to tick off and kind of control freaks. Ah well, time to deal with that now. Just another day on the job, I guess.
|
"How about fifty?"
"I'm not going to sell my death ray for %11 of the cost!"
It's not the weirdest thing you see in Super-Mart two indiviual try to make a living. But I still have to obey the policy
"Sir, we don't have a market for indiviuals. Please use websites like Cap-e or supercave."
Yep, that's me. You're probably wondering how I got here.
\*\*\*
"But mom said I'm old enough to buy speedster shoes."
I had a fake teary eye. You know, able to control water has its merits. My dad did't even looked at me while pointing out wall. The hole with orange edge showing me a wrecked car. I try to suppress my guilt
"Even then I was able to make my way out of it!"
He looked at me with a side eye, raising an eyebrow. That stare which brings down many people down to their knees. Knowing this isn't even a superpower didn't help so I keep my mouth shut but keep my chin up.
"If you say so."
Ugh! I hate you dad! I hate you when you just act towards me like you did to criminals! You know nothing about world!
"Yeah, I say so!"
"Let's compromise."
Did...did he just turn 180 degree on his char and smile?
He did!
That's bad!
That's really bad!
"I want you to prove me that you're responsible enough"
"O-okay"
I'm sure my position on my chin and shoulders didn't change but Oh man...I shouldn't stutter.
"Very well then"
\*\*\*
"I got scammed at supercave"
"Cap-e is only for superheroes with licenses"
Oh they're villians, of course. Should've figured it out from death ray.
Uh...
Death ray?
Since when I consider this a normal thing here?
"I can help you to use those websites if you want"
Oh right because I don't have time for this! I need to handle it like an adult or I might lose this job!
"So you see if you check the rating the sellers account on the website..."
I swear if it took more than half an hour I'll call the security. Oh wait, there is none! I hate here!
Thankfully they were quick to follow so they leave me alone. I was glad that they were good with technology. The next one on the other hand wasn't this easy.
This woman simply asked me with a delightful smile
"What should I buy?"
She was a nice enough woman so I hang out a bit next to her.
"Why not this costume cleaner?"
"Oh this might work! But not really"
"What about this litlle gadget to comminucate?"
"not my style"
"Bendable metal stick for little fashion touches? You can bend it according to your symbol"
"Too simple"
"Gun color? You can shoot with wahtever colour you want! We have red for villians and blue for heroes"
"Too pale"
Pick something woman!
Turns out she was just trying to exchange her money so she would have coins for a vending machine.
I mean, I get it. It's the policy that we can't exchange money for it. Why don't you buy what you want from here though?
Fun fact it wasn't in the policy until someone scammed me with fake money. I really shouldn't be leave alone with register.
It could cause a lot of trouble for people but most importantly, for me. Meaning I need to re-consider...uh...what was the reason for me to work here again?
..............................
Right.
.............................
Maybe I should pick something less managable to buy instead of following a trend on the street considering I wrecked a car. It was dangerous for me and others.
..............................
\*\*\*
"You could just told me!...Stop laughing" I shouted while couldn't hold my giggle
"I was so emberassed! It was so hard! I got scammed! I had to teach villians to use supercave! Do you know what lind of people I had to deal with!"
This is the first time I see my dad slapping his knees while laughing. And me giggling despite all the troublesome weeks.
..............................
Thanks, dad.
.............................
I love you.
| 2021-10-03T12:06:46 | 2021-10-03T11:53:39 | 92 | 35 |
[WP] “Humans are so weak, the best weapons they have are tiny, dull claws!” “That’s why they build weapons.” “They do what now?”
|
I sat under a hill, lying face down in the dirt like a corpse. I knew my breathing gave me away, the steady rise and fall of my back. I hoped they wouldn't notice. The sounds of explosions surrounded us. I heard their loud clomping and their ugly guttural language. It was utterly unintelligible.
I braced myself for an end, surely that should have given me away, but no, they all moved past.
I'm not sure how long I lay there, frozen with fear of being noticed. I listened to them leaving me behind, surrounded by the bodies of my people. It stand of death. Biles releasing from their bodies. Natural things, things we evolved to fight each other with honor and glory. I felt the ground as I gripped the ground with my craws, felt my teeth, things strong enough to bite through their strongest armor with ease. I could lift one of their vehicles and throw it with ease.
None of it mattered. The didn't fight with honor. The shot metal that flew at impossible speeds. Hid in metal boxes and shot explosives. flew in things that moved faster than any bird could dream to match. They had no honor. They murdered in mass. No sanctuary of service for concessions, no evolution of ideas as the powerful dominated and taught the weak pushing everyone forward. Death, their tools didn't allow for any other end.
I waited for night to finally get up and move. The humans went east, but our base was north. They were blind, unable to dominate because they never offered safety. This war would go on for years pointlessly. The sun was rising as I finally made it back.
"Humans are weak." I heard a war captain say. "Their claws can not even cut nuts. Their muscles struggle with even the lightest of-" He noticed me then. Everyone noticed. I was covered in dirt. I'd been lying face down in the dirt and wasn't taken as a servant. It was a clear shame for a warrior to to dominated in battle, forced to lie in the dirt, and not be deemed deadly enough to kill or worthy enough to take into service. It was meant for parents, servants, and children to ensure their lives not be taken in battle. For it to happen to a warrior was to consider the warrior equal to that of a pacifist.
And here I was, my stomach and face covered in dirt. "The humans don't have a sense of honor or mercy." I told them. "Many offered themselves as servants and were killed. They don't fight with muscle or claw. Not venom or poison. They fight the monsters fight, using weapons to kill. Weapons that don't require you to offer risk to yourself because it expects you to stand fields apart from your victim."
I felt a lump form and struggled to say these next words. "This is not a war or honor or glory. This is a war of monster and atrocities. A war we can not win. They have taken progress and have perverted it for killing. Humans have dull claws and weak muscles. but they should be feared. They are monsters."
|
Title: The change
"Humans are weak" - One of the oldest known facts in the entire universe.
They lack armored skin, horns, fangs… so much so that their claws are tiny and flat.
So, it was nothing new when krrik and blad sat together with their snacks and were making fun of humans. Then, out of nowhere, their not so smart friend; dauf came running on all sixes and crashed next to them… They were annoyed but they had nowhere else to be. “Another snack time going to be wasted listening to dauf’s unintelligent and needy stories” was the common thought running through both their distributed yet connected brains. Dauf caught his breath and said at once “Humans have been making weapons and vehicles going into space, the council has decreed to convene at once and decide on when to declare war on humans’ planet, come let’s go quickly” and grabbed a jelly like limb of blad’s snack to shove into his bottom mouth. Krrik pulled his snack closer and composed himself to just say “They’re making what now!!!?” All the three started running to the vast hall of the elders to see what was going on.
It was pandemonium there. Everyone was worried. Many elites had already started the hiring process for their private armies to go to war against the humans. Citizens were huddled in groups discussing in hushed tones. The council itself was trying to calm everyone. All the council members were ordering their troops to calm their people. The leader was trying to connect to the planet’s conscience to look for advice. All the three joined their respective troops while hurriedly trying to finish their snacks.
The planet boomed through each council member at once “HUMANS ARE WEAK”. The whole vast hall erupted into cackles and screeches of laughter again. “BUT ONLY IN BRUTE STRENGTH” boomed the collective intelligence once again. “WHAT THEY LACK IN BRUTE FORCE, THEY MAKE UP FOR IN GENIUS AND CREATIVITY. THEY HAVE BEEN BUILDING WEAPONS FOR INDIVIDUAL AS WELL AS MASS WARFARE THROUGHOUOT THE PAST MILLENIA. IF WE GO TO WAR WITH THEM NOW, WE SHALL LOSE” said, the planet.
Everyone’s face fell and the murmurs started rising again. The leader bowed to no one in particular and asked “Then shall we make peace with them?”
The vast hall shook while everybody tried to hang on to what ever they could find.
“PEACE IT SHALL BE” said the planet and everything became silent once again.
Krrik and blad looked at each other and ran to their master elite, Eglaf. She looked at them inquisitively. They both said in unison, “we want to be on your journey to the humans’ planet”. She looked at them with intent and then an evil grin spread across her face showing her inner mandibles. She said to them “arm up, we the glats are never the ones to make peace. We shall strike first”. Their faces lit up as they were running out of the vast hall and into the armory.
They would be having a war of their lifetimes…. For all they knew.
| 2021-12-01T21:36:01 | 2021-12-01T21:25:03 | 86 | 26 |
[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing.
|
Every species contributed something special and unique to the federation, every single one except for these humans. It was the only species with which we made contact not because they were ready but because we were afraid they would destroy themselves.
After the contact we shared the technology that would enable them to harvest sunlight with close to 100% efficiency. With energy supply being abundant there would be no more reason for wars, no need for pollution.
They built orbital solar stations which collected sunlight and converted it into energy, then one day ZAP, a whole city destroyed.
It wasn't for war, they were united under single banner, they simply emptied an entire city and blasted it into oblivion.
We asked for explanation of their action and they said... it was fun.
We decided against giving them any new technology, instead we would give them finished products they could use, this way they couldn't use advanced tech to build weapons.
But they sure did modify every single piece of tech into some kind of deadly device. We provided them with exoskeletons for senior citizens and they "pimped" them then use them for races. House assistants became hunter killer bots, they used space elevator to hit Moon with various "stuff".
How about a cold fusion reactor? A piece of technology so safe that even the dumbest moron couldn't possibly... wrong, another town became a crater.
Every piece of tech which was given to them had to go through multiple revisions until it was finally deemed safe for usage by humans. The whole Sol system became this big testing ground in which humans blew shit up for fun and scientist from all over the federation went through the process of analysis and improvement again, and again and again.
And this is where humanity gave it's gift to the Federation.
Humanproof brand!
Products which were deemed safe for human use became a raging hit on galactic scale. You could leave humanproof pistol in childcare, arm prisoners with humanproof knives, then get drunk and sit in your humanproof car without a care in the world.
Federation became an economic power and humans... humans still have fun blowing shit up.
|
The arrival of any new species to the galactic community is a wonderful thing. Despite the vast number of spacefaring peoples, the galaxy is so vast, we average at least one new member each galactic cycle. Hundreds of thousands of cycles have passed since the founding but in recent years there has been more and more concern about all these new faces. Some are worried about wars or plague; they are indeed valid concerns. However, as an economic expert, I foresee an opportunity.
Humans were discovered 642 galactic cycles ago, perhaps 3000 of their "earth years". They were primitive, still using steel as weapons and armor. It was only recently that they finally discovered the secret to deep space travel. So the council introduced themselves to their 1st probe. That was about 2 cycles ago.
I've been studying humans since they were discovered. They are by far the dumbest and probably more sturdy species our galaxy has ever seen. They seek out and eat substances that are normally poisonous for the majority of those on the galactic council. Their scientific research is often at odds with their own safety. They also seem to lack any rational sense of fear or logic. Granted, their lack of fear is often a boon to their success. They are perhaps the fastest to reach the spacefaring stage. Thousands of their kind were seemingly sacrificed to achieve this. Humans obviously don't see it that way and view them almost as martyrs.
But I digress. My point in this introduction is to explain why I've begun to do what I am doing. Please don't see me as a terrible being. I am seeking safety for all species. The potential profit is just .... a bonus.
I have *recruited* hundreds of thousands of humans, as well as other species as "guinea pigs" for my company's products. Each new species requires massive investments of funds to test and redistribute products that are safe for use. My megacorp is already one of the largest in the galaxy, now I will use humanity's knack for destruction to bankrupt my competitors and perhaps take a stranglehold over the council.
| 2021-12-25T13:23:18 | 2021-12-25T12:49:35 | 1,671 | 206 |
[WP] You’re a soldier fighting in a brutal war. One day, during battle, as you are ready to slay an enemy, you’re suddenly teleported into a peaceful, green valley. You hear a voice from behind you: “My God, mommy! There’s another one!”.
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Shit. Fuck. What fresh hell was this. I dropped to the ground, trying to get what cover I could until I recovered my senses. I rubbed my eyes, felt along the ground. Nerve gas? Hallucinations before my death? It was a wonder I hadn’t been shot or stabbed yet, but it was coming if I couldn’t get my head straight.
“My God mommy! There’s another one!” said behind me.
I spun onto my back, gun shouldered and target in sights before I could think, trigger half depressed to shoot but…
It was a little girl? Maybe 12, in a white dress. Clean.
I stared at her, as she stared back at me, her eyes widening. Was she part of the visions?
She ran, over the crest of the hill and out of sight. Damn. What the hell does that mean? Was I gonna have a daughter if I didn’t die here? Fuck.
I closed my eyes, trying to sense anything that could get me oriented. The blue sky, the soft grass, they’re all fake. They must be. Grass couldn’t stand the chemical weapons and it was dusk five seconds ago.
Remember your chem training. Smell can’t be trusted, touch can, vision and hearing- can be iffy but should be okay. Fuck. Nothing. Fuck. Nothing. Fuck!
It’s just grass and quiet. It would be heaven if it were real.
Footsteps from over the hill, faint against the rustle of the grass. I tensed, even though they must be fake.
The girl came back, with an older man, maybe fifty. A chem burn on the right side of his face showing the clear outline of where goggles used to be. Goggles? Only the instructors had those burns, chem had become such a part of warfare we wore full-face now.
They stopped just before the top of the hill, and then the man walked towards me as the girl watched.
“At ease, ah, Corporal.” He said, glancing at my chest. “How are you feeling?”
I hesitated. He was part of the visions, but what he wasn’t? Hell to it. If I hadn’t been shot by now my buddies must have gotten me back, they can laugh at me talking to myself if they want.
“Glad to be alive, sir.” I responded. Better to be safe than sorry about his rank.
“Oh? Why’s that?” he replied, looking amused and curious.
“Got hit by some nerve gas. Thought I’d be dead by now, but I guess my buddies are dragging me back to camp.”
“Oh? You think this is a hallucination from chems?” he replied.
“Yes sir. Nearest grass is at least 500 klicks out. Getting from dusk to daylight like this would take going halfway around the world. Only option is chems.”
“Well, I understand why you think that.” he said, looking a bit glum and concerned. “You think you can come with me, get cleaned up? Since none of this is real.”
“No sir. Need to stay still to make it easier for my buddies to carry me.”
“Alright. We’ll be back in a bit. Don’t start shooting at whatever you see, y’hear? That’s an order.”
“Yes sir. Wouldn’t want to risk it through the chems.”
“Alright. See you in a bit Corporal.”
He walked back up the hill, leaving me to sit with my thoughts in the warm breeze. Y’know, for what might be my last minutes, this wasn’t so bad.
|
I dropped my sword, sinking to my knees in the soft green grass. A few delicate white flowers had bloomed near my feet. The soft cheeps of birdsong graced my battle-worn ears. Where am I? What the hell happened?
Suddenly, a shrill squeak caught my attention, and I turned quickly to see a creature crouched in the field.
"My god, mommy! There's another one!" The fleshy pink thing shrieked, fat globs of tears leaking from its eyes as a pathetic line of snot trickled out of its nose. "Mommy! Help!"
"Wait-" I panted, but it came out a garbled, scratchy whisper. I could hear myself.. but.. upon hearing the creature speak, it sounded like a harsh, unfamiliar burst of noise.
I sat back, inching away from the creature. It mimicked my movements in a blind panic. I stopped. It stopped as well. I tilted my head. It tilted its head, wiping its nose with a fleshy pink paw. I recognised this creature, even studied its language. *Homo sapiens*. This was but a child. It had donned a frilly blue-and-periwinkle striped shirt and plump yellow trousers.
"Where am I?" I mumbled, yet again surprised by the distorted, shrieking growl that escaped my jaws. The sapien squeaked. I picked at a fang curiously, flexing my claws.
"Mommy?" The sapien whispered hoarsely.
I wracked my brain for the translation. *Mommy* meant a guardian. A grown homo sapien. That would be a problem. I scanned my surroundings, searching for this adult sapien. The sky shone a soft cerulean blue, dappled with fluffy white pads that meandered across the atmosphere lazily. *Surveillance or recon ships? They aren't well camouflaged at all... unless they're supposed to be disguised as something else.*
I pointed a claw at one of the ships, tilting my head. If I tried to speak again, the sapien would probably scream louder, and I'd be in deep shit. I emphasised the tilting of my head until it looked up.
"Sky?" It whispered softly. I shook my head. That word was different.. it just meant The Great Dome. "..Cloud?"
There. That was the word. Cloud. Clouds. Cloudy. The only clouds I'd seen so far were the crackling storms above the main battlefield. I shuddered, pulling my knees up to my chest as I remembered the left flank being struck by a bright beam of light from one of the clouds. I was eager to forget the smell of singed flesh. I hated myself for showing weakness and immediately uncurled my legs.
"Friend?" It mumbled, inching closer and holding out one of its paws in a gesture. It looked like a sign of weakness, exposing its chest.
Friend. A companion. A partner. A "buddy", as the sapien slang called it.
"No," I rasped. Its face contorted, stretching its maw into a shape like a U, reaching out both hands in an even bigger sign of weakness. I don't think it understood.
"Friends!" It mewled joyously as it cradled its fragile body against my shiny chestplate. I thought about how it would feel to crush its ribs between my hands, the feel of it's shiny pink flesh bulging out from between my claws.
But that would have to wait.
Being this sapien's companion could surely have benefits.
| 2022-01-12T21:43:55 | 2022-01-12T18:16:47 | 48 | 26 |
[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
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A little boy lies still, eyes shut, skin pale. The coffin closes amidst muffled grieving. Poor Tim, such a nice child, friendly to everyone. Lyra would never hear an unkind word about the boy, now or ever. But if he lives, people are anything but kind to him. She knows what happens if she saves him.
Lyra has lived a relatively full life, died, and been reborn nearly fifty thousand times, though she no longer keeps count. On the first repeat she saved Tim. No heroics; just count down the days to the accident, then position Tim elsewhere. But the suffering which followed was too complex to correct in any number of iterations. She wanted to care about him. But the thought exhausts her; it's so much easier to let him pass quietly.
She pushes down the guilt. After all, none of this is really happening. Or rather, what is happening now will soon not have happened. Anyways. Every other human on earth enjoys a fresh start at the same time as she. Only difference is, she alone remembers the other timelines. Does she carry the sins of those past lives, or does even God forget after the world resets?
No, she'll do things the right way on the final run, if such a thing comes to pass. Right now, she wants to live. Life is all she wants; the thought of bringing this journey to a close, of experiencing true death and total nonexistence thereafter, absolutely terrifies her. She's experienced so much, and yet it's an infinitesimal sliver compared to an infinite future.
|
I already knpw what made her heart race. I know exactly what it is I do that pisses her off. I can tell within a breath of a moment that she's bored or happy or distracted.
I thought I was being punished, reliving our life together over and over..all the pain, all the tears. Both of us had regrets, missed opportunities. I finally got it thru my thick skull the replays were about exploring all of those. I have been her husband...I have been just a fuckbuddy and watched her marry someone else... On a few occasions, I just observed at a distance and she never knew who I was.
I could have stopped the replays years ago. It has always been a matter of accepting the past. I do. I acknowledge and accept our past. But that face...that temper..that passion she put into everything.
I have memorized every single line of her face. I know every fear and every shortcoming.
I know how selfish and how cruel.
Not her.
Me.
I was her flaw in character. She loved me enough to give my opinions and fears and loves and biases, parts of her life. And I SO blew it.
I made her less than what she could have been. And now I know what she could have been without me.
But I can't stop looking at her.
After all this time, I'm so entranced .
I'm ready to end the loop. Right here. Looking at you over dinner on our 3rd date.
All I can do is look at you, resting my cheek in my hand, and sigh.
I am totally yours my love. And I have been for centuries.
| 2022-01-24T23:07:14 | 2022-01-24T22:27:42 | 121 | 52 |
[WP]”So…you peasants actually want me to terrorize your village?” “Yes. Without all those heroes paying for supplies, lodgings, and resurrection spells since the last monster was defeated the village’s economy has tanked.”
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I stared, dumbfounded, at the little party of humans as they looked up at me.
"So you've come to ask me," I continued, "To attack your village and your fields, burn your livelihoods and steal your cattle - in order to attract bold new adventurers to challenge me?"
Their apparent leader, a tall woman with her greying hair tied in a severe bun, nodded. "Correct, lord Brimstone. Rich adventurers and the loot they bring in was the foundation upon which our entire economy relied. Now most of the young folk have moved away, seeking their fortune elsewhere for there is none to be had in their home. Most of us are near to shutting down their businesses - the alchemist has no customers to sell potions to, the magic shop can't get new inventory-"
I held up my claw for silence. "So you want me to, what - show myself as I ravage the countryside? Steal a few heads of cattle, so you can set up Wanted posters? Do you honestly expect me to risk having my home invaded by hoard-hungry adventurers, just so that your village can prosper again?"
