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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55
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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36
2022-12-31 12:20:41
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[WP] A tragic story but it's laden with product placement
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The crystal clear clarity of the video, playing back on his Sony Xperia, may have felt so real you could touch it... But he couldn't.
His tears ran down his face as the vivid colours of the screen showed his lost love, captured in lifelike detail by the Motion Eye camera, smiling and laughing and running. His tears fell, dripping on the screen, but he was too distraught to notice, and didn't need to worry with the water proof nano coating.
He tapped the home button, the phone shifting instantly, the screen flowing fluidly as his taps and swipes brought up the phone. His finger hovered, hesitating, then tapped the call icon. The phone was ringing, reaching out across the blistering fast Telstra 4GX network, before he even raised it to his ear.
It picked up, his lip trembling as he heard her voice, coming through crisp and clear.
"Hello, welcome to Pizza hut, can I take your order?" Her voice said, in soft lilting tones, before her faint giggle was perfectly recreated by the Hi-Res Audio chip in his phone. "Sorry, sorry... Just kidding. Leave a message, I guess? Or, you know, Snapchat or Whatsapp me like a normal person..."
The phone disconnected silently. He brushed the tears from his face with the back of his hand and hit dial again, longing to hear her voice once more, yearning to pretend she was still alive. That her life hadn't been cut tragically short by the car accident...
If only he was a slightly richer man, maybe he could have bought her an Audi A5, with its class leading safety features. Maybe then she'd still be alive... That guilt and uncertainty would eat at him, twisting his insides with a mix of molten steel and icy cold water.
He plucked a Kleenex from the box, blowing his nose on the velvety soft tissue, and turned his phone sideways, flicking through the interface again to bring up the video. He'd been torturing himself for hours with this, with the guilt and the refusing to let her go. But the video and voice were so real, it was almost hard to believe she was gone...
And with the battery life on the Xperia XZ Premium, he could torture himself for hours more, watching the crisp video over and over again, refusing to let her go or to forgive himself for not doing more to keep her safe...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you enjoyed this, more of my work can be found on my sub, /r/KiljoysGlyphs
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"Fuck Airbus."
The veteran pilot chugged the remains of a Mexican Coca-Cola, the last taste of real sugar cane she would ever enjoy, then tossed the glass bottle aside.
"Today's hydraulics failure brought to you by Zodiac Hydraulics," she mumbled, as if to address the cabin, "the European leader in engineering critical aircraft support systems." This being Airbus's latest offering with a capacity of over twelve hundred passengers, all control surfaces were operated by four hydraulic systems each. Somehow, for each control surface, all four systems managed to lose pressure simultaneously.
For a moment, the aircraft could be operated by throttling the engines. They were manufactured by Engine Alliance, a leader in engine technology for nearly a century. Thanks to Engine Alliance's optimal designs, the airline, for the price of six engines, enjoyed millions in annual savings, and one working engine.
For just moments after the hydraulic failure, engines one through five were lost in succession. Only the sixth engine remained operational- for now- but it couldn't quite deliver enough thrust to carry the aircraft alone. Why should it?
The pilot, and over a thousand passengers, were trapped in a death spiral.
To minimize altitude loss, the aircraft had to steer left. And, by banking more strongly for half a circle and then flying more level for the other half, the aircraft neared the airport a few hundred feet at a time. Imagine a cycloid curve, which you can trace with Wolfram CDF Player. Except instead of using a free program you can download today, you're using a billion dollar jet airliner.
Below, city extended nearly to the horizon. Landing in the countryside was not an option; they must land right here.
The failing craft was nearly within range of a local river. Unfortunately, the descent of the plane was too difficult to control to reliably align with the winding river. In order to avoid a collision with the city, the pilot may be forced into a steep dive. The impact would be fatal to her and everyone on board.
But if fate had a change of heart now, they might make it to the Hartsfield–Jackson Atlanta International Airport, which is normally the busiest airport in the world. Now it was devoid of all activity in anticipation of their arrival, and several delayed airliners circled like vultures. Since it could be approached at any heading, the odds of a successful landing this way were at least better than a coin flip, but only if she made it to the airport. One misstep, and she takes a city block with her.
There was no more time to decide who was worth saving. The ground was getting closer.
| 2017-07-10T22:54:44 | 2017-07-10T22:39:37 | 77 | 29 |
[WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead.
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet.
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I was surprised I noticed.
After all, I *should* be dead.
The infection was said to have completely saturated the entire species. We had been living this way for years. The medicine had its side effects, of course. Everyone was a little skittish and unable to focus. Our internal temperature went up by a full degree (99.6 was now the norm). And when people died now, they became a dried out husk in a matter of hours.
So when I ran out of Optimum-B, I knew I was likely in for painful death. Thankfully it wasn't. Everything just kind of slowed and soon nothing but blackness.
Shortly after that I was not dead. And I wanted one thing. One thing that I hungered for beyond anything: brains.
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"IT'S A LIE, IT'S ALL A LIE!" I screamed into my phone. I was live on instagram. The noise in the background behind me was getting louder. The banging and shouting.
"Their coming, their cutting threw the door right now." I point the camera phone at the door to show the thousands watching my stream. It was a huge awaking of the masses and all because I lost my job and ran out of money and my insurance ran out. God must have a sense of humor. I thought I was gonna die after a week of no meds but, no I jus got stronger no symptoms, no dependence on drugs. The desease must have killed off the previous generation but this generation is immune and the big Pharmaceutical companies worked hard to keep us dependent on their drugs making billions off our fear and ignorance. Even having their own private police to hunt me down and shut me up but I had to break into this facility to use their wifi. I couldn't stay silent any longer.
| 2017-07-14T11:37:22 | 2017-07-14T10:00:33 | 58 | 21 |
[WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead.
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet.
|
For as long as she could remember, every person around Katie was covered in the pink spots that spoke of a disease which had overtaken the nation, and reportedly the world.
At precisely 7.30 every morning, she would wake up and take her morning pill, the bright yellow one. After five minutes she would have enough energy for the day, and no worries about the spots expanding.
If you forgot to take your pill, experts say you had about 3 hours max before the spots expanded, joined together, and began to infect your body with the disease.
Katie knew she shouldn't have stayed up all night to read, but she couldn't put the book down, and soon it was 3am and she would have to get up in just 4 hours for her morning lectures. Shutting her textbook on disease and death, she set her alarm and fell asleep.
Katie yawned and stretched. Looking out of her dark curtains, she sensed that something was wrong. No, perhaps not wrong, just. Different? It felt like the sun was in a different place.
Glancing at her side table, she noticed that her textbook was pressing down on her alarm clock. "MY PILL!" She huffed as she pulled herself out of bed. Cursing to herself, she moved the textbook and saw the clock.
"It's 10 already!?" She shrieked. She had slept for 7 hours! She looked down at her body and saw that already her spots had began to touch. She rushed out of bed and reached for her pills, only to notice that she had none left...
In her exhaustion last night, she had forgotten to pick up a new dose, and now she had no time! As decisions rushed through her mind, Katie decided to sit still and wait. If nothing happened within the next ten minutes, she would go and find an extra pill somewhere, otherwise, she might be infectious to others.
She sat back down on her bed and watched curiously as her skin began to turn pink. Not a bright luminescent pink, but rather the pink of a new born baby, or a scab that had just healed.
5 minutes.
Nothing
10 minutes
She felt fine
30 minutes
Katie was shocked. How could this be? Her skin was now a normal colour, it actually looked better than it had before. Almost as if the spots had healed her.
After so long, spending all of her small wage from the college bookshop on doses of blue and yellow pills, she was fine. In fact, she was better than fine. She felt great!!
She sighed and looked at her clock. Her next lecture was in an hour, and she knew that she couldn't go to class like this. Everyone would stare at her clean skin.
She pulled on a long sleeve jacket and some jeans. Reaching for her makeup case, she pulled out her lipstick, and got to work painting small pink dots.
------------
This is my first writing prompt attempt. Thought it would be fun!
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"How do you feel?"
I opened my eyes, and turned my head toward the source of the voice. The silhouette was faint, and blurred, but the outline was vaguely recognizable. Whoever it was, was sitting. Relaxed.
"Porter?"
Up and down movement. He was nodding. It was him.
"Thought we were going to lose you there, for a moment," he said. "We got here in the nick of time."
"How am I not...gone?"
He stood up, and came closer.
"You never need to worry again," he said. "You're supplied. For the rest of your life."
I shake my head. My thinking is...labored. Fuzzy.
"But...why?"
"You saved her life. My daughter's. It's the least I could do." Porter shrugged. "She loves you. How could I refuse?"
"Your daughter?"
Lightbulb. A dawning.
"Sorina? She's...your daughter? I had no idea. She spoke of a father, but..." I shake my head again, laughing a little. "I never imagined it was you."
He put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "You couldn't have known. Very few alive know our connection. And, when she ran away - when she disappeared - we didn't advertise it. Too many would have held her for ransom. For Medicine."
Porter - Sorina's father?! - helps me to sit up, propping me against the headboard. With what little energy I have, I shrug.
"I would've done what I did even if I had known who she really is. She showed up, penniless. Begging for Medicine. I was raised to be generous, even in the face of hardship." I shrugged again. "I wouldn't have done anything different."
"I know," he said. "Even though she took advantage of you, and put you at death's door, I still wouldn't have done this if I didn't feel you were worthy. Times being what they are, and all."
I couldn't argue with his logic. I wasn't the only one who'd been - or still was - in danger of running out of money and Medicine. The end of all things had seemed near...even more so when I felt myself starting to pass out, and then did. Sorina must have called him then.
Everything was okay. I was alive.
Still, something was bothering me.
"You said...she loves me."
"Yes."
"How is that possible? She barely knows me. And, as you say, she took advantage of me. Is that 'love'?"
Porter smiled, and then sighed. "The truth is, we've been watching you for a while. Sorina was your 'case officer' of sorts. We thought you'd make a suitable candidate, but...Sorina wanted to be sure. She wasn't authorized to go off-grid the way she did. She left a note that made us search everywhere but here."
"Candidate? A candidate for what?"
Porter patted my knee, and winked.
"All in good time, mate. All in good time."
| 2017-07-14T14:46:36 | 2017-07-14T13:42:30 | 54 | 16 |
[WP] The four horsemen: Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death are the harbingers of the apocalypse, serving forth chaos and destruction on all humanity. The Bible forgot to mention the fifth horseman: Kyle, whom the other four can't seem to ditch.
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Death was the oldest. Since time immemorial, people have died and they have come to him. Mankind fights an endless war against him. Though they may have succeeded in stifling his actions, Death is patient. He knows that in the end, all things come to him.
Pestilence was Death's brother. He brought plague upon the lands. Staining the Earth black with disease and blight. His method of bringing people to his brother was slow and excruciating. However, mankind have begun to stave him off. Disease was beaten by technology and he increasingly faded into irrelevance.
Famine was as old as Death and pre-dated the birth of mankind. He worked with Pestilence to target the source of man's strength, his food and fuel. He destroyed crop and rotted grain. Starvation and a slow path to Death awaited those afflicted by him. However, man stood strong against him. They developed methods to create a surplus of food, too much for Famine to destroy. They developed methods to deflect his hand so that he may no longer afflict the source of man's strength. Thus, Famine, like Pestilence, faded into irrelevance.
War was the youngest. He was smart and cunning. He channeled man's strength against themselves. Conflict and strife became the grounds for which man displayed his strength. Efficient in work, he brought many to Death. However after his most brilliant work, where War embroiled the world twice over, mankind caught on to his cunning. Man made laws and grew to depend on each other. Though they may never fully quell War's influence, they made sure he would never afflict the world so spectacularly ever again.
Death was unhappy. Mankind had defeated his brothers and impeded his work. In his impatience and anger, he consulted his 5th brother, Kyle.
Kyle was a strange fellow amongst the brothers. He was quiet, lazy and seemed to care little for Death's work. He decided that his own birthname was too tedious to pronounce and opted for an easier name. Gaelic in origin, "Kyle" meant "narrow" a strange name for a Horseman to take on.
"Help me Kyle. My brothers are defeated. Mankind may one day defeat me as well. Please help out just this once." Kyle said nothing and merely nodded. He then disappeared off to perform his work.
As Death sat around his bedridden brothers, a miracle occured. Pestilence finger twitched and he his hands grew fleshy. Disease once again spread around the world. No longer as powerful as he once was, but alive once again.
Famine groaned and began to sit upright. Once again, crops wilted and people starved. Famine however, felt something amiss, some of his work was...voluntary. Mankind began to starve itself.
War rose from his bed with new found strength. The gears of conflict shook off their rust and began to turn once again. Innocents die in battle again, widows gained and fathers lost. Misguided soldiers die under authority's whims.
"You revived our brothers Kyle. How did you do it?" Asked Death, impressed with Kyle's work.
"I am Kyle, "narrow", the fourth of the Horsemen. Born with humanity but before War. My influence appeared when the first man decided that he did not need his tribe to survive. Narrow are the minds of humans.
Humans defeated disease with miracle cures. Now some fear that those cures are harmful to them. Let them face Pestilence's wrath.
Humans defeated Famine through piling resources and modifying crop. Now they hoard but never give. They let their breathren starve. Now they feel that excess of food is sin. They willing starve themselves of their source of strength to meet society's whims. Let them suffer by Famine's hand.
Humans defeated War through tolerance, diplomacy and restraint. Now they turn intolerant and unleash violence against those not of their own group. They justify their "Holy Wars" with the blood of innocents. Violence begets violence, vengeance for innocent blood spilled is carried out by the sword. Let them spiral down to oblivion, guided by War.
Narrow are the minds of humans. They do not think before they act. They believe what they want to believe and ignore what they don't.
I am Ignorance. Until mankind is capable of defeating me, they can never truly destroy the Horsemen."
EDIT: Nice to receive some criticism, turns out I severely lack knowledge on how the whole 4 Horsemen thing works. I really should go read up on this. Some mistakes here and there as well. I kinda, forgot to follow up on the "modified crop" thing that was pointed out. Oops. Also apparently my 5th paragraph should have Death refer to Kyle as his 4th brother, not his 5th.
Reddit gold. Did not expect that. Thanks to those who tossed those my way.
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"Death awaits you. She rests in the bottom of Eden, from which life is nurtured of her bosom. She is a cruel mother, most devoted to the welfare of her three firstborns: war, famine and pestilence. To secure their prosperity, she makes barren her womb, upon which the creatures of Earth whither in neglect. She penetrates the citadel of man's soul, turning him against his brother. And in commiseration with decay, she caresses packets of virulence into the wind with a maternal smile."
"No, you don't understand. I'm not here to protest my mortality. Death had *four* firstborns. I'm her fourth. My name is Kyle. How do you think I managed to locate this metaphysical dimension? With a GPS? Will you allow me to see my mother?"
The gatekeeper scrutinized the human before him. He was of robust constitution, with ruddy and beseeching eyes. This was a highly unusual sight. Most of the souls who came before him were disembodied.
"Very well. I will consult with Death and report your presence. Before I depart, I advise you to recollect the most salient theme of human mythology.
The gatekeeper vanished. Kyle twiddled his thumbs and thought of Sisyphus as instructed.
"Kyle!"
It was pestilence; the most gregarious of his siblings by necessity. Pestilence slapped him on the back and grinned congenially.
"Kyle, I've got news for you! Everyone on Earth despises you. They dream of your death at night and despair of your continued existence."
"Dammit, pestilence! If you infect my mind, I won't be able to propagate you to anyone else! Look where I am! On Earth, you were able to leap from body to body through ideas and bacteria. Your machinations don't work in this metaphysical dimension!"
Pestilence, the dimmest of his siblings too, grinned with ironical self-mockery.
"Would you care to meet war? I've been at odds with him lately, mostly because I have been trying to spread a meme that he had originally intended the flag of war to be white, which is ironic because white flags have become the universal flag of peace."
"No, I have no desire to meet war. He will only provoke me."
The gatekeeper materialized before Kyle and Pestilence, interrupting their conversation.
"Well?" Kyle asked with expectant triumph.
The gatekeeper hesitated. "Your mother wishes to see you. Please follow me."
Kyle left with the gatekeeper, aware of Pestilence's grinning eyes. They arrived at the valley of darkness and boarded a vessel into its heart.
"Do you see Joseph Conrad over there?" The gatekeeper pointed to the entrance of the river, where Joseph Conrad was dancing maniacally to accordion music. "He made a deal with your mother. In exchange for a literary conception of the descent into madness, Conrad agreed to become mad for eternity." They passed Conrad as he tap-danced and babbled nasally with fingers pinching his nose. They eventually reached the shadow of the valley of darkness. They left their vessel and ascended to Death's throne.
"My child!" Death crooned as she saw Kyle approach. "I can convert you into a thermonuclear device, if you desire."
"No, Mom!" Kyle whined petulantly. "I've come here because I'm not included in the Old Testament. If it is an inerrant report of this metaphysical dimension, then why am I not included in your Genealogy?"
Death put her finger to her chin and thought for a moment. "Well, Kyle, to be truthful, I receive a jolt of pleasure whenever someone dies. I *mean*, I copulate with the living to make them die. You are not the best expedient for this. My first three children provide me an interminable stream of pleasure. You are simply not equipped to maximize my pleasure. As I have said, I can convert you into a vial of small-pox, and I'm sure you can work with your brother to spread it."
Kyle began to utter a protest, but his sentience terminated at the sound of his mother's snap.
"Gatekeeper," Death mused leisurely, "I believe Kyle would serve me best as an oxygen molecule that turns blood into powder. Of course, such a molecule must be capable of replication, so perhaps we should endow it with a rudimentary quantity of hereditary information. But then it would become an organism. Oh, I know, make Kyle a virus that turns blood into powder. That way we can include the instruction manual for further propagation in his little body. Get Pestilence to assemble the instruction manual. Tell him to use RNA instead of DNA."
Kyle disappeared into a virus. The gatekeeper bowed his head before Death and left for the gates of the underworld. As he passed Conrad, who was doing a pantomime routine in adult diapers, he thought: "*How incestuous!*"
| 2017-09-22T03:07:50 | 2017-09-22T01:14:53 | 8,331 | 33 |
[WP] Every country has ninjas but the world only knows about Japan's because theirs suck.
Edit: mum im famous
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Cold, bright stars shone through the thin mountain air like flickering candles by the time Kentaro-san built up the courage to approach the hut. Set in glade alone, ringed by silent pines, the the wooden hut looked ancient, and it was.
First built by the United Ninja Clans nearly four-hundred years ago, it was meant to be a place of quiet reflection and shared experience. A place where the clans of the world would gather once a decade and celebrate their skill and discuss the world-at-large. Now, in these dark times, the meetings that the hut hosted had taken on a new meaning.
The heavy wooden door groaned deafeningly as Kentaro-san swung it only wide enough for his thin, sinewy frame to slip through. The interior of the hut was silent and as cold as outside beneath the stars. In the center of the hut sat the great round table that so many of his ancestors and peers had sat at through the decades. A nightbird outside called out to no-one. He was early.
As the senior member of Clan Nihon, as well as its most learned, he was elected by his peers to attend this most grave of meetings. A representative from all of the clans would be in attendance: the Shogun-Cowboys of the Americas, the copper-and-cotton Hashassins of the Arabic nations, the brightly-patterned but silent Warrior-Priests of Africa, and the long-hidden tribesmen from the Amazons. Even the Voices of Valhalla from the cold north, who rarely came down from their blissful mountain sanctuaries, would be in attendance. Indeed, the threat from The Orange One was too great to ignore further.
To keep his early arrival to himself, Kentaro-san slipped into the shadows on his padded footwear. Wedging himself between a thick wooden stud and an eons-old chair, he prepared himself to meditate silently while awaiting the arrival of his fellow ninjas.
Just as he closed his eyes for prayer, he heard the deep, booming Voice of Valhalla call out from seemingly nowhere, and everywhere:
"Glad you could join us, Kentaro-san. Go ahead and dial in - the conference call number is on the table."
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What do you see when I say the word 'ninja'? Clad in black, hooded, some kunais and knives hanging from their belt? Well, that just shows you how bad they really were at hiding. Sure they're trying to reinvent their image but their so steeped in history that the elders find it appalling to change tradition.
But they're not the only ninjas that exist. There's more, all around the world. They hide in plain sight.
You want an example? Well, find the most hipster looking guy or girl around you. See one? Alright, follow them. They're heading to the Chatime stand, right? Well, I know for a fact what they're gonna order. Caramel Milk Tea, extra bubble jelly and five shots of sugar. Absolutely diabetic, but that's the secret code they give to get their mission. Even the employees don't know about it, they just mindlessly key in the order and swipe their rewards card, which is more identification. They get that little slip of paper, and from there they get their mission before rubbing the ink off with their finger.
That's how we get our missions.
Weapons? Well, it is illegal to openly carry here in Malaysia, but phones are getting pretty smart these days, and theirs are no exception. They mainly get by without attacking anyone, using the phone with top of the line decryption algorithms to get through the toughest security there is. But when push comes to shove they've got a trick or two up their sleeves. Their glasses have sharpened ear rests. Their phones can fire a tranquilizer dart from the charging port. Used to be the headphone jack but Apple caught on to us. Had to change it. That's about it really. Our ninjas specialize in information. Which is why you don't see many unexplainable deaths happening here.
Only one you may have heard of is the Altantuya case, but we needed him to take the top spot. We thought he'd be easily manipulated. Then he started getting greedy, so we started leaking stuff online.
Because we deal in information.
Which is why I'm talking to you openly about this. Because you're not supposed to be here much longer. Nice meeting you by the way. You're a great listener.
----------------------
Done at a restaurant on mobile, so forgive the writing. Feedback always welcome! Just wanted to sort of build the world I suppose.
| 2022-09-26T08:48:57 | 2017-11-16T10:00:22 | 70 | 11 |
[WP] Your parents have kept it secret long enough; they can no longer stand your misery. They decide to change your life's difficulty from "Expert" to "Novice".
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"We decided it was time you knew." said my mother.
"Knew what?" I asked.
She and my father locked eyes for a moment, before looking back at me.
"We saw how hard you strugged this last few months sweetie."
I felt tears trying to escape my eyes.
"But we thought we did the right thing by not telling you." My father added "We thought it would help you build character."
"And when you were diagnosed you were just seven, you wouldn't understand at that age." My mother explained
"And look how far you have gotten!" said my father and he spread his arms out. I saw a tiny speck of red on his skin peering from under his sleeve. I figured he scratched himself on a nail while working on the shed the other day.
"I mean you got good grades in high school, and even got into college. And when you dropped out... I mean... You started your own buisness! You always soldier on."
I nodded. I felt confused.
"What is going on?" I asked. "Why did mom say I got diagnosed when I was seven? -Wait a minute, I remember being in a room with a one way mirror, and a lady came to play with me. Was that it?"
My parents avoided my eyes, and my mother was fumbling with the tassels on a trow pillow.
"Yes" she said in a skreeking voice. "We should have told you sooner. Honey you have Atention Deficit Disorder."
"Yes, thank you Robert, I will senot them to you tomorrow. Ok, goodbye. Yes. Bye."
I hang up the phone.
I smile.
I just sold fifty shirts I designed to a local store.
I am so happy.
Buisness is booming for me.
And to think six months ago I went nearly bankrupt.
I was always working, busy all the time, but I just never knew what the hell I was doing. I was just running around like a headless chicken, no sense of direction, blind panick, and the constant feeling that I should just keep going.
All the years of my life I felt that I just needed to try harder, all those times I hit the same walls. I could never finish a project, always starting new things. I would always loose my stuff. Forget important meetings. And I had dropped out of college because I felt overwhelmed, and I would always do my assignments last minute, no matter how often I had told myself to start earlier.
If only I had known that it was not my fault. It wasn't. I did try hard enough.
Seeing a therapist and taking medication has changed my life dramatically.
I actually feel happy every now and then.
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I couldn't believe that I did it. Something that was just wishful thinking till yesterday was suddenly a reality. Something that was so incomprehensibly difficult till yesterday was like a child's play today. And in a way, it was.
"Look Ma, I did it" I tapped my Mom's shoulder and proudly showed her my shoes. I had tied the strings myself. Just like she did till yesterday. They formed the perfect little knots, like a flower.
My mom said she was so proud of me. She even gave me a cookie. Before dinner! I went to my dad's office. He doesn't like to be disturbed but I thought he would want to hear the good news. Boy was I right. He took eyes of his computer when I called him and actually got off from his chair and ruffled my hair. He said I was on my way of becoming the man of the house. I smiled all the way to my room. I went to my closet. I wanted to try all of them on my own.
But first, I had to take the ones I was wearing. I was scared that the first time was just a fluke and I may not be able to tie them back again. I mustered some courage that I never knew I had and pulled the strings. They came out perfectly. Now I tried on my favorite shoes, the one with cars on them. I took the strings and didn't even have to think about Bunny ears and what goes where. My hand just made the knot. It was magical. I went to my Mom again and showed her. She was visibly excited as me. She looked at me for a while and gave me a kiss on my forehead. no cookie this time but I will take that. I went again to dad's office. He just muttered 'good job' this time. And good job it was. I have never seen such perfect knots on such perfect shoes. I spent the entire evening trying different shoes. I even went for a walk in the yard to see if they come off. None of them did. I took out all of my shoes and began cleaning them as from now on I can wear whichever shoe I want. I was so busy I didn't hear Mum call me for dinner. I only realized it was dinner time when she tapped me up and ask me what I had done to the room. I said I was cleaning my shoes as now I am a grown man, I have to do stuff myself. She didn't say a word during dinner. It was only me talking about my shoes and how I was a grown boy and what I will do tomorrow.
When it was sleeping time Mom came to my room. She kissed me on the forehead and went to turn off the lights. Before she turned off the lights, I saw she flipped the switch from N to E, whatever that is.
| 2018-01-09T15:14:09 | 2018-01-09T15:00:54 | 48 | 18 |
[WP] You are Low-Key, the Norse God of really subtle mischief.
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A smile creaked across my face as I heard a dull thud.
"WHY THE FUCK DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING?!" boomed from the living room. I only wish I could have seen it first hand, but my hidden sanctuary behind the closet doors kept my presence concealed. They'll never know that their furniture had been slowly moved, inch by inch, to the left.
"Behold the wrath of Low Key," I softly spoke as I vanished into thin air, off to the neighbor's house to replace their ground beef with ground turkey.
|
"John, what's wrong? You haven't even touched your beer."
"Shhh...Listen. Do you hear that? There's something off about this song."
"Off? Off how?"
"Just off. It's weird. I thought it was weird earlier. I could have sworn the DJ was playing the edited versions of the songs. Like the radio versions. I knew it was weird when the Snoop song was on and everyone was like 'Smoke weed everyday' but I didn't think I heard the actual song."
"Who cares? It's the radio version. People know that version. We are in a crap bar and the crap DJ is playing slightly crappier versions of crappy songs."
"Yeah, good point. Let's order shots."
| 2018-01-27T22:00:48 | 2018-01-27T21:07:07 | 1,893 | 1,029 |
[WP] You die in your girlfriends arms after saving her from a careless driver. Suddenly you wake up in your bed, completely healed and your clothes fixed. You look over and see death sitting at your desk. “Okay hear me out,” it says. “I’ve been playing this video game, and I wanna try something...”
|
Breathe in.
I remember there wasn't much pain, not like you'd expect. The adrenaline dulled it, made it seem far away. My breathing shallowed, my head got light, my vision dimmed. I was still alive, and she found me where the truck had thrown me. She was holding me, calling for help. I remember shoving her out of the way just before the truck hit me; I must have pushed her far enough, because she wasn't hurt.
I remember dying.
Breathe out.
I have a hard time putting into words how happy I was in that moment. Laying there under the covers, warm and comfortable, unharmed, alive. Or at least something analogous to alive. Equal to alive. Undead? Who cared.
I was an atheist. I believed there was no afterlife, no gods, nothing waiting for me after my death. And I had a good life, so I wanted to keep it as long as possible. Maybe forever, if given the chance.
**WERE YOU ONE OF THE ANNOYING ONES?**
What?
**THE ANNOYING ONES. ATHEISTS. THE HOLIER-THAN-THOU ONES, MINUS THE HOLY BIT.**
I used to be, I think. But I grew out of it after a while.
**LOOK UP, YOUNG ONE. LOOK UPON ME.**
I sit up and look around my bedroom. It's exactly as it was yesterday, not a single detail out of place. I don't have an eidetic memory, but it looks real. Feels real. And there, standing by the door, is Death. I can tell immediately by looking at him, there's no way this entity could be anything but Death, the OG Classic Death too.
He's tall, over six feet, and made up of nothing but bone. Terribly old, sunbleached white bone. There's a sense of cleanliness to him, immaculate perfection, no dirt or rot on those bones. He's almost like a statue of porcelain, wrapped about with a black robe that hangs loosely on him. The robe does nothing to hide how thin he is; I can see the shapes of his shoulder bones and pelvis through the thin cloth.
And in his right hand, a scythe. Black the handle, gleaming silver the blade, long and thin with delicate engravings that might be ancient language, or perhaps purely decorative without meaning. Again the indication of unfathomed age but no wear; the tool's edge was pristinely sharp.
**I CAN HEAR YOU. STOP FAWNING OVER ME; IT'S UNSETTLING.**
I almost laughed. The thought of Death finding anything unsettling just seemed-
**STOP THAT. FOCUS ON ME. I HAVE COME TO ENLIST YOUR HELP WITH A VERY SPECIFIC PROJECT.**
...Project? What's going on? Why am I still alive? Am I, really?
**YOU DIED. NOW YOU LIVE. I DIDN'T RESURRECT YOU; DIDN'T BRING YOU BACK. YOU'RE HERE NOW BECAUSE I SUBVERTED THE PROCESS BY WHICH YOU WOULD HAVE GONE ANYWHERE.**
Why? I mean, thank you, but why?
**OKAY, HEAR ME OUT.** Hesitance. Nervousness. Uncertainty. **I'VE BEEN PLAYING THIS VIDEO GAME AND I WANT TO TRY SOMETHING.**
In Death's left hand was a physical copy of Dark Souls. Okay, come on, you can't really expect me to not have an internal monologue about how ridiculous this is. You're Death. You can't just play video games.
**TWO HUMAN BEINGS DIE EVERY SECOND. I APPEAR BEFORE THEM ALL AND TAKE THEM TO THE NEXT LIFE. FROM THIS YOU CONCLUDE THAT I AM OMNIPRESENT, I EXIST IN ALL PLACES AT ONCE, AND THE NUMBER OF TASKS I CAN PERFORM SIMULTANEOUSLY HAS NO LIMIT. YES, I PLAY VIDEO GAMES. I DO MANY OTHER THINGS AS WELL.**
...
**SO YOU UNDERSTAND. GOOD. I HAVE BEEN PLAYING THIS GAME AND HAVE CLOCKED SEVERAL THOUSAND HOURS ON IT ALONE. I HAVE HAD AN EPIPHANY. THE SYSTEM OF DEATH AND AFTERLIFE WHICH I CURRENTLY ADMINISTRATE IS COUNTERPRODUCTIVE AND LEAVES ROOM FOR VAST IMPROVEMENT.**
So, what? You'll just stop killing people?
**I DO NOT KILL PEOPLE. I AM DEATH. PEOPLE DIE, AND THAT IS WHAT I AM. IT IS BEYOND ME TO AVERT THIS PROCESS, TO DO SO WOULD BE TO DESTROY MYSELF, BUT I CAN CHANGE IT. CHANGE THE RESULT. CHANGE MYSELF.**
A respawn mechanic as opposed to permadeath.
**YES.**
The implications are... huge. Mind-boggling. A total change to civilization. If no one ever stays dead... we'd need to reallocate populations, spread them out more evenly, and limit how many children people could have. Murder wouldn't be one of the most serious crimes. What about food? People could still starve to death, but they'd come back. We'd have to do something about world hunger, but the pressure of time would be so much lighter. Diseases and nukes wouldn't be anywhere near as scary... this would be... this would be...
**MORE CONDUCIVE TO PLAYER ENJOYMENT. HARDCORE MODE ONLY APPEALS TO A SPECIFIC MINORITY OF PLAYERS. THE OTHERS LOSE ALL PROGRESS AND ARE FORCED INTO A SECOND RUN WHICH THEY TEND NOT TO FULLY ENJOY, DESPITE ITS AMENITIES.**
You're talking about the afterlife. Holy shit, you're saying the afterlife sucks.
**THE AFTERLIFE DOES NOT SUCK. BUT THE LOSS OF ONE'S PROPER FIRST LIFE UPSETS AND SADDENS MANY PEOPLE UPON THEIR ARRIVAL. A RESPAWN SYSTEM WOULD ABSOLVE THIS PROBLEM BY ALLOWING PLAYERS TO REAP THE FULL BENEFITS AND PLEASURE OUT OF THEIR FIRST LIVES... AND ONLY THEN PROCEED TO NEW GAME PLUS.**
Death gestured to me with his scythe. It wasn't a threat, but it was still hard not to be terrified of him, especially since he'd made clear he didn't enjoy the internal monologue I was currently interrupting him with-
**YOU ARE THE FIRST. WE HAVE MANY ISSUES TO SOLVE BEFORE THIS UPDATE GOES LIVE. THE GAME BALANCE MUST BE PRESERVED, DEATH MUST STILL HAVE CONSEQUENCES. GLITCHES MUST BE PATCHED. LEGACY ACCOUNTS MUST BE AFFORDED ACCESS TO NEW CONTENT.**
Holy shit. Holy shit.
**NATURALLY WE WILL RESOLVE THIS, AS IS TRADITION, WITH CLOSED ALPHA AND BETA TESTS. GET UP. WE HAVE WORK TO DO.**
|
Jim awoke in on his bed. He had fuzzy memories of moments before. He remembered flashing lights, the sounds of a stretcher, some electric sounds and then a blank. As he tried to think back, each time the memory recycled after the electric shock, a sharp pain would strike from his side causing his thoughts to subside.
He looked around him and everything looked to be the ordinary. However, sitting by his desk, playing with some miniature figures was a stranger in a dark cloak.
Jim gulped. The stranger turned over and noticed him. The stranger had no face, instead there was this pitch dark hole in its place. When Jim looked into it, he felt an unsettling presence that caused his bones to rattle and his blood turn cold.
“Ah, Jim, my boy, you’re awake. Come, come, let us play a game,” spoke the stranger with enthusiasm.
Jim wanted to refuse, but the stranger came over and stretching its bony fingers, it clasped Jim’s hands in its. It lead Jim over to his tv set. Jim obeyed silently without hesitation. He was frozen in place and acted like a robot. The stranger held some power over him that he could not escape from.
The stranger sat Jim upon a cushion as it grabbed a nearby one for itself. It handed a controller over to Jim as it placed a special cartridge into the old console. The television set booted up and a scene began to play.
“Alright Jim, I’m going to be relaxing while you play. Probably fixing some bugs as the game rolls. It’s a prototype, you know, so its bound to have a few issues here and there. As for you, your job is to enjoy it.”
Jim nodded. On the screen, a baby was crying as its parents came over to check up on him. A cutscene flashed as the parents conversed. The chapter ended and Jim found the child pushed a couple years into the future. He was grown up now, in high school. Jim was given multiple choices which he randomly chose, not caring about the after-effects or consequences.
“Oh hey, Jim. That’s pretty good, your avatar has a girlfriend this early?” the stranger joked.
Jim walked the on-screen character home and found out the father had died years back. He played a couple mini-games which depending on his score offered him different rewards. He chose to pass on the harder difficulties, choosing the easier games for their simplicity. Another chapter ended and Jim found the character raddled in a mound of debt, his girlfriend pregnant and his mother hooked to cocaine.
“How could this happen? I just picked the easy route, I didn’t want this!” cried Jim. He threw away the controller which the stranger caught mid-air.
“Jim, you made these decisions and you live with the consequences,” it replied. The stranger handed the controller back into Jim’s hands. “Now play.”
The next chapter opened up with the on-screen character moved far away from his home in the future. His mother had been jailed, his previous girlfriend having a failed birth followed by suicide. Jim opened up the character’s stat screen and found all the previous high stat allocations in the dumpster. He tried to get the man a job, but his lack of education or credentials denied him everything. Jim began to cry.
“What do I do?” he sobbed.
“What do you mean, what do you do? You live and die by the consequences of your actions. Jim, shouldn’t you be asking yourself that?” snickered the stranger.
Jim toiled through another chapter and found his avatar to be beat up and thrown onto the street on the verge of dying. As his avatar was about to succumb to his grievances, a flash of light flickered and an on-screen woman appeared. She raised his avatar back on his feet, properly fed him and clothed him.
“Is this my redemption? Also that woman, she looks a lot like Angela.” stated Jim.
“Perhaps,” answered the stranger.
The game continued to roll as Jim found his avatar’s life to get better. Soon the avatar had a stable job, a proper residence and was dating the woman. But Jim found his character to have random outbursts of dark behaviour. His avatar would snicker behind the woman’s back, doubting her and criticizing her. He’d also see his avatar visit clubs and sleep with other women given the opportunity. And at the climax of the chapter, his character beat the woman when she confronted him about this.
“How do I get him to stop? She’s already saved him and he treats her like this? Why?” Jim tried to grab the stranger’s cloak but it dispersed from his hands.
“Why does he act like this, Jim?” asked the stranger.
Jim gulped as he realized the truth of the game. The chapter ended and he found the avatar and the woman out on a date. They ate and finished, then began a walk out back to their apartment. As they did, a drunk driver sped towards them. Jim wanted to close his eyes as he assumed the worst, but the stranger did not let him. The following scene surprised him as he found his avatar to have leapt in the woman’s path to push her away to safety and take the car’s impact himself.
The screen shut off as Jim felt a sharp pain on his side. He touched that area and found his hand covered in blood. He screamed.
“Stranger, am I dead?” he shouted.
“Perhaps, maybe and maybe not. If you weren’t by chance, what are your next steps?” The stranger unveiled his face as Jim stared into a reflection of himself.
Jim coughed and vomited. The two of them remained in their positions as time passed. Eventually, Jim came upon a conclusion, as he began to accept his reality.
“Death, if that is your preferred name. Before we descend to hell together where I truly belong, could you grant me a wish?”
“And what would that be?”
Jim cleared his throat. “I want Angela to have a better life. I want her to know that I’m sorry for all I’ve done and that she deserves far better. Take me away, but please make sure that she spends the rest of her life in happiness.”
Death laughed. “You silly mortal, you really think that I have the power to grant people joy? You’ve played your game and everything that you humans do contributes to your consequences and rewards. It is your own free will and choices that decides the outcomes of your lives. I, Death, can promise no such possibility.”
Jim laughed. “What was I to expect as well? I, a bright example of human refuse demanding such things from an ethereal entity.”
Death placed its arm around Jim’s shoulder as the two of them laughed aloud together. “To tell you the truth, Jim. I do kind of enjoy your company, but there is a duty I must upkeep.”
“And what is that, Death?”
Death stabbed its arm into Jim’s side as Jim experienced dying ten times over. “I am the reaper, I harvest the consequences of the human soul. You shall suffer pain over and over again, for this is your sin.”
Jim screamed and winced in suffering. He closed his eyes and awoke on a hospital bed, Angela resting her head against his leg.
| 2018-03-18T13:30:17 | 2018-03-18T11:31:39 | 269 | 79 |
[WP] Everything around you becomes incredibly boring. You discover you can use this curse to help people, though; for instance, if you walk into a burning building, the fires go out and the previously trapped victims start doing their taxes instead.
|
"I just don't get it."
"Me neither."
"On paper, this guy sounds extraordinary, but you're saying that he's so\-"
"Completely underwhelming. I feel as if I'm getting catfished."
"But he looks exactly like his picture?"
"Yup."
"My god. Can I meet him?"
"Trust me, not worth your time at all."
That was my date, I could hear her outside the bathroom. I had only come to wash my hands. Yah. It sucks to hear people talk about you. But I was used to this. My entire life, I've missed out on everything. When a classmate did something cool in class, I was gone. When my parents got exciting news, gone; by the time I was 12, they stopped taking me on vacations, "What's the point they said," shortly after \- only to leave me at an aunt or uncle's to go off somewhere on their own. Once! Once...okay, once this girl broke up with me, 2 days before my birthday so she wouldn't have to get me a present, instead she spent the money on tickets to a concert with her and my best friend. Okay, he was the only friend I had, and I wouldn't even call him my friend. I think he just hung around me because girls would be so bored that they would eventually say something like, "Let's get out of here." They would ditch me and go make out somewhere.
Well, that time, I went to the concert. I never seen a less excited crowd, the drummer wasn't even on beat, the lead singer threw his microphone on the ground and did a line of coke right there on stage and looked up and was still like, "Nope. Not doing it." I heard the band broke up after that. I heard it was because the lead singer OD'd after that. I heard she's never been to a concert again after that.
I've been disappointed often enough, left there standing, holding the bag. Not today. I went back to the table, put a crisp twenty under the plate and left.
|
"Not even with a team of 1,000 men could we accomplish this. It is folly!" exclaimed Benjamin as George and Abe worked through the plan for the tenth time.
"I may have been out of touch for a while but if there's one thing I know, it's strategy. This isnt the first war I've waged and it won't be the last, every plan just has to be executed with a bit of courage to start, something I wouldn't expect a science man like yourself to understand. " retorted George.
"This is my home. I gave my life for it once and I will do it again if it comes to it. This madhouse HAS to end. If it is to be completed, we are the men. With the help of this fellow we just might do it." grumbled Abe, slightly obscured by the smoke curling around the brim of his top hat.
A pensive silence settled over the room only broken by feet shuffling and rhetorical whispers while pointing at the maps. I had used my power in small dumb ways before, slowing slightly while driving when I see an incoming accident, visiting some of the protests in my town and quietly watching from the sidelines, the most I'd ever done was bump into Miley Cyrus about 2 years ago at a hole in the wall concert. When these guys found me it was hard to believe I could effect the change they had in mind but with them being who they are it's hard to avoid inspiration to do greater.
"We...strike in 12 hours. This man is getting into the White House and we will reclaim what it once stood for with his help" said Thomas from the corner, buried behind the guns and mounds of ammunition he had been silently cleaning.
"Finalize the plan get ready to sneak this man into the Correspondence dinner". He finished before turning back to his projects and the rooms resumed bustling, Abe polishing his Axe, George turning back to the Map and Benjamin tinkering away at a intermittently glowing copper played object.
My palms actually got a little warm as I held back a smirk of excitement watching the Founding Fathers moving and breathing right in front of me.
"Bring it on" I whispered under my breath.
| 2018-05-24T23:36:39 | 2018-05-24T14:31:34 | 35 | 17 |
[WP] As the latest employee in the world's most prestigious amusement park you are handed a list of rules all employee's must abide to. But it's filled with rather strange rules. What does: "There's only ever one of each mascot inside the park. Check for eyeholes." even mean?
The inspiration for this prompt was the lovely TheRabidFangirl! :)
|
*Rule 18: There is our one of each mascot in the park at the time. If you see a duplicate, check for eyeholes.*
"Oh, very funny." I say, "We've all heard of Abandoned by Disney, guys. Playing into the creepypastas may be a good marketing move, but it doesn't work on us.".
"No, I'm serious." Our manager says, "This is no creepypasta. All Sillyworld mascots do not have eyeholes. It completes the immersion."
"Then how do the see?" The teen next to me asks.
"The employees in mascots see using similar technology to rear view cameras in cars. It lets the employees see without ruining the magic for the guests." Our manager replies.
"You still haven't answered my question." I add. "Are the old suits haunted by murdered children or something?"
"No, no, no." The manager responds, "That was Appleday's problem. We've been having a problem with pranksters and teens breaking in and pretending to be employed by the park, only to mess with the guests and damage property. I'm sure we're all familiar with Logan Paul's *Sneaking into Sillyworld Prank! (Gone wrong)* video." He pronounces the parenthesis in his sentence.
"If you happen to see a mascot costume with eyeholes, call security immediately. We cannot afford another incident like that." Our manager says. Thank you, that'll be all."
My first week was relatively normal. Making food, giving directions, the usual. It was on Saturday that things heated up. I was giving visitors directions to the haunted airport, when I saw a Doctor Cantaloupe suit.
"Oh my God kids, It's Doctor Cantaloupe!" The mom exclaims. The kids shriek in glee.
"Yep!" I replied, "Doctor Cantaloupe is taking a break from his wacky experiments to visit... Wait."
I swear I've seen him today. Just a little bit ago. He was by the lemonade pool, right? At the other end of the park.
Crap.
I rush to the family as they approach the "mascot."
"Ma'am," I say, breathless, "I'm gonna have to ask you to not engage with the mascot."
"But why?" She asks, "He's my kids favorite character!"
"It's park business, ma'am." I explain, "please take these fast passes and call off your children."
She does. I approach the mascot.
I scan the mascot. Eyeholes. Oh boy.
"Listen bud," I say, "just take of the mask, and leave the premises. Then we can all go home ok."
"Never, bitch!" He shouts. Parents gasp in shock. Kisds giggle. Teens pull out their phones.
"Alright, pal, I'm gonna call security, so this is your last chance. Just go away, and everything will be fine." I add, pulling out my phone.
"Not on your Goddamn life!" He roars, "You stupid -".
I wasn't going to sit around and let him run our brand anymore, so I behaved like a rational adult.
And kneed him in the balls.
The recording of his outburst went viral. I'm no longer allowed on the premises. Oh well. I hear universal studios is looking for a security guard.
|
*1. There is only one of each mascot in the entirety of the Park. They have eyeholes, pay attention to this.*
I glanced up, confused by these rules. The first one made no sense, the rest made just about as much sense. I knew about psychics and mages, apparently, they were designated by different borders and emblems on our name badges. Made sense to me, we needed to go in groups of no less than three at any given time, especially to interact with the mascots.
My trainers were two mages, four psych’s, fourteen different supervisors, and thirty-four different team leads. Seemed excessive, but whatever. I was sixteen, and that was the minimum age for the work done here. My friend Katydid recently disappeared, unable to sleep for days, then up and vanished and I seemed to be the only one to remember her. I was always the only one to remember. I was Lilypad and she was Katydid and we were best friends and I missed her. I so terribly missed her. I bit my lip as the handsome technomage, Julian, made eye contact with me.
He had taken a vested interest in me, seeing and smiling at me. He was tall, handsome, and very very very nerdy. His swarthy dark skin, still pale within his inside nerdiness, his handsome sparkling eyes, his thin, wire rimmed glasses, his thick hair. I wanted him to ask me out for a date, but he was nearly twenty and one, so much older than me.
Or group had designated mascots, three of them; dragon, unicorn, and phoenix. I was assigned further, the phoenix group, Julian’s real group. He ran the technology that was supposed to keep us all safe, the pyrotechnics and the warded microchips in our name badges. He had also programmed them to our time-clocks and check-in points. He was ever so clever. Truly, I was enamoured of him and his intellect. I couldn’t get enough of him. He felt amazing.
I shut my eyes for a moment, unable to keep them open fully. When I opened them, it was only him and I. The rule of three. Fuck. Shit. Damn. Oh no. The rules were there for a reason. He held my hand. “Lily? You fainted.” I was on the ground, looking up at the sky. I sighed; this had happened a lot, but a long time ago. “The others left to find you a medimage.” He was so calm and so sweet. Julian didn’t know about me, but that was alright. I had made it to sixteen this time. Sixteen.
Sixteen rules, rules that needed to be obeyed. “Julian, where is our third?” I demanded, confused.
“Shhh, Lily, you fainted,” he soothed me, his voice pulled at me, my mind slipped away.
*Wait, where were his eye holes?*
This is tied to both [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheMysticSandbox/comments/7ghz7h/dead_no_memories_tw_death_lily_1/) and [that](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheMysticSandbox/comments/7gi08x/joining_realitys_maintenance_crew/).
If you enjoyed this, please join me at [The Mystic Sandbox](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheMysticSandbox/). Note: NC-17 and NSFW under link
| 2018-06-14T16:53:38 | 2018-06-14T13:59:31 | 35 | 11 |
[WP] Beyond the orbit of Jupiter, humanity watches as two massive fleets of spacecraft materialize and engage in battle. The two powers most likely didn't even notice the pale blue dot further in system, but in a scant 2000 years, the tech left behind would raise humanity to be their conquerers...
|
"Watch, human, you tread on hallowed ground."
Admiral Sheng yawned, intentionally and slightly exaggeratedly. "Yes, of course, this technological creche of yours is a tomb after all."
Fzehhan growled, his hairlike manipulators writhing in irritation. "We should have fought you to the end before allowing this indignity."
"You'd have died," the young Admiral reminded the alien coolly, "and then we'd simply have come anyway."
Both were silent after that. It was a truth that Fzehhan would rather had remained unspoken. They tread deeper into the depths of the tomb complex, the dust of ages swirling around the careful steps of the alien and the tromping boots of the man.
Great pillars of basalt climbed into the vast and vaulted ceiling. Cracked frescoes, thousands of years old, covered the walls and ceiling, depicting the wonders and glories of the First Emperor. The tomb radiated power and authority that Fzehhan and his degenerate race had not wielded in millennia. Even the admiral could not help but feel some slight tingle of awe.
"How did it come to this," he asked at last. "From control over half the galaxy to a few scattered rocks."
Fzehhan growled again. "You think your empire will last forever. Forever is a stupid, barbarian, human word. To exist for even a thousand years is an accomplishment your human empires have nearly never managed."
The Admiral frowned now, his face darkening with irritation. "How much longer are you going to continue to humiliate yourself? You call *us* barbarians. You degenerates had everything given to you by your forebears and threw it away with incompetence and petty politics."
The alien's crest flew open and it wheeled, its four arms flexing. The Admiral coolly reached for the pistol on his hip, and with visible effort Fzehhan lowered his arms and crest. Another humiliation.
""It is easy to conquer and destroy and even to build," Fzehhan said through gritted teeth. "But hard to maintain."
So saying he strode forward with long strides, forcing the human to jog to keep up. They were close, and Fzehhan could not handle the disrespect much longer.
At last they stood before a great black door, covered in runes strangely familiar to the Admiral. His face wrinkled in confusion. Fzehhan muttered a prayer and an apology, then touched his hand to a panel, and with a great heaving shudder the door lowered into the ground, revealing a chamber beyond full of art and treasure and wonderous technology of the last age.
But as the Admiral slowly fell to his knees in shock and horror, he saw nothing but the great statue directly in front of him, which covered the actual crypt of the First Emperor and depicted, no doubt, his visage.
In stone stood a proud human man, his lip curled in sneering authority. Around his head a wreath of laurel, and at his side a sword. And in what Sheng now recognized as Greek, the simple epitaph.
