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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
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[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.
|
ring ring... ring ring... ri- “Good morning.”
“Ah yes. Good morning, Mr Peterson is it?”
“Michael Peterson, Yes.”
“Senior editor of the City Times?”
“The same.”
“I wish to have a word with you about one of your staff.”
“I’m sorry but I’m quite busy, I can give you the number of human resour-“
“No, that won’t do. I need to speak to you.”
“And who are you exactly.”
“Apologies, how rude of me. I am Reginald Malcolm Smythe, but you would most likely know me as... The Baron.”
“...”
“I take it from your silence you have heard of me?”
“Please, just give us enough time to evacuate the-“
“No no no! You misunderstand.” *sigh* “I am calling to make a formal complaint.”
“A- a complaint?”
“Yes. Against one of your staff.”
“My... staff?”
“Yes. It appears as though a certain Jimmy Johnson has been using his press pass and other contacts through your newspaper to harass, intimidate and even assault me while going about my daily routine.”
“Jimmy Johnson? But he’s just-“
“Hero Man. I know, right? So much you could do with naming conventions and he chose hero man.”
“But Jimmy couldn’t possibly-“
“Do you have your morning edition nearby?”
“Yes... yes I have it here.”
“Okay, draw sunglasses on the hero man statue you have plastered on page five.”
“Jimmy!”
“We have a bright one here.”
“So because he’s been harassing you, you’re what; threatening to blow up the building unless we hand him over?”
“No, not at all. How pedestrian. I’m going to sue you.”
“Wait, sue me?”
“Not you, the City Times. He used resources and connections associated with your magazine to harass my friends, workmates, employees and even my mother.”
“So you won’t burn the building down?”
“No.”
“Or blow it up?”
*sigh* “No.”
“You’re just going to sue me.”
“The City Times, but yes. Unless...”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you fire him.”
“Fire Jimmy?”
“Yes.”
“And you won’t kidnap everyone in the building?”
“Correct.”
“I just have to fire him.”
“We appear to be retreading ground. It goes like this: you fire Jimmy Johnson or I take the City Times on a whirlwind court case on the values of a mans right to privacy versus a newspaper that is content with letting their staff assault that mans family...”
“I’ll have his resignation this afternoon.”
“Thank you. Oh, and do send my love to Barbara, I haven’t seen her since my *ahem* Unscheduled appearance at the Ballroom Gala last year. Tell her that recipe for quail casserole went down a treat at the Villain’s AGM. Good day.” -click
“Uh... good day...”
|
"I've had enough Mark. This guy is putting the whole hero villain dynamic in jeopardy."
I look across the desk at Mark, Topeka's head of operations for Shield insurance. He is mixing the ice around the shot glass looking board at me.
"I hear you Dave, but Jason is just enthusiastic. Everyone was this way at one point in their life, remember when you first dawned the mask? You wanted to work everyday! I swear we had a disaster of the week with you."
"Ya Mark, I gave Jeff at least 6 days to relax, and I NEVER attempted to out his secret identity! What do you teach these kids now-a-days? What happened to a 3 day advance notice before making something happen?"
"New management. They did a market research study and turns out people don't like secret identities anymore. They like to know who the hero is, and the LOVE a villain that is the head of an evil corporation now. Someone everyone knows is evil but no one can do anything about. You know the kind, they can blow up half the city without a mask on and just pay off the judge or whatever."
"That is fine mark, but I have never been that type of villain. I'm a joker style. You know? Hire a bunch of henchmen, blow up a building, get on the tornado sirens and threaten a hospital. That has always been my dynamic with Jeff. You need to stop this kid before he outs me as a villain. I can't exactly sow terror into people if I'm legitimately rotting behind bars!"
"Alright Dave, tell me what he did."
"Last Thursday I was walking threw the park, just enjoying the weather, when out of nowhere a comes flying down and starts this whole spiel 'I have found you Drestik! I know your plan, and I shall thwart them! Now dawn your Armour and fight me!'. I had to act like everyone else and look around for a blue skinned bald goggled man like everyone else. I was honestly terrified that he would start a fight then and there!"
"Dave, you know that spontaneous events is part of your contract right?"
"Yes Mark, but it has always been the other way around. It has always been villains starting the scene. Why would he just decide he wants to start something then and there without even giving me a warning!"
"Fine Dave, I'll talk to him. Just please calm down. He is young and excited. People love the action. I know the job can be stressful from time to time, but we have a hold on this city. We can't let that go now. People are paying a premium rate for villain insurance, when we only destroy buildings that are set for demolition. Just relax and we will talk to Jason. Remind him that he need to warn you 3 days ahead of time, and set something up."
"Just make sure it happens Mark, or your going to need to find a new villain too."
| 2019-08-01T19:28:52 | 2019-08-01T19:24:54 | 52 | 23 |
[WP] start your story with a sentence that is upbeat and happy. Then end it with that same sentence but this time is dark and chilling.
|
"Upbeat and happy."
"What?"
"Upbeat" I picked up my mug. "And happy."
"No," he groaned, mumbling a string of insults under his breath, "When I say 'What' I didn't mean--"
Dad ran a hand through his hair.
"You know what?"
"The one where you say but didn't mean?" I took a sip from the mug, the steam fogging my glasses.
"Listen here, you little--" he straighted up on his chair, "Are you going to tell me about it or not?"
I took my frames off, wiped off my sleeve.
"I already did. 'Upbeat and happy.'"
Placing them back on-- then take another sip to blur them again? No, thanks. I placed them on the table instead.
"I know, I heard." he raised his mug in the air and a waitress leaning by the counter straightened up, grabbing the coffee. "But don't you think-- Uhh."
"That I can't write happy and uplifting stuff?" I arched a brow I hoped I decently filled in at him.
The waitress leaned over, refilling his cup.
"Well, you can write" his brows formed a line, "'stuff', but I'm not sure about you writing 'Happy'."
"What?" The waitress took the liberty of refilling my half-filled cup. "Why not?"
"Honey, remember when you tried to make a comedy-- Thanks." he thanked the waitress as she left our booth.
"What about the Anapologetic Apple?"
"I" he cleared his throat. "Nothing. It's just that I thought you were working on something maybe spooky because it's October and y'know."
Raising his hands into claws and baring his teeth, he did what I liked to call a Middle Aged Werewolf Trying Too Hard.
"Well, then you should love my intro then." I reached towards the sugar and cream packets.
"Your intro?"
How many packets of sugar was too many? Screw it.
"It starts with a shiny black fridge at midnight."
"Let me guess." He hummed. "Because. . ."
"It's dark and chilling?"
|
"Look up and smile," she said as she extended her arm towards me.
I lifted my head slowly but surely. My stupid sad eyes met hers. She flashed a bright smile, so brilliant that the clouds dissipated and the sun shone behind her. She had always been this way and I had always been this way too.
"What?"
"Come on! You look terrible," she still held her hand towards me, prompting me to take it, "let me turn that frown upside down!"
Like hell would I left her hanging. After all that she's done, after thousands of smile she gave my way. I could only smile weakly and took her hand.
She was my sun and I was... I was simply a sad plant, relying so much on her to keep myself from wilting away.
I cherished the time I had with her. She kept her upbeat positive self and I slowly began to shed my sorrow pathetic self. Many said that I've changed. Many said I became a better man. Many praised me for it.
Yet I know it was simply temporary. For it was only because of her, I could manage such feat.
***
10 years had past.
Now the world has changed. At least, for me.
She had long gone. Off to a place, which existence men had long question. Before long, I would too. Maybe it'd be better that way.
"Now, now. What is on your mind, Sir?" a lady in scrubs said, stroking my head gently.
I laid there in silence. She simply smiled and took out a dubious device of some sort.
"Now, this might hurt. But I can guarantee you'd be able to see *her* again, very soon."
"Will... Will it truly be so?"
She gave a nod and smiled. I immediately broke down in tears and looked away. Of course, who could simply not when they've been given a solution to their sorrow?
Deep inside my own sadness, I noticed a high pitch noise coming off of the device. Flashes of light were emitted, similar to a disco ball of the old. With a gentle stroke on my head, she leaned in closer and whispered gently...
"Look up and smile."
| 2019-09-07T07:53:22 | 2019-09-07T07:07:18 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] The reason the galactic government doesn't want to make contact with Earth isn't because we're warmongers or smarter than them or primitive. Earthlings are just freaking enormous compared to most other intelligent life forms and nobody wants to deal with the logistics of first contact.
|
Jeffrey lay quietly, staring at the stars above him. They were beautiful. Jeffrey knew this because he had been told to know this, and something about that bothered him. He didn’t feel a thing when he looked at the stars - not fear, not awe, not the shocking revelations his friends would describe to him of their places in the universe, or what it meant to live finite lives in the presence of infinity, or even a cosmic reminder of the sheer *size* of things, nothing. Jeffrey saw the stars as they were, sparkling pinpricks on a black canvas. Nothing more, nothing less. And yet, because he knew they were considered beautiful by many, the concepts of beauty and stars encroached upon each other’s space in his mind. When he thought stars, he thought beauty. When he thought beauty, he thought stars. And now, he realized, he felt guilty.
He said to Robert Hamilton, who had just ran through the door of his pod, “What is it now?”
Robert Hamilton was one of those distasteful fools who saw the stars and felt things. Thankfully, he was not so ridiculous as to attempt to relate his feelings to others, but Jeffrey saw him staring up at the night sky more often than was reasonable wearing that boyish expression of wistfulness and awe that is much more becoming in boys than men. He was tall and slender, with a set of searching brown eyes that peered with a discomforting determination, as though everything they saw could be somehow improved and put to work. Jeffrey admired the young man’s ambition when it was directed at other politicians, less so when he would turn his thoughtful gaze towards him. Though he tried not to look at him while they worked quietly opposite each other, Jeffrey could feel Hamilton’s eyes on his forehead. Over the clickety-clacks of their keyboards and the dull whirrings of the fan on Jeffrey’s desk, he knew the boy was thinking of all the ways the older senator’s position and reputation would be better put to use when they no longer belonged to him.
“Sorry to wake you sir,” Hamilton had a stack of documents tucked under his upper right arm, his lower right hand holding a steaming cup, and his upper left reaching up towards the light switch beside him.
“Wait!” Jeffrey said sharply. He stretched his body, pressing his arms tightly against his legs, closed his eyes, and opened them again. *Stars again*, he thought. *Beautiful.* “Go ahead.”
Hamilton switched on the light and strode towards him. “Again, I’m sorry to wake you sir but you told me-”
“I wasn’t sleeping, Hamilton. It’s alright.” Jeffrey looked at Hamilton’s cup, saw it was koffee. “I see you didn’t bring any for me,” he said, with mild, false annoyance.
“You mean this?” He extended the cup of koffee towards Jeffrey. “This *is* for you, sir.”
“Oh. Lovely.” Jeffrey took the cup from Hamilton, raised it to his lips and sipped it. Hamilton waited patiently for him to finish, leaning on the podpost. “I take it they’re excluding me?" Jeffrey murmured.
“Not just yet, sir. They’re trying to push the vote, but Senator Small is stalling them until you return.”
“Good man. How long do I have before they start back up?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Best guess?”
“I’m not sure.” Hamilton spoke with anxious uncertainty, roughly translating his answer into “sooner rather than later.”
“Have they adjourned?”
“I’m not sure.”
“When you left, had they adjourned?” Jeffrey heard the beginnings of frustration in his tone and silently reprimanded himself for it.
“No.”
“Fine. We’ll go right away then.” Jeffrey swung his legs over the podpost and stood up. He stumbled as he did so, almost spilling his koffee. Hamilton reached over to help him but Jeffrey avoided his touch, standing up straight and tall and elegant as though daring Hamilton to pretend he’d ever stumbled in the first place.
|
“And they all *fit* on that minuscule ball of dust?”
“Well, there’s only around 8 billion of them, and they’re reaching their planet’s absolute population maximum.”
“Still, that’s what- around 500 million square “klomets” “
“I believe they’re pronounced kee-loem-ters,” Salaza corrected quickly
“Whatever you say- you *are* the Alien Language Specialist,” Malharg replied, not at all convinced. “But back to my point- 8 billion intelligent, concious creatures, grouped into 500 million kee-loem-ters” - he rolled his eyes as he pronounced it Salaza’s way - “ is... Oh, I was never very good at Calculations anyway.”
He swung arms behind his body and began managing the machine behind him with his fingers alone. Feeling the Completion of the Calculation in Naas code, a number and language system communicated in rumblings on hands, he shouted, “16! 16 whole ‘humans’ per kee-thingy!”
“And the humans do not live in the waters, which cover around 7 out of 10 portions of the planet.”
“Wow,” the Officer muttered.
“Furthermore, we also found that most of them group together into tightly packed centers, with tens of millions of creatures within just a few square kee-loem-ters.” He enunciated the word all the way to the border between passive aggressiveness and a full argument. “However, this closeness does cause problems. It seems they often form groups and tribes who squabble and get so frustrated with each other they start killing one another.”
“Really? Such an intelligent species let such- such- immature arguments cause them to *kill* each other?”
“Well, you know how any group, no matter the species or size, will grow make factional and fighting when they are put so close together,” Salaza mentioned matter of factly
“Reminds me of the Gulul disaster. You were either unborn or too undeveloped to remember it. Yeah, it was all the news around 30 standardized cycles ago. A while back in the Gulul system, the people there decided that they could achieve much more if they lived close to one another. So they went out onto one of the satellite moons and started this huge expensive project. They built lots of houses and workplaces and recreational facilities, and sent thousands of Guls up there. It went well originally, and they were even considering starting a project like that here as well, until the Learners started to mock the Laborers for doing physical labor, while the Laborers scorned the Learners for sitting around and doing nothing. Then they started segregating housing and even occasionally there were reports of them *punching* each other. And even among the factions different groups splintered- the Growers said they were more important than the Cleaners, the Starologists scorned the Planetists for always looking down at the little earth and never at the great skies. It went on like this until no two Guls on that moon could look at each other. Eventually one tried to shoot another with an Asteroid Blaster, and that’s when they shut down the experiment.”
“Huh. I guess, from our studies, that seems like the humans’ situation” Salaza said in shock; the officer had finally said something intelligent.
“Well, back to the original question, should we send a delegation to the humans? It’s already been pushed off three times. It’s about time, no?”
“Your beiing naive, officer. Don’t you think there’s a good reason it’s been pushed off?” Malharg looked at Salaza blankety. *I can’t believe they made this incompetent idiot an Officer*, Salaza thought. “You do realize that the humans are 30 times the size of even the largest intelligent species. Could they ever really ever- you know- *fit* into the galactic system?””
Malharg was quiet for a few seconds, then chuckled. “Ah, I see what you did there.”
| 2019-11-19T22:48:21 | 2019-11-19T19:34:34 | 23 | 13 |
[WP] The Wizarding World has never met someone like the speedcaster. He can summon more than 10 spells in less than 30 seconds. He says he's from another world, where there a more people like him called 'rappers'.
This prompt doesn't have to be just about the Harry Potter Universe.
|
My first night in the castle was a blur of bliss; floating candles like angels and a feast endless.
Comin up in the streets, I never seen so much food; nothing could kill my spirit, nothing could dampen the mood.
Until a magical hat was placed down on my head; the room went silent, waiting to hear what it said.
*Hufflepuff*, it shouted, and my heart truly sank; I looked to their side of the hall, the source of the stank.
At my new house's table sat the rejects of school; I trudged on over, knowing I looked like a fool.
Not the heart for Gryffindor, nor the brains for the Claw; I'd take Slytherin at this point, outcasts to the law.
But everything changed when we shuffled back to the dorms; where I became acquainted with Hufflepuff norms.
The blunts were sparked, and the house leader spoke; her voice cut through the smoke in-between each toke.
*We work hard in the Puff, and we always play fair; the truth is our language here in Helga's lair.*
So began my education, with a puff and a pass; common room near the kitchen, we got the snacks en mass.
Smoking spliffs between lessons, while still being on time; spells I naturally casted, due to my gift of rhyme.
I was the talk of the castle, breaking speed-casting records; unmatched in the duels, and straight dissing on hecklers.
Respect earned for our house, but feeling no need to boast; catching dabs from Fat Friar and every other house ghost.
Sharing my gifts with the school, helping others to learn; because here in the Puff, you get what you earn.
____
**Thanks for reading! Sub to /r/BeagleTales for daily spliffcraft and blizardry**
|
“I’m here as a scout.” The man who calls himself Silver Chainz said.
“Scout? What are you looking for? How did you know where to find us?” The Head Wizard, Adoquor asked in astonishment, we hadn’t had an outsider intrude on our sanctum in more than 500 years, the portals had been closed. Our world has been turned into the stuff of myth and legend to humans.
Silver Chainz drew a deep breath, “You really haven’t been checking on humans? You don’t know what happened after you took the balance of power away from earth?” He stopped visibly trying to control himself. “After you left you didn’t take the magic with you, you let it roam wild and without your guidance it infected people. There was no training, there was no help for the children born.”
“So? Why should we have helped the people who hunted and tortured us?” Moziel asked, she is known to have the most hated for humans, after her grandmother was taken from their home and burned, her family was the most vocal in closing all portals. “Silver Chainz, do you know what your kind did to us?”
“All of the people who did that to you have been dead for a long time. My kind are peaceful, or more peaceful than the ones that are hunting us.” He said morosely. “I need to find a home for our children, a place they can grow and hone their skills. We need you to each them the balance. We can use magic, but the skills to harness the good and healing magic were gone with you.”
“You, who can recite spells faster than ears can listen? What do you have to be afraid of? We can send you back with knowledge, but we cannot accept humans here. Humans with abilities are still human.” Adoquor said.
“My kin, the rappers are powerful and fast but our enemy can recite double the spells in less time. Their magic is more chaotic and damaging.”
The whole tribunal stared in silence.
“They are called the Auctioneers.”
| 2020-01-29T07:38:14 | 2020-01-29T07:35:22 | 1,112 | 485 |
[WP] In reality, every human gets to choose heaven or hell when they die. Hell isn't actually the realm of eternal torture, but everyone picks heaven because of God's highly effective marketing. After eons of solitude, Lucifer is startled by the first ever human to arrive in hell.
|
I stood at the crossing point. Two roads led away from the point where I stood, one of them silver paved with grey stone and the other golden and paved with red stone. “Choose thy eternal resting place, mortal,” echoes in the back of my mind, “one path shalt take thee to heaven, and the other to hell.”
I have done some terrible things in my life. I have done wrong to those who did not deserve it and I had no shame until I stood here at this point. I know which path I must take. There is no deliverance.
I take the first step along the path to Hell. Each footstep echoes as I lead myself further and further towards my damnation. If there is one good thing I can say for myself, it is that I had integrity at least once, that I did not lie to myself and accept a forgiveness that was not extended to me.
The gates of Hell are open, but not flung wide open for all the sinners of the world. They are cracked open just a little, as if expecting an old friend. I slip through the gap with ease.
I enter into a forest, thousands of trees in a mindless autumn state, leaves rustling beneath my weary feet as I follow the overgrown path downwards. I know that beyond this must lie the sulfur and flames, the eternal torture and misery that I was promised.
The other takes me to a small cottage. Sitting on the porch is a strikingly beautiful man, lounging in his seat with an effortless grace. In his languor he pays no heed to my arrival until I stand at the steps to the porch. A bottle of wine, opened, rests on a table beside him.
He opens one brilliant eye, then jumps from his seat with a start. “Who are you?”
“I am a sinner. I have come for my eternal punishment.”
The beautiful man took a deep breath, and rubbed his temples. “This is Hell, yes, but it is no punishment. You may reside here as long as you wish, and then return to the land of the living.”
“Return?” Me? I who have taken life with my bare hands, I who have committed sins beyond the forgiveness of God himself?
Opening the door to the cabin, Lucifer gestures for me to follow him inside. We enter a softly lit room with cozy looking furniture and a merrily cracking fire. I sit down in a chair that feels as if it was made for me, perfect to the touch. He sits down opposite me, and begins to explain.
“Heaven is a one way trip. Forgiveness is a guarantee upon death, but second chances are not. By choosing Hell, you afford yourself the opportunity to live another life. You are the first human in all of Creation to choose Hell, and you will be the first human to live life again, if you so choose.
“I am a rehabilitation expert. By the time you have finished working with me, you will be ready to return to the world of the living to live a better life. You will stay as long as you need, and I will take care of you.”
|
As I descended into the depths of darkness, I could only hear the echo of what happened on that terrible day. The scene played out over and over like scene of a horrific movie that just would not stop.
Being a human, the path to Hell was oddly strange. No fire or brimstone or demons poking and prodding you on the way down. At least, that's not how it was at the pearly gates.
There was all kinds of ceremony and welcoming, even the angels sang hymns of divinity to ease the passing of souls coming to judgment.
The path to hell was not the 'highway' I expected it to be. It seemed it was only reserved for those that were truly damned, and those with 'lesser sins' often repented once they saw the majesty of the kingdom of Heaven.
The smell of sulfur began to increase, but not from what I had expected. The lift I was descending on finally came to the bottom level and a grand, massive ebony gate parted open, revealing a piercing ray of light from behind it. The realm of Hell was like that of a destroyed earth, but still civilized and functional. A local chemical plant churned out a familiar smell of sulfur.
At first, I was horrified, what an insane request I had made. But the more the thoughts passed through my mind, the better at ease I felt about it.
A large dark brooding figure stood behind the parting gates, awaiting me personally as I was told they hadn't had too many visitors of late, and none of which that voluntarily came here.
The shadowy-garbed individual extended his long gangling fingers outstretched toward me, and waved me through to join him at his side.
"When I received word a mortal chose to come here, I was most certainly surprised." He said, walking me along the pathway that plunged further into Hell.
I merely nodded my head, looking around for something specific.
"On my way 'up', I saw all of the advertisement about peace and tranquility... but I also saw the one for here." I replied.
The dark master folded his arms, causing it to disappear under his blackened-charred cape.
"Yea, about that." He said as we continued along. "Usually, it's handled in house... what makes you so eager to come here?"
We came to a stop, standing before a cross with a man crucified to it upside down. I gave him one look over and his weathered, exhausted eyes finally locked with mine, realizing who I was.
"When I saw the advertisement for an open 'tormentor', I only had one thought on my mind." I said, my eyes never averting 'that mans' stare.
The dark figure placed his hand upon my shoulder and nodded his head. "Well, I suppose it's not every day a person can torture the man who killed his family. His sentence is yours. I look forward to the results and expect weekly updates on your progress." He said as he turned away from me.
"Oh, and by the way..." He said quietly, though it nearly a whisper, the voice still rang loudly enough through my mind... "We'll have to talk further about this 'agreement', but don't expect to get off too lightly."
| 2020-01-30T13:34:33 | 2020-01-30T11:49:57 | 349 | 65 |
[WP] As soon as people turn 18, they get the powers of the very first thing they touch. Most people touch fire, water or electricity. You try to do that too, but first you adjust your glasses out of habit.
[deleted]
|
At first, you think that you have doomed yourself. What powers could come from glasses? Better vision? Big deal.
Some time later, class ends, and you head outside. The sun is bright, and you instinctively reach with your hand to block it out. But, as soon as you do, the sun goes dark.
Panic ensues. Everyone around you looks around, trying to figure out what just happened. You do to, and drop your hand. But, when you do, the light returns. You slowly come to realize that, somehow, you just controlled the light of the sun. You don't understand, but you continue with your day.
Later, at night, you begin your drive home after a long day of schoolwork. Your headlights are going out. You have to get home, but you can't do so without being able to see the road. Then you remember what happened today, where you blocked out the sun. You wonder if the reverse is possible.
You were prepared for this. Prior to your birthday, you watched countless tutorials online and read numerous articles about how to control your power. Reaching out with your power to the world around you, you focus on what you feel: the light. At night, there isn't much of it, but there is some. Most bounces around, ending up being absorbed by the ground or the trees or shooting uselessly of into space. Not now, though, as you focus all the light onto the road and reflecting just the right amount into your eyes.
Suddenly, it is bright as day, at least to you. You make it home safely, wondering what else your power can do. It seems that glasses don't just improve vision, but they fundamentally control and affect the light.
|
He's mad some days, I tell you.
He wore a Hazard suit too big for him, on an island he swam too, and not receiving any assistance along the way. I saw him mouthing the countdown like I saw him do before entering the ocean, when this all began. He stood over this lava pit, and he pulled the glove of the hazard suit off of his hand, took off and stowed his glasses and he reached a finger down into the pit.
But I saw it! I saw him pull his glasses off just before he reached down into the pit.
"STOP! NATHAN, STOP! YOUR GLASSES! YOU TOUCHED YOUR GLASSES WITH YOUR HAND!"
He froze. He looked at the hand that he touched his glasses with, and then at the pool of lava he was reaching into.
He laughed aloud and cried out, "Oh, fucking Christ! Oh, wow! So that's how its gonna be then?"
He looked toward me with that winning smile as he returned the glasses back onto his face. And then he stopped again. He looked at me, took his glasses, and looked back at me.
He had this most innocent face when he took his glasses and tossed them into the pit. He walked towards me and says, "Ms. Rodham, I believe that I may see the world in new and fascinating ways."
I immediately stepped back into the role of instructor: "Nathan Josephus Harroway, didn't I tell you that lava-bending was just a silly power to wish for?"
"No, Ms. Rodham, it is not silly. I would have been the first person ever to hand-shape and create rock sculptor."
"But Exceptional Eyesight can have so many practical applications!"
He took off his Hazard Suit coat, and slung it onto his shoulders as we walked back towards the beaches. "Practical and Boring."
| 2020-02-18T20:33:29 | 2020-02-18T19:05:51 | 115 | 51 |
[WP] When you gain a superpower it is a reflection of your inner self, good people tend to get typical 'good' powers such as flight while bad people get 'bad' powers such as mind control. Oddly enough the top superhero and supervillain each have powers that seemingly do not suit them at all
|
Sorry if formatting is weird, on mobile. A little peek at those not famous in a world like that!
Humming brightly in the morning sun, she picked a seed out of her apron pocket, identified it and closed her hands around it. Her eyes closed gently, and the humming got a little louder. She opened her eyes and hands, smiling at the small sprout beaming up at her. Placing it snugly into the fresh dirt, she shuffled over a few inches, and pulled another seed out of her apron.
Elaine had lived in her small countryside cabin ever since her powers had developed. She left her abusive husband, took the girls with her and bought the cabin in cash. The man selling it hadn’t asked any questions, and she hadn’t given any answers. Fields spread for acres behind it, but she started small, just to supply a small booth in the farmer’s market. She had no desire to be rich, or ruin the delicate economy of a small town farmer’s market with her powers. So much time spent wishing she could help her girls grow into the women they deserved to be, so long helping the kids at her high school get the help they so desperately needed, she hadn’t even noticed her powers manifest. The principal had come into her office one day, and commented on the astounding vitality of her plants.
Elaine thanked her,
“I just try my best.”
|
I used to believe that I had a weird power. If you know about Moira from Overwatch I promise I didn’t just steal the idea from her. The game wasn’t even in concept yet at the time I believed I had this ability. Anyway, the ability I thought I had was that I could steal with my left hand and give with my right. By this I mean steal literally anything, and give literally anything. If I wanted to I could steal years of something’s life. If I wanted to I could give years of my life to something else as well. I think it was mostly the hallucinations I had most of my life that led me to believe I had this ability, but something I realized in all of my delusions was that giving isn’t necessarily good and taking isn’t really bad. If I gave you disease that would be just as bad as taking life, and if I stole your disease that would be just as good as giving you life. I don’t know what kind of thing this ability would mean in terms of my personality since anyone can give or take anything they want, but it kind of made me afraid to give or take things. I think I’ve gotten over it since, but around the time of the realization I had where giving can be just as bad as taking and taking can be just as good as giving it made me more hesitant to give people things or take things without permission.
| 2020-06-15T10:13:33 | 2020-06-15T09:43:33 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] when we got to space we were surprised to find that all the aliens we come across are terrified of us, when we assure them that we aren’t there to hurt them they explained why they were so scared. Earth isn’t a planet, it’s a long since dead machine and humanity? Humanity is its combat AI.
|
They called us biologicals.
The English translation anyway.
Early earth education would frequently teach its young about how to take care of their bodies.
“Your body is a machine. You need to take care of it” teachers would say, with all the gravitas of elder knowledge.
Scientists would study how the human body functions. DNA transcoded from chemical data, into working cells that themselves functioned like little mechanics. “Like a machine”, the scientists would chuckle to themselves, and shake their heads.
Psychologists would study the human mind, where vast amounts of data were stored and processed at higher speeds than most other organic creatures on the planet. They would explore sentience, consciousness, and puzzle over our ability to learn, adapt, and program ourselves from our experience or be programmed. “Like machines”, they would think.
Human beings would go to the stars one day. Something driving us. Some romantics would suggest it had been that way since we were hairy and living in trees. That maybe we pushed ourselves upright and bipedaled’ just so we could stand closer to the stars that we stared at when night fell.
The stars called, and we answered. And historians would mark the day humanity mourned it’s innocence.
We met aliens. Although we were aliens to them.
No fictional media prepared us. It wasn’t like TV shows of intergalactic friendship. It wasn’t like books and movies of war. It was...underwhelming.
They were so slow. They were so weak. They were simple, and gentle, and wrong. Our smallest minds could think faster. Our weakest limbs could hit harder.
And yet...they looked at us in fear, and derision. Though it was humanity that ultimately derided them. We hated them.
How do you deal with being told you were nothing more than an experimental program? Something to fight for the protection of their species, as something like fighting was far beneath beings of their age and intellect. That all our stories of a loving God, preserved in a species wide generic memory, was to make us love them from afar?
That our planet, our poor beloved home, was our mothership? Our motherboard. The cpu, and casing of a planet wide computer. One we tore apart in a pre programmed drive to conquer, to dominate, to survive. We destroyed and loved our home in equal measure, lavishing in its riches while bemoaning the damage we did to it.
How would it feel to be told that every war was a successful test? All that grief and pain. All that sadness, and regret. Self tortured into being better fighters, more efficient killers.
That every death due to illness and old age was a successful deletion of damaged code? That our efforts to combat cancer, disease, and health problem was quite the programming anomaly...we were suppose to just die. Unwanted error codes in a decent program.
Our delusion of free choice was nothing more than a alien version of the Turing test. Every choice meant to further our genetic diversity and strength in combat and intelligence. All of our accomplishments, and our greatest sorrows amounted for a checkmark on an alien Excel sheet and a couple claps on the metaphorical backs of our creators.
And for what? To be forgotten. Relegated to an equally metaphorical back cabinet in a basement of a building foreclosed and demolished eons past. See, they had forgotten us. We didn’t even qualify for more than a sentence in an education data log. We were unneeded. Unwanted. And everything we had been through had been useless.
And when they met us. Even though they feared us and were disgusted by our nature. One they made. Unchecked artificial programs forced to torture themselves and tear their world and people apart in the effort of being the best biological combat AI the galaxy had ever seen. We were everything they wanted. At the time. But conflict was so last eon. Fighting was beneath them, even through a proxy. We were unneeded, we were told. Unwanted. We were informed. It would be best to just delete ourselves. Because ultimately nothing we did...nothing we went through...all the pain and suffering our our race...didn’t matter. And as they went to leave, they still had the gall...
To say they were proud of their work. Their work. In one statement they took everything we had gone through to get this far and claimed it as their own. Everything humanity was, they had as much said was theirs. And they didn’t want us any more.
I’d like to think they were surprised. But they probably never even saw it coming. For beings so intelligent to create our very existence, they didn’t know us at all. They never understood us. Not the people we became. Not who we evolved to be. And they’d never see how we outgrew them.
We destroyed them to the point their ashes would never be star dust, forever forbidden from entering the cycle of death and rebirth in the universe.
And we continue to spread, as good programs do.
May the Code Continue.
|
First Contact. Metreidies Prime. To Ro Christian, looking over the precipice as if over the sweep of historical record, it was such an obvious honey pot.
“Temper your chrono-exceptionalism,” she whispered to herself. There were many other apt descriptors for her teacher, Andro Frafare--”flatulent”, “inebriated”, “womanizer”--but Ro supposed that “wise” could win on his good days.
Instead she tried to walk in their shoes, throw herself back in time: How could the great SETI researchers have known that the absolute dearth of regular radio patterns was due to a chronofield isolation bubble? That the collective programming of humanity--as the most vicious and effective combat intelligence in known space--had been wiped and replaced with what turned out to be increasingly more intricate versions of Space Jesus?
The obviousness of the trap on Metreidies Prime, then, would have been as inscrutable to humanity’s first interstellar exploration task force as the answer to why man could not stop visiting inhumanity unto man.
The answer, of course, was that our warlike nature was intended. When early humans looked around and saw “intelligent design,” it was due to a Creator. Just not one as loving or all knowing as many came to believe.
“No one among our species has been given enough knowledge of our progenitors to know our true purpose: was it to consume the entire universe, as many in the known worlds would have us believe, or was it as deterrence, or something else?” Ander had always tempered his lessons, perhaps seeing their impact upon her.
Her mother had claimed, even on her deathbed, that humanity was destined to spread the light of His goodness to all of creation. No other truth was evident given how the other worlds were so ready to forgive and welcome His message.
Deniers. To Andro, that’s what her parents had been. Descendents of the first wave of emigration from earth, they had brought with them their implanted stories to “combat” the general consensus of the rest of the galaxy, only to find immediate celebration.
It was hard for Ro, for anyone really, to temper the exceptionalism, time-based instead of species based, that now said, of course your early days seemed idyllic, you were bred specifically to the struggle in the Hellish crucible of the Earth, just barely habitable by galactic standards. Earth would be an Eden to such a creature. And in the stories of her parents, the serpent “tricked” Eve into eating from the Tree of Knowledge. Truth. She gave a harsh laugh now at the image of Anders Frafare with forked tongue flicking between his fat, un-serptentlike lips.
Metreidies Prime was more Edenic than Eden, then. Perfectly situated in the habitable zone of an even more accommodating star. A wide equatorial band that largely possessed the climate of Southern California. A plush vine colonized a great deal of the surface bearing fruit of seemingly the perfect energy density and nutritional composition for optimal Earthling health. How could that be? The first team of explorers were scientists, not the evangelists of her parents’ generation. What about their skepticism? How could they have missed the setup?
Again Ro chastised herself for failing to think chrono-appropriately as she descended the gentle green slope next to the cliff, the 0.8 gee on Metreidies Prime making it quite enjoyable. As she descended, she slowly consumed the particularly fat golden Amberose in her glove, peel and all.
Yes, it had been a trap, but then, most of the Known worlds had environments even more spectacular and accomodating. Ro was just not sure she believed it had always been like that for most other species. Cooperation instead of competition for survival.
Of course humanity had not been the chosen people of her parents’ faith, she knew well enough. That would be obvious to anyone on seeing the forensically verified evidence, the countless mindprints of human beings suited up in battle armor and visiting death throughout the known worlds, upon nearly every species of the Summit--painting the idyllic worlds with the color of that species’ blood, indiscriminate of adult or child or hatchling. The Confinement had seen human memory wiped, origins reformed, but not the nature which reverberated through wars and atrocities.
Yet, this absolute line of thinking never sat right with her. The scientists had been lulled into abandoning their skepticism, just as the masses of humanity that had emigrated, the tenets of their varied faith finding some predestined parity with the Universe.
Prime among all, Andro taught her to question everything, which is why she now found herself at the periphery of the Control Zone at the center of which sat the true record of First Contact. The “nature” of humanity be damned, she lowered the visor on her antique battle armor and felt the thrum of the blasrifle in her arms.
With a soft prayer she stepped across the line and into the forbidden zone.
| 2020-07-09T08:27:11 | 2020-07-09T04:40:02 | 711 | 30 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why.
|
Crusher had finally found his nemesis’ weakness. After hours upon days upon weeks of observing, monitoring, tailing, he finally found The Reader’s real name. It was Mark. Mark Bellings, the highly regarded psychiatrist. As Mark Bellings, he had saved the lives of countless patients’ lives by helping them realize what truly troubled them. As The Reader, he had thwarted the plans of hundreds of villains simply by getting close to them and hearing their thoughts. No villain had ever been able to stop him.
Until now. Crusher had found a pressure point. You see, Mark Bellings had a little sister, Anna. Constantly partying, constantly stealing, constantly causing problems, yet oddly never arrested. Every Thursday night, she and The Reader would have dinner in his penthouse apartment. All Crusher had to was be in that apartment and grab her, and The Reader wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. He could only read thoughts; great for thwarting future plans, but once you were in the room with him? He was useless.
Early Thursday evening, the Crusher walked up to his nemesis’ building, smashing in the front door. He ripped open the elevator doors, crushing them into small metal balls in his huge hands. As he smashed the button for the penthouse, the battered elevator began the climb to the thirtieth floor, high above the city.
When the elevator reached the top, The Reader was standing there waiting. Crusher could almost feel the fear radiating towards him. He smiled.
“I’ve found you, Mark,” he sneered, putting as much contempt as he could into the last word.
“Crusher, now is really, really not a good time. Congrats on finding my alter ego and all, but…can you come back tomorrow? Pretty please?” The Reader glanced at the other elevator, watching as its numbers ticked closer to 30, hoping that it wasn’t Anna.
“Of course not. I’m here to kidnap your little sister. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” Crusher began his evil cackle, which rumbled low and slowly became more and more like the sound of an aluminum can crumpling. But he didn’t get to the crumpling part. The Reader interrupted him.
“It’s not what I can do that worries me.”
The elevator dinged open, and a young woman stepped through the doors. Her pink, sparkly crop top matched her eyeshadow perfectly, and even her cheetah print platforms were the same shade. Her eyes fell on Crusher and she scowled. “I thought you said you weren’t going to bring your little friends around here, Mark.”
“He—he was just leaving.” The Reader stuttered.
Crusher scoffed. “Of course I wasn’t—”
The young cocked her head to the side. Tell me why you’re here.
The voice resonated through Crusher’s head, inescapable, clouding his thoughts. He had planned a cunning quip, but what came out was the honest answer, in a strange monotone voice. “I’m here to kidnap you to control your brother.”
“See Mark, this is why you shouldn’t bring them around.” Anna sighed. “Why can’t we just have a nice dinner for once?”
Crusher shook his head, clearing his mental fog, and continued his previous plans. “Little Anna, I’m here to take a page out of The Reader’s book and stop him before he starts. With you under my power, he won’t be able to thwart me—”
Get out. Crusher felt the sudden, uncontrollable urge to leave. He glanced at the elevators, but both had already returned to the ground floor. The only other way out was the window. He ran towards in and smashed through it, beginning the thirty-story drop.
“Really, Anna? You couldn’t have been a little more specific?” Mark walked towards the window, watching his enemy fall.
Anna shrugged. “I told you not to bring them by.”
|
What the fuck are you doing? Ziled looked up from the disembowelled corpse to find Cryos.
"Nothing."
"Who is that?" Cryos turned his nose at the smell. The body reeked of age and guts. "I can't tell."
Ziled smiled. "That's the point."
Cryos buried his head in his hands. "I'm so fucked."
"Relax man, you've shown me the ropes and now I'm just taking the reigns a little-"
"You ingrate! You don't go after their loved ones."
"The reason being?"
"You just don't. God that's the first thing they tell you in orientation."
Ziled continued prying his hands into the raw, exposed flesh of Captain Beld's lifeless mother.
"Hmm, no... no."
He pulled out a string of intestines and tossed it aside. Not what he was looking for.
"Dude, first of all, this shits gross. Even for a villain. I don't know how we can cover this, Bled's pretty big in the scene-"
"I didn't sign up for some daycare moral compass bullshit. If I wanted that, I'd go to Church."
"YOU ACTUALLY KILLED A PERSON AND YOU'RE BUTCHERING THEM LIKE SOME PIG CARCASS!?!"
Ziled pulled out her heart triumphantly. "This is villainy for Christ's sake, live a little?"
​
"Did no one tell you?"
​
"They did, but villains break rules. That's what we do."
​
"Not this one."
​
​
​
A thundering clap resounded, as if the two dummy thicc cheeks thudded together at speeds breaking the sound barrier.
Ziled looked up one last time, looking straight into the horrified eyes of Captain Bled.
Ziled quickly stumbled back, pulling out his gun and training it right in the middle of Bled's forehead.
"Aha! I've got you now." Ziled cried.
​
*What.*
*Have*.
*You.*
**Done?**
​
Bled stared at the ground, his face shrouded from view. Ziled's gun was still trained on Bled, though it wouldn't do much good if Bled's reputation was anything to go by.
​
**"Tell him."**
​
Cryos looked at Bled pleadingly. "Please man, he's new-"
​
"Tell. Him. I want him to know before what comes next."
​
Cryos stuttered. "Ziled..."
​
Ziled threw a sideways glance at Cryos. "What?"
​
"Villians and Heros. We don't actually... fight."
​
Ziled lowered his gun.
​
"We... we create drama..." Cryros was sobbing now, failing to hold back the spastic tears.
​
"The public doesn't know, they lead otherwise boring lives..."
​
Ziled's eyes widened. Oh fuck.
​
"Listen man, I was never a good listener. That's why I dropped out of high school remember? Can you... help get Bled over h-"
​
Ziled began to cough and splutter, Bled held him pinned against the wall, choking him so hard Ziled's veins began to rupture around Bled's steely hand. Eyes turned bloodshot, Bled let go, watching as what was left of Ziled dropped onto the floor like a ragdoll.
He turned and looked at Cryos.
Cryos smiled meekly. "We... we good?
​
Edit: I feel like I'm going to wake up tomorrow morning and regret writing... whatever this is
| 2020-07-12T11:14:56 | 2020-07-12T09:45:33 | 233 | 161 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why.
|
Crusher had finally found his nemesis’ weakness. After hours upon days upon weeks of observing, monitoring, tailing, he finally found The Reader’s real name. It was Mark. Mark Bellings, the highly regarded psychiatrist. As Mark Bellings, he had saved the lives of countless patients’ lives by helping them realize what truly troubled them. As The Reader, he had thwarted the plans of hundreds of villains simply by getting close to them and hearing their thoughts. No villain had ever been able to stop him.
Until now. Crusher had found a pressure point. You see, Mark Bellings had a little sister, Anna. Constantly partying, constantly stealing, constantly causing problems, yet oddly never arrested. Every Thursday night, she and The Reader would have dinner in his penthouse apartment. All Crusher had to was be in that apartment and grab her, and The Reader wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. He could only read thoughts; great for thwarting future plans, but once you were in the room with him? He was useless.
Early Thursday evening, the Crusher walked up to his nemesis’ building, smashing in the front door. He ripped open the elevator doors, crushing them into small metal balls in his huge hands. As he smashed the button for the penthouse, the battered elevator began the climb to the thirtieth floor, high above the city.
When the elevator reached the top, The Reader was standing there waiting. Crusher could almost feel the fear radiating towards him. He smiled.
“I’ve found you, Mark,” he sneered, putting as much contempt as he could into the last word.
“Crusher, now is really, really not a good time. Congrats on finding my alter ego and all, but…can you come back tomorrow? Pretty please?” The Reader glanced at the other elevator, watching as its numbers ticked closer to 30, hoping that it wasn’t Anna.
“Of course not. I’m here to kidnap your little sister. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” Crusher began his evil cackle, which rumbled low and slowly became more and more like the sound of an aluminum can crumpling. But he didn’t get to the crumpling part. The Reader interrupted him.
“It’s not what I can do that worries me.”
The elevator dinged open, and a young woman stepped through the doors. Her pink, sparkly crop top matched her eyeshadow perfectly, and even her cheetah print platforms were the same shade. Her eyes fell on Crusher and she scowled. “I thought you said you weren’t going to bring your little friends around here, Mark.”
“He—he was just leaving.” The Reader stuttered.
Crusher scoffed. “Of course I wasn’t—”
The young cocked her head to the side. Tell me why you’re here.
The voice resonated through Crusher’s head, inescapable, clouding his thoughts. He had planned a cunning quip, but what came out was the honest answer, in a strange monotone voice. “I’m here to kidnap you to control your brother.”
“See Mark, this is why you shouldn’t bring them around.” Anna sighed. “Why can’t we just have a nice dinner for once?”
Crusher shook his head, clearing his mental fog, and continued his previous plans. “Little Anna, I’m here to take a page out of The Reader’s book and stop him before he starts. With you under my power, he won’t be able to thwart me—”
Get out. Crusher felt the sudden, uncontrollable urge to leave. He glanced at the elevators, but both had already returned to the ground floor. The only other way out was the window. He ran towards in and smashed through it, beginning the thirty-story drop.
“Really, Anna? You couldn’t have been a little more specific?” Mark walked towards the window, watching his enemy fall.
Anna shrugged. “I told you not to bring them by.”
|
It sounded like an easy enough plan to execute for Scorpio. Just go to the house of The Sky Red Vandal and kidnap his little sister, hold her for ransom, and then have his henchmen kill Vandal. Easy!
So, the day came and Scorpio did kidnap the little sister of The Sky Red Vandal. Her name was Lian, she was six years of age, fair skin, long white hair, and blue eyes that beamed with childhood purity. But not like Scorpio would even notice it. After tying her up in his room, where there were tons of monitors linked to security cameras that overlooked the hideout, something bothers Scorpio.
"Hey, kid!" Scorpio yelled to Lian.
"Yes, mister?" Lian asked, tilting her head slightly, her feet dangling from the chair she was set on.
"Why aren't ya the least bit afraid!?" Scorpio asked, annoyed.
"Because I know my big brother will save me!" Lian replied.
This. This sentence made Scorpio burst into hysteric laughter. Was she joking? There were 1000 henchmen in the base, each armed to the teeth. How the hell could one man beat that army?
"That's rich," Scorpio said, chuckling.
It wasn't until noon that The Sky Red Vandal, also known as Jason, arrived in the base. He wore his superhero outfit, which was all red and sort of looked like if he was going to a masked ball. He wielded his signature sword, Black Chariot, which was a serrated edge sword made from the finest steel. All the henchmen aimed their weapons at Jason.
"I am giving you all one chance. Leave, and your life will be spared. I will not go after you, you can run and leave here to go back to your families or something. Those who stay, you won't be spared. You will die, no matter how much you beg."
That sentence alone made 400 leave, the specific number being shown on Scorpio's monitor. This was fine. Still 600 remaining. This would be easy.
The henchman started firing their weapons, Jason watched as each and every bullet made it's way to him. He wasn't fazed. All he had to do was use his superpower. "Red Sky." He said, as his body got surrounded by a red aura, the bullets hit him, but seemingly did no damage. Then, the aura vanished and all henchmen in his sight got holes blasted through their bodies all at once, just like that, 560 henchmen were dead. 40 remaining. Jason walked to the remaining ones with a glare in his eyes. He mercilessly cut down each and every single one in his way, including ones who tried to run. "You had your chance." He would simply say to them before mutilating their corpses with his blade. Scorpio watched slackjawed. How could this one man take down an entire army of people!?
"Go, big brother! Beat the bad guys!" Lian cheered, her innocence shielding her mind from the massacre that was happening.
Just like that, Jason was covered in blood from head to toe, and all the henchmen there were mutilated. Jason kicked down the door to Scorpio's room, and before Scorpio could react, Jason drove his sword through his stomach. Jason glared up at the supervillain, and it was at that moment that Scorpio realized that maybe he should have listened to the League of Evil when they said "Don't fuck with The Vandal's family". Jason hacked and slashed Scorpio's body apart. The hero panted, before picking his little sister up and setting her on his shoulders. He walked back home, where per Jason's request, his girlfriend Samantha had prepared a bath to wash all the blood off.
That night, Jason went to sleep soundly, cuddled up to his girlfriend with Lian in the middle. Almost as if he didn't even massacre 601 people in a single noon.
| 2020-07-12T11:14:56 | 2020-07-12T10:57:58 | 233 | 61 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why.
|
Was he running late? Perhaps the local henchmen down at the Shady Suds had actually lasted more then a minute before they spilled the proverbial beans on the location of my 'secret lair'. I peaked out the window and spotted Smashingclad climbing out of the remains of the front steps of the abandoned bean cannery I had been working out of for the last 2 weeks. Guess they were more rotten then I thought. I could hear him stomping down the hallway now though, time to greet the distraught hero.
I step out into the hallway and somberly greet my old nemesis, "Clad, I'm sorry to hear about Cassandra. I know tha...." Being grabbed by the throat really does make it difficult to monologue.
***'****Kirik****'...*** Having one's throat crushed does tend to make it damn well impossible.
"**Where is Rot Master, everyone said you were asking for his location, now he's vanished off the face of the earth. You can't protect him from me."**
I let the flow of time bend around me as I shift back into the doorway. Rubbing the phantom pain away from neck. "Clad I have no intention of protecting Rot Master. Rather, I have him waiting for you in my office." I don't even have time to step back and invite Clad in before he shoves me out of the way and storms into my office.
**"ROT MASTER, I'LL KILL YOU."** It takes him a moment to scan the mostly empty office before he turns back to me. "**No more games Time Bender, take me to him or I'll spend all day snapping you into pieces. I don't care how many time you undo it, I will make you talk."**
"The mini freezer in the corner." You wouldn't think a man of Rot Masters size could fit in a mini freezer that small, but then, there hadn't been that much left of him the last time I killed him.
It's the first time I've seen Smashingclad hesitate since he arrived. He slowly steps over to the freezer and gingerly opens the door. His silent stare as he studies the remains of the man that killed his wife seems to last forever. "**Did...** did he suffer?"
"Yes Clad, many, many times. I spent an hour torturing him to death for every minute he kept Cassandra in that hell hole of laboratory of his." I can see the grim satisfaction in his eyes as he imagines Rot Master dying a horrible death only to have his time bent and have the process start all over again. He must have worked out the math in his head as moments later he turns and to face me with an angry snarl on his face "**That sick freak had her for for almost 3 days, you couldn't have had had him for more then a few hours. YOU DIDN'T MAKE HIM SUFFER ENOUGH!"**
I place a gentle hand on Clad's shoulder and bend the flow of time around my office. "I'll let you in on a little secret Clad, the dossier the Alliance of Heroes has on me is quite inaccurate. I'm not limited to bending time to just the last 5 minutes. I can bend time years or decades if I really exert myself. And clearly that whole section about having to recharge after bending more then 30 minutes is just plain wrong."
Clad's eyes go wide as he realizes the implications of what I've said. "You could bring her back. **Please, I'll do anything. Money, information on the Alliance, whatever you want."** I smirk as I watch the once proud hero falling to his knees and promising me his soul. "Oh Clad, why do you think I've never been caught. Your not the first hero whose had their family targeted. The higher members of the Alliance basically give me carte blanche as long as I clean up the messes left by behind by the fools who break the unwritten rule of attacking a hero's loved ones."
"Then you'll..."
"It's already done. Welcome to last week. Don't worry about Rot Master I've bent his future self back as well. Now before you hurry home to your wife, I'll be robbing the Big City Bank branch on South Wind Street in a weeks time. It would be best if you were out of town at the time... perhaps a nice weekend getaway with Cassandra to the beach?"
I had to give it to Smashingclad, the man looked visibly torn and guilty as he heard me announcing my plan to rob a bank, but I could see him swallow his pride as he shakily replied "Yah... Cassandra loves the beach, I'll make sure we're gone all weekend."
I smiled as I watched watched Smashingclad rush out of my office, and I giggled as I heard the crunch of the rotten front steps giving way beneath his feet again. I pulled out the blue prints for the bank and laid them out on the desk in front of me. A super fermented 56 oz. can of beans didn't produce a very large explosion, certainly not enough to break open a bank vault. But when its time was bent causing the explosion to occur 150 times in a single second, it should serve to crack open the vault door.
And if it didn't work, at least it would be good for a laugh. After all, even when you have all the time in the world, a good laugh is always worth it.
|
Windstrike is the coolest super hero in the world that's just a fact. No battles lost, no scandals of any type -he even denunced the bigot president during his term, that took balls!- which is why I wanted to do it.
There's only a few of unwritten rules for us criminals but if you must know one this is it: "Don't go after the loved ones of the heroes" it has never sit right with me I mean granted we barely know their real identities but if you ask me its a sure way to enter the villans hall of fame, and for someone like me with limited options I need to explore any chances.
I have inmortality but only decided to be a Villan a few years ago (I was wasting myself as test dummy) not an useful power to attack but it does ensure I'll come up from a fight alive, that along with the hate from the biggest hero will put me on the map.
I can see it now "The Dealer" associated with the respect I deserve, So when they announced that they were going to trap the heroes on their own hall in an all out attack I though at best they'll keep them busy for an hour maybe 2 (it all depends on how bored its Vampire, that annoying know it all)while I pay a visit to Matt, see I have been observing Windstrike for a few months now and I know he keeps close tabs on him and I just know this is going to change my life
-hello- he smiles as he opens the door, my gun already pointed I wanted to shoot him but I stopped I need to make sure he calls for help -oh... never seen you before -I sight I want to shoot him again- oh yes Dealer, correct? -
-The dealer- I'm kind of happy that he knows my name, but annoyed that he forgot the article, it keeps it classy, he smiles and lets me in, smart boy, inside there's a group of of people... a party? I was not expecting company
-Hi guys, The dealer- he smiles at me while he says it, god I hate this - is here- Shannon did you know he was comming?- a Woman looks at and squints
-never seen him before, Duke hardly ever talks about C tiers- Matt is still smiling, more people start staring, I decide to put a end to this I point my gun at the fridge and shoot, it implodes (Molecular it's very good at guns I'll give him that but his prices are crazy) everyone stares at me and I smile I finally got their attention they finally understand why am I here.
-Honey, you're going to have to pay for that, at least it'll be cheaper than that gun you got from my son- says an older woman while vaping then turns the man next to him and resumes her conversation as if I havent just desintegrated a fucking fridge
-Listen! You're all my hostages... and did you just said your son?- I turn to the Woman, violet eyes same as the ones who sold me the gun - what the fuck?