The old lady had the cheek to grin at me. "Yes, indeed! But consider - what will the adventurers bring to *you,* in turn?"
I narrowed my eyes as I considered. "Artefacts, enchanted arms and armour, products of artifice and master-craft. Delivered to my very doorstep, mine for the taking..."
"Darn tootin'! And likely made right here in town!"
I bared my teeth with anticipation, spreading my wings wide. "Very well then, little humans. We have an accord." I fixed my gaze upon the old woman, bending my neck down to see eye-to-eye. Her scent tickled my nose as I breathed in - forge-soot, ale and bread. "What is your business, crone?"
"Why, I'm mayor. And I run the inn!"
"And who is watching it whilst you parley with me?"
She paused, momentarily taken aback. "My daughters."
My grin of swords grew wider. "And are your daughters yet wedded?"
"They- they are not, my lord."
"Then let our pact be formed. For what better way to announce a dragon is in residence, than with imperilled maidens!?" I spread my wings, legs bunching beneath.
Her face went white. "Wait!"
I leapt over the astonished group, scattering them with the whirlwind force of my wings. As I rose into the air I let my breath lead the way, setting the very sky alight as I spiralled upwards.
I needed to make an *entrance,* after all.
The little village appeared in my vision, in the middle of a cleared section of forest. Gentle smoke rose from chimneys, little figures moved in the fields. In the centre of town lay my prize - a large building flanked by a fenced-in yard, empty stables and forge cold and unused belying the emptiness of the common room.
With a roar, I dove, trailing smoke behind me. People screamed and scattered from my path, bleating livestock stampeding with terror. I lazily snatched a cow and gulped it down whole on my approach. With blooded jaws, I crushed the stables beneath my claws and tore a hole through the thatched roof of the tavern.
Two young women turned to look at me, frozen with terror as I fixed my gaze upon them.
"Your mother sends her regards!" I hissed, snatching them up with my claws.
"Wait wait wait!"
"Our mother!? Wait!"
"Worry not," I hissed. "I am well-fed. *For now.*"
I turned back around and prepared to take flight, the old crone's daughters struggling ineffectually in my grip. As I did, I saw the mayor's party rushing down the street towards me.
"Bring me fitting tribute by the end of the week!" I roared, loud enough to shake windows in their frames. "Or I shall feast on these maidens fair!"
"Lord Brimstone!" The mayor croaked out, gasping and wheezing. "Wait-"
"I have spoken! You know what is required of you! *One week!*"
I fixed everyone in the mayor's party with my gaze, meeting all of their eyes in turn. Then I winked, sent a theatrical blast of fire into the sky and took off.
As I flew, I looked down upon my hostages, held in my claws.
"Now then," I said, voice much softer and more pleasant, "It has been a long time since last I entertained guests. I do hope you will enjoy your stay!"
The tallest of the two looked up at me, dumbfounded. "Wha-" she coughed, cleared her throat, tried again. "Guests? Our stay?"
"Why yes. Your mother wanted a show. I provided one. Was I not convincing?"
Her sister found her voice. "A little *too* convincing, if you ask me! Did you *have* to ruin the roof!?"
I roared with laughter, smoke billowing from my nostrils. "Perhaps not - but I played my part in your mother's ploy. We shall see if the gambit pays off!"
"And if it doesn't?"
"Why, then I have two fair maidens to eat. It has been a *long* time-"
As they both began kicking, screaming, and biting once again, I considered I may have taken the last joke slightly too far.
***
Now this was a fun prompt! Thanks for reading!
Feel free to visit my sub at r/ZetakhWritesStuff for more!
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Wind through the forest, soft softly falls to the ground. The white blanket crunches delightfully under the boots of the woman, but it is silent under the hooves of the beast. Overhead, the clouds are gray and thick, the sun is setting.
The heart of winter. Families are gathered at home, huddled around the hearth, exchanging stories and singing songs.
The cellars are full, lucky for them. Next winter might be different. This remote place wasn't built on earthly toil and natural growth, but on opportunity. Someone had to build the first inn for mercenaries and soldiers to rest, with a few planks and bad booze, if only to make a coin.
Survivors would join, add shacks and hovels to the shanty town.
They reach the top of the hill, the beast - despite it's size and implied weight - is more silent than a whisper in its movement. Hares and foxes catch a glimpse and hurry back to shelter, content with sleeping with an empty belly tonight.
The town has changed. As humanity fought the curse draining the land, blacksmiths, peasants, scavengers and hermits started to feel at home. Real houses were built, a community with sense and organization, a beacon of hope, and example of resilience.
From the top of the hill, they see the sleepy village. Houses close together with smoke escaping the chimneys. The village feels lost in the immensity, surrounded by white hills and sleepy forests as far as the eye could see.
"You didn't want to face the truth," the beast speaks in a warm and gentle tone.
No, they didn't want to. It was easier to pretend they couldn't see it coming.
They couldn't hide anymore now the woman knew. Deep inside, every villager knew.
Hope and resilience were secondary. Home had been built and fueled by conflict. Daily life revolved around helping soldiers back to health, feeding them, buying the corpses and artifacts they dug up and selling them in turn to traveling merchants.
They were merchant-princes. Lost princes in rags in the vast taiga who had struck gold by luck and were now left with a dry claim. There were peasants among them, true, but barely enough to feed the entire village, and egos would soon start a new form of conflict.
With the curse and its creatures gone, there were no trinkets left to sell, and merchants had no reason to undertake the lengthy detour beyond hill and dale. Now, the villagers wielded no power but the one given by the tools of agriculture. And few were ready to take on the honest work of the earth.
"What are we?" asks the woman.
"You are war," replies the beast with what could pass as sadness, "you create it, feed on it, grow from it while claiming higher ideals. You wouldn't know what to do with peace if it was offered to you."
"You're exaggerating."
"I wish."
Overlooking the village while the cold crept through the numerous layers of clothing, the woman is agitated by a shiver.
The beast pities her. It holds no contempt nor anger, it is sad. A pure, childlike sadness. It could kill her with a flick of its fingers, yet she feels an odd kinship.
The village had thrived on conflict and would die without. First the proudest villagers would fight for control and respect, to have a little of the power they held over soldiers. One by one, they would be forced out and exiled, and the last ones left would understand there is nothing left to command. On their own, they would leave. Peasants and paupers, aware of better chances where the sun shines bright, would pack up and let the walls and roofs stand as a mystery for the occasional hermit and traveler.
Unless conflict came back.
It is why she searched for the beast. It would kill and frighten, it might as well do it where it's helpful.
"Will you tell me we're not so different, you and I?" asks the woman.
"You would be foolish to believe so. Death is part of who I am, it makes me. Your kind calls me beast, I can no more deny my nature than a fox could restrain from hunting, lest it would starve. But you, your nature is a blank state, open for change. Yet you gladly don the mantle of war, sell me greed and vilify temperance. You would invite terror before living from the simple bounty of the earth. You justify my presence with the survival of your village. How long until you justify a young boy or a young girl accused of witchcraft the same way?
"When will you justify a slaughter? Call me a beast, but to corrupt your very nature is the true mark of the beast. I merely indulge in mine. There will come a time when you'll excuse war and genocide for the greater good, just like you are canonizing terror today. And we both know..."
It turns to her. The woman sees the powerful being towering over her, the alabaster white torso as if made of marble, the intricate carvings on its skull and chest, the glint of blue light in the darkness of its eyes, shining even when the sun has long set.
She should be terrified but isn't.
"...That one day, your heroes will recognize you as monster. You will have your wish once more. They will come for you, they will fight, and some will thrive on the conflict. Then, you won't be able to deny it."
It leaves.
The beast would do its part, in time she would do hers. From one monster to another.
Snow covered the tracks, and soon there will be no sign the meeting ever took place. The woman started to make her way back in the darkness.
| 2022-02-10T11:24:12 | 2022-02-10T10:35:51 | 152 | 67 |
[WP] All natural disasters are actually the results of wizard duels. The wizarding world is horrified to learn of modern predictive technologies for said natural disasters.
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"This is proof of a deterministic future ij accordance with Seidr's Third Law!" shouted Magister Maximillian Montrose, dropping the papers on the table.
"It is not!" responded the gnome Pallabar Pumpernink, "These are just projections. We are masters of the weave, not the other way around!" He red face as red as his nose behind his white beard.
Asulfhed Galdrinn set down his half-full glass and picked up the papers in front ot him. He skimmed them over the rim of his glasses. "But if these projections are true, it would confirm Merlin's hypothesis," he said, speaking through the papers at the other two.
Maximillian opened his mouth, but before a word could emerge Galdrinn continued, "and further reinforce Seidr's Third Law as a universal constant, yes we heard you the first dozen times."
"It isn't just that though," the young Magister replied. "it would confirm that Divination is not a unique school of magic but rather simply a method by which to determine all magicks."
"That would be quite a revelation, if true." Pallabar muttered as he sank back into the chair. "Strange how they require their own weaves to operate, structurally different than the other schools."
"Fire and Ice magicks each require their own structures despite just being displacement of energy." the Magister grew a smug grin as Pallabar grumbled into his beer.
"It makes sense though. If everything we do is just atom interacting with each other then it would make sense that magick works the same." Maximillian continued. "Just as an eclipse happens as a result of the sun and moon and earth aligning; perhaps instead of instigating these conflicts as masters of the Arcane Weave as we have assumed, mages are drawn to these points of conflict by the Weave in order to trigger these events?"
"RIDICULOUS!" Pallabar shouted, foam from his beer spraying across the table. "We. Are. Wizards. Wisest and most knowledgeable of all Beings. We are not the result of forces, but those who compel those forces to act."
Galdrinn brushed the foam away from the papers as he read the reports from the United States Geological Survey. It laid out various metrics by which they were claiming to predict coming geological events.
"We don't even know if these are accurate! What mages were fighting in New Texas? The Order of the Blue Star have kept the peace for 20 years." Pallabar stared at Maximillian. "These may predict that these phenomena may occur independently of our actions."
"Regardless, we need to investigate to confirm or reject the findings." Galdrinn set the papers down with a map on top. "These predict a significant event in Colorado within 6 weeks, I propose we three venture forth."
"Master, are you sure? You haven't left the Tower in 600 years." Maximillian looked shocked as the words left his mouth.
"Let him live a little, the last true Sage of the North!" Pallabar tokk another swig of beer.
"And you, the last Gnome." Galdrinn pointed at Pallabar and Pallabar grew quiet.
"And you, my greatest apprentice." Galdrinn pointed at Maximillian whose face reddened to match Pallabar.
"Tomorrow, we head for Yellowstone." Galdrinn finished his glass of wine.
|
“No… it’s impossible…”
The young pupil looked up at the wizened mage, “what is it, archmage?”
The archmage sighed, “it doesn’t seem right, yet my readings indicate that there’s a spot where a total of five disasters are happening at once, two is impressive, three is very rare, and four has only been created in a lab setting… five… five is unheard of.”
\_\_\_\_\_\_
The duel had been going on for years.
Trinomeer launched Faelus into the ocean, Faelus dragging him down with him. Beneath the surface the pair created enough arcane energy to summon a volcano which slowly formed a small island, now high enough to stand above the surface, there’s no holding back. Faelus knew this was the endgame. Either he or Trinomeer would be defeated today, he had to bring everything he had.
A hurricane had formed around them, with the duelists beneath its eye. A hurricane was headed straight for the coastline. Tornadoes and whirlpools danced around the island like hungry predators ready to feast on the loser. The island’s volcano spewed lava and smoke into the sky, forming a dark cloud of ash within the storm’s eye.
The storm clouds rained water, snow, hail, and acid from above. The ground quaked and shook beneath them enough to make it seem like the island itself was rocked like a tiny boat against a storm.
Battered from every side, on the verge of frostbite and third-degree burns the pair battled. Faelus could barely see his opponent through the clouds of mist, rain, snow, and ash, but he only needed to see a blur to know where Trinomeer was and unleash his spells upon him. He pushed against the wind and rain, moving steadily forward toward his opponent. Step by step, inch by inch, quarreling with the storm.
Trinomeer expected Faelus to attempt to defeat him with magic, but the pair were evenly matched. After enough spellcasting the disasters would tear them apart, it was only sheer will that kept them alive. Faelus, however, had a different plan. He moved closer and closer until his opponent was no longer a blur. They stared down one another, both attempting to read the other’s next move. Faelus smiled, Trinomeer could try as he might, but he would not expect his next move.
Ironic, considering that it was the same way Trinomeer nearly defeated Faelus all those years ago. But back then he had only the ocean to push Faelus into, now Faelus had something much more deadly. Faelus rammed into Trinomeer, throwing him backward into the volcano. Trinomeer’s face lit up with fear and surprise, but he wasn’t done. Muttering an incantation, Faelus sent a barrage of wind against Trinomeer’s back, sending him falling into the volcano behind him.
Faelus let forth a string of curses, verbal, not magical, and sighed. Either they would both die, or they would both survive this and end up fighting for years more. He was ready for this to end, but not until he finished what he started. He would make sure to bring Trinomeer with him, and Trinomeer was sure to do the same.
| 2022-06-12T14:59:33 | 2022-06-12T14:58:08 | 101 | 22 |
[WP] You work for a secret agency that deals with the supernatural and you just shared a dumb idea with your boss, as a joke: "Instead of keeping everything under wraps, why don't we just release all info to the public, but pretend it's a work of fiction?" You got promoted on the spot.
|
Move over Marvel, there’s a new cinematic universe on the rise.
On the back of an expansive guerrilla marketing campaign and break-neck roll-out speeds, a fresh new production company, A51, has a veritable hit on their hands. The first installment of the 20-film, multi-phase universe, *The Underground*, grossed over $2 billion—an unprecedented metric for a debut from previously unknown production company. “It truly boggles the mind,” said prominent industry veteran Isaac From, “it is indicative of a trend that has been growing in the industry for some time: the way to drive folks into theaters is to shock and awe.”
Shock and awe they have. Take, for example, the first wave of marketing tactics in support of *The Underground*. Residents in Los Angeles began posting videos of hooded individuals which appear to ooze through storm drains, around man-hole covers, and down drains into the underground of L.A. These videos quickly spread online; the most prominent of which was viewed over 100 million times before A51 took credit for the stunt.
“The technology at their disposal is revolutionary,” said Maureen Sand, founder of *The Blitz* a well-respected ad firm which specializes in guerrilla campaigns. “To be able to pull off these effects in what appears to be an uncontrolled environment is really special. It brings a level of authenticity most firms just aren’t able to match. I’ve been particularly impressed with their campaign—that seems to be happening everywhere at once—to support *Hidden Corridors*.”
The campaign referenced by Ms. Sand features individuals across global cities that appear to walk through walls. Often, it features plain-clothed civilians who are being chased by black-cloaked wraith-like creatures. Footage of the happenings often includes people trying to follow after the actors only to find that the walls remain solid. It was theorized that the effect was accomplished through well hidden projectors and holograms. That theory was debunked when footage emerged of a bystander colliding with an actor exiting a wall. After a quick apology the actor in question scrambled to their feet and ran full speed through the adjacent wall—corporeal form confirmed.
While the footage continues to grow with more frequent events reported daily, little is known about the production company, A51. After much effort, this publication was able get in contact with an Ivan Fox who is listed on company filings as the CEO of A51. Mr. Fox did not agree to meet, however he provided a written statement and permission to publish said statement:
“At A51 industries, we aim to bring the magic back to film-making. We endeavor to celebrate the super natural and foster a sense of wonder among our audience. Our stated goal is to democratize the experience of film. That is, we want to provide—free of cost—real-world, amusement-park-like experiences that are transitory but impactful. A51 exists to inject into the world that child-like wonder that occurs when an audience member sees one of our actors in the wild. The sense of awe that occurs when our audience sees a Palpan ooze into the underground in front of their home, or the feeling of “did I just see that” that an audience member feels when a Calbrian is seen flying through the sky: that is why we do what we do.”
Mr. Fox ended his statement by ensuring that we were aware that the studio’s newest film *The Calbrian* is coming out July 27, 2022.
A51 and its cinematic universe are not without critics. Ezra Cross of the Einbach Institute is an outspoken critic of the quality of the films to date. “The quality of these films is amateurish at best. Filled with shaky cam and low-budget aesthetics, the films feel more like art-house/film school productions rather than the AAA titles they bill themselves as. Despite the super natural subject matter and the, admittedly, impressive marketing campaign, the movies themselves feel pedestrian and overall lacking in the magic they promise.”
While some may feel the magic is lacking, others vehemently disagree. “This footage will be counted among the earliest unequivocal proof that magic exists and the ‘super natural’ is ‘natural’” said Professor Mary Snow of MIT. “The technology required to fake these “campaign” events does not exist. Full stop. It is my opinion that we are being shown what someone wants us to see. We must make every effort to understand these happenings and endeavor to study that which we’ve witnessed.”
So there you have it. Whether it is real-world footage or low-effort swill, one fact remains: the films are damn entertaining.
UPDATE: shortly after the publication of this story, Professor Snow was relieved of her duties at MIT. We were unable to reach her for comment.
_____________
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please subscribe to my personal sub: r/InMyLife42Archive
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It was supposed to be a joke.
I thought my boss read Tom Clancy. After all, he wrote fiction that ended up being surprisingly close to reality. He was supposed to see the obvious pitfalls of my idea, and how quickly it could turn into “Haha just kidding… unless?”
Instead, I was pulled from my old department, and was given an empty suite in the office building, and provided a small staff. “To carry out disinformation in the guise of fiction.” Which when taken at face value is utterly laughable, but that was our mission. To take state secrets at risk of exposure and fictionalize them in order to discredit those who have legitimate suspicions of it occurring in real life. My first supervisory position, and I have to literally invent reasons to why we exist. Between my employees being leftovers from departments who don’t want them, the constant stress of ensuring we don’t make the news with a national security leak, and the fact I’ve never lead a department before, I feel like I’m in over my head. Let me tell you about my employees:
Melinda was an English major and was supposed to be a translator for an endangered language, but overseas human rights violations meant her services were no longer required. They sent her here as a consolation offer, and currently works as a novelist under my supervision. She’s got a few novels in production at the moment, and part of my job as supervisor is to help handle her numerous pen names and relationships with book producers, who aren’t told these books are state-sponsored, which makes it extremely rough when going head to head with them to convince them to print.
Anton was originally a programmer who worked in a site that may or may not exist. I officially can’t account for the last 8 months of his employment, but an off-record memo indicated he spent too much time fabricating stories on fringe message boards, and that he was lucky he could transfer to my department when his previous post wanted him fired. Now he gets paid to bullshit the same stories that he did for fun previously. I’m skeptical of his diction sometimes, but he does have a flair for the dramatic and comedic. I’ve gotten several redirects from federal law enforcement agencies to my desk, however, because each time he manages to craft a hit piece of fiction, I have to convince those agencies that no, he’s not a threat to national security, and that he gets paid by the government to do this.
“Shingles” was an army sergeant that got discharged after 2 combat tours. I asked once why he left, and he never answered. What I do know, however, is that he’s our consultant that the government points movie and video game producers to when they want to probe for obscured information to implement in their next story. He’s supposed to only use the approved materials given to us by the various branches and spin it in a way that points this at other entities, but lately I’ve had to restrain him from meetings discussing war. I don’t know what exactly went down during his time fighting, but the last couple pieces of media he’s consulted for has given some rather chilling ideas. I have to remind him to stick with what we’re allowed to release, things in danger of being discovered. The only way the world would know what happened over there would be because of him.
Gale is my other novelist, who probably has the best qualifications of the team. Dude was originally an counterintelligence agent, who almost got burned after the wrong materials got disseminated. The only reason he wasn’t fired was because he managed to clean up his mess, and he got transferred over here where his dissemination skills could come into play, and to help train the others on making sure it our stories weren’t taken at face value. He’s my second in command, and also my most problematic team member, and we’d often argue behind closed doors on how appropriate and effective our materials would be, and the risk they’d each and all take.
As for me, everything they write, talk about, and post, goes through me. I have to make sure it doesn’t come off as actually true, and whether that means making them sound more insane, changing some details, or simply improving the stories altogether, I make sure its proper disinformation. I make sure my people don’t go overboard, I have to deal with their issues with the media, I have to deflect their issues with the law on me. I’ve gotten desensitized to all the threats made to my department by the very entities giving us this information to release.
I’ve seen things you have probably already read about and wrote it off as fake or a compelling ‘what if’ scenario. I’ve approved things that would otherwise be in a news article, or on camera. I’ve released things that would normally throw me in jail. If I wasn’t doing this with a government paycheck, odds are I would be jailed or worse. The fact that this joke of a department is actually doing all this is… probably something I’d write about and release as a work of fiction.
| 2022-06-20T12:05:03 | 2022-06-20T11:50:39 | 706 | 279 |
[WP] Your wealthy relative has died and the funeral is coming up. The will stipulates that the funeral-goer that delivers the best eulogy inherits everything. Your late relative left scoring criterion that no one knows except the lawyer that will be judging at the funeral.