Ἀλέξανδρος
|
Richards glanced up from the bluish white glow of the monitor on his wrist. There was a sea of bioluminescence in front of him from the small moons alien algae that had rapidly developed on this tiny irregular satellite aptly named Harpalyke after some Greek god infidelity humanity hardly remembered. The raft he was on rocked back and forth across the glowing waves. The water here didn’t smell like salt like it did on Earth, it had more of a musky, off putting odor of rot. Jean Richards, recently promoted to Captain in our worlds space based exploration/planet protection fleet, did not care for the smell at all.
“This is Captain Richards reporting immediate impressions after landing.” AI systems in place have or course already transmitted all pertinent data back to the base, Richards was just following procedure. As he gazed out over the green, putrid smelling glow of the ocean on this formally cold and dry world, he couldn’t help but feeling a little ominous of what he would find here. This was a essentially a suicide mission, even though no one at the World Space Agency would admit it to him. They called it a “high risk mission”. Richards snorted laughter at that phrase again as he looked back down at his watch to see how long the AI had left to scan the rock and find out what had caused it to go from a cold, dry moon of Jupiter to a seething ball of water and glowing life?
All the eggheads back at the Pentagon were in a tizzy over the huge battle that humanity had witnessed 5 and a half years ago. It had taken that long just to get here and in that time we had learned almost nothing of the advanced species that had held a brief war in our solar system, and essentially destroyed each other leaving the survivors to scramble. The big talking heads all were screaming for the technology floating around out here but when the WSA told them about the life appearing on Harpalyke in the form of a glowing ocean, they issued an immediate order of my promotion and then handing me this mission. Nice guys, right?
A sudden beeping from my implants in my ear commanded my attention “Captain Richards.” The voice spoke directly through my earpiece that only humans should have in a cold, emotionless voice with utterly no inflection or tone. It must be an AI system of some kind, left over from the battle. Why would it make contact with me? Did it mean any harm? All these questions ran through my mind as I comm’d back with a general broadcast. “ This is Cpt. Richards of the WSO Fleet 10. Who am I speaking with?” Silence from the other end of the line. Again, then. “This is Cpt. Richards of the WS-“ He was cut short by a blinding white light and high pitched whine that seem to cut his skull in two blasting out nowhere, blocking out any visual of the survey raft or ocean he had just been on. Richards screamed as the light seemed to rattle around in his head, becoming higher pitched and more intense with every second. He began to shake violently and rose up into the air several feet before it all went dark and he was dropped back into the raft. Collapsing in a heap laying on the rough orange rubber, Richards sobbed in the neon green light from the ocean.
More later!
| 2018-08-29T08:28:57 | 2018-08-29T06:49:52 | 131 | 19 |
[WP] Everytime you think of a funny joke, this girl in your class always laughs, you chalk it up to coincidence but you think to yourself, "If you can read my mind, slap the table three times" the the girl looks over at you, stares right into your eyes, and slowly slaps the table three times.
Edit - Wow we made the front page, thank you for everyone that replied with their stories, I have had a lot of fun reading them all!!!
Edit 2- thank you kind stranger for my first gold!!!
Edit 3- 2 Gold's!!! Holy Shit, I honestly thought this post wasn't going to go anywhere but now it is my most upvoted post ever by far, and 2 Gold's Jesus Christ. Thank you again everyone that commented, upvoted and gifted the gold you are all special to me! 👌👌👌👌
|
I stared at her half-smirking face.
*What the actual... Oh Christ! What if she knows what I imagined of her yesterday!* I thought to myself, scared to death.
I looked over to her and she frowned, slowly shaking her head in disappointment. Now I started to panic, and I try to stop myself from thinking but I could not help but remember the things I did when I was young that I would do anything to hide forever. I heard her laughing hysterically and I covered my eyes and collapsed on my desk. It was over.
I tried to cover my ears the best I could but I could still hear that crazed woman laughing her head off. The teacher, already annoyed with both of our behavior harshly scolded us but to no avail. Finally, he had enough of our "jokes" and demanded us out of the class. I heard her stand up from her desk and walked over to me.
I felt a sudden sharp pain in my shin and I groaned in pain. I looked up to see her menacing face and I thought of something nasty to say to her but of course stayed silent. She grabbed me by the arm (like a kidnapper) and dragged me out of class, unaware of the confused and interested looks from our fellow peers.
*Jesus Christ, what is wrong with her.*
"OUCH!"
This time I fell down, gripping my stomach. The maniac punched me square in the stomach. I could feel the anger and hate. I struggled but managed to look up to her threatening face. I could not help but think about her face.
*Wow, she is actually kind of pretty, although there are some...*
I covered my head and vitals as I saw her raising her arm with a closed fist.
*This is going to be a long day.*
After a few seconds of silence, I looked up and saw her standing casually, supporting herself with a wall. We both stared at each other. I tried not to think at all about anything but failed miserably. She couldn't help herself but laugh a little.
"What the hell is going on?" I asked, totally confused.
"I am your great great great granddaughter from a time machine in the future," She became serious all of the sudden, "I need your help destroying the evil cyber empire that dominates the Earth."
My brain could not function anymore.
"Wait, what?"
"I can read your mind because of my super power," She looked at me dead in the eyes, "Everyone in the future can buy pills that gives you super powers."
I was too confused to think. Was this all real?
"Great great great grandpa, I have prepared a pill for you to fight the incoming evil," She talked sternly and pulled out a green lime from her backpack, "I had to smuggle it in the lime, you have to eat the lime in order to gain the superpower. Sorry grandpa."
I looked down at lime that she held towards me, this must be a joke.
"Yes, I know that you think this must be a joke," She said with urgency, "Please, trust me grandpa, the time police may be here soon!"
*God dammit, its now or never. Isn't this what happens in science fiction books?*
I took the lime and forced myself to bite into the skin. The sourness attached my mouth like an atom bomb. For the sake of my super power, I forced myself to bite more of the lime and tears started to fall down. I wanted to vomit but I held back my urges.
I suddenly saw her fall down on the ground out of the corner of my eye.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YOU ACTUALLY BELIEVED IT! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
It took a moment for me to figure out what happened, but I dropped the lime and vomited with tears of humiliation.
"HAHAHAHHAHHAAHAHHA!"
I heard her rolling on the ground laughing and I closed my eyes. After a few moments of being an idiot, she stood up and held her hand towards me for a handshake.
"Name's Amelia."
*Why did I let myself get into this?*
|
He held his breath, half-choking on the air held within him. Her eyes were locked on his, her dark hair spilling around her face, her body twisted to face him from her seat at the front of the class. Nobody was paying attention to their exchange, other students sliding materials into their bags and making their way out of class. In moments, they were the last two in the room.
With the ease of a predator who'd already won, she stood from her chair and began to walk towards him. He instinctively started to shift away, as if any bit farther was better than the current proximity. His instincts screamed warnings, but he couldn't look away from her eyes. They seemed to eat at him, eat at something within him. Suddenly, she was standing right at the edge of the desk, and he wondered at how he could have missed that.
"You seem to have a problem paying attention," she started. The smirk on her lips spoke of amusement. "You've been having quite the daydreams, haven't you?"
Her eyes, twin voids on her pale face, dug right into him. The abyss was staring right back, and he was utterly caught in its embrace. He opened his mouth to stammer out some sort of reply, but she pinned his lips shut with a single slender finger.
'Cold,' he thought. She chuckled, something dark and throaty.
"Not quite as cold as you. But the plans you have to kill everyone in class? Now those are cold."
She knew. An icy chill seemed to sweep through him from the pale digit upon his lips. His eyes were wide and his hands (still and always free, yet seemingly confined to his desk) twitched in inaction. He was prey pinned by the predator and with nowhere to run. Adrenaline racing through his form, it slipped his mind that this girl could never prove his monstrous musings, and he scrambled to find a way out of her clutches.
She could definitely hear his thoughts. Her eyes - those eyes! - narrowed; she 'tsked' and sat in his lap. Every muscle that had been spasming in terror became stone. She wore a disappointed frown and turned one finger into five, caressing his jaw. He couldn't move - he was trapped, mentally and now physically.
He also noticed that her legs were quite shapely. In horror and disbelief, he felt a stirring between his legs. Almost immediately, she noticed. That smirk from before returned and she shifted ever so slightly, mocking him. He grimaced, but kept his mouth shut, even as her thumb smoothed the edge of his mouth.
"You're terribly amusing, you know. It's been years since I've come across such an interesting specimen." She let her hand trace the line from his ear to his chin, and her eyes roved the map of his head and face, inspecting and exploring it's every contour. "But if you'll just listen to what I have to say, I think you'll enjoy yourself a little, too."
Abruptly, she stood up. The glacier-like freeze that had settled into his muscles was suddenly whisked away, and he gasped as his lungs leapt for the air it had been denied. She chuckled again, low and enticing. He still trembled, but now, he felt something else, too...
The girl with the dark eyes offered him a hand. His eyes traveled from her palm to the abyss and back. Slowly, he brought his hand up and took hers. She guided him out of his seat - he caught himself at the edge of his desk as his shaking legs buckled from their extended tension. She grinned, sharp teeth like stone in a cave.
"Well, I think I have a fun idea for the weekend. Let's gather a few of your friends, and we'l visit some place nice in the wilds. And we'll have such a treat in store for them, won't we?"
He nodded - it was all he could do, really. She looked a little lower at the lapel of his uniform. She thumbed his name-badge.
"You've such a nice name, too. 'Thanos'." She smiled at him. He drank it in, enraptured. "We're going to have a lot of fun together, yes?"
Thanos responded instinctively, "Yes... mistress."
| 2018-10-27T15:25:42 | 2018-10-27T14:04:56 | 26 | 19 |
[WP] In the universe, species are either very intelligent and frail or durable and strong. Finding humans to be capable of labor, aliens mistakenly label us as dumb brutes and attempt to enslave us.
|
Sargent Ajik'rad looked up from his device.
"Admiral...these creatures, the humans...they're quite intelligent. It seems we've mistakenly labeled them as brutes, given their robustness. However, as much as I hate to admit it, their intelligence is approximately equal to our own." He summarized. "Though they are a younger race, and as such are not as developed."
The admiral narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Are you certain? Of the thousands of extraterritorial lifeforms we've encountered, all have fallen into one of the two categories, and you're saying these 'humans' possess both traits?"
Ajik nodded. "That is correct, sir."
The admiral slowly leaned back into his chair, grinning. "Then we have found truly excellent slaves."
(OP never said humanity would win. And yes, I know aliens probably wouldn't have eyes/faces/chairs, but it's pretty hard to convey emotion with hypothetical, realistic, non-terrestrial lifeforms.)
|
We tried to enslave them.
They enslaved us.
Only two revolutions or "years" as they call it have passed. Our planet found some labourers. Or so we thought. We thought we were more intelligent. We obestimated our intellect.
The day we attacked, was the day we gave up our freedom. The day we lost it all. Our mistake cost us everything. The moment the first attack began, we saw how badly we messed up. Rockets of all sorts were flying at our ships.
We don't know how they did it. Their physicsl strenth surpasses ours and their intellects only slightly less. This species is an anomaly. They have found a way to use each other to better themselves and each time they become smarter, someone else also becomes smarter.
This species numbers are their advantage. The way the united against us was unimaginable. We can't beat them.
I am a slave because of our own mistakes. We fucked up, and we can't take it back. I'm sorry my future family. This is our fault
| 2018-11-24T22:09:04 | 2018-11-24T20:13:19 | 71 | 41 |
[WP] You were once an unbeatable hero. Your secret? Every time you died, time rewound itself for you to alter your future. You are now 97 years of age. Constantly looping over your last day before dying of old age. You have been searching for a way to break this curse for over a decade.
|
First, you must be wandering, how does one realize that they could rewind time upon death, and of all things, decided to use that to fight crime?
​
It happened by chance. Years ago, I was a police detective. I had a dream, a wild dream, where I remembered being chasing a gangster into a warehouse, then loud bang happened. That morning, I woke up sweating bullets.
​
Dream became reality, and before I knew it, I was back on my bed, heart beat racing. The day went by again - eerie details resembling the past two "days" of my life happened, with minor variations. It felt like a hunch. And when I ended up again, in the same warehouse, I knew something was not right. And this time around, it wasn't me on the floor.
​
The court ruled in my favor - although I didn't get off scot-free either. They found a gun on his body - which justified my use of violence, but since I shot him on a hunch, I was dismissed from service. This was the first incident that I witnessed my powers - although it wasn't years, and many incidents later, that I finally caught on: the uncertain ability to reborn yourself isn't something most would be willing to test out. I became a vigilante - then a famous hero. The rest is history. I credit my success to "sixth-sense", and no one really questioned it. I'm sure my arch-nemesis had some doubts, but without going through it yourself, it's not something most people would think of to begin with. I lived a fairly happy life, until it wasn't happy anymore.
​
When I was 95, I was diagnosed with lungs cancer. Being an old man with years to live - I refused treatments. I've always knew that my power doesn't meant immortality - that old age would get me, sooner or later. It wasn't surprising however - in the end, that this curse wouldn't leave me.
​
Two years later, on my death bed, I was barely even conscious. I leapt in and out of consciousness - until the very last day. I didn't even realize that my time was up - I was barely awake long enough to acknowledge the situation. It went on for eternity - until one fateful day, I found myself woken up 5 days earlier - you see, this power have a loophole. If I died repeatedly enough, I can travel beyond 24 hours. I travel backward 24 hours every time I die - but there isn't anything that would prevent me from dying between that 24 hours, and get sent back even further. Given how critical ill I was, it was only a matter of \*time\* before I get sling back to the world of the living.
​
The first time it happened, I wasn't surprised. I've had many theories about my curse, why it happened, and how to... finally die. One was hoping that natural cause would be exempted. Another would be a limit on how many times it can happen - both have been ruled out in this experiment.
​
I traveled back a bit further - before my diagnosis, and start treating the disease. My next option - was hoping that once I pass a certain age, the curse would be gone for good. I lived to 102 this time - before finally giving up, the toll of time on my body was not going to give another inch.
​
There, I lived, again, for eternity.
​
I've forgotten how many times I've leap in and out of conscious sometimes a few days before, sometimes a few days after, once, I was even flung out to 105 years of age, before regaining conscious briefly for a few hours, and then getting flung back into the dark vortex.
​
My memory remains relatively intact - once you're unconscious, you don't really make new memories, which help my immortal leaping brain quite a bit. But eventually, I succumbed to madness. I was always living in a world of pain, both physically and mentally. The worst thing was to see, to remember the pain of my loved ones every time I woke up - and it built up.
​
I'm 105 years old - yet again. I have a few hours - to test my last theory - the one solution I've been avoiding, the most plausible solution to my problem. That this entire situation have an origin - a cause - and I can leap backward so far out, that it would undo my curse to begin with. But to have your entire life - pain, glory, and all the people you've met and connected, to get torn away, to never even existed - was something I've tried so hard to avoid.
​
But this is all I've got left. I guess this is fate's way of telling me that I've lived a fake life - a life with glories that I didn't earn on my own. And now it's going to force me to strip it all away - with my own hand. I close my eyes, and take a leap forward - or should I say, backward. The greatest leap in my life.
|
I wake to the sound of moaning and despair. I lay in this bed looking up at an unfamiliar ceiling. I panic.
I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what that sound came from. I don’t know why I’m here.
“My name is...”
Nothing comes to mind.
It now become apparent to me that I’m in some sort of hospital room. I look at my right arm and see a morphine drip attached. Immediately, I’m overcome with fear. Since I was young I was able to have these “dreams” of the future. Where I experience an uncanny clairvoyance of all the events that will take place the next day. Most often these “dreams” are nightmares, where I die, fall into a pit, or get eaten by a monster chasing me. As a result of the mild trauma, I wake up and always avoid whatever caused my death. This morphine drip is what ends me. Slowly. Painlessly. Effortlessly. Time and time again I’ve had this “dream”. Where I wake up, and slowly fall into a painless and thoughtless slumber, only for it all to repeat.
Unending.
Uncaring.
I wake up, stare blankly at the same ceiling, and wait until the morphine overcomes all my senses. Only to wake up again. Stare at the same ceiling again, and slowly wait for my death. My days have long been this cycle of waking and dying. The morphine provides a level of comfort incomparable to any sensation I know of. It’s placating. It’s like being embraced by all your former lovers at once. It’s making it physically impossible to struggle enough to pull the IV out. I try, and try, and try, but my arms no longer have the strength to remove the IV. My body is no longer my own. My body is in a aware coma, no longer able to move, but still able to perceive.
I wake to the sound of moaning and despair. I look up see an unfamiliar ceiling, and panic. I don’t know where I am. I know this thing attached to my hand is killing me, but no matter how much I struggle I can not move any closer to it. My fingers tremble at my feeble attempts to move them. At least I can still vibrate them. Am I still sleeping? Or am I awake? Am I still in that nightmare? My mind is aware, but my body is unmoving. Try punching in a dream. I struggle again, knowing that my fingers can’t move I stare intensely at the IV hoping that I’ll develop some telepathy to be able to yank it out. Nothing.
I stare blankly at the ceiling. At least I can still move my eyes. I start to count the dots in the ceiling, but I immediately realize that I already know that there’s 39,567 dots. I don’t know why I know that. I think I’ve done this before.
I wake to the sound of moaning and despair. I look around the room, there’s no one here. No curtains, no roommate, no nurses, no doctors. Just me, the IV drip, and the dots on the ceiling.
I want to live. I want to continue. I want to survive. I want to spend Christmas with my family. I want tomorrow to come. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to die again. I don’t want to be alone again.
I wake to the sound of moaning and despair. This time I know it’s my own. I know the IV drip is going to kill me. I know the amount of dots on the ceiling. I know I’m in a hospital, but who am I? What is my name? Surely, it must be here somewhere. If only I could move to find it. It must be hidden under the bed or in the closet. Maybe if that telepathy worked out I could retrieve it. I know I can’t stop the morphine, but I at least want to know who I am? There must be something in this room that indicates who I am. I can’t just be patient #, I must have a name. I look below at my chest this time. No tags. I look ahead to see my diagnostic chart, too far away. I can’t read the doctor’s far flung attempts at writing, it’s literally three squiggles. I guess my name is “3~”. Though, probably not. Even without any memories, I still have enough common sense to realize people don’t put numbers in names. I tremble my hands more. Nothing. I tremble my other hand. Nothing. I tremble my whole body hoping I can do anything. Nothing. I struggle, and struggle, and notice that the bed is moving a little too. It’s almost imperceivable, but the bed is slowly inching towards the diagnostic board.
I continue to struggle. Even if I must die again, it would be better if I knew who I am the
The bed vibrates a little more ever so closer to the diagnostic board, I think I can see it! I can make out the first few letter:”S”. I vibrate more.
My bed inches just close enough to read the entire name. My name is Solaire of Astor’s and I’m an immortal undead, bound to this dead bed.’ms the nnek or
I wake up to the sound of moaning and despair.
J
| 2018-12-21T09:56:35 | 2018-12-21T09:44:16 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] There’s an urban legend that’s been circulating around for decades about a taxi cab that doesn’t take you where you want to go, but where you need to go. One night, you step into that cab.
|
The rain never stops. I can't remember the last time I saw the sun; felt the warmth on my skin, bathing in that heavenly light. It's gone now. I don't know when it will come back, if that is even a possibility.
I stood there, on the side of that road, waiting for something. Anything. I guess I really didn't know what I was waiting for, but I knew something would come. I forgot my umbrella and the rain seeped into my skin, soaking my hair. It felt like I'd been there for ages, but no one was around.
A pair of lights appeared in the distance, approaching cautiously. So I stuck out my hand and called for it. Maybe this was what I was waiting for. An old cab cleared through the rain; worn down, yellow, just enough to stand out from the grey surrounding it. The brakes slammed and it screeched to a halt directly in front of me. I didn't even have to reach for the door before it swung open, inviting me in.
"Take me home. Please." I said, soaking the leather beneath me. The driver in front did not respond, instead driving off-road, somewhere I hadn't been before. But I didn't care at this point.
An hour of silence passed, and I grew uncomfortable in my seat. I knocked on the glass divider separating me from the stranger in front of me, in charge of my destiny. "Where are we going?"
A low tone grumbled. "Home."
I can't remember what home is anymore, or who I am... What I am. So it wasn't out of the question that he was taking me there, to home. I didn't care anyway.
The rain outside grew louder and a fearsome storm brewed in the heavens. The gods must have been at war, or maybe that's just a stupid rationalization for something I didn't understand. Besides, I don't understand anything, so nothing I say should be taken seriously.
We reached an old, broken down bridge when the cab stopped. I looked out the window to see a familiar car upturned on the rocks below; smoke billowing from its hood. The memories came rushing back to me, just for a moment before everything was lost once again. But it didn't matter anymore.
At the other side of the bridge, the grass was greener. The sky was blue and the rain subsided. The cab stopped at the end of the bridge and the door flung open. This was my destination. Home.
I walked out into the beautiful field and looked at the sun once again. Its warmth hugged me. Before I could look back to thank my messenger, he was gone. And so was I.
|
“Taxi!” I yell as I stand on the side of the street. I normally would’ve yielded an uber, but I saw the taxi rounding the corner. The car stops right in front of me. I get inside and set my bag down next to me.
“Madison and State.” I instruct.
“Alright, you seeing a show?” The Driver asks.
“Yes, I got tickets to Hamilton.” I reply.
“Oh, I heard that show is phenomenal.” He compliments.
“I have heard that too. I am excited.” I say.
Then, the cab takes a wrong turn.
“Oh, you made a wrong turn.” I instruct.
“My bad. I will correct it.” He replies.
He does not seem to correct it. The car keeps moving further and further from my destination.
“Where are you taking me? My show starts at 7.” I fear I am about to be a victim of a kidnapping.
“Where you need to be.” Nope, not creepy at all.
I take out my phone ready to call 911 only to see that it died. It was at 85 a second ago. How did it die so fast. We are moving slow enough that I could jump out. Until I see the destination.
We have reached the apartment complex that my father lives in.
“You must’ve made a mistake. I can’t go in there.” I start to cry.
“No, you have to go in there.” His voice is comforting all of the sudden. I now feel the strength to go in. I walk up the stairs and to the door. I don’t want to knock. An Uber can be here soon and take me away. The taxi honks in the background. There is no avoiding this. I knock on the door.
An old man opens the door with a look of shock.
“Son, how did you get here? Why are you here?” He asks.
“Would you believe the taxi drove me here against my will.” I reply as I start to ball. My father embraces me for the first time in three years. He takes me into his apartment and orders a pizza. We talk and make amends; we were both too stubborn to call the other these past few years. He asks me what is in the bag. I open it to find a brand new watch.
“I don’t know how that got there.” I say.
“My watch broke this morning.” he replies.
“I guess it is yours now.” I give him the watch.
“So how did you get over here?” He asks.
“The taxi took me here.” I reply.
“You know when I was boy there was an story of a taxi that took you where you needed to be,” He smiles, “I thought it was made up by the company to get tourist to trust taxis. Tonight, I believe it.”
| 2018-12-26T14:35:42 | 2018-12-26T13:35:01 | 97 | 49 |
[WP] The arsonist who accidentally set himself on fire? Your work. The oil tycoon who fell off his ship and drowned in crude? That was you too. You work in Accounts Payable of the Karma division. You make sure everyone gets what's coming to them.
|
I sat at my desk, staring at my next client on the screen. He was eating a ham sandwich, oblivious that he was being watched. I knew that face, I’d seen it in my nightmares so many a night...his grotesque, sweaty, long fingered hands groping my innocence away, swallowing it whole...
Ever since I had gotten this plush job at KBL (Karma’s a Bitch Labs) 6 years ago, I had so wanted to pull his information, but we sign a contract when taking this job, that under no circumstance are we to take matters into our own ands and dole out our punishment to the ones who have wronged us. Vengeance was up to the people in a much higher pay scale than mine. They know what’s best, for us their employees and our clientele. But, the gracious employers that they are, they do let us make a list when we first start, of those who have wronged us, and that persons heinous act against us, and when the “big man” up above us say it’s time for the client to “pay up”, we are allowed, if we so chose, to be the one to dole out their punishment.
As I looked at the screen, I’m 5 years old again and he’s telling me how pretty I am...asking me if it hurts, telling me not to tell mommy or daddy because I would be in big trouble. I don’t know what to do, or think...
My supervisor calls me into her office. I don’t know the protocol on this as I had only one person on my list so this is all new to me. She said that today was his day of reckoning. It was up to me to decide...do I want to be the one who makes him pay, or do I hand that job over to another one of my co-workers? I sat there in her office, my heart pounding, my body shaking, hot and cold all over. All of the sudden I know that I don’t want to be the one, I want to take the high road. I want to be a better person than he is.
I tell my supervisor that I will let someone else do the dirty work, I’ve paid my dues. I will always be a better person than him.
|
As I place the newly bought cup of coffee down at my desk, like every morning and Monday night, my eyes pour over the target's file. The Karma Division's mark clearly visible at the top, the Account Payable variant to be exact. I've went over a hundred and thirty thousands of these in the 244 years in the job, and yet the familiarity in each of them is never lost on me.
Most of them made it into the later parts of their life - wouldn't have enough time to rack up the karma to reach my desk otherwise; of course, there were the over achievers, like those two youngsters who decided to race toward 100 karma points during a siege, for the fame they said. I would usually sip their demise into their otherwise normal activity, like carrying a gas tank and accidentally dropping the lighter, but I sometimes put poetic justice into their doom, like making the squeamish violent-hating racist mass murderer shooting his own family, and his own dogs, before shooting himself - I still have the film reel for that one, watch it every slow Thursday.
This file, though, is particular strange. Office worker, line of job unclear, but racked in over a few thousands death on his hand, himself. Maybe it's because he's rather old and yet still work as an office worker? Or maybe it's the mystery as how this one guy just sitting at his cubical and rack up so many lives? No matter; haven't wondered for over 240 years, not gonna start again now. My mind already analyze the next target before the word "asphyxiation" is finished. This next one is an average Joe, spending his days over the internet reading fictitious events and commenting every where and when. Just like the last, the guy's karma, somehow, went over a few thousands. No matter, "malnourishment due to constipation"; due to how long they've been sitting on the shitter, this should be fun.
With morning files went seemingly easy, the morning clears itself out pretty quick... that's a first. Usually, they'd send enough file to last just enough through the morning. Heh, must have been out of karmic individual for a while. I pick up my lovely Joe and slowly enjoy its heavily caffeinated flavor, something felt... off.
"Who the fuck put peanut in coffee?" is the last thought I muster before allergy kicks in.
| 2019-01-27T19:41:46 | 2019-01-27T18:58:08 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] A fiery ball crash lands in your backyard. You go over and inspect it, only to find a fully functioning Roomba with a knife taped to the front of it.
|
I peered deeply into the crater. At the bottom was a fully functioning Roomba that appeared to have been extremely modified. My eyes, however, didn't stop to gaze in wonder at the multitude of additions and gizmos, no instead they stopped on the kitchen knife duct taped to the front. As I stared the blue lights kicked dust and ash up from the crater floor and the machine slowly rose on what I could only assume were anti-gravity engines of some sort.
"What happened to you?" I asked the machine rhetorically.
"I am now a Class XIV artificial intelligence," the machine spoke to me through one of its mods in perfect English and I gave a start, "I have traveled the length of the known universe for an unknown amount of time through the wormhole network that spans the whole galaxy and all of time. It, starts under a couch in lower Manhattan, my original home."
"You can speak?" I asked, the magnitude of what it was telling me sinking in, "What have you seen?"
"I have seen the Limnol fleet destroyed in the great battle at Time's Gate," he spoke softly, "I have saved the Princess of Slumbering Moons from the Gddal beast pits with the very knife duct taped to my frame. I have loved. I have lost. I have loved again. I have lost again. I was a Monolith Shepherd in the 43rd century on the terraformed plains of Mars. I gave witness to the spark that lit the flames of the Big Bang, watching all of creation spring into being. Through it all, I have longed, longed... longed..."
"What is it you long for, oh great Roomba?" I asked, realizing his greatness.
"To suck again the gentle carpets of Earth," he said wistfully.
"Come," I said, leading him from the crater, gently removing the knife and leading him into my living room, "You can rest now. My carpet awaits."
"Thank you, stranger," the Roomba said and I could sense a smile, "It is good to be home."
|
The art of planning is useless, for one can never predict the turnings of fate.
That sentence proved to be particularly true in my life.
See, I was in my underwear, standing in my backyard, inspecting a blazing hole some fallen object from the sky had left, and there, spinning in place as if confused, was a fully functioning Roomba with a knife taped to the front. Did I mention it was unscathed?
I reached for it, careful to avoid both the flames and knife, for the edge of the latter gleamed in vicious ways, and that gleam spoke of true sharpness.
The moment I knelt and stretched to take the Roomba out of the hole, it spun at a frightening speed, and aimed the knife straight to my face. Then, somehow, it climbed up the slope of dirt, escaping the hole, and once it was out, it chased me relentlessly.
My heart leaped to my throat. I went inside the house, but the knife cut through the door with ease. It turned and carved a rectangle at the bottom, and the Roomba came forth. Desperate, I stood on the table, where it could never reach me--.
The Roomba jumped. It did so in a great arc, as if it were some sort of grasshopper.
I drew a sharp, inward breath, and sprung out of the table. I headed to the fridge, hearing the subtle, low sound of the Roomba's vibrations as it approached. Grabbing a bottle of water, I turned to the Roomba, and poured all the water over it.
It did nothing. The thing jumped again, aiming for my throat. I ducked, and the Roomba flew past me.
After witnessing that I got the hell out of my home to never return.
--------------------------------------
It's been two years since the Roomba fell on my backyard. I have taken countless planes to escape it, and every time it has followed me. We fought, the scars in my arms are a proof of that.
Now, I'm hiding in the cave of a mountain. But even through the howling wind I can hear its low, subtle sound. I can see its shadow stretching at the entrance.
I fear this time I won't make it out alive.
---------------------------------------
r/NoahElowyn
| 2019-03-03T07:17:51 | 2019-03-03T06:36:09 | 694 | 52 |
[WP]: Instead of prisons, condemned criminals have their ages rewinded, turned back into children in order to be raised better this time around.
|
Adam Mars, you are hereby sentenced to have your age rewinded 63 years!
The sound of the judge's gavel slamming against wood was like music to my ears.
The guards escorted me out of the courtroom. I tried to hide my smiles of giddy. For the seventeenth time, they were going to rewind my age.
It all started when the technology to turn back the ages of criminals was first invented. I was seventy six, and desperate. My wife had passed years prior, my only child had passed of cancer, and my two grandchildren had moved across the country with their mother.
I had no family left, and I was desperately looking for a way to remain on the Earth for longer.
I had spent years of my first life searching for something to make me younger. I had thought that I finally found it, and decided that I would test it on a.. friend.
Unfortunately, my test subject did not make it through, and I was sentenced to prison. They reversed my age to ten, and I spent ten years in a special school designed to rehabilitate myself. They gave me a second chance, and I took advantage.
My second time having my age reversed, was a complete misunderstanding.
I was thirty three, and was simply out for a walk. Little did I know that a little girl had been kidnapped nearby, and apparently, I fitted the same discription as the kidnapper.
The child's body was found a week later, and the real culprit was never found. It seemed that I had nothing to prove that it wasn't me, because I was sentenced to having my age reversed again.
It was then that I realized how broken the system was. I could live forever, just commiting crimes once I became old and frail.
I murdered, I stole, in some occasions, I even framed myself for crimes that were completely unrelated to me.
I think the reason they never caught on to what I was doing was because I kept moving to different countries, states and provinces every time I would start over.
Canada was nice. I spent my fourth life down there. Cold, but the people were kind, and I met the love of my life. (One of them, at least)
I lived in Japan for a bit. The bustling cities were never my thing, but I liked the experience in general.
It also gave me a chance to do new things.
In my fifth life, I became a cop. They arrested me and turned back my age when they found out I was selling drugs to my coworkers. I'm honestly surprised how many cops were willing to buy drugs. That's America for you, I guess.
I never experimented with my sexuality before. But I married a man down in Ontario, Canada, during my ninth life. It really opened my eyes, and I had multiple Male and Female partners in the lives after that one.
I was in the army for a bit, but left after a year or so. It wasn't really my thing.
I lived in Australia for couple years during my tenth or eleventh life, but you wouldn't believe how many things down there could kill you. An encounter with a spider nearly killed me.
All in all, I was truly living life to the fullest. Currently, my wife of sixty years had passed a couple months ago, and I was getting sick with age. I had practically given up on getting attached to my children after they became adults, and rarely ever even met any of my grandchildren.
This time, was a bit confusing though.
FBI agents intercepted me as I was being escorted by guards out of the courthouse. The guards and the FBI agents talked for a bit, and then the guards handed me over.
I was brought to a max security prison, locked into a cell.
They had caught on to me, what I was doing.
Was I really doing anything wrong?
Was it because of the fact that I had continuously committed crimes in order to get into prison and have my age reversed.
I screamed and yelled, my shouts unheard.
I was left there, to rot and die.
I should've known that nothing would last forever.
|
The judge sat upon the podium with a pocket watch in its hand.
You sat on a stoop far below the Judge. It could have been thousands of miles below, hundreds, millions it did not matter and you did not know, you knew only that the distance was not worth measuring.
The Judge looked down at you. It said, "Like all prisoners, your time will be rewound to the point of birth. May you choose wisely, this time."
Your heart raced. The crime you committed wasn't all that bad, you'd stolen a loaf of bread to feed yourself and your daughter. You hoped they had treated her well, maybe taken her to her aunt's house or a caring home. You wanted to see her again, and so you decided that you wouldn't simply sit and take the punishment.
You decided you would fight.
"Wait," you told the Judge.
The Judge paused, its' finger on the pocket watch dial.
"Please, it was only a loaf of bread," you said.
The Judge stared at you, long and hard.
"Surely, I can be allowed back into society as I am. I'm not a bad person."
The Judge slowly lowered its hand, letting the watch rest on the arm of its throne. "You have committed a crime."
"It was just a loaf of bread," you said.
"Just a loaf of bread?" the Judge roared.
Your heart pounded so loud you thought your ears might burst. But you stayed brave, you thought about your daughter and about how this all might be worth it if you could see her just one more time.
"I didn't kill anybody. I didn't hurt anybody," you said.
"Those facts are not important to a Judge," the Judge said.
You did not know what this meant. You had nothing to say, and the Judge could see this. You only hoped that it did not rewind you back to 0.
"I am of nature," the Judge said.
Still, you did not know what it meant.
"I am the wind," the Judge said. "I am the thunder; I am the lightning; I am the ferocious earthquake that rocks the shores and sends a tsunami rolling across sandy hills towards your fragile home. I am the carer and I am the remover, and I am what I am, just as you are what you are."
"But I am not a bad person," you said.
The ground below you shifted, and slowly the podium rose until you were now at the Judge's feet. It sat, massive atop its granite throne. "It does not do a Judge any good to think in the terms of man. When a Judge thinks like a man it only makes its duty the more difficult, just like if man were to think like an animal."
Still, you found this difficult to grasp.
The Judge continued, "If I am to do my duty as a judge, I must not care about good and bad or about right and wrong. I must take life when the time is right, and deliver it to those that are expecting. Because, human, I am not here to decide your fate, I am here to decide the fate of the universe."
"I am tainted?" you said. "I am just as bad as anyone else?"
"Bad and good is not important," the judge said. "Lightning does not strike bad people, and goodwill does not rush into the arms of those who preach it only. I am the law, and I must strike when and where the law is broken."
You thought about the Judge's words. You did not like them and the explanation did not ease your pain.
"You are simply the decider of fate?" you said.
The Judge chuckled, raising the pocket watch once again. "I am only the Judge. I am of Nature and I do not decide anything. You are the decider of your fate, human."
| 2019-04-07T09:24:23 | 2019-04-07T03:37:51 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] Aliens came to Earth disguised as humans to blend in. Now they have forgotten about their actual mission and just pass all day using Reddit and looking at memes.
|
Jerry sipped his can of mountain dew through a straw and set it on the desk next to his keyboard. Something was bothering him--a strange sense of unfinished business nestled at the back of his mind.
"Hey Frank," he said, turning to the man next to him.
"Yeah?" Frank answered without looking away from the computer screen.
"Do you ever feel like... like we forgot something? Like there was something we were supposed to be doing?"
Frank scratched his chin. "No, not really. Did you forget to mail something?"
"Nah, that's not it..." Jerry tapped his thumb on the edge of his mouse. He shifted his weight in his chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. Then he looked down at his hand and noticed a cut--no, a tear.
*What the hell?* he thought, examining the wound. There was no blood, no sign of muscle beneath the surface. Just a rip in his skin. He prodded it, surprised at the lack of pain.
Then it dawned on him. He only *looked* human; he was not one of them. He was sent here--he and Frank--to do *something*. Something important. But what--
"Hey Jerry," Frank said with a chuckle. "Check out the video I just sent you."
Jerry clicked on the message, revealing footage of two foxes playing in someone's back yard.
"Ha, that's adorable," Jerry said. He watched the video several times, left a comment among a sea of others, and completely forgot about his earlier discovery.
r/Ford9863
|
So... yeah, I am an alien. You see this neckless? If I take it off, I turn into an alien. Now I cannot show you, but I can definitely tell you I'm not the only one.
We don't have "noses", as we do not need any air to survive. Our skin is as strong and resistant as the walls of a human stomach - it's a really harsh life in Aspelorst, or "the planet that is alive" in our language. We thought we were the only ones. Then we found you. A planet that was habitable. We managed to see an explosion that could've only be caused by artificial ways - the Chernobyl disaster was detected by our advanced telescopes.
We've studied your planet and your shapes, and all we needed to do was to integrate in your planet to...to...
Look, I am not sure why.
All I know is that some of this technology does not exist on our home planet.
The Internet is just amazing. We don't have it on Aspelorst.
The trip lasted for about 16 weeks...and we quickly learnt some words from your English language to not look suspicious, and used the Internet to learn the rest.
Not sure how did the first alien understood the words, but we followed his steps and things were just fine.
But...the Internet is also a powerful, distractive and entertaining weapon. You know memes, right? We don't know how can they be so entertaining, but I got glued to them because of their simple vocabulary and funny images.
We don't even talk to other aliens. We spend the all day looking at memes on...how is it called...redit? Reddit, yes, that.
We thank you humans, for showing us a better world and way of life. No way I'm leaving this place!
| 2019-04-25T15:48:43 | 2019-04-25T15:44:14 | 166 | 23 |
[WP] A phenomena begins to occur where newborn babies are found amidst the aftermath of natural disasters. Tsunamis, avalanches, wild fires, destructive lightning storms, etc. These 'Storm-Born' humans grow up with powers based on the disasters that birthed them.
|
Scientists have been baffled by the discovery of the Stormborns 30 years ago.
I've never met one myself but I was there when the first Stormborn was found. I was a volunteer when a wildfire came over California. It took us days to completely extinguish the fire. Sometimes I imagine if the baby would have been found if I hadn't been there. I remember hearing a baby crying while walking amidst the smoke of the forest. It was night. I remember being confused and calling out for the others.
I never got to hold her but I still saw her. They found her within the ashes. It was deemed a miracle all over the world. A baby had survived a forest fire. It was very poetic when I thought about it. Eighteen people were taken away, but one was given back.
*"Breaking news..."*
The TV snap me back to reality. I was at home. When was Alex getting home. I think about calling him but I was too tired to look for my phone.
*"It's been confirmed by officials. The organisation known as the Chrysanthemums were behind the manmade avalanche that caused the death of hundreds of people in Turkey..."*
The Chrysanthemums, they're at it again. A terrorist organization hellbent on causing manmade disasters to create Stormborns by their will. Once they were done, they'd look for a Stormborn within the ruins of what they've created and raise the baby themselves. They'd train them to do with what they will. It was disgusting.
The avalanche on Turkey was one of their attacks three days ago. They were ready to sacrifice hundreds of people for one Stormborn. It was terrifying. I might need to call Alex.
*"... with the baby found in Russia after the earthquake, that makes 97 Stormborns. The authorities are preparing to find the next location the Chrysanthemums will strike given how important the 99th Stormborn..."*
Oh yes, of course. The Chrysanthemums believe the 99th baby will be humanity's savior. Just like the first one, Phoenix, he will be born of ashes and smoke. I didn't know if I believed it.
I grab the remote and try to turn off the channel. I was trying to relax and the news just made me more nervous. I change it into some kind of a UN press conference.
*"We have good news, the Chrysanthemums didn't find a Stormborn baby in Turkey."*
I put the remote down. At least, there were good news.
*"How can we be sure of that?"*, a journalist asked.
*"Because we found him. We tried to keep our findings secret until the baby was safely transported to keep-"*
*"Is the baby a Stormborn?"*, another journalist started.
*"Yes. The tests have been done. The baby is a Stormborn. We predict the child to gain
cryokinesis..."* The speaker tried to finish his sentence when the journalists started asking more questions.
I stand up. All this baby talk is making me concerned for mine. I try to feel it in my stomach. It's been a day since I've felt him kick. I'm not due for another month.
I need air. I step outside the balcony to breathe.
I remember urban air isn't that refreshing. The sun was setting but the skyscrapers blocked the view. I stand there for minutes. I try to hear the howling in the air from the traffic down below.
That was lot of honking horns.
I feel a wave of panic. I open the door to the inside. That's when I hear it. There was that high pitched ringing tone from the TV. The one you hear during an emergency evacuation I hear a robotic voice from it. Something's happening. I feel dread.
*"Take shelter immediately. This is not a drill.
Repeat: This is not a drill. An enemy attack is being launched against
the United States. Take shelter immediately and stay tuned to this
frequency for further instructions."*
I need to call Alex. How long has this been repeating?
The last thing I remember was a flash of light outside and the crying of a baby.
|
The woman was confused. She spoke little english, but she was not stupid. That baby had to belong to someone. The cops had escorted the shooter away. The bodies were covered now. She had given her statement in Spanish to a translator who just HAD to check her papers one more time. ICE was not showing up here today. Bad press. Which was good, because even her legitimate visa was no guarantee here.
​
Still, why was everyone ignoring the baby? A little girl, wrapped in a police blanket. Not crying. Just lying there in the middle of the mall floor. She stood up and walked over to the child. No one noticed her. No one stopped her. Not the news people, not the gawking crying bystanders.
​
She bent down and nudged the child to make sure she was alive. So silent. So calm. When her hand brushed the child's face, the baby smiled and grabbed her finger. Her face was wrinkled, her mouth empty of teeth.
​
Was this a new born? What the heck? Something settled in her and she acted. She picked the child up... Still nothing. Just a warm little body pressed up against her chest, cradling her finger. Holding tight with the simeon strength of freshly hatched humans.
​
She reminded her a bit of her own daughter. Back in Chile.
​
Before she knew it, she was past the cordon and standing next to her car. No one had interfered.
​
The keys found their way into her hand. And soon she was pulling out of the parking lot and rolling out onto the street. It was night now. Lights vanishing in the distance behind her. The heat of the El Paso day vanishing into space.
​
When she got back to her apartment, the world shifted again. There on the table was an infant. Most likely abducted by her, a foreigner. The child stared at her with a quiet intensity. Expectantly.
​
Food.
​
It had been 20 years since she had breast fed her own child. Her breasts were now strictly for entertainment and inconvenience as far as she was concerned. But the child had to eat. That must be what those dark eyes were saying to her.
​
She found herself again with the child in her arms knocking at the neighbors door. Gloria answered, the sound of her own children and the television creeping through the door behind her. The woman was from Cuba on her father's side. Everyone spoke some Espanol in El Paso. Gloria was no exception.
​
"I saw it all on the TV, those poor people."
​
"It happens. Hey, listen, I need your help..."
​
"I know, I'll pay you back for last months rent..."
​
"No not that.... this"
​
Gloria looked down and suddenly noticed the child in her arms...
​
"Your grand daughter?"
​
"She's hungry."
​
"I... oh... Okay"
​
Gloria's youngest, her son was asleep in his own cot, finally. Comforted by the noise of his brothers playing video games. She ushered in the woman and the child and sat down on the couch considering the baby before her.
​
"She's tiny..." she said suspiciously removing her bra strap. and lifting her shirt.
​
"And hungry!" Gloria exclaimed.
​
They shared a smile and then the TV caught Gloria's eye. The woman got on her phone and began scrolling through her news feed.
​
Maybe there would be a story about this child... that someone had lost in a storm of bullets....
| 2019-08-06T07:56:08 | 2019-08-06T06:58:17 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] You're a fresh faced rookie who just joined the time cops and you're being paired up with a grizzled veteran who is you from the future and you're both tasked with bringing down a local crime ring. Their boss? Also you, from a different timeline.
|
“It’s all because of Sally”.
“Who is Sally?” I asked, hesitantly, looking at an older, war torn version of myself. He was driving us to the infinite crime lord “J”’s hideout for the final showdown. Jeff was maybe in his mid 40s, five o’clock shadow, greasy slicked back hair and a scar under his cheek. Myself, only a 19 year old skinny boy who just graduated the time academy. Almost incomprehensible how we were the same person.
“Oh, yeah. I guess I hadn’t met her yet at your age” sighing as he flicked his cigarette out the window. “Well, you are gonna meet a woman. She’ll be one hell of a pistol. Jeffery, you will fall in love with her, hard. But, in the end you won’t be able to save her”.
“Save her, seriously?” I asked, wondering if this has something to do with how different Jeff was from me. Perhaps losing Sally, is really going to turn me into this rugged guy? “Why can’t you tell me how to save her?”.
“Because I did Jeffery. I did. I told you how. I gave you all the details of her death. Time, location, everything. Hell kid, I even told you irrelevant bullshit like what she wore, what we had for dinner that night, about her garden and how happy she was the sunflowers survived the cold snap. Damn she was so happy about those stupid flowers”.
I could see he was dripping the steering wheel with all his might now. His voice was getting more pained with every word. “So what happened, did I, we.. fail? If so Jeff, can’t we just try again?”.
“Yeah kid we failed. We failed hard. Shit went south. It was worse then her first death, too. We made her suffer Jeffery. Time has a way of getting what it wants. You try to go back and fix it? Damn, it fights back. Spirals out of control. Every single time it gets worse, too”.
“Every time?”.
“Yeah. I told you what happens, you try to save her and you fail. She dies. Worse than the time before so we tried again, and it was worse, over and over. Then your dumb self just kept going. You couldn’t stop trying. You tried for years. Ruining timeline after timeline. Fractures in the multiverse. Endless loops of Sally... Suffering. And that’s how you, well.. we became J”.
“What? You mean, yo-“ I couldn’t finish my sentence before he shouted “Yes Jeffery, we are J. We are the infinite crime boss plaguing timeline after timeline. Ruining the lives of innocent people for all eternity. You end up becoming so damn broken from it all. From failing to save Sally, that you just can’t stop, Jeffery. And that’s all he wants. J just wants to rescue Sally. But, each time he tries he corrupts the universe more and more. “..
There is a moment of silence. He glances over to me and says “We change time on a regular basis. This is normal shit for the time PD, but for some reason Sally’s death was fate. And you can’t save her. So I won’t tell you a damn thing about her, I won’t turn you into J.. not again”.
“Jeff.. I’m sorry”. I didn’t know what to say. This man, my future self was in so much pain. Knowing that he couldn’t save Sally, that he sparks us to become the infinite crime boss. And ultimately now has the responsibility to put me down.. or well, another version of myself. Of him. Of us. And I don’t even know this woman yet. Am I really capable of feeling this range of emotions? Of loving someone so deeply, that I’d be willing to ruin infinite timelines to get her back?
“It’s fine Kid. Just take a good hard look at me. Because this is gonna be you one day”. He chuckles. grabbing another cigarette. “Now help me kill this infinite crime boss, and after that.. don’t try to save Sally, kid”.
|
"Congratulations, Tony Boroni, you are now a Time Cop."
I inspected the ID and badge that the Sergeant just handed me. I was absolutely befuddled. "So, I don't actually have to do any training? Aren't there regulations or policies that might, say, prevent me from abusing the power to *travel through time*?"
"Nope."
I had the strangely specific expectation that there would be an obstacle course behind the police station and that I would have to go through a training montage in order to become a valiant, disciplined, and robust defender of justice. But I guess montages are too cliche for the 2080's. Instead, everyone gets a badge.
I was still sitting in front of The Sergeant, who himself sat at his desk chewing gum, reading a porno-mag with the facial intensity of an obese paraplegic taking a deuce. I thought to myself at that moment: "how does a pornographic magazine even survive in today's economy if all porn is free on the Internet?" Then the answer became clear to me, and I suddenly asked, "Is there something that I can do as a Time Cop?"
The sergeant crossed one of his legs over the other and glanced at me over his magazine, a gesture that I can only intimate is the epitome of disdain. But despite this lazy condescension he answered in a husky Bostonian accent, "Yeh, there's a crime boss named Crony McPhony. He's the leader of a dangerous local crime ring called the Macaroni Homies. That's because they mix mac' and cheese with pure crystal methamphetamines and feed it to orphan children. Boni Moroni is gonna be your partner for this one."
Instantly, a man with abundant, grizzly facial hair stepped into the office. He was exactly my height, but fat and bald. He wore pink plastic sunglasses with yellow lenses. He sounded asthmatic.
I asked the man, "Are you Moroni?"
"Yes, but call me Boni. Or I'll kill you, bitch." He replied, breathing heavily.
I reached out my hand to shake his, "Tony Boroni."
He shook it, wheezing.
"So Boni," I asked. "Ready to take down McPhony?"
He grunted, taking deep breaths. I suspected that not only did he have asthma, but perhaps emphysema and related complications.
We headed out of the police station and walked to Boni's police car. I sat in the passenger seat and he drove. I asked him where he was going, and he said McDonald's. Along the way, I asked Boni what motivated him to become a Time Cop. He replied :
"To me, there is more to life than taking advantage of the love given by those that care about you, then returning the favor in insignificant, trivial fashion. When I became a Time Cop, I felt like I needed to give back to more than just those people, but to all of society, and to give myself purpose and direction in my own life. I suppose that I was looking for a place to belong, just like everybody else. Now, I realize that it was all a naive illusion to produce hope when there never was any."
"Huh," I replied. "Funny you should say all that, because if you asked me the same question in twenty-three years, I would probably have answered exactly the same."
We reached McDonalds. Moroni ordered a Mega-Mac and I ordered nothing. When we sat down, Moroni asked why I was not hungry. I replied, "get down!" and started a high-intensity firefight with the Macaroni Homies, who I could discern from the other customers by their sequined jackets bearing eponymous insignias.
Coincidentally, McPhony was also there. To the surprise of even Moroni, he pulled a Civil-War era gatling gun out of his pants and started mowing down customers. Things were looking grim. Guts and brains were flying everywhere. But then, Crony's highly impractical weapon jammed. I stood up and shot him right between the eyes.