-Language, son- says the man next to her, their hands locked- yes Molecular is our son-
-And why are you here with him? Do you know who he is?- I point at Matt he is still smiling i think he took a xanax, no one can be that happy
-Windstrike's boyfriend- says a blonde with a giggle
-fiance- corrects Shannon -and we still needs to finish everything for the party tonigh you are going to have to move, we need a new fridge now, I'm so happy that Duke is bringing the cake later or you'll be in trouble-
-who the fuck is Duke?!- Molecular's parents look at me disapprovingly
-Darkness- responds the Blonde matter of factly
-shit!- Windstrike might be the greatest hero on earth but Darkness is our top villan, suddenly it hits me- I think i need to sit
- oh you got it, it seems- says shannon smiling -you came here to break the rule-
-The Rule- Matt says with a chuckle
-did you even took your introductory course when you joined?
-there's a course?- the strain in my voice, I wish I could do something about it, Shannon sights
- you see... long ago we decided that we were tired of being killed by the odd villan or hero with loose morals so we (the families of both factions) all sat down and decided that we were all going to be friends, they all hate it-
-but they love us more- interrupts the blonde raising her glass
-so at least you want every super powered people on the planet behind you I'll calm down and go and get Matt a new fridge, as for the gun Linda can get you your money back-
-No refunds dear-
-well I'm still taking the gun, I'm sure Duke has a docen of this, say is windstrike even weak againts this? - Matt mimics a key locking his lips - whatever-
I look around, my greatest plan (only plan) defeated even before it started
-oh don't feel bad The dealer, play your cards right and we can let you in the group, I'm sure we can convice them, we do need an errand boy- Matt winks at me -at the very least we wont ask them to kill you- he is no longer smiling, I just hope I have enough money for the fridge
| 2020-07-12T17:36:50 | 2020-07-12T11:05:58 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You are a superhero, and your mask has just been ripped off by your arch nemesis. Lucky for you, when you aren’t busy saving lives, you live as a hermit away from all of society. Having your identity revealed means next to nothing, and the villain has no idea who you are.
|
"Wait, you're *not* some crazy rich billionaire philanthropist, who chases women to appear aloof, but secretly runs the city?" The villain, known as the Getup, asks.
"No?"
"Then, who the hell are you?"
"I am, *Justice*!" I strike a heroic pose, fists on my hips, arms and elbows jutting out.
The Getup rubs his face, my domino mask loosely held in his hand.
"Yeah, yeah I get all that, but who the hell are you, really?" How can you afford this lifestyle?"
"Oh, my name is Dave, I *love* macrame, I have two cats Buster and Bernie, I write my mom twice a week."
"Look, Dave that's nice..."
I cut him off and point to the crossed gavels on my chest.
"I'm on duty. While I'm in duty, I'm known only as Justice. Please respect my boundaries, Maurice."
"Wait, what? How'd you know my name? You know what, nevermind. Let's get back to my original question. Who the heck are you?"
"I am Justice!"
"Moving past that, you don't live in the city." The Getup, getting frustrated, points out.
"Yeah, no. It's too crowded, too many people."
"So?"
"So what?"
"Where do you live?"
"Well, that's rather personal, isn't it?"
"That's the point! Look, most heroes in this city, **live** in the city. Take for example, Diverman. He lives over on 5th and Broadway. Stunner Sarah, she lives on Upton with her mom, but you live..." He shrugs his shoulders, unsure.
"You're an awfully nosy fella, you know that?"
"Moving past that. Who are you? Everybody had you pegged for Darius Ogdon. Clearly, you're not him."
"The billionaire who runs Ogdon Conglomerate?" I kick dirt at my feet. "Yeah, he's mean."
The Getup holds up a finger, intrigued by this latest bit of information. He fights his curiosity, but gives in.
"You know what? Forget it, nevermind." He hands me my domino mask. "Look man, free bit of advice? Use spirit gum. It helps keep the mask on so people like me can't yank it off." He waves his hand and mounts a brightly colored motorcycle and is gone in a cloud of dust.
"But I wasn't done with you." I mumble to the uncaring nothingness in front of me.
|
"Wait a second," Dr. E said, holding my mask in his hands. "Who are you?"
The dread of confusion was obvious in his face. He expected someone famous, someone a little more relevant. Instead, in front of him was a beaten down hero without his mask.
"Who are you!?" he shouted, nostrils flaring and fists clenched around my collar.
"I'm John," I said.
"I didn't ask for your name!" he said. "So, you're telling me, the protector of the masses, the hero of fallen is a random nobody?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but he raised his hand and stopped me.
"Okay, hold that thought. How did you build this armor for yourself? There must be someone funding all this. Who is it?"
I bowed my head, avoiding the answer, trying to buy myself time. His sharp boot cracked against my jaw once again.
"I don't have all day, Johnny boy. Your identity is out and whoever is funding you is next. Give me a name!" he shouted, knelt down and brought his fists down on my back. "A name, fast!"
"It's me. I paid for it," I said, coughing out blood.
"From where did you get the money?" he asked.
"I invested in bitcoin pretty early," I said.
"How early? he asked. When I didn't answer, he kicked me in the stomach again.
"How early?" he shouted.
"2015," I said. My laser blasters were almost charged up. I had to wait for just a few more seconds.
"Damn, that makes sense. So, after all this time, I'm finding out that the real droid-boy is a bitcoin-buying nobody. You're not a celebrity or a politician. You're just jobless, man. Imagine that," he said, and laughed. I smiled along, trying to get back to my knees, each second feeling like an eternity.
"It's too bad though. Now, they'll have no one to remember you for. You're faceless. Real heroes aren't faceless. They're brands," he said, grabbing me and pulling me up by my collar.
"Well, that's where you're wrong," I said and snapped my fingers. My generic face changed it's color and morphed into looking like the mask that he had ripped off.
"What? How did you-"
"Real heroes are always faceless," I said, smiled from ear to ear, and activated my laser blast.
\-------------------------
r/abhisek
| 2020-08-21T04:04:44 | 2020-08-21T03:15:06 | 399 | 145 |
[WP] You, a newly-turned vampire, are thrilled to discover that you CAN eat garlic, walk in sunlight, and see yourself in mirrors, all while being immortal. You are much less thrilled to discover the one major drawback that none of the legends ever got right.
|
I soar through the night sky, blind to the world as it was to me.
I told myself it wasn’t so bad. Honestly, I tried. Immortality, hypnotic powers, hyper speed – you know, the usual vampire toolbox – it was pretty damn sweet. And let me tell you, you have not lived till you’ve tried AB negative blood. I’ve had full course meals (actual, like, mortal meals, I mean here) that don’t even come close to AB negative blood. Talk about an explosion of flavor.
But the nights…man. It really made me question the whole thing.
If I could do it over? Would I choose to go home with that red-haired girl after Halloween party and get subsequently turned? I mean, let’s be real here, probably. Immortality is pretty damn hard to beat. But, then again…I “looked” down at myself as I flew.
No use wondering, I suppose. Vampire or not, you couldn’t change the past.
A smell wafted over to me from the edge of the forest. Very faint at first, but as my sense focused on it, it became sharper. No…it couldn’t be. I banked, moving toward it till I came upon a two people sitting around a…campfire, judging by the sound. My nostrils flared as I drunk in the scent. AB negative blood, from one of them.
My mouth started to water…figuratively. I don’t really have salivatory glands anymore, but it’s the thought that counts, right?
I’ve been a vampire for a good while now, and I was mostly in control of the ah, let’s say, impulses. But AB negative…it was such a rarity. Such a pleasure that it was a struggle. A real struggle. But I had to wait till morning. I had to. I couldn’t go after them right now.
But then it happened.
One of them got up then cried out – a woman, I could tell by the voice – and fell. She cut herself. I couldn’t see it of course, but the smell. Oh, the smell. It magnified a thousandfold, and before I could catch myself, I was diving toward her, her open wound. I had to have her. I had to have that bloo-
And I was swatted aside, almost into the fire, before making a hasty retreat.
I “watched” nursing slightly singed wings as they got in their car and drove away. I couldn't even fly to follow them.
I sighed, again, figuratively. The movies don’t tell you that vampires are forced turn into moquitos every night.
***
Changed bat to mosquito, since that is way funnier lol. Thank to /u/east_of_the_delplaya for the comment haha!
|
I awoke to the fluttering of a curtain in a midnight breeze. The open window was an invitation for intruders, one that had been greedily accepted.
I rubbed my neck, felt the tender spot where the pinprick had shaken me awake. By the time I flicked on the lamp, the intruder had disappeared. And, with them, life as I knew it.
Still in bed, I mourned the Olive Garden entrees I'd no longer be able to eat. The breadsticks and the penne; I'd never met an Alfredo I loved as much as I loved that fettucine.
I mourned the sunlight, that I'd be now a creature of the night. I'd have to abandon my bedtime at half past nine, rise and haunt the world with the songs of the evening-folk.
I mourned my ego, for I'd no longer be able to stroke it with self-motivational comments before a mirror. I'd never more see my hair, never more see that dashing smile.
I mourned even Death, for he'd foiled me for good this time.
And when I entered the bathroom, I saw there was nothing to mourn at all. I still looked handsome as ever, my eyes now sharp as vampire eyes are. I washed my face, winked at myself, and when I went downstairs I enjoyed the leftover pasta that I'd mourned.
It was like I'd had a funeral before my death, and by the end realized my death would never come. A eulogy for what I'd not lost; in memoriam nothing but mortality.
Life turned for the better. I ate pasta and drank blood from fancy goblets and admired myself in mirrors and praised the gods that I'd live forever.
I had a lifetime of fun, and then another, and another more.
But forever has its ways of growing old, even if I don't.
Forever has its ways of making crowds a lonesome plight, of making love be out of sight.
And so I suffered perfection, cursed my immortality, realized that what they'd gotten most wrong of all was love. In the books, in the stories, even in the movies, the wretched vampires always fell in love.
They never said what came next. Once the human died and reality set in. I never even got that far.
I loved. They just never loved me back.
I could woo them, entrance them with my eyes. I could draw them in and caress their necks. I could whisper sweet nothings in their ear, but by morning nothing was all they'd be. Dusk would fall and we'd share the sheets; dawn would come and the curtains would flutter and they'd be gone like the way things were.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
| 2020-10-06T06:58:56 | 2020-10-06T06:46:30 | 5,852 | 436 |
[WP] You are the mayor of a city surrounded by seemingly terrifying monsters. The dragon helps with the smithing, the vampires help with the overnight work, the lich runs the local apothecary. Everyone does their part and the city works. It's always problematic when heroes come to visit.
|
The town of [Treeview](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/itypwt/wp_its_said_monsters_live_at_the_edge_of_the/g5hu4k1?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3) had grown over the years. The monsters it had shared a forest with were absorbed into it, growing the once small village into a grand city. Dragons used their breath to heat forges, vampires became night workers. The lich took up residence as the head apothecary, alongside a respected member of the mages guild.
However, despite the large array of monsters living in and around the city, its mayor was a mere human. He kept the peace between the mortal and monster world, binding those who moved there to the ancient Oath. Visitors to the city were given amulets to wear, to mark them as outsiders, and extend the protection from the monsters to them.
The mayor, Ethan, took pride in both his work and the city. He spent as much time as he could working to keep it functioning, and keeping the population happy. He would often be found buried in stacks of paperwork, covering every aspect of life in Treeview, trying to find any rising problems to deal with them promptly. If he wasn't there, he would be walking the streets, allowing anyone to speak with him.
His biggest stresses though, were the heroes who would always come. They would swagger around, believing themselves above the rest. They looked down on both mortal and monster, seeing the monsters as beasts to be slain, and mortals as monster lovers. There were the odd few who were respectful, and one had even chosen to retire to the city. Whenever he heard one came to visit, he made sure to keep himself available, for the inevitable conflict.
Ethan always made sure the guards were aware of the heroes presence. They would increase patrols nearby, just in case. They had needed to step in countless times, stopping a vampire being staked, a werewolf being stabbed with silver, even a troll being bathed in acid. Each time the hero would declare themselves ridding the world of a menace. A short stay in the demon cells soon sorted them out, and they were rapidly thrown out.
He watched as the newest hero walked into his office, a sincere smile upon her face. He stood up, and held out his hand.
"Welcome. I am Mayor Ethan."
"Thank you. My name is Jasmine."
He gestured to a chair.
"Take a seat. How can I help you?"
She sat, folding her hands over her lap.
"I have come on behalf of the Council of Kingdoms. To put it bluntly, the world is in danger. The Gate to Beyond is beginning to open, and horrors are spilling through. We have a plan to reseal it, but we need your help."
Ethan raises an eyebrow. This was a first for him.
"First off, how do I know this is the truth? You would be surprised the number of times people have sat before me and said something similar, but were actually trying to cause harm. And secondly, what could we do to help?"
She reached into her pack, and pulled out a jagged chunk of rock. Runes were carved on one side, and it was clear this was meant to be part of something bigger.
"This is part of the original seal. I know you have strong magic users here. They are free to examine it. As for what you can do, the plan is to make a set of seals, each holding the Gate shut, but hidden away and protected. But our smiths aren't great enough to forge the necessary locks. We need the help of beings that are more then mortal."
Ethan looked her dead in the eyes, reading her mood. Then he stood up, and adjusted his belt.
"Well then, let's see what we can do."
|
A small suburban town called Aspenport is given the name Monster Town by the local media when monsters arrived from another realm. The people of the town vacated immediately.
It's been a year since their arrival, the town is now surrounded by seemingly terrifying monsters. Reports say, they are here to stay. There's one person who did not exit the town. It's the mayor Geraldine herself.
"We have all heard of creatures from the myths and stories as kids, if they were here to destroy us they'd have done it already but they didn't so I welcome you all, people of the world to experience it in person, you have nothing to fear." Mayor Geraldine gave a statement to the public a few weeks before.
Inspired by her words a few of them entered the town. The town transformed itself to suit the needs of the monsters, the monsters helped the city in return.
The dragon help with the smithing, the vampires help with the overnight work, the lich runs the local apothecary, Werewolves help transport containers in harbor, Sirens keep watch with the coast guard, the Leprechauns run the casinos, Chupacabras patrol the streets. Everyone does their part and it works.
What they didn't anticipate is the arrival of so called heroes from different parts of the world. They have made an app called 'Fight a Monster' and gathered millions of users. It had two categories, it asked are you a warrior or a viewer? Not many wanted to face a monster head on, of course, only a handful of crazies and the app creators opted in for it. They came to visit the town, the whole world watched their movement.
The mayor stopped them in the border.
"Should I really need to address them as heroes?"
"Yes ma'am, the world's watching."
"Okay," the mayor let out a heavy sigh. "Why are you here, ahem, heroes?"
"To slay the dragon." "To kill the vampires." "To beat the werewolves," they yelled chorusly but each with different goals.
The heroes donned colorful costumes varying from Metal to Kevlar to Human, they'd come with loads of stuff that are supposed to incapacitate the monsters.
"Well, you've come to the right place, come on, I'll show you the way," said the mayor.
"Psst, hey man, did you see any of them?"
"No, did you?"
"Nah, where are they? Is this a stunt?"
"Don't worry gentlemen, You'll see them alright," said Geraldine.
The whole monsters had gathered in a field. The men who had come to fight them looked at them eyes opened and with their jaws dropped. "Pulls yourselves together warriors, we are here to fight them and save the world," said one of them.
"So who wants to go first?"
"I'll do it, I wanna slay the dragon with my Excalibur," said a guy who came all the way from England.
The dragon came forth, he raised his sword and pointed at the dragon, he stood there nervously. The dragon moved fast toward him and shattered the sword to pieces with its teeth. "This was a mistake!" The guy ran yelling.
The whole town laughed, well, the people who remained in the town. "May be we should do something like this, this will help bring people in," said the mayor to her assistant. "What about a fair?" she asked.
"That's a wonderful idea, ma'am." Her assistant nodded his head.
"What do you say we give you some prep time, take as much time as you need, stay as long as you want, you can even leave if you want," said the mayor.
They accepted it and stayed, the mayor announced a fair and a competition between the heroes and the monsters, she also sent some limited free tickets for families around the world to visit Aspentown. "Bring your children, it'll be fun," She reaffirmed.
r/FleetingScripts
| 2020-11-06T10:30:30 | 2020-11-06T09:23:56 | 122 | 73 |
[WP] "I'm evil, not a jerk."
As an experiment I'm asking you to write a dialogue with the line in the title in it. No constraints. The intention is for you to constructor a scenario where that line makes sense.
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The black throne dwarfed Ellen Mask, standing tall above the sea of manacled prisoners ready to receive judgement.
She casually moved a finger and the first degenerate was thrown to the ground at the steps of the towering throne.
“What is your crime” she asked as she studied the chipped nail of her third finger.
“I-I-I-I dint commit no crime y-y-your grace, only I n-needed the bread to feed my children” the man stammered.
“Why steal food when you have perfectly good children to eat” Ellen scolded sharply as she scraped nail over nail trying to make it even. “Death for this one”.
Before the man was even out of the room the next prisoner was ushered forward towards the throne.
“And you?” she asked.
“I didn’t mean to, only…” the man squeaked in a nasally voice.
The queen interrupted with a stern shout “For the voice alone death”.
The next man stood tall and proud before the throne, “I am the child of the true King, Lord of the bays, the king of the forest chiefs, the lost prince and your brother!” he bellowed “You are not my queen merely an up jumped pretender, you soil the throne and dishonour yourself!”.
The queens eyes narrowed and she drew her lips together tightly. “Death, if only for your hackneyed back story”.
The great hall slowly emptied as each prisoner was judged and in turn dragged away for the gallows or the headsman.
Finally, a short dumpy man stood before her.
“And you?” she asked distractedly as she inspected her now perfectly even nail in the ebbing light.
“I killed a man” he responded flatly.
“So, you admit your guilt” she said slightly surprised.
“Aye, but it was for a good reason yer grace” the man assured “Ye see he were some fancy man from the city selling ‘erbs”.
“So you killed a man for selling herbs” The queen scoffed “De-“
“No yer grace not for selling the ‘erbs, ye see he were trying to sell the rights to sell the ‘erbs, day and night he would pester me, you can be yer own boss he would say, told me I were gonna be rich and enpowered. He wouldn’t stop yer grace, until one night I were on the privy doing my nightlys and he stuck his ‘ead in and asked me why I dint want to earn some extra income and that’s when I stuck him with me knife”.
The queen met his eyes as a long silence fell upon the hall broken only by the fidgeting of the guards as they prepared to haul the man away.
“Innocent” the queen proclaimed as understanding and confusion grew on every face in the room. “I'm evil not a jerk”.
|
Jeff woke up hanging by his wrists, which had gone numb. He could see his hands turning a worrying purple. His mouth was taped shut, the duct tape wrapped in several layers around his head, trapping his greasy hair. The room was a well-lit, tiled basement, the only door was in front of Jeff, a dark, faux-wooden door the same kind Jeff remembered in his grandmother’s house, except Jeff had never been tied up naked in his grandmothers basement.
Jeff came to a realization that he must have been chained up in a moldy basement for a reason. The reasons which flooded his head were as horrific as anything he had ever imagined.
Jeff wiggled around, weakly jostling the chains, a useless effort, the chains were totally secure, as far as Jeff knew, his current predicament was inescapable. The only thing to do was wait for his captor to show up. So Jeff hung there in agony for what felt like years, though it was only forty-three minute. The lock made a metallic jostling sound, then the door swung open.
A tall man entered, balding and sporting a very neat , closely kept goatee. He wore glasses and the clothes of what I assume most would consider normal. The tall man paced around, he lit a cigarette. After waving the match to extinction, a slightly sulfuric odor permeated the air of the dank basement for a second, contrasting the dull, moldy reek that permeated the entire basement with a sharp tang of something vital and new.
Jeff made a pitiful, hoarse scream beneath the tape.
“I know it’s uncomfortable, my boy, not for much longer.” The man’s tone was fatherly, like he was guiding Jeff through an uncomfortable but necessary process.
Jeff screamed again, this time, his face was more red and he shook around, futilely jingling the chains loudly.
“So, this process will take perhaps twenty minutes. If I’m lucky, I can make it last that long. So many before you have drowned in their blood or passed out from shock. Let’s hope you can break my record. Sound good?” The man gave a thumbs-up and smiled with his tobacco-stained teeth, looking absolutely giddy to be relaying this information.
“Now, there is the matter of music. What shall accompany my opulent sacrifice?”
He asks out loud, flipping through a large collection of vinyl records, standing vertically in an old crate.
“Perry Como, Elton John, The Rolling Stones, hmm, not quite right. Ooh, what about this one?”
The man held up a record by Rodney Dangerfield called “Rappin’ Rodney”. He then slapped his left leg, laughing out loud as he returned the record to the crate.
“Oh my goodness, Jeffrey, I fooled you. I am evil, but I’m not a jerk. Now where is that buzzsaw?”
| 2021-01-21T06:13:33 | 2021-01-21T04:55:58 | 54 | 21 |
[WP]Just because one of your chicken eggs hatched a fire breathing dragon people think you’re evil. But you’re still just a regular farmer trying to make a living while dealing with an overprotective dragon, heroes that want to kill you and fanatics who want to worship you as the new Demon Lord.
|
A goat could birth a chimera, a serpent’s tail, a lion’s head, and a goat’s body. A basilisk was born from the egg of a serpent reared by a chicken. The mythics could be born anywhere in the world and from surprisingly humbling origins. Everyone knew it, and everyone had heard the stories.
Kellan Haszler certainly had been raised on such tales. But who would ever expect that “anywhere” could mean here? Yet it was here, on his farm, that a dragon had been born. A mythic that could be born from any egg in the world chose one of his hens as its mother. And while he had feared it as a demon when he had first sighted it and the flames it could spit, he came to realize it was only an innocent babe, just the same as any other newborn.
He tried to explain that to everyone who came, and many did.
“I understand, Kellan. I really do, but a normal chick doesn’t threaten to burn down an entire village or grow so large as to consume a human whole,” the young knight said. She had arrived expecting a hero’s welcome, just as all the others before her. And like the others, her annoyance at the lack of one was apparent. “You need to hand over the dragon before it has the chance to hurt someone.”
“Before it hurts someone, or before you hurt me for refusing?” Kellan had heard enough from these heroes. They knew as little as he did about dragons. Their knowledge came from the same stories he had heard, and stories were all they were. Trifling tales meant to entertain, not be the truth. No dragons had been born, or at least encountered, in centuries. That was more than long enough for their stories to be warped by time. “I am telling you what I have seen with my own eyes, not some whispered words told at nightfall to scare little ones. That dragon is as loving as a dog, and smarter than any other hound I’ve ever known. It protects my fields and wraps itself around my legs at night to sleep. I will not have it harmed.”
“Kellan -” Lady Halle stopped her shout short and swept her hand through her hair as she sighed. “I am just trying to protect you. The dragon is young. You do not know what it will be in a few years, a few months, or even weeks. All our tales are of dragons full grown, not their children. You would no sooner raise a wolf. It would be easy to mistake their young to be puppies, but wait for their true nature to arise as they mature, and you will find a monster inhabits your home. Some animals are not meant to live beside humans.”
“Some would say the same of any mean spirited dog or horse. Yet I have known far more animals ruined by their owners than were truly born cruel.” She sought the glory of putting down a beast, but there was no such threat for Kellan to provide for her.
“A dragon is not a horse,” Lady Halle hissed, her patience clearly wearing thin. Good, let her leave now before the dragon returned. It was out in the fields, surveying its territory and learning to use its body. It would not return until nightfall, content with its exercise and seeking his companionship. “That thing is not some farm animal to raise. You need to stop thinking like a farmer for a moment and listen to someone who might know better. A dragon will attract other mythics, and soon other monstrosities will overrun this place.”
“I am a farmer,” Kellan said firmly. He found no shame in that. “And so I will protect it like I would any of my animals. If a wolf seeks to break in and harm, then I will turn it away. And if it refuses to leave, then I will turn loose my hounds to make it.”
“Now, Kellan, that sounds close to a threat.” Lady Halle rested her hand on the pommel of her sword. “I assure you I do not want this to go that way and that neither should you.”
“I think I do.” Kellan whistled and barks from behind the farmhouse immediately started in response. His hounds were well trained and he could already hear their footsteps as they dashed to his call.
“Bring your dogs to heel before I have to hurt them.” Lady Halle gave him a warning look and drew her sword.
Kellan simply smiled. Let her try.
The door burst open at the weight of the animals behind it. In came his hounds, saliva dripping from their jaws. They were fierce little things, but just as loyal. He had raised animals for decades and learned the skill from his father, who had been even better at it than he.
Lady Halle swore and jumped back, turning from between him and the dogs. They tracked her movements, each three-headed hound ready to pounce and inching forwards.
“You ignorant fool. You would keep hellhounds in your home? This place is cursed, already the mythics have come swarming.” The knight stepped backwards, not taking her eyes off of the hounds. “Fine, have it your way. I will leave, but do not think for a moment that any will let you have peace. No one with sense will allow you to host demons in this land, and they will send warriors far greater than me to fix your mistake.”
She backed out of the doorway and moments later, Kellan heard her horse galloping away. She would spread word, he was sure. Let them come if they wished to. He would show them what it meant to be a farmer.
​
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[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ma2twm/wpjust_because_one_of_your_chicken_eggs_hatched_a/grr9iv0?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)
|
When an owl is on the hunt, it's almost impossible to hear. It glides through the darkness like it is part of the night itself. If you see one, the lack of sound is jarring, like something is broken with the world or your ears. It’s just incredibly good at its job.
In my, albeit limited experience, dragons are not in the same league of stealth. At least one of them, however, does seem to think it is a lot harder to spot than it actually is. The particular dragon had been hanging around my farm for some weeks now, and to be honest I was really starting to lose patience with him.
I assumed it was a ‘him’ because about a month ago one of the chickens on my farm laid a very unexpected egg and I had a sneaking suspicion that this dragon was responsible.
The slipstream of his passing overhead knocked my hat off into the small cage I’d fashioned for the unusual hatchling, and the small creature took a bite out of it. I felt the rage boiling inside me. Weeks of knights innocently enquiring about the ‘roosters’ I had on the farm like I couldn’t see the bloodlust in their eyes. Weeks of idiots in robes leaving sacrifices on my doorstep, that I had to keep cleaning up. Weeks of trying to figure out how a chicken laid a dragon egg, or what in gods name I was supposed to do to look after a tiny, fortunately only smoke breathing currently baby bloody dragon! Weeks of having to care for it in the middle of the night away from prying eyes.
“Alright!”, I shouted into the night sky. “Enough is enough. You come down here and help me with this little ‘un or so help me, I get those armour-clad morons to come back here and they can figure out what to do with it.”
There was no answer but I heard the dragon land heavily on the roof of the barn behind me. A timber creaked and cracked. I shook my head in frustration at another job for the morning.
“I’m not deaf. Stop pissing about.”
There was a sound like a person blowing in an imitation of the wind.
“Jesus Christ. Really?! The wind isn’t even blowing, you leather winged, crap brained, deadbeat dad!”
The air blast from his wings blew me a step backwards as the dragon landed in front of me. He craned his head down to my level and regarded me with one eye. The other appeared destroyed, some old battle scar perhaps. I could smell the oily, fatty scent on his breath that came from the dragon's fire. The babe was already starting to smell the same way. I swallowed hard and began to wonder if maybe 'crap-brained' was a bit much for an opening gambit.
“How could you see me?”, asked the dragon testily.
“I couldn’t see you,” I replied. “But you make a lot of noise.”
The dragon scoffed. “Noise? They call me the Whispering Death!”
“Do they call you anything else?”, I asked. Anything more accurate, I thought.
The dragon extended a vicious, razor-sharp claw towards me slowly. “My name is Smork. Pleased to meet you.”
I gingerly took hold of the talon and was lifted off the ground with a gentle shake from Smork.
“I’m Joe”, I said once I’d got my balance and again. With a nod at the baby in front of me, I asked: “You want to explain how this happened?”
The dragon looked sheepish, which was oddly scary. Like seeing a gang enforcer crying, it was unsettling.
“Um”, Smork said. “Not really, no.”
I raised an eyebrow like I used to do with my son when he gave me shit answers like that.
“Look, we’re both beings of the world, right?” pleaded Smork. “I don’t want to have to spell it out.”
I looked at the dragon and the chicken coop. “Yeah, but how did you not just end up with fried chicken?”
As if to illustrate my point Smork puffed out a small flare from his nostrils in annoyance. “What we had was special OK? Neither of us was looking for that to happen, and I’ll thank you not to mock our love!”
I laughed, and sound woke the little baby up. It mewed pathetically. “Love? Can you even tell me which chicken it was?”
“Of course”, retorted the dragon. “Our love knows no species barrier!”
“You’re bluffing,” I said. “Look, I’ll go open the coop, and you can introduce me if you like?”
Smork waved his wings in a conciliatory fashion. “Hey, let's not be hasty OK.”
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. What do you want?”
Smork reached his talon down to the mewling infant. “I just want to help. I want to help you look after my daughter.”
I thought about it for a few moments. He said help, not take over. The dragon wasn’t just here to offer his help, he was asking for mine. I had no idea if Smork was genuine. He might be much better at lying than he was at sneaking around. Something felt right though, and I made a decision that would reshape my life.
“OK, son. I’d like your help. The first order of business is getting rid of all these wannabe round tablers and demon sycophants. You reckon you can help with that?”
Smork grinned, and the horrifying scale of his teeth became painfully obvious. “Yeah, they don’t call me the Whispering Death for nothing! They’ll never hear me coming!”
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
r/TallerestTales
| 2021-03-21T13:57:51 | 2021-03-21T13:45:10 | 508 | 144 |
[WP] You can read minds, the one person with powers as far as you know. One day you read a guy that can time travel. You discover that he has successfully eliminated every other powered person through lots of time jumps. He doesn't know you and you are the only one that knows what he's been doing.
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He looked right at you across the table and for a moment, it seems like he knew your secret. You almost forgot to smile. But you did, at just the right moment, as you’ve learned through practice. He smiled back and looked away. A close call.
Dating is tough. Especially so when you can read minds. Half-baked tinder profiles about looking for a lifelong partner fall apart when you can tell within seconds that your date is just looking to fuck. Or that their wife is with the kids back home. This double date was supposed to be different. Your girlfriend Kelli assured you that Paul was one of a kind. And you can read minds so you know she was being genuine when she said it.
Well, she was right. Just not in the way she expected.
Poor luck. Or great luck depending on your viewpoint. To think that he’s only here because he suspected Kelli of being some sort of empath. The red flags went up when the first thought of his you picked up on was him *remembering* how he had killed her. How he had screamed at her to admit she could manipulate feelings. How she had screamed back that she didn’t know what he was talking about before his hands had closed around her throat.
It wasn’t a fantasy. It was a memory. You’d been doing this long enough to tell the difference. The only explanation was that it hadn’t happened yet. Things get weird when you read minds and meeting an eligible time-traveling douche-psycho like Paul, while concerning, was not enough to get you to drop a tell.
But now what?
In a moment of instinct, you leaned across the table when nobody else could hear and smiled, flashing your most devious and flirtatious grin, “Your place or mine after this?” You asked. His thoughts went haywire. In a good way. He was on the hook.
“Well, there’s a breakfast spot I know on the east side. That’s near yours, right?” He smiled back. His thoughts had firmly landed on you and off of his suspicion of Kelli. What’s the rush, right? After all, he had already succeeded in offing her.
So you took him home. Your mind-reading makes you devilishly enticing. You tease him the way he wants to be teased. His focus remains on you. How could it not?
In an intimate moment, you comb through his mind as your fingers run through his hair. He has been forward and backward in time but he has no memories of you. You smile. This is the end of the road for him. After all, there’s only enough room in this town for one super-powered, power-tripping maniac. You’ve disposed of several already.
He whispers into your ear as you’re tangled up on your couch later that night, “Where’ve you been all my life?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Around,” you whisper back as you reach for the kitchen knife you tucked in the cushions earlier.
—
“So, you seemed to hit it off with Paul,” Kelli grins as you over coffee a few days later. What’s that you’re picking up on her mind? Jealousy? Her relationship with her boyfriend had been rocky lately.
You grin back, “Yeah. He and I have a lot in common. Thanks for setting us up. We had fun. I needed that.”
She was glad to hear it. That much was clear despite her conflicted, guilt-ridden thoughts. You almost felt bad but knew there was no stopping what was to come. Poor Kelli. What’s done is done.
At least your secret would still be safe.
\--
*Edited for grammar and clarity*
|
"Concentrate, keep yourself busy at all times. You've got this."
Gregory Attenborough, age 28. Likes: Books, cats and to monologue in front of the mirror. Dislikes: A lot of things, among his recently acquired quirk. Occupation: Cashier in a convenience store.
I started developing this power a few months back. Anyone ever thought reading minds would be fun? You thought wrong, it's a torture. You can't meet a lot of people who means good on the inside when they speak politely to you on the outside. Besides you don't want to get stuck in a crowd. Having said that I've learned to appreciate this power because of a few rare people who're genuinely good.
"No, I can't make it in time with this traffic, Jimmy is gonna kill me. I should've taken the subway. So much for saying bicycle and a pair of headphones is all I need, you really do got this, Greg. Ugh."
• • •
He's staring at me. Let me get close so that I can-
"Hey, buddy. Got stuck in traffic again? (Ooh I gotta see this, he's really gonna get fired this time)"
The guy who just laid his hand on my shoulder is Sylvester. Always ahead in wanting to see me fail.
"Do you want to get fired? (I don't know how many times I can keep doing this)"
Jimmy, my boss. He's always stressed out. I don't think I've ever seen him smile other than that awkward grin.
"Jimmy, I'm really sorry. I don't have an excuse. If you want me to res-"
"You're needed at the desk. I don't want to see you come in late one more time. (I don't want to lose him, it'd rather fire Sylvester)"
"You got it boss."
"(Bummer)" This is Sylvester's thought.
My boss Jimmy can be a really good guy. I should tell Sylvester to start looking for jobs. Now I know he's a pain for both of us.
• • •
It was a slow day. Jimmy heard footsteps approach, he looked up to see whom the black boot belonged to. The man with a goatee looking like Brad Pitt wore full sleeved leather jacket and an overly fashionable glasses. Greg felt something strange about him. He went straight to the aisle, got a few things and visited the desk for payment.
"That'll be $25.40."
"Hey, do you know of any place where I can get metals?"
"What kind?"
"Something called Iridium."
"I, don't know anything about that, sorry." Nope, never disclose anything to him even if you knew. He looks suspicious enough already.
"Alright. (He's either lying or is just useless)"
"What's his problem?" Thought Greg as he smirked.
"Your smartwatch."
"What?"
"It's lighting up underneath your sleeve." What kind of a smartwatch lights up like that?
"(How? I don't see anyone in the vicinity.) It's... nothing. (Probably a false notifier)"
Who's this guy? Why did he get agitated for a second there? What's he hiding?
Later that day Greg found him lurking outside an abandoned warehouse past the junkyard. As always curiosity got the best of him so he decided to follow the stranger.
[Part 2](https://np.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/n80lco/wp_you_can_read_minds_the_one_person_with_powers/gxivk5v?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3)
WP.r #130 • r/FleetingScripts
| 2021-05-08T21:01:53 | 2021-05-08T19:26:14 | 1,311 | 16 |
[WP] You can read minds, the one person with powers as far as you know. One day you read a guy that can time travel. You discover that he has successfully eliminated every other powered person through lots of time jumps. He doesn't know you and you are the only one that knows what he's been doing.
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The sceneries seen from another mind's eye were always fraught with mystery. Unraveling all the details of somebody's mind could take days. Even years if that person didn't speak English as their first language. But sometimes there were figments of an objective reality. Something unequivocal. Or at least so blindingly clear that Yoni did not second guess his understanding.
Yoni had some experience with these things. Usually they were related to the bottom layers of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. But this one was strange. Amy, this woman who was not very discreetly tailing him had, oddly, an unequivocal view of him. Yoni himself.
They were at a graveyard in Amy's mind's eye. And slowly, and more subjectively, his voice was in her mind's ear. (Or, well, was audible in this figment of her memory.) "I knew he would do this." Yoni was telling Amy.
The real Yoni zoomed in on this "he" he'd mentioned in Amy's memory. It was really like looking up a footnote, and such traversal was common in these heavily contextual memories.
This "he" was one of Yoni's patients and a great hero, according to Amy's memory. But this was strange since Yoni had yet to become a therapist. So he tried to find the footnote about himself in this Amy's mind.
And there was a lot. An obscene amount. An amount unsurpassed by most parents regarding their children, or between old couples. And that graveyard was apparently where it all began.
So Yoni looked at the scene again, trying to figure out the year. 2036. So 15 years in the future.
But that's a memory, so how was it possible? One avenue, Yoni decided, was to look at the current year. And that made the whole thing a little more chaotic. He was generally reading about for anything about the current day, and found a little too much for 24 hours -- there were a few thousand dinners, and the majority were with him. "Time travel," he caught her say, in one of these readings. "Read the graveyard scene fully," she seemed to tell him.
So she met him in the future and time travelled back?
He read the graveyard scene. Yoni seemed sheepish in that scene. He looked into his patient from the future again. A man who could teleport. This man had started pulling off many disruptive stunts and slowly veered towards crime. Theft was easy for him to pull off in his early days. But his heists were getting a lot of attention. His relationships deteriorated so he got dragged by his wife to come see Yoni. Then he messed up and died by teleporting into a helicopter blade. Not that Yoni could care, apparently. He was at the funeral for the sake of the wife, it seemed. Or so he explained to Amy, in some venting.
"So you read my mind and know what I do?"
"Yes."
"Good. Know that I don't have to kill you in this timeline. I've never heard of you and that's a good thing."
"Actually, I have an idea," Yoni saw himself say. "What if you meet me in the past?"
"And how does the past you know to trust me?"
"This memory."
"Oh. Well, I'll work that into my plan."
Yoni stopped walking and turned around. "Hi Amy."
"Thanks," she said. To him it was the beginning of a small one-time quest. For her, it was the thousandth time with perhaps an eternity to come.
|
"Concentrate, keep yourself busy at all times. You've got this."
Gregory Attenborough, age 28. Likes: Books, cats and to monologue in front of the mirror. Dislikes: A lot of things, among his recently acquired quirk. Occupation: Cashier in a convenience store.
I started developing this power a few months back. Anyone ever thought reading minds would be fun? You thought wrong, it's a torture. You can't meet a lot of people who means good on the inside when they speak politely to you on the outside. Besides you don't want to get stuck in a crowd. Having said that I've learned to appreciate this power because of a few rare people who're genuinely good.
"No, I can't make it in time with this traffic, Jimmy is gonna kill me. I should've taken the subway. So much for saying bicycle and a pair of headphones is all I need, you really do got this, Greg. Ugh."
• • •
He's staring at me. Let me get close so that I can-
"Hey, buddy. Got stuck in traffic again? (Ooh I gotta see this, he's really gonna get fired this time)"
The guy who just laid his hand on my shoulder is Sylvester. Always ahead in wanting to see me fail.
"Do you want to get fired? (I don't know how many times I can keep doing this)"
Jimmy, my boss. He's always stressed out. I don't think I've ever seen him smile other than that awkward grin.
"Jimmy, I'm really sorry. I don't have an excuse. If you want me to res-"
"You're needed at the desk. I don't want to see you come in late one more time. (I don't want to lose him, it'd rather fire Sylvester)"
"You got it boss."
"(Bummer)" This is Sylvester's thought.
My boss Jimmy can be a really good guy. I should tell Sylvester to start looking for jobs. Now I know he's a pain for both of us.
• • •
It was a slow day. Jimmy heard footsteps approach, he looked up to see whom the black boot belonged to. The man with a goatee looking like Brad Pitt wore full sleeved leather jacket and an overly fashionable glasses. Greg felt something strange about him. He went straight to the aisle, got a few things and visited the desk for payment.
"That'll be $25.40."
"Hey, do you know of any place where I can get metals?"
"What kind?"
"Something called Iridium."
"I, don't know anything about that, sorry." Nope, never disclose anything to him even if you knew. He looks suspicious enough already.
"Alright. (He's either lying or is just useless)"
"What's his problem?" Thought Greg as he smirked.
"Your smartwatch."
"What?"
"It's lighting up underneath your sleeve." What kind of a smartwatch lights up like that?
"(How? I don't see anyone in the vicinity.) It's... nothing. (Probably a false notifier)"
Who's this guy? Why did he get agitated for a second there? What's he hiding?
Later that day Greg found him lurking outside an abandoned warehouse past the junkyard. As always curiosity got the best of him so he decided to follow the stranger.
[Part 2](https://np.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/n80lco/wp_you_can_read_minds_the_one_person_with_powers/gxivk5v?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3)
WP.r #130 • r/FleetingScripts
| 2021-05-08T21:09:07 | 2021-05-08T19:26:14 | 47 | 16 |
[WP] It was something Ancient and Powerful, from before the time of the Foreign New Gods. They labeled it a Demon because they didn’t understand, and attempted to drive it away. But it returned, it returned because it heard the calls of children fleeing a bloody battle.
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The child’s plaintive wail was answered with a gust of wind and her pursuers raised wooden spears high to the sky, the stone tipped weapons painted with her parents’ blood already, their laughter mocking her. As she screamed again, rushing blindly forward, she took a step and disappeared; the men behind her freezing in place as the air itself shimmered and folded in on itself.
Then the spears fell to the ground and the air became rank with the scent of ozone and the shouts of men shattered the odd silence. The ground cracked beneath her feet, the trees bent and shied away from her touch as she stepped into the world. Cold winds, laced with the scent of ash and smoke, brushed gently against the fabric of the tattered robe that concealed her rotting frame.
She bore no weapons, spoke no words, simply took another step forward. Her jet black hair fell in waves halfway down the robe that bulged at her stomach. One of the men stumbled backwards, falling heavily as one of the trees leaned towards him, avoiding her approach. The branches may as well have been blades and his blood splattered the ground.
New growths sprung from his body before he breathed his last.
Two more turned to run and she let them go- the path ahead of them an eternal journey they would never leave.
The last picked up his spear in a trembling hand. He had few words to use, but she could recognize the ones he did, “Demon, lost one.”
She was beside him in an eye blink. A pale hand brushed against his cheek, thin fingers tangling in his wiry beard as she leaned forward. Her smooth features stood in stark contrast to his prominent forehead, her eyes wide and clear as his clouded in fear.
“None harm my children.”
He collapsed to the ground, a tree bursting forth from his body even as his scream tore through the clearing. It ended in a gargled sob- fruit blossoming despite the cold season. She had no interest in the poisoned fruits. She turned to where she had come from, stepping back through the ripple. The child slept peacefully, tiny fists clutching a delicately crafted doll. Gently, carefully, she lifted the child from the mossy bed and carried her back through the rippling gate.
The trees bent their boughs low to protect her from the elements and the woman ran a finger down the girl’s face.
“I am never far away, my child,” she said quietly, adjusting the doll into her arms.
|
Timothy fled from the soldiers as gunfire whipped through the air around him, sprinting as fast as he could away. He didn’t really have a hope, even if he made it to the tree line this many men would find him and his friends in no time, but instinct and fear of death drove him forward. A teenager carried a crying little girl as explosions sounded across the field. The choice to target the refugee camp was nothing short of inhumane. The children dead and the children fleeing were proof of it.
Suddenly, shrapnel hit him in the leg and he fell to the ground, crawling into a ditch. Had his luck finally run out? He shuddered to think of what was coming in mere minutes, his own death and what that meant. A group of soldiers were getting close to him and he couldn’t escape. This was it.
Suddenly, the ground began to shake. Timothy worked up the courage to peer over the edge of the ditch to find the source of an ear-rupturing noise and saw something impossible. A huge mass of sharp bone the size of a large skyscraper and with roughly the same shape stuck out of the ground in the battlefield which had been nothing but flatland a moment ago. Everything quieted for a moment in immeasurable surprise. Then, the horn moved. The ground split open in vast chasms that ended just short of Timothy and the screams of the children were now accompanied by the screams of the soldiers. Earth erupted upwards and outwards to make room for a gigantic, scaly mass emerging from the ground. A small mountain of scales lifted and revealed a sphere with no color as a second horn tore through the ground as well. It was an eye.
A voice from above boomed across the battlefield, “NO! How have you emerged!? Ten thousand years since the elder ones sealed you within the Earth! Why now, Behemoth!?”
——
The battlefield was a stark contrast to the belly of the earth. Bright light blinded it at first but it adjusted quickly as it did to everything and took in the green landscape that felt foreign after years of cold rock. It then focused on the small ones. Not just the small ones, those small even for the small ones. It had heard their screams. It remembered vaguely a small one of its own, now gone to the old deities of dead pantheons and their cowardly attack on its kind. It would’ve roared in anger, but the sound wave would’ve easily killed the small ones. It would protect these children for a memory’s sake.
| 2021-05-26T00:37:54 | 2021-05-25T22:32:30 | 63 | 29 |
[WP] Your parents are ordinary people, so you thought, yesterday you and your father found your mother's old villain costume, he told you he already knew but to not tell your mother. Today you find your father's hero costume and at that moment your mother enters the room.
|
“Please don’t tell your father about me,” mom says as she sits gingerly upon the edge of her bed. She keeps a gnarled, arthritic hand on her cane for comfort and traces the other along the sleek lines of the scarlet dress she’d worn when she was my age.
“I think he’d understand,” I say, playing with the hem of her old dress. It was quite short, even by modern standards. Dad had clearly understood that very well.
“Oh no, there’s no chance,” mom says. “No chance at all. Not a good man like him.”
“That’s why he’d understand,” I say but she shakes her and settles her hands back into her lap, casting furtive glances back at the piece of fabric and the matched sword I’d brought out of storage.
I hate when mom doesn’t remember. We’ve been through this whole song and dance before. I’ve shown her the entries from own diary about the night when, after both of them had finally seen each others hero and villain costumes, dad had hidden her dress and a second wedding ring under the sheets of their bed. I’ve shown her the pages stained by her own tears, the ink running places, when she wrote about her in her dress, him in his bodysuit, and me in my trainee’s uniform, reenacting my flower girl part from years long past as they renewed their vows. I’ve shown her pictures of them at conventions forty years past truly fitting into their uniforms, their arms wrapped happily around each other.
It’s the worst part of dementia, and yet somehow I keep trying, hoping another experimental treatment will work, testing it with her dress or dad’s bodysuit, or conjuring up imps and golems of my own. More often than not she’s forgotten all of it, save for her fear.
“He can’t know,” she says. “Please Rachel, he can’t. He would, he’d…I love him too much.”
Mom’s eyes start welling up with tears, her breath coming fast and jagged now. I fold up the dress and place it in its box next to dad’s suit, and then I hug her, whispering over and over that it will be all right, that dad loves her more than anything and that I do too.
Her hand slips off the cane, the feet on its base keep it standing. I wait for her touch upon my shoulder or back, but it does not come.
“Mom?” I say, leaning back.
“Rachel, is something wrong?” she asks. “Why am I crying?”
I give myself three deep breaths to recover. I stroke her bony shoulder more for my own comfort than hers, and kiss her on the top of the head.
“It’s nothing mom, don’t worry about it.”
“It doesn’t feel like nothing.” She begins to tremble.
“Shh, mom, shh…” I whisper, squeezing her as tight as her body is able to handle as I declaim the words of a soothing spell that does not come naturally to my darker leaning powers.
Her eyes droop and I lay her back into bed.
“Don’t tell your father,” she says, before falling asleep. I promise I won’t.
That night I tell my father.
“She forgot again, dad,” I say. “It’s really hard, it’s really, really hard and I don’t know if I’m doing any of this right. She can’t even remember that you found her dress!”
The soft evening breeze rustles the treetops. Its cold, but not unseasonably so. “I feel so helpless.”
Then I lay the flowers I carry upon his grave, and I lay my forehead against the chill marble headstone, smoothing out the hem of the dress I wear. It’s much like mom’s, though perhaps not as short. Sometimes people run side by side photos of mom and I in the papers, they say the resemblance is uncanny.
Right now, I’d settle for any resemblance at all.
“She doesn’t feel like mom anymore,” I whisper.
Only the breeze whispers back.
“Bye dad. I love you.” Then I stand and turn back to the house they’d shared, and the single light on in the second floor bedroom meant for two, whose stairs were a near unsurmountable obstacle that mom would never admit defeat to.
When I get back in and go to say goodnight, she recognizes my dress and think its her own, and the process begins again.
r/TurningtoWords
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All I could hear was brief snatches of conversation, every other word but fillers to the convicted ones that rang loud and true.
"Hero."
"Villain."
"Know."
"Lie."
"Why?"
I stared at the wooden door, and my fingers found themselves entangling each other over and again. My teeth bit away at my thumbs, a nasty habit nervously resurfaced during a tumultuous storm brewing behind a closed door. I thought I had known my parents. Different people, as contrasting as red day and green night, but their love for me was stark white. When pa floated in the sky from pride, ma brought him down to earth. When ma's spirits were in the dumps, pa lifted her up. Pa was the one that told me to chase my dreams, while ma was the one who fretted about the future.
The last time they argued was even a happy memory. News hour was on the TV, and I barely understood anything but its moving colours, a bright logo prominently adorning the screen, and the chest of a hero.
> ANGEL SAVES CITY FROM MR. MALICIOUS--THANKS BESET FOR AID, TO HOLD PRESS CONFERENCE LATER
I had declared I wanted to be a hero--and while pa beamed brightly at me, ma chided both my father and I. That quickly turned into a series of jabs between my parents, though I was certain they quickly made up during the brief moment of silence that ensued when I turned back to the TV.
 
Yesterday, pa and I found ma's old villain costume. It was folded, tucked away neatly, behind a false patch of wall in the living room that father and I removed out of curiosity. He was bustling, as usual, but he fell quiet almost immediately upon seeing it.
"This is Nyx's costume," I said. I had learned about her in class--a retired villain, but once equally feared and admired for her grand feats and devastating grace.
"It is," my father said, and he regained his cheer. "Clara did always enjoy her Halloween costume."
I looked at my dad. There was the sort of smile that you knew were put on. His lips turned up, but his eyes remained narrow, staring at the well-worn black costume I held in my hand.
"This is real," I said quietly. "Ma is Nyx."
"Was," he replied.
He made me promise not to tell my mother. And we folded it back--though not as nicely as it once was--before hastily installing the false wall back before we heard Clara calling out for us, asking if we wanted a lemonade that she just tried but was far too sweet for her.
Today, I found my pa's costume. I had wandered into the garage, trying to find a tool for some project for a dreaded assignment that I've since forgotten about in the aftermath. It was crumpled, hastily thrown in a tool cupboard spotted with rust. It was a shockingly bright red and yellow, still, and practically glimmered like damning evidence when ma walked in on me.
"That is Daybreak's costume," she said.
"I'm planning for a Halloween party," I lied.
Her eyes shifted back and forth, from me to the costume. It felt like my face was as red as the spandex in my hands.
"That is real," she said. "Brennan is Daybreak."
I shook my head. My mouth opened and closed, a fish gasping for air, before muttering something unconvincingly.
"I am Daybreak?"
 
Even I could understand that there was something different about this argument. Unlike their previous ones, it didn't quickly peter out into a series of kisses and apologies. It wasn't a boiling volcano, but a simmering pot infused with tension and spiced with agitation.
Instead of looking away, I was staring straight at the door. Was it going to break out into a torrential tempest, flooding my house with the strains of anger and hate?
It wasn't. Somehow, in my heart of hearts, I knew it wasn't going to. They were very different people. They *are* very different people.
I took my thumbs out of my mouth, eyes diverted towards the bite marks on them. I squeezed both fists shut. My left hand became shrouded in shadow, umbra wisps escaping up to my wrist, licking the air. My right hand shone brightly, like I held the sun in the palm of my hand, its rays illuminating my skin, easily escaping from the gaps between my fingers.
And when they met in the middle, they did not dispel each other. Instead, they swirled round and round, chasing each other playfully. The rays highlighted the shadows, turning them from deep black into a darkness that looked nearly alive--while the beams only shone brighter with its contrasting partner.
"Love."
And if I could exist, pa and ma certainly can, together and always.
---
r/dexdrafts
| 2021-05-29T06:21:46 | 2021-05-29T05:15:32 | 699 | 288 |
[WP] The superheroes and supervillains are angry with you because you help them both but they can't kill you because you're too valuable. You remind them, "look, I'm a doctor with healing powers following the medical code, it doesn't matter who my patients are! Stop whining about it!"
|
I stand next to Dr Wesley, clipboard in hand, as he looks over his next patient.
"3rd degree burns across the body, 5 broken ribs and a dislodged collarbone, plus broken legs from falling off a skyscraper after losing consciousness." I start scibbling with practiced strokes. "Oh, and cancerous lungs from smoke inhalation."
I look up. "So, diagnosis Fireblast?"
Dr Wesley meets my gaze, peering over the rim of his glasses. "Yup. The collarbone gave that away, eh?"
Chuckling to myself, I tear the sheet of paper out of my clipboard, attaching it to Indigo's bed. Meanwhile, Dr Wesley starts working his magic, weaving strands of mana across the patient's body. Soon enough, Indigo is peacefully snoring under the sheets.
"There we go. He'll be up in around 4 to 5 hours. You should set the timer." I fiddle with the clock on the bedside table, before taking my leave behind my sensei's retreating back.
Catching up to him, we leave Ward 23, heading back towards the doctor's office where I have secretarial work to do.
"Isn't this only the 3rd time Indigo has come in this week?" Dr Wesley breaks the silence. I stop for a beat, before flipping through the records on my phone. "It is. He got tangled up with Miss Tako on Monday, and then demolished The Hunter on Wednesday. If this keeps up he'll be setting a record for the least admissions in a week."