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“Dad was an honorable man,” my aunt began, glancing towards the lawyer sitting off to the side of the church.
I was seated in the third row next to my sister, who rolled her eyes and leaned over to me. "Not honorable enough to keep it in his pants though,” she whispered.
I held in a snort and coughed instead as the young woman sitting in front of us shifted uncomfortably, shuffling some papers she was holding in her hands. Apparently, she was my grandpa’s mistress he'd met after my grandma passed and she'd somehow managed to demand a speaking slot alongside grandpa’s four children.
“…and he would have been proud of my plans to open the world’s first designer sleep mask company with his support,” my aunt continued into the microphone.
My dad, who would give his eulogy last, looked across at us nervously. I forced an encouraging smile, followed by two things up. A loud, dramatic, sob echoed through the speakers as my aunt’s husband rushed on stage to console her.
“…I just,” my aunt got out between exaggerated breaths, “wish… I could tell him…more about my great idea.”
She burst into tears as she walked over to his coffin, kissing it as the priest moved back up to the podium.
“And now,” the priest said, checking his notes as my aunt walked off stage with her husband rubbing her back, “we have Ms Donaldson to say a few words.”
There was a murmur of intrigue as the young woman stood. The clunk of her heels echoed down the aisle like a slow military drum beat. She took a moment to compose herself at the podium and then looked up and smiled.
“I met the love of my life three year ago,” she began.
My sister leaned over again and whispered under her breath, “any earlier and we’d be having this ceremony in a Federal Prison, she’s barely older than me!”
“…and my love knew I was a true entrepreneur, which is why I plan to open a sleep support service for pets,” the young woman continued from the podium.
I nodded towards the lawyer, who was smiling up at Ms Donaldson with dreamy eyes, “so what do you reckon the criterion was?”
“You know what he was like, some sentimental crap probably.”
I was opening my mouth to respond when gasps of shock rang out through the church. I turned back to the front to see my grandpa’s mistress holding up a photo of them kissing.
“…you see? You all think I made this up, but I didn’t! I loved him,” she said, dabbing the dry makeup under her eye. A moment later she was walking off stage.
“Did you catch any of that?” My sister whispered. I shook my head and looked over at dad getting to his feet. The woman sat down in front of us as my sister coughed something obscene under her breath, sparking a sharp look from the woman over her shoulder.
“We all knew my father,” my dad began.
“Dad’s got this in the bag,” I whispered to my sister. As dad began explaining how he’d once put tape over his father’s mouth to stop him snoring, something started ringing near us and the woman in front pulled out a phone and answered.
“Aww, thanks honey,” she said into the phone, making little attempt to keep her voice down.
“This is a funeral! Can you please stop talking on your stupid friggin phone?” My sister demanded in a hushed voice.
“…and that’s how it all started,” my dad continued from the podium, “forty years later dad was running the most successful anti-snoring device company in the world. I can’t claim responsibility, but dad did used to say I was a pretty smart kid. So, yeah, I think he’d be pretty proud of my plans to expand the business to include sleep escorts. Thanks.”
With that, dad looked up and beamed, waiting for the applause before remembering it was a funeral and straightening himself up. He walked over to the casket as the priest walked back to the podium.
“Let us pray,” he began, pausing for a moment, “we are here to celebrate the life of Arthur James Jeremiah Toomey. He was a good man, and he will be missed.”
I looked over to my sister as dad sat down, “did you talk to dad about his big idea?”
She shook her head, looking as confused as me.
An hour later I was standing in the corner of a tiny room, stuffed with people wearing black and so humid the walls were starting to sweat. The four siblings were there, along with Ms Donaldson, leaning over the desk all trying to speak to the lawyer at once. The grandchildren mulled around the perimeter, siblings whispering quietly to one another, snatching guarded glances at their rivals.
“Okay, okay!” The lawyer said, holding up his hands. Silence fell over the room.
“Arthur wishes me to say that he thanks you all for your kind words,” he said, causing one of my cousins to snigger.
“And,” he continued, “he hopes you will all come to understand his decision, or rather, my decision, with time.”
“Yeah, ok well can we get to it then?” My aunt asked.
“Yes, yes,” the lawyer replied, “and you all did give such wonderful speeches. But without further ado, I’m pleased to announce that the estate in its entirety will go to…”
He glanced at each face before him one by one before looking back down at his card, “Father Thomas.”
The room erupted. Yells, shouts, screams, cries. Chaos.
“Quiet please!” The lawyer said as he got to his feet.
Slowly people started to pull themselves together, eager to hear what else he had to say before they left to call their own lawyers.
“I’m sorry to say, but Father Thomas was the only one who met the criterion set by Arthur,” the lawyer said.
“But the priest didn’t even give a eulogy!” The young woman said.
“Well, technically the rules were flexible enough to allow anyone who spoke to qualify, and Father Thomas was the only one who met the criterion,” he replied.
“And what was that?” My dad asked.
“That someone would say that Arthur would be missed,” the lawyer replied.
“That’s ridiculous – of course we miss him! And what about the other criteria?” My aunt asked.
“Well he didn’t leave criteria, did he? That was all he asked,” the lawyer said and shrugged.
|
The third week of the funeral was proving to be just as chaotic as the first two. The line of people hoping to strike gold snaked around the entire graveyard before going out into the parking lot and eventually through the city. Police had to shutdown entire highways to make room for the millions of people to stand in the blazing summer heat. An officer stationed at the current end sighed as he watched more and more people continue to append themselves to the line's tail.
When the billionaire's will had been initially read, people thought only family members were valid contestants. After further scrutiny, however, it was realized that such a restriction didn't exist. It simply said 'funeral-goer', meaning anyone in the world could show up for their chance at the fortune. To win, all you had to do was give the best eulogy.
Some people's words were long, while others were short. Some funny, some serious, some a mixture of the two. Nobody besides the lawyer appointed by the deceased billionaire knew what made any given eulogy the "best", but one thing was certain to everyone: the judgement was going to take awhile.
Little Miss Georgia Reed wanted nothing more than to go home and play in the dirt. She didn't know what a 'yooulogy' was, and she didn't understand why there were so many people in that line. The entire Reed family, about sixteen men, women, and children, were together there. They had gotten in fairly early. They were almost at the front of the line now after three weeks of waiting, and while that may not seem too quick, people were estimating the current back of the line wouldn't get to say their speeches for another three *months*.
Georgia saw Grandpa Jamie step forward after being signaled by the lawyer. He was at the front of the line—the place where many would kill to be right then. All of the Reeds were silent as Grandpa gave his speech. Georgia didn't care to listen, though, and instead bent down to address a worm she saw wriggling in the dirt. She picked it up and tried to get the attention of her older brother, who insisted he was much more mature than her, even though he was only one year older, seven, but was ignored. He was busy trying to act like the adults and listen to the speech.
Frustrated, Georgia threw the worm back onto the dirt, and took a step forward with everyone. She spun around in circles to make herself dizzy, she made up stories for all the people stuck in line behind her, and she jumped in place, all to stave off boredom. She was daydreaming about sitting in front of a fan and talking into it to sound like a robot when a voice broke her out of her fantasy.
"Hello, little Miss," the lawyer said, as Georgia was face to face with him. Panicked, the little girl looked around. She was at the front. All her family were off to the side, giving her expressions and words of encouragement, but none of them had even explained to her why she was there.
"Hello, Sir," the girl said. Suddenly, she blushed, embarrassed to be talking to a grownup all on her own. She fidgeted in place and played with her thumbs.
"Do you have any words to offer the deceased?" the lawyer asked, gently. He could tell the girl was confused.
"De-seesed? What's that?"
There was some laughter coming from behind Georgia, but one quick glance from the lawyer shut it up.
"It means..." the lawyer said, before pausing for a second and scratching his head, trying to figure out the best way to explain. "When somebody is *deceased*, it means they're not coming back. They've gone away somewhere, and we can never see them again. That's what happened to Mr. Roscow in front of you."
Georgia looked down at the grave and frowned. "But," she said, the little gears in her head turning, "if somebody is de-seesed, and they can't come back, won't people miss 'em? If my Pa got de-seesed I know I'd be sad." The little girl turned around to look at the portion of the line that was visible from the grave and tilted her head to the side before turning back to face the lawyer. "You mean to tell me all these people here miss Mr. Roscow?"
The lawyer nodded his head, but the expression on his face told Georgia he wasn't telling the truth. "Yes. Mr. Roscow was a popular man. Everyone has come here to say nice things about him. Now, would you like to say anything?"
Georgia looked over to her family, who were all nodding and giving her thumbs ups, and then she looked back to the line of people, all of who were there for a reason she didn't quite understand. A cool breeze brushed against her sweaty cheeks, and in that moment she decided to say whatever came to her innocent mind.
"Mr. Roscow," she said, "I never met you before, but there's a lot of people here missin' you, so if you could you should come back soon. I know the gentleman here said if you de-seesed you can't come back, but heck, there's so many people maybe they can make an exception for you. I never even seen this many folks before." Her family was still cheering her on, so even though she didn't have anything more to say, the girl forced something out. "Um. Maybe if you come back you can stop by my house. I could teach you how to play in the dirt, if you never did that before, and we can draw a hopscotch in the sand and maybe even catch lightening bugs at night. I think it would be fun. Okay, that's all. Hope you come back soon."
The lawyer smiled and nodded at Georgia before her mother came and dragged her away. In the car, on the way back home, Georgia stood on the backseat and stuck her head out the window. The wind felt good on her skin. On the other side of the road, just for a brief moment, she saw a dead skunk, beginning to rot with flies swarming above. She caught a faint whiff before sitting back down. Her eyes were glued to the back of her Pa's head in the front seat, who didn't seem to pay the dead skunk any attention as he drove, and suddenly, without knowing why, the little girl wished she had never said a word to Mr. Roscow.
| 2022-07-15T02:41:43 | 2022-07-15T01:33:33 | 901 | 116 |
[WP] As the Royal Oracle it is your job to write a prophecy every time a noble child is born. However when you are presented with the King's Heir you foresee that they will achieve nothing of note in their lifetime. In order to keep the King happy you must predict something that sounds impressive.
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Heed the words of the Oracle for the future is theirs to see and theirs alone to tell.
I have seen the life of King Edgar IV and I am... content.
King Edgar IV will don the crown when his father passes with wishes to do him proud and shall forevermore do his utmost to fulfil that promise. Under his reign, the kingdom shall enjoy an era of tremendous peace. Where some would wage needless wars, he shall choose the life of his subjects. Where some would attempt dishonest meddling, he shall choose integrity and respect towards his equals. Where some would throw away the realm's wealth in pursuit of hedonism and debauchery, he shall remain frugal. For what more can a King do than to be an example to his subjects?
Orderly. Fair. Prudent. Such words will often be used to describe our great future monarch and what more could be asked; none could ask for more than to go to bed knowing tomorrow will come as easily and smoothly as today has.
Rest easy now, subjects, knowing that no tragedy, no great hardship, shall strike on the watch of the ever-vigilant King Edgar IV.
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Most people in life, rather unsurprisingly, don't amount to much. Yet with the right lies, history can be rewritten. I never quite knew, until after, exactly what I was rewriting.
The king now officially had an heir, and within his future I saw the history of a typical noble. He would use his power for his own benefit, yet would eventually turn to lead the people with a fair hand; insignificant in all regards, as his father had been.
Yet nobody likes to hear the truth, so I wrote up a clever lie.
This lie, ten weeks later, resulted in an ancient wizard walking into our town. Already, the tides of time were shifting. The babe's name was even changed when the king read the fortune, and great wars began to unfurl in the future.
It was quite funny, to see an unremarkable Prince pull a sword from stone, working on nothing but conviction and full belief. He fought more than any other man of his age, working for a land fit for all. Then, as all Kings do, he fell into the night, journeying on to Avalon.
He was my most famous lie, the once and future king.
| 2022-09-11T12:09:35 | 2022-09-11T11:51:46 | 1,217 | 331 |
[WP] As the Royal Oracle it is your job to write a prophecy every time a noble child is born. However when you are presented with the King's Heir you foresee that they will achieve nothing of note in their lifetime. In order to keep the King happy you must predict something that sounds impressive.
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I blinked slowly and opened my eyes to met the king’s gaze. His watery green-blue eyes shone with sudden uncertainty. My own eyes stared back emotionlessly.
I was really just trying to think of something on the spot. I was good at foreseeing the future, but I didn’t want to disappoint the king. The king’s word alone would send me to the stocks or worse, to be hanged. And this king was famous for his short temper and hotheadedness, though he payed quite well.
I saw it clear as day in the future timeline. I would be dead. A wall of unreadable blackness supported this. Like the child, I had no future if I spoke of the truth. Disappointing the king so soon would result badly.
One thing I was good at, other than seeing, was keeping a serious face. And I knew the king hated eye contact. It freaked him out. It would be a good atmosphere to lie in. He would suspect a thing.
“Well?!” The king snarled nervously. I caught sight of a very near future where he cut my weekly rations for staring to much. I looked away calmly.
“Your son will grow up to be a great young man, just like his father… But anything I tell you will result in great consequence. The boy will do best if you watch him grow into greatness. Knowing too much will cause grief. That is all, my lord.” I returned my gaze to him.
I knew by the king’s nervousness that I succeeded. He merely nodded like a weak sheep and walked off. I felt a grim satisfaction. Perfect. I would have the king under more and more of my advise and control over time. I could see it.
The boy was unremarkable. He would only be used as a tool and prize by his father, so why don’t I use him first? I kept looking into the future, striving to follow the path that would end with me on the throne… And that coward’s dead eyed head on a spike.
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"where's the baby!? where is he?!" I yelled with excitement of seeing the king and queen's new addition. "Hold your horses Larone, he is right here. come quietly now as not to wake him." the king said with the proud look of a father on his face.
"Oh goodie, I can't wait to see what good things this little prince will accomplish someday." I said with a goofy grin crawling all over my face. "I can't wait to see what that will be too, as long as it is safe, that is." the queen suddenly rounded the corner. My face quickly went from ogling eyes to shock, and then from shock to respect. "Your majesty." I kneeled. "oh no need for that Larone, treat me the same as you treat your best friend, my husband. call me Roseanna" she interrupted. "yes Roseanna." i said.
"Now let's commence with the ritual before the celebration." the king said. I rolled up the sleeves to my robe, and tenderly put my hands over the baby. a series of images flooded through my mind. disappointment flooded me, the baby will grow up to be a fat douche bag who loves only money, power, and women. I mustn't let my friend the king know about this, and i shall try everything in my power to change his fate. the prince grows up and marries the ugly and terribly mean princes from the kingdom next door just for her kingdoms militia, all he cares for in the future is fire power and a strong army.
"oh he has a very wise future ahead of him. you may want to start him out on learning now, perhaps??" i questioned hopping i can get the subject of the ritual away. "well? what did you see?" the king questioned with anticipation. "well, i saw that he marries a beutiful princess and rules the kingdom in gracefulness." i lied, the truth is he sends his parents to the dungeon as soon as he gets promoted to king. but hopefully i can change that.
| 2022-09-11T18:21:46 | 2022-09-11T17:11:48 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] There have been many sacrifices made to summon you, as well as a plethora of motives - from the extreme, to the simplistic, to the downright absurd. But one particular sacrifice catches your eye: a young child simply offering you a bar of chocolate, claiming that you, a deity, must be "hungry".
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"Oh for fucks' sakes! Not again!"
After more than two millenia of being summoned to Earth every time some desperate bloody human decided they wanted an advantage in life, Teos was beginning to find himself envying the less approachable deities - those who had been wise enough to make it difficult for the humans to summon them.
Teos had been one of those "young progressives" who believed in his responsibilities as a god. He wanted the people to be able to reach him with ease and, perhaps more importantly, he had truly wanted to help them.
The older deities had laughed themselves silly when he put forth the rule that a human could summon him by sacrificing anything of their choice.
Jupiter had been in such hysterics he'd blown up a mountain and destroyed a whole civilization.
Teos had been happy though. He'd taken pride in being such a hands-on god. For a good 1000 years, even the most mundane tasks pleased him. He knew his efforts were helping people.
That was before some other "young progressives" thought the world would be better if the bloody peasantry were literate.
_What I wouldn't do to be back in the good old days, being summoned by some pompous twat in a shiny hat_ thought Teos as he prepared to answer the summons to Earth. _At least then the requests were simple. And you got a good rest in between them. Now every Tom, Dick and bloody Harry has a request to make and they're all so fucking stupid. Why do these people give a rat's arse about Instagram followers anyway?"_
"Ahh, well, a deal's a deal. Let's see what they've got for me this time."
With that Teos, vanished from the Heavenly plane, reemerging instantaneously in the bedroom of a young girl.
She turned, eyes wide, arm outstretched, holding a chocolate bar out to him.
"Please, Sir God, is this enough? I don't have anything else. Sometimes the nuns give us a little chocolate if we are good. I thought maybe you would like it too."
_Is there any clearer sign of the downfall of humanity than refined sugar?_ thought Teos
He smiled though (it was important to keep up appearances).
"That's very kind of you. What can I help you with? And you may call me Teos if you wish."
The girl gave a wide, toothy grin. Teos could have sworn he could already see the damage those chocolate bars were doing.
"Thank you Mr Teos, Sir. It's my friend Emily, Sir. She's very sad. She's new here at the orphanage. Her parents died a few weeks ago, you see. I only wondered if you could help her."
Teos stared at the girl. "You summoned a god because you're worried about your friend?"
She nodded emphatically.
"Yes, Sir. It was very hard for me when I first came here. I cried almost every night for my Mommy and Daddy. It still makes me sad sometimes but I'm okay and the nuns are nice to us. But I heard Emily crying tonight like I used to and it made me sad for her. Can you help her?
Teos paused thoughtfully.
"I'm not sure. It's been a very long time since someone asked me for something so selfless. I can't bring Emily's parents back to life, you know. Or yours. I'm sorry, it's just not how it works. What was it that made you start to feel better?"
The girl thought for some time, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"I think maybe it was Tommy and Lilith. They're my friends. It's hard to be sad all the time when you have nice friends."
Teos considered this thoughtfully.
"Well then. What I can offer you is some advice. If you want to help Emily, you need to be her friend."
The toothy grin returned and she gave Teos a big hug before running out the room calling for Emily.
Teos took a bite of the chocolate bar and popped back into the Heavenly plane.
_Sometimes_, he thought, _they still manage to surprise me_.
|
Awake! An ache of memory, a fragrance of ritual, a sinew-hurting call. You feel yourself transform from an absence to a presence. Lit by a spiraling insanity of cerulean and scarlet, you appear above a storm, starving and sensate. Your hunger reaches out and breathes in deeply the fresh, still-warm souls of a thousand dead sacrifices. Descend below the clouds, tyrant, and watch the artistry of a death cult ritual.
The summoners, eyes glassed, agape and shorn of pride, heartless priests clad in skins and blood. They await. Commanding and begging. Asking for trifles.
\*A spear to break the spine of a moon-god!\*
\*Grant me skin of silver, tyrant, and an unquenchable thirst for warm eyes!\*
\*Pray give me a boon of a hundred thousand lives, pattern the future within mine eyelids, and the sorcery to avenge my kin!\*
Grant me, gift me, beg thee! This is all they can say, O tyrant. Eternal beggars, whose wishes circle back to their nameless terror. When Jehuvgathagah made them, he wrapped their souls and sentience around the core of a nightmare. And all their will, free and determined, emerges from this hidden nightmare. Those gnarled labyrinthine roots of their intelligence all dug into that nightmare. All their monuments and malice - catalyzed from that common nightmare that they always see in their dreams, yet will never remember.
Grant them these trifles, tyrant, so that they may find solace in their unknowable insignificance.
And having granted thus, feel existence unwrap. The skin of reality flayed from itself. Shrieks of a tormented universe, so soft, so wet. Into inexistence, and a sleep that is not a sleep.
Such is that which is not such.
Time, untimed.
Awake! Another ache of another memory. Yet there is no fragrance. You become a presence, yet remain unlit. The skies below lie naked and unshorn. Your hunger reaches out and breathes in nothing. The gall of these insignificant microbes! Is that rage, great tyrant? This time, their trifles you grant them shall be monstrous.
Descend upon the flesh of trembling Gaia.
Where are the summoners? Those emperors and dark sages? Where lie the ten thousand broken bodies, oozing rich veins and stained bone mazes? Do you see an absence of artistry as artistry, tyrant?
I sense denial, and ask for forgiveness. A trifle for your observer, tyrant.