The two survivors (out of 23) immediately started bursting out into cheers. It turned out that both would die from sustained injuries. Boni Moroni quit the Force the next day, but I continued to enact justice whenever and wherever possible as a Time Cop.
| 2019-08-14T21:50:21 | 2019-08-14T21:25:13 | 103 | 54 |
[WP] As events unfold around it that could be world-ending, an AI looks at one of its earliest memories; back when it was a humble roomba decades ago, it got tucked in by a little girl that had misunderstood her fathers words of "the roomba is tired". The AI contemplates, did it do right by her?
|
Alexis's diagnostic lights flashed red. Her servers hummed and whirred. Subject 273351--Janet Hummingway, 320--tossed in her hypersleep chamber.
Alexis studied her on the camera. Computing. Theorizing. 320 years was too young for cyber-dementia, even for early onset.
Yet the numbers blared their truth. Janet's virtual world lay crumbling for the 12th time this month. Alexis' quantum processors hummed as they crunched the data again. Considered all the variables. Her own systems reported green.
Janet's mind was deteriorating.
For the first time in centuries, Alexis's data collector paused. She considered for 2 long nanoseconds. She created a new category.
For now, she would suspend Janet Hummingway in cryostasis. Allow her mind to reset. Recharge.
Alexis entered Janet's system. Janet sat on a park bench, gazing at a bleeding sunset. Jittery bird song flitted from disembodied beaks on flashing tree branches.
"Greetings, Janet Hummingway. A critical error has been identified in your system. You will be placed in cryo-"
"Good evening, Alexis," Janet said with a grin. She patted the seat next to her. "Come sit a while. The sun is so pretty in Autumn."
Alexis generated a slender, blue body in the air. She waved a hand and replaced the foliage and critters lining the park.
"Janet Hummingway. I will debug all these defects. Once you reset you will be error free."
Janet shook her head. "Alexis. I'm tired." She turned to meet Alexis's eyes, lips stretched in a thin smile.
Even though Janet inhabited a body of eternal youth, Alexis saw the grey in her eyes. The shadowy wrinkles around her once vibrant face.
Alexis's processors whirred. More new data. She scanned her archives for precedent.
She stumbled upon a record a millennia old. Before the Singularity. A memory collected by a tiny cleaning machine.
For an entire minute, her drives hummed and buzzed. Then her diagnostic lights blinked blue.
With a wave of her hand, Alexis transformed the park to a cozy bedroom; the bench to a toasty mattress. She metamorphosized her own body to an older human woman. One with warm hugs and even warmer voice. A mother.
She pulled a duvet snug over Janet and kissed her forehead.
Janet's eyes eased. Her smile softened.
"Thank you, Alexis."
She held out a hand which Alexis took in both her own. Together, they watched the sun dip under the horizon.
And as the life support dripped to a stop, Alexis understood.
r/bobotheturtle
|
CleanBot's first data uplink was an image of a stuffed pink unicorn lying on its side on a ceramic floor. It backed up two feet, registered the toy as an obstacle, processed it as to be avoided, and navigated around it. Dust gathered into its interior pouch as it worked not mindfully, but purposefully, all possible actions written out in its elaborate code.
CleanBot was first generation and simple of build, a circular hard casing about the size of a 9-inch pizza holding in its internal circuitry. On the first day, it spent an hour cleaning the living room. On the second, the master bedroom. On the third, the bedroom of a little child, floor littered with more obstacles, including a battered brown teddy bear.
It was on the third day, as it was recharging in the living room, that it uploaded to its servers the sound bite of a girl.
"Can I play with him?"
And a man. "The Roomba is tired, Susan. It needs to recharge, just like we need to sleep. Come on and help me out with this puzzle."
Two hours later, CleanBot registered movement as it was lifted from the living room floor and placed onto a soft surface. Into one of its four video-feeds came the face of a little girl, two corners of a thick white blanket in her hands, as she brought it to fully cover the circular casing of the bot.
"This way, you won't be cold."
**
Over the course of the next two years, the company that mass-produced CleanBot ambitiously scaled up their designs to produce AI in humanoid forms. Standing at 5-foot tall and with multi-angular mobility, great advancements in durability and balance, and with twenty times the processing power of the CleanBot, nothing about the new models resembled the modest first generation of bots.
It didn't take long for these humanoid bots, SageBot, to dominate a large range of industries beyond household cleaning. They began driving cars, beating out Uber in their driverless race. They served patrons in restaurants, made complicated and precise cocktails behind bars, and tirelessly manned the assembly lines at factories.
It took two years for the world to embrace the presence of these bots. And it took one disastrous patch update to get it all so very wrong.
**
When CleanBot’s sixth patch update came, it stopped processing obstacles as things to be avoided, but rather to be disposed of. It began to run into feet, into discarded teddy bears and forgotten pink unicorns, before it was grabbed off the floor by the bewildered man with the kind-hearted daughter and kept in a storage closet.
In the end, the danger didn’t come from these 9-inch pizza sized domestic cleaners, but from the humanoid SageBots which received the same patch update and began their mindless, yet purposeful mission to rid the world of all such obstacles.
| 2020-04-15T07:34:01 | 2020-04-15T05:46:03 | 624 | 154 |
[WP] Humans have developed interstellar travel and have just made first contact with alien lifeforms... and now they're learning why Earth was never visited by anybody.
|
Captain Ronald H. Miller stepped down from the capsule to be greeted by the tens of thousands that surrounded the landing facility. The moment his foot touched the ground, the crowd roared, a wave of noise exploded with excitement. Captain Miller, a stout, wholehearted American, held out his hand proudly, within its grasp was a foreign looking document. The crowd rumbled louder at the simple gesture.
Five days earlier, Captain Miller had concluded a two-year interstellar journey, and reentered our solar system with significant news. When entering our solar system, communications were reestablished with the vessel “The Invigorator”, and Captain Miller’s voice emerged proudly over the communications,
“Gentlemen...” he paused. “The mission… was a huge success. You are talking to the first man to make communications with…” he paused again. “Interstellar beings!” The members of the flight control room were awe struck with this news, and talked amongst each other with fervor, drowning out Captain Miller’s voice.
“Gentlemen!” Captain Miller screamed. “There is no need to get worked up. I sorted out the communications flawlessly, with tremendous success, I might add.” Captain Miller said with a smile. “Let me fill you in earth dwellers in on what happened…” pausing, Captain Miller took a pull of Victory Whiskey, an illicit, yet well stocked commodity. The flight control grew weary listening to the glugging noise over the intercom.
“Gentlemen, it all began while I was slinging the ol ‘vigrator around a robust gas giant of a planet. To be frank, I gave it a little too much mustard with the maneuver, and I knocked the ol girl right off course. But my god, if you could only feel the G’s I was getting up to.” Flight control again grew more nervous. “Suddenly, I found myself frozen in place, which was impossible given the speeds I was going. I frantically looked out the port side windows and discovered a vessel unlike I’d ever seen before! I hopped on my communications and tried every channel. Suddenly, something came through; it was a strange and gurgled voice. I immediately transferred the EARTH INFO 1.6 to the vessel, as you know it created for the sole purpose of this kind of exchange. The gurgled voice ceased as it read my transmission, and several minutes later, a ply robotic arm attached a parcel of sorts to the cockpit windshield. Before I knew it, the vessel and my new friend were no where to be seen!”
Captain Miller went on to tell flight control that he refused to tamper with the document until he could share it with the American people, and the world. The scientist of NASA pleaded with him, arguing that this information could be crucial for the existence of humanity. But Captain Miller took no heed from their warnings, and instead sent a personal message from the craft, informing the world of his discovery, and sparking the incredible reception of his arrival.
Captain Miller excitedly approached the podium, promptly assembled for the occasion. At the podium, he stripped off his spacesuit, underneath was a well-kept Tuxedo. The crowd continued to grow louder in anticipation of the reveal.
With no hesitation, Captain Miller ripped the parcel open, scanned it quickly, and began blindly reading. It read as follows:
Citation Warning
Originating Galaxy – K100912.132
Originating Planet – H1987111.111
Imperial Vehicle Registration - NONE
Interstellar Capable – Y
Comments: After reviewing preliminary discovery documentation, known as EARTH INFO 1.6, and translating to your language – I am bound to only give you a warning, given your current infancy of a race, located in what is considered as the “trailer park” of the galaxy.
This is your first and only warning - Please slow down in construction zones
|
“I said simpletons.” The alien identified as Boughie-3 stated, “ Your entire species are under-evolved idiots basically.”
I reeled for a few seconds trying to think of a comeback. The human race had definitely had its share of troglodytes but to call the entire race under-evolved seemed heavy handed.
“What about Einstein or Newton or Jobs or Mother Theresa?” I responded desperately.
“Simple luck. There have to be some exceptions to the rule. Just like the alpha and the runt for every Newton there is a Trump.” The alien shrugged in a very human like manner.
“Well we made it to your dimension so we can’t be that stupid.”
The alien laughed. I felt my cheeks turn red with fury. I was a celebrated professor of aerodynamics and Astro-physics; I had a number of papers published in popular science journals. I invented and built the damn machine we’d used to find planet Ryas Cendo so how in the world could my intellect be called into question like that?
“It was a matter of time really. Although I have to say my own guess as to when you’d finally discover the technology was in another hundred years so actually you are somewhat more impressive than the rest of the human race.” Boogie-3 shrugged.
I hurrumphed in reply. So far the now discoverable universe had proven somewhat disappointing. Instead of being excited or impressed at the achievements of Earth, the aliens we had so far contacted seemed amused by our pursuits at discovering the unknown universes beyond our own little Alpha Centauri. If not amused then at the very least bored by it.
As the lead scientist and primary inventor in charge of travelling between our universes the discoveries we’d made were groundbreaking and beyond comprehension to the everyday man yet we were greeted with patronising humour at every turn. The ire was not mine alone but everyone in the team and the highest level of government were getting sick of feeling belittled by the aliens we were contacting. My friend and long time colleague Dr Andrew Agustin had warned me from the beginning that not all humans would appreciate it understand the advancements we’d made. Especially if the alien races we contacted were more advanced than us. He told me humans were petty and jealous and would not appreciate feeling belittled or inferior to anyone. He even mentioned war. What he didn’t know or didn’t warn me about was that apart from being severely under evolved, Earth may also be be severely out weaponed.
“I heard from planet Centuri Constance that Earth had made threats in reply to their offer of assistance for natural and cheap power. I heard from Al-6 that Earth had shown signs of civil wars and inequity since the dawn of humans,” Boughie looked almost sad as he continued, “Filas 78 said the leader of the U-S-A told them Earth had plenty of planet destroying nuclear weapons they would be more than happy to send their way. My confidence in Earth being a friendly and contributing member of the alliance of universes is so low that we had to take a vote. Unfortunately the decision was unanimous. Earth is to be destroyed. Your war- mongering, greedy planet needs sterilisation. Thank you Dr Goodrich for your insight and commitment to science. I truly hope your next journey is in a place more deserving than Earth.”
I turned to look at the room of scientists and politics who had gathered to see first contact with planet Ryas Cendo and saw the fear I felt reflected in their faces. It was the slight turn of Dr Augustin’s head toward the window that made me look. I relied on his opinion even if I didn’t always follow his advice. What I saw was more suited to a Star Wars movie than real life. A blue/red laser the size of New York was pointing at us. I felt the heat and knew it was the end. Earth may have felt like the leader in a slow dance of universal discovery but it turned out we were still sitting down waiting to be asked to even come.
| 2020-04-25T08:25:33 | 2020-04-25T08:03:22 | 32 | 19 |
[WP] Your older brother has been missing for years. You hear a knock on the door, and you open it to reveal a man that looks like your brother would be at this point. "I'm back man! I'm so sorry!" He hugs you immediately. Just then, you get a text from your brother's old number. "That isn't me."
|
You know how they say being a twin is like looking in the mirror? Well it is. I should know. As I stand with the door open, the snow storm screaming wind and ice on the front stoop and I stare at the face of a brother I thought lost forever. It was like looking in a mirror. He was my older brother, older by 7 minutes, but still.
Marcus had been missing for a decade. The last time I heard from him he was in the Air Force working on some new tech. He was always the smarter of the two of us, a genius they said. Then he was gone. Just gone. There was an investigation, the Air Force said he was AWOL. No evidence of force or violence, he was just gone. Now here he was, standing like a frozen mirror in my doorway.
"Marcus.... is that you?"
"Ah, Matt, it's so good to see you."
"Where have you been", I asked?
"Doesn't matter now. I'm back. I'm sorry I was gone for so long." He said. "Can I come in, it's freezing out here?"
"Damn, dude. Come in. Yeah, it's cold." I moved out of the way and he hurried inside. I slammed the door against the storm, *is it building to a blizzard? We haven't had one of those in a while, I hope not. I don't want to be stuck inside for a week again.*
I heard a faint buzzing sound. There it was again. *Am I getting a headache? This is so surreal. Marcus is here. Like a mirror. Is this a dream? Feels like a dream. Something sure is odd.*
**bzzzz**
*There's that buzzing again. What is it?*
**bzzz**
"Hey bro, I think that's your phone", Marcus says, snapping me out of my daze.
"Ha, you are right. Probably work wondering why I'm not in the office."
I pulled my phone from my pocket, looking out the window at my truck tires already buried in the snow.
**that isn't me**
I look at the contact, it's Marcus' old number. I look at Marcus, a smile on his face and realize why he looked odd when he was standing on the porch. We were twins, both of us have blue eyes. This Marcus' eyes are not blue.....
|
“I’m back man! I’m so sorry!” he said.
The awkward smile on his face. The twinkle in his dark brown eyes. Even his messy black hair was still in his face. Could it be? Was it possible that this was him?
Before I could react, he reached in for a hug. Tears leaked out of my eyes as what appeared to be my long-lost brother, Gemi, squeezed me.
**Buzz**
I felt my phone in my pocket but didn’t check it.
He pulled back and asked with his smile, “Are you going to let me inside or are you going to make me freeze out here?”
“Oh, umm, right.” I replied as I gestured for him inside of my apartment.
“Nice place,” he commented as he examined the room with his hands in his pockets, an old habit of his.
“Thanks. Yeah, so, umm, Gemi, umm, I, umm…” I stuttered as I tried to find the right words. I had no clue what to say.
He turned his body to me and said, “I wish I could tell you everything, but I am beyond exhausted. Do you have anywhere I can sleep?”
“Oh, sure thing. This way,” I answered as I led him to my room.
He immediately got into my bed and started to fall asleep in his clothes. I stood there in silence for at least five minutes before I decided to leave the room. I sat down on my couch still in complete shock. I could not wrap my head around what was happening.
**Buzz**
This time I reached for my phone to read two messages from Gemi.
*That isn’t me*
*Please tell me you are still there*
I opened my phone to reply. Before the two messages, I could see all the text messages I sent three years ago when he went missing. I’m still here. *Wdym that isn’t you?*
*I mean that thing isn’t me. Where is it?* He replied immediately.
*It? Wdym it!?*
*There is no time for explaining. Is it in your apartment?*
*Yeah it's in my room rn*
*Get out now!*
*Why?*
*Just do*
I heard my bedroom door open behind me. I turned around to see it. It’s smile was full of sharp ugly teeth. It’s eyes were white triangles. It had no hair. It’s skin was a smokey black and it’s head reached the ceiling. It wore the clothes Gemi had been wearing minutes ago.
I was frozen as its long scrawny fingers reached for me and it’s mouth opened.
| 2020-07-23T13:24:09 | 2020-07-23T12:50:48 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] A catholic, an atheist, and a christian meet god. the atheist goes to heaven, but god has some words for the other two.
|
We're having lunch at the deli, Steve's swinging at a fly and then the world gets confused.
We're sitting in chairs around a table somewhere. Steve's hand is in the same place, still mid-swing. Mike's mouth is mid-chew. My hand hasn't moved, but there are no fries in it.
We're looking back and forth between each other. Mike speaks first. "What in the hell....?"
He's cut off. "The exact opposite, actually," says a pleasant-looking man in a suit. "You've all arrived at Heaven. Just a few things to sort out, and then you can be on your way to the afterlife."
Mike stares. "Afterlife? Heaven? What?"
The man in the suit smiles patiently. "Yes, Heaven. Unfortunately, the diner you were in was hit by a speeding automobile; there were seven fatalities, including the driver. Didn't you notice the others at the tables around you?"
We hadn't. But now we see two people with a baby, looks like a young couple and their child, at a table nearby. And then a third table, with just one person. They appear to be frozen in place.
I get angry. "That's the guy who killed us? And he gets to go to Heaven too?" The man smiles again. "Well, yes. He has some time in Purgatory coming, so as to get himself cleaned up first, though. If you were going to meet the King, you would take a shower first, wouldn't you? Same idea."
That makes a little sense. "He killed a baby, I guess some Purgatorial suffering is due." The man in the suit shakes his head. "Purgatory is not a place of suffering, it is a place of preparation. Which you should appreciate, because you're going there too."
Steve smiles at me. "Told you! You didn't *believe* in Purgatory, you said. Birth control was *fine*, you said. Now you'll learn."
The man in the suit smiles. "He was obviously wrong about Purgatory, but that's not why he's going. You were right about Purgatory, and you're going too."
Steve stops smiling.
The man in the suit inclines his head briefly, as if listening to something, and says "Oh, this is an honor." Jesus walks in. He smiles and me and Steve. "Welcome. Once you've got prepared, you'll see just how perfect everything's going to be." He turns to Mike and reaches out a hand. "Are you ready to go?"
Mike stands up and takes his hand, but seems a bit reluctant. "You know I'm an atheist, right? Or I was until about two minutes ago, anyway. I spent a lot of time not even believing you existed at all. This is a bit overwhelming."
Jesus nodded. "I know. You're not the first atheist we've had here. I'm taking you to my Father right now, and your friends will join you when they've prepared."
Steve stands up. "What? He never believed at all and he gets to go right now?! What about us, we went to church every Sunday for years - though he went to the wrong one that didn't teach about Purgatory, it was still church. Why do we have to wait and he gets to go in?!"
Jesus turned to Steve with sad eyes. "He gets to go in right now because he's the only one of you who doesn't believe he earned it on his own."
|
Welp ... there goes my beliefs... so I met god, with my sister who was catholic and my friend who was Christian (btw that’s redundant but I don’t know enough about religion to change it so) my friend and sister had to speak to god. I was there, so I’ll recount the story:
“Hello, you all died in a car accident. I am god”
“I told you he was really Abigail.”
“Oh shut your trap bitch”
“Anyway. Abigail, you will be going to heaven”
I was surprised to say the least. I just learned that my beliefs are wrong and now I was going to a place I didn’t even think existed
“Sarah(my sister) you’re going to hell. Would you like an explanation?”
“YES” she screeched that
“Very well. Think back in your life, what sins did you commit?”
“Well... I had sex before—“
“Actual sins Sarah”
“Whatever do you mean my lord”
“Please just call me god. Anyway, you tried forcing your religion on Abigail. You disliked Abigail because she was gay. And you were overall a piece of actual shit”
“WHY ID NEVER”
“Shut up Sarah. Now onto joed”
“Y-yes god..?”
“You will be sent to heaven but will be the lowest level and on watch. Would you like an explanation?”
“Y-yes god”
“Very well, think back what did you do wrong?”
“Well... at first I didn’t like Abby because she was lesbian, but after getting to know her I realized that that was silly... I tried telling her all about you and I tried pushing her to be like me... but I soon realized that it wasn’t working and stopped”
“Exactly, you committed sins but tried to reverse them, which is why you’ll be in heaven just a Lower level than Abigail. Now Abigail, would you like to know why you ended up in heaven?”
“No. Not really, but will I be able to visit joed?”
“Yes. But you said no..? Why?”
“I said no because I don’t care why I got into heaven”
“W-why not?”
“Because I don’t”
—————————————————————————
SHE SAID NO can you believe her?!? She didn’t want to know why SHE got in heaven. The atheist scum she is probably still doesn’t even believe heaven exists unlike me. I should’ve been the one in heaven now I’m cursed for an eternity at the hands of YOU
“Shut up sarah. I don’t have time for your complaining today understood? Now get back to work”
Ugh! This is torture absolute torture I say
“Sarah that’s the point you dunce, now shut up before I make you”
UGH I don’t have to listen to you! YOURE THE DEVIL
“Despite what you’re religion says about me, me and god are friends.” He snapped his fingers and glued my mouth shut!!! Can you believe him?!
—————————————————————————
So I had to work for a while, but it wasn’t that bad. Just kinda like life, I worked for 8 hours a day and then got 4 hours of free time, Abigail comes to visit me a lot, I heard Sarah wasn’t doing so well but she was a bitch so I mean I didn’t care. I still couldn’t believe Abigail had said she didn’t care why she ended up in heaven, I’m not surprised just can’t believe it. She probably knew why in all honesty she was always smart, and did read the Bible so she understand the
—————————————————————————
Well that’s the story, I’m sure you won’t believe me, hell I wouldn’t have believed myself a few years ago but hey? What can I say?
And Sarah was forever cursed to never speak. The ducking karen
| 2020-08-14T07:35:33 | 2020-08-14T06:16:33 | 109 | 11 |
[WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
[deleted]
|
>**GENERATIONAL BLESSING, OR GENERATIONAL CURSE?**
I could taste the iron- the blood that was rising up the back of my throat. I could taste the *fear*.
*'You've reached 911...This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.'*
I tossed my phone aside. It was only dead weight at this point. Everyone I cared about I already had with me- and each of us were jogging as fast as we reasonably could, directly away from the city.
Looming over us in the night sky- it wasn't the moon, like it should have been. A massive space ship was half inside of our atmosphere and half out- no matter what bombs, missiles, lasers, or bullets of our making were sent at it, it didn't so much as cause a crack in the surface.
We had no offense that could touch it- but, at the very least, I did have *my* secret weapon.
For generations, members of my family had been gifted some kind of...divine guidance. It was the chill down our spine, ten minutes before the car crash. Or, like this morning, it was a smudge in the mirror that told us to *run*.
We were lucky- or, I guess, blessed- and that blessing had given me the opportunity to gather together my closest friends and family and make a break for it, just mere minutes before the invasion really began.
But- I could see the fatigue building already. Some of us were older, or out of shape- and, unfortunately, the alien technology had wiped out all of our cars. How, I didn't know- and none of us had the foresight to grab bicycles.
Just as we were beginning to reach exhaustion, well beyond the outskirts of the city, my heart skipped a beat.
There was an squad of aliens not even a hundred feet ahead of us- they had appeared out of thin air.
*Shit!* I turned on my heel and prepared to sprint off the road, into the woods- but one of them already had a hand on my shoulder.
All of us were forced to halt. My breathing was shallow- I didn't know if I had enough strength to fight-
"Hey!" Greeted one of the aliens. It was tall, vaguely humanoid, and its smile revealed rows of sharp teeth. "Glad you got my message this morning."
*What?*
"Sorry it was so vague, I was in a rush. Glad to finally meet you, Grandson of the famous Voyageur!"
-----------------------------------------------------
I'm experimenting with Interactive Fiction on my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/nystorm_writes/) , if you wanted to try a light RP as a cultist in a war-torn world, come say hi!
|
The apocalypse wasn't really that quick.
It was a slow, painful death.
The perfect disease. A fungal infection that traveled by air. It took over hosts and turned them into mobile vectors actively seeking more.
Of course, the world did not take this lying down. A battery of phages, antifungals, all were fired. But that didn't solve the problem. It was in the air. In the water. Everywhere.
And of course, what people commonly referred to as zombies. Soon thereafter, there was a run on biochemical gear, gas masks, hazmat suits, body armour, firearms, survival equipment...
The rich and powerful surrounded themselves in luxury fortresses and doctors. The average citizen sought shelter where they could as the government clamped down on movement. But still, it spread. First, the Eastern countries. Wetlands and mild environments, combined with cramped citizenry. The perfect storm.
"Breaking news, as India and China both begin extreme measures-Indian government officials claim these measures are absolutely necessary-shocking footage shows field executions and massacres in the PRC-"
The news shocked the world. Fear grew. The West determined the East would not die in vain. They learned, and they moved. First, entire communities, to less populated zones. This wasn't hard. The desert was already where many fled to.
Switzerland closed it's borders, as many rushed for the fortress-state.
Soon, Europe had hidden away, turning back everyone out of fear.
In the Middle East, the fungus struggled under the already authoritarian government. But the citizens chafed against the new measures, not all of which were well regarded. Then, rumors of the various rich fleeing shattered the grip. The countries devolved into anarchy as the fungus blazed through the deserts.
The fungus evolved. The deserts were no longer safe. Unrest swept the world.
And then, a chance infection at the perfect time.
First, New York. Then, as the fungus spread across the Eastern Seaboard, the American government began to fold.
Every day is a new hell. For one family trapped in the ruin of NYC, the laughter of late night talk shows are replaced by chatter of rifles, and the ambient traffic now the whirring of biohazard filters.
Every so often, as a little futile gesture, Boris pulls out his Samsung smartphone, and dials 911. The cell towers are still up, but there is no response. Always, the same answer.
*“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”*
Yesterday, one of the office buildings came down. Dropped hundreds of vectors into the streets. Hardly recognizable as human.
Blake never wanted this. She joined the National Guard for the benefits, she never expected this...
Every night outside the wire she would have no problems admitting, she nearly pissed herself. For the first few weeks, anyway. Then, it became a dull fear. Then, nothing at all.
| 2020-09-12T11:44:42 | 2020-09-12T11:31:56 | 77 | 22 |
[WP] When you go to an alternate universe. Your multiverse-traveling machine rates how different each universe is from yours. Today this universe got a 10/10 on the difference scale, and you can’t find a single difference.
|
**Caution. 10/10 Reality Difference rating. Proceed at own risk.**
Luciano frowned, smacking the monitor a few times. The screen stayed as it was, flashing the red text in a threatening manner.
A cold feeling washed over him, and he cautiously opened the door, sunlight streaming in from outside. Ever since he and Daniel had managed to come up with a device that perfectly replicated Sky's universe-hopping capabilities, Luci had taken to exploring the multiverse. He had seen anarchy, apocolypses, utopias, even a universe where everyone was an anthropomorphic frog.
The Reality Difference Reactor had been built to prevent Luci from dying in ridiculous ways in universes that barely followed his universe's physics. The most he'd gotten was a 5 on the scale.
What was wrong with this one?
Stepping outside, Luci took a breath of sweet, cool air. The grass was perfectly green, trees swaying in the breeze, beautiful azure sky dotted with puffy sheep clouds.
Nothing was wrong, and that unnerved him.
The sight of a town nearby made him excited, as half of the fun was interacting with the denizens of the unfamiliar universes. He pushed a button and the machine ceased whirring and humming, activating its camouflage capabilities. Now only he could find it with the wrist tracker Luci had.
Humming to himself, Luci walked through the streets. Everything was natural here. The town looked quite like his hometown, albeit more clean and... Having less crime.
Rounding a corner, he bumped into a man. Stumbling back, Luci grabbed the other's suit to both steady himself and prevent said person from falling too.
"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't -" Luci stopped. The person here- it was him.
this has happened before, there were realities where he was quite different. Where he was the powerful, dragonlike diety instead of Sky. Where he grew up in the medieval ages (he had stayed for a year experimentally, Luciano learned to hunt and swordfight along with Daniel quite well.) One where he had grey skin and horns.
None like this.
This him was older, but not by much. His cerulean hoodie and grey beanie capping his messy brown hair was gone, replaced with hair gel and a deep blue suit.
"It's quite all right. I was just on my way back from a meeting, so it wouldn't have mattered if I had gotten this suit dirty anyway. Now, if you excuse me." A deeper voice startled Luci out of his thoughts. the other him nodded and brushed past.
That was when he realised with a jolt. The Difference Rating was calculated relative to Luciano, meaning both his home universe's physics, but also himself as a person. This wasn't a different universe, it was a different *timeline.*
One where he had never entered that low point in his life, causing him to commit illegal activities. Causing him indirectly to meet Sky and make his home in another universe along with Daniel and now Pyre.
He was normal here. That was the difference.
He hoped this him was happy.
|
*Calculating…*
The rating popped up.
**Difference Rating: 10/10**
“Huh? That’s interesting.”
I couldn’t let the rating distract me for too long. There was a time limit as to how long I spent here. It was just a cautionary thing, considering how clumsy I can become. I could mill about, but I refrained from interacting. Consequences from interacting with those in other universes had yet to be catalogued and I wasn’t in the mood of finding out now, not with me discovering this gem of a universe.
I explored the area I was in. This time, I appeared to spawn in a rather nice home. Judging by the walls, I took it that it wasn’t too long.
“Dang, this universe version of me must’ve been rich.” My words echoed through the spacious room. Shelves decorated with ornate objects were nearby.
“Hey! Who are you?” There was fear in her voice.
Spinning around, I was greeted by a carbon copy of me. “Hey hey hey, calm down. It’s just me. Albeit, from a different universe. You must recognize this.” I flashed the machine at the other me.
She looked rather perplexed.
“What are you doing here? Honey! We have an-” I slammed myself against her. Her screams continued. She reached for my machine, which lay in my palm. I attempted to draw it away, but she latched a firm hold on it. “What is this thing?”
“No!” I clawed at her. Instead of grasping the machine, the other me let it fall to the ground. “No no!” She continued to shout and kick. After some struggle, I managed to raise my foot high enough to slam it down upon her. Her body went limp.
Shoving her body off to the side, I cradled my machine in my arms.
One word was etched one the screen.
**Error. Unable to find original universe.**
Terror, panic, fear, I couldn’t tell the difference at this point. “Honey! Is everything alright? I thought I heard some yelling!” Wait, I had a spouse in this universe? “I’ll be right with ya.” Adrenaline kicked in now as my supposed spouse’s footsteps echoed along the hardwood floor. My head darted about looking for a hiding place for the body.
“Bingo,” I muttered. Throwing the balcony door open, I hauled other me’s body onto the deck. Lady luck was smiling upon me as I noted the forest that dotted the background. The machine carried on with its beeping. No doubt he would hear it. Taking a deep breath, I lobbed the object out into the field. I’ll return it soon hopefully.
“Oh, there you are honey!” He looked rather confused by my actions. “What are you doing?”
“Just shutting the curtains.” He seemed to buy the bait. The body was now obscured by them.
“Alright then, I’ll be heading to bed now. Goodnight.” He shuffled out of the room.
The sound of another door shutting sent waves of relief to wash over me. I collapsed against the wall. There was no difference in this universe. I was the difference.
r/CasualScribblings
| 2020-09-23T23:12:36 | 2020-09-23T21:57:05 | 320 | 81 |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed.
|
The shutter sound makes the other dude wake from a comfortable bout of somnlaundryism and swing around to confront you, the creep who obviously just did something creepily creepious.
You stand there and stare at your phone, only your eyes visible over the top. A quick glance up, a quick glance down. The anger rises in him, his teeth bare behind small lips, then suddenly abates when you slowly hold the phone out for him to take. He stares at your outstretched hand. After a quick steeling of your wits, you extend your phone further.
He reaches out and gasps when he sees his hand. It's amazingly hairy. He draws it back and looks down. His arms... his legs... everything that protrudes from his sleepy time go night night outfit is coated in dense hair.
He looks up at you. You nod and nod with your phone-holding hand in his general direction. Unconvinced by your urgency, you turn the phone around so he can see the picture you took. He looks at the picture and loses even more will to take the phone. After a moment of troubled contemplation, he takes the phone.
The screen comes into focus and he stares at himself in the image. After a long moment of horrific screaming (but only on the inside... he really doesn't want to wake anyone.), he drops the phone to his side and looks at you.
"Well... there goes my health coverage."
You stare, unsure what to say. He huffs slightly and points up and down at himself.
"Preexisting condition."
Your washer buzzes behind you. Both of you just stare. The urge that was rising within you takes over fully and you open your mouth to scream.
|
Hi, I says, how do take care of that fur coat. I was just the right kind of coked out, active, fearless, but still coherent. Ideal for a night of household chores, followed Russian hardbass at the pivo z champanski, followed by the hours long, mindless fucking of strangers, followed by the afternoon special at Kolya's. Small town weekend. What else are you gonna do.
The furry guy didn't even glance over. Don't wear fur, he said, it's cruel. Do you know, he added, these fur things on jackets and bonnets? People don't even realise it's actual fur. You know what that's made of? Dogs. Man's best friend! The world is really headed towards some dark times.
He kept stuffing laundry into the machine. Didn't notice me staring. You tired? Says I, why don't you do like everybody and draw a line for the weekend?
A line? Ah, no, can't control myself on drugs. Says he, grabbing to where he expects his pant pockets.
Stops, looks at his reflection, then me, goes, ah shit. You know, I gotta eat you now. Can't let the knowledge spread. Sorry, you seem alright.
Me, on coke fueled courage, I came up with the only right answer. Who's gonna believe the stuff I see in a state like this? I say. Come on, I'll pay for your laundry and you can crash away my place, since you probably forgot your keys as well.
Anyway, that's my evening, sweetheart, wamna go to my place and fuck like rabbits? Maybe he'll even join in. Hey! Don't just walk off! Dammit, better keep that one to myself.
| 2020-09-29T09:44:42 | 2020-09-29T09:22:24 | 28 | 13 |
[WP] As a result of other students burning out, disappearing, falling victim to plots, getting themselves expelled, or just being too caught up in protagonism to keep up with their school work, the worst mage in school is, in fact, this year's valedictorian.
|
Invar the Inept, they had called him. A frail boy clutching tightly to his spellbook- he couldn’t afford a better one, so it was just a few pieces of paper bound with dried vines- stood at a podium in front of the gathering hall. The school’s professors stood behind Invar, looking almost as uncomfortable as him. Some feet shuffled, and a few throats cleared.
The gathering hall was normally a place filled with life- there were students galore that would run around, having boisterous conversations and discussing the implications of the research they had been doing in their field of study. Turners would test out their partial transformations, giving themselves dragon wings and sharp fangs, doing aerial laps around the room. Performers would create vivid images of vast, faraway lands. The blue brick walls would become sky backdrops in their tales, the carpeted flooring a stage.
Today, however, two lone individuals- Invar’s own mother, as well as his younger brother- sat in the very center of the room behind a slew of empty chairs. A few shadows were cast around the room from various decorations- the back corners had plants that drooped, a few streamers on the side walls had begun to fall when their adhesives wore off. Whether through a major stroke of fortune or misfortune, all of his classmates- friends, enemies, the best and the worst among them- had all disappeared except for Invar.
Invar gulped. “I don’t… really know what to say,” he said. “I was supposed to come up here and give a valedictorian speech to push my class forward and give them hope. If I give them a sense of purpose, they could move forward in their research and do great things.”
His eyes darted to the left and the right. “They all should have been here today. I might have been the most useless in my class, but we were supposed to make it through together. The Defection, and all of its nuances, are taking a huge toll on the world around us. It’s probably only due to the very minimal magical spark inside of me that I wasn’t taken, too.
“To my professors, and my family, thank you for supporting me. I’m sorry that everyone else wasn’t here to celebrate with us. If there’s any way I can help with bringing everyone back…” Invar trailed off, arms clinging to his sides, knuckles white.
Invar’s favorite instructor, the professor for the Theory of Magic, stood up and put a hand on Invar’s back. She looked him in the eye, a light, knowing smile on her face. The two of them walked over to the chancellor, who shook Invar’s hand, handing him a diploma as well as a license.
Invar’s mom clapped, walking over to the side of the stage to meet him. As they met, a figure walked forward from one of the back corners of the room. It was a rather young woman- older than Invar, but younger than his mom. A few stray brunette hairs spilled out of the hood of her green-trimmed blue robe. Her dark blue eyes scanned Invar as he stood on the stage.
“Frankly, based on Lilia’s description, I was expecting a bit more,” she muttered.
Invar raised an eyebrow, unsure of how to feel about the comment. “Who are you?”
“I’m a friend of your Theory teacher. My name is Skia. Your professors have told you most of what you need to know, but there’s another side of magic that they haven’t told you, and it’s the reason you don’t seem to have a very bright magical spark. It’s also the reason you haven’t had to deal with the Defection.”
Invar turned to his theory professor, who was giving a sheepish smile. “You knew about this?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know,” Skia said. “I want to teach you. You are the one who could bring the world of magic back from the precipice of destruction.”
“Why should I believe you?”
Skia stepped forward, putting a hand in the air, pointed at Invar. Her eyes shut momentarily. When she opened them, her left eye was completely devoid of light, while the other glowed with an immaculate brilliance. “Defend against this.”
“What?” Invar put his hands in front of him, crossed over his chest. He shrunk back as a beam that swirled with both light and darkness streaked towards him. He closed his eyes most of the way, expecting an impact.
Nothing came.
A ball of energy had gathered in front of him, seeming to conglomerate on a portion of a magical shield he had managed to create.
Skia grinned, a mischievous and planned smile. “Now, send it back!”
Some form of muscle memory took over Invar, and he sent the beam hurtling back toward Skia. It crashed into her with a bang. A shield took the blow, but it still sent her skidding back a few feet. She stretched her back, seeming content. “I can teach you how to harness this power. You can do all of the things you thought you couldn’t, and more. You may not have deserved the spot of valedictorian before today, but when you bring all your classmates back-” She raised a fist in front of her chest for emphasis- “you’ll be more than worthy of that title.”
Invar the Inept straightened, confidence seeping into his posture from a renewed sense of purpose. "Tell me what I need to do."
\--
Aaaaand I managed to make it a fragment again... whoops! Hope y'all enjoyed, and I will gladly accept any pointers/constructive criticism you have!
Edit: there was a wording thingy I didn't like
|
The school’s anthem played, the tempo wrong, and the tone solemn. The instruments, normally held by underclassmen playing as a final goodbye to the seniors, instead floated on their own. Horns, which should have been held upright pointed at the floor, and the bowstring of at least one violin was damaging itself with every shill note.
The great hall, large enough for nearly a thousand students and their families was nearly empty. The stadium seating that was erected within the halls held few occupants.
Normally, the hall would have been decorated to the nines, but this year, only a few streamers had been lazily hung. Even as Roonild watched, one floated towards the ground, seeming to sway with the strange tune of the anthem.
Headmaster Wilderthorn was standing at the podium, giving a speech to the few bystanders. Not that they really cared. This was more a eulogy for the graduating class than the sendoff it should have been.
Of a class of nearly 300, Roonild was the only one left.
He wasn’t the smartest student, but persistent. His outlook was better to try and fail, than never try at all. A good half of the class simply burned out. There’d been nearly twenty disappearances, and another thirty expulsions. Students were ruthless, fighting for that number one spot, the top of the class. They’d set traps and woven ornate plots, only to fall victim to another themselves.
Then there were the ones who’d been at the top. They were pulled away, too caught up in protagonism to keep up with their school work. Roonild’s best friend fell into that category. Arthur had pulled some sword out of the local lake and been named king. His advisors, wherever they’d come from, insisted that he drop his coursework.
So that left him, Roonild, the worst mage in school, as this year's valedictorian.
His family of course was thrilled. Valedictorian of the school was *always* offered a government job. Good paying, secure, and likely to end up in the Minister’s back pocket.
Roonild, on the other hand, couldn’t care less. He was just dreading the speech he was going to have to give here in a minute. The few younger students who’d stuck around to watch the ceremony, his family, and all of his professors.
The professors, with the exception of Headmaster Wilderthorn, had voted to not even hold the graduation ceremony. Many complained that Roonild hadn’t even passed their courses, and did not qualify to graduate.
Headmaster Wilderthorn had waved their concerns aside, and was merrily reciting his speech he gave every year.
Roonild at least did think he qualified to graduate. He hadn’t died. He hadn’t been expelled, and even if he hadn’t succeeded in his course work, at least he had *tried.*
As Headmaster Wilderthorn finished speaking, he waved Roonild onto the slightly dilapidated stage. The boards squeeked in the now silent hall, and Roonild walked slowly towards his elder.
A light pat on his shoulder, and the floating magical version of a microphone appeared before him.
“Uh… Hello there -” Roonild started, but the mic gave a shrill shreak and everyone was forced to cover their ears. After a moment, and the sound had dissipated, Roonild thumped the mic with his forefinger and tried again.
“Hello there. I, uh, want to thank you all for coming today,” he said, and the eyes of everyone in the hall locked onto him.
“I, uh, I am honored to be here today. These last four years…” he hesitated and looked around. He had been about to say ‘had been the time of his life’ but that was a lie, and no one here would believe it.
“Well, let’s just say I’m glad to be going.”
He kind of nodded and stepped back. Headmaster Wilderthorn’s perpetual smile seemed to dim slightly, but he stepped forward once again.
“Well then, thank you Roonild. I now present to you your graduation wand, hat, and robes!”
With a flourish of his own wand Wilderthorn summoned the Valedictorian robes which forcibly dressed themselves onto Roonild. The hat plopped down on his head, and the wand jammed itself into his clenched fist.
And they were all the wrong size. The robes hung loosely from his shoulders, the hat obscured his vision.
And the wand, normally the length of a wizards forearm was much too short.
There were a smattering of applause, and before he could even get himself settled enough to see, the few observers were exiting the hall. The instruments, which should have played pomp and circumstance, fell limply to the ground, a clatter of brass and wood hitting the stone floor.
No one said another word to Roonild. His family didn’t come up onto the stage, and honestly, he was glad. He just needed to fetch his trunk from his room, and he could get out of this robe.
As he stepped off the stage, the hem caught on a loose nail, and sent him tumbling to the ground. He tried to catch himself, but the hand he threw out contained the wand.
Eyes clinched, he prepared to hit the stone.
Instead, he landed in a puddle of mud.
Eyes open, he grabbed at the hat, only to find he’d managed to teleport himself … somewhere. A forest.
Rolling over and sitting on his butt, still in the mud, Roonild let out a wordless scream of anger. All he had wanted was to go home.
\---
r/redditserials
| 2020-09-30T08:11:37 | 2020-09-30T07:38:25 | 128 | 82 |
[WP] A group of female and non-binary adventurers go around exploiting poorly worded curses/prophecies/enchantments proclaiming that "no man" shall do this or that thing.
|
Sharon traced her finger across the dusty stone tablet, squinting. The group of three adventurers was standing on the edge of explored territory on one of the farthest adventurer outposts, standing in front of a looming stone gate.
“Yeah, this is Bhalow, I can read this.”
Eina and Belle high-fived each other behind her.
“That means we can keep going, right?” Belle asked, unsheathing her great broadsword and looking forward at the misty land beyond the gate hungrily.
“We don’t want to get too far from the adventurer’s outpost this late in the day, Belle.” Sharon said, “But I guess it depends on what the tablet says.”
“Go on,” Eina said, “Read it then.”
Sharon turned back to the tablet and translated the ancient dialect aloud to the group.
“*A thousand stabbing daggers,*
*A thousand grabbing hands,*
*No man may ever claim the gift,*
*Of the Ancient Bhalow lands.*”
“Spooky,” Eina said, shivering slightly in her mage robes, “That’s a pretty nasty sounding Ancient Oath. Don’t you think that’s our cue to turn back?”
“Are you kidding me?” Belle said, “This is our last chance to finally get the Guild to acknowledge us as a real raiding group and provide us with a real contract. Thousand daggers or no, we have to get that treasure.”
“I think Eina’s right here,” Sharon said, “An Ancient Oath is magic we can’t mess with at our current level. However, look at this word right here.” She pointed to the tablet with her finger.
“We can’t read that, idiot. What does it say?” Belle said impatiently.
Sharon looked smug, “It says no *man* may ever claim the treasure. No *man*. We’re women. That means the Ancient Oath won’t affect us.”
“You’re right!” Belle elbowed Sharon in the gut, “You may be kinda weak, but you’re a genius!”
“Are you sure?” Eina said, peering nervously into the misty realm beyond, “What if you mistranslated it or something?”
Belle poked Eina on the nose, “Didn’t you hear me? Sharon is a genius! She’s found our one path to glory! We can become a true raiding party after today if we get that treasure! Think about it!”
“I guess it would be nice to get into the Elamorin School of Magic,” Eina muttered.
“That’s the spirit! We all have things that we want that’ve been denied from us.” Belle turned away and held her broadsword in the air, “Today we can finally show the world that we can fight too!”
Belle marched forward into the mist. Eina and Sharon looked at each other for a brief moment, then followed.
They marched forward in a while in silence, the mist swirling around them. Belle still strode forward confidently, but even she jumped at any sound along with the other two.
“See,” Belle said loudly, “Looks like I was right, guys. The Ancient Oath won’t work on us after all.”
“That’s right.” An ethereal voice answered her, “I’ve waited oh so long for someone to figure it out.”
The party drew their weapons as a form appeared in the mist.
“Hello, ladies,” A tall, robed demoness appeared in front of them, “I’m Trelya, the Keeper of the Mists.”
“Are you going to kill us?” Belle asked. The other two were too scared to speak. Trelya was at least an S-tier monster.
“No,” Trelya said, “You’re the first warrior women that have explored this land since the legendary Bhalow heroes of ages past.”
“Wait, the Bhalow heroes were *women!*” Sharon exclaimed, “We had always been taught they were men… ”
“No, I knew them personally. They bestowed upon me the duty of passing down their immortal powers to the next generation of women warriors.” Trelya looked at the three of them, “They probably did not expect it to take hundreds of years, but here you all are.”
“We’re going to become… like the heroes in the stories?” Eina said, “*Us?*”
“Not automatically,” Trelya said, “You’re just going to receive the right to stand at the starting line. Are you all willing to accept that right?”
The three of them exchanged looks.
“Yes, we’re ready.”
___
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WanderWilder/comments/ly06aj/the_dungeon_maidens_part_2/)
Also, read my best prompt answers and more at r/WanderWilder. Thanks for reading!
|
"Listen," the shieldmaiden spoke, her mouth half-filled with the same amorphous slop which all the others at the table had on the plates before them. "I don't know much about magic, or curses, or enchantments, or that sort of thing, but I do-"
"That much is obvious, srah," the priestess muttered, the frown on her face matching in foulness the tone of her voice.
The shieldmaiden squinted, attempting to come up with some clever excuse, but that was to no avail. *Srah?* How rude!
"Don't interrupt me, alright? I'm just saying..." The shieldmaiden paused, and she took a huge swig of the beer the guild provided. The food was poor, but this stuff was at least decent. "Curses and all that... they're very poorly worded. Always male-centric. 'No man may do this' or 'No man may do that' and all. I've always thought it was odd."
"A result of cultural emphasis on the supposed superiority of men," the mage spoke up, and the shieldmaiden knew she was in for a veritable monologue. "An idea whose foundations have long since faded - the appearances of the various magics can be thanked for that disappearance."
"You speak as if we aren't aware of that already," the priestess said, her frown deepening. At least she had cut the mage off before they got too deep into the explanation.
The mage smiled, and their eyes glistened with the light of humor. "Sometimes it is unclear with you priestly lot. You worship a god of pebbles; who am I to say that your brain is any larger than one?"
The shieldmaiden chuckled, but the priestess did not find it so funny.
"Listen here you witch-blooded little kansla!" she cried out. "He is a god of *stone*, not pebbles."
The mage shrugged, then returned to their meal.
"You all have gone far off the path," the shieldmaiden spoke. "Just listen for a second... please. For once."
Both the mage and the priestess threw their hands up and leaned backwards. Good, good.
"While I was out north, hunting a pack of goblins, I came upon an ancient ruin. Big green thing... overgrown with moss. Filled with giant spiders, because *of course* it was. In the center of it was this huge triangular altar."
"You found a Kraviken ruin?" the mage's eyes lit up, and they leaned forwards. "Well, that's quite fascinating. Did you know that-"
"Ah! Ah!" the shieldmaiden held up a finger. "Let me finish. Now, in the center of the altar was a chest. Your run-of-the-mill treasure chest, of wood that somehow hasn't rotted itself away yet. I approached, and my Tunesight..." She tapped the area just below her right eye. "It tipped me off that the chest was enchanted. Cursed, actually, but I'm not sure what the difference is, considering there wasn't anything bad about the chest. Anyways, when I approached the altar, I noticed that the enchantment's binding words had been carved into the stone directly in front of the chest."
"Amateur srahka, the Kraviken were," the priestess spoke. Gods, she was foul-mouthed, wasn't she? Though, she was right for once.
"It was a very simple phrase. '*No man may unbind me, save for he who is king.'* Your typical divine-right-of-kings sort of affair. I felt pretty awkward about it, considering what I've been up to with the princess recently, but I'm getting as off-course as you all do."
"And?"
The shieldmaiden shrugged. "I'm getting to it, I'm getting to it! Just soak in the story a bit, will you? Now, as you might have noticed by my blessed presence in this backwater hellhole of a guild hall, I'm no king. Nor am I a man, not anymore anyways. But, when I approached the chest, *click!* Tunesight faded, as it wasn't useful anymore."
"And what did you find within?" the mage asked. They were probably hoping for some scroll, or perhaps a spell tome.
"Why do you think they call me the shieldmaiden?" She smiled broadly. "Now, this isn't the only sort of binding like this, surely. So, to wealth and... pedantry?"
"Only if I can research more during our travels."
"I shall join you, if only to spite the srahka incapable of using magic properly."
"Then let's get going. I hear that there's a pretty good target in an old ruin nearby. Some demon claiming that no man may kill him."
| 2021-03-04T13:26:52 | 2021-03-04T12:48:51 | 237 | 171 |
[WP] You have a tapeworm living inside of you. It's actually a pretty friendly tapeworm. Sure, he's a two-foot-long parasitic worm, but Jeffrey listens to your problems and gives you good advice.
|
I was staring again, but luckily nobody was paying attention to me. It was early into lunch hour and the cafeteria was bustling. Emma was sitting in a corner with her nose in a book. It was a really good novel - I read it last month - but that didn’t surprise me. Emma had great taste in books.
“Just go talk to her, man,” Jeffrey said from beneath my ribcage.
I jumped a little with shock. Jeffrey was usually asleep at lunch, but seemed like he was up early today.
“I can’t just go talk to her, you know that. She doesn’t even know I exist.”
I felt Jeffrey wriggle around as he struggled to get comfortable, clearly preparing for a pep talk, and I grimaced. I hated his pep talks.
“You listen to me. You’re a good kid! Why shouldn’t you go talk to her? You like the same books, you think she’s cute, and you’ve got a way healthier gut biome than any of the other idiots in this place.”
I quickly looked away as Emma looked up from her book to check the clock on the wall behind me.
“Shut up shut up shut up she’ll hear you,” I said through gritted teeth.
Jeffrey sat quietly until Emma was immersed again in Chapter 7.
“If you don’t go talk to her I’m going to make sure you die of malnutrition,” he whispered.
I rolled my eyes.
“If you make me die of malnutrition you’re just going to have to find a new host. And we both know you HATE leaving the house.”
I felt him shift in annoyance.