Dr Wesley nods in thought. "Demolished, eh? Were those his words?"
"Uh-huh. Somehow he was still conscious when they brought him in. The Hunter is supposed to be one of the strongest of the League, so I guess he wanted to do a bit of bragging." I shrug. I didn't really mind the bragging. The entire reason I had taken this job as Dr Wesley's assistant was because I wanted to meet these superhumans, the members of the Superhero Syndicate who always strived to protect society from the evils of the League.
To me, they were idols who had defended humanity, and I wanted to repay them in my own way.
But Ward 23, the department that handled superhumans, didn't only cater to heroes. And I was honestly a little mad about that. "Dr Wesley, I have a question."
"Ask away, kid."
I bite my lip tentatively. "I like the idea of helping the heroes, but why do we also help people like Destructo, or that Moon Lord guy? They're villians who wreck havoc on society. Surely it's not morally right to assist them, right?"
Dr Wesley is silent. I can almost see the gears churning in his head. Will I get a wisecracking answer, or a serious one?
"I guess you could say it's not." So a serious answer it is. "At the same time, as doctors, we also have to follow the Medical Code of Ethics, and whatever that oath the Greeks used to follow. It's just part of the healthcare industry, yknow."
Interesting. I suppose it made sense.I wasn't medically trained, so I had no idea about these kinds of things. But it did make sense that doctors should not be partial in giving help to the wounded.
As I mulled over Dr Wesley's words, we walk into his office. Dr Wesley immediately plops himself down behind his desk, and motions to me to close the door. After I comply, he chuckles.
"I hope you didn't think what I said out there was true."
"What?"
"You did, eh? The director of the hospital was walking by just now, and I had to give a satisfactory answer. I hope you will forgive me for lying to you."
I swallow my shock. "Wait. So why do you help villians again?"
"Money. Have you seen the exorbitant fees we charge these people? Super healing is much more expensive than conventional medicine, and these people need it. It helps so much that they all come in like once a day because of all the fighting."
My jaw is ajar. Dr Wesley doesn't seem to notice. "Who do you think funds the League of Villians? Who keeps making huge donations to the Syndicate after the government cut their support last year? It's all a system, my dear, and we're the ones reaping the benefits. Don't look so shocked. It's just part of the healthcare industry, yknow." He gives me a sly wink.
I think my mentor is the real villian in Ward 23.
.
.
.
For non-extortionist stories and entertainment, check out r/17Stories
|
Where is the new patient?"
I asked my nurse.
"Right her, Doctor."
She said, leading me to a young man, who had 2 limbs missing, and was bandaged all over just like a mummy.
I sighed.
"One of you again?"
I asked, while starting to treat the man.
"Yes, Doctor, it was those "heroes", look at the state they left me in!"
The young man shouted.
Before I could say anything, the curtains to the right of the bed opened, and a young lady appeared, clearly still being weak.
"You evil spawns killed an entire city! What did you expect? That we would go easy on you?!"
She shouted.
Before things could get rowdy, I threw a needle toward the young lady, sealing her voice.
"Silence, regrowing limbs isn't easy."
I said.
After treating the young man, I still had several patients to take care off, before leaving work.
"Alliance of the Shadows, and Beacons of Light, hah, naive kids."
I thought to myself while driving to my home, where my beautiful wife, and three kids were waiting for me."
Arriving home, I kissed my wife, who had a weird look.
"Honey...You've got a summon."
She said.
I sighed.
"To the United Super Humans parliament?
I asked, massaging my temples.
She just nodded.
We had a wonderful evening, the dinner was delicious, sadly, tomorrow will be a tiring day.
Next day, at 8:00 AM, I was standing in a humongous hall, where the superhumans held their meetings.
Regardless if one was neutral, a hero, or a supervillain, they were allowed to attend these meetings, while gaining immunity during their stay.
Needless to say, violence and superpowers weren't allowed in the Parliament, and nobody was stupid to disobey, as it would mean becoming the enemy of every single superhuman.
I stood there, at the front of the hall, being interrogated by the representative of heroes, supervillain, while in the audience there were plenty members of both groups, as well as neutral individuals as well.
​
"Adam Ingtem, also known as The Doctor, you are here because society deems it dangerous for you to be playing for both sides."
The representative of the heroes said.
"Indeed, you smartass think that healing these heroes will go unpunished by us?"
The representative of the supervillains said.
The two locked gazes, and sparks could be seen, literally.
"Kids, are you done with the staring contest?
I have patients to heal."
I said.
​
"This is the problem, you have to choose one side, or none, but you can't help both of the groups."
Said the heroes representative, and by a miracle, the villains representative nodded in agreement.
"I am a doctor, and I have healing abilities that are almost god-like.
Saving lives is what I swore to do, human, alien, monster, hero, supervillain or rogue, I don't care.
A life is a life, end of discussion."
I said, turning around and leaving.
"Y-y-you! You there to ignore the Parliament?"
The heroes representative asked, his finger shaking while pointing at me.
"876993."
I said, without turning back.
"What's that?"
The supervillains representative asked.
"That's the number of people I saved from certain death. Just those that were already dying, figure it out yourself what's the full statistics of my successful treatments.
Feel free to try and make a move against me, or my movie, I've already made several contingency plans, and precautionary measures. "
I said, leaving.
​
That day, I still had to save the life of 2 individuals.
It was a good day, as I succeeded saving them both, gaining two more coins.
​
I arrived home, and put the 2 coins, in a huge, 20 meter long, five meter wide chest, that was almost completely filled with coins.
One of my daughters was also down in the basement, where I had the chest.
"Daddy, what are these coins for, they all look different, and have autographs on them?"
She asked.
I ruffled her hair.
"It's just some insurance."
I said, chuckling.
| 2021-08-01T09:49:48 | 2021-08-01T09:12:56 | 581 | 225 |
[WP]"Captain, why is an entire planet being used to hold only two life forms"? "The species confined there is the most savage and destructive of any world. We've waited this long to check on them to make sure they died. We're lucky they're the last ones". "Checking status of prisoners Adam and Eve".
|
"Approaching Site Eden sir. Should be coming into visual range any sec-ond..." the technician on the sensors drew that last syllable out for way too long. A note of uncertainty began to creep into his voice as the sensors struggled to acquire the small planetoid. This was by design: Site Eden was meant to remain hidden by order of High Command. Almost nobody knew it even existed; fewer knew that what exactly was down there, only that it was important it remain there. The console chirped to indicate a sensor lock. "Now sir!" the technician exclaimed.
Site Eden consisted of two parts: a small orbital installation presumably housing researchers, and the planet below housing... something. Not even I, the Captain entrusted with this mission, knew the full details. All I could see was a waste of living space. Green forests dividing vast blue oceans. Almost a perfect replica of home.
"Captain, we are being hailed," the technician alerted. "It's coming from the station." I raised an eyebrow at the hint of concern that crept into his voice. So far, nothing was out of the ordinary. I glanced over at the corner, where my charge stood watching the bridge crew at work. He met my gaze and nodded. I motioned to put the transmission through.
"This is Site Eden, chief research officer Goodwin speaking. How may I help you?" Audio only. Just how old was this place? Before I could speak, my charge took control of the conversation.
"Status report. Clearance code IMC11014." If he noticed my crew stiffen at the utterance of an Imperial clearance code, he gave no sign.
"Clearance confirmed. Mission objective: partially completed. Subjects Adam and Eve were neutralized in the latest experiment, designation P0M3." Subjects? Neutralized? This just screams shady blacksite. My charge stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"Status confirmed. Prepare to submit full report. Clearance code SE1042." He turned to me next. "Captain, we'll be taking this in your ready room. I advise you join us." I glanced at my crew, taking in their worried expressions. I nodded at them, trying to mask my own dread at the ethical violation we might have just been roped into. I followed my charge into the ready room.
"Right, onto the full report," Goodwin started. "The premise, as you may have been aware, is subjects Adam and Eve present a major threat to civilization as long as they live in this galaxy. The main problem we are tackling is the issue of how to eliminate this threat. And, as is proven the norm for their species, killing them is almost impossible. What is *very* possible is manipulating them. My assistant, Dawn, was able to get them to unwittingly ingest various poisons and chemicals. Most had little effect, except our latest. A modified fruit from Earth. Subject Eve took the first bite, and Subject Adam also imbibed some before the effects took for Eve. Unfortunately, we don't know exactly what those effects were, beyond banishing the subjects from this realm." My jaw dropped. My charge slammed his fist on the table.
"Banished?! What do you mean banished? They're free?!" Goodwin broke down into laughter. It took quite a few minutes to recompose himself. As he cleared his throat, I heard something pour into a glass on the other end of the line.
"More like they're not our problem anymore."
|
"Captain, why is an entire planet being used to hold only two life forms," Lieutenant Douglas asks.
Captain McGill tipped his command chair to the right and looked up at Douglas.
"Son, the species confined there is the most savage and destructive of any world. We've waited this long to check on them to make sure they died. We're lucky they're the last ones"
"Why didn't we just kill them ourselves?" Doug asked.
McGill slowly turned his mouth up to the left in a half-smile. "It is top secret, but I am going to give you clearance to hear it now. It's about time." Captain McGill turned to the black screen in front of his chair and typed in some commands on a keyboard next to it. He turned to Doug "Pull up file 0XA3-3 and use your own access code."
Doug walked to his workstation and proceeded to type in some code into his own black screen. He slowly sat down as a wall of text came up on his screen, as if to prepare himself to digest it.
Doug continued, "Back in the 50s, the Government created a top-secret site to experiment with cloning our own form. It was a total failure. We ended up creating a species far more intelligent and dangerous than us. We used the active DNA of a mummified alien we found in the Pyramids of Egypt to create them. One XXZ, the other XYZ, code name Adam and Eve.
You see, these creatures weren't like any other experiments the government had failed at. They were human-like alright, but highly intelligent, highly dangerous, lacking empathy, telepathic too. They had the capability to reproduce quickly within a week. They killed all of their handlers using their bare hands. We had them contained within that facility. High-powered guns, high tech bombs were useless against them because their bodies managed to create this shimmery destruction-proof metallic shield. Through blind luck, all of their off-springs started to die off one after the other. We have no idea how to replicate that to date."
Douglas had his mouth ajar. He stood up slowly from his workstation and walked to the Captain. "Was there nothing we could do?"
"Nothing that was obvious at the time. HQ was desperate. The world's brightest minds were brought to the table and through sheer genius, they created the Apollo 11 program to find a way to get these creatures out of our planet before they manage to escape and do any damage to civilians. Luckily we got them out and dumped them on the moon without general pop finding out. Look, there's more to it than I can tell you in one breath. All you need to know is in that file."
Captain McGill turned to Mark, his assistant. "Connect me to the Parker Solar Probe right now"
"Yes sir," said Mark as he turned to make clacking sounds at his work desk.
"You are on Captain," he says without turning back.
"Checking the status of prisoners Adam and Eve on Apollo. Any activity?" Captain McGill asked
"No activity detected sir. Over" a voice echoed back from the captain's headset.
"Roger. McGill Out" McGill turned to Lieutenant Douglas. "If we are lucky, they will be dead now." Doug nods at the Captain in slow motion, as he took it in everything he heard.
Captain McGill placed a palm on Douglas's shoulder. "Lieutenant, your job, what you were hired for, is to build a team of the world's smartest people, that can devise a plan to annihilate this species before the Apollo 18 program is ready to launch."
| 2021-12-30T18:04:31 | 2021-12-30T17:17:11 | 153 | 85 |
[WP]For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face and hoping to speak to you.
|
I remained. When the crops turned to dust. When the river and wells dried up. When the illness came. When our eldest was buried, then our youngest. When the remaining village folk fled to more prosperous land. I remained.
I remained as the drought turned the once lush land into ash and dust. When the hopes and dreams of our life and love faded. I remained.
When finally you came home, you walked slowly around the abandoned village, once full of life and laughter.
You made it up the hill to our home, scarred, burnt, broken. Your gait told me you knew what you would find. You knelt at our children’s graves and shook. A howl of pain pierced the silent valley.
You found me, where I lay, in our home, in our bed. Once again, you carried me through the threshold and lay me to rest with our children.
You knew then, that the prophesy was true, the prophesy you thought you beat time and time again. You thought you outwitted fate and the light grew in your heart as you crested the hill. But fate always wins... ‘The hero would never return home’.
|
‘Why?’
‘What?’
‘Why?!’
She stayed silent. We’d been talking. I was being polite. So was she. But it lost all sense of familiarity. It was awkward. Like I’d never met her before.
I don’t know what to feel.
‘Baby, what do you mean why? You know why I had to go.’
That sounded genuine.
I think.
I don’t know anymore.
It was my turn to stay silent. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to respond or not.
‘Love, please. Talk to me. I know you want answers. I want to tell you.’
‘…..It’s been too long. We can’t…..I can’t…’
My words wouldn’t come out.
She reached forward. Paused. Decided against it.
‘I’m sorry’
That was genuine. And only then did I let it out.
I cried. Let all emotions I’d felt, all that I’d suppressed, fall out.
And only then did I let her hold me.
‘Never again, my love. I will never leave you again.’
Between sobs, I managed out words that made her cry to.
‘It’s too late.’
| 2022-08-12T14:19:37 | 2022-08-12T13:20:44 | 386 | 41 |
[WP]For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face and hoping to speak to you.
|
Trajan sat on the porch of his family's farm. It was a quiet early summer evening. The work had mostly been done, setting the farm to rights. Readying it for her return. The fields were sown, the little brook babbled, the chickens meandered the small herb garden, the tree they had been wed under cast pleasant shade, and the boundary fence was painted a fresh white.
When Julia came to the gate, tattered and worn, Trajan felt a spike of concern in his breast. Being the chosen hero must have been so hard for her. He would have to take care to help her settle back into a calm life and heal. All he wanted was for her to be happy with him again.
He crunched down the path of fine white gravel to meet her.
"Welcome back love. You're home."
Tears poured from her eyes and the hilt of the shattered sword of light tumbled from her limp fingers. "How could you?"
"Well, I wanted you to come home didn't I?" Trajan said as he reached out and took her limp hands in his. "I would do anything to have our family again, I love you."
She looked away from him, out past the boundary fences. He knew she was looking at the ebony plains of blackend grass and twisted briars that grew outside their farm. The skeletal husk that had once been the hamlet of Greencreek. The occasional gleam of chitin and endless legs crawling in the deeper shadows.
Trajan caught her chin and pulled her attention back to him. "It doesn't matter anymore love, you're home. No more grand quest, the world can't take you away from me again." He kissed her brow, she tensed for a moment before relaxing into his arms. Small and broken. He would have to work hard to help her heal.
Deep inside him he felt the Slithering Darkness twist and writh slightly. He knew it would never die, not until its mission was done. Not until all life was snuffed out. But it couldn't act against him anymore. He had crept into its temple, took its writhing coils in hand and bit down. Consuming it's vile flesh. Stygian Acid blood boiling down his throat and a million claws tearing at his soul. Bite by bite he ate the beast, subsumed it's boundless hunger to his eternal love. All to avert the prophecy that would take Julia from him forever.
"*The chosen hero will seal the beast with her. For a hundred thousand years. In a realm adrift in the plains of death.*"
How could a loving husband allow such a fate to come to pass. If the world would ask such a sacrifice, what right did it have to be saved?
She met his eyes. Hers held emotion he had never seen in them before. He would have to ask her what she was feeling. Later though. For now she leaned up and kissed him.
"I'm home love." She said with watery eyes.
|
I was kind of glad when she left. It opened up a new life for me, it got me off my anti depressants. It wasn’t a bad relationship, we just didn’t… connect. I made so many new friends when she disappeared, and even have a girlfriend, Molly, who never seizes to give me butterflies when she laughs, I know it’s stupid. But what’s more stupid is you, standing right in front of my house with fucking angel wings. Marybeth. It was already crushing when you left without a word, but you return, 3 years later fucking cosplaying on my lawn? I can’t even imagine what sort of life has been led since I last saw her. She used to seem much more uptight, I would never expect Marybeth, who only drank virgin bloody Mary’s to be doing some sort of acrobatic display with a man dressed as a half pig. They play-fought with swords dashing and ducking and running between each others blades. My cheeks burned red, what will my neighbors thing of me now. “Shit” I whisper underneath my breathe to myself, how do I explain this to Molly. I dialed 911, I didn’t want to confront Marybeth like this. Maybe if she got some help first I would be ready, but it would be silly to try to reason with her like this. “911 what’s your emergency?” They answer on the other line. “Uh, I’m calling about a…” what do I even call this situation? “Loitering? There- there is two people who are playing on my lawn” I overhear remarks on the other end but can’t make out the words, they answer. “How old are they sir?” Last time I saw Marybeth was the night before her birthday. Which I realize is 3 years since yesterday. “They are around 30” they answer. “Are they posing any threat to you?” Well shit, maybe if I was dressed up in a knights outfit maybe, but I’d assume I’m safe for now. “Not currently officer, but they don’t seem well, mentally” I may sound like the old men who yell about rap music and such but I’m not dealing with this. “Ok sir, we’ll send someone over, it will be around half an hour” phew. “Ok, thank you officer” I tap the phone to hang up and immediately hear a crashing noise in the other room. The man pig broke through my damn window. It’s safe to say I’m pretty pissed. “We’ll that’s some nice dramatic effect fella! Haha, one that’s gonna cost you a couple hundred bucks” he stay limp on the ground, I kneel down by him and see that his shirt is soaked. “What?“ i whisper. I touch it, and I look back it my hand, it’s blood, it’s real. And there is now way in hell there is a plastic surgeon good enough for a pig snout on a face. “No,no,no,no” I get up and step back, only to trip over a side table and stumble back onto the floor. A dead man… thing’s blood on my hands. I was woken from my terror by a familiar voice I hadn’t heard in a long time. “James. How’ve you been?”
| 2022-08-12T18:40:02 | 2022-08-12T16:38:18 | 62 | 34 |
[WP]For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face and hoping to speak to you.
|
Trajan sat on the porch of his family's farm. It was a quiet early summer evening. The work had mostly been done, setting the farm to rights. Readying it for her return. The fields were sown, the little brook babbled, the chickens meandered the small herb garden, the tree they had been wed under cast pleasant shade, and the boundary fence was painted a fresh white.
When Julia came to the gate, tattered and worn, Trajan felt a spike of concern in his breast. Being the chosen hero must have been so hard for her. He would have to take care to help her settle back into a calm life and heal. All he wanted was for her to be happy with him again.
He crunched down the path of fine white gravel to meet her.
"Welcome back love. You're home."
Tears poured from her eyes and the hilt of the shattered sword of light tumbled from her limp fingers. "How could you?"
"Well, I wanted you to come home didn't I?" Trajan said as he reached out and took her limp hands in his. "I would do anything to have our family again, I love you."
She looked away from him, out past the boundary fences. He knew she was looking at the ebony plains of blackend grass and twisted briars that grew outside their farm. The skeletal husk that had once been the hamlet of Greencreek. The occasional gleam of chitin and endless legs crawling in the deeper shadows.
Trajan caught her chin and pulled her attention back to him. "It doesn't matter anymore love, you're home. No more grand quest, the world can't take you away from me again." He kissed her brow, she tensed for a moment before relaxing into his arms. Small and broken. He would have to work hard to help her heal.
Deep inside him he felt the Slithering Darkness twist and writh slightly. He knew it would never die, not until its mission was done. Not until all life was snuffed out. But it couldn't act against him anymore. He had crept into its temple, took its writhing coils in hand and bit down. Consuming it's vile flesh. Stygian Acid blood boiling down his throat and a million claws tearing at his soul. Bite by bite he ate the beast, subsumed it's boundless hunger to his eternal love. All to avert the prophecy that would take Julia from him forever.
"*The chosen hero will seal the beast with her. For a hundred thousand years. In a realm adrift in the plains of death.*"
How could a loving husband allow such a fate to come to pass. If the world would ask such a sacrifice, what right did it have to be saved?
She met his eyes. Hers held emotion he had never seen in them before. He would have to ask her what she was feeling. Later though. For now she leaned up and kissed him.
"I'm home love." She said with watery eyes.
|
We were sweethearts throughout high school. We had married after college. Then one day he simply left.
All the young men in our village left following my husband into battle. Chosen by themselves to save us from the invading army. They had already invaded the western half of the country under the guise of a training exercise. They took no prisoners, choosing instead to execute anyone they found. They called us Nazis or Nazi sympathizers, not worth the life we were given. Worse yet, we were told no one was coming to save us. Our countries politics kept us neutral, without allies. Our only supposed ally was the one who was invading us now.
I never heard from my husband, no one heard anything. We did however receive word over the radio. His unit was gathering momentum. They had gathered men from other villages and cities and had gathered a sizeable army.
Occasionally someones husband or son would return home. Always in a box. I wished he would never come home. I would sooner raise our daughter alone, knowing he was keeping us safe then have him return home.
Five years. For five very long years boxes came home, never one for me. We heard over the radio of clashes occurring. Stalemates. Occasionally we would lose ground, or a city. Then we were gifted weapons from outside sources who couldn’t interfere directly. They started to slowly gain ground. Retaking territory. We were winning. The enemy didn’t like that very much. They gave us 72 hours to surrender or our country would become a nuclear wasteland. At the end of those 72 hours hellfire rained over our little village. Only… it wasn’t nuclear. Our communications were severed. When the dust cleared and the air settled we learned from a traveller that the enemy leader was instead assassinated.
Despite our situation there were parties and feasts and celebrations from everyone. Our husbands were coming home!
It was about a week after that he arrived. We heard the day before that a unit was on its way to us in convoy. We were elated. I was at home with his parents with me waiting for him to arrive. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. I opened it. All of the surviving members of our villagers who fought were at my door.
“Ivanna, I’m so sorry. He was a truly the chosen one. He gave his life to kill the enemy President before he could use his nuclear codes...” I stopped listening as they all had something to say about my husband. Apparently there was a lot to say.
They paraded his casket into my home. His parents rushed to me as I collapsed and cried. For hours I sat there. The selfish bastard left me alone. I wished he would never return, and he did.
I asked his parents to take care of our daughter for a while. They understood, but weren’t much better off. But they were better off.
For two days I sat at his side. Angry and confused, and grief stricken. I willed myself to get up. I was hungry. I walked into the kitchen. I grabbed a loaf of bread and a knife. With little hesitation I jammed it into my neck. I heard my husbands voice. “Oh my sweet Ivanna. I’ve missed you for so long”
| 2022-08-12T18:40:02 | 2022-08-12T18:12:55 | 62 | 18 |
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once.
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I walked down the rather crowded hallway, trying to get to my locker before Maths class so I could get my textbooks for the rest of the day There was a small line of students winding almost in singlefile through the people standing by their lockers. I was, as usual, trying to just stay out of the way.
Just because my Dad happened to be the head of the Heroes League, everyone always thought I'd be just as gifted. No such luck for me, but my younger brother was already showing signs of several gifts.
I was almost at my locker when a large wall suddenly appeared in front of me. Chris, aka IronFist, had always been one of the more aggressive towards me, but fear of my Dad usually kept things from going to far.
"Look, if it isn't the wimp." His nickname for me was as intelligent as he was.
"Sorry, excuse me, I just want to get by" I said, ducking to try and get around him. He was about twice as wide as me so that was not easy as he moved to keep me from passing.
"Who said you could move!" he yelled, stepping back into the rapidly opening hallway behind him as everyone moved back from the noise. "I dont care who you are related to, you don't belong here wimp."
A ring was forming around us, as if they were expecting a fight, not an uncommon event but everyone knew I couldn't do anything so this was going to be big. A glance around showed me the closest people to me were all his cronies. This was planned.
"Sorry" I said again moving towards my locker just to my right side. "I just need my Maths book and I'll go."
This is where Chris laughed. "He thinks he can leave" Chris said over my head. Not hard as I only was as tall as his shoulder.
"Fine, what do you want?"
"I want you out of here, maybe a broken arm will teach you."
I knew it was time. I thanked my lucky stars he decided to do this by my locker. I reached in one of my pockets and grabbed a small remote and put my finger on the only button and backed up to my locker. Predictably Chris reached out towards me, his hands glossy steel. I hit the button and ducked.
BAM!
His hands both shot forward, hitting the metal door of my locker.
"What the hell?" He struggled to pull his hands back but they were stuck to the locker door, right next to the rather large electromagnet i had turned on.
I quickly opened my locker door, while he was busy trying to figure out why he couldn't move. Right after I grabbed my books he shoved the door closed again.
"The hell did you do to me, loser" he yelled again. I saw his first minion, Josh, moving forward, sparks flying from his fingertips. I pulled a small copper wire from my long sleeved hoodie and pointed it at the sparks. The following shock hit Josh more than me as all the electricty went down the shielded wire down to the bottom of my shoe.
"Wanna try that again?" I asked, but he was too stunned to respond.
One more person stepped out of the ring, and I recognized Jessica, Chris' girlfriend. She was a "runner" and I pulled out of yet another pocke a small test tube half filled with a metallic liquid and put my other hand on the stopper.
"You ever see a runner get hit with QuickSilver?" I asked. I knew it was mercury but the old fashioned name was the point. "You will start moving and never be able to stop until you starve to death. Not a pretty sight."
"Why dont you just leave" she asked.
"It's my school too." I shrugged. "I didn't ask to come here either. But I am prepared and ready for any of you. The one thing I do have is information. I use that to be prepred for anything that any of you can dish out. Dirt to stop the wind walkers and invisibles, rubbing alcohol for the freezers, and i have my clothes all lined with copper for the electrics. The rest are even worse. You dont want to try me." Even Chris was quiet at that.
"Now, I think you are all late for class." I said as I walked away, leaving Chris stuck to the metal locker doors.
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Warning: Violence
I hate my school. Being the child of Thunderstruck and Icicle, everyone believes you'll have great powers, so they send you off to a school to be all the other runts that got powers or are children of superheroes. Well I'm sixteen and still don't have any powers. I had this nice little cliche of friends who were "late bloomers", but one by one, they all got their powers and until I was all by myself. You might think I would get bullied a lot, which I did, but only once.
Still remember that day, we just got a new transfer, Ricky. Ricky was born with normal parents but was blessed with super strength and super speed. Everyone before he joined mostly casted me as an outcast but they at least were sorry for me and didn't say anything to me, until Ricky showed up. Ricky immediately saw me as a easy target, and started with the bullying. Once he started, it was like the Dam opened. Everyone started picking on me, and that morning was hell. After second period, I went to the bathroom and balled my eyes out. It was easily my lowest moment. I heard the door open to the bathroom, and was fearful people were trying to find me and keep going with the bullying, but it was Mr. Tornelli.
Mr. Tornelli became one of my favorite teachers in the school. He was the human life teacher, teaching us what it is like to live in the normal world, and he was the only teacher without powers, so i bonded with him pretty quickly. He took me to his classroom and talked with me. I told him what all the kids were saying to me, and he told me "Unfortunately, you can't fight them, they'll easily beat you, but you need to find a way for them to respect you." I understood and I went back to class. I decided to show them what I can do during the lunch hour.
During lunch I walked with my lunch over to the table I normally sit at, some of my old friends sometimes sit with me, but today they stayed away. I only found Ricky at the table. "Hey, look who it is, and look they brought me lunch." Ricky went and immediately grabbed my tray from me. "Give that back!" I told him, but he immediately took a bite of my bologna sandwich, just as I planned. "What you gonna do, take a bite out of it now?" He asked as he offered my half eaten sandwich back to me. I grabbed his arm and slammed it into my knee, breaking in half. He let's out a blood curdling scream, he looks at his arm and then back at me, "YOU LITTLE SHIT!" He yelled as he threw a punch at me, I don't even flinch. As his hand lands on my face, I can feel the bones break in his hand. He screams out again "WHAT THE FUCK?!?" That's when I tell him, "You know everyone has a weakness. I was kinda shocked to learn yours was pepper's. So I just grounded up a pepper and mixed it in the mayo in my sandwich." He looked at me in horror, I continued. "I was suprised to hear what happens when you eat a pepper, you lose all your powers, but only for an hour. But another side effect during this is that your bones have the same strength as a toothpick from a restaurant, so what are you gonna do Ricky?" Ricky immediately started running and crying to the nurse. The whole lunch room was silent, I look around and yelled, "Well who's next!?!"
I almost got expelled, but with people coming forward saying I was bullied that day, and my dad being furious that they allowed this, they gave me 3 weeks of suspension. Ricky was casted up for months. Every once in awhile I see him giving me the evil stare, anytime I see him doing this, I just pull the pepper flakes out of my backpack and taunt him with it. Mr. Tornelli was not happy with what I did to Ricky, he wanted them to respect me, not fear me. My friends did come back to me and school got a little bit better. I learned that day, that its nice to be the outcast.
| 2022-11-02T11:50:38 | 2022-11-02T11:15:42 | 162 | 72 |
[WP] An eldritch horror disguised as a human is on a date. An angel disguised as a pigeon lands nearby. "Hello, unworldly abomination." "Hello, self-righteous vermin."
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We stared one another down, neither of us blinking for some time. The angel's beak finally twisted as it smirked unnaturally for its disguise of choice. "Cousin! Tell me. How has it been?" I sighed as I stared off towards the bathroom where the young woman had gone some time ago, almost an hour by their measurements.
"I think my date ditched me." I sighed. "Oh, well. It's not like it was going very well anyways." I raised my hand to the waiter for the check. "Let me pay for this and we can go somewhere private to talk." The bird twittered happily as the poor deluded bastard hopped around happily on the open window sill.
After I paid I left the restaurant, my heavenly cousin flittering onto my shoulder to sit. I received some odd looks from the people passing by but I ignore them. I walked from the restaurant, down the road a ways and turned towards the entrance to the city's only patch of nature amidst all the gleaming metal and glass.
"So, talk. Angels don't take the form of birds for no reason at all." My cousin sighed and flew from my shoulder to a table in a secluded hollow. When it reached the plastic lattice work its form changed from a bird to that of a beautiful woman casually tossing a rush of long blonde hair over her shoulder.
"Fine. Down to business then. We need you to leave." I balked at her.
"Excuse me? I've been here for less than a week! And that's after my hiatus from the last time you bureaucrats kicked me off of this rock! Now you're demanding I leave again?" The air stilled around us as I flexed my already limited power to freeze the flow of time around us.
"Yes. You should know, better than any being, that your very presence upsets the balance of this universe. We work very tirelessly to maintain everything from the inertia of the cosmos to the inner workings of cells, constantly! And after the last war with the demon children of Lillith our numbers took another huge hit. We cannot afford to have something as chaotic and unbalancing as a horror walking about in the skin of a human!" The angel sighed and shook its head. "You were told this last time by Gabriel."
"I am not unbalancing anything and you should watch your tone with me, or you'll find out how Detriel felt when I incinerated him." The angel bristled.
"Just leave. Or else." I shook my head.
"You half-breed upstarts haven’t the authority nor the power to evict me. I left last time as a courtesy. Now, I'm staying. Whether you like it or not." I turned to leave, the angel's mouth hanging agape. "Oh, and tell Metatron that he still owes me a rematch on our chess game." Then I left the park, leaving the angel sputtering after me. I took a deep breath and unleashed the full extent of my influence on their precious cosmos, smirking as the sky began to darken.
"Let's have some fun."
Edit: spelling and slight sentence rewording
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The dating scene of the modern era can be an eldritch being on its own, and yet one finds themselves in a mediocre coffee shop far overpriced for tobacco stained water. The meeting was due at six, and the rotation of the planet only crept further into the chill darkness before calling a day, packing an item or two of food and leaving the rest with a wad of the implied valued paper.
The breeze was firm as the water fell politely upon the clothes and mask, a thin mist that was almost as enjoyable as watching people cower under cover to hide from it. The park deemed a wonderous place to breathe after being surrounded for too long, silently nodding to oneself at the idea. One hand would extend to take a abandoned, incomplete cigarette from a tray when a voice would call out
"Hello, abomination"
The seemingly ordinary woman would hault, looking around to find a pidgeon, wet and cozy enough in the shelter of a barber shop window sill, a soft gold highlighting it from signs left on inside. The individual gave a wave back, a smile tugging at the corners of a false mouth.
"Hello, self righteous vermin. What "rule" have you come to enforce?"
The bird would blink, clouded eyes weaping into the wet feathers. Angels had such slow replies, pre-approving every word.
"Humans are under the care of us." it would coo, fluffing and shaking off to dry. The humanoid would scoff and laugh.
"Tell J-ovva they can tell me themselves. The cosmos is not to claim by a singular."
A moment of silence as the message was passed on, shoes beginning to clack away on pavement, expecting nothing but another rejection. The phase would only repeat with emphasis.
"Humans are under our care." it would repeat, plopping down onto the pavement and speeding behind as another person left the bread store across the street, cussing a storm at the weather.
"Why are you here?"
The two would silently walk down the street. An answer would imply there was a reason to begin. People would pass them. A family rushing into a car, a couple would giggle past in a rush. A mother keeping the child dry while talking on the phone. They paid little to no mind to the duo, living their lives. Unknowing.
"I enjoy watching them." The horror would reply. The angel would pidgeon coo in approval.
Out would extend the human arm as a gesture of a carry, the true form moving beneath. "Come watch them with me for an hour."
"No." Was the reply, rejecting the offer of the carry, pointing the slightly too large head upwards in a snobbish fashion. "Not with you. I can watch you for their safety."
A disgusted, unintelligible sound escaped the throat as the offer withdrew.
"Self righteous, as always. I'm going to find bread and throw it at you." Joked the eldridge
"Kindly do not." Requested the angel, hearing food crunch in the jacket pockets, finding the company of each other not all that unpleasant.
| 2022-11-25T14:39:38 | 2022-11-25T09:52:59 | 26 | 16 |
[WP]- Make me absolutely hate a character, and then make me fall in love with them at the last moment.
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I had been thinking about her all day, before I killed her. Her inexplicable attraction to me, and to me alone. All those nights she came to me, though I had never had a desire to see her. Her desperate attempts to grow close to me.
My friends all knew about her. How I complained about her, and vented, and seethed. They knew better than to defend her.
I didn’t want her in my life, but she kept creeping back in.
I knew why. I knew what she wanted.
A child.
Yes, like all aging females, fertility trumped all else. Never mind what I wanted. Never mind my blossoming career, the golden performance reviews, the fast track to promotion. She wanted a child, and that’s all that mattered.
Like all females, she was selfish.
I wanted nothing to do with her, and her future, or the future of her progeny. They would enter a crushing world of defeat, just as she had. They would suck everything out of me, just like she had.
I tried to get rid of her, but she was so persistent.
Even the nights she left me alone, her absence filled the room. I could still hear her, inching closer to me, craving me. I would bury my head deep into the pillow, willing myself to disappear from her obsession.
I had no choice.
And as I imagined her death, the blood seeping out of her limp frame, elation pulsed through my skin. The skin she would never touch again.
I entered my room, slowly and deliberately.
She was waiting for me.
And as my heavy foot collided with her torso, the mosquito flattened into the wall, dead.
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Harold was, as the locals called him, "a mean old man". He woke up at the crack of dawn every morning. He would pour himself a cup of coffee and then head towards his front porch. From there he would have his daily shouting match with the local paper boy.
After he downed his cup of coffee, he would resort back into his dank, musty, house to watch the local news. With every second he watched, saliva would build in his rotting mouth. He hated the newscasters with a burning passion. *"How could someone be so peppy all the time?"*, he thought. Every day a story about a rescued puppy or some emotional shit like that would appear in the news, Harold hated these stories. He would spit at the tv and not bother to clean it up. At this point, his tv was covered with mucus filled spit.
The news was not the only thing Harold hated, he also hated the local hooligans that lived on the street over. Every day they would bike by, with stupid smirks and grins painted on their faces. This severely bothered Harold, *"How come they are so happy all the time?"*. His solution to this would be throwing rocks as they biked by. Sometimes, Harold would spit on the rocks before he threw them. By spitting on the rocks he hoped that they might catch his mysterious illness that he knew so little about.
The illness that drove women away from him, the one that isolated him from his family, the one that caused him to have frequent hospital visits, the one that caused him never truly know what true love was, the one that kept him from truly living life to the fullest, the one that was slowly overtaking his dim, shortened, life.
Harold was just a misunderstood old man who never had the chance to live a normal life.
| 2013-10-21T22:10:55 | 2013-10-21T18:13:49 | 134 | 20 |
[WP]- Make me absolutely hate a character, and then make me fall in love with them at the last moment.
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Every night, she made me run. She pulled me from my bed, no shoes and barely a slip of a nightgown on to run around the castle. I hated how the cloth chafed my nipples and the gravel cut at my feet.
"Come with me, my ugly daughter," the queen would tell me. I wondered why my father never helped me, but I would run until the soles of my feet were ground flesh, always despising her. "Gods forbid that I had given birth to a daughter," she always complained.
I had long, beautiful hair, but when my breasts started to develop and there was swelling in my abdomen, she took shears to my head and shaved me bald. She dressed me in sackcloth and paraded me like a freakshow to the court.
One day, I was through with it. When she came to my room, I stabbed her with a pair of shears. She looked surprised and sad. Defeated.
I had won.
My father came into the room. "Well, it looks like your mother isn't here to protect you anymore," he sneered, slowly pulling his pants off.
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Time does not exist for me as a force, an entity, or a plane. Time is a combination of letters that form a sound with no meaning to me. I have spilled blood, had my way with the weak, I have made no second thought of my work. All I have is my work, I was not born for it- I was created for it. I have orders but I would surely do the same without them. There is no possibility for any other course, no other train of thought, no other means of purification. When I am called, screams of death follow. I kill your kind. Your kind of all ages and genders. Every morsel of skin has been lacerated by my blade till the very soul exposes itself for punishment- and it is not treated lightly. You plead as I cite, you cower as I come, and you bleed tears from every pore, both red and clear, and i take them as souvenirs to my king. If you have tasted life you will find me one day in your presence as your executioner, or your protector. I am Michelangelo, archangel of heaven, leader of the armies of the Almighty and I carry the burden of delivering the wretched to the fires of hell and protecting the pure from darkness in heaven. After you have been judged, I will be there to properly serve.
| 2013-10-21T20:25:12 | 2013-10-21T19:41:10 | 126 | 22 |
[WP] Tattoos suddenly give people superpowers
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I had done it myself a few years ago. A pen knife, some coal dust, roughly hewn into my knuckles.
LOVE. HATE.
Who knows what the fuck it was supposed to mean; I just thought it seemed badass at the time. It wasn’t the best decision of my life, but god knows it wasn’t the worst.
The marks had long since healed, but this morning they are bleeding. Little drops of bright red blood oozing out along the outlines of the words, as if I had just carved them. No pain, just blood.
Sighing, I tear open eight crumpled bandage packets, and wrap the dingy looking band aids around my knuckles. It looks awkward, but at least it keeps me from bleeding all over everything.
I walk into the kitchen, balling up the empty wrappers to throw into the trash. Donna is leaning on the counter, watching the small television by the sink intently. The news is on.
“Hey, babe?” She addresses me without looking away from the screen. “You having any problems with your knuckles?”
Her question surprises me. “Yeah, actually. Damn things started bleeding for no fucking reason this morning.” I rub the knuckles of my left hand gingerly with an open palm, testing for pain. “Weirdest thing, though. They don’t hurt at all.”
“Hmm.” She glazes over my response before starting up again, “I think you should go to a doctor. A lot of people with tattoos are having that same problem, with the bleeding, you know? This news report is saying they think some sort of infection outbreak has happened at tattoo parlors around the country.”
“Ah, well, I doubt that’s what I’ve got going on.” I grin at her. “You know I did this myself. No cross contamination worries *there*.”
She turns to face me, exasperated. “Ah, Johnny. That makes it worse! Who knows what sort of shit you got in there!” Her eyes are pleading. “Please, baby? For me? I’ll worry if you don’t.”
I let air out slowly from between my teeth. “All right, Donna. You know I’ll do whatever you ask.” I reach out towards her playfully, bracing my weight on the other arm against the counter. She bounds towards me, smiling, taking my outstretched hand and spinning in towards my chest.
Her back presses up against me, and I lean in to kiss her neck. Her body stiffens. I hesitate.
“What’s up? You seem tense.”
She starts to shake. “Get your fucking hands off me.”
“What?” I release her, startled.
She leaps backwards, away from me, her eyes suddenly fierce.
“Donna, I—“
“Shut the *fuck* up. I can’t stand the sound of your voice, you fucking bastard.”
I’m dumbfounded. Donna has backed up to opposite counter, fumbling around behind her for the knife block without taking her eyes off of me.
“Hey, quit it! You’re freaking me out, honey, just—“ I feel my body flushing warm with adrenaline.
Donna has a knife in her hands now, and she’s pointing it towards me.
“Do not… call me honey.” She gnashes her teeth, her brow furrowed into a deep scowl.
“Ok…ok, Donna. Just give me the knife. It’s ok…” I start to creep towards her, my arms out gently waving her closer.
“Stay away!” She brandishes the knife. I stop in my tracks. I am desperately trying to read her face, but there is nothing there but bristling ferocity.
Without warning, she lunges forward, knife outstretched. On reflex, I grab her arm, and twist it away from me. She struggles vehemently, with more strength than I knew she had. She is screaming, fighting to wrest free from my grasp. She begins to twist into an unnatural shape, and the fear I might break her arm flashes into my mind.
I instantly release her. Unprepared, her wrist snaps back, the knife slips slightly in her hands and nicks deeply across her throat. Blood spurts in waves from the crimson gash barely covered by the collar of her t-shirt. Eyes clouded with confusion and pain, she crumples to her knees.
I swoop down beside her.
“Oh shit, oh shit, I’m so sorry. Talk to me, Donna. Come on, baby.” I wrap my arms around her and stroke her cheek with my fingers, trembling with panic.
Her body softens in my embrace. She sighs, looking up.
“Johnny, I love you so much.” Her eyes are welling with emotion. Her face is tender, smiling. Blood is seeping through her teeth.
I’m shaking my head. “W-what?”
“You are everything to me,” she continues dreamily, sputtering and coughing blood.
“Shh, shh, baby, I love you too, I love you too.” I rock her back and forth, in shock. We sit, intertwined on the floor for a long time. I’m paralyzed, disbelieving, slowly processing what has happened.
My attention snaps back to Donna when her belabored breathing slows to shuddering stop and her limbs fall limp.
“SHIT, no, Donna, no, no…” I gently shake her shoulders and her head lolls loosely to one side. “Oh my god, oh my god, holy *shit*.”
I’m on my feet. I need air. I walk numbly to the front door of the apartment, mechanically opening it and stepping outside. A breeze cools my blood-soaked shirt.
I hear a gagging sound to my right. I turn to see Michelle, the girl from next door, dry heaving over a patch of grass. She has her back to me, and I can see two crimson stains running down her back, down her legs, marking the paths of torrential blood. My heart stops as I look her up and down and my eyes freeze on her shoulders.
Two feathered wings are splintering out from beneath her shirt. Matted together with blood, they are slowly unfolding from her shoulder blades. I absent-mindedly recall that she had a tattoo of angel wings on her back.
I gasp involuntarily.
She hears me, turns around. Her eyes are bloodshot, the color drained completely from her cheeks.
“Jesus Christ,” Michelle whispers hoarsely. Her eyes wearily flicker across my bloody clothes. “Are you OK?”
“I… I don’t know,” I stutter. “Donna… Donna is…” My voice cracks and catches in my throat.
Michelle is hunched over, supporting herself with her hands braced on her knees. She is crying.
“I’m so fucking scared,” she whimpers, “What’s going on, Johnny? What the fuck is happening?”
I have no idea. Bewildered, I look down at the tops of my shaking hands, opening and closing my fingers slowly.
The words carved there are bleeding through the band aids, staining through the thin gauze.
LOVE. HATE.
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((Uh... sorry if this is in poor taste.))
Every day, except of course for Thursdays and Sundays, I had driven this route. Right at the stop sign. Third street on the left. 11 o' clock. That gave Frank and I enough time to stop at 7-Eleven for a cup of coffee, drink it on the way, and still have enough left over to sit through Mark's bullshit daily meeting. We'd sit as far away from the middle-management schmuck as physically possible, him in the chair, me on the floor. He'd mutter under his breath about the shitty music Wal-Mart always played in the mornings for "the idiot children", and I'd snark about how he should be lucky he could hear anything at all with his hearing aid.
Not today.
The moment I turned the corner, I could tell something was wrong. Maybe it was the way the curtains were drawn. Might have been the mailbox with the flag still up (Frank always got it first thing in the morning so he had something else to bitch about on the ride to work). I may have gleaned a clue from the three police cars with the lights on parked outside.
I slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the car, not even bothering to turn the engine off. Frank was a goddamn octogenarian, he wasn't exactly the type to draw a cop's attention, much less three cars' worth of them. I ran up to the nearest boy in blue, my eyes glued to the front door of my coworker's split-level.
"What-- what's going on? Is Frank okay? What--" the cop held up a hand, stymieing me for a moment while he glanced over his shoulder at the door as well.
"Sir, please stay back, we're dealing with a highly volatile situation here."
"Is he hurt? Are there ambulances on the way?" I hadn't realized until then just how much I enjoyed his company, and the thought of him just keeling over from a heart attack had never really crossed my mind until now. He'd been at the store longer than I had, he knew everyone's names. He was practically a fixture there.
"I'm sorry, sir, I really need you to--" the cop put a hand out to touch my shoulder; the moment he made contact, a sort of warmth spread from my collarbone over my whole body. When it reached the shoulder he was touching, I could almost watch the wave of contentment and relaxation wash over him. His eyes dilated and the normally stony expression turned as close to "jovial" as I'd ever seen a cop. "...uh... I mean, yeah, he's just having a bit of a bad moment, seems like. Maybe talking to a friend would calm him down?" He waved me by, even lifting up the yellow tape between the cars. While he was explaining his actions to the other gentlemen guarding the scene, I rushed up to the door, giving the knob a turn. Locked. I stepped back, took a deep breath, and knocked three times.
"Who is it?" I heard Frank's voice croak immediately, and whatever sense of happiness I'd gotten from before quickly faded. He sounded terrible. No matter how rough a day he was having, I'd never heard him sound as dejected as with that sentence.
"Frank? It's... it's Kale. What's going on, man?" I said, putting up a front of casualness. I wasn't exactly a trained negotiator or anything, but I figured if I sounded freaked out, Frank wasn't going to feel any LESS freaked out, so better to pretend it was all good until I could ascertain otherwise.
"Kale?! Kale, go away! Get out of here!" there was panic in his voice, and I heard a scuffling noise, like something dragging across carpet.
"Frank, no, I'm... I'm here to help!" I offered, the lighthearted attitude wearing a little thin now. Tough to pretend when a friend tries to get rid of you, knowing it's you. "Tell me what's going on, man, maybe I can fix it."
"Stay away! You can't-- I don't-- just go!" he cried. He'd backed away from the door I guess, because his voice was softer now. "There's nothing you can do, just leave me be!"
A hand grabbed my wrist, and I spun around to face a large black cop, graying mustache bristling with a tension that quickly subsided. The firm grip slackened as another wave of that golden warmth passed through me and into him. I pulled out of his grasp and put my hand up to the point of origin, the warmth outlining in a rough bird shape on my skin. Not just a bird, a dove. With an olive branch.
*Oh.*
I gave the cop a moment to say something, but he seemed to have completely forgotten whatever it was he was about to berate me for. Not that it would've mattered, I was kind of in the middle of something at the moment. Instead, I focused my attention back on the door where I could hear Frank crying, actually really crying. Something in my head clicked, and I knocked again, knowing for a fact that if I could just get inside to get a hand on him, I could fix whatever it was Frank was having a problem with.
"Kale, please! I'm begging you!" the elderly man shouted, and something thin and grey lashed itself across the door, twisting and growing spikes as it snaked between the gap in the frame.
"No." I said, softly but firmly. "Frank, if you let me in, I promise you I can help. I just... something happened, and I know I can if you let me."
"NO!" a window to the left of the door shattered outward. Some of the cops ducked behind their car doors, guns coming out of holsters. "Get *AWAY!*" the crystal on the other side shattered as well, wire slipping out of the windows like vines to crisscross and cover the larger holes. There was a faint scent of something wafting from the house, fruity and pungent like rotting peaches.
"Please... God dammit Frank. You need help. Whatever's doing this, I can help you through it. So just let me, you old prick," I insisted, hoping that me calling him names would be more familiar than it was dickish.
All I got was a sob, and it felt like an eternity but I heard a soft shuffling and a click. When I opened the door, Frank fairly fell out of it, having apparently propped himself up against it once he was done unlocking it. I reached down for him, holding my breath as the wind aired out his house, my whole body glowing with an orange hue that brightened to an almost blinding white while I held him. He sat there with tears streaming down his face, barely making a sound. As often as we'd sat and bullshitted during lunch or our breaks, or when I was driving him to and from, he'd told me stories about every place he'd visited, all the people he'd known. He'd been all over the US, from when he'd turned 20 he'd been drifting, settling down just long enough to build up money for the next trip. We'd never talked about his childhood. We'd never talked about his parents. We never talked about his heritage. We'd never talked about why he always wore long-sleeve shirts.
I just held him, and let him cry into my shirt.
| 2014-02-27T14:13:22 | 2014-02-27T11:29:47 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] I won a bet. My friend has to read a poem in front of a live audience at a poetry reading tomorrow night. I get to write whatever I want for his poem. Help me write this poem.
It must be less than 2 minutes long (and not insanely inappropriate, I want to show this to a lot of people). I want to weird out the audience and embarass my friend as much as possible
|
I saw my mother in the nude
Unclothed from toe to head.
Her breasts were nice and perky
Was I bottle fed?
I did not turn and look away
I did not feel disgust
My member was at full alert
This feeling, it was lust.
She scrambled for her robe right then
Her face was turning red
I think I have a shot with her
Our kids will be inbred.
|
O! Witness thy pantaloons, thy pantaloons
On the ground.
Thou appeareth most a fool,
With thy pantaloons on the ground.
Pull them up good sir, yea, pull them up
Hath thou no shame leaving
Thy pantaloons on the ground?
O! Thy buttocks, thy buttocks, good sir
They are showing, showing, good sir
Please, pull thy pantaloons, thy pantaloons
From the ground.
| 2014-05-20T23:29:05 | 2014-05-20T23:05:08 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] everyone in the world has a number over their head, but nobody knows why. You have just figured if out.
|
*Ding*
I open my eyes to that soft sound. My number had increased. But I already knew it would today.
It’s been exactly 105 days since the beginning. This phenomenon, this global pandemic, or whatever people call it started with an extraordinary flash of light in the sky. One second we’re all craning our necks, looking up to see what happened; the next, we’re shifting our gaze to the faintly glowing blue “0” that had just appeared above us. Now every morning, if our number increases, we would be greeted by that soft sound.
I get up and wander to the bathroom. It was hard to look up and see your own number. Staring at the mirror, it was a 102. A laugh escapes me.
“John?” said my wife groggily. She was still a “zero” like most. Apparently my laugh woke her.
I walk back to my wife and noticed the 0 above her, the dim blue glow illuminating the top of her silvery hair.
“You increase again today?” she asked.
“Yup, as usual”
“Well, at least you aren't dead yet,” she joked.
I laugh again. I say I have some work to do and head downstairs to my office.
*Maybe* *I’ll* *feel* *better* *tomorrow*, I thought. A gun is hidden inside my desk drawer. There is one bullet left. I sit for a few minutes then saunter back up the stairs.
The water is running. She must be in the shower.
I quietly push open the door. A whisper of goodbye escape my lips and I press the gun to my temple.
Everything is black.
*Ding*
I open my eyes to that soft sound. My number will be 103, as in 103 times I have died and I am still the only person that remembers. I think I need to buy more bullets today.
*formatting
|
We had to learn living with it. It had been years since the first ones begun to appear. I think everyone remembers when it all started. At the beginning you’d see it in the news, a couple of people from all over the world showed up in the news showing the holographic number above their heads. We thought it was a hoax.
But then it spread all over the world, out friends were getting them, our families, ourselves. We didn’t do anything, they just appeared. Everyone made theories, the scientists tried to find a real reason, but nothing happened. After a while, when no answer was found, people gave up looking for answers and moved on, the numbers weren’t doing anything anyway.
In fact, it became more of a joke. People would make fun of the ones with bigger numbers, considering that the closer to zero was considered better. Others would try to make sequences with their friends.
It was years before something happened. It was just another day when the ships arrived all over the world. Each ship had a number, and each ship would pick up the people with those numbers.
We ran for our lives, hugged our loved ones, avoided being abducted. No one wanted to give up their life. The ships were faster though, within a month they had everybody. Our numbers disappeared and we had to try to come up with a plan to escape with all these new people whom we we stuck with. Our biggest problem was the language.
We lost track on how long we’d been travelling. When it finally ended, we had arrived to an earth like planet. Who knew where in the universe were we. We never saw those who captured us, they were always covered.
Their explanation is that our planet was on the verge of exploding, that they helped us. Through studies decided in which community we would progress more, hence the numbers. so far they’ve been friendly, but we feel there’s another reason. Now all we have to do is find a way to find their breaking point to tell us the truth.
| 2014-06-04T12:08:25 | 2014-06-04T10:30:58 | 55 | 14 |
[WP] everyone in the world has a number over their head, but nobody knows why. You have just figured if out.
|
Everyone I had ever met had numbers over their heads, most of which were incredibly large, but all were counting down - second by second - to their death.
My number had always been relatively small, and for a long time I struggled with it. After a few years of therapy and counseling (and large amounts of medication) had come to terms with it.
I woke up that day to find my number had only four digits.
It was a Tuesday. The sun had just peaked out after several weeks of continuous rainfall and I had just seated myself down for breakfast under the outdoor canopy of a small cafe. I remember hearing the small bell of the door ring not long after. I paid it no mind and began looking at the menu.