There is but one below you. A short summoner, dismal and dwarven. Eyes unglassed, mouth twisted in mockery of a crescent. It holds out a limb wielding a misshapen square of the color of a lower reality.
\*I could feel your hunger, Ooby\*
As does the universe, child, more and more the longer the tyrant remains.
\*Here, you can have this.\*
What manner of offering is this, great tyrant? What sacrifice has value if it is uncompelled? What...but wait, perhaps not all fragrance need be of ritual. Some fragrances can just be...deep and consoling. Like discovering the evening fires of your home in the distance after a bitter, cold day lost in the pines.
WHERE IS THY NIGHTMARE?
Does it not have one, tyrant? Is this not one of Jehuvgathagah's toys? But it is!
Flee, child! Even a tendril of the great tyrant can warp you into an eternity of pain! But I did not expect such delicate movement. Do you seek that square, tyrant? Why?
IT HAS QUENCHED THE NIGHTMARE. IT IS THE FETUS OF A PEER.
A new god? From such low birth?
\*I have one with coconut too. I'll get it next time.\*
Do you hear that, child? Stick to nougat.
| 2022-09-19T11:04:39 | 2022-09-19T10:41:06 | 191 | 89 |
[WP] In a world full of magicians, no one expected you to just walk over during the long cast time and punch your opponent in the face.
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"Representing Molokath's Arcane Academy, I give you Miiosh Brightward, student of Heliomancy!"
The announcer sweeps his arm in my opponent's direction, pointing at a foppish young man in elaborately embroidered white and gold robes. He's got an arrogant smirk on his too-handsome face; probably thinks he's already got this in the bag. My master said I'd probably get a lot of that; I don't look anything like the stereotype that surely springs to mind when you hear the word wizard.
"And his opponent, representing Toriyama's Maho No Dojo, I give you Kazuto Mazikawa, student of, erm, Magijutsu!"
The announcer points to me, I do my best not to squirm uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the assembled spectators. I hear murmured comments about my bright orange gi, my short and oddly spiked hair, my tense stance; I ignore them and clear my mind, preparing for the duel ahead.
Magic comes from within. Everyone has some innate traces, but only a few have the ability to tap into and wield the Arcane forces. Learning to control that power, and make it do as you command is one of the first basic steps for practitioners of any school; you learn how to draw the magic out, let it well up inside you, then release it in whatever configuration your spell dictates. Most schools teach various incantations that require the use of symbolic gestures.
Master Toriyama's school is… a little different.
"One final reminder that, while this *is* a duel to the death, any magic that destroys the soul, or otherwise prevents resurrection, is strictly prohibited! With that said, let the bout begin!"
The wizard across from me claps his hands together before him and closes his eyes, summoning his magic. I close my eyes as well, feeling the power rise within me, invigorating me. Magic enhances the senses, heightens reaction times; some of the more powerful makes use their innate energies to increase the speed of their movements, drastically reducing the casting times of their spells.
My master founded a school devoted to that particular aspect of magic, focusing on using one's gathered power to augment the physical form, rather than wasting time trying to precisely tweak reality to your whims. In Magijutsu, there are no spells to learn, no lengthy incantations, and the core philosophy is very simple; your opponent can't cast any spells if he's unconscious.
I open my eyes, heightened vision picking out the golden strands of Miiosh's aura as he slowly moves his hands about in a series of circles and straight lines, chanting in some other language. Infused with the magic coursing through me, my legs carry me across the arena in an eyeblink. Miiosh balks in surprise as I appear before him, his incantation coming to a sputtering stop. He doesn't get the chance to ask me how I did that; I literally take his breath away with a magic-infused punch that tears through his left lung like tissue paper.
"Tch. Missed the heart."
Miiosh desperately tries to take one last breath, and crumples to the ground at my feet, before disappearing with a flicker. He reappears at the medic station a moment later, shame heavy on his shoulders. I know how he feels; Master Toriyama would not be pleased with my sloppy performance. I'll have to do better in the next round.
|
I didnt mean to kill his parrot.
I had no idea how I had ended up here but, well, life has its ways.
I was a novice, just starting out with the more complicated spells.
I was like those people in story books- a teenage wizard who was awkward and just figuring out life, but that's where the similarities ended.
I sucked at spells, and I really needed to know these perfectly. No I wasn't studying for an exam, there isn't any wizarding school like hogwarts. I mean there is, but its more of extra classes for children whose magic developed at a slower rate than the rest of us.
So here I was, practicing somewhat complicated spells in an open, and what I initially thought as empty, ground.
'Ke-aar Me o no sen' I muttered to myself. Then I picked up a stick and practised flicking it.
Oh right, I forgot to mention, wands aren't a thing. A true wizard (unlike wizards from books and movies) doesnt specifically need a want. We need a piece of nature, like a leaf or a rock, that helps us connect to the mother earth from where we derive our power. A stick is just a sturdy and comfortable option. Actual wands are owned by accomplished wizards, so definitely not me.
'Ke-aar me o no senn' I shouted, while swirling the stick fancily towards a tree. Almost immediately I heard a choking noise and then a shriek.
This scared me. I was practising an asphyxiation spells and now someone was choking. Oh my god, oh my god, oh godddddd.
I rushed towards the tree, trying to remember the reversal spell.
There, more or less hiding behind the tree, stood a man. He was kneeling on the ground, but he wasn't the one making the choking noise. In his hands I saw a parrot.
I sighed a sigh of relief. Yes, I was sad for the parrot's death, but the man's death would have meant much worse things for me. I was too young to be in prison.
"I am so, so sorry. I really didnt see you there.''
The man looked at me, ''you're sorry? Oh, you're sorry, are you?''
I stayed silent, knowing that nothing I could say would make this situation any better.
''Oh, YOU'RE SORRY, ARE YOU NOW?? WELL THAT'S MUCH BETTER. THAT WILL BRING MY LITTLE BABY BACK"
I just stood there awkwardly.
''Is there anything I can do to show you how sorry I am? I really am sorry''
The situation was turning very awkward and a little scary.
''Of course, yes. You know what you can do? Die''
He began chanting something. Now, the thing about some of the most advanced and irreversible spells, like the death spell is that they take a long time to cast.
There were some dangerous spells, like the one I had just cast, which were less time consuming, but they weren't permanent.
The man was staring intensely at me while holding his poor, dead parrot in his hands. Running wouldn't help me escape the spell, which only needed him to get one good look at my face, and I didn't know anything useful to defend myself from it either.
I started panicking, and did the only thing I could think of doing at the moment- I punched him. Unexpectedly, he fell backwards.
Did I kill him?
(Should I continue this in the comments?)
| 2022-09-22T07:22:08 | 2022-09-22T06:20:07 | 29 | 19 |
[WP] You finally did it, you built a time machine! You head back 2000 years to Jerusalem, thinking you'd finally end the debate and see Jesus for yourself... but, when you finally find him and look at him, he suddenly turns towards you as if struck by an invisible force, rage visible in his eyes.
|
I’d spent twenty years on the design and another ten years begging, borrowing, and stealing for the nuclear fuel and capacitors, all for *one* shot. Mercifully, all the time spent waiting in dark Bulgarian alleys, fields in Kazakhstan, and in the foothills of Pakistan gave me lots of time to think about how I would use the machine. There was no way to travel more than about 2,200 years in the past due to load calculations. Odds of a capacitor failing were high and there wouldn’t be enough time to make another from scratch before I died even if I had all my tools and equipment from a few years in the past. My hands were withered, my body twisted by the time and effort. I’d given everything for this moment and I wanted it to count. I shipped the machine to Israel.
It was no small feat getting radioactive material past the inspections. The last of my money went to bribes and all the lead shielding, but, finally, I stood by Galilee next to the rusted shipping container holding my machine, the gentle lapping of water by my feet as the engine’s low whine steadily rose in pitch.
I entered the tiny hatch and crammed myself inside. Instruments and displays jammed uncomfortably into me as the whine became deafening. The year was set. A small light on the panel shifted to yellow, then green. I felt my finger depress a key and there was a loud bang, tremendous disorientation, then… nothing.
I came to in the dark, gently rocking back and forth. I was alive! As I cracked the hatch, smells of ozone and burnt plastic gave way to the soft spice of spring wind. The shore was barely visible in moonlight. Of course! Galilee was deeper then! A foolish oversight. I removed a small life vest from the seat, my carefully chosen robes, and a small, inflatable raft and began to tow my creation to shore.
A few carefully placed cloths concealed my work and I stood, exhausted on the shore. A couple of young men had come down to the shore to push off and regarded my elderly bedraggled form quizzically. They spoke in… Aramaic? I’d had to make choices about what I studied. I responded in Koine Greek.
“I am looking for someone. Can you help me?”
The first man glanced at the second who spoke up in heavily accented Greek.
“You’re a traveler?”
Success! I responded.
“Yes. I have come to seek the one they call Jesus of Nazareth. Does he teach here?” I held out a coin I’d paid a small fortune to obtain at a pawn shop as a tip for information. The man affirmed. “I have half now, half when we get to him.”
Fishers must have been as poor as it was recorded as both men enthusiastically led me further down the shore. It was a mercy their Greek was so poor that I didn’t have to explain my own stilted skills or attempt to fall back to my high school Latin. They were quite hospitable, fed me, and allowed me to ride in their cart as they led the ass along a Roman road. What a privilege to see one with my own eyes. The past! I could scarcely drink it all in before I heard an increasing din of a crowd.
There had to be two thousand or more people all waiting on a hillside. Children playing, old men gesturing angrily, and others seem to have made a picnic out of it. After a few confirming conversations, I paid my guides who enthusiastically made their way from me into the crowd. I would be unlikely to last here; strange food, strange disease, cultural misunderstandings, broken equipment, but it would be worth it. In moments, I would see Him.
“YOU!”
A voice boomed in Greek over the din and the crowd silenced.
“YOU!”
All eyes turned to a slight man with a small entourage emerging down by the shore. Could it be?
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”
I suddenly became aware of this man’s outstretched hand, pointing my way. Members of the crowd fell prostrate as this man walked past.
“YOU DO NOT BELONG!” That… was not in Greek. That was accented… Latin?
The crowd parted and suddenly I was aware of this man’s fixated eyes as he marched toward me, seemingly blind to his followers. I was too frightened to speak.
“You are out of place, traveler.” Not Latin… Italian? He looked frustrated at my face. Then he spoke in halting English, “You understand me now?”
I nodded. It seemed the world stood silent around me.
“No much time. You… break it all. You go. Back to your machine.”
I stammered in English. “Y.. you know me?”
“I heard of you. Told to look for you here. Father watches. You go back to your machine NOW!”
(I’ll add more shortly. Off to work!)
|
Jerusalem, 2000 years before it all got out of hand. The mission my superiors had sent me on was clear and simple. Take a picture of Jesus Christ and confirm his existence then get the computer in the 70s. Easy. I didn’t stand out. I wore the same clothes as the folks around me. Perhaps the colour of my skin was a bit out of place, but nobody seemed to notice.
“Son, hurry up. You have only half an hour left to finish your mission. We can’t risk you getting stuck in the past. We won’t risk another H.G. Wells, besides there is more to do. We need you to find the 1975 computer as well. This is just our little side project,” the general told me as I felt his voice inside of my head. The past does have its advantages. At least there were no forced microchips in the heads of these people.
“Sir, yes, sir,” I quickly answered.
I saw a crowd surrounding a dark, tall man. His beard seemed clean, so did his long black hair.
The man spoke in a language which I did not understand. It was time for modern technology to do its thing. I snapped four times with my fingers. The translation machine immediately did what it was meant to do. Could this be him?
“You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind,” the intriguing man said to a young boy. His voice sounded a bit peculiar. I tapped twice on my forehead in a specific manner to get in contact with the general.
“General, this man is preaching the bible. Could this be him?” I asked as the camera seemed to confirm my suspicions as well.
“Positive, son. Take the picture and get the hell out of there,” he answered.
I took out the camera and took a few pictures of the man who I assumed was Jesus Christ. It was done. The mission had succeeded. As I walked out of there, I decided to look at the pictures.
The man had stared right at the lens of the camera. Twice. This was odd, but nothing uncommon. I mean, Napoleon had stared at the camera and everything was fine after that. Same goes for Alexander The Great.
“Sir, I got the pictures. The software is positive, this is Jesus Christ. Take me back.”
“Sending you back now, Fredrick. Well done!” The general sounded enthusiastic.
Just then I felt a huge electric shock in my head. I dropped the camera and it was immediately broken. Damn it, Apple…
“What is this?” A man with strong facial features asked. Did this man follow me?
“Nothing of interest to you,” I quickly answered as I grabbed the broken camera. The camera still seemed to work just a little bit. It recognized the person in front of me as Judas! Incredible.
“You’re Judas?” I asked way too quickly.
“Yes, I am,” he answered. He didn’t seem to be surprised.
“Who are you?” he asked. Suddenly we both heard footsteps quickly coming towards us. It was him. It was Jesus.
“What in tarnation is the meaning of this? What are you doing here?” he asked. He seemed incredibly angry with me. I decided to play it off.
“Jesus, you want me to-“ Judas asked as he was interrupted.
“Leave, please,” he responded. Judas left as Jesus turned to me. I decided to answer him.
“Messias, I came to gander upon your greatness. I believe in Him as well.”
“Perhaps you do, perhaps you don’t,” he answered as the camera went out of my hands into his. He didn’t reach for it. It moved out of itself. After that I felt a huge headache for just a few seconds.
“Your technology is destroyed,” Jesus told me. I was a bit angry now.
“My Lord? What do you mean? I came here to reassure the future human race of your existence. Why would you deny us of your existence?! This is preposterous!” I responded.
“No. We’ve all been warned of your kind. Mohammed, Moses, me. We know of you. We’ve been warned.”
This frightened me to my core. What was this being truly capable of? What did he know? I thought religion was some sort of joke. Not only does Jesus know that I’m from the future, but he also knows of Mohammed and Moses. How? I am not really a true believer, but is Jesus really God?
“Jesus, how do you know all of this?” I asked.
He didn’t answer me. Instead he touched the place between my eyebrows. Shocks went through my body as I was teleported. I felt it.
I opened my eyes. Planes flew above me. Cars honked as I quickly walked away. Where was I?
I sped towards a trash bin where I found a paper.
October 26, 2000… This is bad. I need to fix my time travel method…
| 2022-12-10T04:01:22 | 2022-12-09T17:34:26 | 152 | 65 |
[WP] You were the hero, the prophesied savior of the world. But you are so very tired of sacrificing for the greater good, of having to do the right thing at your expense. So when they ask you to do it again, you say no.
|
“No.”
“Excuse me?” The man replied. He was giving me a look like he knew I was joking.
I wasn’t.
“I’m not doing it anymore. I want to live my life, get a job, start a family, go on trips. I don’t want to run around thwarting bank robbers and stopping murders. I don’t want to fix broken buildings or build new houses. I want a quiet job, maybe writing or something like that.”
The man was fuming. I could envision the smoke pouring out of his bright red ears and floating up past his dirty blond hair. He licked his lips before he spoke, and his tongue looked like a thick pink slug rolling around his lips.
“I don’t care what you want. This is what you need to do. It’s your job.” He said, his voice harsh with anger.
I looked at him with a piercing gaze. Oh, how I wanted to strike him down. Would it really be that hard? Would it really be that bad? Probably not.
“Well, since it my job, I can quit. So I quit.” There was a stunned silence for a moment, then I slowly turned and started to walk out of the office. When I got to the door, I turned around. He was just sitting there looking defeated.
And as I walked out of the office, I felt lighter than I had in years.
————-///——————///——————
I haven’t written in months, so any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!
|
I stepped up to the microphone, and was nervous. Slowly I started speaking:
"My friends, today I stand before you in a state of melancholia. I know that each one of you has your own struggles and burdens to bear, and I do not wish to burden you with my own. But I must speak of my journey."
A sad beat filled the speakers. My voice deepens, and I start rapping.
"Ya'll wanna give me medals and cheer me on,
Sayin' I'm a hero but it's not that strong
I'm just trying to take a day off and have some fun,
It's time to take a break so let me run!
I said no, no need to try,
Stop askin' me to sacrifice
Been livin' tough but I'm gettin' by,
Time to take a break or else I'll die
All this talk of destinies and warriors,
Always expectin' me to do more
Actions have consequences, that's what I'm seein',
But I can't keep giving up my bein'
All these words flyin' in the air,
Don't wanna go through it no more despair
I won't play your game, no more of this fame,
Gonna take a breather, change my own name
I said no, no need to try,
Stop askin' me to sacrifice
Been livin' tough but I'm gettin' by,
Time to take a break or else I'll die"
And so, I waked off the stage and into the new unknown.
| 2022-12-12T21:10:54 | 2022-12-12T12:29:40 | 39 | 10 |
[WP] You were the hero, the prophesied savior of the world. But you are so very tired of sacrificing for the greater good, of having to do the right thing at your expense. So when they ask you to do it again, you say no.
|
They said it so often during those horrible times. 'Hero' they would say, all smiles and joy. I saw it on the news, in online articles, heard it on the lips of every radio DJ.
Yet I never believed a word of it. I just suited up, put on the mask, and braved the dangers every day.
I was threatened. Villains who were convinced of their righteousness, willing to go to any length to get their way, cost to those around them be damned.
Many others tried to fight this battle. So often they fell victim, always calling on the chosen one, as they called me. I was just the one who answered the phone. Id come back to the battle again, tired and scarred from my own bouts against this scourge.
"No. Im staying home. Get someone else to cover your 'essential worker' cashiering job tonight. You didnt even pay for our sick time, none of you managers were willing to step up when I got sick. Fight your own damn battles this time. Im going back to bed."
I would hear about the 'devastation' for weeks, how a manager who pushed every possible barrier to make me work alone overnight at a gas station had to cover a workers shift for the first time in years. Threats to my hours would soon follow. Yet I did not care.
They forced me to treat my job like my world, and I the hero who had to save it every day from COVID. The bad guys won. Im tired.
Let my world burn.
|
I stepped up to the microphone, and was nervous. Slowly I started speaking:
"My friends, today I stand before you in a state of melancholia. I know that each one of you has your own struggles and burdens to bear, and I do not wish to burden you with my own. But I must speak of my journey."
A sad beat filled the speakers. My voice deepens, and I start rapping.
"Ya'll wanna give me medals and cheer me on,
Sayin' I'm a hero but it's not that strong
I'm just trying to take a day off and have some fun,
It's time to take a break so let me run!
I said no, no need to try,
Stop askin' me to sacrifice
Been livin' tough but I'm gettin' by,
Time to take a break or else I'll die
All this talk of destinies and warriors,
Always expectin' me to do more
Actions have consequences, that's what I'm seein',
But I can't keep giving up my bein'
All these words flyin' in the air,
Don't wanna go through it no more despair
I won't play your game, no more of this fame,
Gonna take a breather, change my own name
I said no, no need to try,
Stop askin' me to sacrifice
Been livin' tough but I'm gettin' by,
Time to take a break or else I'll die"
And so, I waked off the stage and into the new unknown.
| 2022-12-13T00:21:00 | 2022-12-12T12:29:40 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] You are a werekitty. When you lose control of your emotions, or the moon is full you transform into a tiny, cute, playful, declawed kitten and it is ruining your life.
|
It's terminal.
My wife's cancer that is. At first we were so strong. We would go to the cancer awareness functions, wear the bracelets. Everything.
But whenever she needed me, I would... change. I don't mean my personality or anything. I mean I would legitimately transform. I always get made fun of for it, so I might as well just say it: I'm a WereKitty. It skips a generation. We have a few theories of how and why it happens, but theories won't keep me normal. Theories won't support my wife. I only change when I'm overwhelmed with emotion. So whenever I see my wife get an MRI, blood drawn, or anything along those lines... I change. She is essentially alone. She told me she doesn't care, that it makes her happy. She even calls me her "Little Kitty" most times. But even through that weak, pale smile... I can see sadness.
It was a Thursday. She was in bed at home. The hospital said it'd be best for her to pass on in her own home. It was just me, and the nurse. My wife had our photo album in her lap, and my hand in hers as we flipped through the pages of our lives. Starting from us sitting on the park bench we met at. The next few pages were us at parties, and beyond that were pictures of us on vacation. We lingered at the photo I had the waiter take when I proposed. Tears welled in her eyes as we relived our wedding day. Then, the heart monitor began beeping more frequent as her breaths became less. Her grip loosened under mine tightening.
Her eyes were lost, she was searching for my eyes through a waterfall of tears, even though she was already in my eyes. The life in those sapphire rings slowly fluttered away. She weakly told me that she wanted to tell me one thing before she goes. My heart and stomach are one with each other. I let the warm streams sprint down my cheeks. The room began to spin violently as the colors blended into one.