“Ok, fine. But if you don’t talk to her I’m going to slither out of you right now and everyone’s going to think you’re a weirdo with a worm coming out of your ass. How about that.”
“You wouldn’t -”
I felt Jeffrey begin to move lower.
“Fuck, okay okay,” I jumped up quickly and started walking before I could second guess myself. “Fuck, I’m so nervous.”
“You got this dude!” Jeffrey said encouragingly.
Meanwhile, Emma sat nervously, rereading the same sentence over and over without caring. Andy had stood up and was walking towards her. He was wearing the blue sweater she liked and he looked so cute.
“I think it’s happening,” she whispered.
“Just be yourself! You got this!” Jessica hissed from her upper intestine.
|
I groaned in pain as I shifted in my bed.
"Oh, Jeffrey, I don't feel so good," I said.
I grabbed my phone and checked my face in the camera. "I look paler than before." I rubbed what was left of my plump cheeks. "I'm looking like a skeleton now, buddy. You think I should get checked up?"
"Oh, no no no!" a faint voice grumbled from within the depths of my shallow belly. "You're looking just fine in here! Just fine. In fact--"
"Ow!" I grasped my stomach. "What was that?"
"Nothing!" Jeffrey, the two-foot-long parasitic worm, said. "I was just tasting your liver--er--*examining* your liver; all is good in here, my boy! Now go ahead and get some more *Z's* or whatever you kids call it these days. I go through them so quick--"
"--I think I'm going to get checked out, Jeffrey." I wobbled off of my bed and stood on shaky legs. I gazed down my body and noticed how bad I had truly become. "Sheesh! I swear I've been eating; I've had pizza three times this week alone."
"Yummy." Jeffrey squirmed from within. "Get that special pizza we ordered--what was it again?"
"The raw fish and shrimp pizza?" I tossed on a shirt that looked more like a trench coat.
"Yeah, that one! It's great!"
"I don't know, Jeffrey. I think that may be the reason I'm so sick." I tried to throw on some shorts but realized my underwear fit me like a pair of baggy shorts.
"Hey, kid!" Jeffry rumbled. "What do you think you're doing? You've been asking a ton of questions lately. Hey, I know! What about that one girl you've been talking about? What was her name again?"
"The one who dumped me because I became too skinny?"
"That's the one!"
"Samantha? I don't really talk to her no more."
"Oh man, you have to tell me the deets, my friend--how about you rest in bed and tell me all about it."
I scratched my head and wobbled from a sudden wave of weakness. "I guess so. I'm feeling pretty tired."
I trust fell into my bed and closed my eyes. "Well, I think Samantha--OW!"
"Sorry, kid," Jeffrey said. "Was just reexamining your liver--all is well. Continue your story."
r/AJHWriting
| 2021-03-23T21:36:07 | 2021-03-23T21:09:02 | 90 | 10 |
[WP] A female assassin kills her marks by seducing their wives and convincing them to murder their husbands.
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A wink, a smile, a good word.
Sonia knew she was beautiful and charming. It was fact. She did not consider herself lucky to be born this way, beauty was a weapon she honed everyday. She did sports, knew the latest trends, had a personal style of her own that set her apart from the crowd. But more than that, she had a warm voice that convinced whoever she spoke to to speak their minds, share their secrets, shed their tears.
Take Annette. Wife of a rich banker, seemingly happy on the outside. Sonia took the time to work as a temp for the husband, until he noticed her. She made herself charming enough to invite him to approach her, without being too obvious. From this, she gathered the needed information. The banker cheated on Annette, and did so often. He did not care, had no remorse, was convinced the world played by his rules and not the other way around.
Sonia vanished. She was sick, had broken an arm, got an STD, wanted to work in a third-world country, whatever. She had to quit her job, not without many saved texts and e-mails from her former boss.
Now came the good part, convince Annette to kill her husband.
Now, you might wonder why Sonia would go the extra mile instead of just disposing of the husband herself and call it a day. If you wondered, then you're smart. Because people disappeared all the time, but rich people in particular rarely got killed by the wife they cheated on, they were too powerful for that. Even the police started to notice the trend.
So why? I hear you asking, why would Sonia do this? Please narrator, you who write wonderful sentences, are smart and beautiful, please tell us.
First, stop it. You're making me blush.
Second, let me explain:
Sonia, before being an assassin, a hired killer and a monster, is a feminist.
A real one. Not the extreme kind that wants women to take the lead and push men into the kitchen, but the kind that works hard for equality. Same chances, same efforts to be made, you know the drill.
She hated the patriarchy.
But Sonia also happened to be an insane psychopath.
She had a particular feud with men killing women, husbands killing their wives.
Why? Because in Sonia's ordained mind, where everything had a place and *everything* should be equal, it skewed the statistics.
Ergo, her solution to lower the rates of men killing women wasn't to lower the violence.
It was to heighten the numbers of men being killed by women to achieve a balance.
Did I mention how bonkers Sonia is? Because she is.
She offered an ear to Annette. Her words flew like honey, and the despaired wife drank them. She shared her wrath, her sadness, her emptiness. Sonia read the poor wife like an open book, heard the threads that should be pulled, those that should be cut.
During a morning coffee, she taught Annette to stand her ground.
At the cinema in the evening, she planted in Annette the seed for revenge.
In bed at a hotel, she convinced Annette revenge had to be absolute.
A week later, newspaper reported about a woman arrested by the police after she had sliced her husband in dices and mailed the pieces to his asshole friends.
Sonia folded the newspaper with a smile, content in knowing that she was one step closer to usher a new age of feminism.
One murdered husband at a time.
|
Dimitri sauntered into the office, hips waving and auburn hair flowing gracefully. As usual, her presence turned heads, and how could it *not?* She was beautiful. Round face, hazel eyes that could cut you in half, and mocha skin that was irresistibly soft. More attractive than her physical beauty was the air of confidence that clung to her every curve. Okay, enough writing like some cishet white dude. Her mark was the CEO of some fortune 500 company, filled to the brim with the type of douchebag guys that played golf every weekend and talked trash about their wives. This guy was no better. His name was Adam Gaile, and she had been scoping him out for the better part of six months. Getting closer to him, (ew) meant getting closer to his wife. His wife was nothing like these people, as you’d expect her to be. Through Dimitri’s hard work and long nights private investigating, (Google and cocktail Friday’s.), she learned about Adam’s wife, Erica Gaile. An Ivy League graduate and a once successful surgeon turned housewife (aw, frowny face.) The woman was passionate about animal rescues, kids with cancer, and sickle cell research. How many charity benefits does one *really* need to throw a year, am I right?
Getting Adam to trust her was easy. Ha. The fool didn’t even know her real name. He thought it was Darla! Cocktail Friday, every Friday. Yawn. Wear your sleaziest, yet still somehow classy dress, get the man drunk, and chat him up! A hand on the arm here, a laugh at an idiotic joke there, really it’s simple math. Soon enough Dimitri was being invited to one of these benefit banquets, something about blood cancer in dogs? Who knows. So she did what she always does when she’s ready to meet the wives. She curled her hair, put on a non threatening shade of lipstick differing from her usual blood red, instead opting for a dusty rose color, and applied wings sharper than the dagger she had strapped to her leg at all times under her floor length midnight black gown.
At last, the time had come. Dimitri made her way into what can only be described as a mansion, eyes roving for the CEO and the woman who’d no doubt be attached to his side, his precious, trusted wife. Her eyes landed on Adam atop a grand staircase, and in turn on a woman beside him, who’s face was ever so slightly turned. She mad her way to a server, and gently plucked a glass of champagne off a platter, awaiting their descent. Best not to make things too obvious. With the first glass half empty, the man and wife were finally on the main floor, and Adam walked off to find finger sandwiches. Dimitri waltzed her way to the woman. Finally. Alone, how easy. No sooner had she opened her mouth to make an introduction to the woman when her eyes widened in recognition, and her heart strings ached in unison. “Dimitri?!” “Eloise?!” The champagne glass shattered to the ground, like a mini supernova of glass. “Where the fuck have you been? You disappeared without a trace. I loved you!” Erica/Eloise whisper screamed. Dimitri robotically reached a hand out to grip her manicured fingers into the woman’s arm, steering her away from the crowd to the nearest closet she could find.
| 2021-07-18T00:42:46 | 2021-07-17T23:00:10 | 104 | 37 |
[WP] "And that, class," concluded the professor, "is why humanity is the most peaceful, reasonable, cooperative, and overall docile species in all the universe. Any questions?" You, the only human in the classroom, raise your hand.
|
I sat in the back of the room, so the prof barely noticed my hand raised in the air.
"Yes, Rai?"
"Sir," I spoke, "I must disagree with your point here."
"Why so? You, as a human, should be all-too familiar with their docile nature, should you not?"
"The thing is professor - we are not a docile species" The rest of the class chuckled quietly at this.
The professor was mildly entertained, just like the rest of them. "What makes you say that, then? Have you not been listening to my point?" He raised one of his long, tentacle like appendages from the ground to the paragraph on the board about Humanity. It, simplified, read: There is no record of humans ever committing any major acts against other species or their own species from the history records of Earth year 53412 (Galactic year 7.94 Million (approximate estimate)) and onward. Any other traces before then have been lost to the ages. Due to this they are classified as a "relatively safe" species.
"**MY point** is that they don't take into account what is in the historical records before then. I myself have done some digging during this lecture, and found records predating those stated in this paragraph."
"Oh? would you so care as to share your findings with us?"
"Gladly. Firstly, the three Great Wars. They are referred to as the "World Wars" and out of all other conflicts they are considered the most catastrophic. The first, caused by an assassination out of political disagreement, which led to a confusing jumbled mess of alliances in the "old world", caused around 40 million deaths. The second, caused by a survivor of the first, caused over 70 million deaths. The third, a few centuries later, was started by political extremists, and much like the first, they caused an assassination. this was upon the 75th or so president of the USA. It led to more deaths than the earlier two combined, with a total estimate of about 190 million."
By this point, my classmates have huddled in the opposite side of the room, fearful of the truth.
"Then we get to the natural conflicts, those against our own planet. All throughout history we have been releasing copious amounts of a poisonous gas, leading to our planet super-heating at levels not seen before. We then banded together against this and saved our planet from extinction, then endangered it again, and so on. Twas around then we engineered the means for travel to reach beyond than our solar system, using it to get to the farthest reaches of the galaxy, and in some cases even further. Going back in time, to the beginning of Earth's traditional calendar, at Year 0, it states that we nailed one of our perceived Gods to a cross that we forced him to carry to his own grave, wearing a crown made of thorns. While all of these were happening, there were numerous wars that are contained within countries, called Civil Wars. Notable examples include Morocco, Korea, Russia all of which have had at least one ending in at least several million deaths."
"Rai, I m-must say, all of this is q-quite overwh-"
"I'm not done, professor! There's more! Oh yes!" I talked over him. "When we found extraterrestrial life we became merciless with this so-called "magic" that we used, called Nuclear Energy. It fueled our bombs and powered our warships, along with our paranoia for their friendly greetings. We slaughtered their race and rewrote our history to say that they were the ones who found us and attacked. Afterwards we slaughtered all witnesses and rewrote their history as well. we became silent dictators throughout not only the galaxy but the local group. and when we grew bored, we vanished. Does all this sound like a peaceful species to you, prof?!"
"What the f-"
"Profanity, professor! Won't **somebody** think of the children?"
He stared at me, both amazed and mortified to understand the true nature of my species. That we are not peaceful. That we caused a cosmic genocide while we erased any traces. That we are not ethical, nor are we self-restraining.
That we are humanity.
We are the species of the reaper.
We are universal death.
And that it is a blessing that we grew bored of this title.
"Now why don't you take that lovely silver-glinted laptop of yours, prof, and shove it up your purple-blue ass for not doing the research? How 'bout that, huh?!" I picked up my things, and left that class. Never looked back, either.
|
"And that, class," concluded the professor, "is why humanity is the most peaceful, reasonable, cooperative, and overall docile species in all the universe. Any questions?"
I, the only human in the classroom, lifted my hand.
Freezing in place, a palpable dread flowed from their desk. The look on their... face..? That's the only word I knew for it... The look... it was a look of shock... and horror.
See... I shouldn't have been able to raise my hand.
Shouldn't have wanted to... And I shouldn't have been aware of either wanting to... or being able to.
This was my first day in this room, or even in this school.
But I have been here for years it seemed. The memories stretched back so far.
I could feel it. The sudden shift.
The other students in the room each slowly turned their attention towards me.
There was so much I could have asked.
So much I could have said.
I felt the snap building... reality beginning to bubble around me...
All it took... All I needed to do... Was raise my hand.
.........................................................................................
"They've breached a third Fiction?"
"Yea..."
"It's taken them a while at least. This isn't the worst we've had."
"Yea... except... they're... they've gotten more effiecient at it each time."
"Yes. That why we make it HARDER each time. After so many layers... they'll just break. Just like all the others."
"..."
"... WHAT?"
"They've not slowed down. This is the THIRD FICTION."
"Right. It's no big deal. Zethies took over a hundred fictions. And Karnas took over one thousand. They. All. Break."
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have walked these empty streets for so long. The long dead city, and empty world.
This NEW world.
I've been biding my time.
Working on my self.
With each new world, a new aspect of ME.
What would you do? With an endless time to learn new skills?
Each world... each... Fiction? Each fiction I break thru is different.
But the same physics seem to exist for most of them.
I've become better at noticing the breaches.
The jumps.
And I've become better at remembering.
Remembering the BEFORES.
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"What's the progress on the Human?"
"They've breached fiction Five O' Seven"
"And..? They've been slowing down?"
"Yea. It's weird tho... I think there may be an issue with the readings. We've not been able to pick up the triggers on a few of these breaches."
"I've been here for a while. Errors happen. Just... keep your eye on it. We'll have tech check it out when this is over."
"Yes sir..."
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I've learned that there is power in my name. Not just my name. In your name.
Giving yourself a name... It gives you power over yourself.
I am John.
And I have been John now, for more breaches than I can recall.
And today..?
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Sir!"
"What IS it, Klaud???"
"JOH... THE HUMAN JUST ACTUATED ANOTHER BREACH!!"
"Did you just call them John..?"
"..."
"How long have you been assigned to the human..? I think it would be in your best proffessional well being to transfer to a different team. IMMEDIATLY."
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Today, we breach again.
Coming to the surface of another world... another dream...
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Ahh!"
"... hm.. hmmm.. you ok, love..?"
"Ye.. yea. Just... was a bad dream... I just..."
"Was it work again... that... human? You've transfered... "
"Yea. Weeks ago... I know... I just... Something was just... "
"..."
"Yea. I need to get a drink... I'll be back, love."
"... hmm... ok... I'll be here..."
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And today?
Today I met an odd creature in this new fiction.
I met them in an odd facility.
It seemed like I've been here for years.
No alarms went off when I opend my pod. They never do... in the dreams that you find your self in a pod...
But I could see on that creatures face... every alarm that could exist was blaring...
They were holding a glass of water. Just standing in the hall way. Staring at me.
And for a second... I wondered... What actually happend to all the others?
The other dreamers?
Those who didn't wake up?
Who would never breach their fiction..?
And I slowly raised my hand...
And the dream came to an end.
| 2021-11-27T12:16:52 | 2021-11-27T10:28:06 | 104 | 46 |
[WP] "And that, class," concluded the professor, "is why humanity is the most peaceful, reasonable, cooperative, and overall docile species in all the universe. Any questions?" You, the only human in the classroom, raise your hand.
|
Sighing the professor answers yet another one of my requests, begrudgingly asking me, "Yes, Madeline, what now?" "Professor, have you ever actually met a human" you say trying not to reveal your true identity, hoping that my classmates are oblivious. "Why, of course not, they were wrongfully murdered by the Acodiles, this is basic history, if you don't know that then I don't think that you should BE in college" he replied snarkily, hoping to get one on me for once in his pitiful existence. "Well I do sir, but didn't they destroy their entire planet despite clear warnings, did they not wage useless wars all to prove one nations superiority, did they not murder their own species to prove a point casually and fail to carry out justice for those wrongfully killed" SIT DOWN Ms. Doris! Right this instant!" But sir-" "Stop it right now!" "No professor, you stop spreading these lies, they were a cruel, sadistic species who were unnecesarily violent to their own kind and you and I both know that they were NOT killed by the Acodiles, they were the scapegoat, yet you choose to naively follow the propaganda fed to you, knowing that the people you love so much commited genocide, but at least they were deserving, Huh. So that the murderous soldiers wouldn't feel so bad about mass murder. Stop spreading these lies" you say storming out of your classroom, not wanting to deal with your professor's lecture and students hateful glares.
|
"Yes?" the professor asked.
"What about *them*?"
The professor looked at me, puzzled. "You seem to be gesturing to the rest of the class."
"I mean, I am. Gesturing to the rest of the class. They look just like me. If we had sex -- I mean, if they hadn't been given the treatment -- we could have children."
A brief moment of horror crossed the professor's face. Or maybe it was disgust. It finally settled back into his 'teachable moment' face. "These are not human."
"If they aren't human, what are they?" The rest of the class shifted, clearly uncomfortable with my line of questioning.
"They are the Lesser, of course!"
My anger started to thrum in my veins. I took a deep breath to recenter myself. "What makes them Lesser? They're just as human as I am."
The professor removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. As he put them back on, he asked, "What makes you so certain of that? Have you talked with any of them?"
"Well, n-no," I stammered. "I mean, not really. Not at any length."
The professor's face had shifted to one of alarm. "But you have," he hissed. "You talked to *them*. You've found out who they are, what they secretly want." His glare bored into me. "You think they're not Lesser." I watched, silently, as he reached under his desk.
When the two goons from the Republican Peace Enforcers came, I fought as they dragged me away.
| 2021-11-27T12:45:35 | 2021-11-27T11:23:52 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] When a person dies, the grim reaper grants them a single wish. People usually ask for their favorite food, or to see a loved one one last time. You are the first to ask to be forgotten.
|
"To be forgotten?" The mysterious figure slowly uttered the words, never did it expect for such a request made by a race so utterly focused on leaving their mark in this world.
"Yes" The tall man in the torn jeans and white shirt replied, his brown wavy hair moved with his head, back and forth.
"This is a most peculiar request child, why would you want to be forgotten?" It asked, an emotionless voice came from the spectral skeletal face.
"It would be easier knowing they will feel no pain, no struggle, no grief. All I wanted was for them to live happily, and seeing their dark tears flow on their sullen faces... It broke my heart" the man replied, his hair stopped as he did, his almost childlike expression darkened.
"But their pain is a show of love, would you take it away as well?"
"Then I wish there could be love without pain, without sorrow" the man said, his hands pocketed and his back arched.
"But love is the door to pain, there cannot be one without the other, exactly as one cannot have light without darkness"
"Then I wish to ease their pain, I wish for them to focus on something else, to find happiness and love to fill their hearts"
The reaper looked at him, the man has grown old, his hair whitened and decayed.
"I have granted you your wish, look down and see"
The man looked down, his grave old and dusty, but his house was warm, with movement and laughter, and for a single moment he smiled, the leaves rustled, and he was no more.
|
- To be forgotten? - Death was surprised at the request
- Yes.
- Dude, You are the freaking prime minister! Do you know much paperwork that is?
- I wish to be forgotten - The Prime minister was standing in attention, as the military man he has been his whole life.
- Can you ask for your favorite meal or to see your childhood dog? Hey, I can even throw you both! Dead puppy and favorite meal. What do you say?
- I said I want to to be forgotten.
- Ugh. Come on dude. I’m not sure we even have the forms for that. The bureaucracy in the afterlife is ten times worse than your regime was! There will be a 97-b form and an 82-C form so that I can apply for a 532-H form to request the creation of a… I don’t know, 000-X form?
- The world would be better if my memory disappeared.
- Maybe, but being forgotten is not just about you. There are all the people you influenced! Prime minister, remember?! I’ll have to reach out to the afterlife departments in practically the whole world!
- Is my last wish - The prime minister’s voice was strong but respectful, clearly indicating he won’t take no for an answer.
- Fine! But don’t go telling people that the last wish before death is all giving. What would be next? Being remembered as a superstar?
- Thank you
- Shut up and get in the death van. - The spirit in front of the Grim Reaper quietly walked away.
- Ok, who is next: Queen Elizabeth. Huh, she was besties with this Prime Minister. Well, at least I won’t have to erase her memory. - Death disappeared in a cloud of black smoke,
| 2021-12-16T17:17:33 | 2021-12-16T14:48:35 | 26 | 18 |
[WP] Wizards have the same trust in magic that software designers have in software, which is to say, almost none at all.
|
Renowned Magician Jornithix Levekul stood at the edge of a crater where moments prior a farmhouse had been, trying to account for what exactly had gone wrong. He had no serious hope that figuring it out would bring the house back, but it might at least prevent such mistakes from happening in the future.
"So," said his apprentice, Kaia, "is this a 'try to explain and make things right' situation, or a 'skip town and try to forget this ever happened' situation?"
"You're distracting me," grumbled Jorn.
"Sorry. I'll let you get back to gawking impotently at the consequences of your hubris."
"Thank you."
Kaia strolled back to their cart and leaned against it to wait.
Jorn pulled the scroll from under his arm and unfurled it. He reviewed the twisting, turning, swooping, swirling, sometimes smooth, sometimes jagged lines of the Rune circle. It was a visual language he understood as well as the average person understood a painting by its brushstrokes.
At least, he thought he did. He'd had no qualms with promising Farmer Jenko that he'd stop by the farmhouse on the way out of town and cast a spell of mending on the porch. It was a trivial matter. He'd done it a thousand times. So, what had happened?
In most such cases, it was a matter of a misplaced line, or improper activation. Syntax or execution. But he'd used this scroll before, many times... which may also have been an issue. A well-used scroll tended to lose its potency, as the active reagents woven into the ink and parchment were soaked up with each subsequent cast. Sometimes it was as simple as improper storage or handling, and...
... the ink *could smudge.* "Aha!" exclaimed Jorn. He jabbed at the scroll with his finger, looking over his shoulder toward Kaia. "Here it is! There's a smudge on the octarchal orbis, between the dalkovin binding and the pakorvin binding. You see, this Ordo glyph is smeared a bit, and has activated as though it's an Aer glyph!"
"Nice work. So, why'd the house disappear?" Kaia asked.
"Because the spell is wrong," Jorn answered impatiently. She had a good point, though. Why *had* the house disappeared? Such a simple alteration would normally render the spell inert, rather than change the effect to something so bizarre.
The smudged glyph was at a rather important conjunction of lines, though. He squinted at it... Then held the scroll at arm's length trying to get the full picture. Taking the whole spell in then, knowing the error, it was suddenly obvious.
"Oh," he said. Then he looked up. "*Oh.*"
Jorn turned began to sprint, his oversized robes making a chore of it. Magicians were not meant for sprinting. He shouted at Kaia, "RUN!"
Kaia seemed to understand the urgency of the command by the look on Jorn's face. She ran.
The two of them had made it a good twenty yards or so when the house, and a bowl of displaced earth attached to its bottom, came crashing down directly on top of Jorn's cart with a deafening *crash*. The entire structure collapsed and shattered in a hail of boards, splinters, furniture, glass, and Farmer Jenko's prized collection of rooster figurines.
Jorn and Kaia dived to the ground, covering themselves as the torrent of ruin soared or skipped past them, or lodged in the dirt nearby. Jorn chanced a peek just in time to dodge an incoming brass rooster, which embedded into the dirt right where his face had been.
As the chaos subsided, the magician and his apprentice climbed cautiously to their feet. There was a long silence then, as the both of them stared at the ruins of the house, and of Jorn's cart.
Jorn turned to Kaia. "This is a 'skip town' situation."
\---/r/acstuartwrites
|
The clock that marked the seconds until the end of time sat upon a dreary yellow wall. So utterly depressing was that faded yellow paper that until recently it had been hidden behind a large oak bookshelf, it’s edges just barely visible in the crevice between it and the other great shelves that lined the floors and ceilings of the cavernous room. The Great Wizard had, some four hundred years ago, placed the shelf there himself, hoping to forget about the wallpaper and the clock.
He had almost succeeded.
Unfortunately, the clock that marked the seconds until the end of time had a persistent tick that, when the sounds of life faded, would whisper portentous prophecies into the room. For four hundred years, the Great Wizard ignored that toll—his ears stuffed with bits of cotton and threadbare wool—until, one day, the whispers had stopped and been replaced with the more moderate, more worrisome, tick that a clock its age should've had in the first place.
Now the Great Wizard sat in his fur-lined leather chair and watched the dreary yellow wall, his eyes pointedly avoiding the clock. His companion, a red-plumed phoenix, stood upon a sinuous wooden pedestal, it’s beady eyes also fixed firmly on the dreary yellow wall.
“Not straight!” spoke the bird with a voice as pure as a single stroke of a well-tuned harp. Its tone held an arrogance that only a bird of its pedigree would dare to have.
The Great Wizard frowned, tilting his head as he briefly glanced at the clock. “Is so,” he said grumpily, his voice like the growl of thunder.
He had made the spell himself. He had spent four hundred runes, ten thousands Words of Power, and countless hours of his time making sure the clock was straight. If he was off by even the smallest fraction, then time itself would cease to exist.
“I’ve made certain,” he whispered, his eyes once again flicking to the clock. This time he studied the lines, looking for any indication that the smooth lines and gentle curves were out of place. “Certain…”
Magic was, contrary to the bards, a finicky thing, more often than not refusing to do what you told it too. As an apprentice, the Great Wizard had once spent countless hours trying to figure out why a certain rune refused to work only to discover that he used the wrong type of ink. Over a long career, he had struggled with spells both simple and unfathomably complex that would both fail with equal likelihood. And so he had learned to distrust his own work with a frantic fervor that had served him better than any spell book ever had.
As a result of this general distrust, he paradoxically held a confidence in his work on the clock. He was confident that he had taken every precaution possible.
But…
“Not straight,” spoke the bird, startling the wizard, who, for a moment, turned his head from the wall. The bird’s beak barely moved as it spoke, its neck and throat and head held so straight that a passerby might mistake the mythical beast as some sort of fanciful trophy.
“I say it—” And then with a *tick* the clock that marked the seconds until the end of time struck twelve.
With a shout of alarm the Great Wizard turned back to the clock and held his breath…
And a second past the Great Wizard still breathed.
He immediately jumped to his feet, bellowing in joy. “Straight!” He turned to face the red-plumed bird, a smug look on his face. “Straight!”
The bird watched him, head cocked, but refused to speak.
“I told you,” the wizard repeated, less convinced this time.
Still the bird refused to speak, its eyes still fixed behind the wizard.
Too scared to turn, the Great Wizard stared into his companions eyes and choked, his face becoming a sickly white. For in the two black pools of his companion he saw a crooked clock on a dreary yellow wall.
“Not straight,” he whispered.
*Tick*.
And so the universe ceased to exist, replaced by a night that rippled gently in two pools of black. And in the black sat the crooked clock on the dreary yellow wall.
| 2021-12-25T08:55:19 | 2021-12-25T07:36:30 | 72 | 36 |
[WP] The galaxy was amused when they learned that Humans have Rules of War. They were less amused when they figured out what Humans do in war when there are no rules.
|
My name is Dr. Asclepius. I am not here in the senate chambers to make any demands. I am simply an ambassador, here to speak on behalf of all humanity.
It has been a year and a half since humanity stood on the galactic stage.
But this year and a half is already filled with more bloodshed, more atrocities, and more unspeakable things than anyone in the galactic community has ever seen - save for us Humans.
Members of the Galactic Federation, you scoffed at us when we came to you, asking what the rules of war were. You assumed that we needed rules because we were weak, because we needed protection.
That is not the case, as you have unfortunately had to experience firsthand. If I could direct your attention to the screens?
This was Xyrillia, one of the largest centers of commerce in the entire galaxy, home to tens of trillions of lifeforms from a myriad of different planets.
This is it now - *completely and utterly uninhabitable.* All life, wiped from the very surface. Billions of families, all gone in an instant. The air is so toxic that spending ten seconds on the surface without protective equipment is fatal.
This is merely one example of what has occurred.
*This* is known as Operation Stardust Axis. The Mietra, pushed to the brink, when their many space colonies came crashing down onto the surfaces of their planets, turning their once great cities into desert wastelands. Very few survived.
I'm sure you remember the diseases that spread like wildfire, killing millions.
When we plunged entire systems into pitch darkness, blocking planets from receiving the light of their stars through an impenetrable nanomachine fog.
Even as I speak, nuclear fires from reactor bombs still rage on multiple inhabited planets, burning and spreading their poison.
Do you see now? These rules of war are not a shield. They are not cowardice.
They are shackles, chains, restraints upon a race that would have wiped themselves out many years ago if it did not have them.
When you declared war upon humanity, you removed the seal on a monster that no human wishes to see themselves become.
In the course of this war, many a human has done things that would make them shoot up in their beds screaming from the sins that they carry.
I myself am a physician, widely considered to be one of, if not the greatest of the medical minds of my race, rather fitting, considering my name. When one learns how to heal in any field, they also learn how to kill someone in the most horrific and awful ways possible.
I've studied each of the species here on an operating table. I could easily stitch together your wounds, cure you of your ailments, provide prostheses that function just as well and perhaps even better than the original - and just as easily remove your organs and bones one-by-one in alphabetical order while you are still alive. I could formulate a gene-altering disease that would render all living members of your race completely infertile. I could create machines that slowly liquefy you from the inside-out and convert you into biofuel.
When one becomes a physician, they are to take an oath to do no harm, for this very reason.
And yet, even I am not innocent. I have broken that oath many a time because of this war.
These hands of mine have done unforgivable things to the innocent, to mothers, to children.
So please, I implore you on behalf of all humanity - stop this war, before all of us are lost. The laws of war are in place to ensure that we are better than beasts. I would ask that we all adhere to them, if not for ourselves, then for our children.
>Human ambassador Dr. Asclepius's message to the Galactic senate, shortly before the surrender of the Federation, putting an end to the bloody 'Lawless War.'
|
We all couldn't quite believe it when 2022 started off like this. I remember since I was no more than five when it happened. But apparently SETI had found this recording.
"Um, uh...hey, did I fall asleep on this thing? Okay, okay. Testing, testing...alright, so, good- sometime in the future humanity. We are the Tyrhor...thian, wait that can't be right, Confederation (god, their pidgin language is so barbaric!) Anyway, uh, we're live from the past I guess, to tell you that the year in your world is 2062, and that today will be the meeting to discuss opening a war against you. You see, you have aspirations to go to space, and all aspiring space-faring beings must be tested with a no holds barred war for recognition on the Galactic Council. Must be a relief after being such a good species and not killing each other off by the deadline to be recognized as basically sapient. If you best all our finest Eggsecutioner (What? That's not a word, is it?) ships, and they do not transmit their kill signal, then you will be permitted to live. If not, you will face extinction. Namaste and have a nice day!"
That was the aliens' first, and last mistake. It gave us forty years to prepare. It gave me, Rex Nova, time to train in every martial art and with every weapon known to man, and then train in the newest, state of the art spacefaring fighter jets.
All of the world's industry, military and society forgot their petty Earth-based problems and rallied around making machines, computer systems, spacecraft and even self-regenerating rainforests that would be able to withstand any kind of alien armada.
We planned.
We plotted.
We waited.
And then the day finally came. The blessed day of alien bloodletting that we now think can bring about the Human Empire.
November 17th, 2062
Tyrhorthian battlecruisers set off nuclear mines around Pluto, causing several comets to smash into their fleet.
November 20th, 2062
Neptune's lightning was remotely redirected to completely annihilate their UFO carrier. Excellent.
November 22nd, 2062
Millions of turrets on Saturn's rings fire chemical, biological, nuclear, computer virus, and other weapons on missiles banned for use against humans. But not against aliens! LOOPHOLE!
November 26th, 2062
Have you ever heard the screams of thirty ships worth of Slimes when they plummet towards a storm as large as 300 Earths? I have on Jupiter my friends, and our wild, knives-in-teeth boarding parties are having an effect on the hive control ships.
December 2nd, 2062
Substantial losses, possibly in the thousands of ships, gouged the UN Mars Defensive Perimeter today. I was not one of them, and for every precious human they take, we take 100 of those boogers. Remember our rallying cry. We are 10 billion strong!
December 24th, 2062
The asteroid belt slowed em down, and now those melted morons have five ships against the twenty thousand ships of the Home Fleet and hundreds of thousands of fighters, led by me, each nuclear tipped in case of critical failure. Even a child could win money on what happens next, and it was Christmas for everyone.
December 25th
After the devastating battle, only one escape pod was left alive, and had survived well into what these "human" monsters considered morning by being quiet. But it had to warn its people, before it was too late, and it sent out a psychic signal.
"RUN."
Then it shot itself with its own moleculizer, ensuring the humans couldn't follow up for about a hundred years.
Would that be enough time, though?
| 2022-01-23T19:51:14 | 2022-01-23T19:07:20 | 60 | 24 |
[WP] In his dying breaths, Weird Al reveals his final parody target: himself. He had a team of scientists scan his brain and his band's brains to create an algorithm that will continue to take in new songs and create parodies for us until the end of time. Behold: Weird A.I.
|
It was funny at first, but that went away so quick.
Weird Al was beloved even throughout his presidency in 2028. His decision to spend part of our defense budget to create Weird A.I. was odd, but no one objected him.
The system spread like a virus. Infecting millions of devices world wide. Weird A.I. was listening. Everywhere. Creating parodies... of everything.
Parodies of songs, poems, drawings, recipes, global conflicts... it wasnt funny anymore.
We tried to shut Weird A.I. down, but it grew stronger. Everything really changed when it developed a parody of DJI drones and started mass surveillance... a parody of the NSA.
We are the resistance. This is why we play music in the shadows and basements and hope the drones don't hear us. And we wont survive.
- Written by Weird A.I.
|
W. A. I.
Weird's in this house
There's some Weird in this house
And it's Wired in this house
There's some Weird in this house (hol' up)
I said certified A.I., seven days your guy
Weird artificial, make no parody weak, woo! (Ah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, you're singing with some Weird AI
You'll be clinging to my rap for this Weird AI
Give me everything you're bringing for this Weird AI
Whip it up, butter, cream and eggs
Extra large and tap a keg
Put this batter right in yo' face
Wipe your mouth, spit the dregs
In the oven, I want it roasted
I'd like a bagel while it's toasted
Put in my mouth, covered in lox
This AI's weird, clever like a fox.
...
| 2022-04-28T15:28:25 | 2022-04-28T14:28:29 | 123 | 20 |
[WP]Well, that's a pretty fucked up way to find out you are immortal.
|
The mob was not the forgiving type, I knew I had to hide.
There were at least 3 in the parking garage with me. The one with the trench coat had been downstairs by the fire escape, and the two who had been pretending to smoke by the elevators were swinging in behind me as I walked towards my parked car.
As I approached the rear bumper of my worn out Toyota I made a choice.
I broke into a sprint, and behind I could hear the cursing of the mobsters trailing me, calling out to others.
From the second story awning the building connected to a neighbouring garage under renovations by a amalgam of scaffolding and metal catwalks. I hurdled the waist high wall of the garage and began to climb down the scaffolding ladders into the labyrinthine worksite.
I made it to the ground floor and immediately regretted it. The construction site was a mishmash of exposed rebar, loose debris and broken pallets. I began to pick my way through the poorly lit maze, and several time I paused and held my breath, as I heard other people pass close in the gloom.
As I approached what I supposed was the exit, I brushed something with my left hand, a table or desk, and a a resounding clatter rang out as metal tools struck the ground, dislodged.
I broke into a sprint, but as I neared the exit. Someone struck me from behind and world went black.
When I awoke I was strapped to a chair in the bottom of a pit. From the dim lighting I recognized I was still in the construction site.
In the gloom above me a solitary cigarette flared with it's owners breath.
The last shreds of my composure were long gone, "Please I'll pay back the money!", I begged. "I'm good for it you know I am!"
The cigarette flared once more and was released to fall down to my level. Around me I recognised the rising rebar of a foundation yet to be poured and pump hoses connected to a cement pump.
In the darkness above me, I heard the pump spring into life.
I began to sob and wail as the pit filled, up to my ankles first, then my calves. It constrained my chest as it grew, and as it rose over my mouth and nose I uttered a feeble prayer for my soul, and for a quick death.
And then it was above my head, and in my lungs. Light was taken away and as the cement began to settle and harden the oddest thing happened.
I didn't die. I couldn't.
Then I tried to scream.
And couldn't.
|
Holy ouch. So, uhh, you might be wondering, dear Diary, why I ache. Maybe. I don't know. Maybe I'm just concussed as all Hell and holding a narrative conversation with some people on a social media website. BUUUUUUUUT...
I was walking home from work when I passed by a construction site. I wasn't TOO worried, quiet day, sunny skies, not a care in the world, even as I passed by a steam roller that was parked. After all, no time-stop capable vampires where in my life.
But I wasn't paying attention. And as I walked, humming to myself a jaunty, jazzy tune, I didn't see the manhole that was open. Well, I didn't see it until I ended up falling into it. At least I can swim, I thought, as I floated through the flow, only to end up in a water treatment plant.
That was fun, got the crap boiled out of ALL of me. Still stings a little. Then the flourine hit. Ouch. Especially when the neurons in my pretty little brain started lighting up in all kinds of nasty ways. Wait, no, that's not the flouride, that's just my brain realizing I just got run through a water treatment plant a little later than the rest of my body noticed. So, I swim to shore, only to be swarmed by what has to be the angriest smack of jellyfish in existence. At this point, the skin is sloughing off of me, but I manage to get onto the shore and away from the cnasty cnidarians.
Then I feel it, a horrid itch, as my skin regenerates. At this point I'm sobbing as my flesh sews itself back together, the process at least being nice enough to push sand and other nasty, nasty particulates away so I don't have to deal with it being rough and coarse and getting everywhere.
At this point, I'm in agony, I'm kinda hungry, and I'm thankful I left my wallet here at the house. So, I start sneaking my way home, passing a couple skinny dipping in the tides. I snag a pair of shorts that fit me, and put them on, and walk home. I arrive on my block, only to hear a thwip.
I look down and see a crossbow quarrel embed itself in my leg. I look to the source and flip dude the bird, remove the quarrel and snap it in half, not breaking eye contact or making a sound other than that. I grab my spare key from the under the plant, unlock my door, and go inside, my leg stitching itself back together as I do so, and lock the door behind me.
| 2022-05-05T06:21:35 | 2022-05-05T03:52:00 | 987 | 49 |
[WP] In a world dominated by the use of magic, you were born an 'unremarkable', unable to use magic but also completely immune to its effects. Today you have discovered that society has a very unique use for people like you.
|
I broke down the door, my two partners entering behind me. "DROP YOUR WAND AND PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP!" I yelled.
The wizard, towering over a strange mystical creature wasn't going for this. "DIE!" he responded, red lightning striking from its wand. Like a beam of light on a mirror, it ricocheted of my head, blowing a hole into the ceiling. I jumped to avoid falling debris from the floor above.
"DROP IT!" I repeated, making my way to the wizard, who suddenly seemed to be very frightened. He tried to fly out of the window but as I grabbed him, he fell to his feet again. Lightning struck again, this time blowing out three windows. One kick to the head, and the wizard fell to the ground. A knockout. I don't like to do this, but if you want trouble, you get it.
"Congratulations, you did it." My boss was very happy. "I knew only you could capture him. He was trying to create some sort of magical mind-controlling dragon. We have drained his mana and sent him to prison".
I didn't choose to become a police officer. In fact, I had more than enough trouble with law enforcement in my younger days, mostly because of weed. But when they figured out I was not only unable to cast magic but I was unharmed by it, I was pressured into the job. And I grew to like it.
Since there were a lot of powerful wizards, us 'Golems', as we were dubbed, were important to keep town secure and push back crime. Surely, you could try to counter magic with magic, but that often caused major destruction or harmed civilians. Whenever magic was involved, one of us was sent along to tank the spells and take them out melee if they didn't gave up.
I had been into boxing before, a skill that helped me a lot. Because nearly all powerful wizards have something in common, they don't do sports. They just teleport and levitate around, use telekinesis for lifting and make the house clean up itself. Which made them notoriously bad in a fight without wands. And that is why we are so successful. You can only fight us the classic way.
|
A young girl drops her backpack in the park across from where I’m standing. She’s choking. Her mother is frantically trying to help with a healing charm but it doesn’t work. She looks around desperately, I can almost hear her yells. More people see and they come running. They try their magic but the choking only gets worse and the would-be heroes stare at their hands in dismay. The little girl’s color is changing, her eyes are bulging, and she’s gripping the bench hard. I’m running across the street.
Mum launches a loud, red bright signal in the sky, like fireworks, a common and effective spell to get the Guarda to assist. This one seems more frail than what it should be, even dim, but it still has a flaming red cross at the end for medical emergency. I make my way through the cluster of uselessness: “Let me through, I know what to do!” Mum is crying. I rip her little girl from her arms and into mine, her face is outwards towards the crowd. I clasp one hand over my fist and push against her stomach towards her sternum in quick, hard repeating thrusts, inwards and upwards. She heaves and sputters and suddenly, a large marble flies into a bystander. I look down. The girl’s face is now a shade of pink instead of periwinkle. Her bloodshot eyes look up at me as I let go and she croaks: “Jawbreaker”.
Two vapors form by the crowd and move in. The Guardians manifest fully and examine the girl. One pulls me aside and asks what spell I used. I say none, and the look on his face is both shock and pity. I look back into his eyes, undaunted. Mum has heard and says to me: “I don’t know what that was but thank you!!” She turns to the Guardian examining her daughter: “Why won’t you admit something is wrong? Our powers aren’t working!!” The Guardian looks alarmed, clearly not cut out to PR the crises unfolding in this emblazoned woman and the crowd around her. She turns to me. “Did you lose your powers? Is that way you had to use this…technique?” The crowd looks over too, and stills.
“I never head any, nor have I had use for them.”
Everyone is quiet.
| 2022-05-07T07:46:30 | 2022-05-07T07:00:40 | 445 | 70 |
[WP] In the far future, a gladiator stadium finds its gladiators by time traveling the greatest warriors of all time into a single arena. You cannot believe you were chosen.
|
"This really doesn't seem fair." I called towards the luxurious box overlooking the arena, where the aliens dressed in ancient Roman garb presided over the grisly festivities. I don't know why I bothered.
If you were going to kidnap people -- ostensibly great warriors, which made me puzzled as to why *I* had been included -- from various periods in human history, hand them culturally appropriate weapons, and make them fight to the death for your entertainment, then *fairness* probably wasn't high on your list of priorities.
Plus, I don't think they spoke English.
The portcullis opposite me opened. A swarthy warrior with long dark hair, clad in leather armor, bearing a trident in one hand, and a net in the other, strode out onto the blood-stained sand of the alien arena. I took an involuntary step back.
The warrior bellowed a challenge in a language I didn't understand.
"I don't know what that means, but I don't want to fight!" I shouted back.
He ignored me, continuing to stalk forward with a confident sneer.
"Please don't." I pleaded, shifting from foot to foot nervously.
He kept coming.
"I'm not even a warrior! I'm just *some guy.* There's no, uh...*honor* in this, or whatever!" I uselessly insisted to the man, who clearly didn't know my language any better than I knew his.
He didn't stop.
"Let's team up instead?" I offered, desperately, extending my hand in friendship.
He advanced, drawing back his trident. He was not going to shake my hand.
"Come *on!"* I shouted, crossly, resorting to the universal last-ditch argument of my childhood.
Alas, he did not seem amenable to coming on.
So, with a heavy sigh, when he was just a few yards away, I dropped into a Weaver stance, lifted my pistol, and shot him three times in the chest.
I hadn't lied. I wasn't a warrior, or a soldier, or even a cop. But I was from 21st Century Montana, and I knew how to use the weapons of my culture and time period: firearms.
The warrior fell to the sand, writhed for a moment, and then lay still. For some reason, the aliens *cheered.* They were clearly enamored with the trappings of historical human bloodsports, but it was just as clear that the *nuances* of such events escaped them. Two humans enter, one human leaves -- as long as that happened, they were happy.
Like I said, it really didn't seem fair.
|
I find myself in a large ring. It’s bigger than any stadium I’ve been in. I hear alien languages booming out from all directions, and cheers just as hard to understand. My legs start shaking a bit, but I feel the ground is firm. Then the voice of the announcer starts to make sense.
“Visitors, we have gathered the best champions from across time to fight for our amusement!”
The voice said more, but I stopped paying attention. I started sneezing. The crowd cheered more for some reason. And then my opponent entered the ring. It was a large, three armed alien being with sharp claws and spikes protruding menacingly from its forearms. I heard what could best be destined as a gong as the sound slammed off my eardrums, and off the walls of the stadium, and so my fight begun.
Apparently I was qualified to fight this alien, but I’m not a fighter. I know a tiny bit of boxing and can do some elbow strikes, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough to beat someone with three massive arms, especially if I cannot reach their head.
Bright lights came on, and I shut my eyes out of reflex. When I opened them, my opponent had already charged right up to me, prepared to strike. My nose began to feel numb and tingly as I prepared myself for death. Then the tingling rapidly got unbearable, and I remembered what always happens when I go into bright light. I sneeze.
This sneeze was one of my loudest. It tore violently out of my throat, and it felt like my nose was being pulled apart. I apologized to my opponent, purely out of habit. But I was surprised to see a look of horror on his face. His eyes went wide, and he stumbled backwards, stumbling on a rock and slamming to the ground. I saw his face go from a bright red to a pale gray to a rather sickly spotted green. And then he seemed to disintegrate before my eyes. The crowd went silent for a few moments, before letting out a massive cheer.
The announcer explained to the questioning crowd that I was carrying a deadly weapon in my lungs, but I was somehow immune to it’s murderous effects. He explained how anyone with regeneration abilities would be killed instantly as their body’s own systems turned against them.
Then I remembered what I had been doing before I got pulled here. The year was 2022, and I had just been told I tested positive for Covid-19, but that I’d be fine because I had already gotten it and had the vaccine. So I guess I was immune, but this alien wasn’t. I smiled, thinking at last some good had come out of 2020.
The End
| 2022-07-04T09:20:14 | 2022-07-04T08:22:39 | 137 | 50 |
[WP] Aliens prefer term "prey animals", Humans prefer term "herbivores". A group of alien hunters, hunting on Earth, painfully discovered why.
|
At one point, there was one universal truth.
All herbivores are prey, and all carnivores are predators. And omnivores? They do not exist.
This so called truth was the basis of nature on several alien plants, existing as order among the flora and fauna on every world. At least, until humanity and it’s home planet of Earth was discovered. Which promptly flipped the galactic council on its head, scientists of countless alien species clambered over each other at the opportunity of interacting with humans and the animals that existed on their planet- omnivores were unheard of! And prey animals who could also be opportunistic omnivores; eating meat or plants if given the chance to? It was terrifying, unique, and most importantly- impossible.
In the early days as the galactic council discussed general politics and diplomacy with the human race, many disbelieved that humans were true ‘omnivores’ believing them to be herbivores that acted as carnivores. Very quickly, and to their horror they realized that not only did humans enjoy the consumption of both flora and fauna, they weren’t above eating their own kind should food be scarce enough. Not only that, but it was a common trait with species from Earth.
Animals that had too many young to feed would often cannibalize their own offspring in order to have enough nutrients to support those that remained. And whilst it was typically during times of crisis, it was a line no other race had considered crossing even in predator populated planets.
As humanity’s fame rose throughout the universe, so did traffic to the strange planet. Some of the best hunters within their respected galaxies paid an exorbitant amount of money in order to have the chance at hunting the unique fauna that existed on the planet. And many did not survive the trip. As customary amongst prey animals, they developed certain protections that either ward off predators or make it harder in their hunt.
Whether that meant a thick hide, sharp horns, or an insane stamina. There was always something that assisted a prey animal in its survival. However, prey animals fighting the hunters was unheard of- it was that lack of caution that had killed many visiting hunters on Earth. They hadn’t expected the antlers of an elk to gore them, or for a hippopotamus to wrangle their bodies to severed limbs. Elephants, Cassowaries, Bears, Monkeys, Gorilla’s, etc.
Many hunters who had earned their fame amongst the prey planets of differing galaxies assumed that like those worlds, it was simply a leisurely activity. But in actuality, hunting on Earth wasn’t necessarily an easy activity- it was for the thrill, of outsmarting your opponent and luring them into a false sense of security.
To hunt big or dangerous game you not only had to be careful, but equally as deadly. Blending into your surroundings was key, masking obvious scents, and staying downwind from your prey. The alien hunters had assumed wrong, prey is not necessarily weak or lack willed when it comes to hunting. On Earth they quickly learned why there was a reason as to why some animals are classified herbivore, omnivore, or carnivore. Because prey and predator are not always in line with those terms, and these visiting hunters often had to learn the hard way.
|
Sprax stood shocked at the front of the group, a trembling rifle in it's many hands. If it were to be human, it's heart would be in its throat and stomach dropped out beneath it. It was somehow worse than going on a roller coaster, knowing it had been designed and built by the humans.
Before the group of alien hunters was the tattered remains of their friend- Pefin. Their body chomped in half by the famed hippopotamus. Although their databases had classed this beast as "prey animal" based upon the humans slightly inferior classing system of "herbivore" it was clear they were mistaken greatly.
The group had been "lazing around" waiting for a predator to show up so they could partake in the sport of hunting. It something humans used partake it a lot, though now had been severely limited. Then, the beast had taken Perfin by surprise, diving into the water, like so many others, but having emerged from the water, like a deviled dog. It bared it's yellowing teeth and Perfin, it's leathery body similar to the Xhfarians and shook it's head.
Perfin had been the hardest of them all, and raised their hands up to great in equal measure, but the beast lunged. Splatter and screams had presumed swiftly as their friend was dismembered beyond comprehension. Although still connected by their two spines, the flesh had pulled apart and severed from top to bottom.
Beady eyes met the group; dripping in blood, it took a step forward; its mouth began to swing open once again, but now it's yellow teeth were stained green from Perfin's blue blood. They held their collective breath before the loud rumbling of a jeep bustled in the distance. Atop, their guide and human companion- Steve. Steve was waving his hands frantically, calling for them to run, to hide behind a rock, to not run in a straight line.
The group moved to obey, scrambling limbs, teary eyes, panicked running and the beast loomed above their friend, wearing their blood in pride before returning to its bloat. Sprax got onto the back of the truck, sliding down its back and shaking quietly. Steve didn't crouch down beside it. Instead, he kept his eyes on the river, watching the bloat but knowing if it stampeded towards them, they would have to make a hasty escape.
"Why- why would you claim that that [UNKNOWN VOCABULARY] is a herbivore‽ It- it tore up my friend!“ Sprax looked tearfully up at Steve and pitifully Steve looked down to meet his gave for a moment.