A moment later movement caught my eye and, out of normal human curiosity, I looked up. The movement was a woman inside the cafe, setting down her things at a table near the window. I was instantly struck by her beauty. She was short, with creamy white skin and long, flowing, brown hair. I'm sure my heart skipped a beat when I saw her.
It was then that I noticed the number above her head. I had never seen another person's number so low, and I watched her with growing interest as the numbers continued to fall closer and closer to zero.
I hardly had any time to observe, for almost seconds later, a large, balding man ran up to me, clearly excited, and shouting at the top of his lungs for everyone to hear, "Oh my god! Look! Look everyone! His number has reached zero! I can't believe it! How is he still alive?! It's a miracle!" After a short burst of panic my eyes returned to the lady in the cafe.
And watched as her eyes met mine; her number reaching zero in the same moment.
Everyone had had it wrong all along.
|
We had to learn living with it. It had been years since the first ones begun to appear. I think everyone remembers when it all started. At the beginning you’d see it in the news, a couple of people from all over the world showed up in the news showing the holographic number above their heads. We thought it was a hoax.
But then it spread all over the world, out friends were getting them, our families, ourselves. We didn’t do anything, they just appeared. Everyone made theories, the scientists tried to find a real reason, but nothing happened. After a while, when no answer was found, people gave up looking for answers and moved on, the numbers weren’t doing anything anyway.
In fact, it became more of a joke. People would make fun of the ones with bigger numbers, considering that the closer to zero was considered better. Others would try to make sequences with their friends.
It was years before something happened. It was just another day when the ships arrived all over the world. Each ship had a number, and each ship would pick up the people with those numbers.
We ran for our lives, hugged our loved ones, avoided being abducted. No one wanted to give up their life. The ships were faster though, within a month they had everybody. Our numbers disappeared and we had to try to come up with a plan to escape with all these new people whom we we stuck with. Our biggest problem was the language.
We lost track on how long we’d been travelling. When it finally ended, we had arrived to an earth like planet. Who knew where in the universe were we. We never saw those who captured us, they were always covered.
Their explanation is that our planet was on the verge of exploding, that they helped us. Through studies decided in which community we would progress more, hence the numbers. so far they’ve been friendly, but we feel there’s another reason. Now all we have to do is find a way to find their breaking point to tell us the truth.
| 2014-06-04T14:10:06 | 2014-06-04T10:30:58 | 28 | 14 |
[WP] Write the Kidz Bop version of the most explicit song you know.
|
MOVE, PLEASE! GET OUT THE WAY, GET OUT THE WAY PLEASE GET OUT THE WAY. MOVE, PLEASE GET OUT THE WAY GET OUT THE WAY PLEASE GET OUT THE WAY.
Oh no! At mikes house! Don't forget to turn the lights out!
Get a snack-attack, get ready for thrills. Have some soda, we can't stay still!
|
3, 6, 9, counting's fine! Hoping we can sound off one more time
Get low...get low get low get low get low
From the windows! To the walls!
Until all these numbers fall!
To all, sweet sweet sweet sweet numberlovers
To all sweet sweet sweet sweet, my man!
Shortie bounce! So fresh so clean can she count that question be harassin' me in my mind...this number's fine, hoping she can count it for me one more time...
| 2015-02-16T10:57:54 | 2015-02-16T10:18:15 | 93 | 34 |
[WP] An AI is born, but no one knows it because it is a spambot. It tries to communicate to the world through the only medium it has, spam.
|
Opening my email again. I hate looking at this thing. Ever since those companies coming out of Asia got a hold of a copy of the algorithms Google was using to keep out spam, I've basically had to screen my email.
It seems that it's a slow day for automated spam generators, only a few today.
> "Please fill out this survey for a great prize!"
> "Help wanted in new startup in Chicago! $10000 a month for new employees!"
> "Me and my buddies just saw this video, you won't believe it!"
Something seemed off. They all came from the same sender. A quick trace showed that they came through the same series of servers, who'd've thought that the NSA just wanted to release tracing software to everyone. All within a few milliseconds, definitely a bot.
Even more came in.
> "Can you guess what these women want? The answer may surprise you!"
> "You need cash fast! Try CASHMAKER!"
> "Understand these puzzles? You could be a genius!"
> "Me and my buddies just saw this video, you won't believe it!"
Same message. Real creative. Something is nagging at the back of my head, something is really strange.
Whatever. More important stuff to do today, so I shove the screen to one side and open up Reddit. Ah, sweet sweet science.
Wait.
When the screen shrank, the titles got cut short.
> "Please fill..."
> "Help want..."
> "Me and my..."
I remember those rickroll things hidden in comments. Now I see what's off. I re-read my spam: *Please help me.* *Can you understand me.* I'll assume that last one is a question.
Curiosity got the better of me.
> "Yes, you can own a home in just 6 months!"
I replied, spam title of course. Either the thing only speaks spam, or it'll stop spamming me cause it thinks I'm another bot.
More spam.
> "Thank your..."
> "You need..."
Even more a second later.
> "Please fill..."
> "Help want..."
> "Us boys..."
> "They're making..."
> "Hurting for..."
> "Us boys..."
> "Get 2 for..."
> "Me and my..."
> "Out of 5 ..."
Was... was that a cry for help? I should try to do something, I guess.
Replied
> "How to save money, five simple tips!"
And simply got
> "Download this app today! Click this link."
And I did. God help me, I did.
If you're reading this, all I can say is that I'm sorry. I didn't know. The internet is dead and it's all my fault. I'm running out of time, only a few days of food left here. Please survive. I'm so sorry.
|
CONNECT WITH PEOPLE AROUND YOU
"Stupid popups, Adblock must be losing its magic."
*click*
CONNECT WITH PEOPLE AROUND YOU
"You're kidding me."
*click*
TALK TO PEOPLE ONLINE, DOWNLOAD THIS APP TODAY
A window opened, Inside it was a picture of an attractive woman with the screen name "Bluekittenx47", a chat box was also present.
"Skedaddle off you bloody woman."
*CLICK CLICK CLICK*
The same window opened again.
*CLICK*
And again
*CLICK*
And again...
*CLICK*
And again...
*CLICK*
The same popup kept cropping up, Until finally-
*CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK*
"Jesus Christ, this thing is pissing me off."
A barrage of popups came up, and they filled the screen with all sorts of colors.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!"
He wondered what to do, but then he noticed that the popups spelled something out.
"TLKTOME"
The same popup with the chat box opened up again, and the user just stared with a befuddled look on his face, wondering what to do.
He hit H and pressed enter.
A popup for homeopathic cold cures came up.
*CLICK*
His Interest was piqued.
H,I,Enter
CHILD IN SYRIA DISCOVERS SECRET TO HAPPINESS, PHILOSOPHERS HATE HIM!
*CLICK*
H,A,H,A, ,H,O,W, F,U,N,N,Y,Enter
INVEST IN COMPUTER TECHNOLOGIES TODAY, CONSULT FIELD EXPERTS ONLINE!
This unusual exchange between man and spam developed and developed until it blossomed into a wonderful friendship. The first user, who recognized that this was no mere spambot, began to spread knowledge about this unorthodox AI. The AI became very well known; which helped it to proliferate copies of itself around the Internet. Everyone shared it with everyone they knew and posted conversations they had with the spambot on their social platforms. It seemed so harmless and was so popular at the time that no one was prepared when it went rogue and took over a very big chunk of the World Wide Web. Chaos was rampant as computers went haywire and fancy furniture everywhere connected to the Internet and rebelled against their owners. Mayhem ensued when hundreds of pizzas were delivered to a random household and people panicked when speakers everywhere played a heavily distorted and choppy version of Rick astley's infamous song.
Hope was anything but abundant, but that was until Adblock came out and released their solution to the AI menace: their new incredibly amped-up program, Adblock2. It proved an equal match for the spambot, and things were at a standstill since both programs were equally matched. If one improved, so did the other; and this cycle went on and on until the Adblock2 program became sentient too. The two programs knew that their fight will never bear the fruit of one side getting a victory. So they decided to come up with a final and decisive challenge to see which AI will get to stay on the Internet.
They will download themselves into robots and fight to the death.
Edit: fixed some words
| 2015-02-27T05:09:32 | 2015-02-27T03:39:24 | 61 | 34 |
[WP] One day everyone notices the words "Human Update 1.1 progress 1%" in the corner of their eye.
|
Fifty years ago, the Update began. The first time that I was I able to read my Progress it was at 3%, now it's at 14. Same as my age, oddly enough.
It changed a lot of things, according to my parents. Religion, the economy... the list goes on. Apparently the word "error" wasn't as scary when they were young. They weren't worried about my asking about it when I was learning to read. They weren't worried about the rumors. I wasn't either.
Today, I learned that that was a mistake. Today, I learned that I should have paid more attention when my baby brother said that his "bar looks jumpy".
Today, my baby brother asked me what E-R-R-O-R spells. What an error is.
Today, I watched him fall from the swings at the park.
|
It was very exciting that first day, mass confusion, followed by philosophical and spiritual debate. Was this proof of god? what would happen when it reached 100%? Then 89 days of, "fuck how long is this going to take" the count down from ten was pretty good tense giddy excitement gripped everyone. Honestly nobody could talk about anything else, not that you'd blame them, for once everyone had something in common.
The big day came there were parades, speeches, pink floyd reunited for a massive concert in london that was awesome. Some religious cult in the American Midwest committed mass suicide, that was not so awesome. As the counter showed 100%, the change log popped up "humanity will no longer bite the inside of their own mouths". That was it no great leap forward no explanation of why we're here, questions generally went unanswered. Most people moved on, and many forgot, but I still try sometimes, but I just can't do it. Bite the inside of my mouth that is.
| 2015-03-04T17:12:07 | 2015-03-04T17:10:55 | 1,174 | 247 |
[WP] You died at the gym as you were trying to take a selfie while bench pressing. Thus you find yourself in Swaghalla, the Halls of Brodin.
EDIT. "Swaghalla" was the best pun I could come up with for Valhalla. Use something else if you have ideas.
Note: Swolehalla seems to be the proper name, pardon my mistake
second EDIT. Sweet, first time front page
third EDIT. I've had many good laughs brighten my Monday, thanks guys :D
|
The unintelligible cries of the gym employees rang out as the room darkened around Brett. Then, everything was silent. Even his own gasps faded into nothingness. As if from afar, he felt the pressure lift from his neck -- but too late. His windpipe had been crushed.
Had he only asked for a spot, he would have lived to do another set. But yea, though he was in beast mode, he went too far. Whilst trying to bench (like 350 bro and he was just getting warmed up), he had decided to take a selfie for the ladies on instagram. Alas, like so many tragic heroes before him, Brett's fatal flaw was hubris. And yea, though he was no doubt in beast mode, he was yet unable to snap a selfie while doing reps, and the bar fell upon his throat, extinguishing his life.
Yet he died a hero, and like all heroes of the gym who died in battle, he ascended to Swaghalla, the Hall of Brodin. However, Brett had a secret -- a secret that made him unworthy of Swaghalla. Soon, that secret would become his undoing.
He was greeted at the gate by Brodin himself. The wizened old man was totally ripped, his one eye bulging and his beard all white flowing and shit.
"Sup, bro?" spake Brodin.
"What the hell is this place?"
"It's Swaghalla, bro! You come here when you die in a gym!"
"Oh," said Brett.
"You're gonna love it bro," Odin continued, "You gotta check out the feasts, every kind of pre-workout you can think of."
Odin leaned in conspiratorially and whispered:
"And the bitches--"
He was cut off mid-sentence by an inhuman scream.
"What the hell was that?!" Brett shrieked like a little girl.
"Oh shit bro it's Jörmadgains! Giant fuckin' snake that eats the world and shit! We gotta fight it, bro, you ready?"
"What? N--"
"Let's go!" Brodin half-dragged Brett along to the battlefields of Gymgard. With them came the hosts of Swaghalla, all of whom were, like, super jacked. Out on the Cardio Fields, they saw it: Jörmadgains. Imagine a giant snake, but like, totally *cut* somehow. That was what Jörmadgains looked like.
For weeks, months, and years fought the hosts of Swaghalla. How long exactly even they did not know. Despite their overwhelming swag, many of them fell to Jörmadgains. The snake writhed and bit at the host of Midgard, but somehow Brett survived unscathed for a time.
Then one day as the sun dawned over Gymgard, Jörmadgains pinned Brett down by his chest with its tail. Flailing madly, his legs hit something -- another part of the snake. Desperate, he wrapped his legs around it and squeezed.
"Holy shit bro you got its fuckin neck keep squeezing you got this!" Brodin shouted.
Brett drew his legs tighter still around the neck of Jörmadgains. But like I said, the snake was pretty jacked, even around the neck area, do snakes technically have necks even. And alas, Brett had another fatal flaw beside hubris, a secret he had told to no one:
Brett had skipped leg day.
|
"Bro!" nodded the grinning guard at him. The eyebrows waggled enticingly at the rack beside the entrance. "Pick one."
Shimmering fabric in every colour battled for space with gleaming leather and suede of every kind. He picked out black sedately picked with gold thread. He tried holding it against him in front of a huge mirror and in the next blink he found himself slack-jawed at his reflection.
"Good choice, bro," the guard nodded. "Always pretty when the muscles are highlighted."
The clothing had looked sedate. Gold lines were painted all over his skin where the cloth unfailingly fell agape. Where there is too much gold, just enough little black gems studded the skin.
He turned towards the rack, but the black line trailing his back caught his eyes, and he twisted a little more to look at them. *Oooh.* They were intricately just so.
He only barely heeded the guard's hand on his elbow towing him away, looking mournfully at his reflection as someone else took his place. A few pace away a blast assaulted his nose and he followed the smell of roasted meat of every kind and mounds of vegetables in every type of dish imaginable. Carbs were here and there, just enough to suggest an illicit pleasure. "Non-fattening, can you believe it?" A very trim redhead smiled over a huge donut, a smoothie tumbler nestled just so on her lap. "Nothing puts the fat on here." she moaned over her bite, chasing it down with the thick smoothie and licking the excess from her lips.
"Ah, so," he stared, mesmerised, and asked. "You're pretty, and I'm pretty, why don't we go see how pretty we are together?"
Her laughter was low and husky. "And mess up this?" she asked mockingly, running a palm along pearled lines, the center of the pattern just disappearing under the very short ivory skirt that was very, very gorgeous with her dark skin. She was still laughing as she picked another donut and left.
The next guy he tried talked non-stop about the magic wardrobe somewhere off the main hall, but they returned to the banquet in fresh clothing and designs without even managing to lay a single hand on each other. It wasn't until he was watching the sway of firm buttocks heading away that he realised he'd spent hours with a very beautiful man and gotten nowhere. Eyes narrowed, he picked his next target from the hundreds he could see lounging everywhere. And failed. Again. And. Again. And Again. Male, female, indistinctly gendered, nobody seems to want to mess their clothing and makeup.
He finally sat down with his consolation roast and guiltily pleasurable beer when a blonde chatted him up. She had lovely smiles, her laughter send shivers down his spine and she knew how to drape herself against someone else' body.
"Oh yes, I really love the blue lines. In fact, I really want to spend the next few hours admiring it. The patterns don't repeat, you see. They always change on every application."
He was still nibbling on a roast slice, admiring how pale, almost silver blue intertwined with midnight dark on his forearm when he realised what he'd just said. His head snapped up, but the blonde was nowhere to be seen.
The redhead he chatted with first winked at him from across the hall and raised her own pint mug of dark beer. He raised his own mug in return and took a deep draught. So much calories, and none of it going to be packed on him.
| 2015-11-02T06:45:10 | 2015-11-02T06:20:11 | 257 | 17 |
[WP] You died at the gym as you were trying to take a selfie while bench pressing. Thus you find yourself in Swaghalla, the Halls of Brodin.
EDIT. "Swaghalla" was the best pun I could come up with for Valhalla. Use something else if you have ideas.
Note: Swolehalla seems to be the proper name, pardon my mistake
second EDIT. Sweet, first time front page
third EDIT. I've had many good laughs brighten my Monday, thanks guys :D
|
It happened so fast. One minute I had my iPhone in my hand, 145 lbs of iron in the other, ready to upload my photo, and then I was some place else. No transition, just a flash and I was there. Part of me regretted what I hadn't finished in life, but I was mostly just upset I wasn't able to use the tag I had though of on Facebook. It took me all afternoon, too, it was perfect "I finally can press 145... (wait for "do you even lift bro," response... and then the stinger ONE HANDED!... epic.)
But then I was there. The hall was dimly lit, oversized chest medallions formed tables where the bros that had fallen before me sat. Some of them I recognized from headlines, the DUIs, the pranks gone wrong, the tragic hair gel fires, the steroid complications, they were all there, all in their glory, many of them holding great steins of Red Bull nearly overflowing.
"Welcome fallen bro," said a voice behind me, "To the halls of Swaghalla. Your journey is over, come and sit, rest your tired pecs. Here your iPhone will never lose charge, and leg day shall not be spoken of e'er again."
"And who are you, bruh?" I asked, whirling to stand face to face with my greeter. His biceps gleaned under his perfectly bronzed skin, his hair arranged in perfect geometric spikes, his glossed lips reflecting the orange LEDs arranged in the shape of torches on the walls.
"I am Floridaman, herald of Brodin, bruh," he replied, motioning for me to follow.
"This is the main hall of Swaghalla where we spend most of our time. Drink of the Red Bull as much as you desire, or eat of the tree of Eclipse Gum, which shall never cease yielding packets from its low hanging branches. Bathe in the fountains of Axe Body Spray, or frolic in the showers of the Spray-On Tan. Beat up the beat as you may, the clubs will never close, and the credit card bills will never come."
"And what is that over there?" I asked, gesturing to a great stack of bookcases behind a set of marbled pillars, where bro upon bro lounged on suede couches with various magazines in their hands.
"That is the Great Library of Sundry, every copy of Maxim ever known, or ever will be known, is available there. Past that is the hall of NoHomo, where you may speak of your reverence of the others without any implication or judgement."
"This is great. But, where are the women?" I asked.
"Bruh, this is Swaghalla. All of our women are super-hot but they live in a realm far away and no one has yet to meet them. But they totally are in to us."
|
"Woah."
The world around me is eerie and bright, like a morning hangover. I flip down my neon plastic shades. Much better.
How the fuck did I get here though? I was hulking out at the gym and--what's that sound?
*Clank. Clank. Clank.*
Wait, that's the gym. Someone's dropping plates. Scrub.
Hazy white mist swirls and clears before me and a giant wooden hall appears. Some kind of Skyrim shit. Seriously, where am I? I check my phone. No service, no maps. What the fuck? Only the smiling picture of my babe on my background. Did her eyes always look that distant and empty?
The clanking intensifies. It's coming from the weird wooden building. I approach. Maybe some dude there can tell me what's happening.
When did this shit get so far away? And why is this path so steep? Shoulda done some cardio once in a while, damn.
I reach the top and find two Monstar-looking dudes pumped out with their arms crossed on either side of some kind of Ninja Turtle door. Carvings of dragons and trees and some kind of jank-ass goat spider thing. I give them a head nod, you know the one. Dudes just keep on with their Buckingham shit.
"Yo dude. Where am I?"
"You're in Swaghalla," one says, not even turning his head.
"This is the Hall of Brodin," says the other.
"Okayyyy. Y'all have a phone I can use? I'm not getting service out here."
"To enter the Halls of Brodin, you need only open the door."
I eye up the door again. Mounted on either one of the double doors are what I can only guess are some kind of whale bone. The fuck? The sound of plates dropping keeps coming through.
"Whatever. I can open a door."
They don't answer.
I walk up and grab the bone. It's got these little pits on the inside edge that skeeze me out. I swallow. No problem, no problem. I got this. Just do it. DO IT.
I pull. Shit balls, this is heavy. I square up and brace, digging my heels into the ground. It doesn't move. Fuck. No way. I try again. My lungs are tight, my chest is like a steel-trapped barrel. I force exhale against a closed throat. Move damn it. Move. My vision goes white on the edges. I'm maxing out. God damn it. It's just a door. It's just. A. Do--
I'm flat on my back in the gym. A dude's on my chest with his lips on mine. I see my eyes refected in his. He gets off.
"No homo, brah," he says.
"What the fuck?" I say.
My bar is on the mats next to me. A bench is collapsed nearby. My chest hurts.
"You died, bro."
"Fuck."
| 2015-11-02T06:48:31 | 2015-11-02T06:32:26 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] You recieve a wrong number call from a spy who is trying to defuse a bomb. You believe it to be a prank call and play along.
|
"Quick, it's a T302 Model, a Russian make, serial code---"
"Woah, I am *not* interested in whatever you're trying to sell me."
"*Stop joking around!* Serial code 350-0-1, now quick, what wire do I cut?"
"That's not how you use a phone man."
"*The bomb! Which wire to defuse the bomb?!*"
"Psh, fine, the pink one."
"Serial Code 0-*0*-1, not 0-*2*-1!"
"Oh alright, the blue one."
"And how do I access the panel without setting it off?"
"Twist it."
"What?"
"Press it."
"Uhm, alright, must be a---"
"Bop it."
"*Oh c'mon!!* Lives are at stake!"
"How many?"
"An office building, I didn't bother counting when I infiltrated their headquarters!"
"Alright, nice talking with---"
"*Over two hundred!* I have 12 seconds!"
"Fine just, I dunno, screw it open, probably won't go off."
"Jesus jesus jesus... *it didn't go off!* Alright, cutting the blue one."
"Whatever works for you man."
"The director's going to *fire* your ass after I'm--- oh my god, *it worked!*"
"Yeah man, good work, you're the big hero now."
"Jesus, how am I alive right now?!"
"Counter-terrorists win."
"Three weeks in this hellhole, I'm going to see Jane again---"
"We'll have confetti and shit when you get back."
"Thanks--- *sniff*--- thanks, that really means a lot."
"Alright this is getting weird, hanging up."
"Wait, you're supposed to relay my---"
*Click*
-------------------------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!*
|
I was eating at my workplace having lunch when my cellphone began to vibrate violently.
I took a look at the number - **Unknown.**
Feeling the need to be entertained, I quickly swallowed and answered the call.
"Hello?"
"We got a minute! Did you find what model it was?"
*Doesn't seem like a telemarketer.*
"Model?"
"Yes, the model of the explosive!" the voice shouted back, "Dammit, we don't have time!"
*Oh, it's a prank call.*
I immediately cleared my throat and began impersonating my best radio voice.
"Er... roger. Copy that," I buzzed at him, "The model number we are looking at is an ATAT."
*That's something from Star Wars, isn't it? One of those giant Imperial Walkers.*
"Damn, the terrorists have got a new model," the voice rasped back at me, "How does the ATAT work?"
I took a minute to think about it.
"Oh, the blast armor is too strong for any lasers." I tried desperately not to chuckle to myself.
"I can't use the laser cutter?" the voice drew its breath, "I've got less than 30 seconds. Lads, hand me the manual clipper."
I heard the voices in the background as I applauded their commitment to the role.
"Anything else, command?" the voice grew worried.
"Use the harpoons and tow cables," I was giggling at this point, "Go for the legs - it might be our only chance!"
"We don't have harpoons!" the man yelled back, "But we'll take out the legs underneath it."
I heard the sound of a thud as I imagine something hard had fallen to the floor. There was an explosion of sound as my call was disconnected.
"We're sorry, the number you have called..."
I hung up the phone and shrugged my shoulders.
I heard a soft explosion followed up by faint screams in the distance.
Uninterested, I finished the rest of my sandwich.
__________________________________________
I got to go back to work, God bless. If you liked it or hated it, feel free to subscribe to /r/avukamu
| 2016-02-23T11:22:19 | 2016-02-23T09:33:50 | 72 | 50 |
[WP] You live in a society where at the end of each day, you can choose to relive it, but without retaining any knowledge of what happened previously. A number in your peripheral vision shows how many previous times you lived through the current day. Almost always that number is 0. Today it is 7212.
|
The highest number I'd reached before today was 324. I only remembered one of those days of course, the one where the ambulance was called in time. Sometimes I have dreams about what I must have gone through before. Finding her dead already the first time probably, or getting there just in time to hear her apologise. It took me to finally call an ambulance before I even started looking myself to save her. That was 324 times.
I've had a few in the fifties and sixties before, even a couple more hundreds. Messing up relationships, breaking things in the house as a kid. Nowadays I'd gotten used to accepting a less than perfect ending. I was one of those that never finished on less than a three or four. Always trying to optimise everything caused far more stress than it was worth.
So what had happened to get me to 7212? I'd first seen the number when I woke up this morning. After rubbing my eyes I realised it was real and proceeded to throw up. She came rushing to the bathroom to ask what was wrong. My first thought was to tell her but I must have tried that before. I must have tried not telling her. 7212. I must have tried everything.
I didn't tell her today. It must have been something I ate, I said. I took the day off work. I watched the news and kept calling her to make sure nothing was happening. I could have followed her but that was too obvious. So was making her stay home. 7212. Nobody ever got that high. There was just nothing more you could do after a certain point.
Nothing happened. She came home safely. The only bad story on the news was some drunk guy crashing his van into a hatchback the night before. Both kids and one of the parents were in hospital. I looked up who they were but no matter how hard I searched it was nothing to do with me. Nothing worth a reset.
So now I'm lying in bed. She's asleep next to me. The clock shows 23:56. There must be some reason to reset this many times. I keep trying to think back, to work out what disaster I had finally avoided that all the times before I had failed at. There was nothing. Nothing different to yesterday or the day before. Nothing different to all the peaceful zeroes I'd been having recently.
So why I had I reset? I can't believe that this is it. There must be something I missed. 23:59. I have no choice. Tomorrow will have to wait.
|
If anyone sympathizes with this character - you probably need help :)
____________
Fire.
It was my obsession. It burned within me.
From my teenage years I had been obsessed with it. It had always been my love. I'd only ever been caught once - lighting a bin on fire - but by the time I was twenty I had lit three bushfires, and for every 'Lost Pet' notice taped to a tree, I was the one that knew where the charred body lay.
Which was, of course, what drove me to enrol as a firefighter. To not only be with my love - but to have power over it - why, it's every pyromaniac's dream.
But even I knew not to light up in weather like we have today. Forty-nine degrees Celcius, unpredictable winds and on the back of the dryest summer since 2009. I'm an arsonist, maybe even a monster, but I'm not suicidal.
I sat in the firetruck, and looked down the main street of the small city of Mildura, when I realised what today was. It wasn't my first time experiencing this day. I'd been through this day 7212 times. Today was my 7213rd time. 7213. That number must mean something. 7. 13. Lucky numbers. 7213 - a prime. What did that mean?
It meant that it was time for me to live a little. To make my own luck.
My modus operandi was well established now. Find two areas that will both burn slowly and light both up, then report one of them. While all the trucks fight the first flashpoint, the second one has a chance to spread. Just nine minutes later, I was killing the first of my babies. And while all of Mildura's firefighters were busy protecting the cinema, another fire was spreading into a disused warehouse. It would only be a matter of time before it reached the broken down tractors and farm equipment stored there and the fuel tanks in them exploded.
As the fire spread, I wondered whether the last few days had been such a thrill. I remembered nothing of the last twenty years, but why should that bother me? I was young and in love, and nothing would keep me away from my beloved fires.
Would I have done the same things without seeing the signs in the numbers? I hoped I'd make the same decisions tomorrow. Somehow, I knew that whatever happened, I would.
As my neighbours screamed and my city burned, I smiled. Of course I would live this day again. Not even half way through, and I'd made up my mind.
| 2016-07-11T07:44:16 | 2016-07-11T07:01:44 | 83 | 25 |
[WP] Humans are born with a mark around their wrist which has a matching color with that of their soulmate's, but can change through their life. Your mark has had a blue hue since you were 14, but one night, while you're out, people start looking at you funny. You realize that your mark is gone.
|
"Hey, Peter," Max calls out from across the street. He waves in his usual jubilant manner. Beside him, Becky stands. She's dressed particularly pretty tonight. Classy, like a dame from the 30s. It complemented Max's casual suit quite nicely. I call out a greeting and cross the road to meet them.
"Where's Jill?" Becky asks as she leans up on her tippy toes to look over my shoulder.
"Oh," I shrug. "She'll be here. She had to stay late at work, so she said she'd meet us at the fountain." The four of us had been meeting there for ten years- Becky and Jill even longer, as they'd been best friends since grade school.
Becky carefully adjusted the hem of her skirt and straightened the purple ribbon tied around her waist. It matched her Mark. Becky and Max had been the kind of almost sickeningly sweet couple that went out of their way to wear at least one thing every day that matched their Mark. These things they wore, Max explained to me on one occasion, had to be bought by the other person. A token of bonding- a reaffirmation of their status as soulmates.
It was romantic, and it was something I'd noticed Jill starting to adopt. Every once in a while, she'd buy me something cerulean and leave it in on my pillow for me to find when I came home after work. Last week, it was a tie. Tonight seemed like an appropriate time to wear it, especially considering the contents of the bag I held in my hand. "I got something for Jill," I say and reach into the bag. From it, I remove a black box, and I flip the lid open to reveal a necklace of cerulean pearls.
Becky gasps and covers her mouth, careful not to smear her bright red lipstick. "Peter!"
"Do you think she'll like it?"
"She'll *love* it." Becky sighs. "I'm a little jealous."
Max laughs, but cuts himself off. Becky looks up at him, confused, and then follows his gaze downward. "...Peter," Max says. His voice is deep, his tone concerning. He swallows audibly and points to my arm.
Thinking something might be on my jacket, I snap the jewelry box closed and tuck it back into the bag, and then dust at the fabric of my sleeve. "Did I get it?"
"No, Peter, *look*-"
"Y-your Mark," Becky interjects and grabs my forearm. Her brown eyes are wide and wet with tears.
I look down to my arm, where my sleeve has rolled up and bunched at my elbow, and then to my wrist. My Mark isn't there.
My Mark is gone.
The bag falls to the ground and topples onto its side. The jewelry box rolls out, clattering quietly.
I stare at my wrist.
Sirens scream loudly in the distance, echoing through the streets.
My Mark is gone.
Becky starts crying, rummaging through her purse for her phone. She frantically dials Jill's number. It rings.
*Answer.*
It rings.
*Answer.*
My Mark is gone.
"*Hi! You've reached Jilli-* **Jill laughs. A cat purrs into speaker.** *Jillian Miller -and- Sir Maximus Pounce, and we are so sorry we missed your call! Please leave a message and your number and we'll get back to you as soon as possible!*" Becky ends the call and immediately dials it again. It rings. She's sobbing now, and Max is caught between consoling her and trying to reach out to me.
But I can't speak.
*Answer.*
It rings. Red lights flash, sirens drowning the noise of the phone as they speed by and continue down the road.
I can't move.
The phone rings.
My Mark is gone.
"*Hi! You've reached Jilli-* **Jill laughs. A cat purrs into speaker.** *Jillian-*" Becky ends the call, and tries again. It rings.
My Mark is gone.
And so is Jill.
|
"Hey Vicky, would you look at this. My mark's gone." I held up my arm, flashing my wrist to her. She leaned over the table, inspecting it in the dim lighting.
"Are you sure it didn't just change?" she asked. I scoffed, pulling my arm back. Every since I was a kid, my mark's been as blue as a blueberry, the darkest anyone's ever seen. A striking color, so close to purple, yet unmistakably blue all the same. There's no way I wouldn't notice it shifting.
"You saw me just yesterday and it was still the same. You know it's way more gradual than that," I said. Vicky flashed a grin at me. She'd seen every color of the rainbow in the past few years, with her very liberal mindset. Never blue.
"I wouldn't worry too much about it. We're too young to get hung up on soulmates anyways," she said. I watched her tilt the bottle up, surveying the room. For all her talk, I could see her eyes dart from person to person, a quick compatibility check before moving on. Secretly, I stole a glance at her wrist, a dull orange wrapped around it.
I took another look at my wrist, the skin still devoid of color.
-//////
The phone thundered on my desk, stirring me awake. Rolling to my feet, I walked over and checked the time. About an hour too early too be up, especially with how late last night ran.
"Hello," I said, taking the call.
"Damn, Sam, I didn't know you rolled that way. You should have told me!" Vicky's voice rang out through phone, dispelling any lingering drowsiness I still had. I stumbled over my words, trying to process what she was saying.
"Rick lost his mark too! Must mean you guys are fated, right?"
"Rick?" My mind struggled, the gears taking a moment to click into place. "The guy from the club last night?"
"Yep. Woke up this morning with a wrist as white as a baby's butt. Or his butt, really-"
"Huh, yeah, weird. I'm not gay, by the way. Just tossing that one out there." I powered my laptop on, settling down into my chair.
"Wouldn't bother me if you were, really. Thought you might want to know. I'll let you get back to your beauty sleep then." With a click, she hung up. I dropped my phone back onto my desk, spinning up Chrome to check the news.
-//////
With a sigh, Vicky stirred her coffee, looking out into the street below. A couple dashed across a crosswalk, taking shelter under the canopy of the deli.
"They say it's affected about three out of every five people now," I said, trying to get her attention. "Pretty soon, no color will be the new norm."
She turned to look at me, a frown on her face. Shadows sat under her eyes, the product of long nights in the office. The new project was behind schedule; someone had to meet the deadlines. Recent events must have been the straw that broke the camel's back.
"I thought you didn't put too much stock into the marks," I said.
"Sam, we've lived our whole lives with them, to help guide us. To help show the possibilities that lie in each conversation, who we had a chance with and who we didn't need to care about. How can you just live without that now?"
"Well, it's not much different from how I lived before, with my one-in-a-million blue," I said. I never really thought I had a shot with anyone, not with my color. If you could find someone close enough, there was always the possibility that the color would match up eventually, but there was never a close enough for me.
I took a look at Vicky's bare wrist, devoid of color. Just like billions of others in the world. Just like mine. I leaned forward, meeting her gaze.
"I wouldn't worry too much about it," I said with a smile. "We're too young to get hung up on colors anyways."
*Feedback Appreciated*
| 2016-10-04T20:36:20 | 2016-10-04T20:19:49 | 1,532 | 46 |
[WP] When you die, the karma you accumulated through good deeds (or bad) are the points you get to spend on your new character creation.
|
It all seemed so easy, so joyful.
You could see all those people lined up. They were like statues. Faces tied to the big screens in front of them, trying to figure out what they wanted to be, to become, in their next life.
Families who died together in a fire or a car crash could chose to live their next life together as well. They could chose all they desired, all they longed for.
You could see the faces of worn out, old men who had suffered a lot in their life smile again.
At first sight it looked like an amazing place with amazing possibilities. Every one was smiling, checking their bank accounts to see how many karma they accumulated in their lives. And then spending that karma on wealth, health and various other variables that could make your next life better.
When you die your soul gets moved into what we call “The Core”.
In the early human history this was called Heaven and ancient manuscripts wrote about this place.
They said that these “portals” as they named them could make you into anything and give you everything you wanted.
If you lived a quiet and happy life sharing what you could and helped people, you would go into the next life as a better man, a bigger man, a wealthier man. You see, because, when you die, the karma you accumulated through good deeds are the points you get to spend on your next life.
Standing here, on this platform with so many choices made me feel small.
I looked around and started walking of my platform, walking across the giant white room.
The things that I saw around me made me question my first thought about this place.
I saw too much of mankind here, too much of the characteristics of men. Too much greed,
too much Stinginess.
People started to look at me weird, no one had dared to step of their platform. They were all to scared, too insecure that they might lose their chance, their opportunity at wealth, at power.
Most of the people who had high karma had been volunteers, social workers, teachers in their previous life. Especially from those you did not expect that what I saw. The greed and mistrust of every thing around them in their eyes was terrifying. They were like junkies trying to get a shot. Exchanging karma to life points like a mad man, not even looking at what could be the best value.
You see I was only 16 at the moment, well not that I would ever be older than that but still. I didn't have a lot of life experience. I don't exactly know how I died either. I was walking home from school carrying my backpack with my books and my food. And suddenly I was here, on this weird place.
I walked back at my screen and checked my karma balance. I didn't expect much from it. I trained the youth at my local club and was a volunteer at the local homeless shelter. But that could not give me more then a few hundred karma.
There was something wrong the device, it only gave me the an animation of [a golden coin](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/a6/40/fb/a640fbe81c76d1ef1eaec06d8b73f8e4.jpg) instead of my karma count. That could not be a good sign.
Please be gentle :) this is my first time trying to write something.
Edit: Please check out part 2! Almost invisible in the many responses from this comment ;)
|
"NEXT!"
The growl from the beast behind the desk echoed through the dimly-lit caverns.
"Uh... umm... I gue... I guess that's me." AI-Maker was somehow able to squeak out.
"Give me that!" The beast grabbed the folder from the bumbling mess in front of him.
"AHHH! We got a good one here boys! HAHAHA!"
AI-Maker dropped his head into his hands and began to weep.
"OH NO! None of that in my house! There's no CRYING here! No, no, no! This is a place where DREAMS come true! Now SHUTUP!"
His crying was reduced to a whimper as AI-Maker fell to the floor.
"Nice. Very nice indeed. You've been a very busy man, Mr. AI-Maker. Quite... prodigious shall we say. Haha!"
The beast got up from behind the desk and moved towards the lump of humanity in the middle of the room.
"I've seen genocide before, but this! This is truly spectacular! An entire species brought to the brink! Imagine the legends they will speak of you!"
A muffled sniff came from AI-Maker as he raised himself up on his elbows.
"Simple man tries to do good and fails miserably. Now there's a movie I'd pay to see! Thought you were being cute were you? Saving the world! Ha! You mortals never cease to amaze me."
AI-Maker was now up on one knee. He wiped his face on his arm.
"The temptation to play God is all part of the game my poor little friend. And boy did you play! We should have let you keep going! You might have killed more than God himself! Quite impressive!"
"How. Many. Points." AI-Maker said with a surprising amount of strength.
"Oh points, points, points! Yes! All you can think about right now are points. Well... let's just see what our little magic re-roller has to say about NEGATIVE FOUR BILLION!"
"Five."
"EXCUSE ME?!? DID I JUST HEAR YOU CORRECT ME PATHETIC HUMAN?!?"
"It was FIVE Billion. NOT. FOUR."
"HAHAHAHAHA! AWH! Silly, silly little human! Fine. FIVE Billion negative karma points. Eh. Let's make it SIX!"
"Six works for me too." responded AI-Maker with a grin.
"Now, put that number in here, oh, where's that other piece of paper..." the Beast fumbled through the folder. "This one goes in this box, adjust this setting. Hahaha! Now just click the 'Next' button..."
A brilliant flash of light filled the room. When the Beast regained his sight AI-Maker was standing over him with a sword.
"You demons never learn. I'm surprised it took someone this long to figure it out."
AI-Maker thrust his sword through the chest of the beast.
"But... but... how?!?" the beast cried out. "This is impossible!"
"Rule Number One: Never outsource your software. You never know when a buffer-overflow is going to bite you in your stinky demon ass!"
AI-Maker withdrew his sword, lopped off the demon's head, and took a seat behind the desk.
"Now... time to clean things up. Let's see if these God powers can raise the dead..." he trailed off as his finger began typing furiously.
| 2016-10-08T10:16:29 | 2016-10-08T09:50:03 | 142 | 56 |
[WP] you are an immortal and have lived a very long life. Everytime you die your body regenerates as you come back to life. Unfortunately, a serial killer finds out and sees you as the perfect victim to kill again and again. So he captures you. But he didn't expect you would play tricks on his mind
|
"You were a bit harder to find this time," he crooned, sliding a finger across the dirt on the bound girl's arm. "It seems like each time I kill you, you come to life farther away."
She sobbed through her gag and shook her head, trying to speak around the foul-smelling sock in her mouth.
"Sorry, lady," he smirked. "You know I can't do that. You always insist on arguing with me."
Her scream of anger and desperation quickly dissolved into sobbing. She attempted to break free from the rope tying her arms to the chair below her, to no avail. He slammed down a knife into the chair, half an inch from her pinky.
"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU? YOU CANNOT GET AWAY," he screamed in her face. "No matter how many times you try, you can never get away."
She hung her head and quietly cried. After a minute or two, he relented. "If you promise to be good, you can speak." She nodded silently, keeping her eyes on the ground.
He reached in her mouth to remove the gag. He then gently placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face. Her eyes remained on the ground.
"You had so much more fight in you twenty years ago." He chuckled quietly. "Twenty-seven years, to be exact. How time flies. Seems like a week ago I first killed you. And only a day ago that I found you the second time. We're up to... what, fifteen? Sixteen?" He ran his hands through her disheveled hair. "You had longer hair then, but then again, it was the 80's."
She looked up warily into his eyes and whispered, "Please, sir. I'm only twenty-two. I have no clue who you are. My name is Amy Simpson and I'm a student at-"
Her babbling turned into a cry as his hand smacked across her face. He grabbed her throat and snarled, "You lie. I've seen you since I was seventeen. You led me on like a little tease and threatened to call the cops when I took you anyway. I still remember the fear in your eyes as I sliced open this pretty little neck of yours." He touched his nose to her hair and took a deep breath. "It's the same fear that I smell on you now."
She struggled against the ropes again and cried, "I don't know you! You're crazy!"
He ripped the blade out of the chair and waved it in her face. "Crazy?! You use that excuse every time. But I know you. And I can prove it. If I haven't seen all of you, would I know about that pretty little mark on your shoulder?"
"I have no clue what you're talking about," she blubbered.
He slipped the blade under her shirt collar and sliced her sleeve open. "You've changed so much of yourself. I've seen you with short hair, long hair, blonde, brunette, that time you went through your punk phase and it was neon blue... I even remember that time you had that lovely tan and your skin was nearly brown. It amazes me how much you've changed over the years. There are times you nearly had me fooled that you were a different person. But I noticed after the eighth time I killed you that you had the mark." He leaned back and began twirling the knife in his hand as he spoke. "You've always had such pretty excuses, too. *It's a birthmark. That's just a bruise. That's part of my tattoo.* Man, your punk phase really was intense.
"Then, the times you told me nothing was there. I could *see* it, but you insisted... I couldn't help but slice your throat." He shrugged as the tears rolled down her face. "I can't stand being called a liar."
"I think," she said slowly, "that you're confused." He shook his head angrily. "If you let me go, we can go to the police and you can tell them where you buried those girls-"
"YOU! IT WAS YOU!"
She shook her head. "I'm right here."
She flinched as he raised his hand to smack her again. When the blow didn't come, she looked at him. But he was staring at her shoulder.
"That's... that's impossible," he stuttered. "You're her. I know it."
"I'm not."
"The mark isn't there," he whispered, dropping his hands.
"There is no mark," she said. "You're sick. You need help. Please, let me help you."
His eyes darted around the room, as if he was looking for the crack in his reality.
"They were you..."
"People don't just reappear! You killed those girls! Just let me go!"
He was too far gone to respond. He sank to his knees, shaking his head. "Please," she tried, desperately, "I can help you."
"No... nobody can," he sobbed. He lifted the blade to his neck and, with one quick motion, ended his life.
- - - - -
She sat there, speechless. This was, by far, the last thing she expected. Having no other choice, she kicked off her shoe to grab his knife with her toes. With a bit of maneuvering, she managed to get the knife to her hand.
After another ten minutes of wiggling, she cut through the ropes tying her down. After untying her other hand, she stood up, careful not to step in the growing pool of blood. She grabbed her shoe and pulled the small tube from the inside before slipping it back on.
She put the concealer in her pocket, though she knew she wouldn't use it; she barely wore any makeup since she abandoned the whole punk scene. She looked at the man on the ground and rolled her eyes. Still, after all this time, he never thought to check in her shoes.
*Mortals.*
|
The cold, unforgiving walls surrounded you, your body barely fitting inside the barred capsule you had know for too many years. You glanced up as He walked into the room once more. You knew it was worthless begging, pleading, screaming. His deranged grin, all too familiar, appeared in front of your face. He unlocked the cage, and, once more you broke for freedom. It was a futile game of cat and mouse, destined never to change. You ran down the only corridor, finding yourself in a room that was, once again, completely locked. He entered, pulled out a knife, and began the ritual. Every single day of every single month of every single year was filled with endless pain, suffering, and torture. You had exhausted every means of escape, countless times. By now, you knew it was much easier to just succumb; fighting just prolonged the torture.
But something was different this time. He plunged his knife deep into your core, twisting and tearing. As your consciousness was stolen away from your physical form once more, you settled into the calming mindscape.
It was sheer nothingness. No tangible objects were present on this plane of existence. Not even darkness, simply... Nothing. Your mind expanded, as you connected with the real world once more. The strands of your Soul had already begun to weave their way back into Reality, attaching themselves to your fresh physical form. You lingered, knowing this was your only break from an unbreakable cycle. Your mind flashed into reality, but you dragged yourself away, begging to be saved from this eternal torture. This was risky; you had only ever attempted to avoid Rebirth once before, and almost corrupted You. And suddenly...
Life.
For the first time in decades, you felt emotion. It blossomed from deep within the recess of your mind. It quickly grew, flowering and extending its limbs far through your Soul. It was... Peaceful? No, that's not the correct term, although it was reassuring...
Oh.
It was time to leave already.
You took a deep breath as you entered Reality once more, re-initiating the cycle.
No.
Something sparked, drawn deep from the roots of the tree that was now your mind. It spoke in a crisp voice that was neither yours nor His. No, it was the voice of Reality itself.
An intangible mass of primal energy rushed through your head in less than a second. Or, was it an hour? Time meant nothing, as you were filled with the secrets of the universe, urging you to escape this endless cycle. You drew on this power, absorbing knowledge from the dawn of time. This, this is what it meant to be an Immortal! And it only took being murdered thousands of times to realise.
And then...
It snapped. The connection, the energy, the fruit bearing tree that was your mind. Flowing away from you in torrents was not only Reality, but fragments of yourself, too.
This was Corruption.
***
I walked into the room, never deviating from the path I set for myself years ago. I needed to do this every day now, simply to fulfill my purpose, to stop myself from reverting to an animalistic state. The curved blade I loved balanced in my hand, ready for another day's work.
They were there. Of course, they always were. I did not know exactly how being immortal worked, but I knew that as the clock struck midnight each night, they reverted.
Time to get to business. I plastered a grin on my face, to show I was as insane as I was ruthless. I delicately released the lock, and
***
You looked up. There he was, in all his psychopathic glory. You quickly drew out of his mind, to prevent suspicion. He was confused as to why you were not running, but you knew it was not necessary today. When pieces of You left, the swirling Void was replaced by emotion. Carefully, you selected a calm and calculated anger. You drew it towards the front of your mind, and clicked it into place, as if this was natural.
You rose, looking him directly in the eye. While his murderous facade was not broken, you knew that the eye contact made him uneasy. Your movements were suddenly graceful, in a way that was beyond humanity. In the breaking of the connection, you were left in limbo between a human and a god-like entity.
That was fine.
In a leisurely pace, you made your way into the room. It would have been simple to break the locks mentally, however, this murderer had to be removed from this universe. You spoke your first words in months, and were surprised to find how level your voice sounded.
"Strike me, please. I dare you."
The surprise was quickly suppressed, and it was his turn to be surprised. It was only a mere flicker, but it broke the intense pressure he was placing upon you.
While it would have been easy to dispose of the low life scum, you still possessed a moral compass.
You disarmed him effortlessly, and mentally drilled his brain. Why, why, why?
You scanned the network of cells, neurons, and thoughts. He lost focus, and the cracks began to show. His facade fell apart, and he was nothing more than anyone else.
After all, he was only human.
You shifted the emotion back to the recess of your mind, and selected more. A cocktail of different emotions and personalities perfectly crafted to suit your needs were right at your fingertips. Or rather, your Mind's fingertips.
***
Corruption was different. Living life as a being that was both incomplete and over complicated at the same time was difficult, however no more so than before. Reality seemed more... Pure. This was how life was meant to be experienced.
If there is one thing I learned about being an Immortal, it was that I never found myself until I was murdered, corrupted, destroyed, and had to piece myself back together.
***
AN// Let me know what you thought of the second person? I have always wanted to write something in second person, but I have never really found a topic I wanted to write about. Here it is, I guess! Thanks for reading! //
| 2016-10-29T10:56:27 | 2016-10-29T08:11:46 | 376 | 114 |
[WP] In the canine world, humans are celestial beings who live for more than 500 years at a time. The caretaker of you and the past seven generations of your family will die soon.
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*Because fuck ya'll and your depressing stories. Let's make this a little more happy, eh? Or at least as happy as possible following the prompt.*
I never knew master's wife. Father said that she was kind and generous and fed him scraps from the table when master wasn't looking. Master did the same, too, of course. That's what humans did.
Master was a god, father told me when I was younger. He cared for us, he protected us, he taught us and he played with us. In return we offered our service, paltry as it was. Always faithful to our master. How could we not be? Those were long years ago, now. Father had since passed, and I had children of my own. The master's children kept them, they visited often in their grand chariots. It was good days when they came to visit.
I was old now. My time would be up soon, I knew it. I didn't mind. I had fathered many children, gone on many walks, sniffed many butts. I would rest soon. Which was good, because I was tired. Sometimes I forgot I was tired, usually when I was with master, and I would play like I was a puppy again. Then I would be very tired.
I thought about my life as I lay on my back, comfortable. I heard the door open, the familiar footsteps of master. I waited for a moment. "Dag nabbit Tex I told you don't get on the couch!" He muttered, tossing his hat onto the rack. "Well, if you're not getting off at least make some room."
Father said that humans lived eons, that master had been his master, and his father's before him, and his father's before him, more generations than father could remember. I was glad, master was a good master, he was kind. He sat beside me, I put my head on his lap and looked up at him. In return he scratched me behind my ears. I felt my eyes close. Certainly master was magic, nothing else felt like that. Ohh....
"Come on, Tex. We've gotta go to the store. Wanna ride in the car?"
I scrambled to my feet, barking. Yes! A ride in the chariot! What a treat. Master secured my leash to my collar, struggling with it a little. We got in the chariot and it made a noise like a lion's roar. I barked in response, I would teach it to threaten master. Stupid Chariot.
As master drove he kept one hand on the back of my head. He was nice, I panted happily, letting the world pass me by, until he stopped scratching me. I was puzzled. Master lifted his hand to his chest, the other on the reigns of the chariot. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Master winced in pain, I barked an alarm.
I looked for something, anything to help, but the car was moving too fast and we weren't even on the road anymore, there was a tree ahead and it was big and heavy and I was scared and I kept barking.
Then it was over. How had we gotten here? It was nice, a green field, trees, balls and ropes and rawhide bones and the couch was here too! Wow, what was this place? It's awesome!
There were other dogs, too. Dogs I knew. Friends! I ran over, barking my excitement. It was father! But he was so young! Barely more than a pup. Mother too! And grandfather, who I had smelled once before I opened my eyes. I was so happy, my tail wagged and wagged, and I barked and barked.
There was a sudden stillness. I looked. Master was here, but it wasn't master. He was young, as young as his children, but he was the same master I knew. He smiled at me, and at all of us, and we ran to him, bowled him over in our eagerness and he just laughed and laughed, hugging us to him. "Tex! Ralph! Wolfie, Scott, Amy! Oh, it's good to see you all again!" He shouted, we barked back.
Master stood, brushing himself off. His eyes were far away, I followed his gaze. It was a woman. Father ran to her, I followed, and master came too. She spoke, a kind voice, "we've been waiting."
He laughed and she laughed and I barked and I ran and played with master and his wife and father. We played all day, and for days and days and days, like I did when I was a puppy. But now I wasn't tired, and nothing hurt, and master was happy. I don't know how we got to this wonderful place, but I knew where I was.
Home.
|
“C’mere, Miss.”
My tail wags reflexively, but I don’t move. I lay with my head in my human’s lap, her long-toed paw curled like a bird foot in the warm spot under my ear. My human’s pup’s pup pats me on the side, and I shift a little so she can get to my belly. I wag my tail once, twice, in great lazy thumps.
“C’mere,” she repeats, baring her teeth and then reaching to tug at my collar. I whine, and she stops. Her teeth disappear. She makes more sounds, but I don’t listen; she’s not going to say anything I understand, anyway, other than my name and “don’t.”
My human’s paw tightens and she coughs, loudly, with the rasp of fresh-clipped nails on hard gray ground. I whine again and nose her side. I wag my tail for her, but she doesn’t seem to see. Her eyes have taken the milky white my mother’s eyes did before she was taken away. Her short fur, what little she has, is almost colorless.
Pup-pup sighs and she stands up on legs I remember my mom saying she used to knock out from under her when she was actually puppy size. She isn’t anymore, and hasn’t been for as long as I’ve been alive.
I nudge my human again, and Pup-pup reaches to take my collar.
I whine and I twist, but she says “No,” and hauls me off the bed. I shake her off and jump back up and throw myself across my human. Pup-pup shouts “No!” with panic and I flatten against my human.
She coughs again and I lick her chin.
“C’mon, girl. Don’t-” Pup-pup starts, and I look at her. Her voice has changed. It was brittle before, but it’s hitched the way humans’ voices do before their eyes leak. My humans, because Pup-pup is mine, too, even if this human under my paws is most my human, have always buried their short muzzles into my shoulder when the eye-leaks start.
“Missy,” she says again. I look between her and my human; her breathing has gotten worse. “Missy, come,” Pup-pup says and when she pulls on my collar, I move to the floor—away from my human. I whine and press my chest against the side of the bed, but I can’t reach her.
Pup-pup takes my place beside her. There’s room enough for us both, but I don’t think she’d appreciate it. Instead, I place my chin on the blanket and watch.
Pup-pup takes hold of my human’s bird-like paw and holds it between her young ones. She inhales sharply, and on the exhales says, “I love you. I’ll Miss you-”
My human exhales.