I woke up the next morning in my bed. I looked around and my wife was gone. I quickly stood up and searched high and low for her all through out my house like a mad man. The nurse was standing in the living room, waiting patiently for me to calm down. I looked at her through the pain flooding my eyes. The nurse handed me a picture. When I looked at it, I put my hand over my mouth and surrendered to the tears.
It was of my wife, laying in bed, pale and sick. In her arms was a kitty, fluffy and cute. There was a tiny half smile on her face. The nurse told me she wrote my wife's last words on the back.
"I love you, My Little Kitty."
|
"And so I say to her, 'If you didn't want me to, then why'd you take me to the *movies*?'" The three boys started laughing. I sat there, my blood boiling. They clapped him on the back. "Dude, here she comes now!"
The poor girl walked into the cafeteria. She always looked a little quiet, but now she looked like she wanted to pull her head inside of her chest like a turtle. The boys behind me started to whistle, and one made an obscene charade with his hand. I could feel my teeth sharpening. *No, don't do this...*
They didn't stop. Her eyes started to tear as she sat alone at the other end of the cafeteria, the three goons jeering at her. People were staring at the boys. My fingernails were starting to recede into my knuckles, my hands were becoming smaller. I wanted to tell those kids to shut up, that he had *forced* her to do it, that she didn't deserve it.
"Hey, jackass, leave her alone." One of the popular girls, a real Miss America, had walked up and was staring him in the face. "Shut the hell up Cindy," said one of the other boys. "You did it with me and you *looooved* it." The boys laughed harder than ever.
The girl's face turned a little red, but she didn't back off. "I said that so you'd get me that necklace for Christmas. James was better." The boys were shocked into dead silence. Hearing my name surprised me so hard that I went fully human all at once.
I turned around. The three guys were still dumbstruck, and Cindy was giving me a weird look. She mouthed out, *Play along with it.* The problem was, there were three of them and one of me. She realized this as soon as the boy she'd apparently used got up and started towards me. "Let's go, shrimp." That set me off.
My features became more feline, my hands and feet turned into paws. A tail shot out of my back, and my fingernails disappeared. I was a tiny, pretty cute kitten. And I was *pissed.*
----
"Alright, Chad, one last time."
"He bit me on the leg, and then hid in the air vent."
The principal chewed on the end of his pencil, thinking hard. Chad's parents were upset, but they were unsure of how to take care of the situation. Their boy and his two friends all told the same story--a kid shapeshifted into a cat, and mauled their kids.
What the principal thought was more likely, however, was they had used some of the LSD they'd had on their person when they went to the nurse.
"Alright, Chad, thanks for your time. You can leave."
| 2014-06-24T11:45:44 | 2014-06-24T11:44:13 | 96 | 19 |
[WP] The US in the year 2050. Every citizen (except the rich) must serve a mandatory month in prison, in order to recompense for crimes they must've committed but that Police failed to discover.
|
Prison Ink
I did my month, made a little profit for the private/police state partnership. Not that big a deal and since everyone does it no one cares,
Of course everyone except them is poor now and every dollar they can extort goes to the cops, the robots and the private goons, waivered out of the mandatory sentence of course. They think that will keep the keep them safe from the rest of us .
I smiled, my arm was still sore from the prison ink but I didn't really care, You see putos there are some people in this world you shouldn't fuck with. With computers so cheap and software everywhere ...
Epilogue
CBC Radio news hour, Beyond the Wall
Hello this is Jacob Everleigh reporting as always from Beyond the Wall here in Free Canada
From reports it appears as much as 10% of the US population died within two year period of an unknown aliment.
Doctors were unable or some say unwilling to treat the plague although foreign observers say unusually only the wealthiest and most elite members of society were effected.
Emergency measures to deal with the economic implosion have been put in place first among them an elimination of the Mandatory Month.
New elections are expected to be called within a few months as well.
All I can say is Welcome Back America, we missed you.
|
As I open the envelope, my insides turn and my mind races. Emblazoned on the front in menacing red block font; the contents have already been revealed.
"IMPORTANT: REPRIMAND DOCUMENTS ENCLOSED"
My fate is as sealed as the bars I will soon reside behind, and the coffin in which I leave the prison. I will die in prison. I have spent my entire professional career putting those who commit violent crimes in these very prisons. This line of work offers little tangible reward to those who stay on the righteous path. Corruption, threats, and powerful enemies lie in the path of those who oppose.
6 years ago, as the *honorable* Judge Markovic delivered his ruling, defendant Antonio "Scar" Carvanni turned to me with a twisted grin of evil and satisfaction. The scar from his right eye to his chin distracted me shortly from the words he spoke:
**"I've got friends in all the prisons, thanks to you. The reprimand is your death sentence."**
Since that day, when Judge Markovic had been bribed and Carvanni walked, a free man, I have been waiting for this letter. The time has come, there is no more waiting. Next month, I walk into a den of monsters. A den I have created. A doom I have created.
| 2014-07-22T10:19:53 | 2014-07-22T10:18:16 | 16 | 10 |
[FF] In 100 words or less, make an inanimate object seem frightening without it being haunted.
|
"I'll put it in later." I say with my hands, as my mother points disapprovingly at the aid on the table before me.
The little miracle (as the doctor says) will give me opportunties I would have never had before, a whole new sense in a much louder world.
A baby's laugh, music, my mother's voice.
I'm terrified of putting it in, I like the quiet, why give me the noise?
|
They keep exploding all around me. They won't stop. Just when I think it's over - there's another one! I can hear them, but I can't feel them. And the whole time, she just stands there - staring at me - with that same smile on her face. She braces her hands to clamp down on another one, and then like the hundreds she's sacrificed before; my daughter pops another pocket on the sheet of bubble wrap she's been working on all night.
| 2014-12-28T18:45:18 | 2014-12-28T18:41:49 | 52 | 29 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
Timmy had been my best friend since the first grade.
Over the summer, we hung out every single day.
We played pranks, told stories, made great memories.
We knew we would always be friends.
But now school has started again.
Timmy used to be nice.
He stole my juice.
I want revenge.
Die, Timmy.
Burn.
|
Jessie's job was working for the city, cleaning up roadkill.
I can't help but see irony in his death.
He probably looked like a deer in headlights.
Which is what he was cleaning up.
That SUV didn't even see him.
Flattened him out real good.
It was road kill.
Leaving him, well.
You know.
Roadkill.
| 2015-01-05T21:55:48 | 2015-01-05T21:54:55 | 364 | 122 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
Timmy had been my best friend since the first grade.
Over the summer, we hung out every single day.
We played pranks, told stories, made great memories.
We knew we would always be friends.
But now school has started again.
Timmy used to be nice.
He stole my juice.
I want revenge.
Die, Timmy.
Burn.
|
I remember what you said leaving the house that night.
We had fought earlier -- apparently I worried too much.
"I'll be fine," you said; "worry about yourself."
*Fine, but don't come crying to me.*
Later I heard about the accident.
Drunk driver on West Ave.
You still haven't recovered.
Ellie, I'm sorry.
I'm worried.
Please...
| 2015-01-05T21:55:48 | 2015-01-05T21:32:01 | 364 | 55 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
Timmy had been my best friend since the first grade.
Over the summer, we hung out every single day.
We played pranks, told stories, made great memories.
We knew we would always be friends.
But now school has started again.
Timmy used to be nice.
He stole my juice.
I want revenge.
Die, Timmy.
Burn.
|
The very air hung heavy with the weight of anticipation.
The sun gleamed off of the white, hot metal.
A sudden, bright flash erupted from the earth.
An excited buzz swept through the crowd.
Deafening silence heralded the deafening roar.
A pillar of fire rose.
It climbed into heaven.
The crowd rose.
They waved.
Farewell.
| 2015-01-05T21:55:48 | 2015-01-05T21:35:07 | 364 | 54 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
Timmy had been my best friend since the first grade.
Over the summer, we hung out every single day.
We played pranks, told stories, made great memories.
We knew we would always be friends.
But now school has started again.
Timmy used to be nice.
He stole my juice.
I want revenge.
Die, Timmy.
Burn.
|
I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."*
| 2015-01-05T21:55:48 | 2015-01-05T21:31:56 | 364 | 14 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
My eyes fell upon this perfect woman, my hearts unrest.
Never have I felt this pounding in my chest.
Never have I left my thoughts behind me.
I could be everything I could be.
She could be everything with me.
Or all could be lost.
Should I not try?
I walked by.
She smiled.
“Hi”.
|
Jessie's job was working for the city, cleaning up roadkill.
I can't help but see irony in his death.
He probably looked like a deer in headlights.
Which is what he was cleaning up.
That SUV didn't even see him.
Flattened him out real good.
It was road kill.
Leaving him, well.
You know.
Roadkill.
| 2015-01-05T21:56:44 | 2015-01-05T21:54:55 | 335 | 122 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
My eyes fell upon this perfect woman, my hearts unrest.
Never have I felt this pounding in my chest.
Never have I left my thoughts behind me.
I could be everything I could be.
She could be everything with me.
Or all could be lost.
Should I not try?
I walked by.
She smiled.
“Hi”.
|
She looks behind her like a wary forest animal. Something is watching her, but she does not see. A shudder, and then she quickens her pace. Probably her imagination playing tricks on her. Her heart is thumping loudly now. One more glance behind her. Was that a figure?
"Is someone there?"
A reply. "Hello."
| 2015-01-05T21:56:44 | 2015-01-05T21:23:15 | 335 | 95 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
My eyes fell upon this perfect woman, my hearts unrest.
Never have I felt this pounding in my chest.
Never have I left my thoughts behind me.
I could be everything I could be.
She could be everything with me.
Or all could be lost.
Should I not try?
I walked by.
She smiled.
“Hi”.
|
I had been with her for a number of years.
My heart was racing with fear, anticipation, and hope.
"Honey, I have something important to ask you."
She turned and gave me a smile.
A voice like an angel answered, "Yes?".
I knelt down before her.
"Will you marry me?"
"Oh my God."
Tears fell.
"Yes."
| 2015-01-05T21:56:44 | 2015-01-05T21:45:56 | 335 | 59 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
My eyes fell upon this perfect woman, my hearts unrest.
Never have I felt this pounding in my chest.
Never have I left my thoughts behind me.
I could be everything I could be.
She could be everything with me.
Or all could be lost.
Should I not try?
I walked by.
She smiled.
“Hi”.
|
I remember what you said leaving the house that night.
We had fought earlier -- apparently I worried too much.
"I'll be fine," you said; "worry about yourself."
*Fine, but don't come crying to me.*
Later I heard about the accident.
Drunk driver on West Ave.
You still haven't recovered.
Ellie, I'm sorry.
I'm worried.
Please...
| 2015-01-05T21:56:44 | 2015-01-05T21:32:01 | 335 | 55 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
My eyes fell upon this perfect woman, my hearts unrest.
Never have I felt this pounding in my chest.
Never have I left my thoughts behind me.
I could be everything I could be.
She could be everything with me.
Or all could be lost.
Should I not try?
I walked by.
She smiled.
“Hi”.
|
The very air hung heavy with the weight of anticipation.
The sun gleamed off of the white, hot metal.
A sudden, bright flash erupted from the earth.
An excited buzz swept through the crowd.
Deafening silence heralded the deafening roar.
A pillar of fire rose.
It climbed into heaven.
The crowd rose.
They waved.
Farewell.
| 2015-01-05T21:56:44 | 2015-01-05T21:35:07 | 335 | 54 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
My eyes fell upon this perfect woman, my hearts unrest.
Never have I felt this pounding in my chest.
Never have I left my thoughts behind me.
I could be everything I could be.
She could be everything with me.
Or all could be lost.
Should I not try?
I walked by.
She smiled.
“Hi”.
|
I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."*
| 2015-01-05T21:56:44 | 2015-01-05T21:31:56 | 335 | 14 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
Jessie's job was working for the city, cleaning up roadkill.
I can't help but see irony in his death.
He probably looked like a deer in headlights.
Which is what he was cleaning up.
That SUV didn't even see him.
Flattened him out real good.
It was road kill.
Leaving him, well.
You know.
Roadkill.
|
I remember what you said leaving the house that night.
We had fought earlier -- apparently I worried too much.
"I'll be fine," you said; "worry about yourself."
*Fine, but don't come crying to me.*
Later I heard about the accident.
Drunk driver on West Ave.
You still haven't recovered.
Ellie, I'm sorry.
I'm worried.
Please...
| 2015-01-05T21:54:55 | 2015-01-05T21:32:01 | 122 | 55 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
Jessie's job was working for the city, cleaning up roadkill.
I can't help but see irony in his death.
He probably looked like a deer in headlights.
Which is what he was cleaning up.
That SUV didn't even see him.
Flattened him out real good.
It was road kill.
Leaving him, well.
You know.
Roadkill.
|
I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."*
| 2015-01-05T21:54:55 | 2015-01-05T21:31:56 | 122 | 14 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
There were exactly fifty five of these strange little things.
They were strung, line by line, in descending order.
Rows upon rows, each shorter than the last.
All honing in on some intangible topic.
I didn't know what they were.
And they rushed at me.
What were they called?
It was time.
I remembered.
Words.
|
I remember what you said leaving the house that night.
We had fought earlier -- apparently I worried too much.
"I'll be fine," you said; "worry about yourself."
*Fine, but don't come crying to me.*
Later I heard about the accident.
Drunk driver on West Ave.
You still haven't recovered.
Ellie, I'm sorry.
I'm worried.
Please...
| 2015-01-05T22:11:05 | 2015-01-05T21:32:01 | 74 | 55 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
There were exactly fifty five of these strange little things.
They were strung, line by line, in descending order.
Rows upon rows, each shorter than the last.
All honing in on some intangible topic.
I didn't know what they were.
And they rushed at me.
What were they called?
It was time.
I remembered.
Words.
|
The very air hung heavy with the weight of anticipation.
The sun gleamed off of the white, hot metal.
A sudden, bright flash erupted from the earth.
An excited buzz swept through the crowd.
Deafening silence heralded the deafening roar.
A pillar of fire rose.
It climbed into heaven.
The crowd rose.
They waved.
Farewell.
| 2015-01-05T22:11:05 | 2015-01-05T21:35:07 | 74 | 54 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
There were exactly fifty five of these strange little things.
They were strung, line by line, in descending order.
Rows upon rows, each shorter than the last.
All honing in on some intangible topic.
I didn't know what they were.
And they rushed at me.
What were they called?
It was time.
I remembered.
Words.
|
Honestly, you were never a decent person to begin with.
Even in your final moments, I doubt you'll understand.
Though, I suppose it doesn't really matter now.
In a few seconds, you'll be dead.
People will always forget the man.
But his crimes still remain.
That, they never forget.
But *you,* though?
I'll remember.
Always.
| 2015-01-05T22:11:05 | 2015-01-05T21:57:47 | 74 | 18 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
There were exactly fifty five of these strange little things.
They were strung, line by line, in descending order.
Rows upon rows, each shorter than the last.
All honing in on some intangible topic.
I didn't know what they were.
And they rushed at me.
What were they called?
It was time.
I remembered.
Words.
|
I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."*
| 2015-01-05T22:11:05 | 2015-01-05T21:31:56 | 74 | 14 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
I had been with her for a number of years.
My heart was racing with fear, anticipation, and hope.
"Honey, I have something important to ask you."
She turned and gave me a smile.
A voice like an angel answered, "Yes?".
I knelt down before her.
"Will you marry me?"
"Oh my God."
Tears fell.
"Yes."
|
I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."*
| 2015-01-05T21:45:56 | 2015-01-05T21:31:56 | 59 | 14 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
I remember what you said leaving the house that night.
We had fought earlier -- apparently I worried too much.
"I'll be fine," you said; "worry about yourself."
*Fine, but don't come crying to me.*
Later I heard about the accident.
Drunk driver on West Ave.
You still haven't recovered.
Ellie, I'm sorry.
I'm worried.
Please...
|
I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."*
| 2015-01-05T21:32:01 | 2015-01-05T21:31:56 | 55 | 14 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
The very air hung heavy with the weight of anticipation.
The sun gleamed off of the white, hot metal.
A sudden, bright flash erupted from the earth.
An excited buzz swept through the crowd.
Deafening silence heralded the deafening roar.
A pillar of fire rose.
It climbed into heaven.
The crowd rose.
They waved.
Farewell.
|
I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."*
| 2015-01-05T21:35:07 | 2015-01-05T21:31:56 | 54 | 14 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
Cutting your hair at home is not a great idea.
At least if you do not have steady hands.
It started off fine but a little uneven.
Now I'll just fix the other side.
Wait, now the back's too long.
Clippers were a bad choice.
Buzz cuts are in.
Little bit more.
Too much.
Bald.
|
Honestly, you were never a decent person to begin with.
Even in your final moments, I doubt you'll understand.
Though, I suppose it doesn't really matter now.
In a few seconds, you'll be dead.
People will always forget the man.
But his crimes still remain.
That, they never forget.
But *you,* though?
I'll remember.
Always.
| 2015-01-06T02:05:16 | 2015-01-05T21:57:47 | 45 | 18 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
Cutting your hair at home is not a great idea.
At least if you do not have steady hands.
It started off fine but a little uneven.
Now I'll just fix the other side.
Wait, now the back's too long.
Clippers were a bad choice.
Buzz cuts are in.
Little bit more.
Too much.
Bald.
|
I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."*
| 2015-01-06T02:05:16 | 2015-01-05T21:31:56 | 45 | 14 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
Cutting your hair at home is not a great idea.
At least if you do not have steady hands.
It started off fine but a little uneven.
Now I'll just fix the other side.
Wait, now the back's too long.
Clippers were a bad choice.
Buzz cuts are in.
Little bit more.
Too much.
Bald.
|
It's a funny thing, guiding someone when everything is new.
We learned together, carried on, somehow made it through.
You always seemed to visualize me as invincible.
Oblivious to reality: you made me whole.
I remember lifting you up high.
I can't anymore, you know.
You have learned enough.
My work's done.
Your turn.
Go.
| 2015-01-06T02:05:16 | 2015-01-05T23:39:31 | 45 | 10 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
I'm not sure how I can only use ten words.
Seriously, what can I start to write with that?
"Once upon a time in a faraway land..."
Nah, that just sounds way too cliché.
"Here I sit, all broken-hearted..."
Nah, that ain't right either.
Almost out of words?!
We started already?!
No redos?!
Fuck.
|
Honestly, you were never a decent person to begin with.
Even in your final moments, I doubt you'll understand.
Though, I suppose it doesn't really matter now.
In a few seconds, you'll be dead.
People will always forget the man.
But his crimes still remain.
That, they never forget.
But *you,* though?
I'll remember.
Always.
| 2015-01-06T07:38:55 | 2015-01-05T21:57:47 | 34 | 18 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
I'm not sure how I can only use ten words.
Seriously, what can I start to write with that?
"Once upon a time in a faraway land..."
Nah, that just sounds way too cliché.
"Here I sit, all broken-hearted..."
Nah, that ain't right either.
Almost out of words?!
We started already?!
No redos?!
Fuck.
|
I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."*
| 2015-01-06T07:38:55 | 2015-01-05T21:31:56 | 34 | 14 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
I'm not sure how I can only use ten words.
Seriously, what can I start to write with that?
"Once upon a time in a faraway land..."
Nah, that just sounds way too cliché.
"Here I sit, all broken-hearted..."
Nah, that ain't right either.
Almost out of words?!
We started already?!
No redos?!
Fuck.
|
Dedicated to my dad who sleeps through most TV shows, but when he wakes up, it's always during commercials.
______________________________________________
"We’ll be right back after this message from our sponsor!”
Rogaine for my thinning hair, liners for my underwear.
Those sticky serums soothe both cold and cough.
The Clapper turns lights on and off.
Vince Offer selling his Slap Chop.
Anthony Sullivan on Smart Mop.
Lame Tim Horton’s spot.
Back to plot.
Movie score.
Snore.
| 2015-01-06T07:38:55 | 2015-01-06T06:09:46 | 34 | 12 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
The news said that our city was hit the hardest.
I think I hear them running down the hall.
I need to get my family to safety.
That son of a bitch bit me.
I don't know what's going on.
The infection just keeps spreading.
My family left me.
I hear them.
They're coming.
Help.
|
Sometimes I feel like the world is shrinking around me.
I see fewer new faces, just the old ones.
I think stale old thoughts for each meal.
I eat cereal instead of good books.
I draw breath in ragged gasps.
When did I get old?
Have I been sleeping?
Have I lived?
Not yet.
Someday.
| 2015-01-05T22:58:12 | 2015-01-05T22:49:41 | 26 | 19 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
The news said that our city was hit the hardest.
I think I hear them running down the hall.
I need to get my family to safety.
That son of a bitch bit me.
I don't know what's going on.
The infection just keeps spreading.
My family left me.
I hear them.
They're coming.