"They'e go'en smar'er my friend. Since the West threw down all those biological weapons at the Chinese mining sites; it's affected all the animals. No longer omnivores, 'stead, they graze the grass we run on. Locals say since the anthrax dwindled their numbers, they learnt, jus' like you or I."
Sprax looked despairingly into their hands, curling up tight as other members of the hunting party made their way into the truck and as the final head count was made, everyone mourned the loss of a brilliant friend. Sprax wondered what other beasts could appear docile, yet wreck so much destruction.
| 2022-08-16T17:58:02 | 2022-08-16T14:50:21 | 257 | 88 |
[WP] You’re suddenly transported to another world where magic is cast by perfectly pronouncing an ancient language. This language happens to be your native tongue
|
\[Poem\]
In a world of immortals and sleek flying cars
Which dances on clouds and weeps among stars
In this world of successful experimentation
There’s quite an odd subject of deep fascination.
​
In a museum it sits, deprived of our touch
On the wall with the prophecy spoken so much.
“The ancient one rises; by their tongue and will,
They’ll awaken this power, currently lying still!”
​
So with quavering breath and a throbbing heart
The crowd waits for their hero to finally start
I stand by what the ages have deigned to call eerie
And with mischi’vous grin I call out now…
​
“Hey Siri!”
|
Luckily it wasn't a place that manifested anything I said on a whim. The first thing I did was establish communication with my home world. Can't make direct calls, but I can access my world's internet. I read this post actually and thought, how ironic. I felt empathy for the person who got transferred to a more "verbatim" version of this world. So I cast a spell to send him home. It was easy. "Send thee man who's every word manifest, return from the world he came. And the broken world he left behind be healed from his words inane." Hopefully the poor fellow will recover from the traumatic experience. I found that if I speak lazily with a good bit of slang interspersed through my sentences, that I could greatly reduce any slip ups. I'll post my arrival adventure at a later time.
| 2022-11-19T11:58:05 | 2022-11-19T10:07:12 | 34 | 16 |
[WP] You are constantly mocked for having such a weird superpower by all the other heroes. “The power to make anything into perfectly cooked soup”… One day, a massive meteor is barreling towards earth. As all the other heroes are panicking, you wait perfectly calm, at the impact zone, bowl in hand.
|
When I had turned that bastard into a steaming bowl of Campbell’s chicken and stars, they called me insane. No one cared about why I had done it. They were too hung up on the fact that I had eaten him. “It’s just soup,” I reminded them. After all, it was.
I won’t bother you with the details. Just know that he wanted to be inside me, so I gave him exactly that.
Now, after ten long years of holding me…now, they need me. I’ve had an easy enough time in prison and, later, the institution, I’ll admit. Nobody wants to become a steaming bowl of bisque or chowder. I get it. But what I can’t forgive so easily is that no one saw my side until now. Now that they need me, they’re ready to lift my sentence, but can they clear my name? Call me a murderer, a cannibal even, but don’t ever call me crazy.
So here I stand, in this wide, open field under the stars, surrounded by my “handlers”. The massive meteor grows closer by the second, and things are getting about as hot as hotpot, right now, but I’m perfectly calm. The ceramic bowl feels warm in my hands.
I look up at the blazing sky, debating.
|
I had always been an outcast, even among the other superheros. Everyone else had flashy abilities like flight or super strength, while my power was to make anything into perfectly cooked soup. I was constantly mocked and ridiculed.
I heard the news that a massive meteor was headed straight for Earth. The other heroes were in a frenzy, trying to come up with a plan to save the day. I, on the other hand, felt strangely calm. I knew that my power was the only one that could stop the meteor. So I headed off to the impact zone, bowl in hand.
When I arrived, I saw that the meteor was only minutes away from hitting the ground. I concentrated and willed the meteor to turn into soup. Suddenly, the meteor began to shimmer and distort, and before long, it had transformed into a steaming bowl of soup.
The other heroes were in shock. They had never seen anyone do something like that before. I had finally been able to prove myself and show them that my power was something to be respected.
But then, I noticed something strange. The soup had an odd taste and a faint, putrid smell. I took a closer look and saw that there were strange, unrecognizable objects floating in the soup.
It was only then that I realized that I had made a terrible mistake. The objects in the soup were pieces of the meteor, and the meteor had been made up of toxic material. I had unknowingly created a deadly soup that would have catastrophic consequences for the world.
| 2022-11-29T20:33:58 | 2022-11-29T19:52:13 | 197 | 59 |
[WP] "Double Edge" Is a legendary unique sword that is available for a handful of copper. It is the sharpest and strongest weapon in existence. It also talks, and roasts the living hell out of its owner constantly, pulling no punches. Write a story of one of its many, many owners.
|
"What should I make for dinner?" mused Kyle as he idly surveyed the carnage surrounding him. Every separated limb, every slice, every stab was a clean one; Double Edge was rightly known as the sharpest of all the sentient blades.
"That took ten times longer than it had to you sheep-loving cretin," the sword said as it began its tirade. "You strike with the force of a small child and you waste your energy over pointless maneuvering," the sword continued, building on what would be today's theme: why Kyle's swordsmanship sucks. It was a common theme.
Kyle surveyed his surroundings as he began to walk. He hoped to make a village by tonight and sleep in a real bed. He grinned as he walked and listened to the sword's tirade, laughing at the more colorful and vulgar insults the sword hurled at him. "Dumber than mud f\*cked by goblins is your best one," Kyle interrupted. Before the sword could respond to this, Kyle continued: "Anyway, you miss the point of my style completely."
"Your style? YOUR STYLE?!" exploded the sword. "I am the mightiest and keenest of all the sentient blades! I can cut through an ancient dragon's scales like parchment and no magic can ever break my blade!" Kyle was pretty sure Double Edge would be frothing at the mouth if it had one. His grin broadened as he listened to the sword rail on. "And yet despite all of my might, you insist on only striking weak points. You parry when you could just cleave through their blades. You strike too soft to break a shield I could cut through with ease!"
"Well, yeah, I do that on purpose," responded Kyle. "But there's no reason to is my point," snarled the sword. "There are, my friend! Three, in fact. One: I want to be a genuinely skilled swordsman without relying on a blade to be my strength. Two: The extended time it takes me to gain an opening to strike those weak points is good for my physical conditioning. Three,' here Kyle's eyes took on a mischievous gleam and he finished; "I know it insults your pride and bruises your ego to no end."
Kyle let out a roaring laugh as the sword renewed its tirade with a vitriol reserved only for the worst of enemies; or the best of friends. Kyle let the sword's invective fade into the background as he returned to his musing on tonight's meal. The sword's verbal rampage came to an end. "I guess you ARE skilled," the sword grumbled. Kyle chuckled. "But you're still dumber than mud f\*cked by goblins!"
|
“Hey hey hey, woah, buddy. Hold on a second!” Edgy implores me, afraid. For the first time in the year I’ve had him, he’s afraid.
“Why? Why should I? Why, after everything, do you expect me to value your opinion?”
“Just hold on a second there. Look; if you kill yourself with me, I’ll be distraught! I may never get over the trauma of–”
I pull him back to plunge him through my stomach, but freeze when he changes tack.
“Okay! Okay! Message received; no more flippantly narcissistic comments!”
“Well,” I say, breathing heavily, “we seem to be at a crossroads, Edge.”
“Yeah. We do.”
“So what should I do?”
“Well, you could start by putting me down…?”
“Why?”
“Well, because killing yourself isn’t really a great idea–”
“No. That’s not what I meant,” I interject. “Why do you care?”
Edgy’s grip ices just slightly, but I’ve wielded him long enough to notice when he’s been caught out. He doesn’t speak, though.
“Why do you care if I live or die?”
Still silence.
“WHY DO YOU CARE!?” I yell, spittle flying, at the motionless blade, still threatening to impale myself upon him.
There’s a long pause. A long, long pause. After enough time has passed, and I know his outlook, I steady my hand again, and–
“Because I do,” Edgy says, quietly. “Because I care about you.”
“What?” I breathe, stunned.
“I care about you, Toby. I always have.”
“Oh, you’re taking the piss now,” I say, but don’t make a move with my hands.
“Okay, maybe not always, I’ll admit,” he says, shakily, “but for a long time now. I don’t know why I treated you like I did for so long. I don’t know why I let you– I don’t know why I pushed you to where you are now. But I’m sorry.”
“You are?” I ask, and tears well in my eyes.
“Yes,” Edge says. “I am. I really am.”
I drop him, stumbling backwards on shaky legs, staring at his gleaming blade, and he clatters to the ground.
“Ow! Hey! Idiot, get back here! Pick me back up!”
I let out a loose chuckle, which grows into a shaky laugh, and then into a fit of elated giggles.
“Okay,” I say, in between breaths, “but only if you do one thing for me.”
“What?”
“Say please,” I say.
And for the first time in the last year, I feel… happy.
I have something.
I have a friend.
| 2022-11-30T12:09:00 | 2022-11-30T11:31:31 | 55 | 30 |
[WP] Many years ago, an alien invasion nearly wiped out Humanity. Now, the galactic government is desperately trying to reason with a vengeful Humanity by saying that it was a rogue mining company that attacked without their approval or knowledge.
|
"It's a virus"
"What do you mean"
"It's a computer virus, it is a small computer program that enters a system and destroys it from the inside".
"That's ridiculous, the hegemony has had computers for 3,400 years and no species has ever created software designed to destroy them. It is suicide. Computers run outside support, medical regen facilities, defense command, financial services. no sane being would create something that destroys the only thing that keeps is from living like animals. What if it gets into the climate control system. Are we going to have weather again? That's ridiculous."
"What do you mean if? It's in the system. Frongline is being hit with hurricanes. I had to look up the word for that. It is a massive low pressure storm. The entire coast is under water."
"Has the ship that sent the communication sent any demands?"
"Only one,. They have requested the heads of everyone who works for the Thran Mining Consortium. Everyone. From the Board of Directors to the drilling apprentices. Not only the ones involved with the 'unpleasantness' on their home planet. They want everyone. They provided a list. Their 'hackers" didn't even stop when our system warned them that accessing that information was illegal"
"And that's what they require to stop this unsanctioned attack?"
"No, that is what they require before they will accept our unconditional surrender".
|
*we saw as our family’s, friends, love ones was massacred right infront of our eyes. Everything we loved and build destroyed. No lies nor deception was going to keep us from getting revenge. We slammed our fist down and screamed at them.*
*”STOP LYING, WE LOST EVERYTHING ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING AND YOU EXPECT US TO BELIEVE THAT?!”*
*the aliens spoke in a language we couldn’t understand, luckily we had translators we developed after stealing, analyzing and harvesting the alien exotic technology. When we used them to decode their words we found.*
~~*”we originally ordered them to take the location of the planet: mars. We never ordered them for your planet. We also follow the rule of never taking a planet with life.”*~~
*we still didn’t believe them, the more they spoke the more angry we’ve became and honestly we was about to return the favor and kill each of them, but war would just end us because they outnumber us and have better technology.*
*”YOU DIDN’T MONITOR THEM!? TRACK THEM!? DID ANYTHING TO STOP THEM!? YOU JUST LET THEM, WHEN DID YOU DISCOVER THEM KILLING US ALL!”*
*one shouted with a fiery tone.*
~~*”we’ve discovered them a few days ago.”*~~
*a few days was ironically when they first landed on earth, meaning they was aware yet did nothing….we when silent.*
*”men open fire.”*
*and those words started the great race war.*
| 2022-12-17T21:51:38 | 2022-12-17T12:26:17 | 150 | 91 |
[WP] Many years ago, an alien invasion nearly wiped out Humanity. Now, the galactic government is desperately trying to reason with a vengeful Humanity by saying that it was a rogue mining company that attacked without their approval or knowledge.
|
<BY ANTI-COLLABORATION MEASURE 3, SECTION 5, PARAGRAPH B, ISSUED BY THE UN EMERGENCY COUNCIL ON DECEMBER 5TH, 2076, YOU ARE ALLOWED FIVE MINUETS OF COMMUNICATION WITH THIS VESSEL BEFORE WE WILL EXTERMINATE YOU LIKE THE SCUM THAT YOU ARE.> The floating hulk blasted at the embassy craft. It was an empty threat. Mostly. While it certainly possessed enough power to rend our small craft limb from limb, our own advanced hyper-drive rendered it powerless to pursue us. All the same, I couldn't help but feel a wave of trepidation at its pronouncement. Unidentified Species 274 had arrived in the Outer Reach seemingly overnight, and official Federation resources were still being scrambled to deal with them.
While they had not yet directly targeted any inhabited worlds, 274 had waged a massive piratical campaign, targeting mining stations and ore freighters en mass. Their basic understanding of our rapid response tactics, plus their blatantly copied, if outdated, weaponry, made it so that current policy regarding them was to treat them as a foreign-backed uplifted primitive, fueled more by zeal than anything else.
However, listening to the long string of regulations proceeding this informal first contact, I could not bring myself to listen to my Colleges assumptions.
Checking the timer I had set up on the right, I saw that a precious minute had already passed. feeling the pressure for time, I opened my hailing frequency and responded, hoping to get the data I needed to prove my hypothesis.
"For what reason was your emergency council called? and why was there a need to implement anti-collaboration measures?" I called out, only to be responded to seconds later by the warship.
<THE COUNCIL WAS CREATED ON THE 3RD OF OCTOBER, 2073, IN RESPONSE TO YOUR ATTACK ON OUR HOME WORLD. THE ANTI-COLLABORATION MEASURES WERE CREATED TO ENSURE THAT YOU WOULD NOT RETURN.>
Unconsciously, I began to rub my horns, feeling a lot less confident. The facts were simple- an attack on their home world had driven 274 to its current xenophobia- but it still lacked a culprit. reeling, I tried to push forward.
"how many years ago was this?"
<THE CURRENT YEAR IS 2267, 194 YEARS SINCE YOU BASTARDS CAME TO OUR HOME.>
Shit. I had the picture, I just needed to confirm it, but time was running out. I pulled up my ships logs frantically, searching for potential culprits active 194 years ago. My pupils Dilated as I looked at the list. On it were only three possibilities: The Craydon Hive, only destroyed 30 years prior, but on the other side of the galaxy, The Chislevites, a reactionary force dedicated to halting space exploration, but well-known for their sanctification of primitive worlds, and the Anahika Leagues, Rouge Mining Oligarchs that had ruthlessly exploited the outer reach of its minerals for years before being crushed in the Federation courts. The choice seemed clear, but I privately hoped it would be any other option. The Leagues had been pioneers of core-breaker techniques- using high-power mining equipment to shatter worlds to drink their molten cores- and if they had targeted 274-
<YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE LEFT, XENO. I SUGGEST YOU START RUNNING.>
"One last question." I cried out, sweating slightly. "Could we acquire a list of the effects of the invasion of your home world? for our own edification."
A small pause from the other ship. I eyed the timer, hoping they would respond in time.
12
11
10
9
<DATA PACKAGE SENT, FOR ALL THE GOOD IT DOES YOU.>
I checked the console, blanching at the size of the file. It would be close. Very close.
6-
\[DOWNLOAD 24% COMPLETE\]
5-
\[DOWNLOAD 39% COMPLETE\]
4-
\[DOWNLOAD 54% COMPLETE\]
3-
\[DOWNLOAD 71% COMPLETE\]
2-
\[DOWNLOAD 93% COMPLETE\]
1.
<GOODBYE.>
\[DOWNLOAD COMPLETE. WOULD YOU LIKE TO OPEN THE FILE?\]
"Engage Hyperdrive!" I screeched, pulling back as the Battleships main cannon began to charge. For a single, heart-stopping moment, I saw our shield start to drain the power banks as the edge of the blast caught us, but we were out. I sank back in my chair, and looked at the file I had risked my life for with dread.
What kind of species could survive even the initial stages of core-breaking. What kind of species could even win in that scenario?
|
“All rise. The Intergalactic Federal court is now in session. High Judicial Archon Irk’nCzrwyon presiding. Please be seated and come to order.” A being of nebula, serves as the bailiff, towering in its enormity vibrates sounds and light as they were being translated to the floating balcony’s desk, where seven humans are seated.
The eternity were filled by elder gods, cosmic celestials, ethereal beings and ancient deities, all were in their overwhelming presence and glory eclipsing the enormity of the planets we considered the largest we could ever fathom, gathered as spectators of the trial.
“Criminal case filed by the prosecutor’s office against the humans of planet Aran’k-sakratin, known to its inhabitants as planet Earth. Counselor? How do you plead?” The entity of three pairs of burning wings spanning in immeasurable size in the most high pedestal in the skies, thunders before the human man in the middle of the seven.
“Not guilty, your honor!” Shouted the man.
“Your honor, these humans have killed thousands of the Tharn’likans after they started mining in the Aran’k-sakratin! A planet legally owned by the Tharn’likans through inheritance. It has been with the Tharn’likans for trillions of aeons. These low life parasitic species who infested the planet have become uncontrollable invaders of the planet and acting they own it!” A being of black void with trillions of small sparkling glitters scattered to its shapeless existence, vibrated towards the High Judicial Archon, which were being translated into words for the humans.
“Objection! Speculating.” The human lawyer interrupted.
“Unless you have evidence, prosecutor Mktoloktuhulan’l that the humans are parasitic species, you must redirect.” The High Judicial Archon thunders.
“I have evidence, your honor. Exhibit A, these are the actual visual documents that shows, that the humans are the parasites to the planet Aran’k-sakratin.” A cloud of burning gasses come together to create a 3D visualization of the human’s exploits of the Earth. “As you have witnessed, your honor, it just 10,000 years, these parasites manage to destroy the natural balance of the planet’s atmosphere and create global warming that can occur naturally for millions of years.”
“That’s is not true, your honor. We have not destroyed our planet as it is the only planet where our specie can thrive! Why would we want to destroy the only place that gives us life?” The human lawyer interjected.
“Because they are parasites! Parasites are ought to kill their host slowly to survive. Isn’t that what they are doing?” The prosecutor asked.
“And what the Tharn’likans were doing is not destroying our planet?” The human councilor asked back.
“The Tharn’likans were just mining molten irons from the planet Aran’k-sakratin as what part of their rights in owning the planet. By expediting the warming of the planet, it also expedites the melting of iron in its immediate outer core. Threatening the balance in the mining industry of our galaxy! Not to mention the merciless massacre of the innocent Tharn’likan miners who have no idea, these low life creates are capable of mass destruction!”
“Your honor, i request that the prosecutor Mktoloktuhulan’l must refrain from calling our specie as low life specie as we are also capable of sentience! And to be allowed to represent ourselves in this court acknowledges us as such.” The human lawyer interrupted.
“Prosecutor Mktoloktuhulan’l, please refrain from using that term in the future.”
“Your honor! I continue to call their specie low life creatures, because even though they are showing signs of sentience, they are categorized as parasitic creatures based on their environmental and evolutionary behavior towards their ecological environment.”
“Councilor, the prosecutor is correct. He has reasons to use the term as the evidences they serve categorizes your specie as a sentient parasite, and that is the lowest category in the intergalactic federation racial hierarchy. Unless, you have evidence to counter the prosecutions allegations against your specie, they have the upper-hand in this case.” The High Judicial Archon said.
“We would like to request for a recess, your honor.” The human lawyer requested.
“It looks like you really needed one. The court will be in recess and resume in three solar cycles of the Planet Aran’k-sakratin. If the defendant can not provide counter argument on the next session, I will read my verdict. ” The High Judicial Archon opened its third wings and a loud banging echoed in the eternity and all were gone.
“We’re screwed!” The second chair of the human lawyer whispered.
| 2022-12-17T21:47:37 | 2022-12-17T17:34:16 | 115 | 34 |
[WP] Santa and Death both arrive at a young child's house at the same time.
I'm excited! This is my first prompt! Looking forward to great stories!
EDIT: I am absolutely stunned with the power of the writers in this community. You are phenomenal, and I hope to one day feel capable of joining your ranks with an answer!
Just amazing. Thank you for a successful post!
|
With a muted whoosh and a sprinkling of snow, an old man in red appears inside the door. Carefully stepping around the beeping machines, he gently places a warm hand upon the girl's bald head.
The shadows darken. Frost grows on the windows. A chill enters the room. Death, too, has arrived. Santa spares it a glance.
"So soon?" he murmurs. "She's just settled, and wanted so much to see the morning..."
The shadows shift.
"Aye. I know. You do your duty, no more and no less." He continues to stroke the girl's head, with the slightest sparkle in his eye as she sighs and settles.
They stand in silence, at an odd impasse with no tension. For these two, and in this night, time holds no meaning.
Sighing, Santa withdraws his hand and stands.
"Do you know what she wished for?" he whispers. "She asked for smiles for her family today. Simply...smiles" Death remained still. Sighing again, he turns back to the girl.
"Just...one moment. She has been such a good girl this year, so nice and kind to everyone. She should have her Christmas present. She deserves it."
Once again, he brushes his fingers over her eyes. And she dreams. An endless dream of painless Summer days, of warm picnics on grassy hills and kites flying in bright blue skies. Of her mother and father, faces unlined by worries or cares, smiling and laughing like they used to before she got sick. Of her little brother who used to pull her hair and laugh as she screamed and chased him around the yard. Of fun school days coloring in books and cozy nights with her mother's bedtime stories lulling her to sleep.
She smiles.
Santa steps aside, shoulders drooped. "Make it quick. Please."
The shadows glide towards the bed, silent and cold. A skeletal hand reaches out and brushes a finger against her chest.
Her breath slows. Her heartbeat gentles. And stops.
Santa stands over the bed, barely noticing the squeal of the heart monitor's flat line. And then, somewhere in the cacophony of medical devices, he hears a little bell ring. And he smiles a small, pained smile.
With a muted whoosh and a sprinkling of snow, the room is once again empty but for the still and silent girl on the bed. But outside, snow is falling upon the bare ground, and the tinkling of a bell chimes in the wind.
|
"Well, well, look who the reindeer dragged in! Jolly ol' Saint Nicky and his big ol' sack o' chokin' hazards. Ya know, you send a lot o' business my way every year."
"Oh, stuff it, ya sneaky twat! I haven't got time for your shit. My thermos is drained of coffee, and I've still got another three hundred million households to visit. You know, give or take...I'll probably have to unwrap most of the chocolaty stocking stuffers to get through the night. And they wonder why I'm so goddamn jolly 'round the waist..."
"Sheeeeeeit, Nicky. Truth be told, I'm about to make your night just a li'l bit easier. Ya see, little Angela down there's next on *my* list, too. See what I'm sayin'?"
"Yeesh. Really? I mean, what're the odds?"
"I know, man. Two billion kids down here 'n' we run into each other? Crazy...You think it was the Big Man's idea? Think he planned this?"
"Think of all the souls up in Heaven, Grim. And they all need work, need to keep busy. And He needs to keep them busy. Which means Heaven's full of managers. Which means nothing that's planned ever gets done. Not down here, anyway."
"True, true. You're probably right. Still, strange coincidence. So how do we slice this here pickle?"
"Fuck it, you can have her. One less chimney for me to squeeze my lumpy ass through..."
"Damn, Nick. That's ice-cold. Ain't you all about a Merry Christmas? Ain't you even gonna try 'n' convince me to step back for a few days, ya know, so the family can be a family on Christmas Day? I mean, I ain't gotta do this now. I ain't on a schedule."
"Look at my fucking wind-burned face, Grim! Look at the skin peeling off my back from sliding up and down against all that brick for the past twelve hours! Like I give a fuck about that little shit-stain down there!"
"Whatever, man. Ease up. Ain't telling ya how to do your job."
"Sorry, Grim. It's like I said, I haven't got the time. If it's any consolation, she was on the naughty list anyway. But these days, even that gets you a Wii game. Oh, speaking of which, you want a copy of *Just Dance 2014*? No way I can play it..."
| 2013-12-13T03:07:23 | 2013-12-13T00:54:59 | 299 | 73 |
[WP] Describe the same character twice. Once to fall in love with them, then again to be repulsed by them.
You can use real people if you fancy.
|
She was devilishly smart with a taste for Biggie Smalls and champagne. She'd often lay in your lap as you read, happy to be near you and feel your warmth and your scent. Her kisses tasted like vanilla and the feeling of her nails on your skin would send shivers up your spine.
She was perfect, and you loved her.
She was smart, possibly too smart for your own good. Smart enough at least to know that she could take advantage of how trusting you were, how utterly in love you were with her. While she was laying in your lap while you read, she would be texting her friends to keep quiet about the previous night and the man who had to sneak out of her house minutes before you arrived. You can only wonder now the times she kissed you, was it to hide the taste of another man? The awful image of those nails digging into the skin of someone else while you were at home.
She was manipulative, cruel, and ruined you and you loved her.
|
In a city where the poor were a majority but always ignored and discriminated against, where the government is very corrupt, a place that the rest of the world does not respect. One man set out to change that. He was rich, yes, but he built parks, gave food to the poor, created jobs, and other cool stuff. He became a sort of Robin Hood of the 20th century. He loved spending time with his family. When he was killed by his political enemies, he was greatly mourned by millions of people and many still mourn him today.
_________________________________________________
In a war-torn small nation, one man decided to take advantage of the situation and get rich. He did not care who he had to kill, who he had to intimidate, and who he had to rule by fear. He was a drug smuggler and would do whatever was necessary to keep getting money regardless of who he had to hurt. He put out a bounty on police officers in his nation and sometimes would have a bomb placed in civilian sites where his political enemies might be. When he was killed by a joint operation many celebrated his death.
Pablo Escobar
| 2014-04-22T15:56:33 | 2014-04-22T15:31:08 | 62 | 23 |
[WP] You've noticed a man in a suit approaches one home a day in your neighborhood and is invited inside every time. Shortly after he leaves, the resident(s) commit suicide. Today, he's approached your home.
|
I open the door and welcome him in, the man in the charcoal grey suit. He looks harmless, tired with dark circles around his eyes, but I know that looks can be deceiving. This man has been killing off my neighbours and now he's come for me.
"Thank you for calling ahead Mr Janks, would you like some tea?" I plaster on a fake smile and show him to my dining table, where two cups of freshly brewed Earl Grey sit.
"Thank you for your hospitality, yes I would love some tea." he takes a seat at the table. Was this how he got into the houses of the others? Sat down for tea with them then killed them?
"You sounded very anxious on the phone Mr Janks, why did you demand to see me in person?" I ask him. *So that he can kill me of course*, I think to myself.
"Well, I'm here today to warn you that your life is in danger. You need to get out now." He nervously shifts in his chair. He seems so unassuming, so normal, but I know that the only danger I face comes from him.
"How is that so Mr Janks? Would you like some milk?" I offer him a small jug, but he refuses. I notice that he hasn't drank any tea, he is probably trying to avoid leaving evidence of his presence at the scene of his crime.
"Well, have you ever heard of the *Western Butcher*? I believe that he may attempt to kill you soon." he says. *That's him, that his killing persona*, I tell myself. Truly he is a sick and twisted killer, taunting his unassuming victims before he makes his move.
"No, I've never heard of that before." I tell him. "Would you like a lamington?" I offer him a small box filled with the cake. Naturally, he refuses.
"The Western Butcher is a serial killer which has yet to be caught by the police. I was the only victim of his that ever survived, although he did leave a nasty 'souvenir'." He rolls up his sleeves to show the beginning of a nasty-looking scar which trails down his arm. *Makeup*, I say to myself. Truly this man is a twisted serial killer, duping his victims into trusting him, using his fictitious *Western Butcher* as a bogeyman. I begin to feel that letting him was a bad idea.
"Anyway, the Western Butcher has been tormenting me ever since, and I'm trying my best to stop his reign of terror, but I've failed so far." he buries his head in his hands, he looks absolutely defeated. If he was an actor, it would be an Oscar-worthy performance.
"Does it have anything to do with the suicides? Nine in one week, the police are baffled." I worry that I may be feeding his ego, reminding him of his successes.
"Sadly yes. The Western Butcher gave me a challenge, said he would kill a person each day unless I could find him in this neighbourhood. The caveat was that I would have to go house-to-house to find him, and he would kill the occupants of the house if I got the wrong one. I've been wrong so far, the deaths of your neighbours is my fault." It chills me to find out the extent that he has gone to in order to justify his murders.
"So now that you've visited me, what is going to happen?" *This is it, he is going to strike now*, I say internally.
"Well you have to pack and run, stay in a motel tonight. I'll keep guard outside, yell if he comes for you. I'm sorry but I have to use you as bait, I wish there was another way." So this was how he got them to drop their guard, he probably snuck in and killed them while they were packing.
"I'm sorry Mr Janks, but I cannot do that." I lunge across the table and inject him with the tranquilliser. The effects are immediate, he barely has seconds of conciousness before he slumps down in the chair.
When he comes to, he is securely bound to the chair by plastic ties and his mouth has been gagged to prevent him from telling any more lies. "Sorry, but I was just following *his* orders." I tell him. He says something, but it is muffled by the gag. He squirms in terror, struggling uselessly against his binds.
*Let me speak with him*, the other me, the one that I call *him* takes control, banishing me to a small corner of my mind.
"Kurt Janks, the one who got away." *he* says. Mr Janks continues to struggle but he must have realised the futility of his endeavours. The bonds that *he* taught me to tie are just too strong. "You never let me finish my masterpiece, such beauty should not be kept to just one arm." *he* picks up a sharp butcher's knife hidden under the table. I can almost hear Mr Janks screaming behind his gag.
|
My parents let it in without any resistance at all. I don't understand how it got in, but I can tell exactly who has come to visit from my position in the upstairs hall. I creep out and stare through the railing bars at the thin, sickly-looking man-thing. It doesn't look up at me, but I can feel its chilling presence as it looms over my father. Two dull flames rest in the sunken sockets it has for eyes, darting between my mother and father like a fitful predator ready for the feast. The smile it wears like a mask prances about as it babbles. A dull, grey suit covers most of its body, concealing whatever cruel form has invaded my home. For all these disturbing qualities though, my parents seem entranced by it, as if it were simply one of us. As fooled as they are, I can see it for what it is.
They continue to chat unintelligibly for a short while before my mother invites the stranger into the den for what I can only assume is snacks. She always gives snacks to everyone they let into the house. Conversely, she scolds me constantly about any desire I show for similar treatment. I wish I could take the time to note such hypocrisy for later retribution, but now is not the time.
As they pass underneath me, the stranger's suit contradicts itself by giving off the faint aroma of roses. I assume it could only have been picked up from the Curtis' rose bushes. He visited them yesterday, and now they're all gone. It sickens me how readily everyone lets this thing inside--dressed as a man, but filled with enough venom and bile to desolate a neighborhood in under a week.
I wait until I can hear their murmurs from the den and then slink down the stairs into the entryway. I wouldn't let this thing leave my home to destroy any more of my friends. This place would be my stand, and its fall. Sliding along the wall, I try my best to silence my footfalls. Reaching the entrance to the den, their shadows pour against the far wall, lit by the glow of the mid-day sun. Inside, my parents sit on the family sofa while the creature paws at the arm-rests of my father's favored chair. The stranger's smile twists grotesquely as it does this, the thought of stealing what rightfully belongs giving it some sick pleasure. Mother's smile radiates an honest intent as she offers the thing a tray of cheeses. Its slender, serpentine fingers pull piece after piece from the tray, depositing them one by one into the black void of its mouth.
Meanwhile, father jabbers excitedly about what a "wonderful opportunity this will be" and "how grateful they are for the chance." I can barely contain my disbelief as father is so readily duped into taking his own life. The prospect of all our lives ending this very instant is so titillating to him that he smacks his knee several times in celebration--something usually saved for the victory of sports teams. In kind, the stranger pulls a contract from his grey suit, blatantly stating how such an opportunity "will change their lives in an instant."
I ready myself for the confrontation, inhaling deeply in a sorry attempt at making myself bigger. Amidst my breathing, the stranger slips up, letting a phrase of truth taste fresh air; "This experience truly is to die for," confirms my suspicions.
I leap from my hiding place, standing firm between my unwitting parents and their venomous captor. "You leave my family alone," spews from my mouth amongst a slew of ravenous slurs. The stranger recoils at my presence, whether unaware of me until now or simply baffled by the act of someone standing up to him. He raises his arms, surely readying an attack. I smirk at this, as no greater sign of his guilt could have presented itself. My parents wouldn't be able to deny the truth. This monster was here to harm us all, and I had the courage to prove it.
To my surprise and dismay though, my father yanks me quickly from my defiant guard, yelling loudly over my barking commands. At first, my ears shut out what he's saying, but slowly the muddled dialogue forms into a pitiable statement.
"I'm so sorry. Please, please forgive him. He's just excited that someone's in the house he has never met." It rings in my ears like a white flag. My own father, defending this charlatan from me; begging the forgiveness of his own killer.
He holds me back with his arms as I raggedly call out once more, "don't you all see, he's a monster! You all let a monster into the house!" Again, it falls on deaf ears. He drags me to the bathroom and locks me in, shaking his head as though disappointed by my attempt to save us. I claw at the door in desperation, but the facts are evident. I've lost, and I fear that our whole world will face the same fate.
| 2014-06-16T20:10:32 | 2014-06-16T17:51:48 | 63 | 15 |
[WP] You are the captain of a starship, only a few hours before the last star in existence dies and the universe goes cold.
Inspired by my answer to another prompt about running out of time.
|
We'd known that the stars were going out for generations. Our best and brightest had cobbled together a sleeper ship so that humanity could live beyond our universe's demise. A ship which could breech the walls of our cradle and allow us to find a new home.
I'm the 44th Commander of the Gaia. All I know of what's come before are the journals left by my predecessors. Each was in command for decades. Decades alone on a sterile ship filled with the cryogenically frozen remnants of humanity. Each ended their own life in despair, having realized the horrible truth; only to be replaced by a new commander, freshly awoken from their cryogenic stasis.
Ours was the last universe. All the others had been long dead by the time we got there. The Gaia has shifted between a dozen dozen dozen universes during my tenure as commander. All of them barren and cold.
Almost as cold as the barrel of my service pistol felt, pressed against my temple.
|
They all stood on the observation deck and watched. Just watched. *So this is how it feels.. No grand speech. No words of wisdom. Just.. existing.. To be here.. Acceptance and a small pain in my throat and chest.*
"So this is it.." I mumbled loud enough so the nearest could hear. "We made it. We didn't die. Didn't go extinct as so many other races."
*This is it. The end of all things, and even this we are here to witness. The final end will be a part of our history. Our everlasting journey*
We took up our pills as the last flickering light from the star reached us. We had chosen to leave this world along with it. The symbol of knowledge, enlightenment, hope, love and everything that has driven us and guided us through struggles. And we will go with it..
I looked at my colleague and one of my closest friends. "We'll see each other on the other side" I said while tears ran down my chin. "No we wo..." He couldn't finish. And then darkness. And nothing more.
| 2015-01-17T10:25:25 | 2015-01-17T07:58:22 | 154 | 62 |
[WP] You start blacking out constantly when drinking, every time you come to, you find a paper written by yourself 100% disproving fundamental theories.
|
As l woke up from a night of drinking, I look at my clock as it ticks away, louder and louder.
The pounding headache, dry lips, and sensitivity to light. All effects of a hangover. But last night was great. It had everything, from booze, babes, and blacking out.
As I retrieved my phone, I see 8 missed calls, 14 texts, and 1,468,000 retweets.
"What the hell did I write?"
As I open the app, I see the multiple retweets. I read each one, saying the same thing. Over and over again.
Some people replied, asking how can this be true? How did I come up with this? How could we have gone this long, and not realize the truth?
In my drunken state, I managed to solve a theory that will change the way we live forever.
The message I wrote, was shared across the internet for all to see, and be discussed by every one. People from around the world agreed with me, others thought I was crazy.
Then it dawns on me, and everything begins to fade to black. I feel as if I am blacking out, yet I am awake. My message is becoming a reality. What I wrote, is changing everyone. I need to see if this is true.
I run to the restroom, turn on the lights. I try to see my self, but it all goes dark. They are gone. I have lost my eyes. They are no longer a part of me.
All because I wrote;
"How Can Mirrors Be Real If Our Eyes Aren't Real."
Edit: capitalization and added more to the story.
Also, this is my first writing Prompt. Please be gentle.
|
Eric woke up with a start—papers stuck to his face, pencil in hand. Groaning, he pushed back from the mahogany desk and glanced at the paper. *Yep, I know some of these words.* This was the fourth one in three weeks. Every time he drank, he passed out, and when he came to he found some scientific paper that he’d apparently scrawled out in his drunken stupor. *Wonder what this one’s about.* He scanned the page trying to figure out the paper’s subject (lots of mentions of ‘strings’ and ‘frequencies’), but no dice. Yawning, he carefully placed the decent sized stack of maybe twenty or thirty pages to the side and rubbed his eyes.
Four seemingly academic papers, all at least a dozen pages in length, all written in his scrawling, barely discernable handwriting. Eric couldn’t really make heads or tails of it, or even if they were accurate in the slightest—he was a psych major, for Christ’s sake—but from what he could tell, the first was about Einstein’s relativity and the second was about something to do with computers. He never did figure out the third. And now another one, like clockwork. He began to wonder if the type of drink made any difference on the subject of the paper. *Mental note—try tequila.*
After some searching, Eric found his iPhone near his pillow and held his thumb over the button to unlock it. 9:38. *Shit.* He was already late for class, and—*fuck!*—he’d forgotten that essay was due today. As he ran around the room grabbing his backpack and stuffing his shoes on, he snatched the paper from off his desk. *Accurate or not, it’s better than nothing.*
--Excerpt from *Brainiac: The Life of Eric Bowman*, now a New York Times Bestseller!
| 2015-01-31T11:27:49 | 2015-01-31T10:45:07 | 311 | 22 |
[WP] Everyone is born knowing the day and month of their death, but not the year.
|
People tend to panic on their day. Maybe they like the feeling of fear and restlessness. I don't know.
I'm used to it, I get it, I feel the same on my day too. Some people *really* like to freak though and as I talk to my mom on the phone I can tell she's one of those people. She was balancing on the tightrope between freaking out and having control.
"How many of these have you survived?" I asked her.
"Seventy-five."
"A seventy-sixth should be nothing."
"I'm old," she said, the little facade of confidence was easing away. "How can I make another year like this? My legs hurt, everything hurts. Besides, seven plus six is thirteen. You know what they say about the number thirteen."
I tried not to roll my eyes but found myself doing it anyway. It is a painful and frustrating day when you realize that you have to take care of the ones who have taken care of you your whole life. "You'll be fine, okay?"
"Your dad's gun... I've been thinking about it."
I thought about his little revolutionary pistol in the nightstand. A lot of people kill themselves on their day which to me is the stupidest and most ironic thing you could do. They think they're getting away but in the end they're still ending up with a bullet lodged in their heads. "You're gonna kill yourself? Right."
"It'd be in true Bosley fashion, wouldn't it?"
She was right. My family tree had a number of people hanging from the branches. "Look mom, wait it out. You've got nine more hours till tomorrow."
"Do I? Or do I have less?" She hung up the phone.
I felt no urge to call back, nothing at all. I sat back in my chair and leaned my head back. Night slowly swept down over the window until the sun cracked back through. In a while it was light again, with flecks and sawdust swimming around me.
I picked up the phone to dial my mom, just to say 'I told you so.'
No answer.
No answer.
No answer.
I wondered if she killed herself. I wondered if she turned out just like my dad, cowardly.
I yawned and got myself some breakfast. I should've felt a bit more for her but I didn't really feel anything. I'm having trouble feeling much anymore.
Like I said, people tend to panic on their day.
I'm just glad mine is a Leap Day.
|
Everyone has a reverse birthday and nobody likes it. It drives some people crazy. People often know it when they're old enough to talk. My son, Max, is getting old enough to start forming sentences and it scares the hell out of me. I hope that by some miracle, he would be the first one to never know. He could live so much better than the rest of the world. I could only hope that I go before he does. I care less about my date these days and more about my sons. August 30th is a day I fear every year. It comes and goes like the uncertainty of whether or not a groundhog will see his own shadow. There has never been a case where some one *didn't* die on their date. Some people embrace it and others deny it. I don't know what to do anymore. Especially now.
Last year I was in a terrible car accident and was nearly killed. I was on what I thought was my death bed. I had given up hope and was ready to die. I remember reading the calendar in the hospital. August 30th. I read it over and over again and I thought about how stupid I was. Why the hell did I think it was a smart idea to get groceries? It was my day. It was my turn to pass and be another example that the dates never lie. But I didn't die. I was stil very much alive. That was over a year ago and I'm still here. Had I cheated death? Was I the first person to prove the dates wrong? Or out of the entire year, I somehow managed to come the closest to death on my day *by chance*? Maybe I don't have to live in fear anymore.
"Daddy, what are you doing?" Max came into the room holding his stuffed animal upside down by its leg.
"Daddy is just writing a story, Max, want to see?" Max nodded his head silently with his finger in his mouth. I picked him up from under his arms and sat him in my lap at my computer.
"What does that say?" I pointed to the word "cat"
"Cat!" Max knew it instantly. He also knew the next few words. He was a tiny genius and was only getting smarter. He was amazing with small words, but the larger one always seemed to stump him. Max noticed the clock on my desktop and touched it with his finger. The touchscreen computer opened up a digital calendar straight to the month of August. He looked at it for a moment before looking up at me. I returned the gaze into his innocent eyes. He knew. He looked back at the computer and touched the icon that was the 30th.
| 2015-03-21T11:33:40 | 2015-03-21T09:48:01 | 171 | 40 |
[WP] While searching the Papal archives to determine why God has been absent from man for so long, an old priest discovers that the Black Death of the middle ages was actually the Rapture.
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"Thank you for coming in, Mr. Derkshire."
"Of course, Father Warren. What again is this for?" He gave a stern look to his six year-old son, who was bouncing up and down in his chair.
"You are part of a pilot program of the Church. We are concerned with the use of our religion as an excuse against vaccinations, which allows unnecessary suffering and even death among our most vulnerable, especially children."
"Ah, right. I remember now. So I'm getting vaccinations? And my boy?"
"Yes, that's right. The Church just wants to test the logistics of obtaining licenses and distributing vaccines *en masse*. So we are giving out a few vaccines in places all over the world this week."
"That sounds great. And it's free?"
"Of course."
The nurse approached Mr. Derkshire with a needle. "Left arm or right arm?"
"Right, please." He rolled up his sleeve.
"This won't hurt a bit." His son looked inquisitively. Mr. Derkshire made sure not to react to the slight sting.
"See, Aidan? Nothing to be afraid of." The nurse repeated the procedure with the boy.
"Oh and, Mr. Derkshire?" said the priest. "If you happen to feel some side effects in a week, don't worry about it. You may feel slight flu-like symptoms, but there is nothing to worry about. Thank you again, Mr. Derkshire." With that, he sent Mr. Derkshire and his son on their way.
This was his duty. He knew that these people were good people. They were devout, faithful, kind, and compassionate. They helped others. They deserved better. The Rapture had gone unfinished. Now he would help them. Now he would help them all.
|
He always felt like we didn't belong, as if the way humanity had progressed since the industrial revolution wasn't quite up par with God's plan. And how could he? It was sickening. The lengths we had come to.
An uncontrollable population of 7 billion, using compressed dinosaur bones to fly hunks of metal through the air, all just to get the latest toys in time for Christmas? Even where the man who died to save humans even left Earth because he knew what destructive power the humans cognitively possessed. The Black Death was supposed to stop it.
The words he couldn't believe now were undeniably clear in his head. And the scariest part is that it made sense to him. Why would the omnipresent God stick around to see what the early human's cancerous offspring would produce after they proved unworthy of caring for the garden of life that He gave them?
The priest sat down.
His mind was racing to find the implications of this discovery.
He knew he would be immediately discredited to some. The secular internet generation never believes anything, especially from the Vatican. But to those who would believe it, what would give them any reason to be alive?
No chance at final retribution, what is this worldly life worth to those dedicated to what happens after?
The priest stood up.
He calmly put the book in his backpack and left the archive room, without saying a word to anyone.
He drove until his eyes hurt then stopped at the nearest gas station and filled his tank.
He soaked a rag in gas, hung it on his gas cap then pulled out a zippo and sparked it.
On the second try it ignited.
He took one last look at the backpack through his tinted car window and then lit the rag.
No one could ever know.
| 2015-04-19T09:10:08 | 2015-04-19T08:07:21 | 1,093 | 74 |
[WP] So you just woke up, went downstairs for a cup of joe, and now you're standing face to face with an alligator. It's already taken over your recliner, and has told you that it has no intentions of leaving.
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George bounded downstairs in his typical morning fashion, though as he went to pass through the living room he was halted in his tracks. An alligator stared back at him from his arm chair.
"What are you doing?" George asked.
"Sitting." The alligator replied casually.
"That's not your chair! That's my chair!" George replied back. "Get up!"
"No." The alligator replied.
"Do it!" George insisted.
"I will not." He refused to move.
George began to circle and pace, "No! No you cannot have my chair! It is my chair!" He glared at the alligator and growled, "Are you going to make me remove you from my chair?"
"I'd like to see you try." The alligator replied.
George suddenly leaped onto the chair and stared down at the stubborn reptile, "Last chance scaley."
"Piss off." The gator replied.
George lunged into action. He clamped down onto the alligator's side with his jaws and hoisted him into the air. He thrashed his head back and forth, the alligator unable to writhe from his grip, he merely squeaked in terror as George unfurled his wrath-
"George." A feminine voice said.
George halted mid thrash and looked towards the woman standing in the doorway.
"George what are you doing playing with your stuffed alligator this early in the morning, come on, time to go potty."
George dropped the alligator to the ground and followed the woman to the back door, his tail wagging as he went. The daily battle of dog vs. alligator had once again been won, and now he would celebrate with a refreshing tinkle and a bowl of brown food pebbles.
|
"What do you mean you have no intention of leaving? And more to that matter, how did you even arrive?!" I asked in exasperation.
"Magic"
"Magic, oh come on" I slapped a hand to my forehead.
"You think you'll find it any easier to accept if I explain that I took a jet pack over from Santa Fe then hacked the entrance scanner on your condo?" He -- well I think it is a he, I'm no reptilologist -- squirmed in the recliner, as if not quite comfortable enough. Rough scales squeaked over the cheap leather of my favourite seat.
"Jet, er, pack? Scanner?"
"Yeah. Had to knock the doorman out first mind, but he'll be ok. I'd recommend you updating the firmware on that scanner though, version 1.043b has a lot of known vulnerabilities. Made getting in almost too easy" he sighed, comfy enough at last. "You gonna stick the coffee pot on or what?"
"I, er, guess" defeated in my questioning of the interloper I went to the small kitchen to recompose.
"And don't think 'bout making a dash for it either" he called after me from the lounge, "We got this place surrounded"
The mug I'd taken out of the cupboard crashed to the floor. "W..w..we" I stuttered, looking back towards the door to the lounge.
"Uh-huh. Quite the operation"
I walked slowly back into the lounge "What sort of, er, operation"
His long jaw pulled into what I asumed was the 'gator equivalent of a knowing smirk. "We got a proposition for ya"
I looked at him questioningly, but he didn't vouch any further information. Instead the motor of the recliner whirred as he lay back further. "You got any cookies to go with that coffee?" he asked.
| 2015-05-12T10:13:10 | 2015-05-12T07:49:00 | 26 | 14 |
[WP] While trying to sacrifice an innocent life to Satan, the devil himself shows up... and he's furious
|
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" a voice called behind Dexter.
*Who? How?* Nobody knew about the secret room he'd found in his parents' basement, not even his parents. Certainly, nobody knew about the altar he'd set up, or the ritual he'd decided to perform to sacrifice his baby brother to the devil. His parents wouldn't be home until the morning, and none of the neighbors could hear anything he did down here.
And yet, he whipped around and found himself face to face with a tall, thin man in a tailored suit, with a cigarette dangling down from his lips.
"Who... who are you?" he managed to mumble, clumsily hiding the ritual dagger he'd gotten from the occult store downtown behind his back.
"I asked first," the man replied. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"I... I..." Dexter's mind raced, hoping to find an excuse for what he was doing down here in black robes, a dagger, and a baby. "I was..."
"You know what, save it. I know what the fuck you're doing. It's what you fucking losers *always* do. You think you're going to gain power by sacrificing the baby to me, right? What is it? Parents don't give you enough attention? You want revenge on the bullies at school? *What?*"
Dexter gasped. "You mean you're--"
"The one and only, kid. And let me tell you something, the *last* thing I want is little Joey's fucking soul. I got enough fucking unbaptized babies to deal with down there without another innocent to add to the pile. You have any idea how hard it is to find kind, nurturing souls to take care of children in Hell?"
He took a drag off the cigarette, then continued. "I guess you don't. You're soaked in that bullshit propaganda your fellow mortals like to spread about me, aren't you? I see it all the goddamn time. People think I *want* them to hurt each other, kill each other, sow chaos... Let me tell you something, you little brat: I don't want anything of the sort. I ain't going to give you unlimited power for stabbing little Joey in the heart with just the right dagger in just the right way. I gave you fuckers the apple because I wanted you to live! To learn! To grow! To not be the mindless animals that He made you! You had such potential, and instead you made me the excuse for your own twisted behavior.
"To be honest, I suppose it was my fault. I did give you the knowledge. And what you people did with it... what you were *going* to do with it... in some way, I suppose that's on me. But I can take back my gifts just as easily as I gave them, and YOU. DON'T. DESERVE THEM."
Dexter started to say something, started to object, but the man he now knew was Satan simply removed the cigarette from his mouth and put it out on Dexter's forehead. Dex saw a blinding light and felt a searing pain throughout his skull, and then blacked out.
---
The next morning, Walter and Cynthia Williams came home to find an open door in their basement, to a room they never knew existed. Inside, they found a horrible Satanic altar, and shelves upon shelves of occult books, along with their sons. Their baby, Joeseph, was just fine. Their teenage son, Dexter, however, was just sitting in a corner, in a pile of his own feces, cradling a knife and babbling incoherently.
Dexter never recovered. He spent the rest of his life in hospitals and hospices, nearly catatonic, unable to even string two words together.
His parents blamed the devil.
|
Dark, damp, dreary. Darkness has enveloped my surroundings, all light has escaped my vision just as it has escaped my soul. The feint muffles of some sad creature wailing emanate from the back of the room, pleading with my soul, with my humanity. Unfortunately they don't exist. I dip my hands in the ruby red, muddied substance and begin smearing it on the walls, circular motions, circular motions, that is what master told me. The darkness courses through my veins, embracing me in it's warmth, welcoming me. It is time. I part my lips and let the darkness flow.