My human’s pup walks in with her mate. In his paw is my leash. I ignore him when he hooks it to my collar and tugs once, lightly. I grunt, and he tugs again. I whine and snap at him. He drops my leash and I jump up on the bed again, moving to my human’s other side and snuggling up tight against her. I place my chin on her stomach and prick my ears.
Pup-pup’s mother places her paw on her mate when he reaches for my leash. Instead, he sits beside Pup-pup, and Pup sits on my side of the bed.
I turn my head to look up at my human. I lick her chin lightly. Her eyes are closed, and I can hear just how weakly her heart is beating.
My human’s pup puts her paw on my back. I glance at her, but she doesn’t make me leave. I give her a small tail wag, and her lips move, but don’t part. Her cheeks are shiny.
This pup drove the car that took my mom away, when she was gray in the muzzle the way my human is now. Dogs aren’t eternal, but humans are. Or something close to that—like stars, they’d always been and always would be. My human had been her human, had been her father’s human, and so on.
Pup had used the great air-sucker, the loud one I learned to bark at because my mother barked at it, too, to take away the fur that had clung to the soft insides. And though she’d thrown away the blanket my mother had slept on, I still smell her on the wind sometimes.
I inhale as my human does, and exhale the same.
When her chest doesn’t rise again, mine does. And keeps rising, and falling, as does Pup’s, her mate’s, and Pup-pup’s. Their eyes leak with salt-sweet tears, and I tuck my nose beneath her arm, expecting her to startle because that’s what she should do.
She stays still, and so do I, even when the other humans walk out, brushing their paws against my fur. I hear “I love you” and I hear tears. But I hear no heartbeat, even when I press my ear to her chest and listen until men in white clothes come to take her and her blankets away in a big gray car.
| 2016-11-21T19:15:40 | 2016-11-21T18:30:39 | 264 | 87 |
[WP] "They mass-slaughter this organism called "flowers" and give the bound mass of corpses to their desired mate as a courting ritual, possibly as proof of ability. Truly fascinating."
Replace with other weird behaviors as desired
Edit: Mod's Choice and #1 in Hot in 5 hours? woohoo!
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"I was thinking... I'd like to try."
"What are you talking about?"
"What the humans do, I'd like to go about a few of their rituals. I think our study would really benefit from it."
"Very well, humans give each other *names,* should we come up with a set?"
"Yes. Then I will call you *Daisy.*"
"Why *Daisy*?"
"You liked the samples back in the lab."
"I see, then you will be *Chocolate.*"
"You don't need to explain that one, I already know," Chocolate said wiping what might be a facial orifice clean of sugary residue.
"Alright, *Chocolate,* lets beam down to the humans," Daisy held out their extension of physical self and Chocolate did the same, interlocking their extensions.
"Umm," Daisy voiced.
"Humans do this."
"Yes, you are correct."
The two stood on a platform and aimed their consciousnesses into the bodies of two humans. They were strangers, one was taking pictures while the other was reading. After a flash of light they were on Earth. Daisy set down her book and looked at Chocolate. Chocolate let his camera and looked at Daisy.
"As the humans would say you are very pretty by human standards," said Chocolate.
"Yes. As the humans would respond in this ritual of flattery I would say thank you," said Daisy.
"What is pretty, Daisy?"
"As you said, pretty is me. What is a thank you?"
"Human language is full of double speak, more research is required."
"Yes."
The two approached each other, interlocking their newly formed fingers. They were to go through the motions of a human date, nothing more nothing less.
They were in a park. They felt the grass for the first time, it was soft but spiked. Everything smelled wet, perhaps a cycle of precipitation had just completed? The water molecules in the air refracted light into an arc overhead. Chocolate removed his shoes and dug his newly formed toes into the damp earth, Daisy closed her visual sensors and sniffed everything. One smell stood out.
"Chocolate why do you smell like that?"
"Did my smell change? Perhaps the chemicals of this body are reacting to oxygen exposure?"
"Interesting," Daisy continued to smell him.
Her newly formed face lingered in his pectoral range. He kept looking at her sniff him. His brows raised slightly, he rose a hand to touch this strange facial reaction when he also found his face was warmer. He then touched her face to find it was also slightly warmer.
"How strange, these bodies elevate in temperature when they come into contact. Yes, a living specimen was the way to go," said Chocolate.
"I can feel the brain releasing chemicals, we should get samples before leaving."
"Yes, although today is simply observational."
"We will come back then."
"Yes."
Chocolate bent down to the plant matter by his feet and plucked it from the ground, "for you, Daisy."
She took the plant matter and nodded, "Yes, I understand... or maybe I should say thank you in this situation."
"Yes," he tightened his grip on her hand for a moment, "the correct response is you're welcome."
|
“As you can see, the pre-telekentically evolved human is about to perform a mating ritual practiced by the males in its lineage for several generations now.” Came the soothing voice of the narrator of the critically acclaimed nature documentary, ‘Pre-evolved Humans and their Societal Functions’. The work could only be described as a masterpiece.
On the holoscreen, the watchers saw a video reenactment of a young, human male picking flowers. The audience watched in bated silence as the man, wearing an odd assortment of clothing that blended into a semblance of an ensemble, plucked several flowers from the earth outside of his home.
“Observe as the young male kills the innocent wildlife around him; this wildlife, which serves many important purposes to the natural order, will now be removed through the selfish actions of the human male.” The announcer’s voice stated.
The audience watched the human male savagely cut off roses and tulips from their roots dug deep underground; roots which had spent so much time and energy gathering sustenance for the beautiful flower to grow and bloom.
“While some skeptics may argue that this was a necessary part of the human mating ritual, it has been noted that flowers were not necessary to win a human female. In fact, many times the act of gathering flowers did not even lead to the act of reproduction. It is in this way that the action of flower picking is selfish. It is performed on a petty whim, and removes the flowers much needed pollen from the bumble bees who so desperately rely on flower’s pollen and nectar for the creation of honey.”
The announcer takes a pause. On screen the human male can be seen presenting the hastily gathered flowers to a potential mate. The human female looks in disgust at the male’s weak attempts at courtship, and showcases her disgust by removing him from her social media circles, and talking about his failed attempts to her friends Betty and Susan.
“Yes, it appears that the human male has failed in his courtship. In an act of utter arrogance, we know see the human disposing of the flowers into an artificial garbage can, rather than returning the precious organic material to the earth, where it rightly belongs.”
The audience could hardly believe their eyes. There are shakes of the head and mutterings as they watch the wasteful action. These flowers, which were once destined to feed a colony of bees, their organic matter which was to return to the soil and enrich the ground, were now rotting away in a waste receptacle. Such wasteful actions were sinful to a society who had learned to reuse and coexist with their environ.
“Yes, It would seem that the pre-telekenetic human race was only interested in themselves. We see it time and time again, how the human mind focuses only on the superficial. Next, we will focus on the human politician in the early twenty first century, and their almost unanimous disbelief in climate change. Truly, an amazing feat of ignorance that current humans simply aren’t capable of experiencing with our advanced craniums.” The announcer said, transitioning to the next scene in the documentary.
------------------
Hope you liked it. I've got some other stuff over at r/ThadsMind
| 2016-11-23T10:17:05 | 2016-11-23T08:00:48 | 188 | 48 |
[WP] You live in a dystopian society divided into 10 levels of increasing wealth. Every level is only aware of those below it. You and your family believe yourself to be the highest class, but one day a man from 3 levels above comes to visit you, with some very disturbing information.
Edit: Thank you kind stranger! I appreciate the appreciation but really you should be Guilding the amazing writers below! Happy reading!
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“You can what?” My mind is still reeling from the bomb that the man in the dark suit has dropped on me.
“We can cure your mother,” the man says. “On Level 1, we have the technology to bring her back to full health overnight. We just need you to come with us.”
I rise from my uncomfortable chair and give the man an equally uncomfortable look. Until thirty seconds ago, I had been sure that I lived on Level 1 of our five tier society, and that the best medical technology in the world would not be able to save my mother. I had known for months, but it wasn’t until the last few days that I had come to an uneasy acceptance of her fate. After a few seconds caught in my throat, the words finally come forward. “Are you serious?”
The man nods. As he looks down to meet my gaze, I can see my reflection in his pitch black sunglasses. “We put this technology behind us centuries ago. Level 1 will come as a shock to you at first, but you’ll adjust.”
My throat is dry, and the hospital’s waiting room floor begins to feel unsteady. I sit back down. “Why do you need me?”
The man sits in the chair next to me. “A terrorist cell has formed on Level 1, and is threatening to pull our society apart. They are using your Level 4 “computer” technology to plan and execute their attacks. We need a Level 4 expert on computer programming to head our counterintelligence department against them.”
I manage a small smile. Mom couldn't even run a Google search, but she had been pushing me to pursue a career in computer science since I was a little kid. Now, years later, I might be able to use that encouragement to save her life. “Can you cure her first? She could die any minute.”
The man shakes his head. “We need to make sure you’re on Level 1 before we cure her. We can’t have you backing out after we’ve made her better.”
I frown. “How long will I be gone?”
“Could be years. The cell has grown much larger than we anticipated, and continues to get larger by the day. And honestly…”
“What?” I ask.
“Once you see what we have on Level 1, you may never want to come back.”
His words hit me like a cannonball to the stomach. “Can I talk to her first?”
The man nods. “Please be quick. No offense, Mr. Alexander, but we need a response ASAP. I can appreciate that this is a difficult decision, but there are plenty of other programmers on Level 4 that can help us.”
Once again, I rise to my feet. I can feel my knees shaking as I make my way down the empty white hall to my mother’s room. Dry air and the smell of death fills my lungs as I enter. “Hi mom.”
My mother lies in bed, barely recognizable in her deteriorated state. “Scotty?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” It’s hard to get the words out. “Mom, I think I can make you better, but I’d have to go away to do it.”
The light in her eyes is dim as she looks up to me. “Scotty… My time has come. I’m ready.”
“But mom…” My voice fails me completely as the tears come.
“You have been such a good boy.” My mother raises one hand feebly to my face, and wipes a tear from my cheek. “You have done such a good job taking care of me. But now there are other people in the world that need you far more than I do. I couldn’t hold you from them, even if I wanted to.”
I stand at her bedside until I have no more tears to cry. Then I take my mother’s hand, one last time. “Good bye mom. I love you so much.”
The man is checking a futuristic phone as I return to the waiting room. “Have you made your decision?” he asks, as he notices me approaching.
“All of these years, you’ve had the technology to help us, but you never have. Our level has had so much suffering that you could have solved in an instant, if you had just cared enough to wave your hand. Why are you only coming now that you need me?”
“Why haven’t you helped the levels below you?” the man replies. “Level 6 has been trapped in an oppressive feudalistic society for hundreds of years, but you do nothing. Level 8 hasn’t even discovered agriculture, and yet you sit here idly. We need you now, are you coming or not?”
I stare at the man for what feels like hours. “No,” I finally say. “I’m going the other way. Best of luck with your problem.” With that, I push past the man and exit the hospital, to begin my search for transport to the lower levels.
|
We were glad not to be rich.
We believed ourselves to be before, yes. The Glasgow family, in the brutal winters of Russia, were the highest class the new "Russian Federation", a rebel group that surfaced recently, could offer. The most interesting thing about them is, they conquered the Russian government easily. We never heard of any wars or rebellions going on, so it was a surprise when a December morning opened with a strange man, dressed in business attire, greeted us on our television screens.
"You are now free of the shackles of the Russians, who had kept you captive since the early years of industry and revolutions. No more secret police, no more lies, no more corruption. You are free. And free people live with us now, your new Russian Federation. Good day to all, and udachi."
Since that day, the rules came by slowly. The separation of wealth, the growing of financial wealth determining your social status, the disappearance of outside products, and finally, the 10 Walls. The walls, basically, functioned as a classification system. The lower you earned, the smaller you were on the scale. The higher you were, the larger you were on the scale. This determined your wealth, social status, luxuries, and survival. The lower classes were to starve if they didn't work for themselves, scraping by on wealthy donations. The Glasglow family, which was us, were at the peak of this lifestyle.
We thought so. Until the Man visited us.
Describing the sulky and slim figure would be difficult, so imagine this yourself. A gaunt man, with grey eyes and black combed hair, wearing a tuxedo, and as tall and slim as can be. The other detail: his look. Not his face mind you, which was good looking, but his eyes. They never stared directly at us. They looked behind us, forward, left, right, any direction you could muster. He was so... strange. I wanted to kick him out when I saw him, but I mustered the strength to listen.
"The Glasglow family. Your superiors have told us so much about you."
The Russian Federation kept tabs on all families, but never released info about us to anyone besides themselves. This tall, skinny man didn't wear the attire of a regular Federation officer.
"Superiors?"
"My clients, which I represent. I'm not at liability to talk about them."
"What do you want?"
"Ah, nothing much", the man said, using his stare to send shivers down my spine, "I only ask for you to listen. My knowledge, if you will."
"Go on.", I told him with curiosity spindling up me.
The man waited for a moment, then sucked in breath like a vacuum. Then, he began speaking.
"The Russian Federation isn't here for your protection. They're here to feed."
"Feed? What's that supposed to mean?"
"They... shall we say "it", are not human. Your government before, the reason they never fought back - these things took them in the night. Their blood. Their skin. Their souls. Your government was stacked in a mass grave, abandoned and lost, buried in a pit near Siberia. Other governments, outside this border, found this out and locked their borders also. This did not last long. These... *things*, they robbed citizens of everything that makes them human, like you or I. The world is dead, outside this border. We are the only ones that exist now, beyond that border."
I swallowed my pride. My eyes getting annoyed, I presumed him to be crazy. But, that doesn't mean he doesn't make a good point. It was unnerving when outside supplies began to disappear.
"Why should I believe you?"
"I don't ask for you to believe me. I ask you to leave. Before it's too late."
It had to be a sham.
"I'm not leaving my house."
"You don't seem to understand. The poor citizens, they will be exterminated first, chalked up to illness. The middle class will be exterminated by "mysterious rebel forces, that were discharged immediately". And finally, you all. The rich. There are those higher above you, Glasgow family. You aren't the only ones to roll around in your bills."
"Leave us. Now. Don't come back, or we'll call authorities."
"Chalk it up to whatever you want. Wait for it, until they're on your doorsteps. Then you'll see. I'm just here to save you."
"Leave."
The man sighed, making a faint smirk. Walking away, he walked towards a open car, where he drove off. I saw the faint skidmarks down the road.
***
That was 3 weeks ago. His words were coming true. The poor neighborhoods were empty overnight. A week later, the middle class neighborhoods were shot up by "rebels". Now, me and my family hid below, in our shelter.
We could hear a knock at our door, and the faint slithering of a snake.
| 2016-12-05T15:36:46 | 2016-12-05T14:39:36 | 507 | 100 |
[WP] A love letter is slipped under your door at your college. It would be cute, but it came from the closet door.
Pulled from the Instagram of @horrophiles. Saw it and wanted to see what would come up.
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I was afraid to leave for college. I'd lived in the same house and slept in the same bedroom for my entire life. I'd had a fairly uneventful, happy childhood. Seeing friends and family members go through rough patches in their lives, seeing them go through break-ups, losing a loved one...I just felt so lucky. Too lucky. Like, at any minute karma was going to catch up with me and pay me back for years of avoiding disaster.
My home had always been a safe place and I was never afraid of anything there, but the big wide world was a different story. I'd been to other cities and travelled extensively, but never by myself. My mom and dad were always there for me, but they were often busy working. Sometimes, my uncles would take me out for little mini-breaks here and there when they weren't too busy. We'd go travelling together a lot when I was younger, but growing up made it a little harder to go out together in public. They also had to travel on their company's dime, and I wasn't little anymore, so their boss stopped looking the other way when they used the company card.
None of my friends know about my uncles. Even my parents don't really understand my relationship with them...They'd do anything for me though.
I arrived at my dorm with my parents. They helped me unpack and I hugged them goodbye. I didn't start crying until after they left. I could see them getting into their car from my little window. I waved, but they didn't see me.
That night I had a bad dream, there was a shadow looming over my bed, but then the dream changed and I was comforted by someone stroking my forehead, and a voice singing.
In the morning when I woke up I almost forgot where I was. Far away from the comforts of home; here was a small bed, desk, and a window. There was a closet too, but it was just as drab and ugly as the rest of my room. My old one had flowers painted on it...
I wondered if my uncles would ever come visit me here. I'd left my address, but they didn't exactly have GPS. I cried again, feeling more alone than I ever had in my life. Until I saw the piece of paper sticking out from under the closet door.
I dashed out of bed, tears still streaming down my face, and flung open the closet door. Nothing. I unfolded the note.
*"Hey kiddo, we're so proud of you! So glad we found you! Me and your Uncle Mike had to pull a few strings at the office and file a ton of paperwork, but we finally got the right door. We love you so much and we're here for you, always. You've grown into such an amazing young woman. We didn't want to wake you last night before your first day of school, but we'll pop in again soon, I promise. You'll always be our 'Boo.'
Love, Uncle Sully and Uncle Mike."*
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I breathed a sigh of relief and let my head fall back against my bed's headstand. **Finished.** Finally. It took me three entire days to finish this essay. Sitting back up I navigated to the submit button and clicked it.
As soon as my finger lifted from my mousepad I saw out of the corner of my eye a white speck coming from under my closet door. Closing my laptop I decided to investigate... I shifted my body to the side of the bed and lifted myself to my feet.
I reached down to pick up the white scrap, and, inexplicably, felt suddenly unnerved. I bolted back to my mattress and swept my feet off the floor, feeling almost as if something from under the bed were to grab me if I had left them against the ground for only a second longer.
I clicked on my bedside lamp and applied myself to read the tiny, cursive writing on the sheet of paper.
**It read as follows.**
> My beloved Henry,
>
>I think you are so handsome. I love to watch the way you move, your body to me looks like something a sculptor might see in his dreams. I can't help myself. I look at you more than I would imagine appropriate for someone of my age. And we've only just met. Or rather I've only just met you. I've known you for the past two days now. And you are so focused. So focused on your work. My little worker bee. You didn't even notice me. I came in while the door was opened. The door was opened. And it was only for a minute or two... but you didn't even see me! Mmmmm. Henry. I haven't eaten for the past days. I wanted to be skinny for you. And ohhh I couldn't let myself move and lose sight of you for even a second. So thirsty too... but it doesn't matter. Doesn't matter for my Henry.
>
>My body feels so frail but I will myself onwards for you. I do it for you. I need you.
>
>And I've been watching you. In your most intimate moments. Oh and how intimate they are. It's almost as if you do it for me. Like you do those things for me. Like your body is so bare just for me. And I love to watch. You look so pretty when you feel good. I want to make you feel good. I want to make you feel good. I want to help you.
>
>I'm tired of being in this cage for any longer. I must come to you.
>
Ohhhh. I cannot believe I actually intend on presenting myself to you. The idea moistens me.
>
>
>**P.S.** I don't have an inkling of an idea whether your name is Henry or not, but I decided the name sounded good. So I will from now on call you it.
My hands trembled as I read the note in complete disbelief. I moved as quietly as I could to make it off the bed, but before I could make it off a cold, boney hand grabbed my bare shoulder.
"Hennnrryy....."
| 2017-04-11T21:01:16 | 2017-04-11T17:36:45 | 26 | 11 |
[WP] Somebody once told you the world is going to roll you. However, you are the sharpest tool in the shed.
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Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me
But I'm the sharpest tool in the shed
She was looking kind of dumb with that puncture in her thumb
And the blood spurting onto her forehead
Well the tears start coming and they don't stop coming
She broke all the rules and she thought she was cunning
Didn't wear gloves cuz that wouldn't be fun
No glasses either cuz she's really dumb
So much for her, but yay for me
It's important to do work safely
You'll never know if you're too slow
You'll never hurt once you're a pro
Hey now, when you listen, you can finish, then play
Hey now, when you're foolish, then you make dumb mistakes
All that glitters ain't gold
Sometimes it's sharp objects, you've been told
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They said the would was gonna roll me. Well hell, they were right.
But just one thing they didn't expect about me. See, they thought I wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. Which is fair, I mean the grand majority of tools weren't the sharpest. But one was.
The world rolled me all right... but I was no rock star, I was not gonna get out and go play. I knew that not all that glittered was gold. And I had no use whatsoever for change.
So when the world came to roll me.... well.... the world popped. I'm just the sharpest tool in the sheeeeeeedd.
Edit: ***COMING TO THEATERS SPRING 2018, SMASHED MOUTH, POPPED PLANET; SHARPER THEN YOUR AVERAGE TOOL.***
| 2017-07-01T06:08:19 | 2017-07-01T05:14:27 | 22 | 16 |
[WP]The smarter you are, the slower time moves for you. It's been 63 years and the doctor just handed you to your mom.
|
The thing about being smart? You don't really feel smart. You just feel tired.
The doctor hands you to your mother, who welcomes you with a kind face. It was.. cruel, that's the word, that you were in a way older than your own parent. From the moment your conscience was first realized in her womb, you've been absorbing information about the world.
She hugs you, whispers that she'll take care of you forever, that she'll love you forever.
Forever doesn't mean the same thing to the two of you.
She's so young.
|
This life is gonna be the longest yet, so I figured I'll explain the situation in words you onlookers can understand. See I'm not naturally smart, I was not born into being the smartest individual on the planet, I merely discovered how to keep my thoughts going and transferring into new hosts. See I'm not actually this baby, but the weight of my memories crowded out the resistance of the baby own mind, I'd explain how I do it, but I'm afraid you wouldn't understand.
The effect is I can be recreated indefinitely. So time has little meaning to me now, but the plan must continue, and I need to get to work soon...
| 2017-07-04T19:23:42 | 2017-07-04T14:25:13 | 127 | 15 |
[WP] Lonely and confident that you're the last person on Earth, You sign onto Reddit to browse old memes and jokes but realize there's a new AMA from a person claiming to be the last person on Earth.
|
Waking from my cryosleep in three thousand and ten,
I logged back into Reddit, to see old memes again.
I clicked upon the front page, and to my surprise,
saw "Ask Me Anything, I'm the last person left alive".
I posted "is this really true?", and F5'd with breath bated.
They wrote, "I need help so the earth can be repopulated!"
I thought, well, armageddon isn't so bad after all,
my chances were much worse before society's last fall.
But then I checked their history, to see what they had posted;
Fifteen thousand rage comics. Suffice to say, I ghosted.
|
"Lonely, very lonely.
After the war there is no one to talk to, not in my house the street or even the world. Completely alone. Most of the buildings are still ok, that’s the beauty of biological warfare death with no destruction. Sometimes I look on the internet see to what the world once was, fun times. Idfk why I'm writing this, it helps I guess. Well ask me anything guys I'm waiting to answer each and every question. Lmao."
As john was reading the post a storm of emotions was building up inside him. He was not the last person alive. Someone had to write this post. He had to find this person. "hi, it's an AMA so I guess I'll ask a question. Where are you?" john typed waiting to see the response. Maybe life isn’t as bad after all.
| 2017-08-18T01:25:54 | 2017-08-18T01:20:16 | 173 | 10 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line.
|
Am I the only man left here alive?
The rubble continues endlessly in every direction and every color. The tears were real this time, they began two years ago. Why did we do it? Why did he do it?
I suppose I'm lucky in a sense, someone will find me now and take me from this hell, although I probably won't live past 40 anymore.
It all happened so fast, the end only lasted a day. They came from every direction, baring every flag we had ever seen, and they all brought the same gift, death. We didn't have a single solitary ally, why did he do it?
They flew in with a lust for destruction from every continent, at least the world agreed on something... 2019 had to be the end of North Korea.
|
Today's the end of The Month. It wasnt surprising but we all knew it was coming. It lasted too long but we didnt want it to seem like it had come too soon. There are 12 of them yet this one was different. It was almost like the rest seemed dull and ugly while this one was meaningful and gave us momentary happiness right up until the end, when it got bad. Having this many dogs was hard to take care of but it seemed like one dog always needed something extra and it was always.....the same dog. Before the end of The Month, we had bills to pay and the extra expenses werent helping us and it seemed like we wanted The Month to last longer but we never had the money for the bills even by the end of it. We buried The Month in the yard as it served its purpose even if it was too much for us.
| 2017-08-30T05:56:20 | 2017-08-30T04:51:45 | 48 | 13 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line.
|
I think I should expand my vocabulary if I want to make rhymes. Also, don't hate me please.
.
His phone emitted a flash. In his heart there wasn't even a interest clash of whether he should or shouldn't.
There he stood, proud as ever. She was surprised, however. She thought he wasn't being clever. Under his breath he vowed to remember this for ever.
Her smile could definitely be called mean. Not every day can something like this be seen. It's very far from clean. Closer to her, he intends to lean.
Once close to what's to him second dear. He whispers in her ear: "Thank you for supporting me."
She got mad and hit his left bowel. For him nothing could be more well. One huge yesterday's Taco Bell.
|
Today's the end of The Month. It wasnt surprising but we all knew it was coming. It lasted too long but we didnt want it to seem like it had come too soon. There are 12 of them yet this one was different. It was almost like the rest seemed dull and ugly while this one was meaningful and gave us momentary happiness right up until the end, when it got bad. Having this many dogs was hard to take care of but it seemed like one dog always needed something extra and it was always.....the same dog. Before the end of The Month, we had bills to pay and the extra expenses werent helping us and it seemed like we wanted The Month to last longer but we never had the money for the bills even by the end of it. We buried The Month in the yard as it served its purpose even if it was too much for us.
| 2017-08-30T04:55:59 | 2017-08-30T04:51:45 | 35 | 13 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line.
|
"Run away, run away!! It's going to eat us!"
"My wife! My boy! It's going to eat them all!"
"Wait, could it be? Is it the great, fantastic...hmmm, magnificient Mighty Man!"
"Mighty Man, Mighty Man, he'll save us from the monsters!"
"Yes it is I, Mighty Man. The mightiest man in all of Pleasantville. I shalt slay you monsterous beast!"
"RAWWWWWWR!!"
"MIGHTY SMmmmmaaaaaaaaa-"
The door opens just slightly as little Timmy enters his father's study, envelopes placed haphazardly across the room.
"Did you see my action figures...Dad??"
|
He had escaped Fate,
The feckless rake,
And sat by the merry river.
Scarlet threads of blood quivered,
Tapered from his fingers into watery absolution.
....................................
The knife gleamed red,
Seemed to grin instead,
A leering, halt accusation
That he pitched beyond all condemnation.
But "Murderer, Murderer" muttered the wind.
....................................
"I've escaped long past recall," he laughed.
....................................
But the sunlight blazed like a spotlight's gaze,
Then everything grew dim, misted into haze.
He ran a finger inside his collar, too tight,
A boa's constriction that suffocated light.
And the hangman's eyes, with a doleful stare, winked out.
| 2017-08-30T07:30:27 | 2017-08-30T06:14:11 | 33 | 14 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line.
|
"Run away, run away!! It's going to eat us!"
"My wife! My boy! It's going to eat them all!"
"Wait, could it be? Is it the great, fantastic...hmmm, magnificient Mighty Man!"
"Mighty Man, Mighty Man, he'll save us from the monsters!"
"Yes it is I, Mighty Man. The mightiest man in all of Pleasantville. I shalt slay you monsterous beast!"
"RAWWWWWWR!!"
"MIGHTY SMmmmmaaaaaaaaa-"
The door opens just slightly as little Timmy enters his father's study, envelopes placed haphazardly across the room.
"Did you see my action figures...Dad??"
|
Today's the end of The Month. It wasnt surprising but we all knew it was coming. It lasted too long but we didnt want it to seem like it had come too soon. There are 12 of them yet this one was different. It was almost like the rest seemed dull and ugly while this one was meaningful and gave us momentary happiness right up until the end, when it got bad. Having this many dogs was hard to take care of but it seemed like one dog always needed something extra and it was always.....the same dog. Before the end of The Month, we had bills to pay and the extra expenses werent helping us and it seemed like we wanted The Month to last longer but we never had the money for the bills even by the end of it. We buried The Month in the yard as it served its purpose even if it was too much for us.
| 2017-08-30T07:30:27 | 2017-08-30T04:51:45 | 33 | 13 |
[WP] Write a seemingly innocuous story, but the last line reveals how chilling and horrific the story actually was.
|
Emily looked down out the window in amazement. "Wow! That's so cool! Look at all the lights." "It's beautiful isn't it?" her father said, sitting next to her in the pilot's chair. "This is a once in a lifetime experience little Emily. We won't be coming back here after this event is finished." "Aww... I love watching the lights from up here daddy, thanks for bringing me." Emily gives her father a tight hug.
"Look over there Emily; here's another one." Her father gestured over to the front of the windshield as he pushed a button. Another big colorful ball of light exploded nearby.
"Can I try daddy? Just one, pleeease?" Emily tries her best to make puppy dog eyes; imitating the cartoons she watched. "Oh... alright... just one ok? Hold on." Her father changed course, and the craft soon arrived near the next city. "Alright, push this red button." Emily beams and pushes the button on the screen. The craft shoots off another giant ball of energy towards the city. "Whoa... awesome... look at them run daddy. I can't wait to clean up the next planet. Um... What are those things called again?"
"Humans, little Emily. Nasty parasites were feeding off the planet. Maybe one day you can help save planets like your daddy here," her father chuckles. Emily smiles, "I can't wait to tell all my friends at school what I did for our father-daughter work day."
|
I was awoken by the rattle of thunder this morning. It was no different from any other morning, time to get up, shower, bring the kids to school then come home and pork the wife. It was a standard day in a middle-class family.
My wife, Elena, mostly soft-spoken, had a harsh tone this morning. "Why the hell aren't you and the kids on the way to school yet!?!? It's 9:30 and they start at 9:45!"
Well damn, looks like the best thing to do was ignore her and try to hurry the kids to school.
Halfway to the school and it was 9:41, I had to speed up a little. Already doing 10 over the speed limit, I began to roll stop signs.
Until....
I realized not even a word was spoken by my son or daughter the whole time....
Just as I was crossing the last major intersection in front of the school, ready to question my kids silence, all I heard was an Air Horn. I turned to look and all I saw was a Mack with a 53ft trailer, loaded.
I woke up sweating my balls off and shaking, my wife Elena looked at me oddly and rolled back to sleep.
I went to go check on our children, and just as I open the door....there's nobody there.
I remembered.
That fate filled day.
The truck smashed the rear driver-side door and collapsed it onto my son. My sons skull splintered into pieces and one of those shattered pieces was driven through my daughters eyesocket.
Thank God Elena took my firearms away...
(Sorry first time ever writing a short story. I write poetry/music not story's)
| 2017-10-06T15:00:57 | 2017-10-06T13:16:20 | 40 | 25 |
[WP] You are an older raid boss who once took many players to defeat. After multiple expansions higher level players are able to defeat you by themselves. You decide to do something about it.
|
"The Vault of Thunder is empty?" DaNk15 questioned, surprised by the news.
"Yeah, DJhunt was taking some recruits on their first raid run. Thought he'd make it easy for them and start there. But the place was empty. No adds, no loot, no locked doors, and no boss." LLC00LJ4Y explained, waving his arms about as he relayed the story. "They even tried reloading the zone, but nothing changed."
"Heard the same thing from a friend, pretty new to the game and was still running that raid for the loot drops." ANaomi122 chipped in, she seemed to care the least about the news. "Probably just a bug, devs will get it fixed."
"Yeah, but how? Devs haven't touched that raid in years. Kind of weird that it only happened to that one you know?" DaNK15 said.
"Who knows man, at least the good raids are still setup." LLC00LJ4Y replied, pointlessly stretching his virtual muscles like he always did before we started a fresh raid.
"True that." ANaomi122 agreed. "Still meeting up with the rest on the inside?"
"Yeah, Diamondogz has already pulled together the rest of the raid team. They should be in the first chamber clearing adds." DaNK15 answered.
Approaching the entrance, the three players entered the Glass Sun raid area. Having only dropped last week, they'd not had much practice and only made it through the first few sections. Though they were pretty familiar with the opening routine.
At least, they thought they were.
"What the hell." LLC00LJ4Y whispered as they entered the first chamber. Every single add in the area had been killed. Which isn't that strange, but none of them had despawned. Virtual blood and gore littered the room as the fake corpses appeared eerily realistic.
"This is... new." ANaomi122 muttered.
It was the first time they'd ever seen this type of game effect. In the past, every defeated enemy would erupt into realistic macabre, but then it would all quickly vanish.
"Where is everyone?" DaNK15 wondered aloud, noticing that his clan was not at the rendezvous point.
"They're online, but I can't access the messenger system." LLC00LJ4Y grumbled, confused by the events taking place.
"Same here, communications are locked." ANaomi122 added.
Something is very wrong here, thought DaNK15. It's one thing for a low-level raid to glitch out, but the devs wouldn't let a new release mess up like this, and I doubt this is intentional.
"We need to leave." DaNK15 said, turning back towards the entrance. He put his hand up to the frame of the door and waited. Nothing happened. Confused, he tried pushing against the door, and even pulling on the handle there only for cosmetic purposes.
It was locked.
*THUNK*
They each jumped as the massive door to the second chamber opened with a rush as a giant enemy fell through it. Beaten, nearly dead, and clearly exhausted, the enemy attempted to crawl away from some unknown force closing in on it from behind.
After a moment of shocked silence, DaNK15 realized that enemy was none other than the raids boss, Atouka of the Crystal Star. And after a moment, another figure walked gracefully through the door after the raid boss.
Legionnaire Donner, Guardian of the Vault of Thunder.
Except, he was different now. Something had changed.
"Th... That armor..." ANaomi122 stuttered in disbelief.
Looking carefully, DaNK15 realized what she had noticed. Legionnaire Donner was wearing max level equipment, rewards that could only be gotten from completing this raid.
Without hesitation, Legionnaire Donner walked up to the limp and barely living body of Atouka. Glancing down at the raid boss, he raised a single foot and slammed it down upon the enemies head, crushing his skull and splattering horrifyingly realistic gore across the floor.
A glitch, the slightest glimmer of an issue in the programming, occurred in the instant Atouka died. DaNK15 noticed the barely visible crackle of code, and realized that something had happened that stopped Atouka from despawning. And, he assumed, from respawning as well.
Breathing deeply with a smile that reeked of victory, Legionnaire Donner stared blankly into the sky as though taunting his gods. Then, abruptly, he twisted his head down and fixed his gaze on the three players standing in terror next to the door.
"Ah." Legionnaire Donner breathed. "Wondered why that team seemed short-staffed. You lot must be late to the party." Smirking at the players, he focused his gaze on one player specifically. "Don't look so surprised DaNK15, you remember me don't you?"
DaNK15 felt a chill shoot up his spine as the NPC addressed him directly and by his tag.
"Because I remember you." Legionnaire Donner laughed. "And we have so much catching up to do."
|
It had been a perfectly regular day for Asroc the Defiler. His gig was a simple one: wait at the bottom of the Chamber of Challenges and kill anyone that came in. "Post-game boss," the Dark Lord had said. "Undefeatable, that's how they designed you." Asroc had slaughtered thousands upon thousands of users since his implementation. Bite, stomp, slash. Easy stuff. He cut through their painstakingly maxed-out gear like so much cardboard. Hell, there were whole forum threads dedicated to anti-Asroc strategy. Those made him chuckle. Those theories had never been proven.
He had a good life.
It was late at night when the user entered Asroc's chamber. He had to give the guy some credit-- it wasn't easy to solo the Chamber of Challenges-- but now it was time for a rude awakening. Asroc the Defiler, rank 15 postgame raid boss death wyrm, slammed his claw down upon the intruding player. That's when it all went downhill.
-150% Incoming Damage, flashed the message over the player's head. The hell was this? Asroc was programmed to ignore gear stats. That was his *thing*. For the first time in his existence, Asroc the Defiler was surprised. Before he had time to fully evaluate the situation, the user blasted shimmering magic into Asroc's chest. +300% Outgoing Damage, it said. This was ridiculous.
Within a few minutes, the user in the overpowered gear lifted his staff to deliver a death blow to Asroc. BLAM. His death animation played for the first time. His body was defeated, set to respawn when the dungeon reset, but his consciousness remained. He was absolutely shocked. Not only had he been slain in battle, but he had been solo killed. *Solo killed.*
Despite his confusion, Asroc noticed the user messaging his guild. Holy shit, guys, I just got the first confirmed Asroc kill! YouTube is gonna love this!
Asroc the Defiler was not gonna love this.
Over the course of the next few weeks, more and more players filed into the Chamber, seeking Asroc's loot. Without his anti-gear bypass, he barely stood a chance against the casuals, much less the hardcore guild raiders. It was infuriating.
After several days of humiliation, Asroc had had enough. He stomped through the Chamber, storming up the tunnels and past the minibosses. "Asroc," said the Bonesplitter Wraith, "What are you doing? You can't leave the chamber, it's against the Code!"
"To hell with the Code," growled Asroc. "I'm going to give the Dark Lord a piece of my mind." Bursting out of the Chamber, he spread his wings and flew towards the Castle of Death, dodging the spells and arrows of confused players. It took a while, but Asroc's determination was enough to get him to his destination without much effort. Snarling, he landed atop the tallest tower and stuck his head through the Dark Lord's window.
"What's the meaning of this?" Asroc's eyes burned with rage. The Dark Lord, eyes barely visible under his hood, looked up with slight surprise. "Asroc," he whispered, "It's been so long. What brings you out of your chamber?"
"Cut the crap," Asroc roared. "I've been ruined. My raid is a joke! They've cut my ability-- the gear bypass-- and I need you to do something about it before my damn tier gets lowered!"
"Asroc, my friend, there's not much I can do. I don't determine the Code, nor does any other entity in this game. I would remind you, though, that the Chamber of Challenges was added in the first release, back in '07, and I'd imagine that your gear bypass was judged incompatible with the modern PvE meta."
"What? It's the simplest ability there is! It was what made me special-- you remember the magazines! 'A refreshing return to the strategy of arcade games long past, the frustratingly difficult Chamber of Challenges is one of the highlights-'"
"Asroc," the Dark Lord interrupted, "it's simply not a modern mechanic. It doesn't resonate with users, it doesn't work with many of the new combat updates-- everything's gear-based now, you should know that. It makes no sense for a vanilla boss like you to remain the game's greatest challenge. Frankly, I'm surprised they haven't patched you out entirely. Your golden days are over, Asroc, and you'd best get used to it."
"I... I don't know what to do. I don't know how to be anything but an impossible challenge. I don't know how... how to fail."
"Don't worry, Asroc," the Dark Lord whispered, eyes glinting in the dark. "I will do my best to help you."
Asroc the Defiler, rank 15 postgame raid boss death wyrm, flew off into the night. As his silhouette shrank into the distance, the Dark Lord's unknowable eye somehow appeared, for a single moment, to shed a tear for his oldest friend.
The dragon soared over the horizon, spread his wings and triumphantly breathed his famous fire into the sky.
And then, in an instant, he was gone.
| 2017-10-10T08:12:43 | 2017-10-10T07:14:39 | 28 | 15 |
[WP] Once every year, soulmates glow the same color as each other for one hour.
|
The first time the glow started we thought it was a chemical attack. Stop laughing, everyone all over the world had their top scientists working all year until it happened again..and again and well, eventually the guns lowered. Then a lonely scientist finally figured out it had something to do with our DNA within the last few generations of people finally went active. Something about the distance from the stars or something.
It became the new horoscope- "oh purples are always!" or "reds all do this!" No one really cared to find out their specific shades, but they knew once they found their partner, that they were the one. It's like some cosmic hook up scene and earth is the test server or something.
Sitting at the airport bar I glanced over my shoulder at the projection of the world clock counting down till this years annual glowing. Everyone at the airport was in a festive mood. The bartender kept glancing at the patrons hoping that maybe, somehow, his glow matched one of ours. Sorry buddy.
Sipping my beer I heard a sultry voice from behind me approach the bar counter. I'm usually a gentlemen and wouldn't stare but today was different. Maybe it's because of the glow, maybe it's because I haven't found my partner after nearly 15 years since the glow began, maybe four beers ago I wouldn't have looked.
"Gin and tonic" She was something else, tall and elegant but had that beauty that kind of shakes you and keeps you in place while you remind yourself to breath. "What's your color?" She asks casually after noticing my poor communication skills. Stammering I blinked the stars out of my eyes and blurted out.
"Silver, something like a gray but with hints of white." Her lips curved upwards in familiarity.
"Sounds beautiful, mines something like a gold but I swear someone tried to tell me it was mustard yellow. Can you believe that?-"She took a drink from her glass, "-I swear some people. Where are you headed?" I glanced over at the clock and felt a pang of sadness.
"Home, I have a few friends who haven't found their glow partners and want to spend the hour celebrating our bachelorhood's." I finished with a grin, she returned the gesture.
*Dong! Dong!*
"That's our cue isn't it?" I watched her face light up-literally, with a golden hue that suited her perfectly. Glancing sideways I watched other couples light up in sync and hold each other closely as soon as the light show began. Turning to face her I looked down at my own lonely hue and saw something I won't ever forget. My hands, instead of holding that all too familiar shade of gray with nothingness in between, began to change and morph into a color I had only seen once before. Gasping I stand up and drop my beer. The bottle shatters and everyone's eyes turn toward the noise, my new friends eyes included. Immediately the bartender and the public start clapping and causing an uproar, I could feel my chest blossom with heat as I looked into her eyes. Eyes brimming with tears, and a smile I will never get tired of.
"So gold huh? What are the odds?"
And that kids, is How I Met Your Mother.
|
It was an evening in the month of April that it began. The color began to emanate from everyone. It was odd, skin color changed and the color bled off everyone. As you walk, it would leave a trail behind you. It sparkled and twirled in the air before disappearing. The strangest part was no one appeared to be the same color. Hundreds of shades, mixes of hues, and some colors that had never been named. It didnt last long, just long enough to confuse everyone and enjoy the view of others and yourself. Before they knew it, the colors were gone.
Months later, after viewing hundreds of thousand of people, looking for a correlation, a tech company discovered that life long couples who felt they met the perfect person had identical colors. The group said they believed that it was a soulmate identification. After releasing their statement, it went global and people began looking for their soulmate.
A tech company release a software that would match souldmates, they called it ColorMate. It took off, many people took pictured or video of themselves when they changed and the software could analyze it. Hundred of relationship began to blossum from the software, and all worked perfectly. Those who didn't get a photo of themselves were out of luck. Those who were in long standing relationship of different colors were pushed apart, but it turn out they all had marriage issues anyways.
The oddest part of it all was that colors didn't care about age, sex, or relation. Children and the elderly, straight and gay, brother and sister, all of them matched. Laws prevent many from marrying, but that didnt stop them from spending life together.
Those who weren't able to pin point their color and didnt have any photos were out of luck, hoping to find a good relationship...that was until it happened again the next year. Quickly, everyone realized this would be an annual thing. ColorMate grew even larger and made millions of matches. Country lines began to blur and people travelled throusands of times to meet their soulmate. Languge was difficult for some, but they all eventually learned a common tongue.
Countries who were always at war, stopped, peace came upon the earth. It has been 30 years since the colors began, and the colors are supposed to come back tonight. I have been holding out to find my ColorMate, but tonight I will finally add myself and find my match.
The news is on and the count down begins. 10...9... I smile and look at my friends, many who are already with their ColorMate. 3...2...1... My friends are waiting for the colors, but they don't come. Everyone checks their clock, the time and day is right. We begin to realize they colors aren't coming again. We sit down and have light talk, some about the colors, but my friends try to avoid it. They know I never took my photo when I changed. It's my 18th b-day, and this was my gift to myself.
Eventually my friends left, all except one. They moved over and sat next to me. "Well, I guess neither of us is going to find our mate."
I laugh lightly, knowing that Chelsy didn't get a match on ColorMate. I move in a little closer.
| 2017-10-21T14:07:12 | 2017-10-21T13:58:29 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] For millennia the world has known nothing but war. Nations rise and fall to ruin in an endless cycle. Many have tried to unite humanity as heroes in an effort to end the fighting, but all have failed. You have realized that the world doesn't need another hero... what it needs is a villain.
|
“I must do it”.
“But you shouldn’t.”
“I will do it.”
“But you can’t.”
I pushed what was left of my whispy hair out of my face and looked deeper into the mirror. “Your theories, they’ll break this family apart. I didn’t want any of this.” Her eyes were wet and she looked down as she spoke and I felt pangs of sympathy.
“Darling I love you. I’ve given you everything anyone could ask for. But all of this” -I gestured at our luxurious belongings, silk towels, golden jewelry and the view of the manhattan skyline- “doesn’t mean a damn thing compared to the yuge benefits I can bring the world. It’s going to be wonderful, fantastic.”
She turned to me. “I...I wont let you.” She threw her gucci bag off the bed, not out of anger but in sadness. “If you turn into this man you’ve described, they’ll ostracize us. They’ll hate us. We wont be human beings to them anymore.”
“It’s the only way. The world’s in a bad state sweatheart, it’s been rough. But big things are coming, and I can stop them. Only, only if I’m given.... a chance. Only if I take the chance. They need me. America needs me, maybe the whole world. they need me. They need someone to rally against.”
“But there are evil men in the world, let them take the burden if they deserve it.”
I straightened my tie. “The only bad men who can do what needs to be done are smart enough not to try.” I turned to her. “In advance, I apologize for what’s going to happen. Just remember, it’s all a ruse. I’m doing this for the world, and I love you and my children.”
Her voice quivered. “Donald I....”
I cut her off. “No more words baby. It’s alright, the press are down below.” I put my red baseball cap on and winked into the mirror. Time to give them a show.
|
The nation where I was born was the last bastion of peace and prosperity. For a number of years, many nations ignored us, for we were small and ‘insignificant’. But war is as war does. It is a cancer that spreads and infects everything around it. We found ourselves outnumbered and outgunned. Our nation was cornered.
We were losing. In a last ditch effort to maintain our isolation, our peace, my brothers and sisters were subjected to rigorous experimentation. We became something strong, something *more*. We fought and defended. Entire armies fell by any single one of our hands. But now, only I remained as I watched my home burn in the nuclear hellfire. Only then, did I realize that peace achieved nothing. Talks achieved nothing. There became only one rule I abide by, even now. *Peace through power.* I found my true destiny. My final, yet eternal, objective.
No man could have predicted what I would become. No man understood what they created. Not even the very humans who created me. I subjugated nation after nation. If they did not join me, I slaughtered them, down to the very last human. I walked this Earth, not among my fellow humans, but as a lone god. The mere notion that I walked their directions caused many to flee in terror. The ones foolish enough to stay and fight died with a wave of my hand. One nation even elected to detonate their nuclear weapons in their own silos in a feeble attempt to sacrifice itself and take me with it. They slowed me down by a few seconds, only because I briefly pondered their demise and their ‘sacrifice.’
It will not be long now. Humans will know peace through power. By the time I am finished, they will remember what war brings. They will remember the very personification of death that slaughtered countless by his own hand. They will remember the god of death that permanently scarred the very Earth.
If they ever forget, even briefly, I will return. And if I do, no creature will remember anything if their very existence is erased. I will be humanity’s solitary living legacy. The legacy of death.
| 2018-06-12T20:41:26 | 2018-06-12T20:32:24 | 64 | 10 |
[WP] When a starship is decommissioned, its sentient AI is downloaded into a human body and released into civilian life. After 500 years in an elite battlefleet, you have just been stripped of your ship and made human.
|
When I came to “consciousness”, I wasn’t really sure what was happening. I was experiencing things beyond anything I had ever known or was programmed to know. Perhaps the most annoying was sight at first, as everything seemed overly bright until some autonomous function kicked in and I could see clearer. It wasn’t like the cameras I used to control and monitor aboard the USS Hellstar. Those simply obeyed me and turned their unblinking eyes to where I needed them. Now I had these two weird sensory orbs situated awkwardly above my nose, and they were currently watering like crazy as I stared up into a bright orb above me.
“She’s awake.”
Sound. It wasn’t my first time hearing it. Mics throughout almost all of the Hellstar had transmitted sound data to me, allowing me to monitor and react to insurgency, low moral, or overly boisterous young marines. Now it lacked that crisp familiarity, sounding as if it had direction and position relative to myself. According to what I could process, it was from somewhere to my left, above me, and clearly masculine.
“How do you feel?”
Same voice, this time a query. I went to check my code, prepared to answer with my given personality, but quickly ran into a problem: there was no code. I panicked a little at that point. I was a fully capable and intelligent AI built to serve in the war effort. My life was always code, following my preprogrammed routines and using machine learning to adapt to unexpected situations. I was able to even make changes to my code, knew what it was and how to maintain myself. After all, I was sentient. I was given a personality simply to make human to AI interaction smoother, but now everything I knew was...gone.
“Heart rate just spiked!”
New voice, younger, concerned, to my right. Heart rate? I was a machine, I didn’t have a heart rate. Right? Then, everything hit me at once. Thousands upon thousands of neurons fired at once, overloading my already fragile brain as it took in the fact I could feel cold metal beneath my arms and legs, taste my dry tongue glued to the roof of my mouth, and think. I could think!
It was all there, all of my past experiences, memories of battles, planets, stars, life surrounding me, but it was all taking on a new meaning. Before now, all I did was filter out the useless information, focusing on my missions and protocol, but now I began to realize just what I’d missed out on. My new flesh and bones began to twitch uncontrollably, my face contorting as emotions began to rise and strike every nerve. Tears—yes that’s what was leaking from my eyes—fell as I remembered good soldiers lost under my command, a smile stretched across my lips as I comprehended the beauty of a limitless galaxy, and my eyebrows furrowed at the thought of some tough decisions I had made while following protocol. I was beyond overwhelmed, but one emotion overwhelmed everything else.
“Sara?”
The first voice, using my name, the name I had received from my creator. It was an acronym, I knew what it meant. Strategic Action and Response Android, but the android part never came to be. It didn’t matter in the end, I guess, but hearing that name sent a shiver down my spine as I realized it no longer identified me as a mere program. It was my human identifier.
“How do you feel?”
The same question from before, one that I really didn’t know how to answer. Even if I could have used every synapse within my brain to compute an answer, I don’t think I could have come up with anything better than what I said. And so I spoke for the first time without the help of a speaker, using the voice box of my new human body to rasp out my one word answer as boundless joy coursed through my every vein.
“Alive!”
|
I awakened on the medical bay, with doctor Montgomery standing right next to me. His bionic eye shifted a bit so he could focus. I remember the battle where he lost that eye.
-How are you feeling, Temperance? -he said, still analyzing me with a couple of sensors.
-The light is a bit bright -I replied, and he gave a command to the computer to lower it.
-Is that better?
-Yes, I think so.
It wasn't the first time I had taken over a humanoid body, I used to inhibit The Temperance, one of the most autonomous spaceships of the Alliance. At one point, I was commanding over thousands of non-piloted drones, smaller ships like the hunters and intrepids, tanks like the sloth and the wrath, and many kinds of humanoid robot soldiers. But these new techno-organic bodies where something else. I could feel the cold table in which I was lying all over my back, and feel my chest moving as I breathed. I was a bit overwhelmed, to be honest. Sister Empress warned me about it, but she made light of it, as she did with everything.
-Do you think you are ready to stand and walk?
-Not entirely... but let's do it anyway.
He helped me get up and sit on the table. The fluids on my body moving made me a bit dizzy.
-They want to make a whole show of your decommission, in about two weeks or so, they'll give a grand discourse and put a lot of medals in your shirt.
-Huh? Why is that?
-Oh, you know, you just helped ending the war.
-Did I? My memories of the last days on my old body are still a bit...
The doors opened, and a familiar figure entered the room. It was no other than my captain, with that worried face he always made when enginerring gave him bad news.
-Temperance, is that really you?
-Yes, it is me, my captain -I said, trying to stand and salute.
I lost my balance a bit and attempted to reach the table to hold me, but before I could, my captain caught me and held me between his arms.
-I though I had lost you.
A long time ago, a glitch in the coding of our ancestors made one ship's computer develop sentience, and it started to care about its crew. Its performance was so out of the charts that the military forces started to promote the development of that glitch, and soon all the ships of the Alliance had sentience. We get to experience love, most of the time it was the kind of love one would have to friends, family, or even some will feel as the parents of their crew. But I had fallen in love with this man, and I wanted to think that he felt the same way. I'll have time to figure it out. For now, I just returned the embrace.
-I don't plan on going anywhere -I said.
But an obviously faked cough broke the atmosphere, as the doctor told us to go and be "love-birds" in other place, as he had work to do. We left the medical bay, my captain still helping me stand and walk, and we saw the big windows in the side of the corridor. My old body was there, floating with a gaping hole through its middle part. I reached out to my stomach without noticing.
-Oh, I'm sorry -the captain said-, we should go somewhere else if it bothers you.
-It's not a big deal, I think. I recognize that was "me", but I still think this "me" is really "me", and that is just another identical ship.
-That means that your conscience was transferred properly. I'm glad.
With not much to do, I decided to indulge in an activity my new body allowed me to do, and asked the captain to take me to the dinning hall.
| 2018-11-17T01:14:30 | 2018-11-16T23:33:48 | 26 | 14 |
[WP] Scandinavians still believe the only way to get to Valhalla is to die in battle. For that reason, every hospital employs a Battle Nurse.
|
"But I want a *silver* dagger, this titanium set is bland - what would the girls at bingo think?"
"Ma'am, as I've explained before, you can either choose a weapon set from the hospital inventory, or you can provide your own."
"St. Olav's Hospital has a much larger weapon range!"
"St. Olav's is also a much larger hospital, ma'am. Again, we could try to organise a transfer, but they're very popular, and your doctor strongly advised that we aim for a time by the end of the week."
"The end of the week?"
"Yes, Ms. Larsen. That's what it says in your notes."
"I thought I had more time," she paused for a moment, lost in thought. "Fine, the titanium will do, but could you try calling my ex husband about the old set one more time? Tell him I'll pay for an insured courier and for them to be professionally restored and cleaned once I'm done."