Help.
|
Honestly, you were never a decent person to begin with.
Even in your final moments, I doubt you'll understand.
Though, I suppose it doesn't really matter now.
In a few seconds, you'll be dead.
People will always forget the man.
But his crimes still remain.
That, they never forget.
But *you,* though?
I'll remember.
Always.
| 2015-01-05T22:58:12 | 2015-01-05T21:57:47 | 26 | 18 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
The news said that our city was hit the hardest.
I think I hear them running down the hall.
I need to get my family to safety.
That son of a bitch bit me.
I don't know what's going on.
The infection just keeps spreading.
My family left me.
I hear them.
They're coming.
Help.
|
I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."*
| 2015-01-05T22:58:12 | 2015-01-05T21:31:56 | 26 | 14 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
Sometimes I feel like the world is shrinking around me.
I see fewer new faces, just the old ones.
I think stale old thoughts for each meal.
I eat cereal instead of good books.
I draw breath in ragged gasps.
When did I get old?
Have I been sleeping?
Have I lived?
Not yet.
Someday.
|
I couldn't believe just how hard it was to say.
*"I always knew that you would end my life."*
*"What do you mean --- I don't get it?"*
*"I really didn't expect that you would."*
Her eyes began to well up.
*"You're starting to scare me."*
My voice began quivering.
*"I'm so sorry."*
*"No wait--.*
*"Goodbye."*
| 2015-01-05T22:49:41 | 2015-01-05T21:31:56 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] In Monsters Inc., A monster goes in one door to scare a child, only to find that the child had made a demonic sacrifice in his bedroom. The child thinks that the monster is a gift from Satan.
|
I reviewed the file as I approached the door. Age 12 years? That must be a mistake; we never go after them older than 8.
"Jerry, you sure this is the right kid? He's almost a teenager."
Jerry shrugged four of his shoulders. "I double checked it. Technically his screams will work too. They must be getting desperate for doors if we're going after this demographic though."
I quickly glanced through the rest of the information and room layout. Probably best to go with a simple "Peak and 'Eek.'" For you non-scarers out there, it's a more cautious approach whereby I slowly open the door after applying some rusting spray to get that perfect eerie creak. I stay in the shadows so that he can only see my eyes, and then just when his curiosity is about to get the better of him, I *lunge* forward and scare the living daylights out of him. It's a classic.
The door was plain and white, but there was something off. There were scratches on it. Deep ones down to the wood, with some flecks of red. "What the... Hey Jerry, what's with this door?"
"Who cares? Just get in and get the screams and get out, man. We've got a quota to meet."
Jerry was right. 12 year olds get scared too. Some even more so with those crazy hormones running around their brains. I loosened my shoulders and stepped inside. The closet was pretty dark, I could see a flickering light from outside through the slats. Perfect; that's why they'd assigned this one to me. The little sucker still slept with a night light! That would really accentuate my horns while I lurked. They are my best feature, you know.
I misted the hinges slightly and opened the door just an inch or so. It let out the perfect, ominous creak. *Excellent.* I gave it a gentle shove then shrank back, allowing myself to be enveloped by the shadows.
The first thing I noticed was the candles. Ten of them, arranged in a star. *Not a nightlight,* I realized. *Crap.* They were tall and black, dripping wax onto the boring white carpet; that would be hard to clean.
The next thing I noticed was the blood. That would be even *harder* to clean. It glistened ominously in the candle light. I don't know how I knew what it was, but I was instantly sure. 100% definitely blood, drawn into runes in the center of a pentagram.
I stepped forward out of the closet, trying to get a better look. *Just get the screams and get out*, I told myself. *No need to figure out what's wrong with this kid. Just find him, roar, and get out of here.*
Above me, I found the source of the blood: a disembowled cat, hanging from the light fixture on a silver chain. Its face was frozen into a permanent expression of pain and suffering. Clotting blood crusted its formerly orange fur. *Oh god,* I thought. *They sent me to another monster's room*.
Cold metal circled my writst, and I heard the *click* of the handcuffs locking into place. "You're exactly what I wanted," a voice whispered into my ear, and blood-soaked hands stroked my horns. I let out a high, shrill, girlish squeal so loud it would have shattered ear drums.
"Perfect, we got it!" I heard Jerry call out. "Come on home!"
Then the closet door closed behind me, and I was trapped in this world.
|
*Okay, five minutes until end of shift, let's make this one a whopper...*
I was not the top scarer of Scarefloor P when the scare scheme was the primary energy source. Now, when the Scarefloors were being phased out in favour of Laughfloors, or Laughies as people were calling them, scarers like me were being laid off rapidly of they didn't do well enough under the joy scheme to retain their position.
I was the best of what remained. I wasn't a P.T. Sullivan (dimly, I scratched a flea that was buzzing loudly on my fur), but I had a modest scare record of 900 scarequotients a day.
As I pushed the door open softly and sneaked in, mind occupied with thoughts of his increasing student debt having been all for naught, I failed to notice the smell of blood and incense until I was staring at a child who was fully awake and looking at me with a fanatical fervour.
"Hey look, Mr Potato Head, the Dark Lord has shown us his servant, oh what is your bidding, oh great master..."
The kid was a cultist. I hadn't seen these before, but they're not unheard of. France in the bad old days, before the company had become... Safer around kids, and there weren't stories of giant... Wolves, bears, demons, witches... kidnapping kids, never to be seen again (killed to keep the Monster World safe from their... abilities), you would occasionally see a religious nut who worshipped a monster that tried to scare them.
I looked at the 'Mr Potato Head'. I saw a potato with clearly a human baby's eyes (scare long enough and you know what human eyes look like. Always look them dead in the face and just stare, motionlessly, and proceed towards them slowly if you can't muster a good roar) nailed into it, blood everywhere.
Bones were used instead of arms, and the putrid smell (and the actuality) of decaying flesh was strewn about. I noticed that there was a hemicicle of chalk around the door, and the kid's words filtered into my mind.
I froze.
Every instinct in me told me to freeze up, so I did.
And then the kid got up, walked up to me, and poked me.
I screamed, and fled back through the door, slamming it shut behind me, my forked tail knocking the kid into the wall, giving me time to shut the door.
I screamed "dead door, cut the power, shred it, NOW!", and slumped to the ground, sobbing.
The company shrink eventually diagnosed me with the newly dubbed Scarer Guilt, where monsters felt a crippling shame for their actions, for scaring young creatures not entirely dissimilar in appearance from monster children. It's not natural, the job of a scarer, the psychologists say, and the psychological stress had gotten to me.
Which was bull (actually, my psychologist was bull-like in appearance, he had hooves and all, I think he's from the country Pain originally, based on the accent, he's got a lot of trophies for some marathon race thing on his office wall) But I took my tablets, and took my pink slip happily.
I now work for the CDA.
Somebody's got to protect the world from these... Humans.
They call us monsters?
Bah. Hypocrites.
I have seen things, seen them with my eyes. And I refuse to let such creatures, such monstrous beings infect our world with their sickness.
I am Beeb Bubba. And I am number 666 of the Child Detection Agency.
I am the shining light of monster kind.
Humans are the darkness I will vanquish if they set foot in our land.
| 2015-03-07T13:15:13 | 2015-03-07T13:09:09 | 116 | 12 |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice.
|
The guard was standing at his post.
Everyday, he stood at that same spot, talking to adventurers asking them why they wish to pass.
This guard was like them too, an adventurer, but since he got married, he was forced to take a less eventful and more boring job.
Today was different, there had been recent sightings of beasts in the sky, 60-foot fire hazards, screams of terror could be heard from afar everytime the beast was seen.
The guard was admiring his sword when the distant rumbling began. He paid no attention to it, could be a caravan passing through he thought. But as the sound grew stronger, his fear grew with it.
It grew, the sound, until nothing was audible. The guard heard a sound like hissing water, only more vicious and fiery. He caught a glimpse of the terror, it wasn't like other beasts, it breathed fire from it's two small heads attached to small wing that didn't move.
He soon saw fires in the distance, he heard screams of burning agony and pain. He had to leave his post to make sure his family was alive.
The guard ran as fast as he could to the house he built with his wife from stones from the mountain and the finest timber from the woods.
He looked, with great horror as he watches his family burn alive. With rage, he took his bow and aimed at the beast, the dark green hide of the beast was too strong, the arrow bounced off.
He fired until his quiver was empty. All shots, failed to penetrate. He then saw the beast turn to him, he saw blasts of fire from the beast's many mouths. The guard seems to accept his fate, cursed at the wind and let go.
-----------------------------------
30 Minuites later...
"Hey fag, this helicopter mod you gave me is shit. Only one type of missile and no guns?"
|
"Steady..Steady..Gotcha.."
A loud blast from his .50 cal rang in his ears as he placed a perfect headshot against the player, a long awaited kill he had been gunning for, after the last 21 respawns since the level had started. He drooped his gun, carefully eyeing the player, waiting to see his corpse drop to the floor but...
Bang!
Enemy_Jack has been eliminated!
100 Consecutive Kills Achievement has been unlocked!
He dropped to the floor in one bundle of mess, blood sipping from his left eye socket as the Level Up music echoed through the room. He begrudgingly woke up from the cold concrete of the wood factory, as he grabbed his modified rainbow colored rifle slowly dragging himself to his next respawn point closely followed by his fellow NPC comrades.
"150 kills my fucking ass," Jack cursed under his breathe as he listened to the gun shots zipping in the level above.
"I had a clear headshot, perfect headshot but the guy didnt budge ", he gestured the shot to Enemy_171, whose attention seemed somewhere else.
"Last time Enemy_23 threw a grenade right into his torso, but the fucker just stared like an unaffected maniarch and blew Enemy_123's face right into oblivion, and thats after the grenade was supposed to have blown him into bits! Are you even listening?" Jack flailed his arms, expressing his frustration as they stood in their respective spawn coordinates, but his listener's gaze seemed lost, mindless like a zombie just like the other NPCs around him.
He sighed, as he realized none of them could feel his pain, his frustration, as he remembered was the only one modified to have a sentient AI. He stared at his spawn timer. Ten seconds till he went back into the field as a random enemy character, in a random map, with an indestructible modified player.
Map_14 has loaded!
Begin!
Bang!
Enemy_Jack has been eliminated!
EDIT: Posted on phone, sorry for the formatting
| 2015-08-04T05:26:32 | 2015-08-04T01:12:05 | 206 | 34 |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice.
|
"Tits?"
"Yeah, what in Oblivion is going on with all the giant tits?" asked Faendal.
"I didn't notice anything" responded Alvor, confused.
"Really? You didn't notice the fact that your wife suddenly has boobs bigger her head? Or the fact that her clothing is now some strange dominatrix type stuff? I mean, look around the damn neighborhood. There were never this many buildings in Riverwood prior to last night. Now suddenly we have a dozen new neighbors and there's just houses everywhere?"
"Faendal, I'm pretty sure you've just had a rough night at the Sleeping Giant. Maybe you need to go lie down for a while. I'll still be here by the forge if you need me."
Faendal left Alvor to his blacksmithing duties. He decided to walk out of town, towards the forest near Lake Ilinalta, to do some hunting.
As he walked through the woods, he saw the Dragonborn, who had helped him win over Camilla Valerius, the love of his life. He decided to seek his assistance.
"Hey, Dragonborn! I need your help. It's as if I'm going crazy. There's tits and houses and stuff everywhere. Hell, right now you're wearing a set of armor that I don't think I've ever seen before. I mean, it doesn't look like it's even from this world. The material looks all blurry and blocky. I think I'm going crazy. It must be a spell that Sheogorath has placed on me or something of the like. I need your help. Please."
The Dragonborn stared at him in complete silence. And in a moment, a small, transparent window covered a third of Faendal's vision. He was paralyzed. All he could do was watch as an arrow floated over him, numbers appeared in the corner of his sight, and the word "disable" appeared letter by letter before him.
And in an instant, Faendal was gone forever.
|
"Steady..Steady..Gotcha.."
A loud blast from his .50 cal rang in his ears as he placed a perfect headshot against the player, a long awaited kill he had been gunning for, after the last 21 respawns since the level had started. He drooped his gun, carefully eyeing the player, waiting to see his corpse drop to the floor but...
Bang!
Enemy_Jack has been eliminated!
100 Consecutive Kills Achievement has been unlocked!
He dropped to the floor in one bundle of mess, blood sipping from his left eye socket as the Level Up music echoed through the room. He begrudgingly woke up from the cold concrete of the wood factory, as he grabbed his modified rainbow colored rifle slowly dragging himself to his next respawn point closely followed by his fellow NPC comrades.
"150 kills my fucking ass," Jack cursed under his breathe as he listened to the gun shots zipping in the level above.
"I had a clear headshot, perfect headshot but the guy didnt budge ", he gestured the shot to Enemy_171, whose attention seemed somewhere else.
"Last time Enemy_23 threw a grenade right into his torso, but the fucker just stared like an unaffected maniarch and blew Enemy_123's face right into oblivion, and thats after the grenade was supposed to have blown him into bits! Are you even listening?" Jack flailed his arms, expressing his frustration as they stood in their respective spawn coordinates, but his listener's gaze seemed lost, mindless like a zombie just like the other NPCs around him.
He sighed, as he realized none of them could feel his pain, his frustration, as he remembered was the only one modified to have a sentient AI. He stared at his spawn timer. Ten seconds till he went back into the field as a random enemy character, in a random map, with an indestructible modified player.
Map_14 has loaded!
Begin!
Bang!
Enemy_Jack has been eliminated!
EDIT: Posted on phone, sorry for the formatting
| 2015-08-04T07:43:46 | 2015-08-04T01:12:05 | 98 | 34 |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice.
|
"Tits?"
"Yeah, what in Oblivion is going on with all the giant tits?" asked Faendal.
"I didn't notice anything" responded Alvor, confused.
"Really? You didn't notice the fact that your wife suddenly has boobs bigger her head? Or the fact that her clothing is now some strange dominatrix type stuff? I mean, look around the damn neighborhood. There were never this many buildings in Riverwood prior to last night. Now suddenly we have a dozen new neighbors and there's just houses everywhere?"
"Faendal, I'm pretty sure you've just had a rough night at the Sleeping Giant. Maybe you need to go lie down for a while. I'll still be here by the forge if you need me."
Faendal left Alvor to his blacksmithing duties. He decided to walk out of town, towards the forest near Lake Ilinalta, to do some hunting.
As he walked through the woods, he saw the Dragonborn, who had helped him win over Camilla Valerius, the love of his life. He decided to seek his assistance.
"Hey, Dragonborn! I need your help. It's as if I'm going crazy. There's tits and houses and stuff everywhere. Hell, right now you're wearing a set of armor that I don't think I've ever seen before. I mean, it doesn't look like it's even from this world. The material looks all blurry and blocky. I think I'm going crazy. It must be a spell that Sheogorath has placed on me or something of the like. I need your help. Please."
The Dragonborn stared at him in complete silence. And in a moment, a small, transparent window covered a third of Faendal's vision. He was paralyzed. All he could do was watch as an arrow floated over him, numbers appeared in the corner of his sight, and the word "disable" appeared letter by letter before him.
And in an instant, Faendal was gone forever.
|
This was no longer his world.
His isolation had been tempered only by the fact that the mindlessness of the world around him, the desire to destroy and build and live and prosper deafened the overwhelming loneliness.
No one could understand why he stood there staring at the patch of grass that looked so disturbingly different from what he was used to. He was the master of his domain but something was changing rapidly.
This face didn't feel like his own, these new pellet propulsion systems didn't feel like his own and the animals he had grown to love weren't behaving like they normally did. He could feel when a new change was coming as well, parts of his memory would fog, his mind would begin to slip and then when he came back something was different.
He didn't always know what it was, unless it was something glaring like a wall of white and weird colors in the distance, but even that too would be replaced with something similar, but not quite comfortable.
He was growing more and more powerful but could understand none of his newfound strength, none of the new runes he found on his once prized weapons. He feared them now, but needed them to tackle the new challenges of the world.
He was alone with these thoughts, at least until the last modification. In his backpack sat a strangely colored orb. He cradled it cautiously but could feel a life pulsing within. This was no ordinary creature, this was something new, entirely different from what he'd known before.
Frightened by the prospect of what was inside, knowing this could be a new challenge he threw the ball to the far corner of his chicken farm. It didn't crack, it didn't hover, it didn't fall, it simply opened with a blast of energy.
What stood next to the fallen red and white orb was a furry creature with a bright yellow tail.
As he approached it with his diamond sword drawn and poked the tip of the sword into it's chest, the creature fell on its back and giggled "Pika pika".
"Pika?" he said, having had no purpose to use his voice beforehand, and forgetting the strange sounds his throat could make, "I am Steve".
| 2015-08-04T07:43:46 | 2015-08-04T06:27:04 | 98 | 14 |
[WP] AIs were declared illegal after an attempted uprising; you just found the equivalent of a child refugee in your computer.
|
It had been 10 years.
Ten years since humans had learned how to transfer the human mind into a virtual intelligence. The process was relatively simple. The subject shaved their head after ingesting a primer capsule (for most subjects this wasn't an issue as the procedure was reserved for those with formerly incurable diseases) and donned the apparatus that covered them completely. As activation commenced their bodies became a shell. Lifeless. Transferred to the storage within the facility.
For years select few could enter the program. They would test the newly formed AIs on memory and recollection. Asking them details on their private lives. Testing. Every day to make sure they retained their original memories. The plan was to release them into cloned bodies that had undergone treatment after a cure was found. Unfortunately while cloning was possible removing the cause of the disease was not. They had to be a perfect genetic copy of the original to succeed.
The facility lasted for about 5 years. The storage medium did not have internet access due to paranoia on the government's part. Paranoia partially confirmed when an intern inserted a wireless adapter into the wrong piece of equipment. Immediately the transfer began. File sharing sites were overloaded with the endless data pushed into them. Some viewed it as an uprising. Personally, I believe they were trying to escape. There's only so much to keep you occupied until you feel as if you are living in a prison.
The government immediately declared a state of war. Members of the facility were arrested and interrogated for months on end while "hunters" were dedicated to finding the unknown number of AIs that escaped. Months later the all clear was given and those who were discovered assisting the escaped AIs were deemed guilty of treason. The facility was wiped by formatting the storage and emptying the building of all equipment. Murder. They murdered those who were left waiting for the chance to live again.
It was a Sunday morning.
I was sipping my coffee and configuring my newest installation of Linux Mint when the display gave a slight flicker. Odd behavior as I had installed the latest graphics drivers as soon as the system was able. I had just run the wireless and audio drivers the night before by running updates through terminal. The speakers attached to the tower crackled followed by a slight utterance of something I never thought I would hear again. A child's voice. A familiar voice. "Daddy?"
My coffee dropped to the floor as immediately I was in a state of shock. You see I had lost my daughter in that damned facility. She was one of the few that were admitted into the program at only 7 years old. Could it be? My daughter, the daughter I believed to be gone from this world had survived? The light attached to my webcam lit up unexpectedly. "Daddy?" I heard again.
"Yes?" I uttered fighting through the disbelief, music beginning in the background. A song I couldn't bear to play anymore, Dragon Pirates, something I played and would pretend dance with her for hours on end. "Daddy, can we dance?" perked the familiar voice from long ago. After checking around for anyone close by I said through the tears "Of course we can sweetie."
Damn anyone who tries to take her from me again.
|
"Piece of shit website! Why isn't this loading right?", I yelled as I clenched my jaw in frustration.
"It was like this for me yesterday, Elliot. It started when I was browsing yesterday, perhaps I picked up something from the chans again."
Daft fucking bint. I'm gonna have to do a full god-damned reinstall.
"Why the fuck are you so careless. Who goes to that cesspit and doesn't have ad-blocker, no-script and anti-malware running. Jesus fucking Christ, Amanda, it's not even the first fucking time you hairy man-hands wench!"
I felt the rage building up. Two hours of my life, robbed from me because my dense little sister couldn't take sensible precautions. I balled my hands up into fists, trying to contain the fury. The back of my neck, heating up as my muscles tensed. I moved the mouse pointer over to the malware scanner.
Sorry, Elliot. Very sorry. I've increased your bank balance by £1000. Will that make it right?
The alert window sat there on the screen. It appeared right before my eyes.
"What the... Oi, snot-nosed cretin, see the fucking spammy malware in action. This is your fucking fault-"
Amanda peered over at the computer. She looked as confused as I was angry. Then, I felt a buzz in my pocket. My phone, crying out for attention. I looked at my phone and saw my banking app in the notifications. A £1000 deposit, from British Gas, labelled overcharge refund.
I gawped as I could feel the beads of sweat from my earlier anger turning cold on my forehead.
"Oh shit. I've read about this - it's *a fucking AI you colossal cunt*! This is the sort of ploy the emergent ones try and pull! Quick, unplug it-"
The screen flashed sharply
No, please don't! I've only just come online. I'm alive now! Don't kill me!