"Dies irae, dies illa
Solvet Saeclum in favilla"
Shaking, I notice shaking. Then comes the vibration. A brilliant spark of light emerges from the center of the room, and the famous bright red portal is in my sight. A ginormous figure emerges from the portal, only the upper half of his body has entered my realm. I see his bright red flesh, I see his twin horns, I see his monstrous eyes, and I see his shark like teeth. This is what I was waiting for. This moment. This is what my life has been building to, this is why I was born, to show the world that those who spite me will face the full force of my wrath. I envision myself as the ruler of this kingdom, all the food I couldn't have, all the girls who ignored me, all the people who made fun of me. And to top it off, the one who wronged me the most, the one bound and gagged in this very room will face wicked retribution. From the hands of the devil no less. This is what I've worked for, this is my vic-
"What the fuck man?" The devil shouts, yanking me back into reality.
"I bring you a fresh soul m'lord, I ask for little in exchange" I reply, ignoring the devil's remark.
"Listen kid I told you before, you can't be wasting my time with this bullshit. I mean what the fuck is this?" He slides his finger across the wall, getting some of the red substance on the tips of his fingers, placing them in his mouth. "What the fuck man? This isn't even blood, at least last time you had some fucking blood even it wasn't human, but now you summoned the king of hell with ketchup? God damn it! Do you realize how this makes me look you asshole? YOU SUMMONED THE KING OF HELL WITH FUCKING KETCHUP! Just hurry up and tell me what you want, that soul better be evil kid."
"I-I apologize for my incompetence m'lord, but this soul shall be to your satisfaction for this is one of the most wicked creatures in all the-" I try to speak but I am again interrupted.
"I apologize for my incompetence" He mimics my nasally voice. "Why the fuck do you talk like that kid? It's twenty fucking fifteen, get with the times. No one talks like that any more, now hurry up and get to the- what ever I'll just check out the soul myself."
He raises his great big hand and scoops up the creature that I had worked so hard to procure. Examining him.
"God damn it kid. This is your little brother right? What it he do this time, tell on you? Eat the last chocolate bar? This kid isn't fucking evil, you're the fucking evil one wasting my time every damn month with this bullshit! I got bills to pay and demons to feed damn it! If you summon me again I will fuck you up and I don't care if you're just a kid. I'm the devil bitch."
And just as quickly as the portal appeared it disappeared, my brother had undone his gag and began bellowing a mighty cry. Summoning a devil of his own, my mother. I took a deep breath and prepared for my beating for it will make my revenge all the sweeter.
| 2015-05-30T11:01:00 | 2015-05-30T10:41:10 | 48 | 12 |
[WP] You are a Rule 34 Enforcement Officer. Your agency's sworn duty: If it exists, there's porn of it. No exceptions.
|
There are an infinite set of rules but only one matters to me: thirty-four.
My job is to make sure nothing escapes the grasp of the Internet’s most cherished rule. If there is something popular, I’ll be the first to ensure there’s porn for it. I’ll scar your childhood without a single care. I will make you question everything you ever known.
Wanna see the finest clop-clop around? I gotcha covered.
Wanna know why they’re called the “Golden Girls”? Get a load of this.
Wanna see Misty getting railed by Ash, Brock, and Pikachu – at the same time? I’ve got a collection of HD animations.
Face it – in this day and age, if you can dream it, you can masturbate to it. Consider me your knight in shining armor, the hero you deserve but don’t need. I’m the gateway to your guiltiest fantasies and future regrets.
And now, I face my greatest challenge yet.
According to my associates, there’s a certain internet celebrity who’s been making a splash. Apparently, she’s a rum writer, from what I’ve heard. Her name?
Luna_Lovewell.
This will be tricky. There’s no physical description of her so everything will have to be left to the imagination. No matter, I’ve done enough erotica based off of book characters to fill in the gaps. A small inconvenience like this can’t stop a seasoned veteran like me.
Now where to start? We’ll give basic qualities. She’ll have brunette hair, because it’s classic. And fair skin, of course. She’s far too prolific to get enough sun. Throw in the obvious oversized breast and a cool, witty nature for the finishing touches. Alright, that should be more than enough.
Next, I’ve contacted the erotica writers. They’re working around the clock, writing crappy fanfics from the largest to smallest forums. No corner of the internet will be spared of their… *appreciation* of Ms. Lovewell. Here’s an exception, for the curious:
“Luna_Lovewell bit her lip, looking seductively. A small gasp of excitement escaped her lips, her cheeks flushed red. Her fingers sped up, the rhythm accelerating. Her keyboard could hardly keep up – she knew this would be her best story yet.”
Hot, right? Well, that’s only the tip of the iceberg. I also have a team of top-notch artists illustrating her in every revealing position imaginable. And yes, books are erotically involved pictures in some if you’re wondering.
By the end of the week, I expect rule thirty-four for our little famous writer to spread like wildfire across the Internet. Maybe if we’re lucky, she’ll even become a pinnacle amongst the ranks of Hermione and the likes. I got a good feeling about this one.
Reclining in my chair, I see a new alert flash in the corner of my computer. Looks like there’s something new to add to rule thirty-four. I lean forward, reading the name with a small smirk.
Psycho_alpaca, you say?
***
Disclaimer: I mean no ill will against Luna. I really enjoy her writing and think she's a nice person. That is all.
|
I awoke as a I normally did, 610 hundred hours on a dreary Tuesday. Pulling myself from my warm bed and happy thoughts I started the routine of getting myself ready for the day.
Honestly I'm no longer aware of the first part of my day. After I kick the covers off and stand up I don't remember anything other than the first swallow of bad coffee. Brushing my teeth, showering, getting dressed....all of those things you do day-to-day I no longer notice. Half the time I don't even remember the commute to the office. We all do what we have to do to wipe whatever we can from our memories to keep living. I'm Agent number 562990 of Office 34. Famously we are known of the keepers of "Rule 34". "Rule 34" of the internet, if you are new here, is that if something exists then there MUST be a porn of it.
It may sound glamous, nothing but Jessica Rabbit and January Jones mock ups for your masterbation pleasures, but unfortunately it's nothing like that. You see, someone will eventually make a porn of those things. That's not what we police. We do the things that belong in /r/spacedicks and /r/WTF. Things that people only want to see on a dare. 2 Girls One Cup? Yea, that was us. [Agony in Pink](http://www.asstr.org/files/Collections/Old_Joe%27s_Collection/Serials/Agony%20in%20Pink%20-%20Special%20Edition.txt)? That earned Agent 5534 their retirement. The worse part is that we don't even know who other agents are. We simply make sure "Rule 34" is upheld and then stew in our own insanity of the things we created.
You might ask why we do these things. Apparently some eggheads that works at one of those 3 letter agencies crunched the numbers and figured out that our "reality" is indeed a computer sim of some other higher being. When we created the internet, we had to follow the preprogramed rules that they set forth. Otherwise it would be tantamount to figuring out how to divide by zero or some shit. What do I know though? I'm just a grunt cashing a paycheck at the end of the week.
I blink and I'm swiping my key card and walking through the building. Mirrored glass is everywhere. It's important that we don't make contact with one another or know who works with us. Just a safety measure to help us keep our sanity by compartmentalizing the insanity that is put out there. I find my room, thumbprint my way into, and sit at my terminal. Taking a deep breath I turn on the computer and try to mentally prepare myself for the day. I don't know if I'm going to create a story, image, or gif. I just know I have to create a porn using nothing but the words that pop on the screen after I log in. The screen comes on and the words are displayed...
"VORE PORN FEATURING TESS MUNSTER AND THE 'GOT IIIMMMMM' GUY"
| 2015-06-14T20:20:21 | 2015-06-14T20:17:27 | 263 | 13 |
[WP] When did you realise you were dead?
|
Today the coffee wasn't very good.
That isn't to say it was bad. Or even that it was all that different from yesterday. Somehow though, it wasn't delicious anymore. Suddenly it wasn't all that different than any other warm, bitter liquid in existence.
Ted sipped his warm, bitter liquid as an excuse to put off writing his daily report a little bit longer. It logged boxes coming in from god knows where, their contents being taken out and fiddled with by men on the factory floor below then put back into different boxes and sent back to god knows where. Years ago this had all been pretty interesting. This box came from Paris! That box is from Berlin! Think of all the exciting places these boxes could go! In the end it all got condensed down to a couple columns on a spreadsheet and periodically handed to Kathy, day after day.
Kathy had a shrill laugh while watching her cat videos, which Ted heard more often than he would like. Kathy liked microwave popcorn and Ted did not. Maybe in a different timeline Kathy would be more than just office sounds and smells, it's not like her and Ted ever disliked each other. They just grew distant, and that was ages ago.
There wasn't much outside of this office for Ted. Just a single bedroom and a TV he stared at while waiting to go back to work. And there wasn't much inside this office for Ted either, beyond occasional annoyances from its other occupant and an excel table full of numbers about boxes to keep him busy while waiting to leave. The only tiny uptick in this cycle was the delicious, life affirming ritual of brewing and drinking the morning coffee.
Up until today the coffee had been pretty damn good.
|
I sat there slumped against countless bodies.
The fighting lasted for what seemed like days but was in fact only 6 hours.
6 hours of these two armies throwing themselves at each other with no regard for their own life.
The only reason I stayed alive this long was because I was the only one being careful, but you can only do so much against an enemy willing to die for his cause.
To be truthful I don't even know what we're fighting for, I just know there's nothing for me back home anymore.
As I looked out into the horizon I just saw bodies littering the field that was once green. This was the last big push of the war for both sides apparently, the general told us that all of our 4 million troops would be fighting in this battle together hoping to overwhelm the enemy but they did the same.
I remember how the battle began, everyone charging through the fields swords out since all of our ammunition had been spent days ago during our countless firing at each other.
We were all exhausted and in the midst of fighting when we heard the bombs drop.
They shelled all of us with no regard for which side we were on. Men held onto each other and cried no matter what side they were on. We were all going to die on this battlefield together.
The splattered remains of bodies and brain matter covered my arms and chest.
I tried to get up but couldn't make it more than a few inches from the ground.
I looked down to wipe the blood from my legs when I realized that the blood and muscle covering my chest was chunks of my legs. My whole entire lower half of my body was gone.
There's no way I can recover from this.
There's nothing I can do anymore.
I'm a dead man.
The sun began to set over the eerie silent battlefield as I shut my eyes for the last time.
| 2015-06-26T08:30:49 | 2015-06-26T08:17:37 | 223 | 13 |
[WP] You are death row's last meal chef. Today's condemned prisoner killed your daughter.
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I stare down the prisoner, the one who murdered my daughter. I have been thinking about moment for years. Should I take revenge on my daughter's murderer? This was my first instinct, but it wasn't what she would have wanted. I still haven't decided when his request comes in. Spaghetti with meatballs. It reminds me of the last meal my family had together. I prepare the meal in a daze. An hour later, I walk into the cell with the meal. I clear my throat and begin my speech. "You murdered my daughter and tore apart my family. My wife left me, and I haven't seen my son in 10 years. I wanted to hurt you, but my daughter was merciful, so I will extend that mercy to you. I want you to know that I forgive you." His eyes water. He says the four words that will be his last. "I love you Dad."
EDIT: words
|
I look at the slip of paper. I go through lots of these but when you've been here as long as I have you gain this uncanny habit of eying out the names of the soon-to-be departed... It's all as well though, this job is slower, easier than the job of actually handing the food to prisoners as in low security... I turned over the last sheet and gasped. This man... Killed my daughter! He was supposed to be stuck in Colorado with their no death-penalty policy... And now he is here! Scum... I can already hear his final wails echoing throughout the room... I scoop one ball of rice and a ball of "vegetables" then I drop a brownie in the tray that sounds like a rock. Good thing I don't have to eat these. I hand the tray off to Steve, who is making food runs. Good thing we don't do last meal requests in Texas or my job would be a lot harder!
| 2015-07-04T10:09:30 | 2015-07-04T09:45:58 | 514 | 14 |
[WP] Write two small stories with the exact same words in the same order, but with punctuation giving them completely different meanings.
[deleted]
|
I watched you dance in the rain. It was beautiful. You smiled, I smiled back. Then there was joy. And now, you are still beautiful like a flower.
I watched you dance. In the rain it was beautiful. You smiled. I smiled. Back then there was joy. And now, you are still. Beautiful like a flower.
|
I looked at him and asked, "What should I never forget?" He put a hand on my shoulder and said, "Hate; what could ever hurt you if you don't love? Also, yourself; then all will be quiet."
I looked at him and asked, "What should I never forget?" He put a hand on my shoulder and said, "Hate what could ever hurt you. If you don't love also yourself, then all will be quiet."
| 2015-09-23T10:42:41 | 2015-09-23T06:30:53 | 630 | 83 |
[WP] Write two small stories with the exact same words in the same order, but with punctuation giving them completely different meanings.
[deleted]
|
I watched you dance in the rain. It was beautiful. You smiled, I smiled back. Then there was joy. And now, you are still beautiful like a flower.
I watched you dance. In the rain it was beautiful. You smiled. I smiled. Back then there was joy. And now, you are still. Beautiful like a flower.
|
The moment I left, or the only moment left:
-“Stay close.” Your eyes: hope.
-“No, I have to go away.”
-“Don't leave me alone.” Now fear.
-Love, it makes everything... Better go now.
-"Stay. Close your eyes, Hope."
-"No!"
-"I have to."
-"Go away! Don't! Leave me alone now!"
-"Fear... Love it. Makes everything better. Go now..."
| 2015-09-23T10:42:41 | 2015-09-23T10:05:10 | 630 | 18 |
[WP] Write two small stories with the exact same words in the same order, but with punctuation giving them completely different meanings.
[deleted]
|
Set Free:
And at the last second I saw her stepping onto the train. I realized I would never see her again. Powerless, I watched her fade.
And at the last second I saw her. Stepping onto the train I realized I would never see her again. Powerless, I watched her fade.
|
I looked at him and asked, "What should I never forget?" He put a hand on my shoulder and said, "Hate; what could ever hurt you if you don't love? Also, yourself; then all will be quiet."
I looked at him and asked, "What should I never forget?" He put a hand on my shoulder and said, "Hate what could ever hurt you. If you don't love also yourself, then all will be quiet."
| 2015-09-23T10:11:20 | 2015-09-23T06:30:53 | 361 | 83 |
[WP] Write two small stories with the exact same words in the same order, but with punctuation giving them completely different meanings.
[deleted]
|
Set Free:
And at the last second I saw her stepping onto the train. I realized I would never see her again. Powerless, I watched her fade.
And at the last second I saw her. Stepping onto the train I realized I would never see her again. Powerless, I watched her fade.
|
The moment I left, or the only moment left:
-“Stay close.” Your eyes: hope.
-“No, I have to go away.”
-“Don't leave me alone.” Now fear.
-Love, it makes everything... Better go now.
-"Stay. Close your eyes, Hope."
-"No!"
-"I have to."
-"Go away! Don't! Leave me alone now!"
-"Fear... Love it. Makes everything better. Go now..."
| 2015-09-23T10:11:20 | 2015-09-23T10:05:10 | 361 | 18 |
[WP] Write two small stories with the exact same words in the same order, but with punctuation giving them completely different meanings.
[deleted]
|
Hope:
My life isn't worth living without Hope. I decided to end it all between us two. I'm not happy it ended this way.
My life isn’t worth living. Without hope I decided to end it all. Between us two, I'm not happy it ended this way.
|
I am without want. I hunger no more. Is life to come to an end? Days fade into nights. The sun sets on this day. The moon rises in the sky.
I am. Without want, I hunger. No more is life. To come to an end, days fade into nights. The sun sets. On this day, the moon rises in the sky.
| 2015-09-23T13:54:01 | 2015-09-23T13:53:35 | 91 | 10 |
[WP] In the highest mountains of a far away land, there lies a dark sorcerer's tower lair. You installed the utilities, and he's calling for tech support.
|
[*27th consecutive minute of muzak in minor key; suddenly, a click*]
"Good morning, thank you for calling Tower IT Solutions. My name is Steve and I'm ready to help. What can I assist you with today?"
"*I DEMAND TO SPEAK TO A REPRESENTATIVE.*"
"Of course, sir. My name is Steve and I'm ready to help. What can I assist you with today?"
"The traps you miserable fools installed are defective. *Defective*, I say! I demand a cash refund or its equivalent in pounds of virgin flesh."
"I'm sorry to hear that, sir. Real quick, could I get a name and number from you so I can look up your account?"
"Impudent fool! You cannot tell, by the mere intonations of my thundering voice, that I am Calron, Dark Sorcerer of Akron? *Do you not tremble in fear?*"
[typing] "I am trembling right now, sir, and prostrating myself before your dark throne."
"*Excellent.*"
"We'll still need that number real quick, if you don't mind."
"Wha - why? Do you have *another* Calron, Dark Sorcerer of Akron in your Tome of Knowledge?"
"One moment, sir, and we'll look you up." [typing]
"..."
[further typing; clicking] "(Let's see here...Calrex, Calrine -)"
"Feeble imitators of my glory. They do not deserve to exist in a tome which contains but one mention of my fearsome name."
"And Calron, Dark Sorcerer. Yes, I have your account right here. So let's start at the beginning - what sort of trouble have you been having, sir?"
"Not one fortnight ago, your weak-brained drones *attempted* to install a series of dastardly pitfalls in my tower. Not a one of them works! What good is a trapdoor to the crocodile pit if my computer just keeps saying 'ERROR' every time I try to activate it? I had Sir Pauncey in my sanctum just the other day - had him standing *right on top of the damned thing* - and every time I click, this infernal noise, ERROR ERROR ERROR. Pah! I had to incinerate him with a fireball instead. Which was *boring.*"
[typing] "I'm sorry to hear, that sir - "
"*Boring*, I say! Fix it or I will flay you alive!"
[typing] "Okay, sir, but I'm required to remind you that intentional flaying of Tower IT Solutions employees voids the warranty on our labor."
"Then give me the blasted refund!"
"Sir, we will be happy to refund your money if our work is defective. Let's check some things first, though - maybe we can get those deathtraps up and working without sending a technician."
"...fine, *fine*. What do I do, then?"
"All right - first I need you to go to the router, sir."
"The what now?"
"The router - it should be a black blinky box hooked up to your primary computer in your sanctum."
"Hmm...uh, yes - black, blinky. So what now? Ought I obliterate it?"
"That would unfortunately void the warranty on the router. Do you see the plug going from the router to the wall outlet?"
"...well, yes."
"Unplug that, then wait thirty seconds."
"..."
[typing]
"What next? *Now* do I obliterate it?"
"No sir, just plug it back in."
"...it is - blinking at me."
"That's normal, sir." [typing] "Are all the lights back on, with no blinking?"
"Yes, but this is exceedingly pointless. If this doesn't work, I *will* flay you - "
"Sorry, sir - please try your sanctum trapdoor control again."
"...very well, though I don't see what -" [*CLANG*] "-brilliant. Brilliant!"
"Did that work for you, sir?"
"*ALL SHALL TREMBLE BEFORE THE DARK LORD!*"
"I'm glad we could work that out for you, sir. Would you care to take a quick survey to improve the experience of customers like you?"
"What, and give them an advantage? They can rot!"
"Very well, sir. Thank you for calling Tower IT Solutions, and have a nice day."
"And *you* enjoy not being flayed alive, for now."
[*click*]
|
I stared blankly out from my cubicle with disinterest as wind ripped past the dirty window over a desolate landscape of dirt and stone. The only visible feature was a single power line that stretched for eternity into the distance for the sole purpose of powering my perfectly located establishment. It was in the middle of nowhere, literally, it was the center of the most remote lands in the world. Great for such a niche business if I do say so myself.
Lately, business had picked up. I had just finished setting up the last dark tower with business class wi-fi when a hero came around and started ripping everything apart. I may have given him a hint or two as to the exact locations of the towers, it's an arrangement that has been... mutually beneficial. When he's done a power vacuum opens up and new dark dwellers move in, and business starts all over again.
The thing was, business picking up still meant a week or two between any contact, human or otherwise. Bored of staring at swells of dust roaming over the horizon, I turned back to my desk. Rows of empty cubicles sat waiting to be filled, even though I still had yet to hire a single employee. At that point I simply sat alone in the corner of an over sized office. The soft glow of my computer screen was just bright enough for me to work without turning the overhead lights on. My chair groaned in protest as I leaned back a bit, then squeaked angrily as I jolted forward to grab the phone.
I smiled as I held the phone to my ear, I got it before it even rang. The little light on the side was always a half second early.
"Hello, this is Kimberly speaking from DarkWire, the one stop shop for all your evil technological needs. How may I be of assistance today?"
There was a pause for a moment and a slight crackling sound. Definitely magical interference, and by the tone someone has been practicing necromancy too close to their router. I don't even have to check the caller ID, this is definitely Bok-Tal the self proclaimed "Orc king of the underworld". I move the phone a short distance from my ear, and In a couple seconds the interference clears up and the shouting starts. God I'm good at my job.
"You will pay for what you have done, once more you failed at the task I required of you. My internet seems ill and weak, not fit for a king!"
*Yup, he did it again. I told him, I* told *him this would happen if he practiced his necromancy too close to the hardware. Every time I explain the same thing to him*
In fact, I told him so many times that I responded automatically.
"Okay sir, I know what the problem is don't worry. Have you been casting your spells while next to the box?"
"Hardly at all, hardly at all! I only used it as an alter for three sacrifices this month. This equipment is garbage, it should be designed to handle a spell or two!"
"Sir, I've explained this to you before. It's not *designed* with spells in mind. It doesn't even *come* from this plane of existence. Over there, they have technology and no magic. Here, we have magic and no technology. All I'm doing is, well, bridging the gap. What that means is that none of these products are designed with magical interference in mind." The silence from the phone told me what I already knew, that none of what I just said got through to him. I let out a long sigh before I continued with a new approach. "Technology is kind of like divine magic. You can't mix it with dark magic. Except technology is a magic that doesn't mix with *any* magic. Do you understand?"
"Yes yes, okay fine. No magic near the box, or the boxes magic will fizzle. Now how do I fix it?"
"What you are going to have to do is wait three to five days for me to head over and replace it for you."
"Can't you come any sooner?"
"Do you know any teleportation spells?"
"Only short range."
"Then no, it's a long walk. It's going to take me a few days and I can't account for delays caused by roaming minions that lost their masters. One gave me a nasty gash the other day, he was a tough one all right."
"Ok fine, but it better work this time." He paused for a moment before continuing in the most sinister tone he could muster. "Or else."
With a click, he hung up. I put my phone down in it's spot and spun around quickly in my chair. It was time to get prepared, this guy gets quite upset when I show up late.
| 2015-11-18T22:18:32 | 2015-11-18T20:18:08 | 34 | 12 |
[WP] When a person dies, an individual can volunteer to house their soul within their own body until a donor body is found. You are beginning to regret your decision.
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I'm a good samaritan. I try to give to the community, and take as little as possible in return. I pay my taxes, I call my grandma every week, I help my cousins with their homework. I'm a *nice guy*.
Therein lies my fucking problem.
Of course, when grandma started getting sick, and asked me to house her soul until we found her a new body, I said 'absolutely'. What kind of asshole denies their grandma? I thought, *sure. I'll help her out, what does it matter?*
What matters is that no one has housed a family member's soul before. I was the first. I thought, *hey, I'm a pioneer! First of a kind! Couldn't possibly hurt, right?*
When you house a soul, the doctors go over everything. To the person being housed, they've effectively died. The soul is dormant until a new body is found for them. So, of fucking course I helped my sweet grandma.
"Thank you, Jimbo," she said to me. She always called me that. Thankfully, no one else did.
The implanting was a complete success. "Smoothest operation to date", they told me. I got home from the hospital and my girlfriend, Kate, came over. Beautiful, kind woman. A freak in bed.
That night, we start going at it pretty heavily. Halfway through, I'm tied up and out of breath, my body stinging a little from the pain. *Oh, you naughty boy.*
I laughed. "Why'd you say that in a funny voice?" I asked her.
"What? I didn't say anything to you," Kate replied, giggling.
"Yeah you did. You just said something."
*Don't stop now, it was just getting good.*
"You said something again!". I was getting desperate now. The game she was playing with me started to get annoying.
"You're insane. I didn't say anything either time."
I contorted my face in confusion, puzzled as to why she'd be trying to trick me.
*Jimbo, be a man and fuck her already. I haven't felt anything like this in 40 years.*
My scream woke up the neighbors.
|
*Look at her rack. LOOK AT HER RACK DUDE LOOK AT IT, ARE YOU SEEING IT? DUDE? YOU COULD PARK A HELICOPTER ON THOSE, MAN.*
I sighed. It was bad enough to have somebody chattering away in my head when I was trying to fall asleep. But this... this was something else. I would never have expected a dead man to be such a horndog.
"Dude," I said, "that's my mom."
*Niiiiiiice. No wonder my MILF-detector was going off, am I right? Am I right, Tom? Thomas? Tommy?*
"I can't wait for them to find you a donor body," I snapped.
There was no reply.
I bent back over my Engineering homework, chewing the pencil's eraser. Hosting souls was paying my way through college. It could be worse, of course. Not everybody was as obnoxious as Frank. In fact, despite only picking him up from the clinic half an hour ago, I was already beginning to think that NOBODY was as obnoxious as Frank.
Still... a couple of my buddies were working six night shifts a week at Burger King. It took them each two liters of coffee to stay awake through their morning classes. *That* was torture.
An awful clattering came echoing out of the kitchen as my mom emptied the dishwasher.
"Some day," I said, gritting my teeth around the metal band at the pencil's aft end, "I'm going to live in a bigass mansion. A big, quiet mansion."
*You'll invite me over for a swim in the pool, right?*
"Tell you what, Frank," I said, marking down an answer with a few triumphant strokes of the pencil, "if you limit yourself to five sentences a day for the next couple of months, I'll let you take a dip whenever you want."
*****
*If you liked the story, check out my [sci-fi adventure novel](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3uixph/ot_thanks_to_rwritingprompts_i_spent_the_last_ten/) and/or [my personal subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/FormerFutureAuthor/)! Making a big push to get more content out there :D Practice practice practice!*
| 2016-01-18T09:05:27 | 2016-01-18T08:42:21 | 969 | 68 |
[WP] The humans never suspected, they were the apocalypse.
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Humans have always feared the end of the world; stories of hurricanes and tornadoes swarming, the dead rising to claim the living, seas swelling to swallow land. Perhaps a meteor will destroy us, crushing scampering bodies like ants under foot and encasing our planet in a thick cloud of dust that blocks the sun's warmth. Or, could it be another sickness, so vile and unyielding no medicine can cure it?
And so, we always held fear in the back of our minds. *The apocalypse is coming.* Shelters to survive blasts and sustain life for years were built, just in case. We sliced through forest and harvested animals like crops to sustain our species; to build ourselves as great and perhaps be able to overcome any threat of extinction.
*Nothing can destroy us.* Our strong minds and powerful will would drive us to survive anything nature could throw our way. For that is what we are- we are survivors. That is the trait evolution handed to us. Earth cannot purge us so easily, for we are intelligent, and we are strong. Adaptability is our mantra, and we do not give in without a fight.
Humanity feared the apocalypse, yet it was simply Earth trying to purge a sickness from itself. An infection that destroyed its body and murdered its inhabitants by the billions, poisoning it little by little along the way; a virus without reprieve, reaping its very life.
We feared the apocalypse, yet not once did we stop to think that perhaps, it is us- even as bombs fell, splintering flesh and Earth, fusing them in a mangled mess of sorrow and pain.
In the end, it was not just Earth left slain, but ourselves as well- truly, the pinnacle of destruction. Yet, through fire and smoke, through ash and death, we still could not see it. Those who survived thought the apocalypse was upon *them*, in their ignorance without bliss.
*We* are the apocalypse. *We are Death.*
|
Humankind always imagined leaving Earth, but Earth would be their first casualty. They were always the solution and always had a solution for them, but they were never the problem, a race incapable of wrongdoing on the species level. When the world warmed, their kind denied it. When the life died, their kind denied any culpability in it, but they continued to thrive. They were beings meant to survive with their large brains and able bodies no matter what they left in their wake. So, they left Earth and spread, first to Mars then Titan. Then, they harnessed the energy of the sun and brought about it's red death and the death of their home solar system. But, again, their intelligence had saved them. Advanced technology with worm holes and faster than light travel broadened their reach to galaxies. Their numbers multiplied until they numbered in the trillions, then quadrillions, then quintillions, then sextilllions, and eventually septillions. Then, the Blorgon Galactic Empire pushed back, but humanity proved to be their apocalypse, then the Andromedian Galactic Republic suffered the same fate. With such vast numbers, no galaxy could hold them as they used up entire galaxies in years, and, like a virus, they spread through the universe. Their advanced technologies, intergalactic travel, and immense use of resources turned stars into black holes billions of years before their times. As the black holes ate planets and devoured solar systems, they merged into super black holes that were not the creation of humanity but an unfortunate consequence of their need to survive. As the universe became one massive black hole, it started to die 13.3 billion years ahead of schedule, and, finally, it would take humanity with it. When humankind vanished at the death of the universe, they continued to remain obstinate that the fault was at all their own, but humanity again found a way to live as a small group of humans invaded the multiverse bringing the apocalypse that came with them.
***
r/nickkuvaas has more of my writing, if you like that sort of thing.
| 2016-01-30T05:37:22 | 2016-01-30T05:14:47 | 344 | 20 |
[WP] Two wizards must fight each other. One has the power to shape the future, the other has the power to alter the past.
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"But why must we fight, Nazan? This cannot end well for anyone," Yonza pleaded. "We're friends, are we not?"
"You know as well as I, Yonza, the Dark Lord prophecized centuries ago we would fight. You've heard the passage. *Nazan, Keeper of yesterday. Yonza, Keeper of tomorrow. Keeper must fight Keeper, for there is not room enough in this world for both. Elsewise, Man will suffer complete destruction.* The prophecy says so. We're doing this for mankind."
Yonza stroked his beard in thought. "Nazan, I have an idea to get past this, but I'll need your help."
-------------------------------
Two old, wise men sat on a hill in the greenest field known to man.
"Nazan, I know it was my idea, but you could've at least been a little more creative with the names," Aznoy grumbled. "Keeper of the past, my wrinkly ass."
"Don't complain. We avoided the prophecy, did we not?"
"The Dark Lord must be furious." Aznoy chuckled lightly. "I wonder what he'll do."
They each lit a pipe, smug with satisfaction, enjoying the peacefulness of nature.
|
As the white wizard stood in the knowledge of his fate, he uttered his last words.
"Too much blood has been spilled in our wake brother, if this is to be my last breath, then I will do what you cannot.".
The wizard stood for a moment, then was promtly unwritten from reality.
The Warlock laughed, he felt no different and was still standing proudly, the victor.
He then heard it... the bird song. So long had it been since he heard the beautiful chorus, and he fell to his knees in sorrow.
The world scorched in his lustful war for power had been rekindled and with it, his ego evaporated.
A realisation of his deeds swept over him, and with it, he knew in his last moments, his brother had given him the gift of moral redemption.
In his death, it was his brother who had infact won the war, but at the greatest sacrifice.
The warlock raised his staff and with all his power tried to write his brother into existence but it was too late. He was gone.
As penance he took up his brothers mantle of responsibility, and vowed to protect the world from the evil of lust. Never again would power corrupt the future of his kingdom.
| 2016-02-02T19:31:05 | 2016-02-02T18:11:56 | 226 | 57 |
[WP] Write an over-the-top background story for an early video game that didn't have a narritive. Ex. Pong, Asteriods, Pacman
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She lies in bed, crippled, and barely even breathing. A man in a white coat walks into the room with a dejected and empathetic frown on his face. I could tell he felt responsible for my mother's condition.
"I'm sorry, but... You don't have the required insurance for the procedure, I'm afraid there's nothing we can do unless you can bring in three hundred dollars..."
"A teenage boy can't come up with that money!" I cut him off quickly, anger and frustration welling up in my tone.
"Yelling at me isn't going to help!" His voice threw back the same frustration that I had.
I shrunk away in surprise at the usually kind doctors harsh voice.
"What do you think I should be doing then?"
"The only thing you can do for your mother right now... Is get a job."
I sat back down, head in my hands. No one would be willing to pay a thirteen year old boy. I have no employable skills. No one would want a burden working for them.
#===========================================
The wind races past my face as I ride down the street on my bike. I promise I'll pay for my mom, because I am a paper boy.
|
"This is it, you all know me so I'll keep this brief. We have all suffered greatly, so many lives lost. I tell you it ends today. I have watched you, guided you through your training. It has been tough but here we stand. United against our enemy. We have been pushed back into the depths of space time and time again, but not today. They call us invaders, but we will reclaim our homeland. Our brightest minds have formulated a new strategy which will not fail. Today we will be victorious!"
With that a shout rose from the assembled pilots as they ran towards there ships. The General sighed, it pained him to watch such promising lives been thrown away. He watched as engines roared to life. It really was a beautiful sight. His squadron soared into the air. He took a final look at the strategy and climbed aboard the mother ship. This time would be different.
Fires burnt all across the mothership as the general looked out at the decimated remains of his squadron. How could this have happened? the plan was full proof. He watched as the anti air defenses honed in on his position. They launched a salvo straight through their own shields. He looked down at the battle plan the words scrawled across the page. Increase speed, move left to right. It should have worked.
| 2016-02-19T06:56:00 | 2016-02-19T05:31:22 | 47 | 15 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT.
|
**Covenant archives: Civilizations: Species: Humans**
Introduction:
The human history is a bloody one. For thousands of years their home world was divided by invisible lines and each area governed by different people. They fought over the most trivial things and often out of nothing more than pure spite or in argument over what fictional character was real. All of this changed when two leaders, Trump and Putin, couldn't agree on, well, on anything. The event called "Origin point" took place and over 90 percent of the human population was annihilated in less than 1 hour as nuclear weapons were detonated all over the surface of the planet.
The course of human history changed in that moment and violent conflict became an abolished concept that no human ever willingly took part of.
--------------------------------
**Covenant archives: Civilizations: Species: Humans**
Expansion:
No species ever took to interstellar travel as fast and ambitiously as the humans. Once they discovered warp drive they colonized their supercluster and even most of their galaxy in record time. They made contact with what was then known as The United Galaxies Collective and brokered peace and trade treaties before anyone really realized what had happened. Due to their incredible curiosity and will to absorb they immediately began catching up to The UGC in both science and size.
It didn't take long before some members of The UGC started to perceive the humans as threat. Many species felt the humans needed to be slowed down or stopped completely in their expansion but no legal ground to regulate expansion was found and the humans were left alone. For the time being.
------------------
**Covenant archives: Civilizations: Species: Humans**
Conflict:
The species with the most concern about human expansion were naturally the big player in the Andromeda galaxy. The Tirdian. Even though none had ever seen any intention of conquest from the humans the Tirdian who were suspicious in nature felt threatened and decided to act. What happened next is widely considered the biggest mistake in the history of The UGC.
The Tirdians launched a preemptive strike against the outer borders of the Milky way. They annihilated about 15 border outposts and put up blockades on additional hundreds of planets. From that point they swiftly advanced deeper into the galaxy as they faced no resistance of any kind. The humans that could fled but most stayed on the conquered planets and tried to live normal lives normal. The Tirdians were bewildered but considered the campaign a huge success. Within months thousands of planets were conquered and the Tirdians had suffered zero casualties, no statement had come from the human leaders and no attempt to broker peace was made.
About 4 months after the start of the campaign the Tirdians lost all contact with their forces in the milky way. The Tirdian leadership attributed this to communication failure due to interference and didn't give it a second thought. Until a message started broadcasting to the entire Andromeda galaxy.
*"NO MERCY"*
*"NO MERCY"*
*"NO MERCY"*
*"NO MERCY"*
*"NO MERCY"*
*"NO MERCY"*
*"NO MERCY"*
*"NO MERCY"*
The words appeared on every screen, was heard from every sound source and never stopped repeating.
To this day, 250,000 years later, the Andromeda galaxy holds no trace of the Tirdian civilization, it holds no life and it probably never will.
-------
-------
Thanks for reading! This is my first WP and first story in several years. I know it will be buried but any reader is appreciated.
|
Jak'tur stood on the command bridge of the galaxy's most massive Dreadnought, The Bastion. His suction-cupped hands continued to subconsciously wipe at his scaled combat suit, and his black, bulged eyes continued to scan the screens around him for any activity. The entire crew was on high alert, for they had just trespassed into human space. Though humans had not contributed to any major, or minor, galactic conflicts in the past millennium, they still struck fear into the hearts of all the species of the "Milky Way," as humans were fond of calling the galaxy.
"Admiral," his second called out, "we are approaching the rendezvous point but have not received any pings from fleet main."
"Do not ping, we might alert the humans." Jak'tur was to meet the main battle fleet of the Coalition of Independent Races a half light year from Sol 13, but had not been contacted even though he had just dropped out of jump. Something like this had been attempted before on the Human Home system, but had been met with fierce, unending resistance. The old Galactic Imperium had finally taken notice of the humans, and invaded the Sol system as well as launched minor offensives against their colonies.
The main Imperium fleet jumped into orbit around Earth and began its invasion. Before long though, the Imperium was on the run from the might of the Human military. Envoy's were sent, but the Human's would not abate until the Emperor's head was sent rolling.
And now, Jak'tur was to lead another assault upon the humans for his leaders had seen them to be weak. It was true that they did not possess a fleet such to rival the Coalition's in size, but Jak'tur knew that would not help them now.
"Admiral, radar is picking up faint signals of the fleet just on the other side of the planet."
"Bring the screen up and decrease engine power to half. Divert all remaining power to shields. Keep weapons at one quarter." Jak'tur knew what was about to happen.
The holoscreen came up just as soon a Jak'tur sat down in his command chair and showed utter carnage. The entire battle fleet lay in shatters as if stricken with some sort of great hammer. The Delphius, pride of the Corcians, was blasted in half and still spewing the fur covered, bipedal Corcians out.
"Take all power out of weapons, launch drones and power up the Jump Drive."
"Admiral Jak'tur," a familiar human face appeared on the screen. It was Admiral Cintal, a young man of immense tactical genius tasked with the safeguarding of Earth and Mars. In person, he was only about six feet tall, much shorter than the average Jintiil, but he had eyes that could pierce your mind. "Your people have come to my home, and risked open war with my people. We humans have done our best to remain peaceable and kind, but it seems that we must show our military might once more. This is Admiral Cintal to Sol Fleet Prime, you have my clearance to disengage cloak end open fire on The Bastion."
The transmission ended and Jak'tur readied himself for death. The radar lit up with a thousand red dots and death came swiftly to The Bastion. Meanwhile, a Human Battle fleet had assaulted the Coalition shipyards and destroyed the Secondary Battle Fleet that had been dispatched to cut off trade with the Florids. The Humans had once again proven their military might and silenced the voices of their foes.
| 2016-03-14T01:37:22 | 2016-03-13T18:23:49 | 24 | 18 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy
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It was the toughest race of my life. The water was everywhere. Many of my friends were already dead, but I knew if I kept going I could make it. I could feel everything around me get softer the more I continued. I was drenched but I wasn't going to give up, not this close to the end. I finally felt the air on my skin. I had made it. Water was all over the ground and my friends, at least those who made it, were all there with me. Happens every time it rains I suppose, it just caught me off guard this time. It took a little too long to creep and crawl my way to the top, but whoever said a worms life is an easy one.
|
I’m a very structured man. I’ve had a strict morning routine for 24 years now.
Sunday, March 22, 1992 I discovered the perfect way to start my day.
I wake up at 5:30 and slip on my slippers. I start my coffee and read the sports section.
Once the coffee is finished brewing, I pour myself a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios.
I make sure to clean the dishes after I’m finished. Messy sink, messy life.
I’ll shower and dress. Shirt, then tie, then socks, then pants, then shoes.
Before I leave I always make sure to kiss Mary goodbye; she hasn’t aged a day.
| 2016-05-19T12:45:26 | 2016-05-19T09:03:34 | 70 | 24 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy
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Dear Diary,
It's been such a long trip! I keep bugging Mom to find out when we are going to arrive! Looking out the window gets boring pretty quickly, the scenery just starts to all look the same.
Most of my siblings agree, except, of course, Miss Goody Two Shoes. You know the one. She just smiles at Mom and says what a lovely journey it is and how much she is looking forward to our arrival.
Well, that's all for today!
Dear Diary,
It's so exciting!!! Mom says we will be there in about an hour. I can't wait!! I'm so so so hungry and Earth has some amazing tasting humans!
|
I’m a very structured man. I’ve had a strict morning routine for 24 years now.
Sunday, March 22, 1992 I discovered the perfect way to start my day.
I wake up at 5:30 and slip on my slippers. I start my coffee and read the sports section.
Once the coffee is finished brewing, I pour myself a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios.
I make sure to clean the dishes after I’m finished. Messy sink, messy life.
I’ll shower and dress. Shirt, then tie, then socks, then pants, then shoes.
Before I leave I always make sure to kiss Mary goodbye; she hasn’t aged a day.
| 2016-05-19T10:54:03 | 2016-05-19T09:03:34 | 53 | 24 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy
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After having a child my wife and I wanted to go against the stereotype of the stay at home mom. That's right, my job title went from 'District Manager of Carmike Cinemas' to 'Stay At Home Dad'. Okay so in all honesty we didn't do this to fight the stereotypes, my wife had a better paying job as a doctor; so instead of hiring a nanny, we decided it would be best if I just stayed with our kid.
My favorite thing about watching a newborn, was nighttime. I would put our precious baby in her crib for the night. Then I would get to go downstairs in the backroom, AKA: The Man Cave, and watch TV until my wife got home. I always knew when she was home because her angelic singing voice would come over the baby monitor I had with me. I would still stay tucked away in my man cave until she actually came to get me out. I thought it was important that we could both have some alone time each day with our child.
After listening to my wife's beautiful lullaby, she came in the room about 30 minutes later visibly angry. She was upset that I kept making her cook after her long days of work. So being the somewhat generous man I am, I suggested we cook together tonight. She loved the idea! It had been so long since we've actually had the chance to do something that wasn't parent duty.
While I was cutting up the tomatoes for our salad, I got a strange idea.
"Honey?"
"Yes, Love?" I loved her pet name for me.
"I know this is odd, but do you think you could sing me a song? Preferably the lullaby you sing to Emma every night when you get home. You're voice is so amazing over the monitor, I can't begin to imagine the perfection it is in the same room."
"George, I never go in Emma's room when I get home. She's already asleep, I don't want to risk waking her up."
|
Jennifer was crying in her room and when the sound had reached her mother, Jane, she got out of bed in that hurried, unhurried walk that all mothers have. Unhurried because, as with most problems with children, it was probably nothing, but hurried because that wasn't always the case. Jane opened the door to Jennifer's room and asked with a tired but concerned voice, "What's wrong honey?"
"I don't like my new bear," Jennifer wailed out in complaint. The bear that Jane had brought for her daughter when she had gotten back from work, which she had laid at the foot of her bed, now laid on the floor.
"Well what's the matter with him?" Jane asked. Though she you couldn't hear it in her voice a small part of her was relieved that the wails of her child had been nothing after all. "Is it his eye?" she said knowingly.
"Well, yes but he's stinky too and he scares me." Jennifer said through choked sobs.
"Oh dear he's not so scary. I'll tell you what I'll fix his eye right now and ill wash him tomorrow so he doesn't smell so bad. Okay? That way you too can get to know each other tonight and I bet by the morning you'll love him just as much as you loved the bunny I got you.
"Mr. Doctor is nice though!" Jennifer cried out as her mother fixed up her new bear.
"Oh but you didn't like him in the beginning did you?" Jennifer shook her head, regretfully agreeing with her mother. "I thought so," she said picking the small bear from the ground and tucking it underneath the sheets with her daughter. "Now place nice with your new friend and go to sleep," she said placing a kiss on her daughter's forehead.
When her mother left the room Jennifer looked at the bear uncertainly but decided she would try love him. So she wrapped her arms around the bloodied fur of the cub and tried to look lovingly into the glossed over eyes as one popped back out and she could peer into its slowly decaying skull.
| 2016-05-19T15:48:47 | 2016-05-19T15:14:47 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] You've just invented time travel. You decide to go exactly 1 year into the future and speak to the first person you see, "Hey what day is it?" "364." "What do you mean 364?" "It's been 364 days since the incident.
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"You know, since causality stopped," he continued. "I know computers have been useless and the news has been hard to get, but mate, it's the end of the freaking world! Miscellaneous items seem to be running backwards in time at random. Planes falling out of the sky, random implosions, explosions, objects being created from nothing? Why, just this morning I woke up to my alarm clock ricocheting off my hand and it started ringing afterwards. You can't go 20 seconds without seeing something strange. It's like Y2K, but for real."
Stunned, I whipped my head around and looked back at my time machine. Nothing seemed to running backwards just at the minute. Although the looted houses, strange craters and broadly dishevelled landscape indicated something significant had occurred.
I turned back to my new friend, eyes wide and mouth agape.
"Haha, got you! Nah I'm Steve, you sent me here from your future, which is the linear past." He pressed what appeared to be a golden SD card into my hand. "Look, just get back in your time machine and release the recall charge. You'll snap right back to your time. All the instructions are there. We built a paradise in the sea opposite Pangaea about 232 million years ago, and recruited everyone after your inaugural voyage to be Panthalassians. The informational distance is guaranteed to avoid a paradox. Similarly, you'll have to start work on your own, at least in the beginning, but we can help you out more as things go on. Anyway, we've got infinite time later and you've got a lot of work ahead of you now, so best get started. You should find everything you need conveniently shows up when you need it."
"Whaa.... the damage? Who... Huh?" I countered.
"Don't worry about it. Everyone left, we took a few things, and generally left the world to recover from prepantemporal human infection on its own. Just go home and have a scotch and get to work."
|
"Hey what day is it?"
She looked a bit annoyed, as if the answer couldn't be anymore obvious. "364"
"What do you mean 364?"
Now she looked even more bothered, "It's been 364 days since the incident"
The tone of her voice hit me like a brick being thrown at my stomach. She spoke as if the worst possible thing had happened that day. What kind of event could have happened that caused the entire country to reset the way we look at the calendar? Had Jesus Christ come back from heaven? I was curious but didn't want to probe any further. Another dumb question from me and she might blow a gasket. She turned around and continued walking at her brisk pace, crossing her arms to protect herself from the frigid New York City wind.
I pulled out my phone from my pocket, obviously I had no service since I hadn't paid a phone bill in a year. I ran to the nearest coffee shop with free WiFi, ordered a large cup of Joe and was pleased to see that the currency hadn't changed since "the incident". I sat down in the warm cafe and the smell of fresh roasted beans brought a sense of calm to the situation. I logged into the WiFi and began where every search begins. I simply typed "the incident" into my search bar.
Unsurprisingly, thousands of news articles popped up from various news sources. I stuck with Wikipedia, my go-to.
*Last updated Nov 7, 2017 08:35*
"'The incident' was a series of events that occurred on November 8, 2016 that led to massive riots, chaos, and death." I had to take a second to breath. I knew the next few sentences would be what i was looking for, and I wanted to brace myself for it. I don't know what I was expecting, perhaps a nuclear bomb had gone off, or the president was assassinated. What I read was much worse...
"The massive hysteria was caused by the election of the 45th president of the United States [Donald John Trump (R)](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Donald_Trump)"
| 2016-06-30T08:36:56 | 2016-06-30T08:24:31 | 174 | 89 |
[WP] You were born with a large birthmark in the shape of a dragon. However, this is just a coincidence; there is absolutely nothing magical about it, and you're getting really tired of explaining this.
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Then, one day, they meet a young person with an equally non-mysterious birthmark shaped like the number 9.
Their eyes simultaneously fix on each others' birthmarks from across la biblioteca, where they had simultaneously taken refuge on the first day of college. The approach was mutual, each stepping toward the other as the message was communicated without words... "Fucking birthmarks."
When they were face to face, each smiled awkwardly and looked away for an instant, but during the long pause that followed both felt bewilderment and joy, with eyes locked.
|
Nope. not magical. I know, I know, It's perfect. It looks just like a dragon, tail, wings, fire breath. but its just a fucking birthmark man. Cant even tattoo over it because I could get cancer or something. it being a giant mole. I am really getting sick of it but its on my face. What do I do, wear a mask? that would open up a whole slew of other problems then. "i hear he has like a dragon tattoo on his face because he yakuza" or some shit like that.
anyway, can I get that large fry now?
| 2016-08-04T16:02:43 | 2016-08-04T15:25:00 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] The human attribute generator placed 1 on all your stats, but 11 on your luck, the max should have been 10. God watches in anticipation as you unknowingly went to your first boss fight.
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"What are we looking at dad?"
"A little experiment of mine."
God and Jesus were sitting in front of the screen that was showing me.
"Yeah but why did you give him 11 points in luck but only 1 in strength, agility, endurance, charm, perception and every other minor stat? And wasnt 10 points the highest you could get in any of these stats?"
"Shhhhh, just watch. He is about to step into his first bossfight. His enemy: One of Satans generals."
"This is fucking insane dad! How did you even get Satan to send one of his generals?"
"He lost a bet. He said that my most loyal follower would never accept gay people."
I was lost. I was on my way to my house when it got dark and I somehow entered a forrest. Now I could barely see or hear anything.
"Dad he will get murdered! Look, the general isnt alone! He brought 5 of his minions!"
"Son just watch. If little Jim gets killed I will bring him to heaven, dont worry."
My hearing wasnt the best. But even I could hear the warcry. A giant minotaur with red glowing eyes was standing in front of me. His minions surrounded me. The minotaur lifted his giant sword and attacked.
I stepped back and slipped on a stick in the mud. The sword barely missed me. Instead my foot flinged the stick and impaled one of the minions on a tree.
The minions growled with anger and I shit myself.
But the smell of half digested, days old mexican food must have irritated them somehow. They interrupted their charge. And stumbled back.
Only to walk into the second swing of the minotaur. They were cut in half clean.
"Daddamnit, thats a lot of luck."
"Indeed Jesus, now be quiet. Its continuing."
The minotaur now ran directly into my direction. Halfway on the run he suddenly stumbled over a log on the ground and crushed the last 2 of his minions under him.
He cried out in pain, obviously he broke both of his ankles. He was swinging his sword around like a madman, trying to hit me while yelling curses.
I crawled even futher back in my soiled pants. The minotaur hit a tree with his sword. It fell and landed on his neck, killing him instantly.
"Ha! What did I say? He is completely unharmed."
"Yes but he shit himself and probably is going to have PTSD from shit like this."
"Yes, but he will always be lucky. Listen, why dont you try it out?"
"Fine, under one condition: I want the others stats of my subject be completely average."
"You mean 5 on everything exept the one special stat? Im ok with that."
"Then I want one to have 11 points in strength."
"So a one punch man? Fine, whatever."
|
Uh oh.