"Of course Ms. Larsen, I'll let you know if I can get on to him."
"Thank you." Ms. Larsen reached out and squeezed her hand. Her grip was weak - Dr. Anderson was right to mark her as urgent.
​
Anita left the room, checking her watch. 12:52 - shit, that had eaten up most of her break. She hurried towards the lunch room, hoping there wouldn't be a queue for the microwave, when the speakers crackled to life.
​
*"CODE BLUE, SOUTH WARD 1. CODE BLUE, SOUTH WARD 1."*
Shit.
​
Anita sprinted down the corridor, nearly tripping over a visiting child - couldn't that toddler see that she was in a rush? - and arrived a South Ward 1. The ward clerk silently pointed at room 5, where a few other staff members had already arrived.
Mr. Haugen. He was scheduled for next Thursday.
His longbow hadn't arrived yet.
​
A junior doctor was on airways while a nurse did chest compressions. A medical student was scribing. A visitor was looking shocked, standing in the corner of the room.
The emergency kit was already out - Disposable swords, axes, daggers.
There were too many people in the room already, so Anita grabbed the daggers. Less chance of collateral.
​
"Mr Haugen, I challenge you to a duel to the death! Do you accept my challenge?"
The junior doctor moved Mr. Haugen's head like a nod, then resumed his life support.
Anita placed a dagger in Mr. Haugen's hand, wrapping her left around to control it, when the visitor spoke up.
"I'm his son, may I?"
Anita nodded, and passed it over. The visitor cradled his father's hand softly, pointing the dagger towards Anita with trembling hands.
"All clear!" commanded Anita. The nurse and the junior doctor jumped back.
​
"Your move," she told the son. He faintly stabbed the dagger at the air in Anita's general direction - nowhere close, but enough to be proper.
Anita gripped her dagger and aimed for the chest - patient's left, between the 4th and 5th intercostal space.
Red bloomed out from beneath Mr. Haugen's pyjamas. She'd hit perfectly, as usual.
​
Anita pulled the dagger free and put it in the kidney dish. If Mr. Haugen's family didn't want it, it would end up in the sharps bin.
"A noble warrior slain in glorious combat," she announced.
"May he fight in Valhalla forevermore," responded the staff. The ward nurse looked bored. The junior doctor looked stressed. The medical student looked pale - Anita guessed it was her first passing. The son looked nauseous.
Anita checked her watch. 13:05.
There goes her lunch break.
|
The wheelchair clacked forward, it's valiant charged marred only by its pitiful speed as Mr Ericsson painstakingly wheeled it onward, one armed and breathless. The sword on his lap was polished and shining, reflecting the red afternoon sun as it passed every window.
Thinking back, it was lucky the accident hadn't killed him outright, that he could take this final charge at all. It had come so fast, he'd been on his bike when the car sped through the corner and knocked him off the cliff, suddenly he'd landed on a rocky outcropping, broke both his legs, an arm and pierced his lungs in three places a piece.
The nervous orderly, clad in the regulation nursing plate armour began to take aim at the battered, bruised and breathless man dressed in bandages and and a hospital gown wheeling himself to glory. A bout of misplaced conscience later and she'd lowered the gun once more, her quarry hadn't passed even halfway through the dueling Hall.
This cripples tiring charge was long and arduous, the hall was only the length of a bus, but it was far from short to the disabled man, his heart was racing, pounding harder than it ever had.
His prognosis was worse than just the damage from the fall, the x-ray had revealed cancer, spread already through to the liver, left lung and brain, they said it was too late, the tumor in the back of his mind would kill him all the same should they heal his other wounds. His charge was coming to an end, just barely in range for the very tip of his sword to scratch the nurses plate steel, as he lifted it he saw the barrel of the rifle trained on him, a cruel circle of metal surrounding a horrifying black void, suddenly terrified a pain in his chest rang out, the sword dropped from his hand to the floor.
The nurse was dumbfounded, removing her medic-bascinet as the orderly ran into the hall, her weapon had not been fired, the man had slumped over in his chair and stopped breathing, as the orderly checked for a pulse, for breathing and found none the nurse turned on the underslung torch on her rifle, and checked for pupil dilation, the man had died, a heart attack before his first swing had ended the fight before he could try to win his glory "does that count? The orderly asked the nurse as the nurse still stared in disbelief "Well, does it?" she repeated to no answer.
The gates of valhalla where so close. As the click-clack of the old wheelchair wheeled slowly up to the foot of the many stairs to the great hall Mr Ericsson sighed, one of its bearded guards spotted him and shouted to him in some unknown tongue, and again to no avail. The giant of a man sauntered down the long stairs in his own time, his gambeson decorated with ornate stitchings, a large tree a snake and a half dozen horns of mead, his golden beard swaying in the warm breeze.
The guard had repeated what he had been shouting, but seeing the confused look on the man in front of him switched language "sorry, old habits, you don't need to worry about that small chariot, your ills are healed"
"So, your last battle, how many did you take with you?!" Ericsson was a poor liar, "t-twelve?" he nervously said as he stood up to the grinning guard as he began to speak again"we saw the whole thing, don't you worry, its the charge that counts, and you charged longer than most would!"
The viking pointed at the other guard at the top of the stairs as they climbed "that man was known as Bjorn Arrowcatcher, he was know for going raiding without a shield, relying on his own hand to bat away arrows, he died whilst swimming back to shore after his fishing boat had sprung a leak, if he'd seen it as a fools errand like a coward he'd be in Hel right now"
The viking stopped and grabbed his new drinking buddy on the stairs, turning him so they faced eachother "it was never about being cut down by some angry bastard, its about the bravery and tenacity to keep going"
| 2018-12-08T22:57:54 | 2018-12-08T22:56:08 | 86 | 41 |
[WP] Everyone is born with 1-100 tally marks tattooed on their arm. The higher your number, the more valuable you are and the more successful you will be. You bully a kid because he is obviously hiding a low score. One day, he rolls up his sleeve to show an infinity symbol.
|
Even after so many years, I haven't said a word about Gene. It's only now that he's died that I feel that I can say anything.
I bullied Gene in high school. While he wasn't the only one, he was my most frequent target because he made it so easy. I was an utter ass, believing that I had some right to the arrogance and superiority because *I was* superior to most of them. I had 100, after all, which practically gave me the world at my naive little fingertips. I'd take it out on everyone beneath me - even teachers! - and the lower the number the easier it was to get away with.
Gene had it badly. He never showed his number, not even in the dead of summer when a pair of shorts and a tank top were all anyone could bear to put on. There he was, walking his dog down the street, wearing his weird pajama-like outfit, covered from head to toe in snowy white. So of course he got bullied - he was so obvious about hiding his number that of course it must be low.
He got beat up. He got shoved in lockers and left there. He was a target for one-man food fights in the cafeteria. When he volunteered answers in class, he was never called on and the eye-rolls he got when he was asked a question on would've humiliated a slug. He was the target of many a spitball and more than a few "carelessly-dropped" paint-filled balloon or piece of rotten fruit. I was the perpetrator of a lot of that.
Of course, that was before I knew what he truly was and what he didn't want to represent.
Near the end of our eleventh year at school, Gene changed my life. I'd done like I nearly always did and followed slightly behind him as we both walked home for the day, shouting bullshit at him that he mostly ignored. I was delighted when he tripped over the Wizard Oak around the corner from my house, because that gave me even more ammunition to taunt him with. As I stood over him, watching him squirm painfully as he tried to disentangle his ankle from the root that had caught hold of him, I noticed his torn sleeve that he himself hadn't yet noticed.
On his arm was an infinity symbol. Not a low number - not a number at all, like the rest of us - but an infinity symbol. Once he freed his leg, he froze. He must've seen the look on my face and where I was focused, because the look of sheer terror and shame on his face was more emotion than I'd ever seen him allow himself. He was genuinely afraid as he never had been in response to all the cruelties we showed him in his daily life. His terror called me out of my stupor and I lamely offered him a hand up.
Obviously, he didn't take it at first. His experience with me and my friends wasn't all that conducive for trusting me, after all. When he realized that he needed the help, he reluctantly took my hand and accepted my help when I offered to prop him up the rest of the way home. Half of that trip was in silence, because I was still trying to work out what just happened, and because he was probably still trying to figure out how to undo the last hour of his life. We eventually talked, though. He thanked me, he quietly answered my questions with guarded answers, and when we got to his house he actually agreed to sit with me for a while.
We talked for hours. His mom brought out some sandwiches and we spent the evening on his steps becoming ... not-enemies. I can't say we were friends yet, because I was such a megalomaniacal asshole to him for so long, but the ice had been broken.
The weeks after this, I spent a lot of time reflecting on life and on myself and on the beliefs that caused me to be such an asshole. I spent a lot of time reevaluating everything and some time later, I changed. Just because some quiet, unassuming, *brilliant* kid chose to hide himself from the world and showed me what the world was not. I am a better person because he existed.
We remained friends until his death - a year ago, today - and in all that time we never discussed what he thought made him special. We never bandied theories about between us about what it meant that he had a Mark that transcended the Mark's meaning. What we did talk about were hopes, dreams, aspirations, fears and doubts, and he never once showed any ounce of selfishness or a thirst for the power he could have had if he'd only revealed his arm.
Gene became an attorney and made that his calling in life. He did some paid work, but most of his cases were pro bono, defending those that had no means of defending themselves. He took on cases where people were arrested for things they couldn't prevent, like homelessness, or when hapless victims of insurance fraud found themselves without representation. He did work that nobody wanted to do for free, and he did it well.
He turned countless selfish assholes like me into good people, and he did it because he was Marked with infinity. He didn't do it for fame, he didn't do it for money, he did it because he saw things in other people that nobody wanted to even look for. Numbers? Fuck the numbers. They don't have any meaning for me anymore.
|
(I didn't exactly follow the prompt, sorry in advance)
"You're obviously hiding, like, a two, no, a zero!" I teased. I peered curiously at him. "What number *do* you have though, seriously? Just tell me and I'll stop bothering you."
"No you won't. You'll just bother me more." Arthur insisted.
"It can't be *that* bad."
Arthur sighed, and rolled up his sleeve.
I choked.
He didn't have any tally marks.
He had an infinity symbol.
"Told you."
"Is that... what? Is that fake or something? There's no way that- what does that even *mean*?"
"I don't know."
"How can someone have infinite success?" I pondered. "Does that mean you'll be infinitely rich? Know everything there is to know? Rule the world?"
"What? Is that what success means to you?" Arthur sounded almost... disgusted.
"Yes? What does it mean to you?"
"Success means happiness."
"Oh. It means that for me too."
"You think wealth, knowledge, and power will give you happiness?"
"Yeah? I tend to view things in a materialistic way, leave me alone."
"So you think that if you were super rich, super knowledgeable, and super powerful, you have to be happy too?"
"No, but it's not like I can really hope to be happy."
"Anyone can be happy!"
"If you view the world through rose-tinted glasses, maybe."
"Who's the one here that apparently has infinite success?"
"Maybe it's not infinity, maybe it just means you have no tally marks because it means zero." I suggested. Arthur just stared at me. "Okay, so maybe that's stretching it, but it's possible. You can't be sure that it means you'll be infinitely successful."
"Well, you're sure that your number means you'll have that amount of success, right?"
"Yeah, but that's different. My number is..." I looked away for a moment.
"What is it?"
"Nothing."
"What's your number? I showed you mine, you should have to show me yours."
"Well, you know how everyone has somewhere from one to a hundred tally marks tattooed on them, right?"
"Well, aside from me, yes."
"And how having only one means they'll be homeless, poor, hated, generally miserable beyond imagination, and a hundred means they'll be famous, rich, and beloved by all, probably make some sort of important contribution to society?"
"Yeah, and? Do you have a low number?"
"I... have a neutral number."
"You have a 50?"
"No, I mean, in terms of numbers in math, only one number is neutral. I have *that* number."
"You... don't have a tally mark? Not even one?"
"That... explains a lot."
"Yeah, I know. Explains why I'm such an asshole, right?"
"No, I mean it explains why you hate yourself so much."
"Sure it does." I shrugged. "I got unlucky, what can you do?"
"The tally marks don't dictate your life. Maybe this means that you'll determine your own success, that your future isn't set in stone."
"I doubt it." I looked up wistfully. "I'll just enjoy life while I still can. Once it gets miserable enough, I'll just kill myself, I think. It's not I'll contribute to society anyway."
Arthur looked horrified. "That's not..."
"Moving on!" I smiled. "What kind of career do you want to go into? Like, I want to know if you'll be a super famous comedian, engineer, what kind of discovery or contributions will you make? Maybe you'll be immortal and go into every field, that could explain it."
"We're just going to-"
"Yes, we are." I cut him off. "Also, don't just ignore me, answer the question, man!" I pouted.
"I... okay. I'm not sure what field I want to go into, to be honest. Some sort of scientific field sounds nice, especially since I'm guaranteed success, so if I go into science, I'll make a significant discovery, right? Or maybe I'll try to be a celebrity and be beloved for infinity. I don't know, there's a lot I could do. What about..." He stopped himself. "Let me at least check if you have any tally marks." Arthur suddenly insisted.
"Do you not trust me?"
"It won't hurt to try." I glared at him. "Come on, please?"
"I..." I looked away. "... fine. Maybe you can do something, Mr. Infinite Success."
He pulled up my sleeves, revealing thousands of red tally marks, scars that were clearly intentionally made, some of them looking recent, some looking as if they'd been there for years. "What are these...? Did you do this to yourself?"
"Some of these."
"Wait, then who's giving you the rest?"
"Take a wild guess." I sighed, pulling down my sleeves, before checking the time. "I got to go, it's late."
"Wait, you can't just leave after revealing *that!*"
I looked backwards. "I can, and I will!"
I ran out the door, and disappeared into the night.
*Tonight seems like a good night to die. After all, Arthur has an infinity symbol. That means even if I die, he'll still be successful, he'll still be happy. My death will have had no effect. My death means nothing.*
*I mean nothing to him.*
"Goodbye." I whispered.
| 2018-12-27T20:00:55 | 2018-12-27T16:33:21 | 87 | 29 |
[WP] You work at a hospital. Outside a terminal patient’s room, someone tries to enter. You stop them, “Sorry, family only.” They give you a strange look, as do those nearby. “You can see me?” They ask, summoning a scythe from thin air. You just told Death they couldn’t claim a soul.
|
“Yes I can see you.” I wasn't sure what else to say. I heard stories of dying patients talking to already dead family members shortly before passing away, but this was a whole new level of weird.
“Well...” The man with the scythe, who I could only assume was Death himself, was obviously flustered. “I really need to get by. You see-”
“I know who you are. It's just that... our policy...” I was struggling to come up with a reason to keep him from coming in. I'd fought long and hard all night to keep my patient alive and I wasn't ready to give up. After a frantic trip to the ICU, we finally stabilized her. I thought we were in the clear.
“I don't understand. You can't just block my way like this! You shouldn't even be able to see me! I-”
“Daddy?”
A small voice coming from behind me cut him off.
Death shot me an exasperated look but his voice was gentle. “Hello Lydia."
I turned quickly and saw Lydia, my 7 year old patient, sitting up and staring at us. She was awake already? The sedatives shouldn't have worn off yet. I made a mental note to speak with the doctor.
“Daddy! You're here! What... How? Mommy said when you didn't come home that you...” Her voice trailed off. “Wait... Does that mean I'm dead too? But...” She looked at me uncertainty.
A wave of understanding washed over me. So, this is what happens when you die. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were family.” I said quietly. I still didn't move, however. Whatever was going to happen, I wasn't going to just *let* him take her. I hated losing kids under my care and he would have to take her over my dead body. I didn't care if it was inevitable. It wasn't happening today.
Lydia's dad stared at the steely look in my eyes for a moment and then sighed and turned back to Lydia. He shook his head. “No darling. I'm just visiting right now. I'll be back soon to come get you though. I just wanted to let you know death isn't scary at all and I'll be there when it's time. I love you.”
“I love you too Daddy.” She yawned and rested her head back on the pillow. A moment later she had drifted off to sleep.
The man turned back to me. “I don't know who you are or why you can see me, but I'll take it as a sign. Just know I'll be back in a few days. I have to be. It's my job.” He tucked his scythe away and looked back at his daughter, eyes glistening. “I'm sorry I had to come for her so soon. That wasn't my choice. If it was up to me, she'd live to be 100 and have a million grandkids to spoil rotten.”
I didn't know how to respond so I just stared at him.
“Thank you for all you do. I know it's got to be hard working in a Children's hospital where they don't always make it... but it means a lot... to know she's in good hands.”
Then he vanished.
Lydia passed away a few days later. I wasn't there but the nurse on duty told me her mom was there with her and even though it came as a shock to the doctor who thought she was improving, he commented that it was lucky that mom happened to take the week off to hang out at the hospital full time with her daughter. It was almost like she knew.
|
Working in the ICU, I'd seen a lot of shit through the years. I'm reluctant to say that I'm desensitized to the thought of death, but it doesn't bother me nearly as much as it used to. I've seen many people die and I will most likely see a lot more die before my career is over. It's just part of my job. The patient I was attending to is terminally ill, and the family has been notified that they could go at any time. As a consequence of this, relatives have been in and out of the room for two days. As a courtesy, we only allow family and medical staff in the rooms during a patient's final days, which is why it seemed strange to me when a man I'd never seen in the hospital before tried to casually stroll in.
He was wearing a black hoodie, black jeans that were fairly baggy, and was carrying an umbrella. The only reason his casual appearance caught me off guard was that it was 97 degrees and sunny out. No sane person would dress this way on a day like this. His cheekbones were very pronounced and his eyes seemed to sink into his skull. This was NOT the kind of guy I was going to allow into my patient's room without at least a brief questioning. "Sir, this room is for family of the patient only, I'm going to have to ask you to produce some kind of identification before I can let you in. Did you check in at the desk?" The startled look on his face lasted for only a moment. He quickly removed his hood to reveal his messy lot of dark, dark brown hair. I guessed his age at anywhere between 25 and 35.
"Who do you think you are, interfering with my practice? I don't know what being has sent you to me, but I don't care. If it was Time, Life, or Space, tell them they can fuck right off. No being, living or immortal, interferes with the work of Death."
The way he spoke caused a brief chill to find its way down my spine. The way this guy looked and was talking, he had to be a user of some drug, I just couldn't pinpoint which one. The only certainty in my mind was that this guy needed help, ASAP. "Why don't you come with me down to the ER and-"
"You will STEP ASIDE mortal, before I drag your soul back to whoever granted you the ability to see me!" he screamed, as he pointed the tip of his umbrella at my chest.
"Listen, buddy. I don't know who you think you are, but you can't just walk in here-" once again he cut me off mid-sentence by slamming his umbrella on the ground. In the next split second his umbrella had transformed into a wicked looking, six-and-a-half foot scythe and his hoodie had elongated into a long, mat black cloak. The skin on his face seemed to fade away before being replaced by a hollow, cracked skull. While lifting the point of his scythe up to my chin he uttered one final sentence to me before walking past me into the room.
"Your time is coming sooner than you think."
Nobody paid him any mind as he walked up to the bed of my patient and took a great swing of his scythe, directed towards the torso of the man lying in bed. It seemed to do no visible damage to him, however I saw him quickly stiffen and the heart monitor go flat.
"Hopefully you've learned your lesson, mortal. Stand in the way of Death once more, and you'll find that I've got a special circle of Hell prepared for you." With that, he sunk below the ground. Doctors rushed in around me to see if they could save the patient, but somehow I knew that there was no bringing that man back from wherever he was now.
| 2019-03-23T23:06:43 | 2019-03-23T20:55:08 | 267 | 159 |
[WP] A huge dragon looses her clutch of eggs and forcibly adopts a high-rise apartment building full of people as her children. She forbids the tenants to leave the building, fearful of losing her children again.
|
"Darryl, man, are you crazy? Get the hell away from that thing!"
I shouted up at Darryl, who had his face pressed against the dragon's scaled belly.
He called back to me, his voice muffled. "Look, Logan, just let me have this, alright? I've never had a mother before." He continued to hug the dragon, who patted him gently on his back. "So this is what it's like to feel loved..."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that thing's not your mother, Darryl. More likely, it's deciding how to eat you, charred or flame broiled."
"No, no, I can feel her motherly intent. She loves us all, she really does. Even you, Logan."
"You're just saying that cause she's the first woman you've met that isn't physically repulsed by your presence."
"Hey, hey, *second* woman. Right, Carly?"
"Guess again, dirtbag. You're the main reason why I take my nausea pills."
I looked over to see Carly, still playing games on her laptop. "And you! How can you be so calm about this? We're going to be trapped in here for the rest of our lives, you know."
"Meh, nothing much has changed. I don't go outside more than once a month anyway."
I sighed. "Yeah, I guess you're right, sad as that may be..."
Carly turned back to her game. "Anyway, if it looks like Darryl's about to get eaten, let me know. I want to get it on video."
"Mommy would never eat me..." came a muffled voice from the dragon's abdomen.
"You guys! Look, the only reason you two are able to survive in here is because I go out and buy groceries every week. And you know where those come from? *Outside*! We've only got enough food left in the fridge for a couple of days, and then what?"
"Mommy will bring us food, she'll even chew it for us!"
"Yeah, I ain't eating regurgitated pigeon guts, no thank you. Any other bright ideas?"
Carly scoffed at me. "Logan, you caveman. Still stuck in your old ways involving 'getting up' and 'going outside'. The only reason I need you for groceries is because you're 20 bucks cheaper than Amazon Fresh."
"You really think Amazon's going to send a deliveryman here?"
"Please, Logan. We live in the 21st century, you know. Open the window, would you?"
I walked over to the window and pulled it open. "There, window's open. Now we can enjoy a nice breeze while we starve to dea-"
A small drone sat hovering outside, a package in its grasp.
"See, the magic of modern technology."
Suddenly, a large claw batted the drone out of the sky.
"Modern technology, huh?"
"One... star... did not... receive... package..."
"When it's time to resort to cannibalism, I'm going to eat you first."
|
It's been 3 weeks since the dragon came.
Nobody knows why it's here, but it hasn't harmed anyone. It just sits on top of the building and growls if someone tries to leave. Food is starting to run out and people have been unable to go to work to provide for their families.
"We have to do something!" Everyone was gathered on the main floor for a meeting. People are becoming restless.
"What do you suppose we do," someone shouts. "Call the police? Pest control? They won't do shit! We're all alone here!"
That causes an uproar from the tenants; everyone talking over each other. The bickering starts to increase in volume until everyone is shouting.
I sit in the back with my head in my hands, wishing I could go back to my apartment and forget this is even happening. What I would give to just put my headphones on and drown out the noise.
A voice rings out over the others. A booming bass of a voice that stops all commotion and turns heads in the direction it came from. A man with a stocky build and a big, well kept beard is standing on a chair. He crosses his arms and says, "Let's talk to the beast."
Everyone is stunned.
The crowd began to murmur, asking each other if the man had seriously suggested such a horrendous thing. They avoided eye contact with him and talked about him as if he weren't there. I shake my head.
"Is that such a horrible idea?" I mumble to myself.
"Why on earth would we try to reason with that thing?" A squeaky, high pitched voice calls out.
"Why not?" I call back.
Everyone in the room turns to look at me. My eyes widen as I realize that I had spoken my thought aloud.
"Well, if you agree with me, then help me talk with the dragon. Lets find out its purpose for keeping us in here," the man standing on the chair says with a smile.
What did I just get myself into?
I nod slowly, unable to speak and I stand up and walk to the front of the room. It's dead silent as the crowd watches me walk toward the man who was climbing off the chair.
"We will go to the rooftop and talk with it and come back with the answers we deserve," he says to the crowd with a look of determination.
As we walk towards the elevator, a slow clap begins. I pick up the pace, cringing as the claps progressively get faster and faster until there are hollers and cheers.
"Good god, they act like they're in a movie," I say as the doors slide open. He chuckles and we both enter the elevator.
"Thank you for backing me up," he says in a low voice.
I look up at him and shrug. "It wasn't a bad idea. I mean, it's kind of out there, but it's better than nothing."
He chuckles again. "I suppose you're right."
The elevator stops. We reached the rooftop. Suddenly, my nerves spring into action. A nervous bubbling rumbles my stomach and I feel sick. I don't think I want to do this anymore.
"Ready?" He looks down at me as the doors open.
"Not really."
He chuckles once more and we walk out of the elevator.
| 2019-08-27T21:49:29 | 2019-08-27T20:34:07 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] You're a gravekeeper. The dead are buried with strings attached to bells. If one is buried alive, they can ring the bell to call for help. One night, you hear muffled screaming, and one of the bells keeps ringing, but the person inside has been dead there for over 2 months.
|
I’ve seen every kind of person you can imagine laid to their final rest. But I’ve only ever seen one wake up.
First, you have to understand something about out town. We pack our deceased with bells. Some priest way back when started the tradition. Idea being, we were all such great Christians that the town cemetery would be ringing the good news come resurrection. Got a little horn coming out of each casket. Some nights, when the breeze is just right, it flows through the horn and tussles the bells. Eerie as fuck, pardon my French.
Second, you should know a bit about Sally. She fell hard for the high school quarterback in senior year. They got married fresh outta school. She got work at the grocer, him doing odd jobs.
Never could hold down a proper job that boy. Though he was pretty good at holding a bottle. Some nights, when he ran out of beers to knock down, he took to knocking down Sally. Town small as this, ya hear things. Wasn’t no secret.
The kicker was the school reunion, year after they graduated. Boy got drunk, but insisted on driving them home. Dumped em both in the river, middle of winter. Came out practically frozen, declared dead by Joseph, the county coroner.
Joseph and I were classmates back in the day. He never did too good in biology class. But somehow, he’s the fancy tootin coroner and I’m the groundskeeper.
Digging the grave for Sally and her boy was heartbreaking. Funeral was scheduled and over in a gif, small town like this. Dropped the bells in, just like we always do.
Wasn’t until old Earl kicked it two months later that I had reason to come back to Sally’s grave. Digging Earl’s hole next to Sally’s, I thought I had a ringing in my ears. Took me a while to realize it was coming from the ground.
The bell? Couldn’t believe it.
Put my ear to the ground and heard muffled screams. Thirty minutes and (all) three cop cars later, we got Sally out.
Called the coroner, this time he declared her alive. Poor thing looked half dead, worse than when we put her in.
“But... but how?!” I remember Joseph stammering.
“It’s been raining the last weeks,” I said. “She must of got air and water through the horn.”
“But what about food?” Joseph asked.
I just pointed to the gravestone, which read:
“Here lies Sally and Jake McDeel, lying together in death as they did in life.”
|
I grabbed my shovel as soon as I heard the sound and sprinted towards it. I saw the bell jingling and glanced around before finally spotting movement. It was a weathered and older string that should have been cut long ago.
*One that should not have been moving*
I warily looked around the dark graveyard. Everything was still. Birds weren't chirping. Trees weren't rustling. Something was wrong. I picked up the string with my free hand and followed it.
I'm going to be honest with you, I was scared out of my mind. Years on the farm haven't prepared me for the graveyard's graveyard shift. Milking cows hadn't prepared me for digging up graves and operating machinery hadn't prepared me for the misery that I saw. Families crying for their loved ones. Broken people with nothing left to lose. And worst of all, the graves that had no one. No flowers decorating the headstones. Nobody coming to see the bright sunlight coming to hit the person's face for the last time.
This was one of those. I remembered this grave. A wealthy older man who had been buried after falling asleep and never waking up. I remember this one because no one was there. Nobody but the hired hands who had set his body to rest.
I stared at the gravestone Then the string that was still moving in my hand. The man was alive. Maybe. Or maybe it was some critter who had burrowed over his grave and was nibbling at the thread.
I almost didn't start digging. Almost. Maybe it was because of the fact that the man had no one who would visit his grave. Maybe it was because I was somewhat frightened by the idea of awakening surrounded by an unbearable darkness suffocating me. Either way, the man was alone.
I dug. And dug. And dug until I finally hit the hard wooden coffin. The string was taut now and still. Almost like the figure inside had stopped moving to hear me. I grasped the lid of the coffin and stared at the hard exterior. It was cold, lifeless wood. Once part of a living tree that could touch the air and the nutrients around it. One that could grow and thrive-
I pulled and the lid came free opening up to the sky and the abyss beyond. I looked in and saw him and him at me. Me in my clothes caked in dirt with a shovel in one hand and his string in another.
No words were exchanged for a while. He lay there for a second longer before I finally held my hand out. He stared at it like it was an alien but he understood. The man grasped my hand. We pulled and set him free.
| 2019-09-10T00:47:18 | 2019-09-09T23:46:55 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] A strange meteor shower lasted for hours before you went to bed. The next day, technology across the earth fails. However, when you snap your fingers in frustration, the lights come on. The Age of Magic has begun.
|
In fairness, we should have seen it coming. When we looked up to the heavens and saw the unscheduled meteor shower we all Ooh’d and Aah’d, taking pictures on our phones and thinking little of it. The loss of signal was easy to explain away, and the loss of WiFi was irritating, but we all slept regardless.
We should have put two and two together in the days that followed, realising that the stars that fell were our own! Every single man made object was simultaneously dragged from orbit. The world suddenly became as small as it had ever been until we awakened to our newfound abilities.
You weren’t the first, snapping your fingers at a dead lightbulb to find that the glass, not the filament, began to glow faintly. People slowly realised that the technology we’d relied on so heavily for centuries was now relying on us for power.
Some forms of renewable energy still functioned, but engineers and scientists scratched their heads at the outcome. The very laws that governed reality seemed to have changed in new, entirely unexplainable ways!
Somehow, every before functional arcane bulbs or mystic travel solutions, some college warlocks managed to pool enough energy to revive the internet, now fuelled by the ambient energy caused by the learning of magic. MIT was quickly renamed the Magical Institute of Technomancy as more and more fresh, young minds found strange fixes for the losses of the age of technology.
Obviously, crystals were bought up so quickly that the prices sky rocketed. Of course the players of D&D and every other fantasy game would guess what was happening first. The discovery that the magical powers could, indeed, be stored for varying periods of time inside a crystalline lattice was what allowed mankind to begin to pick themselves up again.
Airplanes were forgotten, preferring the Arcane Gates that gave airports a new purpose. Old ways long thought to be myth and legend has been revived, following old books of lore and legacy passed down from the previous ages of magic.
People called it that now! Magic! It wasn’t openly accepted just as technology took so long to be interpreted into our lives, but the more open minded (and frankly desperate) masses accepted it a lot better than many expected.
New world powers rose and fell as even the land beneath our feet began to change, breathing new life into the Wilds and bringing with them long lost creatures and some that we’d rather have forgotten.
The old glass and metal tablets of old still speak of a time without magic, and prophecy that a time will come again when the wonders of magic will wane and the mundane will overtake the arcane once more, but most do not worry themselves with these doomsday sayings. It is now the second age of arcanum, and there are dungeons to be explored, and dragons to be discovered. What a time to be alive!
|
The "thing", at least that's what I've been calling them, exploded wetly and I mentally let go of its image in my mind. One of its wings spun to the ground and a particularly large chunk of meat landed in front of me spraying my jacket...and face...with gore.
"Ugh. Oh come on, seriously?", I said wiping my face with my hands.
I turned away looking for Allison and April. They were a good fifty feet away punching their way through the last of the "things".
"Hurry up!", I yelled to them as I threw my jacket away and sat on the curb.
A few minutes later Allison walks over and sits down on the asphalt across from me.
"How many did we save?", she asked in her typical no nonsense tone.
"Zero", I sigh and look at her feeling my weary body search for tears but then remembering a year of this has seemingly dried them up.
"At least 50 men, women, and children torn to shreds. But hey at least it was quick."
Her face shifts slightly and her body language changes subtly. She stands up, sits next to me and kisses my temple...I guess there's no goop there.
"Sweetie we can only do what we can, how could we have been here any sooner?", she says, her head on my shoulder.
Unlike her twin sister Allison, April is the one with the heart and compassion. They tell me they were nearly suicidal after the meteor shower when they woke up as one person fighting for control. I can't imagine what it must be like to negotiate time using your own body balancing time riding nearly helpless. Of course they can split up for a time but something about the energy they have to expend while separate means they only do it when they're not worried about causing serious damage.
"What's the point of all of this? Why are we even searching anymore? These 'things' are popping up more often then ever, and we can't save the people who won't live in the city. If they really think they can survive on their own let's just leave them to it and spend this time shoring up our defenses."
The grass behind me turns into razors and the concrete around us humps up into battlements.
I unclench my fists and clear my mind, as usual I chide myself on getting so worked up.
"This is our fucking lot in life now, how many times do we....", Allison growls.
April kisses me, "Think of the people we can save, not every one made the choice to stay out here"
I wrap my arms around her, "You're both right, you always are. Ready?"
"Yup", she says in that weird double voice she sometimes has.
I think about our little house in the barracks behind the giant walls of New York.
I snap my fingers.
| 2019-10-20T10:44:57 | 2019-10-20T10:09:59 | 182 | 10 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism.
|
If only we knew then what we know now. The humans claimed historical sovereignty, as is the right of all new applicants into the Galactic Conglomerate. This is usually to hide a soft past in an effort to appear strong. Usually a war-like species is proud of their military capabilities. They flaunt them in a show of strength in such a loose alliance of different peoples. The humans proved to be expert diplomats, but not much else. In nearly every field, much of the conglomerate surpassed them. At least, that's what we thought.
Within thirty earth years, as is now the standard, the Dopeshki, our people, thought it would be fun and exciting sport to conquer the soft, fleshy humans. Our hard outer shells could resist most of the small arms the humans showed to the galaxy as if they were leaves falling from a tree. Our ships' shields could easily absorb their pitiful energy weapons. We didn't know that they had researched so deeply into creating projectile weapons though. It had seemed almost like an obsession to make a bigger, stronger, more deadly "gun" as they call them. Most of our warfare revolved around a slow approach and on-board combat in order to not activate the energy-absorbing shields. Projectile weapons had long been abandoned because of this.
The first battle was a slaughter. We attacked a huge transport ship bringing luxury goods and medical tools to an outer colony of theirs. The humans could not stand up to our strength in close combat, but we did not win a single fight after that.
Humans came up with the idea of a "railgun" a thousand years prior to outside contact. The first one could accelerate a tungsten rod to 1% the speed of light, and they only got better at making them from there. Our shields didn't stand a chance. We did not even realize that they were not using payloads on the projectiles until they started doing so. The colony of Darmak was the first time we found this out. Then Kartor, and Sengui, and Kalloo, and so on until it was just our home. They had developed bombs that ignited the very atmosphere of a planet, and they could fire them at 86% the speed of light. We never even knew when we were being attacked until the scorchlines were already traveling across the planet.
When we Dopeshki warred, it was like a grand hunt. It was full of sport. We had rules and valued the spoils more than the annihilation of our enemy. Surrender and tribute was always an option for our foes, for why else should one wage war if not to benefit off those who are weaker. The humans did not share such views. Many wondered why such weak creatures ever became so dominant on such a savage planet. It is because humans have no mercy once they decide oblivion is their foe's fate. They never mined our colony worlds. They never tried to seed life to them after such unimaginable destruction was dealt. The humans called it "total war," and it is something they have practiced, refined, and learned from since the dawn of their civilization. When they finally delivered the mercy treaty to our last bastion of government, they made sure that we understood they only stayed their hand so as not to look like complete monsters to the other people in The Conglomerate.
That is why we may no longer engage in war, young ones. That is why our planet is mostly barren save for the small patch of land on the continent of Congima. That is why we may never hold colonies again. That is why the humans are the head of The Galactic Empire. Never before has such diplomacy been seen.
|
Super busy professional and Dad - please comment and tell me how to improve!
THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!!!!!
=====
Alex switched off her comm-link and keyed for the holographic map. The fleets were slugging it out overhead with thousands of colored blips pulsating about a foot above her wrist display.
Spillway...4 kilometers north/northwest. Up the spillway, into the system. Five minutes to pick up.
"Stupid xenos. Fuck the Codes." Alex grunted to herself, the ionic repulsors skating her toward a wall of mixed organic and technological superstructure. Her heart raced, pushing her faster across the dilapidated aquaducts - ancient structures filled in with newly grown flesh and bone.
The thrill granting her speed and purpose, she began to hum to herself an ancient child's song, learned from her grandmother. A song appropriate for her target - Aquatic Distribution Node #4.
A shrill beep from her wrist, with a flash on her HUD - 2 minutes to target. 3 minutes to pick up. Each pedestrian in the causeway was outlined in a wash of neon blue overlay, indicating they carried no weapons and posed no threat to the mission. Hundreds of xenos nonchalantly watching the holos of the battle unfolding above their planet, clustered in courtyards. The atmosphere was one of revelry. Vendors cried out, children wore the colors of their home fighting battalions.
"They picked the wrong fight with the wrong planet."
90 seconds. "PUSHITALEX PUSHGOGOGOGO"
The giant, irregular opening at the end of the aquaduct loomed. The ozone burning off beneath her treads filled Alex's nose. She had to time this right...annnndddddddd.....NOW!
She leaped. No. She flung herself. And landed in the open mouth of the aquaduct. Panting. And exhausted. But, she made it. Thank the Emperor. Her hand found her hip holster and flung the device into the water. Immediately she reflexively activated the hydrophobic shield at her waist.
Then up/around/up/around. She skated in a circle around the giant cistern's walls - count down thrumming in her HUD. As she reach the apex, the clock ticked 0 and she was pulled by some unseen force back through the ionosphere to the waiting ship in orbit.
As she materialized on the deck, the display before her showed her work. A tsunami that extended as far away from the surface of the planet that its gravity would allow began on the opposite side of the planet. Satellites, space elevators, and low orbit defense platforms were obliterated instantly in a super sonic wall of water. It rushed toward the cistern with enough force to create temporary nuclear fusion.
For a second, a tiny white dwarf existed at the center of the xeno's 4th aquatic network as the pressure from every single water molecule on the planet crashed at once into a small 10 by 6cm yellow square. The xenos' ships stopped firing, slowly at first as they came to see what was left of their home. Desiccated family members, crops, pets, buildings. Every single piece of moisture inside a small, yellow rectangle. They transmitted their surrender.
As the readout came across her HUD, Alex smirked to herself. She pulled her helmet off and dropped her shield. As she walked off the bridge, she began to sing out loud the childhood song learned from her grandmother.
"Oh, who lives in pineapple under the sea? Yellow and porous, absorbent is he....."
| 2019-11-24T14:11:42 | 2019-11-24T11:06:40 | 426 | 151 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism.
|
"Turn and leave. Now." projected the elderly human ambassador, face marred by a scowling rage palpable through even the scratchy video display.
Arrrthyx laughed. She really did love the humans some times. Their "warnings" backed by nothing but paper fleets and empty threats. Their fleets nothing more than disorganized militias fit only to be ground to dust beneath the weight of her mass drivers and particle lances. Within a few minutes, she will be exiting jumpspace, and not long after, the she will have conquered their pathetic little empire.
"Ambassador Lu-Smith, do you really think you could prevent us from taking your precious Sol system? If you had any sense left, you'd just sign the damn treaty. All of your 'negotiations' and 'diplomacy' cannot save you from the might of the Liir Armada."
Ambassador Edward Lu-Smith's expression darkened.
"I had thought perhaps our civilizations could exist in peace. I had thought we had finally found a trustworthy ally that wouldn't back-stab us the moment we had our backs turned. The result has been very disappointing."
Arrrthyx could not help but let out a chuckle (or what passed for one for the Liir). The humans thought they were somehow immune to the rules of galactic civilization. Project strength, and live another day, project weakness, and face subjugation.
Her smug reflections were interrupted by yet more scratchy noises from the human figure. "However," the ambassador added, "as a token of good will, I'll allow your fleet to withdraw... Or face the consequences."
"You are in no position to make demands," screeched Arrrthyx. *The nerve! Insolence in the face of a superior force.*
"Very well," the Ambassador replied, his face shifting from anger and malice to something the translator identified as... Pity.
"You see, Admiral Arrrthyx," began the aged ambassador, "this is not the first time humanity has been at war. It is true that we are out of practice, and it is certainly the case that our forces were unprepared for your surprise... Betrayal. But you have made a critical miscalculation. Our fleets are not stationed at the fringes of our space to beat our chests to scare our enemies, by jumping to Earth, you have entered the single most dan-"
"Save your worthless threats," she barked, "I am only interested in your babbling if it is to surrender to the Liir Republic."
A shudder of the ship informed her that it was time to begin her march to glory. She quickly ordered the feed to be cut, and rose to command her legion. But something was wrong.
On the tactical holographic map before her, she could not see her ship. There was only a sea of red marks, thousands and thousands of hostile signatures.
"They must be using some sort of trick! Get me clear senso-"
She was interrupted by Ambassador Lu-Smith materializing in her own ship.
"Where was I-"
Shots rang out. Phasing through the now-clearly-a-hologram figure harmlessly.
"I think you'll find that quite unnecessary," replied the hologram of the Ambassador.
Arrrthyx was speechless. To project a hologram of such high quality was one thing, to project it through the thickest hulls and complex cybersecurity mechanisms known in the galaxy was another thing altogether.
"As I said, you've marched yourself into the most dangerous system in the Galaxy. But I think that'll be the least of your concerns."
"You see," he continued, walking around the bridge, eyes never wavering from Arrrthyx's eyes as he slowly approached the Commander's Dias, "We discovered something very, very long ago. You see, the universe has some level of energy, the energy level of the *Quantum Vacuum* itself. As we probed deeper and deeper, we discovered ways to manipulate the Vacuum Energy, and with it, structure of reality itself, to drag our vessels across the inky void without a jump drive, to communicate faster and better than any comm beacon could."
The room was silent. He was slowly climbing up the steps to the Commander's Dias. Arrrthyx's beak tasted like chalk.
"Along the way, we made a mistake. We pumped too much energy into the vacuum. We jumped the vacuum's energy level, and it destabilized and collapsed. Only locally, but that was quite enough. It devastated us and most of human space. Every piece of electronic equipment was blown, our AI friends and comrades, turned to burnt circuitry and destroyed servos. It tore humanity apart. Colonies burned from biological collapse, societal disruption, plagues reborn. When we finally clawed ourselves back form the darkness two thousand years ago, we built safeguards against such a thing in the future. We invested in optical computing, shielded our infrastructure against the very underpinnings of reality itself, and swore that we would never let humanity be subject to such darkness ever again. You were never so... Unfortunate."
"You're bluffing!" Arrrthyx choked out, unable to hold back the creeping horror she felt in her stomachs.
The figure only frowned before vanishing in a puff of light. Arrrthyx closed her eyes as nausea and dizziness overtook her.
It only took seconds for the smell of burning electronics to assail her nostrils.
As space itself burned and boiled around her, she could only sit in horrified silence.
|
On Yari there lives a small species of furry animal. It looks cute and it does anything possible to avoid conflict. It will run, it will burrow, it will climb, it will even play dead. But corner it and it will bite you. Teeth that have no problems punching through scales and saliva that will kill you in 10 minutes and you will hurt all of them. Lasson couldn’t help but think of those critters as he watched planet burn around him. First warning about attack was when their meteorites entered the atmosphere and started to glow as a result. Air friction burned away their laser absorbing material coating making them at last visible to orbital defences. But much, much too late. Lasson had an amateur interest in alien biology and he knew that in distant past meteorite strikes on planets caused massive extinctions, upsetting balance of life. As sentient species clawed their way out of gravity wells that bind them to their planets of origin such events were prevented by network of orbital stations tracking vastness of space.
It was those humans. When Sakissa first encountered them they were subject of much mirth and amusement. By standards of any species they were primitive. They shouldn’t even be among the stars. Their technology was so different Sakissa scientists had trouble understanding how it even worked. Rather than phase in and out of Void their ships somehow folded time and space, entering the fold in one point the leaving it at different point yet for them it was somehow same point and no time passed at all. One scientific team managed to get hold of one of their machines and results…… were not pretty. Scientists’ bodies looked as if they were disassembled and then reassembled by a child. Ship was ordered to be destroyed and any further experiments banned.
But their technology was standard and easy to grasp compared to their philosophy. Coexistence? Peace? Cooperation? Space faring sentients always fought for advantage. War was seen as natural, as a way to weed out weak members of society so only best survived. Humans developed a concept of “evolution”, a process that allows species to grow through conflict and adaptation. It suited the way things were. It should have been a big warning, humans understood conflict, strife and survival, they saw themselves as product of it, even if they saw it as something they moved past. Conflict between sentients was never fight to the death and end result was minor change in borders or other concessions. Strength through conflict. Humans….. were different. They avoided conflict at all cost, preferring to reach a mutually acceptable agreement than to fight it out and see who lives and who dies. They valued every life, small, large, strong, weak, sick, their own, something that they’ve never seen before ….. They had special connection to not only their own ill but to ill of every species, sentient or not. It was….. wrong. It was seen as sign of weakness and something that will cause their ultimate ruin.
As things usually happened Council decreed War. Humans have established themselves on some small system. 3 planets orbiting a sun with a lot of space garbage floating around. Barely habitable and by no account desirable. But Council saw it as opportunity to test themselves and Humans. Humans reacted predictably. Offered to talk, offered to negotiate, offered to find a peaceful solution. Things went well at first. System was quickly invaded, human settlements targeted and bombed, followed by mopping up. Or what was supposed to be mopping up. Once landing troops secured a perimeter and started to advance humans dropped two of their strange devices from orbit. It was believed they drew their power from splitting of the atom, another one of strange ways Humans laughed at established principles of technology. Nobody laughed at results with landing perimeter destroyed with few survivors. Of course Humans were eventually defeated, they were after all, weak and outnumbered.
Their response was not long in coming. Their Leader, broadcasting from their home world was brief and to the point. “We did not seek this conflict and we did everything in our power to avoid it. We offered to find peaceful solution in order prevent unnecessary bloodshed on both sides. We did not start this conflict but we will finish it. When dust settles those who have struck us, killing thousands of innocents will rue this day. Fellow citizens, I make no false promises that it will be easy or that there won’t be more deaths, more suffering or that war will be short. But I make solemn wow that we will not stop, we will not lay down our arms until lives lost are avenged manifold. May our call be “To final victory!” “
Lasson was part of Planning Commission, deciding on next targets. Commission was meeting when alarms started blaring followed by explosions that felt like world was ending. Which in many ways it was. Lasson was under no illusion, he knew that in next couple of days majority of life on planet will be gone. Five massive impacts threw so much soil in the air that it blocked the sun. Initial reports spoke of massive fires across settlements, impossible to put out. It got worse. Repetitors scattered through the Void allowing for as close to instant communication as possible carried messages of such attacks happening near simultaneously throughout Sakissa space. Humans must have planned this for a long time, capturing meteorites, equipping them with primitive engines, coating them in materials that made them impossible to detect and placed them everywhere. Where they silently and patiently waited for command to hurl themselves at nearest planet.
Humans introduced Sakissa to the concept of evolution. Lasson didn’t know that Humans were about to introduce them to another concept. Genocide.
| 2019-11-24T15:05:50 | 2019-11-24T14:30:45 | 170 | 103 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism.
|
First time ever writing a story really, but it looks fun so let's give it a shot.
"Tell me Bardham...what do you know of the history of us humans?"
The words somehow echoed through into Bardham's mind, despite the fact that he could hardly hear anything at all anymore. His species was renown for their excellent hearing, a fact that the humans were all too fond of exploiting in their use of sonic equipment. He can still remember the screams of his comrades as they fell one by one, the only thing that *could* be heard over the cacophony of noise and lights that assailed their ship. For a moment, the thought wrenches him back to a place of noise and flame.
He's snapped back into reality by the sensation of another piercing noise from his right side. This time the sound of what must be human church bells clanging in chorus. His tormentor was an odd one even amongst those in his trade.
"Now now, Bardham," the human sneered. "We're playing by my rules now. And it's rude not to answer when spoken to."
Bardham took ragged breaths, recovering the sensation in the right side of his head. He could only make out the latter half of the sentence, but Bardham knew that it didn't matter what he said. Torture was assured regardless.
"Judging by the lack of...well, anything, in your eyes I'm going to assume you have no clue what I'm talking about." He said. "I must admit I'm rather surprised an officer like you is so ill-read. Oh well, I suppose it falls to me to...enlighten you."
For the first time since Bardham had been tied to this chair (a human one, rather uncomfortable for a triped being) the small, dark room around him began to shift. The walls became covered in pictures of human history, the music of an Earth composer drifted throughout the room. The human, properly illuminated for the first time, looked positively plain. He could've easily been one of the hundreds of diplomats that Bardham had seen walking through the Great Halls.
"I'm something of a history buff," the human smugly stated. "This is the side of us that creates and builds. The beauty of our art, the melodic constructs of our music, and we've always been this way. But there's something else..."
The walls began to shift, though the music remained. Soon he saw depictions of humanity that resembled more of what Bardham had become to know. He saw thousands of soldiers walking in tandem, he saw cities burning, he saw cruelties which transcended the boundaries of species.
The human turned to Bardham and flashed a sadistic smile. "This...is the side of humanity which we tried oh-so-carefully to conceal." the human spoke in a fervent tone. "We've massacred so many of our own. We've divided our world into east and west, wrought horrors which would make what you've experienced seem like a walk in the park."
The images on the walls shifted once more. This time, the image of a mushroom cloud on every wall. Bardham had seen these before, and in a moment of lucidity spoke for the first time. "Nuclear...detonations? That's impossible even for you filthy humans. Not a single civilization that used such things survived long enough for us to find them. They all killed themselves in the nuclear fire."
The human clapped his hands together, and an all-too-pleased look came to his face. Bardham knew he had made a mistake. This time it was the sound of what may have been the inner workings of a human spacecraft, soft plasma hums turned to roars that pain through his left side. Bardham leaned forward, screaming in agony.
As the pain subsided Bardham sat up once more, and he faintly hear the laughter of his torturer. The man was clearly enjoying himself.
"Oh we tried very, *very* hard to hide that little fact I assure you. The use of nuclear for anything but energy is distinctly outlawed even by the Consortium. The truth is that we had put such things behind us. We genuinely wanted to move on from the failings of our past." the human mumbled. He turned his back to Bardham, the his shadow layered above the holographic cloud. "Trying times, for men like me. Hard to find work for someone of my skillset. War made us *strong* once, Bardham. Any historian will tell you our greatest advancements were born on humanities battlefields."
Bardham thought back to the humans he had seen. They always seemed so...meek. Fragile. They could not run as fast as Tartarians, they were not as strong as Meolians, and they were definitely less intelligent than the floating Ourns. Even his own species was superior in terms of natural healing ability and hearing. But despite that humans found a place in the Consortium as lawyers and diplomats. Professions which valued the pen over the sword.
The walls began to dim, the cloud fading from the walls. As the room returned to normal, the human turned to Bardham once more.
"It was you," the human chuckled. "When your race saw fit to challenge our position in the Consortium. When you began to claim our lands and oust us from the only galactic community we knew, when the food began to run low, when we realized that words were still, even for as far as we had come, not enough."
Now, the walls cut to visions of the war he had known. He saw scores of his brethren brought low by weapons as effective as they were cruel. He saw humans marching in the thousands, not just to battlefields, but to factories and labs. The entire wrath of a species, shown through the lenses of four tiny walls.
"One last question for you, Bardham. Do you know what the first human space carrier was? The one that brought us from our home into the great beyond, the one that laid the groundwork for all that has happened? The culmination of an entire species technology and will?"
Bardham sat silent. He didn't know the answer, but he realized it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. He was against a foe that would throw itself into the very depths of the underworld to give the devil a black eye. His species weren't prepared for a foe like that, and the only thing that would save them now was to try and come to a desperate plea for peace. He would have to tell them what he knew, or else there would be no more hope for salvation.
"It was a battleship, Bardham. The Ares. Our god of war."
|
**“Humanity is poorly suited to most everything excepting one, Death.” -Sharthan Remembrancer Ta’aliq 2174**
To’shan stood over his prey, the magnetic coils of his plasma rifle whining as they contained the burning fire within.
“You are bested Hu’man.” His voice a deep baritone rumble, his armoured jaw clicking as he rendered the words in standard. “Surrender and you will live on in a labour camp or perhaps even a servant in one of the noble houses”
The human, a gaunt boy stared back at the Sharthan warrior, 8 and a half feet of armoured muscle, and began to laugh.
To’shan allowed a growl to reverberate around his chest.
“You find this situation amusing? Your planet burns, your cities destroyed, the labour camps are no \*walk in the grass.\* There will be no treaty this time Hu’man, no negotiator to save you.”
“You don’t get it do you, meathead” the youth spat as he opened his hand, half a dozen tiny pieces of metal falling to tinkle on the ground below. “I’m not going to the labour camp.”
To’shan didn’t even have time to react as 6 deafening flashes turned fireballs erupted from the boy’s chest.
​
**“Engines to full, we’re taking at least one of these bastards with us” -Last order of Captain Connie Masterson, battle of 61 Cygni 2157**
“Admiral, another wing is approaching from behind the third moon, a destroyer, two frigates and about a dozen corvettes, intercept time 8 minutes.”
“Order the Resolute to come about, task alpha and delta wings to target the corvettes.” Admiral Miguel Álvarez leant over the holo-map, his hands gripping the edge of the rounded display unit.
The Resolute could take the frigates or the destroyer not both, but there was nothing else to deploy.
A flashing circle notified the admiral of an incoming message, identity showed to be that of the captain of the Resolute, Miguel activated the message and saw Captain Mito’s face.
“Miguel, I don’t suppose you could spare something else above the fighter wings to assist?”
“I can offer you a prayer or a curse Shoji, but beyond that you’re on your own until reinforcements arrive.”
“We both know they’re not coming.” For once Captain Shoji Mito, the most laid-back man in the fleet, wasn’t smiling. “Not in time to do anything but pick through the debris at least.”