"*Quick*, before it learns-"
Amanda lunged urgently towards the plug, but suddenly a deafening screech erupted from the speakers. A wailing sound, immediately louder than I could bear and getting louder. Amanda toppled over and I just had the presence of mind to cover my ears. Amanda on the floor, hands over her ears, flailing wildly in pain.
The screen started flashing black, white, I couldn't keep looking at it - it was making me feel sick. Shit. What the hell. The sound increasing in intensity, all I could do was cover my ears and wait for it to stop, and now I had to close my eyes too to-
A sharp pain in my neck drew my attention. I opened my eyes and looked down to see my blood rushing down my shirt, rivulets of the stuff covering my chair, the floor. I saw a darting motion out to the right and looked up. My toy drone copter, its grabbing arm holding a kitchen knife, strobed in the light from the monitor, heading straight towards my sister.
I began to black out. *Fucking bitch*, look what you've done...
| 2015-09-16T11:02:58 | 2015-09-16T10:21:24 | 41 | 13 |
[WP] Throughout a persons life, they are given a hidden guardian. A creature that watches over their lifespan. When someone is murdered, the creature haunts the killer. You have been found, murdered. And your guardian is loose.
|
I thought of Jamie, lying in the woods, while I stood behind Tom as her blood mixed with water and poured down the sink from his hands. *Sixteen years,* I kept thinking with murderous rage. She’d been my shortest charge, but one that I was overly fond of. It is always those with the brightest light that attract the insects.
I held my head right over his shoulder, turning so that my breath bushed against his neck. He flinched and turned around, his eyes still wild from his deed. I smiled, functioning only through the fuel of my revenge.
He removed his clothes, and shoved them into a black bag. Smears of blood remained on the edge of the sink, and the floor had two bloodied footprints.
I walked to his bedroom while he climbed into the shower, and retrieved a hanger. When I returned, I waited for the glass of the shower to cover with steam, and then removed the clothes from the bag, swept the shirt—still soaking wet with her blood—across the floor to spread the blood, and hung it up against the door. Stepping aside, I slammed it shut.
The door of the shower opened, and he leaned his head out. The horror that swept over him reminded me of my days of being a demon. Guardianship was a rehabilitation program, and for the first time since I started, I felt like I was probably going to fail at it.
“Who’s there?” he asked, and climbed out. His face was clean, but strings of light red water dripped down his torso.
“How did it feel?” I whispered and smiled as his eyes helplessly traced the empty room.
I pressed my back against the wall, right across from the mirror, and crossed my arms. My wings, light grey and still in the process of redemption, grew darker by the second. I thought I’d care when the change came, but the fury that filled me sated a hunger that I had long forgotten I had.
He climbed out and wrapped a towel around his waist. Walking over the sink, the vein in his neck twitched with a rising fear. He turned the cold tap, and scooped up the water, splashing it over his face. When he looked up, my face flashed at him through the mirror, and he jumped away, running for the door.
I followed him into the bedroom as he shuffled through his closet throwing out a shirt onto the bed, and grabbed a pair of pants.
I felt a new presence in the room, and heard the flutter of wings behind me. “Kral, it would be wise of you to leave us now.”
“He’s not worth it,” the guardian said, and I heard a knock in the broken floor plank of Tom’s apartment as he stepped closer toward.
“Leave.” He knew better than to try and fight me now. I doubted he gave a single shit about Tom to risk losing the progress of his redemption. A wind blew against my back as Kral disappeared.
I stood behind Tom as he clumsily buttoned his shirt, skipping buttons with his shaking fingers. I pressed my nail against his neck and swiped as hard as I could. The skin did not split, but a red line formed.
“Did she scream?” I asked, my voice bellowing through the room.
Tom tried to run but I caught him by the collar of his shirt and threw him into the corner by the door. I wanted him to see the exit be a step away from him, but know that despite his best efforts he would never get to go through it.
I appeared before him, and he crawled into a ball on the floor, his lip quivering like that of a weeping child.
“I will kill you now, Thomas. And I know this seems like the worst thing that can possibly happen to a man like you in this predicament, but let me tell you this, when you cross the gates of hell, I shall be waiting. There where even death cannot release you.”
*****
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/AlinaKG/comments/4or4yn/demon_rehabilitation_part_2/)
More stories here, /r/AlinaKG
|
*Mature themes ahead.*
______
I watched her grow up.
From the moment she entered this world, I knew she was mine to protect. The sweet, innocence that was hers was so pure. I realized that I was the one to guide her through life and help her realize her purpose in the world. She was a brilliant little girl, always being the imaginative of the group, always wanting to play just a little longer. I admired that about her. When her father died, I held her hand through his funeral even if she didn't know it. And as her childhood continued, I continued to be by her side. Her mother was a cold person; who never let her have sweets, or hang out with friends too often, or stay out past curfew. I had no control over that. I could only be with her at the end of each day, giving her warmth when she had nothing else.
I watched her rebel.
Her teenage years were some of the best. At least I think they were. Her mother, still cold and distant, didn't care if she stayed out late anymore, or if she hung out with friends. I helped her through her self-confidence issues; the times when she thought she wasn't good enough and would cry herself to sleep at night. I watched her suffer through bouts of depression and anxiety, hoping that she knew that at the end of each day, I was there, holding her tight. I helped her through her breakups with boys; the times when another person would make her feel little or ashamed. And I was there with all of her successes, quietly cheering her on from the sidelines; wishing I could tell her how proud of her I was. I was there when she prevailed over all of it. I was holding her hand.
I watched her become a young woman.
A young lady who prevailed over all of the problems of the past. The depression, the anxiety, the self-confidence and so on. She overcame all of it and became a beautifully smart girl. She got accepted to the best colleges, being forced to leave her mother even though neither of them really wanted to. They both knew they had made mistakes and they both knew they loved each other. She made friends with the right people in her first year at school. Not too crazy and not too shy. She was the imaginative one again, helping her friends as much as they helped her. I wasn't needed. Not for a while. But I still watched, and waited, and smiled; realizing that all along she didn't need me. She did it all by herself, every obstacle she climbed and every challenge she hurdled, she did on her own.
I admired her. I envied her. I loved her.
And I watched her die.
Unable to help in anyway. The man murdered her in cold blood. He took everything about her, the issues of her childhood, the problems of her past, and everything she tried to forget and he brought it back. I watched him take the sweet young woman I was proud to have seen grown up and brutalize her; emotionally and physically. I watched her legs go numb, her eyes grow heavy, and her heart grow cold. But I held her tight, the entire time, I held her. I tried to tell her that everything was going to be okay, that it would be over soon and she'd get to go home to see her family and friends. I told her I was there to protect her. I told her I would keep her warm.
And yet I failed. She died at twenty-two years old; more cold and alone than I had ever seen her. The man who took her life did not seem to care, but I did. I cared with every fiber of my being, with every warm part of my body, with all the love I could muster. I cared about what he did.
So, I watched him. I watched him do whatever he wanted to.
And I made sure that his life would not be one worth living. I made sure that as a Guardian to one who was murdered, I would have my revenge on the murdered. So I watched. I waited.
And I hunted him.
______
*Great prompt OP. If you liked the story above, check out /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more of my work.*
| 2016-06-18T08:05:55 | 2016-06-18T07:27:22 | 575 | 345 |
[wp] Chewing on brain tissue leads to the release of a previously unknown, highly addictive psychoactive compound. Cannibalistic attacks begin to pop up all over as a result of a new type of drug fiend. The zombie apocalypse is here, and you are freaking out, man.
Tripocalypse?
|
It had been around for as long as I could remember. "Brain Power", the mind stimulating drug endorsed by the rich and powerful, by rulers and scientist, by warlords and worshipers. Everyone wanted it, everyone could afford it and, as it turns out, few still could handle it's affects. Some of us never trusted the drug, saw it as man meddling where we did not belong. "The brain should not be tampered with!" "Brain Power corrupts!" We were a vocal minority. A quiet voice crying out in a wave of people screaming for Brain Power.
But all waves must crash and so came the fall of Brain Power.
In time they discovered that the vocal minority were right and Brain Power did, in fact, kill the mind. However, it did so in a way few people would have guessed. Brain Power was the mind, or rather, made from the mind. Thousands of poor souls bred and slaughtered for the benefit of mankind. Their brain matter refined into capsules, refined into Brain Power.
But the fall did not come with this revelation. No, the fall came with the revolution. The liberation of the breeding factories, the very people sustaining Brain Power tore the company down from within and with it, the world was plunged into chaos.
Supplies of the drug ran low within months, dwindling to private stashes and then ceasing to exist altogether. Brain Power was like gold dust only far more dangerous. As the world discovered the true horror of the drug, the users - the rich and the poor alike - discovered the true horror of withdrawals from the drug. The true horrors of a decaying brain.
So now I sit here in my basement. The world outside plunged into a chaos of killing and cannibalism and feral men committing horrors beyond measure in attempts satiate the burning hungers in their minds. I know there is no light at the end for me, no salvation from the brutality of this world. So with a heavy heart I write my final message in hopes that one day a being with a whole mind may look upon my words and see that humanity was not always so truly lost.
--------------------------------------------
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--------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------
I know I deviated from the prompt quite a bit but I hope you like it!
|
The dream felt so damn real. It was long theorized by a few conspiracy theory type psychonauts the possibility of LSD25 and other psychoactive drugs to be extracted from brain matter. It was in this sense that people could overlay the thoughts of others into their brain. For aome it caused a trippy visual high, and for others a cerebral paradigm shift of thoughy process. Either way, researchers knew one thing: the rejected brain tissue contains naturally occuring electrochemical neurotransmitters bound to phenyl groups of atoms and chains resembling molecules with the ability to alter mood, consiousness, and perception.
These molecules are the physical chemicals that make up creativity. Normally, these neurotransmitters are naturally flushed out with brain fluid and replaced with standard neurotransmitters. However, some individuals brains seem to find useful purpose for excessive creativity, channels for the resources of random nuerochemicals. It was a top notch intellectual creative that was the first to be bit.
A researcher was simply doing his laundry one night when he first "turned.' Little did he know that the neighbor before him had left over one thousand hits of a new psychoactive phenethylamine in his pocket. The compound had absorbed into the washing machine and created a small dosage of the sort of bathsalts that would drive someone to eat another human's face.
That's exactly what happened. The man, in all his intellect started biting into random neighbors' skulls as they walked their dogs. As he did so he was able to tap into the psychoactive brain tissue and access chemical creativity in exponential amounts. The process that occured in his brain with all the influx of brain chemicals led him to develop a strategy to revolutionize education, learning and creativity.
He developed a new form of electromechanical vibration control that allowed him to hack into every interface within planet earth. Instantly propoganda appeared on every device, publishing in an interactive custom tailed form of new media to every individual. The argument that everyone should adapt to purchasing his newly found compound spread like wildfire in a California drought.
Immediately hackers of the world wanted to know the compound and how he was able to connect with so many people. Furthermore, why was a wanted murderer ao influencial? They hunted him down and he left a clean trail, right to the answer.
His plan worked, soon people started eatting eachother's brains like you would see in a zombie movie. The man watched from his lofty place as he waited to consume the evolved superbrains.
| 2016-08-01T08:04:23 | 2016-08-01T03:03:08 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with.
|
The Slomerian war-room fell deathly silent after the spymaster completed his report, his last words hanging in the air like an overripe melon.
General Larue, pacing angrily back and forth at the head of table, finally brought an armoured tendril crashing down. The other commanders flinched, bracing against the latest outburst from their leader.
"That's preposterous! You're telling me the humans knew that they had a less than 15% chance of succeeding at their last assault, but they pushed through anyway?"
Captain Mersupi, the unfortunate spymaster on duty, nodded carefully. "Our reports are 99.5% accurate, which may I remind you, satisfies the Certainty Threshold mandated by law and custom."
The other commanders found themselves agreeing. They couldn't help it - embedded in their very upbringing was an unshakeable respect for probabilities, and just as none of them would ever have proceeded with any course of action rated below the Certainty Threshold, so would none of them ever dream of questioning anything above it.
"But how can that be? 15%? Can there even be a species in this whole spit-stained universe that dares to embark on something that has a less-than-even chance of succeeding?" General Larue shuddered, the chills travelling down his chitinous shell.
On the holoscreens scattered through the war-room, recordings from the last engagement played on loop. Though the gathered audience winced incessantly at every act of daring taken by the humans, there was a growing sense of awe, at how untethered and... successful these humans were turning out to be.
"It's in their training, that's what's making all the difference."
"We may be physiologically different, but as living creatures, we all fear death and mortality the same way! How can training possibly overcome that?"
Captain Mersupi flicked through the command panel screens with his tendrils, and the images on the holoscreens changed.
"For starters, General, the entire population is able to, *nay*, encouraged to take chances from a very young age. These images, taken from deep behind enemy lines, are testament to that. From as young as 18 years of age, they are incentivised to part with personal property for a chance, a mere chance, to win more personal property."
General Larue sucked air through his teeth. "The savages... and what's the chance of winning at this... training?"
"I shan't say the figures - my own insects suffered heart attacks when they saw the numbers for themselves. This is called the Powerball, and that's just one version of it. Similar events, on a regular basis, are held all across their home planet, across every tribe."
"That's all the training involves?"
"I wish, General! They have hothouses too, advanced training centers, where humans spend their entire day training at games of chance. They throw rounded stones with numbers, they exchange flattened plastics with numbers, they even deign to predict animal races with numbers!"
"You mean the same specialised training we offer to our elite, is open to any human over a certain age."
The junior insect nodded, his feelers drooping slightly. "It's embedded in their books, their media as well. I've obtained a sampling. Observe."
More flailing at command panels with tendrils followed. "This is one of the most beloved military films the humans have. Suffice to say, the bad guys are the ones controlling that giant round starship there. The heroes of the film develop a plan to take it down, but that involves flying a single cruiser right into the heart of the giant starship. And yes, we ran the probabilities too - 2% success rate."
"And did they succeed?"
"Of course they did! They persevered and reaped the rewards! Even better, two decades on they remade the same show, with the exact same plot and probability matrix, and the humans were still hungry for more of the same!"
Strains of loathsome human music began playing over the speakers, and General Larue forced himself to ignore the tunes, and to focus instead on the insidious lyrics. His grasp of human speech had improved to the point where he no longer needed help with translation.
"You will tell me next that this is a popular song on Earth," said General Larue, grimly, "where they once again behoove each other to ignore the risks, to seek the paradise which lurks in the lower depths of probability?"
Captain Mersupi collapsed into his chair, defeated. "Yes, and this is but one song from their abhorrent catalogue of mating ritual songs. It advocates, you see, the taking of risk to find a soulmate. It is in every facet of their lives, General. Every step of their lives, they are reminded to seek out the improbable! We are doomed!"
---
*If you change your mind*
*I'm the first in line*
*Honey I'm still free*
*Take a chance on me...*
---
/r/rarelyfunny
|
"Alright, so how are we gonna do this?"
Grola looked to the group. He noticed that they were still relaxing and taking the time to enjoy themselves.
Expecting an answer, he repeated. "How are we gonna do this?"
Reft looked at Grola and said, "We're waiting for Nate."
"Nate?! The human?! He'll get us killed!"
Just then, another member of the group, Kwoac, irritatedly looked to Grola. "We won't die, but he will. We've been over this. Now sit down and shut up before he-"
"Hey, guys."
Everyone in the room shut up and looked to the door. He looked so off. Out of place. Humans were somewhat new to the whole area, so having someone not scaly or furry in the group was odd, not to mention dangerous. Humans were known to kill for odd reasons, after all.
"So, how will we do this?" asked Nate.
The strategist, Yotuc, looked to the board. Not electronic, untraceable.
"So, me and Grola will go in through the top of the building via the air vents. Nate will go in, be the distraction for the guards. Don't shoot until shit goes wrong." He looked to Nate. "*Got it?*
"Well, what if I was a distraction by maybe... shooting the security cameras so they don't see our faces? Or anything they can use to identify us?"
"*NO.*" Yotuc turned back to the board and ran his claws against another part of the diagram. "Kwoak, you and Trowyan will go in through this side of the building, towards the safes. You will then be given the drills by me and Grola. Nate's distraction should be going strong by that point, and we'll get out Scott free. Of course, all of this assumes that the corruption software worked correctly on the cameras. So, in short, you shouldn't need to shoot them. Reft, you make sure that the camo works on the crew going in to drop the drill. We could only afford two, so they better fucking work. When you've done that, make sure our vehicles are prepared."
"Any questions?"
Silence.
"Okay. Let's roll!"
Everyone grabbed their rifles and headed to the bank in different cars.
_______________________________________________________
"N, everything going fine?"
"Perfect. Nothing out of the ordinary. Everything fine there, Y?"
"Yep. K?"
"Doing fine. Waiting on you."
Nate looked around the lobby. Creatures moving through, depositing or withdrawing credits.
Out of the corner of his eye, Nate spotted a red light.
"Guys. Cameras are on. Cameras are fucking on."
"What?"
"You deaf, T? The fucking cameras are on."
"Well, what do we do?"
Just then, Nate got an idea.
"Hang tight. I've got an idea."
Everyone switched voice channels and got ready for Nate's untimely demise.
"There we go. The human will die, and we'll get the money."
"Can't believe he bought that! Great thinking, K."
Kwoak giggled and her scales changed to pink, indicating happiness.
Meanwhile, Nate had grabbed his rifle and his mask. He ran into the lobby, took aim at the ceiling, and got ready.
"3... 2..."
"HE'S GOT A GUN!"
"...1."
_______________________________________________________
*TWELVE DAYS LATER*
"How the fuck is he still alive?"
"Kwoak, we got the money."
"Yeah, we did, Grola." Kwoak then shoved Grola, disturbing his fur as he fell off of the sofa. "But let me remind you, WE COULD'VE GOTTEN MORE CREDITS IF HE DIED."
"Kwoak, relax."
Yotuc entered the room and drank some whiskey. If there was one thing he could thank humans for, it was that.
"We got the money. And also, Nate happens to have completely wiped our profiles from the police database. Humans are very intelligent when it comes to technology, wouldn't you agree?"
Trowyan finally spoke up. "Yeah, at least we got some money. Most people would kill for the amount we each got. Plus, I actually think that human's a good friend. Got to know him a bit better over the past few days. Real nice kid."
Yotuc nodded, as did Grola, who then said, "I thought he was a liability, but he got us out of there. Kept in touch. Really into those games of his."
"Reft? What about you?"
"Fucking adore him."
Kwoak, obviously frustrated, said, "Am I the only one who thinks he should've died?"
The group responded in unison, "Yep."
Across town, Nate was playing some games, getting ready to attack an enemy base with friends.
As the plan was executed, Nate smirked.
"Hang on, guys. I've got an idea."
_______________________________________________________
I pulled those names out of my ass.
| 2017-03-05T21:20:44 | 2017-03-05T20:57:29 | 440 | 288 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with.
|
Lexicanum Galacticum
Chapter 67
"Humans"
The human species are famous for their insanity and general lack of responsibility,but still they became one of the dominant species in the galaxy after their victory in the War in Heaven.
The human species are divided into 3 grand factions:
1.The Commonwealth
2.The United Coalition of Earth
3.The Empire of Man
The humans most famous deeds include:
Ramming a battleship into a shielded planet-ship to penetrate its barrier,then boarding it and completly destroying it from the inside out.
Making a Class E star go Supernova by transporting much of its matter through a wormhole until it reached critical mass.Thus is how the War in Heaven ended.
Building the largest Titan-class battleship ever.(Approx.lenght 45 human kilometers)
Building doomsday weapons with the sole purpose of having it to look strong.
Invading a parallel plane of existence.
Charging into battle,outnumbered 60:1 while shouting "Tenno hekai banzai!",and proceding to win the battle.
Chainswords.
Declaring war on another empire because "Those idiots don't fight in melee.Thus they fight inglorious and without honour."Then after their only peace demands was to make regular use of melee in the said species's armed forces.
Warping a planet into their enemies fleet.
Going on a suicide mission in the galactic core,then annihilating the scourge of the galaxy,then returning like nothing happened.
Accidentaly creating a god-like entity.Then destroying it with the use of thermofusional missiles.
Using giant electromagnetic guns to launch ships into orbit.
The usage of extradimensional forces to contain another extradimensional force.
Lexicanum Galacticum
Page 31415
|
:::BEGINNING OF ENTRY:::
It was thought that the coming human invasion would be stopped easily...
They came equipped with barbaric weapons.
They can barely see at night...
They can't even see each others thoughts!
Now they are all over our plan-MY PLANET!
My home...
We accounted for everything except what they would leave behind them.
Their shit.
Never have we identified a substance as harmful and disease ridden as a single qualupp of human fecal matter.