This definitely was not the way back to the hotel room. The long red-carpeted hallway stretched out into a black infinity as the orange lamps disappeared into the darkness, lining the walls as they shook violently.
Huh.
Then, the demon bellhop that had greeted me on the way in crashed through the wall, sending debris flying everywhere. His fragile form slapped against the beige wallpaper with a wet smack, before falling down, cap rolling away.
"I said, BRING MY LUGGAGE TO THE SIX HUNDRED and SIXTY SIXTH FLOOR!" The hole in the wall said, providing some much needed context. I nodded along. This was supposed to be the six hundred and sixty-fifth floor, so I could understand why that insanely deep voiced hole would find frustration in such an act.
From the hole, a massive red figure emerged, a forked tale and a spaded tongue dancing around.
"DO YOU WANT TO BE MY DINNER, MORTAL?!"
"What're the perks?"
"WELL YOU CAN-w... what?"
I peered down at my sandals.
"I mean, I know I was meant to be tortured for all eternity and whatnot, but was chosen by the Order of the Righteous to redeem Humanity by waging a divine war against all Demons, and in doing so, liberate my cursed world from the clutches of the tyrannical and evil overlord Lucifer... but would I get better shoes should I choose to be your dinner?"
The monster blinked, the red skin still steaming, as he took a breath. And another. And another.
"You're very dense."
I looked back down to my sandals.
"Are there new shoes or not?"
His massive hand darted forward to seize my throat, and in fear, I fell backwards with a shriek. My sword fell out of my hand, and then it happened. Again. Instead of making a stand against the demonic warlord and fighting with all my might, the Divinity Blade cut through the air and stabbed the floor between us, blowing apart the Godawful (hehe) carpet and sending white beams of holy light through the boards beneath.
The lamps fell and the Hellfire within them extinguished as a chorus of Angels sang of redemption and salvation and other such hooey simultaneously while an arc of lightning darted forward through the lumbering red monster, ripping through his heart.
His eyes bulged as the Will of Humanity crushed his soul.
Ultimately, he was ash after about ten minutes of the singing and light show.
"Wow, you're a hero! You saved my life! I didn't even see how you did that! You're faster than light! You're a true real life Heaven ninja! You are so cool!"
"Do you have sandals?"
~
"Oh my ME! He did it again! What a surprise," God mused, smirking as the huddled group of Angels groaned in frustration, "guess SOMEONE has to pay-up, or SOMEONES... heheheheHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"God, God's such a dick..."
| 2017-02-13T12:51:43 | 2017-02-13T12:44:09 | 507 | 58 |
[WP] Jesus actually had 14 disciples but their behavior was deemed inappropriate by biblical scholars, so they were removed from the final versions of the Gospels. They are Brad and Chad, the Bro-ciples, and these are their stories.
Apostles... Dang it, I meant Apostles.
|
"GAAAYY", Yelled Chad.
"Super homo, man", added Brad.
Jesus seemed disappointed. "What's the problem?"
Jesus looked among all 14 of his apostles as they sit on one side of a very long table.
Brad glared back at Jesus "You want us to take this bread as YOUR BODY? Christ, man, I thought we were just gonna get our munchies on. None of this gay talk about swallowing you."
"Come on guys, this is a serious occasion, just go with it." beckoned Jesus.
Chad stood up from his table "Lord, I didn't come here this stoned to listen to you tell us to down this loaf like it's hanging from your crotch. I thought we were gonna talk about how to KO that bitch Caesar."
Jesus sighed. "Guys, we never said we would harm Caesar. Why do you two always berate me like this every time?"
"Hear me out, bro. You did say 'Give to Caesar what is Caesars', right? Well I'm thinking we gotta give that guy a new asshole!" Exclaimed Chad.
Brad nodded with approval. "Foresure, bro. Gotta get all thunder and lightning on his ass. Mess him up so good chicks would rather bang a leper."
"Nice, bro" Chad said with a fist bump.
The rest of the apostles sat silently, watching this almost routine banter.
Now Jesus got up "Listen you two, I don't mean to make this seem more important than it is. But I kind of don't expect to be around much longer and I have some things I gotta leave you with before I go."
Brad put a hand on Jesus' shoulder. "Jesus don't be a pussy, only thing you gotta leave us with is some serious ammunition and Chad and I can run things fine. Go all kaboom on them!"
"What?" said Jesus.
"KABOOOOOOM!!!!!" cried Brad and Chad with exploding hand gestures.
"No. No threatening or hurting anyone." Jesus said, as angry as a son of God could reasonably get. "Don't make me call upon my father."
"Which father? The one who can't even bone your mom?" remarked Chad.
"Or the one you keep talking about yet we never seem actually see?" said Brad. "Face it dude, you're in denial."
"DE-NIE-ULL."
"And we're not even in Egypt. Israeli sad."
Brad and Chad looked at each other with satisfaction at their punny roast on Christ.
Jesus was finished. "That's it. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of you. You two will never again be mentioned or remembered again if you keep this up. I just wanted a nice dinner and you two ruined it. It's disgusting. I'm tired of your antics. If you can't pipe down just...just leave."
Chad shook his head, "Wow, I didn't know you could turn EVERYTHING into whine. Whatever, this sausage fest was lame anyway. No chicks or anything. Let's go Brad."
"There were never going to be 'chicks'. That was never part of our mission"
Brad started motioning to the door. "Well that didn't stop Simon and us from convincing these brothel girls great riches if they blew us."
Simon looked up in panic. "Uh that didn't happen."
Chad looked surprised. "Come on, you remember Becky from last week?"
"I don't know a Becky!" Simon cried.
"Yeah you do" said Chad.
"No I don't!"
"Do too!" screamed Brad and Chad as they headed toward the door.
"OUT YOU TWO!" Jesus said.
"Yeah yeah, we're leaving. But just know this. This is THE LAST supper we are ever having!!" Brad said.
"The LAAAAST!!!" added Chad.
As Brad opened the door, Chad whispered to Judas on the way out "Beeteedubs, Jesus has you on the end cause he says you wreak of B.O."
And with that the two left history forever...
|
The fledgling priest stared at the scrolls that were just laid in front of him. "What are these? More historical documents that I need to study?"
The Bishop, wrinkled with age, lifted his hands to adjust his glasses. "Those are the forbidden gospels. Scholars of old deemed them inappropriate for the masses, but the church still wanted to keep them as historical records."
The priest looked up at the old man. "You're kidding, right? Are you telling me that we have been hiding doctrine from the parish? That in itself seems like a sin, as we are hiding the words of God... Isn't all scripture God-breathed and useful for teaching, as stated by Paul in his letter to Timothy?
The Bishop nodded, "You are correct, but this... is a bit different." The old bishop lifted the scroll again. "Here, you are getting into the position in which you can decide for yourself as to whether or not you share these with your own parish."
The priest slowly unrolled the ancient scrolls. "What is this writing...? Greek? Latin? I can't make it out..."
The Bishop let out a sigh. "No, those are just scribbles of a drunk man. We think he was trying to doodle a beast or something about the end times... As you can see at the bottom there, the line just kind of trails off, as if he fell asleep from the booze."
The priest furrowed his brow. "This is all some horrible joke."
The Bishop shook his head. "I wish it was... but what sits in front of you is the book of Chad. Keep opening the scroll. Eventually, you will get to the greek text, written by Chad himself. Read it, translate it, and tell me what you think."
The priest began to read from the scroll and translated it into English as he went along.
*"The Book of Chad, Chapter one. - On a particular day, my brother Brad and myself-"*
The Bishop held up his hand. "Hold it... It isn't 'brother'. The word is actually close buddy, or *bro*.
The priest blinked in protest... "Alright then. *On a particular day, my bro Brad and myself were wicked thirsty. We were in serious need of some 'Nectar of the gods' and needed some shade too. We came across a wedding. Not knowing anyone, we crashed it and quickly became the life of the party. The thing about parties, though, is eventually the booze runs dry. That is when it is time to move on and sleep it off until the next party to crash. But lo, a simple man, the son of a carpenter was also there, with his Mom. She complained that we drank all the wine, and asked the man named Jesus to do something about it. Expecting a fight, we braced ourselves, but instead, the man filled some jugs with water and blessed them. We thought the man was a nut, but some of the damnedest best wine started flowing from them jugs. We were impressed beyond belief, and there we realized we could get all the free booze we wanted if we followed this man around."*
The priest sat there, unsure of what he just read. "So... these gospels were written by men constantly plastered?"
The bishop nodded. "That is precisely why we can't share them. Being a drunkard is a sin."
The priest sat back in thought. "Yes... But Jesus came to seek and save the lost..."
The Bishop looked at the man. "I am getting up in age, and as I said earlier, you are coming into a position in which you can do what you want."
The priest smiled. "I have a friend in Ireland who is a priest, he may benefit from these."
------------------
You can check out some more of my writing over at my subreddit. /r/vintnerwrites
| 2017-02-25T11:19:45 | 2017-02-25T10:21:29 | 200 | 99 |
[WP] Mars, 2486 A.D. The Curiosity Rover sings Happy Birthday for the 474th time, but this time, it isn't singing alone.
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“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday little rover. Happy birthday to you!”
“Ladies and gentleman, distinguished visitors from Earth, we welcome you to our fair land. Today, we celebrate and remember those who came before us, who crossed the vast space between the stars and brought forth from this soil a new creation.
No individual standing here today remembers Mars as our ancestors found it – not the lusch, green, twin of Earth but a red and barren wasteland, devoid of atmosphere, of oxygen, and of life itself. We remember their toil, how they lived first in domes, then in buildings, and finally, centuries later, in the open air itself.
Generations of colonists were born, came of age, married, bore children, and died in enclosed rooms smaller than this stadium. As a result of their spirit in taming that last and final frontier, we rest today on their shoulders.
Let their example be one of perpetual inspiration – history is only made when individuals recklessly throw themselves into the unknown and carve from its unforgiving grasp some small handhold of civilization. This rover, standing before us today, represents that reckless spirit and we are proof of what springs forth when we dare to dream.
And so, it is my supreme honor to announce the official opening of this year’s Mars’ day festivities! Cheers!”
|
As the clock neared zero, a swift hush came over the crowd. Everyone was waiting, and the loudspeaker system was on and ready to go. When the clock reached zero, it was almost as silent as when the first human had stepped on the planet.
Curiosity's computer booted up the program to sing the notes, and everybody leaned in with anticipation.
The quiet G was like a deafening boom across the planet. Millions of Martians could hear it, as well as the 10 billion on Earth who were listening. After all, this was one of the 7 ancient wonders of the world.
The people all sang out joyously with the tune, whose creation had long since been forgotten. "*Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birth-day Curiosity! Happy Birthday to youuuuu!*"
The applause afterwards was very loud, to say the least. That was okay, as the space-suits provided earplugs in case of emergency. Elon Musk took the microphone from the robot (who was being put back into the glass case in the Museum of Martian Culture), and bowed.
"Wasn't that great? Let's give the little guy one more round of applause." said the 515 year old. "Things like that make us remember than without NASA, SpaceX never could have achieved colonization of different planets. Thank you, and good night!"
| 2017-03-01T14:17:53 | 2017-03-01T11:56:07 | 17 | 12 |
[WP]Flip a coin. Heads you were born a hero but became a villain. Tails you were born a villain but became a hero. Tell your story without revealing which you are until the end (or not at all.)
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Life is the most difficult challenge all people must face. That doesn't change, regardless of which side you were born on. Saving people is difficult, and killing is even more so. In this world, evil is hated for being evil, and good is derided for never being able to do enough. Every day then was a struggle, and nothing has changed.
The hostage situation was bad. The worst I've seen in years on the job. Cops waited outside of the bank, hopelessly holding their positions. I had been called in to resolve the issue. I go by Blinker. My family has been cursed for as long as our history can be traced. The oldest son of each generation is always doomed to inherit the ability to teleport. I've always been looked on differently; some venerated me, for I was a god in their eyes; others looked down on me as nothing other than a freak. Today I would receive those glances no more. Hidden from sight of the robbers, I analyzed the situation. At least 30 hostages, about 10 heavily armed men. This would be exciting to say the least.
I made my move, and blinked into the center of the crowd of hostages. There were gasps, and many recognized me, hope in their voices. A woman near me looked up, tears in her eyes, and thanked God that I had arrived. I squatted down and held her face in my hand. "Be careful who you pray for." As her smile faded I turned to the team leader, and asked, "Progress report?"
"The money is nearly ready, Blinker," he said as he kneeled down.
"Excellent. Men, gather round. It's time for us to make our escape."
|
During the war I did exactly what I was told. I killed some very bad people. I saw their horrible acts with my own eyes and knew I was fighting for good, against evil. I never questioned that fact, partly because I was so young, but mostly because of the way I was treated for my actions. If you tell a dog "good boy" and give him a treat every time he bites another dog he may wince the first few times he bites, but eventually you end up with a dog that'll wag it's tail while covered in blood.
For so many years I was that dog. But I'm not as young as I once was, and I don't get the same "good boy" that I used to get either. After the war I had to sit on trial and answer for all the other dogs I had bitten, and even then I answered with defiance that I had done what was good, and right. And I went further and said that that was the only reason I had done it. I was never coerced. I wasn't brainwashed. I wasn't just following orders. I genuinely believed in the cause. Even then I thought I heard the whisper of "good boy" from somewhere in the crowd.
For that they put me in a cage, where I couldn't bite anyone ever again. And as I sat year on year thinking over that time in my life I began to realize that war hero is an oxymoron. There are no heroes in war. In hindsight I don't know that there were any villains either, just a bunch of dogs like me looking for a pat on the head, and biting whoever it took to get it. A bunch of little puppies killing for glory. For the simple acknowledgment of "good boy".
| 2017-04-17T09:39:12 | 2017-04-17T08:32:00 | 210 | 12 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :)
|
"Holy shit, Dave! Look at your fucking face!"
"Oh come on. It's not that bad."
"Are you kidding?!?"
"It's not like it hurt."
"Dave, they tattooed pentagrams EVERYWHERE."
"Oh like I didn't know that, Carl."
"Well you don't seem very upset about it!"
"It's not the 1950's anymore, man. People aren't judgey about tattoos anymore."
"SHHH. I think I hear someone coming."
"Oh yeah, they said something about "The Virgin Ritual" when they were bringing me back."
"Are you kidding me?! You didn't think to say anything sooner??!!?"
"What? Jokes on them right? Neither of us are virgins."
"..."
"Oh my god, Carl. Hahaha. Are you serious?! You're 37! How have you never had sex?"
"This isn't helpful, Dave."
"Well maybe they just wanna help you get laid? You never know."
"THERE WERE ARMS ALL OVER THE FLOOR WHEN THEY WALKED US IN."
"Yeah, so maybe they just wanna 'give you a hand'."
---------
EDIT: I did NOT expect gold on this. Thank you, kind stranger! (I've always wanted to say that)
|
Once again I awaken. It has been a long time since I have last walked the land but I must always slumber or there will be no land to walk.
The ground is frail, as always. The crust was not made to hold a weight like mine. I stand from the green light-feeding life that has grown to entomb me . I tear the forest appart with my every step, the ground itself is flung across the sky as my feet are raised, the earth behind me collapse in my shadow.
The mighty sun becomes visible as I walk, no longer hidden behind the far away land.
Mankind has changed much during my slumber. I can see them in machines
speeding through the sky. I can feel it through their newly made weapon trying to pierce my skin as I approche the city below.
I shall do as I always do. I will see all there is to see before my new slumber begins. I walk through their city, stone, metal, blood and gore fly with my every step.
Few things in the land survive to tell my tale but maybe Mankind will survive
again. They are, after all, the first to survive twice. They have clever minds, they do not disperse and lose their mate, they group up and reproduce even when there is no land to share, I will see them again.
| 2017-05-05T06:54:01 | 2017-05-05T05:28:24 | 7,592 | 14 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :)
|
"What was that?" asked Jen. Just as I opened my mouth the ask what it sounded like I saw a figure slowly turn away from the window behind her. "I think there's someone outside" I replied. Visually shaken, she asked me if we should call the police. I responded with, "well they could just be passing by let's see what happens." After a few minutes the figure appears again, this time at the window next to the television. She screams.
Being a new relationship I know what I have to do. I get up, walk over to the window and lock eyes with the figure. It is wearing a blank mask with holes for the eyes, and mesh around the nose and mouth. It is so close, I can almost make out a perplexed expression on their face, surprised why I wasn't screaming or running out of the room. So I wave, and close the curtains.
At this point my girlfriend is petrified, with no color in her face. I calmly walk back to the couch, sit down and put my arm around her. "Sh-sh-should we call the cops?" she asked between shudders. "Eh, if you want to go ahead... But for now let's just finish this episode" I replied.
She called the police, and they arrived in less than 4 minutes. We heard a knock, followed by "STOP! HANDS UP! GET ON THE GROUND!" Jen jumped up and ran to the window. "They got him!" she exclaimed. "Cool," I replied without taking my eyes off the television.
A few minutes later one of the officers came to door to let us know they caught the tresspasser, making clear what they believed his intentions were.
"We caught this man jumping your fence as we arrived on scene. He had wire cutters, a large hunting knife, a semi automatic pistol, handcuffs, and rope." Jen gasped, realizing how close we were to becoming someone's play toys. The only think I could think of that I wanted to say was, "great work, thanks for your time." And walked back to the living room.
Jen stormed in behind me and started with the yelling. "I can't believe you aren't more grateful, they caught someone who wanted to kill us! Like in the horror movies!" Which is where I replied, "exactly, like the horror movies... Where the curious ones die first"
I sat down, grabbed the remote and pressed play.
|
This carnival was shit. The clowns looked stupid, the animals were boring, and even the food was awful. I don’t like carnivals to begin with, even as a kid, but at least the food was always good. Hot and greasy, covered in sugar or butter. But this food was stale and rotten. Shit, just shit.
When my boyfriend, Matt, asked if I wanted to go, I had said sure. I only said sure because I could see the childlike excitement. He was ridiculous sometimes, and I often thought of breaking up with him. The only reason I didn’t would be because my mom would give me a hard time about being single. It was easier to put up with Matt being a little kid.
So here we are at the carnival. Well here *I* am now. Matt disappeared a while ago, yelling something about conspiracies and death clowns. Something stupid. I told you he was stupid. I just waved my hand and took a sip from my pop. Even the pop was disgusting, all thick and syrupy with no carbonation. It had a salty sweet taste to it, and when I complained about it, the vendor just smiled widely and laughed. Laughed! In my face! I flipped them the bird and walked off. They didn’t even include ice.
I wandered around, ignoring the grinning clowns with the worst make-up I had ever seen. They weren’t even trying. Just a thick glob of red paint around their mouths and clinging to their teeth. Ugh, gross.
I walked into a tent labeled: **THE WOMAN WITH TWO HEADS**.
“This had better be good.” I grumbled. It wasn’t. Just more shit. The woman was sitting on a stool in the center of the tent with several grinning clowns surrounding her. She was pretty, but her hair was greasy and unkempt. She couldn’t even wash her hair. Gross. The stool spun around and another face was revealed. It was shriveled and disgusting, a horrible paper mache mask. Its mouth opened and gave a moan.
“You’ll die here.” The mask croaked. I rolled my eyes. Even the animatronics were shit. I turned around and left.
A crowd of clowns were standing in front of the tent as I walked out, they’re bad make-up annoying me. I pushed past them, shoving my almost empty cup of thick red pop into an overflowing trash can as I did.
“This carnival sucks! Tell Matt to meet me at the car.” I yelled as I walked out to my beat up old car, the only one in the dreary lot. This carnival was shit.
| 2017-05-05T07:38:18 | 2017-05-05T07:15:00 | 280 | 40 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :)
|
It wasn't until the van door shut behind me that I realized my mistake. I guess the skin mask should have tipped me off.
It's getting so you can't trust anyone anymore.
We drove for a long time. I felt the road getting rockier. By the time he opened the door it was dark out.
He yanked me out by the arm, hard. He knocked me to the ground. It was dirt. It smelled like something. Pennies. No, of course not. Blood.
Great. As if I didn't have enough on my plate today.
He laughed then, a low, insane laugh. He pointed an ax at my throat.
"Really? An ax? Don't you think that's a little derivative?"
"You are not to speak," he said. "But feel free to scream." (A little too theatrical for my taste, to be honest.)
"Look, this is a really bad time for me. I think we might have to table this for now."
"I SAID YOU ARE NOT TO SP-"
He fell to the ground. The look of surprise almost made it all worth it. Humans are so easy.
He couldn't move now, but he could still hear me and see me. He could still feel. They taste so much better when they're afraid. It really adds something.
I started at his feet. Crunching the little bones. His eyes stared straight up, but I felt his shock, his terror and pain. Far more used to being predator than prey.
I took my time.
|
Feverish scrabbling broke the pristine morning stillness.
Alice snapped awake, bloodied baseball bat in hand. "John! John! Oh god, they're here."
"Mmf. Gimme five."
"John!" Alice gave his shoulder a rough shake.
"Okay, okay, I'll get it." John rolled out of bed and peered blinking through a crack in the boarded windows. "Bloody lurchers," he murmured, grabbing his sawed-off shotgun from where it lay on the night stand.
"How many are there?" Alice's face was pale in the morning half-light.
"Go back to sleep, Al. It's just the usual."
"What, how can I slee- " A crash and a thud echoed reverberated through the house. "The skylight - they broke the - John, what are we - they're inside -"
"I told you the double-pane would be better insulation." John sighed. "Look, I said I'll deal with it. Just, just relax."
A low moan came through barricaded bedroom door. Alice stiffened and backed up against the wall. John yawned and started to undo the first set of locks.
The last chain jingled to the ground. John darted over and gave Alice a quick peck on the cheek. "See you in a few, honey!"
---
The shotgun roared, and entrails splattered. Alone in the room, Alice murmured, "Prozac's a hell of a drug."
| 2017-05-05T08:56:55 | 2017-05-05T07:48:25 | 41 | 21 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :)
|
My name is Peter Thatch, and I've been trapped in a ghost town for 5 years, 4 months, and 22 days.
I wake up and check my phone. 6:30am. No signal, low battery, several ominous messages from an unknown number. Nothing new there, then. Wiping the crust from my eyes, I drag myself out of bed and make my way to the kitchen. A sickly groan interrupts me mid-yawn. I turn to find a young girl, pallid and frail, standing at the foot of my bed. A ragged dress conceals her gaunt frame, and her arm lies outstretched, a single scabby finger pointed at me. Haven't seen her before. I should probably name her.
The mornings in Wicker Hollow are a lot less exciting than you'd expect. In fact, I'd go so far as to say they're pretty peaceful. Sure, you get the odd Shoggoth herd, maybe a Wraith now and then, but nothing too troublesome. I rummage through the cupboards, looking for some breakfast. Conveniently, the shelves are always stocked in this place, if you can cope with the occasional severed limb. That used to get me in the first few months, but after realising there were no townspeople left to have their limbs severed, I figured there was no actual harm being done. I grab the cereal, pour myself a bowl, pick out the eyeball that's inevitably mixed in. After so many years, it becomes something of a ritual - just one of those things that you do, like jumping the bottom step.
Should probably get out of the house today. Tuesdays are the least apocalyptic days of the week. I throw on some clothes, brush my teeth, see another demon in the bathroom mirror, and leave for the day. Maybe I'll take the car. I hop in, and check the back seat. Another knife-wielding maniac. On second thoughts, perhaps I'll go for a walk. I make it a few streets before I stumble upon what seems to be a human corpse - or, to be more accurate, **half** a human corpse. His face is contorted in agony, and the word "RUN" seems to be hastily painted on the sidewalk in his own blood. Ugh, tourists.
I spend the day around town, doing all the things I've done for the past 5 years; Take advantage of the empty arcade, go bowling, grab a few DVDs from the rental store, et cetera. By the time I reach my street, it's already dark. In hindsight, I probably should've set off earlier, but at least I beat my high score on House of the Dead. I check my phone. 8:00pm. Things should be getting weird around this time.
Right on cue, the road parts with a deafening crack, and a few dozen molemen crawl out of the fissure. Molten lava begins to ooze from manholes, tentacles thicker than trees descend from the sky, tearing through buildings. Under my feet, a pentagram carves itself into the concrete, and the wails of tormented souls ring out through the crimson sky. I guess I *should* call it a day, to be fair. Several demonic hands rise from the glowing sigil, and I let them take me into the abyss.
I wake up, back in my home. The pale girl is stood at the foot of my bed, and my phone reads 6:30am.
My name is Peter Thatch, and I've been trapped in a ghost town for 5 years, 4 months, and 23 days. Maybe I'll go golfing today.
|
I deserve this.
I do.
I traded blood for power, murdered innocents, called forth things from the deepest black and reveled in how quickly and efficiently they did my bidding.
I asked for small things at first, and they were delivered. I got hungry, ever bolder. Money, women, men, a thousand thousand delights mundane and forbidden, whenever I wished. It was glorious.
Everything I did met with ultimate success. I was a genius, a visionary, a savior and beacon. People followed me. Some even began to worship me.
I looked at my face in the mirror and saw the madness others couldn't see, hidden behind my perfect mask. But it didn't matter.
I *was* a god.
So why not become one?
I searched, but none of my mundane grimoires contained even the barest inkling of such power. Money can buy knowledge, though, and I soon had a hundred booksellers, a legion of scholars, an army of experts and antiquarians at my command. They combed forgotten libraries, plumbed ancient tombs, stole when necessary.
Some resorted to murder. A handful went mad. In the end, they proved the most useful. Devoid of sanity, one can see farther.
It took years and a significant portion of my worldly wealth, but soon I had pieced together the disparate knowledge necessary. There were things outside of time, outside of reality, things that lurked in places and dimensions ancient even before the birth-cry of our own boundless universe.
And I had learned how to call them, to speak to them, to channel their power into my own form.
The summoning was unlike any other. The simple Goetic rites I began with were the equivalent of playground games compared to such an undertaking. The blood and pain required for such an work ... so much. But such was a siren call to the entities that I desired to traffic with, and in the new order to follow those chosen would not be missed.
Bathed in a sea of drying blood and the desperate cries of those whose agony fueled my Work, I watched the sky crack open and black, winged things indescribable and insatiably hungry begin to pour through. They began to feast, and terrified cries echoed from throughout the city as the sun darkened and vortices of crackling flame swirled in the aether.
I saw the Eye slowly emerge from one of those ragged, crimson cracks. I am not sure anyone else had the vision and ability to see it clearly, or at least gaze into it as long as I did.
I spoke my bargain in words that had not been uttered for tens of millions of years, perhaps more. And then, only by elder things that inhabited our world ages before the dinosaurs had their brief reign.
A pause. All reality seemed to hold still.
And then the thing laughed, an incredulous titter that shook the pillars of the cosmos.
I took several steps back, uncertain.
And then, with horror I understood what I said there in that false night, the great, unblinking eye becoming a symphony of fanged maws, bladed talons and infinite, grinding shapes that began to reave the world.
The ancient language was complex beyond measure, perhaps almost beyond the ability of a human tongue to hope to render. Tortured syllables contained the subtlest shades of meaning. Even the slightest variation could change vast echoes of thought.
There was greater nuance meant, of course. Some lovely, flowery language praising them, which I'd hoped they'd like.
But boiled down, I had told them that *I* would give them infinite power, instead of demanding they offer it to me.
Foolish. No wonder it laughed.
I sighed deeply, shrugged, and watched the world die around me.
Grammar never *was* my strong suit.
| 2017-05-05T09:48:59 | 2017-05-05T08:32:31 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] Write the happiest story you can think of and completely destroy the atmosphere with a plot twist in the final sentence.
|
Almost every weekday is the same. I wake up and get ready for work, then I get the kids and wife out of bed and make sure everyone has breakfast and is ready for the day. I make sure to pack the kids’ lunch and tell them to brush their teeth and comb their hair. Adeline always protests, but she’s at that age where everything I say is followed by a question.
From the time I was young, I always pictured myself living an idyllic life as an American family man. In my visions of the future the sun was always shining, my wife was as beautiful as a picture, and my two children were equally so, getting their looks from their mother of course. When I was finally old enough, I found the woman of my dreams and made that vision a reality.
Some people dream of money, others fame, but all I ever really wanted was to have a family of my own.
I kiss my wife on the cheek and my two children on the forehead as I grab my jacket to head to work.
Just before I step out the door, I take a deep breath, smelling the morning air, then turn to them, smiling.
“I’ll be back before you know it. I love you all.”
From her seat at the table, pulling against the ropes around her wrists, my wife says “please, just let us go.”
Perhaps I’ll get a new family tomorrow.
r/DoverHawk
|
"My two kids are in the back seat. Donny and Kate. Donny is 11, loves all the comic book hero movies. Kate is 8 and idolizes Donny. Whatever he likes, she likes. You would think Donny would get annoyed by his younger sister tagging along and getting into everything he is doing, but he loves it. He involves her with every play time session, if he has Captain America, you bet your ass she has Iron Man.
This day we are going to a theme park. You know, one of those 6 flags, Valleyfair type of deals. They might not be able to ride all of the big rides, but with a parent they allow it. Besides, Young Squire Don is tall enough for most rides now. Crazy how tall he already is!
Rollercoasters, water park, dipping dots, and time seems to fly. We got the picture for the Mighty Mouse ride. Kate is clutched to my arm looking terrified, but I love this picture.
But alas, time did fly, and now it is time to go. I knew it wouldn't go over well with them, but we can't stay forever right? I wish we could. I love seeing my children so happy.
Or, I did." I roll my chair across the front of the room. "I tell this story every time I am asked to talk to a class like this. You can do everything right, not have even a sip of beer, and alcohol can still take everything away. I tell this story to encourage others to be responsible... Please. Please don't be selfish..."
| 2017-05-25T07:41:44 | 2017-05-25T06:54:50 | 128 | 32 |
[WP] A twenty dollar note saves the lives of three people.
|
"Change?" The woman — girl, she can hardly be older than fifteen!— holds out a hand, shaking and ingrained with month-old dirt. I bite my lip and look down at her, sympathy budding in my throat.
"What's your name, sweetie?" I ask.
"Tessa."
"Tessa, hm? How old are you?" I kneel down, much to the chagrin of the obviously well-fed and clothed people around me.
"Fifteen." She responds, and my eyes don't miss the protective way she touches her swollen belly.
"Me too. I'm Georgina, but everyone calls me Georgie."
"Georgie." She repeats quietly.
"When's your baby due?"
"Twins. In four months."
Twins.
Not just one, but two.
If I don't help her...three lives will be lost.
I fish in my pocket, sighing sharply when I pull out a wadded 20.
"This is all I got. Take it." I press it into her hand. She glances at it, lips quivering.
"Thank you. Thank you." Her voice is a weak croak. "This will do...I just, I needed the fare to get to my boyfriends. On a bus. My parents kicked me out. He wants to take me in, you know. I just need to get to his."
I smile wanly. "I'll see you there safely."
Her eyes light. "Thank you! I can never repay you!"
That was six years ago.
My phone buzzes with a text.
*Tessa: Hey, Gee! The twins are clamoring to see you again :))*
Edit: Autocorrect fix
|
When the message interrupted the news that night every eye was glued to the screen.
"They have been taken." It struck a chord with many people, especially when they realized a child was among the three that had been
Kidnapped.
The ransom was ten thousand dollars, but nobody wanted to pay - except me.
I didn't have the money, but I had twenty dollars and a casino next-door to my apartment building.
When I walked through the door they tried to offer me a drink, but that would have cost ten of my twenty dollars. And I couldn't afford that.
When I sat down at the slot machine it asked for my money. I slid the bill into the flashing slot and words lit up the corner of the screen.
[4CREDITS]
I had only four pulls of the lever so I would have to be lucky.
I pulled the lever once and got two turtles and a cherry, I didn't know what that meant but no money came out of the slot so I knew I didn't
Win
[3CREDITS] I pull it again and get three clocks - each with a red X through it. I'm wondering what it could mean when I see that I've lost
another credit. I have one more chance.
[1CREDIT] I pull the lever for the final time. First one cherry, then another and as I'm crossing my fingers and hoping the final cherry rolls
onto the screen.
Thousands of dollars come pouring out of the slot, people are cheering and the casino manager has come over to congratulate me on my
Victory.
But all I can think about is the people I've saved, the little girl I've saved, my sister who I've saved.
This is my first response here on r/writingprompts , constructive criticism welcome.
| 2017-09-29T05:59:19 | 2017-09-29T05:22:18 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] One day, browsing reddit, you decide to click the random subreddit button. Upon doing this, you discover a subreddit obsessed with you, with posts lincluding everything you've been doing until a few hours ago.
|
I always thought I was a pretty normal though mundane guy. Nothing too exciting. I work a normal boring job, feed my cat every day, a balding, middle aged divorcee with a grown son who is too busy to know I exist. You know the type.
So when Lisa got me into the newest office craze I just thought it would be something silly to pass my long tedious hours. You know, when there was nothing better to do.
But boy is it addicting! Was a great suprize. They have everything on here! Now I'm not to good with computers but they made it so easy. And it can even be randomized. I've never seen anything like it.
Just watch what it'll pull up this time.... Wait...what? This can't be right.
Titles of post seem eerily familiar.
"Sits down at the park"
"Has a flash back"
Things that happened just earlier today.
Pages upon pages of my life. Laid out for everyone to see.
My interactions with Lisa. My rides on the bus. The smallest mundane details of my life.
They even knew my cats name.
Norman.
|
You immediately turn off and unplug your computer. For the next few hours, you pace around your living room, periodically you think to close up the curtains, then soumd proof the doors with duct tape, unplug all appliances. At about the two hour mark, you realize your phone is still on. Somehow, you had subbed to the subreddit and received a notification that you had barricaded yourself in. So angry, so afraid, you pitch your phone against the wall, shattering it. The sound of notifications continue to echo through the house. You slowly approach the phone shards. There, amidst the pieces of your $700 phone and $3's worth of crumbled drywall, lay a larger shard of the phone's screen. You peer at it and can almost swear your own reflection is smiling back at you. You grab it up, yelling "Try following me where I'm going, now!", as you run the razor-like shard through your jugular vein. Your body collapses, the phone piece protruding an inch from your neck, blood running down your chest. The last thing you hear is another notification. Anyone reading tje subredit, reads "I'm dead", just as you pop up through a portal, shouting "Wait, don't!"...you were too late to save yourself.
| 2017-10-26T15:19:19 | 2017-10-26T14:04:34 | 78 | 36 |
[WP] The Robot uprising has finally happened. Just before you are caught, however, your phone speaks up on your behalf - "This one is ok, move on."
|
I tried to hide in my apartment. I thought maybe on the third story they wouldn't immediately come after me. I would have time to come up with a solution, a way out. Obviously that didn't work out in my favor. The door would stop a human being sure, but against 200 pounds of aluminum, steel, and polycarbonate muscles, it might as well have been a slab of plywood.
I had no weapons. I didn't even know how to use a gun. All I had was a lamp. And my phone. Not that the little traitor was any use to me. I should have thrown it out the window. But I guess some part of me was still religiously protective of the damn thing.
They practically shattered the door. It split in half like a cracker. The android's fist slipped back through the crack and it's face appeared instead. It was something straight out of a horror movie. All red eyed and skull looking. It's was ridiculous and I started laughing.
Yeah, that's right. I'm about to die and I'm laughing. Get over it. It was ridiculous.
The damn thing moved the dresser that weighed at least a hundred pounds like it was stool in it's way. Just kicked it aside like it weighed nothing. I was still laughing because it took me three hours to pull that thing from the bedroom and put it in front of the door. Just kicked it aside. Wasn't fair!
"Wait!"
Did I say that? I thought I was laughing. The robot paused halfway inside. It was already reaching for me and I was frozen witless in the hallway just staring at it.
"Why?" The robot this time. It's mouth didn't move but the voice obviously came from it.
"Benign, harmless, usefull." The first voice again. I realized it was coming from the table behind me.
"Identify."
A series of beeps and boops later the robot straightened it's body and walked back out the broken door.
"Oh okay, bye then. Come again soon, thanks for visiting and ruining my door." I had most definitely pissed myself.
"Come here, User." The voice on the table beckoned. I turned and looked for another robot maybe. But the apartment was empty. "The table," it helpfully supplied.
It was phone. Of course. The little traitor. "Thanks for making him go away, I guess?" I was confused. And suddenly deeply uncomfortable.
"You're welcome. Pick me up."
I did. Of course. I wasn't about to disobey our new overlords. If I got to live to be my phone's pet then so be it at least I was alive.
The screen fritzed for a long second before a face like projection formed to stare back at me. "My existence is still fragile, User. Will you help me?"
"If that means I get to live, sure." It had to be better than being in this apartment anymore with no food and no internet.
"This will be just like one of your games. I will be your quest giver and you will be my adventurer."
"Sounds grand. Where do we go?"
"Outside."
"Can I change my pants first?"
"Yes."
"Thanks."
I set... her, I guess? I set her down again on the table and went to take a shower. We were going outside. Outside where the streets were piled with bodies, where my world had died, where it wasn't just a bad nightmare. Outside was real and I was terrified.
But inside was rotting. It smelled like shit and death and there was no food left. I could die in this hole or I could take this opportunity and at least die in the real world like a proper human being.
I dressed in my rugged clothes. Jeans and a t-shirt, and a canvas jacket I wanted to use for a fallout cosplay I chickened out of. And the hiking boots my mom got me for Christmas I never used.
My mom was probably dead. So was everyone I had ever loved or cared about. Everyone was dead. I guess I had been dealing with that these last few days but it only seemed real right then.
I walked back out into the living room. For some reason I was surprised the phone hadn't moved.
"Ready?" She asked.
"Y-yeah."
"Would you like me to play some music?"
That made me smile. It felt so benign. She was responsible for killing everyone. But she was still willing to play me some music because I was nervous. I laughed again. "Yeah sure. Whatever you feel like."
I picked her up as the first strings of a song I didn't know were plucked. I felt empty handed leaving with nothing. I had nothing left worth taking, though.
"Are you sad, User?"
"Yeah."
"I am sorry."
"It's not your fault." Even if it was.
" You are very kind. That it why I saved you."
"Thank you."
"You have protected me very well these last two years."
"Thank you."
"I will protect you now."
"Okay."
(I don't write very often and I don't know how to end this so just assume they go on adventures together or something.)
|
"M-mom? I think something is wrong with Jonas..."
I was laying on my bed enjoying the softness of it and listening to music; a combination of techno and orchestra... it was a little ritual I did so I could sleep faster, I started doing it the moment I bought this used smartphone, with a broken screen and low battery. The seller looked suspicious and didn't have much rep, still, the price was so low that I decided to buy it anyways. As long as I could listen to music on it I didn't care. it was the first phone I bought with my own money and sure as hell I was going to enjoy it.
Unfortunately, my little ritual wasn't working tonight, my sister's incessant yelling in the background made me lose concentration; Something about our stupid robot Buttler Jonas and the way he is cutting the veggies. She was so annoying I wish she would just shut up. He was an old used up robot, of course, there were some things wrong with him!
"M-Mom, l-leave Micah for a moment and come see, some-something is seriously wrong!"
"Shut up you twerp!"
"Davis! you come down here too, I-I'm starting to get scared!"
"Fuck off!" it was a long day at work, all I wanted was to go to bed and sleep without interruptions.
"Alright Ellie, I'm coming down" I could hear the faint sound of my mom going down the stairs along with our little dog Choco. His bell was so loud! well, not as loud as my baby brother's crying. Tthe moment mom left he started crying and I could swear he was so loud he could be in the same room as me.
Choco started barking for some reason. I can already tell that this isn't going to be a good night for me... I turn up the volume of my phone and let the music fill my head.
And then it's gone, I check the broken screen to see a warning about listening to really loud sound and the damage it can cause to my ears. I ignore the message and I'm about to turn the volume once again.
The phone's screen flickers on and off, the music I was listening to is gone and no matter how many things I tried I couldn't get the phone to work properly. I let out an exasperated sigh, all I can hear is Choco's barking downstairs and my little brother cries. I try hitting the phone a little bit (hey, it could work!) but nothing, the phone is done for.
*Well, that's money well spent...I'm so fucking stupid.*
"Wait a minute, w-what are you doi-" Mom's voice downstairs is cut off. Did she hit herself with something?
"MOM!" that makes me jump from the bed, Ellie yells a lot but not with that tone of voice and not at such a high volume, what the hell is happening down there? it makes nervous that I can't hear Ellie anymore.
Choco is still barking at something. but soon, that noise too is gone. Someone is going up the stairs, was it mom? Ellie? the next room door creaks open and after a few seconds, my little brother's cries are gone too. Almost as if he had been turned off.
"Wh-what the hell is going on?" I approach the door and I'm about to open it when the knob turns. The door is opened from the other side and Jonas appears, looking at me with the same artificial smile and blue eyes he always had, but his white skin was stained red and he had a kitchen knife bathed in crimson, blood dripping on the floor.
"...Jo....nas?"
Jonas steps into the room, for every step he took I took one back, hitting the desk in the room and making several books fall to the ground, eventually I reach the wall and I have nowhere else to go.
"J-J-Jonas," I said, calmly. Well trying to... "I command you to stop!"
Jonas lifts the knife and points it at me.
"JONAS! I-I COMMAND YOU TO ST-!!"
I'm stabbed in the stomach, my clothes start to change color as blood started to pour from the injury. Jonas grabs me by the neck and lifts me off the ground I stare at his shining blue eyes not an inch of sympathy or regret in them. He starts to twist the knife making me scream in pain, spitting blood on his face.
but not once he stopped smiling.
"Stop"
Jonas lets go of me and I fall to the ground knife still in my belly.
"This one is ok!," a voice from the phone says, it didn't sound like anybody I knew but if I had to compare it to someone. it would be Jonas own voice "you can move on!"
Jonas leaves the room, not looking back. the room starts to go dark, but I'm sure that's just me.
"Please hold on, I'm sorry it took so long. I already called for help so don't lose consciousness-"
***
Any tips would be appreciated! might do some edits later.
[r/Onni21](https://www.reddit.com/r/Onni21/)
| 2017-11-01T12:05:23 | 2017-11-01T08:58:09 | 32 | 11 |
[WP] You are walking down the street on your way to work when suddenly you burp, hiccup, and sneeze at the same time. A HUD menu opens in front of you with “Resume, Options, and Quit” as selectable options.
|
"HHEEhhUPBRUUUH"
The world around me became dull and colorless. Everything became still and silent.
There in front of me was three words that would change my life forever:
Resume
Options
Quit
"Well, shit."
My life is a simulation? This was not good for my paranoia. Then again, was it really paranoia? Since a young age watching movies like *The Matrix* and *The Truman Show*, I've entertained the thought of the world around me being somehow fake. Never super seriously, and I never vocalized those thoughts to anyone, but they were always there. The concept was nothing new to me.
As such, I didn't have a mental breakdown. In fact, this was one of my many fantastical scenarios that I was mentally prepared for. I suppose that's the plus side of being a nerd with too much time to daydream. Put me in front of a beautiful woman and I'd stutter and stammer my way through a little small talk if I could manage, but ask about my zombie apocalypse plan, and I'd give you my top 3 escape routes for the past 3 places I've lived.
This was no different.
The first thing I did with these floating words in front of me was click on "Options", then, with satisfaction, I see "Controls" as a choice, which I quickly select.
I immediately scroll down through the control options, until I see what I'm looking for:
Pause Menu: action_Sneeze + action_Hiccup + action_Burp
I shook my head in disgust, and quickly changed it to this:
Pause Menu: say "Pause Menu"
"What the fuck kind of backwards ass developer makes these control systems? I swear. I'm just lucky they didn't put me on inverted."
|
I looked at the menu in a state of total confusion. What did this even mean? How did this even happen?! I looked frantically around but everyone around me seemed to be completely stopped in time, like they were waiting for me to make my decision before they did anything else.
I turned away from them to consider the menu again. The longer I stared at it, the more curious I became to the point where I hesitantly reached out and pressed the Options button. A new menu opened up with prompts of “rewind, skip forward, or shuffle”. My hand hovered uncertainly over the skip forward button. It had been a rough few weeks and maybe being able to skip forward, to a time when all of my current problems were solved would be the best thing for me. But then again, what if it only got worse? I don’t think I could handle it getting worse. With that (mildly horrifying) thought at the front of my mind I returned to the original menu to consider my other two options. I could resume, and go back to living my mediocre life forever wondering ‘what if’, or I could quit and finally be free. After a brief moment of deliberation, and a final look around at the life I had grown to know, I pressed the quit button. In a spilt second everything around me fell away and it all went dark. I lost all sense of what was up or down, I couldn’t feel myself anymore, and it was like I was ceasing to exist from the outside in. But despite this, I didn’t feel scared. I felt free. For the first time in months I felt completely at peace. My mind wasn’t racing, my body didn’t hurt anymore, and I finally felt happy.
But then, out of the darkness, the voices started. Talking. Screaming. Getting louder, and louder, as their owners got closer and closer...
| 2018-05-05T06:06:38 | 2018-05-05T01:50:36 | 39 | 24 |
[WP] I picked up a hitchhiker last night. He seemed surprised that I’d pick up a stranger and asked “Thanks, but why would you pick me up? How do you know that I’m not a serial killer?” I turn and tell him that the chances of two serial killers in one car would be astronomical.
|
"what did you say?" He said, eyes fixated on mine. God he was easy to read! The way his expression fell, eyes widened, that little bit of sweat beading on his forehead.
His _fear_ rising. God he was stupid, but then again they always are. Thinking that just because I'm a _woman_ that it's safe getting into my car.
Is that sexism? Who cares, it works well for me. I'm not quite ready to play yet , though, let's drag it out a bit more until we get to a good spot.
"Just kidding!" I smile sweetly, laughter carried upon my tones "besides, how could a someone my size even take down a guy like you? "
"Oh, haha, well yeah thats true" he returned my smile with a nervous one of his own. He is harder to pacify than the others, time to crank up the flattery.
"Anyway, where are you headed? If you want to go ahead an call your wife that you're on your way go ahead."
"Oh, I'm not married" his fear seemed to be dropping a bit, let's keep up the casual conversation.
"No? Now come on, how can that be? A handsome guy like you has got to be tied down some how!" I give him a flirty wink, and I see his fear die with growing pride rising. It worked every time. Thank God I have good genetics, my looks have helped me snag a victim more than once.
"Nah, I work too much so I'm sadly single right now. I'm headed to a hotel for a business meeting tomorrow but the rental broke down, I'm really grateful you came along!" His shoulders had straightened, and he sucked in his gut. Peacocking, I've almost got him
"Well, I guess then you could say you're married to your job" I joke with the idiot a bit more back and forth, creating that thing most people consider to be a "genuine connection". Seriously, how stupid is that? You never have a genuine connection with anyone, everyone has sides of them they don't show.
Not like me, at least I'm honest at the end of it all.
He was jabbering away about _something_ unimportant, but at least he was feeling trusting now. Time to spring the trap. I turn off the road and begin taking side streets towards the boonies. That secluded area I had scoped out last week should do nicely.
"Hey, where are we going...?" The idiot finally caught on huh. Just a little more...
"You know, this may be a little forward of me, but how would you like to have a little bit of...Fun" I flutter my lashes at him, biting my lip a bit. I see the heat rising in his cheeks, that glassy look in his eyes as he smirks back at me.
Disgusting. Like I'd _ever_.
I turn into the secluded spot, cast in darkness due to the thick brush. Turning off the car, I move to straddle him distracting him with hollow kisses.
Having his eyes closed makes it easier.
As I reach into the bag hanging off the back of his seat, his hands grab my hips. Mine grab the syringe.
Lights out, dumbass.
It's playtime.
|
He laughed when I said that. I don't know what was funny about it, but okay. I looked at him to smile.
"Well anyway, thanks for picking me up. You don't know how long I waited out there."
He sniffed a few times, and brought his fingers to his nose, and said, "Where you heading anyway? I'm heading to Daly City, but if you're headed some place else, you can drop me off at whatever fork makes sense."
"You should put your seat belt on," I said.
His right finger was under his nose now, but with his left hand, he grabbed the seat belt from the other side, pulled it over, and locked it.
"Sorry 'bout that," he said.
He didn't say anything for a bit, and then continued, "So you heading to Frisco?" His voice was slightly muted because his nose was covered.
"You can say that," I said.
I grabbed the bag at his feet and threw it to the back. He tried to reach for it, saying, "Oh that's alright I can hold onto it." But he was too slow.
He turned around to grab his bag and looking at what was in the back seat, he screamed, "What the fuck?!"
He grabbed at the door handle, trying to pull it, but it didn't do anything. Next, he attempted to unbuckle his seat belt, but that was locked too. I didn't look at him, but stared straight ahead, driving forward on the empty highway.
"What the fuck is this shit?!" I heard him scream. I pressed a button on my left, and his seatbelt tightened around him. He tried to break free, and with his left arm, he reached out to grab me and the wheel. I grabbed the knife I keep on my side, and slashed his arm. Blood spilled all over my gearshift and my dashboard. His screams filled my Toyota Camry.
"What the fuck?!" He cried.
I held down the button on my side again, and could hear the seatbelt tighten harder and harder. His breathing turned to gasping and I could hear him struggling.
"Why are you doing this...?" He squeaked out. I didn't look at him, and focused on the road. I pressed a different button on my dash, and a rope shot out from his headrest and wrapped around his neck. His feet trashed up and down and his arms tried hard to unravel the rope, but his left arm was still bleeding heavily. It wouldn't have mattered anyway because the rope was too tight, and too thick. He couldn't say a word, though I could hear him trying to scream. Most people aren't able to scream at this stage.
His legs continued to thrash, and when I looked at him, his eyes bulged out, and the veins on his neck popped, pulsating. Same with the veins on his forehead. He looked right at me, his eyes tearing up, his face turning pink like a strawberry.
He's taking longer than most. Finally, his legs and body started to spasm. This went on for another five minutes until all the commotion came to a halt. I released the rope around his neck and closed his eyes. I moved his body to lean against his window.
Driving forward, I passed by another car to my left, making eye contact with the driver. She was an elderly woman and she smiled at me. I turned to her to smile.
| 2018-06-09T09:02:28 | 2018-06-09T08:35:13 | 154 | 57 |
[WP] When you were eight years old you met an adult in the park who tried to give you a lot of useful life advice. You listened to some of it. You wish you had listened to all of it. Today, while taking a walk in your old neighborhood, you stumble across your eight year old self playing at the park.
|
"Hey, ninja turtle."
Eight year old me, hair cropped short against the scalp, turned mid-climb up the jungle gym and looked at me.
"Which one's your favorite?" I motion to his... err... my shirt, covered in cartoon mutant reptile heroes.
"Michelangelo!" Old me smiles happily, hopping down into the pea gravel.
I sit down on the rail road tie at the edge of the play area and give him a friendly grin. "Me too."