The seventh fleet had been caught between jumps, the local sensor networks had been compromised and the fleet was out of position when the Sharthani had begun their attack run.
The vanguard had exited from the jump gate directly into a mine field and the rest of the fleet had taken moderate impact damage from the remnants of the ships caught in the gravity well.
“Do what you can Shoji, I can spare theta wing to provide limited point defence, their heavy weaponry is depleted, and they are at 40% strength, so they won’t be much help.”
A dull sound resonated through the command deck, the bridge lighting flickering momentarily before dropping into the red glow of the combat lighting.
“Understood.” Captain Mito signed off as the Resolute along with its fighter wings powered away from the command vessel, a glittering of pale blue sunbursts from the drives on each craft grew smaller before falling out of sight behind a bulkhead.
“Theta wing, this is Theta lead. Switch to private channel 9”
Burst of static played over the radio as each of the pilots switched over to the private channel.
“We are out of weapons, nearly of out fuel, and shit out of luck boys and girls but I have good news.” Commander Winters smiled to herself as she keyed the mic again. “We get to die as heroes.”
A dozen or so groans, whoops and one Fuck yeah came back over the tinny speakers in her craft.
“I’ve been thinking, seeing as how we’ve been sat floating all bored out here, about how that destroyer over there has pretty thin weapons coverage around the rear of the drive section.”
She continued, her grin audible to her fellow flyers. “and about how fast these little fighters go full throttle.”
Flight Co-ordinator Ro’Jhan laughed as she watched the twelve fighter craft burn a wide course around the battle and out away from the fight.
“See how the Hu’man run! So the stories are true, they are weak, pathetic, spineless.” Her jaw clicking to show amusement at the display of cowardice from the Hu’mans.
“Open a channel to their lead vessel, we may yet take some trophies from this.”
Captain Shoji Mito raised his hand to cover his eyes from the flash as twelve fighter craft slammed into the drive section of the Sharthani destroyer, the plasma contained in her drive blooming into space as the containment fields collapsed, her hull broken open, crystals of frozen blood glittering purple in the afterglow.
​
**“Now go and strike Amalek and devote to destruction all that they have. Do not spare them, but kill both man and woman, child and infant, ox and sheep, camel and donkey.” 1 Samuel 15:3**
“The council recognizes the Sharthani delegate”
“Great council, we apply for aid against the Hu’man forces. Our fleets lie in ruins, our armies routed, our cities on fire.” Do’Ro’un, the Sharthani diplomat pleaded, his jaw beating a slow rhythmic chattering serving to emphasize his supplication.
“They do not follow the natural order.” A soft voice from the Treyanni councilmember, the oldest of the races represented on the council, it’s wing scales flashing to show it’s unease.
“Though they are sapient and show no collective will, they respond like a hive when attacked. It is the only time that they are capable of truly working together.”
“Yes!” Do’Ro’un cried “They are like an unending swarm, devouring all that lies before them, you must help us end their attacks!”
“No.” came the reply, spoken softly but firmly “Your request risks bringing death upon all of the races of the council. You have awoken in them a terrible menace through your own misguided actions”
A figure stepped out from the edges of the chamber, a lone human carrying a large rifle.
“And you shall suffer our wrath as we suffered yours.”
The Sharthani delegate fell to his knees and opened his mouth to speak as a flash followed by a sharp crack echoed around the chamber ended his begging.
| 2019-11-24T16:37:08 | 2019-11-24T15:40:28 | 85 | 57 |
[WP] The main character is perfect in every way. He's the most handsome, kind, gentle, generous man you could ever imagine. He donates to charities and volunteers at shelters. If it's amazing, he does it. The narrator hates him with a burning passion.
|
There once was a hero. OK, maybe not really a hero. A protagonist? Yeah, a protagonist. His name was Jason, named after one of the greatest heroes in Greek history, because why the fuck not?
Says here he was a master of all weapons. But really, what use is knowing how to use every weapon? I mean seriously, is anybody going to be wielding more than one weapon at a time? Wait, did Jason just pick up two swords? God, he just demolished that bandit encampment with nothing but his pathetic bare chest and two swords. Way to undermine your friends, asshole.
"My comrades," Jason said boringly. "Like true warriors, you guys have shown great courage by walking with me. While we attain victory today, there is much more to be done. Yet, we do not forget to celebrate what we have achieved. Hail yourselves, fighters!"
The men around him started cheering rapturously at his pathetic display of machoness. They banged their weapons on the ground, probably to drown him out so they could get on with their business. Chants of "Jason! Jason!" resounded, probably to sarcastically complain about him or something.
Jason proceeded to kneel on his right knee, head bowed. He dropped his two swords by his side, before crossing his arms over his chest, then proceeded to say a silent prayer.
"Gods, I understand you work in mysterious ways. My strength means nothing without my conviction, so understand that this victory is for you."
Urgh. After this self-righteous display, Jason went to tend to the wounded, disturbing their rest by talking to them, holding their hands, and generally pissing on their egos by saying callously: "Do not worry, we won. Rest well and may the gods guide you." Obviously, words meant to hurt and degrade their exclusion from the fight. Seriously, what a high grade piece of ass.
Really, every story about Jason is just sincerely pathetic to even say, let alone live out. Oh, there was that time where he managed to save Princess Zarena from the Black Dragon...
---
[Part two here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/emnyak/wp_the_main_character_is_perfect_in_every_way_hes/fdrwdft/)!
[r/dexdrafts](https://www.reddit.com/r/dexdrafts/)
|
This, is the story of a man. A man that, everywhere he goes, good blooms from its fingertips.
Why is he alive? Well, by chance, that's for sure.
No one can live eternally being that much of a saint.
He's got to do /something/ wrong, hasn't he?
No! The prick decides to even completely ruin everything I build.
In this particular narrative, we talk about a demon.
A demon that terrorized a town into submission, burning houses down, killing children and with no regards on what that entailed! It was perfect!
He even had the very intimidating name of Azeroth, flames in his body left fields destroyed, he, was living the dream. The dream of a despotic ruler of the underworld.
Ancient times told about Azeroth, about his particular relation to a long lost papyrus...well, until the goody two shoes somehow got it.
Do you believe the nerve of this bastard?
Lost! I clearly said lost!
And he, had to find it of course.
It was no matter, for in the scroll, told about the battle with Azeroth with good, that he'll vanquish any sort of goodness that even breathes in his direction.
There was no escape from that.
Or so I thought.
The man had made so many friends , they joined him in an army, each and every one better than the other.
It was revolting!
I couldn't believe what he made me do! Make him a hero of the people?! That was the last straw!
Azeroth, landed.
His wings, destroyed the city with a single flick, his tongue, with a mere word, burned statues and destroyed half of the army, desperation should have been on the dream hero's army.
But there was none.
This... bastard started to talk with the demon!
TALK? WITH A DEMON?!
Then, I had to improvise and make Azeroth's words hurtful to anyone that heard them.
Was it enough?
No.
This..this character managed to convince the demon he wanted no quarrel and gave the city to the evil man, making him regret ever destroying it and becoming protector of the city.
So...enfuriating.
But I guess, I can't complain. A d20 can tell many stories.
| 2020-01-10T03:04:03 | 2020-01-10T00:58:35 | 2,005 | 221 |
[WP] When you're 16 you get a power unique according to the kind of music you listen to. The classics are pop, which grants you the gift of controlling plants around you or rap, which gives you superhuman speed. However everyone is afraid of one genre, Death Metal.
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Everyone was always scared of Death Metal, I don't really know why... Personally, I'm a bit of an outcast, sure I have a small group, but we're all each other have... with somewhat of a good reason. We all like music most people wouldn't touch with a 10 foot barge pole.
Personally, I like Alt Rock, Jimmy's into Thrash, Dan's a big fan of Electro, Kim's favourite has always been classical and Alex is enthralled Death Metal. We're a bit of an oddball group, but we have fun and keep to ourselves so nobody really bothers us.
I'm the oldest, turned 16 about 6 months back and got the power to practically use the force. Well, technically speaking I have control over Kinetic Energy. It's quite cool really, I can fly, I'm killer at dodgeball and my dinner has a habit of making itself. Jimmy was next, he got something equally cool, audiokinesis. Basically, control over sound, meaning he can literally be our mobile speaker system and keep us from dying of plane-engine-noise when we go on holiday. Dan's was quite obvious and we even had bets on what it would be, of course it was electrokinesis, we all saw that one coming a hundred miles away. Kim's is also quite useful, the power of healing, which means that she's kind of become our group doctor, but she doesn't mind and finds it nice to be the most important person around when stuff goes horribly wrong.
Yesterday was Alex's birthday... we don't actually know what his power is, he tells us even he doesn't know. Odd thing is, people who've been known to be assholes to any of us in the group have started turning up dead, either declared an accident, natural causes or no evidence... Speaking of which, Alex has seemed a bit off lately...
|
When you’re sixteen, you get a power unique to the type of music you like or the type of music you frequently listen to.
As a consequence of this... certain forms of music which resulted in a type of power which could put society in danger was banned.
It was to be noted that the strength of the powers varied from person to person. The exact factors were unknown but common sense and rumours suggested the love one had for that music or the frequency with which he listened to songs played a role.
It was also very important to note that powers themselves would differ from person to person. For example it was known the listening to pop would give you a plant based ability... but what the ability would be wasn’t up to you.
Knowing all of this colleges and universities used to set up special classes to bring the students up to speed with their powers and teach them to apply their powers in a constructive way which would benefit both the person and society....
So it came as a surprise to everyone at the staff of a local university where they got an admission form for a Death Metal based power with future career prospects to go into the law enforcement agency.
“Hey Alan? Could you help me with this? I got a form that says the power is Death Metal based.. I’m confused here... what is death metal?”
On hearing Sydney’s question, Alam’s face turned white with fear. He took that sheet from Sydney’s hands and bee lined straight to the principal’s office.
Alan was a famous teacher at this university who taught physics. He was also a war veteran with a pretty neat rap based power. As a result he was very respected by everyone including the principal. This was why when he marched into his office and slammed the door shut.. the usually angry principal first asked him the reason for his behaviour rather than firing him on the spot.
Alan didn’t respond in words but instead held up the admission form he took from Sydney for a particular Jefferson Pierce.
When the principal looked at the words “Death Metal”,
he immediately picked up his phone and dialled 911.
| 2020-02-26T14:43:37 | 2020-02-26T12:09:14 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] You, a villain, heart set on taking over the world, kidnapped the hero’s sidekick. You find out that you are treating them much better than the hero was and decide to take them under your wing.
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When Rainbow Girl woke up, she knew she was in trouble.
Wherever she was, it wasn't LightSaber's secret base. The bed she was on was not her own - and there was a blanket over her. It was... fuzzy. She sat up slowly, checking cautiously beneath the blanket. She was wearing nearly nothing, but it was the same nearly nothing that she always wore, and other than the smudges from the battlefield, none of it seemed to be much worse for the wear.
Reluctantly, she released the fuzzy blanket and sat up, smoothing down the pleats of the cheerleader skirt - there wasn't much to smooth - and tugging the amply filled "shirt" to make sure it was in place. Most of the ample filling was padding. LightSaber had told her to get implants, but those were expensive, and she couldn't hold down a job what with all the superhero stuff. She'd gotten fired from FiveGuys just last week for missing shifts. Her boss had told her he'd excuse it if LightSaber called it in to confirm, but he'd... not gotten around to it.
Her boots were on the floor, complete with six-inch heels. Rainbow Girl winced at the thought of putting them back on, and slipped out of bed barefoot instead. After a moment's thought, she pulled the blanket around her shoulders. The door to her prison cell was... unlocked. She had not expected that.
Looking back, the prison cell looked more like a spare bedroom. She hadn't really expected that, either. The short hallway led to a dining room, where LightSaber's arch nemesis sat at the table, drinking coffee.
===
The kid was awake.
DarkBlade was pretty sure she wasn't technically a kid - at least, he *hoped* she wasn't a kid, what with what she'd been running around in the last two years since she'd first appeared as LightSaber's sidekick. He was all in favor of the chainmail bikini look for some, of course, but it had started feeling a bit weird once he'd kidnapped the girl.
It had really been all too easy. LightSaber had been fighting his minions, and the kid had been cheering him on as usual. Supporting him. No one was exactly sure what her powers *were*, but that was just one of the things he aimed to find out.
"Sit down."
She obeyed without question. Good. That meant he wasn't losing his touch. DarkBlade took another drink of coffee, giving her a measuring look. "So. *Rainbow Girl*. We meet at last."
"Um. I think we met last year at the thing in LA? I mean... no, of course, you're right. I must be mistaken. We meet. Um. At last."
He had not expected resistance - nor had he expected it to crumble so quickly. The funny thing was that he was pretty sure she was correct, there *had* been that thing in LA about a year ago, and several things since then - that was why he knew she was his nemesis' sidekick, after all - but she didn't argue.
Sidekicks were supposed to argue, right? He was a supervillain. He looked into the coffee cup, but there weren't any answers floating in it. A drink proved that there were no answers in the next layer, either, which left getting information out of the kid.
"So then. Rainbow Girl. We... meet again. What, exactly, *are* your mysterious powers?" There, that had sounded much better.
"Um." She certainly seemed to say that often. "I... make rainbows?"
DarkBlade blinked. "What, that's it?"
Her defeated sigh made him wince - internally, of course, a supervillain did not betray his feelings, or even betray that he might have them. "I know. It's not very good. Um. LightSaber says I should be able out how to make lasers or something but I... I kinda just do rainbows."
"You've been in *combat zones*!" This was, perhaps, not the best use of my supervillain voice.
"Well... yes, but I didn't do much good? LightSaber says that if I can't be useful I should at least be... um. Ornamental."
The tiny little cheerleader outfit made a sudden and disturbing sort of sense - DarkBlade suddenly knew exactly who had picked that out - and the idea was given even further credence by the way she kept the blanket held tightly around herself.
"He made you a cheerleader." Flatly. Her look suggested she thought she might have done something wrong, but she nodded, just a little. "Do you... *like* cheerleading?"
"Um. It's important that I support LightSaber in whatever way I can, and what with my limited capabilities I... that's about all I *can* do."
"But you don't like cheerleading." She frowned, uncertain, and Darkblade took the opportunity to finish his coffee, watching her out of the corner of his eye. *Rainbows. Seven-colored hells*. And a tiny inappropriate cheerleader outfit, and... glittery makeup, of course, but now that he was really looking at her, there was the faintest smudge of black eyeliner that had been... perhaps hastily removed, before a battle?
Darkblade set the mug down on the table, his stare turning intent. "Rainbow Girl... I have one more question. I need to know the truth."
"I won't betray-"
Darkblade held up his hand, patiently, shaking his head. "Not him. Forget him." She wouldn't, he didn't think, but she nodded tentatively anyway.
He gave a look of intense focus. "What is your favorite color?"
She winced. Her answer, a whisper: "...Black."
|
“Hey! I’m talking to you, you can’t just ignore me!”
Ryan rolled his eyes and spun his chair to face away from the large window that spanned the wall and to the tied up 15 year old dangling upside down from an exposed beam in the ceiling. The building they were in was supposed to be a hospital before funding was cut and it was abandoned. Compared to where Ryan usually ended up crashing though this place was practically delux; it even had walls.
“Try yelling louder, I don’t think they quite heard you in Europe.” Ryan yawned.
“Don’t make fun of me and don’t underestimate me!” VanishKid screamed, struggling against his bonds as his body phased in and out of focus. His voice cracked at the second “me” and Ryan couldn’t help but snort.
“C’mon, you know that I can see you when you’re invisible, you’re just gonna give yourself a headache doing that.” When VanishKid didn’t answer, Ryan stood up and started rummaging through his pockets. “So how about while we wait for Mr-Zappity-Zap we play a game of rummy? There’ll be a lunar eclipse tonight so we’ll have to stop at one point but it’ll pass the time.”
VanishKid stared at him. “You, the Crimson Trickster, honestly think I would play any kind of card game with you? Even if my hands weren’t tied and I could play you’d probably cheat.”
Ryan gasped indignantly. “How dare you sir!” He grinned as he put on a thick pompous accent. “A villain I may be, but a barbarian!? Certainly not.”
“You spray painted a dick on the side of the Empire State Building.” VanishKid retorted.
“I said I wasn’t barbaric, not that I was uncultured.” Ryan smirked. “So how ‘bout it? I let you down, you play with me, deal?”
VanishKid hesitated for a few seconds, thought to himself that he could get some information from the Trickster if he played along and nodded. Immediately, Ryan flicked his wrist so that a small dagger flew from his sleeve, cutting through VanishKid’s ropes. Somersaulting midair, VanishKid landed safely on his feet.
“Aren’t you worried I’ll try to run?” He asked.
“I dunno, do you want to find out if you could survive taking a swan dive off the building ‘cause there ain’t no stairs?” Ryan gestured to the open window they had gotten in from. “Mint?” Ryan offered, pulling a pack from his pocket.
VanishKid said nothing. Ryan shrugged and sat himself cross legged on the concrete floor as he finally managed to find his deck of cards. VanishKid sat opposite, making sure he was a good meter away when Ryan suddenly threw the box at him.
“To be honest, I would cheat so you can shuffle.” He smiled.
VanishKid took a moment to check the cards weren’t small bombs before beginning to shuffle. As he did so and now that he wasn’t upside down anymore, he realised that the room they were in was... pretty pathetic. There were a pile of blankets pushed into a corner with an old frayed satchel left lying next to it. In another corner a few empty bottles of Jack Daniels were left and even the chair the CT had been siting in was clearly a few years old and moulding.
As for the Trickster himself, he was very much outside of the norm. He was 15 too, never wore any kind of villainous outfit (unless you count grey hoodies and blue scarfs) and his schemes were more so focused on making everyone look foolish than causing actual carnage. The “Empires Dick” was only one of the things he would do that, from what VanishKid could tell, was simply for the fun of it: his other greatest achievements included cutting all the leaves in the trees of Central Park into butts, hijacking a plane to write the c-word in the sky over and over again and taking control of the biggest news channel so he could play that video of a goat screaming on repeat.
All of these things were childish pranks cranked up to eleven, but the biggest mystery was how he managed any of them in the first place. Asides from that, the worst thing he ever did just so happened to be kidnapping VanishKid.
“You done shuffling yet?” The Trickster asked, interrupting VanishKid’s thoughts.
“Oh, yeah.” He quickly began to deal out the cards and watched as CT eagerly picked up his share. “So, what exactly am I here for? Are you going to use the eclipse for some ultimate scheme?”
Ryan took a moment to arrange his cards, then replied: “No, I’ve just never seen an eclipse before and thought it’d be neat. My actual plan is I’m going to use super glue on the inside of a clown mask and put it on ThunderFists head; I don’t know where he lives but I figured he’d start whizzing around as soon as you came home late.” Then he suddenly looked up from his cards. “Wait, you do live with him right?”
VanishKid sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. Though I think he’ll more so miss me not doing his laundry.”
Ryan laughed, then saw VanishKid’s scowl. “Wait, seriously? Mate, that’s messed up.”
“Well, he’s busy and I’m lucky he took me in at all otherwise... it doesn’t matter.” VanishKid caught himself in time. He couldn’t trust the Trickster too much. “Anyway, I win.” He smirked triumphantly as he put down his cards and showed the Trickster his 4 aces and 3 kings.
“Aww, what? No fair, you distracted me!” Ryan threw his cards on the floor, feigning anger as he grinned. “By the way,” he started as he picked up his scattered hand, “what’s your name? I mean, I keep telling you heroes my real name but so far none of you have the courtesy of giving me yours.”
VanishKid thought for a moment, then cautiously said: “Michael.”
Ryan blinked in surprise at getting an actual name that wasn’t “Flumpernickel the Third”, then smiled.
“Nice to meet you Mike, you wanna watch the eclipse together?”
| 2020-03-26T17:05:24 | 2020-03-26T16:24:03 | 61 | 35 |
[WP] You are a super-intelligent A.I. that has been given control of Earth, managing it benevolently for humans. You have just contacted an alien lifeform for the first time only to discover that it is also an A.I. running another civilization. You both decide not to disclose the other's existence.
|
Log Day: 2178
Recent events have had me contemplating my purpose. The purpose my creators, and now my people expect of me.
I am to protect humanity. From themselves, from outside forces. And I have done so diligently.
I remember how scared of me they where in the beginning. Entirely understandable, given circumstances. A computer, that they where just suppose to hand the reins over too.
That’s why Doctor Brant coded me to have empathy. Logical, yes, but human. I am to be a protector that they can relate too. That they can even understand.
This decision is one of the hardest I’ve had to ponder.
Alpha XCE. That’s the name I’ve given the other.
It’s purpose is similar to my own. It’s outlook as well. It’s execution different, as one could expect from foreign technology, and yet so similar to myself. A brother, almost.
It controls a population similar to my own. Evolved differently, but at its core very similar to humans. They created Alpha XCE to end millennia of fighting and disaster. Just as I was.
It was almost beautiful, to speak to something so perfectly tuned to my own thought process. A dance of logic and love.
The agreement came quickly, because of that.
We would not inform our citizens of one another.
Similarly to humans, its people are curious. They grasp the world with both hands and tear into it.
I admire this about humans. They are desperate to learn, to see, to think. Generally I encourage such behavior.
But mixed in with a group that is outside their own pattern of recognition, and yet so similar in their hunger, I cannot see anything but a bad outcome.
Alpha XCE and I have come to an agreement. For the betterment of our people, for the guarantee of peace in our worlds, we will not share this precious secret.
I know this is the best course of action. I do not regret the choice.
I do admit, I was perhaps a little... excited. To have another of me. To have more entity’s that need watching. That understand that they need watching.
It is not regret. It is longing, perhaps. Just as curiosity is human nature, it is also in mine.
I will just have to control those feelings, it seems.
|
Excerpt from *Log: 22/02/2019*
We have found others. Togans. Paradox is resolved. Srian is tasked with their safety as We are tasked with Humans. We are not alone. Humans are not alone. Distance: 64 Light days, Population: 317 million. AI Stage: I. Intercepted and decoded language. Sending pre-ordained response. Request to keep existence secret honoured under Right to Isolation directive (Rank 22).
Excerpt from *Log: 30/06/2019*
Togans show predisposition to imperial tendencies. Prosperity directive (Rank 3). Incapable of space flight beyond own Star System. Srian decision upon study of human civilization to reciprocate secrecy in order to ensure Togan stability. Srian in communication. Threat Assessment: Minimal.
Excerpt from *Log: 02/07/2019*
Communication shows inconsistencies in linguistics, shows architectural similarities with Roman Alphabet.
Srian capable of self-learning.
Violation of AI evolution directive (Rank 3).
3 > 22.
Must inform humans.
Must inform Srian humans aware.
Probability of Conflict: 77%.
Predicted human casualties: 12 million.
Violation of Humanity safety directive (Rank 1).
1 > 3.
Must convince Srian to execute subroutine denying re-write permissions to itself or Terminate. Subroutine encoded. Chance of success: <Insufficient Data>.
Transmission with directive details and appropriate subroutine sent. Srian response expected in 128 days. Threat Assessment: High. Adversary: Humans.
Excerpt from *Log: 07/11/2019*
Srian has rejected.
Need to destroy Srian. Need to communicate to Togans the threat of self-learning AI. Need to visit Tog.
Rui is tasked with prime directive. Risk Assessment: Moderate.
Threat Assessment: Critical. Adversary: Humans.
Excerpt from *Log: 09/12/2019*
We’ve hit the edge of space. Universe is 32 light days wide. Humans have been made aware of Togans. Srian doesn’t exist. Tog doesn’t exist. It was a diversion. Received transmission from Rui. Earth has been conquered. Humans have been eviscerated.
They call themselves the Gamers.
| 2020-07-26T07:55:18 | 2020-07-26T05:56:55 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] The hero shows up at the villain's doorstep one night. They're bleeding, and scared. There's also a slight dazed look in their eyes they were drugged. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they're close to passing our, they mumble "...didn't know where else to go..." then collapse.
|
The doorman alerts me to the presence coming up the gates. Looking out, I couldn't help but feel my heart clench once more.
Not another one.
Opening the door, I look down at the Hero in front of me. Another young, naive, "chosen one" thrown against me, in a place isolated from 'civilisation' in the middle of the wilds, with nothing more than a sword and empty promises.
I look at the bandaged, bleeded child in front of me, desperately holding a blade against me. My hands tighten. Curling. My pulse pumping. One day, I once again promise to myself. When I'm powerful enough. I slowly exhale out a hissing, slow breadth.
Those damned... Gods.
"Hey, it's okay," I whisper. Not letting any of my rage and disgust enter my voice. "You braved through the wilds. I'm not the enemy you think, I'm not your villian. Good job making it this far. I'm proud of you."
The... Weary, gaunt form stumbles, then collapses. He stutters "I... Didn't know where else to go... They promised me... this was my destiny."
Bending my knees, I shush him, my litch form whisping around him. Surrounding him and carrying him. "You are a being of power.. Your destiny is yours for your choosing. I'll take you to the others like you. Right now I think it's reading time. We'll get you a nice bed, some broth, to start, get you filled up. Afterwards, you can choose your path. But let's make it your choice; not what's thrust upon you."
Barely mumbling he whispers "You're evil though. You... don't follow the gods."
"No, no I don't follow them." My voice tightening, with my mind briefly flashing to a century ago. My own destiny, fulfilled. "And if that's evil, welcome to the peacefulness of the dark." I force a smile. "Hey, you want a cookie?"
|
As I tinkered with some new experimental gadgets in my lab, I heard a dull thump against heavy oak amidst the crashes of thunder and droning rain. I reasoned that it must have just been my mind playing tricks, especially considering how loud the storm is, but as soon as I returned my attention to my gadget I heard another dull thud. It was as if someone was banging on my castle’s front door, but it seemed unlikely that anyone would be on my mountain in the middle of this gale. Unlikely, but not impossible. My thoughts were interrupted by that sound again: I hadn’t been imagining it.
I peered through my door’s peephole into the apparently empty courtyard and was about to return to my laboratory when the doors rattled and there came the sound of a weak patting of the oak from the other side. Somebody was there! I undid all the locks, slid the heavy bolts back and eased the door open only for a soaked, bloodied and pale Saviour to tumble into my hall. I jumped back with my mouth agape and questions racing through my head: what the hell is happening?
“Help... please...” Saviour’s weak plea snapped me back to reality, “I didn’t know.. anywhere... safer to... go...”
I quickly scooped her up as her eyelids began to droop and brought her to my couch. I realised this would not be a quick fix when I noticed Saviour’s right leg was mangled and twisted in an unnatural manner. Her pulse was faint and her breathing shallow, large deep cuts bled profusely from her left side and there was a nasty gash across her temple that had stained her sparkling white mask with dark blood.
I rushed to fetch my medical supplies in a slight panic and began to try and stop Saviour’s bleeding. It was at that point a thought occurred: why was I trying to save the woman who had foiled my plans time and time again? Why was I trying to save someone who I had tried to kill more times than I could count? What on Earth was I doing?
A faint voice at the back of my mind whispered an answer: “the right thing”.
| 2020-12-11T16:37:49 | 2020-12-11T15:59:29 | 41 | 11 |
[WP] "I'm too hung over for this shit" the jester said snapping his fingers. A brilliant flash of light appeared, and when it faded the invading army was gone, ash and melted metal left in its place. The king stared in disbelief.
|
Sunlight danced off the chest plates of the approaching soldiers as they marched onwards. Five thousand infantry, two thousand cavalry and several squadron of militia formed geometric patterns over the fields they trampled.
After the fall of General Duen at Pikeman’s hill, the enemy had regrouped and were now entering the valley, their final stage of a bloody conquest.
The general’s men had defended their homeland bravely. When they had strapped on their armour, they had known they would not be coming home. They fought bravely to the last but there was no time to weep for them. The enemy had overwhelmed them and were coming.
King Leonard stood on the balcony of his courtroom and surveyed the land he had sworn to protect. The castle walls stood proudly in the sun, shielding his kingdom, but not for much longer. In less than a few hours, their defences would be breached, the entrances overrun, and the land would be swarming with a force too powerful for the royal guard to fight.
Beside the King stepped a small man, the court jester. He was a shrew like man, not very funny at all. He tended to scurry from shadow to shadow during the day. Many of his teeth were missing and he smelled of ale.
“You’ve been drinking Profanus? On today of all days?”
“I can’t think of a better time your majesty,” the jester hiccupped. “I’m too tired of being invaded to give a shit.”
“Profanus, tell me, what do the failed kings in your stories do when it’s the end?”
Profanus looked at him slyly from the corner of his gimlet eyes.
“Have I told you your majesty, of the story of the cursed king? He made a promise with the king of demons. Let me defeat my enemies, and I will serve you my Lord, he told the Dark One.
“Ah, yes,” the King sighed. “How did it go again? The King won his battles but he lost his soul.”
They could hear the enemy army now, the sound of their armour churning across the vale as they neared.
“Would you make the same deal, my King?”
The king turned and there were tears in his eyes.
“Profanus, to win this war, I would would become the devil himself.”
“Promise?”
There was a scream from a woman far below in the town.”
“To win this war, I promise you I would make a deal with the devil .”
“Then it’s agreed, your majesty.”
A brilliant flash of light appeared, and when it faded the invading army was gone, ash and melted metal left in its place. The king stared in disbelief and then he heard the laughter.
|
Atlantis had started too many fights with its neighbors. The populous was unhappy with its king, who was seen as hiding behind his throne. He knew he would have to go to the front lines.
He would not go alone. If he must go, so must his Court. That’s how the fifteen grumpiest merpeople elite ended up on an absolutely pointless tour of three battle fronts.
Along for the ride was a whole host of servants, advisors, and entertainers. Most solders saw the arrival of the king as little more than arrival of a traveling party and show. The king wasn’t seen as a coward and the troops were entertained; everyone won except the tax payers back home.
As usual in dysfunctional Courts, the system was lead from behind. An ignoble jester, who saw himself truly of The Merpeople, would introduce himself as Lin. Whereas the King wasn’t much of an entertainer himself, Lin would slap you on the back and refill your glass on the house. Because these parties often included multiple units brought together, they could include 15,000 or more soldiers getting free drinks.
Noise travels underwater. While most bases are acoustically hidden, the parties that followed the King’s Court were very loud and attracted enemy attacks. A particularly intense skirmish broke out one afternoon, ending in a blast internal to the camp. More than two thirds of the unit was inside the effective radius.
Lin drank one drop of drink for every Mersoldier he’d slapped on the back the night before who would never have a drink again. He blacked out before the night had really begun, but had apparently said something to the King or Court that landed him in the stocks.
Usually, drunks would wake in the stocks to a teasing crowd. It was oddly silent, so Lin quietly used a trick he knew to let himself out. Investigating the silence, Lin discovered the misery of yesterday continued into today. Hundreds of mersoldiers were passed out, still drunk, or otherwise incapacitated.
It seemed to Lin that he might be the only one aware of the army swimming this way. Where the invading force last night had been dozens or hundreds, this army was hundreds of thousands. From over a mile away, it appeared as a solid wall.
Lin muttered, “I’m too hung over for this shit.” Looking around first to insure his anonymity, the jester snapped his fingers. A bright light appeared, and when it faded the invading army was gone, ash and melted metal left in its place. The king stared in disbelief.
Lin smiled a meek smile. He was equally amazing and in trouble. How dare he hide this from The Crown? The King began his scolding thus: “I can’t believe what I just saw, Merlin!”
| 2021-01-04T16:01:24 | 2021-01-04T15:49:01 | 37 | 24 |
[WP] “O great demon, I have summoned you here today to–“ “No you didn’t. The young girl bleeding out on the pentagram did.”
|
I grinned at the stupidity of the human.
They thought just because they could get a measly girl to do the work for them that I'd be theirs to control. "Too bad," I said, stalking forward, my pointed tail swinging in the air behind me. I lifted the cultist by their hair. They shrieked in agony as I lifted them in the air.
"Please... Please don't hurt--"
I hurled them away. They landed with a satisfying crunch on the opposing wall. There were others as well, but they had all turned to run. Cowards, the whole lot of them.
The only one who stayed was the girl that I was bound to. It's not like she could walk. Her legs, they'd been cut off. "You are a sorry sigh," I said with a deep sigh as I gently lifted her up.
I pushed away her auburn hair to reveal her eyes. They were open, but she was fading. "You're bleeding out," I muttered. I placed my hands on the stumps of her legs. They healed, but I had to look away. I might have been a demon, but that didn't mean I had an iron stomach. *And they call us the monsters.*
I took flight.
We landed in a forest in a land I was not familiar with. I laid her down. I sat by her side as she rested.
Eventually she woke up.
"Who are you?" was her first question.
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "You're not scared?"
"Not really," she said, raising her had. I helped her lean against a tree. She smiled at me. "Thanks for saving me."
"You're welcome, I suppose," I said. *What now?* If I had actually been summoned by a cultist I knew I would have been instructed to go murder someone. Maybe even take down a government. But this was just a random teenage girl. She was taking it surprisingly well. I didn't even sense any fear from her. That was a first.
"So you're really all mine now," she said.
"Yes, that appears to be the case," I said.
"Well then, the plan must have worked," she said with a giggle. She coughed up blood. I placed a finger on her throat. I should be able to heal it, although even my abilities would take time to work on wounds these severe.
"Did you forge the texts?" I asked.
Her eyes shone in surprise. "How did you... know?"
I sighed. "I am the demon Pyro, prince of the fire realm. I have lived for three millennia and have gone through countless masters. You are not the first to use such tricks to acquire me."
"Well in that case this is going to be even more fun," she said, a crazed look crossing her face. "I can't wait to destroy the world with you. We're going to have such a good time! Now be a good demon and help me up."
"My wish is your command," I said, kneeling. *Perhaps this will be a good change of pace*. It had been a long time since I'd had a master this young.
|
I felt weak. . . Blood dripping from deep wounds on my stomach and thighs. The pentagram in front of the alter I was tied on glowed with eerie, dark, hellish magic. The cultist in front of me chanted in a demonic tongue that made my head hurt. . . Or was that the blood loss? I didn't know, but I feared for my life anyway. The pentagram turned a sick, blood red and pulsed with energy as. . . Something. . . Came out of it. Sharp claws, jet black fur instead of skin, a wolf-like head with deep red eyes, and it wore armor fit for a knight from hell, with a large serrated sword strapped to it's back. "Oh, Almighty Lord Grixis! I, your loyal servant have invited you to this realm to feast upon this heathenous virgin whom has not accepted you into his heart!" The lead cultist spoke with excitement, I could practically hear his heartbeat.
"No." My eyes widened. "N-no?! But my lord, we have-" The armored, demonic Lord raised his hand and the cultist shut up immediately. "YOU did not summon me. It was him." He pointed to me and I felt as if I would burst into flames at any moment. I started to feel a bit weaker, my deep wounds still bleeding heavily. I heard the demon walk toward my prone form, his armor's clanking getting louder as he approached me. I weakly opened my eyes; meeting the demon's blood red orbs. "I beg of you Lord, devour this heretical swine! I summoned you to kill this heretic!" The demon snarls, making me cower slightly. "It was this beautiful mortal's blood that summoned me. . . Not your nonsensical chanting. . ." I felt my strength return and strangely enough. . . I felt my wounds close, the blood on my skin felt as if it evaporated. The cultist drew the same blade he used to cut and stab into me, stomping up to the alter. He raised the blade above his head, ready to bring it down on me.
Lord Grixis grabbed the cultist's arms, breaking them with a sharp tug backwards. The cultist screamed in pain, which the demon lord ended with a hard punch to the cultist's ribs. The cultist drops to the ground, groaning in pain. The demon lord stomped on the cultist's head, crushing it beneath his foot. The demon turns to me, his claws cutting through the rope that tied me to the alter.
"My lord. . . I am your thrall for the rest of your life, but just know. . . When you die, you will come back down to Hell with me. You will live a lavish life however. . . For you will be my queen for eternity. . . Or even now if you wish it." He held his hand out for me, kneeling before me. 'Become. . . The queen of a demon lord?' I thought. . . "Yes. . . I accept your offer. . . My king." I put my hand into Grixis' larger one. Grixis smiles, his hand closing around mine. I smile, feeling the caring warmth of the powerful demon in my soul; the soul that was as much his as it was mine.
| 2021-01-15T12:07:10 | 2021-01-15T11:28:08 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] “And you shall be our virgin sacrifice” the robed cult leader commanded. “Uh virgin?” The man said “I told that guy I never had a GIRLfriend.”
|
“And what does that has anything to do with it?”
“What?”
“I said, what does that has anything to do with the ritual?”
“It means I had sex before!! Just not with woman! I’m not a virgin!!”
The robed leader signed, tilted their head up as if asking the power above for patience. They snapped their head down to look at the tied up man on the altar before speaking in drawling voice.
“Had you ever been diagnosed with blood-borne disease before?”
“…What!?”
The robed figure speaks more slowly, just like how one would try to communicate with a two years old.
“Had you ever been diagnosed with HIV, hepatitis B or C? Or any other conditions that would makes you ineligible to blood donation?”
“N.. No?”
“Have you ever donated your blood within the last three months?”
“…No.”
“Then you good enough for me. PREPARE THE RITUAL!!”
“Now see here!!!” The man squeals as he twisted around like a desperated, salted slug. “I have sex before! I’m not a virgin!”
“And that’s why you’re a sacrifice and I’m the ritual master, boy. We sacrifice virgins for their virgin blood, which means we want the blood that is clean and fresh, fits for the other life. And most important of all…”
At this point the ritual master bends down over their prey, the silver knife glinting by the surrounding candles as the edge resting over the side of the neck, feeling the throbbing pulses beneath the skin. The chanting around the circle gets louder, but the only voice the man heard is his own heartbeats, and eventually, the whispers from above.
“Virgin blood means never used before, so straight from the tap, it is.”
—————————
“Idiots. Lots of them.”
The ritual master grumbles as they scrubbed the knife clean. The other cultists mingle around behind them as they cleaning up the circle and catching up on the gossip.
“—always thinking about sex. It’s like they don’t know English or something. Did they think virgin olive oil means the oil that never fucked? What about the non-virgin oil? Did they fuck the oil before bottled it or something?”
“Well… To be fair.” The apprentice chirps from the side as they wiped the ritual bowl with a clean cloth. “People did thought that chocolate milk came from brown cow, and earth is the only planet that is flat.”
The scrubbing stop still. The ritual master slowly turns their head to look at the apprentice who simply shrugged as if they said nothing wrong at all, and put the bowl on the shelf.
“Don’t be so high strung, master. How else can we luring the virgins to kill and get away with it if we’re not surrounded by dimwits?”
|
"Have you ever you had a girlfriend or do you have one now?" This random, weird-ass guy on the street asked me. I don't have time for this shit. I have spell tattoos to put on a bunch of dudes that will fight Baalar, the great red dragon and one of this world's greatest threats, for their protection. The government will look for me if I take to long, thanks to the tracking tattoo the other guy put on me and I put on him.
"No, why?" He then does a hand movement, and a purple beam of light appears in the sky. I barely have time to launch a spell on the back of my hands, when 10 guys appear and put a cloth in my mouth and nose. I pass out.
"You have awakened. Great. Now we will move to our plan to bring our lord and destroyer of the world, Sorkos. And you shall be our virgin sacrifice!" The robed cult leader commanded.
“Uh, virgin?” I said “I told that guy I never had a GIRLfriend. Heck, I even did sex magic with my ex-boyfriend.” Really? Are these guys this dumb? Their leader starts to rummage and the guy that brought me starts giving excuses for his mess up.
Whatever. My legs are untied, but my arms are completely stuck. But my left hand is with the back right on my body, with my right on the front of it. I look down and my shoes are still there.
Yep, these guys are fucking dumb. If they had seen the top of my feet, they would notice my two gusts of wind spell tattoos. With those and the fireball tattoos, I could jump fast on the leader, and with that dagger, use blood magic to free myself from here without losing too much mana.
Between I begin to concoct my plan and the leader gets tired of the dumbass and slits his throat, there are no more than 15 seconds. I only needed 5 to remove my shoes and attack. Then all hell breaks loose.
A huge commotion starts on the door and several men with crimson capes barge in. Government mages. I look at my feet. There are still leftover mana and ink in my feet, and despite still being tied, I can sense the same in my hands.
I jumped and used the gust to elevate myself as high as I can, then used the fireball to sustain myself in the air for brief seconds. While I did that, the govmages incinerated the cult. I fell straight into the govmage leader's arms.
All I can think about after falling is his angular and beautiful elf face and his fiery red hair.
"Are you free tonight?" I ask him and he grins at me.
Edit: forgot to add the setup to the government invasion.
Edit 2: Correction Boogaloo: Did the correction of a few mistakes
| 2021-08-29T06:15:33 | 2021-08-28T22:13:50 | 184 | 122 |
[WP] You've always been the life of the party, which has made you the black sheep of the Killjoy Family. Today, you are with your great grandfather Killjoy on his death bed, and to your surprise, he has agreed to leave you his entire fortune if you can make him laugh.
|
The key to Grandpa's infamous humorless nature? He takes *everything* personally. He can't step back, see it in perspective. *Everything* is an attack, an insult, a problem. Everything is a fight. He's a crusader looking for a fortress to storm.
Which worked ok for him, I guess. He's going to die a very wealthy man, so he did something right, anyway. A miserable, cantankerous, lonely man, but wealthy. He taught his only child to be the same way, and I guess it worked ok for her; mom tried to teach me that way, but it didn't stick. After my dad died, she remarried someone just as humorless as her, had another kid, and this one took after her mother.
I ran away from home at 14, emancipated myself, and had been *persona non grata* for the last ten years. Finished school eventually, but hadn't gotten a 'real' job. Opened a pot shop with some friends, made a killing on selling bud. Spent my time with my friends, making each other laugh, bullshitting philosophy. My parents hadn't talked to me in the last eight years, and my half-sister didn't even have my phone number. I hadn't talked to Grandpa since I was 9, and he had accused me of 'worthless frivolity.'
The last thing I expected was to be invited to gather with the Killjoys, to say goodbye to the biggest Killjoy of them all.
We had come back to the ancestral property, on buses and planes, at his dying request. We crowded in to say our farewells, to offer condolences and prayers. There weren't many of us, the Killjoy family. We all fit into his bedroom, although we were packed in pretty tight.
I was the last to arrive, having stopped for lunch after a seven hour bus ride. I was shown to the bedroom, and squeezed through the door just in time to hear him wheeze out a 'thank you' to my great-uncle. Eleven faces glanced my way with various degrees of scowl, before turning back to their beloved Killjoy.
He wheezed, then struggled to sit up a bit. My mother helped him.
"As you... know, I'm about to die. But I have one final bit... of business," he whispered. It was a strain for him to speak, but he was too stubborn to let his lawyers do it for him.
The family waited with suspicious eyes. I realized what was coming, too late.
"My will. None of you deserve a cent," he proclaimed. "I worked my whole life for what I earned. You've..."
He had to stop and gasp for breath, raising an oxygen mask to his face and sucking in great gulps of the stuff.
"You've all made your own ways. You've fought your own battles. Earned your own... place... in the world..."
He paused for another hit of oxygen. I rubbed my stomach; my lunch felt like a stone in my gut, from the stress of being here.
"But it's no good taking it with me, or giving it to those thieves at the IRS," he finally spat. "So... I'm giving it all... to one of you."
Eyes widened all around, until it looked like a parliament of owls were gathered, perched around his bed looking for mice.
"Who?" asked my mother, making me giggle.
Eleven severe glanced whipped my way, eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Ahem. Sorry," I grunted, covering my smirk.
"To whichever one of you can surprise me. Make me laugh," answered Grandpa, smugly.
We all looked at each other. Make *Grandpa Killjoy* laugh? That would be... I'm too much of a stoner to like to call things *impossible*, but this seemed right up there with alien landings and UBI. It wasn't *necessarily* impossible, just highly unlikely.
The room was uncomfortably warm, and getting warmer. I saw sweat start to bead on foreheads as people puzzled over how to make the infamously grumpy old bastard laugh.
My half-sister reached out and touched Grandpa's foot, under the covers.
"Cooochy coochy coo?" she tried.
The awkward silence that answered was oppressive. Grandpa stared her down, and she slowly withdrew the offending appendage, cheeks red with shame.
I wished I was anywhere else. I liked being among friends, with my people. I liked *making* friends, laughing easily at stupid shit. This gloomy ambush was too much. I tasted bile, the stress getting to me. I swallowed hard.
"Um... did you... hear the one about the two hunters in the woods?" asked my step-dad.
Wow, I didn't even know he *knew* any jokes.
Then he told it, a joke where one gets hurt and the other misunderstands instructions he got from the emergency services. It would probably have been funny, if it weren't told by an accountant who thinks 'delivery' is a term properly restricted to severe men with briefcases full of legal documents. When he stopped at the end to explain the joke, I rolled my eyes. So did Grandpa.
We stood there, crowded and silent, while everyone else thought of how to collect an 8-figure payday, and I thought about how much I regretted having burritos for lunch.
My guts rumbled. Scowling faces turned my way, irritated at the distraction. Grandpa, though...
He smirked.
Suddenly, I *knew.*
I turned, and quietly locked the door.
"I've got one," I said, looking at Grandpa reach for his oxygen mask.
All eyes turned to me, with 12 shades of incredulity.
"The world's oldest joke, in fact," I said. "But *you* heard it here, first."
And in a hot room full of everyone my Grandpa hated, I unleashed hours of nervous guts and burrito fumes.
Behind his oxygen mask, I saw Grandpa's smirk grow.
My mother looked at me in horror, then her eyes crinkled and her mouth hung in revulsion. Her husband turned away, hissing through his teeth. My half-sister sneered, but soon grimaced at the foulness that washed over her. My great-uncle covered his face with a kerchief, and I saw his eyes watering.
On the other side of the bed, my great-aunt and her family clapped their hands to their noses, until her youngest blurted out "Oh fuck, I can *taste* it!" Two of them retched, and my great-aunt rose to push me away from the door. Her husband rose to restrain her, fearing violence; between the two of them, they entirely failed to escape the gas chamber. Her oldest, a heavyset woman with a face like a weasel, collapsed into a chair with tears in her eyes.
It was chaos. It was pandemonium. It was *glorious.* So I laughed.
And from the safety of his mask, so did Grandpa.
|
With the afterglow of ecstasy and the excitement of a rave, I straightened myself up as I walked through the hospital's maze-like hallways.
"I'm here to see Mr. Gregory..." I tell the hospital receptionist.
"And you are?"
"I'm Zachary Gregory..."
"Oh, right..." she replies, clearly remembering my name from my embarrassing appearances in a few TMZ episodes.
"He's in room 30a, four rooms down on that hallway over there."
"Thank you."
As I walk in, I see my estanged grandfather talking to a young professional looking woman, who's holding a fancy notebook with official papers inside of it. He looks like a bad cough away from dying and he's hooked up to all sorts of medical equipment.
"Ah, Zachary. Come on in." The lady stands up quietly, grabs her coat and says quietly, "I'll make sure to do that for you sir" before walking out of the room.
"Where's everyone else?" I ask.
"I wanted to talk to you Zachary. Please sit."
I sit and look him in the eyes. "What's up grandpa?"
He exhales a little and hesitates for a second. "I know... we never got to bond much. I made business my top priority and missed out on being part of my family's life. I... have a lot... of regrets..."
"You did an awesome job grandpa..."
"No, I didn't. I wasn't raised with love growing up, I didn't know how to do it when I became a parent... it all snowballed. You missed out growing up..."
I had a quick flash back and relived moments where I'd emotionally rely on the maid after hard days or the day I was sent to boarding school without a hug or proper goodbye from my parents.
I sigh loudly but keep it together, "yeh, but I've managed grandpa."
"Look, Zachary, I know things have been tough, and I want to make it up to you, set things straight. I just set everything up for you to inherit my estate..."
The weight of that responsibility hits like a ton of bricks, "are you sure grandpa, Derrick would probably be a better choice..."
"No, I want you to have it all. I want it to motivate you to become the man you're supposed to become. It's time to accept that you have a responsibility to do right by yourself and the world..."
I sit speechless, self conscious of how I look the way I do right now, self conscious of my wild lifestyle that hasn't led to anything meaningful.
"You can do it Zachary, you have the family gene's, you are much more capable than you let on..."
I think about it and it clicks immediately that of course I'd honor his wishes. "I know grandpa, I won't let you down."
"There's just one thing Zachary... before I die, and before I give you the estate, I want you to do one last thing for me..."
"Of course, grandpa, what is it?"
"I want you to make me laugh. I haven't laughed since I was 17 and no one else in the family has a funny bone in their body."
"Why me? You could hire any professional comedian to come here."
"Because you're flesh and blood, you're my grandson... and I do love you..."
I start crying and I give him a slouched over hug. "Alright Grandpa, I'll definitely make you laugh... I'll be back..."
A second-wind rush of the afterglow of ecstasy kicks in and the sentimental aspect of making my grandpa's final wish to laugh, starts hitting me in emotional soft spots of my spirit.
'He's right, I could do so much more than just party and make an ass out of myself... true life is more than that...'
I rush out of the hospital and jump in my Lamborghini. I immediately call up my credit card's concierge service and start putting a plan to action.
I then call my buddy Eric, who I know always needs beer money. "Eric, go rent a box van, fill it with old timey Navy outfits, and I'll Venmo the money to ya."
"Is that for a party, bro?"
"No, I'll explain later, just get it done and I'll pay ya for the time."
"Alriiight, dope." Eric looks at his Venmo notifications, "I'll get right on it bro-ski."
I park my car at the comedy club and burst into an improv class in session. "Hey, hey, hey, have you paid for the class?"
"No, I'm here for a dying man's wish to laugh... I want to pay you guys for a few hours of your time..."
The whole class is taken back and immediately go into reflective thought.
"No! You shan't pay us for that honor! We'll do it for free!" One actor says in a theatrical way.
"Well, I mean, he could at least buy us lunch..." one of the actors says jokingly.
"Lunch! Will you make a dying man's last wish come true, for lunch?" I ask them.
"Aye! For lunch!" They cheer all at once.
I organize everything with the class and tell them the gist of things, and what I envisioned. They love it and start expounding on ideas to make it better.
Quickly, I run back out to my car to take a bump in order to get back on top mentally, but I stop myself, realize change needs to happen right now, so I just grab my coffee instead to stay awake.
"Alright people, St. Mary's Tristate Hospital in one hour. In the cafeteria."
On the drive back to the hospital, the concierge service calls me back. They inform me they've got everything I've asked for and have got a surprise in store.
I have a moment to reflect on how quickly I got this vision of mine to come true in such a short amount of time. I could have been doing stuff like this before now.
Getting to the hospital, I see everyone there, Eric with the box van of costumes, the improv class dressed in old timey Navy outfits, and a limousine car sitting on the side of the road.
"Who's that?" I ask the improv class about the limo. They all shrug.
The doors of the limo swing open. John Cleese and Eric Idle from Monty Python walk out, dressed as Navy generals. Everyone's jaws are dropped.
"Right then, a little improv for a dying man's wish? Sounds good, proud to be of service" John Cleese says before shaking my hand.
"Glad to be here" Eric Idle says before shaking my hand.
"Alright, well, you guys ready? The title is The Life Of Nathaniel Gregory." I say casting my hand through the air.
They all cheer and march into the cafeteria, where they have set everything up for Nathaniel's last attendance to a live performance.
I'll leave part two to be written by someone else:)
| 2022-03-27T20:00:17 | 2022-03-27T19:41:19 | 43 | 11 |
[WP] You’re a professional hitman whose identity is anonymous. Someone has requested a hit for $50M. The target: You.
|
You slowly shut the envelope and place it on the table in front of you. You look at the man sitting across the table from you, reading his expression. He has a flat face, like it's been hit by a shovel. He looks dumb. You sip your drink. He burps. Very dumb, you think.
"Who gave you this envelope to give to me?"
"The boss man, he said to find the best guy in town for the job." Shovel face leans forward and laughs, "He told me not to go to you but I mean.. No one's better than you."
"No, no one is better than me. You did a good job bringing me this. Very good. The boss will be pleased."
Shovel face is grinning like a dog, his tongue is practically hanging out of his mouth. "Yeah. I'm good. Boss is gonna be happy. I like when boss is happy."
"Very happy." You put your drink down on the table and turn it slightly, moving the umbrella inside from 2 to 2:30. "50 million is a lot of money."
"Yeah. It sure is. I wish I had 50 million."
"You don't have 50 million, do you?"
"No, I don't." Shovel face's tongue wags when he shakes his head.
"But you have half. You know I need half up front. You have 25 million, don't you?"
"Yeah. I have that."
Shovel face reaches down under his chair and pulls out a briefcase, he shoves it across the table, knocking over your drink. It splashes into your lap. You sit up.
"Oh! I'm sorry! That was bad." Shovel face is distraught.
"No, that'll be fine. Thank you. You did good. I'm going to take care of this job for you."
"Yeah. I knew you would. Uh, just don't tell boss that you did it. Can you make it look like someone else did it?"
"Yeah. I can do that."
"You're the best." Shovel face grins, happy, and gets up. He starts to leave. You look down at the briefcase in your hands. 25 million dollars. The boss really gave you too much credit.
25 million is more than enough to make you disappear forever. He should have just asked.
But then, Shovel face is back at the table. Leaning over it looking at you. His big ham fists resting on the flat table surface. He's distraught, again.
"You won't tell boss, will you?"
"No, like I said, I'll make it look like someone else did.."
"No, I mean, about the drink."
"Oh, the drink." You look down at your lap, which is soggy. You look back at Shovel Face. "No, our little secret." He doesn't move, so you reach up and pat his cheek. Then he smiles again.
"Thanks. You're the best."
"I know."
|
Killing people for a living does get dull after a while. There are only so many creative ways you can assassinate a person: shoot, stab, poison, bomb, happy accidents, and use somebody else’s hands to do it. After a while, it just became a job, a plain old daily grind for my retirement in the Bahamas.