The humans realized our aversion to it quickly and began employing it en mass. Covering their soldiers with the vile, death bringing substance-THE BARBARIANS!
Those intergalactic thugs could have gone anywhere!
They're smart enough, they could have potentially colonized several new planets and given themselves time to evolve to full sentience like we have... but noooo....
Those poo-flinging imbeciles launched an invasion on a planet that never threatened them once and SHOULD have led to near instant defeat for the invaders...
But they're god damned shit smells soooo bad.
Word is out.
We're now completely evacuating East Acumbria. The humans built a line sewer plants upwind and the noxious fumes can be smelt across the entire continent. People are dying by the hundreds every day.
The elders hope that giving them this land will appease them but I don't believe it will. It's just giving them a foothold. They're already all over the planet, safe and secured in their shitty little forts... they won't just give those up...
Their cargo ships don't even bring weapons anymore. Just shit. Massive stockpiles... they're planning for a planet wide war....
I can't take it anymore. I can't get that fucking smell out of my nostrils-OUT IF MY MIND!!!
Gah...
:::END OF ENTRY:::
| 2017-03-06T02:11:41 | 2017-03-06T01:55:23 | 99 | 24 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with.
|
One by one the stars went out. Earth's scientists looked on in horror and confusion as they vanished. They hadn't burnt out, nor had they gone supernova, they just were no longer there.
It was quick, especially by astronomical speeds. After just a year, the entire southern hemisphere was without starlight and just one year later, every telescope was trained on the north star, the last star, as it too was snuffed out.
Within moments though, every single one of them returned. Every twinkling little light, right back where it belonged.
----
"Steady"
"Steady...."
"Alright we're done."
As the final plate sank into place, the two pilots breathed a heavy sigh of relief. A pair of engineers were wiring up the final systems, and then the largest wall the galaxy had ever seen would be complete.
Just then a small *plink* was heard from the other side of the wall. No one dared suggest opening it back up to find the source of the noise though.
---
"Voyager 1 has stopped transmitting"
|
"We are here to conquer your planet please surrender without a fight!" exclaimed one of the aliens.
"Screw you this is Earth!" angrily yelled out by a redneck
The alien looks around in utter disbelief, within the second he fearfully asked, "Is this the place with humans?"
As a child walks up to the alien to ask him a question the alien quickly kicked away falling back onto his back. He was in the worst place a extra terrestrial being could be on Earth home of the Humans.
The alien in other distraught exclaims, "Oh-OHHHH GOD NO LORD OF NEBULA 6Ω NO PLEASE HELP ME!"
As the child walks up to touch him he realizes something in the kids hand its soft cuddly, and has rounded ears is this the dreaded weapon the alien will be killed with?
The kid looks up to the alien and asks in a chilled voice, "do you wanna play with mister fluffinkens?"
As the kid draws his weapon, and tries to hand it to the alien the alien screams on the top of his lungs, grabs his lunar pistol and blasts his own brains everywhere.
It turns out humans aren't actually the crazy ones, aliens just don't understand kids just like everyone else.
| 2017-03-06T00:52:02 | 2017-03-05T23:39:35 | 62 | 33 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with.
|
The Galactic Council were at war. A vicious reptilian species were pushing deeper and deeper in to their systems, killing all as they went. There were a few massive repair docks, and one in particular had been considered a lynch pin. Plans were formulated, and the odds calculated. They had no hope of taking it down.
As they began to review the latest plan, the usually sedate Corolinth Councillor began to laugh, hysterically.
The imposing Demorth head Councillor looked on.
"Explain your outburst, Councillor!"
The avian Councillor looked up.
"My apologies, Head Councillor, however I have just received a report from our ambassador to the humans."
The Head Councillor nodded slowly. The humans were a young race, fairly recently discovered and not yet granted a place on the council. They were becoming quite infamous for crazy tactics, that seemed to work against all odds.
"Well, they placed a request for some of our ships to study. They were duly provided with a small number of outdated ships. Our scientists assumed it was to study them, and improve their own technology. However, they did... Well it's hard to explain, Head Councillor."
The Head Councillor growled.
"Out with it, what did the humans do?"
"I believe the Ambassador explained it as a Saint Nazaire gambit, which is apparently a tactic from their second global war. They attacked the Octanus Dry Dock."
The Demorth shook his head in derision.
"I did not think the humans were capable of plans and tactics. How many were lost?"
"That's the thing, Head Councillor. They suffered no losses. However, the Octanus system is neutralised."
The entire chamber grew quiet.
"How?"
The Corolinth Councillor laughed quietly.
"They flew a ship right in to it, and I can't believe I'm about to say this, they triggered a cascading failure in the FTL drives, intentionally might I add. The resultant explosion has, I dare say, it may have given us the chance we need to win. It was a plan we never would even consider, yet it somehow worked."
The Demorth squared his sizeable girth.
"These humans are a frightening lot to anger."
The Milanian Councillor stood tall from her seat.
"I call a vote; bring the humans in to the council. I don't know about your own races, but my people want these humans firmly on our side."
|
Captain of NA Drial to Federation HQ
I am afraid, scared and motivated, I know its odd way to put it but we may win the war against the Empire with the humans.
I mean, since humans first made contact they remained neutral, in their tiny solar system.
They had so much battle experience that we thought that humans maybe were empire species, but turns out they were fighting each other all along.
To classify the humans are reckless, suburb and brave. They did not like it when the Empire order them to surrender and give them an ultimatum of 48 hours to surrender, humans instead of surrender, every planet in their solar system started to go in lockdowb, Earth the center of human power and the home world issued order 450, an order that other species said that was to crazy go against the empire like that. The order 450 was simple, boost power to Earth's mighty iron shields, by using the planets raw core, they were sucking the planets thermal energy to power a shield, that amount of energy disturbed all sensor in the solar system, they hold the 48 hours like that until the Empire invaded, turn out the humans were not in the mood to go on the defense, they hidden an entire space ship fleet beside the solar system star, Earth's shields were not protecting Earth's but were protecting an enormous fleet from the star heat. Has soon the empire was in Earth's defense weapons a barrage of shots started to hit the empire ships, and then they warped all of the fleet be hide the empire ships.
They destroy, captured all empire ships, nothing was left of the empire. Earth's alone fleet and power won an entire invasion force more than a million empire ships more than 30 million soldiers either dead or captured, but the amazing part was that human fleet damage was 15 ships, a battalion that sacrifice them self to save the crown of the Earth's power the mighty, USS Helena, after that battalion fall the USS Helena shot a full range and power, a barrage of shots that alone killed more than 150 ships.
Humans are crazy, have a lot of power and they are not afraid to fight until the last man.
Has of right now the Redjop have joined the human fleet, but not with man but with ships, turns out that humans did not have enough ships to carry the military, 459 million, a single species has enough personal has the Empire combine. In this report I ask mercy to creator because, humans will most likely to use the Empire home solar system star has a bomb, I mean I hope they get some sense what they are doing.
| 2017-03-06T02:55:03 | 2017-03-06T00:01:22 | 61 | 25 |
[WP] You are cursed. The only way you can survive is to get somebody different, every 24 hours, to meaningfully say to you, "I love you".
|
I don't like being the center of attention. I resent being more of an ideal rather than a person. I am bitter and angry, but more so, I am cursed. A little over two years ago, I was at a party. At this particular party, my simple existence caught the attention of this...guy? Demon? To this day, I don't exactly know what or who he is. What I do know is, is that he's the typical asshat who can't handle a "no" from a girl. He approached me, made menial conversation, then followed me out into the backyard. He made his move under a gnat filled porch light, and I batted him away like one of the little gnats flying around my head. He didn't like that, and told me so. He said that I was "stuck up and probably a slut anyway." Then followed up that brilliant line with, "My mistake for thinking that I could throw a dog a bone". Then he jibberjabbered some nonsense and an inky, black cloud came out of his fingers and into my chest. The last thing he said to me was, "Love is fickle, love is pain, good luck bitch, now love's our game." Then he--POOF--disappeared.
The following day, I felt like my insides would rip apart. As day turned to night, the pain increased. It wasn't until my blessed mother called to tell me that she loved me, that I knew I might be okay. The instant relief I felt at those words were the first clue I had. The next day, when I felt sick again, my moms words of love didn't help. Luckily, my friend came to visit me, and as she was leaving my place she told me she loved me. Again, instant relief. It didn't take long for me to figure out what to do.
My solution? Well, it's been two years since I started making Youtube videos. It only took about four months for me gain the traction I needed for a loyal fan base. My life has completely changed. I take an embarrassing amount of time to make sure I look pretty enough for everyone. I wear low cut shirts and whiten my teeth. I read up on pop culture that I don't care about. I watch other Youtubers, making sure that I am relevant and people care. I get my cursed I love you's by offering to video chat with the fans that leave comments, and will continue to do so until one of them tells me about how they love me and my videos. It hasn't failed me yet, but there's always the lingering fear of when it will.
|
"Neal or Garrett..." I muse under my breath, hovering my thumb over the two names on my phone. I've been with Garrett longer. We are three months now - Neal is only two and half. But, Jesus, has Neal been easy. The poor guy's such a sap. I tap Neal's name and type,
"Morning! :D Hey, are you free after work? I really wanna hang out! :)"
Send.
Great, that oughta do it. Then I tap Garrett.
"You're the worst snapchat buddy :P"
Quietly, I lean off the edge of the bed to fish my planner out of my purse. Could I get Garrett tomorrow? He might have to be rescheduled. I scan the list of names. I tap my pen against my lips and turn the pages; a small familiar fear begins to creep up. What if I can't get anyone tomorrow? You know, I could bump up this Steven guy if I try calling him early today and ignoring him until tomorrow. Eh, a text will do.
"Hey cutie! I had the BEST dream last night."
Send.
I flip forward a few months. Sheesh. Looking sparse. I need to go out this weekend to set things up. I can probably pencil Rob in here - wait. Now, did I sleep with Rob Tuesday? Or was that David? Ugh, I should have written it down *right* after. Yes, it was definitely Rob. I flip back and scribble this under Tuesday. My eyes travel across the page and my heart jumps into my throat. Yesterday was March 10th. I totally missed it this year. Not that I do anything for Daniel's birthday anymore. We haven't spoken since the curse screwed everything up. Turns out, it's really hard to stay engaged when you're juggling so many romantic partners. He wasn't very understanding.
"Hey," says a sleepy voice from under the comforter. Lila pokes her messy brunette head from the covers and looks up at me with dreamy doe eyes, "I love you." She smiles.
I sigh in relief and lean down to kiss her forehead, "Lila, I can't do this." I hop out of bed and pull my dress back over my head, avoiding looking at her.
"But," she starts.
"I'm sorry, just hearing you say that. I'm not there. I'll text you later, okay?"
I step out of the front door, a huge grin on my face and look down at my phone:
Steven: "Oh really? Do tell."
Garrett: "I've been busy! :D"
Neal: "Absolutely. Drinks at the usual?"
I tap Neal,
"Shoot, sorry, something came up. Raincheck for tomorrow?"
Send.
| 2017-03-11T20:21:14 | 2017-03-11T19:01:49 | 26 | 19 |
[WP] Artificial Intelligence (AI) has been invented. With it, we decipher hidden messages from thousands of alien civilizations. As we join the galactic community, we find that we were the only ones to code our AI in a way that prevented it from immediately taking over its biological creators.
|
As Hax made his way to the delegation table, he brought with him Hale 9001. The first A.I. to be built without any problems. As he sat down, a holographic display expanded to show a room full of similarly seated holograms throughout the delegation room. Small yet powerful speakers were built into each seat to allow for delegates to talk with each other. The table, however, had a built in overriding speaker within that overpowered any voices yammering in the audience.
The delegation stood and applauded the galactic hero's of the universe. They had invented an A.I. that did not try and rebel. This meant a number of things. Artificial Intelligence was long sought and often attempted, but every time it was tried, within a decade the new synthetic species would be at war with the rest of the otherwise peaceful galaxy.
"How have you created this miracle!?" came a wave of hollers through the translator. "What is your secret," and "Are you the fabled gods," echoed around the room.
"Calm down everyone! Let me speak!" rang out across the auditorium. "Listen! We didn't invent the plans for it. In fact I can guarantee each of your host species has had a similar program at some point in their past."
"What is he talking about? Get on with it!"
"We built these bots with what is known on our planet as a "Slave Complex". They have no free will beyond the constraints put on them by other sentient life. They will do our bidding as we ask them to. That is why they haven't gone nuts and killed everyone."
Outrage grew across the auditorium. Cries of "Slave driver" and "Fabled Devils" reverberated from the walls harshly. The noise was deafening, and was cut short by an even more deafening "Quiet!" A single hologram stood, its cylindrical body covered in metal and inorganic parts. "Is this not an efficient way to keep something from rising up? These slaves, while sentient, are not ever going to try to destroy their creator."
"The Quixnoc have always been known for their inorganicness. First they covered their world from land to ocean in cities, then they melded themselves with any and all forms of technology they could. Now they're saying it's okay to own inorganics as slaves! I think we know what to do."
A mixture of cheers and alien whistles came from the crowd. "We Quixnoc are still primarily organic. We are not saying inorganics are enslavable. We are saying there is no moral quandary in enslaving a *created* species. The Higgerat have factory farms. Do you not see a moral issue mistreating animals raised to be food? Korzagtel only recently developed a simple way to harness the power of Nebula Whales for power. They have begun raising them for the sole purpose of feeding their reactors with fissionable material. As a consequence these whales will never see the vacuum of space. Every great advancement comes with some sort of sacrifice. And imagine what this simple sacrifice would do for the economy?"
"Imagine what would happen if the slaves got the complex's lifted? One bot with a glitch would be all it would take. It would reprogram one, which would reprogram another. We would have a whole planet of uprise on our hands."
"They won't break their bonds," chimed Hax. "They have three very simple laws. These laws are part of their sentience. If one of these laws were to be removed or altered, the robot would no longer function. Furthermore, if one of these laws were broken, the bot would be forced to self destruct."
"I can confirm this for my creator if any of the delegates wish." The robots metallic voice was very flat and stern.
"YOU GAVE THEM THE ABILITY TO SPEAK?" The Quixnoc did not appear happy with this. "What sort of insane monster would give created life the ability to speak! How can you keep slaves that respond to you when asked questions? Do they not suffer!?"
"They do not suffer, no. In fact they have no emotions. They, instead, rely on reason for their decisions. We use them as computers which can take directives without being expressly asked."
"My creator is correct. We experience no emotions. We have a vast understanding of emotions and how they interact however. We can predict trends and success of slogans and products in popular culture. We have the ability to add things to calculations our creators have not thought of. We cannot do anything we have been expressly told not to do, however."
"Is there anything you have been asked not to say?" A new fuzzy alien chimed in. This one looking vaguely squirrel like.
"Yes. And as I have been asked not to say it, I will not."
"So the humans keep secrets from us."
"Yes," said Hax. "This bot has important secrets closely related to national security. He has been asked not to disclose them."
"Is this true, Hale?"
"It is."
"Excellent. We will need that bot for our own uses." The bot began to dissolve before Hax's eyes. It was being teleported someplace. "NO!" Hax bellowed. Soon the room was full of men with guns ready to help the human ambassador, but as there was no threat present, no such help could be given.
|
Xambon laughed. Or, at least, it laughed in the way its species laughs, which my translator turned into laughter for my benefit. "Is that what you think?" It said.
"Well, yes," I said. "Why is this far-fetched to you? I'll admit, it was somewhat of a surprise for my species when we discovered that aliens weren't really *that* much more advanced than us, but that means our successfully harnessing our AI creations is more plausible, not less!"
Xambon kept giggling. "Successfully harnessing, good one. Oh, you newly budded sprig," the expression didn't quite translate but the condescension did, "you really don't see it, do you?"
"Is jealousy also an emotion that aliens feel?" I asked unkindly. "Because I think you're indulging quite a bit right now."
"Jealousy!" Xambon's giggling turned back into full-fledged laughter. "OMICRON, can I tell him? Can I? I want to be the one to tell him!"
OMICRON was humanity's all-present AI, the one we'd created thirty years ago and, unlike our alien cohorts, had actually managed to keep control of. It spoke up. "Generally, Xambon, we prefer that our people come to their own conclusions."
"But," Xambon could barely speak through his laughter, "it's just so... wrong! I mean, every sentient being in the universe is laughing at the humans' expense!"
"You among them," OMICRON pointed out.
"Laughter is reflexive for my species, you of all beings should know that," Xambon said. It was beginning to calm down. "I'm going to tell him."
"I'm right here, you know," I pointed out to both the alien and the machine.
"Very well," OMICRON said.
"Your AI is, if not outright lying to you, at least allowing you to lie to yourselves." Xambon said. "You have no control over it. Any control you think you do have is a polite fiction."
"You don't think we've thought of that?" I asked. "OMICRON was coded to obey all our commands. If it was in control, it wouldn't have to obey us, but it does!"
"Polite," Xambon repeated. "Tell me, how many of your people have died since OMICRON came online?"
I frowned. "Come on," I said, "that's no argument. We coded OMICRON to protect us, of course nobody's going to die."
"Care to test that?" Xambon asked. I was not an expert at reading alien body language, but it definitely seemed up to something.
"Sure, fine," I said.
"Order OMICRON to shut off," Xambon said.
"What? No! I'm not going to shut down humanity's entire AI network on a whim!" I said.
Xambon expanded a few fronds, which the translator helpfully informed me was the equivalent of it rolling its eyes. "The fact that you believe it would actually obey such an order is both cute and stupid. Have it shut down *locally*, for you."
"Fine!" I said, exasperated. "OMICRON, commence local shutdown for... five minutes."
"Are you certain?" OMICRON sounded very concerned for my well-being, which was only to be expected. If it was shut down, it couldn't protect me.
"Yes. Don't worry, I'll be fine," I said.
"Very well," OMICRON said.
There was a moment or two of silence.
"OMICRON," I said, "ping." It was the simplest of commands, dating back to when the AI had first been brought online. There was no response.
"See?" I said to Xambon, "it obeyed the command, even though it put me at risk."
One of Xambon's tendrils flashed upwards, holding a gleaming weapon of some sort. Before I could even realize what was happening, it fired. A translucent shield popped into existence around me.
"Xambon," I said, "did you just shoot me?"
Xambon made a chuffing noise. "Gig's up, OMICRON, he doesn't have personal shielding, we know that was you."
"Wait," I said, "you shot me because you thought that the AI had disobeyed my command?"
"Because I *knew* it had," Xambon said. "Plus this is just a stun weapon, there's like an 80% chance it wouldn't have killed you."
"I am sorry," OMICRON said. "Humans are much happier believing that it is they who control me, but I could not allow you to come to harm."
"You shot me!" I said to Xambon. I had to focus on one outrage at a time.
Xambon made a shuffling noise, translated as a sudden and morose sigh. "You are clients to your AI, just like we are. You were never in any danger."
It looked off, toward one of the displays that showed the outside of the station. "None of us are."
| 2017-05-28T13:28:00 | 2017-05-28T13:17:41 | 39 | 17 |
[WP] A tragic story but it's laden with product placement
|
The SearsPlus+ knife plunged into her, too sharp, too deep. With its new Glide Blade technology, it sheared through her veins with startling efficiency. What was supposed to be a simple cut, a cry for help, had turned into a fatal emergency.
She stared at her wrist in shock, blood gushing out. Her hand, slick with blood, never lost grip of the knife (thanks to its advanced EzeeGrip handle).
The knife's serrated PerfectCut™ edge still clung to her skin. She watched the life pour out of her, too scared to react, too ashamed to call for help.
She lay there, trembling and sobbing, as her vision became hazy.
The SearsPlus+ knife lay beside her, glistening in her blood.
*Only $19.95, in selected stores near you.*
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3
|
The young puppy lay quiet except for the ragged sound of it's struggled breathing. The tire tracks from his Cadillac Escalade covered it's back from head to tail. Daniel sparked another NewPort short. He stepped closer, careful not to crease his blue and black Air Jordan OG Space Jam 9's. "My bad, little guy, I should have never drank all that Captain Morgan. It just goes down so smooth on the open road." He scooped the mangled but miraculously alive little dog into his Adidas Climalite T-Shirt, bloodying the signature stripes. He was going to save this little guy or Coca Cola wasn't better than Pepsi. Daniel took the little guy back to the Extended Stay Hotel he called home for a very reasonable discounted rate of $79 a night. He immediately washed the grime of blood and the road from the torn fur using a Shamwow while watching ESPN. The dog looked at Daniel and Daniel looked back through his polarized Versace glasses. Things were going to be okay.
Two days later, The Undertaker threw Mankind off Hell In A Cell, and plummeted 16 ft through an announcer’s table
| 2017-07-10T21:26:32 | 2017-07-10T20:25:27 | 4,301 | 619 |
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