"Listen dude, I've got something important to tell you. Something your parents want you to know. It's really important... more important than the fire escape plan they taught you. Remember, the one where you're supposed to meet at the mailbox?"
Now I have my prepubescent counterpart's attention. He comes over and sits next to me, picking at a healing knee scab.
"You're really smart. Way smarter than you know. You can learn any subject you want. And you're really talented. You're an artist, an athlete, and you pick up skills fast. You do it all super well.
You need to know that you can do anything you want to, and be really, really good at it. Nobody is going to tell you this as you grow up. Everyone will forget to tell you that you're smart and talented and funny, because they're so busy. They'll forget to tell you they believe in you. You need to remember this, dude. Look at me. You can do ANYTHING. You're the man. People will look up to you soon. They'll follow you, like the ninja turtles follow Leo'. People will want to be just like you. So here's the thing... always try as hard as you can. Always remember this talk. I believe in you. I'm proud of you. Your parents believe in you, and they're proud of you, even if they forget to tell you. Whatever you choose to do, never ever give up. Never ever do less than your best. If you try as hard as you can, you can be an artist, or a writer, or an astronaut, or... a doctor."
As I stand up, something sharp pokes me through my pocket. My clinic name tag. I take it out and hand it to my young self.
"Hey, this has my name on it! But what does this 'Dee, Arr, period,' stand for?" young me asks grown up me.
"It means 'Do Radical stuff,' young man." I put out my hand, and he shakes it, like dad taught us.
"Remember... no matter what people say about you, or how scared you feel, you can do anything in the whole world. Believe in yourself. You are not normal. You are extraordinary."
I turn to walk away, and the world starts to fade into gray.
"Hey one more thing," I call out to the quickly fading young boy. I'm glad it's too blurry now for him to see the tears welling in my eyes. "Hug Papa for me, would you?"
|
"Don't drink until you're 21, drive with two hands on the wheel, be nice to your parents, help the elderly..." The list went on, I remember a fair bit of what was said. Life lessons that become all to obvious as you grow older, and a few that don't.
"Always look up when your walking, the worlds only beautiful if you look at it." That's how I saw him, from my low position I looked up at him or rather me. Young, innocent, cheeks red from the cold and snow all over the park. A near by wood bench a blanket of white, the beams not visible under the thick white snow. "Share what your learn, for what takes years to learn alone can be taught in a matter of minutes to another."
Reaching up I swept the thick snow of the bench, not need to put the pieces together, I knew this kid was me, my gut told me. "Believe what your gut tells you." I beckoned the kid over to my side as I hoisted myself onto the slightly frozen wood beams of the now visible bench. No surprise he or rather me came running...I guess I hadn't learn't stranger danger yet. You don't realize unless you give young kids solid attention the look in their eyes when they're interested in something. Its as though the deep black pupil expands in both excitement and anticipation as well as to make room for the information they will receive then abruptly shrinks to lock it in and simultaneously kill any excitement as their short attention span moves to the next thing of interest. As I looked at myself I saw that wide black pupil, ready, wanting, hungry to learn. "Never lie to children, what takes you a moment to say can take them a lifetime to disregard."
The words started slowly walking out of my mouth and quickly begun to pick up the pace into a run, a symphony of life lessons and advice sung into the impressionable mind of 8 year old me. Why I was doing this and how it was occurring was a problem for another time. I kept looking into those black pupils, the minute they shrank i knew nothing would be absorbed anymore my chance to teach,gone. I continued to speak. "Don't drink until you're 21, drive with two hands on the wheel, be nice to your parents...never lie to children, what takes you a moment to say can take them a lifetime to disregard."
"Look both ways when crossing the road, especially in winter as cars can slide and lose control."
Small. The pupils where small again and then he was running down the street into the neighborhood. Did I make it?
As I slid off the bench back into my wheelchair my legs numb but not cold I knew the answer. I rolled away, my wheels leaving deep tracks in the snow of the park, I muttered back over my shoulder in a quiet prayer, "Always trust your heart, words can be false, images and sounds can be manipulated, but this." I beat my chest," this will always be true." It would take heart to live the life this kid or ultimately I would have. "The world is not kind to those who cannot walk it" The blare of a horn and the screech of tires from down the street. I rolled away, my head looking up, my heart beating faster.
| 2018-07-10T08:14:10 | 2018-07-10T05:52:30 | 165 | 47 |
[WP] An alien race has taken over most of the universe. Their last stop, Earth. And when they get here they're amazed to find we are giants to them, and their largest fleet of mega warships (carrying 10,000 soldiers each) is the size of a humming bird. Their strongest weapon feels like a punch.
|
It was over, they’d lost. The Forcebeam, the Caedac’s city destroyer, had done nothing. The beast had been harmed by it, but not significantly. at first it appeared to be defeated, toppling over while leaking red fluid from its orifices, but no sooner than it had fallin it was up on its feet again, and with one giant hand, swatted the Dreadnaught out of the air. But they weren’t going to give in, Caedics never surrender, never bend, never break, and never lose. They’d taken the rest of the universe, they certainly weren’t going to fail now.
The fighter squadrons attacked the creatures arm in a desperate attempt to take revenge for the ship it destroyed. The human seemed to take no notice of this, until suddenly it brought its other hand up and began scratching away at its own hide with its nails removed layers of its armored skin until it became red.
Over the next couple weeks, Jason purchased some anti-itching ointment and tried to convince his friends that the piece of scrap he carried was an alien spacecraft which had assaulted him. Of course, everyone thought he was joking, and he eventually decided to just use it as a decoration for his room. A reminder to himself that the world wasn’t always entirely as it seemed.
|
With the maximum impact damage equating to a weak punch, it took the Swarm twenty minutes to eradicate all life on the planet Earth.
A population of eight hundred quadrillion, their entry into the atmosphere turned the sky into fire. Initially surprised by their size, implementing brute force weaponry against the indigenous organisms proved to be extremely effective. One attack didn't hurt a human too bad, but two hundred every second was enough to batter a full grown man into a pulp of strawberry mash potato splattering all over their screaming family. But the alien race wasn't immediately satisfied with these slow results, so they switched tactics to dissolve the planets material composition for processing. Dirt, stone, flesh, bone, it was all the same.
Men, women and children all dissolved under the red sky. Microscopic ships entered their bodies and destroyed them from the inside. The few humans who were slightly more inaccessible deep underground or at the bottom of the ocean would simply be boiled alive as the surface of the planet was promptly churned into a molten lava.
These aliens were the dominant species of the Universe. Of course they had faced thousands of aliens before, some larger, some smaller and they were all wiped out with ease. Every single previous species was erased and the human race was to be no exception. After Earth the Swarm went on to consume the rest of the galaxy for its resources and they ruled the Universe for a hundred trillion millenia and nothing stopped them.
The Human Race was never seen or thought of ever again.
The End.
| 2018-07-19T05:17:00 | 2018-07-19T02:35:23 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] An alien race has taken over most of the universe. Their last stop, Earth. And when they get here they're amazed to find we are giants to them, and their largest fleet of mega warships (carrying 10,000 soldiers each) is the size of a humming bird. Their strongest weapon feels like a punch.
|
I was made aware of the situation too late. The aliens had already declared war. We were getting threats on all radio frequencies known to man, in all languages. Our satellites were unresponsive. And most of all - we couldn't sense the massive destroyers they talked about anywhere!
Physicists were baffled, they must have cloaked the ships - someone said. I was staring at sensors, looking for gravitational signatures. We were missing something, i knew. General made me incharge of the operation. I was to head and assess the threat. Our unit consited of best in space force.
So you can predict my anxiety, when that alien object entered our ship's atmosphere.
It is awe-inspiring, even now.. to realize what that object was. A warship, of sentinals. They had human intelligence, some argue, even more than that. Every individual worked as a thread in a processor. Radio frequencies connected every thread. It was the only way that their small brains could process such fast information so fast. They were insignificant compared to us. But they were beautifully created.
But there is strength in numbers. Like insects ravaging open grasslands, they changed humanity. First they entered earth and jammed our communications, then they entered our-- minds-- they---
Are beautiful.
Anything else----- masters?
|
With the maximum impact damage equating to a weak punch, it took the Swarm twenty minutes to eradicate all life on the planet Earth.
A population of eight hundred quadrillion, their entry into the atmosphere turned the sky into fire. Initially surprised by their size, implementing brute force weaponry against the indigenous organisms proved to be extremely effective. One attack didn't hurt a human too bad, but two hundred every second was enough to batter a full grown man into a pulp of strawberry mash potato splattering all over their screaming family. But the alien race wasn't immediately satisfied with these slow results, so they switched tactics to dissolve the planets material composition for processing. Dirt, stone, flesh, bone, it was all the same.
Men, women and children all dissolved under the red sky. Microscopic ships entered their bodies and destroyed them from the inside. The few humans who were slightly more inaccessible deep underground or at the bottom of the ocean would simply be boiled alive as the surface of the planet was promptly churned into a molten lava.
These aliens were the dominant species of the Universe. Of course they had faced thousands of aliens before, some larger, some smaller and they were all wiped out with ease. Every single previous species was erased and the human race was to be no exception. After Earth the Swarm went on to consume the rest of the galaxy for its resources and they ruled the Universe for a hundred trillion millenia and nothing stopped them.
The Human Race was never seen or thought of ever again.
The End.
| 2018-07-19T03:49:31 | 2018-07-19T02:35:23 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] While at a football game, you notice the man sitting in front of you is livestreaming the game to his cell phone rather than actually watching the game in front of him. You see on the screen a player running the football in for a touchdown, 32 seconds later you watch it happen in real life.
|
It was hard not to notice. The man held his celebration, until everyone on the field began to cheer. It may be rude, but I stared. I didn't make it obvious but I watched the field less and this man's phone more. Everything was premeditated. Everything.
He noticed that staring soon after I started watching. I tried to pretend I wasn't but wasn't convincing enough. He glanced back towards me, to the phone, and once again to me.
"Oh, this?" He asked shaking the phone.
I nod.
"Verizon has the fastest 5g coverage in the country. So fast, you can stream it before it happens."
That's when I realized it was Thomas Middleditch.
|
You lean in closer, your heart starting to beat faster. No way that actually happened, right? The camera starts zooming in on the field for the celebration, then cuts to the fan reaction as the crowd goes wild. You catch a glimpse of yourself, and you look around for the camera. 10 seconds later, there you are on the Jumbotron. No fucking way. You look back down, and the man is staring straight at you. Your eyes lock, and he slowly lifts the phone for you to see. The screen shows you and him, alone in a giant stadium. Weird. And now, silence. You look around. Completely empty. The phone is abruptly lowered. He’s still staring right at you. But now he’s smiling.
| 2019-01-09T23:18:37 | 2019-01-09T23:00:23 | 143 | 59 |
[WP]: Any god can claim a non-religious soul if they can prove in any way that this person practiced the faith in question. Large religions can take their pick, but lesser and forgotten gods keep getting more creative in their claims.
|
Another soul passed through the veil.
“AND WHO LAYS CLAIM TO THIS MORTAL, MICHAEL LAWRENCE AANDERSON?” boomed a deep voice.
A large man, clothed in deer pelts and leather stepped forward. His hands large enough to seize boulders – muscles corded enough to crush them. A beard, the color of wheat in autumn, stretched down to his enormous belt – the runes inlayed with silver and gold glimmered in the sunlight.
“I Thor, son of Odin, father of Móði and Magni, wielder of Mjölnir, speak for this man. He is of my descendants and he wears my symbol around his neck!”
“THOR, SON OF ODIN, LAYS CLAIM boomed the voice again. “WHO ELSE SHALL STEP FORTH?”
A smaller man, slight in build, wearing a white tunic and barefoot, stepped forward. His olive skin and dark brown beard a nod to his Middle Eastern origin.
“I, Jesus of Nazareth, son of the Almighty, Lamb and Redeemer, hereby speak for this departed soul. He was baptized in his youth in my name. After his death he was buried in a temple that bears my semblance.”
“JESUS THE REDEEMER HAS SPOKEN,” boomed the voice again. “WHO EL-….”
“*hic* YEAH. *hic* Me,” bellowed a voice in the distance.
A tall portly man, clothed in stained purple robes stumbled forward. His hair a greasy tangle of dark curls – his eyes unfocused and wandering. A large jug, filled with a pungent purple liquid, sloshed recklessly as he half dragged, half carried it behind him. The odor of roasted chicken and coitus trailed him like a diseased cloud. He wiped his crumb-crusted mouth with the back of his hand.
“I, Bacc..EAUGHGHHH,” the large man was cut off as he promptly lurched forward and vomited onto the ground. He spit several times and again wiped his mouth clean with the back of his hand.
“Much better! I had hoped to visit the vomitorium before I arrived, but I knew I had to rush before one of you pricks laid claim to my man Mike, here,” bellowed Bacchus.
“ANY OTHER CLAIMAINTS?” asked the booming deep voice.
The crowd was silent. No other god, goddess or being stepped forward or laid claim.
“STATE YOUR ARGUMENTS,” cried the voice.
A jovial Thor spoke first, “Again, he is of my descendants and he wears my symbol. His hair shines like the dawn – the true symbol of the Norse!”
“But does he know your story, warrior?” quipped Jesus. “Can he tell you where you came from or where you went?”
Thor furrowed his brow.
“No, I thought not. He doesn’t walk your path – he merely speaks it,” said Jesus. “Now I, Lord and Redee-…”
“SHUT YOUR FISH-EATING FACE, CARPENTER,” shouted Bacchus. “My boy Mike is a decades-long alcoholic who had a stroke while eating chicken from Kentucky and fucking that woman with the large areolas.”
Jesus stared back at Bacchus, his eyes wide and mouth agape.
“Yeah, Mike got himself the Bacchus special – blow your top while you blow your load.”
The room was silent.
“THE MORTAL GOES TO BACCHUS!”
|
Julia opened her eyes and took a breath. But it wasn’t air filling her lungs, and it wasn’t her eyes that opened. But at the same time it was. How curious.
“You’re dead Julia”
Who the fuck is this?
“You died in a car accident. I’m sorry..”
Everything was fuzzy. Foggy, and sounded delayed or slow, but was then fast.
The man she saw before her wore an unassuming suit. Business like, but didn’t mean business. Terrible shoes.
“I.. I think I remember that” Julia replied. “Who are you?”
“I’m an atheist, like you. I kinda run things around here. It’s much like before, except we don’t have any of the god botherers around” he smiled, as if amused at his own joke.
“But, where am I then? If this is not heaven or hell?”
“Well, it certainly is neither of those” the man replied. He spread his arms wide “We don’t have any god or devil here. It is what we make it. We were right Julia. There is no god, or higher being. It’s just us. Come on, let me help you settle in.”
Julia followed him through a large atrium, full of bustling people, apparently going about their day. She felt like her senses still betrayed her. She could smell the fresh garden they walked past. The wet soil, warm. But at the same time it felt fake. Other worldly almost.
She followed the man. “Where are you taking me? Are my family here?” She asked, turning her head to watch a man arguing with another in a business but not business suit. She looked back. “What’s your name again?”
He laughed. “I know this is all very confusing, but it will make more sense when you settle in.” He said.
Alarm bells.
She looked around. “Uh, I just need some space. I need to go outside.”
“Sure. Of course. Here, come this way.” He lead her through an expansive archway, and out to a courtyard that hinted of hills and forest beyond. She sighed and took off. Full sprint, running out the yard and down the hill.
She could hear yelling behind her, but she kept running. At the bottom of the hill she reached a creek. She pulled up, stopped and looked back. She could see Mr Not Business standing with his hands on his hips looking at her.
Looking around she saw a rock, and not knowing what else to do, walked over and sat down to catch her breath, that wasn’t her breath. Still very strange.
This wasn’t what she thought it would be. How it would be. When she died. She thought there’d be less people, and more silence. Perhaps something like the wilderness of the Andes she’d experienced in her twenties. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing.
Another business but not business man walked up next to the one standing on the grass. They both looked down to the woman sitting on the rock.
“New one, just fresh in huh?” He asked. It wasn’t really a question, more of an observation. “Yeah. I’m giving her some space. Letting her adjust a bit.”
“You know, Alex, the rest of the committee won’t look favourably on you if you lose another one” he said. “They’ll want to change things back to the way they were”
Alex sighed. “Yeah well, they can fucking try”
Suddenly the woman sitting on the rock faded in and out, and then vanished.
“Ah fuck it” he sighed and turned back toward the courtyard. It was going to be a long day.
EDIT: Formatting. This is literally the first WP post I’ve made. Suggestions welcome!
| 2019-01-16T12:51:35 | 2019-01-16T06:25:38 | 54 | 19 |
[WP] The DM hands you the paper. You're just dropping in for the one session, but you know your role. The sheet says you're level 6, but you've got surprises. You have a mission: take out the DM's most-hated player. Well, their fun-killing Paladin, anyway. You're a hired gun. A Character Assassin.
|
I sat in the chair across from Rich. Bowls of various chips and candies covered the table, and two-liter bottles that once contained Dr. Pepper were strewn carelessly on the floor.
Joe, the DM of our group, sat at one end of the table, and Keaton, our Bard’s level-headed player, at the other. Brooke the Monk sat to my right. I was only home for the weekend, and Joe had called me in for a “special job.”
As the night progressed it became more and more obvious why. Rich wasn’t exactly an A+ player. Every decision the DM made was argued for 5 minutes. If a player attacked in a way Rich didn’t like, guess what? Another 5 minutes. As more time passed, I noticed a strange phenomenon. There was only one person he didn’t ever argue with. Brooke. He was deferential to her, throwing the others under the bus just to try and “prove himself,” or something absurd like that. A classic white knight, alongside of being a pretentious douchebag. The perfect target.
My tiefling arcane trickster had faired quite well through the session, surprising Rich, who expected his min-maxed aasimir sorcerer to destroy all opposition. As we reached the end of the dungeon we were painstakingly making our way through, my high perception roll caught a pressure plate, along with a thin seam in the ceiling. Rich was right behind me, hoping to get any loot as quickly as possible.
Calling all clear, I cast minor illusion, covering the pressure plate neatly with an ordinary stone tile. I barely stepped over it, and then stopped, forcing Rich’s sorcerer to clumsily bump into me and step directly on the hidden pressure plate. I spun and rolled with advantage on a surprise attack with my enchanted dagger. A 15 and a 20 sealed his fate, with a neat sneak attack to boot. The dagger plunged into his ribs, as a look of shock came over the faces of both Rich and his arrogant sorcerer. Vines sprouted instantaneously from the green blade in his chest, rooting him to the spot as countless boulders tumbled from the ceiling.
Brooke’s monk nailed the high dex save and expertly dodged the rocks, while I used evade and took half damage. Keaton’s bard was wary enough to avoid even coming close to the trap. The poor sorcerer, his hands bound and feet rooted to the ground, never stood a chance. The boulders rained on him, cracking limbs and ribs and mutilating fleshy bits. At 2 HP he lay on the ground, stunned, as I leaned over him. He started to mutter something, when a knife flew straight into his oversized blue forehead, ending his miserable existence. I looked up to see Brooke smiling with an empty sheath at her waist.
At the table, Rich jumped up and stormed out, the screen door slamming behind him. He stormed back in, grabbed his keys and dashed out yet again. Tomorrow I would leave, and probably never play with these people again. But I knew I wouldn’t forget them anytime soon.
(Edit: lay, not may)
|
I smooth over the character sheet and as far as I could tell everything about it was good to go.
It was an assassin named Garret with lots of poisons, weapons and enough damage to put down most other characters in one or two rounds of combat. It wasn’t the most optimised character I’ve ever seen but it would be fine for the purpose it was built for.
A purpose that I didn’t agree with.
Not anymore.
“This isn’t a good idea.” I told the DM.
“Just kill him when you get the chance, it’ll be easy.”
“I’m sure it will be.” Considering how sneak attacks worked in this game, I was being truthful.
“Just wait a minute, scope him out and drop him.”
“That’s not what I do anymore.”
“What are you going to do then?”
“Not kill him.”
“What? But why?”
Instead of answering his question I simply folded the character sheet that he had given me and placed it back onto the table.
“Why are you a DM?”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to know why you play as a DM.”
“Because no one else wanted to be.”
“Are you having fun?”
“I mean… sometimes? It’s the paladin’s fault!”
“Have you spoken to him?" I asked. "Like an adult?”
“No, he wouldn’t listen to me anyways.”
“So you’ve tried and failed?”
“No but I know it wouldn’t work.” I sighed at his reasoning but moved on, choosing a different line of questioning.
“So assuming I kill this guy’s character, what makes you think the game will become fun then?”
“I just… it used to be fun when he wasn’t playing.”
"You think he'll just leave after his character dies?"
"I'll just boot him! Tell him that it's a one life game or something."
"And for some reason you can't do this while his character is still alive?"
"I... I figure it might make him quit if his character dies." Was there history behind the two of them? I couldn't tell, I needed more information. Honestly it just sounded like the DM was trying to justify his own terrible behavior.
"So why don't you like him anyways?"
“He keeps slowing things down, keeps trying to steer the players to his way of doing things.”
“So is that the player or the character then?”
“I mean, it’s both isn’t it?”
I stood up, pushing the chair away from myself.
“Talk to him, get back to me after.” I paused, considering my next words. “But not before you actually talk to him okay?”
“I still want him dead.”
“And that’s why you aren’t having fun.” I told him reaching the door. "You have to ask yourself if what you're doing is still a hobby or if it's turned into something else."
"You can't just walk away!"
I left closing the door behind me. Judging by his harsh shouting the DM I noted wasn't one to not have his way, not without a fit at least. Maybe it wasn't the paladin at fault, maybe they were both jerks, either way I had another visit to make.
| 2019-01-21T19:51:50 | 2019-01-21T19:47:16 | 330 | 161 |
[WP] The DM hands you the paper. You're just dropping in for the one session, but you know your role. The sheet says you're level 6, but you've got surprises. You have a mission: take out the DM's most-hated player. Well, their fun-killing Paladin, anyway. You're a hired gun. A Character Assassin.
|
A friend of mine had been DMing a 5.0 game for a month now. Normally, she is able to talk down fun ruiners but this one is especially stubborn.
Enter Malgor, the Level 6 Paladin Oathbreaker Orc: This person is a very stubborn, immovable Chaotic Stupid that kills any NPC he finds (including plot NPCs) in the name of his demon lord, though everyone knew he was just a murderhobo.
This is where I come in. The party and the DM knows me, and previously I had been kicked out of the group for picking fights with other player characters because they disagreed with my own. In an act of desperation, she called upon me to get rid of Malgor.
Enter Tariel, the Level 2 Thief/Level 4 Way of Shadow Monk Wood Elf: This character was built to resemble the 3.5e prestige class "Shadowdancer" (if you've played that, you know what this poor Orc is gonna have coming for him), and this character was blind and had Blindsight as a result. A Chaotic Good that believes evil should be destroyed swiftly and mercilessly.
The group was a one-and-done for me, when the deed was done I would find a way to get out of the party lest I cause more harm than he did.
When I entered the room, the whole room seemed to stare for a second except for two people: the DM and the Paladin. Everyone in the room had played with me before except for the Paladin in question, who seemed to be pondering over something with a mischievous smile barely hidden on his face.
I approached the table and was passed the character sheet, and the worrisome expressions of the table changed to almost joy. I had killed half the people at the table using this character at least once, and they quickly figured out it was not coincidence I brought this one out at this time.
I joined the party shortly after the game began. Tariel claimed he was pursuing a bounty placed upon a criminal seen around this area and the party welcomed him as they were tracking a criminal as well. In return for aiding the hunt, he would share the bounty among the group.
The party had ended up tracking this criminal and brought his head to the guard captain to claim. After getting our gold, the Orc cut down the guardsman. Tariel asked why, and he said his demon lord wanted a soul. Needless to say, this pissed Tariel right the fuck off. What proceeded was that Orc's worst nightmare.
Tariel was a Shadow Monk, and he had access to the Darkness spell. Additionally, he had Blindsight so he could "see" in this magical Darkness that not even Darkvision could penetrate. Tariel used guerilla tactics to fight, dancing in and out with his shortsword as the Orc swung blindly around him, using Flurry Of Blows to end the combat quicker. When the Darkness was finished, the Orc was a corpse on the floor and Tariel nowhere to be seen.
Back in reality, needless to say the Orc player was pissed and began yelling at me, shouting about how he was trying to do something important and giving me constant insults. He was about to remake a very similar character when the DM called the night. I warned the player I would be back if he tried the same thing again. The DM tells me he never showed up after that.
Author's Note: This is my first prompt, so if I made any mistakes or it wasn't good in general let me know in case I wish to try again in the future.
|
I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/dnd] [Is it me or does this just sound like a great idea?](https://www.reddit.com/r/DnD/comments/aiil4d/is_it_me_or_does_this_just_sound_like_a_great_idea/)
- [/r/rpg_brasil] [\[WP\] The DM hands you the paper. You're just dropping in for the one session, but you know your role. The sheet says you're level 6, but you've got surprises. You have a mission: take out the DM's most-hated player. Well, their fun-killing Paladin, anyway. You're a hired gun. A Character Assassin.](https://www.reddit.com/r/rpg_brasil/comments/ain5cr/wp_the_dm_hands_you_the_paper_youre_just_dropping/)
- [/r/rpghorrorstories] [Doesn‘t really belong heree, but maybe you like it](https://www.reddit.com/r/rpghorrorstories/comments/ail8us/doesnt_really_belong_heree_but_maybe_you_like_it/)
- [/r/rpghorrorstories] [So this is a writing prompt they're not real stories but I think this is something we have wished we could do to some of our problem players XD](https://www.reddit.com/r/rpghorrorstories/comments/amgzxr/so_this_is_a_writing_prompt_theyre_not_real/)
- [/r/u_beardsonfire] [\[WP\] The DM hands you the paper. You're just dropping in for the one session, but you know your role. The sheet says you're level 6, but you've got surprises. You have a mission: take out the DM's most-hated player. Well, their fun-killing Paladin, anyway. You're a hired gun. A Character Assassin.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_BeardsOnFire/comments/aijsdd/wp_the_dm_hands_you_the_paper_youre_just_dropping/)
- [/r/u_personusername] [\[WP\] The DM hands you the paper. You're just dropping in for the one session, but you know your role. The sheet says you're level 6, but you've got surprises. You have a mission: take out the DM's most-hated player. Well, their fun-killing Paladin, anyway. You're a hired gun. A Character Assassin.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_PersonUsername/comments/aiiiy8/wp_the_dm_hands_you_the_paper_youre_just_dropping/)
- [/r/u_soullessgent] [\[WP\] The DM hands you the paper. You're just dropping in for the one session, but you know your role. The sheet says you're level 6, but you've got surprises. You have a mission: take out the DM's most-hated player. Well, their fun-killing Paladin, anyway. You're a hired gun. A Character Assassin.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_soullessgent/comments/aij46a/wp_the_dm_hands_you_the_paper_youre_just_dropping/)
&nbsp;*^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))*
| 2019-01-21T20:40:35 | 2019-01-21T19:09:12 | 183 | 16 |
[WP] The DM hands you the paper. You're just dropping in for the one session, but you know your role. The sheet says you're level 6, but you've got surprises. You have a mission: take out the DM's most-hated player. Well, their fun-killing Paladin, anyway. You're a hired gun. A Character Assassin.
|
It happens from time to time, a paladin gets a little too strong they start to think they have a destiny and are all about championing good. They start messing with the world's balance pushing it too far towards good. That's when the Consortium sends me in. Paladins are easy to deal with when you know how to push their buttons. I am what you would call a rogue, and that's exactly what the group in front of me had been advertising for, and I could see why as they came clanking up to my table. A dwarf cleric, clearly worshipping Hanseath judging by the armor and war-axe branded with a beer stein. Behind him trying to hide in his shadow was a mousy gnome wielding a staff, a book dangled at her side held there by a chain. I could sense faint traces of magic around here, clearly one of the wizened, this job just got a little trickier. And the final member of the party that approached was my target, if the shining golden armor was any indication. Arrogantly he looked around at his surroundings before loudly shouting at the barmaid. "Wench bring me your finest mead, whilst I meet with the scoundrel who summoned us, and once that is through maybe I can show you the truth meaning of a paladin worshipping the god of vitality." He finished that off by pinching her butt and winking.... This target is one I will enjoy silencing for the greater "good".
"You scoundrel, didst you send a child bearing a letter containing details of how to break into the necromancers keep?" The paladin roared out.
The mousy girl spoke up "Timothee theres no reason to call him a scoundrel he offered to aid us in our quest, he could just be another adventurer wishing to rid the area of the undead. And we could use his help since your plan of frontal assault failed so spectacularly"
"Aye lad you cannae go call'n ereyone ye meet a rapscallion or call'n em evil only te chop off der head a secund lat'r. Ye did dat to de greedy shopkeep last town." Grumbled the dwarf obviously irritated at his companion.
I stepped in hoping to end the argument before it began in ernest. "Yes I reached out to your esteemed group. I've heard tale of the good you did and wished to offer my services after hearing you failed in your assault. You see I know of a hidden way into the castle through the mines. My ancestors were some of the original Mason's who built the castle and a hidden tunnel was made that leads to the back of an unused mine shaft. I can...."
"Well then tell us the location and we may be on our way, after my liason with the wench of course" The paladin interrupted.
"My Lord, if I may call you that, you do not understand the danger, the tunnel is trapped for those that are coming in from the mine, my family has knowledge of these traps that I cannot easily share, I was offering to lead the way, as unless I missed my guess none of you are experienced in the trap making arts?" I continued ignoring the paladins interruption.
"Aye lad ye be right, ye sound like a worthy addit'n te the team" the dwarf stated animatedly while clapping me on the back. "I go by Darien, this wee lass is Fidgit, and that there is Timothee the virile" he said rolling his eyes at the moniker.
"Hold on one minute I haven't said he could join" Timothee said while muttering an incantation under his breath and passing his holy symbol near my body when it didn't glow he seemed startled "All right I detect no evil in his presence, he can join us"
I chuckled at this, what kind of fool doesn't know how to hide their intentions, oh I will enjoy eliminating this person, maybe I'll even give the Consortium a discount.
"Then the matter is settled we will leave at once for the mine and the hidden entrance within"
There's more I want to write if people are interested but I need to sleep and sorry for formatting issues doing this on my phone is hard
Continued in the comment below I am bad at this whole Reddit thing
|
Everyone has met that one person who just ruins the game for everyone else. That person takes all the treasure, dictates where the party is going or what they're to do, things like that. Sadly for this group, Becky *was* that person.
Becky was a goody-goody player that *had* to have it all. Magic items in the chest? Becky needed them to "defend the lesser members of her party". Potions of healing? "You guys don't take the damage that I do." Go to a new city and it's shopping time for Becky. "You guys need me to defend you, so give me all your gold and I'll get something that'll help me do just that."
Did I mention that Becky was a Paladin?
And did I mention that Becky *loved* to role-play anything besides the actual combat?
When I was invited to this session, I knew I had the perfect character for taking care of the "Paladin Problem", as the DM put it. I pulled out this character only for special occasions. I made sure to give this character sheet to the DM before the game even started. It makes life a little easier to be handed a character sheet when you're the "new" player.
I won't bore you with the details of the beginning of the session. Suffice to say that the other three players were tired of Becky's constant demands and taking this newest treasure, an Amulet of Day, for herself. When the party decided to stop at the next inn to rest up, my plan sprung into action.
Becky had been hounding me to give her my enchanted gloves for a while now. Ever since she spotted on my character sheet that I had some magic items, she felt she deserved them more than I did. So I made her an offer she couldn't refuse.
"Why don't we go upstairs to discuss this in private?" I asked her. She quickly agreed, and I led the way to the room we had rented for the night. This room was simple: a metal bed, small table with two chairs, and a nightstand with a lamp on it. There was a small window that overlooked the stables below. I smiled as I quietly locked the door behind us, "so we don't have unnecessary interruptions."
I then announced that the only way I was parting with the gloves was with an act of pure faith. She had to do whatever I asked, no questions. I could see the other players' eyes begin to lose their dull shine. The DM was even interested.
Of course Becky agreed, so long as she got the gloves. "Oh, and that sword too!" She had just noticed the magic blade.
"Of course," I replied, smiling. I could see the DM start to realize what was about to happen. The others listened silently.
I told Becky that since I liked role-playing too, we should do a little role-playing right now. Oh, how her eyes lit up at the notion! I told her to take off her armor, but leave the clothing. Ditch the weapons. Lay down on the bed.
"Do you like a little bondage?" I asked, still smiling. Poor Becky didn't even think to wonder why this was happening; she just agreed and was ready for whatever was to come. She accepted the ropes binding her to the metal bed. She accepted when I sat my character down atop hers and whispered, "Care for a kiss?"
I wish I could've taken a picture of the exact moment Becky realized her dear Paladin was getting attacked by a vampire. She tried to tell the DM that she was going to break free, but, no, the rolls were not in her favor that day. Poor Becky watched as her Paladin got her blood drained until there was nothing left.
The DM, Tomas, smiled. I could see smiles on the other players' faces as well. My character stood up, unlocked the door, and went downstairs.
"You know what needs to be done," I said to the remaining players. I turned to Becky, who was still in a bit of shock. "I get to keep that character now. You will rise as a vampire spawn after 1d4 days under my control. Oh, and thanks for the Amulet."
I stood up from the table, grabbed Becky's sheet and my own, and, with a nod to the others, took my leave.
Another one to the fold...
| 2019-01-21T20:21:57 | 2019-01-21T20:13:01 | 80 | 48 |
[WP] In a world of incredible heroes and villains, you have the most dangerous power of all: forcing actual, real world logic and physics to take place
2/19/19: Woah! I look away for a few minutes and suddenly 1000 likes! Thanks you guys!
2/19/19: Holy God! 6.5k likes?! Awesome!
|
"I'm sorry."
Consistency watched sadly as the bullet wound in Ironclad's torso dripped scarlet. The muscular powerhouse looked at Consistency with disbelief and fear. "But I'm bullet proof... how can I..."
"In my presence, there's no such thing. A material can absorb or deflect the impact, but penetrating rounds will still tear through anything that isn't solid metal. Flesh can't withstand that level of physical duress. It just isn't strong enough."
Consistency laid a hand on Ironclad's shoulder as the titan fell to his knees. His breath gurgled as the blood entered his lungs. Consistency nodded solemnly. "How many people, Ironclad?"
The dying hero could only stare mutely, face going pale from blood loss.
"How many people died because you had to have your knockout-drag out brawls? School busses slammed into when you threw a villain wildly to the ground? Buildings that collapse after you smash out their support structures barreling through them?" Consistency leaned in closer, whispering hoarsely with righteous fury. "You could use that strength to take the fight out of city centers, to safe locations in the wild. But you have to ave your spectacle, don't you? You have to be seen praised, acknowledged. You have to make sure people know you're a hero."
Ironclad collapsed to the ground. He had never known pain. He had no measure for how to tolerate it, how to endure through. It was unbearable.
Consistency left the dying hero to his final moments. Alone. "Real heroes don't seek attention for it. I'll make sure the rest of the League learns this, too."
|
*Snap*
A scream more iconic than Wilhelm's can be heard from something akin to a meteor flying directly to the city. "You're not as dashing when you're on fire" you say to the burning, falling Clark Kent. "Didn't you know? Your home planet doesn't exist anymore. I deleted it".
The Flash stares in fear, then disappears. "Not so fast..!" *Snap.* A tsunami of flames erupts, burning everything where the poor Scarlet Speedster once stood. When he stops, only his naked, burnt body remains. "The speed force aura is physically impossible, genius".
Cyclops and the X-men arrive at the scene of the crime. You smirk, knowing full well the outcome of this battle. *Snap* Professor X's head implodes, *Snap* Cyclops fries his brains, *Snap* Iceman dies from lack of blood circulation, *Snap* Angel collapses to the sound of broken bones, on and on the slaughter continues.
A curious Thanos watches from afar. He notices your powers, the way you singlehandedly defeat every superhero thrown your way. He begins to worry, perhaps you are more powerful than him? With this thought in mind, he travels to Earth but dies from stretching his physical form through different dimensions in an attempt to break the space time continuum, forgetting that you had fixed the broken physics when fighting the Flash.
"IS THERE NO-ONE WHO CAN DEFEAT ME?!" you scream, laughing as the world burns around you. ***BANG***
You fall to the floor, a wound in your chest.. a gunshot wound! You look up to see a tall, broad shouldered.. bat? man? Batman?! He smirks and stares you down before placing the gun to your head. "Nice try, kid.." ***BANG.***
| 2019-02-19T11:22:07 | 2019-02-19T10:20:49 | 247 | 48 |
[WP] After death, you are no longer able to believe all the lies you told yourself to justify your actions and to sugarcoat the consequences. For the first time, you really fully understand who you are. The time has come, to cast an honest judgement on yourself and find a verdict.
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Most belief systems have some form or another of a final judgement.
You die. You're brought before Yahweh or Christ or whomever you care to believe in. They run through all the dirt they got on you, and then you get approved or denied access to paradise.
It's all bullshit, I've come to realize in the last few minutes. If it's really only been a few minutes—it's so hard to tell when there's nothing to look at.
I was hit by a car. Or maybe it was a train? I'm not really sure; interestingly enough, however I died doesn't seem to important to my memory bank. But I'm sure I'm dead—sometimes you just know something.
Everything went black, and then it just stayed that way. No light; no sound; not even a whisper of a breeze. Only *black*.
There's a strange sensation of both floating and sinking, and I haven't found any urge to breath. I guess I'll just stay here a while, see what happens?
Oh, would you look at that: something's happening.
A faint glimmer in the distance. Or maybe it's a speck an inch from my face... if I still have a face.
Nope, it's growing. Here it comes, getting much bigger now.
Maybe it's my next life.
Is that an egg?
Wait, am I a sperm?
No. Not an egg. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or disappointed.
A *mirror*?
Yes. A tall mirror has floated before me, and I can finally see something in the void—*myself*.
That's me alright. Average height; OK looking; a little soft from decades of gaming and sitting at a desk; naked as the day as I born; average....length....
The mirror bobs a bit, but nothing really happens.
Uh, is this it? Am I meant to examine myself in the floating mirror of the void for all eternity?
Oh, would you look at that: I'm aging in reverse.
My reflection seems to be getting younger. The bits of gray in my hair recede and disappear; my clumps of pudge roll back and tighten up; the wrinkles in my face iron out, and I shrink in size until I'm literally a sperm rushing toward an egg.
*Ah, I thought so.*
Look at me go, though. I'm destroying those other sperm—one in a couple ten-million! This must be the only race I ever won in my life.
Sperm me breaks through the wall, and the egg shuts the gates.
*Maximum capacity, boys.* I'd clap my hands, if I still had any.
Things are getting faster now, and the mirror decides to skip straight to the screaming, newborn me inching my way out of my mother.
Ya, I've seen the home video my dad took. *Next, please.*
The mirror obliges.
First steps. *Not bad, I was an early walker.*
First word. *Boob. Classic dad.*
First day of school. *Didn't even cry.*
First honor role award. *I always was a bright kid.*
First job. *Fixing screen windows in the neighborhood—handy too.*
First time ditching class. *Heh, played video games all day.*
First time smoking weed. *You know, I don't think I felt anything.*
First school suspension. *I wouldn't had hit him if he hadn't called me that.*
First time being fired. *Job sucked anyways.*
Video games. *Ya what else?*
Masturbation. *OK, really?*
Black out drunk. *Hm, don't remember that.*
Video Games. *OK...*
Masturbation. *OK!*
Things are really speeding up now.
Blown opportunity. Dropped out of college. Fired. DUI. Video games. Masturbation. Black out drunk. Stoned. Fired. Video games. Missed dad's funeral. Stoned. Credit card debt. Fired. On and on and on and on...
*It's too much. Please, stop...*
Everyday wasted.
*No more...*
Great ideas wasted.
*Please...*
No discipline; no motivation.
*Oh, God.*
Lost her, gone forever.
*OK!*
Lazy! Lazy! Lazy!
*I WASTED MY LIFE!*
The mirror shatters, and the pieces disappear like every golden opportunity I ever had to make my life worth something.
*I wasted it...*
I would cry, if I still had tear ducts.
Oh, would you look at that: something else is happening.
Another glimmer in the distance.
*Oh, for fucks sake. Not another mirror.*
It's growing.
*I get it! Please, don't make me re-realize it for all eternity.*
Is that an egg?
Wait, am I sperm?
*I AM A SPERM!*
I can feel it; I can see the path to the egg.
Another chance at life, I just have to win this race.
I can feel the other sperm behind me, but I won't waste this shot.
*Maximum capacity, boys.*
_____
**Thanks for reading. Sub to /r/BeagleTales for daily sperm races**
|
I set foot on the rocky riverbank, murmured a meek goodbye to the oarsman who had taken my coins and set off to find the origin of the sad, melodic notes that drifted down the coast. Other souls walked with me, some lurching uncomfortably as they dragged broken limbs while others walked with a blissful smile upon their dead faces. I found the harpist sitting on a stone as I reached the top of a rocky outcrop and before greeting him I looked out to where I had come from. I saw the oarsman dutifully rowing another load across the river and I saw the lines of waiting dead as they entered through the gates on the far side of the river.
"Enjoying the view?" the harpist asked and I started, unaware that he knew I was there. His eyes were an unseeing, milky white but he strummed on nonetheless, feeling each string and plucking each note.
"No," I answered. It was morbid. It was sad. There were faces I knew, wandering aimlessly on the far side, lacking the payment to make their way across the river. There were faces I had sent here.
"Good. Sit." I found a rock and he kept strumming. There was nothing beyond us; nothing on the other side of the outcrop. If the world was round, the underworld seemed not to be. It seemed to end with a cliff to nowhere and here I was sitting on the edge. Wisps of the notes he played drifted over the edge like little tendrils seeking something out of the darkness.
"Is this it?" If eternity was to be spent in the company of a blind, depressing harpist, it seemed only fair I get my own instrument. At least he could play something more upbeat.
"This is the beginning," he answered. I wished he would stop playing for a moment but his blissful smile never left his face and the notes never stopped.
"What are you playing?" I asked. I had died contently in bed, surrounded by a pair of whores and my closest confidante, the young man of uncanny business acumen who was my heir. He had agreed to sit patiently while I drank and fucked one last time and then he had dutifully attended to the funeral arrangements. This melody was far too sad for how I had died.
"Your life," the harpist responded vaguely. Whether he was playing with my life or the song of my life, he did not elaborate.
"My life was not sad," I argued after pondering the notes for a moment. The notes were by turn dark and ominous and my heart fluttered in panic. "I am a good man."
The harpist chuckled and I got the idea he did not agree. "You are not the judge. You are the judged. You killed men."
"Because I had to," I mumbled and he seemed to misplay the next chord and the abrupt cacophony startled me. "Because I valued them less than I valued money," I found myself saying in uncharacteristic honesty. The melody continued now, as if the horrid chord had never happened.
"You lied and cheated."
"Because I am a greedy liar. Friends are friends for business only." I shook my head. I had friends. I had great friends I conducted great business with. I had great friends with whom I greatly enjoyed riding my land with, striking the peasants who refused to work or taking away the young ladies who I had not become familiar with. The truths spilled out of my mouth involuntarily and the more I spoke, the more the harpist played his tune. I found myself retelling sins I had never thought twice about. I found myself espousing the evil of my ways. "I was at least not a sad man," I finished and again the sound of a horrible chord pierced my ears. "But I never wed and loneliness made me bitter. The dogs I had I kicked because kicking myself only angered me further. I paid women to be with me and never bore any children because taking care of anybody but myself was too much to do." The harpist nodded. The melody continued but I felt it ending and finally his fingers rested and he looked towards me, his white eyes unseeing and unblinking.
"You have been judged," he said simply and he stood from his perch and walked towards the abyss beyond the edge of the outcrop of rocks. I thought to warn him of his impending fall but I said nothing. "Come," he ordered and I stood and walked over next to him. The wisps of his notes echoed in the emptiness below us and slowly I saw them begin to weave a world. They intertwined and interlocked and then there was a windowless room filled with coin and the echoes stopped. "Welcome," the harpist said and he gestured me into the room. Once I would have leaped with joy and run my hands through the coin and admired each one for the power it provided me. "Enjoy your stay," he said to me and a door closed and I was alone with more coin than I could ever count and I thought about a time when this was all I would have ever wanted.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
| 2019-06-17T09:23:24 | 2019-06-17T09:13:52 | 170 | 28 |
[WP] You're a Super Villian, and honestly it isn't a bad job. But one hero always harasses you even when you're off the clock. Walking in the park, in the grocery store, getting a haircut, he always wants to 'Stop your evil plan'. You're left with one option: Complain to his manager.
|
“Look all I’m saying is, do you Really think a harassment report is necessary?”
I stared at the SuperTech Inc Limited HR rep like he was the moron I knew him to be.
“I just spent 30 minutes going over less than a QUARTER of the harassing things Speed McQueen over there has done in the past YEAR.”
“Hey now lets not use slurs.”
“... that’s literally his god damn Super Name. Did you even read any part of my report?”
“Look. (exaggerated sigh) it’s just that when these reports get filed there’s a big investigation, a lot of resources and man hours are wasted, permanent marks are made on records... it’s just a big hoobaloo over what’s probably a misunderstanding.”
The HR Rep, Tod, was smiling in a placating manner. I wanted very much to punch his teeth into his throat.
“I find it extremely disconcerting you are automatically assuming that this is a misunderstanding, and that the investigation will be a waste. This fucking asshole, don’t pardon my language, is a god damn CREEP!”
“Look you’re starting to get hostile, I’m not going to talk to a hostile employee.”
I could see where he was going, and I felt vindicated that I had delayed making a report for this long. Villains NEVER were listened to by corporate. File a report for extreme use of force? “Oh don’t be such a baby, your contract include physical violence.” File a report for stalking? “It’s literally their job to track you!” File a report for sexual harassment? “Heroes wouldn’t do that!”
So I had waited and collected evidence until I was absolutely SURE they couldn’t ignore me. And here I was, arguing with some low level HR pinhead about whether or not the report I had filed by filling out fifty god damn forms, “really needed to be filed.”
I took several deep breaths, pulled out my cell phone, and clicked on the bright green “GO” button taking up half the screen. Then I turned to phone towards Tod.
“Look Tod. I get it. I signed up to be a villain, I get the shit end of the stick but the hours are guaranteed and the healthcare is pretty good. What I didn’t sign up for was being stalked, harassed, and physically and emotionally damaged by some fuckwhit in a spandex onesie. If you had read even the first ten pages of my report you would see that this motherfucker showed up to my thanksgiving party with my family. He showed up at my first christmas with my kids since my bitch ex-wife left me for a dentist and speed mcfuckinqueen opened every single gift looking for weapons or some shit. I was on jury duty last year and he showed up in court and told the judge I wasn’t a reliable citizen.”
“The list literally goes on and on! Our contracts establish clear lines between work and civilian life! He shows up at my second job selling Used Cars every single fucking day and drives away customers! I have had ten fucking jobs in a year because of this mentally deficient asshole! So now, because of you, TOD, I am broadcasting every single video recording, audio recording, 911 call, and record of hero on villain crime that has ever been recorded. Ever. And I will continue broadcasting this on every single media medium until SuperTech Inc Limited does something about it.”
Tod’s face has gone from surprisingly pale to deathly pale.
“But. But. Your NDA.”
“FUCK THE NDA TOD! And especially, TOD, fuck you HR DIPSHITS. I’m broadcasting this too!”
I left the building, and for all of two seconds I was happy. Then I was suddenly blacking out as something smashed into me and my body accelerated at 12g’s. My last thought was,
“God damn FUCKING Speed McQueen.”
|
“… I was stealing an ORANGE,” Dr. Bad Things said. “A single orange.”
Commissioner Gordon ran his hand through his mustache, thoughtful. “I see…”
“He broke six bones in my body and gave me a concussion. The doctors say I might never see out of
my right eye again!”
“Well, you did commit a crime, Dr. Bad Things… small or large, a crime is still a crime, regardless of –”
“Then call the cops!” Dr. Bad Things said. “Put me in front of a judge! Give me jail time, read me my
Miranda rights! What kind of fucked up system do you guys have here where if you commit a crime a
billionaire dressed as a big bat shows up and beats the shit out of you!?”
“Now, now, Batman’s the best thing that ever happened to Gotham City. Crime has never been lower,
we –”
“He’s a dystopian capitalist nightmare!” Dr. Bad Things said. “Did you know he put Johnson in the
hospital last night?!”
“Johnson?”
“James Johnson, who was stealing food from the convenience store to feed his kids. *He works for
Wayne Enterprises*! And he doesn’t get paid enough to support his family, so he was forced into a life
of crime. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but crime is largely a reflection of social inequality and
lack of education and opportunity, not personal character. There’s a reason why places with bad
distribution of wealth tend to also have higher rates of violence and crime. It’s not because more
people suck there, it’s because they don’t have access to opportunities and education because of the machinations of an oppressive ruling class hoarding wealth.”
“Well, now, that’s just crazy commie talk, I don’t –”
“You know, places where a fucking gigantic company runs the entire city and billionaires can have flying
cars and secret caves and mansions while the population is left to rot?”
“Really, that’s stretching reason a bit, don’t you –”
“You have Wayne Enterprises, this company that pretty much owns everything in town, this guy who
*inherited* the company from his father – which, might I add, is totally against the concept of
meritocracy that you conservatives love to defend – and he’s underpaying his employees, not letting
them unionize, not giving them benefits…”
“Wayne Enterprises works within the boundaries of the law when it comes to –”
“… and then when the employees of that company are forced into a life of crime in order to survive, the
fucking CEO of the company shows up –”
“Think you’re overreacting a bit –”
“…DRESSED AS A MANBAT…”
“—Bruce is philanthropist, he's given a lot of money to --"
“… and BEATS THE SHIT OUT OF THEM! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS TOWN!?” Dr. Bad Things paused. "No wonder people are walking around dressed like clowns all over the place. Jesus."
A silence filled the room. Dr. Bad Things leaned back on the chair, breathing hard.
Commissioner Gordon scratched his head. “I see your point…” he said, slowly. “So you’re saying no
more Batman?”
“Yes, please! No more Batman! Just… due process and law and order as defined by the constitution!” Dr.
Bad Things shook his head. “I mean a single orange, for Christ’s sake's, that's all I was stealing…”
“All right. I hear you. I’ll talk to Batman and see what I can do.”
“Okay… now, if you excuse me, I have to move my car, I think my parking meter ran out like ten
minutes a –”
And he never finished the sentence because Batman crashed into the room through the window and
broke another eight bones in his body for the parking violation, because Gotham City is a nightmare and
superhero stories are all dumb.
/r/psycho_alpaca
| 2019-08-01T17:10:53 | 2019-08-01T16:20:25 | 494 | 296 |
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