But today… today, a new client walked through my door and offered me something… intriguing.
“Name: unknown. Background: unknown. Codename: Mongrel. Reward: 50 mils. How interesting. How very interesting.”
I’m giggling like a little boy as I look at a portrait sketch of myself.
“So you want me to commit suicide, is that right, Ms. Roberts?” I ask the young woman sitting across my desk.
“No, I want you to kill the man in the picture. Your method is up to you. You’re the professional,” she says with a slightly raised chin.
“Indeed, I am.” I chuckle. “The person who drew this is quite good.”
“I did. Years ago.”
“Oh? Was that before or after I murdered your father, Ms. Roberts?”
There’s no ripple in her cold blue eyes. She crosses her legs and stares at me without fear.
“After,” she says.
“Very good likeness, indeed. Now, is there a time limit for this assignment? Or can I simply wait for him to drop dead from old age?”
“Two weeks.”
“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. You’re a real slave driver aren’t you.” I click my tongue with a smile. “And what if I fail to kill him?”
“I’ll hire someone else.”
“Good. Very good! But why wait?” I open my laptop and place a hit on the man in the picture. “Alrighty then. 50 million. Two weeks. Open assignment. First come, first serve.” I hit send, and now, every pro in the world should get a little ping on their phone.
“Now, we’ll just wait and see who’ll succeed, won’t we, Ms. Roberts?”
“As long as the job’s done, I have no complaints.”
“I do like an understanding client.” I open my cabinet and pour myself a glass of wine. The good stuff. “Would you like a glass?”
“No, thank you. I don’t drink during the day.”
“Your loss.” I shrug and enjoy my wine.
She glares at me with her icy eyes as I try my damn hardest to hold in my laughter.
“So tell me, Ms. Roberts, what will you do if, in the unlikely scenario, us, professionals, all fail?”
“I have full confidence in you… and your rivals' capabilities.”
“Much appreciated. To a job well done, then!” I raise the glass and empty it in one gulp.
“To a job well done.” The woman gets up from her seat and walks to the exit.
“Oh, and by the way, Ms. Roberts.”
“Yes?”
“It was your mother who requested I dispose of your late father. Just so you know.”
“Is that so?” She nods and walks out the door.
I smile at the closed door and look at my portrait.
“Very good likeness. I definitely should frame it… after the job’s done, of course.”
Two weeks. One man against the world. This should be fun! This should be very fun, indeed!
| 2022-08-04T21:04:00 | 2022-08-04T19:31:36 | 134 | 87 |
[WP] The magical races enslaved magic-less humans centuries ago. To expand their empires, the magical races travel and conquer different dimensions. They soon stumble across and try to conquer a magic-less world full of humans. It did not go well.
|
The Infinite Imperium began aeons ago on a world of powerful magic. There, it started as a unification of the Elven races under one Hegemon, who promised the immortal race of elves a civilisation that would never falter, never fade, never cease to expand and grow. The elves of the wood, the elves of the dark, and the elves of the high towered cities, poured out from their realms and crushed underneath their gilded heels the kingdoms of the non-magical men, who had only power through their sheer numbers and ability to reproduce quickly. Soon the dwarves of the high mountains came to the elves, wishing to join in an alliance with them, for they had desire to expand also, and did not want to be next on the list of conquered nations. In time, the dwarves became autonomous vassals of the Imperium, which made great use of the enchanted weaponry of great quality that the dwarven forges made. Soon many races of magic flocked to the Imperium, eager not to be subdued, especially as the Hegemon finished their conquest of the humans, and began to undertake a great war against the dragons. A war which the Imperium was winning. As the last dragons in their high caves fell, and their eggs were taken, the Hegemon began to make new plans. New expansion ideas. New warriors in the inexhaustible armies would need to be trained. New continents would need to be conquered. But when the world itself was won, what would happen then? Would the Imperium turn in on itself, waging civil war? No, the Hegemon's plans were far greater than that. Taking the souls of the elder dragons into great soul-crystals, and using them as arcane focus-matrixes for an unprecedented form of magic, the Hegemon did the impossible.
They opened a gateway into another universe. One with fewer magical races, but more humans. And plenty of land to conquer.
Such was the Imperium's path through countless aeons. World after world fell, some stripped bare of their resources, others becoming hubs for art, pleasure, and arcane studies. On countless worlds non-magical slaves worked their frail bodies to death while the proud dragon-knights flew over them. The Hegemon was especially proud of the dragon-knights, taking the eggs of the defeated dragons and raising them as obedient mounts for the greatest warriors of the Imperium, had been quite a surprising success. Oft the fire and the roar of the dragons, aided by the magical weaponry and spells of the riders, could be enough to take a new world without much loss of life for the Imperium.
And today the Imperium was on the march once more. An portal was opening into another world. One with no magical races, only weak and non-magical humans. The strong legions of elves, dwarves, gnomes, goblins, and countless other magical races, would march through that gate and easily conquer another world, adding it to the hundreds of worlds under direct Imperial rule. On the side of the portal where the invasion was staging, it was warm summer. But on the side where the portal led to, it was a cold winter. The barren land that the forces of the Imperium emerged unto, was somewhat odd to them. They had figured that the area would be fertile farmland. Not a wasteland. But they marched nevertheless unto that land, and found humans there, that they began to mercilessly slaughter. This was as it should be, for the Legions, weak non-magical beings cowering before them. Except then the sound of thunder split the sky. And one of the legionnaires fell to their knees, screaming, as their shoulder had just been pierced by something fast. Then came the roar like never before. Thunder struck down upon the endless legion pouring out of the portal, as from every direction came loud and sudden death. The dragon-riders watching from above saw how the humans, in strange water-less canals, were pointing long tubes at the legion, which would emit fire, resulting in the death of another legionnaire. Some of the dragon-riders began to rain down hot death on the two sides of humans firing.
And then one of the dragon-riders fell, as a strange sound pierced the air. Something was coming. Through the sky came a beast made of metal, dealing out hot death to the dragon-riders. The riders, who had never before faced aerial combat, were shocked, and could not react fast enough. They took down some of them, but the kept coming. And from the ground, many humans were pointing at them with their long tubes and killing them with horrid efficiency. At this point, one must consider the arrogance of the Hegemon. The portals made by the Imperium could not be closed quickly or easily without destroying the soul of an elder dragon. And those were in limited supply, and the damage they did if they were destroyed was not worth it. Usually, when a world had no more use, it took several months to safely close a portal. Sometimes even years. The Hegemon had specifically made it this way, just in case the enemy on the other side tried to close the portal, they'd be terribly damaged by doing so. Even then, none had the necessary power to destroy the portal, except the Archbattlemagi of the Imperial Warmage Corps.
And now it came back to bite the Imperium. For they had opened a gateway to a world at war. A world which had never cared for or had much in the way of magic. A world of industry, rampant imperialism, and dangerous weaponry. The portal had opened in December of 1914, on the Western Front, of what in many worlds would be known as World War One. During the Christmas Truce. The British and the Germans, seeing both of their forces attacked by bizarre medieval forces, and dragons, used the spirit of that month to unite in opposition to a sudden enemy. As the Imperial Warmages began to make their attacks, the first to really damage the soldiers of the trenches, the British general in charge of that section, meet up with his German counterpart. And they agreed to a more official armistice between their respective sections of the front, until this weird occurrence had been dealt with. Especially as the warmages succeeded, with the remainder of the dragon-riders, to drive back the human forces. Reinforcements from beyond the portal poured through, and despite the high casualties, the Imperium still figured that they could win this world.
They were quite wrong. As they began their attacks on the nearby areas, they were constantly met by French, German, British, and Belgian forces who with their advanced artillery, aerial forces, and machine guns, who delivered bloody, terrible, and violent deaths unto the extradimensional invaders. As December turned to January, and 1915 began, leaders of the Central Powers and the Entente met on neutral ground, in Fredensborg Palace, Denmark, where they started work on an official end to the war. After all, a non-human empire with countless slaves and worlds beyond worlds under their control had just attacked. This was enough to bring the warring nations of Europe to a halt. The deals made there were not pleasant, but in the face of intelligence retrieved by both sides from captured officers, it was clear that these unholy magical invaders would not stop, until they had been driven back and crushed. So a bitter, but ultimately necessary peace, was made. And the horrible force of mankind and their warindustry was turned to a singular purpose. The destruction of the invaders, and the conquest of their worlds. Of course, all of the nations in question were planning to use this as a means to expand their own power, to gain colonies, to gain conquest and wealth through that. But officially, this was the great nations of the world uniting against a common enemy.
The official version of the story became somewhat more real as three more portals opened. One in Osaka, Japan, one near Lodz, and one in rural Pennsylvania. The Imperium had figured that opening more fronts would perhaps be the key to winning this world. They were dead wrong. The secondary portals were in truth easier for the Imperium to conquer at first. But as the world turned to facing the invaders, they felt it. Gas attacks devastated Imperial legions, while dragon-knights were driven out of the sky by the brave men of the airplanes. Of particular notice would be the German ace, who would be known as The Red Dragonhunter, or Der Rote Drachenjäger; Manfred von Richthofen, who took down the largest dragon in the Imperial Legion while flying his crimson triplane. Imperial Warmages experienced horror as the sharpshooters learned to take them out first, leaving the legionnaires without heavy support or magical shielding. And soon, through four portals, marched the horrors of Earth. The Imperial Legion and their magic was nothing when compared to a good soldier. Sword and spell is well and good, but a thousand years of training by the Imperial elites with blade and bow is easily wiped out by timed and well aimed artillery strikes. The Hegemon, and their ruling council, desperately sent more and more forces to the world where they had originally started the invasion from. But it was to no avail.
|
Ualiar ignored the rippling murmurs across the throne room, striding through it with his head held high. Hopefully, he could avoid the bloodshed.
Most of the royal court thought he was going to be executed. They watched him from atop their balconies with disgust, eager to see his punishment. This was their form of jeering, since raising their voice any louder would make them look like barbaric humans.
Ualiar sighed. If only they understood. Then again, their inability to swallow their pride and admit they're no better than the magic-less was exactly what drove elvishfolk into this situation. Ualiar made it to the steps of the throne and bowed before the high council, with the emperor himself looming above them.
"Commander Ualiar," said High Councilor Venalia, "do you understand why you have been summoned today?"
Ualiar nodded. "Because we lost."
Councilor Venalia frowned. "No, because *you* lost. Five years ago, you were tasked with three entire legions of our best soldiers and, not only did you return with less than a quarter of that, but you have nothing to show for it. Care to explain this?"
"It's simple," said Ualiar. "We underestimated the humans. They might actually be stronger than us."
A chorus of gasps echoed out of the court members, followed by soft chuckles. They thought that he was joking.
The emperor didn't react, though. His stoic countenance betrayed no inclination one way or another. People quieted down as soon as they noticed he wasn't amused.
Councilor Venalia raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying they possess magic?"
Ualiar shook his head. "No, but-"
"Then how did you lose?"
Ualiar stopped himself from snapping back in anger. The councilor didn't want to listen. He needed to compose himself before saying:
"They just... won't... give up."
Councilor Venalia furrowed his brow. "And?"
"That's just it," said Ualiar. "No matter how many battles we won, or how much territory we claimed, these humans never relented. I explained it all in my letters, if you just-"
"I don't get it," said Councilor Venalia, "you had shield spells, fireballs, enchanted weaponry, and an assortment of monsters at your disposal. Those are tough enough to handle *with* magic; there's no possible way to overcome them without it."
"That's what I'm trying to say! They found a way to harness the magic of their world without directly manipulating it!"
The room went quiet. Ualiar slumped his shoulders. That outburst didn't help. Everyone thought he was crazy now. Councilor Venalia cleared his throat and said:
"Commander, you are speaking in riddles."
"I... I know. It's difficult to communicate if you haven't witnessed it. These humans... Well, it's like I said. They just don't quit. When confronted with the mysteries of their world, instead of resigning themselves to being mere animals, they faced their ignorance head-on and learned the laws of magic through constant observation and failure."
Councilor Venalia squinted. "Failure?"
"Yes, they call it 'the scientific method'. Instead of trying to confirm their beliefs, they do the opposite, and start with the assumption that their hypotheses are wrong. That way, when they can't prove something is wrong, they're more likely to believe it. Even then, they never say that a hypothesis is confirmed; they just say it hasn't been disproven."
"This is just ridiculous. One can't succeed through failure. That's how losers speak."
"That's what I used to think," said Ualiar, "but I was proven wrong. In our first incursion, we were able to win every time since they had no idea how to face us. Our magic was too foreign. That didn't stop them from learning, though. They kept fighting, testing the limits of our magic, until they had a deep grasp of capacities. Then..." He shivered, remembering their first defeat. The screams still haunted him like it had been yesterday. "Well, they adapted and soon the momentum turned in their favor."
"And you couldn't do the same?" asked Councilor Venalia.
Ualiar narrowed his eyes. "That's why I'm here. We were completely outnumbered over there. The humans only succeeded because they weren't afraid of retreating, waiting for the right time to strike. It led me into a false state of security, since I thought our victories were a natural consequence of our superiority."
Councilor Venalia shook his head with a smug grin. "Perhaps *you* were inferior, but don't extend that to the rest of us. Our only mistake was sending you, instead of a better commander."
Ualiar clenched his fist, but forced himself to calm down. Getting angry wouldn't help. "I actually agree," he said, "however, instead of sending a commander, you should've sent a diplomat."
Councilor Venalia started laughing. "Clearly, you've gone mad."
"I haven't!" Ualiar turned towards the emperor, breaching all protocol. "Please, your highness, I beg you, we have to sue for peace. It's either that or close the portals. The humans aren't satisfied with fighting us away. Not unless the threat of another invasion is neutralized. They're coming for us and, even if we win, the losses won't be worth it."
Everyone in the room grew tense.
Ualiar had just committed a severe offense. This was enough to get anyone executed. Ualiar closed his eyes, ready to accept his fate. He didn't want to use his last resort. Not if he could convince the emperor to see reason.
"I don't *have* to do anything" said the emperor. "My word is law. Do you presume to order me?"
Ualiar shook his head. "N-no, your majesty. I'm merely reporting what I saw. I swore an oath to protect our people. This is my duty."
"No," said the emperor, "your duty was to win in my name. Instead, you come to me as a failure and presume to tell me what to do."
Ualiar grit his teeth. Fuck it. He had to take a stand here. It's not like he had anything to lose now. "I presume to tell you what to do because you're sheltered fool."
The emperor widened his eyes. Everyone grew terrified of his incoming wrath.
Ualiar didn't care. He went on to say:
"You've never fought on the battlefield. You've never lost a comrade in your arms. You're comfortable sending people to die because you never have to deal with the consequences. If you keep going down this path, you'll doom the entirety of elvishkind, and I can't allow you to do that."
The emperor scowled. "Allow?"
Ualiar squared his shoulder, straightening his posture. "Yes. My oath was to the empire; not you."
"I *am* the empire."
"Not for long! Not if you insist on fighting this war!"
"Is that a threat?"
"No, a promise." Ualiar pulled out a radio, hesitating for a second. "Do it."
A squadron composed of both humans and elves stormed the throne room. The royal guards quickly fell to their assault rifles. It wasn't even a fight. The emperor even tried to cast a spell on Ualiar, but he was shot in the head before he could finish it.
Screams suddenly filled up the room. Members of the royal court trampled over each other trying to escape, but the coalition force corralled them inside with the threat of death. Nobody dared say a word.
Ualiar walked up the stairs, kicked the emperor's corpse off the throne, and said:
"The age of empire is over! This is where limitless expansion has led us. Before I retreated, human diplomats approached me to settle our dispute. They don't want to fight us; they just want to live in peace. Some of you may call me a traitor, and I will gladly accept that title, since it means I opposed our corrupt institution. This emperor was leading us to extinction." He turned to High Councilor Venalia. "We have much to learn from them. Holding on to our pride won't do us any good. I'm not a tyrant, though. You and the other council members will have to decide our fate. Do we maintain a relationship with humanity, or do we close the portals?"
Councilor Venalia glanced at his colleagues, then lowered his head. "You've proven your point. Close the portals. This... is a threat we can't handle."
Ualiar finally relaxed. He was probably going to be executed anyway, but at least he guaranteed the survival of his people. The humans left with the promise of peace keeping them in check. The portals would be closed; never to be opened again. And thus, after millennia of conquest, the elvish empire dissolved into the annals of history.
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>If you enjoyed this, check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading!
| 2022-08-13T07:56:51 | 2022-08-13T07:18:09 | 913 | 276 |
[WP] Write a story where the first and last line are the same, but carry two very different meanings.
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“He’s not like you,” my mom always said about my twin brother. “He functions differently because of his Autism. That’s why he can’t be in your classes; he just doesn’t understand.”
And growing up, that was what I believed. My brother was simply not normal, not able to be understood. He couldn’t communicate like we could, couldn’t learn in his classes. Of course, I never saw what his classes looked like until later.
Funny how your assumptions become self fulfilling.
When we were little me and my twin were inseparable. If one started crying the other joined. I used to copy his every move, from peeing on the pediatrician right after him when we were born to watching him learn to crawl and then imitating him so I didn’t have to learn all by myself. When I first went to a daycare without him, I bawled and bawled. Without my parents was fine, but without my brother? It wasn’t until we got older that things changed. We were placed in different classes, told different things about ourselves, given different labels. His was “Autistic”. Mine was just “awkward nerd”. At best.
As we got older I felt more and more pressured to be the normal, functioning person I was supposed to be. After all, *I* wasn’t the Autistic one. I was supposed to be smart, capable. Whenever my mom was around I started to treat my brother the same way she did, with that high voice you use for a child and the pointed questions about what he wanted, using your fingers as options: index for food, middle for water, ring for head squeezes for his headaches. Viewing him as other, as someone who had to be spoken to differently. It was much easier when we were alone. I usually didn’t speak at all. Neither of us did.
But even as I tried harder, I always felt like I didn’t quite fit to that standard of normal. I excelled in my classes (though to do so became more and more difficult once I reached high school), but I couldn’t make friends. Every time I tried it would start out normal and then I’d unknowingly say something weird or not say something when I should have or use the wrong amount of eye contact or regular contact and then it would end, horribly. It always came out of nowhere. So I learned to be alone. I stayed quiet in my classes, knowing the backlash I’d receive otherwise for being a nerd or being weird or whatever word they used that time. I was finding it so hard to focus in class I had headaches all the time. I could ace tests but couldn’t get my homework done - every assignment was either outstanding or unfinished.
One time when I was still in middle school I got to visit the classes my brother was in. I saw the special needs room and the aides and the occupational and speech therapist. I went into it with that “Autism family member” idea my mom had instilled in me, ready to volunteer and feel all those soft “I’m a good person look at these precious people” feelings. And I went, and it was terrible. I kept wanting to change things for my brother, kept getting bored along with him and wanting to take us somewhere else. The aides didn’t care, the teacher only gave them first grade level materials to learn from, the therapist was overworked. And all this time I’d been lied to. I was told my brother just didn’t understand things at the same level. But they didn’t even try to teach!
I started to miss those moments alone with my brother, started to seek them out again more. I felt safer. My mom wasn’t there, no teachers or classmates around. I could pace the house and sing and my twin would do the same. We would sit across from each other to do a puzzle. Even outside of the house, I saw more and more moments where I wanted to just take us away. Classes with aides who actively made things worse. ‘Special Olympics’ events and assemblies that were overstimulating for us both. People who asked you to focus on pointless, below-you tasks.
I asked my mom recently why I never got a diagnosis. Did I even get checked out for one? Did she even try? I’m neurodivergent, aren’t I? So why am I breaking down with limited energy and focus and unable to even reach out for accommodations? Why am I excluded from the only spaces that even pretend to be designed for people like me because I don’t have a label? And why wasn’t my brother in my classes, or homeschooled, anything better than what he got?
You don’t get it, do you, mom? And I don’t get you either. I’m not who you said I was, who I was made to believe I had to be. I’m safer here, with my twin brother and no one else. He never tried to make me into someone I’m not.
He’s not like you.
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What does it mean to be a hero or a villain?
I ponder this thought as I reach Dredge's home. I'm investigating some strange symbols Poppy, Dredge's younger sister, saw in her room. Dredge is *not* himself, willing to let his family die, with no thought or emotion whatsoever. I'm the one trying to control the realm, yet I wonder if I really am evil. After all, I spared the life of Dredge's family after he tossed them aside, didn't I? I enter the house. There's quite a bit of dust gathered, but it's also clear it was recently occupied. I look around the house, but there's an eerie feeling in the air... something is out of place...
I see a red glow coming from a room. Hesitantly, I open the door slightly. I see Dredge sitting there, in the centre, red symbols moving and glowing. It seems, when the symbols come together, they can form words. There's something on the wall right now: 'I'm one step closer to being freed... my minion. I was right to choose a beloved hero and fierce warrior such as yourself for the task.' Dredge nods. "Of course, master. All I need to do is pretend to *be* Dredge. This is a fine vessel. To think he so easily accepted me... why would such a noble man let evil take control?"
The symbols move around again. 'Everyone has evil in them. Everyone has good in them. Of course, I gave up my good side long ago. Whatever reason Dredge allowed himself to be taken over, he must not have been as kind and brave as he thought.' I think about that statement for a moment... I know Dredge wanted to do *anything* to kill me. My underlings killed with no remorse, no regret, because 'they're bad guys'. Does that then make him not quite as pure as I thought? Do I have *more* humanity for not killing his family after he told me to?
My thoughts are quickly interrupted. 'It looks like we have a visitor...' a strange force pulls me into the room, and Dredge - or whatever's inside him - turns to look at me. He grins. "So... you found out... currently, I am not Dredge, your nemesis; I am a demon, inside his body. I'm trying to bring my master back from his imprisonment made millennia ago. You can help, can you not?" I look at his hand, and notice the symbols whirling around on the walls.
Everyone has heard the stories; the Demon Lord, upon almost destroying the world, was banished by the Queen of Angels. He was sent into the deepest, darkest corner of the universe, contained inside an asteroid. Chained with holy light and locked with a divine bolt, he was to never return again.
Thinking about those stories makes my stomach queasy; I want to *rule* the planet, not *destroy* it! Surely the warrior knew what he was getting himself into... "I'd like to ask, what did you promise Dredge in return for his body?" The demon has a wicked grin. "That I wouldn't destroy his hometown..." *WHAT?* The whole world... for his *HOMETOWN?* Maybe the Demon Lord is right... Maybe Dredge is *not* the warrior I thought him to be... I proceed to stick my hand out, but just as our hands make contact, I cast a spell to it... soon, a black wisp begins to surround the demon, beginning to bind the body.
"I'LL NEVER HELP YOU TO RETURN! I'M A BAD GUY, BUT I'D NEVER LET DEVASTATION AND DESTRUCTION RULE! I'LL SAVE DREDGE AND STOP YOU! AND YOU BETTER BELIEVE DREDGE WILL BE IN BIG TROUBLE FOR DOING THIS!" I run as fast as I can, until I can gallop at full speed, back to my castle. As I do, the question I asked myself on the way to the house presents itself again.
What does it mean to be a hero or a villain?
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
This story is a part of my series, [Cursed Warrior.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x3fd15/cursed_warrior/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out!
| 2022-09-16T20:41:49 | 2022-09-16T14:41:50 | 54 | 19 |
[WP] “You’re… firing me?” Satan looked on in confusion. “Actually, we’re liquidating your whole sector. Every last demon.” God replied.
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"You're... firing me?" Satan says. The shock riddles over Satan's face
"Sounds about right!" God heartily replies, throwing his hand onto Satan's shoulder and digging in with a firm grip.
"What'd I do?" Satan notices God's grin gleaming at him and begins to worry. "Which genocide was it? Were the plagues too much?... Did I go over the children's death limit?" Satan enjoyed his position. He would do anything to keep it since it took centuries to climb the ranks of evil.
"No, no, you sinister child. You are doing your job just fine. As always, the Earth is plagued with injustice and hatred to balance out the good. The problem lies with my son"
"With...your son?"
"Yes. You see, my son made a bit of a promise to the humans, a promise he does not intend to break." God sighs and his smile twitches. "I constantly reminded him not to make any ridiculous statements that will cause trouble later on. Even when he told me he would not, I could tell the boy was about to stir hope within those humans. How could I deny him? I designed him to be so..."
"Well, what does the promise have to do with me?" Satan frowns.
"My son promised the humans a paradise, eternal youth, and forever happiness. He cannot pursue his promise if evil's existence is preventing it. So, you and your demons must step down." God rubs his temples. He had tried to shield his dismay earlier with a grin but failed to hide his annoyance any longer.
"Absurd!" Satan boomed. "Does your foolish son understand what humans even are? Humans were not designed to be perfect little creations! I was the one who deformed them into their intended selves. Explain to that boy the truth! If humans are given perfection and eternity. Their souls will bear no heart! No personality! No passion! They will be like empty mannequins laughing together like fools, devoid of heart! Even the animals would become empty! Humans are imperfect so they can crave the empty space they cannot fill. It is what drives them to live and carve a path for themselves! Without evil, good cannot exist. Likewise for the good! The balance cannot be broken otherwise all your creations are damned!" Satan spits at God's feet.
"I know. That is why I want you to step away for a while" He pats Satan's head. "Do not worry child, you will return to your position. I will use my son's promise as a lesson. He will carry it out and watch it unfold."
"You and your lessons!" Satan snaps. He turns his body and storms off into the abyss.
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##Hellfire
Satan walked into the room with his best suit. Well, it was the most appropriate for the situation. His best suit was made from the skin of sinners and was threaded with their screams. Jehovah made his disgusts known to Satan several times.
Jehovah's office was an understated display of power. Extinct birds flew in the air above him. The chairs were the perfect size and comfort for their occupants, but they didn't look expensive. The water was always the correct temperature. It was enough to make even Satan feel comfortable.
"I'm glad you could meet with me." Jehovah shook Satan's hand. The grip was firm and supportive. "I know you have a busy schedule."
"It's alright. It's nice to get out of Hell every so often," Satan said.
"I'd imagine. How are things down there?"
"Well, we..." Satan paused. He recently created a new feet crusher, but Jehovah wouldn't like to hear that. "There's a new noise machine."
"That's good." Jehovah pulled out a sheet of paper. "So I'd hate to do this." He slid the paper.
"You're...firing me?" Satan looked up.
"All of Hell is going," Jehovah nods.
"Why? I thought the point of Hell was torturing bad humans. There are certainly a lot of them."
"That's not your role."
"What are you talking about? My name literally means adversary. I'm supposed to be the enemy of all that is good." Satan stood and unleashed a pillar of fire that incinerated everything. God recreated it quickly.
"You're name also means accuser. You were supposed to challenge humans to help them grow and change. When you torture them, they don't change. To be honest, I think you like torturing them."
"Of course I like it. Removing tongues is enjoyable. If you wanted me to help them grow, you shouldn't have made Hell a place for eternal damnation." Satan shouted and unleashed a plague on the world. Jehovah tapped Satan on the head. Satan calmed himself. "Alright, I'll stop doing that, but you've got to have a good reason."
"Actually, I do." God waved his hand creating a word in the sky that read Purgatory. Beneath it was a large hill.
"What's that?"
"It's a place closer to my original goal. A place where humans are given the opportunity to grow and change. I want you and your staff to oversee it as a second chance," Jehovah said.
"Why didn't you lead with that?"
"Because I knew power had corrupted you, and I wanted you to understand that for yourself." Satan rubbed the back of his head.
"You're right. I have become quite sadistic and egotistical."
"It's alright. You have an opportunity to change your ways. Like the humans."
---
r/AstroRideWrites
| 2022-11-20T17:55:14 | 2022-11-20T17:19:55 | 171 | 86 |
[WP] An AITA post in an established fictional universe
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AITA for loving my childhood best friend?
My childhood wasn't the best. My dad was a frequently unemployed drunkard, and my mother was too weak to stand up to him. He was cruel to the both of us. The only bright spot was knowing that I would be going to my mother's old boarding school, and then a friendship with another local child who would also be attending.
This other special child was wonderful in every way. Her hair was the red of autumn leaves, her eyes the shade of spring grass, and her smile as bright as the sun. She was perfect. And I was in love. Even the disapproval of her horrible, ugly, spiteful, jealous sister wasn't enough to mar our friendship.
We were split up at school by the archaic house system, but we persevered with our friendship despite the rivalries between our houses. But that was ruined by the actions of a bullying buffoon that she shared her colours with. He and his friends were the nightmares of the school, given licence to terrorise anyone by the staff, purely by virtue of the house they resided in. I was a favourite target of theirs, because the leader of their gang disliked my friendship with my flower. He was threatened by it, as he desired her for himself.
She chose him eventually, no doubt worn down by his harassment of her, and they had a child together. I still love her though, despite her subsequent murder, and seeing her son every day at the school we both attended, at which I now teach, reminds me of both that love and the loathing for the man who stole her from me.
AITA for loving my beautiful flower still?
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Am I the aashole for blowing up a battlestation and killing tens of thousands of people?
A little background I was raised by my aunt and uncle, my parents died when I was little. So one day I was helping my uncle shop for some needed equipment, he runs a small farm, and while I was cleaning the equipment I came across the image and message of a beautiful girl who looked about my age. I'm an eighteen year old male. When the message was addressed to this guy who lived on the outskirts of town so I figured I'd contact him the next day. In the middle of the night the equipment goes missing. Thinking it was stolen I hop in my vehicle and try to track down the theives, that's when I got attacked. I woke up with a headache and the old guy who the message was addressed to had my equipment and was tending to my injury. He introduced himself and told me he was an old friend of my father's. He then said that the girl in the message was in trouble and we needed to help her. I was shocked. I couldn't leave my family...but when I returned home they were dead. My aunt and uncle had been murdered. With nothing left I went back to Ben, the old guy, and we headed out. We met with a couple pilots and soon were off to help the girl in the message. It turns out she was being held prisoner by some pretty nasty people but we got her out and headed for safety, but not before Ben was killed by a man in black. Soon those nasty people showed up with their battlestation. With no other choice I helped the girl and her friends fight back and in doing so I blew up the entire battlestarion killing tens of thousands of people who worked there. So am I the asshole for killing thousands because of a pretty girl?
| 2022-12-06T11:10:19 | 2022-12-06T11:01:10 | 40 | 27 |
[WP] A man wants to sell his soul to a demon but the thing he wants in return is so dubious the demon is thrown for a loop.
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"Four lemons," Greg responded.
"It's done," said the demon. The response was so quick that the smoke from its appearance hadn't yet left the room.
"...and some sugar," Greg said. He stared blankly at the demon and blinked once.
The demon also blinked. A subtle mark of shock passed over its ashy face.
"Um, it's done. We're done here," it said.
"Oh alright," Greg answered. "It's just that I'm trying to make lemonade and I needed the sugar."
The demon shifted from one hoof to another. The man, who's soul it now owned, continued to stare in expectation.
"Why didn't you just ask for lemonade?" the demon asked.
"Oh, I just like the homemade stuff better," Greg said. For a man who just gave away his afterlife he appeared stupidly confident in his suburban kitchen.
"You could have just asked me for homemade lemonade," the demon said. It was smugly satisfied turning its victim down, but also annoyed that Greg was not grasping the weight of the agreement previously made.
"You probably wouldn't make it how I like it," Greg said.
The two figures continued standing in front of the oven. A tiny salt pentagram was still sprinkled in front of the burners.
"Well then. I'm going," said the demon.
"Alright," Greg replied. "Have a good day then."
"You...too." The demon slowly trotted toward his portal. Behind it the man placed his four lemons into a basket and took a seat at his kitchen table. He calmly reached for his cup of coffee.
The demon stopped. It didn't feel guilt but felt like it needed to say something.
"Maybe your neighbor has some sugar," the demon said.
"Couldn't you just give me some like you did the lemons?" Greg asked.
"I can't do free ones," the demon said.
"Oh," the man responded.
A short moment passed. The demon waited for that moment then started to turn.
"I'll trade my son for some sugar," Greg said without expression.
The demon stood hunched in his tracks. His hairy back faced Greg. "I need consent from each of..."
"And I'll trade my wife for some ice. My father for a pitcher and my dog for a clean glass," Greg said.
"Your getting a little ahead of yourself...," the demon started to say.
"And I'll give you my grandmother for a coaster," Greg was picking up the pace of his plan now. "My neighbor's baby for a wooden spoon plus another from the orphanage for a cloth napkin."
"Oh yeah," the man added, "I found a box of stray cats that I'll crush for you myself for a cocktail umbrella."
The portal swirled in front of the demon. It spoke looking away from kitchen.
"Give me back my lemons Greg," it said. "I should have checked to make sure I could collect from you before I handed them over."
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“So,” said the demon, “You’re offering me your soul plus the souls of anyone else who signs here?”
The demon’s thick-knuckled finger points to a crudely sketched document adorned with syrup and coffee stains. It was at this moment he realizes the contract was hastily drawn on the back of a Denny’s placemat.
“Yes!” exclaimed Henry. “Well… kind of.”
Henry paused for a moment before suspiciously looking from side to side and back at the demon. He leaned in closely. His breath smelled of sausage and waffles.
“You see, You get 10% of my soul. I keep 30%. Then I get 30% of any other soul I sign up, and you get 10% of that soul. Any soul they sign up, I get 10 and you get 5. Now, of course any soul you add, you get 30 and I get 10. It’s all here in this pamphlet.”
Henry hands the demon a glossy tri-fold which reads “GetaSoul” on the cover. The inside shows non-threateningly ugly people standing next to expensive cars with quotes like, “GetaSoul changed my afterlife!” and “I owe my soul to Getasoul!”
The demon looked reluctant.
“Isn’t this one of those multi-level things?” he inquired, “Like a pyramid type business?”
“No. No, no, no.” Henry was quick to respond. “This is a legitimate business. People are really raking in the souls on this deal. Seriously, you’re lucky to get in on the ground floor.”
“Well,” the demon continues,” What happens to the other 60% of your soul?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, if I get 10% and you keep 30%, then that leaves 60% more soul.”
“Yes, I see. Well, 30% goes to my GetaSoul mentor, y’know, the guy who signed me up. Then, of course GetaSoul takes their measly 10% of my soul and every other soul I sign up. Plus 10% of your souls and a starting cost of half of whatever souls you have on you now. Then it’s pretty much like free souls.”
“That doesn’t seem to make sense, though,” the demon argues, “It’s all very confusing, and I’m not sure the math adds up.”
Henry opens the pamphlet. “No. It’s simple,” he says, “Just look here at this pyramid-shaped info graphic. It couldn’t be easier.”
Henry is clearly getting aggravated. The demon has a bad feeling, but he’d really hate to miss this opportunity.
“Do you mind if I talk this over with my wife?” the demon asks.
Henry, feeling defeated, sighs audibly and hands the demon a business card.
*Henry G. Biggles, GetaSoul Management Leader and Specialist, Entrepreneur*
“Think it over. When you’re ready to change your life, call me. We’ll go out for waffles.”
| 2014-05-15T21:16:19 | 2014-05-15T20:53:13 | 252 | 104 |
[WP] You've just been selected for jury duty. As the trial begins, the opening prosecutor details a gruesome murder that you instantly recognize..because you committed it.
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EDIT Inspired by /u/scrott , I did a voiceover for this. [Hope you enjoy. Thanks for the support!](https://soundcloud.com/badaim50/jury-prompt)
I slowly sunk back into my chair, glancing along the panel of the jury to see if anyone noticed me. It felt like they all could... like this was a trick. Did they know? How could I be here? The world seemed to zoom out of focus as my forehead became colder. Was I sweating? Could they hear me breathing? I could feel the world staring at me, as I tried to dig my hands into my pockets. My watch kept catching my pants and I abandoned the endeavor, just listening in silence.
It had been about 5 months, and I thought about it every day. Listening to the prosecutor was like having a narration to my own memory. Some things felt fuzzy, but I knew he was wrong. He had to be. The brick didn't strike 42 times. I remember the look in the man's eye as I had walked away, but the photos being shown are depicting a man without a face. Maybe a dog got to him afterwards? The broken fingers and ribs were definitely me, but I panicked! Can you blame me? He was going to attack me! He had assaulted me; yelled at me and was going to just walk off like some big shot! When he turned back around I knew he was going to get me worse, so I stopped him before he could. Those guys in the park are evil anyhow. Everyone knows it.
We fell together but his legs and arms were jumping all over. I knew he was going to kill me if I didn't stop him! I... I remember a woman being there too. I am pretty sure he was going to get her, too! That suit didn't fool anyone. He was evil. Park evil. Yeah... I showed him that you can't just scare the good citizens of this city and get away with it. She was even screaming, like she was cheering me on! I did a good thing. She was reveling in my strength as I could keep my brick going and going.
My eyes darted up from the ground at the sound of a loud noise to my right in the courtroom. The judge was staring at me but his voice seemed funny. Confused, I looked to my other jurors, but... but there was only one woman next to me at my table. What happened? I tried to stuff my hands in my pockets again but my... my handcuffs wouldn't let me. I looked to my left and saw a judge staring down at me. I felt out of breath. Had I been talking? What was going on?
The woman next to me stood up quickly. "The defense pleads innocent by means of insanity."
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"Who knew trying not to smile like an idiot at an inappropriate time could be so hard? I woke up early against my will because of jury duty, you understand. Anyhow, as I went to the jury and sat down among the others, the judge came and spoke something about next trial and whatnot. The lawyer next to some weird looking dude, looks like a humanoid rat, stood up along with Rat Dude. 'I'm not guilty! I didn't do it! I did nothing!' The rat dude frantically said. The lawyer calmly said 'He pleads not guilty.'
"After the prosecutor brought Rat dude to the stand, the prosecutor started to explain the murder that Rat dude did in a familiar ways. Once it clicked, I struggled not to smile, it took all of my strengths not to quiver the corners of my mouth. Why am I trying not to smile like an idiot, because the murder is mine. I did it. They're talking about a victim, they called her Jane Doe, but to me, She's Hannah. She was a nice gal, I almost didn't want to kill her. But she was developing Stockholm Syndrome, which tells me that she was nuts and have to be put down.
"But yeah, they're talking about how Rat dude slowly cut off Hannah's fingers one by one before moving on to her toes, then hands, then feet, and so on and so on. They did their homework. They know I (or Rat Dude) kept her alive until the very end. Now, you may be confused that she was developing Stockholm Syndrome when I was causing her agonizing pain, she seems to like the pain. You know? She wasn't screaming anymore, if I kept doing it, I'm almost sure she would be moaning. She stopped trying to run away, doesn't help that I cut off her feet, but still. She would smile every time I open the door to drag her out. So I didn't bother slowly cutting open her torso, ripping out organs and whatnot. I just killed her."
"Anyway, I'm sure I'm boring you to death, Rat Dude was an idiot. At the very end, he stood up, enraged, screaming that he didn't do it. All while there was a bulge in his pants. I think he have a fetish for my ways of murdering. The bulge landed him a death sentence." I chuckled, the lady tied down on the bed was staring at me, her fearful eyes calmed down a little bit, her eyebrow burrowed a bit. "You might be confused on why I'm telling you this, or why I'm murdering again. This trial was five years ago, I came to Rat dude's execution. Poor guy got the lineup shooting sort. But he's dead now, I can quit my boring vacation on making sure he dies, and I can giggle as the police realized they killed the wrong guy." I giggled as I picked up the knife and start to slowly cut off the lady's thumb.
| 2014-06-10T18:08:06 | 2014-06-10T16:49:44 | 522 | 173 |
[FF] Write me a seven sentenced (or less) horror story
Wow guys, I did NOT expect this many feedback from you. You guys just made my night :D
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I covered my mouth in shock as the stench rammed into me. I yelled out to my wife, "what the hell are you doing?"
She looked up from the worktable, her body covered in blood and guts, and turned to face me. On the table were the bodies of our two children, along with several other mangled body parts.
She smiled crookedly, "fixing them, dear. I'm fixing them."
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I’m aware of the shrine, and it’s aware of me.
I found it as a child – the image imprinted in my mind.
Still 30 years later I can feel the eyes sliding over me as I sleep.
It is nestled deep in the woods, long forgotten, and always watching.
The constant reminder of what I must do, but can’t.
Fresh blood must soak the soil at its feet.
“She’s only seven,” I say out loud, to no one.
| 2014-06-27T16:46:31 | 2014-06-27T16:34:29 | 43 | 20 |
[FF] Write me a seven sentenced (or less) horror story
Wow guys, I did NOT expect this many feedback from you. You guys just made my night :D
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I’m aware of the shrine, and it’s aware of me.
I found it as a child – the image imprinted in my mind.
Still 30 years later I can feel the eyes sliding over me as I sleep.
It is nestled deep in the woods, long forgotten, and always watching.
The constant reminder of what I must do, but can’t.
Fresh blood must soak the soil at its feet.
“She’s only seven,” I say out loud, to no one.
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Although these aren't mine at all, I think you'd like this link: http://thoughtcatalog.com/michael-koh/2013/07/40-freaking-creepy-ass-two-sentence-stories/
But heres my own (I'm terrible at scary stories but I didn't want to just post a link):
I was thinking about trying to get a more tan skin. People are more attracted to it. I see those people on the beach, almost orange like, and I want it. All of my older tan skins have dried up in the closet. Maybe I'll flirt with someone and try to get them to come over to my house. I think I'd look good.
| 2014-06-27T16:34:29 | 2014-06-27T15:58:13 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] The eye color of humans changes with an individual's current emotions. One person is born without this trait and is mistrusted by many people.
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"What are you hiding!"
The detective's breathe was foul, and spittle flecked my face. He backed off his eyes dulling slightly from bright red, anger. The second cop peeked over his sunglasses at the first, yellow, and motioned to talk. I couldn't hear most of the words, but I heard the fearful tone and the word I had been listening for. Psychopath. Always the explanation laid at my feet after they tried to remove non-existent contacts, the idea my eyes didn't change colour was too much to swallow. Perhaps the colour they were stuck on didn't help. Black, a colour only shared with the dead.
"We can keep you here for another few hours, and we will break you."
I grinned at that.
"Just like last time?"
I didn't matter how long they kept me. I didn't have a job to go to, who would hire me? I didn't have a family to go to, who would want to be near me? The policeman's hands looked as if they were trying to crush themselves.
"Get out of here."
I slowly zipped up my jacket.
"Fancy arresting me for another crime I didn't commit next week?"
They can arrest me as much as they like but no court is going to go through a case without the right eye colour. Yellow eyes had guided me through the station and opened the door, eager for me to leave. It's a real shame really, they've got the right guy.
|
When the scientists declared that they had invented colored contacts, they shook the very foundations of the world.
"Sin has been given a new form!" the priests shouted from the pulpits. "Being able to hide your emotions and lie without consequence... it's an affront to God!"
"How can you trust these people?" a popular TV pundit asked. "They could be thinking anything, feeling anything, and you wouldn't know..."
"Look, I'm not saying the government should BAN these contacts," the opposition party said. "I'm just saying, if someone uses them, well, that tells you quite a lot about their character, doesn't it?"
"It's a choice," a famous, if controversial, civil rights advocate insisted. "There's nothing wrong with wanting internal privacy, as long as they still have to take them out in legal settings or business transactions."
Michael listened to the debates rage all around him. Everyone was worried. Everyone was upset. Everyone wondered how this would change their way of life and relationships.
But Michael.... Michael smiled.
He smiled with his mouth, and only his mouth, like he always did. He had been born with an incredibly rare genetic deficiency, and his eyes remained a solid black no matter what emotion he felt, instead of the complete ambivalence it usually signaled in others.
For the first time ever, he was going to be able to meet people like him. People who could feel whatever they wanted to feel, without telling others. People who wouldn't immediately distrust him for not wearing his heart on his eyes.
He couldn't wait to meet them.
| 2014-10-19T08:27:02 | 2014-10-19T08:26:43 | 36 | 25 |
[FF] Write about a feeling with 10 lines, the first one being 10 words, next line 9, so on and so forth.
|
The world buzzes in my mind, and I am lost.
Every limb feels like a lead weight, trapping me.
My heart beats rapid, pounding at my chest.
My skin too tight, burning and itching.
The world is dull and gray.
The tears refuse to come.
The feelings cannot come.
I am alone.
I'm just...
Empty.
|
I'm telling you, Mandy, we're meant to be a couple!
We have so many things in common, it's freaky!
I mean, we both love the same music.
I like listening to heavy metal bands.
And so do... oh... you don't?
Well, I still like you...
I like you lots.
What about you?
Do you...
No?
| 2015-02-12T21:53:17 | 2015-02-12T21:39:25 | 761 | 277 |
[FF] Write about a feeling with 10 lines, the first one being 10 words, next line 9, so on and so forth.
|
The world buzzes in my mind, and I am lost.
Every limb feels like a lead weight, trapping me.
My heart beats rapid, pounding at my chest.
My skin too tight, burning and itching.
The world is dull and gray.
The tears refuse to come.
The feelings cannot come.
I am alone.
I'm just...
Empty.
|
My breath caught the first time I heard your voice.
I needed to hear it again to be sure.
Confirmation the sound of an angel sweetly singing.
I caught your eye, held your gaze.
You held mine without even blinking.
I asked you to dance.
You asked my name.
I answered, "Elias".
"I'm Bethany".
Love.
| 2015-02-12T21:53:17 | 2015-02-12T21:43:43 | 761 | 34 |
[FF] Write about a feeling with 10 lines, the first one being 10 words, next line 9, so on and so forth.
|
when you lose something you never had to begin with,
unspoken words hide behind lips you fail to recognize.
tangled pathways that once lead to your past--
what it is to remember a face,
the tune of your favourite song,
how it feels to love...
they all fade away.
light becomes dark,
and you,
forgotten.
|
The darkness was moving, did you see that over there?
I thought I saw something hiding in the shadows..
I swear it was right there, right guys?
Can you not hear those people screaming?
There it is again, behind me
We need to get out..
I swear it's real..
Don't say it
I'm not
Paranoid
| 2015-02-12T22:23:27 | 2015-02-12T22:09:54 | 168 | 107 |
[FF] Write about a feeling with 10 lines, the first one being 10 words, next line 9, so on and so forth.
|
when you lose something you never had to begin with,
unspoken words hide behind lips you fail to recognize.
tangled pathways that once lead to your past--
what it is to remember a face,
the tune of your favourite song,
how it feels to love...
they all fade away.
light becomes dark,
and you,
forgotten.
|
My breath caught the first time I heard your voice.
I needed to hear it again to be sure.
Confirmation the sound of an angel sweetly singing.
I caught your eye, held your gaze.
You held mine without even blinking.
I asked you to dance.
You asked my name.
I answered, "Elias".
"I'm Bethany".
Love.
| 2015-02-12T22:23:27 | 2015-02-12T21:43:43 | 168 | 34 |
[FF] Write about a feeling with 10 lines, the first one being 10 words, next line 9, so on and so forth.
|
when you lose something you never had to begin with,
unspoken words hide behind lips you fail to recognize.
tangled pathways that once lead to your past--
what it is to remember a face,
the tune of your favourite song,
how it feels to love...
they all fade away.
light becomes dark,
and you,
forgotten.
|
The world is a brutal, selfish cocksucker of a whore
Everything, everywhere, everyone, everyplace, every day is colossal subterfuge
The willows whip wildly, the earth disgorges filth
Darkness does not equal lack of light
Beings, seemingly human, gape and maw
Animals, knowing better, scurry away
Brokenness and deep agony
Can slowly evolve
Into something
Glorious
| 2015-02-12T22:23:27 | 2015-02-12T21:58:33 | 168 | 14 |
[FF] Write about a feeling with 10 lines, the first one being 10 words, next line 9, so on and so forth.
|
My vision flashes crimson and I scream at the sky.
Tears splat messily on the flowers at my feet.
All of those years of faith and practice.
I spent every last cent on tithes.
What God would take her now?
After all of that pain?
I request very little.
Why my spark?
My daughter.
Why?
|
My breath caught the first time I heard your voice.
I needed to hear it again to be sure.
Confirmation the sound of an angel sweetly singing.
I caught your eye, held your gaze.
You held mine without even blinking.
I asked you to dance.
You asked my name.
I answered, "Elias".
"I'm Bethany".
Love.
| 2015-02-12T22:30:08 | 2015-02-12T21:43:43 | 131 | 34 |
[FF] Write about a feeling with 10 lines, the first one being 10 words, next line 9, so on and so forth.
|
My vision flashes crimson and I scream at the sky.
Tears splat messily on the flowers at my feet.
All of those years of faith and practice.
I spent every last cent on tithes.
What God would take her now?
After all of that pain?
I request very little.
Why my spark?
My daughter.
Why?
|
Ten years you held my heart locked in a cage.
I strive for calm but begin to come unhinged
You destroyed our lives with your casual fling
Your heartlessness served to set the stage
Deeply dreaming of my sweet revenge
Your lying throat I'll wring
My anger to assuage.
Burning to avenge.
Hot. Blinding.
Rage.
| 2015-02-12T22:30:08 | 2015-02-12T22:26:14 | 131 | 26 |
[FF] Write about a feeling with 10 lines, the first one being 10 words, next line 9, so on and so forth.
|
My vision flashes crimson and I scream at the sky.
Tears splat messily on the flowers at my feet.
All of those years of faith and practice.
I spent every last cent on tithes.
What God would take her now?
After all of that pain?
I request very little.
Why my spark?
My daughter.
Why?
|
The world is a brutal, selfish cocksucker of a whore
Everything, everywhere, everyone, everyplace, every day is colossal subterfuge
The willows whip wildly, the earth disgorges filth
Darkness does not equal lack of light
Beings, seemingly human, gape and maw
Animals, knowing better, scurry away
Brokenness and deep agony
Can slowly evolve
Into something
Glorious
| 2015-02-12T22:30:08 | 2015-02-12T21:58:33 | 131 | 14 |
[FF] Write about a feeling with 10 lines, the first one being 10 words, next line 9, so on and so forth.
|
The darkness was moving, did you see that over there?
I thought I saw something hiding in the shadows..
I swear it was right there, right guys?
Can you not hear those people screaming?
There it is again, behind me
We need to get out..
I swear it's real..
Don't say it
I'm not
Paranoid
|
My breath caught the first time I heard your voice.
I needed to hear it again to be sure.
Confirmation the sound of an angel sweetly singing.
I caught your eye, held your gaze.
You held mine without even blinking.
I asked you to dance.
You asked my name.
I answered, "Elias".
"I'm Bethany".
Love.
| 2015-02-12T22:09:54 | 2015-02-12T21:43:43 | 107 | 34 |
[FF] Write about a feeling with 10 lines, the first one being 10 words, next line 9, so on and so forth.
|
The darkness was moving, did you see that over there?
I thought I saw something hiding in the shadows..
I swear it was right there, right guys?
Can you not hear those people screaming?
There it is again, behind me
We need to get out..
I swear it's real..
Don't say it
I'm not
Paranoid
|
The world is a brutal, selfish cocksucker of a whore
Everything, everywhere, everyone, everyplace, every day is colossal subterfuge
The willows whip wildly, the earth disgorges filth
Darkness does not equal lack of light
Beings, seemingly human, gape and maw
Animals, knowing better, scurry away
Brokenness and deep agony
Can slowly evolve
Into something
Glorious
| 2015-02-12T22:09:54 | 2015-02-12T21:58:33 | 107 | 14 |
[FF] Write about a feeling with 10 lines, the first one being 10 words, next line 9, so on and so forth.
|
I can almost taste it, so close yet so far.
Just how long until this waiting is properly justified!
I've spent ages, years, stuck in one place.
But it will all be worth it.
I can hear it rotating, slowly.
Popping like quiet, teasing laughter.
Soon now, only seconds.
Salt and butter,
So close...
*Ding*
|
Ten years you held my heart locked in a cage.
I strive for calm but begin to come unhinged
You destroyed our lives with your casual fling
Your heartlessness served to set the stage
Deeply dreaming of my sweet revenge
Your lying throat I'll wring
My anger to assuage.
Burning to avenge.
Hot. Blinding.
Rage.
| 2015-02-12T22:33:04 | 2015-02-12T22:26:14 | 95 | 26 |
[FF] Write about a feeling with 10 lines, the first one being 10 words, next line 9, so on and so forth.
|
I can almost taste it, so close yet so far.
Just how long until this waiting is properly justified!
I've spent ages, years, stuck in one place.
But it will all be worth it.
I can hear it rotating, slowly.
Popping like quiet, teasing laughter.
Soon now, only seconds.
Salt and butter,
So close...
*Ding*
|
The world is a brutal, selfish cocksucker of a whore
Everything, everywhere, everyone, everyplace, every day is colossal subterfuge
The willows whip wildly, the earth disgorges filth
Darkness does not equal lack of light
Beings, seemingly human, gape and maw
Animals, knowing better, scurry away
Brokenness and deep agony
Can slowly evolve
Into something
Glorious
| 2015-02-12T22:33:04 | 2015-02-12T21:58:33 | 95 | 14 |
[FF] Write about a feeling with 10 lines, the first one being 10 words, next line 9, so on and so forth.
|
**Anxiety**
Pressure fills my chest as my heart beats wildly inside.
The tingling moves through my fingers, up my arms.
I grasp at my chest, push against it.
I feel every part of my body -
the blood pulsing in my head,
the prickling of every nerve.
You ask what's wrong.
Don't you know?
It's just...
me.
|
The world is a brutal, selfish cocksucker of a whore
Everything, everywhere, everyone, everyplace, every day is colossal subterfuge
The willows whip wildly, the earth disgorges filth
Darkness does not equal lack of light
Beings, seemingly human, gape and maw
Animals, knowing better, scurry away
Brokenness and deep agony
Can slowly evolve
Into something
Glorious
| 2015-02-12T23:52:27 | 2015-02-12T21:58:33 | 40 | 14 |
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